I run to cover in the ruins of the colony; my head swivels constantly as I desperately try to reach the rudimentary cover of concrete and steel beams. Mother always chastised me for my choice of joining the PMC, called them a motley band, their promises of adventure and riches only gilding for the realities of merc life. I ignored her, thinking she was only constraining me, and ran away from home and joined up with the Scorpions, a relatively small PMC.
It was fun, I ended up in a squad in Scorpion's 9th company and befriended most of the squad. I had been with the squad for a few years, mostly just protecting ships and working as bodyguards, when we got a new job. The Alliance found a Garden World in the middle of nowhere, Shanxi is its name, and a company wanted to set up a colony there. We and a few others got sent, guarding the setup team as they prepped the location to be filled with throngs of colonists. We all thought it was an easy job, a rest stop for a few months before going to something more fun; they are all dead. Susan, who I loved to annoy because of that cute face she made when roiled up; fallen in the first hour as a Mass Accelerator round struck her in the head. Jake, who could not stop talking about all his favorite games and shows, suffering in silence with his jaw shattered and his wounds festering, only to be killed when the dam aliens made it to the med tent and killed everyone there. Fred, who was more a father to me than the deadbeat bastard back home, killed right next to me while looking for food. One by one we all died, a PMC company of 200 whittled down to almost nothing. I don't even know if there are any others left; haven't seen any of the Company since Nate was killed by one of those alien IFVs.
After a few moments I take a tentative step out of cover and make my way to a building nearby. As I get close, I see a few of the aliens, their barrel-like bodies on thin legs and elongated helmets unmistakable. I use my helmet to zoom in and get a better look at them. There are 3 of them, and I recognize one. His, or at least I think it is a he, armor still has scorch marks and a hole in the same place Fred discharged his shotgun into before being killed by him; looks like a gutshot isn't fatal for these things. I don't even get to cover before I start to fire, my M7's rounds ripping into the alien. The bastard falls to the ground, a dark blue liquid flowing out of his wounds, but his allies respond.
I feel one strike, then another, then another. As I fall to the ground and begin to lose consciousness, I think to myself 'Mama, maybe you were right' and it all fades to black.
[Got bored a while back and decided to start weighting a few scenes before finishing anything. I might still use this, but as of now it's dead in the water, and so is sent to the scrapyard.]