Just want to briefly break from the story to thank my reviewers, few as they are, for their comments.

olgite the squidgal: ...Amusing? ...I'll take that as a compliment. Thankyou!

Sealink: "Excellent work; your style is brutal and disturbing with more than a hint of dark humor. You certainly know how to play with your readers' emotions. Definitely looking forward to more of this; keep it up." Now that just made my day.Brutal, disturbing and speckled with humor. That's what I was going for. You're going to get plenty more, I still haven't thought of a conclusion to the story, yet.

If you read my story, I beg you to leave a review. They're what keeps me going. I've kept you long enough, ON TO THE ACTION!

Extermination

Chapter 4: Stranded

Weyland-Yutani Colony World LV-312

Population: Unknown

Hive: 20-30

Time: 1500

Incident: 6 Weeks

An hour of walking in chilling silence was beginning to grate on the two men's nerves. Fear was beginning to set in. Jones' Motion Tracker had broken in the quick assault by the new species of Alien, so all they had to guide them were their eyes and their shoulder lamps. Ghost didn't even have the calming weight of his rifle, or the night-vision of it's scope. For all he knew they could be surrounded.

It had been quiet since they found the "survivor", but that only served to wind them tighter.

"It's too quiet," muttered Jones, for what seemed like the hundredth time, "Too fucking quiet. Where are they? We're like three hundred meters from the fucking Hive." Jones had begun to jump at the slightest noise, cursing and sighing in relief when it turned out to be something trivial. Without his beloved Sniper Rifle, even Ghost was losing his cool. The weight of the Pulse Rifle was comforting, but it was nothing to the sniper.

Another grueling hour, as quiet as the last, and the men began to ease as they strode down the dimly, lit corridor leading to the Primary Operations Complex. A variety of colored lights mocked them, winking uselessly on various pipes and rail, none of which held any meaning to the marines. They rounded the last corner, and immediately knew something wasn't right.

Where were the Diamonds? Shouldn't they be on guard? Almost in unison the two men put the butts of their rifles to their shoulders. Ghost took point as they neared the entrance to the room where the marines had set up base. The smell of death hit Ghost's nostrils hard, and he almost retched. They hadn't been gone four hours, how could the smell of decay get so strong? But, more importantly, what was decaying? He got his answer as he entered the control room. Mocking lights on the computer terminals flickered gleefully, oblivious to the horror around them. The marines, Ghosts brothers, had been slaughtered. Massacred. The corpses were unrecognizable, strewn about the room. Steve and Arnold Diamond sat beside the door. He knew them only by the remnants of an identical tattoo on the backs of their hands. Ghost swallowed hard as he studied the bodies. Not even the Aliens were this brutal. Half of Arnold's torso was gone, his face had been reduced to a gaping hole, and his left leg and half his pelvis and right thigh were gone. Steve was no better.

His attention was drawn away from the brothers by a crunching noise, and he raised his Pulse Rifle, training on a humanoid form squatting over the unidentifiable corpse of one of his brothers-in-arms, happily crunching on the remains of the man's face. Ghost didn't waste any time filling the thing full of explosive-tipped Armor Piercing rounds, relieved to have a way to expel his emotions. He didn't stop shooting until his clip was empty, but the firing continued. It was only then he realized Jones had done the same as him.

"Oh god, no. Fuck, no, no, no, NO!" Jones was sobbing openly, and Ghost was right behind him. Tears flowed openly as Ghost approached and studied the newest corpse. It was ripped apart, but Ghost could make out that it was basically humanoid. It's arms were long and spindly, soaked in blood. Tatters of...Skin? Hung on it's upper arms, and it's hands were large, hideous claws, at least twice the size of his own. It's head was...not there. Ghost had learned how to land pretty good headshots even without a scope. It seemed to be wearing a set of fatigues, and Ghost saw an ID card in a pocket. It looked familiar...

"What the fuck?" Jones was pulled from his grief by Ghost's voice, "What is it?"

"This...thing...I think it's..." Ghost passed the bloody ID card to Jones, who finished his sentence.

"Freeman. What the fuck happened here?"

"What were these scientists researching...?" Ghost slumped back against a pillar and sighed. The synthetic pilot was among the corpses, and neither Ghost nor Jones had any flight training. That meant they were stuck there.

"So...What do we do, Ghost?"

"We do the only thing we can do...Survive."