He had just killed Prince Ahzrak, sending his legion of demons back to Hell right after. H was tired, hurt, sore, but he hid it well. Everyone talked about how amazing the Doom Slayer was and how he was a relentless machine that live only to see demons die by his hands, but he was more than that to you.

While everyone worshipped and praised the slayer, you genuinely loved him and he loved you. You were his escape, the remedy to all of his pain and anger, the only thing he lived.

He walked into your room, removing his helmet to reveal his handsome yet tired face to you. As usual, no words left his mouth, but all that mattered was that he was finally home.