Hey, Mike-045 here. Yes, this story is contributing to Obsidian Thirteen's "Multiplayer Chronicles". Enjoy the ride.
The Marine collapsed next to a fallen column, breathing heavily. Though he still didn't have a clear idea of what was going on, he crawled to a COM station.
Suddenly, he whipped around and fired a prolonged burst into the darkness with his MA5C Assault Rifle…but nothing came back at him from the shadows. Trying to forget the horrible images burned deeply into his retinas, the young Marine brought the COM station to life. Turning about, he stared into the bleakness of United Nations Marine Corps Outpost Theta. The base was ruined; the Marine recited a prayer beneath his breath and hoped to his God that the power was still working.
A broken pipe was leaking somewhere, but other than that the stark hallways and grounds of the military base were deserted, and thus suitably silent.
His sense of paranoia had hit the metaphorical roof.
A soft light emanated from behind him, and the Marine warily turned his attention to the COM unit, hackles raised. Typing hurriedly, he accessed the planet's COM network and linked up with a satellite in orbit. Bouncing his signal off of it, he prepared the video feed on the E-band. He then turned back around and began to eject the nearly-spent magazine when something crashed in the darkness.
"You won't take me! I know you're coming! I'll kill every last one of you! You hear me?!"
He knew shouting wouldn't help. He also knew he had only a few more moments to live. But the Marine was determined this wouldn't be the end of things here.
Peering into the shade, he did his best to see where the sound had come from while trying to ignore the rich, crimson slashes adorning the instacrete walls. Shaking from a chilling wind that wasn't there, he slowly revolved to face the COM unit. He noticed the video feed was live. Inhaling deeply, he ignored the pains in his chest and spoke into the microphone.
"My name is Tim…I mean, Timothy. Timothy Walters. Private First Class, Timothy Walters. The situation at United Nations Space Command Outpost Theta is FUBAR. Repeat, FUBAR. Just to...clarify, that means FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL RECOGNITION." He coughed heartily, then continued. "I don't know exactly what went down here, but…I do know this. They came in the night. Something. I was on duty…still in my ballistics and all. Guess I was lu-" he stopped and screamed throatily, writhing on the ground in agony. Clawing at the chest plate of his armor, he tore it off, shredding the straps that held it in place. Bleeding from the mouth, he leaned up weakly and stared into the screen, still alight. Coughing, he cleared his throat and continued, "Well, not so lucky then. I mean…at first we didn't really notice anything, y'know? Then we found Scott all trussed up in the rafters, goddamned hole in chest. Then people started screaming in the barracks…Sarge took me and three others to try and find out what was going on…on the way over there something jumped at me from the shadows and everything went dark. Whatever it was…looked like a big-ass spider, kinda. Kinda like those little shits in Cloverfield, y'know? Well, I woke up two hours later to find the base a mess. Nobody else around. Just me, all by my lonesome. Sarge…Bishop…Nate…everybody gone. Get it? GONE!!" His last word turned into an unearthly scream of pain, and, though he didn't see it, a fleshy bulge began to form on his chest, under his fatigues.
Lunging forward, the Marine grabbed the COM unit by both sides and stared into the screen.
"Send. Help."
And with that, he screamed one last time as his chest burst forth in a crimson fountain, showering the screen.
Read and Review, please. It'd sure be apprecieated.