The dream was always the same.
Daisy was frolicking in the fields of Earth, thumping her feet in delight and gnawing on the fresh meadow hay of Spring. Doomguy stood nearby, his back against the tree, looking up at the moon visible in the early evening sky. He'd switch his attention between his pet rabbit and the strong bourbon he held in a hand, just enjoying the peace of the moment.
But things changed quickly, they always did. It would start with the moon transforming into a Hellish fireball, turning the blue sky red. The sun would darken, and the city of Los Angeles in the backdrop would ignite with hellfire. Screams of millions sailed across the open meadows to greet Doomguy.
And then before he knew it, Daisy would shriek - he'd scream in out rage, powerless to get to her, and the next thing he knew, her head was upon a spike. He'd collapse to his knees, swearing bloody vengeance against Daisy's murderers.
And then he awoke, perspiration covering his brow. He became vaguely aware that he was on a moving platform - no - an orbital transport ship. The hard metal of his seat cut into his back, and the safety harness pinning him to it had left a nasty bruise on his chin. The ship rocked, and a muffled explosion rang out from outside the hull.
"Planet fall, thirty seconds," the Pilot yelled through the transport's intercom. "Gods be with you!"
Doomguy's senses were quickly returning to him. Suddenly he wasn't angry, he was calm- a cool passion enveloped him, as it had done on Phobos and in Hell. The legions of the damned awaited him below, and they were going to pay horribly for their transgressions. He'd humbled them before, and now, he was going to tear their spines from their backs and use them as kindling for Daisy's funeral pyre when all was said and done.
Looking about the transport, Doomguy spied his comrades. Many different uniforms inhabited the cargo hold; some of them looked terrified, but others bore looks that reflected his own cool demeanour.
"Ten seconds!" The Pilot called, as the transport shook to another external explosion.
The harness flicked up, much to Doomguy's delight, and the hold turned an eerie red glow. He was up in a flash, and he fumbled to grab his weapons bag. Ten seconds was all he needed to check he was good to go.
"Pistol, shotgun, assault rifle, plasma gun," he muttered, fiddling with the weapons. "Where's the BFG? Ah, yeah, this is what I'm talking about."
Doomguy's comrades scrambled to make themselves ready, as the transport came to an almost sudden standstill, and descended vertically at a rapid pace. At the far end of the hold, the hydraulic doors started to lower with a hiss.
"Into the ass of the beast," Doomguy muttered, flicking down his visor. "And out of its mouth."
