Feb 30, 2621After his therapy session concludes I manage to get one last interview done with Kj147 before his next deployment.He had a bad episode of PTSD four days ago after our last interview causing him to lash out physically and violently with the facility's staff. He was successfully contained by security staff ,and subjegated to two days in isolated mental recuperation. Thanks to Jennifer Weyland Schaefer, she managed to reconstitute her husband's mental instability. She is the only person capable of calming him down whenever he is in such a state of hostility during his episodes of PTSD. Thanks to her calming her husband, we are able to conduct our interview before his leave. I ask him how his recuperation went to which he replies with a sacrastic comment about it being better than how he used to deal with the strain.We take a stroll around the enclosure and the barracks as we conduct the interview.So where did we leave off?
"It was around three monthsafter your mother's death." I answer himRight. As I was saying Weyland held me responsible for the incidents that occured 3 months earlier. I knew for a fact he knew i wasnt the one at fault, but he treated me like it was for those 3 months. I knew he was mad I just didnt know how mad. He was pissed when he had to rebuild everything mom had destroyed which suppressingly was worse than what the xenomorphs had caused. Weyland lost a lot of valuable equipment, technology-from your's truely of course-and "priceless xeno assets. although that last one was chalked up to the marines and not my Mom herself.
But I think the thing that really pissed him off was that the prototype that they were going to use on me had been destroyed along with the blue prints they used to make the first. I'm glad it failed, but I still ended up being one unhappy little camper for the next three months that followed. As I already mentioned before, they starved me, sent the marines to beat me twice everyday. Boy back then I didnt know Oomans wereas tstrong as they were. I thought that I could take them, and when I tried the first time, it didnt work out to well. They just ended up beating me harder than normal, and for twice as long. Crap did that hurt. I'm very sure I had a black eye for a week after tnat one.
I didn't know it yet, but apparently some of the marines had some run ins with my species, and while they themselfves survived those encounters, with only minor scars and slashes to prove it, some of their buddies on the other hand had not. When my people hunt Oomans its not that big of an issue. Sure Oomans are dangerous game, but when theyre persistent to stay alive or take revenge-in this case it was the latter-they can be forces to become reckoned with. And boy were these guys pissed. Oomans have this way of thinking about their fellow Oomans, in stereotypical fashion, like the Spanish how alot of people potray them as sumbraro wearing, Bango (his way of saying Banjo) playing monkeys with big curly mustaches that like to hop walls. Or how Germans are seen commonly as Nazis. Like that.
And when it comes to my species that is also the case. Only I'm heartbroken to say that alot of how they view us is true. We are mostly heat loving, strong technologically advanced nomadic, hierarchical savages that make trophies of our victims. Most of us at least.
He gestures to himself as being an exception.At least when it comes to Oomans.
During those three months of pistol whipped torture-and yes they did pistol whip me-I continued my best to follow my mother's teachings. For the first quarter of those three months I was just too emotionally out of it to even try. Lossing my mom hit me pretty hard. I was still depressed after that, but I managed to toughen up and get used to the idea that mom was gone, and that I could learn to live without her. After month one I'd began to get stronger, and close to month two I was probably the most athletic and physically fit seven year old on the planet. And I mean that. I continued to study my language and English, and I continued melee weapon and hand to hand combat, which is a little bit harder when you dont have a target or a partner to practice with.
Around that time, the marines Levinson, Daniel, and Weekes, those were there names, began to just be cruel. They began pistolwhipping me, and they even scrapped me with their knifes. Yeah they went there. I knew these guys didn't like me but still I was just a seven year old kid. What harm could I have done to these guys. Sure they were mad at my species for that they did to them and their friends, but still, that doesn't mean I did any of it.
They called me names like "You little ugly mother fer." They'd hold me down as they punched, sliced, and beat me with their pistols. Levinson and his cronies were douches. They wanted to hurt me they wanted to make me bleed and suffer., to take every last bit of their hate and spite for my species out on me, a kid who didn't even know what the heck was going on. Finally around month and a half I began to fight back. The first time didn't go so well, as did the fights that followed after. I'd clip those guys a few times and I'd struggle, but it's kind of hard for a seven year old to go up against three jocks, two of which are holding you in place while the third is beating you to a pulp.
That's how those guys did it. Before I began fighting back Levinson, Daniel, and Weekes would just beat me. I made no attempt to struggle, I just took it, but afterwards though when I got stronger and fought back, Daniel and Weekes would hold me down grab me by the arms and hold me in place while their leader Levinson beat me. They also take turns if they felt like it. By the end of month 3 however things changed. Daniel, and Weekes held me by the arms, while Levinson did whatever his fed up mind could think to do to me. After getting smacked across the face a solid thirty times-yes I did keep count-and another fifteen pistol whips, he broke out the knife. When he firstdid that to me I was scared shless, but by that time it'd been done to me so many times that I just took it as best I could. I didn't try to fight back this time, even when I saw they'd come to do what they were going to do to me.
Weekes made a comment about it being to easy, and Daniel made a remark about them finally breaking me and just letting them stomp me. I was tired of these guys. I wanted to hurt them so badly, but I didn't have the strength or the motivation to do so. I could have probably been able to tke two of them on, and when but when it came to all three, I lost all the time. I'd lost so many times it was more painful to lose than to just take it. Daniel, and Weekes were right. They called me their bh. Weekes was a gay douche so I wouldn't put it past him to try to do what I believe he was thinking at the time. At that momment I'd given up and let these guys win. I felt like I'd just let my mom die for nothing, all that training to defend myself just put to waste. Their insults continued as Levinson continued to brandish his knife in my face. He tried to scare me, but I was to disappointed in myself to be concerned.
I remember telling him to just do it and that I didn't care. Boy, did that remark sting worse than Levinson's knife. I felt like I insulted Mom when I said that, but thankfully I, ade up for it soon after.
"Whoaho this little s really has given up!" Levinson said.
"Well why stop now man. Let's have some more fun with him!" Weekes replied.
These guys really were cruel sons of bhes.
Then Levinson made the mistake of giving me the motivation, and strength, and the unbridled rage I needed to put these mothers in their places. I remember the remark he made about Mom exactly.
"You know kid if you weren't such a little disappointment, your bh for a mom wouldnt have had to honor kill herself. I know I would if I was her."
Ohh, did that one hurt. Thankfully that little spark was what I needed. I let Levinson continued to slice my chest with his knife, but not because I had given up. Heh! I was just giving him a head start. I was allowing him to hurt me because the pain was fueling the fire Levinson had started. After a few swipes on the abdomen, I let every bit of anger and rage I had inside me lose. These guy's had had their turns tormenting me. Now it was my turn. I roared challenging, as I stomped on Daniel's foot hard. He was wearing steel toed boots but my foot connected in such a way where it missed the steel toe and hit the foot. I heard a crunch as I stomped on it. I'd broken his foot. Daniel recoiled as did Levinson, but Weekes like a dumbass held on to me. With my right arm now free, I grabbed Weekes by the throat and proceeded to choke him. He let go of my left arm to try and get my hand of, but all that did was give me another hand to choke him with. I held nothing back and I choked that gay ass wipe with all the strength I put into my hands.
I actually have nothing against gay people actually. I don't hate them at all. I'm not one for loving another person who is of the same sex as I am, but I don't hate them, They are the way they are and I am the way I am and that's how I leave it. I'm straight their not, and that's that. But when it came to people like Weekes who were assholes, and people like Levinson and Daniel who weren't gay, but still assholes, I have nothing for them. At any rate, While I was choking Weekes Levinson took a swipe army back with his knife in an attempt to try and get me off. It succeeded and I instead focused my anger out on him. I tackled him to the ground, held his hand which he carried the knife with down and began punching him hard. my first hit left a bruise on his check, my second gave him a black eye. I was about to him him a couple more times, but then Daniel, and Weekes grabbed my shoulders from behind and they lifted me off of their leader. They threw me to the wall and tried Weekes tried to hold on to me again, but I managed to grab on to him and throw him at one of the trees. I heard his unprotected head crack against the tree, causing a painful knocking sound. He'd been knocked out. Daniel had tried to come to the aid of his friend, but his foot left him impaired so he had to hobble just to get to me. I charged him, threw him against the wall and began beating on him, that guy was huge, and I mean huge, this guy looked like he bench pressed two hundred pound weights every day for fun, yet I-a mere toodler-was beating him into submission. He punched me back a few times, but I just ignored it until he did it hard enough where I glared at him hateful and slammed my skill against his. Our skin split as our heads collided. He'd also not worn out helmet. After that I side kicked his tibial bone, I heard a crunch that time two, and saw the bone sticking out. He let out an agonizing scream of pain before I clocked him in the mouth spilling some of his bloodied teeth ,and maybe a silver filling too, on the bushes. I then brought my knee up on his crotch, and that was it for him. He sobbed like a pitiful little child.
I felt a sharp pain run on the back of my left shoulder, then shoot electrically across my body. Levinson had stabbed me with his knife. He took it out and I recoiled away before he could bring it down on me again. I held the back of my shoulder with my right hand and saw, my florescent green blood on it. I would have stopped there, but I was to angry to quit now. My body was shooting with adrenaline so that helped me ignore the pain. My left arm hurt to move it, but I sucked it up and kept fighting. Levinson charged with his knife, aiming for my chest I managed to jump away on time before it could connect. I landed next to Weekes' unconscious body and took his pistol off of him. I'd seen the marines practice with these things before, so I knew how to operate it. I secured myself switched the safety of, moved the slide back, and braced my arms for the recoil. It hadn't come. I was firing an empty pistol. Levinson looked at me stupidly, and I'm sure he would have smirked at my pitiful attempt to shoot him if he wasn't so pissed off at me. He charged me again, I was stuck between the trees trunk where the roots began to branch, it was one of those trees where you could see the roots as they brached off the trunk. That left me with nowhere which to moved. I couldn't move in time. All I had to defend myself with was Weekes' empty pistol, but just because I could not shoot with it didnt mean it was useless. I held it in front of my face where the knife was about to fall, successfully shielding myself. The knife got caught between the trigger and the trigger guard. Levinson tried furiously to pull it out but it was stuck good. I wretched the knife from his hands using the pistol. With the knife out of his hands I could retaliate. I smacked Levinson in the face with the pistol grip, and I saw his face open up with red. His nose was broken. I lept off the tree roots I was stuck on, and landed on his back as he held his nose, blood leaking through his fingers as he attempted to hold it in. Then in an ironic twist of fate for him I was pistol whipping him. He tried blocking the blows with his arms, but everyone he tried to block something I just went to hit something else. He cried and screamed begging me to stop hitting him, but I didn't listen and I just kept swinging the but of that pistol up and down on his head, with his knife still imbedded in it. I finally stopped and angrily threw the pistol away and began using his shortened hair to beat his face into the ground. Their is a reason why the marines cut their hair to the point their almost bald. So that something like that doesn't happen.
He snickers at the joke.
After that I flipped him over grabbed his pistol off of him. It was a standard use P320-M18 Sig Saurer, with a 17 9mm round magazine. Not bad for what it is but I prefer the Desert Eagle .50 AE
He reveles the massive handgun to me.
My size of course..
I did what I did before when I was about to shoot Levinson, only this time I remembered to check the magazine. It was empty, but that didn't mean he wasn't still packing the amunition for it. I took one of the magazines off of his ammo belt strung up against his torso. It was loaded, and I put it in the fire arm, racked the slide, put the safety off, and turned the gun on him.
Levinson had been a cruel son of a bh to me in the three months I'd know jack-off. That also went for his pathetic cronies Daniel and Weekes. They'd done so much to me it, felt good to make them feel the pain I felt, to take revenge on these guys. As I aimed the P320's sights down at his fore head I could see the look of desperation and terror on his face. I could see it in his brown eyes. To say that he was scared sless would have been an understatement. I had his very life in my hands and I was about to take it. I returned his look of fear in his eyes with the look of merciless rage I my eye.
Kj has heterocromia, a condition where a person has two differently colored eyes. His right eye is firey red, while the other is blue and calming.
Levinson knew what he'd done to me, and he knew he wouldn't be forgiven for it. Why should he have been, he'd beaten a seven year old child to the point where he just wanted to give up on everything, even life. It didn't, matter that I came from a race of extraterrestrial hunters that kill with merciless intent, or that I wasnt the average seven year old these guys are used to, I was still a kid who had no idea what was going on, that had done nothing wrong, and yet was being punished anyway. I could understand them hating me for what my species did to them, but to do what they did to someone only seven years old with no knowledge about any of it.
Levinson turned his head away, and wept tearfully, blood still pouring out of his nose. I eased my finger on the trigger, but as I looked at the fear and helplessness in his eyes I remembered how helpless I'd been when he and his friends were beating me. I eased my finger, and thought to myself. Had they going so far as to kill me? No but that's because Weyland had told them not to and to just torture me. If he wasn't so careful about it would they have still done it? Absolutely. They'd broken me, so I should break them too, I thought. I turned the pistol down at his knees and popped them. Then I turned the P320 to the ceiling and shoot the remaining fifteen rounds in it. I let out an enraged roar of aggression as I did so. The shoots rang loudly across the enclosure and the hallways outside. My ears or whatever I have for ears were ringing a little but not enough to make me go deaf. It was only for a few short seconds and then I could hear again. Daniel and Levinson had held their ears to protect their hearing from the blasts.
I ripped Levinson's bloody hand out of his ear, held him up by his throat and roared in his face. He saw the look of fury in my right eye that told him I was pissed, and in the other he saw that I'd been mercifull to him compared to the way he and his buddies had been to me, and that I could have killed him, but didn't. I studied his expression, shook my head, and let go of his throat. He gasped for air, as I left him there. I climbed all the way up on top one of the trees and stayed up on the tallest branch that could support my weight, and I wept. I didn't cry by I did tear up. Some of the scientists discovered Levinson, Daniel, and Weekes a couple moments later, and brought the paramedics in to quickly remove them. Schaefer was there when the paramedics got them out. He saw the aftermath of what had happened and saw me cowering up in the tree holding my wounded shoulder staying as still as possible trying not to be seen, which is kind of hard when your light brown and pale yellow instead of dark brown.
I knew he saw me, but I wasn't about to come down and let him beat the crap out of me. Levinson tried to explain what happened to Schaefer in a way that made it look like he wasn't at fault, but he cut the asswipe short with a roaring command to shut up. He knew what they'd done to me, and he knew why they did it, and that Weyland had told them to do it. But still he didn't see that it was right to do what they did no matter how they spun it. He would have interfered, but I was Weyland's property at the time, as was he, and when one property tries to get touchy over another property things don't end well, unless there's a good excuse.
Schaefer starred up at me with his usual hard look. I could tell he was wondering what he was going to do concerning me given the fact I'd just beaten three of his men to st, but I could see he wasn't pissed off about it. I cou.d read the look on his face, as if he was saying, "It's okay kid , I would've done the same thing." I still didn't come down. Schaefer walked away couple moments after.
I spent a couple food less days and nights alone, thankfully with no one to bother me again, wondering what Schaefer was going to do to me. Schaefer I knew was the kind of guy not to let something like this go. He knew Mom, and she'd regarded him as her brother, and to see her orphaned son beat three of his toughest guys, who'd been tormenting him for the past three months. Yeah I was pretty sure he was going to do something about it.
Three days afterward I woke up with Schaefer outside my enclosure with a couple of scientists letting him in. I skittered into my hiding spot and sat their scarred. Yes I had just taken on and beaten three fully grown and hardened marines, but Schaefer was no ordinary marine. His family was in ledgend to us Yatja, stretching all the way back to his great ancestor Dutch, when he fought and defeated an elite Yatja hunter. The subsequent members of his lineage that had run-ins with my species after him, including his brother, did the same as Dutch. Hadrick was no exception to this, only he fought with a Yatja, and not against him. That was another thing our species remembers well about the Schaefers. I was in the midst of an Ooman that came from a long line of Yatja killers, and if they could kill fully grown blooded hunters, what was a suckling like myself able to do to the likes of him. He easily found me in my hiding hole beneath the bushes at the base of the tree's trunk. I thought I was as good as dead at first, but when he began gently waving for me to come out, I understood he didn't want to hurt me. He took me out of the enclosure, which felt weird given the fact I'd spent most of my life up to that point inside that enclosure, never being allowed to come out and now I was out. Once we were out of the lab area, Schaefer tried to make some small talk, but he understood, by my submissive look and silence, I was to scarred of him to reply. He brought himself down to my level, which given I was almost at his height that wasn't hard for him to do, and assured me things would be alright. He told me he was going train me to become a marine, and do what he could to raise me. He told me that he knew he was not my father, nor did he wish to be regarded as such, but he was hunter brother to my Mom, and he would do what he could for me out of respect for her. This was an unspeakable honor. I was being taken in, and trained by the descendant of Dutch Schaefer. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I wasn't at all excited for what was about to come. I knew that the remainder of my training would be hard , and painful, but to be trained by a Schaefer. Wow!
A horn blows outside the barracks on the training yard.
Well that's my cue. Time for me to go.
We shake hands and he politely thanks me for the interview. I thank him for his time and wish that he stays safe.
Dude you don't need to worry about me staying safe. It's the Shadows that need to stay safe. I cannot believe I actually said that.