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The Underworld : Haunted Shores (Part VI)

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Amid a blinding flash of emerald lightning, Private Peter Wilson materialised seemingly from thin air, landing roughly upon his knees.
The Devil's work, these things, he thought bitterly as he considered the pulsating red platform that had granted him passage. But even these abominations serve God in some way.
Blinking away light spots in his vision as he rose to his feet - and struggling as he remembered the incredible weight of the BFG-9000 strapped to his back - he began to survey the terrain. The ground beneath him was cracked and dead, reminding him of the dry creek beds within which he'd performed exercise manouvers during training just a few months ago. Six feet away, however, the land dropped away beneath him to meet a forking river of blood that wound its way around a group of wide deltas seperated by expansive bridges - primitive constructions of rope and wood that couldn't possibly support the weight of the larger demons. All around the river, steeply rising mountains bearing almost indistinguishable stone structures sealed off the vast expanse into a closely-knit settlement of sorts. Taking a few steps closer to the edge of the gory divide, he regarded the towering building that lay on the furthest of the precarious islands - and felt revulsion. Twelve stories of polished black marble, framed by ornate guard towers and carefully enclosed torches, stood before him. A grand steeple that thrust from the midpoint watched over a further two wings that spread out from just below the midsection, creating an inverted cross when viewed from above. The foremost wall beheld an ornate wooden door, decorated with the skulls of humans and demons alike, and as if to declare its icon of worship, the intricately carved marble face of Baphomet presided over the whole affair.
A sudden flurry of movement caught his eye, and the rotting rocket launcher that seemed to swallow his lower arm moved to track it. Trudging their way over the nearest of the precarious bridges, a squad of human figures approached. Wilson was considering calling them when the whine of bullets sounded uncomfortably close to his ears.
Almost as if it had a life of its own, his arm rose and zeroed in on the posessed marines as they stepped from the bridge and onto the island upon which he stood. As soon as they had all cleared the walkway, Wilson tugged at the fire control tendon. The apparant squad leader - salivating freely and grunting as he fumbled with the pump of his shotgun - erupted in a fountain of blood and bone; the dumbstruck sub-humans immediatly behind him were flung wide, their tattered and blood-stained fatigues burning under the sudden flash of intense heat as they plunged into the river. The cautious, forward momentum that he had been maintaining during the attack abruptly transformed into a full-scale charge as he recognised the remaining two marines - nameless folk he'd held idle conversation with in the mess hall. As he came within a few feet, he ducked left to avoid the swinging barrels of a chaingun before bringing his launcher arm up and into the face of the offending creature ; a splash of deep crimson and the dull crack that heralded a shattered nose accompanied the trooper as he crashed to the ground. The remaining human, carrying within her not a single shred of humanity, abondoned her weapon and flung herself at Wilson, her talons curved like hunting claws that searched for his throat. Placing one foot behind him, he bought the other knee up into the decaying bitch's face, feeling rather than hearing the jaw shattering on impact. She collapsed in a heap at his feet as the Private calmly collected her shotgun, pumped it single-handedly, slid his hand down to the trigger, and blew her head clean off.
They're protecting something, Wilson thought contemptously. He fully intended on visiting the blasphemous excuse for a house of worship that resided on the far island, but not before investigating the stone building that lay just beyond the posessed human's point of entry.

Countless miles away, another battle was being waged on bloody shores.
"Keep it going, Corporal, it's ready to burst!" McMillan ordered, watching as Hendry's blinding plasma stream pumelled the floating Pain Elemental backwards. The fewer of the floating brown things, the fewer of the flying skulls, he had reasoned. If only it worked that way.
"Well then keep those red fuckers off my back", he replied. "I can't be everywhere at once." As if to make a point, the nearest of the three remaining Cacodemons opened its maw, unleashing another burst of ball lightning that set the hairs on his arms standing straight. He'd have resembled the Bride of Frankenstein if not for the hair gel. The fourth Cacodemon lay in a grotesque pile of its own steaming guts, resembling a deflated, horned football. Just ahead of Hendry and McMillan's back-stepping retreat, Kalliope took rear guard - a useless gesture, she had argued, after destroying another pair of Lost Souls with her remaining shells. Instead, she found herself picking her way past the fallen, pink corpses that had so recently been attacking them and scanning the cliff face that ran parallel to the beach for a crack, a cave, anywhere they could hide.
"There!" She yelled suddenly, reflexively pointing at a dark spot on the red rocks that extended inward by at least several feet. Being only a few feet in height, it was unlikely that the flying terrors could follow.
Another Pain Elemental burst apart just as Hendry's plasma rifle sputtered and died, leaving a lone fiery skull rocketing towards him. Without second thought, he swung the weapon at it, wincing as it shattered and washed him with a wave of heat. "Kalliope, head straight for it, i'll be there in a sec."
The Greek Private nodded, speeding up into a sprint and reaching the cramped cave a few seconds later. Further back, McMillan divided his attention between the approaching Cacodemons that he was generously hosing with plasma, and the energy cell counter that was rapidly nearing zero.
"Colonel!" Hendry yelled as he reached the cave. "Fuck 'em! Just get over here!"
Best idea you've had all day, McMillan reasoned as he released the firing stud, turned and charged ahead to meet his comrades. Kalliope entered first, her slight frame fitting through the gap easily while Hendry quickly unslung his weapons to follow, crawling through the tunnel that became pitch black within a few feet.
McMillan ran for his life, followed hot on his heels by an assortment of ball lightning and fanged, horned skulls. As he came within a few meters of the apparant escape route, he dived forward, landed at its mouth and scrabbled through as a pair of Lost Souls shattered against the rock around him. Risking a glance backwards, he caught sight of the larger beasts floating just beyond the entrance before they rose silently into the crimson sky.
For now, they were safe.

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Ok, this is starting to go somewhere good now, not that it wasn't good before :) it's just the idea of Wilson meght get to meet Baphomet himself is great, unfortunatly for me, i already know what is going to happen, so stop telling me your idea's Spike, i wanna be surprised too

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