Bug Hunt!

[Gryphon]

"Aaawwright Marines! Listen up! This is not a drill!"

The sargent glared at the troops in front of him as though a mere look could tell him which would survive this encounter with the enemy.

"In just a few hours we will be arriving at our destination on Riegel 3, where some unfortunate civilians have been encountering some problems with the local wild life."

A whisper went through the gathered marines resolving it's self into the quiet words "Another bug-hunt."...

"Thats right kids, a bug hunt. These mud farmers built too close to a bug zone, and it's our job to burn those bugs out"

One of the marines spoke up: "But sir, why send us? Shouldn't they just nuke them, or send in the airforce with napalm or something?"

The sargent turned a baleful glare on the unfortunate marine.
"Well now, I've never tried growing food on land that has been nuked or napalmed, but I expect that it probably doesn't grow too well soldier. None of that's our concern however. We've got a job to do, and we're going to do it!"

Triumphant battle cries echoed through the troop transport and looking at the faces of the cloned marines in front of him the sargents mind held barely a flicker of thought for the killing that laid ahead.

~~~ Several hours later, moving up on the position of the entry to the bug hole ~~~

"Squad 50, we're some of the lucky ones who get to lead todays little outing and the bugs know we're coming, so I expect it ain't going to be pretty. Check your weapons and prepare to move out!"

Almost as one, your eyes all turn to the darkness beyond the entry to the bughole as you prepair for what lies ahead...

[Katzaniel]

Why, oh why, did I ever sign up for the army? I'm 26, my whole life in front of me, and these stupid farmers are sending us in because they can't deal with this themselves. If I were a farmer, and I discovered a pack of bugs on my land, I'd just pack up and move. Instead, I'm just a lowly marine... trying to impress Martha... shouldn't she be impressed enough by my Master's in physics? No, I have to go risk my life... But that's not really fair, is it? She never asked me to go out here. It was my own testosterone, is what it was. I thought, I can't propose to Martha when all I do is study. I have to show her that I'm well-rounded, or she'll never accept me. So here I am, in an army 99% clones, just trying to fit in...

 

Gah! A bug! And I haven't done any of the procedures yet.. okay, there's my gun... where's the trigger?! Got it... oh, phew, someone else shot it already. And now Sarge is shouting at us to be more prepared. Man, those bug guts are ugly. Who thought they'd bleed green goo, either? It's just like the movies... only less fascinating, more slimy. God, dear God, if I live through this, I swear I'll never do it again. I'll go, propose to Martha, and invent some napalm that doesn't scorch the ground. There. Save my life, and I'll save many more...

 

Who am I kidding? I don't believe in God. Not like my parents do, not even as much as Martha does. Why would she ever accept me, when I don't share her religion? Sure, I guess I can accept maybe there's something up there, but whatever it is, it sure couldn't care less about us. But... if believing will save me, I'll do it. Sure. If I survive, I'll convert. Go to church every w... well, every second week. Every third if it's a bad month. But I swear I won't miss more than that! And - EFFIN' GOD where's my GUN - sigh those things are grotesque. Where are they even coming from?

 

I can't stand this. I can't stand it any more, and we haven't even been walking for more than half an hour. It's hot, and I'm tired, and this bag is heavy and this gun is chafing at my hands, and I just know I'm going to die.

Edited March 15, 2006 by Katzaniel

[Gryphon]

Chad didn't bother checking his weapons - he'd already done it. A full clip of bullets in the gun, another several in the ammo belt slung over his chest. In consession to the Sarge's bellowing he moved his belt with the grenades into a position where it was slightly easier to grab them and checked that his knife was secured in it's boot shieth.

 

He exchanged an almost savage grin with one of the other marines in his squad when told they'd be first in and watched as Grady fiddled restlessly with his gun...

 

"Something strange about that one... perhaps his training didn't take well. Oh well. He'll shape up or..."

 

Up ahead there was a flash of movement and something huge and chitinous emerged from the bug hole and hissed at the approaching marine group.

 

"Well they did know we were coming, but it would have been nice to take them by suprise at least a little."

 

"Fan out, clear the line of fire!"

 

The marine group approached firing in sporadic bursts at the large bug watching as it shuddered and bug guts sprayed.

 

Moving rapidly Squad 50 moved up to the bug hole, and cautiously moved inside alert for the slightest sign of any more bugs.

 

Nothing.

 

"They're probably waiting for us around that first corner. You two," Chad indicated a couple of the other troopers, "move ahead and then provide cover for the rest of us. Keep your wits about you and you might survive this, they're just stupid bugs after all. Lets go!"

[Patrick]

My name is Jack. I received the best training the army could give me. And now here I am, putting the training to use. The rifle is still warm in my hands from the first bug.

 

Chad, his face a carbon copy of mine tells me and the marine standing next to me to advance. Seeing the logic in what he says I do so, applying exactly the right amount of pressure on the trigger of my rifle so as to be able to fire it as fast as possible. I advance slowly, watching carefully where I place each foot, careful to not make any unnecessary sounds.

 

*CRACK!*

 

I step on what seems to be a human jawbone, and with a loud snap it breaks in two under my boot. I freeze, listening for any reaction from the passageway in front. I hear scuttling noises from ahead and with my right index still on the trigger of my rifle, I motion with my left hand to my comrades indicating trouble up ahead.

Edited April 6, 2006 by Patrick Durham

[Sweetcherrie]

From out nowhere they attacked, and suddenly I found myself kneedeep in blood and gore. One of them had apparently decided that I would be his lunch, because he launched at me with blinking teeth that all seemed to say ‘yum’. I shot once, and I shot twice, then I shot again.

 

I had been walking safely at the back, but they seemed to be everywhere. From a distance I heard my own gun fire, time and time again. The bastards were hard to kill as well. I’m sure I’ve shot that big one ten times already, but seriously this is one tough mother- sorry, excuse my language, well at least the thing is dead now. It’s just that I’m not too used to fighting, since I’m normally cloned to work in the kitchens, but this seems to be an emergency so they put me out here as well.

 

Around me I’ve seen more flesh and blood than I’ve ever seen before in the kitchens, but it doesn’t bother me too much. After all, I’ve been made to kill, whether human or animal. Killing is simply a necessity, and in this case also an order.

 

Suddenly I feel a stinging sensation in my side, and as I look down I see that my side has been sliced open by a second alien. Blood gushes out, and I wonder if it isn’t supposed to hurt more than it does. I don’t even think as I aim my gun at the bug that still has my blood on his claws, and a moment later I see his brains fly through the air, and hit one of my twins flat in his face.

 

I see how he staggers into one of the bigger aliens while his eyes are full of brain. The alien immediately turns around, and sticks a claw inside my twin’s lower stomach, and the cry he lets out pierces my ears. I fire my gun time and time again, and notice that I start to feel a bit faint with the blood loss, but I can’t stop. The bugs want my life, and they know I want theirs, so I fire another round, only causing more blood to flow, but at least it’s not mine this time.

[Gryphon]

Hearing a 'crack' Chad's attention was drawn briefly to one side where Jack had just trodden on some human bones.

 

A whisper of sound was all the warning he had before the bugs attacked, a small pack of them racing up the tunnel out of the darkness, the lead ones pushing deep into the marine group who started firing their guns.

 

Hearing the screams of pain and the chatter of gunfire coupled with the dull sound of claws hitting flesh Chad fired at the nearest bug, watching with some satisfaction as it went down. Rapidly to cut off the flow of attacking bugs Chad armed a grenade and hurled it down the corridor into the mass of the attacking bugs then turned his attention back to the fray narrowly avoiding taking a large spike through the chest he fired and fired again targeting bug after bug.

 

"We can do this, we can beat this group. The certainty swept through Chad's mind as he killed another giant insect and shouted "Come on! Kill 'em. Kill 'em all!"

[Patrick]

Bright flashes of light erupt from the muzzle of my rifle as I continually press the trigger. Not all of the bullets manage to penetrate the hard carapaces of the attacking bugs, but enough get through to stop the disgusting looking bug from tearing me to pieces. Its body falls twitching to the ground a bare foot away from my boot. I don't budge as I reach for a new magazine and reload. A shotgun shot from a companion stops another bug from getting close to me, sending bits and pieces of its brain and head flying at my uniform.

 

I smirk in disgust at the defilement of my uniform and open fire at a bug sneakily crawling across the ceiling. Tricky bastard had thought that he could trick me, eh? I smile as it shudders and drops to the ground. I advance around its corpse, alert for any signs of movement from the supposedly dead critters. I'm nearly scared out of my wits as one of them swings a claw-ended appendage at me, tearing through my trousers and almost taking my right leg with it. I fire almost half of the magazine at its head, making sure to kill it, then inspect the damage it has done.

 

It's not as bad as I had at first feared, although a tendon has probably been damaged and the leg can't take much weight. I limp back, behind the first line, and motion the company medic to put a basic bandage on the wound to stop the bleeding.

Edited March 18, 2006 by Patrick Durham

[Tamaranis]

No rifle for Ethan, it would be a waste of a shock trooper's strength to give him something so light with such a low cyclic rate of fire. Short and thick with arms that didn't have any trouble controlling long bursts from a machine gun with a 600 round ammo box on it, he was in his element here. Whatever this was, exactly.

 

Another bug, the size of a horse, but with considerably less charisma gave no warning as it fell through the ceiling and onto a soldier, impaling him half a dozen times before it reached the ground. Two seconds and twenty rounds later it was dead.

 

"Come on! Kill 'em. Kill 'em all!" The cry was full of infectious bloodlust. Ethan screamed wordless rage and another bug died.

 

He waded forward-the bugs just kept coming and their shredded dead had started to become an obstruction-to get closer to the carnage, to have fewer allies blocking his line of fire.

 

A trio of smaller, faster bugs darted between the legs of their slow and heavily armoured bretheren. They attacked before the closest man could respond to the new threat. One leapt and stuck all of its many sword-like legs through the torso of a marine. It might have had trouble disentangling itself if Ethan's next burst hadn't put a hole through both the man and the bug. Another died almost immediately after. The last nearly reached Ethan and its leap was just taking it off the ground when a third burst tore it to pieces and slammed it back down.

 

The burning in his arms from continually swinging the weapon to new targets only made him feel stronger. The ground at Ethan's feet began to give way and he swung the weapon down, firing at something he couldn't see. Chips of stone flew in every direction, peppering his calves and shins with shallow cuts as his weapon chewed through earth just as easily as carapace.

 

The next thing he knew he was falling. The bid dead bug he landed on didn't provide any cusioning, armoured in an exoskeleton as it was.

 

Well, nothing was broken. Or if something was broken it didn't hurt so bad he couldn't move.

[Gryphon]

The chatter of gunfire slowed and stopped and the remaining marines listened with ringing ears for any telltale sounds of more bugs on their way.

 

When nothing intruded after a few momentsChad spoke up, shocking the rest of the troop into movement.

 

"Right, let's get a move on - we're not done yet, not by a long shot."

 

Indicating a couple of unwounded but bug splattered troops he continued, "You two, get Ethan out of that hole, get the wounded back on their feet, we're moving out. Keep your eyes open for anything that might indicate a trapdoor or a tunnel, it's obvious that these bugs can come at us from anywhere at any time."

 

Getting the remaining marines from his squad moving Chad picked his way further down the tunnel, boots sliding and squelching in the remains of the first wave of bugs as he lead the way around a twist in the tunnel and on into the darkness up ahead.

[Gryphon]

A short way down the corridor the tunnel opens out into a large cavern. Lights carried by the marines fail to illuminate the edges and top leaving a large portion of the cavern shrouded by darkness.

 

Entering cautiously the small squad of marines fans out slightly, their weapons pointing out into the darkness that seems to somehow move... but surely that's just a trick that your eyes are playing on you.

 

The small sounds of movement coming from the marines and their equipment cover any other sounds coming from out in the darkness.

[Patrick]

I'm once again in the front line despite my injured right leg. My companions are counting on me, and I can't let them down. Every time I put the slightest of weight on the foot, it hurts like hell, but I still go on. On into what is quite possibly certain death.

 

My eyes can't penetrate the darkness in front of us. A chill runs down my spine. I'm almost certain that those pesky bugs are there in front of us, watching us. I can almost feel the weight of their multiple faceted eyes surveying us, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. I see a dark blur ahead of me, and out of reflex, release a burst from my rifle at it. The ensuing screech acts as a signal to the bugs, who start coming from left, right and front.

 

I fire continuously from my rifle, advancing towards the mass of insects. My left hand fingers the atomic hand grenade fixed to my belt. That momentary loss of concentration is enough for a bug to slam an appendage through my shoulder. Impaled, I am dragged towards a monstrous mouth. I don't have much time left. I turn to face my companions, who are already far away. The last time they hear my voice is a warning.

 

"Fire in the hole!" - I shout, as I activate the grenade. A second later, the bug swallows me whole, oblivious to death ticking away in its stomach.

[Gyrfalcon]

I was standing near one of the tunnel entrances on the right when the shooting began again near the front of the column. Instinctively, I hit the prewarming trigger on my bulky weapon and turned to face the tunnel, the fans in my powered armor going into high gear. In this initial column, I was one of the few wearing the full powered armor suit, and with good reason.

 

"Fire in the hole!" the scream came over the commline, and suddenly forms were moving in the darkness of the tunnel, heading straight for me. I heaved my weapon into position, chanting to myself "Come on, come on, comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon!" as one of the insects leapt at me, claws outstretched and fanged mouth open. Automatically, I had hoisted the weapon to follow my eyesight, and when the LED on my HUD went from yellow to green, I pulled the trigger immediately.

 

A burning wall of plasma smashed into and through the insect, sending its burning carcass flying. Laughing wildly, I wrestled my weapon down, the searing lance of plasma slicing straight through the closest insects and expanding in great clouds of rapidly cooling plasma, melting insects further back into indistinct blobs or cooking their internals so they cracked their own shells like well-cooked lobsters. An explosion rocked the tunnel and sent me to one knee, and pieces of rock and far-flung chiten clanged off my armor and helmet, but I ignore it, hosing down the tunnel in front of me as sweat streams down my face, the coolers in my suit running fullbore but unable to keep up as waste heat from my weapon and the plasma in front of me combine to overload them.

 

My companions fall back, shouting and covering their eyes from the intense anctic flare of the plasma, but the visor on my helmet cuts the glare enough so I can see what I'm doing, hosing the stream of plasma back and forth across the tunnel, holding the flank all by myself.

 

Finally the bugs start running, and I let my flamethrower fall silent. Well, flamethrower isn't the right name for it, but the name for the old weapon this replaced stuck with it. Where the original flamethrowers used a mixture of flammable liquid and flammable gas, the current weapon operated using a miniture fusion engine that I carried on my back, and shunted plasma from the fusion process to a magnetic bottle. The first trigger I pulled kicked the reactor to life, and the second opened a magnetic tunnel down the barrel, guiding the plasma out and towards whoever I wanted to set on fire. Once it hit air, the plasma quickled cools, but by the time that's happened, whoever I've hit with it is pretty much dead. At close range, not even power armor can stop the plasma stream for long.

 

"Keep moving!" the order came, and I fall back into line, my armor pinging as it cooled, the front's paint burnt off by the intense heat, leaving the red armor splotched black and silver. I greedily suck on the water dispenser in the helmet, eyes wary and watching the tunnel. I know the bugs will be back.

[Gryphon]

The first wave of bugs rushes from the darkness without warning - there's barely even a sound accompanying their rush, excluding the shouts of suprise from the other marines.

 

~~~

 

Chad looks away from the darkness for an instant as his eyes track onto a sudden movement from one of the other marines, unfortunately an instant is too long in this case.

 

From out of nowhere a solid seeming wall of bugs races forward to the attack startling a curse from the marine as he struggles to bring his weapon into line to fire.

 

Even as Chad squeezes the trigger the first in the wave of bugs is rushing past him, and attacking those around him, curses and the occational scream come from those around him.

 

Aiming and firing at a particularly nasty looking bug with a massive maw and spikes at the end of each of its long legs Chad grunts with satisfaction as it drops and lays twitching, putting a few more rounds of ammo into it.

 

From somewhere nearby comes a shout, bitten off, followed by the words "Fire in the hole!" and Chad turns, just in time to catch a face full of bug and shrapnel as a nearby monster of a bug explodes. Pain blossoms in his chest and he feels one leg starting to give way as slowly the world seems to drift away. Somewhere deep inside his mind a sound registered - "That's funny, that sounds like a flamethrower winding up...

 

Chad thinks no more as a stream of white hot plasma burns the last of his consiousness along with the bugs around him... he doesn't even have the strength left to scream.

[Wyvern]

This is-

 

F*cking Jack. I wipe an insect tendon from my face, but that shit-stain mucous blood clings to my chin like some squad ration. Like vomit, I feel. Vomiting. No time. F*cking Jack, blew himself and- steady the rifle and fire at one of those THINGS in the head. Things-

 

This is-

 

We're not things. And the firebat- might as well be having the time of his f*cking life. Oh look at Chad. Run Chad, maybe you'll light one of the bugs up with your last dance. F*cking ASSHOLE. We're not things. Steady it, steady. These slimey shits are like lightening when shells are- Ethan, where's Eth-

 

This is-

 

My name's, umm, Martelb- NO, no, Marty. Nickname. Steady it. We're not things. Sometimes it's 99%... what? Steady it, fire! Fire! The M-85 jolts around in my hand and I rasp out half a laugh, catching some specks of that sh*tty puss-blood around the corners of my lips. F*ck Chad and his 'let's jump into the Ninth Ring of Hell together' bullsh*t. Nice to know you champ, hope you suck a lotta demon cock down where you're going. Stead-

 

This is-

 

Some still convinced of their Masters maybe. We're not things. Family? No. Where are th- oh he-OH F*CKING SHIT! On my on my on my arm, it can't- I- fall, jam it against, DIE! Yeah, you like the taste of that stone f*cker?! Have some more! Have some more! It's like paste now, green over my clothes. We're not things. Those legs, still sticking up like We're not things. Green splatter rock, two of the eyes still We're not things. Still there. We're not things.

 

Are we?

 

This is-

 

 

 

This is wrong.

 

 

 

This is wrong.

 

 

 

This is wrong.

 

I stand up, and I couldn't be calmer. Battle's still raging on, and I snipe out two approaching bugs without so much as flinching. We were all sent here to burn in Hell. They made us so that they could throw our lives away for some f*cking corn and potatoes. They could have used nukes and invested in non-organic foods, but they're just some greedy scumbags. Sergeant's probably smoking one of those fat f*cking cigars of his, watching all this from the vehicle monitors, ready to call for backup or move out. Profiting off of our deaths. That son of a bitch. It's very clear to me now, it's never been clearer or calmer. This is one giant death trap. But if the end is near, I'll be damned if I'm not gonna fight off the greater of the two evils. Feed us to the bugs, will you?

 

This is my response.

 

"WE'RE NOT THINGS!" My voice is loud and hoarse, and the cavern walls carry its echo. "You hear me?! WE'RE NOT THINGS!"

 

I gun another approaching bug down, then fire rounds at the ceiling to get some attention. I step past a stalactite that collapses, then raise my voice another notch.

 

"You're being thrown away for cheap dollar bills!" I fire at another bug. My voice is loud and calm. "Our lives are worth less than a patch of land to these military assholes! But we think! We're alive! WE'RE NOT THINGS!"

 

I wipe out another of those bugs, then wave my hand towards the passageway leading out of the cave. The direction we came from.

 

"It's time we showed these military ass-hats that we're more than some expendable scum!" I grit my teeth and charge in the direction of the passageway, away from the bugs, towards the real enemy. "WE'RE NOT THINGS! WE'RE NOT THINGS!"

 

As I charge, my ears catch what could be a chant or an echo.

[Sweetcherrie]

Cook hated it when things went wrong. Once he’d opened the oven too soon on a cake, and it had made a gurgling noise, and then sunk into a puddle of dough. The taste had still be ok, but it had looked way less good.

 

He looked at his stomach, sorta like that, only less bloody. Teeth prints could still be seen where the bug had ripped his stomach out, and his intestines were hanging out, shit colouring his blood dark-brownish. It didn’t even hurt that much, and the purple fuzzies dancing around his head were actually rather nice. Cook had expected it to hurt like hell, but it only stung a little.

 

He looked around, and wondered where everybody had gone. Just a few moments ago his fellows were fighting alongside with him, but now he could only hear something rumble in the distance. Around him dead bugs and dead brothers were lying side to side. Dazedly he rubbed over his arm, and noticed that it was only a stump he was rubbing with. He looked at it, and giggled how silly an arm looked without a hand.

 

Then he noticed the line of needles in his upper leg. ‘Morphine’ it read on them with big red letters. Oh well, at least he now knew why it didn’t hurt more than it did. In fact, he felt rather sleepy. Maybe he could take a short nap, and then return to the fight a bit later. Cook closed his eyes. The purple fuzzies blanketed him and slowly carried him away from this world, he smiled