MEGADOOM 4:

Saving Private Blasto

Chapter TWO

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Author's Note: Yeah yeah yeah. I don't own any Doom material. I do own your soul, however.

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Outer Space

1821 hours

A small shuttle glided silently through the silence of space. It was manned by only two men: a pilot and Barry. The old man sat staring blankly at a wall, like someone staring through a window. The pilot looked over at him. Was this the man Cartwright really wanted to recruit? How was he going to get into Hell and rescue Private Blasto? How the hell did he know any of this since it was all top secret and he was just a pathetic little shuttlepod pilot? He shook his head and turned back to the window in front of him.

"Holy shit!" he swore aloud, pulling hard on the controls. He hadn't kept his eyes ahead of him and they had nearly flown into the U.S.S. Conscientious Objector. He just managed to pull the shuttlepod away at the last second before they would have been blown to bits. A voice crackled in over the radio.

"Um… shuttlepod 7, this is hangar control. May I ask just what the fucking shit you're trying to pull out there?"

"Sorry, I… uh…" The pilot turned the radio off. Stupid jackass.

He flew the shuttle deftly into the hangar.

"Here we are gramps," the pilot said, flipping a switch, which in turn opened the door our from the shuttle.

"Thank you young man," said Barry as he departed. As he was walking through the threshold of the doorway, he bumped into the hangar control operator, who was on his way to investigate the pilot's mysterious behavior.

"Out of my way old timer!" he said rudely, pushing Barry roughly aside, and made his way to the cockpit. "What was up with that crap outside?" he demanded of the pilot. "Are you insane? You nearly flew straight into the crew quarters, where there are innocent women and children! I'll have your balls for this!"

The pilot said nothing, but pulled up a pistol and shot the hanger control operator. He pressed the same switch he had moments earlier, and the door slid shot. The shuttle then hovered into the air, left the U.S.S. Conscientious Objector, and flew off into the mysterious unknowns of deep space.

Barry just got to his feet. A security detail entered the hanger from a nearby door to welcome him.

"Sir," said the commander, saluting Barry. "We're here to escort you to the Admiral, sir."

"Oh thank you," commented Barry in his typical wheezy voice. "Take me to your leader."

"Uh, we were just going to do that," replied the commander. He knew old people were slow on the uptake, but he wanted to maintain his courtesy to Barry. After all, he was the very first marine to fight Hell single-handedly, and he could still probably own any of these young punks' asses.

Two security officers stepped forwards and placed their hands on Barry's elbows and led him from the hanger, down several hallways, up some stairs, down some stairs, down some more halls, past a scene where a fight had broken out between marines and invading aliens from Dimension X, up some more stairs, past the temporal anomaly, down some more halls, took an elevator up several decks, and finally into Admiral Cartwright's office.

"Ah, Barry, there you are," said Cartwright as Barry was led in. "Glad you could make it."

"Admiral," said Barry, a tone of bitterness in his voice, and the security officers immediately got the impression that there was some past bitterness between these two, and that this was foreshadowing for some no doubt important event in the future.

"Please, have a seat," said Admiral Cartwright, leading Barry over to a place where there was no chair.

"You know me, Clyde, I prefer to stand," Barry croaked coldly.

"Bullshit you do, not at your age. Now sit the fuck down you, you wrinkled withered up old dick," barked the admiral, and Barry obediently sat down. Only there was no chair, and he fell on his ass on the hard steel floor. The Admiral howled with laughter.

"That wasn't very nice," said one security guard, and Cartwright ordered them to get out immediately and go make peace with some primordial alien life form.

As the security detail was leaving, three more figures entered the room, and sat in chairs facing Admiral Cartwright.

"Now, Barry," said Cartwright, as Barry stood up, rubbing his sore rear end. "I'm going to apprise you of the situation. A young private named Christopher Blasto has recently been taken prisoner by the forces of Hell. You have been conscripted to enter enemy territory and get him back, due obviously to your… background in dealing with demons. Do I make myself clear?"

"I don't fight no more," Barry declared. "I just play banjo and play with my dog Rowdy. Such a good pooch."

"I don't give a damn 'bout your pooch," thundered Cartwright. "You are on a government mission. Your country, hell the whole damn planet needs you."

"But… but…" stammered Barry, feeling around for a chair. He found one and sat down. "I can't even hold a gun steady anymore. Instead of me, how's about you--"

"How's about you get off my lap?" asked a seductive female voice, and Barry realized he had sat down on top of one of the people who had entered the room.

"Aahh-hhh!" he cried, jumping to his feet, turning around, and bowing. "Begging your pardon, young miss. I didn't see you there."

"Obviously," the woman said. "But I'll forgive you, seeing as you're blind."

"Barry, let me introduce you to your team," said Cartwright. "Since you can't see, I'll describe them in great detail for you."

"The woman you just sat on is named Sophia Parley. She's a young, attractive French woman with a fine curves, light brown hair, luscious red lips, and as you just heard, a silky, sensual voice. She's your stealth expert of the team, though she didn't avoid my detection. Rowrr," he growled.

"Next on the team is Tang Chung, a small bodied Chinese man. But don't let his diminutive stature deceive you - he is the greatest hacker that has ever lived. If you have any computer systems you need broken into, he's your go-to guy.

"And finally is Roy O'Rourke, the demolition man. He's dashingly handsome, with piercing eyes and a full set of pearly white teeth. If you need something blown up, or someone seduced into giving you information, he's your man."

"Now," continued Admiral Cartwright, "we have a plan for you. Mars Station has been evacuated. You will be sent by shuttle there, and progress to Delta Lab. Hell has not come forth, so getting there should be a cake walk.

"Once you are in Delta Lab, you have two goals: the first is to enter hell, locate Private Blasto, and escort him to the extraction point back at the landing zone, where the shuttle will be waiting for you. The second goal is to perpetrate extreme prejudice against the Prince of Darkness and his army. Once you have iced the thorn in our side, you are to exit hell and close the portal forever. Any questions?"

The four team members shook their heads.

"Good. Once you set foot aboard Mars Station, we will maintain a strict radio silence. Alright, Hardingsfoyle!"

Immediately Admiral Hardingsfoyle entered the room.

"Admiral," said Cartwright, "suit up the team. Then take them to the shuttle bay."

"Okey dokey," said Hardingsfoyle, and ushered the team members out of the room.

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Hardingsfoyle led them away from Cartwright's office and into the armory.

"Go to town," he said after handing each the standard marine fatigues and steel breastplates.

"Bring me a flashlight and a shotgun," Barry said as he was getting changed. (As he got older, Barry lost much of his modesty.)

"Uh… right." Hardingsfoyle collected the items Barry requested and brought them to the old man. "H-here you go."

"Thank you," wheezed Barry, who stuck the flashlight on his utility belt, and held the shotgun in his hands.

Meanwhile, Roy outfitted himself with dozens of grenades, mines, a rocket launcher, extra rockets, and a machine gun. Tang took two standard-issue pistols and a chainsaw, and Sophia took a minigun and a BFG.

"Some stealth expert," Roy scoffed, and she just glared at him.

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In the docking bay, the pilot glided shuttlepod 7 back into place. Hopefully no one noticed he had been gone. The door on the side of the shuttle opened, and a scantily-clad, green-skinned alien with tentacles growing out of her head stepped out the door.

"Thanks honey," said the pilot, as he handed her a roll of cash, which she stuck down her shirt.

"No problem big guy," she said. "Just give me a call if you ever want another ride." With a wink, she was off. As she was walking through the door to the outside hallway, she passed a group of marines. They always paid well.

"Howdy boys," she said, and kept walking.

Roy looked after her, and began to leave the group, but Hardingsfoyle grabbed him by the collar and dragged him over to shuttlepod 7.

As they were climbing aboard, the Admiral addressed the group.

"I don't think I need to tell you all that the fragile peace of our world rests in your hands. If you fail to assassinate, well you know, then I shudder to think what would happen to earth's interests, I mean people," he added hastily, "if you fail. Good luck to all of you."

The shuttlepod doors closed.

"Hang on," said the pilot, as he lifted the shuttle gracefully into the air. It glided silently across the steel deck of the hangar, and out into the emptiness of space.