I don't know exactly what to write here. I do not own the rights to any of the names and situations used. Blizzard owns Starcraft. Any other references to the work of others is purely accidental. I have no intention of marketing this story in any way. This is for fun so please don't sue me.
The following takes place in a scenario where the Zerg have beaten the United Earth Directorate back to Earth and annihilated all human life in the surrounding solar systems and planets. They have broken through Earth's space defenses and landed on the planet, razing most of Earth's major cities. Many of the great metropolises of humanity: Paris, London, Mumbai, Hong Kong, Buenos Ares, Mexico City, Dubai, have all been overrun, reduced to burning shells of their former glory. The streets are paved with the oozing biological carpet called Creep. Museums, which once stood as testaments to the creativity and accomplishment of mankind are now home to Zerg birthing centers, known as Hatcheries, spewing out the Horde's reinforcements. Overhead the Mona Lisa peels from the noxious fumes, her enigmatic smile melting into a sorrowful frown.
In weeks following the savage urban combat in the cities the EUD was forced to retreat to the outlying areas and attempt to siege the Zerg while they herded tens of thousand of civilians into massive underground bunkers built centuries before when humanity's greatest threat was itself. These people were expected to rebuild and repopulate the Earth if they were able to turn back the invaders. These "Chosen Ones" were mainly comprised of rural populations. They were the most adept in the agricultural arts and sadly most of the urban populations had been utterly annihilated.
The Zerg have been forced to remain in the cities while they lick their wounds and bolster their numbers but they have sent out small forces to break up the formation of the defensive ring the humans would obviously construct. This story begins in a Long Island suburb of the New York City.
"Prepare for drop in 1 minute." The pilot's voice came over the intercom of the transport ship just as Sergeant James Hopper was briefing his detail of 15 men on their objective. "As you already know, we got our asses kicked back in Manhattan and the Brass wants to make sure that doesn't happen again so we've been tasked with starting the process of making a net to catch the Bugs as they try to push out of the city." The men were hardly listening since they had just barely survived the carnage of the Battle of New York, as it was being called, and this objective was considered R&R in comparison.
"30 seconds, strap in," said the pilot. As the men clicked their combat suits into the wall of the transport Private Micheal DiMaggio beat against his seat and exclaimed, "It's about time, I'm dying for a fucking cigarette." He got a few whistles and "Amens" from the others. Watching their homes and families torn to shreds had caused more than half the soldiers pick up smoking, not as effective as the prescription medications civilians had swallowed by the bottle in anticipation of the Zerg, but certainly something to take the edge off.
The transport dropped them off on a large field adjacent to a high school. The soldiers stepped out of the ship and an eerie feeling took over the younger Marines who had only graduated from high school perhaps a few years or even a few months ago. It was early October and only weeks before this field was alive with activity, now it was deadly silent. This Twilight Zone moment was quickly interrupted. Sergeant Hopper called his men around him and said, "Listen up boys, Tac-Com informs me that they've picked up reports of small waves of Zerg ambushing our guys on the highways and such." "Motherfuckers. I thought the Air Force blew the bridges? How did they get out here so quick?" Private Francis Dumar's interruption brought annoyed stares from the rest of the squad. "Overlords, Dumbass. Remember those big jelly fish looking things that dropped those little fuckers right on our heads back on Wall Street?" Everyone knew that Private Dumar was a bit dimwitted and had probably taken too many of the extremely powerful and destructive designer drugs of the future in his pre-military life, but he was fearless in combat and his rifle displayed the notches of over 25 kills so the moniker "Dumbass" was more playful than hurtful.
"Settle down ladies." Sergeant Hopper cut of the banter before it could become a fight. "Since this is a residential area I want you to scout out some of the surrounding houses before we start fortifying this school. I'd hate to get caught with a blowtorch in my hand instead of a rifle. Split up in four squads and get it done. We meet back at oh-ten hundred hours"
The groups fanned out and searched the houses. The images inside were surreal. Breakfast was still on the table in many of them, as the call to evacuate was issued in the morning. The smell of rotten omelets and glasses of spoiled milk caused the Marines to close their visors despite being on their own planet. "This is some weird shit," whispered DiMaggio. Then a call came from what was obviously a teenage boy's room judging by the holographic posters of half naked women in "come hither" poses. "Hey guys! I found this kid's weed! It's pretty good too." Dumar came into the kitchen holding a large bag of marijuana with an ear to ear smile on his face. "Jesus Christ," cried DiMaggio, "Do you ever stop thinking about getting high?" "Well considering we're going to Bug food soon enough I don't really see why I would," Dumar replied. "You got a point there. In that case, let me see that," DiMaggio said laughingly. They then heard glass shattering from the other side of the house. "I thought Carmen and Porter were outside," said Dumar questioningly. "They are." DiMaggio quickly cut him off and raised his rifle. They moved quietly to the room where the sound came from. DiMaggio peeked in and saw two Zerglings scavenging the carcass of what must have been the abandoned family dog. He stepped into the doorway and quickly put a burst of 8 rounds in each Zergling.
"Like taking candy from a baby," he said coolly and doing an impression of a the soldier that was made famous by the recruitment posters. Dumar spit on the bodies and lit a cigarette saying, "We better go out front and te-" He was cut short by the cracking sound of rifle fire, shortly followed by screams. They ran out the front door to see their comrades being torn apart in the middle of the street. Carmen was firing his handgun with his right hand into a trio of Zerglings that were on top of Porter. Carmen's left arm lay a few feet away from him in a growing puddle of blood, cigarette still burning between the fingers. Dumar and Dimaggio quickly opened up on the Zerglings and dispatched them in seconds. They ran to Carmen first because Porter was clearly dead, his internal organs splayed out on the street. Carmen lowered his pistol and screamed in anguish as the pain and fear of death overcame him. He began swearing in Spanish, a forbidden tongue at that point in the future, while his comrades held his gauntlet clad hands. He died of blood loss within a minute.
Having seen death and destruction beyond description, Dimaggio and Dumar needed only look at the bodies of their fallen friends for a few moments. This was closure enough for men who had witnessed the deaths of thousands. They quickly assessed their situation and called in to Sergeant Hopper. "Sir, we ran to a couple Zerlings about three blocks south of the school. They got Carmen and Porter," Dimaggio said solemnly. "Both of them? God damn it. Alright, leave the bodies and head back to the school before more come. They're obviously in the area and we have to be ready for them. I'm sending everyone back. Report to me if you see any more." "Yes, sir."
Twenty minutes later the squad was back at the school sorting through the materials left to them to make the structure at least somewhat battle worthy. There was little talk of the two dead men. These were hardened warriors and they had lost many comrades. Their group of 16 was reduced from 60 just a week before. Casualty rates for Marines were above 80 percent in New York City and the squad's skilled members were barely able to keep their losses under that average. Sergeant Hopper split his group of 14 into two groups of 7. One to work on defenses while the other stood guard. It was difficult to manipulate tools with the Marines' combat armor on so the working half would be forced to take theirs off since there were no SVC units available to aid them. They worked for about two hours with out incident, then the call came up. "We got incoming!," screamed a Private. Swiftly the 7 battle ready Marines ran to south side of the school. About a dozen Zerglings came galloping across one of the shorter sections of the field. They closed quickly and only four of them had been felled by the time they reached striking distance.
The Marine who had alerted the others was the first to be literally cut down, his right leg lopped off by the scythe-like appendage of one of the Zerglings. The others headed for the main group of Marines but one diverged and went straight for one of the unarmored men. He went for his sidearm but it stuck in his holster. He began to panic as the little monster came closer. Twenty yards, ten yards. The Marine instinctively grabbed the first thing in reach. Luckily it was a manageable rod of Durasteel rebar. He reared back and timed his swing perfectly, connecting with Zergling's mouth, slamming it's own razor sharp teeth back up into its head. Its small brain severely damaged, it lay at the man's feet twitching and bleeding profusely. He then swung the bar high above his head and sent it crashing down on its head. The cracking deathblow was heard across the field. "Fuck yeah," he screamed, "That's how you kill a fucking Bug! And they said I didn't have what it takes to play pro baseball." Covered in blood and alternating between screams and maniacal laughter, he seemed like some kind of crazed Viking berserker in a rage of bloodlust. The sight boosted morale ten fold.
After a few minutes of relief and surprise the grave reality of their situation set in. Two men had died in the last ambush and another was wounded and survived but his chest was so badly lacerated that he was not even able to fire a pistol. With his unit reduced to 11 Sergeant Hopper was forced to order his men to take up defensive posts within the school and wait for reinforcements. Hopper and his company were not accustomed to hiding. They were the 2nd Battalion 28th Marines. This storied unit raised the flag over Iwo Jima in the second of the seven world wars that humanity had waged against itself. The 2nd Battalion still kept that spirit centuries later, as was evident by the heroic acts Sergeant Hopper's original unit of 60 had defended the Empire State building for 4 hours until the Zerg's kamikaze Scourges drove their volatile bodies into it, killing everyone above the above the 86th floor, including 17 of Hopper's Marines. If the rest had escaped the tower four minutes later they would have been crushed during its collapse.
The sergeant pushed this flashback from his consciousness and gave his orders. "Listen up Marines. It looks like the Zerg are trying to make a push in this area. They must know that we're the only ground defense in ten square miles. Our stealth Wraiths have picked up reports of large groups of Zerglings with Hyrdalisk support probing this section of the line. We'll be getting reinforcements within the hour so we're going to hold down the school until they get here."
The Marines fell back the school and set up positions in the second floor windows. Zerlings would be able to break through the concrete walls of the first floor in a matter of seconds so the veteran warriors knew to put as much distance between themselves and the enemy as possible. Throughout the next hour they took shots at a few pairs of Zerlings that tested their range and defenses. The Marines had been left with thousands of the metal spikes that were the ammunition for their Gauss "Impaler" rifles so they joked around and took target practice on house windows and street signs. This ended instantly when Sergeant Hopper came over the Com. Link. "Reinforcements dropping in 2 minutes. Get to the south door to cover their entry." The Marines opened the only door and aimed their rifles in every direction. The doorway became a porcupine of rifle barrels. The Dropship soon came in over the horizon and and descended onto the field. Ten green recruits exited the transport and started hustling over to the the school. The next 15 seconds would be their baptism by fire.
Sergeant Dennis Harrison, ripped from his college ROTC program and thrust into battle within 5 days led his rag tag group, none of whom had seen combat, across the field. Moments later several spikes erupted from the ground all around him. He turned to see three of his charges screaming in agony with bloody spines protruding from their chests and legs. Vomit rose in his throat but he managed to swallow it and keeping running. Five seconds later another set of spines emerged, killing another two of his unit. Hopper's Marines had already sprung into action, forming a line with their rifles aimed directly behind the terrified "reinforcements." Another five seconds past and suddenly Sergeant Harrison felt white hot pain shoot from his leg, up his spine, and into his brain. He saw a line of muzzle flashes and then his vision ceased, never to see again. The line of Marines poured fire into the beast that had attacked the young soldiers, tearing its body apart in a hail of bullets as it attempted to retreat.
The four remaining Marines reached Hopper's line breathless and trembling. "Identify yourselves," the Sergeant called to them. "Sir, we're the 4th marines, Shock Battalion, Sir," a soldier replied, his voice cracking from fear and puberty. "Shock Battalion, huh?" Hopper repeated skeptically. "Yes, Sir. Our Commanding Officer is back there," the terrified teenager said, pointing to Harrison's mangled corpse. "What was that thing Sir?" Sergeant Hopper replied in a cold and matter of fact tone, "Lurkers. They're a mutated form of Hyrdalisks. Sneaky bastards hide underground and wait for us to walk by, just like you did." "Well now that your CO is dead you'll be taking orders from me," Hopper continued.
He ordered the men back into the school knowing that they stood little chance against these strong strains of Zerg without heavier firepower. Hopper's Marines quickly got back to work, diligently constructing steel framed firing posts in strategically advantageous windows. They would need all the cover they could get to ride out the night until they received reinforcements the next morning.
Author's Note: Well there's my first ever chapter of fanfiction. I'll have more chapters up soon but I'd really appreciate it if you could review. It doesn't even have to be criticism, although that is certainly welcome. Just a few lines so I know that someone's reading would be great. If you liked it please let me know. Some encouragement will help me get a second chapter done faster. Thanks for reading.