PART One
--------

        You're awakened as another lightning flash streaks across the
darkened midnight sky. The rain is coming down in sheets, the
same as when you hit the sack two hours ago. You walk to your bedroom
window and peer out, trying to see through the haze caused by the
nocturnal downpour.
        "Damn", you mutter, as you notice that half the city seems to be
enshrouded in darkness. "Not another power failure! That makes three nights
in a row just this week." Luckily, the power to your rented hovel is still
on, which is good since the only thing separating your apartment from a
damp cave is electricity and running water. A chill passes through you and
you check the radiator for signs of life. Nope, dead as a doornail. "That
fraggin' landlord. I'd break his neck if he ever came around." The landlord,
having more common sense than concern for his fellow man, had chosen to 
find living quarters other than the squalid apartment complex he managed.
        The deep bass rumble of thunder distracts your attention from
entertaining fantasies involving the manager and live hand grenades. The
rain seems to be getting heavier. You're trying to remember if you put your 
car's windows up when the phone rings.
        "Evening, Marine." The harsh, grating voice on the other end can
only be Colonel MacBrier, your ex-commanding officer, now turned freelance.
"I've got a little job for you, if you're interested, that is." 
        "What's the catch?" you reply, aware that MacBrier only calls
because of two reasons. One, because no one else will accept his "missions"
which usually turn out to have suicide tacked in front, and because he knows
you are basically penniless. Your lack of funds was the result of several
lawsuits being filed by various legal firms on behalf of the demons you 
destroyed throughout your campaigns. One of the more humorous moments of
your life was listening to a lawyer plead in court for an enormous fine to
validate the pain and suffering experienced by said demons at the hands of
you and your arsenal. 
	Funny, that was, until judgment was rendered in favor of the plaintiff.
You stood there, jaw slack, as you heard the lawyer speaking to the media
about how the demons weren't evil, just misunderstood, and obviously a
product of their environment. He urged the public to remember that it had
been the human scientists who had first disturbed the demons and they were
the ones to blame. They, and the gun-toting psychopaths in green armor who
threw themselves through the portal and began slaughtering innocent demons
who had gathered at the gate only to welcome the marines with open arms.
You watched in disbelief as several bystanders wearing T-shirts with
pictures of dead imps and the caption, "Stop the killing!", picked up signs
and began to circle singing, "Hey, Marine, your kind is through, Pink
Gorillas are people too." The last thing you remember seeing, (through a
red haze, naturally. You had just injected yourself with a bezerker pack),
was the lawyer's bulging eyes and your hands around his neck. 
        "There's no catch. Seems certain elected officials want to see an
end to the increasing number of missing people in this city and will pay
highly for someone with the necessary skills." You remember seeing several
missing persons reports on the local network when your black and white Zenith  
was having a good day. Most were thought to be runaways, insurance scams 
or people who left town to avoid debts. The press was free with explanations
since local law enforcement had no answers. That is, until some of the
missing began to turn up, most who were unable to provide any clues as to
where they had been, either because of insanity, or death.
        "An anonymous source has recently supplied a very interesting
theory to explain the rash of disappearances. Seems a local member of the
Esoteric Order of Washed-Up Celebrity Psychics has been delving into certain 
ancient books for a step-by-step guide to summoning his astral being, or 
guardian angel, or whatever. Unfortunately, things seem to have gone 
amiss and..."
        "Wait a minute. Those are the nuts that you see on late night TV, 
right?" you interrupt. MacBrier's assignments are usually out of the 
ordinary, but this particular mission seems to be bordering on fantasy, if 
not insanity.
        "No. This was one of the home viewing audience that actually watches
those nuts that you see on late night TV. Anyway, the guy apparently found 
something in one of the texts he was reading and attempted to perform the 
ritual deep within the city's sewers. Unfortunately, our Aquarian Man was 
known to be basically clueless, as well as to have a pronounced stutter, so 
naturally he bungled the procedure. It seems that when he read, "...take the 
inscribed runestone and dance naked around the shrouded altar, repeating 
three times, 'Winken, Blinken, Trinken and Nod, I once was a loser, but now 
I'm a god.'", his tongue just couldn't keep up. He seems to have managed to
open the gate, but, instead of being treated as a god when the first demon
stepped through, he was treated as Thanksgiving dinner. As, not to.
        "Well, this guy was pretty much dismissed as a quack by the local
authorities, until a city worker and his buddy were sent into the sewer to 
repair some damaged lines and were attacked by something. And, no, it wasn't 
an alligator. The one who made it to the surface in one piece was babbling 
all sorts of nonsense. When a crew was sent to investigate they noticed the 
place was pretty torn up, a lot of leakage and rubble. The most interesting 
find, though, was a pit in a small service room. The new workers noticed that 
a rather disgusting smell was emanating from this opening, but what really 
got their attention was the pale, white, tentacle that crawled out of it 
while they stood there and gaped. Didn't take very long before they bolted 
and ran. Guess they figured that the guy it grabbed was dead when he hit the 
bottom anyway so why hang around. By the way, the repair guys said that they
trapped a couple of the beasties in a sewage compactor but lost the nerve
and ran before they flipped the switch and turned the creatures into demon
patties. You may want to consider this, although I'd check to see if the
'demons' aren't a couple of really ugly winos or something, in light of your
recent encounters with the judicial system."
     Anyway, what it all adds up to is something very nasty. It appears the 
demon population below the city is getting out of hand as more come through 
the recently opened gate. Although the demons appear to enjoy their current 
surroundings, since none have been sighted above ground, there seems to be a 
shortage of food. Which, by the way, explains where all the missing people 
fit in. Your mission, if you choose to accept it (you knew this was coming), 
is to go sewer-swimming and see if you can find something that backs up what 
our friend, the source, is blabbing. If the fantasy he's weaving turns out to 
be true, your job is to permanently shut down the bad guys. With extreme 
prejudice. How about it? You game?" The colonel waits for you to reply.
        "Well, it's not often I get a chance to go bobbing in what other
people flush down the toilet, so let's say I'm interested. What I'd really
like to know though is what a job like this pays. I mean, aside from the
fact that I enjoy playing in used tampons and condoms...
        The colonel gives a short laugh. "Rest assured, that if you 
accomplish this little scenario, you can finally trade in that Yugo, with a 
little change to spare.
        You wait a long three seconds before answering. "I accept. Now,
who's paying for the gear?"
        "All taken care of by yours truly. All the ammo you can throw at the
enemy, as well as appropriate bodily protection. Come to my office at 0900
tomorrow to pick up the gear and a map to the sewer. You'll be happy to know
that there's an old service entrance to the sewer close to your apartment. 
        You can't resist the potential jab. "Your office? Oh, you mean the 
bus stop at fifth and main," you laugh. 
        "Very funny. No, the diner at fifth and main. Due to the weather,
this briefing will be indoors. Any more questions? No? Good. See you
tomorrow. Oh, and Marine? I'd bring my rabbit's foot for this one. That is
all."
        You hang up the handset, but continue to stand by the phone, 
thinking. A chill not caused by the dampness of the apartment runs down your 
spine. You decide to hit the sack. Tomorrow - what could possibly be your 
last day on earth - isn't far away.


                                Time passes...


        You are brutally torn from sleep again, this time by an ear-splitting
explosion and a bloodcurdling scream. Throwing the cover back, you leap from
the bed and crouch by the bedroom window, trying to get a view of the street.
        "What the hell is it now!", you mutter, groping for the cord to the
bedroom window's curtains. As the blinds rattle upward, a nightmarish scene
unfolds before your eyes. 
	The streets are crowded with running, screaming humans being chased
by multitudes of slavering demons.
        Swearing to yourself, you hastily dress and suit up. You madly run
through the apartment heading for the front door, grabbing whatever weapons
you happen to come across. Kicking the front door off it's hinges, you race
down the stairs and into the night air, barely noticing the stinging rain. As 
you emerge from the stairwell, you hear a loud grunt to your left and a heavy, 
clawed hand falls on your shoulder, whipping you around. You once again find 
yourself staring face to face with a disgusting former human. His beady red 
eyes bore into you and he grins evily, raising his filth-encrusted weapon. 
You're quicker. With a lightning snap of the wrist, you cock your trusty 
shotgun and proceed to ventilate the vile creature. You barely notice the 
almost comical look of shock on its face as the beast drops quickly to the 
ground, followed by its slower moving intestines on the apartment wall.
        With a loud yell, you fling yourself into the midst of the struggling
humans and rampaging demons, firing shotgun blasts left and right. In the
midst of your battle rage, you remember MacBrier telling you that there is
a service entrance to the sewers close by. You spot a nearby opening in the 
courtyard wall and run towards it, thinking how good it feels to be back in 
action.



                         
