Doomsday Squad
Buy me a coffee?
Read on AO3!
A/N: For @tracobuttons, who wanted more Doomiplier/Doomsday Mark content, I present a look into the doomsday universe. There is no dialogue in this. Which fits the flow of the story.
You stood behind the door, button in your hand. You pressed yourself against the doorframe, listening for the sounds of the Lady. As footsteps sounded around the corner, you took a second to figure out whether the footsteps were friend or foe before pressing the button, biting your lip.
The Lady and their crew had boarded your ship uninvited months ago. It felt like months, at least. In reality it was probably only a couple of weeks. As the captain, it had been your job to protect the crew. You had been responsible for them, and in turn, you were accountable for every single death. You had created a squad. Mark, Gunther, Celci, Burt, and yourself had made up the Doomsday Squad. Because how else could you describe this situation? It was doomsday. The end of your journey.
It was only yourself and Mark left now, you could tell. You couldn’t hear any more voices around corners, and the Lady was much quieter. Maybe the Lady was gone? Impossible. If they thought the ship was down, they would have used it to their advantage. The resonating boom of your bomb down the corridor seemed to have stopped, so you held your breath and listened for sounds. Nothing. Keeping out of the flickering lights overhead, you dashed down the hall to salvage anything: ammunition, bomb pieces, food.
With your bounty, you made a fast dash back to the bridge, stashing your stuff in the lockers and waiting in a corner for Mark to return from his scout. As time wore on, you began to drift off, deciding to have a short nap in the cryopod.
To woke to the emergency klaxons, and burst out of the pod ready to fight. You were grateful to see Mark jump out of his pod – he must have returned after you went to bed – and the two of you jumped behind the main controls, ready to shoot whoever stepped through that door. You glanced at Mark, seeing his dirtied face and hollow eyes, and you knew immediately that his scout for survivors had failed. In a break from the shooting, you took a second to give him a reassuring glance. You both would get through this. You could get through it.
There were only five members of the Lady’s crew left, including the Lady. It was the end of the line. Five against two, with short supply of ammunition, it was a sure bet. You knew that Mark realised this conclusion, and subconsciously you brushed a finger against the device on your wrist. If worst came to worst, you would use the device to get yourself out of there and into a safer universe. Mark trusted you.
Nobody foresaw the paradox that would be caused when the Lady walked in with your device on their wrist. You barely had a chance to say goodbye to Mark.