Shadow's lynch scene:
Someone is making a righteous ruckus close to you. The edges of the transport pod block your sight, but you can hear someone pacing, each turn punctuated by the kick of a boot against the shuttle.
“How did we end up in this fucking shit, we should have left these fucking colonists to their fate, but nooooo, send the marines. And here we fucking are, unable to do a fucking thing, and now our ride back is fucking broken down too! Fuck!”
“That’s mutiny,” someone whispers close to you. “Don’t know who it is, but the sergeant should sort the fucker out.”
“Great, just what we need – another fucking mental idiot just after Hudson went gaga,” another marine adds.
“You know what? Let’s not wait for the sergeant. If we don’t shut him up good, morale will be even lower, and what will the civilians think of us?” Drake adds, looking over his shoulder to the spot where Newt, Ripley and Dillon sit around a fire. “Who’s with me?”
You mutter your consent, get up, cracking your knuckles.
Silently, the group of you sneak around the shuttle, then jump the pacing marine. Who straight-arms Drake away, knocking him out cold. Damn, the fucker is strong. Inhumanly so, even. You panic, and you are not the only one.
“Alien, alien!” someone screams.
All hell breaks loose.
What was supposed to be a quick jump, a few whispered threats and a cuff on the chin turns into the worst kind of struggle, and knives are pulled as others too realize that this guy is something else, and far faster and stronger than the average marine. You’re not sure what it is, but it is a threat. Threats must be removed.
Combat training takes over, and all that’s left now is to make the kill, or die trying. Disengagement seems impossible. All of a sudden, it becomes a bloodbath, until a bulky form is all that remains, face down in the earth.
Other marines come running towards you, alarmed by the fighting sounds. Sergeant Alpone quickly takes care of the situation, ordering the men back to their posts, before turning over the body.
“What the fuck?” he screams.
Shadow’s face, left eye pierced by a combat knife, horribly mutilated throughout the fight , somehow seems to look straight at you. As you avert your face, you realize that whatever is out there has just achieved a big advantage, as you’ve just lost one of the best fighters your squad had.
Shadow is dead, he was a
marine.
This post has been edited by Path-Shaper: 26 February 2009 - 02:39 PM
Only someone with this much power could make this many frittatas without breaking any eggs.