KingKongKal
December 18th, 1998.
A few days before Christmas. The snow hadn't fallen this year, but there was still a bite in the air.
He knew he wouldn't be home for the holiday. Not this time.
He worked security at a mansion kept out in the middle of nowhere - isolated, quiet, strange. The man who owned it was said to be a scientist. Brilliant. Eccentric. Private. He paid well in exchange for no questions. All he needed was muscle to keep people out. That's where he came in.
No one knew his name. He never spoke. Never lingered. Still, the rest of the security team gave him a nickname - carved into the shoulder plate of his armour. A grim joke.
The Doomed Guy.
Every man who wore that armour before him had died screaming.
Judging by the sounds echoing from the labs below - the shrieking of things barely human - he very well might be next.
I don't own DOOM or House of the Dead
Yes, the image is Ai generated. I can't draw! I promise my writing is actually mine, though, otherwise there'd be no point in me writing.