"Alright, marines. Listen up." The squad commander spoke up as he walked between the rows of soldiers to his left and right. "As you know, the situation on Phobos is dark. We know nothing. The only insight we have is a single transmission from one of the security staff of the complex. Upon arrival, we will treat this as a rescue operation. We are walking straight into an unknown number of hostiles who could be waiting to ambush us. So, keep your barrels pointed forward and your eyes moving. No matter how slight, anything that seems unusual or unnatural must be met with immediate reaction. Am I understood?" He asked.
This was the tenth time the commander was saying this. With any other company, such repetition wouldn't be necessary. But his squad was not made of the elite. These were the worst the UAC had in their ranks, yet what made them so wasn't a lack of skill or training.
Insubordinate soldiers. Criminals. General scum. The overall quality of this deployment was low, teetering on non-existent. The UAC only used units such as these for trivial situations.
"AM I UNDERSTOOD?" The commander repeated with a shout, having no patience for the mutts he'd been given.
"Sir, yes, sir!" The squad finally responded. Despite their attitudes and lack of respect, they knew they would likely catch the butt of a rifle or even a bullet should they continue their silence.
However, there was still one soldier who said nothing. He kept his head tilted down, looking at the floor.
"Blazkowicz!" The commander called out, speaking directly to him. "Unless you went deaf or died after departure, you better sound off!" He ordered.
"..." Nothing.
"BLAZKOWICZ!" The commander yelled in anger as he stomped over to his defiant trooper. Upon reaching him, he grabbed the man by his chest plate, pulled him to his feet, and stared him down. "YOU. WILL. RESPOND. I WILL NOT REPEAT MYSELF!" He barked, teeth bared like a dog.
"..." Nothing again. The man met his commander's gaze without fail or fear. An unshakeable stoic expression formed in his features.
The cause for the soldier's absence of words wasn't anything of importance. His vocal cords functioned. He understood everything the commander said. He wasn't asleep or unconscious.
No, the lack of speech on the soldier's part was for personal reasons. Another "superior", not too dissimilar from the one currently gripping his chest plate, was the source of all of this. The silence, the soldier's presence in this squad, and the pure, unapologetic disgust and hatred he had for the commander. But before the commander could say anything else or perhaps strike his disobedient marine, everyone felt the ship they were riding in making contact with the ground.
"We're here, sir!" One of the pilots shouted from the cockpit.
"...You're lucky, Blazkowicz." The commander whispered, releasing the soldier afterward. "Alright, marines! Get your asses outside! And if I see ANY of you dragging your feet, you'll feel mine against your backs!" He yelled.
A chorus of footsteps filled the air as every marine exited the vessel. Blazkowicz, the defiant one, remained on board for a few seconds. He wanted to put as many bodies as possible between him and the commander. Eventually, he joined the others outside; the first thing that greeted him besides his squad was a distant facility and the cold terrain of the moon.
"Here's the plan. Listen well. I won't go over it for those with shit in their ears." The commander began, standing at the front. "From how it sounded in the transmission, things are already a mess. Safeties off, aims sharp. Our priority is securing and evacuating the survivors. Don't pay any attention to whatever's inside the complex. The scientists and engineers will fix anything that gets damaged when this is all over." He told them before focusing on Blazkowicz. "However, there could be problems outside the facility as well. Blazkowicz, how about you scout the surrounding area? You can rejoin us once you're done." He "suggested" with a smug grin.
To no one's surprise, Blazkowicz departed the moment he heard that. If anything, this punishment was precisely what he wanted. Walking alone, a rifle in hand, enveloped in the only serenity he'd receive for the foreseeable future. Everything about it was perfect.
It took a few minutes before the sound of his squad walking to the facility faded. Once it was gone, only the wind graced Blazkowicz's ears. It was gentle and soothing. It allowed his mind to think of other things.
He thought about his home back on Earth. Nothing fancy. It was more or less a farmhouse close to a city. There, waiting for him to come back, was his best friend.
These thoughts brought peace to a soul filled with anger. The shadow that followed Blazkowicz could see that. It was beautiful. To see such a swift improvement showed how much he cherished these memories.
As Blazkowicz conducted his patrol, his mood continued to better. He was calm when he looped around the facility and headed back to the ship. Something that the shadow hoped would last if only a small while more. She knew what must be coming, she had sought the moment this man was sent into the abyss, and that search brought her to this point in his life.
Sadly, as the shadow would come to learn, this was the last time Blazkowicz would be himself. As he approached the cockpit of his ship, wanting to check on the pilots, that would be the beginning of the madness. The end of the life he cherished.
FWOOSH
From within the vessel came a ball of fire. It melted the cockpit's glass as it traveled, not slowed by its passage. The speed at which it moved was impressive, but not as much as Blazkowicz's reaction. With only a second to evade, he dodged to the left, the sphere of flame nearly singeing his body.
Managing to stay on his feet, Blazkowicz wasted not a second. He snapped his rifle's barrel to the cockpit and fired. Would he hit? Would he miss? Neither mattered; suppression was the goal.
However, the caster of that fireball would not remain inside the ship. It crashed through the windows, landing on all fours, and hissed at Blazkowicz. As expected by the soldier, given that the attack was anything but normal, the same could be said for his assailant. Its body was brown like leather, spikes grew from various parts, and the only thing in its eyes was animalistic savagery.
Yet, like before, Blazkowicz displayed a remarkable lack of shock. His nerves were steeled, and his hands firmly gripped his weapon. As the creature leaped at him, he pulled the trigger. A stream of lead was sent forth at the beast.
THUD
The combined impact from the barrage of bullets stopped the creature's trajectory. It fell backward from the air onto the ground. Then, it would begin twitching with spasms as its blood left its body. Not yet dead, but soon enough.
But Blazkowicz would not give it any chance to recover or to die peacefully. He quickly ran to the monster, raised a boot, and brought it down onto its skull. The top half gave way to the might of his stomp, leaving the bottom jaw and the tongue resting inside to be displayed. Unfortunately, there was no time to savor this small victory.
As questions and emotions began filling Blazkowicz's mind, he knew he needed to maintain his composure. Panicking would only make this worse. So, for the next minute, he organized his thoughts. What was the right course to take, and what series of actions were the best?
First and foremost, the pilots. Blazkowicz knew they were likely dead, but he needed to help them if they weren't. Rushing into the ship and to the cockpit, a grisly mess awaited him. Viscera covered everything, and two heavily disemboweled corpses lay on the floor.
Both bodies tightly held onto pistols in what was left of their dominant hands. The pilots tried to fight back, but it didn't look like either got a shot off. The creature, whatever it was, managed to sneak up on them. By the time the guns were drawn, they were torn to pieces.
Alright. The pilots, tragically, were K.I.A. Blazkowicz could abandon the ship and head for the facility with that confirmation. The squad was likely in a fight if their transport was already compromised. He needed to be there.
With great haste, Blazkowicz ran from the ship. If he were walking, it'd take a few minutes to get into the facility ahead. But at his speed, he'd find himself at the nearest entrance in seconds. What greeted him upon his arrival, he could've never anticipated.
The squad. They were all...dead. No, not accurate. They'd be transformed into shambling horrors. Each still wielding their weapon with the intent to kill, even as wails and moans escaped their mouths.
How? In less than an hour, the time it took to circle the facility from outside, a squadron of men trained to be killers were now husks. Worser still, hey each trained their glowing eyes on their squadmate. The sole survivor.
...
...
...
A skip in time. The shadow didn't need to see every grim detail. Despite her position, she could only stomach so much carnage. Although with that said, the actions of the space marine were a sight to behold.
A single mortal man against an unending legion. With nothing more than his fists, guns, and an unusually present chainsaw, Blazkowicz fought to survive. Room after room. Facility after facility. Nothing would stop him.
His advance never slowed, even as more terrors appeared within the monsters' ranks. Gargantuan crimson spheres with gaping maws and blue blood. Screeching skulls of Hellfire rocketed through the air to possess the dead. Bright pink brutes ran upon two legs and used the weight of their bodies and fists to destroy whatever stood in their way. Towering goat-legged beasts who conjured green fire and possessed tremendous strength.
Eventually, with no other way to escape, the man known as Blazkowicz used one of the teleporters on Phobos. It was a gamble. He could very well end up where these monsters originated. However, in a shocking twist, the device sent him to another of Mar's moons, not to whatever nightmarish realm the creatures came from.
Deimos. It, too, had lost contact. A separate deployment had been sent around the same time as Blazkowicz's to investigate. And, like the fate that befell Phobos, it was overrun with horrors.
Yet...it was different. An unknown force was altering the facilities and landscape. Symbols and energies completely foreign to the space marine were everywhere his eyes looked. By the time he reached the end of the Deimos complex, it barely resembled a moon anymore.
This change in scenery wasn't all that awaited Blazkowicz. A monolithic giant, made of flesh and mechanics, appeared to try and bring an end to his slaughter of the hordes. The battle that ensued was waged mostly with rockets fired by both sides. A sea of pillars stood between them, taking a fair amount of the destruction their projectiles caused.
But in the end, as expected, Blazkowicz was victorious. He stood above his fallen foe and gladly delivered the final strike with his trusted shotgun. One of many armaments he obtained during this journey. For a moment, as he basked in victory, he believed it was over. Then the ground shook. A quake? Not possible. So, what was it?
As Blazkowicz looked at the sky, he noticed a rapid change occurring. The stars were growing more distant. The blackness of space was pushed back by an encroaching red mist. The moon was being moved, pulled, to a new location.
When Blazkowicz could truly see the full scope of what was happening, he honestly couldn't believe it. Deimos, in its entirety, was being dragged into another realm. It was filled with indescribable landscapes and countless more monsters everywhere you looked. Knowing that the fight wasn't over, he used a rope to lower himself from the moon onto the surface of this twisted domain.
Already, Blazkowicz discerned the lack of rules in this place. Although retaining its gravity, Deimos offered no resistance as he left it behind. Was the nightmare welcoming him? Was it purely its nature? There was no way to tell.
Of course, upon landing, Blazkowicz was met immediately. Every type of creature he encountered was there in mass. By now, they knew his face as much as he did theirs. Unlike their prior victims, the monsters acknowledged him as a threat.
...
...
...
Another time skip. The shadow knew what followed. Blood and bullets. With the only new information to obtain in those skirmishes being the surroundings. She knew what this place must be, and it seemed as though Blazkowicz had also realized it.
Hell. But not as the shadow knew it. Unlike her brother's, this Hell was, in a word, primordial. There were few structures, and none seemed to be made by the creatures. They were so different from each other, as was the ground they stood on and the materials that made them.
Where had these buildings come from, then? If not constructed by the monsters, there could be only one explanation. Much like Deimos, these were pulled into Hell. Taken from who knows where and who knows how many different people.
Yet as the shadow busied herself with these questions and curiosities, Blazkowicz remained focused. At some point during that passage of time, he obtained another weapon. The technology it comprised matched what the shadow had seen on Phobos and Deimos. How it managed to find itself here in this Godless place, she hadn't the faintest idea.
However, Blazkowicz hadn't used it. No fight had deemed it necessary. No adversary was so daunting to require that level of firepower. But then, IT appeared.
The conspirer behind this ordeal. The orchestrator of this suffering. The villain of this plot. The mastermind of this scheme.
It sat atop a robotic body moved by four long mechanical legs. Its actual body resembled that of a brain. It possessed a face filled with jagged teeth formed into a crooked smile.
Any other mortal would've trembled in its presence. Knees ready to buckle and give, especially when its power was revealed. The creature wielded science and sorcery. A perfect union that gave birth to an unrivaled abomination in every sense.
As it readied its weapons with a sinister smile, Blazkowicz stood still. There was no emotion. No nerves he needed to calm. With steady hands, he drew his gun and readied it.
Three seconds. That was the time it took to charge the shot. In that span, the monster unleashed a decent volley, so certain it would kill the mortal who refused to die. It paid no attention to the vibrant green light pointed in its direction.
Then, with a pull of a trigger, all was lost in a blinding flash.
...
...
...
Wind. Far gentler than that of Phobos. It was the first sensation to touch the space marine's skin. It told him that he hadn't died.
When Blazkowicz's vision returned, he saw a beautiful field in front of him. It was golden in hue, the color of Autumn. Despite the lack of any notable landmarks, he immediately recognized it. This was his home; this was Earth.
As the tired soldier slowly walked towards the tall grass in front of him, needing to ensure this was real, the shadow watched with trepidation. This was a happy ending. Things should've stayed this way. But as these were ancient memories, she knew this tranquility would be ripped away somehow.
Slowly, Blazkowicz removed his helmet for the first time since the fighting began. His expression was tired yet still stoic. He wasn't smiling because he still needed to know that what he saw wasn't in his head.
Running his hands across the tips of the grass, it tickled his fingertips. If Blazkowicz had been driven to insanity, it was incredibly convincing. But as he repeated this action and continued to feel the wind blow against his body, he accepted the truth. He was home. It was over. He had won.
The heaviest sigh the shadow had ever heard escaped the soldier's lungs. To her shock, a smile appeared. He slowly sat down, being consumed by the grass that surrounded him. If given a few more minutes, he might've laid down and fallen asleep.
But then, both Blazkowicz and the shadow saw something in the wind. Incredibly small flickers of light, yet they were not lightning bugs or something similar. Closer inspection revealed the lights to be embers, carried by the gust that blew at their backs. Meaning the source, whatever it was, was behind them.
Turning around, the pair saw in the far distance a city. Its tallest buildings glowed brightly with an orange color. In the sky above the metropolis, a dark mass hovered. Long thin trails led from it back to the city.
Yet even without these clues to help convey the situation, Blazkowicz and the shadow knew the moment their eyes saw the city what was happening. Given all that had transpired until now, only one terrifying thought entered the space marine's mind. Without hesitation, he grabbed his helmet, donned it once more, then ran off in the city's direction. Although fully aware that this was a memory, the shadow still yelled for him to stop; she couldn't bear to see whatever came next.
With the same haste as Blazkowicz, the shadow gave chase. Together, they reached the city's limits within a short time. But when they did, both came to an immediate halt. As it turned out, the monsters were expecting his arrival.
Standing there, with the burning city behind it, was a sharpened wooden pike. On top of the pike, stabbed by its tip, was the decapitated head of a brown-furred rabbit. A look of terror and pain was frozen forever on its face. The poor thing never stood a chance.
Upon this discovery, the shadow placed a hand over her mouth without thinking. Her emotions controlled her body instead of her mind. She would've reacted the same had it been any other innocent soul. But she knew from earlier the significance of this rabbit; this was not a random act of cruelty.
It was a deliberate taunt. The monsters, no, the Demons, knew what they were doing. They could've placed many different pikes with an equally varied selection of heads and body parts. They could've left any other animals, too.
But they chose this rabbit. Because somehow, through some unknown means, the Demons had learned who this rabbit belonged to. The mortal who denied death. The very same who defied them.
The shadow watched in stunned silence as Blazkowicz slowly approached the pike. When he reached it, he fell to his knees, putting him at eye-level with the rabbit's head. After a few seconds, his body began to shake. At last, the Demons were successful; they broke his invincible resolve.
A stream of tears began to fall as Blazkowicz reached out and gently grabbed onto the sides of the head. He lifted it from the pike, then hugged it tightly to his chest. With an unblinking stare of anguish, he sat there holding it and continued to cry. The one thing he'd been fighting for apart from his survival was gone.
As for the shadow, she struggled to hold back her tears. She had seen an infinite number of connections formed in mortal lives. To her, no bond was lesser or greater than another, regardless of its nature. So, whereas the foolish might think this reaction from Blazkowicz to be unwarranted as it was not a person he had lost, she understood completely.
Alas, the Demons were not through with this infliction of suffering. A fireball came forth from within the inferno that was once a city. Blazkowicz, lost in his despair, failed to notice it. The projectile hit him dead-center in his chest, sending him to the ground and onto his back.
The fire burned the space marine's arms, which had been crossed over his pectorals. His chest was unaffected due to the armor that covered it. But his best friend's head, which he had been clutching so tightly, was not so fortunate. It received the full power of the fireball and, in doing so, was reduced to ash.
Once again, the shadow and Blazkowicz were horrified. Just as quickly had he learned of his loss, the soldier was given another. Now, there could be no proper burial for what remained. All he could do was watch as the wind began to blow the blackened dust away.
That is when the attacker would present themselves; another brown-skinned Demon, likely an Imp. Yet something happened before it could try to finish him off the mortal who stood against Hell itself. The thin remaining line of sanity in Blazkowicz's soul finally snapped, and it did so violently.
With a howl that put anything the Demons could produce to shame, Blazkowicz leaped forward from the ground and tackled the Imp. He spared no seconds in brandishing a weapon; he used his bare fists to deliver death to this cretin.
THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP
Blow after blow. Even when Blazkowicz's knuckles started to tear and bruise from the beating, he continued. He only ceased when what he punched turned to the dirt beneath the Imp. Its head was now fully destroyed by the raw strength of the soldier.
Again, the shadow wanted to do something. She yearned desperately to help this man. To keep anything more from unfolding. But she was no master of time. Even if she was, she was only an observer in this space, so she could still alter nothing.
So, with tears finally flowing free from the shadow's eyes, she watched the former man transform. There was nothing left in his shattered psyche. All gone from his ordeal across Phobos, Deimos, Hell, and the mutilation of his companion. He rushed into the burning city, craving death for everything in his path.
...
...
...
Impressive. An inappropriate word to use, given the context. But that's what the shadow thought as she continued her observations. The soldier was still a normal mortal; he should've collapsed from fatigue and injury by now.
Was it his rage that continued to grow without end, replacing all other emotions within his soul? Maybe. Yet still, physical limitations are a real issue for mortals. Even with such a strong, passionate hatred with endless growth, there shouldn't be a way for him to bypass that.
Granted, Blazkowicz did come across many powers as he fought. But each was temporary, so the shadow assumed their effects and any benefits would vanish once they were gone. Although to be fair, she knew nothing of these foreign energies. There could be some permanent improvements to the recipient that she was unaware of.
There could be many answers and explanations for Blazkowicz's strive never slowing and his strength never falling. But in the end, did such clarity matter? No, it didn't. The shadow only used such inquiries to distract herself from the tragedy that continued to unfold.
Yet she still needed to watch. That was the point of this endeavor. To learn the history of the armored man. At this point, however, the shadow could leave satisfied; it was clear that she could trust him.
But through a combination of morbid curiosity and other questions regarding the Hell known as Doom, the shadow remained. She watched him easily tear through new additions to the hordes. A new type of possessed human wielding a chaingun was one such creature. Another was a sickening combination of human remains and technology, creating a reanimated skeletal corpse that could fire rockets from its shoulders.
Admittedly, the shadow was surprised by how many more Demons had suddenly come from the depths of their home to try and kill Blazkowicz. Lesser versions of the brain spider and red-skinned goat-legged creatures arrived. Behemoths of great girth whose arms were replaced by crudely attached rocket launchers. And, what the shadow assumed to be kin to the crimson spheres, a brown one that could summon the screeching souls.
However, they all were surpassed by one species in particular. It walked on two legs, possessing arms of equal length. Its head was quite long, perhaps eluding to its greater intelligence due to a larger brain. As for its soul, it wielded the greatest Arcane ability of ANY Demon thus far, and truthfully, the shadow was scared by it.
But not because it was any more frightening than the Demons that preceded it. As she watched it resurrect without strain the hordes Blazkowicz defeated, continuing to do so until it was killed, she realized something. The Demon's mastery over life and death and ability to empower the legions under its command were identical to her own.
Such a realization left the shadow dazed for a while. As the memories continued to play, mentally, she was absent for a time. Eventually, one final new Demon would present itself. This creature demanded her attention, just as it did Blazkowicz's.
A titan. That was the only word befitting to describe this entity. It stood above everything, nearly out of view from its height. Regarding its physicality, it was clear to all that it could shatter entire land masses with a single blow.
Now back to her senses, the shadow swiftly surveyed her surroundings. Somehow, Blazkowicz had made it back to Hell. Likely, through the massive portal at his backside that the titan seemed intent on passing through. But he would not allow that. The titan would be denied entry at all costs.
Mortal versus Monolith. A fitting title for this fight. As the titan began to summon entire armies to kill this impudent insect that stood before it, said insect started its assault. Bullets, pellets, plasma, and rockets were fired in every direction. With the haste and skill the shadow had come to expect, Blazkowicz dispatched his foes without issue.
However, so long as the titan remained, their number would be infinite. Like the Demon whose power was that of the shadow, it could resurrect any fallen allies. The true target was established. All that remained was to see this conflict to its conclusion.
With only anger in his soul pushing his body forward, Blazkowicz charged the titan. In his right hand, he wielded his rocket launcher. In his left, he wielded the weapon he used to destroy the brain spider. With these two armaments, he'd kill the titan.
The rockets fired from the launcher aimed at the titan's knees. It took a fair amount to break through its armor-like flesh and reach the joints, but when they did, it fell the titan. Landing onto the ground with a crash that shook everything, as if Hell was breaking apart. When the titan tried to raise itself on its arms, it faced the mortal responsible for its injuries.
Blazkowicz stared into its pupilless eyes, and it stared back. When their gazes met, both prepared to attack. The titan opened its maw and conjured an unprecedented sphere of flame. The mortal charged his gun, producing a rapidly growing ball of green plasma.
Did Blazkowicz want to die? Was that it? Even if he killed the titan, there'd be no survival should the fireball reach him. Was that how this soldier wanted his war to end?
The shadow couldn't find an answer to those questions. Examining the state of his soul as it was in the memory only gave her what she already knew. There were no thoughts. There was only rage.
After a few seconds, both attacks were ready. The fireball shot out of the titan's mouth, ready to engulf Blazkowicz. But when he pulled the trigger of his gun, launching his green bullet, it collided with the fireball and caused an unexpected reaction. Another flash, far greater than the last, consumed the area.
...
...
...
"Sir, I don't think this is a good idea..." A nervous scientist spoke as he followed his superior.
"We have no other choice. He's the only one who could stand against those things. Even now, with all that we learned and accomplished, our enemies still kill us easily. We need his help." A general, calm and composed, replied to the scientist.
Both men walked along a dirt road. The vehicle they'd been using for transport before now was left behind. They knew they couldn't drive to their destination. They were likely to be shot at if they did.
Following behind them was the shadow. When her vision recovered from the flash, she found herself in a new memory. But...how could Blazkowicz know about these men and their conversation? He was nowhere to be seen.
Upon inspecting the environment for answers, assuming he was hiding in the tall grass, the shadow made a startling discovery. Listening devices, cameras, and sensors were expertly hidden, and there seemed to be no end to them. In every direction, it didn't matter how far; more were to be found. This entire area was covered in surveillance equipment and technology, all handmade.
Unsurprisingly, the general and the scientist knew this. Hence, they walked as slowly as possible and kept their hands empty and on display. They needed to show their watcher that they were unarmed and non-hostile. Any mistake on their part could lead to their death.
It'd take nearly thirty minutes to get there at their pace, but eventually, the duo made it. A lone shack made of metal barely stood out in the open. It looked as though a particularly strong breeze could knock it over. In no way, shape, or form was this a fit place to live or survive.
But that was the point. It was a ruse, a lure, to anything that dared approach. If anything were alive inside, surely it'd be easy to kill. Try your chances, and see if you can succeed where others have failed. That was the taunt the shack openly voiced without any signs or other indicators of intent.
"Wait right here." The general whispered to the scientist. "If he's not outside his bunker yet, he'll come out once I start moving. But if he is, then he may shoot me. If that happens, remain perfectly still and try to talk to him from here." He instructed.
"T-Try to talk?!" The scientist whispered back in panic. "Y-You expect me to have a conversation if you're lying dead at my feet?!" He questioned.
"Well, you can try and run. It'll be nice to have some company in the afterlife." The general responded before turning his focus to the shack. "Ahem. Excuse me! May I come closer?" He asked.
Only the wind blowing the nearby grass replied to the general. The shack remained silent, as did its sole inhabitant. The general took that as permission to approach because he hadn't been shot yet. With his hands still raised, he began walking toward the building.
"We need to speak with you! It's important!" The general exclaimed, making each step a careful one. "I think you'll be interested! It has to do with them!" He revealed.
Them. That's all that needed to be said for the shadow and the shack's inhabitant to know to who the general referred.
Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak
Hearing that noise made the general come to a stop. The shack's door slowly moved by a hand pushing it open. After a few seconds, the inhabitant stepped out. Shocking not only the scientist but the shadow as well.
"William J. Blazkowicz The Third." The general greeted, offering a salute. "It's an honor, sir. Thank you for your time." He said.
The man that left the shack was barely recognizable. The only thing the shadow recognized was his stoic expression. He had bags under his eyes, an unshaven beard on his face, and tattered clothes on his body that had seen MUCH better days. Yet when she gazed into his pupils, looking for any signs of the soul she saw before the nightmare, she found...nothing.
The anger was gone. EVERYTHING was gone. A soul still resided in that body, but it was...like a ghost. The truest form of a specter that the shadow had ever seen.
"I'll be quick. You're a busy man." The general promised once Blazkowicz stood in the light. "As you're aware, Mars and its moons were nuked to kingdom come. That part of the solar system's been a hotspot of radiation these past few years. Every last bit of technology has long ceased function. Yet, somehow, a single satellite still managed to produce one more photo before deactivation. I've brought you that picture so you can see for yourself." The general told him before holding out the photograph.
Blazkowicz, as expected, said nothing. He walked closer, reached out, and took the photo. When his eyes registered what was captured within the photograph, they widened.
"We don't know its name." The general started once he noticed Blazkowicz's reaction. "We don't know how, but it avoided all our detection methods. Through a process that not even our world's brightest can figure out, it's altered its anatomy to thrive in the radiation. It's using it to regain power and better its health. And, if our latest scans of the world are to be believed, it's resurrecting the corpses on Mars and Phobos. The Demons, despite our best efforts, have returned. The UAC decided that it'd be time and cost-effective to send you in. Given your expertise in this field." The general explained.
What? WHAT?! THAT'S THEIR REASONING?! THAT'S WHY THE POWERS IN THIS UNIVERSE SENT THESE TWO MEN HERE?! BECAUSE IT'S THE CHEAPEST OPTION?!
DISGUSTING! ABHORRENT! DEPLORABLE! BASTARDS! THIS WAS UNFORGIVABLE! HE'S SUFFERED ENOUGH! HOW COULD YOU FORCE HIM TO GO BACK TO THAT NIGHTMARE?!
The shadow continued to scream and yell into ears that would never hear her. She couldn't help it. This upset her more than anything else in her life. To think that a species could be so selfish, so unapologetically cruel, they could rival the Demons themselves!
Blazkowicz had done more than any soul should EVER be asked! He never had a say in any of it to begin with! The shadow had never wished to use her powers to punish another more than in this moment. These people were despicable; they didn't deserve any further salvation at the expense of-
"Heh... Hehe... Hehehe..."
Cackling? Where did it come from? As the shadow searched, she found it wasn't the scientist. Nor was it the general.
It...was Blazkowicz. His stoic face was gradually contorting into a grin. His eyes widened even further. Within them, a newfound life conveyed only one thing. Insanity.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Blazkowicz threw his head back in uproarious laughter, staring upward at the sky with an unblinking gaze.
The scientist, the general, and the shadow were speechless. More than that, they were unsettled. Of every possible reaction, joyous chortling of this level was never expected. For the shadow, the laughter showed just how broken this man was.
Seconds became minutes; he kept on laughing. Neither the scientist nor the general felt confident enough to stop him. They just watched as he bellowed, waiting for something to change.
"FINALLY! FINALLY! I FUCKING KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" Blazkowicz...spoke. His voice was deep and powerful yet sounded shaken and unhinged. "THEY'VE COME BACK! THEY WANT TO KILL ME! I BEAT THEM! I. BEAT. THEM. THEY NEVER EXPECTED THAT WOULD HAPPEN! THEY NEVER ANTICIPATED IT! I THOUGHT THEY'D INVADE EARTH AGAIN! BUT THEY'RE TRYING TO BE SNEAKY! THEY WANT ME TO GO BACK! THEY WANT ME TO CHASE THEM! I KNOW IT! I KNOW IT!" He shouted before snapping his neck in the direction of the scientist.
In the blink of an eye, Blazkowicz bolted for him. The scientist, horrified by this sizeable man suddenly running at him, could only scream. His legs were unresponsive, forcing him to stand still and accept what was coming.
"YOU!" Blazkowicz yelled into the scientist's face as he grabbed him by his arms. "TELL ME! HOW DO I GET THERE?! HOW SOON CAN I GO?! TELL ME!" He demanded.
The scientist couldn't reply; his throat was too tight. He wanted desperately to give this man the answers he craved but was unable.
"Sir!" The general called from behind, earning Blazkowicz's attention. "We have everything ready for you back at base. A new suit to withstand the levels of radiation on Phobos. A teleporter that can send you there in an instant. It's all been taken care of. We need to you to come with us, and we can-"
"THEN WHY ARE WE STANDING HERE?!" Blazkowicz asked, his grin worsening as he did. "LET'S GO! I CAN'T KEEP THEM WAITING! IT'S BEEN YEARS! THEY'RE DESPERATE! I KNOW THEY ARE!" He shouted before running off.
As the scientist fell to the ground, shaking uncontrollably, they all watched the soldier leave them behind. He was excited. Happy. Ready to get back into the fight.
...
...
...
There wasn't much to see in these memories. A few new details, sure. But nothing so important that it demanded further inspection. It was more violence, depression, and brutality.
Although, the space marine's rants and maniacal laughter were new. But the shadow could not stand to listen to any of it. In the reality of these memories, so much time had passed between the present and the past. Yet for her, only an hour or so had gone by, a benefit of her ability.
Granted, the fresh details were interesting. The Demons had new appearances, an evolution perhaps? The soldier's arsenal was also vastly improved; even the chainsaw saw an upgrade. No longer a tool, now clearly a weapon, it sported two blades instead of one. As for the environment, it looked more or less as it had during the prior invasion. Only now, there was an atmosphere of dread and death.
The lighting and colors reflected this well. Cold and harsh with an odd sensation of serenity. But that was likely due to the scarcity of Cemons. As the general had said, the one responsible was still busy with resurrection, so the hordes were not to their original size yet.
Of course, Blazkowicz wouldn't allow them that opportunity. He moves through the decrepit facilities with ease. He dispatched every foe with greater efficiency and newly obtained sadistic glee. Could he be called a soldier at this point, or had he been transformed into a blood-craved lunatic?
The shadow didn't want to answer that question. She felt sadness from watching this. She would remain in these memories a little longer, skipping past anything that didn't catch her eye before moving to the next major part of his life. There was still much to see, including how he became the silent figure he was in the present.
One-sided battles came and went. Eventually, Blazkowicz returned to Hell. Despite the insane tone of his words back on Earth, he'd been correct. This entire resurgence of Demons was a planned trap for the space marine, and he gladly walked into it with a grin.
Continuing from there, nothing else of importance happened for a long time. Although interestingly, the battles waged were more strategic in their locations. The Demons purposefully guided Blazkowicz to castles and fortresses filled with ambushes and traps. Yet even with such cleverness, they couldn't stop him.
After enough time passed and the bodies were piled, Blazkowicz confronted the Demon responsible for this outbreak. It was unique compared to many of the other Hellspawn. The shadow couldn't place her finger on why, but this one felt older. Something about its appearance came across as primordial and ancient.
But that didn't matter. Blazkowicz brandished a new weapon to end its life. When did he obtain it? The shadow didn't know. She didn't care enough to shift through the innumerable skirmishes and corpses to find such a moment.
By now, the shadow was more exhausted than the soldier. Granted, she hadn't been reborn in trauma and suffering like the space marine. He had been forced to revel in this savagery to survive. The shadow now understood that one could be nothing else if they hoped to stand against these moralless mongrels.
The last thing the shadow witnessed before skipping again was Blazkowicz condemning himself. He severed the remaining connection between Hell and his universe. Doing so meant that forevermore, Hell would be his home. But as he laughed at the thought of this future, there was no doubt he wanted it.
...
...
...
This...was new. But not in the way that the shadow might imagine. She was in Hell, as expected. Yet where she was is what made this interesting.
A lonely location, even for this Hell's standards. Nothing but dusty planes and jagged rock formations as far as the eye could see. No Imps scurried across the terrain, and no crimson spheres floated above. If the shadow wasn't sure that she WAS in Hell, she might've assumed she was in an entirely different place.
The shadow slithered around for the next few minutes in search of the soldier. Where was he? This was his memory. How was he not in her immediate view?
After enough searching, the shadow found the answer. Hidden among the jagged rocks, barely perceivable, was an opening that led into the ground. There weren't any carved steps beyond the mouth, only the natural formations. As the shadow carefully descended, even though she couldn't be harmed here, she noted that nothing of this place was altered.
But the shadow knew she detected souls further in. So, this was someone's dwelling. Yet great care had been taken to ensure nothing about the cave seemed unnatural. To anyone, even the Demons of this Hell, it'd appear that nothing special was present. Thus, they shouldn't waste their time exploring.
Eventually, the shadow reached the bottom. Ahead of her, another opening was seen. Illuminated by the glow of a fire. In that light, she saw two shadows like herself.
One was in the shape of a man, most likely Blazkowicz. The other...resembled a Demon? No, it couldn't be; that didn't make sense. How or why would that man be in the same space as one of these creatures, calmly from how it seemed, and not kill it?
For the first time in quite a while, the shadow was curious. She hurried into the cave, only to be halted by the sight that awaited her. Blazkowicz, now covered in scars and without a beard, stood in the cave's center. As for apparel, he was...nearly nude?!
The only piece of clothing on the space marine's body was a fresh pair of undergarments. The shadow could tell they were new due to the lack of tears or stains. Someone, recently, had made this for him. Who that was, she would learn immediately.
As the shadow looked around the cave, she found the Demon whose silhouette had been cast by the flame onto the stone wall. It stood at the same height as Blazkowicz. A pale, almost milky color dominated its flesh. Long black horns that matched the Demon's claws and teeth in color could be seen sprouting from the head.
Beneath them rested two eyes that glowed with a blue light. On its body, it wore an outfit. This...was the first instance the shadow had ever witnessed where a Demon wore clothes of any kind. That, combined with the rest of this scene, caused a flood of questions to fill her mind. What was going on?!
"Slayer." The Demon...it spoke! Its voice was like gravel, but not in an unpleasant way. The tone was calm, holding no hostile intent toward Blazkowicz. "The armor is nearly complete. With it, you will become unstoppable. Long has my master wanted for such a tool, a means to improve his legion without effort. At least, where his involvement is concerned." It told him. "I will need a few moments to make the final adjustments. Is that acceptable?" It asked.
In reply, Blazkowicz nodded. As the shadow examined him and his soul more, she finally found the man whose memories she traversed. Somewhere in the passage between now and when the last skip occurred, he changed. But that created another question, how much time had passed?
As the Demon went deeper into the cave, presumably to retrieve the armor it mentioned, the shadow contemplated what to do. She missed some information, most importantly the whys, hows, and whos of Blazkowicz becoming friendly with this Demon. However, she wouldn't be able to know where this all started in his memories without going back and seeing it play out normally.
How these skips functioned was based on a priority set by the shadow. In short, she only saw the memories play out when they were considered important by Blazkowicz himself. When those moments were over, the memories would fast forward, only stopping when they reached the next major part. But how could his encounter and relationship with what seemed to be the ONLY friendly Demon in ALL of Hell not be considered significant?!
The shadow couldn't take such a gaping hole in information. She decided the only course was to rewind the memories until she was satisfied. Yet when she tried, she found herself being blocked. That...shouldn't be possible.
What...was happening? The shadow's power was being repelled. Her access to Blazkowicz's memories was denied. This had never happened before!
The shadow's mind began to race as confusion and panic rapidly took hold. What could be the explanation for this? She needed to figure it out quickly. Her questions demanded clarity!
Working through the problem slowly, the shadow assessed her power. She went through its characteristics and all that it was capable of. This specific ability that allowed her to enter another person's soul and examine its memories was a form of mental domination, in a way. To break through all mental blockades consciously or subconsciously constructed by the individual to prevent intrusion.
However, a key component to mental domination of any type was the difference in power. For example, no mortal from the shadow's universe could resist this ability as they were far beneath her. This was the exact opposite regarding her kin. Where even IF she managed to "dominate" their minds, it was almost certain that they'd become aware of the intrusion and try to force her out.
So, if the shadow's access to the memories was now being hindered, that could only mean...
Thump
A large metal gauntlet placed itself on the shadow's shoulder from behind, snapping her out of her thoughts. Turning around, she was met by the armored man whose mind she was an intruder. Additionally, the memory she was currently in began to disappear. This was it, the soul had overcome her power, and she was no longer in control.
As the shadow stared into the eyeless visor of the armored man's helmet, she anticipated a forceful action. A punch, a kick, maybe a throw or headbutt, something that would translate to the soul's consciousness pushing her out of the soul. Yet as the seconds passed by, nothing happened. The shadow and the armored man remained as they were, standing opposite each other and staring.
After long enough, the shadow's bewilderment at what was transpiring faded. Now, she was trying to figure out what the armored man wanted to convey. He kept his hand on her shoulder and showed no intention of escalating the situation beyond that. What was his goal?
Admittedly, when the answer finally struck the shadow, she felt like a fool that it took her so long. The armored man did this only to get her attention, to let her know that he was aware of her presence. By keeping his hand on her shoulder, it was to say that if she chose to remain here, then he would become aggressive.
But that was the most important detail. The armored man was GIVING her a choice. He wasn't instantly choosing to be violent with her, unlike before in the hotel. Of course, that led to yet another question, what was the cause of this change?
Did the armored man regret his prior action? Was it a choice of his own to try diplomacy first this time? Did he not feel like fighting after his mind had been invaded? Was he unsure how a skirmish in this mental space would play out?
Sadly, the shadow could not find the answer to an inquiry that could take on so many different forms. And since nothing else could be done here, combined with her desire to avoid a conflict with this man, she accepted his generosity and left peacefully. As the connection was severed, one final thought entered the shadow's mind before they returned to reality. Or rather, it was a hope.
When they saw each other again, things could be different. No longer strangers or enemies. The shadow wanted nothing more than to be, at the very least, considered an ally. And maybe, should fate be in her favor, a friend with whom he felt safe to share his burdens.