UAC Research Facility, Plain 49, Moon

4:55 a.m.

Marine: Johnson, Gerald

Position: Lower Research Labs

"Damn, this place freaks me out, I mean, there's like, no FUCKING light anywhere, Jesus!" Gerald Johnson walked down the dark, concrete/metal corridor with his patrol partner, Herald Fred. "Just shut up and keep your aim ahead of you and not at me and you'll be fine, alright! Thank you!" Fred stretched his arms, slinging his combat shotgun over his shoulder. They walked by a few thick glass windows, with scientists working feverishly behind those same windows, working on human test subjects, heavily sentenced convicts from Earth. Blood spurted out of one that was strapped down by thick, black leather straps, down on a stainless steel table. They began taking his eternal organs out, and a machine quickly replaced them with odd, blinking objects, some with protruding spikes and temperature monitors.

"I still can't believe they have souls, those bastard techs that cut those guys up all day…" Johnson spaced out for a moment, but saw a shadow move in the corner of his eye. "Oh shit…." "What is it now, you wimpy little pussy?" Fred looked up, but saw that same shadow, moving quickly towards them. Before he had time to say anything, Fred was spiked in the neck by a long, black claw. Johnson's head was severed from his neck, splattering all over the window that the bleeding test subject was behind. Fire sprouted, just then, from inside that bleeding patient, and he rose, his eyes rolling out and being replaced with an otherworldly blue and red fire. He immediately attacked the defenseless scientists, killing all of them.

Soon, the base was overrun with demonic creatures, killing at random, slaughtering the rest of the base personnel. Only a few marines managed to escape to a hangar and pilot a drop ship back to Earth. At exactly 11:00 p.m. that night, Elite Special Response Squad, consisting of seven highly skilled, bad ass space marines that had been itching for a fight for a long, long time……

CHAPTER 1: GETTING READY FOR THE MISSION

Ian H. Reed, Space Marine, highly trained in close-quarters combat, with assault weapons, explosives, and about anything else that could kill, maim or destroy stuff. But, he didn't think of it that way…..he thought of it as, as…..a job, just a job. His marine name, though, was Wolf, for his middle name, Howl. Six other men were in a small, underground bunkroom with him, some playing a PS7, the two others boxing…..without gloves. One was Patrick S. Finley, also known as Kilo, for he was once addicted to cocaine, dealt it, used it, and got arrested for it, sent to federal prison in Idaho but was busted out by the ESRE and sent to the squad. The man boxing with him, and winning, was Connor House-Myers, a.k.a. Red, for his stark red hair, compliments of very nice Alaskan parents, and a close friend of Wolf since childhood. Playing on the PS7, were four soldiers, their names Chris Varney: Eagle for his obsessive fits over his vintage Desert Eagle .50 special edition, Fred Green: Sarge, for, well, being Sergeant, Alex Holmes: Piss, for the color of his dyed hair and his puny, wimpy personality, and the unmistakable Dwayne Croaker, a huge African-American man, almost breaking the delicate controller just by touching it…….Monster.

"Hey, man, stop spawn killing, I want to PLAY this game for at least two minutes, god almighty!" Piss whined, almost throwing the controller across the room, but a tanned hand shot out across the span between them, and grabbed the controller away; sarge. "You throw that $100 dollar controller, and I'll snap you faster than you can say spawn kill…again." Kilo laughed as he sat down on one of the bunks, some blood leaking from in between his lip, pursed from the pain of being upper-cut by Red. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP! A shrill beeping came from the other side of the room, from a small bolted box on the wall, and a screen flickered to life on it. "SOLDIERS, we got a mission for you pussies! Let's go, gear up and get to the pad in ten minutes, or your asses are grass! MOVE!" The voice went off in a crackle of static.

"Damn it, we just got back!" Monster hefted his half unpacked duffel bag, his muscles bulging as he then hefted his black over-armor onto his black and gray fatigues. So did the rest of the team, and Sarge rounded them up, the fell in and began the trek towards the elevator that led to the armory.

CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON!