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40oz

The Revenge of Spider Mastermind pt. 1

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I just couldn't let go. I was obliterated immediately in what seemed like a totally unfair fight. My home was invaded and my kingdom was in shambles. I couldn't let the Marine go on feeling as victorious as he did. I was rescued and my wounds were tended to by my surrounding mates. While I was most grateful for their assistance, parts of me wanted that cacodemon imprisoned and if the Tower of Babel had five doors instead of four, that surely my accompanying Baron secured his place pinned up in my usual grotesque fashion. In an insatiable fit of rage, I clamored that I would soon get that Marine's head on a plate! I immediately commanded my troops to transport me to Earth to get my revenge on that green menace. They quickly brought me to the factory closest to the UAC dropoff. My motive, of course, was to be too close in proximity to the Entryway for him to procure a BFG9000 at that point, making it much more practical to exact my revenge.

My demonic troops dumped my maimed body on a large platform along with my disheveled robot legs, and immediately began reconstruction. The building was rusty and an aged radioactive waste leak continually eroded the floor below, creating a hybrid of a natural and man-made canyon below. Still yet I felt much more comfortable here than I did in my original citadel, which now, seemed shaped like a big fat target in retrospect with me as the bullseye. I could see the marine falling into the poison river below and being microwaved to a crisp, just toasty enough for the pinky demons to munch on his beef jerky flesh. Or perhaps having him sacked as he tries to run across the ledge, the monsters hidden in those cells and popping out unsuspectingly before he has time to run back! It looked deadly and my crooked fangs locked together as I grinned at the image.

I ordered for the tall skeleton to secure the top story of the building, in the attic where it was the most likely to be the marine's point of entry. His loud scowling would get me prepped for attack. I then ordered the imps to take refuge behind the cell doors and await my orders. Surely the Marine would spot the blue keycard on the ledge, make a dash for it, then stop, dumbfounded at my resurrection, then severely and brutally apprehended by the imps. In theory I probably could use Hell Knights or more skeletons, but I felt they would be better suited elsewhere, and this situation seemed so diabolical as it was, that using imps instead would not only be cost effective, but amusing to watch as he is helplessly ripped to shreds by myself and my lowest tier troops.

As my metal body was being reassembled for my second round, I felt a little helpless. My head is much too big, my arms too skinny and frail, and my legs were embarrassingly stubby. I lacked the agility and dexterity of my loyal brethren. I recalled being around for the original assembly of my vehicle. I wanted to be as frightening and dominating as possible, and I would be damned if I would let this marine see me hobbling about with my shrimpy lizard legs.

I employed the services of a Cacodemon and Baron of Hell from my Unholy Cathedral. The Cacodemon's flight allowed him to move swiftly, making him a terrific assistant to the Baron of Hell who was well educated in teleport technology and strong as an ox. They collaborated together to design a flying machine for myself to ride, but halfway into development, they realized the jet fuel would quickly deplete making for a sloppy and embarrassing crash landing mid combat. If I wanted the ability to fly, the cacodemon mumbled, I would need the assistance of three of his mates to lift me in the air to keep me mobile. Though the offer was flattering, I found it to be too cumbersome to control and I would surely be vulnerable. Not to mention hilarious. The Cyberdemon is brutal and unforgiving, and if I were to be the Marine's next target, I can't look like a fat passenger in a mandala held up by four hot air balloons. I needed an alternate mode of transportation.

As I dreamt up a possible alternative, the Baron affixed a gatling gun to the base of my machine. It was awfully cool, but a bit underpowered. I requested the cannon be modified to fire shotgun shells instead of bullets, for in hell, there were many. And if the Marine were any indication, shells were highly versatile. His fingers were glued to the shotgun's trigger the entire time he trailblazed through Phobos and Deimos. I felt it was necessary to give him a taste of his own medicine.

I finally decided on a model. Inspired by the pointed arches of my palace, I envisioned a deadly spider. The spider of course, is one of God's more well known blunders. Harmless spiders as it turns out breeds an irrational fear in most people, making their puny spines tingle and cringe. I painted word pictures through telekinesis, and the Baron began immediately piecing together a prototype while the Cacodemon transported bulk machinery from the deposit at the House of Pain. The legs, he explained were fashioned from recalled aluminum I-beams from the Starstruct Manufacturing Plant at Tei Tenga, and supplanted with rubber feet for traction. The legs were then coated with a fire-ratardant resin that would make them resistant to fiery explosions. Bits of hardware acted as levers that allowed me to operate the legs with my feet and fire the mounted auto-shotgun.

My excitement was then interrupted as the Baron and the Cacodemon began bickering. The Cacodemon reported that there were not enough beams to make all eight legs as requested. The Baron scolded the cacodemon that he return to House of Pain and demand the remaining parts from his Bruiser Brother, but upon cacodemon's return, he declared that his brother was already frustrated with his intrusion considering the construction on his compactor to the compress the organs in his human landfill required the remaining parts. The Baron repeatedly sent the cacodemon back and forth but his brother would not budge. The Baron was not amused and explained the circumstances to me, and while I was a bit disappointed, a four-legged spider machine seemed just as intimidating and I instructed him to continue without it. In the end, four legs seemed to complement the design of my abode anyway.

As stubborn as he is, I have to say I was really impressed with the Baron's ingenuity. The machine looked just as I imagined, and I was certainly impressed. The Baron and Cacodemon took turns hoisting my flabby body onto the base and securing me inside. In seconds I swiftly adapted to the controls and could maneuver about. I summoned hordes of Lost Souls to practice my shooting, and as my shrapnel split their little craniums open, my polished marble floors were quickly coated in dunes of ash and cinders. I was thrilled, as I was now a walking death machine and the feeble marine would be no match for my immense destructive power.

As part of my force of intimidation, I recalled the Cyberdemon's titanic roar. A roar that shattered windows and deafened bystanders. I felt inclined to rip one hell of a bellow that would void the marine's bowels in my presence. I was too saturated in my pride to allow the Baron to reap the valor of killing the marine, whose blood I believed was mine to spill. I commanded him to assist his brother in the House of Pain in safeguarding the precious blue skull key, but he disobeyed my command and insisted on watching the fireworks. The Cacodemon left to patrol the heights of Mt. Erebus, (which ironically isn't much taller than me.) and disappeared into the red clouds.

I stomped the floor back and forth jiggling the controls of my metallic legs back and forth as I waited patiently for my invited guest. The cacodemon who departed only moments ago, returned, heaving and out of breath, to report on the marine's eventual arrival. The marine however, arrived much earlier than expected. To humble the Marine with my presence, and without effectively clearing my throat, I projected my voice as hard as I could, and managed to yelp a weird squealing noise which unfortunately sounded much cooler in my head. The Marine smirked, and with no hesitation, approached me sporting a weapon much larger than the rocket launcher that I expected. I quickly stomped on the trigger with my left foot and the barrels of my gun started spinning, but in no time, with a tantalizing grin on his face, the marine sprinted up to me, the greenish glow of his weapon reflected the shoulders of his armor, planted the gun right up to my crooked teeth, and blasted me with it. The scalding burn was painful and forceful and hurt like a bitch, but it was not the contact of the original projectile that struck me like a steam roller, but the blast field that followed which was directly and proportionately funneled into my face. The electrical explosion shocked me so hard that my rubber feet slid yards across the rubble of the crushed skulls, the joints of my robot legs exploded, causing me to slip uncontrollably like a giraffe on roller skates, and eventually embraced complete and total humiliation as I toppled face first into the dust and flattened like a pancake in a cloud of fiery mechanical explosions.

The marine stood quizzically over my defeated corpse and was promptly released back to Earth in a finale that was embarrassingly terse. The cacodemon and Baron's jaws were dropped to the floor and I couldn't help but feel the shame as my once presumed immortality had the rug pulled right out from under it. The only comfort I had was the knowledge that his cheetah speed was no match for the teleport technology that had allowed me to summon my troops to his home town before he could finish his hearty laugh at my misfortune.

Today, however. Today is the day. I wouldn't let this happen again. After all, my plan is infallible. I continued to jiggle my controls, wobbling my metal legs back and forth as I tried to ease the anxiety out my system that was brought on by that fateful memory. For when this marine sees me once again, rebuilt and healthy as ever, he will rue the day he laughed at my expense.

Just then, I heard the lanky skeleton give his shriek to alert me of his breach into the upper rafters of the building where I would be expecting him. My red eyes glowed with anticipation, but was perturbed shortly after, as the revenant's shriek was quickly expunged by the sound of broken bones. This startled me and I impulsively belched yet another one of those weird squealing sounds, which has yet to be perfected. I blew my cover already, and my plan was beginning to shrivel up. I had to improvise, which was something I was used to doing. After the ruckus on the top floor of the industrial complex calmed, I could see through the open doorway of the lift, the marine dancing around fluidly across the rafters, emptying dropped weapons of their ammunition and pocketing it for later. I stomped around, thrashing my metal legs around to intimidate him, and shot a nod of approval towards the imps to get them ready to pounce. The marine stepped on to the lift. I cackled as things were going exactly to plan. My toes were premeditatively coiled around the trigger and my barrels were spinning even before he poked his stupid face in between the metal columns of the lift.

Not a second too soon, I unleashed a storm of shotgun shell auto-fire at him. I sprayed at him like a firehose on a burning building, and smiled my devilish grin as I could see my shrapnel penetrate his armor and into his futile flesh. I laughed maniacally as the beads of sweat grew on his forehead as he took a few hits, and felt immense mirth when he arrived at the bottom, assuaged by my victory, now with a frustrating bloody nose.

This was it!

He had no plasma weapons on hand and I'm sure he saw the plasma gun at my metal feet on the way down. When he sprints up these stairs and reaches for it, I'm sure to turn this little bitch into swiss cheese. His blood would be mine and I would be the champion! For no particular reason, he turned his back on me, exposing himself even more shamefully. He extended his arm outward, pulled a lever, and suddenly the name of this factory all made sense. The Crusher! I was in total comprehension as I looked up, and saw the ceiling magnifying closer and closer. I panicked and held the trigger as hard as I could, perforating the sheet metal walls around him while the marine quickly retreated back into the lift, now protected behind the large supports. The ceiling drew closer and rubbed the soft spaghetti on my head. My legs began to crouch and were finally completely sprawled out. The pressure of my body on the robotic base fractured a leak on the bottom, pouring out a steady stream of dripping blood splashing on the iron plated floor below. Of course this must have been a great spectacle for the marine, watching my body squatted down, such as to be urinating on the floor like an unhousebroken puppy.

Soon the ceiling pressed down on the fontanels of my head so hard that my legs were completely extended and sprawled out flat on the ground, again another hilarious episode for the marine to recall later. The crushers top was so low to the ground that I couldn't see the Marine's next maneuver. However, as the ceiling came so close to the floor, squishing my gelatinous brain, it immediately reversed indicating a job well done and began rescinding back up to the ceiling. Success! I was far from dead and much less impaired. He thinks he can stop me with that minor fracture of a leak? Think again! I shot a few glances left and right and his adept motion caught my eye. He had jumped across onto the ledge and the imps exited their cells and proceeded to pounce on the marine. His legs sprinted so fast I was in complete disbelief. His legs spun like the propellers on a biplane, and the imps were swiftly grounded as he whizzed by them, pumping them with his shotgun. The platform where the blue key was planted was completely descended and his invincible legs dropped many stories on to the ground with a mild "oof" to catch it! It was nothing like I had ever seen before. But my thoughts were stunned by my unwelcome guest. The Crusher was not finished! I panicked and instead of firing at the Marine, I began desperately skulking for a mode of escape. The steps are much to shallow and the staircase itself is far too narrow. If I attempted to hop over the side, I would surely tumble over landing flat on my head, legs flailing about. That would be far more humiliating. With seconds to spare, I embraced my demise and whipped my helpless tiny arms around while the crusher mercilessly attempted to finish the job.

With my last dying breath I wailed orders telekinetically to the imps in the nearby starport. In desperation I called on them to destroy the aircraft and use the parts to build turbocharged weapons for themselves, as the marine is way to fast for their primitive fireballs. I also demanded that they use excess parts and to build new spiderbots in my image to hold him down. My body is too large to effectively traverse large terrain, so a smaller variant of my otherwise brilliant design would stop the marine indefinitely. The imps are too wimpy to warrant any considerable threat, so heavier weapons and increased strength would fend him off. The crusher once again closed down on my limbs, and squeezed my head like an old tomato. The seconds grew longer as my mind raced. I relished the irony of the compactor back at the House of Pain, crushing the ground up human remains, which I now realized look much like brains. I should have seen this coming.

The marine rode back up the lift and gave me the courtesy of showing me his face, now completely cleaned of blood from an advantageous supercharge nearby. He ruthlessly laughed at my expense, now significantly healthier than he was when seeing me initially. My eyes fixated on his comic energy, as I lied on the ground pathetically pressed under an oversized waffle iron, and squished into a tiny puddle of shame. The blood leaked from a fissure in my head just before I succumbed to my fate, and the last thought, strangely enough, was if the decreased metabolism and 'roid rage of the berserk packs left at the starport would cause the primitive imps to eat each other.

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That was hilarious.
Part 2 would be Gotcha! Fed up with the constant failures, the Spider Mastermind creates the ultimate trap for the marine: he will have to face both the Mastermind and the Cyberdemon at the same time. What could go wrong?

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Thanks, guys! I hope you enjoyed reading it as I did writing it! Tosi is absolutely right, but I'm still working on the story, because I want it to get better and better with each part. Gotcha should be a lot of fun, and of course The Spirit World will be the Spider Mastermind's last chance.

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