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(Another) Doom Story pt. 4

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Hey again, this is pt. 4 of (Another) Doom Story. Heartened by the positive feedback I got from the community (*cough, Katgut, cough*), I decided to continue my tale. Here goes:

(Another) Doom Story pt. 4

I escorted Chris back to the entrance of the security station, where he was received and briefed on my comrades-in-arms. He learned their names and ranks (which were all private) as I headed back to the lobby to check out the cellblocks.
The armored door leading to the cellblocks was undamaged--unusual, given the fact that all the other doors had had their control panels torched. I punched in a few random numbers to make sure it wasn't messed up internally. I got the familiar "bzzart" that comes with the "Access Denied" signal. I let out a quiet curse, then backed up and unslung my pack.
My backpack had all the marine essentials: Rations, extra clips, a computer map, frag grenades, and a few extras I put in myself: My demo charges, and my brass knuckles, just in case I had to punch out some poor sucker. I took out two of my C4 charges and put one on either side of the door. I stepped back as I unrolled the detonator cord, and attached it to the remote control. I grabbed my pack and ducked behind the desk where I found Chris. The light on the remote glowed green, and I punched the button.
The two explosions pounded my head in, but absolutely ripped through the armored doors, sending debris flying everywhere. Shrapnel punched through the desk and nearly cut my suit (not to mention me) open, but I didn't sustain too much damage. I got up and brushed the debris off as Stevens came running.
"I heard explosions!" He shouted over the ringing in my ears.
"No shit," I replied. "I had to blow the door to get to the cellblocks."
"Well, don't go exploding things left and right. You're freaking everybody out here, going off alone and blowing shit up. Not to mention the fact that someone's going to have to pay for all this when it's all over."
I hadn't considered that in my pyromaniacal zeal to blow things up, and decided I would lay off the explosives, for now.
"Care to join me?" I offered. It was a lonely pasttime, blowing stuff up by yourself.
Jared nodded eagerly. "I'll do anything to get me away from Kosky for five minutes. He's freaking out over there."
"Yeah, well, he's just a kid at 25, so I'd give him some slack." I remembered what I was like when I had joined the corps at 22. I freaked out the first time I killed a guy, way back in Afghanistan. I'm older and less sensitive now, though. Killing's one of those things that gets easier and easier the more you do it. I wish it weren't that way.
Stevens and I climbed over the rubble of the armored door, and, as before, emerged into a world of corpses.
The cellblock had ten cells in it--5 on either side of the 3 meter wide hallway. Only eight of the cells had people--rather, corpses--in them. All of them were still closed.
The first corpse we came to was that of an African UAC employee who had had both his legs amputated. A small pool of blood had formed at his stubs. The man had bled to death with a terrible death scream still on pasted his face.
The next corpse we found was the corpse woman who had a long, deep gash across her stomach. We could see what expression she had on her face when she died though; a huge hole had been punched through her head, crimson blood intermingling with her golden hair. She might have been a real looker in lifeā€¦
The other prisoners were just as bad, or worse. Something absolutely EVIL had come through here, and if we were lucky, it had left awhile ago. Again, I made no assumptions as we made our cautious way through cellblock A, "checking those corners," as a guy in some movie said. Except we weren't looking for aliens.

We were looking for devils.


I'll be expanding on this part shortly because it's just too short. 4.1 should be out in a few days if I feel like it....

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