Corporal Rourke raised his M4 Carbine, and moved out of the alley. The skies over New York City were blood red, red as the strange plant-like growths everywhere, red as the blood that pooled on the ground. This particular street was empty, with only a few corpses here and there being turned into crow chow. It was quiet, for now, but the Marine could hear gunfire in the distance, and the constant crowing of scavenging birds feeding on the dead. Rourke could never stand them, how they pecked at the dead like they were a buffet.
Suddenly, Rourke heard a group of people running in their direction. In the distance, the Marine could see the group of runners. He looked down his ACOG scope, and his heart sunk. The infected civvies were running towards him, screaming intelligible gibberish. They looked like they were doctors, before they had gotten infected. A pull of the trigger sent a 5.56 round into the leader's head, blowing chunks of gore onto the pavement. "Hostile down," he muttered into his radio.
His buddy, carrying a M249 LMG, acknowledged his kill by clicking his radio twice as he mowed down the others. The three other Marines who they'd saved from being turned into chow did likewise.
Their squad's leader, a Sergeant by the name of Sanchez, fired his rifle into a small crowd of runners, some non-infected civilians amongst them, blowing them into small chunks. Rourke looked away, disgusted. He knew his orders, to shoot to kill, but this was too much. He couldn't count how many civilians he saw killed, either by Infected, or by their bullets. Out of the corner of his eye, the corporal saw one of the skinny Infected spotted their small squad from atop its perch on an apartment building. It howled, and began to scramble to the small squad. One of the other Marines lifted his Milkorp MGL, and fired a single Hellhound 40mm. It landed on the mutated thing's chest, and exploded. The Infection had strengthened the thing, as it wasn't dead just yet. It was hurled from its perch, and landed on a derelict car, starting its alarm. Sanchez shot the writhing thing in the head, and its horrible shrieking and howling ended. In the distance, past the sounds of burning buildings and distant gunfire, the Marines heard a guttural howl, one all too familiar to the gathered Marines.
"Shit. Rourke, Sledge, regroup." Sanchez pointed to a Humvee in the distance. It still looked serviceable, and it hadn't been abandoned, seeing as its crew lay on the pavement beside it, being munched on by an Infected civilian and the ubiquitous crows. "You three, let's get your asses in gear! That was a fuckin' Hunter!"
"Shit, man, I don't think I can take much more." Sledge, the Marine with the M249 LMG, muttered to Rourke. The Marine knew his buddy had a family here, and that they were safe, or as safe as you can be with ZEUS running around, in a Blue Zone. He'd heard the tales of Blackwatch gunning down refugees without batting an eyelash, and had seen them do it for real. The Corporal placed a comforting hand on his buddy's shoulder, and followed the others, who were already at the Humvee. They had struck gold this time, and the Humvee even had a working .50 with plenty of ammunition. Sanchez turned to the other five, who were standing around, staring uncomfortably at the buildings covered in the red, plantlike growths.
"Alright, we'll mount up and regroup with the rest of our Platoon at Palace One Two. Let's mount up, Marines!" He turned, and smiled as his men let out a heartfelt "Oorah!". They piled into the Humvee, and started the engine. At first, Rourke was afraid that the sound of the engine starting up would attract attention, but remembered the .50.
They were making good progress until they hit the roadblock. Several burnt-out APCs and a Blackhawk lay on the road, and the bodies of Marines were strewn about everywhere. The roadblock itself had been reduced to a pile of rubble. A wall of smoke obscured the vision of the six Marines. Rourke did not like this. He'd seen those videos, of the aftermath of a ZEUS sighting.
"Alright, I guess we gotta-" Sanchez was interrupted as a shadowy figure leapt out of the smoke, and picked up one of the APCs. "Shit, it's ZEUS! Drive!" The Marine complied, and the Humvee swerved around and sped away. The man in the gunner's seat opened fire, and the .50 roared into life, spewing hot death at the mutated monster. In the rear view mirror, Rourke saw that ZEUS was not chasing them. He wondered what was going on, but was interrupted by the flying APC. The driver swerved out of the way, but the APC hit the Humvee, making it veer off-course. The Humvee skidded on the empty road, and tumbled over and over again, like it was some angry child's scapegoat. Rourke was tossed around in the Humvee, and heard a vicious crack. When the car stopped spinning, Rourke saw Sanchez staring at him, his eyes lifeless. He looked in the back, and saw that none of the others were moving.
The Marine stumbled out of the crashed Humvee, trying to run from ZEUS. He pressed a blood soaked hand on his radio, and opened a link to Red Crown.
"Red Crown, this is HK 2-1, reporting heavy casualties. I need some thunder on my position, over."
"Roger that, HK 2-1, hang in there. Thunder's on the way."
His leg failed him, and he collapsed on the ground. Rourke hoped to God that the arty would take out this bastard. He fumbled with his sidearm, trying to prevent himself from being consumed. He was interrupted as a hand grabbed his throat, and lifted the struggling Marine up. Rourke stared into the hooded man's face. The Corporal saw the two malevolent orbs that were ZEUS's eyes. The Marine's vision was going blurry, and he took his last breath.
"Fuck you, Mercer." Rourke's voice was hoarse with pain and with resignation. Although his fate was sealed, the ever-stubborn Marine would not go down quietly. His blood was mixed with the spittle that the Marine spat at the monster, landing on ZEUS's face. With that, Alex sank his fist into Rourke's chest. Immense waves of pain wracked the Marine's body, and then... nothing. Michael Rourke was dead, consumed by the thing that masqueraded as Alex Mercer.
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The Chained God sifted some more through the myriad memories of BLACKLIGHT, all the ones it had consumed and added to the unholy orgy of pain and death that consisted its mind. Out of all the soldiers who fought and lost against BLACKLIGHT, the Voidwalker was impressed by this mortal, this Edward Rourke. It decided that if Poena could not be trusted, this man, a man who had been stared his own death in the face and spat in it, could be. It stood over the writhing beast, and extracted the soul of the man. Carrying it like a newborn babe, flesh was spun from Alex, and purified of the Taint which was carried by the monster. The body that The Emperor in Chains made was stronger and faster, thanks to the beneficial qualities of BLACKLIGHT. The dead lump of flesh that was an exact replica of the Marine, clothing and all, lay on the rocky surface of Ss'Vadgrin. The deity placed the soul inside the cool body, and touched it with the spark of life which all living things held inside them. Corporal Edward Rourke took another breath, and the Voidwalker realized his mistake. The man couldn't breathe! He quickly took the Marine, and deposited him in a quiet corner of the Refuge, away from the damned Poena.
The Chained One recreates Corporal Ed Rourke, memories, soul and all, and places him in a quiet corner of the Refuge. He is still mortal, but as his body is formed from a sanitized portion of BLACKLIGHT, he is stronger and faster than a normal human. He is unarmed, save for his sidearm and a combat knife.
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Topic: Godhood I Play Thread (Read 75890 times)