A/N: My fic based on the movie. I played only the earlier versions of doom so I'm not really well versed with the latest gaming scene.

I don't anybody except the unfamiliar names.

From the Ashes

Prologue:

Tired, exhausted, barely clothed and bleeding.

She wanted to stop and vomit.

The only thing that kept her running was fear. The only thing that kept her safe was her fear. Her body was beginning to protest. Slowly, fear didn't make her run as much as the desire to breathe made her stop. Her feet were cold and blistered.

She didn't stop.

She knew that every minute wasted – would bring them closer.

Violent shouts could be heard in the darkness. She took the path around the radiation chamber.

The chamber.

She skid to halt and ran backwards, fluidly into the room and hauled its heavy lead door to a halt, and screwing it shut she leaned her back against it and allowed herself to breathe.

Deep, painful breaths. In. Out.

She had to live.

Everyone was dead.

But she had to live. She had to get to her uncle. She had to keep her father's secrets safe.

After that she would die. There was nothing to live for.

A creaking sound was heard. Her eyes snapped open.

Oh no! The other door!

She sprang around the darkened room and found the space behind the uranium cathode. She crouched and forced her breathing to slow.

The second door moaned as it opened. The slim tube of light, belonging to the flashlight of a shotgun scanned the room. She closed her eyes and prayed as the footsteps got closer and the whispers became louder.

"This place looks clear." Someone whispered.

Why were they whispering? Maybe they wanted to trap her.

"Should we turn the lights on?"

"No." Came another voice. "They don't know we're here. Let's keep it that way."

She bit her lip. Were there two groups involved then? Oh God! Why didn't the government protect them? Why couldn't they have gotten better guards?

She closed her eyes to shut down the memory of blood and bullet wounds. She couldn't cry now – grief could come later.

She had to get out of here. She had to get to the river – to the hovercraft and to her uncle.

A sudden sound made her flinch.

It was the sound of a boot crunching on some glass. Someone swore and she could hear the sound of them bending.

Oh please don't let them look around. Please.

"What the…!" the voice, she assumed belonging to the person closest to her came.

"What?"

"There's blood on the floor." He whispered.

"What?"

"It's leading to…"

She didn't wait to find out. Like the roar of a hyena attacking she screamed and jumped out of her hiding slamming into the man hunched over her own blood. She had the element of surprise.

She pushed him over and ran through the barricades of large men – all who were two surprised to hold her.

She had just reached the open door when her arm got caught and her legs swung up into the air and she landed on her rear – painfully.

The sounds of men swearing in confusion were drowned by her shrill screams. She punched her fists against the hand that held her.

"Hey! Hey! Calm her down!"

She spat onto his face and bit his arm.

"Oww!" he pulled back.

She ran for her life.

Or so she thought.

She had forgotten that this way led straight to the very place she was running away from.

And she paid for it. Ramming straight into the man whose raping she had just escaped.

"There you are, my feisty little bitch! Daddy's little genius, aren't you? Little whore?" His spittle hit her face. "Let's taint this pretty face then?"

His voice drowned out of her ears as the sight of his hand raising met her eyes.

The guttural scream in her throat did not ease the pain of the sickle striking her face…

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

There was a ringing in her head. Like someone banging her head against a metallic door.

She wasn't screaming when her eyes opened. The scream had died in her head as her dream faded into her reality. She was in her bunker, bathed in sweat – breathing heavily.

She jumped up as her comm started to beep.

Heaving a sigh of relief she wiped her face and reached for the comm.

Just a bad dream, she began to think. Then she paused in her thoughts.

No.

Not a dream – a memory.

Genghis Krycek pensively surveyed squad in front of him. They stood in front of his desk in a perfect semicircle to perfect attention. He scrutinized each member, from the next in line to the rookie. Their demeanor was flawless as always, he had no reason to look for discrepancies. The only reason he observed each face was due to the unusual nature of the directive.

Sergeant Geiger Krycek was formerly known as 'Genghis' for a reason. He was a slave driver with no sympathy, a blatant womanizer and had probably fathered several bastards and the only thing that kept him from killing his superiors was the fact that such an action would prejudice his chances at rising to the top.

Genghis was hated by every woman in the army. Those, whom he slept with, learnt at the end of their poor roll in the sack that he was a selfish pig and those whom he hadn't as yet slept with already knew his reputation. The psychological assessment on his file attributed his promiscuity to a 'blatant disrespect and disregard for women' and recommended that 'no female officer be assigned to him, in the interest of maintaining peace and decorum within the marines'.

Genghis would never admit that he hated women, but there was truth to the fact that could care less for their feelings – though he showed it in a different way – he hated them because he was the 'sonova' hoe' and was abandoned when he was ten. So the recommendation worked just fine for him. It wouldn't have been a tough job, there were a handful of women who had reached the level of special operations and fewer who were eligible for the RRTS and perhaps only four who had reached the Rangers.

And since Genghis commanded the unit, of those four only one survived. The first one got herself killed, two transferred out slapping sexual harassment allegations on him. Out of the two enquiries, one he was bailed out of by the girl's sergeant testifying against her and with other he got probation for two weeks. The reason an asshole like Genghis got off the hook so easily was because he was the bloody best and he trained his men to be the best and rewarded them equally well. His missions had a ninety percent success rate until three years ago.

Since three years it had a ninety-eight percent success rate and his eyes froze on the only woman who had survived the squad, to whom he secretly attributed the improvement to.

She had not been part of his unit – neither was she a member of special ops. They had bumped into each other when their mission had gone horribly wrong on Deimos. All RRTS units had been utilized and they had needed reinforcements, the young Ensign Quinn was the only one of the reinforcements who survived.

Perhaps the reason Genghis found respect for Quinn was that in 10 days in Deimos – though Genghis would not admit it in public – he believed they managed to survive and get out of there, thanks to Quinn's instincts and skills.

She was very a good soldier. She spoke only when spoken too, even then, if only she needed to – the rest of the talking was done by her gun and those haunting grey eyes of hers. Her skinny appearance cloaked her amazing combat skills – skills he suspected were not learnt in training. She knew how to leverage against a larger opponent and her aim was precise.

It seemed, she possessed the one thing men thrice her size vied for – lack of fear.

Her psychological assessment attributed that to be a bad thing. It seemingly 'made her cold and rash, a potential emotional volcano, unwilling to uncover some deep personal anguish which might therefore erupt at the wrong time.' She also had a peculiar disinterest towards the prospect of death. She had a certain stubbornness when it came to death. Neither did she fear to go after it, given her reckless habits, nor did it seem to fear to come after her, given her long list of near fatal experiences. At the end of the day, if ever they thought she was dead – chances were she would resurface from nowhere – and it was why her peers in RRTS called her 'Phoenix'.

Genghis surprised everyone, including himself at petitioning a request for her to be inducted in specialist operations and specially trained for the Rangers Squad. Phoenix did not show an inch of excitement on her face – but he assumed the widening of her eyes when he told her about his idea to be happiness.

Phoenix never showed anything on her face.

It annoyed him, initially. If she liked something there would be a small bleak smile, if she didn't like something her mouth would be set in a thin line. She hardly refused orders – in the event of such a case, it would simply be because she knew better. But if she didn't agree with an order, she showed it by simply not following it, proving her superiors wrong. No outbursts – no 'but sirs'. If she spoke, her voice was cold and impassive.

It was a mean quality and it irritated a lot of explosive men – who had could find no argument to her stoic silence and had it not been for Genghis' support Quinn would have been chucked out of the marines a long time ago.

It was his men who were the first to eventually get used to her unusually non-social behavior – and learned that the best way to understand was to keep eye contact with her – it was the only window to her mind. Phoenix was never obtrusive to the Gophers – her quietness had become a part of them.

Along the side of her pale face, across her left brow ran an angry scar which had just seemingly missed her grey eyes – though it was light, it had once belonged to a deep wound and it was the first thing any layman would notice about her. It would be considered a disfigurement to any woman, and it didn't help Quinn's appearance, for that matter. The scar, she had told him, was from her childhood and was made by a farmer's sickle, and that was all she said about it. Genghis having known rejection all his life realized she might have been denied a hell lot because of that disfigurement – and gained a sense of protectiveness towards her. After three bar incidents it had become clear to all marines that no man could dare to call her 'scarface' and get out of that bar without suffering some shameful dismemberment at Genghis' hand.

Genghis looked at the files displayed on the console of each officer.

This was going to be hard to explain.

"At ease." He said. He could have sworn he saw relief on the rookie's face when the boy assumed the new position.

The Rangers were a special branch of Special Operations twice as elite as RRTS. Each member was an army in itself. Their duties were restricted not to containment but to investigation and assessment of situations that would compromise the militia. The member of each squad was qualified for a specific duty.

Since Olduvai and Deimos, the Rangers were a busy lot. The whole scenario changed the attitude of the armed forced to the UAC. Every operation of that was allied to the military, which in the case of UAC were several was thoroughly investigation, screened and approved. Separate RRTS squads were assigned as security.

Genghis and a whole lot of other soldiers were actually glad that the UAC had lost their autonomy. The bloody corporation had cost them too many men.

"New game, ladies," he said. Genghis called them ladies because he knew it ticked them off and there was not a damn thing they could do about it. Samuel o'Riley flinched a little. Genghis let it pass. Unlike other sergeants who were all pally-pally and informal with their men, Genghis demanded protocol. He liked it – it satisfied his unfulfilled childhood desire for attention. He would never hold their 'manners' against them, of course, but he liked to give the impression that he would.

"We have ourselves a situation down at a research facility that is no longer used. I am authorized to disclose this location only after we are airborne."

Silence.

"Situation is classified but you will be informed of the details on arrival. Funny – yeah I know."

Silence.

"We also have been given an additional order. Accompanying us for a classified purpose will be two civilian personnel."

Silence.

"Any questions?"

This was the interesting part – his men knew better than to interrupt him until he said that line, and when he asked them that – it intimidated them enough not to ask.

Sam o'Riley spoke first. "Sir, why are we having civilian personnel coming with us?"

"I just told you, you dickhead, that reason is classified."

Laker Smith, snorted and covered his snort up with a question. "Are their identities classified, too, sir?

"No. John Grimm and Samantha Grimm."

The startled expressions he had expected from the men – but not from the young Phoenix.

The Grimms were not unknown through out the ranks – after the Olduvai incident – the scandal, UAC's losses, the court marshalling – the Reaper's acquittal – it had just been around four years ago. Just before the Deimos bloodbath. Reaper had left the corps and no one knew what became of him or his sister.

It seemed that the twins being assigned to this mission, might give change its importance. If they were coming – then this just wasn't any search, find out and destroy job.

Genghis sighed as he stared at the directive. He had a really bad feeling about this one.

"When do we report for –" Smith started to say.

"Three hours." Genghis cut him off. "Dismissed."

He needed to think.

After the whole affair 3 years ago, Officer Grimm had left the army, Dr. Grimm left the UAC job and from what Genghis read on the file they had been found working in some small town, John Grimm worked in his own auto-garage. His sister worked at a local school. It seemed as if they wanted never to be found.

The four bulky MP escorts standing on either side of each sibling was a sign that they wouldn't be happy campers. Both the Grimms had an expression which read 'gonna take the first chance to get outta here'; John showed perfect disdain and Samantha – Genghis assumed the hot girl twin was the one with better manners.

The Grimms were waiting by the transport dock when the team assembled. There was nothing said, except for the usual pleasantries which weren't even remotely pleasant. John Grimm, looking a little stronger than he used to four years ago scrutinized each soldier of the Rangers, his eyes pausing in surprise at seeing a woman among the legendary Genghis' group of men. Genghis liked to see that surprise – he could almost imagine the thought running through the man's head. 'Genghis the dick, actually has a woman on board?'

Phoenix was a smart lady; she never needed to be told what to do, without being a wisepants. Oh yeah – Phoenix knew how to be the perfect handmaid and kick hard ass at the same time. She dismissed the MPs and offered to assist Dr. Grimm to her seat.

Actually, the only thing she did was give a cold stare to the MPs and a polite nod to Ms. Grimm in direction of the bay. Not one word, said. The unit was used to her behavior – so they didn't find her command on people without having to say a word, impressive.

On Reaper Grimm, however, and impression was made. His irate expression changed to one of wonder as Phoenix escorted Samantha Grimm to the bay – his eyes never leaving the lithe woman's frame.

Funny, Genghis thought. He swore he could have seen some sort of reaction on Phoenix's face when her eyes met John's and she turned.

For a ridiculous moment it seemed almost as though she didn't want to look at him – it actually seemed like fear.

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