When Jack snapped back into reality yet again, he immediately felt much lighter. Looking down at himself, he felt a wave of cold terror sweep over him, but it was immediately extinguished and replaced by a far more powerful burning rage.

"Oh you stupid fuck!" he screamed, staring down at his own naked body.

The armor. The guns. The ammo. Everything.

All of it was gone.

"What in the fuck is the point of being a fucking goddamned genius if you're going to be such a goddamned fucking moron!?" he shrieked in pure white-hot rage. Why hadn't that dumbass mentioned that they would lose everything in the transition?! Why hadn't he remembered to ask?! Jack looked around, clenching and opening his fists rapidly, looking for something to take his frustrations out on. The idiot had even suggested they gather whatever resources they could before going through the gate! Why? WHY?!

He'd appeared in a simple square room of green marble and pockmarked gray stone, nothing in it but a wooden door ahead. Jack marched forward and smashed his fist into the big red button set into the wall next to it. The door slid open. A hallway, lit by flickering torches in black sconces along the walls, was revealed. A pair of zombies stumbled around and let out loud groans as they caught sight of him, then began stumbling his way.

Jack lunged forward.

He wrapped his hands around the pallid, half-decayed stumbling former human's neck, whirled around, and threw it back the way he'd come. Letting out a scream of effort, he sent it stumbling and falling to the floor. The second zombie groaned and reached for him. "Oh shut the fuck up!" he screamed, punching it in the temple and sending it lurching away. He hissed in pain, it was like hitting a fucking wall.

But that just pissed him off more. He grabbed the thing's skull and slammed it into the wall, then did it again and again and again until he heard something crunch wetly and a spray of darkened gore escaped its head and it stopped struggling. He dropped it and began to turn around when he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. It was as lifeless as marble. Normally that would terrify him, but right now his blood felt like it was on fire. He spun around, grabbed the thing's wrist, yanked it forward, and brought his elbow down on its forearm.

The bone gave with a wet snap, but fuck did it hurt!

Most of his right arm went numb. That took some of the fight out of him. Pissed off and in pain, Jack used his left palm to smash the zombie's nose in, driving the shaft of cartilage up into its brain, piercing it and killing it instantly.

He'd had to kill more than one guy like that.

As the body slumped to the floor, Jack got his breath back, wincing as he rubbed his arm and looking around. Now that his anger was slowly bleeding away, he realized that he was exhausted. He looked at the two corpses he'd made, then looked down the corridor, the way yet gone. Something growled, out of sight. He sighed and knelt, patting down both bodies to see if they had anything useful on them.

All he found for his troubles was a combat knife.

Well, it was better than nothing. Some semblance of sanity began to return to Jack as he padded down the corridor, naked and bloody and holding a combat knife. It looked like it was back to basics. He had to find clothing, armor, weapons, a radio, medical supplies, and, most importantly, his team. He was in Hell again. He found that a little hard to believe, not that it was necessarily unbelievable, but that he would ever willingly go back. Looking around, smelling the air, he had to wonder if maybe he was a little crazy.

But what choice did he have?

They had to be stopped, and he and the others were the only ones to do it right now. There was no sense counting on someone else to finish the job. At this point, was there honestly anyone more qualified? If there was, he felt terrible for them. Jack shook his head as he reached the end of the corridor and came into a low room with weird green brick pillars to either side of him. "I'm so sick of this shit," he muttered, raising the knife.

He moved slowly down the room, eager to just get the hell out of Hell, or at least just find someone. Even one other person would be great. Although it'd be nice to get some clothes first. Something shifted off to his right. Jack froze, knife ready, staring into a deep nest of shadows in between a pair of pillars. A light sprang into being, an awful flickering crimson light. It illuminated the basic outline of an Imp.

The thing hissed and threw the fireball at him.

Jack narrowly avoided it, gritting his teeth as he felt the burning agony of its passage along his right bicep. Knowing that he had to end this, and fast, he rushed forward, knife raised. The Imp shrieked in response and clawed at him. An explosion of pain ripped down his chest but there was no time for that. Focusing everything into one hard thrust, he shoved the knife into the Imp's open mouth, feeling a fresh wave of pain as some of its teeth caught on his skin, cutting into his hand and wrist. He shoved the blade through the back of its head and then yanked his hand back right as the thing snapped its jaw shut, barely avoiding losing his hand.

He looked at the Imp as it fell to the floor, twitching and shrieking, spraying blood every time it opening its mouth.

It slowed, then became still.

Jack felt a fresh wave of pain spider out from his chest and looked down, hissing in agony as he saw two cuts across his flesh that were bleeding pretty badly. "Fuck," he muttered, and he'd lost his knife to boot. Sighing, he slapped his hand over his chest, wincing again, and jogged on to the end of the room, seeing another door.

Well, there was nowhere else to go, so he went. Jack felt a chill begin to settle in as his anger faded and the reality of his situation started manifesting. He was alone, naked, completely unarmed, in Hell. That was going to have to change, and fast, because he intended to kill this mastermind demon and go home with Jennifer and as many other comrades as possible. He didn't know how realistic this intention was, but he didn't really care. Over the past few days, Jack had done a lot of unrealistic things.

He'd like to keep that streak going.

The door opened into an oblong room where the ceiling came to a bizarre point off-center to the right, the walls made of strange black marble shot through with flickering red veins, and the floor was made of that bright puke green brickwork. There were several open doorways. Off to the left, he heard gunfire, a pistol.

Jack began running towards it, desperate for another survivor. He skidded to a halt as he came to the open doorway and peered around. A short corridor of more green and red brick awaited him. He hurried down it, seeing the muzzle flare.

"Friendly, incoming!" he called.

The gunfire fell silent, then he heard a moan, two more shots, then silence.

"Jack?"

Jack breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Jennifer!" he called, coming into a room with an open ceiling and a river of toxic green sludge running through the center of it. She stood on his side of it, lowering the pistol, just as naked as he was.

"Thank fuck," she whispered, stepping over a dead body and wrapping him in a hug. He hugged her tightly back. "I was getting a little worried."

"So was I," Jack replied.

She seemed to notice his wounded chest suddenly. He followed her gaze. "Imp," he said.

"We need to find a Medikit," she murmured. Then, perhaps realizing there was nothing else to be said or done, she turned and pointed. "That zombie had a pistol on it."

"Thanks," he replied, jogging over and crouching by the zombie corpse she'd produced. "What's through there?" he asked as he inspected the pistol, indicating the only other door in the room, across the narrow acid green.

"Nothing worth mentioning. It's where I teleported in," Jennifer replied. She scowled. "Would've fucking been nice to know."

"Yeah," Jack muttered. The pistol was fully loaded, no spare magazines though. "There's a few other ways I found back down that little hallway. Have you seen anyone else?" he asked, leading her back out.

"No, no one," she replied.

"Great."

They came back into the room with the strange ceiling. There were just three other ways he had yet to go, one at the far end and two more across from him, in the right wall. They moved through the first of the two doors, passing through a frame of some strange black, mottled wood. They made sure to check the face of every body they passed, praying that none of their own were counted among the dead. And, of course, every uniform they came across was too shredded, bloodied, burnt, ripped, or otherwise damaged to wear.

The first door led to just a single room that showed some signs of UAC: a sparking, broken terminal attached to one wall of green brick, a few empty boxes, and one lonely metal chair that was covered in blood.

The next door, however, yielded something worthwhile. Though they had to kill a Demon to get it. The two of them strode in, pistols at ready, and found a Demon munching on an Imp carcass. The dumb thing hadn't even heard them. They opened fire on its broad back and it issued a roar, spun around, and began stomping towards them. Jack ended up emptying his pistol putting the thing down, but he wasn't overly worried as he saw that the room it had been guarding was a little more well-stocked. "Thank God," Jack muttered, looking around.

There were some crates and tables around, and they weren't completely empty. Although, as he looked through the supplies, he saw that they actually didn't have all that much to offer. No uniforms, no armor, just a few more magazines for the pistols. Sighing, he reloaded, then, after a moments' consideration, finally stuck the magazine in his mouth.

"This sucks," he tried to say.

"Uh-huh," Jennifer replied, as she'd ended up doing the same thing.

No pockets fucking sucked.

They almost left, but Jack spotted something behind one of the crates. It looked important. He crouched and fished it out of its hiding place. A PDA. The screen was cracked, but it fired up when he turned it on.

"Found something," he said, setting the magazine and pistol aside for the moment on one of the tables. Jennifer did the same as she joined him, though she held onto her pistol. They studied the screen as he tried to navigate the menu. He tried to open a few audio and text files, but they were corrupted. Eventually he managed to coax a map of the area out of it.

"Doesn't look like this place is too big," Jennifer murmured as they studied it. He could see that they'd already covered a little over half the area between them so far. That didn't exactly inspire confidence, as they hadn't run into anyone yet.

"There's a UAC outpost up ahead," Jack said. "Bet there's more supplies there."

"Yeah, and someone might've found it already. Good rally point."

Jack wanted to take the PDA with them, but really it didn't serve all that much of a purpose, as the map was fairly easy to remember. So he left it, grabbed his gun and magazine, and they headed out. The pair moved through the main room to the final door and opened it up. And heard more gunfire. The boom of a shotgun. Well, someone was having better luck than they were. At least in terms of finding a bigger arsenal.

They came into a much larger room, this one turned into an uncomfortable battlefield by more of those pillars and stacks of huge silver, UAC logo-stamped crates spread seemingly at random across the warehouse-sized room. They quickly tracked the source of gunfire to its point of origin, calling out a warning as they came down a natural alcove created between two big piles of crates. They heard one more resounding shotgun blast, then all was silent.

"Who goes there?" whoever it was asked.

Jack recognized the voice, but couldn't place it, not with his ears still buzzing from the gunfire. "Ward and Taylor," he replied, taking the magazine out of his mouth.

They came around a corner and came into a 'room' created by the crates where Pavel stood, naked and bloody, breathing heavily as he reloaded the shotgun, surrounded by half a dozen dead Imps. "You made it," he said quietly as he finished reloading.

"Yeah, have you seen anyone else?" Jack asked.

Pavel sighed, knelt, and began searching through the area for supplies. There were a few dead zombies around as well.

"Yes. Bennet. He didn't make it. Demons got him. There really isn't anything left anymore," he replied quietly.

"God...I'm sorry," Jack said.

"So am I. What about you?"

"No, just each other."

"Then we must find the others."

"Yeah, and some armor," Jennifer said.

Pavel nodded and finished his search. "There's a UAC outpost up ahead," Jack said as they made their way out from the small area between the crates.

"Ah, the way yet gone," Pavel replied. "I was just heading for that door when I was attacked. It and that door," he said, pointing back the way they'd originally entered from, "were the only two places I haven't already searched."

"We came from back there. Nothing worth mentioning," Jack said.

They moved up to the last door in the area and opened it up. The trio of hell-stricken survivors were given a view of another open-ceiling room, the walls and floor made of gritty red and black stone. The room seemed to be an antechamber, and from what Jack remembered of the map, the door to the left led into the outpost, while the door dead ahead led into the final chamber that should house the way out of this place, granting them access to deeper parts of Hell. They moved over to the left door, a large, silver thing also sporting the UAC emblem, and hit the access button. And then Jack found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

"Oh shit, sorry," the person on the other end of it said, lowering the weapon. Miller, that distant, quiet female Marine he'd met briefly before, stood just inside the doorway. "I thought I was the only one left," she said quietly, stepping back.

"We're it," Jack replied. "Where did you end up?"

"In the final chamber, with the teleport," she replied. "Barely survived. Managed to get this shotgun from among the dead before a group of Imps tried to jump me. You're injured. Here. There's a small infirmary through here."

She turned and began walking away. She was already in uniform, looking fairly well put together, so she must have found a way to clean up as well. Jack could do with a shower. He knew they were luxuries and he should be worrying about other things, but goddamn did they go a long way. The tour of the UAC Outpost was depressingly short. Just the room they'd first come into, which served as a kind of security and command center, a small mess hall with a bathroom and a pair of bunks off the sides of it, an armory, and an infirmary.

There was, mercifully, a small cubicle shower in the infirmary.

The three of them worked quickly, tending to their wounds after taking turns in the shower. While they did that, Miller brought them uniforms, boots, and holsters. Jack tended to his various wounds after an almost painfully hot shower that felt like a slice of paradise in this fucking nightmare. The cuts on his chest weren't as bad as they'd seemed, really they just stung like hell because of how much he was sweating. But he got them cleaned and patched up, as well as a few other cuts and scrapes he'd accumulated so far, and then pulled on the uniform. Once he'd holstered his pistol, he stood up, popping his neck, and felt…

Felt like he was dead on his fucking feet.

"Shit," he whispered, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs.

"Are you okay?" Miller asked as the others dressed.

"Yeah, I just...I'm exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can go on for."

"Same," Jennifer muttered.

A look of reluctance suddenly came across Miller's face. "I might be able to help, but...I'm not sure if it's a good idea," she said.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"I found some adrenal packs, hardcore stimulants." She turned and retrieved something from one of the few cabinets in the room. Jack studied the thing as she set it down on an examination table between them. It was a black metal case with an ominous red plus sign on the front. He immediately recognized it.

"Berserker Pack," he muttered. "I've seen this before. They pass them out on extended combat assignments. God, they're pretty hard on the system, but they're supposed to make you amped up for hours, make you stronger, faster..."

"And then you crash after," Jennifer said.

"I've used these before," Pavel said, staring at the black case.

"They are dangerous, but..." Miller hesitated.

"But can we afford not to take them?" Jack asked. He came to a decision almost immediately and stood up. "All or nothing," he said. "We're the last hope as far as we know. We have to get this done, no matter the cost."

The others must have agreed with him, because when he unlocked and opened up the black case, they each reached in and grabbed one of the little clear syringes. All four of them looked at each other with baggy, bloodshot eyes that stared out of haunted faces, then they each injected themselves. The effect was immediate.

It was liquid fire. Power.

All of his lethargy, his exhaustion, hell, even his worries, were banished in an instant. He took a breath and felt like he was exhaling flames.

"Let's fucking do this," he said, dropping the syringe. From their wide eyes and sudden fast, sure motions, Jack could tell they felt the same way he did now too. They left the infirmary and did a quick sweep of the rest of the Outpost. He and Jennifer each found a new weapon: shotgun for him, SMG for her, and some ammo to boot.

With the Warrens cleared, McNeil, Lynch, and Jackson still missing, and everything on the line, they moved into the last chamber and began teleporting out.