Chris Metzen: Revelations

The bunker began to shudder violently as the flyers attacked it from above. Massive cracks appeared in the paristeel roof as it began to collapse. Lost in the heat of battle, Madrid was startled when the Firebat grabbed his shoulder.

“The bunker’s toast!” he yelled. “If we ain’t outta here soon, we’re gonna end up sharin’ a tombstone.”

“Fall back to the command center,” Madrid barked at the others as he let loose another burst from his rifle. “Move!”

Madrid broke for the exit hatch as what was left of the squad made its way out. Emerging from the darkened bunker into the light of the midmorning sun, he almost froze in his tracks as he surveyed the compound. The scene was utter chaos. Huge winged beasts swarmed over the base, showering everything with blasts of burning plasma. Other small, jittery aliens ran rampant through the compound, streaming past the bunkers and tearing into any marines that stood in their path. Madrid fired wildly at a group of the creatures, hoping to butcher them before they fixed their attention on him. This place is a killing ground , he thought.

Madrid turned towards the base’s command center and caught a brief glimpse of a huge, raylike creature flying overhead. He heard a sickly spurting sound and felt a hammering blow strike him from behind, knocking him back to the ground. As the world spun around him, he could feel a searing pain in his back that spread through his limbs like tentacles of wildfire. He was dimly aware of something lifting him up as he lost consciousness.

MADRID WOKE TO FIND HIMSELF staring at the ceiling of a stark room. Pain wracked his body, and his head swam. He fought dizziness and confusion as memories rushed into his head. Protoss are wiping us out as we hide here cowering underground. Their ships are annihilating everything on the planet’s surface like the hand of God . No, not the Protoss , he thought. That’s not right. Something else is out there . Strange images flashed in his mind. A sea of horrible creatures washing over the base, tearing through everything in their path. Wait, who are the Protoss? He tried to remember. Those things out there are coming to kill me. Where’s my rifle? What happened to my squad? I need to kill them all. Kill . His blood boiled within him, calling forth a primal instinct. Kill who? The Protoss? I have to get out of here. Keep moving. Kill .

A face loomed over him. It was human. He could see its mouth moving, speaking to him.

“Where the hell am I?” Madrid asked. He saw other marines around him, some moving about the room and others sprawled on the floor.

“Just lie back and rest easy, Sergeant. We’re under the command center. You’re safe here,” the young field medic said. “At least for a while.” Madrid was covered in both red and purple blood, and his power suit had been split open down the front. He could see that the medic had applied field dressings to his wounds and had stitched up a deep cut in his chest.

“What’s wrong with me, boy? Why can’t I move?” he asked.

A look of consternation crossed the medic’s face. “You were hit,” the medic told him, “by one of those things . I don’t know what it was, but your vitals are freaking out. As far as I can tell, there’s some kind of poison in your system, but I’ve never seen anything like it before. I injected you with a stim-pack, so you may experience a little anxiety.” With that, the medic was gone.

Madrid tried to stand up. He felt the stim coursing through his system, tightening his muscles and making his scalp crawl. However, the artificial energy boost was no match for his pain and fatigue, so he slumped down heavily against the wall.

The room appeared to be some kind of storage space. A few transport crates were stacked in the corner, but Madrid couldn’t make out the stenciled writing on their sides. The room has no windows or fixtures, just four steel-gray walls and a doorway. The medic was busy tending to injured men and others who just sat staring into space with glazed eyes. Marines ran back and forth through the hallway outside, occasionally entering the room to confer with men who were frantically speaking into portable com systems. Madrid couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Too weak to move, all he could do was sit and wait. Death was coming. His rifle lay beside him, for all the use it was. His mind reeled. We’re doomed.

What did we do to bring this on? Both of these races appeared and descended on our worlds like plagues. Fighting them is pointless. They’ll spread through the stars, taking planet after planet. Unyielding. Unstoppable. He saw the spindly aliens in his mind, spreading across entire galaxies, overwhelming everything, fulfilling their dread destiny.

“No!” Madrid screamed as his body convulsed. What’s happening to me? I need to get out of here. They’re coming for me . He was trembling. He saw other wounded marines staring at him in detached sympathy. This is crazy . His fists were clenched, and he couldn’t stop grinding his teeth. If only I could get out there , he thought again. I’ll kill them all. Exterminate them. Nothing else matters. It is my destiny. We will sweep through the stars, driving the others before us. We will prosper. We are unyielding.

Visions of marines being torn apart by deadly claws filled his mind. No, this is all wrong. I’m not thinking right. A coppery taste filled his mouth, and he felt a thin trickle of fluid drop down onto his chest. Blood. I’m dying, he thought. No, it is our enemies who will die. Death cannot stop us . That feeling came to him with complete certainty. The visions continued. Huge creatures leaped over the dead bodies of their brethren and pushed on towards the enemy.

Those aren’t my thoughts , he realized with horror. He still sat in the same spot with his back against the cold wall. The sounds of gunfire echoed down the hall. Where are these thoughts coming from? He clasped his head in his hands and doubled over in pain. A sickening sensation crawled through his veins, from his stomach up to his brain. The backs of his eyeballs felt so hot they could melt.

A flurry of bizarre images and impressions assaulted him. Two ominous thoughts stood out from the maddening din and shook him to the core. You are growing. You are mine.

Madrid screamed until he ran out of breath.

He felt another presence in his mind. What are you? He searched for it in his thoughts, but found nothing. Suddenly a horrifying image overtook him, eclipsing all else: a sprawling mass of living tissue pulsing with a dark, alien intelligence. Madrid reeled as he felt its sinister consciousness permeate his being. Although he had feeling throughout his body, he found himself unable—or perhaps not allowed—to move.

Gunfire and screaming erupted in the hallway, ripping Madrid out of his trance. A number of marines backed into the room, firing their rifles into the hallway. The wounded men around him sat up in alarm as a group of aliens skittered into the room and tore into the defending marines. Everyone capable of movement grabbed a weapon and tried to fend off the invaders. The creatures flooded the room and overwhelmed the scrambling Terrans, tearing them to pieces. Madrid closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the carnage. Wet, slashing sounds and the tortured screams of the dying filled his ears until the fighting ceased and all that remained was a soft, humming vibration.

Madrid opened his eyes to see two of the creatures staring straight at him, standing close enough that he could feel their hot breath as they sniffed him. Their black, menacing eyes were hooded by the flat carapace plates that adorned their bestial heads. Their muscular, catlike bodies were covered by tough, leathery skin, and long segmented tails stretched out behind them.