Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]Well heres my Story! [b]Epoch: Mid 21st Century Location: Middle East[/b] Corporal Flynn "Doom" Taggart was beginning to feel like he was trapped in Hell on Earth. Years ago, when he fought in Sergeant Blaze's battalion, he thought he had things figured out. Then the Sarge bought the farm in a blaze of glory. What was left of the outfit got away, but without Sarge, there was no reason for the special forces group to exist. No way could they have handled extreme assignments without his guide, leadership, and above all, impeccable skill at combat. So, the group disbanded. Some became soldiers of fortune; some, like Doom, went back into the regular Corps. But all were certain of one thing: war would never be the same again. Doom lost track of most of his comrades. The only notable one, now-Lieutenant Darius "Phobos" Jackson, had risen through the ranks much like Doom had, and was now his commanding officer. A bit aloof at times, Phobos was nonetheless a soldier and a gentleman. He had attempted to keep the old outfit together after Sarge's "departure," but everyone else knew he couldn't muster up the leadership they were used to. Phobos had gone on with his career, but even now, years later, he constantly acted as if he were enveloped in the shadow of one William J. Blaze. The assignments given to Phobos didn't exactly help. His skill, along with the skill of his troops, had earned him a position on Earth's most heated war zone. The Middle East had been in a constant state of bloodshed for thousands of years; regardless, the higher-ups felt that Phobos' outfit could put a dent in it. And so, for the past eighteen months, they had been chasing the Kadalfi People's Liberation Army, known to themselves as "The Maul of God," attempting to stop their reign of terror in this Godforsaken region before it spread over to the cities. The heat, the barrenness, the constant bloodshed surrounding them... it was exactly like Hell on Earth. At least now, Doom hoped, they were approaching their goal. Intel from on high had tipped them off about a Kadalfian outpost in the mountains, and they were now working their way to that location. The outfit had paused in a crevice between peaks, waiting for recon to return. Doom heard a small rustle off to his right, and PFC Arlene Sanders appeared. Upon her arrival, every soldier tensed up and silenced whatever noise they might be making. Doom attempted a weak smile to her, hoping to lighten the mood, but her face showed she was deathly serious. Sanders worked her way quietly towards Lt. Phobos. "Well, private, what's the recon?" Phobos asked. Arlene took a breath before answering. "It's a small building surrounded by livestock fence. Judging from infared, there's about twenty-eight of them, sir. However, they're not all Kadalfi." Phobos dismissed the last part. "What about The Fox?" The Fox was the suspected leader of the KPLA. "Unconfirmed. However, I confirmed enough higher members of the army that he's probably inside. But sir, I've also confirmed unarmed women in there... and children." "It doesn't matter. The Maul of God uses anyone who can pick up a weapon. They're all threats." Phobos turned to the communications techie. "Notify headquarters that we've located the Fox lair, and we are preparing to attack." Another officer spoke up. "Sir, are you sure that's advisable? After all, they could easily be civilians kidnapped as human shields." Sgt. Corrine "Crash" Yu was the highest non-commissioned officer in the platoon. She had been Doom's drill sergeant when he returned to the Corps, and he respected her greatly, both as a woman and as a marine. "Frankly, sergeant, I'm not going to worry about it. If The Fox is in there, we have orders to kill him... at any cost." Doom had heard enough. "But Arlene doesn't know for sure he's down there." "Private Sanders isn't in charge of this operation. Private Sanders isn't the one that has to answer to the general if this attack gets botched, and frankly, colonel, neither are you." Doom was taken aback. "Cripes, lighten up, Phobos. You know ol' Sarge would never have attacked that outpost." Mentioning Sgt. Blaze proved to be a mistake. Rage flared up in Phobos' eyes. "You're right," he answered. "He probably would have gotten himself killed, along with his entire outfit." With Phobos's insulting reply, anger rose up within Doom, but he struggeled with himself enough to keep it barely contained as Phobos continued. "I am in charge of this operation, no one else. And I say that we attack in five minutes." He looked at Arlene and Crash as well. "If any of you have a problem with that, you can go to hell." "Fine," Doom muttered through clenched teeth. "One other thing." "What's that?" Phobos replied. Crash never even saw Doom's right fist move until it had swung clear around, coming within inches of her face, and clocked Phobos square in the jaw. The blow was the perfect combination of strength and finesse, and would easily have taken any normal human down for the count. Unfortunately for Doom, the Marines did not recruit normal humans, only the best of the best. Although Phobos quickly found himself eating dirt, he regained his feet just as quickly. By the time he had stood up fully, both Crash and Sanders had restrained Doom. Although he could easily have broken free - indeed, it would have been impossible for any two Marines to restrain Doom - he apparently chose to stay restrained, both for his safety and Phobos'. Phobos wiped off a line of blood that was beginning to trickle from his lip. "You son of a *****," he muttered. Doom stood there defiantly. Phobos turned to Doom's captors. "Sergeant?" "Yes, sir?" Crash answered. "Since you and Private Sanders seem to have qualms about this mission, you can finish restraining this traitor-" Phobos let the word slide of his tongue with razor-edged anger- "and take him back to the pickup point. As for you, Doom, you can consider yourself court-martialed." He turned to the rest of the platoon, which had collectively stare wide-eyed at the proceedings. Phobos stood in the silence. "I said we move out in five minutes! Let's roll!" Crash pulled out a pair of military cuffs with one hand, and her 9mm sidearm with the other. She kept the gun trained on Doom while Arlene bound his hands behind his back. "Please, Doom, don't give me any reason to shoot you," she asked. "Don't worry," Doom replied. That single act of defiance had taken every single bit of rage he had been storing since Sarge died. He knew that this attack was beyond his control, but at least the blood wasn't going to be on his hands... or Crash's, or Arlene's either. He didn't care about being court-martialed; hell, he didn't care if he got kicked out of the Marine Corps. In a single, solitary moment, he had shown the world that he stood for something... something even stronger and more important than "Do Or Die." Arlene Sanders finished binding his wrists. Before walking back to Crash, she leant up to his ear and whispered, "I'm sorry." "I know." Strangely enough, he was sure he did. As the rest of the marines strapped on their helmets and checked their weapons, the trio worked their way down the mountain. Phobos was undaunted by the loss of three of his soldiers... three of his weakest, as far as he was concerned. Once the Fox was eliminated, he and his outfit would be heroes. Doom's mention of Sgt. Blaze haunted him for a moment, but he shook his head violently and dismissed the ghostly memory before strapping on his own orange helmet, locking down the dark green visor, and activating the static glow of his energy riot armor. The comtech gave him a thumbs-up; HQ had been notified about The Fox's location, and the order had been given to attack. Phobos took a deep breath as his remaining soldiers scrambled into position. He quickly took his position at the front of the pack. "On my mark. Ready?" "Jesus, Doom, why'd you have to go and do that?!?" Crash asked once they were out of earshot. "I mean, I know damn well why you wanted to punch his lights out, but why'd you go and actually DO it?" "Call it a personal weakness," Doom answered flatly. They proceeded in silence. In a few minutes, the sounds of gunfire echoed through the mountain range. Doom turned to see a single tear trickling down Arlene's cheek. He knew the innocents she had seen were flashing through her head. It wasn't a personal weakness in her case; those faces would be haunting to even the strongest soldier. It was just a side effect of being human. As they approached the base of the range, Crash noticed a speck in the sky off in the distance. Over time, the spot grew larger, and continued approaching them. She pointed with her free hand. "What's that?" Doom looked. "Military aircraft." As the craft grew larger, he began to identify more of it. "Marines markings. Looks like a VTOL bomber." "But why is a bomber heading this way?" Arlene asked. "Phobos didn't order a strike, did he?" "He'd be insane if he did," Crash said. "That canyon's too small. He'd kill the whole damn platoon along with the Kadalfi." "Not that I'd put it past him," Doom added, "but assume Phobos didn't order a strike. If that bomber's headed to the canyon, who did?" Phobos didn't hear the bomber overhead, nor did he hear it drop the first of its payload. He did, however, hear the napalm bomb explode to his right, and cover half of his men and the Kadalfi with the sticky, flaming gel. His comtech ran toward him, screaming, engulfed in flame. He stumbled to the ground and attempted to smother the flames, but the napalm refused to be snuffed. Phobos walked over to the comtech, pulled out his pistol, and put the poor soldier out of his burning misery. He then retraced the comtech's steps and picked up the radio from where he had dropped it. It was plenty singed, but it appeared to be functional. "HQ, this is Lieutenant Jackson, do you copy?" Phobos looked around; with the introduction of the bomber, both sides had dissolved into pure chaos. "Dammit, someone come in!" After a crackle, the radio came to life. "Copy, Lt. Jackson, this is HQ, what's your position?" "I'm in the middle of your goddamn bombing target, that's where I am!" Phobos shouted. "Call off your bomber from this sector!" There was a pause. "Negative, Lieutenant. Hold your position and assist the bombing operation." "If we hold our position, the bomber will take us out!" Phobos replied frantically. "You have your orders, Lieutenant. HQ out." The radio died. Phobos absentmindedly dropped the radio and stared into space, dumbfounded. He was on a suicide mission. Betrayal, setup, sabotage... these had only been words in his vocabulary. Now they sang his death sentence. He could not trust his superior officers. He could no longer trust his men. He could only trust himself. Since he could not lash out against the unseen force of HQ, he would lash out against the only visible enemy. He grabbed the weapon of a still-twitching body and dashed towards the Kadalfi base. Someone was going to pay. The pilot turned around for a second run of the canyon. HQ stated that a terrorist group was headquartered there, and wanted a double sweep to ensure the target was cleared out. Since the pilot had to fly primarily by his gauges and displays, rather than the visual out his windows, he had to assume they had good intel. The bomber dived towards the canyon once more. Once he aligned his target coordinates in his display, he dumped the second payload. It exploded with a blinding flash, more so than the first. In fact, the second explosion almost took on a bluish-white hue. But it could have been anything... likely the napalm igniting some chemicals. "Target eliminated," the pilot informed HQ. "Returning to base." The bomber cleared the mountain range, then headed back home, flying low to avoid any local radar. He was about ready to kick the jets into high gear when a frantic beeping noise alerted him. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]"Uh, HQ, I've got a marine distress beacon directly below me. I thought this place was cleared." There was no respose from HQ for a moment. "Are you sure the target was destroyed?" "Positive, HQ." "Try to get ahold of the marines on the ground, then. If you can get a confirmation, bring them in. HQ out." The pilot switched over to a personnel frequency. "This is Bomber 1337, to the marine sending out a distress beacon. Can you identify yourself?" A female voice came over the radio. "This is Sergeant Corinne Yu, United States Marine Corps, serial number 888-42-1960. I and two other marines have become separated from our platoon and require immediate pick-up." The pilot ran her serial number through the patch-up with HQ. The machines at HQ did a quick voiceprint check, and returned with a match. "Roger that, Sgt. Yu. Maintain your position. I'll be right down. Can everyone in your party execute a grapple touch-and-go?" "Affirmative." "Good to hear." He wasn't about to stay on the ground any more than necessary. By keeping his engines on full blast, he could take off again as soon as they got in the cargo bay. But with the engines creating those blast waves against the ground, they weren't going to be able to just walk right up to the bomber. He slowed the bomber down, and brought the engines into VTOL mode. The propulsion systems rotated from a horizontal to a vertical position, allowing the craft to remain suspended in the air. He switched to the radar system, located the beacon, and designated an area directly in front of it. He selected three grapple payloads, and hit fire. Crash turned to the others. "We've got a pickup." The other two nodded. None of them were about to talk about the bomber, although it had obviously finished its run through the canyon. Honestly, there wasn't much any of them could have said. Crash hoped that once they were on board, she might obtain some intel from the pilot. For now, though, it was best to focus on the task at hand. The bomber brought itself to a hover, and fired three canisters near the trio. They landed about fifty yards in front of them with three successive THUNK! sounds. Arlene went to retrieve the three canisters as Crash uncuffed Doom. "Well, Doom, you've got two choices. You can behave and execute this grapple touch-and-go, or you can stay here and face what's left of the Kadalfi unarmed." Doom gave her a quizzical look. "You consider that a choice?" "I thought I'd at least let you keep your options open." Arlene returned, and they each took a grappling hook. Doom strapped the belt around his waist, and readied the firing gun. The bomber slowly descended toward the ground, rotating so its cargo bay was pointed at the threesome. Once it got low enough, the cargo bay door opened, and "the cage" was lowered. "The cage" was a steel chain-link fence designed specifically for grappling procedures. Crash waited until the bomber was just inches above the ground before shouting "Go!" The three fired their grappling hooks, and each hook found its way to the cage. They strapped the firing guns to their belts, and activated the retracting motors. It was slow moving, to say the least. However, it was better than being blown away by the VTOL engines, which were raising huge clouds of dust in every direction. Step by step, they made their way to the cage. Once they got inside, the bay door shut quickly, and the pilot wasted no time putting the engines back to full throttle and taking off once more. Once the bomber resumed its flight path, the three unlatched from the cage and worked their way up front. Crash ducked in the cockpit. "Thanks for the pickup," she said. "No problem," the pilot responded flatly. "Mind if I ask what you're doing way out here?" Crash asked. "Yep, I'd mind," he answered. "Afraid it's classified. Sure wasn't picking you three up, though, I can tell you that." Crash shook her head. VTOL bombers were some of the worst when it came to arrogance. She returned to the back, where the other two had taken what limited seats were available. "He won't say what he bombed," Crash told them, "not that it matters. There wasn't any other viable target near that canyon." "So they're dead," Arlene half-asked. "All of them." "More than likely," Doom replied. "Damn that Phobos! If he'd waited fifteen minutes for some decent first-hand intel..." "That's not how he operates. He couldn't risk us being discovered any more than you could have risked putting innocent lives in danger." Crash looked at Doom. "Like it or not, your bullheadedness is the only reason the three of us walked away from this." "What now?" Arlene asked. "What do we do?" "Well, as the commanding officer of this three-person platoon, I hereby rescind Lt. Phobos' court-martial." Doom looked up, and Crash smiled. "No soldier that saves my life is going to be branded a traitor. The rest can be sorted out by HQ." "Damn right," Doom said. The three fell into silence for the remainder of the trip. For Doom, it was a wake for Phobos. He may have been an ******* out of insecurity, but Phobos had been his last link to the past, back to when he was younger and he thought life made sense. Oh, well, he thought. I've still got the Marines. "What do you mean, we've still got the marines?!?" General Dubois screamed. The first lieutenant stammered. "Well, sir, the bomber pilot picked up three soldiers a few clicks from the target zone. They had activated a distress beacon, and their IDs cleared out according to procedure, so..." "Proceedure my ***! You had specific orders that this was a zero-retention mission, lieutenant!" "But sir, I can hardly see the downside to having some of our soldiers survive the mission..." "And that, lieutenant, is why I can't understand how you earned that rank. With your intelligence, you should be scrubbing barracks with a toothbrush! Now get out of my chamber before I have your stripes stripped!" The first lieutenant darted out of the room as quickly as possible. The general turned and sat back in his chair, his head in his hands. Off to the side, a figure spoke from the shadows. "So, it appears that we have a few... survivors." "Uriel!" General Dubois now appeared as flustered as the first lieutenant. "I can explain..." "Don't bother. What I asked was obviously beyond the extent of your abilities. I should have known better." "No, Uriel, please..." "Relax, general. Your services are still of use to me. So we have a few players left in the game. It's simply a matter of changing the rules around a little." The general could almost hear Uriel grin. "You've heard of the Union Aerospace Corporation?" "The UAC? Of course. They've got their hands in research on half the planets." "And beyond," spoke another voice. The general bolted upright. "Oh, how impolite of me," Uriel said. "Allow me to introduce my associate, Zael. He's been busy with research and development for some time now. His grand-scale project centers around the UAC research labs of Mars." "Well, the part of it in this galaxy does," Zael added. "That's why I'm here, general. My... superiors have authorized me to acquire some personnel for... security purposes. Of course, I wouldn't dream of hiring anyone but USMC soldiers. These survivors would make an excellent start to my team." "Given the wealth and power of the UAC," Uriel said, "in addition to your own abilities, I don't see any problem making a few crucial reassignments. Do you, general?" General Dubois shook his head nervously. "No, of course not, Uriel. It'd be no trouble at all." "Good to hear. Now, we'll leave you to your duties. Goodbye, general." Although the two were never visible, General Dubois somehow sensed their departure. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and reached for the intercom. "Lieutenant," he said, "get ahold of those surviving marines as soon as they arrive. I want them boxed up and shipped to Mars by the end of the week. I'll contact you in a few hours with the details. General Dubois out." He switched off the intercom. Terror raced through his veins. He dare not disappoint Uriel again. "Ordering generals around, eh?" Zael snickered. "My, haven't we moved up in the world..." "A world you've been absent from for quite a while, I might add," Uriel said. "Your project has taken considerable time." "Ah, but it is a considerable project," Zael countered. "Far more complex than catching a simple female assassin, I'd wager." Uriel growled. "Fair enough... but you have not run the risk of the Elders' discovery like I have. While you create your legions of hell in another dimension, I have had to tread carefully every step of the way, ensuring that the gladiators were killed by their own. I've used the time to extend my influences, expand my contacts. Today's proceedings should have brought in three superb gladiators." "Instead, you only obtained one." Zael laughed. "At this rate, your gladiators will end up dying of natural causes." "It may have occasionally taken longer than expected, but I have always brought the gladiators to the arena. As for these two, if your project is as magnificent as you make it out to be, we should have no problem obtaining them and many more." "Oh, my project is more than enough," Zael responded. "A few centuries of research, a few more of development, and a dash of pure wickedness, and you get the perfect gladiator-extractor... fully designed to remove all those too afraid, too weak, or too ill-equipped to survive within the Arena. We shall strain the best of Earth's fighters, and leave the rest as dust to blow in the wind." "Excellent," Uriel replied. "Everything up until now... the Nazis, the terrorists... was merely a test. Soon, we shall truly unleash Hell's fury upon Earth!" "Indeed, more so than they will ever realize." Zael laughed, and as Uriel joined him, their laughter echoed throughout the nothingness, seemingly into eternity. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1][b]Five Generations - One Eternal Combat Part II: The Doom Warriors Epoch: Three Months Later Location: Mars Military Outpost[/b] Submitted for the approval of the UAC psychoanalysts: One Flynn "Doom" Taggart, diagnosed with an acute case of cabin fever. As far as Doom was concerned, being a space marine wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Once they made it back from the suicide mission, they met a welcoming party consisting of very serious soldiers in black suits. Before you could say "Where's my goddamn medal," he, Crash, and Arlene had been shipped off to Mars to join the private military force of the UAC. The Union Aerospace Corporation is a huge multiplanetary congolmerate, with radioactive waste facilities on Mars as well its two moons, Phobos and Deimos. For Doom, being enlisted in the UAC Marines was glorified guard duty. He was watching something no one would think of stealing, sabotaging, or attacking even if it wasn't for the fact that there was nowhere to attack from or escape to for fifty million miles. And so, for the past few months, Doom and the others stood around, sucking space dust. Crash had maintained a workout regimen to stay in fighting form, and Arlene had occupied herself with the UAC security systems. Aside from the occasional anger venting at the nearest available punching bag or catching a restricted flick in the break room, however, Doom found little to do. That Arlene... Doom was amazed by her spunk. She and he had entered the regular Corps at the same time. Crash lost no time whipping the new recruits into shape, but she soon found Doom and Sanders needed no extra whipping. Doom understood why he handled the Corps so well - after all, he had been in Sarge's unit for some time - but he was amazed at how well Arlene took to the military. It was like a fish to water. She handled the ogling of the men and the cat calls with due measure (of course, with Crash around, she had an excellent teacher). Moreover, she more than proved her worth whenever it was called into question. Of all the soldiers in their Corps outfit, she was the only one who could hold a candle to him in hand-to-hand combat. He smiled, remembering her solid uppercut that sent more than one hotshot private flying... Doom shook his head. Of course, that's where it had to end. It was God, country, and the Corps... personal relationships had no place in the military. They both knew that; nobody had to say it out loud. Still, Crash would give the two an odd look when she thought they weren't watching... a look that (maybe?) carried a twinge of playful jealousy. All in all, it made Doom upset that he had gotten the three of them all but kicked out of the Corps, even if he did possibly save their lives in the process. However, despite the degrading to UAC soldier, Doom still felt the military's presence. In fact, the Earth military was the UAC's biggest supplier. For the past four years, the military had used the Phobos and Deimos facilities for research on a variety of secret experiments, including research on inter-stellar travel. So far, they had managed to open up a few interdimensional gates between the two moons, and like little kids, the scientists would throw stuff in one portal and watch it come back out the other. The rumors, though, hinted that the Gates were a bit unstable. The military recruited "volunteers" to go through the Gates, and the results typically weren't pleasant. The best-case scenario was that they simply disappeared. At worst, they came back with some peculiar form of insanity. The returnees would blabber either monosyllabic grunts or strings of obscenities, and typically tried to physically destroy anything that came within range. The more interesting ones would undergo spontaneous full-body explosion. Military reports back to Earth stated that the project had undergone a "slight setback," but that everything was "under control." "Under control my ***," said Corporal David "Slaughter" Anderson, who was sitting down to a meal in the mess hall along with Doom and Crash. "They've got this place about as under control as Doom keeps his temper." Doom's eyes lit up. He faked a lunge for Slaughter's throat, but received only laughter in return. "Come on, Doom. What're ya going to do, prove me right?" "Oh, lighten up, Doom," Crash smiled. "We all know you're itching for some action." "Not me," Slaughter replied. Not if it's up on those moons. Up there, matching the heads with the torso to ship home is becoming a full-time job. But then, I've been with UAC since I was old enough to enlist." He jabbed a fork at Doom and Crash. "You guys are full-fledged marines. I don't know how you can stand to be up here." "Frankly, neither can I," said Doom. Crash began to reply, but she was cut short by a klaxon alarm. As red lights flashed, she scrambled to her feet. "Look alive, boys. Looks like we just got that action you've been hoping for." As they entered the control room, they saw Arlene at the communications panel, staring at the vid screen. "What was that, Phobos Command? Your communication is breaking up. I can't read you." The vidscreen, much like the sound feed, revealed little more than static. Doom could see shapes darting around the snow, and heard the sounds of chaos amidst the white noise. The sound feed became clearer. "..ort. Repeat, we require immediate military support!" "What's the situation, Phobos Command?" Arlene asked. The voice on the other end lost what little self-control it had. "Something friggin' EVIL is coming out of the Gates! Our computer systems have gone completely bezerk! We... oh, God, no..." The sound just before feed erupted into pure static sent shivers down Doom's spine. It was a human scream of pure terror, instantly cut short by a sickening low thud and the sound of multiple bones shattering. The sound feed was shut off, and the screen went to black, displaying a bold red "DISCONNECTED" message. Everyone in the room stood there, transfixed at the screen. Arlene did the same, until another warning flashed on the console. "What the..." she trailed off. "Deimos is gone." "Gone? You mean it's been destroyed?" Crash asked. "No, it's just plain gone. If it were destroyed, there'd be pieces of it, meteors, space dust, something. But there's nothing. Deimos just dropped from the radar without a trace." A UAC captain approached Arlene. "What about communications?" "It's not happening." Arlene's fingers danced over the console. "I'm not picking up anything from Phobos, either. It's still there, but it's like there's no phone left for someone to pick up." Slaughter leaned over to Doom. "Sounds like we have a serious threat to the continued profits of the Union Aerospace Corporation," he whispered. "And you know what that means..." "Soldiers!" the captain cut him short. "We have a serious situation on our hands. I want every available soldier ready to depart for Phobos in five minutes. Now move out!" As the room cleared, Crash tapped Doom on the shoulder. "Guess you've finally got a chance to kick somebody's ***," she smiled. "Yeah," Doom muttered. Problem was, he wasn't sure who, or what, it was. What was more, he was positive he didn't like the smell of it. In the deep, dark recesses of the Deimos base, Zael was showing off his work to Uriel. "See, the one-on-one or small group duels of the Arena are all good and fine," he said with a smirk, "but I've always been one for the massive wars. Sure, it's thrilling to go toe-to-toe with someone of equal caliber, but every once in a while, I just need to annihilate a hoarde of lesser opponents." "Or, in this case, create a few hoardes of your own," Uriel smiled in reply. "Exactly. Personally, these gladiators aren't worthy in my eyes until they've gone up against those 'insurmountable odds' you have so much trouble creating on Earth. So, it's far easier to amass a hellish army from several galaxies." Zael led Uriel to a green force field. Contained within it, suspended about a foot off of the ground, was a brown alien creature. Its knees were bent at odd angles, giving it a chicken-like stance. Huge spikes stuck out through its back, with smaller ones on its head. The hands and feet ended in three large claws. Its face was pointed, with sunken-in, almost invisible eyes and a small mouth that was meshed together. "A magnificent specimen," Uriel commented. "Perhaps, but it's not quite enough to strike terror in the hearts of men," Zael replied. "Besides, this race of chitnids is a peaceful, religious kind, which won't do at all. But add a little of our... unique influence, and you get something much better." Zael extended a hand towards the cage. The green field fell, but before the creature could hit the ground, a red bolt erupted from Zael's hand and struck the creature. The beast fell into spasms, and Uriel began to notice a gradual change take place. The legs straightened out and became more humanoid. The hands and feet became smaller, and the claws became smaller, sharper. Like two burning coals, the creature's eyes became larger until they took over the eye sockets, brilliant red lights surrounded by a pitch, black corona. The mesh covering the mouth parted way to reveal row after row of razor-sharp teeth. The spikes on the head shrunk away, revealing ears on either side of the skull. When the transformation was complete, Uriel turned to Zael. "Quite the demonic little imp, isn't it?" He smiled. "I'm impressed." "Thank you," Zael beamed. "Once they've been converted to our cause, you'll find them most obedient." He gestured to the imp. "Go on, join the others." "But what about this problem you mentioned?" Uriel asked. "Ah, yes. While it's been quite easy to convert most of the race, there is one chitnid who has resisted my best efforts." Zael led him to another green field. While the chitnid in the first field had been frozen in place, the second moved freely, bristling at the sight of Uriel and Zael's approach. "Klesk here appears to have been the religious leader of the chitnids," Zael continued. "He seems to be utilizing some spiritual assistance to resist the conversion." The chitnid spoke in a raspy, hissing voice. "We will find you, daemon ... kill body, swallow soul, scatter thoughts. Nothing of daemons remain." Zael shook his head. "You see what I mean. Do you have any suggestions?" Uriel smiled. "If he's such a strong-willed, intelligent creature, why not bring him to the Arenas?" Zael looked at him quizically. "A non-human in the Arenas? Such a thing has never been done before." "But there's no reason why it couldn't. The humans will adapt. And if the situation turns favorable, we have an entirely new source of fighters for the Arena." "Indeed." Zael smiled at the prospect. "But how to remove this creature from this dimension..." "Well, you stated before that these legions aren't particular fond of cooperating, correct?" Uriel asked. "I'm afraid so," Zael sighed. "They tend to turn on anything but their own kind with the slightest instigation." "Well, I'm sure I saw one or two of your creations that should have no trouble disposing of this chitnid..." Zael drummed his fingers together as he grinned devilishly. "I have just the one in mind." He snapped his fingers, and the green field, along with Klesk, vanished. "Now that that's taken care of," Zael said, "It's time to watch the show. The fun on Phobos is just beginning." Together, the two Vadrigar walked off into the shadows. Klesk found himself in a large courtyard. He picked himself off the ground and dusted off what he could. "No good. All minds find focus hate on daemons. We must fufill destiny." His anger was interrupted, however, by a monstrous screaming noise, followed by what would sound like a train to a human. Klesk turned to gaze upon a gigantic creature, several stories tall. Its rippling muscles intersected steel and electronics in a mess of killing power. Its head was decidedly demonic, with humongous horns and row upon row of razor-sharp teeth, and its right arm ended in a barrel capable of launching small cruise missles. "Too many! Too many!" Klesk shouted. "Touch of metal daemon, energy scatter! No ascent! Discord!" Klesk tried to run away, but the giant demon easily gained three times the ground he could cover. Suddenly, the demon stopped, pointed his right arm, and fired. A giant missle bore down on Klesk. "Too many poppers!" Klesk shouted as the missle closed in. Finally, the missle exploded, and Klesk disappeared in a mix of blue lightning and explosive fireball. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]Zael perked up at an unheard sound. "Well, the CyberDemon is done playing," he laughed before continuing to watch the events on Phobos. The UAC marines unloaded into the Phobos hangar. The captain wasted no time ordering the troops into position. "Striker, Hooper, go recon. Sanders, Crash, Slaughter, secure the perimeters. Doom, lock down this hanger. The rest of you fall into position." "What?" Doom responded. He was getting left behind while everyone else moved out. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm the best soldier you got..." "And that's exactly why I need you here, Doom. If whatever's out there gets ahold of this ship, we're as good as stranded. There is no backup in this situation. I can't spare any more soldiers than I absolutely have to, which is why I'm using the best." The captain's voice was firm. "Don't worry, pal," Slaughter said as he slapped Doom upside the shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on your teammates." Doom saw Crash watching Slaughter closely, making sure he didn't refer to her or Arlene by any helpless feminine moniker. Doom nodded to Crash and Arlene. "Go on, give'em hell." The squad moved out; recons in front, Crash, Arlene and Slaughter behind them, and the rest of the squad following in turn. Doom immediately scoured the hangar, making sure there was no sign of any intruders. His radio picked up the sounds of the troops moving around the inner hangar. The reception was static-filled, of course... probably a side effect of those crazy Gate experiments. Still, he heard the recons work their way through the building, making their reports. Private Hooper found the first corpse. "What's the ID on that body, private? Military or UAC?" the captain asked. Hooper's voice came back quite shaken. "... unidentifiable, sir. The body's been mangled beyond recognition. I can't even tell gender. Cripes... it looks like it's been gnawed on." The captain remained silent for a moment. Doom knew what he was thinking. Who... or what... could chew on a human enough to make it unrecognizable? Their thoughts were interrupted by Private Striker. "I've found something, sir. It's moving in the shadows. I think..." His footsteps froze. "Sweet Savior. It's not human." His report became distorted with the sound of gunfire. "Brown... spike everywhere... fangs... burning red eyes..." His voice rose to a yell. "I can't put it down, sir! I can't put it down!" A scream cut the air; not Striker's, and not even human. The screeching sound burned itself into Doom's head. The second sound was Striker's, and was cut short with a gurgling sound. "Jesus. Soldier down." Aside from the captain's exclamation of the obvious, the air was still. Then all hell broke loose. Slaughter saw them first. "What the... we're outflanked to the west!" he shouted as he opened fire on the unseen monsters. He was soon followed by Arlene yelling, "They've taken over our east wing!" Gunfire erupted from all directions, mixed in with shouting that slowly became screaming. Doom fought to make sense of it all. As he tried to listen to specific voices, the voice of Crash cut through the mayhem. The captain was nowhere to be found, so Crash seemed to be taking control of the marines. Of course, the term "taking control" was used lightly, as most of the soldiers didn't seem to respond to orders; they only responded to the terror. Then, Crash's yelling was silenced. Doom strained to hear her voice. After a few seconds, he heard a whisper that was undoubtably Crash's. "Oh, no." The quiet voice, strangely audible amidst the chaos, was followed by a massive explosion, a mix of pyrotechnics and electricity. Then, a few more shots, a few more screams, and silence. It seemed that Mars Squadron was dead. Doom stood there, frozen, in the same place he had been since the discovery of the first corpse. Things were not looking good. Slaughter, Crash, and Arlene... God, Arlene... were out there. If they were still alive, they were up against something completely inhuman. And even if a miracle happened and he lived long enough to find them and bring them back, there was no way they was getting off the moon alone. Worse yet, the assault team had taken virtually all of the weaponry, leaving him with a pistol. If he could get his hands on a plasma rifle, or even a simple shotgun, he could take a few of those sons o' bitches out with him. Whatever killed the UAC squad deserved at least a few pellets upside the head. Doom secured his helmet and exited the hangar bay. Hopefully, he could find more substantial firepower once he got inside... even if he had to strip it from the bodies of his comrades. He just hoped he wouldn't run into the corpses of anyone he knew... or cared about. God help him, he was gonna find whoever was responsible for this and make them pay. He walked into the main entrance to the base. UAC marine bodies scattered the place... mostly private grunts that had attempted to flee back to the ship. Doom perked his ears, and heard animal-like growls echoing through the distance corridors. Whatever was out there knew he was there. There was no turning back now. [b]Part II: The Doom Warriors Chapter 6[/b] Crash awoke. As she slowly rose to her feet, she knew she was no longer in the Phobos base. The question was, where was she? Was she dead? She caught another figure off to her left. She turned quickly, then breathed a sigh of relief to see her own reflection. She approached the mirror, and inspected herself. She didn't appear to be a ghost... She inspected her surroundings. The place seemed to be similar to the Martian outposts, but at the same time wholly different. Strange consoles stood before her, holograms of skeletons and robotic females sat in the corners, and the walls pulsed with a strange energy. It was if some twisted individual had decided to rebuild their own version of a Martian base. Strangest of all, a shotgun was in front of her. Not on the ground in front of her, but actually floating above the ground, rotating slowly. She reached out to grab it, and the gun practically leapt into her hand. She checked it to make sure it was functional and no longer exhibiting a life of its own. If things got any stranger, she thought to herself, I might need this. She worked her way around the large block that held the mirror. Beyond it lay a strange artifact with a glimmering vertical surface. As she approached it, it shimmered, revealing another location within the strange base. Crash took a few steps closer. As she did, a booming voice erupted from all around her. "WALK INTO THE PORTAL." Caught off guard, Crash startled, misstepped, and stumbled a few steps before accidently diving headfirst into the artifact. In an instant, she felt as if she were a thousand points of light screaming through the universe. Then, with a flash, she found herself on the ground, right where the artifact had been showing. She once again picked herself up, but this time to the sounds of mild clapping. "Bravo, dear Crash," someone said. "Graceful as ever." Crashed looked up, only to find a huge shock waiting for her. A large creature stood before her, with pale grey skin, rippling muscles, and hands and feet that ended in large, pointed claws. Its face was hidden beneath a green hood. It was the same face she'd seen during the attack... just before the things showed up. "Who are you?" Crash asked. "They call me Zael," he answered. "And I'm largely responsible for bringing you here." "What do you want?" She kept her questions curt. As long as this Zael creature was willing to volunteer information, she wasn't about to give any out of her own. "Why, merely the pleasure of your presence here," Zael replied. "I've got a small job for you." "Thanks, but no thanks," Crash said. "I've got work to do." "You mean back on Phobos?" Zael asked. "I'm afraid you'll find that marines are all but extinct back there. You could return, to be sure, but I'm afraid the odds are a bit against you now. I see no reason for you to choose such an obvious and... permanent death." "What are you driving at?" Crash asked. In the back of her mind, she went over his choice of words. All but extinct. At least someone was still alive... "If you're looking for combat, dear, you've found the right place. If you wish to find the ones responsible for what happened on Phobos... well, good things come to those who wait." Zael grinned. Crash had heard enough. She pulled her shotgun up to Zael. "If you know something you're not telling me..." "Tut, tut, tut, Crash. There's no need to get hostile with me; after all, I'm not about to harm you." Zael turned to his right. "But he might." Crash turned to see a large brown alien that had just rounded the corridor and was bearing down on the duo. In its arms it cradled an energy weapon -- a plasma rifle, by Crash's best guess. Not exactly something she cared to help demonstrate. The alien gave a large scream -- similar to an alien pig attempting to clear its throat -- and charged Crash. It brought its weapon up to bear as it trained its mark on Crash. Thinking quickly, Crash charged the creature in turn. She kept her attention focused on its hands. The instant they quivered, she dived for the floor. The alien's plamsa rounds flew harmlessly over her head as she ducked into a ball and rolled. Before the creature could compensate, Crash was crouching directly in front of it, with her shotgun trained on its chest. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]Zael perked up at an unheard sound. "Well, the CyberDemon is done playing," he laughed before continuing to watch the events on Phobos. The UAC marines unloaded into the Phobos hangar. The captain wasted no time ordering the troops into position. "Striker, Hooper, go recon. Sanders, Crash, Slaughter, secure the perimeters. Doom, lock down this hanger. The rest of you fall into position." "What?" Doom responded. He was getting left behind while everyone else moved out. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm the best soldier you got..." "And that's exactly why I need you here, Doom. If whatever's out there gets ahold of this ship, we're as good as stranded. There is no backup in this situation. I can't spare any more soldiers than I absolutely have to, which is why I'm using the best." The captain's voice was firm. "Don't worry, pal," Slaughter said as he slapped Doom upside the shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on your teammates." Doom saw Crash watching Slaughter closely, making sure he didn't refer to her or Arlene by any helpless feminine moniker. Doom nodded to Crash and Arlene. "Go on, give'em hell." The squad moved out; recons in front, Crash, Arlene and Slaughter behind them, and the rest of the squad following in turn. Doom immediately scoured the hangar, making sure there was no sign of any intruders. His radio picked up the sounds of the troops moving around the inner hangar. The reception was static-filled, of course... probably a side effect of those crazy Gate experiments. Still, he heard the recons work their way through the building, making their reports. Private Hooper found the first corpse. "What's the ID on that body, private? Military or UAC?" the captain asked. Hooper's voice came back quite shaken. "... unidentifiable, sir. The body's been mangled beyond recognition. I can't even tell gender. Cripes... it looks like it's been gnawed on." The captain remained silent for a moment. Doom knew what he was thinking. Who... or what... could chew on a human enough to make it unrecognizable? Their thoughts were interrupted by Private Striker. "I've found something, sir. It's moving in the shadows. I think..." His footsteps froze. "Sweet Savior. It's not human." His report became distorted with the sound of gunfire. "Brown... spike everywhere... fangs... burning red eyes..." His voice rose to a yell. "I can't put it down, sir! I can't put it down!" A scream cut the air; not Striker's, and not even human. The screeching sound burned itself into Doom's head. The second sound was Striker's, and was cut short with a gurgling sound. "Jesus. Soldier down." Aside from the captain's exclamation of the obvious, the air was still. Then all hell broke loose. Slaughter saw them first. "What the... we're outflanked to the west!" he shouted as he opened fire on the unseen monsters. He was soon followed by Arlene yelling, "They've taken over our east wing!" Gunfire erupted from all directions, mixed in with shouting that slowly became screaming. Doom fought to make sense of it all. As he tried to listen to specific voices, the voice of Crash cut through the mayhem. The captain was nowhere to be found, so Crash seemed to be taking control of the marines. Of course, the term "taking control" was used lightly, as most of the soldiers didn't seem to respond to orders; they only responded to the terror. Then, Crash's yelling was silenced. Doom strained to hear her voice. After a few seconds, he heard a whisper that was undoubtably Crash's. "Oh, no." The quiet voice, strangely audible amidst the chaos, was followed by a massive explosion, a mix of pyrotechnics and electricity. Then, a few more shots, a few more screams, and silence. It seemed that Mars Squadron was dead. Doom stood there, frozen, in the same place he had been since the discovery of the first corpse. Things were not looking good. Slaughter, Crash, and Arlene... God, Arlene... were out there. If they were still alive, they were up against something completely inhuman. And even if a miracle happened and he lived long enough to find them and bring them back, there was no way they was getting off the moon alone. Worse yet, the assault team had taken virtually all of the weaponry, leaving him with a pistol. If he could get his hands on a plasma rifle, or even a simple shotgun, he could take a few of those sons o' bitches out with him. Whatever killed the UAC squad deserved at least a few pellets upside the head. Doom secured his helmet and exited the hangar bay. Hopefully, he could find more substantial firepower once he got inside... even if he had to strip it from the bodies of his comrades. He just hoped he wouldn't run into the corpses of anyone he knew... or cared about. God help him, he was gonna find whoever was responsible for this and make them pay. He walked into the main entrance to the base. UAC marine bodies scattered the place... mostly private grunts that had attempted to flee back to the ship. Doom perked his ears, and heard animal-like growls echoing through the distance corridors. Whatever was out there knew he was there. There was no turning back now. [b]Part II: The Doom Warriors Chapter 6[/b] Crash awoke. As she slowly rose to her feet, she knew she was no longer in the Phobos base. The question was, where was she? Was she dead? She caught another figure off to her left. She turned quickly, then breathed a sigh of relief to see her own reflection. She approached the mirror, and inspected herself. She didn't appear to be a ghost... She inspected her surroundings. The place seemed to be similar to the Martian outposts, but at the same time wholly different. Strange consoles stood before her, holograms of skeletons and robotic females sat in the corners, and the walls pulsed with a strange energy. It was if some twisted individual had decided to rebuild their own version of a Martian base. Strangest of all, a shotgun was in front of her. Not on the ground in front of her, but actually floating above the ground, rotating slowly. She reached out to grab it, and the gun practically leapt into her hand. She checked it to make sure it was functional and no longer exhibiting a life of its own. If things got any stranger, she thought to herself, I might need this. She worked her way around the large block that held the mirror. Beyond it lay a strange artifact with a glimmering vertical surface. As she approached it, it shimmered, revealing another location within the strange base. Crash took a few steps closer. As she did, a booming voice erupted from all around her. "WALK INTO THE PORTAL." Caught off guard, Crash startled, misstepped, and stumbled a few steps before accidently diving headfirst into the artifact. In an instant, she felt as if she were a thousand points of light screaming through the universe. Then, with a flash, she found herself on the ground, right where the artifact had been showing. She once again picked herself up, but this time to the sounds of mild clapping. "Bravo, dear Crash," someone said. "Graceful as ever." Crashed looked up, only to find a huge shock waiting for her. A large creature stood before her, with pale grey skin, rippling muscles, and hands and feet that ended in large, pointed claws. Its face was hidden beneath a green hood. It was the same face she'd seen during the attack... just before the things showed up. "Who are you?" Crash asked. "They call me Zael," he answered. "And I'm largely responsible for bringing you here." "What do you want?" She kept her questions curt. As long as this Zael creature was willing to volunteer information, she wasn't about to give any out of her own. "Why, merely the pleasure of your presence here," Zael replied. "I've got a small job for you." "Thanks, but no thanks," Crash said. "I've got work to do." "You mean back on Phobos?" Zael asked. "I'm afraid you'll find that marines are all but extinct back there. You could return, to be sure, but I'm afraid the odds are a bit against you now. I see no reason for you to choose such an obvious and... permanent death." "What are you driving at?" Crash asked. In the back of her mind, she went over his choice of words. All but extinct. At least someone was still alive... "If you're looking for combat, dear, you've found the right place. If you wish to find the ones responsible for what happened on Phobos... well, good things come to those who wait." Zael grinned. Crash had heard enough. She pulled her shotgun up to Zael. "If you know something you're not telling me..." "Tut, tut, tut, Crash. There's no need to get hostile with me; after all, I'm not about to harm you." Zael turned to his right. "But he might." Crash turned to see a large brown alien that had just rounded the corridor and was bearing down on the duo. In its arms it cradled an energy weapon -- a plasma rifle, by Crash's best guess. Not exactly something she cared to help demonstrate. The alien gave a large scream -- similar to an alien pig attempting to clear its throat -- and charged Crash. It brought its weapon up to bear as it trained its mark on Crash. Thinking quickly, Crash charged the creature in turn. She kept her attention focused on its hands. The instant they quivered, she dived for the floor. The alien's plamsa rounds flew harmlessly over her head as she ducked into a ball and rolled. Before the creature could compensate, Crash was crouching directly in front of it, with her shotgun trained on its chest. "Game Over," she said. The creature exploded in a fine cloud of dust as Crash pulled the trigger. Several small pieces of the alien flew off into the corners of the corridor. The plasma rifle fell, only to stop short of the floor and begin hovering, same as the shotgun. Crashed grabbed the rifle and returned to Zael. "What is this place?" she asked. Zael smiled. "We call this the Arena Eternal. It encompasses far more than you see here. We created it as a tribute to creatures like you." Crash shot him a dubious glance. "Warriors. Those that excel in the glorious art of combat. Of course, the problem in your realm is that once someone dies, it's 'game over,' as you put it. But I think you'll find that your rules do not apply here." Zael snapped his fingers, and with a flash, the alien reappeared. "We brought Klesk here because, frankly, we didn't have any other choice. While he has a fighter's spirit, he has the training of a monk. And that's where you come in." Zael paused before continuing. "You also possess a fighter's spirit, Crash. But you also display a sense of leadership, strategy, and planning that is stronger than your will to fight. Your experience has served you well as a trainer of warriors on Earth, and I hope it will serve you equally well as a trainer here. "This area is one of the first levels of the Arena Eternal... our version of the Pearly Gates, if you will. Your job will be to train all incoming gladiators in the art of combat. Fighting in the Arena is quite different than on Earth, and it will be your responsibility to teach the fighters before they proceed." Crash finally spoke. "I assume this is a long-term assignment," she said flatly. Zael smiled. "I don't wish to use the word 'eternity' with you, Crash," he replied. "However, your duty will end when we no longer find any suitable gladiators to bring to the Arena." "And hell freezes over," Crash added. Zael stopped for a moment, then smiled again. "Be careful what you joke about," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe a friend of yours is about to meet up with some friends of mine. As for you, I think your student is ready for another lesson." Zael stepped back, bowed, and with a flash of blue light, disappeared. Crash sighed, resigned to her fate. The news that someone she knew was still alive on Phobos comforted her slightly. She turned to the alien Klesk, who had already begun scrounging around for a weapon. "Alright, you brown bastard," she muttered. "Let see if we can't teach you to lead your targets." Knee-deep in the dead, and the pile just kept getting bigger. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]Partially blinded by rage, fear, and a bloodlust for revenge, Doom had stormed his way through most of the Phobos base. He killed anything that threatened his progress. In this case, that had been plenty. He was still haunted by his first encounter. Working his way through the bodies of his fallen comrades, he rounded a corner only to see a familiar face several meters ahead. Unlike most, however, the body possessing this face was still standing. "Slaughter!" Doom shouted. "Goddamn, it's good to see someone else alive!" Slaughter turned to look at Doom. For a moment, Doom was surprised by his appearance. His skin had taken on a yellowish tone. His eyes appeared glazed over with mucus. His head twitched sporadically, and his open mouth had a solid line of drool trailing down his uniform. Doom sensed a bitter smell in the air. "Damn, Slaughter. What happened to you?" Doom asked. Slaughter's mouth upturned slight at the ends, as if unseen hands were pulling his face into a mock grin. He brought his rifle up and pointed it at Doom. Doom's mind couldn't comprehend the sequence of events. His body, however, reacted immediately. He hit the deck, only to have a bullet zoom over his head. He rolled back around the corner and sprang to his feet. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted. He ducked his head around the corner, only to pull it quickly back as another shot was fired. He paused, waiting, as Slaughter approached the corner. He had to time it just right... Just as the barrel of Slaughter's rifle rounded the corner, Doom grabbed it and ripped it out of his hands and threw it down on the ground. Slaughter, in turn, reached for Doom's throat. Doom immediately brought his hands up to intercept Slaughter's, and the two grappled for several seconds. Slaughter's strength was inhuman. It took every ounce of strength Doom had to hold him off. With the two this close together, however, Doom was able to take a second look. Slaughter's arms and legs acted as if they were beginning to stiffen. The odor Doom had smelled before was much stronger, a mix of lemons, ammonia, and rotting flesh. The worst, however, was Slaughter's face. Doom had been too occupied with the peculiarities of Slaughter's appearance to notice his expression. Despite the glassed-over eyes and groaning mouth, Slaughter's face was frozen in a look of shock and terror. It was as if he had been scared to death. Doom didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it. But like it or not, he was in a life-and-death struggle with a goddamn zombie. Someone, or something, had turned one of his better friends into a meat puppet. With that revelation, the rage surged within Doom again. He ripped Slaughter's arms away from him, and delivered a solid kick that sent the former marine flying. Before he could regain his feet, Doom had retrieved the rifle and brought it up to fire. Three, four, five bullets he emptied into Slaughter's chest, with no effect. The corpse continued to walk towards him. It wasn't until he put the sixth bullet through Slaughter's cranium that the zombie finally fell over. Doom dropped the weapon, took a few deep breaths, and promptly retched. After regaining his composure, he stared at Slaughter's body. The stench was worse than ever. It was like a bad horror movie. Doom had a sneaking suspicion that, like any bad horror movie, any time you have one zombie, you've got a million of them. The idea of fighting off hoardes of former marines and UAC employees did not comfort him. And if he chanced upon Crash or Arlene reworked as a zombie... well, it might be easier to put the bullet through his own brain. Of course, the zombies had only been the beginning. It hadn't taken long before Doom chanced upon the originators of the chaos. There were the demonic imps that the squad had reported before succumbing. The little brown bastards like to heave flaming balls of some napalm-like substance at anyone who chanced by, and they took several shots to die. Thankfully, he found better firepower before he chanced upon more than one of those SOBs. Then there were the regular demons themselves. Gigantic brutes, they somewhat resembled a shaved gorilla, only with horns, a big head, lots of teeth, meaner and a lot tougher to kill. Their gigantic mouths, filled with rows of teeth, promised to snap Doom in half if he ever got too close. Of course, if it could get worse, it did. One of Doom's most terrifying experiences was with a nearly invisible demon. The spectre-like creatures were almost completely transparent; only a small dark flicker gave any visible indication to their presence. Sonically, though, they sounded just like their regular pink bretheren. Doom remembered a twentieth-century flick with soldiers in the jungle fighting off an invisible alien. He could now relate. Thankfully, his arsenal had expanded considerably. He was now the proud owner of a shotgun as well as a rapid-fire chaingun. He had even come across a miniature rocket launcher complete with several small rockets. He felt as if he could take on anything. With every twist and turn, the base grew more and more twisted and demonic. It was as if some unseen hand was reshaping the base while no one watched. The walls conveyed a very clear message: you are going to die here. Which was fine by Doom. He was amazed he hadn't gone down yet. Perhaps there was still hope that he might get to the bottom of things. More importantly, there was still hope he might find Crash or Arlene alive. He hated to admit it, but Arlene was his inspiration right now. Granted, he cared for Crash, but he knew she had been around enough to take care of herself. Arlene was no lightfoot either, but the overly macho part of him wanted to be there to protect her. Every minute he didn't see her body, every time he scanned a zombie's face and it wasn't hers, every time he chanced upon a demon that someone had already killed, his hope rekindled once more. Doom shook his head. Like it or not, he was truly crazy about her. His thoughts cleared as he returned to the present. He was probably lucky that nothing had found him while he reminisced. In fact, this entire section had been awfully quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Something big had to be ahead. He reached the end of the hallway, where a single large button lay. He pushed the button, and a section of the wall fell, revealing a lift. He stepped on it, and it brought him up to another room. He made a quick check of his surroundings. He stood on a small platform with two pillars in the middle of a room. The room itself was huge, with angular walls. Small triangular corridors ran off to either side, behind him, and directly forward. Doom pieced the shape together in his mind. This room was a star. Given the remodellers, it was more likely a pentagram. The Powers That Be seemed to have a fetish for all things satanic and witchlike. Doom saw some barrels filled with green waste off to his left. Past experience had shown that a few straight shots at one of those resulted in a nice, large explosion. He'd keep that in mind. He also heard the piglike grunts that suggested more spectres. Well, he hoped he was ready for them. He took a step forward. As he did, two pillars in front of him opened up. What was inside nearly froze Doom in his tracks. Two might roars enveloped is ears as what could only be described as the barons of hell itself spotted Doom. Tough as dump trucks and nearly as big, the two minotaur-like creatures were the worst things Doom had seen since the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Their giant hooved feet shook the ground with each step. The beasts' faces brimmed with evil, extending to the tips of the thick horns on each side of their heads. Their pale pink skin looked tougher than nails, and the huge clawed hands glowed green with the promise of bloody carnage. Doom snapped out of his initial shock as his survival instincts kicked in. Fighting his desire to turn around and run clear out of the room, he instead ran straight between the two barons. The demons raised their arms as the green glow from their hands grew brighter. As Doom reached the end of the platform and leapt, two balls of green plasma collided immediately behind him. He crouched and fell into a roll, then sprang to his feet. The two demons were either physically unable or unwilling to jump down after him. After roaring in anger, the two attempted to find their way off the platform. Doom reached back and removed the rocket launcher from his combat webbing. He had saved up every rocket he could find just in case he came across something this horrific. Now, he just hoped it was enough. He hoisted the weapon up as the left demon managed to locate some stairs and descend to the main floor. He pulled the trigger, and felt the launcher lurch back as the rocket erupted from the barrel. The charge flew straight and true, and collided with its intended target with a tremendous noise. As the debris settled, Doom was shocked to find the hell baron completely unfazed. Undaunted, Doom fired another rocket. It also hit the baron, again with no affect. Still moving forward, the beast wound up its arm and let loose with another ball of green plasma. Doom rushed aside and dodged the plasma, then crouched down to let loose with another rocket. The third rocket, finally, seemed to do the damage. The creature slowed down considerably. The fourth left it feebly standing, and with the fifth, it finally exploded in a shower of innards. Doom gave a sigh of relief, but his temporary victory was interrupted by the sound of a demon he couldn't see. Reflexively, Doom dropped his rocket launcher, spun around, and without bothering to remove his shotgun from his webbing, brought it into his arms and fired several shells that seemed to hit a solid target in thin air. A few death snarls were Doom's only sign that he had successfully taken down the spectre. Picking his rocket launcher off the ground, Doom saw that he only had two rockets left. The other baron of hell had worked its way off the platform, and was bearing down on him fast. Thinking quickly, he dashed towards the barrels. The baron fired a few volleys of plasma at him, which he managed to evade. He ran amongst the barrels, working his way through them to the end of the star-shaped arm. Beyond the barrels, he noticed a strange artifact. It appeared to be a gigantic red eye with a pulsing blue pupil. He reached his arm out towards it, and it leapt toward him and exploded. Doom blinked a few times, only to realize that his still-outreached hand was nowwhere to be seen. He looked down at himself to see nothing but a pale dark static. He had become a spectre himself. Feeling the cold, hard steel of the rocket launcher in his hands, he knew he might just have a fighting chance now. He turned to the baron. "Hey, over here!" he shouted. When the creature seemed unable to locate him, he fired off his penultimate rocket. It exploded in the baron's face, leaving it plenty agitated. It stormed towards the barrels, pushing over any that got in its way. Doom waited, itchy trigger finger vibrating at the guard. When the demon was in the middle of the barrels, he fired, then ducked as far into the corner as he could. He did not see the carnage he unleashed, but he heard one explosion, then another, then dozens, merged with the baron's screams of agony. When he finally peeked out, he saw burning chemicals and entrails everywhere, but no baron. As if in surrender, the walls of the room fell around him, revealing a larger courtyard. Doom hopped down from the floor of the room, attempting to explore. He found an almost garage-like enclosure with no roof. When he pressed the button on the wall, the floor rose into a flight of stairs to the top. Doom walked to the top of the stairs, and stared at the strange symbol engraved in the wall. It pulsed with an energy that was at once electrical and something far more sinister. Could this possibly be one of the Gates? His mind flashed back to Slaughter's reports of what happened to Gate-jumpers. Then it remembered what happened to Slaughter himself. Well, thought Doom, there's no where else to go, and not much else to do. Holding his breath, he stepped onto the Gate, and felt himself burst into a thousand tiny points of light. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]Crash and Klesk found themselves in a circle-strafe. Both brandishing plasma rifles, the two spun around in tight circles, trying to lambaste one another with the energy weapons. Predicting your target could no longer be guesswork; you had to know which way he was going before he knew. Crash may have been picked as the teacher, but she was learning quite a bit about the rules of this realm. For one, health was not a physical indicator of how well you could fight. If anything, it was merely a sign of how much longer you could expect to live. Healing also didn't require surgery and weeks of recovery; there were artifacts in the base that could do the job instantly. Armor was also unusual. The creators of this realm apparently couldn't be bothered with the time-consuming task of actually putting your armor on. Instead, touching a flak jacket would cause it to disappear, and a warmth rushed over you to let you know you currently reaped the benefits. Pain? Pain was irrelevant. If you didn't already have a resistance to pain, you acquired it the first few times you died. And death... death was overrated. One's flame of life was relit just as quickly as it was extinguished, like a cruel trick birthday candle. Death was something you avoided because it was more fun to muss up the other guys' hair first. At least her charge had learned quickly. Once she had picked up Klesk's strange speech, the two of them frequently engaged in the art of trash-talking. Klesk's banter was a unique combination of threats and curses. Over time, he had adopted killing almost as a religion; he felt that vanquishing his opponent (namely Crash) was the only way to achieve spiritual peace. Of course, Crash was in the middle of limbo training an alien to fight for eternity, so who was she to say what was crazy? Suddenly, Klesk stopped his circle-strafing. He reached behind him and let go of the plasma rifle. The rifle disappeared, and in its place a shotgun formed in his hand. He brought it into position; before Crash could take all of it in and adjust her aim, he had brought her down with a burst of gunfire. Klesk gave his signature howl and approached her corpse. He pulled out the gauntlet, a bizarre device that was part spiked glove and part circular saw. Punching at her body a few times, he managed to cut it into several giblets, which he then picked up and munched on gleefully. Crash, in the meantime, had reappeared elsewhere in the base. She grabbed the plasma rifle again as well as more armor, and worked her way back to Klesk. She saw him munching on her former self, and grimaced. "Beginner's luck... again." "I didn't sign up for this ****!" Doom shouted as he ran clear of an attack capable of leveling a small army. Behind him, wave after wave of miniature cruise missles erupted upon the ground. Things had seemed so simple. He had arrived in the missing Deimos moon base, and continued his path of destruction on the way to whoever was responsible for the entire Mars situation. There had been some new demons to contend with -- giant red globe demons that spouted lightning balls from its huge maw -- but nothing he couldn't handle by now. He had made it to this place, confident he was in control. Hit a button, open a door. Scoop up some rockets, take care of the flying flaming skulls that clustered off in the corner. He barely noticed the train-like tramping sound in the distance until it began shaking the ground beneath his feet. The sound, the vibration, was nothing compared to the sight of what caused it. The source was a three-story, ten-ton cyborg demon that struck pure, distilled fear into Doom's heart. Its metal right arm was the source of the miniature cruise missles, which it liked to fire three at a time before continuing to stomp its way towards him. Doom sized up the creature's benefits and disadvantages. Well, it was slow, he could give it that. Beyond that, it was huge, powerful, and ate up Doom's rockets like it was catching a tan at the beach. Doom just hoped he could eventually plug it enough to give it a serious sunburn. He ducked into a small corridor. He grabbed more rockets... he seemed to be going through them like candy, and with about as much effect. He spotted a blue spherical arifact, which he also touched. The blue energy rushed over him, and he felt better than ever. He was going to need it. He ran back out into the main courtyard and faced the huge cyber-demon. He brought the rocket launcher up to his shoulder once more. "Bring it on, *****," he muttered. Crash hated to admit it, but she was actively running away from Klesk. His religious devotion to killing had slowly paid off over time. As he began killing her, she had to increase her concentration and strategies. Eventually, though, he proved to be her equal... and eventually her superior. She dashed off into a side corridor, hoping to obtain some health and armor before going toe-to-toe with him again. It was not to be, however, as plasma rounded the corner and slammed into Crash. Before she could start another attack, however, a new figure appeared within the arena. The being looked like Zael, but took on a more yellowish tone, with an orange hood and torn wings. "Stop!" the figure said. "Klesk's time here is over." "Who are you?" Crash asked. "It isssss Uriel," Klesk replied. "You remembered me. I'm flattered," Uriel smiled. "You've proven to be quite a competitor, Klesk. So much so, that I'm afraid there's not a great deal more Crash here can teach you." "We shall gnaw on your soul," Klesk snarled. "Not just yet." Uriel's grin grew bigger. "We have some other gladiators that can still show you a trick or two. C'mon, off you go..." Uriel waved his hand, and Klesk vanished. "So, am I done here?" Crash asked. "I'm afraid not. We're having problems with one of our combatants. He's actually an old friend of yours. He's had a bit of a problem coping with his demise... we hoped you could persuade him that death was not something we recommend reflecting much on here." "Fair enough," Crash answered. The chance to reunite with someone she knew, anyone she knew, was too much to resist. "Fantastic. We'll bring him in." He turned to leave; a pointless gesture, but then, he turned back. "One of your friends has been very successful in some of our work. He's managed to usurp most of our efforts on Mars and the moons. But it'll remain to be seen how well he handles what we're accomplishing on Earth." With that, Uriel left. Crash pondered what he said. A "he" was still alive on Mars' moons? She had seen Slaughter get dragged away by the creatures... it had to be Doom. He was alive and well; more than that, he was giving the demons what for. Go get'em, Doom, she thought. Her thoughts were interrupted by someone spawning behind her. As she turned around, her eyes grew wide. Darius "Phobos" Jackson had just arrived, falling to the floor with the same look she had when she first went through the portal. "Phobos!" she exclaimed. Phobos appeared to be in a daze. He didn't appear to recognize Crash at first. "You're not going to believe the things that go on in this place..." Crash began. Phobos did not answer. Instead, his eyes scoured around, searching for something. He shuffled beyond Crash. Crash followed him. "What are you doing?" she asked. Phobos walked through a doorway. By the time she got close, Phobos reappeared. He had a shotgun in his hands, and a demented look in his eyes. Crash saw the look. "Oh, no." She had just enough time to duck and roll before buckshot once again passed over her head. "Here we go again..." [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]Doom stood over the massive, crumpled form of the Spider Mastermind. This boss seemed to be the leader behind these hellish minions. Defeating it had been no simple task... in addition to its mega-chaingun, it also had a variety of minions, including a baron of hell. Doom chuckled as he remembered how the baron had been such a daunting task back on Phobos. Of course, now he wasn't on Phobos, or Deimos, either. Once he had defeated the CyberDemon, a portal had opened to a new realm, one so completely, mind-bogglingly twisted that it seemed to be the bowels of Hell itself. He had fought his way through, and he had survived. And now, he had defeated hell. As if in defeat, another portal opened. Beyond its edging, he could see a familiar sight. It was Earth. Experiencing joy for the first time, he leapt into the portal. As his body broke into a thousand pieces and scattered across space, he re-formed and found himself face-down, in the grass. Sweet-smelling grass. Earth grass. He looked at the red, sunset sky. He was home. He was in a field outside the city limits of a major metropolis. The field was filled with small rabbits. Doom smiled as he walked through them, rabbits scattering as he approached. He paused, however, as one rabbit failed to run away. He walked closer, and even closer, until he was right upon the rabbit. He nudged it with his boot. The rabbit fell over. Its head, however, rolled even further. Doom picked up the rabbit's head. The head had been savagely ripped from the rabbit's body. Holding it close, Doom smelled an odor he had become all to familiar with during his assault. Doom looked closer at the sky. It was not red from the sunset; a thick cloud of smoke covered the sky, blotting out most of the sun. He turned to the metropolis, only to see most of it in flames. Something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. Doom dashed towards the city limits. If the darker powers brought Hell upon Earth, then there was still Hell to pay. [b]Part II: The Doom Warriors EPOCH: The Hell Wars LOCATION: Earth[/b] Earth was not in one of its finer moments. Indeed, if a person from the late twentieth century were to look down upon their beloved planet from one of their "space shuttles," they might have difficulty identifying the planet as Earth after all. The entire planet had taken on an orange-red hue, as if trapped in an eternal dusk. Fire glowed from its surface as one metropolis after another burned to the ground. Above, the familiar moon glowed as usual, but the eerie dark form of Deimos also made its presence known. Zael watch the carnage unfold, a delightful grin shining across his face. He recognized the form of Uriel approaching from behind him. "The Klesk is learning quite nicely," Uriel began. "His accuracy is beginning to impress the other gladiators." "Excellent," Zael responded, almost paying no attention. Uriel noticed his brother's fixation on Earth. "I take it the invasion is proceeding nicely..." "Yes, of course, of course." Zael replied absentmindedly. Uriel tried once more. "Are we obtaining some quality gladiators?" "Not really," Zael said as he turned. His grin was larger than ever. "But then again, that's not really the point, is it?" Uriel was confused. "I'm afraid you've lost me, dear brother." Zael's eyes flashed. "Oh, of course, how silly of me. You don't know." He paused to examine the look on Uriel's face, then continued. "You see, this invasion is far larger than you know about. While you were doing your gladiator-hunting on Earth, we were amassing an army the likes of which the universe has never seen before. Now,_ that army is on Earth, ravaging whatever they find. We should have the entire population obliterated quite soon." Uriel was taken aback. "But I thought the purpose of the invasion was to find the most quality gladiators quickly and easily... like sorting the wheat from the chaff." Zael snorted. "That's all good and fine, but I'm afraid it's merely a secondary objective at best. We wish to crush the pathetic Earth mortals once and for all, to show them that they should not underestimate our intentions." Uriel's eyes grew. "You mean to challenge... the id?" he asked in a forceful whisper. "Indeed," Zael responded. "These Earth mortals are the chosen favorites of the id. That's why we've found such quality gladiators there. But the Arena Eternal is merely our recreational activity. Our true goal is to strike back at the id themselves for banishing us to this plane." Uriel seemed to be truly frightened. "You're a fool if you think you can face the id." "Alone, you might be right," Zael replied. "But I am most certainly not alone. In fact, I have some powerful backing... someone you might recognize." A figure stepped out from the shadows. The beast was similar to Zael and Uriel, but much larger and more muscular. Its maroon skin glowed from the fire within its veins. Its chest was adorned with a logo, a broken ring with a large spike driven through it. As it spoke, the essence of terror itself seemed to speak with it. "Hello, little brother," it said. Uriel was frozen in place. "Quake," he said quietly. Through all the pain, through all the bloodshed, one thing kept Doom going: Someone was going to die. To be sure, more than a fair share of zombies, imps, and the lot had been crushed underneath his fists and firepower. However, that was not his prime intent. He knew that if he cut a large enough swath through the legions of hell, he might cut his way through to whoever was responsible for bringing true Hell on Earth. And one he found them, someone was going to die. If Doom had anything to say about it, it wasn't going to be him. He knew what had happened on Earth even before he encountered his first zombie. The color of the sky, the smoke rising from every building, the smell of it all had tipped him off. All of his old shooting buddies were back, and they had some new friends to celebrate their Earth housewarming. There were zombies of all types, including big fat corporals wielding chainguns. Their intelligence wasn't any better, but they were still a pain to take out, particularly in groups. The Barons, which had long since started attacking in groups, now had little siblings that were never alone. The red ball creatures had brown associates that spit out the infamous flying skulls. There were vaguely humanoid blobs of fat with eyes that pumped fireballs at all who approached. On the other end of the spectrum, there were animated skeletons with armor, wielding flaming rockets. The CyberDemon and Spider Mastermind proved to be the first of many, and the spiders had small spawn that spewed plasma left and right. And then there were the scrawny white demons that revived dead creatures and tried to set him aflame... With a ton of new opponents, Doom had wasted no time reverting back to old times. At the footsteps of what was left of his military base, there lay a chainsaw. Doom immediately picked it up and ground up the first few zombies he came across. He remembered a similar chainsaw in the moon bases; it had proved useful when demon after demon poured into a crowded hallway. He also had a new double-barreled combat shotgun, the plasma rifle he had obtained back on Deimos, and the infamous experimental weapon referred to simply as the "Big Friggin' Gun 9000." If his opposition was any sign, he was going to need all the firepower he could obtain. Doom stepped over the body of the arachnotron he had just defeated. As he worked his way farther into the city, the landscape became more and more hellish, just as it had done on the moons. This time, though, he wasn't resting until he was sure that the power responsible for everything was vanquished... and he finally found Arlene. There had been no sign of Arlene in a long time, and Doom was beginning to fear the worst. However, his mind refused to let him believe she was dead. Arlene was alive, somewhere, and he was going to find her. He would not accept anything to the contrary. A woman to find, and hell to pay... Doom began running down the alley. There was no time to waste. "You seem surprised to see me, Uriel," Quake laughed. "I thought the id banished you to limbo," Uriel stammered. "Think of it more as a forced vacation." Quake grinned. "You should know by now that I will not be contained... merely delayed." "You brought Quake back." Uriel turned to Zael. "You're serious." "I'm always serious, brother," Zael replied. "But I am most serious when it comes to seeking revenge on the id." "Speaking of which," said Quake, "how goes the invasion of Earth?" "It is proceeding wonderfully," answered Zael. "I forsee no difficulties." "You appear to have forgotten one difficulty, brother Zael," Uriel interrupted. "The warrior known as Doom is still fighting." "What?" Zael asked. "See for yourself," Uriel said. He waved his hand above the view of Earth. The few changed to show Doom fighting his way through the hoardes. "This is not good," Zael muttered. "He might actually make his way to the Icon." "You placed the Icon of Sin on Earth?!?" Quake thundered. "It was a necessity," Zael calmly answered. "My armies are constructed of many different races, most of which hate one another with a vengeance. The only conceivable way to align them to a common cause was to use the Icon. I've constructed a grand altar surrounding it, fortified with an endless supply of guards. Even if the Doom mortal were to reach the Icon, he could never destroy it." "For your sake, you had best be right," Quake said. "The Icon is powered by the head of The Fallen One. If it were destroyed, the id would surely find out." "The Fallen One?" Uriel looked alarmed. "Why was I not told of any of this?" "You weren't told because you would panic, exactly as you are now," Zael calmly replied. "There is no problem. The mortal Doom will be eradicated. The destruction of Earth will succeed. We will have our revenge." "For your sake," bellowed Quake, "you had best be right about this Doom warrior." Uriel turned to look back down upon Earth. "You'll forgive me for having too much faith in these creatures' abilites," he quietly said to himself. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]This was it, Doom thought to himself. The moment of truth. If he was ever to find the source of all this evil, it had to be the abomination standing before him. A giant goat's skull stood before him, towering three stories tall, and muttering phrases in some archaic language. Every so often, the skull spit out a small cube, about a foot on each side, adorned with human skulls. As soon as the cube struck a wall, it materialized into one of the beasts of hell. Doom was not about to let the cubes collide with him, lest a demon teleport right on top of him. His biggest problem was getting to the skull, which rested on a platform several flights up. Doom had maneuvered up a staggered pyramid, dodging cubes and the beasts that came from them. At the top, he found a large skull with a switch embedded in its forehead. When he hit the switch, a large pillar fell from the ceiling. Thinking fast, Doom ran down the pyramid and onto the pillar. No sooner had he stepped onboard than the pillar rose once more, bringing him face to face with the skull. Doom hoisted up his rocket launcher. "This is for Slaughter," he said. The first rocket collided with the skull, showering bone fragments everywhere. Doom could see the exposed brain, wriggling in front of him like a matador's red flag. The effect was similar. Rocket after rocket erupted into the brain of the skull. When his rockets ran out, Doom switched to plasma, then to his chaingun. Even when the object screamed in horror and exploded, Doom did not stop. As the creatures around him died one by one, powerless without their source, Doom continued firing, blinded by rage. When his chaingun ran out of bullets, he continued emptying his shotgun into the long-since-deceased icon. It wasn't until he ran completely ran out of ammo, and even threw his fully-revved chainsaw into the exposed cavity, that he stopped. For several minutes, he stood there, breathing heavily, just waiting for something to move and give him a reason to rip it to shreds. He became aware of a short sound rhythmically repeating behind him. As the adrenaline faded, he recognized it as the sound of very slow clapping. He turned to face his audience. Zael stood there, slowly applauding. His eyes burned with rage at Doom's success, but he maintained his composure. Instant death would not be a significant enough punishment for this treachery. Not even the Arena was enough. But he knew something better. "Bravo, Doom," Zael said. "You're still alive." "Who the hell are you?" Doom demanded to know. "I am Zael," was the cool response. "If you're looking for the one responsible for all of this..." Zael opened his arms. "...you just found him." In an instant, the rage returned. Giving a battle cry once more, Doom leapt off the pillar towards Zael. However, Zael waved his right hand, and in an instant, Doom found himself hanging in midair, several stories above the hard ground below. Zael shook his finger at Doom. "Now, now, you have to learn to play nice," he said. "Fortunately, I know just the place. Unfortunately, you're going to have to die first. So, if you don't mind..." Zael raised his arm, and swatted the air. Doom felt a huge force slam into his back, and he plummeted to the ground. He raised up his arms in a futile attempt to cushion his fall. Just before impact, he felt and saw the rush of a great blue explosion, and then everything went black. Uriel suddenly appeared next to Zael. "Have you lost your mind? You killed him yourself." "Honestly, I didn't lay a hand on him," Zael grinned. "You've broken the rules of the Arena. The Masters will not be pleased," Uriel said in a stressed tone. "The head of The Fallen One is destroyed. The id will be after us soon regardless of what we do." Zael smiled. "If we are going to be found out, there's a few things I wish to do in the meantime... and torturing this fool is one of them." With that, he vanished for the Arena Eternal. Doom picked himself off the ground. He appeared to be in a large round platform floating in midair. Around him was a void of utter blackness. He peered over the side. Nothing; the platform had no supports. "Don't jump," he heard a voice sarcastically say from behind him. He spun around. Zael was standing on the other side of the platform. Inbetween the two was a shotgun. In a flash, Doom had rolled to the ground, scooped up the shotgun, regained his feet, and stood directly in front of Zael with the shotgun to his face. "I should just kill you where you stand," Doom muttered. "Go ahead," Zael said. "Unless, of course, you'd rather find out what happened to your precious little Arlene." Doom stopped. "What do you know about Arlene?" he asked through clenched teeth. Zael took a step back. "See for yourself," he said, with a wave of his hand. A portal opened to the right of Zael. Doom walked over to it. Within its shimmering surface, he could see the hangar of the Phobos base. His entire squad was there, working their way carefully through the hall. Once again, Doom heard the voice of Private Striker. "I've found something, sir. It's moving in the shadows. I think..." His footsteps froze. "Sweet Savior. It's not human." His report became distorted with the sound of gunfire. "Brown... spike everywhere... fangs... burning red eyes..." His voice rose to a yell. "I can't put it down, sir! I can't put it down!" A scream cut the air; by now, Doom recognized it as an imp's. The second sound was Striker's, and once again, it was cut short. Doom heard the captain once again say, "Jesus. Soldier down." He turned to Zael, knowing what would happen next. Right on cue, all hell broke loose. Doom heard Slaughter shout "What the... we're outflanked to the west!" as he opened fire. The view on the portal shimmered, moving to another location. Suddenly, Doom heard the voice of Arlene. However, it was not over the radio, as it was the last time he had heard her. It was right there. And he was looking at her. "They've taken over our east wing!" Arlene shouted. She fired again and again at figures out of view of the portal. She backed up the way she had come, moving to a dark corridor off the trail. Suddenly, Doom heard an all too familiar sound, one that resembled a pig's grunt. A figure moved from within the shadows, one large and swift. Arlene, unaware of its presence, continued backing straight towards it. Doom saw the inevitable all too soon. He reached a hand out towards the portal. "Arlene, watch out!" he found himself shouting, even though he knew the portal was showing the past. As it was, his cry went unheard. The demon stepped out from the shadows, cavernous mouth gaping. Arlene heard it and turned around, only to spot it as it clamped its jaws on her and thrust her into the air. Doom quickly turned his head away from the portal as a ear-splitting scream filled the air. He tried to block out the crunching, the gurgling, the victorious howl of the demon, and the deafening silence that followed. "Please, no more," Doom pleaded. Zael begrudgedly closed the portal. "It was truly unfortunate," Zael said. "I was looking forward to recruiting all of you as a group. Unfortunately, one of our demons got a bit overzealous. Let me assure you, the beast in question met with an excruciating death at my own hands." "No." Doom dropped to his knees, shaking his head. "I won't believe it." "You saw it for yourself," Zael replied. "I possess many powers you mortals don't have, but I'm afraid I cannot change the past." Something couldn't be right, Doom kept saying to himself. He hadn't heard the scream over the radio. There was chaos ten times over on the radio, but he would have heard Arlene, he just knew it. But what if he hadn't? That meant... Doom slowly undid the latch on his helmet. He raised both hands and removed it from his head, revealing brown hair in a short military buzz cut, zigzagged on the edge. His head was quivering, his teeth were clenched, and a single tear was streaming from eyes filled with both pain and rage. It started as a low vibration, as if he were clearing his throat. It slowly but surely picked up volume, pitch, and emotion, until Doom threw his head back, roaring for all he was worth. The scream would have struck fear into any man or beast, and seemed to shake the very essence of life itself. It was the scream of a man who had lost all reason to live, and lost all reason to let anything else live. The single howl went on for what seemed like days. Finally, though, Doom spent the last iota of air in his lungs. He spent several minutes just breathing, shaking uncontrollably, tears and sweat dripping off his face. By the time he regained his composure enough to turn to Zael again, Zael was gone. [/SIZE] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 4, 2002 Share Posted October 4, 2002 [SIZE=1]Arlene Sanders woke with a start and a small yelp. The soldier at watch quickly walked over to her. "Arlene, what's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing, Tom," she answered, gasping for breath. "Just a nightmare." Tom Garrison shook his head. "After all of this, you'd think you'd have had enough nightmares during the daytime," he grinned. Arlene smiled weakly. "Yeah," she replied. "Don't worry about it, okay?" Tom shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, returning to his post. Arlene laid back down. She had certainly had her fair share of nightmare. Her troop on Phobos had been decimated. She had managed to retreat back to their dropship, only to find out that even the ship guard, Doom, was missing. She had gotten to the ship's cabin, sent a message back to Earth, and waited for help to arrive. Those hours spent waiting in the ship, hoping whatever was out there didn't reach her, was nightmare enough. She had nearly shot at her rescue team when it arrived. When they returned to Earth, however, it only got worse. The first wave of the invasion struck full-force before they returned, and appeared to catch the entire planet by surprise. Not a single major armed force was in position to counter the threat. Attempts to work with the brass had been met with strong resistance... as if the demons had corrupted the ranks with their zombie methods. The result, unfortunately, was that squads were left to fend for themselves. The results weren't pretty. Earth's population was slaughtered just like the Phobos squad... live humans who weren't soldiers were an oddity. They stuck to their guns, and made their ammunition spread further than God ever intended. In the end, the demons turned on one another, ripping themselves to shreds. The stragglers were significantly easier to pick up. So now, the small bands of soldiers--Earth's only known survivors--were picking up the pieces. Arlene had learned to fit in with her new outfit, and even made a few new close acquaintences. But memories of the old ones remained. Crash was likely dead... Arlene had come to grips with that. She had last seen Crash in the thick of it; there was no way she could have survived when everyone else was dead. What drove her nuts at night, however, was that Doom had left his post. Where could he have gone? Could he have still been alive, and she had left him alone on Phobos? Then came tonight's nightmare. She had seen Doom, alone in a black void, screaming in agony. It had woken her up violently, but she couldn't figure out what it meant. Was he dead? Still trapped on Phobos? Being tortured by the demons? She might never know. It was comforting to have friends around once again. Arlene glanced over at Tom. He had been extremely nice since she had joined the outfit. He was a nice enough guy, but he was no Flynn Taggart. Oh, well. She wasn't going to get any sleep by dwelling on the past. She rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep. Doom, she thought, if you're out there, take care. I miss you. "Give him awhile to think about things, then send him to Crash," Zael told Uriel. "Why did you tell him that she was dead?" Uriel asked. "Because he couldn't bear the thought of her dead," Zael replied. "Humans in their strongest moments are often fueled by powerful emotions. However, they can be broken by them as well." He paused for a moment as his voice took on a tone of anger. "In addition, given the damage he's caused, I felt he should... suffer a little." Uriel said nothing. Zael noticed the frown on his face. "You seem displeased, little brother," Zael said. "You're not showing actual compassion for these creatures, are you?" "Of course not," Uriel snorted. Despite his confidence, however, he knew Zael might be right. He had been the one selecting gladiators for centuries, spending his time amongst the humans while Zael made his plans. Had his exposure to the humans made him vulnerable? Or was it merely a side effect of the return of Quake, the Vadrigar largely responsible for their banishment? "Perhaps you should lighten up a little," Zael went on. "Take some chances, enjoy things a little. After all, what is the worst that could happen?" As if in answer, a blinding flash of white light enveloped the two. As the light faded, a human figure appeared. The being wore a black and red suit, covered in a metallic surface. The face was mostly covered in a mask. A white halo glowed around the being. "The Messenger!" Uriel cried out. "Yes," the Messenger replied. "The destruction of the Fallen One has awoken the id. They have seen your crimes, and you must now answer to them. Uriel, the Arena Masters have informed the id of your treachery in polluting the Arena Eternal. the id have decided that your punishment shall be to live amongst those you have imprisoned." "No!" Uriel cried out in anger. He started towards the Messenger, but with a wave of his hand, a bolt flew from the Messenger to Uriel. In another flash, Uriel was gone. "As for you, Zael," the Messenger said as he turned to the second Vadrigar. "Your acts exceed even my bounds for retribution. The Earth Realm has been polluted nearly beyond repair, and your acts slaughtered nearly every innocent on the planet. The id wish to hand out your judgement in person." For the first time, Zael was scared. "You're taking me to the id themselves?" he stammered, looking over his shoulder. "Brother Quake, help me! Save me from this Messenger!" The Messenger ignored Zael's cries. He walked over to Zael, and grabbed his arm. In a flash, the two disappeared. From the darkness, Quake growled. "Their weakness proved their downfall. No matter. My brothers have brought me back to the Earth Realm. Despite their folly, I will have my revenge. First, I shall totally obliterate the humans of the Earth Realm, and then I shall challenge the id themselves." His eyes flashed with anger as he raised a fist into the air. "Fear not, my brothers. You shall be avenged!" Uriel arrived in the Arena with the usual flash. As he picked himself off the ground, he heard the sounds of combat off in the distance. Quickly, he attempted to leave in the usual fashion. However, this time, nothing happened. It appeared that the Messenger had stripped him of his abilities. He was just another Gladiator. Two sets of footsteps approached. Uriel spun to meet the first. The fighter turned around the corner, gun pointed straight at Uriel. When he saw his target, however, he lowered the weapon and gave a knowing smirk. Likewise, when the second gladiator turned at the end of the hallway, she did the same. "Well, Mynx," said Sarge, "look who decided to stop by." "Indeed," Mynx replied. "We meet again, Uriel." Uriel growled. "You had best stay away if you know what is best for you." "Really?" said Sarge. "I've got a slightly better idea. Why don't you..." he lifted his rocket launcher back up to his shoulder, "... just go frag yourself?" Before Uriel could respond, a rocket slammed into his chest. He crumpled to the floor in a heap. As his corpse sunk into the floor, he reappeared some distance away. "Good shot," Mynx said. Before Sarge could respond, she lifted up her weapon and delivered her own death warrant to Sarge. Sarge respawned as Mynx laughed. Before they could exchange taunts, however, both of them heard Uriel's booming voice from the shadows. "Very well," Uriel said with a growl. "I may be cursed to the Arena. But if either of you expect to kill me again, you will find me more challenge than you ever dreamed." "Big talk," Sarge gruffed. "Back it up with your weapon." "Oh, I intend to fully," Uriel said. "Now, let the [i]real[/i] combat begin." [/SIZE] How did u like my story, Questions, Comments? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 5, 2002 Share Posted October 5, 2002 Is nebodyz gunna reply? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Posted October 6, 2002 Share Posted October 6, 2002 What do you think?! O.o Its way to big! (for me atleast) o.O Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 6, 2002 Share Posted October 6, 2002 LOL, so then print it out, and then read it! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Posted October 6, 2002 Share Posted October 6, 2002 LOL I think I will read it when I have no HomeWork :( Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Shift Posted October 22, 2002 Share Posted October 22, 2002 Well when the hell is that going to happen? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Syk3 Posted October 22, 2002 Share Posted October 22, 2002 Shift, I've never in my entire life seen someone with so much time on their hands to write a HUMONGOUS...erm, whatever it is...that I won't/can't read it. *_* But you get an 'A' for effort, for sure! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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