Marcus cracked his neck, panting slightly after another "session", as he grew to call them. He tired of waiting, despite his almost daily struggle to free himself, perhaps the Dark Lord was right, he thought, What if William wasn't coming? For all he knew, Marcus was dead.
And he was alone.
He growled and strained against the chains, the metal digging into his already scarred wrists and drawing blood, the scarlet liquid flowing down in streaks down his arms. The viscous ruby dripped off his elbows, coating the floor in yet more blood, the stone already black with the stuff, dried and crusted over.
[Track cue: Counter-Attack Quake II OST 0:00 to 0:23]
He struggled, bracing his weakened legs against the wall he hung on, testing his wrists as he brought them fully to bear, relaxing his arms for just a moment as he leapt off the wall, throwing his arms forward with the snap of steel. Hitting the floor, near-drowning in adrenaline, likely to drown out the excruciating pain in his body, he rolled to his feet, slamming full force into the door with the entirety of his weight, punching through it like a human cannonball. The door flew down the hallway, Marcus on its proverbial heels like he was on fire. He pinballed off walls with enough force to dent the stone. Any demons he passed never had the chance to hit him, and that was even before he dragged their faces along the walls, leaving bloody streaks along the grey brick.
His armor was somewhere, and that meant so were his weapons, if he were lucky; he shoved through another door, his armor conveniently in the room. He quickly strode to and donned it, hearing the helmet seal itself with a pneumatic hiss.
He turned back to the door, reaching around and feeling the familiar grip of his rifle. The teen let out a soft sigh as he recalled the fate of the Slayer's Vengeance. He shook his head then, cracked his knuckles, and leapt out of the room.
Just in time to be caught like a rat in a cage.
Marcus spat a series of curses as he slammed into the heavy chest of a Baron; the Bruiser threw him back into a Hell Knight, that caught him by the arms, lifting them above his head. He growled and closed his hand into a fist, activating his Doomblade and tearing through the Knight's toughened skull like styrofoam. He tore himself from the beast's rapidly slackening grip and let out a guttural, enraged snarl; He took off down the hallway, drawing the long serrated blade strapped to his thigh, slashing through the Baron's throat, and continuing his rampage down the corridor. A hand shot out then, gripping his face like a vice, and the voice belonging to the hand laughed as his vision went dark.
He wasn't out of it for long, however, forced back to consciousness by the sound of cracking ribs, a boot caught his chin, sending his head up and back, smashing against the stone with a loud crack. He looked up slowly, vision running crimson. The man spat blood, attempting to stand, but was swiftly dropped by another hit to the abdomen, sending his vision reeling. His strength ebbed, and his knees shook, threatening to buckle.
"Why do you continue to fight? Why won't you just give up?!" Mephistopheles roared, picking him up by the throat.
Marcus smirked, coughing yet more scarlet viscous, laughing. "Look into my blackened eyes, you'll see a thousand lies." He quoted, laughing.
"Well then, I suppose liars deserve their punishments."
And with those words, Mephistopheles withdrew a blade and drove it straight into the Reaper's eye socket.
"AAAAGHH!!" Marcus screamed in agony, "MOTHERFUCKER, I'LL KILL YOU, DEMON BASTARD! FUCKING-"
A punch cut off both his tirade and breath in time for the blade to sink deep into his wrist, Meph dragging it in a long, jagged scarlet line through the flesh.
The man shook, paling as the demon tore the knife out to repeat with the other arm.
Mephistopheles sunk the edge in deeper, delivering another punch into the human's stomach, before he turned without a word, walking out.
"Finish the fucking job, bitch," The Reaper growled, straining against the chains. Mephistopheles turned, throwing over his shoulder, "Not just yet, my Lord isn't yet done with you."
"So what, you're a lapdog, Can't even think or do shit for yourself, can you?!"
Mephistopheles growled, and continued stalking off, despite repeated jabs.
And Marcus was alone again
William huffed, shoving open a pair of doors, eyes roving the room.
"Not much, Just move on." He thought, before the same doors slammed shut behind him, right as the opposite set opened,
A Marauder stepped through, eyes bloody red, and charged the Slayer, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, axe blazing through the air, straight for his neck…
Will's fist connected, slamming into the demonic Sentinel, the force of the Blood Punch sending the enemy staggering back, chunks of flesh and blood flying off as the Slayer rebounded, Super Shotgun exploding its approval at the bloodshed, the metal of the barrels and Meathook already long stained crimson. A Ballista shot sent the Marauder staggering and collapsing as William blasted his kneecaps into red pulpy mist, spraying across his visor and boots as he slammed his heel onto the demon's head.
"Bastard," he growled, flipping the breach of the Super Shotgun open, the spent shells flying, the brass caps glinting in the light as they rose, gun smoke trailing behind them like the wisp of a last breath. The shells clattered to the ground, the satisfying clicks of loading new shells and snapping the breach shut drowning it out. He surged into the next room, popping the gold capped skull of a Blood Maykr like it was an overripe melon. A quintet of Shield Soldiers stomped up, next to be fed to the Meatgrinder as the Slayer's Flame Belch flared to life, scorching the Fodder as he dropped a Frag Grenade at the closest one's feet, the demon-possessed soldier only afford a hint of a second to look down at the explosive before he shattered like glass, bloody giblets flying as a shower of armor shards rejuvenated his rapidly depleting stock of the stuff.
A smirk spread across his face as his brain all but went on autopilot, shoot, reload, freeze the Archie, burn the gang of Soldiers and Imps before you blow them back to Hell. Move, dash, dodge, Blood Punch. Hooking onto a Knight and swinging wide, his feet skimmed the ground as he hopped, using the Knight as a carousel, blasting the fucker into chunky gibs.
Soon, the man was alone, the screams and roars finally quieting. Guns smoking, William reloaded, marching into the next room, into the next fight, into more bloodshed.
Crimson trailed freely down Marcus's face, pouring onto the floor as he stared at the bloody stone, mind drifting into delirium mixed in rage. Whispering to himself, an old prayer he'd heard from long ago
"Yet, thou serves with thine eyes clouded in chaos. Thou, bound in the cage of madness. I am he who command those chains. I summon thee forth, heed thy call and execute thy will. Come forward and break thine chains!"
A flash seemed to fill the Reaper's remaining vision, as if a flashbang grenade had detonated in his face, causing stars to break out in his vision as he sunk down, heaving.
It's only a matter of time, just a matter of time." He breathed, slipping into unconsciousness.
Its done. It's finally done.
I need a nap