Major Hadrick Schaefer's Audio Diary Logs

March 4, 2621

Man does it feel good to be back on the old stomping grounds. Place bring back some fond memories, it does. I know they've changed some stuff here, but as for the aesthetic and overall feel. Ahh.

He sighs as he puffs out a smoke cloud from a cigar he smokes.

It hasn't changed a bit. I just came down to visit my son when he was called on a bug hunt. He's doing some work with these audio diaries doing his best to keep these stories about how Weyland fcked us over documented. I wasn't there when it happened though. I'll go into more detail about that later though. This is his story not mine. Sure I trained him, but my time for telling ghost stories has passed. Now it's his.

The kid was just a toddler when his mother gave him combat training, teaching him how to defend himself. Since this was his life and the training yard was right outside his enclosure, easy for him to see out that big ass window, he began learning off of my boys, memorizing colonial marine combat techniques and integrating them with his regular Predator training. I'd say that's when I first got interested. You already know this stuff.

Anyway. You know the rest of the story up to when I took him under my wing. After those ass wipes Levinson, Daniel, and Weekes tortured the poor kid. Frigging worthless butt wipes got what they deserved. I can understand they were mad because they lost their friends to Predators, but come on! You don't take it out on a fcking seven year old kid, who just lost his mom and don't even know why the hell he's being punished! Even if Weyland told them to do it! Ticks me off. Those derelicts got thrown out of the Corps after that. Should be lucky Kjon didn't kill them. That's what I named him by the way. His people have all these weird names and sht. A'rgr-lo, Ma-ek'laa, you get the point. His mother hadn't given him a name, she was to busy teaching him that she didn't name him other than suckling or pup. That's what they call their children. The only thing anyone ever called him was specimen KJ147 named after the planet. I decided to give him the name Kjon. My great ancestor was also named John so that kind of helped with the idea for a name.

Anyway, I though about the kid ever since I saw him do that, and thought how awesome it'd be to have him, a friggin Predator, as a Colonial Marine. Now that was an idea. My family's had run-ins with these guys before. Sometimes we'd fight them, other times we'd fight with them. But mostly we've been at odds with these guys ever since my great ancestor Dutch fought one all the way back in 1987. So it'd be nice to see one that was fully on our side for once. But he was Weyland Yutani property, and while the United States Colonial Marine Corps was also Wey-Yu property too, he didn't hold us to the same level of immediate importance as he did his science projects.

That's another thing he always tried to makes us see, that we were his property, and while we were technically, you can't just own a human being. Sure Weyland was to some extent our boss, but people have their own ideas, they have moral values, some of which they will die to uphold. Most of us marines at the time were no exception to this, and we weren't just going to give up on our duty to protect the colonists all for the sake of Weyland's monsters. "They were to precious," He'd say, "They're the perfect organism, they need to be studied."

Perfect my fat ass! I should have told him that myself. If he knew what we had to go through just to get everything secure so these things wouldn't escape and kill the colonists. Sorry I'm getting off topic here, aren't I?

I felt so sorry for Kjon and his mother. Weyland was gonna brainwash the kid, to make him a tool to throw at the xenomorphs to try and keep them contained. Thank God, I'm glad that didn't pan out. I mean even if you hate Predators like Levinson and his boys did, you'd know that this was just... not right...

Over the years I've come to learn about the conflict my family has had with these guys. Although we've had had alliances with these guys before I took things to a whole new level. I fought along side one of them, who'd saved my life and helped me with a bug hunt, another one I'd respected respected and cared about as a sister, and I raised Kjon. Heck these guys have practically become my family. I felt sorry for Kjon's mom because I was the one that found her still alive. I was the one that allowed her to be found by Weyland. I ensured she'd survive her wounds from Marlow's Valley. I ensured that the last seven years of her life would be nothing but pain and dishonor. I also ensured her son, Kjon would bear that shame just as much as she would. So you can tell I felt a little responsible. On the plus side, I did get to return the favor to an enemy that has been trying to murder us Schaefer's for so long, and raise an awesome kid.

I had a wife a long time ago, but she... she... she died... She died before we could... you know. You can understand I did feel bitter about it.

He sits in silence for a few moments, throws away his cigar in an ashtray on the desk, and lights another before continuing.

I wont lie when I tell you I did fell some sadness come over me when I found out Kjon's mom had died. I'd known her for a little while, we got to care for each other as siblings. I'd lost family members, and friends who'd I'd loved like family before, including my own wife. So I could understand the kid was going through a rough time. At least she made sure Kjon was safe, and she did torch Weyland's lab before she left. He he he he, suck it asshole.

Having lost family and loved ones myself, I could understand what Kjon was going though. I just never lost em when I was a kid. So I guess I should say I had some idea. I didn't exactly want to comfort the kid, but I did want to do something with him, you know. Tell him it'd be okay. But how do you tell that to a something that isn't part of your own species. Besides Weyland kept me off of that portion of the lab area for some time. He knew I was talking with Kj's mom, and he never did anything about it because that would help solidify that "hey we humans ain't all that bad." But after Ma-ek'laa died, he didn't want me to go anywhere near there, lest I disappear. It was only after I heard what about happened to Levinson, Daniel, and Weekes, that I was allowed to enter that area of the facility at the time. I saw what that kid had done to three of my well trained marines, and then that thought about having him as a Colonial Marine popped right back in my head. This time, Weyland had no use for him, since his little science project plan for the kid ended up in ashes. Hey no sense to leave a potential asset to rot in a cage, torturing it until it just dies.

We cussed each other out until one of us gave a good enough point where the other gave in. I'd been in fights with Weyland before, so I wasn't scarred in the least bit by any of his bullsht threats. I won the argument, got permission to take him and made him into the best damn Marine I'd ever trained.

I gave Kjon some comfort for the first couple weeks, fattened the kid up from the concentration camp survivor he was when I took him out of that cage, just to get his strength up before I continued his training. After that when we started, I began giving him the message clearly to him that I was his D.I. and not his dad. I told him that I didn't care if he did regard me as his dad, but I wanted him to respect and obey me as his D.I. above anything first.

Not that I objected to him seeing me as his father or some type of father figure of his, I just didn't care. Glad he did though. I really needed someone I could take care of, you know. Show him the ropes. Allow the family legacy to go on stuff like that.

At first he was terrible, but I expected that. Whenever we get fresh meat for the grinder, they're always wet behind the ears. Kjon was no different. Plus he was only seven and a half. And although he was a smart and physically fit little spit-fck, there are limits to what seven year old can do, even if they are above average. He sucked at just about everything, granted he didn't understand much of what he was being taught at the time. Not just in his training but in basic boot camp sht, like eating outside the mess-hall, being woken up early in the morning, referring to me as ,Sir, before and after every sentence, being neat and precise all the time, and speaking only when spoken to. I know he was only a kid, but I still pushed him, and I pushed hard. Every time he, messed up something up, I'd either put him over myself, or punish his bunkmates so they would do something to him. It didn't matter that it made no sense to him at the time, it only mattered that he learned what to do and what not to do. He'd learn to be neat and clean, respectful, quick, honest, and hard working. After the first month of training he did fine in all of that bullsht. He never really tried to do anything wrong, but hey when you mess up you have to learn someway. And given the fact he feared me just about as much as I fear and worship God on Sunday. I didn't need to worry about him being obedient to me. As for his actual training that was different.

Physically, he was fit, especially for a seven year old, but he was not up to the standards we marines pushed ourselves towards everyday. Didn't matter what the heck it was, running, weightlifting, nothing. He wasn't even that good at schooling, or target practice. He was good with combat training, he'd beaten three fully trained marines before. But as for everything else, he just wasn't there yet. Sure for how old he was, he was fantastic, but he wasn't a Marine. And he was supposed to be one of the most skilled and successful hunters in the world. He was supposed to be a Predator, but was instead becoming something that a Predator could kill and make a trophy out of. It's hard enough we have to fight xenos, but Predators, Oh my God. And to think fighting them was next to impossible. Teaching them felt down right futile.

I had to toughen him up somehow. I mean he was doing the best he could, but even for tough hombres like us that is not hard enough. He wasn't accepting that he wasn't a kid anymore. He had to be a marine. Anything less than that was no good. After a couple months I began punishing his bunk mates instead of him so that they could make him see what was going on, that hopefully some violence would make the idea click in his head that "hey I'm not a kid anymore, I'm a marine." It's a trick many of us marines use on some of the new grunts we train that are a bit difficult.

I'd like to say it did the job, which it did, but I kind of should've expected what the outcome would be. There were some guys he bunked with who kept getting pissed off for always having to pay for his mistakes. Others just didn't like him because he was a Predator. They made his life hell all the time. On one such occasion however, things went to far. One night these three maggots ,Jones, Michael, and Jamie, had had enough and decided to give Kjon the proper motivation. They silently moved him out of bed, shoving their socks in his mouth so he couldn't scream when he tried to call for help. They took him into the bathroom area where they beat him, cut him with their knives, Hell they even cut part of his bits! He tried to fight back, but he was just to tired and they ganged up on him. Yeah he'd beat Levinson, and his buds' asses, but that was different.

Jones, then made a similar mistake Levinson had, and made vulgar comment about his mom's... you know where, and Oh boy! After it was all over Kjon had Jones by the throat with the sharp piece of porcelain in his hand ready to slit his throat. Luckily for Jones' sorry ass I stopped Kjon before he could do it. Then he just exploded

"WHAT THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED! WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?!" He wasn't wrong. I did want him to toughen up, but in doing so I ended up sending another three marines out of the Corps. At the end of it, Kjon was just to exhausted and tired of everything that was happening. Poor kid just broke down, crying like a baby on the floor. After getting patched up and another couple hours of needed rest, he was alright again. In fact, he changed.

I don't know if it was the disposable comments about his mother and her backside, or him being such a disappointment all the time; it may have likely been both but whatever the case, I saw a new look in him the next morning. It was like he was burning with anger and anticipation. He'd finally accepted what he was ,a marine. He got better with his training. He became more and more focused on the tasks at hand and tried harder to complete them quickly and properly. His aim became better, he was becoming smarter, his attitude was hardening. In the marines we have this mantra we use, "Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome." You get what it means right? Do what you can with what you have, grow to the circumstances your set in, and beat them. He learned this really quickly after that little motivating snap, and he did just that. Like I said he not only toughened up, but he wizened up too. He was more determined more persistent to get done. Whenever there was an obstacle or difficulty put in front of him he used his strength to try and over come it. When that didn't work though, he stuck back and thought the problem out. He did this a lot, especially on the training yard outside. The best part was that whenever he failed something he never gave up. And that's what a marine does. Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome.

After three years of training, he'd grown to become one of, if not, the strongest marine I ever trained. He could run faster than any of us, lift heavier weights, and after going through some Judo training, he also became a pretty damn good fighter to. He also became a pretty obedient and respectful son. It was sometime after he began to get good at his training that he became my son. I didn't necessarily adopt him as my kid, as much as he adopted me as his dad.

We didn't go through any of the needless bullsht paperwork, we just accepted each other as brother and son and that was that. I loved him like he was my legitimate son, which he is, and he treats me the same way. I still refuse to let him call me Dad though, and only let him call me Hadrick, or Sir, because like I said I was his instructor above everything. And I'll stay that way even after Christ comes back. Did I mention were also Christians. Yeah that's another thing he learned from me when I adopted him. I didn't forcefully install my beliefs onto him, but when he became interested in Christianity, I held nothing back during Scripture Study. I taught him everything I could, and occasionally let him read and ponder from the good book alone. The Bible is actually where I taught him about most of our morals, and where we all come from according to what we believe. He imprinted on this and became a believer shortly afterward. I baptized him when he was nine years. When I did he made a promise both to me and to God that day that he would do his best to protect us "Oomans," and never kill a single one, unless it was necessary. I'm not like most Christians who say killing is bad. If I was I wouldn't even be a marine. I'm under the impression that if you killed em out of self defense or for the defense of another you don't need to be sorry about it. It's even stated numerous times in the good book itself, but not to many people who call themselves Christian now-a-days just don't realize that. Not that I'm busting on them for what they believe I'm just saying. But you get the point I'm getting a little to preachy now.

Every now and then we talk and reminisce over old memories, and all the time he thanks me for why he is what he is now. And to think that fcking up his life was the best thing I ever did to him.

When he was ten years old he was finally ready. I'd done the best I could with him during those three short years and Kjon had done the best he could with the training I gave him. After he finished boot camp he asked if he could prove himself. I obliged.