Title: Mercy Mild

Author: Misty Waters toadstoolcouchATyahooDOTcoDOTuk

Fandom: Doom PC game

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Doom belongs to the awesome Id Software company and while I do own an evil mind, I don't own this evil game. Sigh.

Summary: Flynn Taggart, the game's hero, makes the almost deadly mistake of helping an imp in danger.

It was noisy outside, worse inside. He'd just as soon drive a spike through his ears to kill the noise. But he had to stay; his girlfriend would be there soon.

As he slammed his second vodka, he overheard some people by him in heated conversation.

"Mercy is overrated," said one.

"You know what, it's all we got at the end of the day," said another.

"It's like the only truly human quality we can give the world," another still.

The eavesdropper butted in with a clarity rare for a typical vodka buster. "True, maybe, but it should never be exercised blindly. It can get you killed."

The other stared at him, but then invited him to explain. So he cleared his throat, took another harsh shot, and began.

I'm sure you've heard of what happened on Phobos. The UAC Catastrophe, as some call it. Ya, I'm That Guy. I don't have the time, or desire, to narrate everything that happened, but I can share on day's worth of horror.

This day was after many. Well into the waking nightmare, I thought was getting the hang of it, getting real savvy to the twisted game that my life had suddenly become.

I learned that day that, ironically, I still had much to learn.

I had gotten to the point where the stackers in my belt were enough to replace sleep, especially now that safe places were getting harder and harder to find. I'm sorry, but I really can NOT sleep with one eye open.

Wire yet tired, I trudged along, having successfully (obviously) cleared a run down ex-school yard of monsters. The remains of a human city lay behind me and a range of mountains before me. I crept towards the gaping hold at the base with trepidation, feeling the usual sickly dread that pauses my heart and falters my steps. I didn't even want to imagine what would leap at me from the infernal darkness I had to enter.

Well, I knew I had no choice, so I exhaled deeply, as to expel the fear from my battered body, and rushed in, my shotgun, double barreled and blood tinted, up at eye level.

Nothing. Not to the left, the right, or ahead. I relaxed and went on. I wanted dearly to keep that gun of mind at the level of my eyes, but the strain of its weight against my arms would just be counterproductive. Sometimes I had to forgo comforting cautions for the sake of mission effectiveness. I guess I learned that in the Marines.

I passed by many empty and dark tunnels at my sides before realizing I wasn't even breathing. So I stopped and forced myself to relax, and not think about how only ten minutes ago, I was surrounded by drooling, growling demons.

Just when I suspected I'd be granted easy passage, some force knocked me down. Scrambling for my gun, that was by now five feet away from me, I looked up and straight into a pair of red, burning eyes. An imp! The initial shock allowed the monster enough upper hand to land a scratch across my face. I could see the blood spurt from the wake of its razor claws.

As if a switch was turned on in my brain, I snapped into action. Pain usually does that to me. With the imp's sinewy arm coiled back for another devastating swipe, I ripped my chainsaw off my belt, turned it on, and arced it out, in one fluid motion. The creature's head and a large part of its chest was now at my feet, the rest of its body still standing.

I shook off the disgust that never lessens with each kill and retrieved my beloved shotgun. As I walked away, I froze to the sound of a loud, wet stomp behind me. When I turned, I saw that the decapitated body had finally fallen. I almost laughed as I sped down the tunnel ahead of me.

"Bull shit!"

The story teller merely smirked and pointed at a few rows of otherwise barely discernable scars on his left cheek.

His listeners paused before criticizing more, "OK, well, even if we are to believe that, what does any of this have to do with what we were talking about?"

Our hero took another shot and said, "I'm getting to that."

I think that I may actually fear a long, quiet passageway more than a room full of monsters. In the former, I have plenty of time to deeply consider my situation, and taste my fear for all its flavor. In the latter, my actions and thoughts are automatic, preplanned, instant. Adrenaline is my brain, red my vision, excitement my only emotion. In battle I am the marine I have been trained all these years to be: unstoppable.

On the flip side, I never was any good with civilian conditions, like terror and worry.

Well, I was about to be relieved from my silent torture. At the end of the tunnel I could hear the commotion of battling monsters. My trained ear could pick out the distinct voices of the imp, the revenant, and the zombie.

With my heart singing as it jack hammered in my armored chest, I secured my chainsaw and anything loose on my belt, tightened my helmet, and made ready my shotgun. A quick gulp of air (could have been my last) and I was ready to frag some baddies.

My first target was the one closest to me. They were arranged in a circle around something I at first couldn't see. This surprised me mildly as I tore through their numbers with shells.

After splattering the head of a human like monster, I fell to the ground to avoid an incoming fire blast from a pissed imp. From my prone position I was able to pick off a total of three momentarily confused zombies (they're pretty stupid), and then I leaped back to my feet.

So far I was safe from the Revenant, that tall, horrible skeleton bastard. He was behind other monsters and trying to get a clear shot at me. The more monsters I killed, the more I helped him. Shit.

So I dashed back the way I came for cover. Minimal, but it was something. I used it to decimate the lesser monsters, so I could be better ready for the Revenant. Then I popped out real quick and shot at it. I missed. The rocket it sent my way blasted so close near my cover, the arms I raised in defense were burned from the splash damage. I grunted with pain as I realized this current method would not work.

So I cast my shot gun down and pulled out my rocket launcher. I had to make sure I had a clear shot, or I'd blow my own ass up. The Revenant was waiting for me. I jumped out and sent out a rocket, almost before I was clear of my cover, and then threw myself across the clearing to dodge his missile. My rocket knocked loose one of his legs, but he didn't fall. He just got even madder.

Before I could get back up, he was punching at me. Past experience had taught me that just one blow could shatter bone, so right then my main purpose in life was to dodge his fists. I gripped the stone ground with my hands and swept my legs under his remaining one, sending him clattering on his face, and then I stomped a heavy boot to the base of his neck. His head was snapped off in no time.

I just stood there for a second, catching my breath and wiping my sweat, before going back for my shotgun. I had almost left the clearing when I heard a pitiful whimpering. Steeling myself, I turned, my knuckles white from their tight grip on my gun. I was staring at an imp, on the ground where the monsters were, holding a badly hurt leg. His eyes looked human, and overall didn't seem a threat to me. But I wouldn't let a pretty face lead me to death that easily.

I crept towards him, my shotgun raised, and was about to shoot him when his eyes widened and he opened his fang filled mouth to say, "Wait!"

Shit, I just about dropped my gun with shock.

End of part 1. So what do you think so far?