They're Out There: Part One: viewtopic.php?f=134&t=15886
They're Out There: Part Two
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Paul 'Grunt' Lorenz
It had been three hours. Three. Goddamn. Hours. Comms were still down, which had left the three marines to sit in the control room, watching the eerie figures move through the cover of darkness outside. Every once in a while, the Squad Lead's remains would get pushed closer towards the door, seeming like they were baiting them to dare and try to gain possession of her. However, the marines didn't dare. They were smarter than that, and knew going out there would lead to their quick but painful deaths for sure. Paul sighed, removing the mag from his Pulse Rifle and counting the rounds left manually. 39. One less than how it was half an hour ago before the rat had come in and gave them a fright, resulting in a single round completely bursting it into gibs.
Allen would look up, taking a quick sip from his canteen before coughing, "These assholes will have to give up at some point, right? Eventually Command or somebody is gonna realize we ain't saying anything and they'll send the whole platoon for us! We'll be fine!" Henrick scoffed, looking outside, barely catching a glimpse of one of the cloaked individuals,
"I doubt anyone is coming. We haven't even heard anything from the SO. Plus, these assholes have been waiting out there. For THREE FUCKING HOURS. They ain't leavin' anytime soon."
Knock Knock
The three marines looked around for a moment. The knocks had echoed loudly through the Engineering building- Christ that could've came from anywhere. All three Bravos exchanged each other worried expressions, realizing that one of the bastards had finally made their way inside. Allen, unsurprisingly to his comrades, was the first to panic, quickly fishing out his M4A3 and aiming it around. Grunt would step away from him, holding his hands out towards him,
"Woah there Allen! Watch where the hell you're pointing that there! We're safe and alone in here, and we're not going to end up killing each other... I think. As long as we keep calm and continue to chill in here we eventually can-"
Allen would interrupt Grunt yelling, aiming the gun closer towards him now,
"St- stay calm? STAY FUCKING CALM?! How the FUCK are we supposed to stay calm when most of our squad is dead out there to those GODDAMN STALKERS?! How much fucking LONGER till they find where specifically we are and kill us too?! How are you so calm about this?!
Grunt shrugged, coughing. He honestly had no idea. Maybe it was the intense training sticking with him- or maybe the realization that panicking could lead to one wrong move which would get them all killed. Paul now realized that Allen's aim had steadied, and that he was now aiming for his head.
"...You one of em' Grunt?! This one of your TWISTED STALKER SCHEMES?!" Allen would flip off the safety, which would force Henrick to raise his shotgun, aimed right for Allen's skull. Grunt could see that he was shaking, he knew Henrick wouldn't be willing to pull the trigger, he was too close with Allen noting that they were friends since middle-school. He needed to figure a way to subdue Allen and fast, unless we wanted a hole in his head. Henrick stuttered, and finally spoke with both fear and remorse,
"A- Allen. Don't shoot him man. Just- just put the gun down man, all you gotta do! We can get out of here, go eat some pasta, tell some ghost stories! Calm down... P- please.." Allen would quickly turn, yelling. A mixture of rage and fear filled his eyes as he pulled the trigger to his sidearm, firing a round into Henrick's armor, sending him sprawling to the tiled floor. Grunt would quickly grab Allen from behind, holding the M4A3 towards the ceiling as he continued to unload the rest of the mag. After several clicks, Allen quickly let go of the handgun, reaching for his knife. But, after a swift punch in the jaw by Henrick and a slam into the top of his helmet-less head with the M4A3 from Grunt, he was out cold. Christ was this becoming a mess.
Grunt took some cables from a nearby Engineering cabinet and tightly tied Allen's hands behind his back, before setting him against the wall near the doorway. He'd shake his head, setting the M4A3 over by Henrick, who still had his left hand over the very spot he had gotten shot.
"He- he shot me.. The armor stopped it but- he fucking shot me, tried to KILL me. He's- he's lost it." Henrick would mutter, looking down at the ground. Suddenly, laughter filled the halls, an eerie and distorted laughter that no human could make. The marines had gotten so distracted dealing with Allen that they had forgotten about their recent intruder. And from the sounds of it, the others were inside as well. A large boom would follow, somewhere about two halls away from their position. Then, they were engulfed in a sea of darkness.
Henrick poked his head out into the pitch black hallway, "Holy fuck you can't see shit down there without night vision or a decent light!" He hissed, turning on his armor light. It wasn't much, but it would help.
"What now?" Grunt whispered, turning on his armor light as he aimed his rifle down the west hallway. He couldn't see shit- but he knew that in the darkness the cloakers could see plenty. After a quick and heated discussion, Henrick said he would quickly rush over and repair power. Once power was online, Grunt would rush and grab Allen, navigating to the exit. The plan had plenty of flaws, but it was the best they could do at that point. Shotgun in hand, Allen quickly walked down the darkened hallway until he was around a corner, the light slowly fading and dying out until it was gone completely. Grunt continued to aim down the hallway. Footsteps, chatter, and at times silence filled the whole Engineering build. But- what stood out most to him was the clicking. It continued- and he had no damn clue what it meant. Paul noticed his aim had gotten somewhat shakey. Damn nerves.
Something behind Grunt suddenly got his attention. He'd turn, now face-to-face with the figure. He was covered in red crimson blood, with a bloodied spear in hand. From the looks of hit, he had a clear height advantage over the marine, and gave off a eerie but serious mood. Grunt eyed the room Allen was in before slamming the door shut, smashing the controls with the skeleton stock of his rifle. The figure took notice, letting off a small growl.
"Cmon asshole! Show me what you can do when you ain't hiding like a little bi-"
A fist from Grunt's left would connect with his jaw, violently slamming his head into the 'Reactor Controls' sign. Grunt would gasp, as he attempted to get up and land a good shot on his attacker with his rifle. However, a sudden and quick kick to his gut would send him flying down the hallway several feet. Stopping himself, he was unable to grab his rifle as it slid into the darkness behind him. A laugh echoed down the hallway from the direction he was attacked from, followed by a large roar. He'd scramble to his feet, running the opposite direction from where Henrick went, the sounds of footsteps not far behind him. He had to buy Henrick as much time as possible.
Goddamn this was gonna suck.
It had been three hours. Three. Goddamn. Hours. Comms were still down, which had left the three marines to sit in the control room, watching the eerie figures move through the cover of darkness outside. Every once in a while, the Squad Lead's remains would get pushed closer towards the door, seeming like they were baiting them to dare and try to gain possession of her. However, the marines didn't dare. They were smarter than that, and knew going out there would lead to their quick but painful deaths for sure. Paul sighed, removing the mag from his Pulse Rifle and counting the rounds left manually. 39. One less than how it was half an hour ago before the rat had come in and gave them a fright, resulting in a single round completely bursting it into gibs.
Allen would look up, taking a quick sip from his canteen before coughing, "These assholes will have to give up at some point, right? Eventually Command or somebody is gonna realize we ain't saying anything and they'll send the whole platoon for us! We'll be fine!" Henrick scoffed, looking outside, barely catching a glimpse of one of the cloaked individuals,
"I doubt anyone is coming. We haven't even heard anything from the SO. Plus, these assholes have been waiting out there. For THREE FUCKING HOURS. They ain't leavin' anytime soon."
Knock Knock
The three marines looked around for a moment. The knocks had echoed loudly through the Engineering building- Christ that could've came from anywhere. All three Bravos exchanged each other worried expressions, realizing that one of the bastards had finally made their way inside. Allen, unsurprisingly to his comrades, was the first to panic, quickly fishing out his M4A3 and aiming it around. Grunt would step away from him, holding his hands out towards him,
"Woah there Allen! Watch where the hell you're pointing that there! We're safe and alone in here, and we're not going to end up killing each other... I think. As long as we keep calm and continue to chill in here we eventually can-"
Allen would interrupt Grunt yelling, aiming the gun closer towards him now,
"St- stay calm? STAY FUCKING CALM?! How the FUCK are we supposed to stay calm when most of our squad is dead out there to those GODDAMN STALKERS?! How much fucking LONGER till they find where specifically we are and kill us too?! How are you so calm about this?!
Grunt shrugged, coughing. He honestly had no idea. Maybe it was the intense training sticking with him- or maybe the realization that panicking could lead to one wrong move which would get them all killed. Paul now realized that Allen's aim had steadied, and that he was now aiming for his head.
"...You one of em' Grunt?! This one of your TWISTED STALKER SCHEMES?!" Allen would flip off the safety, which would force Henrick to raise his shotgun, aimed right for Allen's skull. Grunt could see that he was shaking, he knew Henrick wouldn't be willing to pull the trigger, he was too close with Allen noting that they were friends since middle-school. He needed to figure a way to subdue Allen and fast, unless we wanted a hole in his head. Henrick stuttered, and finally spoke with both fear and remorse,
"A- Allen. Don't shoot him man. Just- just put the gun down man, all you gotta do! We can get out of here, go eat some pasta, tell some ghost stories! Calm down... P- please.." Allen would quickly turn, yelling. A mixture of rage and fear filled his eyes as he pulled the trigger to his sidearm, firing a round into Henrick's armor, sending him sprawling to the tiled floor. Grunt would quickly grab Allen from behind, holding the M4A3 towards the ceiling as he continued to unload the rest of the mag. After several clicks, Allen quickly let go of the handgun, reaching for his knife. But, after a swift punch in the jaw by Henrick and a slam into the top of his helmet-less head with the M4A3 from Grunt, he was out cold. Christ was this becoming a mess.
Grunt took some cables from a nearby Engineering cabinet and tightly tied Allen's hands behind his back, before setting him against the wall near the doorway. He'd shake his head, setting the M4A3 over by Henrick, who still had his left hand over the very spot he had gotten shot.
"He- he shot me.. The armor stopped it but- he fucking shot me, tried to KILL me. He's- he's lost it." Henrick would mutter, looking down at the ground. Suddenly, laughter filled the halls, an eerie and distorted laughter that no human could make. The marines had gotten so distracted dealing with Allen that they had forgotten about their recent intruder. And from the sounds of it, the others were inside as well. A large boom would follow, somewhere about two halls away from their position. Then, they were engulfed in a sea of darkness.
Henrick poked his head out into the pitch black hallway, "Holy fuck you can't see shit down there without night vision or a decent light!" He hissed, turning on his armor light. It wasn't much, but it would help.
"What now?" Grunt whispered, turning on his armor light as he aimed his rifle down the west hallway. He couldn't see shit- but he knew that in the darkness the cloakers could see plenty. After a quick and heated discussion, Henrick said he would quickly rush over and repair power. Once power was online, Grunt would rush and grab Allen, navigating to the exit. The plan had plenty of flaws, but it was the best they could do at that point. Shotgun in hand, Allen quickly walked down the darkened hallway until he was around a corner, the light slowly fading and dying out until it was gone completely. Grunt continued to aim down the hallway. Footsteps, chatter, and at times silence filled the whole Engineering build. But- what stood out most to him was the clicking. It continued- and he had no damn clue what it meant. Paul noticed his aim had gotten somewhat shakey. Damn nerves.
Something behind Grunt suddenly got his attention. He'd turn, now face-to-face with the figure. He was covered in red crimson blood, with a bloodied spear in hand. From the looks of hit, he had a clear height advantage over the marine, and gave off a eerie but serious mood. Grunt eyed the room Allen was in before slamming the door shut, smashing the controls with the skeleton stock of his rifle. The figure took notice, letting off a small growl.
"Cmon asshole! Show me what you can do when you ain't hiding like a little bi-"
A fist from Grunt's left would connect with his jaw, violently slamming his head into the 'Reactor Controls' sign. Grunt would gasp, as he attempted to get up and land a good shot on his attacker with his rifle. However, a sudden and quick kick to his gut would send him flying down the hallway several feet. Stopping himself, he was unable to grab his rifle as it slid into the darkness behind him. A laugh echoed down the hallway from the direction he was attacked from, followed by a large roar. He'd scramble to his feet, running the opposite direction from where Henrick went, the sounds of footsteps not far behind him. He had to buy Henrick as much time as possible.
Goddamn this was gonna suck.
