Forum

Everyone enjoying this? Hopefully you are and following along, sort of like an Aliens mini, mini series, more to follow. Thanks for reading.

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.   
2183.  December 04. 

Amongst the blaring sound of power tools and construction equipment, the work crews of Joe's come and go down the long hall, constantly passing the two marines standing guard. The Rookie, Nik Elson stands to attention, upright, assertive, his posture perfect as always. Chin up, chest out, shoulders back, stomach in and silent. ‘Like a good marine.’ A little tired with it being almost a full twenty-four hours since he last slept or ate anything other than a protein bar but he will not complain. Glancing over at his partner opposite him on the other side of the infirmary door, Grimm. The marine himself leans nonchalantly, the top half of his back pressed up against the wall and so is one boot, his left leg up and from the side forms a ‘4’ where it crosses the other. Arms folded, pulse rifle hanging off of the Y-Sling over the front of his M3 Personnel armour. Limbs folded resting on the butt of the weapon, head down with his helmet tucked low just above his eyebrows, blocking any light from the electric lamps along the halls walls, to the Rookie, his partner looks asleep. ‘Is he?’ The radio at his hip wakes up with a burst of “Static….”
“Grimm?” The Corporals voice comes through loud and clear but the marine does not react. The Rookie watches the lack of a response of any kind ‘Sleeping,’ With everything going on and all the racket, wondering for a moment if he actually is or not, about to speak up or reach for the radio, arm already in motion, the Rookies stops when the Private First Class lifts his left hand and clenches his fist.

Knuckles flex. “Pop.” And “Crack.” Before grabbing the radio and bringing it up slowly to the side of his head, the bulky comm's device tilting his helmet back up right.
“Sir?” Grimm says still casually leaning back.
“Head over to the office, leave the Rookie.” The Corporal’s orders follow and they are as vague as ever. Nik’s perfect posture beside him falters, even his unit leader refers to him as such.
‘The Rookie.’ The marine hated the moniker and had no idea why Vasquez had pinned him with it. ‘I’ll show them all.’ How he would do that here on Fury he did not know. ‘By being the best I can be.’
“Roger. Oscar Mike.” Grimm says and the radio falls silent, the marine comes away from the wall and turns. “Looks like you're on your own.” Face almost expressionless and with these words Nik once more stands to attention, ending with a nod. “Yeah, yeah stay frosty, just bring up the tracker every now and then, you have him tagged right." He says to the Rookie who nods once more. "Corporals on the other end, if you need me call him.” And Grimm turns away. “Right, too the office?” ‘Escort and or guard detail now for sure.’ Are his only thoughts heading back down the corridor they had passed through to get here, the usual limp that doesn’t slow him down carries him forward.  

The marine lifts his good hand up about to switch on his HI-Beam, the passages are lit for them not the androids. ‘Too many.’ Large dark spaces, ones that hold memories he wants no part of when alone, and the synthetics everywhere simply don’t count as people with a presence he could feel. Passing by each blanket of shadow, any one of his cloned limbs that pass through the shades of black go numb, each patch of black, an icy pool of nothing. Turning the next corner he stops and lowers his hand without turning his light source on, the average Joe's that were working and that filled this corridor before, with their pale rubber faces and Seegon overalls have all stopped working. They are now lined up next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, backs pressed up against the walls facing an exacting row of Joe's opposite, both lines of synthetics lead all the way down the passage and into the dark. Stood there frozen like statues, most of them sporting the power tools they had been using, a clear run between them, walls of parted synths either side but something tells him that they are not doing this for him and before he can even think about it he gets his answer. Two red dots appear at the end of the hall in the dark. ‘Moving.’ Followed by more, a dozen or so red orbs begin to streak through the black of the passage coming towards him until the first two that appeared reach the threshold of night. 

Glowing red orbs belonging to an average Joe, the first of many as Joe after Joe step out into the light, single file and silent they continue forward, all of them. ‘Eyes glowing red?’ Grimm notes that it’s not the typical white that their LEDs usually display, wondering what it could mean briefly ‘Clean up duty.’ The body in the ducts is as far as he get with it, watching the first of the dozen synthetics make a right turn at the end of the row of Joe's, just yards ahead of the marine, followed by the others, one after the other until the last disappears down that passage. The moment they are gone, the rows of Joe's explode into motion, each of them instantly returning to whatever task they had been set before making way for the others that came through. “Balls.” Grimm says. ‘Probably should have gone when it was clear.’ Are the marines next thoughts as the corridor continues to fill up with even more androids seemingly out of nowhere, more work tools and more noise make it impossible to pass, especially when the next wave of them arrives. “I’ll take the next one.” Grimm says with a shrug, none of the Joe's acknowledge him at all, knowing most of the layout of this part of the compound, this central hub by heart anyway and so knew that there was more than one way to the office, hopefully the next passage he takes won’t be full to the brim with synthetics working and impossible to get through. 


I had planned to write a little more for this one with the others as short as they are, something came up cutting it here, sorry. Not as polished either, well as unpolished as my amateur writing gets anyway. I will get back to it soon, thank you for following, those who are. Any way, short and sweet.... I hope.

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 04. 

“Knock, knock.” A one knuckle rap, tapping on the door only twice the marine stands and waits, the smell of cigarettes he had picked up further down the hall has reached its peak, the origins of the tobacco smoke awaits behind the door to the office.
“It’s open.” Sarah says, voice coming out from behind the closed door. Grimm enters closing it shut behind him, lightly saluting the company agent sat behind her desk with two fingers, before spotting the average Joe standing in the corner, he glances at it briefly. ‘Hmm.’ After seeing the red eyed Joe's in the hall earlier, this ones are the typical white. ‘As they should be.’ Is all his mind offers on the subject
“Corporal’s orders.” Grimm says turning to her now, forgetting about the crimson hued LEDs. “Head over to the office?” Both of his arms out asking. ‘Why.’ And his mouth saying. “What now?” Juggling the air in each hand, so many options, until he notices the serious look slapped across her usual icy glare, the two together almost concerned.
“Your Corporal did not tell you?” Sarah says chuffing away, blowing smoke between each, head surrounded by the cloud she wished she could get lost in.

“Nope?” Grimm says leaning into it, his tone and body language asking. ‘What?’ Even though he could probably guess, he waits for her to say it.
“There has been another incident…” Sarah says waving her hand, parting the smoke. “The other company agent and his guard detail came across another body in the ventilation system, much like the one we found, one of the YYs mapping that area.”
“Already…” The marine checks his watch. “Really… Not even a full twenty four hours since the last one. Hate to be that guy.” Grimm's face doesn’t change, the typical pain infused grimace even as his tone shifts to that. ‘I told you so.’ “You really should have let me go after that other blip on the tracker, this may have been prevented.” 
“Totally separate incident.” Sarah says the second he finishes then blows smoke.
“Your sure of that?” Grimm says arms hand out.

“Yeah.” Sarah says rising from her seat, leaning over the desk she picks up one of the P-DATs there and begins to scroll through the display with one finger. “The data doesn’t lie.” As much as she wanted it to right now. “For one this second incident is located nowhere near where we were. Two.” Raising two fingers. “That section of the ventilation system is separate from the one we were in, even if that blip or what have you had got out that far.” Turning around the P-DAT in her hands and tapping each location separately on the screen, if only to emphasise the long distance between them. “And if the tunnels actually overlapped, there would be no way into the other network, they would have to come all the way back down, return to the Hexo-Junction and go down the passages we had. A dozen hour round trip… At Least.” Sarah says, her hands and arms all moving, gesturing the criss crossed nature of the tunnels above and around them, the labyrinth that comprises the majority of the compound. 
“Great.” Grimm says mulling over it all for a moment, none of this should even be for them to sort out anyway, reaching that mode of thinking once more, something he had only shared with the Rookie up until now. “Why is there not a single colonial marshal down here to deal with this sort of thing?” Grimm asks, his tone clearly one of irritation.
“Well…” Sarah says and the marine knew from experience that any answer from a company agent that starts with ‘Well’ will never, ever be a good one. “To save on costs.” She continues.
‘Exactly.’ As he thought.
 “Those above decided that they would not be required. Due to the allocation of your USCMC unit on site.” Sarah says. 
“Typical.” ‘Corporations cutting costs, safety an afterthought, even for their own employees.’ Grimm knew personally how they conducted their so called business’s, especially on a budget. “How about now?” Grimm says. 
“What about now?” Sarah says putting out her cigarette in the cup filled with butts. “We have you and your unit.” The drinking bird unable to get any water from the cup turned ashtray, stubs them and lifts back up. The marine knew what she was getting at, he did not need her to repeat herself. ‘Cutting costs.’ Rings through his mind once more and he realises the brunt of this mess is actually going to be left for the USCMC to handle. 

“As good as we are at our jobs, we are soldiers. Not some beat cops or generic security detail. What do you expect from us jarheads exactly? A full investigation with paper work… As if.” Grimm would come off amused if not clearly being sarcastic the entire time, running through it all again in his head. Protecting the company assets on site has now shifted to top priority until the lot of them could get a solid grasp on what the hell is going on today, checking his watch. ‘Almost tomorrow.’“How far out are the others exactly?” They needed a solid regroup and now, instead of replying right away Sarah grabs another cigarette and lights it. 
“Too far out and in unmapped regions for me to be able to tell you when they will return. If that’s what you mean?”
“Yeah.” Grimm shrugs wondering where the Lance Corporal Turock has gotten to, some clarity on current orders more than needed right now. “Well, looks like I’m stuck here with you for now.” The company agents mouth drops a little, offended somewhat, although she knew she could and should probably be better company, the icy glare across her face even when relaxed tends to keep most people at a distance. 

“Elsons guarding that con... Speaking of which, what do you want us to do with him? We currently have him zip tied on the floor in the Infirmary? Now the brig.”
“I haven't even thought about it, let alone typed anything up on it yet. I’m not even supposed to be on duty right now. With everything happening I kind of don’t have a choice.” Sarah says this blowing more smoke with the last words. “I haven’t eaten or slept properly in god knows how long.” Sarah starts to tap her nails, it is obvious that she is a little jittery, some of it most definitely from earlier in the day. The company agents little blood shower in front of the two marines with the first body they found, and now with the current news of a second, it’s a bit of a mess for anyone to deal with and shes the supervisor.
“Welcome to the corp’s mam.” Grimm says trying his best at humour that isn’t dour. “Always on duty, always.” The marine leans. “And don’t forget the pay, all this for the big bucks too.”
“Give me one of those guns then wont you.” If she was capable of smiling she would, pointing at the Pulse Rifle hanging vertically across his front, having used a firearm only once in her life, at a corporate funded firearms class and a long time ago now too with a decade in cryo stretching that time out further. 
The marine gestures for her to get up and come over. “I want you to meet a good friend of mine.” Grimm says trying to smile but if he was, no one would no, his face looking less like he is in pain but only a little. Grabbing the weapon lifting it up and holding it out in full. 
“What the hell.” Sarah says arms out before putting the cigarette out too. "Always good to learn new things I suppose, especially if they can keep you alive." Sarah says.
"Words to live by." The marine says as the company agent walks over.

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 04.  

For a man so sure of his senses, Turock could not believe his eyes when he turned the corner in a few strides and the YY chromo him and the dog had literally just started chasing was gone, vanished, with a trace he only had to pick up on. With him being obviously injured from the fall and all the marine expected it to be over rather quickly and to have been staring at the bar code on the back of the cons head at that exact moment he made the left turn, the same turn the YY had taken. Instead the marine was met with an empty, long dark corridor, full of pipes and steam, like all the others, his HI-Beam the only light source around at the time, punching a hole in the black void that waits down so many of the tunnels. On his left and low, some of the access panels along the wall are missing at ground level and, having seen some similar on his journey throughout the compound, Turock realises instantly that the con could have ducked into any of them on his hands and knees, the dog sniffing one of the openings was also a dead giveaway to that possibility, he did not need to do get down there too, even though he was positive he would pick up some form of the YYs scent if he tried, be that alcohol, drug or cigarette smoke, one or a mix of the three, with more based on the amenity the company provided him. It didn’t take long for the marine to pick up on the noise though. The “Banging.” Of metal, “Rattling” Of pipes as they are “Slammed.” Into, with the constant “Thuds.” Of each of his knees, irony lost to them both as Billy the rat bastard scurries around in panic behind the wall, colliding with everything in the dark it would seem.

“Woof.” The dog barked at the black square but did not enter.
“You and me both.” Turock said nodding at the animal and its reluctance to proceed into the small space, the marine himself did not want to get down there and go crawling after the man, something unless ordered he certainly would not be doing, even now. ‘Way to boxed in.’ That out of your skin sort of feeling, ruffling his metaphorical feathers the wrong way, instead he grabbed his motion tracker and checked the display. The battery gauge had chewed up two bars like they were nothing since he had last looked at the device, having left it on, active and silent, audible warnings on mute. With the con already tagged on the system, from their earlier encounter, it had been a simple process following along, if not a bit slow for Turock's liking. All but confirming his suspicions as to how tight a space it must be for someone to move about down  in there and so low too. 'Must be cramped.' Turock not liking the thoughts of moving behind the metal wall and that’s without the bulk of the armour he himself is wearing. 

The chase, if it could even be called that at any point, even now. The whole time Turock simply plodded along following the blip and sounds from behind the metal surface, not at his typical graceful pace either, slower which the marine despised unless the situation called for it, the dog is still with him, having not left his side at all. The marine had come to notice rather quickly that they had been on the same path he was actually following back to the compound, the minor details of the passages jumping out at him. ‘Bolts.’ On the floor, that huge ‘Dent.’ A series of ‘Patches.’ All wet. ‘The liquid unknown?’ Even again as he passed it for the second time. ‘Brown sludge.’ Is the closest thing his mind gets at identifying the substance. Moving through each corridor, recognising them all and where they would eventually lead the group to. The trio were headed all the way back to the Hexo-Junction, the very same one from the start of his journey, the primary junction that leads to the other correctional units, hub areas and back to the main part of the compound. ‘The Hexo-Junction.’ And that is now where the marine stands, in its centre, the dog at his side and nothing else. Checking the tracker and following the blip on screen, walking a little he stops then backs up, one step, two steps walking a little more before stopping dead. ‘Here.’

‘How? Wondering how the blip had slipped through the junction partitions, a crack he cannot see below. ‘Obviously knows his way around the place.’ The groan in his head follows the realisation that the YY is now in fact underneath him, bending down the dog moves in trying to lick face, with his forearm he holds it at bay offering it a smile. “Easy…” He says to the dog and it stops, its head tilts, ears twitching and it looks down sniffing all around, the Hi-beam on his shoulder barely illuminates the metal grating beneath his boots. Turock places a flat palm on the ground glancing at the other holding the tracker, the blip right where it should be and then he feels the bump, looking down he sees something moving between the grime slick pipes and slowly too. 
“Hey, er... USCMC, Again. I just wanna talk?” Turock shouts down through the grate, trying a different tone to one used on all the others and earlier when he first arrived, collapsing through the ventilation system above the marine and the dog, it’s obvious this guys spooked, maybe a little concussed with a slither of shock added for good measure. 

“Get that… That thing away from me... Then yeah.” Billy's replies, barely his voice strained, words come up and out of the slits in the metal beneath the marine, then the blip moves and so does the YY, what Turock could see of him anyway, begins to slither along to the right and up out of sight. 
“Guess he doesn’t like dogs.” Turock says answering the debate he had opened earlier when the chase began, one between him and the canine on whom the YY disliked and was in fact running from. Looking at the dog, he could see why someone would feel threatened by it, but all he has seen from the animal is affection, something the animal is clearly lacking and has begged for ever since the two met. Practically neutered in the threatening department, all bark and no bite, with no teeth or claws to back it up. ‘Bet he doesn’t know that.’ Even Turock hadn’t noticed at first, but the dog was harmless from the get go. 

Standing and following the blip all the way to the largest of the six openings around the Hexo-Junction, half of them lit with electric lamps all the way down the walls, others sit black, the primary one leading back to the compound is the brightest and the one he is now facing. The sounds of work can already be heard rumbling down them all, a full three sixty ambience of power tools and construction equipment combine into one subtle chorus in the distance, work crews of synthetics taking the compound apart, layer by layer, the primary one leading back to the compound. the one he is now facing, is the loudest of them all.’ Following the blip as it moves slowly down that exact corridor, Turock stops and grabs the radio at his hip, time to call it in. ‘Cut him off.’ The tactic selected, he just needs another marine to do it. “Corporal come in.” The marine says into the radio, his tone one of minute urgency and he knew his leader would pick up on that as he always did. 
“Copy..” The Corporal's voice comes through loud and clear in, already waiting for whatever his second in command is about to say.
“I’ve got a possible suspect heading back to the compound.” The YY is still innocent until proven guilty in Turock's eyes, even if he is a convict, the guy just needs to stop running, or. ‘Crawling.’ Away from him, because right now the dog is not going anywhere, the thing glued to the marines hip and has been following along from the start. “The main tunnel leading from the compound to the Hexo-Junction, he’s currently in the damn crawl space and won’t come out... Scared of the canine boss?” Turock says this all with a shrug, unsure on that one as he looks down at the dog and it up at him. “Need one of the others to cut him off.” ‘Easy as that.’ Winking at the dog. “Get them to grab a tracker and head to the entrance of this corridor. I’m within range, use my IFF beacon to tag the blip between us and we will meet in the middle and decide what to do from there.” Finishing he takes a breath, a lot of info spat out in one hit but he knew that it was enough and that even if he didn’t get a response, it would get done. 

“Copy..” Confirmation as expected, although typically short, this time it felt unusual too, surprising even. Turock usually would be told who was being sent, especially if Vasquez was b going to be the one to join him. 
‘Please don’t be Vasquez.’ That smirk of hers already in his head, her temperament not needed on this one, also the women never really settles into the roles Turock requires of her, something to this day he is still trying to iron out, without shutting her down completely. As her superior he is privy to her attitude when it comes to being told to do something she does not want to do and she clams up, unproductively so. ‘Then who?’ Wondering again who would be sent. It clicks. ‘Boss.’ It had been a while since a proper pairing of them both. “I’m on my way.” The Corporal's words come through the radios receiver as he expected them too, Plissken himself will be joining him and would be one to cut the YY off in the passage ahead, the marine knew that his leader will have no problem getting down there and dragging the suspect out, Turock sort of feeling sorry for him now. 
‘Has no idea what is on its way.’ “If he’s scared of dogs, he’s gonna hate the Corporal.” Turock says to the animal tilting its head as he speaks, the marine knew the man well, the Corporal himself an old wolf in marines clothing, and a lethal one at that.

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 04. 

Eight Itches behind the bandage tied around his head, the sound of fingers scraping scalp, dirty unkempt nails passing over the bar code, barely covered beneath, the knot there a little tight but he could not be bothered to undo and redo the dressing all over again so he has left it, for now. The YY chromo leans with his elbow against the wall a few yards back, stood behind the two marines and the company agent who himself, unlike the other two is much closer, crouched and pretty much hanging over the shredded remnants of the corpse. While they have all been focused on and discussing that, the body and its scattered remains. Eight has been primarily focused on the very. ‘Petite….’ Female marine, she is blocking his view after all. ‘‘I have to oblige...’ The YY almost speaks his mind aloud, words rattling in an empty skull. “Take it no one is gonna ask me if I recognise the bloke.” Eight half asks just wanting attention at this point, hers.
“Not much to recognise.” Vasquez says back, thinking. ‘Understatement.’ Finally taking her eyes off the body, at that moment Mr Black down on one knee below tilts his head from side to side mulling it over not entirely agreeing with her words, her partner on the other hand, Ratzach, the giant of a man up higher beside her nods. Mr Black spots something, a 'D6' Dice. The number '1' Facing up amongst the gore.

Vasquez had seen enough of the mess now. Absolutely. ‘Brutal?’ Wondering who could do such a thing.
“Looks like some sort of animal attack?” Mr Black say, as if reading her mind on the matter, although an animal attack shifts the possible suspect Into conflicting territory.
‘What animals.’ She thought, there are none. 
Mr Black speaks. “No signs of an edged weapons or ballistics…” The company agent lost in his hypothesis. Vasquez turns her head to the wall, blood splattered all over it, then the floor... Which is exactly the same, covered in red, large crimson pools with the odd limb or chunk of flesh just sitting there lying in it. After all of that she looks up. ‘Even the ceiling!’ Streaks of the exact same tone below, some of those patches dripping, kept fresh with the heat of the tunnels, droplets fall to mix with the gore beneath each. Everywhere she looks the marine is met with the same unpleasant sight, unable to escape the horror show on full display without backing up like a. ‘Total Pussy.’ Shaking her head. ‘Not me…’ Not in front of the YY behind her and company agent beside her anyway. 

“Ya never know, I might recognise something.” Eights voice comes out from behind them all again. Mr Black looks up, the movement catches Vasquez’s attention, the pair just stare at each other for one of those moments that feels like forever, that cliche drawn out eye lock between two.
“Que?” Vasquez shoulders rise, both of them shrug with the ask.
“He’s right.” Mr Black replies, turning back to the remains. “There are a few identifying marks... Tattoos, a scar on that arm over there…” He points. “Looks like a brand?”
“Alright…” Vasquez smirks getting the point. ‘Already.’ “Come over.” Holding her Smartgun with one hand, lifting the other a fist, two fingers come up past her shoulder and beckon Eight to come over which he does, slowly just so he can check her out a little more from behind. In a stride, pause and step he arrives and Vasquez allows him some room to get past, standing in front of her partner, Ratzach behind, towers over her, comforting as always.
“Thanks chick.” Eight grins as he passes.
“Estupido! Chick.” More than offended. “That’s marine to you Puta.” Vasquez smirks nudging him with her weapon as the last of his body goes by, the Smartgun barrel digging him in the back and shunting him forward, Ratzach's hand comes down on her shoulder. ‘Calm.’
“Hey… Hey..” Eight says with a hint of amusement in his voice with his arms up in jest. “Jesus…” Amusement and jest dropped with both arms the second the YY stops in front of the mass of gore, he had seen some brutality in his days, dishing it out to eight specific women primarily mind you but this, he doesn’t know what this is and his mind locks up.
“Anything?” Mr Black asks without looking back, still crouched he moves somewhat to the side, stepping between the carnage carefully. His Black tie slips free from its silver clip and falls forward, he catches it in his palm before the fabric lands in any of it. 

“....Er… '' Eight barely says as he looks over the bloody scenery once more, with the pair of marines HI-Beams lighting the entire space up, now he can see everything in perfect detail, clarity unlike before when he discovered the body with his own, much dimmer head lamp. “Looks like he fell into one of the meat grinders.” The thoughts of those massive metal beasts, the sound of each one churning away brings back his days as a convict. “Inmates used to slip and fall into them all the time, some even jumped in, others pushed…” Finger qoutes. “Allegedly... Thats a shit way to suicide, so I always said pushed.” The con finishes shaking his own head only to realize that the other three are now just looking at him. Ratzach blank faced, Vasquez smirking and the company agent Mr Black just looks confused. “Oh…” Clicking his fingers realizing. “Those big industrial fans.” Using both hands and arms to express/describe how big and how industrial each of them in fact were. “They are all over the place.” Eight says but still when he returns his view, the three are still looking at him and their faces have not changed, if anything they sit more blank, smirked and confused. 
“Does it look like there is a fan around here that chewed him up and spat him out?” Vasquez says still with her trademark smirk.
“Well no it’s just…” Eight says but is cut off.
“None of them are in operation any way.” Mr Black says ending it there. “So, what about the body.”
Eight looks down once more, eyes glazed over, he didn’t need or want to take any more of it in, dead men and their giblets not really his thing, so his mind does not and without a face, which is gone. ‘Gone.’ The convict can’t really help. “No.” He says, shaking his head. 
‘What was the point.’ Vasquez thought. ‘We all knew that.’ No one is recognising this person for who they were before they were partially minced. Eight returns to where he was standing behind them all, back to leaning.

The company agent gets to the side of the body, looking up toward the head, what's left of it all anyway, the broken skull smashed apart like a watermelon and equally as messy. Reaching into his shirt breast pocket and retrieving a solid silver pen, he leans over the remains of what once had to be a face. “What are you doing?” Eight asks leaning out for a better look.
“Yeah…” Vasquez follows glancing as the company agent hovers over the bits, picking away at the top chunks until enough of it messily slips and slides out of the way for everyone present to realise what he is actually doing. Mr Black grabs the gore slick Spectro-graph, the wrist attachment and throat mount also, the head torch is in the hands of the con behind him, shaking it free of gunk flicks thick strands of coagulated blood off the device. “This may give us a clue as to what happened to him.” Mr Black says lifting part of it up into the HI-Beams light, Vasquez gives, turning completely to face Ratzach, shifting the Smartgun to the side and up beside them, barrel up toward the ceiling, face disgusted, smirk missing completely. A large hand comes down to rest on her shoulder, the giant of a marine could see she is a little more distressed than usual, then again thinking about it. ‘Never?’ Have the pair seen wounds done to a body like this, ever, outside of a personal explosive device, even saying that would be as stupid as the YY's comment about the fans which is why neither of them have said it, clearly no signs of an explosion anywhere at all. “Once the data is uploaded we should have a clearer picture of what happened here.” 
“How much clearer do you want it, cause right now it's pretty clear there's someone gone Loco! In a big way.” Vasquez speaks with her back turned to the sight, the thought lost on her as she tries to get rid of some new ones now creeping up inside, black seeds of terror. The thought that for a company agent uncomfortable around a little synthetic blood earlier in the day he seems awfully composed and rather comfortable rummaging around in the remains of some dead con. Ratzach however does notice but says nothing, he doesn't know the man's background at all, but for a company agent, you’d think he was in fact. ‘A colonial marshal?’ Investigating a crime scene, the way he has moved around the body so far..

“Right… All done here. Shall we move the body out of the way now.” Mr Black says almost casually, like he was about to take out the trash, already unbuttoning one of his sleeves and rolling it up.
“Which parts.” Vasquez replies still facing her partner, looking up into his face, her smirk shifts and she smiles, lifting one hand into a fist she bumps the marine on the chest, like a small pebble hitting a castle wall.
“The legs… That arm and entrails.” The company agent says pointing at both. “Should be sufficient enough to allow access to the panel without having to touch any more of it.”
“You did that already.” Vasquez says, only now has her composure settled enough for her to turn back round. “Ergh…” The marine groans, hit with the same sight of so much gore once more. Mr Black does not reply instead he just moves stepping perfectly between the collage of claret and stopping in front of a limb. Without even flinching he leans down and picks up the severed length of arm, some forearm and right hand with a couple of fingers missing. “Papi here needs both hands.” Vasquez smirks giving it jazz fingers briefly before returning her grip to both handles of the Smartgun. Turning back around Ratzach has moved from standing directly behind her and is now walking past her, with him gone she is met with the drooling stare of Eight and she cocks her head back. ‘Really.’
“Hi.” The YY smiles waving meekly. 
“You.” Vasquez smirks and nods towards the corpse. “Come and help move one of your friends off our only way down, that’s if you don’t mind.” Sarcastic and smirking.  
“Nope, I do mind… Not on my contract, Seegson ain’t paying me to move bodies around.” Eight says leaning against the wall with his elbow. “And I told you I didn’t recognise him, so how is he my friend exactly?” Rolling her eyes at his words to her rhetorical. Vasquez is about to just leave it, then she spots her partner Ratzach chipping in, his massive boot sweeping chunks of flesh out of the way, off of the access hatch beneath it all, clearing most of it, leaving only a grimy red streak leading across it to the gore now piled up on the other side. 

Vasquez shakes her head as her partner leans and shakes the gunk from his boot. ‘Why should he?’ When it’s one of the YYs responsible for this in the first place, the thoughts bubble into anger and without Ratzach there to calm her because he is doing what the convict should be doing, she snaps a little. “Nah!” Twisting the Smartgun around to face Eight, the barrel aimed right at him and he looks down at it for a moment then back up at her, the marine smirking, tapping the digital readout over her eye.
“Not this again… US...” Before he can say anything else Vasquez cuts in once more.
“I’ll make this short.” Since she knew she was not the best with words at times, threats on the other hand. “Maybe I get jumpy, what with a killer on the loose…” Vasquez says. 
“Yeah so.” Eight shrugs, the man didn’t get it which helps her anger none, another bubble to the boil.
“Maybe I start shooting at shadows, there’s a lot of them around.” The marine says hefting the weapon in her arms.
“Why?” Eight is lost just standing there looking at her now and that boil of anger almost roils over.
“Maybe one of them shadows is you!” Vasquez growls, having to keep from screaming nothing but profanities at the something she already knew but has just been confirmed. ‘Dumbshit.’ Something clicks though. ‘Finally…’ The YY looks down at the weapon again, any expression lost with the realisation that he is actually being threatened by it and that it is threatening. 
“She means it.” Ratzach’s voice booms from behind her, always backing her up, three words tossed the cons way and they help him decide.

“Alright….” Eight says pushing off the wall in a huff, like a moody child. “Jeez.” A moody child being forced to move a corpse mind you, parts of one, but to Vasquez current disposition on the matter is that if the USCMC are going to be forced into this sort of work on Fury, especially if that marine happens to be her partner. 
‘Then so is he.’ Vasquez thought. ‘And anyone else with a double Y chromosome. 
Eight moves whilst thinking, alot. ‘Bitch, like all the others… Always demanding, nagging… Moaning. Putting me down’ Shaking his head scatters the fragile mosaic of eight young girls, into so many pieces it makes him dizzy, light headed when he walks past Vasquez, she does not register to him on any level of lust at all, not any more. ‘Telling me what to do…’ This time it’s that feeling he is certain of, black, sticky and cold, like each bucket, long filled for each of the eight women of his namesake. ‘Bitches….’ Memories of them all, then the lesser women that make up his double digits parade through. ‘This marine should be one of my double digits.’ Eight had been standing in front of the corpse's legs on the tunnel floor, he didn't realise he had been standing there spaced out for a few moments absorbing the carnage, this time taking it in full and liking what he sees, if only. ‘It was female… A Chick… A Bitch… The one behind me… Yeah.’  Eights mind juggling hard, leaving him daydreaming.
“Hey.” Mr Blacks voice snaps him out of it.
Shaking his head. “Bitch…” Eight says. 
“What?” Mr black asks, the same face of confusion from earlier as he reaches down, one hand under the bit of lower back the other grabs the trouser leg at the thigh. 
“... Nothing.” The convict leans forward and grabs both feet, a boot in each hand he lifts.

Hope people are enjoying this so far and are following along with my amateur writing, apologies for anything to bad or confusing etc. For those of you that are following it all, I will leave it down to you guys to decide if you like. What character or characters currently active in the compound on Fury would you like to see encounter the Alien runner next? Message me, or write below and I will be sure to write it up and roll out the encounter for you all to enjoy next time. 
Thanks for reading guys.

No one? Looks like it'll be down to a dice roll of some sort.

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05. 

(Ended up being another YY chromo inmate on the chopping block, lets see how this one fares shall we.)

Seegson came out of nowhere, one interview, two company agents hidden behind a plastic security screen and. ‘Fiorina 161.’ The inmate told them what they wanted to know, that he knew parts of the compound well enough to map them in a timely fashion even though he wished he didn’t, and like that he was instantly transferred into their custody. As long as he plays nice, he will find himself a free man at the end of it all. So far he plans to do just that. ‘Play nice.’ No one is leaving him on Fury of all places, or locking him up again, serving a life sentence for more than a few brutal murders when they found him. 'Red heads.' In particular and hating them for it. This however is a second chance he will most definitely take and for once, perhaps in his wretched life. ‘Find some form of peace.’ A dusty worn through fantasy lost to an eternity staring at bars, locked behind them even with his newfound faith. Now though, it's a dream that fell in his hands, for him to take and make something out of. 
“Beep, beep, beep.” The spectro-graph sounds breaking his entire thought process, soppy sentiments, the alarm continues. “Bleep, bleep, bleep.” Again, again and again. 

The wrist attachment finishes its final beep and falls silent, ‘Finally!’ The audible warning had been different from all the others, each one heard recently and throughout the entire day, this sound though has been less frequent, still, he remembers what it meant, bringing the small display up to his face to check. ‘00:00’ ‘Yep… Another long ass day over.’ Rolling straight into the next, with only this piece of tech on hand to break them up, separating one from another. ‘Not that it mattered much.’ Understanding that this would be a very long job, almost like a sentence, a year however is nothing compared to the time spent in some places, even Fury, having spent eighteen years locked up here. After scanning his assigned correctional unit weeks ago, the YY took to the many tunnels and passages of the compound, some much further out than others, the ones he himself is in fact familiar with. 

The average Joe's assigned to him have all been left to their work along the way, having broken off in small groups until he was left completely alone. Each synthetic assuring him that they would catch up when they finish whatever task they started, it has been two days since then and he has seen no sign of them anywhere. Staring into the gloom, the head mounted torch barely scratching the surface, the darkness constantly pushed back, black silently slipping away from the light. 
“Ping.” The spectro-graph letting him know the area around him had been scanned, this tone from the device is one he is more than familiar with., his pace is a slow one to allow for the tech to scan the regions around him.

A “Growl.” Sounds, he stops in his tracks, raising his hand to his stomach, he feels and hears the next one. “Growl.” A rumble within. ‘Hungry.’ Is his next line of thinking. ‘Tired.’ Too as he continues on, walking down the passage unable to remember the last time he had taken a proper break or eaten something substantial, the man so used to being told when he can and cannot do both of these things. Now with free reign over his time, beyond that of the initial work contract, separating the two basic things has been an odd thing. The convict reacting to his body as opposed to preemptively eating and resting to stave of exhaustion and or starvation like a normal person, prison indoctrination and mentality have found the YY a little light headed, mouth incredibly dry since stepping foot on Fury. 

Heavy “Dripping.” The sound coming from up ahead, hearing it before spotting it in the centre of the passage, a typical sight among many down here, at least something somewhere has been leaking in each and every passage he has come through, the one he had just passed for example had multiple busted pipes somewhere, forced to wade through cold grimy water up to his shins. This particular leak however catches his eye and he stops, it glistens in the light and he watches it come down slowly, falling in long viscous streaks, adding to the small pile of almost jelly now pooling beneath it. 

Something barely. ‘Moves!’ Up in the darkness of the high ceiling, a heavy shadow amongst shadows shifts in the black above, beyond the beam emitted from his head mounted torch, the cone of light aimed directly down the corridor, not up high and so does nothing to help.
“Bleep!” The spectro-graph this time sounds, only once, his blood runs cold with the warning. ‘Life form detected... Up there?’ Slowly lifting his head, the beam of light follows the dripping from the ground up. 
‘Nothing.’ Up there, looking around. Lights, eyes playing tricks.’ Rubbing them both staring at the miss mash of pipework, all various shapes and sizes, the same dark colour, deep rusty browns and slimy blacks. A heavy. “Phew.” Sighing as his eyes hunt for the leak. ‘There?’ The YY spots the source and what it is coming from. Squinting to focus, his vision struggling in the low light, even after a lifetime of nothing but. Looking up through the steam, almost able to see the ventilation system way up there at the top. ‘That’s a job for another time.’ Then, the large pipe slightly poking out on the left, already overlooked begins to move, his jaw drops as it continues moving, eyes widen and something horrific turns to face him. ‘The space beast? From the fucking book..’ His only thought.

Unfurling way too fast to react. “Bleep.” The convict sees only a blur of motion, a nightmare launching from its hiding place. “Bleep.”  
“Oooofffhhhh!” The only sound he makes, the YY accustomed to violence, the odd body check over a lifetime spent incarcerated is no problem, but this, he is not ready for at all. Like a train slamming into him at an angle, losing sight of it entirely, of everything, dazed, winded and sent off of his feet and down into the concrete. Landing hard, bar code on the back of his head stamping the ground, skull bouncing off the floor with a "Thud." Blurring his vision.
“Bleep.” Lying awkwardly on his very large Seegson survival pack, the convict is stuck like an overturned turtle. “Bleep.” Equally as vulnerable, and he felt it at that moment too. His front, throat, all of it, totally exposed.
From behind, A. “HISSSSS!” That hovers over him, the threat makes his blood run cold, causes a stress overload which follows naturally with a blow of panic, this starts at the chest, heart skipping beats. Then sends a landslide of ice through every vein, muscles twitch nervously as every part of him desires an escape, arms and legs flailing about in the air pathetically. ‘The beast...’ Looking for it, eyes darting around rapidly, the head mount askew and so is the beam of light making things even more difficult to view. ‘There.’ Catching half of it, part of it's side in the light, all he can do is stare upside down and from that single angle his beam allows. The Xenomorph sits there, almost hanging over him on all fours, its spine like tail slips in and out of view followed by a bladed tip, swaying behind its exposed bio mechanical frame, all slick and glistening in the light.

Hands come up to both straps as fast as he can. “Click, click.” They come loose, the weight holding him back comes free and he throws himself forward onto his knees then stands, continuing the motion until he is running as fast as he can.
“Bleep.” The YY looks back mid sprint, hoping, praying that he had put some distance between the monster.
“Bleep.” ‘No...’ Over his shoulder at the end of his beam of light, pulling up beside him now on all fours, running along the wall as easy as he was floor. 'So fast.'
“Bleep.” The creature moves with a mesmerising grace, a dread beauty too close. The YY’s body begins to tremble uncontrollable with the beginnings of the thoughts of what this horror had in store for him. 
“Bleep.” The horrific silhouette on his periphery launches even faster than it had done before and the YY’s vision is rippled as he is slammed into from the side, even harder than the last time. “Bleep.”
“Argh!” Another collision with the same train, the added force leaves him reeling and sent into the wall on his left, losing sight of the creature with the collision, he bounces off of it grabbing a pipe just to hold himself upright. “Ah.” Hurting,
“HISSSSS!”  The Xenomorph taunts the YY, the monster clearly playing with its prey, it wants to continue the chase so this game between them can go on a little longer.
“Cough.” The YY splutters, heart racing, the realisation he is being toyed with forces it to skip a beat, the horror looming in the black a few feet behind, its presence pure terror and way too much for his mind and body to handle, both of which lock up, the convict freezing on the spot. 
“Bleep.” Over his shoulder a taught, brown black, metallic arm slips past, six fingers, fused together in twos, all ending in razor sharp claws, with the palm holding a viscous goo stretched across the vicious digits, webbing its entire hand in the sticky opaque mass. 

“Bleep.” The convict can do nothing, frozen as it is brought slowly toward his face, eyes wide as the sludge is jammed over his mouth and nose, instantly cutting off his air supply, the claw that brought it pulls away sliding back over his shoulder. “Bleep.” 
The convict begins to move forward, exploding into motion with panic, beyond panic as he tries to get the stuff off his face, it’s sticky at first and he pulls small chunks away in clumps. Still, he cannot breath and the YY runs into the wall knocking the light on his head even more askew, slamming into the surface and slipping slightly but holding himself up. 
“Mmmmmhhh!” His own muffled scream makes his entire vision blacken at the edges, dragging his side along the wall, colliding with the pipes until he hits one and pushes away. Slamming onto his knees, reaching up again to tear more from his face.
‘Solid.’ The sludge has solidified, fingernails peel back digging into the resin sealing his mouth and nose shut, things go black and he collapses, lungs spasming in his chest. The last thing the convict feels is motion, his body being violently dragged and taken away. His last thoughts. ‘The…. Space beast?’ ‘Robert Morse’s book.’ And how it wasn’t bullshit at all.

(So I rolled for the encounter, got a random convict and went with it. I would love some involvement from you guys but it’s okay for now. Anyway, the above is the result. The dice fall as they may and I accept them no matter what, working it all into the narrative to the best of my ability. This guy lasted a little longer, in the end his stress and panic got the better of him even if the Alien only rolled. ‘Playing with its prey.’ on its attack table, well until the very end with a nice. ‘Capture for the hive.’ This place needs more aliens, well we have a gestating Queen within ‘The YY convict Billy’ But that is going to be a while yet.)

While I have nothing to offer about the vast amount of content you've made, given the setting, you might be interested in this if you haven't seen it already:

https://www.reddit.com/r/alienrpg/comme ... rectional/

While I have nothing to offer about the vast amount of content you've made, given the setting, you might be interested in this if you haven't seen it already:

https://www.reddit.com/r/alienrpg/comme ... rectional/

Very nice, wish I had that before this, I have the compound roughly set in my head, The main stuff is all in the centre, then surrounding that the correctional units and hub areas for the prison. Then north, east, south and west, all lead off to the many, many tunnels and passages, above all of that is the ventilation network etc. The same paint work slapped on from the movie and that's what I've been working off. Thank you though, I have saved it.