Mini Stories

[Monoo]

Commander Jack Knight, in his usual routine, or the after results/last moments.
AKA
"Victory or Death"

Victory or death - that was how the legend lived, and that would be how he died.

He was willing to sacrifice his whole damn ship if need be.

Every table, locker, and filing cabinet in the bridge was piled against the doors. The doors were bolted, welded, and wedged shut. The controls had been destroyed.

When the first filthy bug poked its head over the makeshift barricade, Jack Knight decided he had seen worse. His XO took its head off with a well-placed smartgun burst, yellow-green blood fountaining across the walls like the most beautiful god damned scatter painting the world had ever seen. That opened the floodgates, though. The things started melting their way into any entrance they could reach, the pain of the loss rebounding through their minds into a crescendo of murderous fury. Jack Knight had seen such things before.

More and more of them poured into the room. Even as they died by the dozens, more climbed over the growing pile of bodies. His ragged and desperate group of survivors vanished under the slick black flood of carapaces. The bugs began to hammer on the plexiglass that separated his command console from the outside, but he was content to wait for the time being.

Only when the big bitch deigned to show her face did the Commander of the Sulaco act. He raised his right hand and clicked the detonator that had been hidden in his palm.

The bugs began to quiver and shriek in pain, the Queen letting out an ear-piercing cry as bright-orange flames consumed her body. Jack Knight stared death in the face, and smiled.

[coroneljones]

Victory or death - that was how the legend lived, and that would be how he died.

He was willing to sacrifice his whole damn ship if need be.

Every table, locker, and filing cabinet in the bridge was piled against the doors. The doors were bolted, welded, and wedged shut. The controls had been destroyed.

When the first filthy bug poked its head over the makeshift barricade, Jack Knight decided he had seen worse. His XO took its head off with a well-placed smartgun burst, yellow-green blood fountaining across the walls like the most beautiful god damned scatter painting the world had ever seen. That opened the floodgates, though. The things started melting their way into any entrance they could reach, the pain of the loss rebounding through their minds into a crescendo of murderous fury. Jack Knight had seen such things before.

More and more of them poured into the room. Even as they died by the dozens, more climbed over the growing pile of bodies. His ragged and desperate group of survivors vanished under the slick black flood of carapaces. The bugs began to hammer on the plexiglass that separated his command console from the outside, but he was content to wait for the time being.

Only when the big bitch deigned to show her face did the Commander of the Sulaco act. He raised his right hand and clicked the detonator that had been hidden in his palm.

The bugs began to quiver and shriek in pain, the Queen letting out an ear-piercing cry as bright-orange flames consumed her body. Jack Knight stared death in the face, and smiled.

That was beautiful

[Monoo]

Jeeez that was dang good. Thanks man.

That was beautiful

Glad you guys liked 'em.

More stories coming soon, sorry about the wait.

[Monoo]

Broden Ackers charged by a Ravager only to catch the Sadar Rocket that was ment for him.

That morning, Broden had gotten involved in a fistfight in the RO line. No big deal, he had thought. Happens a lot, what with all the chrome domes shipping out to the Sulaco these days. But when Puck Mike had started smashing him in the face with a frozen donk pocket, the harmless fistfight soon turned into a full-blown attachments riot. That was his first clue to what kind of day he was going to have.

After PFC Mike was carted off for assault with a deadly weapon and Broden's face was stitched up, he was cleared to join the rest of Delta Squad down on the ground.

After approximately three hours of sitting in the nexus with the order to "hold the FOB," Delta was ordered on asuicide charge recovery mission by Commander Bill Carson. Shrugging, Broden followed his sarge, totally unconcerned. As far as he was knew, the worst had already happened for him this drop.

It wasn't until a giant dickheaded lobster charged out of the shadows to take his leg off that he realized things could get much worse. As the 16-year old squad specialist hit him point blank in the back with an anti-tank rocket, the last thing he saw was a great mountain of salt in the sky.

[Clutch]

That morning, Broden had gotten involved in a fistfight in the RO line. No big deal, he had thought. Happens a lot, what with all the chrome domes shipping out to the Sulaco these days. But when Puck Mike had started smashing him in the face with a frozen donk pocket, the harmless fistfight soon turned into a full-blown attachments riot. That was his first clue to what kind of day he was going to have.

After PFC Mike was carted off for assault with a deadly weapon and Broden's face was stitched up, he was cleared to join the rest of Delta Squad down on the ground.

After approximately three hours of sitting in the nexus with the order to "hold the FOB," Delta was ordered on asuicide charge recovery mission by Commander Bill Carson. Shrugging, Broden followed his sarge, totally unconcerned. As far as he was knew, the worst had already happened for him this drop.

It wasn't until a giant dickheaded lobster charged out of the shadows to take his leg off that he realized things could get much worse. As the 16-year old squad specialist hit him point blank in the back with an anti-tank rocket, the last thing he saw was a great mountain of salt in the sky.

this

[Sneakyr]

Frankie Day as a squad leader, going down on the Rasp. When it lands, the whole thing is rushed by xenos. As an addition, Day is a selfish bastard.

[Redikalzip]

It was a normal landing. Everything went according to plan and I was glad of that. We were dropped off on one of the planets in this system. Landed in the colony, which was on strange empty and dark. All that I learned at the briefing: the colony bad things.

I hung his RPG on his left hand and started to walk towards the Central Nexus. There already were my guys, it was Alice and Spartan, we... talked... and joked. As always.

An hour passed? Or two hours. In the dark corridors he heard creaking, like scratching metal. And then... a nasty squeal, hiss and roar. Seemed dark head, like a banana-head and rushed to our SL. SL fell on his back and drew his M41. Machine-gun fire and bodies scattered a few pieces. It is with the weight of ... on the ground and her blood is similar to the green slime, began to spread on the floor... Strange.

The other units were ordered to check the colony and the Nexus was left of my squad. Just, scouting. ... Spartan was calm. He was ready for any trouble. I took his cigar and lit it. Usual cheap cigar with a hint of synthetics.

It took another 30 minutes. Received reports from other units. They are attacked by xenomorphs and dragged them to the caves... feeding their Queen. It's... a mess.

Our Outpost was attacked by an even larger creature and broke one of our obstacles. Two Marines have already been eaten or dragged to the Queen...

We fought back. Fought many creatures. I was wounded in the shoulder by a bullet from an automatic weapon. From shock and pain, i lost consciousness for a few minutes...

When I got up, I saw Alice pulls the body of a Spartan from dead alieb in the floor. It was something... i raised my RPG and prepared to fire. And just out of the darkness and looked out the thick ridge of crusher, which ran directly into the turret. He was too fast. Calculating the line-traectory rocket, I shot him in the belly. His insides tore and he gave a long roar...

Had nothing to do, we are in a battle, gathered ammunition and dragged the wounded to Rasp. To be continued. Thanks.

[contactdenied]

Truman Wells as an Alpha medic drops off a marine at LZ1, he then decides to get back to the action to help more people. He rushes out of north nexus only to be rushed by 3 or 4 hunters and spitters. He immediately turns back but struggles to open the fake wall and ends up getting beaten the shit out of. He dies during the beating, and no one ever found his mangled body.

[Casany]

August Walker in the escape bay waiting for the pods to refuel as the marines fight off the xenos

She is a CL with two PMCs left with her, one majorly injured

[Snypehunter007]

Cameron 'Sugar' Hyers, medic, trying to explain to some female doctors why his nickname is 'Sugar' but they keep getting the wrong meaning . . .

[Monoo]

John Murry waking up from cyro as the last human alive on an alien infested sulaco.

The first thing the soldier noticed on waking from cryosleep was the smell. The air was stale, like the vents had been plugged again - but over top of that was something else, something more human.

The smell of death.

This didn't concern the soldier as much as it probably should have. John Murry had always had a reputation for being a bit "over the edge" among his squad, and it was well-deserved. He studied the gruesome array of corpses around the cryosleep chamber - arranged like a disturbed artist's exhibit, the bodies were partially buried in immense walls of some sticky substance. The lights were off, likely broken or unpowered, and dense vegetation covered the ground. The air was unusually warm for a spacecraft, especially one with modern climate control and a military budget. Murry, having done time among fringe world survivalists, avoided the weeds and made no noise as he stepped from pod to pod. He slowly made his way towards the closest body, a man in olive fatigues that he didn't quite recognize. He was barely close enough to make out the facial features before a sickening crack caught his attention.

The tiny, serpent-like beast slithered free of the man's chest, but not before the soldier caught it. It stung to touch, and he reflexively dashed it against the wall. Immediately, his world changed. Raspy, grating wails rose from all sides, slowly growing louder in the darkness. Well, that did it. Murry crept back to his cryo pod and dug around inside for his headband and combat knife. Old reflexes were coming alive, and his veins danced with the fire of hand-to-hand combat. He had no armor, but that had never stopped him before. The headband rested comfortably across his temples - it was time to put down the soldier, and become the spartan.

[spartanbobby]

The first thing the soldier noticed on waking from cryosleep was the smell. The air was stale, like the vents had been plugged again - but over top of that was something else, something more human.

The smell of death.

This didn't concern the soldier as much as it probably should have. John Murry had always had a reputation for being a bit "over the edge" among his squad, and it was well-deserved. He studied the gruesome array of corpses around the cryosleep chamber - arranged like a disturbed artist's exhibit, the bodies were partially buried in immense walls of some sticky substance. The lights were off, likely broken or unpowered, and dense vegetation covered the ground. The air was unusually warm for a spacecraft, especially one with modern climate control and a military budget. Murry, having done time among fringe world survivalists, avoided the weeds and made no noise as he stepped from pod to pod. He slowly made his way towards the closest body, a man in olive fatigues that he didn't quite recognize. He was barely close enough to make out the facial features before a sickening crack caught his attention.

The tiny, serpent-like beast slithered free of the man's chest, but not before the soldier caught it. It stung to touch, and he reflexively dashed it against the wall. Immediately, his world changed. Raspy, grating wails rose from all sides, slowly growing louder in the darkness. Well, that did it. Murry crept back to his cryo pod and dug around inside for his headband and combat knife. Old reflexes were coming alive, and his veins danced with the fire of hand-to-hand combat. He had no armor, but that had never stopped him before. The headband rested comfortably across his temples - it was time to put down the soldier, and become the spartan.

That was such a great read, I smiled when Murry went back into cyro for his headband, Thank you so much.

[Sleepy Retard]

My writing skills haven't been worked on in a long time, so I figured if y'all let me write about your characters, I'd give it a shot.

Post a request below about your character or a specific scene, and I'll try my best to write something short (1-2) paragraphs about them when I have time.

But what if we pulled a reversal and wrote a very serious piece for you, such as this:

“Another day, another distress beacon,” Jools had thought aloud to himself, before introducing his forehead to the cover of the sleeper. With a groan, he pushed the cover up and quickly examined his surroundings. “Welcome home, such as it is. This squalid ship, these corrupted hallways, they are mine now, and I am bound to them,” he said to himself, in an attempt to make himself feel better about being posted onto the flying dumpster of the USCMC Fleet.

Walking through the bathroom, he gawked at himself in the mirror and gave a quick set of finger guns, admiring his beautiful PJs with Vanechka’s face plastered all over it, “My favourite jammies,” he sputtered out to himself. They were a nice pair of jammies. Striding over to his prep room, he quickly threw on his cardboard armour and plastic helmet, but kept his very comfortable jammies on because you never know when you need a power nap. Waddling over to the armoury in his new found gear, he glued a pulse rifle to his chest and set off for the Rasputin.

Getting himself loaded onto the shuttle, he buckled himself and waited for the inevitable crashing of the Rasputin from the Russian woman drinking in the cockpit. After what could be technically described as a landing, he staggered outside and stared up at the darkness. “Damn, I forgot to eat.” he groaned, as he lit his cigar and pulled out a red crayon, idly chewing on it. He nudged a woman beside him, happily eating his red crayon, “Red’s muh favourite colour, ‘cause it reminds me of my red kool-aid jammers. I like kool-aid.” he said to her, causing her to quickly run away as fast as she could.

As he continued staring, he noticed something: The Sulaco was exploding! He frantically ate the rest of his crayon and shoved the lit cigar into his mouth. Who is gonna sign his paycheck now?!?!? As the explosion gradually dissipated in orbit, fireworks were shot out from the wreckage of the once great dumpster called the Sulaco, with a voice piercing through his skull.

“We got a new ship so we nuked the Sulaco, lol. It’s called the Alamo I think. Anyways, you guys are stuck here. We’re going to mars. See ya.”

“Neat,” he thought once more to himself, questioning what to do after being trapped on LV-624.

[Monoo]

But what if we pulled a reversal and wrote a very serious piece for you, such as this:

“Another day, another distress beacon,” Jools had thought aloud to himself, before introducing his forehead to the cover of the sleeper. With a groan, he pushed the cover up and quickly examined his surroundings. “Welcome home, such as it is. This squalid ship, these corrupted hallways, they are mine now, and I am bound to them,” he said to himself, in an attempt to make himself feel better about being posted onto the flying dumpster of the USCMC Fleet.

Walking through the bathroom, he gawked at himself in the mirror and gave a quick set of finger guns, admiring his beautiful PJs with Vanechka’s face plastered all over it, “My favourite jammies,” he sputtered out to himself. They were a nice pair of jammies. Striding over to his prep room, he quickly threw on his cardboard armour and plastic helmet, but kept his very comfortable jammies on because you never know when you need a power nap. Waddling over to the armoury in his new found gear, he glued a pulse rifle to his chest and set off for the Rasputin.

Getting himself loaded onto the shuttle, he buckled himself and waited for the inevitable crashing of the Rasputin from the Russian woman drinking in the cockpit. After what could be technically described as a landing, he staggered outside and stared up at the darkness. “Damn, I forgot to eat.” he groaned, as he lit his cigar and pulled out a red crayon, idly chewing on it. He nudged a woman beside him, happily eating his red crayon, “Red’s muh favourite colour, ‘cause it reminds me of my red kool-aid jammers. I like kool-aid.” he said to her, causing her to quickly run away as fast as she could.

As he continued staring, he noticed something: The Sulaco was exploding! He frantically ate the rest of his crayon and shoved the lit cigar into his mouth. Who is gonna sign his paycheck now?!?!? As the explosion gradually dissipated in orbit, fireworks were shot out from the wreckage of the once great dumpster called the Sulaco, with a voice piercing through his skull.

“We got a new ship so we nuked the Sulaco, lol. It’s called the Alamo I think. Anyways, you guys are stuck here. We’re going to mars. See ya.”

“Neat,” he thought once more to himself, questioning what to do after being trapped on LV-624.

I'm... I'm speechless. I'm tearing up with joy.

10/10 best story, would eat crayons again

[Sleepy Retard]

I'm... I'm speechless. I'm tearing up with joy.

10/10 best story, would eat crayons again

I'm glad you like it, though I suppose you don't like it over your Jammies and red crayons!

[Monoo]

I'm glad you like it, though I suppose you don't like it over your Jammies and red crayons!

I like kool-aid

And Vanechka apparently

[Sleepy Retard]

I like kool-aid

And Vanechka apparently

Everyone likes me.

[James5734]

James 'Badluck' Kenji, CL, notices a dancing larvae crawl out of the vents and then proceeds to look at his whiskey bottle.