In MOCKERY, you are a soldier of navy of the space, one of the ground hardest, hardened in the combat and qualified for the action. Three years ago you attacked a senior officer to control his soldiers to put fire on the civil ones. He and its cast iron of body was dispatched with the wearing of pearl, whereas you were transferred to Mars, house of Union Aerospace Corporation. The UAC is a conglomerate multi-planet gear with equipment of radioactive waste on Mars and its two moons, Phobos and Deimos. Without the action fifty million miles, your day was composed of the suckin ' dust and the watchin ' limited flicks in the room of rec.

During the four last years the soldiers, the largest provider of UAC' S, used the remote equipment on Phobos and Deimos to lead various secret projects, including search on the voyage of inter-dimensional space. Up to now they could open of Gateways between Phobos and Deimos, throwing some instruments in one and observing them come out of the other. Recently however, Gateways grew dangerously unstable. The military " volunteers " entering them disappeared or were in distress with a strange form of madness -- vulgarities of prattling, bludgeoning all that breathes, and finally suffering untimely a death of explosion of full-body. The heads matched with torsos to send the house to people became a full-time work. The last military states declare that search suffers a small retreat, but all is under the command.

A few hours ago, Mars received a deformed message of Phobos. " we need the immediate support of soldiers. Something badly of fraggin ' comes out of Gateways! The information processing systems have the gone berserk! " the rest was incoherent. Soon after, Deimos simply disappeared from the sky. Since then, the attempts to establish the contact with one or the other moon not were successful.

You and your buddies, the only troop of combat fifty million miles were sent to the top of the pronto to Phobos. You were controlled to fix the perimeter of the base while the remainder of the team went inside. During several hours, your radio recorded the noises of the combat: the guns putting fire, men howling of the commands, cries piercing, splitting bone, deaden then finally. Seem your buddies died.

The things do not look at too good. You will never direct in addition to planet on your clean. More, all the heavy weapons were taken by the team by storm leaving you only with one gun. So only you could obtain your hands around a rifle of plasma or even of a shotgun you could take some to swallow on your output. That which destroyed your buddies deserves a couple of the granules in the face. Fixing your helmet, you leave the thimble of landing. If all is well you can find a fire power more substantial some share in the station. While you walk by the principal input of the base, you hear animal-like grondements making echo in all the distant corridors. They know that you are here. There is no back of rotation now.

Mockery is Copyrighted 1998 Doomworld

Official TC of Doomworld