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John Stalvern waited, looking anxiously into the darkness as the lights blinked on and off, sending off sparks as they slowly failed. There were demons here in the base. He couldn’t see them yet, but somehow he had expected them for years. His intuition had prompted him to report the imminent attack to Cernel Joson , but he had not listened to John and now it was too late. Far too late for the time being, in any event.

John had been in the Space Marines for over fourteen years and it had been his lifelong dream. When he was a child, he had watched the ships coming and going from the spaceport near his home. Once, when he was still a boy, he had told his father that he wanted to be on one those ships as a Marine.

His father, a prominent scientist who somehow must have known about the impending demonic invasion, was aghast at the notion. “No,” he shouted angrily, fear gripping him as he thought of his son facing the hellspawn that would soon descend upon the Martian moons, “if you go into space, you will be slain by monsters! I forbid it!”

For many years, young John Stalvern had believed his father. But in his rebellious teenage years, his fear subsided, and he discounted his father’s fear of demons as nothing more than the paranoid, eccentric ramblings of a wayward scientist who did not want to risk losing a child. But now, here in the cold dark of the UAC base on Phobos, he knew the demons his father had predicted so long ago were near.

Suddenly, the radio came to life, static crackling as the voice of John’s commanding officer came through. “This is Joson,” he heard the voice say with an air of steely determination, “you must fight the demonic invasion!”

Knowing that fate had finally caught up with him, John picked up his plasma rifle and shot through the wall, revealing the creatures John had been warned about so many years ago.
However, the demons seemed just as surprised to see John as he was to see them. “He’s going to kill us,” they screamed in fear. Suddenly, one of them, a towering fusion of flesh and metal, strode forward. “I will kill him,” it bellowed, and it fired several missles from a launcher fused onto the stump where its left hand should be. John returned fire, and the two combatants traded blows, John deftly dodging the rockets and the cyberdemon refusing to die, determined to protect his comrades.

Suddenly, a titanic explosion shook the entire base and the structural integrity failed. The ceiling collapsed, trapping both the cyberdemon and John. Separated by several tons of concrete, they could not finish their battle.

John fought back tears of rage. “No,” he bellowed hoarsely, his voice choked with anger, “I must slaughter the demons!”

The radio came to life again, and he heard Joson’s voice, eerily distant. “No John,” it said slowly, “you are the demons.”

And suddenly, it all made sense to John. So many years of anxiety and apprehension seemed pointless and his doubt was washed away. It was all so clear. Killing the demons was futile. He embraced his destiny.

And then, John was a zombie.