Friendly Hell - Part 1
Sid
Corwid of the Free Join Date: 2003-01-28 Member: 12903Members, Constellation
<div class="IPBDescription">A lonely outpost on a lonely planet.</div> Well - I just spent the last half-hour writing whatever sentence popped into my head next - ENJOY!
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“Hey Roger! You just have to try this Coffee… Hell – I haven’t had a hot cup a Joe… in god knows when!”
I groaned. Here came Tony – he was that annoying Marine who’d get in the line of your site, always bug you with the same questions you just answered for him three minutes ago to stir up chat. Chat was bad in the field of combat – and I’m starting to wounder how this Nubcaek keeps surviving each encounter with the Kharra.
“Roger! YO, Roger? Hey – ROGER! Are you listening to me? …Roger-Roger-Roger-Roger-,”
“WHAT?! What is it? What the hell do you want, Tony?” I barked back sharply.
Tony seemed to stop dead in his tracks – his lip quivered before replying in a shaky voice, “Well – I… this Coffee… is good. You… should try it sometime, that’s all…” He gave a quick sneer and turned away, trotting down the small corridor of the compound – his lightly armoured boots of his suit clacking as he walked.
The compound. – I was here when they were building it – those big T.S.A. officials – …think they’re so tough – maybe one of these days they should slip into a Light Armour Battle Suite and go chasing after Kharra.
And I wasn’t lucky to be there, either. As if just watching those whiney “Higher-ups” was enough – they also had me operate machinery to build the Compound.
It took about five weeks before it was finished. Located on a barren world, code-named “Gertrude IV”. We dropped from a T-Class Cruiser, “The Dainty Mistress”; our Drop ship ride to the surface was as bumpy as an Onos’ backside.
Once we landed, we set up a temporary Command Station – basically an upgraded Comm-Chair - We started construction of the compound immediately.
The building was made up of extremely light, yet durable Plasti-Steel walls, surround the complex – which was simply a small dome in the center with an entrance, and a small spotting tower protruding out of the top – underground this dome, however, lay the communications interface – a series of large rooms, reinforced with thick, Stainless U-tanium walls, and a Giant sealed blast door. Our personal quarters were located on the least protected side of the Dome – outside. They were simply a bunch of boxes, where a flipdown bed and a small bed with a Sonic-Shower were kept. Home-sweet-home.
The terrain was rough – made up of dark green and violet plant-life. This is the third visit of humans on this planet – rumours go that you should not get too close to the vegetation – they have a bad habit of consuming onlookers. It got boring quick here – it must be amusing to see… someone like Tony get devoured by a plant.
I grinned to myself at the thought.
A few minutes ago, Tony had just come by – asking me to taste the new Coffee-replicators that were installed in the Consumption quarters of the complex – at that time, this compound has stood on this unknown planet for a good two years. I have not encountered the Kharra for about three. Life was okay – being posted at a compound wasn’t all that bad, actually – Coffee, Warm-ish food – sure – you have to keep your armour on all the time incase of a surprise attack – but we have never seen this happen to our complex yet. Sometimes I wounder if the T.S.A. command has forgotten about us…
Tony came running back down the hall - I smirked, “Where’s your coffee?” I teased - But I should no better than to tease for it was then that I saw the horror in his eyes.
“Tony… what’s wrong?” I asked.
He stopped – literally skidding on the smooth plated floor – and tried to speak; slurring his words greatly, he managed to squeeze out, “He’s Dead… Jerald! His… eyes are gone!”
I widened my eyes at that comment. “What do you mean? What happened?!” as if my words triggering an event – a siren sounded in the distance as the compounds lights flickered – than went out before flickering back on in an emergency red hue. We both ran back down the corridor – following Tony.
As I stood there before all of this happened – I was somewhere near the entrance to the dome of the compound – just thinking to myself. A long corridor ran from the entrance to the “Consumption Quarters”, and finally down a small ramp leading to a blast door, which lead to the underground bunker. Alternatively, you can take a ladder from the entrance to the observation tower – where Jerald was currently stationed for the night. The compound was made up of a team of eight Marines – most of which I knew not their location at this given moment.
We ran toward the ladder, leading to the higher deck of the dome – climbing past the small Armoury storage, finally towards the hatch that lead to the tower control. It was eerily left open – Tony went up first, clutching his Pistol which he must have collected from the Armoury – I was in a daze – I didn’t noticed much – and was focused on the subject at hand.
I saw Tony’s foot leave the ladder – and then disappear into the red shade of the small look out tower. I slowly reached my fingers onto the floor of the tower, pulling myself up. I had no weapon – just my light armour. I pulled my body weight easily onto the floor, standing up and looking around the darkened room.
Nothing.
Where did Tony go?
I stepped further, knees bent to lower my center of gravity.
I heard something to my sides, and to my rear.
All of a sudden something cold grasped my arm – I let out a loud shriek, jumping to my right.
The lights flickered on – illuminating the area.
There stood my eight fellow teammates, keeled over and rolling on the ground with laughter.
Tony, in between gasps of breath, managed to wheeze out, “Gotcha!”
I groaned – and watched as the so-called “Dead” radio operator, Jerald, rolling in laughter, proceeded to roll towards the ladder – and with a turn of his body, he fell two stories down the well, landing with a loud crack below.
Nubcaeks – all of them.
We circled the entrance – peering down the ladder at Jerald –whom was swearing profusely and flailing his arms – he had cracked his armour – and he was furious – Armour wasn’t cheap to repair – and he would probably end up sending it back to the T.S.A. head command for a new one.
We all thought we’d better return to our quarters for the night – a mad Jerald was worse than an Onos in PMS.
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Serious action promised on part two.
And I'm setting up a website for my previous Fan fics.... oh joy, oh bliss. <!--emo&???--><img src='http://www.natural-selection.org/forums/html/emoticons/confused.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='confused.gif'><!--endemo-->
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“Hey Roger! You just have to try this Coffee… Hell – I haven’t had a hot cup a Joe… in god knows when!”
I groaned. Here came Tony – he was that annoying Marine who’d get in the line of your site, always bug you with the same questions you just answered for him three minutes ago to stir up chat. Chat was bad in the field of combat – and I’m starting to wounder how this Nubcaek keeps surviving each encounter with the Kharra.
“Roger! YO, Roger? Hey – ROGER! Are you listening to me? …Roger-Roger-Roger-Roger-,”
“WHAT?! What is it? What the hell do you want, Tony?” I barked back sharply.
Tony seemed to stop dead in his tracks – his lip quivered before replying in a shaky voice, “Well – I… this Coffee… is good. You… should try it sometime, that’s all…” He gave a quick sneer and turned away, trotting down the small corridor of the compound – his lightly armoured boots of his suit clacking as he walked.
The compound. – I was here when they were building it – those big T.S.A. officials – …think they’re so tough – maybe one of these days they should slip into a Light Armour Battle Suite and go chasing after Kharra.
And I wasn’t lucky to be there, either. As if just watching those whiney “Higher-ups” was enough – they also had me operate machinery to build the Compound.
It took about five weeks before it was finished. Located on a barren world, code-named “Gertrude IV”. We dropped from a T-Class Cruiser, “The Dainty Mistress”; our Drop ship ride to the surface was as bumpy as an Onos’ backside.
Once we landed, we set up a temporary Command Station – basically an upgraded Comm-Chair - We started construction of the compound immediately.
The building was made up of extremely light, yet durable Plasti-Steel walls, surround the complex – which was simply a small dome in the center with an entrance, and a small spotting tower protruding out of the top – underground this dome, however, lay the communications interface – a series of large rooms, reinforced with thick, Stainless U-tanium walls, and a Giant sealed blast door. Our personal quarters were located on the least protected side of the Dome – outside. They were simply a bunch of boxes, where a flipdown bed and a small bed with a Sonic-Shower were kept. Home-sweet-home.
The terrain was rough – made up of dark green and violet plant-life. This is the third visit of humans on this planet – rumours go that you should not get too close to the vegetation – they have a bad habit of consuming onlookers. It got boring quick here – it must be amusing to see… someone like Tony get devoured by a plant.
I grinned to myself at the thought.
A few minutes ago, Tony had just come by – asking me to taste the new Coffee-replicators that were installed in the Consumption quarters of the complex – at that time, this compound has stood on this unknown planet for a good two years. I have not encountered the Kharra for about three. Life was okay – being posted at a compound wasn’t all that bad, actually – Coffee, Warm-ish food – sure – you have to keep your armour on all the time incase of a surprise attack – but we have never seen this happen to our complex yet. Sometimes I wounder if the T.S.A. command has forgotten about us…
Tony came running back down the hall - I smirked, “Where’s your coffee?” I teased - But I should no better than to tease for it was then that I saw the horror in his eyes.
“Tony… what’s wrong?” I asked.
He stopped – literally skidding on the smooth plated floor – and tried to speak; slurring his words greatly, he managed to squeeze out, “He’s Dead… Jerald! His… eyes are gone!”
I widened my eyes at that comment. “What do you mean? What happened?!” as if my words triggering an event – a siren sounded in the distance as the compounds lights flickered – than went out before flickering back on in an emergency red hue. We both ran back down the corridor – following Tony.
As I stood there before all of this happened – I was somewhere near the entrance to the dome of the compound – just thinking to myself. A long corridor ran from the entrance to the “Consumption Quarters”, and finally down a small ramp leading to a blast door, which lead to the underground bunker. Alternatively, you can take a ladder from the entrance to the observation tower – where Jerald was currently stationed for the night. The compound was made up of a team of eight Marines – most of which I knew not their location at this given moment.
We ran toward the ladder, leading to the higher deck of the dome – climbing past the small Armoury storage, finally towards the hatch that lead to the tower control. It was eerily left open – Tony went up first, clutching his Pistol which he must have collected from the Armoury – I was in a daze – I didn’t noticed much – and was focused on the subject at hand.
I saw Tony’s foot leave the ladder – and then disappear into the red shade of the small look out tower. I slowly reached my fingers onto the floor of the tower, pulling myself up. I had no weapon – just my light armour. I pulled my body weight easily onto the floor, standing up and looking around the darkened room.
Nothing.
Where did Tony go?
I stepped further, knees bent to lower my center of gravity.
I heard something to my sides, and to my rear.
All of a sudden something cold grasped my arm – I let out a loud shriek, jumping to my right.
The lights flickered on – illuminating the area.
There stood my eight fellow teammates, keeled over and rolling on the ground with laughter.
Tony, in between gasps of breath, managed to wheeze out, “Gotcha!”
I groaned – and watched as the so-called “Dead” radio operator, Jerald, rolling in laughter, proceeded to roll towards the ladder – and with a turn of his body, he fell two stories down the well, landing with a loud crack below.
Nubcaeks – all of them.
We circled the entrance – peering down the ladder at Jerald –whom was swearing profusely and flailing his arms – he had cracked his armour – and he was furious – Armour wasn’t cheap to repair – and he would probably end up sending it back to the T.S.A. head command for a new one.
We all thought we’d better return to our quarters for the night – a mad Jerald was worse than an Onos in PMS.
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Serious action promised on part two.
And I'm setting up a website for my previous Fan fics.... oh joy, oh bliss. <!--emo&???--><img src='http://www.natural-selection.org/forums/html/emoticons/confused.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='confused.gif'><!--endemo-->
Comments
I got a rough web-site up with my Fan fics - I started writing them about a year ago today.
Click my Sig for my... Stories.
I don't know why I made part 2 - no one read part 1. <!--emo&:(--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/sad.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='sad.gif'><!--endemo-->
This one has breakdancing and CHICKENS!
The polls go as follows:
It seems 88% of readers require more cheese, whereas the rest say, "I'm off to go get a life"
P.S. The Backstreet boys thing was a joke. <!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo-->
ENJOY!
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I folded my arms as I sat on the collapsible bed ? thinking how to get Tony ?back? for what he did to me. I must admit ? he got me good, really good.
Looking around the room, which was made up of a small square interior, a single plated door, a sonic-shower in the corner, a locker and the bed ? I concluded to tell myself I was trapped in a windowless cage? but, I managed to spice my living quarters up with a few posters ? especially the one of my favourite classical rock band, The Backstreet Boys. I sighed, getting off of my bed and sauntering slowly to the locker; I opened it a peered at the disassembled LMG, which was conveniently located in a black Duffel bag, I noted that two magazines of ammo lay in the bag beside the firearm.
I shut the locker and went to the bed ? sitting down I pulled off my Breastplate of my armour, keeping the Fabric pants (which doubled as Pajamas), I laid down and fell asleep.
I had an odd dream that night ? I heard eerie sounds of scratching ? as if something were trying to dig through my Skull and into my Brain.
In my dreams something, something kept repeating over and over again, as if yelling ?SQUAK ? SQUAK ? SQUAK ? BWAK.?
I found myself standing in a bleak room? I saw a chicken ? although it wasn?t a chicken. I looked closer at this thing, and noticed it had red glowing eyes.
Its eyes seemed to glow brighter, illuminating the dark, bleak room I was in?
I awoke to find myself lying in my own room, the sound of an emergency Siren in the distance ? coming from the compound, which was, located right outside my entrance. ? I saw red flashes from under the crack in my door ? and the repeating sound of the Siren in my ears ? ?BWEERT ? BWEERT- BWEERT??
The first thought to cross my mind was ?Tony? ? even if this was another one of his jokes for trying to get back at me ? I still had to follow procedure. I trotted to the locker, picking up the black Duffel bag with the LMG located in it. I slung it over my shoulder, and cautiously made my way to the door ? pressing the ?Open Door? button beside the plated entrance to my Quarters.
The door flipped open ? budging at first, and then shooting open. I muttered, ?Bloody Budget-Cuts??
I looked around, flipping down my Visor, located on my helmet, down to my eye-level ? I tapped the pressure sensitive area on my headset, activating the Night Vision.
I peered around in the court yard of the Complex ? nothing out of the usual ? in my sight I could see the other living quarters, all lined in a large circle around the central dome ? all of then deserted.
I peered up at the ?control tower? protruding out of the top of the dome ? activating the zoom function on my headset, I noticed an oddity on the glass of the tower ? scratch marks and bullet holes.
Then I remembered the scratching sound in my dream.
I tightened my grip around the Duffel bag strap, and made my way to the Dome blast door. Walking along the ?Fen-Ral? reinforced concrete, my armoured boots clacking and crunching against the ground as I stepped.
I should have equipped my LMG ? that was my mistake.
I entered the Dome ? the Sirens still wailing, still illuminating the walls in red light. I looked behind me ? and noticed a small hole in the Plasti-Steel wall ? which was next to impossible ? the only chemical that can melt these walls are concentrated phosphoric acid. My eyes gazed back at the interior of the dome ? I gulped, clenching the Duffel bag as tight as I could ? tighter than a Skulk in mating season ? I slowly moved further in the complex ? coming around the corner, past the dining hall ? to the Underground bunker entrance, I noticed a small trail of Blood splotches, and three empty bullet casings ? still warm.
I entered the narrow corridor, leading the Underground complex and communications interface. I faced the Blast door, which was sealed shut. A single camera built-in to the blast door gazed back at me ? it?s red dot light blinking - Someone was watching me.
I grinned shyly ? for all I know the security officer that ran all the systems in the complex could be dead. I didn?t know what to do, so I dropped the Duffel bag and waved at the camera.
Nothing happened.
Maybe they wanted something more? I chuckled out loud at the thought ? performing for my own salvation. For the time being, I managed to forget my current situation. I dropped to my knees, and began to perform the advanced, ancient Chinese art of Break dancing. (Or at least I thought it was Chinese).
As I spun on my back ? I noticed I left my Breastplate back in my quarters ? I had forgotten to put it on!
All I had on was a cr0tch guard (Thank god), a helmet and shin / elbow guards.
I heard a loud clanking sound ? I stopped in a mid-backspin. The first thought to cross my mind was ?Cheese? ? followed by a second, SKULKS!
I have not faced a single Kharra for over three years ? and having little time before my estimated demise, I couldn?t possibly equip my LMG. I bent my knees, lowering my center of gravity ? I reached down at my boot, slipping out a small, ?Last Resort? T.S.A. ?Suicide Knife? ? and held it firmly in my right hand.
I yelled something that didn?t exist in the human language ? or was next-to-impossible to ever replicate with my tongue: ?SPLOOGE-DOOPERS-VAN-HAGLE-FRAGLE!? followed by a quick ?Wolf auf Wolf-T?tigkeit?.
I began a slow steady pace backwards, bumping into the blast door and dropping the knife ? it slipped out of my sweaty palm. At that point I curled up against the door and cowardly said, in a high pitched girly voice, ?Please don?t eat me!?
But nothing came around the corner.
I heard another rumble like before ? the same clanking sound. Something bumped me, and I noticed it was the door behind me ? I heard a faint voice, and I managed to make out a few words that were said in an English accent, ?Move..... away..... the door..... bloody....... wanker.......?.
I did as the voice asked, bending down to pick up the Duffel bag and moving away.
The door slid open, slowly, and I was blinded by a flash of light ? the emergancy lights must have activated on the other side of the door ? and not the rest of the compound.
Standing there in full-out heavy armour was Charles ? the compound second-in-command. He held a Grenade launcher in one hand and a Pistol in the other.
?What the bloody ?ell are you starring at, then?!? he barked at me. ?The rest of the lot are down in the bunker... we have one injured ? they?ll tell you what happend.? He replied and pointed behind him at the lift, leading down to the bunker.
I stepped closer, ?Oh Charles! You?re my Hero? ? he slammed his Pistol across my helmet bluntly... I wasn?t going to do that again in the near future.
I sneered and took the lift down to the communications interface ? I watched, slowly going deeper into the planet ? as the bulky blast door slowly slid closed, than locked itself and sealed the air within the bunker. Charles stood guard for the time-being...
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Now he's in the bunker - and in part 3, they find out that the team of marines are slowly getting killed by a Skulk hidden somewhere down there.
It's a fight for survival.
Coming soon! <!--emo&:D--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'><!--endemo-->
If you wanted to destroy something like metal/plastic, you would go with nitric acid.
Maybe hydrofluoric acid, which attacks everything. But not phosphoric.
Yea, that last chapter was kinda of weird.
And notice how I said, "Concentrated" phosphoric Acid - thats like the stuff in Coke.
And it's also humour - thus saying that the so called "Durable walls" were actually pretty weak.
if you want some more serious, more interesting stories, check my sig.
Feed back is greatly appriciated! <!--emo&:D--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'><!--endemo-->
-Sid
Easier to say concentrated acid instead of naming any particular type. Interesting to see where you take it. Cheers.
Igor goes to chain Sid to computer.
I'll get right on Part 3... <!--emo&:D--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'><!--endemo-->