Author's notes: This is basically a novel version of Doom 3 with some changes in terms of characters and detail based on my interpretation of the game. Might not ever finish it but who knows? Please tell me what you think, thanks.

Doom: Hell on Mars

Prologue

This is the audio log of maintenance technician Adam Bernech, dated November 10th, 2145. I fixed the couplings on the heat shields this morning with no problems. I did however have another odd experience while I was down there. Shortly after finishing the first coupling adjustment, I distinctly heard whispering. When I went to investigate the sounds, I found nothing. I checked the work logs and I was the only person scheduled to be in that area today. That experience, coupled with the stories I've heard from some of the guys at Delta has me pretty freaked out. I'm really beginning to hate going down to the underground maintenance area. The people down there are a bit off. The mumblings, the weird looks, all places, just plain creepy. I'm always expecting someone to jump out at me…

Beep.

Dr Mark Caseon. At 15:37 patient Jonathan Wills was admitted after complaining of insomnia and nausea. According to the nurse, Mr Wills was calm and exhibited no signs of disorder when he was brought to exam room 6. However, by the time I reached him at ten after four, his personality had changed dramatically. When I entered the room, Mr Wills lunged at me with a scalpel he had apparently stolen from a supply drawer. With assistance of an orderly we managed to subdue and sedate him without injury. Mr Wills was heavily medicated and could not be diagnosed. But in the 20 minutes he was left unattended he managed to carve 3 symbols in his arm and, uh, cut his own tongue…into 2 halves. I can only guess as to the cause of his problems. I hope that the additional psychiatrists arrive soon…

Beep.

This is Mark Stanton, manifest controller, currently stationed at Mars City. I'm not sure who to send this to so I decided to send it to quite a few people. If you're on the recipient list, please take a moment to review this report. It's quite important. I'm very concerned over the shipping procedures out here. I am the manifest controller, and as such I need to be informed of everything coming in and out of Mars City. Someone here is subverting my position and preventing me from getting data on things being shipped. This is unacceptable! Not only could this reflect poorly on my upcoming review, but this is my job and I'm tired of being kept out of the loop. I have no idea who keeps telling the shipping crews to allow things in and out without allowing me to produce or procure the manifest, but whoever it is, it must stop. One of the dock workers actually told me to piss off when I tried to stop one of the last containers from going straight to Delta. I immediately filed a report and will follow up with a transit manager, next time I see him. End of log.

Counsellor Swann pressed the stop button and sighed deeply, emerged in his thoughts. Beside him, his bodyguard, Campbell, observed him carefully and paid extra attention not to interrupt the man; he knew Swann well enough to know that he didn't like to be taken out of his own world without permission.

"Hear that?" Swann muttered without looking up and handed the PDA to his bodyguard, "Over two hundred employees have either died in horrific accidents or resigned their posts in the last four months with billions of dollars burning up in the process." He gave Campbell a slight glance and even through his dark sunglasses, the former marine could see the worry in the Counsellor's eyes. "It's a wonder how the UAC has ignored it for so long."

Campbell scanned through the seemingly endless lists on the small tray like device before him. Nearly twenty-gigabyte worth of audio files and significant E-mails, all suggesting a rather gruesome situation of which they came from. "I'm no scientist or diplomat," He spoke in his deep and harsh voice, devoid of obvious emotion, "But this Delta complex doesn't sound like something those corporate loonies would authorise to exist. Nothing useful came out of that area in years and yet according to this, over eighty percent of the budget from Mars are being directed there…"

Swann nodded as he dug through his memories; the Delta complex has always been rather mysterious. In every annual report, it was always tucked away at the bottom of the pile, as though hidden, only to be viewed by the very highest of positions within the UAC. And even then, most of them don't seem to know even half of what's going on round there these days. "It's not these messages that disturbs me," Swann admitted after a few moments of silence, "It's the lack of cooperation from Dr. Betrugar. No matter how you look at this guy, he is the lead scientist on Mars…"

"What does that matter?" The bodyguard butted in, "He has no political power…" He paused slightly, considering his next few words, "At least he shouldn't have… what happened to that Noble woman? Shouldn't she be the one to answer your calls?"

"Not anymore…" Swann grimaced at the memories; the photos still haunted him to this day, how the poor woman laid on her bed, half naked with knife slashes all over her body. Whoever did that to her must have been one seriously sadistic individual, he used to think, but that was until the doctors came back with the results to the analysis. The wounds were self-inflicted; Sarah Noble had a high record of psychological breakdowns during her time on Mars. It's no surprise, really… Someone tampered with the results, they must have. Sarah was capable of a lot of things but self-mutilation and eventual suicide was not one of them. "Betrugar's in control now, and whether we like it or not, we're going to have to speak with him." He sighed yet again and removed his sunglasses whilst rubbing his eyes under the exhaustion; voyages to Mars were never a stroll in the park but Swann knew that this came from elsewhere. "A lot of people are ready to rip my head off if this investigation doesn't go according to plan, Campbell. If you know Betrugar as well as I do, things won't be pretty…"

The navigation system whirled to life as the ship began its final decent into Martian orbit. Almost subconsciously, Swann held on to his PDA and shut his eyes; the UAC never forgive or forget, and this time, he might just be that policy's latest victim…