Andy parted the opaque plastic strips with the barrels of his assault rifles and entered the massive Hydroponic warehouse. The fuel canister he had attached to his belt got caught in the plastic strips, tugging at his hip. Andy wrenched it free, wincing as the hot-end of the welder’s torch grazed him under his jacket. He was carrying too much, he knew that. But how else was he going to engage this shadow demon thing properly… professionally, without weidling two assault rifles akimbo and a DIY flamethrower backup with Julie to boot? He only wished he had room to throw one of those shock rifles into the mix, but alas, he was forced to stand aside and watch the vault techie use it. The tall, skinny man strode ahead of their little group, Clara beside him, directing the way.

Andy kept a wide berth on the path, scanning the warehouse for movement. Huge pillars of plantlife rose to the ceiling on stems of UV light. Some of the bulbs flickered, but remained intact, casting a hazy blue aura in the humid air. A cart, half packed full of potted leafy greens, lay toppled and abandoned on the rubbery floor. Andy stepped around it, his gaze darting between the dark distant walls and the thin shadows at the base of each hydroponic fixture. However, to his disappointment, nothing emerged.

“What’s that?” the skinny shock-rifle techie said, pointing his special weapon down a district of flat walls, onto which clung vine tomatoes and a mix of berries. “Something moved.”

Clara fanned out, shotgun aimed at the empty space. Suddenly, the skinny techie opened fire. A flash of white hot electricity crackled through the air, bursting a bunch of tomatoes in a spray of red flesh. “Hit!” Skinny shouted.

“Miss,” Andy corrected. “There’s nothing there, idiot.”

“I saw something.” His head swivelled around to face Andy. “I think.”

“It’s just tomatoes,” Andy said. “Clara, it’s just tomatoes.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah, I can see fine. Can’t you?”

“It’s a little dark.”

“Not for me. There’s nothing there. Let’s go.”

Andy took the lead, strolling through the vegetable highrise, scanning the shadows, trusting his reflexes to an ambush. They reached the other side without a hitch. Dipping beneath another opaque plastic gateway, he entered a large loading bay. It was abandoned too. All of the civilians on this floor must have already fled upstairs, under Clara’s directions. Ahead, the wide elevator doors opened for them before they arrived. Honeyboy, the bunker techie, must be tracking their progress, assisting them remotely. Andy wondered what stakes he had in this. Clara had no doubt worked her magic on him and convinced him that helping them was in his interests. Whatever, as long as his tampering didn’t get in the way.

The large elevator doors closed behind their group without requiring input, then the room shook slightly as it travelled to the floor below. The doors opened on a dark tunnel. Quiet. Just three bulbs remained intact, one of them was flickering, pitting the walls with erratic shadow. Andy strode into the open, rifles akimbo, tickling the triggers.

The silence broke with a static buzz. Honeyboy’s voice came over an intercom in the ceiling. “The demon thing is weak to lights, not so much physical damage. So think about torches, and flares… I don’t know if you have anything like that down in your vault. Oh, I guess I should explain who I am first, no, that’s not important. Oh, and evacuees, I mean, people who can get safely to the workshop area on Level Two, should. Basically, yeah. Start fires, but don’t burn yourselves, obviously…”

It went on, rambling and repeating itself, ruining the eerie atmosphere. At the end of the corridor were two separate doors. The pop of gunfire sounded from somewhere distant. “Open them,” Andy radioed to Honeyboy. The doors opened, and the sound of gunfire amplified, accompanied by distant shouts. Andy followed it into the room beyond, some sort of kitchen area. Sprinting past the worktops, Andy shoved aside a collapsed shelving unit and burst into the room beyond.

Before him was a stomach-high counter squatting beneath a low ceiling, like a large pillbox bunker with a broad firing window, looking out on the massive Habitation sector. Beyond the counter was a canteen area which Andy recognised from earlier that day. The sounds of gunfire echoed off high ceilings in the habitation’s main sector, accompanied by muzzle flashes and the sparks of electronic weaponry, stinging the dark looming walls. Plugged into the high ceiling, and inside the civilian quarters, a scatter of bulbs flickered tiredly, clinging to life.

Andy jumped hands-first over the counter, spinning on his belly and crashing to the floor on the other side. Athletics were difficult without having his arms free. Getting to his feet, he ran through the canteen, kicking past flimsy chairs and tables towards the sounds of battle.

“Andy,” Clara shouted behind him, then radioed “Be careful.”

“You can’t make me,” Andy yelled back. Just then, something shot at him from the left. Andy let rip one of his rifles, peppering the dark blade with explosive light. He could see clearly in the dark. The thing’s shape was unnaturally linear, like shards of shattered glass, jutting out of a black velvet blanket draped over the floor and several canteen tables. Its surface prickled and bulged as sharp shards of shadow emerged as though someone was stabbing the canvas with an arsenal of knives from beneath. One blade launched towards Andy. He ducked as it glanced off the shoulder of his leather jacket and brought both rifles around to bear. His rifle’s muzzle flashes tore through the extended blade, separating it from its central mass. A fissure of faint orange light burned away at the shadow’s edges, crumbling the severed blade into ash. Andy swivelled, firing upon the shard-pond. Each flash punched small craters of orange into its veil, but the volley of fire had little effect. Only when he traced a line with his shots and severed a shard of the shadow did it seem to suffer any real loss of mass, and therefore damage.

The dark pool bubbled up, like a viper recoiling its neck to strike. A black lance shot towards him, seeking to skewer him through the stomach, then a dazzling blast of golden light hit them both. Andy blinked the spots of light from his vision as he saw a huge burning wound open up on the pooling shadow’s surface. Clara was stalking the demon’s flank, her hands pressed against her chest emitting a growing golden glow. The vault dwellers trailed her like moths drawn to a flame, electrical weapons discharging small blue sparks randomly into the darkness around them. Clara pitched another lightning bolt into the dark mass. The thunder stretched like an elastic band between them, then snapped forward and exploded, decimating the entity. Shards of shadow flung into the air weightlessly like ash, orange fire eating at their seams like crumpled, burning paper.

Andy emptied one of his rifles into the remaining shards, cutting through them with precision arcs. He let one rifle hang on its strap while he re-loaded the empty weapon, taking from the magazines crammed into his jean pockets. Something more explosive would be a treat, but the vaulties had confiscated his grenade bandolier earlier. Julie and the DIY flamer would have to do.

“That way,” Clara said, pointing down the intersection. They were standing in the centre of the Habitation Sector now, at the centre of a cross forming four wide pathways. Lights flashed behind the windows of one of the large civilian quarters, punctuated by gunshots.

In the relative quiet after gunfire, Honeyboy’s transmitted message squawked over a dozen tiny intercoms like buzzing cicadas. “Start fires, but don’t burn yourselves, obviously… Acquire bright lights and close the doors, and lock them shut, because help is on the way. So unlock the doors when that arrives, unless you think that maybe the demon is tricking you by knocking on the doors, as part of a deceiving trick to get you to open them…”

“Honeyboy, cut the safety lecture,” Andy raided. “It’s harshing my buzz.”

The rambling ceased. Andy let Clara go ahead while he remained in the canteen, scanning the room at large. Puddles of black shadow spread across the walls worse than the black mould he remembered in his cousin’s apartment as a kid. The entity’s mass was denser than the rest of the darkness, as though they consumed the light itself. Blood licked the floor in patches, Andy could smell it. What surprised him was the lack of bodies. The canteen had been packed the last he knew, hundreds of people confined in this warehouse space. Following his nose, Andy spotted smatterings of flesh, like a butcher’s offcuts, forming a cursed trail down one of the four paths. At the end of the path, behind a small fenced sports court, was a two-story building with the half-lit sign ‘GY-NA-IUM’. Mounds of flesh burst through shattered windows and cracked doorways like rising dough overflowing in a cake tin. From this distance, Andy couldn’t see the details of the monster, but he knew a final boss fight when he saw one.

“I’ll create a distraction,” Andy radioed, raising his rifles akimbo.

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“That’s not necessary,” Clara replied over the radio, her voice echoing across the room behind him. She and the vault dwellers had reached the civilian quarters, huddled together in a tight sphere against the wall.

“There’s a big guy over here,” Andy yelled as he ran towards the gym. “I’m covering the flank.” That was something Clara often said. It was probably a good excuse. Besides, Clara would be safe without him. Her new Augmented powers were ideal for fighting the entity, she was probably better equipped than him, if not for his ingenious new flamethrower. Andy couldn’t turn down a fight like this, he’d never forgive himself.

Dashing through the sports court, Andy kept to the centre of the corridor. His headlamp flickered and popped, but he could see well enough without it. The patches of corporeal shadow favoured the walls and balcony overhangs, well out of reach. He could see their angular forms writhing in the dark, congealing around him. He had maybe a couple minutes before they surrounded him. He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn’t resist.

Slowing to a stop, Andy beheld the gym. Purple, bloated and bruised flesh foamed within the building like a freshly poured pint of beer. The seams connecting metal wall panels cracked and snapped as limbs bulged through the gaps, widening them. A bolt shot into the air like a bullet as a doorway was lifted off its brackets, torn from the floor by hulking muscle and sinew. Shadows streamed out of the breach, followed by groping hands. Obsidian snakes writhed over its mass like arteries, forming pools of blackness inside its obese folds of flesh.

Andy stared, stupefied. He wanted to take a photo, and fished into his pockets for a disposable camera which Clara sometimes made him carry on missions to provide evidence for their employers. Miraculously, it was still there, caught in the torn lining of one of his inner pockets. Winding the reel, Andy posed the shot in the viewfinder and pressed the button. But to his dismay, the flash did not work. He turned the camera over, and noticed a crack in the lends and plastic flash cover. “That’s a shame.”

A fierce screech forced Andy to cover his ears. Before him, the gym gave way like a cracked dam, ripping and bursting open all at once. The abomination tore aside its metal prison, immense amorphous limbs stretching towards the ceiling. One limb, like an enormous elephant trunk, slammed down beside Andy, shaking the floor beneath his feet. Chucking the camera aside, Andy snapped both of his rifles up and opened fire.

The fusillade of bullets tore into the abomination, spraying plumes of black fluid in the air, forming a fine mist. Andy searched for a weak spot, his Augmentation targeting programmes drawing his attention to random details: a person’s head fused with the trunk-like limb so that its cheek and eye socket were mangled into a twisted snarl; a crop of hulking arms, the largest of which possessed three or four elbow joints a piece, grasped and clawed its carnal carriage towards him–a bulbous thorax and protruding spine; high up, five metres off the floor, a scrap of pastel blue overalls were being swallowed by rolling folds of flesh, two legs protruding from the clothing being absorbed into the mass. As the abomination rose above him, a cavernous toothless maw opened in its centre. A stench of death washed over him.

He could hear Clara’s voice over his radio, but the sound was snuffed by his rifle’s fire, and went quiet before the guns clicked dry. Wielding the rifles akimbo may have felt cool, but it hadn’t been especially effective. It was hard to gauge how much damage he was inflicting on the abomination. Bullet wounds oozed blood and puss as severed limbs, cut by concentrated fire, streaming over its flesh. A mammoth limb slapped against the wall, humongous fingers worming their way through doors and windows, writhing over the balcony, gripping and dragging itself forward inexorably.

Andy took a step backwards and slung his rifles over his shoulder. They just weren’t cutting it. Snatching his radio, he opened the channel. “You alright sis?”

“Fine,” she said tersely. It was all the reassurance he needed.

The creature stretched itself out of the confines of the gym, lumbering closer. Andy backed up, grinning with excitement. He unhooked his welder’s torch and fuel-rigged paint sprayer. Pulling the trigger, a concentrated stream of liquid fuel shot forth. The pungent spray of fuel contended with the miasma of death. It reminded Andy of playing with water guns in his garden as a kid. He arched the fuel spray, trying to get it inside the beast’s mouth, but the stream came up short, dousing its fleshy bib in acrid fumes.

Another limb lifted out of the malformed folds and flopped beside Andy. The creature seemed encumbered by its own weight, like an obese factory farm animal that had never walked nor seen the light of day. Andy darted closer, bobbing and weaving as errant limbs attempted to snare him, until he was close enough to aim the spurt inside its mouth.

Surrounded by a writhing pit of flesh, Andy activated the welding torch. The blue cone cast hellish shadows around him, igniting the liquid fuel spray of his canister, a storm inferno that wreathed the abomination in flames. Andy’s face lit up with glee as eyes stared back, stretched and horrified. Andy spun, lost in the sauce, gripping the flamethrower’s trigger in a frenzy. Gooey flesh pockets melted and burst, spraying him with viscera. The heat of the flames coated Andy’s body in sweat.

Something collided with him, but in the smoke and shadows, Andy was lost. A had closed around his leg. Andy angled the flamethrower downwards, singing his thighs as he freed himself. He stumbled and ducked as a massive limb swung overhead, dousing the protrusion in liquid fire.

A tidal shudder rattled through the abomination’s massive form as it recoiled in agony, raising its appendages to the roof. Then, at once, they cascaded upon him. A rush of adrenaline chased the taste of whiskey down Andy’s throat as his Evasive Fire protocol activated, launching him into gear. Andy swivelled and ducked between the giant’s attacks, dancing like an ember on the flames. Liquid fire droplets spattered the floor at his feet, setting puddles of fuel ablaze. It seemed, in his excitement, Andy had flung himself into the eye of the storm. Flames shot up his legs. Yelping, but not taking his fingers off the triggers, Andy fled backwards, wreathing fire in his wake. His back hit something spongy, but immoveable. His hair stuck to it as he peeled himself free. A fat hand grabbed him under the armpit. Andy kicked himself free, leather boots ablaze, sauteing his toes inside.

Colliding through a passageway of flesh, Andy spun his flamethrower around. Liquid fire coughed up a torrent of choking smoke and caustic steam. Engorged limbs encircled him, snuffing and starving the torrential fire. Smoke erupted, filling his lungs. Andy choked and his eyes tung too much to see. At this rate, he’d suffocated before the beast crushed him to death.

Dropping the welding torch so that it trailed against the floor, Andy drew Julie and fired a Vortex Shot at the wall of flesh. The shockwave boomed with a gust of wind, clearing the smoke. It blew apart the creature like a quarry struck with dynamite, but failed to blast all the way through. Andy braced himself, taking a deep breath of the clearing air. He gripped Julie firm in his hand, aiming her beautiful muzzle into the blast crater.

Reality warped as Andy drew his strength through her. Smoke funnelled into Julie’s muzzle as the flames bent towards him, singing his hands and forearms. The heat was almost too much to bear, but Andy did not move, screaming in pain as he kept Julie on the edge of ecstasy. Flames lapped at his jacket, singing his jeans, burning his cheeks. His hair curled and crackled as he was cooked alive in a roast of his own making.

Andy pulled the trigger and fired a Vortex Cannon at the revolting wound. It blew apart with a tremendous backdraft, quenching the flames engulfing him. The blowback sent Andy skidding backwards, but he was ready for it. Falling into a crouch, Andy toppled forward into a sprinter’s crouch, then dashed towards the gaping wound. The fleshy tunnel dripped with gore like a dank cave as Andy was birthed on the other side. Holstering Julie, he lashed the welding torch up via its cable and bathed his foe in flames. He swayed back and forth to an inaudible rhythm, a primal tune in his heart as a flickering sun rose on Habitation Sector. Smoke billowed from the amorphous mass as the fires spread, a rain of liquid fire cooking it alive. The air hummed with a gargantuan moan–like the agony of a thousand people, gagged so that their screams could not vocalise. The mass shivered in the white hot flames, and the moan rose to a sonorous wail–Andy’s concerto crescendo.

Distantly, he could hear Honeyboy and Clara chattering over the radio strapped to his chest, like unruly audience members in the rafters. He was far too mesmerised by the fire before him to pay any attention. The meaty bonfire cast a storm of shadows about the high walls around him. Where the light touched, the darkness retreated, curling its sharp limbs into the crevices of walls and doorways. Black residue streamed from the abominations gargantuan form, forming puddles beneath its cavernous form. Andy backed up, firing spurts of flame at its dark, crispy corpse. Andy’s mouth watered at the barbeque stench, but fought the urge to rip a strand of monster-jerky off and sample it. The canister felt light in his hand, it had all but run dry. He fixed it back on his belt, welding torch in his other hand, perveying his carnage.

As the flames died down, a swarm of shadows formed around the monstrous corpse. A lake of blackness opened up beneath it, spreading like a flood.The darkness solidified, multiplied. Andy scowled. Shouldn’t the demon be dead? Shouldn’t the shadows stop moving? He’d eviscerated it, hadn’t he?

A spear of blackness swam across the floor towards him, kicking its dagger tail like an attacking shark. Andy’s Reflex Shot triggered and he fired Julie. Her powerful bullets ricocheted off the floor, but only the light of her muzzle damaged the shadow itself. The blade shot through the air, torn apart by Julie’s explosion, ripped into black shards which dashed Andy’s face like razors. His cheeks and eyes stung as he quickly reloaded Julie, blood dripping over his nose. Stepping backwards, he ducked as another blade struck him. The dagger pierced his leather jacket, but Andy arched his spine, narrowly avoiding his stomach from being sliced open. Pain struck him. Firing Julie at point blank range, Andy retreated. Why wasn't the demon dead? He’d burned it to death, hadn’t he?

Behind the black wreckage of the abomination’s singed flesh, an enormous shadow reared its head, enveloping the walls and ceiling. It snuffed out Andy’s victorious dawn bonfire like a candle flame, casting the vault into complete darkness. At once, Andy realised his error. He had been drawn in by the fleshy abomination’s hideous allure, and missed the details. A vicious blackness swept forth from the mountainous charred corpse. It had not been the final boss fight, it had merely been a tool of the demon’s true intelligence, constructed of flesh to cast a living shadow.

And by setting it on fire, Andy had just made things a whole lot worse.