Escape From the Marathon

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Paul
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Gerald saw the forms of the others enter the room, and heard one whisper "Now which one of you is the doc?"

Gerald shook his head. They'd never find him in the dark. "He's on your right," he called much too loudly. Realizing his mistake, Gerald could swear he felt every eye in the room turn to him in a mix of panic and anger, even though he couldn't see anyone's face.

"Shit; sorry," he said contritely. "I was just trying to-"

Gerald stopped. A piercing call, somewhere in between a shriek and a pig, came echoing down the hallway.

"Oh, Jesus," Gerald said in fear of both what was coming and the retribution for the mistake he made. He raised his assault rifle and grasped it with a firmer grip than even before.
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Somewhere in the gaping black void in her mind, Summer heard a cry, "He's on your right". Suddenly remembering fragments of the situation the last she was awake - and with no notion of how long or short it had been since she had passed out, not remembering that she had done so - Summer turned quickly to her right with a sharp intake of breath, raising her hands to guard position... and almost stumbling off the couch in the process, disoriented by the darkness. Half sitting on the edge of the couch, half kneeling, off kilter and very tempted to just lie down on the floor and sleep forever, she stared into the corner to her right where the alien had been, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, until she saw the faintest shimmer of red specularity glint off the creature's three eyes. A thoughtless panic gripped her heart, though the alien's form still lay still as ever, and she frantically tried to sort her memories well enough to recall where she had left her staff weapon.
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Nov 2nd '10, 03:09, edited 1 time in total.
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Jackson had kept silent through this ordeal. Part of him was just holding back the vomit that kept rising to his throat. The other part, the majority, was imagining what must've happened to the poor humanoid. He half-consciously followed directions, supporting the desecrated boy.

And then a shriek.

He snapped out of his musings. He looked around the room in the half-light, seeing all the people. He would've felt reassured, if it wasn't for the thick stench of fear. Suddenly, in his mind, everything was gone. Everything. All hope, all humanity, gone, in the blink of an eye. His parents, his friends... Katrina... Oh God I miss you, my sweet darling angel. I wish I was home with you... to comfort you, to wrap my arms around your ever-widening stomach... to feel the little kicks... And I will never again...

Jackson fell to his knees, just inside of the doorway. Tears began to stream down his face, and he planted his hands onto the ground, his left awkwardly angled to compensate for the shotgun. Sobs wracked his body, one after the other, until he quickly dehydrated himself. Then there was nothing but a stare, a blank stare, forever deep, into the cold metal.

Goddammit I'm getting out of this hellhole. Fuck these fuckers. Damn them all to motherfucking hell. I will strangle the life out of every goddamn last one of them if I have to.

"Lets fucking do this."
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Preston walked over to Jackson saying "It's okay man." Preston said "let's kill these mother fuckers and fix that arm of yours." He gave Jackson a hand to help him up but then heard another shriek.
"There coming!" Preston yelled as he drew his plasma pistol in his left hand
"Jackson, we have to get to cover." he said.
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The youth fell to the floor, hard, as Jackson began to sob and convulse with emotion. He it with a crunch that sounded like crushed bone, but he got up again as quickly as he had fell. He nearly fell again when he heard the shriek. His blood curdled again- his cold, viscous blood- as he felt them rounding the hallway adjacent to the medbay. His large eyes kept open in the dark, providing two spots of glittering quasi-light in the darkness. He shot his head around on his shoulders, clicking his neck painfully in the process. His vision came to rest on the barricade. He felt his rags for the pistol he had picked up before he was rediscovered.

He hand came to rest on the cold, stannic handle of the pistol at his hip. But for the first time in a while, he hesitated as he registered the touch.
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As the newcomers stumbled into the room, Harley kept watching the hallway through the space in their barricade.
Knelt down behind a flipped-over table, Harley kept his hands over both triggers of his Assault Rifle with its Shotgun attachment.
As he waited for what felt like hours, for a minute wondering if he was wrong about the possible threat, he saw several figures coming from down the hallway. A shriek rang out from one of them, and with, that Harley opened fire.
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The thunder of Harely's assault rifle screamed across the room, slamming repeatedly in and through the disintegrating barricade. One of the creatures flailed in the metallic shower, falling awkwardly into the ruins of the barricade, flinching violently as it came to rest on its back, squealing like dying piglet. The creatures began to return fire. As a glob of slime roared madly inches from his ear, the youth's world of invisible spectation melted as he descended back into the real world. He had still not taken cover, having only just emerged from his semi-conscious trance of deep, deep dread.

He fell deliberately backwards, since getting down carefully would be slower and more painful on his brittle bones. He landed on a clean plane of floor. Good. As he rolled lazily behind a crate, he felt for the first time in a while, the pulsating, incessant agony that plagued his body. He felt for it. His hand came to rest on his abdomen; his fingertips found a growing exudation of warm blood, and at its center, a cold, metallic tip that protested with the screaming anger that only pain could provide. This was not the first time shrapnel had been a cause for worry.

But however hard the youth tried to feel the pain, to feel something for once, the irreverent numbness provided a deafness to this scream. He lay on his back, eyes fixed on some unknown point on the ceiling. He felt for every heartbeat.

Edit: Yeah, it's all good now. I was thinking of just deleting my non-canonical posts. Should I?
Last edited by Dugit on Nov 6th '10, 09:42, edited 1 time in total.
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Joshua woke with a start, pushing a yelp out of his dried throat. Guns? Explosions? What was going on? Joshua quickly jumped out of his bed, but didn't feel his feet against the floor. That was when he noticed the blood, on the walls and the bed where he'd just been laying. Then he looked down. "GAH!" He yelled, realizing that he was riddled with holes. Then the feeling came back to his body, and not in a good way. He screamed in pain, and sat down on the floor, applying pressure to his wounds. "HELP!"
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Preston heard a cry of help behind him "Don't worry I'm coming!" He yelled as he started to sprint to were the cry of pain came from. He began to shot plasma blasts at the intruders when he arrived. Two blasts out of three hit some of the aliens but the third blast was going to hit an alien but it dodged the orb and began to shoot gobs of brown were Preston was. He dropped his weapon and went to see the his injured ally. "What's the problem." Preston asked but then noticed that he had a lot of holes in him. "Never mind." He said as he applied pressure to the mans wounds.
"Doc, we need you over here." Preston yelled.
Last edited by Wasabi on Nov 6th '10, 02:54, edited 1 time in total.
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As Summer stared into the darkness to her right, fixating on the dim red glint of running lights off the captured alien's eyes, heart racing in a half-dreamt panic... suddenly a firearm reported to her left, its un-muffled muzzle echoing loudly through the room. She literally leapt into the air from her half-crouch between the couch and floor, landing in an overly wide fighting stance and scrambling awkwardly before she had reestablished proper footing toward the window where she had left her staff weapon.

Running past Harley, Gerald, and Simon, not yet conscious enough to recognize that they were shooting out the door and not at the unconscious alien, she grabbed her staff weapon and turned back toward the far corner of the room, back to the door. She saw a figure move in the darkness in the far corner of the room, and readied to attack it; as it rose slowly to its feet she stepped forward to thrust, when suddenly she felt something brush against the tail of her unfastened shirt, still trailing behind where she had been a moment before.

She swung about to attack whatever had almost struck her, only to find nothing there, but a terribly injured boy lying on the floor in shock; in the darkness and her dazed confusion she wasn't sure if this was the same boy they had found in the med bay upon their arrival, but she thought he looked different, maybe a little older, dressed differently. As she stared down at him confusedly, she noticed the large hole which seemed to have been chemically burnt through her shirt tail where it was impacted a moment ago.

Slowly coming to her senses, she watched someone she didn't know run from the door to the aide of the figure in the corner she had thought an alien a moment ago. Realizing Harley et al had their weapons aimed out through the barricaded door, and that everyone inside the room whom she did not recognize was severely injured or tending to someone injured, she realized that the threat was not within the room but outside it, and began to step toward Gerald (toward whom she still felt some strange camaraderie despite his dickishness) to ask what she could do to help.

But before she could take more than a step, a completion alarm beeped behind her. Her first protein analysis had completed.
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Nov 7th '10, 20:58, edited 1 time in total.
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Guns were carefully firing on the foes on the other side of the barricade. As the synthezizers plinged in completion, Simon said "Keep your head low, and out of harms way." Seeing how one of the flying creatures tried to squeeze itself thorug hthe barricade window, Simon took a careful aim with his rifle. Hitting it right in what seems to be its eye.
"There still seems to be a few flyers on the other side!" Simon notified the others, and reached for a new magazine.
Last edited by CryoS on Nov 6th '10, 03:52, edited 1 time in total.
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Jackson caught a glimpse of the creatures that had started the gunfire. These ones fly... these aren't the ones... And he heard a whispering in his ear. "Save your ammo, save your ammo. Hide. Hide. Hide." He turned around, looking for who said it, but everyone was either caught up in the battle or tending the bullet ridden boy of to the side.

So he hid.
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Her available mental energy still sorely lacking from sleep deprivation, Summer's attention focused entirely on her protein synthesizers, the rest of the med bay fading away to a dim buzz in the background of her mind.

Looking at the results, she identified the unrecognized organic molecules in her first blood sample. Using the abiogenetic techniques of her invention which had earned her her place on the Marathon roster, she began to code a protein keyed to bind and disassemble the foreign pathogens into a simple template bacterium...
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The last flyer fell to the ground dead, and with it the medbay was secured.
"Is anyone hurt?" Simon said, as he looked around the medbay. He turned the few lights that still were workign back on. a dim enviroment revealed itself. Smoke from the gunfire was still hanging lightly around, Summer was looking very tired, but she was standing next to her medical equipment.
Looking down he saw the boy that had been hit in the stomach.

Simon walked over to the boy. The wound was bleeding heavily, and Simon called for Doc.
He ordered Harley and Gerald to keep lookout. He told the other new members of the group to help doc in any way they can. We are very disorganized, someone got to take command... Simon thought to himself.
"Summer!" Simon shouted. "Once you are done over there, you gotta get some sleep, before you pass out."
Simon shouldered his rifle, and then recapped all recent events.
Last edited by CryoS on Nov 9th '10, 10:30, edited 1 time in total.
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The sharp clang of footsteps rings out across the vast confines of the dank storage bay. A tall man strides forwards, hawkish eyes scanning the gloom. Dust falls from forgotten crevices as his swaggering gait swings him onwards too an imposing crate of rusted metal and silky cobwebs. He's grinning now, as he reaches for his pistol, clicks off the safety. There's a dull thump as he raps upon the aged portal flakes falling off its rough surface.
He muses himself with the fortune of the situation, the pistol rising to point at the fused handle. The bay clamors with the shot's echo. Then silence.

"My, my... The sniffer wasn't holding out after all..." Loit said aloud, his grin widening.

Before him lay dozens of tubs filled with a substance akin to bile, yet far less healthy. He tossed a beacon into the hold, then closed the door. He paused a moment, before turning away, scratching his chin in thought.

"Did I just see...?" He muttered, and reopened the door.

A nearby tub showed to be laden with shot and rounds. He stared at it for a moment, before the stench of Murk broke him from his stupor. He covered his face with a thick cloth, and made his way towards the tub. Huffing and cursing he managed to push it out of the crate, and inspected its contents. He frowned, only broken down bits of different weapons. Nothing intact. The bullets are dented or bent.

"Just my luck, always a tease." He gripes, before heading out towards the bay doors.



"The hell is everyone?"
Last edited by Hueqort on Jan 11th '11, 16:41, edited 1 time in total.
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Paul
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OOC: I'm a little behind in my writing, so just take it as a bit of a flashback that I'm still shooting the wasps at the beginning of my post.

Gerald was in a rush; all he could think of were the large bug-like creatures flying through the now open barricade. He was firing, wanting to yell but too numbed to do so. Suddenly, the roar of multiple weapons firing on the door lessened, and Gerald realized his magazine was empty. Seeing more and more creatures starting to break the loose crossfire, and with no ammo left, he felt for the secondary trigger, hesitated, and fired.

The grenade flew right through the ranks of the flying creatures and detonated in the hallway. Before he could be disappointed by the miss, he realized that more creatures behind the ones he was aiming for had been killed by the blast.

With the fight finally relenting as the others finished off the few creatures in the front, Gerald took a moment to look around, seeing several things at once: The boy among the newcomers had fallen on the floor and stopped moving. The skin on his chest was torn from shrapnel, and Simon was next to him, calling for someone, but for who Gerald didn't hear. He felt a pang of regret and looked away, seeing a blinking light at some sort of analyzer or synthesizer of some sort. Summer was engrossed with it, and Simon called over to her, telling her to get some rest.

Gerald saw the boy that they had attempted to tend to before the attack sitting against the walls, moaning. He walked over to him, crouched next to him. He lifted the boy's head so the boy was facing Gerald, and softened his voice to as comforting a tone as he could, saying "It'll be okay, it'll be okay" as he looked around for something to stop his pain. Not finding anything, he stood and called to the doctor whose name he still didn't know, yelling over the boy's moans, "Doc! This kid's up again and he needs something now!"

Gerald looked around and performed a quick head count. Harley, Simon, Summer, the guy named Preston, but where was the doctor, and where was the man with the robotic limbs?

"Hey, where'd the other two go?" Gerald said, momentarily forgetting the boy in pain sitting in front of him.
Last edited by Paul on Nov 9th '10, 23:19, edited 1 time in total.
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"Just please, tell me you've got some morphine." Joshua said, looking up into the man's eyes. And please, stop touching me. He brushed Gerald's hand off and tried to get up, but only managed a kneel. "What's going on? I remember arriving here... About an hour ago... But not much more than that." Joshua quivered in pain as the feeling began to return to his body. "Uh... Where's my gun..." Joshua said, looking around the dark room for his weapon.
Last edited by TectonInd on Nov 10th '10, 02:11, edited 1 time in total.
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Preston assumed that the wounded man was in good hands for a while so he left to find his plasma pistol. "I while be right back." Preston said as he left. When he got to where he left his plasma pistol he was startled to see it partly destroyed in a pool of brown liquid shit he thought as he came back to where the wounded man was.
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Every last ounce of mental energy engrossed in her gene-coding project, Summer's attention vaguely perked up and listened around the room as someone shouted her name. By the time she had focused enough attention to decipher speech again, all she caught was "...get some sleep, before you pass out!" The speech centers of her brain attempted to compose a sentence of protest, have to work, have to finish, can't sleep until cure or might not wake after... but a troublesome fold of a protein withdrew her attention entirely again before she could speak a word.
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Gerald felt the young man brush his hands off of his face, causing him to retract them in a mix of shame. Trying to get his mind off of the embarrassing moment, Gerald answered the boy's question, saying, "I'm sorry; I don't know where the doctor is, and he knows where everything is. Anyways, we found you delirious and bloody here. We sedated you, but it seems that the fight with the-" Gerald paused and searched for something to describe what they had fought. He couldn't. "After the fight with the, uh, whatever those things were, you woke up."

He saw the boy try to get up. Gerald pushed him back down, ignoring the fact that he seemed not to like being touched. "Hey, you're in no condition to move. Just wait until the doctor gets here."
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Joshua shot an angry look towards Gerald. "Fine, I'll sit down," he said, as he did just that. Joshua grimaced in pain as the pain he felt grew stronger. He knew he badly needed painkillers. "Alright, so what just happened? What was the shooting? Was it another group of bugs?" He said, trying his best to ignore the burning sensation throughout his torso. "And who are all of you?"
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Jackson stood up, unnoticed (he suspected, due to everyone's stolen attentions) and saw the woman doing something. Something... science... He never got into science, but he knew science always meant math of some sort. He walked over to her.

"Hey, you need someone to run numbers, possibly? I feel rather useless, and I want to be doing something."
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While establishing a simulation to check the effectiveness of her tentative immunoglobins on the protein synthesizer's adjacent terminal, Summer became aware of a figure standing next to her. Her eyes so focused on her work that she wasn't even blinking, she did not make eye contact, but from her peripheral vision she got the impression of a young man, though something was strange about him, somehow inhuman - her mind had already played tricks on her tonight, however, and she was tempted to dismiss him as a waking hallucination. But he spoke, and though unable to parse his speech properly, something in his tone of voice sounded... helpful, or at least, offering something. In response, her throat made the sound which would have produced an absent-minded "huh" if she had bothered to open her mouth, but instead she simply grunted a "hrm" at the stranger.

As she initiated the simulation, she closed her eyes tightly and drew a forceful lung full of breath, before letting it out in a very controlled manner and blinking away her fixation on the terminal, rubbing the corners of her eyes. Replaying his words in her mind until she understood them, she turned her head toward him, but still did not make eye contact, her eyes focused at infinity and aimed somewhere through the countertop in front of the man beside her, glancing occasionally toward his shoulder. She managed to utter a somewhat comprehensible reply: "Computer does math."

Feeling distant twinges of remorse at her antisocial behavior, she forced herself to make eye contact and flashed a slight, but genuine, smile which would have accompanied the words "Thanks, though", if she had had the energy to utter them. She turned back to the terminal to watch the simulation results display.
Last edited by Pfhorrest on Nov 11th '10, 03:25, edited 1 time in total.
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The caked blood was beginning to pool and entomb his lower extremities in a hardening, crimson casket. His legs were barely able to move anyway- a purple cross-hatch of angry capillaries and a deep pallor. The wound appeared far less clean by now, with the mucus that caused the wound beginning to mix and ferment in the young boy's blood. He relaxed his breathing, and began to look away. His eyes caught sight of something and stayed there, but he was looking at nothing. It seemed he was intently searching for something outside normal perception, within this singularity of focus, and this entranced him. The quasi-sight of it gripped and shook him, but he did not move.
Last edited by Dugit on Nov 11th '10, 20:22, edited 1 time in total.
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"Computer does math."

Sigh. As always.

"Thanks, though."

Well, at least I was politely dismissed. Only one job for a mathematician anymore... teach, teach, teach.

"Well, not that I mind it. I suppose I could do worse. And knowing that I'm helping others improve is nice..." he said aloud.

Wait, did I just say that? What the hell is going on?

"Hey, can anyone possibly look at my hand? I'd like my shotgun removed, if someone can do that." Immediately feeling ashamed of his selfishness, he added, "you don't have to worry about me, my hand is pretty low priority. Just..." his voice died. Goddammit. Now I feel useless and retarded. I wish I was with Katrina...



Wait, where is she?


"Oh God..."
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