Testament IX: The Demonic Forces Schemed

A few hours before the Slayer's Arrival…

(Queue 'Katyusha', a Soviet Russian folk song)

"Blyat."

The 6'3" tall demon released a deep, guttural sigh, drawing a cigar from his breast pocket and using an electric lighter to ignite the tobacco.

He drew from the cigar deeply, blowing a dense stream of smoke from his cracked lips into the air, the rest of the smoke oozing out the sides of his torn cheeks. Another upside to being a demon, he had felt no need to choke or cough, for his lungs were already perforated with holes and blackened by tar.

He looked over the broken hellscape before him. An entirely different Earth than he remembered. Glass buildings that rose to the sky, long strips of concrete that modern cars drove on for hundreds of miles. It was a fascinating sight.

Was.

Now, the land was torn apart by ravines of boiling lava, the skies suffocated by raging black clouds of violent thunder. Demons ran amok, causing havoc and chaos ever since the global invasion began only 12 hours ago.

"Lord Shamble!"

The demon grunted in annoyance, rotating his head as several bones popped loudly. He centered the Soviet army cap on his head and turned around to see one of the Imps groveling at his black boots. He sneered.

"It's Lieutenant Koval, you gremlin yebat'."

The Imp raised her fearful eyes, her needle-like teeth exposed as her mouth was agape in fear.

"I-I am sorry, Lieutenant Koval! The others, they call you-"

"I don't give a fuck what they call me. I am Lieutenant Koval, nothing else. Understand?"

The Imp nodded her head fervently.

"Y-Yes, Lieutenant Koval!"

Koval grunted, eyeing her up and down. She was quite attractive, aside from the demonic features. Her breasts, buttocks and private areas had no covering, which was common among New Age Imps and demons. Of course, Koval didn't enjoy walking through the ranks of his soldiers and seeing dicks and tits swinging around in the air. His boss had made the argument that it was a psychological tactic to throw off the humans during battle. And yet, it was extremely unseemly to him, and he felt like a degenerate for having to command a force of naked demons. He rather wished they would wear uniforms, as he did, so they would look more professional.

"...Have gathered together and are ready to deploy. Also, the Arch-Viles are asking for more time."

Koval's sharp, mangled teeth gnashed in anger, having heard only the end of the Imp's report.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He growled, his deep-grating, thick Russian accent more distinguished. "They've delayed this fucking task 5 times now. What the hell are they doing?"

"They, um...said they needed more 'preparation time'."

Koval rubbed the bridge of his nose in extreme frustration. These Old Age demons were idiots. Having spent time around these Arch-Viles, he knew they were basically glorified divas. When they weren't fighting in battle, they were summoning lesser minions to repair high-class buildings and sectors, and would act like pompous aristocrats, drinking cocktails and gossiping about the other demons while sitting in their pilfered manors.

And Koval hated aristocrats.

"Imp."

The Imp raised her head once more, in trepidation.

"Y-Yes, Lord- I mean, Lieutenant-!"

"Tell those bougie fucks that if they do not get ready in the next 10 minutes, I am going to use them as bait for the incoming forces."

The Imp's face drained of color.

"Wha-...b-but Lieutenant Shamble, they won't like-"

"Tell them, Imp!" Koval barked, and the Imp screeched in fright, scurrying off back down the hill. Koval turned back towards the soon-to-be battlefield, studying the layout to ensure everything was in place.

He had been sent here to ambush an ARC patrol that was intent on establishing a forward operating base in this sector of Oregon. He'd spent the last hour or so setting up the ambush to watch from afar. Typically, New Age demons were not frontline combat-oriented, that was often left to the Old Age demons, of whom were usually the bulk of the regular infantry.

He took another drag of the cigar, his eyes scanning through the various hidden nests around the ambush site, where many of the Old Age demon fodder lied in wait around a pit that sunk into the ground at a somewhat-steep incline, creating a massive ground disadvantage for the group when they reached the center of the pit. Despite his sour mood, Koval couldn't help but grin maliciously.

He couldn't wait to see these American pigs torn to shreds.

"Lieutenant Koval."

Koval turned his head, eyeing the 10-foot tall beastly demon and the 6-foot fishman that had to come to approach him. They kneeled, the first bowing his lion head in deference, alongside the fishman.

"What is it, Anhur, Frills?"

Anhur raised his head, his beast eyes focused on Koval.

"They are almost at the ambush site, Lieutenant."

Koval nodded, turning his attention back to the site. When he had initially met this towering lion-like beast of a demon, he had initially found him to be an eyesore. Chainguns on his upper two arms, a grapple gun on his lower left third arm, and some sort of triple barrel on his lower right fourth arm. That, combined with the ridiculous height difference, had irked Koval.

However, it was Anhur's formal behavior and willingness to obey orders immediately that gained Koval's respect. Most of the demons under his command, while exceptional at combat, were more incompetent than a cage of drug-addled monkeys. He valued soldiers, pawns that would take orders and carry them out with precision and exact execution.

The fishman, on the other hand, was also capable of such, but not to such a degree as Anhur. There was most certainly favoritism playing at hand.

"Very well. Anhur, Frills, start mobilizing your regiments. They will be upon us soon enough."

(Queue 'Red Army Choir: Dark Eyes)

And there they were.

Creeping over the horizon, making their way down the road, killing off small packs of demons while their shieldmen kept a defensive line against any that tried to pounce on them.

A bit closer…

He could see the nested demons getting excited, violently shaking as they contained their urge to murder.

"Wait a bit longer, sobaki." Koval muttered, using binoculars with one hand while he smoked his cigar with the other, his right leg posted up on a rock as he surveyed the situation.

They were almost at the site now. Koval felt his demonic adrenaline surge as he saw the battalion moving so ignorantly into their own slaughter, obliviously surrounding themselves in dozens of demon nests.

"Just a bit more…" Koval hissed.

He noticed several of the ARC soldiers began to look around in confusion as the field began to run dry of demons, and many of the NCOs began to panic as they started to realize what was going on. But it mattered not, for they were in the center of the pit now. Shamble cackled, flicking his cigar away and raising his hand high into the air.

"PRIVET, AMERIKANTSY (HELLO, AMERICANS)!" He shouted, garnering the attention of all the soldiers standing in the pit. He swiped his hand downwards, in a chopping motion.

And the battle began. The demons blasted out of their nests, sprinting towards the terrified ARC soldiers, who formed a defensive circle of shields as their riflemen and grenadiers focused fire on the growing hordes of demons encircling them, running at the panicking humans with such ferocity that even Koval was moved by their murderous passion.

He cackled as he watched the first wave of Hell Knights, Hell Barons and general fodder crash into the defensive shield circle. He watched in delight as the humans were gored on the end of horns, eviscerated with claws, and crushed under the overwhelming masses.

This was hardly a battle, it was an orchestrated slaughter. Koval felt a mix of disappointment and satisfaction. He wouldn't get to command the battle for this task, but he would have the privilege of watching these sacks of flesh get torn apart.

His hatred could not be described as focused on one set of identity. His Soviet passion commanded his deep-seated hatred for all things reminiscent of Western civilization, especially the bourgeoisie, and his demonic half felt a broiling rage against all things human.

But above all, his most triumphant passion was for his desire to command. To play the battlefield like a theatre of puppets, manipulating the enemy and his own to his exact desires. It was the most overwhelming feeling of power, and the only reason he felt it necessary to dress professionally.

As Koval watched the demons tear the battalion apart, a desire to drop in on the slaughter was beginning to overtake him. The chains wrapped so tightly around his arms began to unravel as he considered joining the bloodshed.

"The fuck is that?"

Koval's teeth clenched as he heard Anhur mutter the question. He looked up just in time to see a massive fireball rocketing towards the battlefield. He ducked as it slammed into the ground, sending ear-shattering vibrations across the field as shockwaves rocked the landscape and sent several objects, demons and humans flying around.

Koval lifted his head to see the aftermath, only to be greeted with the sight of several unfamiliar creatures lying around the battlefield, a mix of humans and some sort of furred-demon hybrids. The first one to get up was a towering mechanoid, which immediately unsheathed a red energy sword and began hacking away at his dazed demonic forces.

(Queue 'Star Wars: General Grievous Theme | Epic Russian Version' by Samuel Kim Music)

"What the fuck is going on?" Koval shouted in anger. But there was no time to rage about the changing circumstances. He whipped his head back to Anhur and Frills.

"Frills, direct the Revenants to come out of reserve, get them in the air to deal with these lokhi as soon as possible! Anhur, call up the Arch-Viles to start summoning to reinforce the bulk of our forces, and get those Gladiators and Pinkies lined up for the charge!"

They nodded, running off to execute his orders. He called up a few more demons to deliver orders around their encampment.

"Position the Imps on the left overhang of the battlefield, and the Gargoyles and Cacodemons on the right flank!"

"Tell the Mancubi, Carcasses, Arachnotrons and Cyberdemons to position themselves on that hill over there! Begin the artillery fire!"

"Send the Prowlers into the fray, have them take out their coordinators and organizers, and capture any that are vulnerable!"

After several orders barked at a litany of messengers, he cleared his throat, spitting black tar at the ground and raising the binoculars to watch his orders carried out. He felt a surge of corrupted euphoria as the Imps and Gargoyles rained down fire on the recovering ARC soldiers and arriving strangers, setting several of them on fire; He watched with cold calculation as the Revenants flew around the air, shooting rockets at the grenadiers, as the Arch-Vile's summoned minions reinforced the push against the defensive wall, squeezing the enemy forces like a vice; As the Gladiators and Pinkies formed an offensive line, waiting for the order to charge, heightened by the artillery barrages on the enemy's shields, and the Prowlers cloaking themselves and moving through the battlefield, only to assassinate and kidnap prominent enemy force coordinators, sergeants, and anyone who looked as if they were giving orders, dragging their screaming bodies out of the defensive circle.

He waited until there was an exposed opening in the defensive line to send the heavy charge into the shield wall. Once he saw that small opening come to fruition, he whipped his chain forward, breaking the sound barrier and sending a loud thwip through the air.

"UBIT' IKH VSEKH (KILL THEM ALL)!" Koval roared.

The Gladiators and Pinkies released guttural war cries, charging full speed at the exposed flank. Koval delighted in how the defensive line almost completely gave in as the heavy cavalry smashed into the shields, crushing several soldiers under their hooves and goring many more with their pointy ends.

After that charge, Koval could tell the soldiers were about to give in to their despair. Even the newcomers, with their frustrating arrival and sudden combat readiness, were no match for this assault. He turned to Anhur and Frills, who kneeled before him, heads bowed.

"You have done well, Serzhanty. We shall wait until our forces have slaughtered the soldiers, then we'll begin torturing the coordinators our Prowlers have captured-"

BWOOOSH!

Koval felt himself lifted off the ground and thrown backwards as a beam of red energy exploded into Frills, turning him to dust and sending a shockwave of energy into both Koval and Anhur. Koval coughed, hacking up more black tar on the ground, then stumbling to his feet.

(Queue 'DOOM Eternal OST 22 - The Only Thing They Fear Is You')

"Wha...What the fuck now?!" Koval cursed. He looked up into the sky, only for his mouth to unhinge in shock.

A most familiar menace, clad in green armor, baked in holy fury, rocketed towards the engagement in the pit. Koval watched in despair as he slammed into the hordes of demons, sending several dismembered limbs flying in every direction. He felt the black tar boil in his lungs as the Slayer tore through his forces like scissors gliding through wrapping paper.

"NYET!" Koval screamed in fury. "NYET, NYET, NYET! KAK TY ZDES' YEBAN' ?! TY DOLZHEN BYT' CHERTOVSKIM MERTVOM, TY TRAKHAYSYA, CHEREPAKHA!"

Anhur, who was stabilizing himself after the shockwave, watched the battlefield with a grim expression on his lion face.

"Lieutenant…" He muttered. Koval's chains tightened around his tortured arms, bones cracking as they squeezed harder and harder. Blood dripped from his hands, pooling at his fingertips and dropping onto the ashened ground below.

Koval was silent, watching the Slayer tear away at his legions with lethal impunity. There was no winning this battle, now. He felt his fury build as he ran over scenarios in his mind, on how the Slayer had managed to foil the plans set by the Commander in that stupid fucking land of 'Heaven'.

"Kilgore."

Anhur felt his heart drop as he heard Koval address him by his last name, something he found Koval would do in times of morbid rage.

"Y-Yes, Lieutenant."

"Retreat our forces to Greenwater. I must confer with the Commander on this recent development."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Anhur hurried off to command the forces to retreat, while Koval kept his murderous eyes on the Slayer. He gnashed his teeth in raw, unadulterated, seething rage.

"Slayer," He rasped. "By Stalin's wrath and Satan's evil, I will make you wish you never crossed me as you have on this day."