Chapter Text
The next day, Doom was released from the infirmary and was heading home. He discovered he had been healed in the Walls of Dis, in the fifth circle of Hell.
He was too weak to teleport to his house so he looked around, searching for any other non-exhausting ways to get home. He noticed winged demons who were guarding the walls. Maybe they could help him go down? He carefully approached one of them, ignoring the rotting mortals that were screaming in pain from their punishment.
“Greetings,” the demon nodded at him respectfully. He didn’t seem to know who Doom was. Perfect.
“I need to go on the seventh circle but I cannot teleport, can you help me?” He explained.
“Sure, get on my back,” Doom did as he was told. The other demon being way taller than him, he had to climb carefully despite the remaining pain in his body. He gripped his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall and they took off, the demon running toward the edge of the circle and jumping, making them fall into the broken chasm. Doom felt his heart race in his chest; he had never made such a long fall before. He could feel air hit his skin as he fell deeper into the darkness. Then the demon unfolded his large wings and glided above the Phlegethon river and the wood underneath. It was truly impressive.
They finally flew through red clouds and reached the inner circle. Fire flakes were falling on the mortals that were running around. Hell creatures didn’t feel them though. The demon finally landed after flying over the sandy plain for about five minutes. Doom got off his back and thanked him with a nod, “At your service Marquess,” the taller demon bowed, which made the smaller one freeze.
“H-How…?”
“There was a rumor about you being in the walls. It was true then,” the demon grinned and Doom looked down.
They will all know.
“Do not tell anyone about this, that is an order,” for the first time in his life, he used his higher authority. The demon’s grin disappeared from his face and nodded with a now serious expression.
“Roger that, Marquess. The name’s Erzoz by the way,” he replied and saluted. Doom nodded in acknowledgement.
“I am Doom.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Erzoz bowed, “I gotta go now, see you,” he added before flapping his wings and flying away. Doom watched him disappear above the red clouds before searching for his home.
He was nice.
The third round (or inner circle) of the seventh circle of Hell was a simple wasteland made of sand; there were no trees, no wildlife, no houses, only sand and raining fire. Therefore, Doom lived in his father’s underground house, hidden from mortals so they wouldn’t escape from their punishment. He just had to find the hatch that led to the stairs. He managed to find his way thanks to the people that were stuck on the ground because they had stopped running. They had been here for a while, so Doom recognized them.
A century lying in the sand… Poor them.
Aren’t they homosexual though?
That made him think about his friends.
They… They are… This is their sin…
What if Oliver, Paul and Richard were sent here because they had a homosexual relationship?
They go here only if they have sexual intercourse.
Oliver was fine then, except if he had sex with another man before Doom arrived, which he hoped not. However, Richard and Paul were probably not as safe as the bassist.
In retrospect, it has been a while since newcomers were like them here…
He realized that there was a possibility that being homosexual wasn’t a huge sin anymore. He would do more research later on that subject, though, just to be sure.
He suddenly felt something different than sand under his foot. He gave a small kick and heard a woody noise. That was it. He knelt down and pushed the sand away to find the door trap he was looking for. He opened it, the metallic join creaking because it hadn’t been opened in a while, and climbed down the stairs. Fortunately, torches were still on fire so Doom easily made his way into his house. When he opened the double doors to the foyer, warmth entered his body.
I am home.
Nothing had changed, the decoration was still the same, which reflected his family’s status. He could see himself in the mirror on his right and noticed he was still in his natural form. He actually didn’t look bad, he had to admit.
Maybe a bit small though…
He looked at his body, focusing on his arms. There were fading scars along them, which reminded Doom of that fateful episode. He quickly turned away, not bearing his reflection anymore, and went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. When he entered the room, he heard a deep growl coming from behind the storage room. Doom carefully opened the door and fell on his back as his hellhound jumped on him, lapping at his cheek, yipping in joy.
“Oh there you are!” Doom exclaimed, patting it in return. It barked happily, planting its huge paws on the demon’s chest. He painfully exhaled and slowly pushed the dog away, “Sit,” he ordered and the animal obeyed, its tail flipping excitedly. He gently petted his head, “I missed you. Were you a good boy while I was gone?” The hound clicked its teeth as a ‘yes’ which made Doom smile, “Good boy,” he stroked its cheek before heading toward a barrel containing water to finally drink something. He sighed in relief and in exhaustion before turning back to his hellhound, facing it as it was sitting in front of him, reaching the same size as him, “Let’s lie down for a moment,” he announced and walked through the house to finally reach his bedroom. He walked in and allowed his hound to hop on the far side of the rock before sitting himself down on it. It was hard under him; he definitely missed mortals’ beds. He lied down with a slight grimace and tried to rest a little to recover a bit more.
A few hours later, Doom woke up, unrested. Sleeping had been useless, he still felt weak.
You didn’t tell Murmur.
Oh.
“Shit,” he blurted out, which woke up the dog who mrrp’ed quietly. Doom opened his mouth before closing it back, thinking.
If you tell him you are home, you will be sent to the army and you will never be able to go back on the mortal plane.
True.
He looked at his hellhound who was back asleep and ran a hand along its belly to gently wake it up again. It raised its head, a bit disoriented, and whined at him, “Follow me,” he said and got up, heading toward the door. The creature obeyed and was on his heels as he got out of his underground house. He was met by the fire rain but didn’t mind it. He closed the hatch and covered it back with sand before looking at the red sky, “I need you to get me up there, again,” the hound growled and whined when it saw that Doom was serious, “I am sorry, but it is very important,” it huffed but allowed the demon to get on its back.
This journey reminded him of the day he received his allocation. Of course, he was slightly younger and totally inexperienced, and now he was more than ready to find his friends. He couldn’t help but watch the mortals as he climbed up the circles, hoping he wouldn’t see one of his bandmates. That would have literally been the worst thing that could have happened to him. He quietly sighed and waited for the time to pass. He wished he would have been able to teleport, but his body wouldn’t have borne it.
When Doom saw the Castle of Limbo, he knew he wasn’t far anymore. The first circle was really pleasant; mortals were simply wandering in the area, doing nothing. It was calm, way calmer than the seventh circle. Also, the castle was a really beautiful place.
They crossed the Acheron river and reached the Vestibule of Hell. They had been on the road for a few hours now, and the hellhound was getting tired.
“We are almost there,” Doom gently patted the side of its neck to encourage it. A few minutes later, they finally arrived at the Gate. The demon got off the creature that huffed, “Good boy, thank you,” he briefly rubbed his head before walking toward the portal.
“You again? It’s been a while,” the Grim Reaper seemed to have recognized him even though he didn’t have his human skin. Doom tried to stay neutral.
“It seems so,” he replied a bit too coldly, “I need to go to Berlin, Germany,” he wasn’t in the mood to negotiate.
“Alright alright,” the creature lifted his hands in defeat and headed toward his chief. Just like the last time, the taller reaper eyed him with a grin and allowed him to leave. Doom wasn’t anxious when he went through the stone arch, he knew what to expect now, and he was determined to find his bandmates and restore their memory.
After being blinded by the light of the glowing portal, Doom blinked a few times to adjust his sight to the mortal plane. To his horror, he immediately recognized where he had landed. It was the flat. The room plan was the same, except that there were no pieces of furniture anymore.
What the hell?!
He looked around and saw demons coming and going, a small group was in the living room, an instructor writing on a white board orders and plans, and some others were training in the bedrooms.
What the hell is going on here? Where are they?!
“What are you doing here?” A soldier walked toward him and asked. Doom didn’t have the time to play nice.
“I should ask you ‘what are you doing here?’” The demon pointed to him, poking his chest, “Where are the mortals that live here? What did you do to them?” He was getting angry, fearing for the worst. The other demon gave him a half jaded half confused look in return.
“Listen Kid, I don’t have time for your jokes. How did you get here?” Doom clenched his teeth.
“I am not joking, and this is serious. Where are the mortals?” The frown on his face clearly showed that he wasn’t going to give up. The matter on his hand was too serious for that. The military sighed.
“Follow me, don’t tell anyone though,” he began and took him to the bathroom. He shut the door behind them to get them some privacy and sat on the edge of the bathtub, “I was told they moved out and that we were free to possess this place again,” he whispered, “They are now living in this house,” he showed Doom a small piece of parchment with the address on it, “But the orders are to not approach them to not trigger their memory—”
“I don’t care about that, I need to see them,” Doom cut him off, which earned him a frown.
“Are you on a mission?” Doom swallowed his saliva.
“Kind of,” he didn’t really know if his mission was over. Well, his targets were still alive anyway, so he still had a purpose to approach them. The soldier looked down.
“What did they tell you to do?” Doom didn’t like this question.
“I… I have to kill them,” he said. Was he lying? Not really but it wasn’t totally the truth though.
“Why? They left our base, they know nothing about us anymore, they are no more threats,” He stated and Doom knew the other demon wouldn’t let go that easily…
Oliver was unpacking his stuff in his new bedroom, his back starting to ache as he repeatedly crouched down to get his belongings out of the boxes that were scattered around the floor. He had already put all of his books on the shelf, and was now gathering his clothes into his closet. It was tiring but he knew the worst would come when they would all have to move the couch and the other large pieces of furniture around the house.
“Everything good?” He heard Flake from the doorframe. He turned around after putting a shirt down and smiled slightly at the keyboardist, giving him a nod.
“Did you manage to go through the whole bedroom-drama?” He asked as he busied himself with his many t-shirts. Flake chuckled, leaning against the door.
“Yeah, Paul and Richard are finally rooming together, I’m on my own as well as Till. We can still use the remaining bedroom as a mini-studio,” he proposed and Oliver silently agreed.
“That’s a good idea actually, we should talk about this when we are done with all of this,” he gestured at the boxes and Flake nodded before going back to God knows where.
Oliver resumed storing his clothes until a piece of paper peeking out of a jean pocket caught his attention. Had he forgotten to put it in the trash? Expecting a grocery list, he crushed it and threw it on his bed, wanting to be done with his clothes first. He didn’t own many though, but it was taking long enough. He silently laughed, thinking about Richard’s gigantic amount of clothes, which would absolutely drive Paul mad. He shook his head and took a new box, grabbing a knife to cut the tape that was keeping it closed. He carefully lifted the pile of various trousers, from other jeans to cargo pants, and placed them in a drawer.
“Who’s up to open the boxes in the living room?” Till asked, visibly finished with his own. He didn’t have much stuff with him anyway, mainly books.
“I’ll help,” Paul replied and went into the living room. Oliver went back to his stuff as he knew Till wouldn’t be alone to deal with the mess.
After fifteen minutes, the bassist was finally done. He let out a deep sigh and flopped down on his bed, relaxing on the soft mattress that dipped under his weight. He stared at the white ceiling for a few minutes, allowing his eyes to unfocus and rest a bit. His body was sore because of the repetitive movements, especially his shoulders and his lower back. Fortunately it wouldn’t hurt as much soon.
He turned his head, the fabric of the mattress rubbing against his cheek, to glance at the paper ball. He lazily grabbed it to check if it wasn’t something important; he couldn’t take the risk to get rid of a significant note. He unfolded it and began to read what it said. Incomprehension filled his body and a frown appeared on his face as he read the first words.
‘To my Doom.’
Okay what the fuck? Who was Doom? Why ‘my’? Was it addressed to him? But no one called him Doom? How did he get into possession of this?
He sat on the edge of the bed and read the following sentences, definitely paying more attention now.
‘I know you’ll probably never read this as I’m sure I’ll never get the courage to give you this letter, but I wanted to write it anyway.
Even if it wasn’t obvious from the beginning, I’ve always liked you; I know I didn’t really show it, but I really did. Maybe I was trying to hide it from myself, but now, I want you to see it everyday .’
Oliver felt his heart start to race in his chest. It was a love letter, and the writing indicated that he was the one who wrote it, but he didn’t remember it at all. He didn’t even know who Doom was! How could he pour his feelings into a letter for someone he didn’t know?
He shook his head.
‘I think I fell in love with you when you got behind that drum kit for the first time. As you already know, I’ve been in bands before Rammstein, but I’ve never seen someone so good at playing the drums before. It was like you were born to do it; I’ve seen the dedication in your eyes, you were so passionate.
It was the first time I felt something that strong for a man. I confess that I was scared, because I didn’t know how everyone would react, and I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me.’
So Oliver was gay? He vaguely remembered tiny feelings he had caught for a few male friends, but it had only been shallow attraction because he was lonely. It had been nothing serious and he had forgotten about them as quickly they had appeared. He didn’t remember falling in love with someone though, let alone a man. And why would that Doom guy play the drums for Rammstein? Till was their drummer.
‘But you showed me that being who I am was okay, and I’ll forever thank you for that.
You intrigued me from the beginning. You were so interesting, there was always something to discover about you, and your obliviousness about life is actually so cute! Especially when we played DOOM, you were so awkward but in the end you beat us all fair and square. You did earn your nickname! You don’t know how much it meant to me to see you smile when you started to understand how to play, it was a beautiful sight. Don’t ever put yourself down because of that, it makes you unique, my love.’
Oliver sighed. He seemed so in love in that letter. Somewhere in the depth of his mind, the guy’s name sounded awfully familiar, but it was obviously a nickname taken from the game, so it could literally be anyone. But naming someone after that game was kind of specific…
‘I know you don’t really accept compliments, but please acknowledge them, for me.
There are so many things that I love about you: your blue eyes, your soft hair, your damned smile… Everytime I get the chance to see you smile makes me the happiest man on Earth. Even your cute frown when you don’t understand something is adorable. I wish you could see how wonderful you are.
We have so much more to do, just us two, and with Rammstein as well. I’m so proud of us, you can’t even imagine. I can’t wait to see what’s next with you by my side.
Ich liebe dich, für immer.
Yours truly,
Oliver’
Oliver’s heart fell in his stomach. He didn’t understand what was happening. That letter… He wrote it, he had to admit that, but the person he was talking to didn’t exist, or at least not to his knowledge. Was he crazy? Maybe he had talked about it to his bandmates once?
He stood up and left his bedroom, the need to find his friends increasing in his body. He found them in the living room, except for Richard who was absent. They turned toward him, worry appearing on their face when they saw Oliver’s lost expression.
“Are you okay?” Till asked, putting a small statue back into the box where he had found it. Oliver looked at the crumpled paper in his hand and then back at Till.
“What’s this?” Paul intervened. Oliver sighed, suddenly feeling a bit anxious about what he was going to reveal to his friends.
“Um… I-I found this in one of my cartons… I-I don’t remember writing it but…” He just handed the piece of paper to Till who gladly took it and read it, along Paul and Flake who stood beside him. Oliver could see their faces shift from confused, to happy, and then to worried. It was the longest minute the bassist ever experienced, he kept playing with his fingers out of stress and his cheeks were hot and flushed.
“This is cute,” Paul smiled warmly at him.
“Yeah, who’s this Doom by the way? I feel like I’ve heard of him before,” Till said with a thinking face.
“Me too,” Flake added.
“I-I don’t know who it is…” Oliver admitted, “I-I just found it…”
“But why would you do this if you don’t know him?” Till asked, which made the bassist sigh sadly.
“Hey,” Paul walked closer and put a hand on his arm, “It’s okay, we’ll find your Doom. I mean,” he chuckled, “No one’s called that way, so finding him won’t be too hard,” Oliver wanted to believe him but he was just clueless at the moment.
“Something is strange though,” Flake gently took the letter from Till’s hand, “It seems that this Doom plays the drums for us, but…” He glanced at Till, “Till plays the drums, and no one calls him Doom…” Oliver felt embarrassed. It couldn’t be about Till… Right? He didn’t reckon having feelings for him or anything else. He was just one of his best friends, nothing more, nothing less. Plus, Flake was right, why would he call him that way when no one did?
They all felt like they knew who Doom was, but they couldn’t put a real name and a face on this nickname. How could they even have a drummer other than Till? He was here from the beginning, no one ever replaced him for anything, therefore something was up with that letter. However, Oliver wasn’t crazy, and he didn’t have any reasons to invent things, so there could be some truth behind what he had written.
Doom was standing in his old bedroom, which was strangely still furnished.
“Do you know anything about this?” The soldier asked from behind him.
“It is my room, or was,” the younger demon replied before taking a step in. None of his stuff had been taken away, the crucifix was still pinned above his bed and everything was where it should be.
“Care to explain then?” The man pointed to the cross with a hard glare. Doom gritted his teeth.
“I had no choice, my cover would have been blown,” he looked away and opened his closet to see if anything was missing. He made a slightly surprised face when he noticed that all of his clothes were still here, “Why didn’t they take my belongings with them when they left?”
“I don’t know.”
Doom kept looking around until he opened one of his drawers. Under various papers was lying a familiar box that the demon had tried to forget. He gently took the object out and blew on it to remove the small layer of dust that had accumulated on it. He could perfectly read what it said.
“Doom…” He whispered, nostalgia filling his body as he remembered all the times he played video games with his friends. He missed this so much and would do anything to go back to them. The bright colors had faded a bit but it still looked good.
“What is it?”
“A mortal game,” Doom replied, not wanting to add any details, “I need to give it back to them.”
“I cannot allow that, you know it is against the orders,” the soldier reminded, which annoyed Doom.
I know, but it won’t prevent me from finding them.
It won’t be the first time I am disobeying an order anyway.
Doom stayed silent in order to not show his disapprovement and opened the box. As he expected, it was empty, therefore that meant that his friends took the CD with them, without ever looking for the box in his room. Something must have prevented them from going in, maybe the loss of their memory itself.
Now he needed to find a way out. He discreetly eyed the other demon before finding all his strength to teleport outside the building. Pain ran through his body as he fell on his knees, hitting the hard concrete. A small whine escaped his lips as his limbs throbbed and his eyes got filled with tears. It hurt so much. While his hands were still clutching at the game box, he could see them shake, as well as the rest of his body.
Go easy now.
He raised his head to look around him; no one seemed to have noticed his apparition. He was in his human form anyway, but his sudden appearance shouldn’t have been overlooked. People were looking at him strangely though.
Is it because you are on the floor or because they recognize you?
Doom didn’t want to know. He stood up and looked behind him. He could feel the demonic aura coming from the flat; there were a lot of people here, who seemed to be well-trained. His instinct was screaming at him to run away, but he didn't have the strength. He started to walk away from the building, not wanting to be still here when the demons would try to search for him.
The walk was long. Doom wasn’t seeing the end of it. He luckily found a map in a tourism office and avoided getting lost. He didn’t need to waste any more time and start looking for his friends. If Naberius did a too good job, meeting them or trying to stimulate their memory would be useless. Doom shivered at that thought. That couldn’t be an option.
He kept walking, finally reaching a pavilion area. The demon was now surrounded by various houses and surely looked suspicious as he observed each one of them carefully. He tried to remember the address but the words were mixing up in his mind. He internally cursed himself and looked at the names on the mailboxes.
That will take hours.
He sighed, knowing that it would indeed take a very long time before finding the right house, if he wasn’t lucky enough to find it by some coincidence.
He didn’t know the time, but he could guess that he had been walking for around thirty minutes now. He wasn’t going to give up, even though he felt the strong urge to lie down on the floor and rest a bit.
You can do it, Doom, they must be somewhere…
The demon sighed and continued his journey until he saw a weird-looking truck stopped at a red traffic light. A moving truck.
His eyes widened and his heart started to race in his chest. That could maybe be his chance to find his friends!
Doom didn’t think twice and used all of his strength to teleport on the roof of the truck. The probability of it going to the right place was really low but Doom felt in his gut that it would lead him to the right place, as a sort of miracle.
His body froze because of the gigantic amount of pain that shot through it. He wouldn’t be able to carry on forever, he was close to passing out from exhaustion.
Do not give up.
He laid on his belly on the roof, trying to be as discreet as possible. He could feel the wind crashing against him, and if he wasn’t gripping the edge with his only free hand, he would have fallen a long time ago. His hand ached and tears were pearling in his eyes; everything hurt so much, but his determination to find his bandmates as well as Oliver was stronger. He would endure the worst pain ever for them, which he has already done, but he wouldn’t mind doing it again. He knew his life would never be easy here, but despite this fact having been proven to him many times, he wasn’t scared.
The ride was exhausting, and yet Doom couldn’t take advantage of the situation to admire the view. His eyes were closed, both from pain and tiredness. He still felt the vibrations of the vehicle running through his body. It felt like his bones would shatter.
It is for them, remember…