The smell was even greater in the Sublevel. Flynn didn't notice though, since the second the doors slid open a rifle shot put a huge dent in the reinforced steel wall of the elevator. He fired blindly into the room and heard a low gurgle of pain. He had hit a sum-human clutching a rifle in the windpipe. He walked in and picked up the rifle it once held. The gun lacked bullets, but that was only a momentary issue, since, like a miracle, a box of rifle shells was lying in the corner, with only five missing.

Whispering a thank you to an unknown deity, Flynn loaded the gun and put the remaining shells in his pack. He still had his trusty pistol in his free hand though, as you could not be too careful in hell. He could hear the far off cry of a pig-demon and looked around and to his horror, saw a half-conscious soldier lying in a bloody heap against the wall, charred to a degree that ensured that survival was impossible.

Concern overtook Flynn, and to his own surprise he found himself rushing over to the man.

"In the... ceiling."

With that he slumped over in Flynn's arms, very much dead. A loud hiss and a ball of fire flying past his ear told Flynn that an imp was around. He spun around to see... nothing.

Intrigued, Flynn looked around slowly, pacing from one corner of the small room to the next, and back again. Another ball of fire showed him that it wasn't a delusion and he started to worry. A third knocked a bleeding, burning, limping, and scared Flynn to the ground. Concocting a plan, he stood in the middle of the room, and spun around over and over, waiting for a fireball.

He fell to the ground with a new burn. He had seen nothing and was scanning every corner of the room. Where the fuck was it?

It struck him like a freight train. The ceiling! He looked up and sure enough, a hole the size and shape of a manhole was present, housing a maniac imp. A good two shots fell the beast.

Flynn walked on, ignoring the loud CRASH the imp's body made as it tumbled to the ground. His footsteps echoed atmospherically in the dark halls. He felt like he was wrapped in whatever made up a nightmare. The lights were out in this section, a consequence of a huge shootout. But with what?

He looked around futilely in the darkness. Whatever this was, it wasn't anything he'd ever seen before. He fired into the darkness and got a brief view of something big and fast through the muzzle blast. The ground shook and the lights flickered into existence momentarily.

The shape moved closer and the ground shook from its heavy, lumbering footsteps. Flynn fired again and again, spent shells clanking on the ground almost faster than he fired them but the thing didn't seem to even notice. It knocked him aside irritably and he smacked a wall, hard.

He landed about twenty-five feet away, facedown and semi-conscious next to... a rocket launcher! Thank god for small favors. He limped over to the massive form, and took aim. It barely noticed until the projectile was lodged into its enormous back. Blue-green blood spewed everywhere and burnt Flynn's skin.

The thing let out a burst of machine gun fire and Flynn took cover behind a courtesy desk. The "INFORMATION" sign tumbled into his lap, shot up and now reading "IN O TION". He threw it aside and reloaded desperately. He poked his head up just enough to aim, and fired, right in the base of its skull. It crashed to the ground, denting it.

"Man, was that a massive motherfucker," Flynn thought aloud.

Upon looking at it, he donned it a "Cyberdemon" do to its ram's horns and the large machine gun welded to its left hand. He reloaded all his weapons, now a little more careful.

He walked on, not sure where to, but he felt like he had to keep moving or the evil of this place would envelope him and crush his brittle bones like toothpicks. He sighed loudly and gripped the crucifix he had strung across his neck. His ears were ringing like he was front and center during the London Philharmonic's rendition of "Jingle Bells".

The lights flickered back to life timidly, then shut down totally; even the computers and emergency lights. And the elevator. Flynn would have to take the stairs. The solitude and preparation gained in the elevator ride, a mobile citadel, down the drain. Dammit.

He walked on, passing a large computer readout of his current location; Space Station One. It was the one thing working since it had its own battery cell in case of an emergency like this. It emitted an eerie green glow that all but beckoned Flynn. He studied it and concluded that he wasn't far from the stairwell. Or was that a storage closet? Shit, was that map hard to read; he thought.

He laced up his boots, treated his wounds, and set off to find that goddamned stairwell...