Disclaimer: Don't own Doom. id does. Don't sue.
Author's Notes: I was in a 'mood' when I wrote this. Sorry for the shortness.
Self Inflicted
'They're closing in.'
He could hear their cries and moans of despair.
He could hear his teammate being ripped to shreds by the monsters behind the door – the only one that was left out of his squad of five.
His hand gripped his pistol harder than ever. He knew that, if the demons made it through the door, he was done for and in for a slow and painful death in one of the worst ways possible. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of giving those demons what he wanted. He was the last one on the base – he knew it. His last surviving teammate had just been killed. The researchers from the surrounding bases had been killed when the demons invaded. He didn't know how they got through, but he knew that they were from Hell. It was obvious to him.
The low distorted voices he heard throughout his journey of trying to survive. They were demonic – something you'd hear from a horror movie. He never believed in a Heaven or Hell until he heard those voices. He knew it was the work of Satan.
He knew it was the work of Hell itself.
The way the demons were shaped – limbs popping out of nowhere, large spikes spread across their body, blood red eyes.
The way they didn't mind ripping people to shreds. He saw each of his teammates get ripped apart one by one by those demons. He still had their blood in his hair, on his clothes, between his fingers.
His three days of surviving a living Hell was about to end. He knew it. He only had a pistol with a few magazines and his night vision goggles on him. "I'm done for," He laughed through gritted teeth. "I'm fucking done for." They were pounding on the metal door. They would break in any moment. He could hear the spikes from the demons rubbing against it, making him cringe. "Like nails on a chalkboard."
He loosened his grip on the pistol, tilting his head down to look at it. He knew he had choices. There was another way out of the room – through the vent – but he couldn't do it. He was the only one left and he knew he couldn't escape. As much as he wanted to, he knew he just couldn't. He had a family back home. "Are they alive…?"
He shook his head.
"No. They can't be…"
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a picture of his wife and baby boy. He held it to his lips and gripped his gun a little harder. His eyes were closed shut as hard as they possibly could go. "I love you, son…" He put the picture back into its rightful place and placed the nose of the gun in his mouth.
It fit comfortably – more comfortably than the clothes he wore.
A perfect fit.
"Come get me you sons of a bitches!" He taunted, yelling at the door.
They broke through, the metal door flying against the wall next to him.
As they leapt for him, he pulled the trigger and felt his world fall into an eternal darkness. "I love you, son."