The DOOM Chronicles

Chapter 13: The Waste Tunnels

After restocking in the armory again, Jack led Cortez and Bidwell out through the storage wing exit, down a few corridors, and then took point through a hatch in a back maintenance bay that led into the waste tunnels.

"What a lovely place we've come to," Cortez muttered as they stepped out into a large tunnel some sixty feet below the surface. It wasn't all that dissimilar from the underhalls he'd traversed a few hours back, though these tunnels were larger, a bit rounder, and the walls were largely composed of tubes that transported, well, waste.

Thankfully they weren't transparent.

"Let's get a move on," Jack replied as he took aim with his rifle and led them down the center of the passageway. This one at least had a real floor and not a moat to splash through. They didn't have much for company beyond a handful of corpses, mostly technicians who had been down here when the invasion had struck.

Judging by their wounds, it looked like Imps had gotten to them.

"So, Bidwell, how'd you end up in the Marines?" Jack asked as they moved on. For the moment, it looked like they had the place to themselves.

"I did it to escape what they call the gilded cage. My parents were rich. My grandparents were rich. I had one brother and one sister, and they were both content to essentially just be useless rich people their entire lives. It didn't seem...right. There was so much suffering in the world, and I knew that I was smart, so I decided to dedicate myself to the United Marine Corps," he explained.

"Wow. Why?" Jack asked. "I mean, that's commendable, to be sure, but it's obvious to anyone with a brain that the UMC is compromised at this point. I mean yeah, we rush in to save the day and kill the bad guys sometimes, but most of the time the 'bad guys' are just whichever group pissed off the men with the money, you know?"

"Yes, I was well aware. I supposed I looked at it as a matter of...trying to make changes from the inside. And I wasn't planning on staying in the Marines my entire life," Bidwell replied.

"That's a good point. Can't really make many changes from the outside looking in, of course, on the inside, you run the risk of succumbing to the same corruption," Jack murmured.

"Quite." Bidwell regarded him for a moment. "You are a curiosity. You were at ground zero, you survived everything they threw at you, and continue do so. Why do you think that is?"

"Training and a natural talent at shooting and staying alive, mixed with proper proportions of stubborn endurance and a shitload of luck. And other people helping me," Jack said. "Why, what did you think it was?"

"That's about what I was going to guess. Mostly luck, but it can't all be luck. I just wanted to hear your answer."

"You seem pretty calm about all this," Jack replied.

"That's Bidwell. Nothing rattles him," Cortez said.

"I believe I lack the same depth of emotional range as most people. I certainly feel emotions, they're just easy to contain and, when necessary, shut out. I'm not so much better at it as I am genetically gifted," Bidwell explained.

"You sure it's a gift?" Cortez asked.

"I think so. And if it isn't, I guess I wouldn't know. It has served me well, and so I choose to call it a gift and utilize it as such," Bidwell replied.

"That makes sense. I think more people should be intentional in their life," Jack said. "Too many people just...do things." He hesitated as he heard something up ahead, then he readjusted his aim on his assault rifle. "I heard something, get ready."