Note: This story doesn't contain any of the original Doom plot, but a brand
new one, if it's not obvious. The new hero is named Michael Abalone.
Chapter One: The Message
I woke up to that damned siren again. Every morning brought a new threat to HQ.
After recovering from the loudest sound possible at 3 in the morning, I jumped out of bed and grabbed my duck gun. I cracked it, loaded up, and got on my combat gear.
When I, Michael Joseph Abalone stepped out of the dim light of my room, I turned to my left. My good buddy Jason was lying face-down in a pool of blood, barely alive. Jason managed to turn over a look at me.
"..Mike?" he said.
"Yeah, man. What's going on?" I replied.
"We..(cough) couldn't hold them this…time.'
"How'd they get in?"
"Gun Sergeant Brian was out… gettin' a smoke. When he came back to his
post, they were(hack) already here."
I watched him cough up some blood, then asked him if he would make it.
"No, man. I… take my shit. Its no use for me anymore. Here, take this key… Put me out of my misery."
I looked at his face. It was twisted in pain and completely covered in blood. I wouldn't let him die like this…like a dog. I had no choice but what my marine training would suggest.
"Jason…I'll miss you, man. I'll get those aliens back, and I won't stop 'till smoke 'em out of the whole friggin' universe." I said.
"Bye…Mike."
I took one last look, turned away, and did the deed. Tears immediately clogged my vision, but I wouldn't let myself break down so easily. I was a marine! A man's man!
I got up from my knees and headed south out of the barracks. To my horror, the courtyard was covered in bodies, human and otherwise. Strange looking brown things with spikes sticking out of every possible spot were feeding on the corpses of my fallen comrades.
This sight made me sick and angry at the same time. With my friend's dying words still fresh in my mind, I raised my trusty shotgun.
"C'mon! You want the main course, or are you gonna fill up on appetizers?" I shouted.
One of those things looked at me and grinned the most evil grin I had ever seen in my life. Its red eyes glowed with hunger as its leathery lips parted to show its massive fangs. I was terrified, but I had fought these before and knew what standing still can cause.
I lept to the left just as one of the things tossed a flaming ball of phlegm at me. I rolled and came up firing, taking down the two next to my brown-skinned friend. I ran and counted their numbers as I shot my second round and reloaded. One, five, ten… I counted about fifteen, and subtracted the five I had killed while I was jogging around the courtyard's perimeter.
"ROOOOOAAARRGGGHHHH" one yelled at me.
I yelled back with both barrels of my boomstick.
That sucker went down the way God intended. I reloaded and noticed my playmates with fiery snot-balls running for all they were worth. My killing spree had put quite a dent in their numbers and I soon found out only eight of the original fifteen were left. After I recovered from a nasty claw swipe one of them managed to do, I got moving.
My instincts told me to go to the radio room and call up HQ. My brains told me to go to the armory. I decided the latter and went to see what prizes were left.
When I got in, my personal candy shop was nearly empty. All that was in sight were two pistols, some ammo belts, and a fairly stocked box of grenades. I found a backpack, but decided against carrying too many grenades. If one round even brushed it, say 'bye bye!'. I grabbed four and turned to leave.
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…." Said the large pink thing.
It was then and there that I wanted to grab a grenade and huck it into its wide-open mouth. When the pinky almost bit my arm off when I reached for one, I picked my next best alternative.
"RETREAT!!!!!!!!!!!" I shouted to no one in particular.
I ran, and ran, and ran, until I ended up in the back storeroom. Behind me, that pinky was thumping and grunting for all it was worth. I quickly scoured the room for supplies, but found only two little stimulus- packages. The larger ones were ransacked and the needles were broken. I loaded up as fast and as silently as possible(read: not very.). Lucky for me, the lights were broken, and just as I stood up, the pinky lurched into the doorway.
Its huge form was silhouetted against the bright lights behind it. It sniffed the air and I began to think.
What if this thing can smell out my hiding spot?
Why am I running?
I have a shotgun, right?
Dammit, humans haven't spent millions of years crawling to the
top of the food chain for nothing.
When I reached this revelation, I was no longer afraid. If Flynn Taggart had fought thousands of these things almost single-handedly, then so could I.
I rose and unslung my shotgun. In one swift motion I swung it into the face of my pink demon-thing and smiled at it.
"Rooargh?" it seemed to question the long, black, metal tube in its mouth.
I happily pulled the trigger.
Blood, blood everywhere, but not a drop to drink. I moved out of my little labyrinth and into the courtyard. The flies had already taken over the place. I went to the radio room and prayed to the lord that it still worked.
"HQ, this is Michael Abalone! Serial number 335-812-389! Do you copy?"
I repeated the message for about five minutes before receiving a reply.
"…Mike?"
"Yes, sir!"
"What happened, Corporal?"
I told him what Jason said to me, and what had happened so far in my adventure.
"hmm. Corporal, you have to get out of there! We need you up on Deimos."
"How in hell do you propose that I accomplish that? This goddamned base is overrun with the enemy!"
"Corporal, our radar shows exactly that, but we have problems of our own. You have to find a vehicle and report here. I have a mission for you, Michael."
This was how I learned about the situation on Deimos. If you don't already know, Deimos is where the great Sergeant Flynn Taggart started his battle against a huge alien empire in the midst of an intergalactic chess game in which Earth was 'only a strategic move.' The aliens learned the hard way not to mess with us.
"…Yes, sir. I'll do my best to accomplish this."
"Michael, find a helicopter. Radar shows you've got one about 80 klicks away. Good luck, corporal."
I shut off the radio and checked my supplies. 50 shotgun shells, 200 bullet rounds, two Colt .45 pistols, four grenades, two stim-packs, and a backpack. Not a lot to survive on, but I had to go. Besides, I heard some very unfriendly growls nearby in the mess halls. The odds weren't exactly in my favor.
Chapter One: The Message
I woke up to that damned siren again. Every morning brought a new threat to HQ.
After recovering from the loudest sound possible at 3 in the morning, I jumped out of bed and grabbed my duck gun. I cracked it, loaded up, and got on my combat gear.
When I, Michael Joseph Abalone stepped out of the dim light of my room, I turned to my left. My good buddy Jason was lying face-down in a pool of blood, barely alive. Jason managed to turn over a look at me.
"..Mike?" he said.
"Yeah, man. What's going on?" I replied.
"We..(cough) couldn't hold them this…time.'
"How'd they get in?"
"Gun Sergeant Brian was out… gettin' a smoke. When he came back to his
post, they were(hack) already here."
I watched him cough up some blood, then asked him if he would make it.
"No, man. I… take my shit. Its no use for me anymore. Here, take this key… Put me out of my misery."
I looked at his face. It was twisted in pain and completely covered in blood. I wouldn't let him die like this…like a dog. I had no choice but what my marine training would suggest.
"Jason…I'll miss you, man. I'll get those aliens back, and I won't stop 'till smoke 'em out of the whole friggin' universe." I said.
"Bye…Mike."
I took one last look, turned away, and did the deed. Tears immediately clogged my vision, but I wouldn't let myself break down so easily. I was a marine! A man's man!
I got up from my knees and headed south out of the barracks. To my horror, the courtyard was covered in bodies, human and otherwise. Strange looking brown things with spikes sticking out of every possible spot were feeding on the corpses of my fallen comrades.
This sight made me sick and angry at the same time. With my friend's dying words still fresh in my mind, I raised my trusty shotgun.
"C'mon! You want the main course, or are you gonna fill up on appetizers?" I shouted.
One of those things looked at me and grinned the most evil grin I had ever seen in my life. Its red eyes glowed with hunger as its leathery lips parted to show its massive fangs. I was terrified, but I had fought these before and knew what standing still can cause.
I lept to the left just as one of the things tossed a flaming ball of phlegm at me. I rolled and came up firing, taking down the two next to my brown-skinned friend. I ran and counted their numbers as I shot my second round and reloaded. One, five, ten… I counted about fifteen, and subtracted the five I had killed while I was jogging around the courtyard's perimeter.
"ROOOOOAAARRGGGHHHH" one yelled at me.
I yelled back with both barrels of my boomstick.
That sucker went down the way God intended. I reloaded and noticed my playmates with fiery snot-balls running for all they were worth. My killing spree had put quite a dent in their numbers and I soon found out only eight of the original fifteen were left. After I recovered from a nasty claw swipe one of them managed to do, I got moving.
My instincts told me to go to the radio room and call up HQ. My brains told me to go to the armory. I decided the latter and went to see what prizes were left.
When I got in, my personal candy shop was nearly empty. All that was in sight were two pistols, some ammo belts, and a fairly stocked box of grenades. I found a backpack, but decided against carrying too many grenades. If one round even brushed it, say 'bye bye!'. I grabbed four and turned to leave.
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…." Said the large pink thing.
It was then and there that I wanted to grab a grenade and huck it into its wide-open mouth. When the pinky almost bit my arm off when I reached for one, I picked my next best alternative.
"RETREAT!!!!!!!!!!!" I shouted to no one in particular.
I ran, and ran, and ran, until I ended up in the back storeroom. Behind me, that pinky was thumping and grunting for all it was worth. I quickly scoured the room for supplies, but found only two little stimulus- packages. The larger ones were ransacked and the needles were broken. I loaded up as fast and as silently as possible(read: not very.). Lucky for me, the lights were broken, and just as I stood up, the pinky lurched into the doorway.
Its huge form was silhouetted against the bright lights behind it. It sniffed the air and I began to think.
What if this thing can smell out my hiding spot?
Why am I running?
I have a shotgun, right?
Dammit, humans haven't spent millions of years crawling to the
top of the food chain for nothing.
When I reached this revelation, I was no longer afraid. If Flynn Taggart had fought thousands of these things almost single-handedly, then so could I.
I rose and unslung my shotgun. In one swift motion I swung it into the face of my pink demon-thing and smiled at it.
"Rooargh?" it seemed to question the long, black, metal tube in its mouth.
I happily pulled the trigger.
Blood, blood everywhere, but not a drop to drink. I moved out of my little labyrinth and into the courtyard. The flies had already taken over the place. I went to the radio room and prayed to the lord that it still worked.
"HQ, this is Michael Abalone! Serial number 335-812-389! Do you copy?"
I repeated the message for about five minutes before receiving a reply.
"…Mike?"
"Yes, sir!"
"What happened, Corporal?"
I told him what Jason said to me, and what had happened so far in my adventure.
"hmm. Corporal, you have to get out of there! We need you up on Deimos."
"How in hell do you propose that I accomplish that? This goddamned base is overrun with the enemy!"
"Corporal, our radar shows exactly that, but we have problems of our own. You have to find a vehicle and report here. I have a mission for you, Michael."
This was how I learned about the situation on Deimos. If you don't already know, Deimos is where the great Sergeant Flynn Taggart started his battle against a huge alien empire in the midst of an intergalactic chess game in which Earth was 'only a strategic move.' The aliens learned the hard way not to mess with us.
"…Yes, sir. I'll do my best to accomplish this."
"Michael, find a helicopter. Radar shows you've got one about 80 klicks away. Good luck, corporal."
I shut off the radio and checked my supplies. 50 shotgun shells, 200 bullet rounds, two Colt .45 pistols, four grenades, two stim-packs, and a backpack. Not a lot to survive on, but I had to go. Besides, I heard some very unfriendly growls nearby in the mess halls. The odds weren't exactly in my favor.