Time: 5:47 AM Elysium Time
Date: 5-11-2211
The Anniversary Of The City.
Days Since First Sign Of Infestation: 0.
Xenomorph Population: Speculated, But Unconfirmed.
Civilian Casualties: 3 Confirmed, 8 Missing Presumed Dead.
U.S.C.M. Casualties: 0
Mission Time: 00:01
The sky was usually so beautiful over the city. Blue, sunny, with just the right amount of clouds. Flying native lifeforms, classified as a type of avians, would often flock high above, flaunting their colors. It was as if the heavens themselves had bent to the will of this city's masters to please the impetuous cattle of a populace that resided here. Not today, it would seem. Still reflecting the fleeting shroud of night and barring the way of the sun's warming touch, the thick cloud cover cried out it's mercy upon this, the City of Perfection. And Corruption. Rain flooded the streets of the less aesthetically pleasing districts, where the unwanted necessary elements of this paradise made their homes. It was little more than a ghetto on the best of days. No one looked twice at what happened here, so long as it never, ever touched the real residential areas, with their flawless and magnificent sheen. The workers who lived here, kept here by the wages barely meeting the monthly costs and never coming close to affording a way out. Wage-slaves, taken one step forward. A perfect way to maintain a steady populace of workers, at least by Corporate standards.
The scene on these abysmal streets was one that played out a thousand times before..... Violence.
"Hey, hey, man! Look, I don't want any issue, kay? You got my wallet, now just let me g-Aagh!"
The body of a middle aged man, African American by ethnicity, impacted against the unforgiving street curb. The blood from his head drifted down a nearby storm drain, carried away by the torrent of rain. Another, younger thug, caucasian, and brandishing a lead pipe, clenched his teeth in anger as he loomed over the fallen.
"Thirty-five bucks? What the fuck is this? You're payin' for your right to breath, here, and all you got is this shit? Pfft! Tough luck, gramps!"
Another hit was delivered by the mugger, shattering the passer-by's shoulder blade with the sheer force. The man's screams went unheard,
almost. As this brute reared back for one more good swing, he was blinded by the spotlights illuminating him. There had to be someone to manage this lot, some kind of law enforcement, but they had no care for the civilians which lived here. Oh no, they merely followed simple orders. Maintain Peace. The Gods of this kingdom forbade that any ill news of crime, violence, or bloodshed ever reached the word of potential investors. So the streets were patrolled. Guns were loaded. And without warning or demand to surrender, the criminal was cut down by a quick burst of silenced weapon's fire.
"Target down. Situational Clean-up, underway. We'll report back when this mess is taken care of."
"Sir? What about the civie?"The man scrambled to his knees, clasping his hands together in praise of his saviors.
"Th-thank you! Shit, I thought I was dead. If you didn't show then, I don't kn-"
"Him, too."No moment's pause. No protest allowed. No pleading was accepted. The order was given, and a single round found it's mark between the eyes, of the fool who believed himself saved.
"Dispatch, this is K-11. Sector 38-D has been cleared. Send clean-up ASAP, over."Two more bodies vanished into the night. No one who cared would know, and no one who knew would care. That is how this city's gleaming facade survived. That is how it always would survive, as anything beautiful did. So pretty on the outside, but beneath the skin there was nothing but rotting meat, lies, bribery, and corruption.
Looming over them in orbit, the
U.S.C.M. Nicodemus Conestoga-class carrier hovered with eyes-in-the-skies and waited for comms chatter back from the grounds. Colonel Donald Briggs headed this operation, taking his place at the bridge to observe his crew. In the hangar bay, more UD-4L "Cheyenne" utility dropships were being prepared to depart and drop as needed. Global observations were underway. Nothing was getting on or off this rock without the Colonels say-so. Though it seemed someone somewhere had a lot more tug than one would imagine, for the
Nicodemus wasn't to be the only carrier present. Accompanying the Colonels ship were the
U.S.C.M. Osiris and the
U.S.C.M. Necromundus, each carrying reserves of fresh troops in the case of infestation. No one was taking this lightly.
Drowned out by the roar of thunder and rocked and battered by the high turbulence, the landing crafts parted the cloud cover in droves. Inside, their pilots checked and rechecked their landing status, confirmed authorization. Authorization not given by Mr. Cade, but by someone several tiers higher than him. Drop zones and landing pads, both in and out of this city, were designated and reserved for their touchdowns. The flying monsters of steel landed their feet upon the surface of their drop-point, opening their sides to reveal the armed and ready troopers they carried. Some a little dizzy or sick from the ride down, but all marched out into their formations. Sergeants within each squad sped them on, shouting out their various gung-ho speeches to motivate faster deployment.
"Let's go, ladies! Wake up time! What, did you doze of on the way down, Patterson? Come on, move your asses! Hustle like you got a purpose, Marines! Command wanted that Forward Base operational
yesterday!"
Within the confines of the Elysian Tower, an overpaid receptionist noticed the military official approaching her desk from the elevator. He looked to be just about as annoyed as she did. Making a point about his tardiness and that Mr. Cade doesn't like to be kept waiting for an appointment, she pressed the button on her terminal and paged his office. Inside, Mr. Cade could do nothing but peer through his darkened glass window at these new and unwanted visitors.
Like a swarm of ants, their armored bodies scoured out and off of the landing pads, eagerly awaiting orders from above. They mapped out grids of the city and the colonies that lay beyond it's walls. Positions were noted, orders were given to begin setting up, and plans for grid-by-grid searches were already being organized, starting with the inner city and working their way out. The civilians may not have been too keen on that, but it held no difference. The Colonial Marines were here, and ready for a fight.
Or so they thought....
Deep within the darkness of the city's extensive underbelly, maintenance teams never stopped working to maintain the luxury those fops upstairs. Even now, on the celebratory day, the anniversary of the city's birth, they continued working. In the darkest of places, where even the security lights seemed to flicker in and out as they pleased, fear began to grow. Stories of things that lived down here, people disappearing and never being seen again. It all had some of the men terrified to even think about going down there, though to the vast majority this was nothing but a load of crap, and superstition, to support said crap. If there was something down here, then why hasn't anyone caught it? The security teams searched down here a lot. Routine is what they usually said, but the various spooks usually pointed out that they didn't do these walk-throughs till after the disappearances. Of course, most simply respond by stating that it's likely to make-
"Pussies like you feel safe at night, Redgy. Seriously, dude, the guys up-top probably have to arrange these God damned things cause you chickenshits won't work down here till
Daddy checks under your bed."
"Man, that ain't funny. I told you that damn dog use to sleep under there and growl when I fell asleep. Friggin' little rat gave me nightmares till I was fourteen. But seriously, you're buying that load of shit they keep spoon feeding us? What about Ray? His girl ain't seen him in months. And we both know his broke-ass didn't scrape together enough to tell
Mister Cade to kiss his ass."
"Dude, there could have been like a million reasons why nobody found him."
"Yeah? Name one."
"Alright.... Well, those damn Hyperdine Oxidation Filters are a death-trap and a half. That big opening in the inspection tank? Ray could've fell over the railing doing something stupid,
like he always does, and gone down stream. The water pressure would have just shoved him along. Hell, it'd do more than that, it probably shove his ass through those narrow intake tubes and squirted him out the other side like a tube of toothpaste. The bits of him would be utterly unrecognizable, but still would be picked up by the scanners as contaminants. The system would have isolated that line and flash-boiled it away to sanitize it, leaving nothing behind. Hell, maybe we've all been drinking little vaporized bits of Ray for the past few months...."
"...... Wow. Is this the kinda shit you think of in your spare time? Cause if it is, man, fuck, go see a shrink. I mean,
damn!"
"What? Things like that happen. My uncle Mike? Gone. Inspected a fission generator when a breach happened in one of the lines. The vacuum pressure sucked his entire body through a quarter-sized hole. The only reason nobody found out sooner is because some the remains of his tendons and shit actually blocked off the-"
"
Okay, okay, okay, okay, change of subject! Please? Jesus H. Christ, dude. But seriously, man, I am not cool with you going down there on your own."
"Oh, for the love of- Fine! I'll get Miller to go with me, since he's already down there anyway. There, you don't have to go, and I won't go alone. Happy?"
"Yes."
"Alright, let's see if the assholes asleep or not."
Though they had no idea what lay in those dank halls. Behind the shadows of machinery and hidden in the veils of hissing steam. Things from nightmares given live. Things which were hunting their friend. Through the mucky sludge of the ill-maintained tunnels he raced, breathing erratically as he clutched his chest. He'd been running for his like for the better part of an hour now, fleeing those things which took away the workers right by him without a sound. In the dank and dreary void of the shadows, he saw
them. He knew they were still chasing him, but the aged and out of shape man could no longer continue. Struggling to contain his gasps for air, he hid behind a large wall of piping. All was quiet, save for his beating heart. Maybe God would have mercy on him, and the heart attack would take him before
they did. He began to leer his head out, checking the coast, when his radio sprang to life.
"Miller! Hey, Miller! C'mon, man, pick up the comms. I know you're asleep down there, jacka-"With a whimper and the stumbling of his shaky hands, he managed to silence the voice which threatened his life. It was way too quiet down here, perfect conditions for that sound to travel. He didn't breath, didn't move. Just sat there, praying to any divine that would hear him. Once more, no sound was made for the longest age. From a combination of fear, stupidity, curiosity, and maybe a need to stop kneeling on this cold, hard ground, Miller once again dared to look beyond his shelter. Darkness, and nothing more. No horrors crawling on the walls, no shrieking monsters thundering down the tunnels. Not a soul. With a heavy breath, ushered forth by the sudden relief, he looked back, and saw.... a mirror? His heart froze as he gazed at his own blurred reflection, an image which gleamed off the head of this terror with no name. It's head raised, it's eyeless-stare meeting his petrified eyes. It's lips retracted in a hiss. He saw it's teeth....
And nothing more.
In the heart of the Jungle, only about a few miles from the city, the storm roared with all its fury, yet gave not a tear from it's clouds. Heat lightning, caused by a completely separate storm coinciding with the one that hovered over the city right now. A residual side effect to the atmospheric conditioning needed to prevent the levels of nitrogen in the air from reaching too high. The air here was humid, but not wet. It was certainly hot, though. On this world, the spring seasons were often hotter than the summer, and without the comfort of the invisible atmo-field of cooled air, previously set records were being broken. Hot, populated, violent, and with potential conflict on the horizon. Ideal conditions from those who looked at this world from beyond the stars, hidden in the vast expanses of space. Though already there were some who lurked in these canopies, seeking not the hunt, but the answer to a question.
As to what they were, well.... That was a matter of who you asked. Angels and Demons, Gods and Devils, Ghosts and Spirits. Every culture that has ever walked the Earth had a legend told about them, the invisible killers who preyed on man. The Hunters, who came in the hottest seasons, to claim their trophies. Though while no hunt was established, how could one resist such tempting game? Beneath the sea of leaves, a squad of E.C.P.D. had been assigned to investigate missing research personnel and the disappearance of several captive animals. They marched along at a relatively slow pass, awaiting the regrouping of one of their comrades. James Taggert, Roger Keyes, Raymond Lewis, and Pete Farva.
"Man, where the fuck is Farva? His ass been gone now for like forty minutes.""Probably still takin' a dump. Told em' not to eat them damn berries.""Yeah, I don't know. That's one seriously long shit he's taking.""Hey, cool it. He said he'd catch up."
"Yeah, alright. .......Well, that's fun."
"No, his tag isn't showing up. Then again, neither is mine. I swear to God, this shit is about as reliable as a prize you'd get out of a God damn box of cereal."
"Whoa, wait a minute. I got him. He's..... what the fuck? In front of us?"
Beyond them was a thick tangle of overgrowth and vines, unwelcoming to say the least. Pushing their way through, the troupe soon came to a clearing, following the lead of the locator tag all the way to the base of a large tree.
"Well, guys. Apparently Farva became a tree...."
"It's says he's right.... Oh for fucks sake. It moved again. He's just through there."
The brush beyond was just enough to make line-of-sight difficult to manage, but something was moving over there. Shadows occasionally blocked out the light from the sun, which was just now beginning to illuminate the clouds. They approached, but did not enter. Not so much out of the preservation of the man's dignity as sparing their eyes from such a horrid sight.
"Hey, Farva! Get your ass out here!"
"I don't know....... Oh, fuck my life. I'm going in."
The leader of this band leaned forward through the vines and leaf cover, only to go reeling back with the vision he received. His frantic left hand, in an attempt to balance himself, grasped onto a mass of vines, and tore them down. Now all could see it. The skinned cadaver of their missing squad member, with his locator tag at the top of a mound of skin, organs, and bloody rags. The squadmate at his six locked his finger down in a fear-trigger, hosing the entire tree with pulse rounds. Then the laughing started.
"<{:HEEHEEHEEHEEHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAA!!:}>"
"I Don't Know, Just Fucking Shoot It!"
"Yeah! Come On, Bitch! Where You Hidin', Huh?! Where You Hidin' At?!"
James Taggert, the man who lead this squad, had been off-Earth for nearly 11 years. He thought he'd seen everything. But he failed to see what hit him. A massive force, something huge in size, bull rushed through him, sending him flying back-first into the unforgiving trunk of a tree with a simple backhand. Whatever it was, it was too fast to see, even from his other comrades. The ghost moved with such purpose that even Lewis didn't see what was coming. The vice like grip on his throat tightened as he was dragged off, practically swallowed by the jungle itself. The poor soul kept screaming the whole time, bloody murder. The kind of screaming a human only makes when he's being ripped apart. Keyes burped off several bursts into the foliage, but the screaming kept going. He turned to his downed leader and advanced to help, oblivious to the shimmer of something suspended in the air in front of him.
Too late, as the invisible noose wrapped tight around his neck. In the blink of an eye, the full grown, two-hundred-and-twenty-five pound man was whisked into the canopy. His gun hit the ground a second later, and James bolted for it. Gripping it tightly, he unloaded all one-hundred rounds into the jungle, hoping that maybe he'd at least get that damn taunting to stop. It never did.
"<{:HEEHEEHEEHEEHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAA!!:}>"
"<{:Turn Around!:}>" "<{:Turn Around!:}>" "<{:Turn Around!:}>"
"<{:HEEHEEHEEHEEHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAA!!:}>"
Taggert's weapon clicked. The clip was spent. The hair's on the back of his neck stood straight up. He could feel the presence behind him. And it spoke one last time.
"<{:Got your back, bro.:}>"
His head whipped around, meeting the invisible demon's fiery eyes. He screamed. The sharp, overwhelming pain of heated metal rending his flesh.
And the sound of his severed arm hitting the jungle floor......
Destroy. Escape. Survive.
By Any Means Necessary.
