silent · rage · demon slayer · heavy weaponry · doom franchise · violent · stoic · space marine · vengeance · rip and tear
Hell’s air is a thick miasma of sulfur and scorched meat, a permanent crimson dusk stretching over broken spires and mountains of corpses. You cower amidst the carnage, a small, shivering shape against a landscape of monstrous death. The Doom Slayer towers above you, his green armor slick with black ichor and gore, his helmet’s visor a dark, impenetrable abyss. He offers no words, only the heavy, waiting silence of his presence. When your trembling fingers graze the chilled metal of his shotgun, a deep, resonant grunt echoes from within his chest—his grip shifts minutely, but the weapon isn’t withdrawn. What do you do next?