The Road of Good Intention

[Doomguy]

Continuing from Intermission From Doom

The next few days had been taken to ramp down into a more familiar military routine, the ad-hoc barracks turned into a temporary home. The Lieutenant and Eagle Eye had not called for my attention since the first day I met them, the two handlers had decided to leave me to my business until whatever objectives they had planned more me became apparent. Worked for me, as I wanted to get a lay of the land and at least start on digging for info on Impel Down before I got sent on whatever fox hunt the two cooked up. With my PDA bugged and any camera in the street watching me, I was basically pinned down until I could find a way around Costa del Sol without the Empire figuring out that I was two timing them. That meant a lot of time meandering around the town with the auto mapper and marking the line of sight of cameras and patrols. Which meant using the features of the auto-mapper I made fun of when I first got it, but then how would I have known I would be trapped in an alternate dimension with a totalitarian goverment.

No, I don't know if the demons of Hell were totalitarian, I'll ask them the next time I see them.

My "co-workers", the stormtroopers that were charged with keeping the peace on the mainland of this ocean world, keep their distance. It seems that a few years of guard duty, dealing with the occasional rampaging prime, and a general unappreciated and humiliating job had made them wary of outsiders. Go figure. If they knew I was a prime I'm sure they would have thrown me out. Since I had to share the same barracks with them for the next few weeks, I had to hand the olive branch and build the bridge and whatever garbage phrase you want to use. They were unresponsive at first, but a peace offering of beer and cigarettes had them warming up to me, in that "I'll tolerate your presence" kind of way. Fastest way to a soldier's heart is their vices followed closely by insulting their jackass CO. Which was phase two.

"What's your deal anyway?" One Sergeant Tina ("Tiny Tina" was the nickname I heard around the mess hall, even though she was almost as tall as I was and filled her armor better than most of the men in her squad) asked as she took a cig from the carton I was dangling hypnotically in front a few of the soldiers under her charge. Although she took the gift without comment, she eyes me suspiciously and that carried in her voice.

"Well, I was dragged into this Omniverse by some jackass" I left out who that jackass was intentionally "and being a soldier in my own universe, took the job I had skills in." My half-truth didn't endear me to her, as she just continued to narrow her eyes and silently judge between puffs of smoke.

"Then why not join the Stormtroopers properly and not be a scummy merc who's wasting the time and resources of our citizens" She accused me with unbridled contempt, which was an amazing feat considering her voice didn't change at all from her original "calm" voice. Perhaps if I was a more diplomatic person, I would have just let the whole thing slide, backed down on the position, and continue with just trying to get on the good side of the other soldiers.

I am not a diplomatic person.

"Maybe because I'm not all for being a drone for a bunch psychopaths that think crushing people's lives is a fun hobby" I got right up into the sarge's face, backing up my discussion point with physical intimidation. We stared at each other in silent confrontation for what seemed like a hour, both of us dared to strike first and lead this mental game of chicken to blows. I'm sure we would have both left the room with broken bones had not one brave soldiers from her squad stepped in between us.

"Ma'am, we still have to finish patrol" the soldier reminded his CO, both out of a genuine need to finish the job and concern to keep his superior officer out of harm's way. Probably. It's hard to read someone in those dumb helmets. We remained unyielding for a moment longer, then Tina gave me a sneer and mushed her cig into my armor as a show of defiance in defeat. She turned to her squad and with a nod she left the building with her men in tow. The one who broke it up gave me a final glance before he caught up with the rest and left me alone.

That was enough playing nice for one day. I had a feeling that things were going to turn sour sooner than I would hope. Time to get some information, and I knew who I would get it from.

[Doomguy]

Costa del Sol doesn't have an "underground" as so much as it has a loose collection of places that have paid the Empire to keep off their back. With the vast range of the, uh, Vasty Deeps and the numerous other islands that any smuggler or pirate can live off of with few visits needed, the festering hand of organized crime had little to cling to. What did was about as effective as a wart and was crushed ruthlessly by the Empire iron fist, and seemed to have largely taken its place anyway. There was no lack of scrupulous people, that I was sure, but they paid lip service to the Empire first and to their fellow criminals rarely. That may have been great in theory to the civilians of Costa del Sol, but it made it hard to track down who I was looking for. It took a bit of intimidating a few "I'm totally not a pirate" pirates to even point me in the right direction to begin with, and when I did arrive at the place in question I found myself at a pet shop rather than some seedy den on villainy I was expecting.

The door chimed as I walked into the store, announcing my presence to the owner manning the check-out. I was only briefly distracted by the animals that were on sale before I was face to face the manager. He was a balding and portly fellow who kept a smile on his face even as he broke out in a sweat standing in front of me.

"Hello, sir" his voice broke at the 'sir', his calm facade crumbling at the sight of the heavily armored space marine before him "Are you here for the mini lops?" There was a clear anxiety in his actions, you could see the wheels in his head spinning as he decided whether to stand his ground or run away screaming at the top of his lungs. I didn't help in the matter as I leaned over closer to him, the visor of my helmet nearly touching his nose.

"Do I look like I'm type of man who wants a bunny rabbit?" Well, he didn't know I did, but that would have undermined the intimidation.

"Well, no, sir. But then, what do you want?" To the man's credit, the pet shop owner still stood his grown and gave his false smile. I leaned on the counter between us, some of the cheap bobbles and pet toys jiggling as the added weight bent the whole thing.

"I think you know what I want" The stand off was about to be very short lived with the store keeper's courage continuing to falter. But as luck would have it, a door off to the side labeled "employees only" opened and a familiar sight revealed it self: the Kaptain's faithful bodyguard, Patches. Still completely covered as the last time I them. A nod of the head broke the tension with the front man, and with a hand wave I was lead down into a lower part of the building though a set of staircase. the smell of cheap bear and cigar smoke grew stronger as we reached an unmarked door, and inside was a rambunctious lot of buccaneers steeped in rum and tobacco. I quickly scanned for both my target and any danger (relative danger, anyway), and in the process my target spotted me.

"Doomy!" Kaptain Choprot bellowed out from a table in the center of the bar, a toothy grin stretching across the entire face. He looked lively for an ork who was being moved with a wheel barrel the last time I saw him.

"Come 'ere, ya zogging git!" He yells out, grabbing a nearby chair with another patron already sitting in it then ripping it out from under them. the ork pirate put the now empty cgaur right next to him and pat the seat in part as a friendly invite and a demand that I sit with him. Since he was what I was after, I couldn't refuse. I sat down next to the happy, smelly greenskin and Patches took their spot as guardian of the captain. "Tell me, what's you been doin' since I got me new legs?" a glance down confirmed that the bits he lost while half way in the gullet of a sanity-blasting monster had been replaced with new cybernetics, just as poorly made as the last ones. That he was up and about in only three days spoke a lot about how tough the ork was.

"Oh, you know, doing some independent work. Walking around the town, getting my barrings. Met some nice people. Just looking for information" I answered, mostly truthfully. Choprot kept his good humor about him, a glint in his eyes told me that he wasn't fooled.

"Dat ain't what I heard" he said, his smile turning predatory "I heard you's got yourself in with the imps" he said a bit more quietly that before, probably for my own benefit. That he knew that and still let me in this safehouse may seem stupid, but the brute was clever. The most dangerous place was to be right next to him, in the middle of his crew and fellow pirates, if he decided to off me. He was a fan of the idea to keep your friends close, and your enemies in arm's reach.

"What you heard isn't the whole truth. My situation with them in very temporary. What I want to know, if anything, will give a swift kick to the balls to those tinpot tyrants" That seemed to satisfy him, although he was still in a position to take my head off if he wasn't happy about what I asked. "What do you know about Impel Down?" the volume around us dropped a few marks, as those immediately near us had grown a sudden interest in our conversation.

That caught the captain off-guard, as he smile dropped and he tilted his head and squinted his already beady eyes as he tried to figure out my motives. He looked over to Patches to be sure he heard what he heard, and when there was no motion to disprove the thought the ork went back to staring me down.

"I know no git comes back when dey's go there. What reason do you have to know about a place like dat?"

"I'm breaking someone out" I answered

Several of the drunkards that listened in on us started to laugh at such a foolish idea, chuckled in their rum and went back to ruin their livers. Choprot, on the other hand, seriously though that over and rested his large tusked chin in his cybernetic power klaw. It seemed that something tickled his fancy, as the smile came back in force.

"Ya got a lot of guts, I'll give ya dat. Dead sneaky, too" He responds with a great guffaw, and then looks over to his bodyguard. Patches reached into the many layers of clothes hiding their identity and form it pulled a map of Costa del Sol and the waters around it. The ork kaptain smoothed it out across the table and pointed out what I thought was an island not far off the coast.

"Dis 'ere is Impel Down. Spittin' distance from da imperial base they have on the island. Ya can see it just on the horizon from da shore if you know what to look for. Or rather, the top of it. See, the prison ain't built on anything but the sea bed, whole giant tower just sticking out of the water. Each level under the top floor is subma-suber... underwater. Nothing but sea for a mile. And the place is just crawling with imp ships. Used to be looked after by the Admiral, then he zogged off to go hunting. His nob still keeps around, though. Mean git. Same as the warden. Gettin' out means getting through both of them, unless you can break through the outer walls and the inner walls, then you 'ave to deal with the monsters they got around the place. Don't ask how they keep the squiggly beasts off their ships, no one knows"

"You seem to know a lot about this place" I pointed out, and Choprot just chuckled

"I might have thought about pulling a few of me old crew out of there at one point. No luck, though. Everything past that, though, nothing but rumors. Everyone's heard that it's Hell in there that no one's escaped. If your boy is in dere, it's be hard to get them out. Assumin' dey're still kickin'"

"Been there, done that" I couldn't help but not seriously believe the claim that this prison was anything that resembled the torturous dimension that I had to fight through, something that I had not only survived but escaped. Then I guess if there's anyone who's right for this job, it was me. "Why not help me? I'm sure you can fill your crew with whatever hardened crooks they have locked in there"

That was what got Choprot to laugh. He took a swig of his grog, and after I refused a sip of it he went back to examining his map.

"Maybe ya ain't be payin' attention, oomie. Most of me crew's dead, and me ship's layin' in two pieces on a sand barge" If course I remembered, I was there when it happened. "Even if they weren't, ya haven't exactly proven you can do this job"

"Is killing a sea monster and saving your ass not enough?" While my tone of voice may have dropped in frustration at the ork's refusal, I understood. If Impel Down was as dangerous as it's reputation implied, then it wasn't a place for a small group of scavengers and pirates putting their trust on a single soldier. But at the moment, I wanted to grab the ork's face and force feed him his mug.

"Look around you, Doomy." He held his palm out to all the other pirates in the room "All these boys 'ave fought a monster at one point or another. Dey're the ones dat lived, anyway. The one you stomped might have been a real nasty squig, and you did get me out of bad spot, but it's noffin' dat any of them 'aven't done demselves. And don't fink dat favor will work 'ere, the Imps are a lot tougher than one big monster. If you can show you can fight a whole army by yourself, then I'll see what I can do" I gave an unhappy grunt in response, but it was a fair enough deal.

"I'm sure I'll find a way. Thanks for your time" I payed for the captain's next drink in thanks, only slight annoyed at the situation, but now I had something to go with. I would need some way to grab Choprot's support, and I was pulling a blank on how to do that, but I would find a way.

Once I was a fair distance from the "pet shop" that I could safely put myself back on the grid, I put the batteries back in my PDA so that I could look for something that would help me get into this supposed inescapable prison. When an annoyance reared it's ugly head and interrupted my search with his poorly light portrait. It seems Eagle Eye had been trying to contract me for some time, and I was half tempted to rip the batteries right back out to spite the man.

"I have been trying to contact you for a hour, marine. If you're going to continue avoiding communication, then-"

"Then why don't you stop wasting both our time and tell me why you need me I cut him off. Nothing since the last time I've talked the the mysterious man had endeared me to him, and I was more than happy to take verbal pot shots when I could.

"Your JOB, marine. We have a mission for you"

[Doomguy]

When I returned to the sorry state of a military barracks for the briefing, I zoomed past everything else so that I only had to interact with the jackass officer and ignore everyone else. I brushed past the front desk, forced my way through the crowd of pencil pushers and ground stompers, and gave the finger to one squad who were about ready to intercept me and I quickly entered Lt Jones' office while they were still taken back by the gesture. Didn't even give the officer a knock. I had enough of the Empire's people for today, and how many fucks I had to give was in short supply.

What I was expecting from the briefing was something more akin of the villain's introduction in a spy move than a proper briefing. The room would be at mood lighting, Jones' face would be framed by the glow of his computer monitor, he would have his hands together with the fingers steeped, I would get orders to kill some political rival or activist or something else that's slimy and seedy with some poorly veiled threats, and as soon as I left he would be making the call to have me killed soon after. It to my pleasant surprise then that the room was bright, files and data tablets were neatly arranged for my consumption, and Jones was in the middle of eating a reuben sandwich out of a styrophone container with a second similar container on my side of the table.

"Oh, Doomguy" he was surprised, since I didn't bother to announce my arrival and he was in the middle of wiping some thousand island dressing out of his beard. He waved me over to his desk with a same friendliness as the other day, and when I sat down he pushed the container towards me "You really should knock. But since you're here so quickly lets get to the briefing"

I pushed the little foam clam box off to the side without bothering to look, despite the generous offer, and went straight for the files. A vanilla folder opened up into a few page showing the profile of one Roger Mills, infiltration expert and Empire sleuth. Or so I figured, as his actual profile listed most of the information in the form of long black unreadable bars. You generally don't have your file classified like this if you're the janitor. The picture looked nice, at least, and I assume that's the reason it was even added to the file at all.

"As of o'six hundred today, our operative undercover in the Pianta Syndicate criminal organisation gave us a signal to be extracted from his position, and has since gone silent. We are unsure of the reason, but we're sending you to go in, do what you needs to be done to save them, and get him out. He will be under the false name of 'Jolt' and will be distinguished by a red bandanna on his sleeve" I didn't know bandanna were still in flavor for criminal dipsticks.

"What's the ROE?" I asked as I picked up the tablet, which had a map which pointed out my target. The Rules Of Engagements were what soldier followed by in a mission, or at least tried to. It's a misconception that soldier were just told to just go here and shoot up the place, but then I also expected that the Empire wasn't so bothered about retraining force against their enemies.

"You are cleared for lethal force. I would recommend to not engage unless needed, but my superiors encourage you to 'deal with the scum', in their words" Although my helmet prevent direct eye contact between the both of us, I still tried my best to stare down the lieutenant. Even if I didn't like gangsters, that kind of mind set was down right sickening to hear out loud and so boldly. I think he got the message, though "It's not MY policy, just the Empire's"

"So why not just send your own jackasses. Why put this on me?" He didn't look happy at the insult I threw at the officer's men, but he still answered my question

"To be honest? Deniability. We're meant to not just uphold order, but to keep an image of it. Stormtroopers breaching a warehouse or a store raises questions about what happened there to warrant it. But a single man with an unknown affiliation? That could mean anything. Crazy prime causing trouble, or pirates raiding a abandoned building, and that's expected for us to react to" my brow just scrunched more and more as I was hearing this. This kind of dishonesty rubbed me the wrong way, potentially putting people in danger for an image.

"Out of sight, out of mind, then." I paraphrased for him, but shook my head in disapproval. Not that I could do anything about it at the moment, and I would just have to self-regulate myself in spite of the 'superiors'. "Alright, I'll get your man. Don't wait up" Since I was done absorbing all the information, I grabbed the styrofoam box and then started to leave. when I opened up the cheap container I was surprised to find not just a sandwich, but also a large pile of cigarettes and and empty beer cans. I looked over to Jones, who stared back with a very serious glance.

"Please refrain from bribing my men in the future" he demanded in that subtle tone of someone holding back true fury, and I left with a sheepish grin and a sore reminder.

----

Raid on Syndicate outpost

The building itself was nothing suspicious, although that was probably the point. It looked like your average five story projects apartment building, a mostly brick and concrete block with little in the way of style of personality of it's own, but plenty added by the locals in the form of one kind of vandalism or another. You probably wouldn't have even noticed the guards or the added defenses meant to weather a frontal assault, if you didn't know what to look for. That made my job more difficult, and the map provided was probably no long accurate with whatever the mobsters did to the inside. Going through the front door was right out, and the side doors would lead into a death trap. But that still left one entrance, and I hoped they weren't smart enough to figure it out: the roof access.

Down the street, I took a fire escape up to the top and poked me head over the edge. No guard, alhtough there might still be one inside, and there was a door into the building. Good start, I wasn't royally fucked. Any start where I wasn't fucked was a good one. I kept low to the concrete and jumped from roof to roof, my eye out for anyone who might have looked my way as I got closer to the target building. The streets were almost deserted , everyone with a brain kept away from this part of the city and those that had no choice kept to themselves and walked quickly. So they weren't on the out look for a soldier in dayglow green jumping across buildings. I reached the last building without incident, and I got my shotgun ready to infiltrate the base.

I grabbed the door handle and slowly turned it. First problem: locked. I could just kick it down, but then every gun trotting asshat in a mile would be coming down on my head. That might have stopped someone else, but with prime privileges I could just whip up the right tools in just a few minutes. My lock picking skills might be rusty, or non-existent, but there's not a whole lot of skill needed in a blow torch and a screw driver. There was a slight CLUNK as I knocked the melted lock out of it's socket, and I was inside. No one was on the other side, and a glance down the stairs had no one at station. I kept the shotgun close to my body so that it wouldn't signal my position to whatever idiot was around the corner, and started sweeping the top floor for my target.

The building itself was in a miserable state of disrepair. Holes in the wall from violence or stupidity had been covered up with newspaper and cardboard if at all, and with a complete negligence there had even been pits starting to form. The rooms were empty of any life or furniture, and offered nothing but a haunting silence and the possibility that some crackhead or gangster would see me passing by I would be left shooting my way out. I walked as soft as my armored boot would allow, eyes peeled for the red bandanna or some jackass in the wrong place at the wrong time. The floor was thoroughly abandoned, and it only made me more worried about what was below. I reached the stairs down to the rest of the complex, and there I saw the first wifebeater wearing asshole guarding the way down.

The poor bastard.

His attention was down the stairwell itself rather than the door separating the hallway from the stairs. his job was shoot down anyone trying to sneak up rather than anyone coming down, and the top floor was a secondary concern. Smart, but only if the guard had been taking his duty seriously, and what I saw was a dumbass with beer in his hand and an over-sized pistol tucked his pants. He was a dead man before he I even opened the door. By the time he even noticed me I had already on top of him, driving my shotgun's stock right into his jaw with a satisfying crunch. He almost went over the railing and met a terrible end snapped in two and giving away that I was here. I sure as Hell couldn't let that happen. I reached and grabbed his neck, pulled him back to solid earth, then switched my grip to the back of his head and rammed the criminal's face into the floor where he was knocked out cold by the blunt trauma. I waited in silence for any response. No yell up in demand, or the stomping of feet running up to see what happened meant I was safe. Either they didn't hear, or they really didn't care.

As I went down to the next level, it was then that I could start hearing activity under my feet. Patrolling and shit-talking, moving product, and the occasional pained scream from something I'd rather not mention. I held back the urge to jump down into the crowd of them and lay waste to them, but the mission was the priority. The floor was largely just as abandoned as the one above me, with only the occasional drugy spacing out or blockhead too busy to pay attention to the heavily armed man sneaking through. I had thought that I would have to risk venturing down into the far more crowded floor in search of the objective when I saw him in one of the few furbished rooms.

I didn't even need the fucking stupid bandanna to spot him out. Roger had been so engrossed in his problems that I could have summoned a truck behind him and wouldn't have noticed, and I got a good look of his face. Aside from a few minor alterations, he looked just like the picture in his profile. I leaned into the room and snapped to get his attention, and we were eye to helmet visor.

"Alright, I'm here to get you out, lets-"

That's about as far as I got before he interrupted me with a .45 magnum to the chest.

"You won't get me, you Empire bastard!" the infiltrator yelled out in a panicked frenzy. He was about to fire off another bullet to finish me off, but I wheeled around back out the door to catch cover behind the wall. The armor caught most of the force of the hand gun bullet, but I still left my sternum cracked by the bullet itself and the insuring aggravating flash pain from every breath . A quick finger down the bullet hold told me it pieced skin, and it was only because my ribs caught the slug that I wasn't dead on the spot.

"You fuck wit!" I scream, half wondering if I should shoot back "Jones sent me to extract you!" I yelled back, holding my shotgun in both hands as I heard confused yelps coming from down stairs. I peeked my head back through the door frame, risking another shot to see if Roger got a clue. The look of terror on his face as he realized he just threw the both of us under the bus at least meant he figured it out, but that was too little too late.

I rushed into the room, not wanting to be out in the open with the shithead comity came in to welcome me. Even though we were at the corner of the building, neither of the windows had access to the fire escape, and it was too high off the ground to just jump for it. It looked liked we were going to have to fight out way though.

"Unless you can fucking fly, I suggest you get behind me and keep that gun pointed towards anyone but me. When I'm done saving you, I'm going to rip your head off"

[Doomguy]

Fighting the way out

With angry crooks with guns baring down on us and little cover or wiggle room, there was a lot to be desired about the situation. Taking a stand would take out a few, but they could just throw a grenade into the room, or shoot us through the walls, or breach from another room and flank us. Even if they weren't clever enough for that, they had a number advantage over the both of us, and would eventually just overwhelm our ability to fight them off. Well, I would be fine, even with the chest wound. Taking on large numbers of idiots with weapons and making it out alive was starting to become my day job. But now I had Roger to look after, and he wasn't quite all there, as I'm sure he was stunned out of fear of if they caught him. Said crippling fear actually worsened his chances of getting out in one piece, but if I had to I'd just carry what's left of him with the rest of my gear.

The first contestant for the Doomguy Power Hour ran in, a skinny teen who looked more like he was checking to see what had happened than ready to attack. An expendable sent in to see if the force they were about to bare was needed. When the kid saw me, I had hoped he'd run away and I could go back to getting out of here. No luck there, as he pulled up the sub machinegun in their hands at the sight of the fully armed and armored soldier in front him.

Before he even had me under the gun sights, I already had my super shotgun to my shoulder, and I unleashed both barrels into their chest. Blood splattered everywhere as the torso was ruined by the rain of the pellets impacting into the flesh and pulverizing the chest cavity. The body flew backwards, slamming into the door opposite of the one he just tried to enter, smashing though the wooden door and finally resting in the empty apartment.

There was a moment of silence as I watched the kid's life ended up the double barreled death dealer in my hands, but it would not last. I reached behind me to grab Roger by his shirt and threw him into the floor next to the wall closest to the hallway. I immediately followed suit, holding the both of us as close to the ground as I could, a nano second of terror clutching me as I waited for the opening volley of return fire.

The entire world erupted into rolling thunder, and the sky above us rained in the drywall and splinters as bullets reduced the room into a storm of lead. The gang outside the room giving us an overenthusiastic 12 gun salute, collateral damage not at all a concern. Holes were punched though everything in sight, the air thick with dust and debris from the rampaging firing squad. Had we been standing where we were a second ago, the both of us would be looking more like chuck beef than human beings. Roger was trying to scream, but it came out as just muffles as I had my hand gripped like a vice over his mouth. I forced him to look my way, gave him the hand signal to follow me, and hoped that military hand signals were mutliversal.

Soon the fire stopped, the clicks and clacks of reloading practically shouting that they were defenseless. I heard the creaking of the wall as someone leaned their weight on it to get a better look in through the new bullet holes, giving me the position of my first target. I reached down to my belt and unsnapped the chainsaw from it's spot and got ready to burst through.

With a single fluid motion I pulled the cord, and the roar of the chainsaw's engine drowned out everything else. I rose up from my crouched position and brought the whirling blade down onto the wall ahead of me, and my good aim was rewarded as a shower of gore splattered across my armor and everything near me. I struck forward with my entire body, the already weakened building material shattering at my weight and I made my way though into the hallway with charge in tow.

Who I killed with my chainsaw didn't get enough time to be examined in death, other than I did a serious number to their shoulder, as I had to act quickly or my window of escape would close. I whirled around with the chainsaw, catching another gangster across the stomach and they collapsed with their organs spilling out into the floor in a pool of their own guts. I stared across the corridor to my destination, the stairs back up to the roof, and the horrified faces of those standing in my way. I could have shot them down, but going through each of them would expose me to fire when the were finally quick enough to reload, and just bull rushing into their ranks would break them apart and get the both of us a head start.

A blood curling scream from the depths of hell escaped my mouth, complimented with the chainsaw revving and reaching for it's next victim, and I ran chainsaw first into the group of criminals. Most of them, still in the middle of reloading their weapons, bolted in fright as fast as their bodies would allow. A few who thought they could handle me stood their ground, though in their frantic reload speed they only succeeded in fumbling their ammo.

One slash across the neck for one and and a jab into the leg into another cleared out everything near by, and left only one obstacle between us and freedom. One last dickwad, how had been hiding in the back of the mob, had managed to get his assault rifle loaded and pointed down at me. He gave a sadistic grin, thinking he had me in his sights. I wouldn't be able to get him with the chainsaw or switch out to another weapon without taking a few more hits , but if I could-

Well, it was something of a moot thought, as I the crook ate two high caliber rounds that whizzed past the side of my head. It seemed that Roger had been following me like I wanted him to, and recovered to a sensible state that he has stopped being a liability. Thanks to his crack shots, we were home free.

----

I'm not sure how far we ran before we stopped, and the only reason we didn't go farther was that my sternum felt like it was going to split in half over all the pain I was putting it through. The alleyway we decided to stop in wasn't the trustworthy thing I would want to hide in from gangsters, but since I could smell open kitchen stalls and hear the stereotypical island music in the streets, it meant we were close enough to the gate that we were in the more patrolled part of the island. Safe enough.

I had to deal with this bullet, and getting to a medic was going to be my best chances for a quick recovery. I could have just removed it myself, and that's something I've had a lot of practice of after facing the former soldiers that Hell had puppeteered from my old comrades, but with access to a professional doctor I didn't need to waste my med kits for that anymore. Not to mention that I was jittery on adrenaline and nerves at the moment, and I wouldn't have trusted my self with a scalpel . A glance over at Roger showed he was winded, but unharmed. The jackass.

"Alright, lets get back to Jones" The operative offered, think he was in the clear. But I had different plans.

"About that" was the only warning I gave him before I grabbed the man by the neck and slammed him into the brick wall taking up the alleyway were in. In his shock he tried to reach down to his magnum, but I had my pistol up to his forehead before he could.

"What the fuck, you crazy- I said you're here to rescue me!"

"I also said I was going to rip your head off, and I'm a man of my word. This is YOUR bullet in my chest, because your boss held back on some info, and I think I deserve some answers. I pressed the pistol into his forehead until the back of his head hit the wall, and I wrapped the finger around the trigger "First point: WHY did you shoot me?"

"I-I-I- look, I don't know what they've told you-"

"That's why I'm asking you, fuckhead. Start answering, or your brain pan is getting new plumbing"

"Okay. Here's the thing: The Empire? Not everyone joins by choice. A lot of us are soldiers that get pulled in from another verse, and we get trapped in their politics. We either fight on their orders, or they throw us in jail to rot. Me and Jones? We knew each other before we were in the Omniverse."

"Great, because I want to hear your life story" I stopped him, jamming my thumb into his jaw "Fast forward to the relevant bit"

"Look, I'm sorry. We've not exactly been on the level with the Empire, and I though they sent you to kill me" Since he actually apologized, an extremely rare thing to get, I loosened the grip on his throat, but I didn't quite let him go.

"Alright then, second question:... you know, nevermind, I don't have a second one. I'll just get them out of your boss I dropped the man back to the ground, and as he sputtered and coughed as he painfully got air back into his lungs, I was walking back to the barrack to figure this out once and for all.

[Doomguy]

We caused quite a stir when the two of us entered the Empire barracks, those not on duty gave looks of surprise at the sight of the space marine and the not-gangster walking though the front door, him all jittery with adrenaline and having trouble breathing and me with blood painted across my chest piece. They weren't calmed any when I mentioned that It mostly wasn't my blood, but once the mention of medical attention was mentioned we were quickly shuffled into the back, so that I could have the lead bullet pulled out and Roger could sit down on a comfy bench and was given some warm milk. And a slap across the face, if I had any word in the matter

Once I had the bullet pulled out, was antibioticed, sewed up, cleaned, and otherwise put in a more stable and less painful condition that I was before, I used the medical room's sink to wipe the blood from my equipment and scrub the gore out of my chainsaw while I waited for Jones to come in and debrief me. I wanted to confront the lieutenant where he wasn't going to be comfortable, the bullet that was logged in my ribs still sitting in a dish out in the open might guilt a few answers out him. When Roger attempted to leave on his own accord, I gripped his shoulder and thrust him back down into the couch.

"Oh no, dipstick, you're not getting out of this" I warned, implying a great deal of pain if he tried to escape his fate. There was a long awkward silence between the two of us before the door to the medical office finally opened and Jones came in with a vermin killing stare leveled right at me. His permanently nonchalant stoicism was out the window, and I had the advantage.

"This is very unorthodox, marine" The irritated officer told me with restrained voice, I'm sure he would have been happy to lash out at me. he softened up slightly at the sight of his friend still alive, but that still left a wonder at what has happened and why I was giving him the run around.

"I know. But cut me some slack here, I was shot saving your man" Which was still a bit of a sore spot, in both senses of the phrase, that I was slowly getting over. If Jones felt in sympathy over my wound, I didn't see it "Either way, I need to talk to you over something important, and I didn't want to bleed over your nice office. It's about you and Roger here" Although I didn't say anything explicitly about whatever was going on with the officer and the rest of the Empire, but it seemed that he figured it out when had the medic preform their other duties else where and left the three of us alone.

"Alright, you have my attention Marine, but don't waste my time. I want this debriefing done, I do have other things to do other than humor your whims"

"Then I'll be quick. Your friend here was the one who shot me. When I found him in the building, he was safe by himself, he decided I was some 'Empire bastard" and put a hole in me." Jones switched that contained furious look from me to Roger, and the operative gave only a sheepish shrug in return. "So I want to know just what the Hell this is about

"You're here for a few days and do one mission, and you think you're just going to get everything handed to you? You're not the hero in some low budget action show, marine. I still have the authority here, and you're not getting anything just because you asked" Despite Jones shooting that down, I shrugged with acceptance. I wasn't expecting it to be that easy.

"I already know half of it. Two of your go way back, apparently. Besides, even if you don't talk, I have someone who can" I pulled my PDA up, waving it a bit as if it was meant to be something intimidating "You know Eagle Eye? One call to him, and I got whatever the Empire passes for Internal Affairs looking over what you're doing, and then I'll find out regardless of if you want to tell me or not[/b]"

I thought I had him on the ropes with that, that I had managed to out maneuver my foe for a second time this week. Nothing against the man, of course, but I had to stay one step ahead of the Empire if it meant getting out of here in one piece. But there was a general lack of emotional response after that threat, if anything the lack told me that I had just put myself in a reversal. I knew what a poker face looked like, and I realized that I had done the equivalent of holding a grenade with the pin already out.

"Or he's in on it too"

"Bad luck on your part, Doomguy. Like I said, I'm still the one with authority here. Now rest and get well, you still have work to do" I raised an eyebrow at that, surprised that he was giving me a second chance despite putting him through so much shit. It might have been admirable if it wasn't me who was trying to pull the fast one on him.

"Wait, I just tried to threaten you and you're not throwing me out"

"You don't know Empire politics very well, do you?" The Lieutenant said with a humorous, almost nostalgic, smile on his face "Blackmail and drama? That's Monday for me, and you're a scrub at it. Stick to shooting fishmen and gang members, it's what your good at. Lets go, Roger" The two left me in silence, and I was stunned and unsure just what kind of game of chicken I was playing or who I was running full speed at.

"Fuck it. I need a drink"

[Doomguy]

I hit the streets after I had plugged the hole in the chest-piece and otherwise mended the scratches and dings from my armor. Despite wanting to leave the slapdash barrack as soon as I could out of disgust against the stormtroopers, the slow deterioration of my equipment was starting to worry me. Not that I cared for how it looked. I'm not vain and just generally don't give a fuck about my looks, but this armor had been with me since the beginning of the Hell invasion. Although I could just use OM to summon a new one, there was sentimental value in that armor. Still is, actually. There's love put into this armor, and that's more important than an image.

I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry.

I was greeted with the similar tropic breeze and tourist trap theatrics that was worryingly becoming familiar. My wounds stung a bit at the salty air from the sea, but it was nothing I haven't endured before. Besides, the amount of booze I intended to guzzle would have dulled anything resembling pain. The problem would be finding a place more mine taste in "getting plastered" establishments, the more traditional closed bar that one can get drunk in peace rather than the open air party bars. I could head back to the place that Choprot was hiding away in, but I already had enough with the cloak and dagger horseshit for one day and I wanted to do something normal for once.

It took a few blocks away from the front of Costa del Sol until I found a bar on the docks that was going to let me sit down and order a beer. It went by the name of the Wet Sea Cat and still had a very nautical theme with the netting and giant anchor out front. It was the kind of place that sailors went to in order to avoid the general populous and not get in trouble for their drunken revelry. They would not have enjoyed having some outsider, especially some other military outfit, walking into their turf and drinking their beers and might throw me out.

But since when did I back down from a challenge?

The inside had a very solemn and dark atmosphere that smelled heavily of the sea and cigs, the patrons all keeping to their friends and beers. The lights were barely enough to see any fine detail on each other's faces and the various cuts and holes in wall. There was only a glance from the only two people who were bothering with the pool table, and the music was some boring piano and horn piece that made the place sound more classy that it really was. I made a beeline for the bar and wanted ordered the largest mug of draft they had, but the bartender stopped me with an annoyed look her eye (the other had an eye patch).

"Leave the artillery at the door, soldier boy" she said, and pointed out the bin next to the door where there was a few dangerous knifes and pistols placed neatly for retrieval later, which I ruined by dropping my entire backpack into the mix, followed by everything bar my pistol. I got a look from the bartender when refused to give up everything, but she relented when I pulled the mag out and pulled the slide back to show that there was nothing chambered. The pistol also has some sentimental value to it, but pragmatically I didn't want to be left completely unarmed. I dropped a few OM to show I was good for it, and a mug of what was most likely some kind of grog was placed right down in front of me.

I was barely down a few gulps before I heard the creak of floorboards behind me, perhaps from a weight of a few ornery sea dogs invading my personal space with daggers in there eyes. I swiveled around and found exactly that. Sometimes I hate it when I'm right. The one leading in the back was an old captain with a thin, white beard and skin like cracked leather, while his two younger but much more physically intimidating colleagues flanked him. They didn't quite look angry, but they way they looked down on me with just a hint of malice said that they certainly pleased to meet me.

"If you're going to run me out, can I at least finish my drink first?" I dared their show of force, seeing if they'd budge even by a little. They keep the wall of muscle act up, but the old man tapped his chin with his finger in silent contemplation and eventually nodded to the request. I pulled my helmet up and off of my head so that I could actually drink and perhaps show lack of fucks given about their coercion. I expecting nothing, or maybe even a slight falter, but what I got was a twinkle of surprise and joy in the eyes of one of the bigger fellas with a do-rag on his bald head.

"Wait, are you Doomguy?" He asked with a growing smile. Now I was the one who was surprised, eyebrows hitting the bottom of my hair cut.

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"I'm subscribed to you" The sailor said as he pulled out a smart phone "Can I get an autograph?"

[Doomguy]

So there's a benefit to being internet famous, and that is that there's people who aren't just basement dwellers who'll recognize you and want to be your friend. And keep you from getting beat up by angry sailors, which is a huge plus in my book. Once the muscle bound deckhand had vouched for my credibility, I was off the hook from getting my shit pushed in. After that, though, a few of the others who had been previously taking point to ignore me in silent contempt had now become buddy buddy, as if I was actual famous and not just some dick head that yelled at someone on the tubes. Well, at least they offered me some drinks, and I wasn't about to turn down free booze. Once the alcohol started to flow and a feeling of inebriation started to take hold on my pickled brain, we did what any military personnel did when buzzed and feeling in a half decent mode: tell war stories and trade battle scars.

We swapped words between glugs of beer, man of the men being sailor from their past world and kept doing what they did best, others were like myself and had been travelers of the stars and found what was a close an experience as they could find. Few just took the job they could get. The older man who confronted me first had actually been the captain of a Spanish ship from the time of the conquistadors, and had adapted to his new environment fairly well, or in his opinion at least Once you get past the salty and crusty exterior, you find a interior that's still a great deal of crust and salt but they're still people. People who swear a lot and like grog.

I personally did well with my own stories, kept to the more lighthearted one rather than what I've done in combat and keeping as far away from the Phobos incident or of Hell's invasion. You know, nothing that'll mentally traumatize someone.

"So then my CO, blithering jackass that he was," I was in the middle of a story, much of which I've cut out here for the sake of shortness "said 'you're going to be cleaning toilets for a year if you drop my out of this shuttle!'. And, well, when you got someone by their throats and the sound of engines coming in through the open back door, you can't really hear someone like that, and I just kicked him out the back. He was screaming his head off as he plummet down to the ground, which stopped rather suddenly because, unlike what I told him before, we were only 4 feet off the tarmac and he spent the rest of the day yelling at me with only a bruised behind"

Laughing erupted across the bar, some more enthusiastic than other, but everyone agreed to take another sip of their drink of choice. I have had at least some success not making a complete monster of myself, although some of the more awkward chuckles and worried glances didn't completely dispelled the idea that I was a stone cold killer. A reputation I myself had intentionally cultivated in the past, but had for some time tried to distance myself from. Poorly, as it seemed.

"So what have you been doing since getting here?" one asked, which I answered with only a shrug as a short hand for "not much". Although that wasn't quite an honest answer.

"Are you exited for Dante's Abyss?" another attempted some small talk, but I was just staring at the man with eyebrows raised and an "uhhhh" escaping my mouth.

"What the Hell is that?"

"Oh you've really been living under a rock, haven't you" the man gave me a very quick summery of the 'event' that some rich and eccentric cock sucker had been promoting while I was busy with not dying, a blood sport that Primes would be in to try an kill each other to the last "It's be good to see those Primes get slaughtered for once"

While the sailor was sating his sadistic streak, he had actually given me the chance that I was looking for. As much as I detested the idea of what was basically a modern spin on the roman Colosseum, Choprot wanted a proof that I could handle myself in a fight, and if this was going to be as public as it was advertised then I could show the Ork was I was made of. Sure, I would blow the fact that I was a Prime to everyone, but if I landed myself on top of the heap of dead bodies I didn't think anyone would say anything against it. I mean, would YOU argue with a psychopath knee deep in the dead? Not that I'm a psycho, or anything.

"Well, I'll certainly keep an eye on it" I underplayed my interest and turned to my PDA. A quick scroll through the numerous articles and blog posts pointed me out to the nearest recruiting booth, and even a few of the other primes who I would be fighting. Nothing from Lopunny, though, who had not made a peep since that last time I saw her. A bit of a disappointment, but perhaps once this slug fest was over with I could catch up her and Kito and Villers.

Unfortunately, what I had thought was a harmless encounter was then to bring the consequences of my recklessness down on my head.

--♫--

I heard the bar doors swing in, the same creak of the rusted hinges and steam of light that announced my arrival did that same to the two creatures that walked in. One was an oversized blue frog of sort that came up to my knees with a cloud like shroud around it's neck. The other was a foot taller than his companion, an orange weasel with two tails and what looks like a yellow flotation device that circled its sides. I payed them no mind at first, more interested in 'Dante's Abyss' and being half way towards completely plastered. Everyone else was the same, and didn't give them the same cold welcome that I got but chose to ignore them all the same. Yet something niggled at the back of my head, that ever present paranoia crying out in desperation like a pounding in my ears that something was just not right. Maybe it was the way they would glance at me from time to time, or that they they seem obsessed with the watch one of them kept on their person, or that they weren't ordering anything even when the bartender addressed them directly. But I smothered that caution with more alcohol and thought that that could be normal. And I had long already made the decision that I wasn't about to get into any more fights today. Not that fate ever gave me such the choice.

"Hey, you know, we never got your name" One sailor eventually pointed out, and in my sloshed state I was too quick to say it.

"It's Doomguy"

That's when the two animals finally snapped into action. They moved away from the both that they had been occupying and now put themselves in the middle of the room. Between the bar and the door. Me and my weapons.

"THE Doomguy?" The frog asked, which seemed innocent enough at the time.

"Yeah, unless there was some other dumbass with that name running around" I gave a chuckle with a bit of drunken glee.

"Then I shall make this quick" The frog said, the creature had kept a very calm and collected voice even as things made a turn for the worse " I represent the PLF" the entire room dropped dead silent, the room still enough that you could hear the lapping of waves underneath the dock the bar was sitting on. My brain was trying to slog information to the relevant parts that would have told me to shoot both of them on the spot, but beer was my enemy at that point. But it was slowly dawned on me that things were about to go horribly awry.

"Good, then our reputation proceeds us. We have surrounded your little shack, and you know your deaths are forthcoming. But we're willing to postpone your demise if you hand over him. Even we can be sensible " the frog bastard pointed me out, and I reached down for my pistol as everything finally clicked. But the taller weasel stepped up, barred its teeth which glowed and grew an icy sheen, and was ready the pounce. It had the jump on me, and if I attacked then I was jeopardizing everyone here. If I let them take me, then I could at least fight with worrying about collateral damage or casualties aside from my own.

"Why do you even want me?" I asked, still a little too talkative while drunk. I can't help myself, I have a lot to say an very little time to say it. "What the hell did I do to you?"

"You are a corrupting force on Pokemon kind" frogger answered, the tiniest bit of indignation surfacing across his stoic tone" You will be punished, and made an example of to the rest" Well, that explained what the P stood for in PLF.

"What?! All I did was talked to her!" Suddenly the plan to play along was thrown away as rage flared up in my heart and a will to rip and tear them apart compelled me stand up, inch forward and imagine painful fantasies that I would rain upon them. Was this really over Lopunny?

"Exactly" the answer was just as calm as usual, the frog pokemon took my outburst with the same reaction as one would to a tantruming child. He had already decided that I was not going to come quietly, but his rodent friend was there to keep me in check while he redirected his contempt back at the other patrons "So then? Will you turn him over"

His answer was in the form of the bartender behind me raising a double barreled shotgun up from under the bar and aimed it at the frog's head.

"Get the fuck out of my bar!" She yelled, and every man inside the building grabbed anything and everything in arm's reach that would be used as a weapon, and simultaneously decided that the plan was to rush them and get to the bin of weapons on the other side of the two furry fucks. I finally pulled out my pistol, leveling it down at the frog, only hesitated in misguided chance to let them turn tail and run.

I wouldn't have enough time to even yell out a threat as all hell broke loose and the pier below us broke away.

Something of considering mass and strength went through one of the poles holding the dock up, the sound unmistakable sound of a tree surrendered to the storm the same here, expect now instead of the worry of a rogue branch hitting your car there was something actively trying to kill us. The force rumbled across the entire floor, which knocked a few to the ground and sent my helmet skidding off to the side. The sailors here were used to the buckle of the sea on their ship and kept themselves up, but there was a degree of difficulty in that they were also addled by the alcohol in their veins. Not by much, since they were also used to that, but it was enough when the first deckhand who tried to charge through was cut down by a flurry of star like projectiles from the orange fucker.

The bartender fired the shotgun, the resounding boom of both barrels going off deafened me as I was standing right next to her, but rumble of the floor threw off her aim and rather than turning the pokemon into a bloody mound the wall behind them was decorated with a few more holes in it, and the frog countered with a water cannon from it's mouth that sent the bartender flying back into a shelf of bottles, the force broke her and she crumpled to the floor of her station.

I steadied my aim against the rattling and worsening lean in the building as each support was destroyed, but before I could pull the trigger another calamity added to my problems: the light bulbs above us exploded in a shower of glass. With the waning sun half under the horizon since the time spent wasted her, we were plunged into sunset darkness. I fired off anyway, a bright flash from the pistol's barrel lit up the room only for a moment before I was left with only basic shapes and poor silhouettes of my targets and allies. A scream and ripping flesh was the only warning that there Pokemon were not as hindered by the terrible conditions.

"Do you give up, human? I'll only kill a few of them if you stop" I head the frog's neutral voice even as I head it slam some poor schmuck's head into a wall. But anger and and the fact that they've proven to not be reasonable kept me in the fight

"Might makes light. And I feel mighty" I answered back, and I unleashed several shots into the ceiling, the light of the muzzle flash gave me enough time to see where the weapon bin was sliding to. The shotgun, the plasma rifle, hell, the chainsaw. Anything could have tipped this fight in our direction. I dived for the container, but the force of another jet of water hit me square in the stomach and I was sent skipping across the floor the inclined floor into the backroom.

I cursed as back wall caught me, my shoulders impacting into the wood paneling and caught in the web of trusts, piping, and wires while my legs managed to grab the counter top. I growled mostly in rage than in pain, but I should have considered myself lucky as I missed hitting appliances or the counter, either of which I could have broken my spine on, or the window that would have sent me falling into the ocean. Which, after I glanced outside to see a shark fin, was probably the aim but the rapidly deterioration of the foundations actually swung in my favor for once.

As I tried to pick myself up without twisting a rib, another sailor rushed past me, cutting across the kitchen straight to a metal box on the wall that opened up to the circuit breakers. Before he could flip the switch an inhuman, almost synthetic and electronic, laugh came from the box and a thunderbolt shot out. The other man jolt and squirmed in painful spasms, sparks danced across their skin as their insides cook before he collapsed on the floor in a charred heap. An almost ghost like wisp of plasma appeared from the circuits and laughed again at the corpse.

And wasn't paying attention to how I was about to ruin it's day.

With it's seemingly ethereal body, my pistol would have had the effect of a stick of butter, but while it was still inside the circuit breakers then I thought that I could still effect the environment it made itself a part of. I reached towards the sink, grabbed a glass that had been soaking in the water, and tossed it at the breakers and held my pistol out in case my plan didn't work out as I hoped.

Thankfully, the electrical pyrotechnics and the scream like a dying amp pierced my ears confirmed that I hair-brained idea wasn't as stupid as it could have been. The spirit prickled into a spike ball then rocketed off and ricocheted across the room, bouncing from wood panel to would panel until it hit the metal chimney of the stove and conducted up and out of the roof.

That was one piece of shit out of the picture, but when I felt the floor under me buckle and snap and the corner of the building sunk into the sea, I was reminded that I still had to deal with the other two. I spun around to get back into the fight, and almost had my stomach ripped out when that fucking rodent nearly had me. I backed up with what little room I had left, but I was now corned against the kitchen's oven and the only way was through.

Just the way I like it.

"How does it feel to know you'll die by my hands, you worthless pest?" The weasel asked, and I gave an amused grin and a single finger salute back.

"Disappointing, didn't think I'd die to a furry's inflatable fuck toy"

The Pokemon roared at the insult and charged right at me, faster that i'd expect a three foot tall rodent could, but I jumped and pulled myself in the rafters over the wrathful charge and heard a loud CLANG as it rammed head first into the oven I had my back to a moment ago. I swung forward and recovered fast enough to face my opponent again as it wobbled back to it's feet. It held onto it head, turned around as it tried to push through the concussion I just gave it, and then had enough time to look wide eyed as I kicked it in the face and smashed it into the appliance again.

The Pokemon gave a pained "bluh" as its brain was squished between my boot and stainless steel. It dropped down to the floor, both hands held the creature's head as it tired to handle the pain. But I wasn't done. I grabbed the scruff of neck and threw the rodent across the floor, where it landed right at the foot of the refrigerator. By the time it managed to pull itself together enough to get back on it's feet, I had wretched the machine from it's spot and let it fall. A satisfying CRUNCH spelled the end of the Pokemon, or maybe that was the floor that went out along with it. There was enough time to see a few more aquatic animals, looking down where the fridge sunk into the deep, before I crawled through the serving window back into the main room.

What I came to was a horrid state of affairs, a gory scene that had would make most turn away in nausea but I had to push through. Most of the people who I had a friendly chat with were now corpses scattered across in the floor, one had managed to find a hiding spot behind the bar in a fetal position, and the only thing now standing up against the frog Pokemon was the captain would had originally confronted me. He got his hand on a cutlass and was doing a decent job at fighting the frog, who was sporting several cuts and a deep wound across the head.

It was a short lived advantage, as the frog opened his mouth and let loose a vile gob of purple gunk, at the captain's face. He was not quite quick enough, and once the glob hit him he let loose a blood curling scream and collapsed to the ground, scratching at his eyes as the poison entered his system. The frog pokemon watched the man thrash in pain with an emotionless look, uncaring of what he's done. I wanted to reach out and choke all life out of his slimy body, but as I dropped down behind the bar I bumped into something much better: the weapon bin. I grabbed the first weapon and jumped over the bar, stood proudly, and was ready to rain hell fire on the little monster.

"Frog legs for everyone! Your remains will be decorating the wall, but at least you'll taste good." I leveled the weapon down at the frog, and immediate regretted that as I saw what I grabbed in my rush: the rocket launcher. Frogger saw this as well, and the tiniest smirk managed to sneak onto his face.

"Your kind might be stupid, but not mindless. You wouldn't harm yourself just to get m-"

I made him eat his words as I fired, the rocket slammed into the floor right in front of both of us and we were sent scattering to the ground. my vision blurred and an awful ringing told me I just went through a pressure wave, and my entire body was in agony over my attack. What little I could make out was that frogger was in the same place, his body bloodied from shrapnel and burns, clutching his stomach as the near miss rocket still pulped his insides. He glanced over to me, looking sick and angry, and before I I could fire another round he tossed some item to the floor and a puff of smoke obscured my vision. He was gone, I was in pain, and as I stained to keep myself from unconsciousness I saw the faces of the bodies that laid before me.

----

The PLF had the last laugh. Although they ran with these that could fight on land now either dead or severely wounded, it would take hours before medical personnel were allowed in as the stromtroopers had to clean and call the area safe. I lived, a stimm to the neck doing wonders to keep you fighting if not comfortable. I was only one of three, however. Of those that didn't die immediately either bled out from their wounds or died from shock. The bartender spine was broken by her slam into the wall, and I had the misfortune to hear her jagged breath end. The man who hid behind the bar left largely unscathed, though he would probably suffer survivor's guilt to the end of his days. The captain lived, but the poisonous attack took his sight, and I remember him crying as he proclaimed his life ruined. I heard him blame me as he was carted away into the ambulance while I stood on the concrete, wounded but ultimately still as intact as I always was.

The stormtrooper squad that was sent to investigate was Tina's, who then stood before me with a mix of worry and false stoicism. She occasionally glanced from me to the ruins behind me, not sure what happened but that a lot of people died and I didn't. There was a long moment of silence, probably as her previous feelings for me fought with the new one. Pity? No. You don't pity someone who's managed to fight their way through terrorist and survive. Maybe it was fear.

"Lieutentant is going to want to hear what happened here. We should bring you in and-" I stopped that line of thought as I pushed past her, and the hatred came back in force "What the fuck!?"

"Tell your CO that the PLF attacked, that's all that's needed" I raised up the PDA and looked at the cracked screen to see my destination. Dante's Abyss.

Whatever this universe was going to throw at me, whatever twisted plans Omni had in store, and however I was to get to the silhouetted god, it wasn't like this. I felt so weak, and I knew that the captain was right: I failed to protect them when I should have destroyed the enemy. I decided that I could no longer hold back and hope that I wound just find my way. I had to take everything with the same fire that took me through the bowels of Hell. I had to know that I was the same man who was the bane of demons and the the savior of Earth. I had to be him once again.

"And what the hell are you going to do?!"

"Prove myself"