The Underworld : Haunted Shores (Part V)

Private Kalliope's gaze snapped upwards as the thunderous explosion echoed from the cliffs around her, momentarily stinging her ears. In contrast, McMillan's expression barely seemed to register it.
"What was that?", the Private exclaimed.
"Wilson, I think." The Colonel replied. "I saw him eyeing up the demons rocket launcher - sounds like the kid finally got it working."
Nodding, Kalliope looked back down upon the open panelling beneath the 'skin' of McMillan's prosthetic arm. Artificial tendons and fibreoptics lay exposed and vulnerable as she reached in with slender fingers to tighten the synapse relays.
"How's that?" She asked, retrieving her hands and regarding her superior.
Tentatively, the Colonel flexed his thumb; the digit responded perfectly, as did the rest of his hand as he made a fist. "Feels good", he grinned, finally attempting to lift his limb from the boulder upon which it rested. "Thought it was gonna take longer than that."
"As did I," Kalliope admitted appreciativley. "But the synaptic damage was minimal. I can't imagine how much this limb must have cost."
"I didn't ask", McMillan grunted. "It's their money to spend, not mine. Still, good work Marine." Dropping back to his feet, he gave his arm one more flex before closing the flesh panel, marvelling as the edges miraculously blended into the rest of the skin. "Come on, let's find out what they're up to."

Corporal Hendry stood shaking, soaked in a sudden cold sweat as he regarded Wilson's madenned expression. Keeping one hand on the grip of his plasma rifle, he tood a half-step backwards from his friend.
"We can continue through without ascending", Wilson spoke aloud. "The path that God has shown us will shield us from harm." Without so much as a glance at his companion, Wilson stormed onwards towards the newly-formed corrior of shattered rock, the demonic rocket launcher held across his chest
"Where do you think you're going, Private?" McMillan roared. "Stop right there."
Wilson marched on, ignorant or oblivious to the commands of his superior. A moment later, he passed through the smoking rubble. Hendry began to follow, then thought better and turned to the Colonel instead.
"He's gone" The Corporal sighed as he came within earshot of McMillan.
"I can see that. Why?"
"You don't understand, i mean he's lost it." Hendry paused for a moment, wiping sweat from his forehead and regarding the point of his friend's departure. "He killed people before he joined the Marines, Colonel, and this place is driving him seven-shades of crazy. He won't listen to me or you - the chain of command doesn't figure into his private little world right now."
McMillan mulled over that for a moment, reaching for and finding the reassuring shape of his own plasma rifle. "How crazy is 'crazy'?"
Hendry's eyes narrowed as he regarded his superior.
"It'd be simpler to say that he's as dangerous as anything that Hell can throw at us."

Kalliope's first instinct upon seeing Wilson pass through the rubble was to follow. Drawing her combat shotgun, she stepped through after him, wafting away acrid fumes and nearly stumbling as a wave of heat washed over her. Slowly, the smoke began to clear, revealing the immediate area that surrounded her.
A wide lake of lava was flowing steadily around a colossal circular clearing, a precarious ledge some six feet in width suspended mere inches from it's surface. Kalliope felt the soles of her boots stickng to the gravelly floor as the visual distortion from the faint-inducing temperature rippled all that she saw. What grabbed her attention, however was the monolithic shape before her; the towering column of glowing red stone thrusting several hundred feet upwards. As she took a step forwards for a closer look, she made out a spiral staircase, hewn from the rock itself, that seemed to wind its way to the mountains summit. A sudden flash of green above her caused her to look upwards - a teleporter?, she mused. The following flashes of light were less hopeful.
Almost all at once, the superheated air seemed to explode with activity as lumbering shapes began to bear down on her, echoing devilish grunts and hisses around the cavernous walls. Reflexively, the Private took several steps backwards, stumbling on shattered rock and strewn rubble and landing roughly on her back as she reached for her weapon, attempting in vain to protect herself from the unseen things that seemed to guard the mountain.

Hendry was almost finished recounting Wilson's sad story to the Colonel when the thunderous blast of a combat shotgun rang from the passageway.
"Shit!" Hendry growled, "Was that Kalliope?"
"Well what do you think?"
"I thought she was with you."
"Evidently not." Giving the coastline a once over and confirming that she was nowhere in sight, McMillan unslung his plasma rifle and checked the remaining charge. Seventy-two cells. It would have to do.
"Cover me," He ordered as he charged in after the Private.

The first pair of shells seemed to light up the air around her, briefly illuminating the face of the floating beast as they punctured brown, leathery skin. The creature's single eye glinted malevolently in the scant, crimson rays that fell upon it from above as its wide mouth gaped open, unleashing fire, tortured screams... and something else. She bought her weapon to bear against the dark, horned shape that seemed to come screaming from the larger beasts maw - and was dragged by her collar through the smoke. Landing roughly on the stinking beach, she looked up to see McMillan standing over her, his plasma rifle trained on the stirring plumes. Only now, as they came roaring from their hiding place, did Kalliope see them for what they really were.
The first was giant, floating head, covered in a dark, armour-like hide and almost perfectly round. That single, evil eye was set just beneath a pair of ebony horns that curved forward to meet one another. Flames lapped up from its fanged mouth, framed on each corner of its foul grin by a pair of laughably stubby arms that swayed gently in the prevailing winds that howled along the beach. With a sound that could have accompanied all those school videos about the Holocaust of WWII, the Pain Elemental opened its maw once again.
McMillan ducked, spraying plasma bolts wildly into the air as the first of the Lost Souls were launched his direction - all went wide, and Kalliope threw herself to the ground as the horned, fiery skull banked round and headed towards her at high speed. Quickly loading two of her last six rounds into the shotgun, she snapped the barrels shut and took aim at the blurred shape as it passed overhead. One of two rounds hit their mark, sending the skull into a wild spiral as it crashed into the cliff face, shattering upon impact and releasing another tortured soul into the wind.
McMillan opened up on the floating terror, pumelling it with plasma until finally it burst open, unleashing a torrent of those fiery skulls into the air; Hendry stepped in with his own weapon, sweeping it left to right at an upward angle and catching each and every one of the Lost Souls in an explosion of screams.
"Colonel!", Hendry screamed, but McMillan had already guessed what was coming. A further three Pain Elementals and four of its scarlet cousins, the Cacodemons, floated ponderously through the smoke.
"Any ideas?" Kalliope called as she loaded two more shells.
"Pray", Hendry muttered morbidly...

Gr-rrr-eeeee-aaa-tttt work!

Ok, let's see what this maddened Christian does next (I do hope that he does some damage to some demons as well as being a danger to his fellow companions) :-]

Heh; Wilson's gone charging off ahead - i'm torn between having him return and 'rescue' McMillan, Hendry and Kalliope, or having him running off and having his own little 'adventures'.

It could make for interesting writing, as without the influence of his comrades he can embark on a psychotically religious Crusade through the Underworld, convinced that none can harm him while he's protected by God.

For once, i'm really happy with the work i've done :).

I think the second idea is kinda good, let the religious nut go off on his own for a while, then maybe they can all meet back up when Wilson faces his greatest fear (being religious of course) the Baphomet ???? anyway, the story so far is good, definatly getting better and there is now more of a thrill to it.....i like, i like a lot :)

Too short dammit! Gimme more! :P

Awesome work.

Advice noted : Wilson will 'go off on one', and the next chapter will be longer :). It'll actually be easier to write a longer passage this way, as i'll be describing two seperate scenes as opposed to the single one we've had up until now.

Thanks for the advice, peoples.