Making Progress, Marine?
The room goes dark and the scientist whimpers. The television in the lab comes on and that balding, half-blind ball of hatred known as Dr. Malcolm Betruger appears on the screen.
"Making progress, Marine? It's n--"
"No, no not really."
"... ahem. It's not going to get you anywhere. This base is now under *my* control, and you are unwelcome here. Your quest is *futile;* you will *never* find the thing you seek--"
"What, the soul cube? That thing sucks," you reply.
"...What?"
"I said the soul cube sucks. It takes forever to charge up, and while it'll kill the smaller demons in one hit, it won't drop a Baron of Hell, so what's the point? I'm gonna find the damn BFG; that's where it's at."
"... I thought you couldn't talk."
"No, no I can talk just fine. Scientist guy, keep a look out."
[Papers rustling from the screen] "I could have sworn your file said you were a mute..."
"Er... well I *was,* I guess."
"...What? You mean to tell me your inability to speak just *disappeared?*"
"I guess so."
"Don't play games with me, you fool! I'm a *doctor,* for Satan's sake. You can't just *cure* muteness unless you're a crazy person and you were faking!"
"Something tells me you've been more concerned with devil worship these past few weeks more than medicine, 'doc.'"
"Enough of this! It's time to turn that little room of yours into an oven powered by my satanic legions! You will die, and your soul will burn in hell forever!"
"Not really."
"Yes it will! Argh, demons kill him please!"
"SCREEE ARGH BLARG... hiss?"
"Yeah, we kind of left that room."
"WHAT? That's impossible! I would have seen you!"
"Dude, you're half blind."
"..."
"..."
"... damn. But you've only gained a temporary reprieve, Marine! I am this base now, and no footstep will escape my sight--err, my notice."
"Yes they will."
"STOP CONTRADICTING ME YOU SWINE!"
"Well, they will because we're starting up the ship now."
"... The ship was *broken!*"
"Not as much as you'd think! Ol' Greg here is quite the mechanic! Well we just-" [SCREE ARGH BLARG!]
"Oh noes! We dies!" [argh pain shout screams!]
[silence]
"... hello?"
"YYESSSS, MASSSTER. WEE KILLLSSSSS..."
"... well, fine. See if you can help Swann activate that distress signal." [click]
Betruger: "That was about the least fun I've ever had killing someone."
Deep within the base, very not dead or fleeing in a ship, you and scientist Greg huddle in a faraway storage closet.
"Who knew you could impersonate a demon so well?" you marvel.
"Well... I wanted to act, but there was just more money in questionable technology, you know?"
"Yep, yep..."
"What's the plan?"
"We need to stop Satan from unleashing his hordes. To do that, we'll have to go to hell and get the Soul Cube."
"Excuse me, *hell?*"
You take stock of your surroundings in the tiny room, plotting your next move, the back of your subconscious quietly wondering if it should try and abort this whole experience; you've discovered constant, blinding fear isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Just before the subconscious proposes this idea to your brain, something you see on the shelf in front of you in the dim light suspends that motion.
With eager fingers, you pick up a----------- (!)
Written by Mr.Peaches on 26 September 2006
The end (for now)