Vultures in Hades; Chapter Four.

[Bad Luck Ranger]

Now, I haven't exactly run through the whole chapter. Please inform me of any spelling, grammar mistakes.
Anyway, enjoy.

Doom: Vultures of Hades.
Chapter Four: Dawson.

Dawson, with Plasma Rifle slung under arm, crept through the bewildering ventilation. He could smell the foreboding gore. His eyes lit up with malice as he thought back to the previous attack. The adrenaline rush was like nothing he had ever experienced in the simulators. Every round he pumped out meant a possible instant death sentence to whoever was unlucky to be on the receiving end.
If some damned convict could have done this then I could, thought Dawson in deep bellowing sneer.
Beads of sweat drove slowly down his face in almost mechanic rhythm, he could hear his own heartbeat and he could hear the distant growls of the foe, inter-dimensional demons from hell with no remorse and attitude to boot.
He had read in textbooks about those demons, never thought he’d have to face them. The tall brown ones came down relatively easy enough but those pink bastards were another thing. Dawson mentally thumbed around with the names of the creatures. Homo-infernous-deamonicus or Imp but the names of the pink ones weren’t familiar, damn his memory.
He stealthily entered the previous room, the one with the security equipment; he could hear some commotion from the Hanger entrance. He peered through the open maintenance hatch and saw just over half a dozen Kleggs squaring off with small bulky biped dog-sized demons; their faces were near featureless except for a monstrous jawed mouth. The Kleggs were sending electric charges from their component assembly. The Kleggs appeared to be winning; Dawson bypassed the small confrontation steadily attempted to open the entrance door. The previous attack involved a demonic fireball being slung at the heavy-duty door. This, it seemed, damaged whatever components were still operable, instead he had to lever the door about an inch and prey the rest into the door alcove in the side of the wall.
Dawson stole a peek of the outside, not so many demons as before but at least he knew where they were coming from. A small cargo entrance tunnel on the far side of the landing pad, this obviously led to where the debris had cut him off at the room with the security up links.
The shuttle was in clear view and intact, several hundred yards away.
But blocking him was a mass of all teeth and no fear, demons and Imps. They all appeared to be on guard, this struck Dawson as kind of odd as these creatures are like predators, they hunt in packs but the records state that they scarcely took order directly. The Icon of Sin had been taken out of commission long ago so who could have been controlling them, the commotion of Kleggs verses demon dogs were coming to a conclusion, Dawson did his best to ignore, as he could have been sure he heard a voice. The demon dogs were withdrawing leaving only a small handful of Kleggs left.
Since the noise died down Dawson had no trouble listening and what he heard struck him as even more peculiar that just an enclave of demons taking strategic tactics. There was a voice, a grizzled accent speaking Enochian, other than Latin, Enochian is a simple route dialect, and favoured by early Pagans the language was dubbed; words of the devil. Dawson had done his history and he knew exactly what he was hearing, though he had trouble comprehending the ancient language he knew that the bastards had became organised.
Dawson watched from his concealed area as at least a dozen demons darted over to the hole and into the facility, they had their orders and he was sure that they were looking for either him or Browning and McKinley. He didn’t have much time.
The remaining demons scattered, leaving the voice behind. Dawson moved closer for a better look at who the voice belonged to. What he saw was a monster of a creature, over seven feet tall and with the build of a small automobile, though he was bloated with muscle and fat he looked hideously powerful he resembled a large grey Imp. Dawson had read about these beasts, they had an amazing intellect and now it was commanding the demon forces.
“I know you’re there.” Blasted the Bull Imp.
Dawson heartbeat became erratic and his sweat began to pour.
“I’ve known you’ve there some time… pity you do not speak our native tongue as you would have heard our entire plan… maybe if you had heard. You would have known how to respond but instead you’re in hiding. Tell me, do you plan to kill me?” The voice spoke with malice intent. It sent shivers down Dawson’s spine; he clutched his Plasma Rifle tighter.

[dsm]

I have to be honest with you: I don't like A) demons being organized and "following orders" or B) Talking demons.
Both of these things seem over-cheesy imho and only ruins the feel of them being demons.

Other than that, good story - you definitely know how to write :-)

[Bad Luck Ranger]

I try to think of it like this, sure, facing hordes of demons and zombies is as scary as hell but what's more scary... a horde of demons that are actually using precise tactics.
In Chapter Five, I'll explore this issue. My basis was that these demons have been holed up on the abandoned base on Phobos with no way off and during that time they've become cannibals, they're all attacking each other and it's like hell. Then this UAC research vessel arrives, fresh meat. The demons had originally taken orders from the Icon of Sin. The Bull Imp is an amalgamtion of everything that had occured since the end of DoomII on the Phobos Base and he appears to be the only one that has the ability to actually talk and don't worry he'll be the only one speaking.