Markowitz the Amnesiac

[Skane10634]

Once upon a time.
There lived a man named Henry Wettingsworth.
Henry lived... somewhere. He wasn't quite sure where exactly. But he knew he was alive
Broken memories flashed through his mind, fire and judging by the wreckage surrounding him, there was a breach in the room he was on, a ship most likely judging by the equipment.
Henry rubbed his forehead, and leaned up. He took a quick glance around the room, noticing the small pieces of wreckage floating gently outside in the cold Cosmos...
On the surface, Henry was placid. He offered no movement save the faint twitch of his moustache. But his mind was whirling...
Quickly shoving his lack of memories aside for the moment, he realized that he heard a hissing noise. His suit was breached.
Fear washed over him. The inevitabilty of death stared him in the eyes. He groped around for the sealant pack that came standard on all EVA suits.
Henry quickly leaped up and began to search the rest of the room for any sort of pack, in hopes he would have just enough time to find one and prevent an inevitable demise. He flipped over tables, emptied cabinets, turning the whole room upside down, until he found a roll of tape.
As he brushed the clutter out of the way, the words "Luxury Barge" leapt out at him from a serving tin. He ignored it for the time being, however, and focused on the tape.
Henry set to sealing the breach in his suit and thought on what he was going to do, that was when the lights went out.
Henry froze in place. He glanced around, scanning his surroundings for danger. Seconds dragged by. Suddenly, he heard four distinct bangs report from the hallway down to his right, accompanied by bright flashes.
Terrified, Henry looked for a place to hide. The ransacked room had few places for cover, but the flipped table seemed as if it would be adequate. Without a second to spare, Henry dove behind the table, catching a glimpse of shadowy figures as they passed by the open door.
Henry hunched down, focusing his senses onto sound as he listened to the silhouettes pass by, their heavy feet stomping loudly against the steel ground. He could hear indescribable radio chatter, before one man called out:
"Target eliminated. Resuming normal patrol."

A second voice called out afterwards, a high tenor to contrast with the gruff baritone of the first. Both were muffled by what sounded like EVA gear to Henry, though admittedly he didn't know much about EVA gear.

"Yes, yes, it that all you can say, you pile of bricks?" This new voice was a bit... whiny"

Henry unsure of what to do, peeked over the table looking at what appeared to be a synth accompanied by a man, upon seeing a large yellow W on his shoulder a spike of distrust shot down his spine, he then snatched a wrench off of the table he had noticed as he peeked over and thought on his next move.
Henry held his breath. He thought about what he could poss- *BANG*
A closet bursted open. Henry peeked out from his hiding spot. His friend! He was alive!
Henry watched in horror as the synth swiveled around.
"Unknown lifeform detected. Exterminating"
With a single crack, the Synth sent forth a blast from it's integrated pulse rifle. His friend's head burst open, and the vacuum of space boiled his blood. His flesh swelled to unnatural sizes and pressed out of the gusset where his helmet was once attached.
Henry stared in horror, unable to do anything except breathe as he watched while his best friend's head was turned into a shower of blood, skull, and brain fragments. He curled up behind the table, making himself as small a target as possible as he listened while the synth and it's partner slowly walked away.
Henry sat there, cradling himself like a baby as he stared at the lifeless corpse of his once friendly acquaintance, at least, he thought he was, now lying on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood.

Henry gathered his thoughts, bundled them into a corner and stood up, his self-preservation taking hold, his next mission was to find safety, or perhaps a better form of defence.
As he contemplated on what to do. Henry remembered that there was a security checkpoint nearby. If he could get there, he could find a weapon to defend himself in this unforgiving ship. Henry walked quietly out of the room, wrench in hand, he moved forwards... He reached the doorway and slowly peeked out of the hallway. Left, empty. Right, dark but appeared empty. The security checkpoint was to the right if he remembered correctly.

A clank from around the corner caused him to drop into a familiar combat stance, his memories were slowly but surely returning to him, he peeked around the corner to the right, in an attempt to ascertain the noise came from a ceiling panel. He moved down the hall to the door which he now knew was the security checkpoint, if only he could open the door...
Henry found a discarded emergency toolbox. It contained all of the usual contents. He pulled out the pocket crowba. Bracing himself against the airlock, he gouged the end into the seam of the door. He pried with all his might, and due to the lack of power, the airlock creaked open. He stepped inside. A man stood just ahead of him.
"Ah, comrade Heinrich! You have decided to join us! Welcome back to the land of the living."
"Yes... The land of the living..." Henry responded, unable to remember who this person was talking to him, or what exactly brought him to this ship, something about a clown perhaps?
It was all coming back to Henry now. His true name, identity, Markowitz...
It was time to cleanse the Station of clowns.
Markowitz remembered now, the 'Clown' was code for the weyland-yutani officials onboard the ship, they had to use them to avoid being caught by the corporate bastards. Markowitz accent returned to him. "Da comrade, let us kill the 'clowns' do you have a firearm?"
"No. I sure could use one."
The man shuffled around and grabbed a PPSH-69 from it's holster on his waist. He tossed it over to Markowitz.
"Very well. On me, Markowitz. Today, you and I, and Artyom will cleanse the ship of the Capitalist filth" and as he said this, the foot falls of a synth could be heard marching towards the airlock into the checkpoint. The three sleeper agents each took positions by the door, Markowitz grabbed a stun baton, planning to short out the synth when it walked into the room.
Markowitz looked at Artyom with a steely gaze and nodded his head as Artyom looked up from E-Maging the door. "Let's do this, comrade."Gripping his PPSH, Markowitz switched the safety to fire *click*. He looked to the others, nodded and dashed through the airlock. He looked to his left, the back of a synth. He set lined up the sights and pulled the trigger, the quiet fire of the silenced weapon filling the chamber. The synth was on further inspection, a repair drone and had come to fix the airlock. "Even though it was non-combat, we must move, they will know somethings wrong." Markowitz lead the squad down the hall stopping at a corner and peering around, what he saw unnerved him.
The squad had come face to face with a mob of synthetics, normal Working Joe types, but they were all armed with blunt weaponry, an assorted mix of crowbars, wrenches and other tools easily retrievable with their access. Wordlessly, the mindless drones marched forward, causing Markowitz to pull back and face his squad, speaking but a single word,
"Run"

Artyom looked turned to Markowitz as he said this and shook his head. "We cannot backtrack, comrade. It will take too long to go all the way back around." With Artyom blocking the way back, Markowitz looked forward and thought of the possible ways to proceed onward.
Searching his mind frantically, Markowitz recalled the layout of the ship in his mind. There is a path..He needed to breach the wall.
"ARTYOM, BREACH CHARGE! ZIS WALL!" Markowitz screamed as he pointed.
Artyom nods and quickly placed the breaching charge. As he does, the working jones run towards him. *beep*
"Charge set Com-" Artyom was cut short.
"BANG" Artyom's blood fills the entirety of his EVA suit's helmet. A working joe managed to leap and hit him in the head with full force with a hammer.
Markowitz leapt back in fear, then quickly regained his composure and set about ending the Joe's life with a short, aimed burst from his PPSH. Truely a trustworthy and reliable weapon, the Joe quickly went down under the gunfire, electronics and motor-shrapnel flying from the bullet wounds in its manufactured skull,
"Comrade, we make our stand here"
As he spoke this, he assumed a defensive firing stance with Heinrich at his side; the two began emptying their weapons into the crowd of Joes bearing down upon them. Despite their losses, the Joes still outnumbered the two and were quickly gaining ground.
Seeing the Joes persistence and their continued advance on the squad's position, Heinrich reached in his front pouch for a RGD - 50 and pulled the pin. Before he could throw it however....
A large explosion rocked the hallway, a synth walked across Artyom's corpse and had managed to step on the detonator. The explosion completely destroyed their former comrade as well as numerous synths gathered around the corpse. Shrapnel and smoke filled the hallway, vision was obscured. Markowitz' ears rang, his hearing in his right ear was out but there was a small opening in the wall. Markowitz pointed to the opening looking at Heinrich and Heinrich nodded once. They dived through the opening and Henrich tossed the grenade behind him screaming but Markowitz couldn't hear. The new room they were in appeared to be a large area with many chairs.. The briefing area?
Markowitz let his guard down, believing all the synths had been destroyed by the blast. He stood up, helping Heinrich up as he did so. Heinrich nodded in appreciation and pulled out his weapon as he turned around to check for remaining synths, and was immediately caught dead in his tracks as a thrown crowbar impaled itself in his forehead, Heinrich stumbled backwards, mouthing wordlessly as he made a feeble attempt to reach up to the crowbar, before finally falling flat on his back, eyes glazed over, blood beginning to pool from his wound. Markowitz had no time for feelings and threw Heinrich's corpse into the horde of synths to slow them down and ran down a corridor to the left taking cover in what seemed to be the medbay.


A womans voice spoke tentatively "Thank god, I'm saved! Y-you are here to save me right?" Markowitz turned his flashlight onto the woman; she was of small stature and looked like she had been hiding in here awhile. "Rest in peace, amerikatzi," Markowitz opened fire on the defenseless woman, riddling her with holes. He quickly looted her body taking a small medical satchel, her comms link, and a map of the ship. As he turned away the woman gasped. 'What the hell?' thought Markowitz, and when he turned he saw the woman guzzling pills. A black rage overtook him as he grabbed her by the throat, slamed her into a locker, took a welding tool from under a table and sealed her in.
Checking his ammo to see if he could afford to waste some on a critically injured women, he came to the conclusion that using his precious bullets would be too wasteful. So he instead decided to get some revenge by proxy on the woman by strapping c4 to the locker and pulling it along behind him to use as a make shift grenade, incase he ran into any more Working Joes.
Pulling the locker behind him, Markowitz started questioning his morality. Was it okay to murder a woman and use her as such a way even though she was an American? They were the enemy but still.. He had no time for these questions, his Comrades were dead and he was on a mission. He remembered that there was one place that he needed to be and that was the bridge. Markowitz pulled out the magazine on his PPSH, a standard drum magazine containing 71 rounds, but the remaining ammo appeared to be 2 bullets and 1 in the chamber.
"Сука Блять" Markowitz thought. He'd been careless, he thought to himself as he put the drum back. The woman was already coming back to his mind to haunt him.
He ran through the nearest exit towards what he remembered to be the way to the bridge.

Markowitz found the bridge, but the airlocks were sealed tight and it was too much to force them open. The solution he found was to simply smash the windows with a crowbar until they shattered and he could climb through. He looked around, all he could see was a corpse in the command seat. He walked over, leaving his locker in the hole he made. Upon further investigation Markowitz discovered the corpse was the commander of the ship and a cursory looting revealed a service pistol that was fully loaded, along with an ID card. "If I am to contact GLORIOUS MOTHER RUSSIA, I must fix amerikatzis shoddy engineering." He proceeded to head over to the apc and investigate, muttering "Stupid amerikans, they left the cover off on power button". He smashed the apc into the wall and somehow, power was restored to the bridge. "Now simple matter of contacting Glorious mother russia". The woman in the locker responded by kicking the locker door. "How the fuck are you still alive? No matter," said Markowitz. He went over to the comms console and opened a link to GLORIOUS MOTHER RUSSIA "Mother Russia, Code:Sickle and Hammer at my coordinates." A reply was not short in coming "Da Comrade, multiple deepstrikes at your location will commence in one hour."

Markowitz was about to once again lower his guard to attempt to brew some homemade vodka from his own blood and some motor oil he found near the destroyed APC when the woman suddenly started kicking the locker once more. He turned to the console again and contacted GLORIOUS MOTHER RUSSiA,
"Hello yes, I am asking of the pizzas, can they also be delivered with the deepstrikes? Oh and, I have amerikanzi stupid woman here, should I kill or throw at enemies with C4 strapped to small chest?"
The woman stopped her banging and began to weep quietly. Markowitz was tired of her shit, and internally debated shoving her ass out a window into space.

He decided to casually knock the locker on its side, causing her to fall inside of it, and felt immensely satisfied about causing pain to an amerikanzi. Tired, he decided to take a break and pushed the corpse out of the commander chair. Lo! As soon as he sat down in the chair, an automated voice rang out. "This is the USSRS 'Red Flag', Prepare for boarding amerikatzis." Markowitz walked towards the front of the ship and watched the drop pods head straight for the hallway outside the bridge. The sounds of metal tearing and being sealed by the pods only confirmed it, Markowitz ran out to greet his comrades, and completely forget about the woman in the locker. "Welcome Comrades, to the WY Vessal 'Amerikatzi bullshit' As I have comandeered and rechristened it, may I now go home and get some vodka?"

"Da comrade, you have done good work, sadly you know too much" Before Markowitz could react he was knocked out with the butt of a rifle. When he awoke he was in a cell with a automated voice ringing out every ten minutes "Welcome to Gulag, your death will not be swift, but it will be painful."

FIN

-This document was inspired by Skane asking everyone to do this-
Authors:
Ordukai (For citation purposes only)
Skane (Lord and Savior aka postman pat)
Karmac (Grammar Lesser GOD)(fair enough)
Snypehunter007) (Bond wannabe)
Warnipple (Warrior of the Nipples)

[Martzin]

nice finish for the little group-collab story that ended up being a clusterfuck thanks to mr. purple-faggot or whatever his name was.
a good ol' capitalist purge am i right comrades?

also you're missing the credits for me and Crono >:(

[Monoo]

YOU OMITTED ME??!!11!!1/@1

[Snypehunter007]

Bump for coolness maties.

And it is actually really amusing because you can almost see where the author changes, it is very funny.

[Karmac]

Bump for coolness maties.

And it is actually really amusing because you can almost see where the author changes, it is very funny.

When Apop joined the story derailed quicker than we expected, if he had his way we'd be wading through Clowns instead of Joes.

[Snypehunter007]

When Apop joined the story derailed quicker than we expected, if he had his way we'd be wading through Clowns instead of Joes.

Yeah, I liked my C4 bomb idea.

[Skane10634]

When you forget that you helped write the story, rip me