Toolkit for DOOM/DOOMTOOL.ISO/text/doom11.sto

Text File | 1994-07-17 | 9KB | 138 lines

Doom: Episode 1 Map 1 -- The Hangar

        I readied my pistol, the only weapon they deemed me safe with.  The
weapon was extremely well made; the gyrojet bullets used were fast and
extremely accurate.  Automatic firing, it was top  of the line, but still it
packed only so much of a punch.  It would have to do.
        The hangar doors whispered open, revealing the reception lobby that
lay beyond.  All was quiet.  A soldier lay bleeding in the middle of the
floor, a number of bullets and shells having sliced through his soft, tender
flesh.  I picked up a couple of pieces of armour plating, they could come in
handy later on.  Suddenly, a gurgled shout from behind me. The control tower,
could anyone be left alive in this carnage?
        I moved quickly to the side room, the poor lighting not aiding my
vision at all.  A short flight of stairs led up to the observation deck.
Movement. I aimed my pistol at the top of the stairs, the creature moved
forward ... Marines?  Two men shuffled about at the top of the stairs, blood
splattered over their uniforms and faces.  The lighting was too poor, I
couldn't make out anything accurately.  I lowered my weapon.  Mistake number
one.
        A shotgun blast roared out, my left arm leapt to the side, military
buckshot tearing through the unprotected flesh.  Pain rocketed through my
body.  I grunted, my eyes narrowed.  I raised the pistol and fired twice,
leveling the first trooper, another two shots silenced the second.  Their
weapons dropped to the ground with an echoing clatter.  "My mistake was
lowering my guard, yours was missing."
        I ran up the stairs, intent on gaining the new weapon.  Mistake
number two.  Another blast tore into my right leg, the uranium pellets doing
their job quite effectively.  I tumbled up the stairs, carried on by my
momentum.  I rolled over the shotgun, grasping it with my bad arm.  I cocked
it one handed and fired back down the stairs.  I knew I wouldn't have a
chance at hitting anything, but it would make them think.  Or so I thought.
It seemed to only get them more irate, I could hear two shambling about at
the foot of the stairs, growling and firing off into nothingness.  One's
screams were cut short by a shotgun blast.  Interesting ...
        I peered down at my feet, the first trooper I had killed lay strewn
about me.  "My God ... Hamlin?"  I knelt down to confirm my first impression.
Hamlin was a sector sargeant, one of the first people I met on my arrival to
Mars Base.  I thought he had shipped home a month ago.  The corpse that lay
before me bore only a vague simularity to the man I once knew.  He looked
as if he had been dead for quite some time, perhaps two weeks.  Thick,
blackened blood oozed slowly from the two holes I had put into his body.  He
may have been human once, but he was no longer.  The other corpse was in a
similar state.  What was going on here?  I searched my near perfect memory,
a 'gift' of the creators of NewTypes.  My mind stored facts much like a
computer, an effort to make sure we learned from our mistakes.  "Christ ..."
I gasped.  Some 4,879 men had been shipped from this base in the last year
alone.  It would seem a very generous estimate that half of those had made
it home to Earth ... Survival seemed difficult to achieve now, if not
impossible.  I ejected the shells from the second shotgun, quickly shoving
them into the chamber in Hamlin's gun.  A quick scan of the tower proved
qutie useful.  A small stimpack lay nearby, a useful  concoction of pain
killers, stimulants and Plasti-Flesh, a patch for open wounds to prevent too
much loss of blood.  I quickly applied the pack to my leg, I needed to walk
more than I needed both arms.  I holstered the pistol and then examined the
number of shells I had left.  'Eight shots.' I thought to myself worriedly,
'It  will have to due. Let's see if my training means anything here.'  A
quick search of the console also proved fruitful, revealing a small locker in
which lay a suit of light armour.  I buckled the protective Plasti-Steel to
my body, confidence beginning to rise.  I was amazed at the stupidity of
these creatures.  The one downstairs had still not come up to visit.  Looks
like I'd  have to go down and say hi.
        Latching the final strap of armour to my body, I cocked the shotgun
and moved forward quickly.  The  stimpack worked as prescribed, allowing me
full movement and perfect reflexes.  At the top of the stairs I even let
myself smile.  "Let's rock!" I called out, blowing the head off the zombie
at the base of the stairs.
        I made my way down the main tunnel to the processing area. I paused
before the  door.  Unearthly growling and howls could be heard beyond the
twelve inches of solid steel blast doors.  Taking a deep breath, I pressed
the access panel, allowing the door to open automatically.
        A group of troopers were upon me; former marines now corrupted,
perhaps by the very forces of Hell itself.  My shotgun fired six times, then
was silent.  I breathed heavily, examining the carnage before me. Five former
soldiers lay at rest on the ground, their blood intermingling, one's body
still twitching with unnatural life.  Given time, I gathered up what ammo I
could, including twelve shotgun shells, and collected what armour plates that
I could scavenged.  It was then that I noticed the wound in my side, the
military buckshot proved stronger than light Plasti-Steel, I would have to
find something stronger soon, I doubted that the light armour would last much
longer, even with replacement  plates.  Scouring through access hatches, I
found a couple of vials of pain killers, it would have to do.  I gulped the
medicine down, tossing the empty bottle to the side.  I pumped the shotgun
once.
        I proceeded out the only exit, my hands nervously fingering the
shaft of my shotgun.  The pink horror threw me for a bit  of a loop.  I was
beginning to understand how  the others failed to survive.  I entered
into the reception area, now strewn with garbage and toxic waste.  Barrels
of the stuff had been sitting throughout the base, and I had now found their
source.  I took down three troops with three shots, my body becoming used
to the combat, my mind processing maneuvers and tactics at a fantastic rate.
Mistake number three.  The ball of flame slammed into my chest, sending me
up against the wall.  More Hellspawn, this  time in the form  of brown,
spiked humanoids.  Two stood upon a raised  platform, eyeing me maliciously.
They both fired at me, their  hands moving in intricate gestures before
spouting gouts of  flames.  My  body  reacted instantaneously, sending me
to the ground, rolling to the side.  I sat up on my knees and fired five
shots off in quick succession.  Silence.
        The new creatures lay dead on the platform, or what I could take for
being dead.  Their blood oozed green and red, drugs pumped into my system
to prevent the coming nausea.  I grabbed a couple of  clips and ran for the
door.
        The door flew open before I reached the access panel.  A bruiser of
a marine  stood before me, his skin gaunt  and pastey white.  With a twisted
grimace, he leveled his shotgun and fired into my gut.  Grunting in pain,
I lunged myself forward, knocking his gun to the side.  Stupidly, he turned
to regain his weapon.  I jammed the muzzle of my shotgun under his chin and
squeezed the trigger.  His head disappeared in a splash of red mist.  Shouts
were heard from inside.  I fired blindly into the room, cursing at seeing
my shot hit into a barrel of waste.  Another brown imp came for me from
across  the darkened room.  My body reacted before my mind could process
conscious thought.  A second shot rang out, followed by an explosion.  The
imp went flying into the opposite wall.  Other screams of agony could be
heard through a nearby grill.  The barrels were explosive!  My mind filed that
tidbit of information away for instant recall.  I may just need such  heavy-
handed tactics.  A second grill stood beside the fallen imp, and I side-
stepped over to place myself in front of the grill, firing another blind
shot.  Another explosion, then pain.  Fiery acid flew into my face from an
exploding barrel.  I crumpled to the ground, screaming in agony, clawing
at my face in blind rage and pain.  I stood up shakily, holding the shotgun
loosely before me.  I staggered forward, the exit door to the first access
tunnel lay before me.  I found a medkit, an overglorified stimpack, hanging
on a nearby wall, as well as the remains of a  couple of stimpacks. I quickly
dressed my wounds with bandages and Plasti-Flesh.  I then sat down and
examined the array of chemical enhancers that lay inside the medkit. "Fuck
it."  I said out loud, and pumped all the chemicals into my harness, to be
regulated as needed by the micro-computers installed in the 'juice' harness.
Picking myself up, I made my way to the exit airlock.
        The door slid open noisely, followed by a hissing scream.  Another
imp stood before me, somewhat surprised at my sudden appearance.  His
mistake. The  shotgun fired twice, splitting the creature in half.  I smiled
and entered the airlock.  Some scrap armour lay nearby, probably dumped by
one of assaulting soldier I arrived with, as well as some dropped ammo. I
loaded up as well as I could, waited for the air pressures to regulate,
then I proceeded down the first access tunnel.