Doom Story Udpate

2k words

***

“Oh, how long it’s been since I’ve felt the sting of a cut,” Sharrya breathed, holding her injured arms out, letting the blood drip between her hooves. He expected her eyes to be full of fury, but her expression could only be described as excited. “Seeing my own blood is almost a novel experience to me.”

She brought one arm to her face, Andreas raising a brow as a long, slippery organ snaked from between her lips to lap at her wound. Her tongue must have been a foot long at the least, the pink muscle curling with a remarkable finesse. The demon licked her wound up and down until it was clean, smacking her lips like she was sampling a fine wine.

“Ah~ The spice of demonic essence. Delectable, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re insane.”

“Says the one who tasted on imp flesh not long ago.”

“She has a point,” Eva chimed in.

“And now,” Sharrya added. “Now you will taste death, little morsel.”

She launched up the steps four at a time, giving Andreas barely enough time to sidestep an oncoming fist. He came back with a slice across her chest, but she blocked his knife with her forearm, stepping closer to drive her elbow into his face. The force of the blow was enough to rattle the opaque visor, a worrying creak of fiberglass ringing in his ears. He couldn’t take another hit like that…

He backed away as she followed through with a backhand, those giant claws splayed wide, missing him by inches. He cursed as he realised he’d reached the top of the staircase, his height advantage short-lived. His hand a blur, he reached with his off-hand towards his belt, drawing his sidearm with practiced speed. He dumped the mag into her chest, the Baron jerking as flecks of crimson spurted from her flanks. The chamber cycled impotently as the handgun finished barking, the baron splaying her arms out wide and giving him an incredulous look.

“It’s considered dishonourable in Hell to use weapons in a bout,” she chastised, clicking her tongue in disappointment. “Then again, without your weapons and technology, this planet of pillocks would have submitted long ago.”

“Yeah, well, this pillock is giving you a run for your money, you big pink fuck.”

“W-What? Pink…? Pink!?”

Her expression shifted, amusement replaced by shock and anger, the sight ironically putting Andreas more at ease than her toothy smile. The Baron flexed her hand, a pocket of broiling green flame growing from her palm. It grew until it was as big as his head, and then she tossed it in an overhand throw. The firebolt soared overhead as Andreas dropped to his knees, the flames impacting the ruined structure behind with in a thunderous report, the flames leaving a giant scorch mark on the bricks.

“I cannot remember the last time someone has dared to insult me,” the demoness chuckled. “If only there were more like you in my legions, Andreas. Things might not be so woefully dull around here.”

“Speaking of which, where’re your imp boys?” he asked, flicking the magazine out and sliding in a fresh one. His HUD still showed them hanging back. “Feel free to call them if you need a time out.”

“Your earlier theatrics have inspired caution within them,” she explained, cradling another two fireballs in her hands. “Not that it matters, you are my problem now, and I will deal with you with myself.”

“As an officer myself, I can appreciate getting your hands dirty.” He gestured at himself. “Now come on, pinky.”

His goading worked, the Baron baring her teeth as she crossed the distance between them in a furious charge, emerald flames flicking between her clenched fingers. He made to dart left, but feinted right, a tangible wind brushing his front as the demon lunged passed, her momentum barrelling her straight through the wall and kicking up a splash of dust.

Andreas took aim through the breach, firing off round after round at her silhouette. With a snarl, she rounded on him, bending down and then thrusting her arm out in a tossing motion. Instead of a fireball, a brick came tumbling end over end towards him, crushing against his shoulder, Andreas grunting as he felt an alarming pain course through his arm.

The Baron emerged through the breach, crossing the distance quickly on her long legs. She came at him with an uppercut, and this time Andreas didn’t doge in time, his head flying up as her knuckles dusted the chin of his helmet. He felt blood on his teeth, Andreas scrambling back to give himself some space, his vision doubling, making it seem like two Sharrya’s were circling around him. The medication Eva was pumping into him was keeping him on his feet, but there wasn’t enough stimulant in the world to bite back the pain from a Baron’s punch.

“You fight ferociously, mortal,” the Baron cooed. “I am glad to see not all of your kind are walking tissue papers.”

“If you think I’m done, guess again,” he snarled, taking up a defensive stance.

“Oh, I’m far from thinking that! I want you to keep going. I’ve not felt such challenge since I was young.”

“Seargent,” Eva warned. “your vital signs are spiking, a prolonged fight is not advisable.”

“I know,” he growled. “I’m handling it.”

“Who are you talking to?” the Baron mused. He must have spoken through his external speakers. “Have your friends come to finally save you from my clutches? Let them know that Baroness Sharrya welcomes the contest.”

She moved in for another attack, a grin splitting her red lips. Andreas feigned an effort as he raised his knife, driving it towards her oncoming fist, catching her on the webbing between the thumb and finger. Sharrya made a sound that was a mix between a bull’s snort and a demon’s snarl, blood dripping down her arm in thick ropes as she clenched her digits together. 

His knife was drawing blood, but her wounds were superficial. He had to aim at something vital, he’d never win through attrition.

This time, it was Andreas who charged, the stimulants flooding his system fuelling him on. She swiped at him, Andreas skidding to his knees to avoid the blow, turning the barrel of his gun up and shooting her in the face. The bullet skimmed her scalp, a hand flying to her face as she roared in pain. Holding his knife out like a lance, he stepped up to her stomach, his head barely eye-level with her waist. With a cry, he plunged his knife into her gut, half the silver blade sinking into her bright flesh.

The Baron froze up, holding her arms out as though she was intending to surrender, a look of startlement crossing her features as she looked down at him, then to her mortal wound, ribbons of her fluids pouring around the knife with each of her laboured breaths.

Her expression shifted into a kind of giddy surprise, the demon clutching him by the wrist, her tight grip forcing a cry from Andreas’ mouth. With a chuckle, she pushed the blade deeper, hilting herself upon the knife as Andreas glanced at her in confusion.

“Well fought, morsel,” Sharrya said, seizing his shoulder with her other hand. “You have such spirit.”

Her eyes gleaming, she lifted him from the ground, his legs kicking out as she planted her hoof against his chest, sending him flying back. He flipped through the air once before crashing to the staircase, tumbling down the tiers until his back finally compressed against level dirt where he finally lay motionless.

“Get up, Sergent!” Eva pleaded, her voice but a mumble to his ears.

Everything hurt, but Andreas slowly came to, focusing on a bright red figure standing victoriously at the top of the incline. The effect was somewhat diminished by his knife still jutting out of her belly, but Sharrya didn’t seem at all bothered by its presence. If anything she relished the wound.

“I admire your bravery, but you are a fool,” Sharrya laughed, reaching down to pluck the knife from her belly. “Did you really think you could best me all by your lonesome, Andreas? You sealed your fate destroying my nest.”

She let his knife clatter to the ground, the Baroness descending towards him with a dainty gait, her hooves making clocking sounds. First an airstrike, then a knife to the belly, and still this creature walked. Did he have to start dropping bombs in order to stop her?

He felt a lightbulb go off in his head, Andreas reaching one hand toward his pack. He produced one of the Argent shards he’d looted from the dropship, clenching the sphere in his glove.

“Uhm, Seargent? What exactly are you doing?” Eva asked. He raised his arm like he was preparing to throw a frisbee. “Wait, nonono-!”

Andreas pegged it, the baron blinking as she snatched the shard out of the air, her claws clinking against the glass as she appraised it.

“What in the… Are you throwing baubles at me now, morsel?” the Baron asked, chops turning in a wide grin. “Did you think I wouldn’t… Wait a moment. Is this a-?”

Andreas was already moving, having spotted his plasma rifle laying nearby and making a dash for it. He scooped the weapon off the ground, aimed it in her direction, and squeezed of a single bolt.

Either the demon was too slow to react, or she didn’t see a plasma shot as enough of a threat to worry over, Sharrya standing motionless as the bolt collided not with her, but the shard.

His vision flashed white, the blooming of a cascade of energies burning into his vision, the shove of a torrential shockwave throwing him back. His ears were saved by his helmet’s systems automatically dulling the report of the point-blank explosion, his breathing drowned out by a thunderous crackle.

The last thing he saw before his visor darkened to compensate for the influx of light, was of the Baroness stood directly behind the explosion, her legs aimed towards the sky as she was tossed back. Andreas was thrown to the ground once more, but he was satisfied knowing the Baron was far worse off than him.

When his visor brightened, he noted a small mushroom cloud towered into the hellish skies, and he followed it with his eyes towards its base. Where the Baron had just been stood, there was now a giant crater the width of a barn, eviscerating half the staircase, plus the ruined structure, and every tree and bushel in a thirty-meter radius, the ground taking on a grey, ashen quality.

“You tool!” Eva chided, Andreas wincing as she turned up her own volume. “You just-! That was a very strategic resource you just threw away!”

“Threw away?” he asked back, reaching up to rub his ears, feeling like a fool when his glove brushed his helmet. “She was going to kill me! I had to end it right then and there.

“I… I know,” she relented. “Just… We need to have a serious chat about what exactly minimum safe distance means, Andreas…”

He lay there for a while, resting his aching body, eventually summoning the strength to stand. The park was even more decrepit now, the corrupted closest to the blast zone bending away from the crater, the way everything seemed so motionless despite the recent explosion was distinctly unsettling.

“We should not linger here,” Eva warned, Andreas waving a hand as though she were stood beside him. “We’ve made so much noise already…”

“I know. Want to make sure we got this bitch first.”

He mounted the slope, boots making landslides of pebbles as he disturbed the earth. He kept his plasma rifle on a swivel, not because of Sharrya, but because he knew the imps were still in the area. Hopefully some of them had been caught in the blast, that would make things easier. If not, maybe he could pull off another cannibalistic stunt with Baron-flesh…

He stomped onto the final rise of the crater, and looked down into its smoking, bowl-shaped interior. Andreas made a gawking sound.

The Baron was laying right in its centre, laying with her limbs spread like she was making snow-angels in the soot. Not only that, but she looked utterly intact, only the deep gashes and burn marks branded into her front proving she’d been at ground-zero of the blast.

“I don’t believe this,” Andreas sighed. “Is she… breathing?”

“According to my sensors, I believe so. She is one tough cookie.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious, Eva.”