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Urotsukidoji - Overfiend ‘44: The Hell Portal.	By : Nickamano Category: +S to Z > Urotsuki-doji Views: 1508 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither Urotsukidoji or any related materials are owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Chapter 17.
Brooks sprinted through the cavernous harem. His assault rifle slung across his back, relying on the others to keep enemies out of his path. He had to dodge the potential slippage of cushions and avoid getting tangled in the gossamer drapes that were all around the place. He could see as a pitch-black shadow, the little alcove shelf Megumi had mentioned and ran straight for it, around the left side of the chamber though he kept one concerned eye on the Jyujin girl all the while.
Megumi and the nearly human giant, both naked, were in a tight embrace. The girl was elevated clear of the floor and cinched tight in the giant’s embrace. And they came together in a prolonged kiss, the girl accepting the giant’s too large, too long tongue between her lips, and suckling at it while one tiny hand worked tremendously on the upper quarter of a penis that was far from human in both dimension and shape.
He was alongside them when he glanced again and this time, to Brooks’ horror the giant’s mouth had opened wide, distending like a python swallowing a rabbit and engulfed Megumi’s entire face. He was immediately consumed by terror that she was being killed or eaten alive or something despicable. But then he noticed that her hand, barely encircling the giant’s erect cock, was working harder and faster on the tumescent roll of distended meat, and she absolutely wasn’t struggling to free herself or escape his grasp. He ran on, trying to refocus on the mission she had given him.
Piszczek, kneeling just inside the door, steadied his rifle. He aimed along the iron sights as the four men in the room, besides the giant, rose and started to take notice. He saw their eyes flit around, going from the females around them and in their company to the giant and Segen and then landing on the members of the strike team that had rushed forward only a couple of paces and then spread out across the front of the doorway as Brooks ran inside.
One of the men rose and attempted to intercept Brooks. His naked flesh was mottled and bloated unnaturally, and his phallus overly proportioned. And those factors led Piszczek to assume that these four men, all sporting the same unidentifiable human inaccuracies, were more than likely some of the ‘worm-possessed devils’ that Segen had spoken of.
It was still a struggle to think of the girl he had worked alongside for weeks by her other name. He still thought of her by her German name.
Piszczek fixed his aim on the man, who unfortunately was running right to left, a difficult shot to make but the Polish Lieutenant held his breath then let a burst of rifle-fire that cascaded across the naked mans’ trajectory, staring low and ahead of him, knowing the recoil would lift the barrel.
It did the trick and the man was knocked off his feet sideways. Immediately, Brooks darted to his right dodging around the man’s kicking feet. That initial burst of gunfire cast panic through the room and women and girls of all ages between young teens and forty-something mothers, started to scream and run.
At first, they headed for the door but all too soon realised that was where the guns were firing from and the next second, the room was full of head-less chickens. Knowing danger and yet not knowing where to go, so they ran around in random directions, some of them throwing themselves into the cushions hoping to bury themselves beneath and hope that if hidden they would no longer be seen as targets.
Piszczek focussed on the naked males and Brooks. Maintaining the American’s clear run was paramount and he believed the males posed the greatest risk so he judged the next closest of the indeterminably malformed men and opened fire.
The man went down. And then got up again and turned his attention to Piszczek, snarling with a feral violence that Piszczek was abruptly reminded of the fairy-tale monsters his mother used to read to him at bedtime. The bullet holes were plain and obvious, pumping trickles of blood, but the man-thing threw himself across the cushions toward Piszczek.
Alongside him Zofia opened up on the same man, popping a hole through his skull and knocking his head back. He stumbled to a halt but then got up again, his predatory animalistic face now a sheet of crimson. He rose again and ran at them and this time they both opened up on him, holding the triggers depressed until they both clicked dry.
“Christ, she wasn’t kidding!” Zofia gasped, snatching a replacement magazine from her belt pouch.
“Apparently not.” Piszczek nodded, copying her action and reloading his own assault rifle.
Carson stood to their right, with his back braced against the wall, taking careful aim at the giant. He had covered Brooks until the Private had gone out of sight and had managed to pop the skull of one girl who looked like she was going to tackle him. Brooks had dodged around the fallen body and gone out of sight. So Carson, enjoying a little sharp shooting, popped one fat, naked man in the throat, watched him go down and then turned his sights on the biggest target of all, the giant.
He had truly intended to target the giant and put a round through one of his eyes, to test his accuracy with this new type of German rifle. However, right below the giant’s eye, barely the thickness of a couple of fingers from this distance, was the base of the Nip girl’s skull. A bullet through there would kill her outright. Revenge and justice for the Corporal, and Stover and Freed and Hogg and Lucas. Plus, it would be a clean painless kill, she wouldn’t feel a thing. So, at least he could say he repaid her for her help on the mission. Killing her would be justice for the men she killed, but he recognised that she would require and deserve a quick and painful death.
He took aim at the back of the girl’s head, an inch above the bottom-most wisps of her short-cut hair, drew the give out of the trigger.
Klich was always one to take people at their word, so he knelt in the doorway, bracing himself against it and fired bursts at the men who went for Brooks. And the women, there were a number of naked women who he spotted were also aiming exclusively for Brooks. The Pole had witnessed his Lieutenant fire a controlled burst into the first man and saw him get up again so he didn’t bother with head shots and marksman-shooting the way Carson was trying. He fired short bursts at the centre mass, quickly getting used to the Sturmgewehr’s kick and barrel rise. And just like Piszczek, he watched naked man get his in the chest and stomach, drop like a sack of grain only to get up again a second later, holed and bloody but still moving just as easily, perhaps with even with more vigour.
He put a second burst into the man, thankful at least that his burst fire had distracted the apparently undead monster from Brook’s run. The man snarled like a bear. His huge staring eyes were nearly all whites with tiny pinprick irises and were now locked onto Klich. The Pole, not consciously aware of the fear that had settled in his gut fired another burst and another, and a longer burst, as the distance closed between them and then his gun gave a dry click.
He cursed in his native tongue while his hands fumbled with the still unfamiliar rifle, ejecting the box magazine with the little button to the rear of the magazine well and then fumbling for a replacement from his belt.
Movement out of the corner of Carson’s eye momentarily drew his attention and he lost his sight picture on the Nip girl as he watched with utter disbelief as the man, whose throat he’d put a bullet through, was up again and scrambling like someone demented over the cushions toward him. He turned the rifle back on him again, however to his left saw another naked man with multiple bullet holes through his torso and even a hole where his lower jaw should have been, racing across the concrete floor like an animal toward Klich and he automatically turned his rifle on the other naked man and opened fire.
Klich silently thanked the American, whose sudden change of aim gave him the time to reload. And then between the two of them, they essentially cut the naked man in half. His bloody corpse fell apart on the floor only a yard from them. And then unbelievably, from the ragged hole splitting his gore ridden chest apart, a long serpent-like creature emerged.
It was an enormous thing, as much as six feet in length and a dark pink in colour, almost lobster coloured. It had a distinctive face filling the front half of a head-shape that was essentially phallic. The face almost looked like it was perpetually laughing. Yellow eyes contained an intelligence not found on Earth except in humans, it had little slit-like nostrils and a large gaping mouth, though its white teeth were soft and pliable, like a sea urchin. And it had two separate tongues that appeared to be somehow prehensile. It could also float above the ground and wriggle its body to propel itself like an eel, though through the air rather than water.
Spotting another naked man on the left, heading for Carson, Klich ignored the slower moving worm temporarily and swung his aim across at this new target.
Brooks, his heart in his throat and his lungs burning, grabbed hold of the carved stone artefact and tucked it under his arm, like he was playing high-school football again. Then he turned on his heel and bolted back the way he had come, heading straight for the door. Again, his eyes forced themselves to look over at Megumi and the giant.
The giant’s hands were all over Megumi while she cuddled against him, squeezing her thighs and ass, stroking her breasts, flicking at her hard nipples. She was keeping herself pressed against him with her legs, barely reaching around his hips and her free hand gripping the long plait behind him.
The giant finally released her face from his distended maw, revealing her engulfed in his multitude of tongue-tendrils and Brooks caught a glimpse of her hornily tongue-fencing with three of those tendrils, apparently enjoying herself. And of course, her other hand was still busy on the giant’s inhuman erection, rubbing and stroking at it, even playfully raking her nails along its flesh, and drawing guttural moans and quivers of pleasure from its freakish body.
Brooks recognised the problem the second he looked away from Megumi and the giant. He was running into the line of fire and if he wasn’t careful, he might get hit. So he veered right, skimming the curve of the uneven rock wall and hoping he was as far to the left of the strike team that he was out of danger.
He saw a gut-wrenchingly huge pink worm, impossibly swimming through the air toward Klich and Zofia but they were both emptying magazines into one of the naked men to their immediate front and weren’t looking at the worm.
Carson was in much the same position, partnered with Piszczek and blazing away at another bloated clothe-less male form. The bodies were coming apart but the men were still running. He saw one of them spilling blood and internals all over the place fall onto Klich, heard him yell out in panic, heard Zofia’s scream of disgust and rage.
But then a woman appeared from nowhere and made a grab for Brooks. She landed on him, knocking him off balance and tipping him onto his back so he was pinned in the corner between wall and floor, the useless rifle digging painfully into his spine and shoulder while she snarled and screamed incoherently, snapping at him with her jaws, tearing at him with her nails. It was like she had rabies or something.
Part of him felt the terror of being under attack by someone mindless and animalistic who should rightfully be considered and thoughtful. People could be angry or afraid and lash out with rage but even those people tended to have some kind of motivation, unless they were just crazy. But it was like there was no humanity in this young woman, it was as though her soul had left her and her body had been taken over by something else entirely.
The other part of him, though it didn’t occur to him in that moment, just felt sad at the loss of such a pretty young white woman. She had glossy, long and straight chestnut brown hair, and tanned coppery skin that glistened with sweat, her figure was alluring slender and toned, a tiny soft bit of a belly, and firm handful breasts, capped with firm dark pinkish brown nipples a thick bush of pubic hair. She was really only a kid, not even twenty he would have assumed, and it made Brooks think of the pleasure she could have brought someone, in other circumstances.
No longer, she was nothing more than a mindless animal now. And then she managed to get her nails to the flesh of his cheek and slashed down with a vicious clawing rend and the shock and pain of it brought him fully to his predicament. Gripping tight to the artefact, he closed his free hand into a fist and punched her hard in the ear. She screamed and slumped over, dizzy enough that it gave Brooks the chance to get up. He thought for a moment about sticking her with his bayonet or pulling his rifle off his back. But he had witnessed the amount of damage they could take before they went down, so instead he hauled himself to his feet and ran again.
In less than three steps she was on him again, on his back with her teeth clamping down on his left ear. Brooks screamed in agony, trying to shake her off, but with the determination of a sewer rat she held on, sinking her teeth into the gristle of his ear while her claw-like hands hooked into his uniform and the hot sweat-soaked flesh beneath it. Even one of her heels dug into the soft flesh at the side of his groin making him cringe and stumble, instinctively trying to protect his groin.
He tried to punch her again but he could get any power into the swing from where she was. Desperately he whipped himself to the right, slamming her side into the rough rock of the wall and she screamed but held on, her heels kicking over and over, her teeth gnashing and sawing at his ear. In blind agony he lashed out with all of him whipping his shoulders and elbows, slamming his back and therefore hers against the rock, trying to shake his head to separate her mouth from his flesh. And then he suddenly felt a kind of force emanate from the artefact and she screamed and flew off him, as though she had been fired from a cannon.
And at last Megumi’s piece of advice birthed itself into his head. Shaking himself down and slapping a mental admonishment on himself for his stupidity and his bad memory, Brooks took a breath, pushed off from the wall and ran on.
Klich was buried under the gore drooling monster. He could hear Zofia screaming and apparently battering it with the stock of her rifle, and Klich was trying his damnedest to get himself out from under it, but it was slick and slippery and writhing on him, blindly trying to kill. It got its hands to his throat and started to throttle him. Klich desperately went for its eyes with one hand while he stabbed over and over again with his drawn bayonet, though the naked undead thing was inhumanly strong and he could feel his airway closed off. He couldn’t get air, his vision blurred, then filled with starlight, then blackness. He could still hear young Zofia screaming and snarling and a rhythmic pounding noise that was getting faster and faster, and he felt amazed that the girl had found reserves of strength and was battering the hell out of the monster’s back, but then he belatedly realised that it was his own heartbeat, fighting for life, struggling. And then blackness enveloped him and the ability to think faded to nothing.
Piszczek glanced across at the screaming Zofia and waded across to help try and haul the naked gore bag that had once been human off Klich’s back.
“Got the thing!” Someone shouted.
Piszczek shoved the Polish girl to one side and hooked his arms under the naked guy’s bulk, finding only gore and slick blood. But then his hands closed on hard ribs and he gripped them like handles and hauled the man off, dragging him to one side and then tossing him to the ground with all his strength.
It was only then that he realised it had been Brooks, who had spoken and had even slipped past them and out through the doorway. He turned to Carson who was emptying another magazine into another naked man who was down to crawling across the blood- and cartridge-soaked concrete.
“Carson, leave him! Go and back up your man!” The Polish Lieutenant shouted. “Go!”
“Right!” Carson snarled, and was gone.
Piszczek didn’t even register the footfalls diminishing behind him, nor did he spare a glance at Klich. He grabbed a magazine from his belt pouch, deftly reloaded his rifle and then tossed it to Zofia. She caught it out of the air and spun about, ready to fire. However, looking for an incoming human target, she didn’t look high enough and the worm darted forward and wrapped itself around her throat.
Even as the Lieutenant saw the girl’s mistake and worked the bolt of another freshly loaded rifle to somehow help her, the naked man he had hauled off Klich’s body suddenly looked up, his head tilting off the floor and stared, grinning with malicious glee right at Piszczek.
The Lieutenant raised his rifle, choosing the easier target, however as he fired the burst into the naked man’s upper chest, relying on the recoil to lift the muzzle and put rounds into his face and head, the head dropped back to the floor and the worm burst out of the gaping hole in the man’s chest. It flitted through the air, keeping itself between Piszczek and Zofia, so the former couldn’t shoot, and then abruptly darted down for Klich’s slack mouth.
There was nothing the Lieutenant could do. Zofia was choking, the worm tight around her throat, its tail had encircled her gun arm, its powerful snake-like musculature bending her arm back and down so she couldn’t use the rifle, and then the head of the worm was swimming its way straight toward her open mouth.
While at precisely the same moment Klich was rising from the floor, himself now worm-possessed. Now an enemy. Piszczek cried out in shock and horror and opened fire on his oldest comrade, backing up toward the doorway as Klich advanced on him with that uncharacteristic malicious grin, forcing to leave poor Zofia to the worm.
No. He couldn’t do that. He swung the rifle to the left of Klich and unleashed a heavy burst on Zofia, the worm’s thick head now wriggling voraciously inside her open mouth. But he was thwarted even there. Klich side-stepped impossibly quick, anticipating the Lieutenant’s trigger-finger and took the burst to his own chest. And laughed.
Despair took Piszczek, he hadn’t been able to save the sweet girl from a horrific fate, he was in a deathly stand-off with one of his own men, who could very well be the last survivor for all he knew.
He emptied the magazine into Klich at point blank range. Opened up a big nasty hole in his chest. He could even see the worm’s tail flicking back and forth within the gore strewn cavity but Klich came on regardless, laughing.
He drew his bayonet, glimpsing Zofia fall back to the ground inside the harem room. Yelling, he threw himself at Klich, stabbing again and again, ten times, twenty times, cutting ripping gouging, dicing the flesh and muscle of his friend. He wept and groaned as he killed and killed.
The bayonet blade broke.
What was left of Klich stumbled and fell, pulling Piszczek with him and trapping the Lieutenant between his bloody bulk and the wall behind. Though that vile inhuman face with its wicked, evil grin still stared up at Piszczek, and laughed. And then the face fell in on itself as the worm emerged from the gore, sailed up into the air and swam back into the room heading for Zofia.
Piszczek, wanting to save Zofia or not wanting to witness her fate, he didn’t know which, tried to pull himself from beneath the ragged body of his friend. But he was exhausted, too weak to drag himself free.
He looked up, trying not to see Zofia, but his eyes betrayed him and he saw the second worm wriggling beneath her uniform jacket and heading south, and it was all too obvious what it was going for. Oddly the other worm hadn’t yet wriggled all the way into her mouth the tail was still around her arm, the midsection around her throat and the head and a foot of its length was thrusting playfully up and down inside her bulging throat. Piszczek could see she was still alive, her tear sodden eyes were wide open and blinking, one hand was trying weakly to reach for the second worm now down in her trousers and then all of a sudden her whole body gave a jolt, arching against some kind of new physical assault and he thought he could guess what.
He just wanted to die then. Zofia was done for, sooner or later, Megumi was still locked up in the clutches of the giant devil thing and both seemed to be oblivious to what was going on around them. While, to the rear of the harem chamber, he could see another worm swimming around in their air and a number of naked women advancing on him.
And then the fourth distorted worm-possessed male appeared in front of him in the harem doorway grinning down at him. It casually picked up a rifle, Zofia’s maybe, held it low down at its naked hip and put a single shot between Piszczek’s eyes, mercifully giving him blissful absolution.
<><><>
Megumi was getting bored with the foreplay. The distraction was working fine but she was thoroughly horny now and wanted to feel his big demon dick ploughing her. So, given one of the rare opportunities when his multi-tongue wasn’t worming around, filling up her mouth and throat, fucking her nostrils, tickling her uvula and tonguing her ear canals, she managed to gulp down an overflow of saliva, enabling her to speak and then chided him playfully.
“So, are you just here for the foreplay or do actually plan to shove this thing inside me?”
As a way of referencing his ‘thing’ she raked her nails up the enormous shaft of his cock, slicing into the bulbous head, so that rivulets of blood trickled down, adding to the precum he’d been pumping from the thick urethra and the sweat that had been dripping off her, which for not only the Makai but for all her male ‘lovers’ was an aphrodisiac of its own.
The demon groaned at the pleasure-pain, another shiver passing through him and he grimaced, his pleasure-filled eyes squeezing shut, lips pulling back over gritted teeth.
“You really are asking for trouble beast-girl.” He laughed. “Therefore, I shall provide it.”
“Go on then. I’m waiting!”
Staring down at her, he encircled her tiny waist in one huge hand and drew her bodily away from him, Megumi helped him out by unlocking her legs from around his waist and releasing his monstrous demonic cock from the sweet torture she had been inflicting with her fingers and fingernails.
He spun her around horizontally so her lithe and delicately muscled back faced his broad, chiselled chest and mountain-range abdominals. He opened his mouth and his long tongue divided into two, unravelling and extending. The two tongues reached down and encircling her slender though well-muscled thighs, pulling them up and apart. Spreading and opening her, preparing her for his meat. His hands, one still around her waist and torso like a corset, the other having formed itself into a seat beneath her immaculate buttocks, supported her as she was lowered toward the upright forearm-size lance of phallic power.
He carefully lowered her until her tiny taut lips were nuzzling his broad crown with its double flanged ridge and the additional crests and growths. He allowed her to slide down a tiny bit more, just enough that her already juiced lips splayed around his heavily seeping cock head. He would need all the lubrication they both had to offer for this. He paused, groaning his succulent gratification as the resistance to her small tunnel mouth made itself known.
Megumi let out a little playful throaty hiss at the feel of the huge, cricket ball sized crown pressing insistently between the crux of her thighs.
Gripping her tightly in case she tried to resist or flinch back and unseat his positioning, the Makai started to instil downward pressure, he marvelled at the feel of the tiny entrance, smaller even then the tip of his little finger, began to spread delicately, her pussy walls stretching and expanding to accommodate him.
“Oh, you’re so tight. You’re practically crushing me! I love this tightness, this sensation.”
He groaned as her pussy tunnel stretched around his insinuating cock head, not even half the crown was inside her so far but she felt not only tight like a fist, half-crushing his erection, but she was also larva-hot against his erogenous flesh. And though he couldn’t see, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam or even smoke rising from between her legs.
He pushed her down a little further, smoothly and inexorably, not giving her anything, not letting her rest or adjust to the feel of him penetrating her.
Megumi cried out in response. And when the mushroom shape of his dual rim stretched her to the maximum, she squealed.
Her juices were trickling lubricating, flowing over the growths filling in the hollows and coating the shaft that was not yet inside her. It created a thin layer, a succulent buffer between his flesh and hers, lessening friction though at the same time increasing the sensory inputs of flesh on flesh, an overdrive to their pleasure centres and it affected O-Raijuki just as much as Megumi.
He groaned, panting and shivering. As he pushed her further and further down, the flange was the widest part and was now sinking more and more deeply into her tunnel, however the shaft itself started to bulge outwards like a coke bottle, almost matching the circumference of the crown-ridge a third of the way down. Megumi’s natural elastic strength maintained her own tightness and she felt stretched and bloated and filled like never before.
It was easily equal to the experiences with the lower-ranked demon Kohoki ***, who she had screwed numerous times a century earlier. That had been an experience. Though nowhere near the status of O-Raijuki, he had been one of the higher status demons she had entertained during the last years of the Tokugawa’s dynasty. Mere decades before Tokyo Bay had witnessed the appearance of the black ships of Commodore Perry’s American fleet, changing Japan’s destiny for ever.
Megumi felt the exquisite joy of being so thoroughly stretched and filled, her internal organs being rearranged by the immensity of the demonic phallus, which unlike human females who tended to be torn asunder by unconcerned demons, her Jyujin anatomy allowed such reorganisation. And the stretching of her vaginal orifice to accommodate such large procreational members.
Wanting to control this interaction a little more, Megumi put a stop to the depth of penetration when she felt the desire. She locked down her internal muscles, stopping the demon from thrusting any deeper than he already was. She smiled as he grunted and jerked and hauled on her, but she wasn’t about to give in to him completely.
So instead he started to fuck. Groaning at the super tight, scalding feel of her around three quarters of his shaft. Megumi looked down between her full, quivering breasts, down her washboard stomach and her hairless pubic bone to see how much was left over of his erection; how much he withdrew and how hard he slammed it back inside her. She squealed as he hammered those three quarters in and out of her, to begin with, at an uncontrolled breakneck speed and ferocity.
Typical mindless fuck-demon. She thought. No self-control.
And yet, she could already feel the insurgency of the succulent sensations of a rapidly building climax. It was going to be big and loud and powerful.
This whole building had better watch out! She thought, with wry amusement.
Then she relaxed back into the sexual joy that was both instigated and now continually developed by the demon’s powerful and increasingly speedy and vigorous thrusts.
<><><>
Brooks took the dark stone steps two at a time, still clutching the artefact like a football under one arm. He could hear someone pursuing him and was certain it was one of the possessed until he recognised the Sergeant’s familiar sharp, snappy midwestern accent and he paused and looked back. It was indeed Sergeant Carson and he was running after Brooks.
“I’ve got your back Private, keep going.” He shouted, somewhat breathlessly.
In fact, his voice sounded like he might be on the ragged edge himself, a little more high-pitched than usual and a touch vibrato as well. Not that Brooks didn’t feel exactly the same way himself.
“What about the others?” He shouted back, slowing to allow Carson to catch him up.
“We need to stay on mission.” Carson replied, much closer now.
He appeared, ragged, grim faced and out of breath. He was cradling his Sturmgewehr, reloading as he glanced up and down between steps and rifle.
“My gun’s busted, you should take my spare mags.” Brooks offered.
Carson nodded and took the two spare magazines from the private. He cast a glance at the Artefact, as he slid the magazines into his belt pouch, but neither touched nor asked about it.
“What’s wrong with it?” Carson asked, before adding, “We’d better move on.”
Brooks started up the stairs again, down to jogging speed now, Carson on his heels.
“Cocking lever’s snapped off. I can’t load a round… Did anyone else get out?”
“Not so far.”
They reached the landing to the semi-circular corridor to the rear of the theatre, where the lighting improved and the VIP decorated theatre box marked out the halfway mark.
“Did you see that dirty bitch with that demon?” Carson snarled. “Seemed made for each other those two…”
Brooks didn’t reply. He wanted to shout something back. He even enjoyed a short fantasy of pulling his bayonet and sticking it between Carson’s ribs, then taking his rifle and getting the hell out of this place victorious and in Megumi’s good books. However, he said nothing.
They jogged on, passing the swastika and eagle decorated box entrance. The entrance to the staircase was just ahead of them and from there it was a short ascent, crossing a little corridor and then they would be back at the staging area room.
The abrupt burst of gunfire had a strange unreal echo that confused Brooks. He turned and looked behind him, jogging pace faltering. He saw Carson go down and at the far end of the corridor, and then emerging from the staircase was a naked man carrying another assault rifle. Even as Brooks watched, Carson returned fire missing the man but showering him with stone chippings from the wall to his left. The naked man shouldered the rifle and fired back, walking smoothly forward as he did so and Carson was hit at least twice. The Sergeant, shouting at Brooks to run, fired another burst this time hitting the naked figure but it barely even slowed him down.
Brooks turned and ran, finding reserves of speed through his own fear. He heard another burst close, the sound dissipating as Carson fired down the passageway.
“Die you fucking freak.” Were the last words Brooks heard from Carson.
Another burst of rifle-fire erupted up the corridor toward the two Americans, but none of them came close to Brooks, aimed low, as they were in order to finish Carson off.
Brooks made it to the door and threw himself hard against it, bursting through and finding himself standing in front of a strange looking green haired boy. Pointing a Luger pistol at him.
“That belongs to my Papa. He requires it for his experiment.” The boy said, and then squeezed the trigger.
It was a surprisingly accurate double tap. Two 9mm parabellum rounds, one to the chest killing Brooks, then one to the face stopping short the eight or ten minutes of continual brain activity he could have used to mourn not seeing Megumi again, and failing her.
There wasn’t even enough brain activity to register the only son of the diabolic Professor Munhihausen, squatting down to pull the stone artefact out from the crook of Brooks’ elbow and casually stroll away with it.
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Urotsukidoji - Overfiend ‘44: The Hell Portal.