Author's Note: So I thought I would talk a bit about this fanfic, before we dive in. First of all, this takes place in a separate continuity, and any similarities between this and, say, Doom 2016 are because I am stea-ahem, borrowing material from the games, but with some changes to the locations, bosses, demons, and lore of the setting.

Chapter 1: The Doom Slayer

This first bit will be an introductory chapter to somewhat set the style of the story. I will try to update this story somewhat regularly in the loosest sense of the term.

Enjoy!

The Slayer stirred from his slumber, wiping eyes encrusted by thousands of years of age. He was confused and his vision blurred, like any other person would after sleeping for millenia.

Then he remembered everything, the visages flashing through his mind of burning buildings and charred corpses and cackling demons. The burning ruins of the Martian race, the charred corpses of the Wraiths, and the cackling howl of one very large, ugly demon.

He tried to raise his fists in rage, a sign hailing in origin from his long-dead heritage, only to find that his hands had been bound to his tomb by chains. He strained against the bonds, ignoring the horrid cries of the Unwilling shambling towards him.

The Unwilling, as he called them, would, at first glance, be called zombies. They bore mortal wounds, putrid decay, carvings engraved on their foreheads, flaccid jaws, and yellow, sunken eyes. They had the sickening bleached skin to match.

With a third effort he ripped free, and the zombie who was almost upon him found its head lifted up and slammed into the lip of the coffin with bone-shattering force, leaving a red smear and a headless undead who hit the floor with a wet thud.

Ripping apart the other chain, the Slayer rolled out of the coffin and landed on the stone floor, gasping over a demonic sigil engraved in the concrete. Conveniently, his wardens had left an energy pistol, and the Slayer grasped it and turned it on the other Unwilling in the room as he steadied himself. Once he had dispatched them, he was afforded a sight-see.

The room around him was clad in strange, whitewashed technology he did not recognize, with dashboards attached to the walls and a robotic appendage suspending the coffin's lid over the grave itself. A control balcony, splattered with gore, overlooked the room from the coffin's right side, and the forward doorway had a data screen engraved into the frame at its zenith and right arch.

The Slayer's rudimentary sixth sense kicked in, and he dragged himself over to the right-rim touch screen. As he hit the button labeled "Recap", a cloud of invisible argon pumped into the room, and a projector on the ceiling cast an image through the cloud, projecting a hologram of a man in a white lab coat and brown khakis.

The Slayer, for a reason he did not know, immediately had a dislike of this man, perhaps from the too-long slicked back hair, or the predatory pointed chin, or even his rat-like features and face.

The ghostly form moved around to the side of the coffin, where four more forms sat at the corners in some kind of twisted prayer. The scientist inspected the coffin while walking around it counterclockwise, until he reached the head of it. Then, the false image layed it's hands on the coffin, and declared: "We need to contain this!". Then the feed cutout, causing all five to flicker and fade.

The Slayer long ago would have had to stifle a chuckle. Enemies among his own kind now, it seemed. Audacious, back in his time, given the stone tools and thatch houses of the rest of his race. But after thousands of years of neglect and a thousand years prior of silence in combat against the demons had removed his humor and, quite literally, his voice.

Turning back the door. He peered through the glass and glimpsed his Praetor armor. Walking back over to the touch screen, he hit the "Open Door" button, and walked through as the top and bottom half of the entryway parted ways.

His Praetor armor sat in the cavity of a large boulder, and was wrapped loosely in a pentatet of robotic appendages designed for reverse engineering, with a view screen mounted to the right.

The Praetor armor itself was an ornate piece of ancient Martian technology, shrouded in a military green color. It bore a medieval look on the outside, with metallic plating that resembled that of a knight fused with the contemporary image of power armor, having overlapping armored plating of advanced alloys nuanced with ornate rimming, sleek armor and flexible joint casing.

The helmet looked like someone had taken the helmet of a roman centurion, and redesigned it into the helmet of a Space Marine, with the sci-fi smoothness and minute details of modern technology, and a visor.

He reached out to grab the helmet, and as his fingers met the alloy, dark, horrifying visions punctured the armor of his soul and raced through his mind...