The world had gone to hell ever since the demons arrived. Doom Slayer had been fighting for about a year now with each day getting sloppier, assuming all life had been eradicated except for the invasive spawns, there was nothing to be careful about. Every second was a constant battle and sleep became almost a stranger to the slayer, as there was nowhere safe to shelter.

Today was a day like all the others - or so it seemed. Demon after demon fell with each and every blast of the Doom Slayer's shotgun as he worked towards his goal. Taking little time to reload, the Slayer pushed a few shells into the shotgun before giving it a pump and aiming at the nearest demon. A loud blast fired off and he was sent flying back. Was he just.. shot? By who? By what? As the dust cleared, the slayer wiped his visor and looked up. There stood another figure. Someone like him. A second slayer.