(no subject)
Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.
Vasquez stared at the wall, hoping it would magically transform into a terrible hell-sent beast and try to eat him. Seeing as Weird Science was on the other side of it, such an occurrence was not out of the question; it was even likely. But today, Lance Corporal Eric Vasquez was out of luck. No foul beast materialized and tried to eat him, and his armory guard shift continued as inexorably and uneventfully as it always did. He shifted his heavily armored feet and leaned against the wall.
From around the corner, the sound of metal-clad feet shuffling on deck plates heralded the arrival of… something. Vasquez straightened, praying for a suit of possessed armor or maybe to obscene spawn of an insane AI. Instead, the figure that rounded to corner was the easily-recognizable form of his Top, FLEET Gunny Sergeant Eisenhart.
Vasquez crashed to attention, bringing his plasma rifle to port. Obviously this was a surprise inspection- bad news for Vasquez. His suit diagnostic would reveal several maintenance issue he had been putting off in favor of playing poker with first squad. Vasquez began to sweat. If he were lucky, he might get away from this without being consigned to WeirdSci cleanup for the rest of his natural life and most of his unnatural one.
“Gunny! Lance Corporal Eric S. Vasquez, on station, Gunny!” Eisenhart failed to react, merely shuffling closer. His arms were limp, and his single biological eye seemed to unfocused and glazed. Vasquez relaxed slightly, puzzled. The Gunny was normally the very epitome of military form; his posture was so sharp you could cut the insidiousness with it, and Vasquez had never seem him anything but alert and attentive to detail. “Gunny, are you alright?”
The voice that came from the senior NCO sounded like him, but it started and stopped strangely. Vasquez would later swear the mouth didn’t move a bit. “Of course, I am, private! Open, this door! I need, to inspect, the armory!”
Vasquez froze. On the one hand, the being before him obviously wore the skin of the most senior NCO in the Funky Horror’s company of STRIKE Marines. On the other hand, something was obviously amiss. As he watched, Eisenhart’s head rolled back and a string of drool fell from his lips and onto his normally immaculate service uniform.
“…right, Gunny, I’ll just step aside and you can put in your access code.”
“Yes! Right! The, access code!” The apparition fixed Vasquez with a stare from Eisenhart’s bionic eye- which was, Vasquez now noticed, twitching about frantically. “I, have it right, here!” The thing started shuffling towards the control panel.
Vasquez stepped forward and around it, slowly unshipping his sidearm. He still wasn’t sure what was happening, and he figured if the Gunny /was/ possessed by some soul- munching monstrosity that Man Was Not Meant to Know, he wouldn’t begrudge Vasquez too much if he blaster out its kneecap. He was interrupted as he took aim, however, by a nude, damp form that came hurtling around the corner.
“Lance Vasquez, lock down the armory!” said the /new/ Gunnery Sergeant Eisenhart, who wasted no time in tackling… himself. Vasquez wasted several seconds watching his naked NCO grab himself and grapple the imposter to the ground. Vasquez noticed the sour stench of RESPAWN fluid filling the corridor as the new Eisenhart wrestled the old Eisenhart in a puddle of the slimy stuff. All he could think of was how much the Boardies would pay for the footage from his helmet cam. He was thinking about how to set up the auction when the naked Eisenhart grabbed his counterpart and ripped off the top of its head.
Vasquez watched in shock as what appeared to be a tiny mammoth flew from the empty skull and ran off down the corridor, with the naked NCO in full pursuit. “Come here, you furry little bastard!” he shouted, leaving a slick trail of RESPAWN fluid.
Vasquez watched the pair depart, and then glanced at the corpse on the floor. The brain cavity was full of complex electronics. Some of them looked like parts for the Gunny’s bionic eye, but the rest comprised an obvious control interface. There was also a tiny spoon.
It was a relatively simple matter to immolate the remains with his plasma cannon, and then Vasquez was back to staring at the same spot on the wall he had examined so thoroughly during this shift. He shifted his heavily armored feet and leaned against the wall.
Bored, bored, bored.
Vasquez stared at the wall, hoping it would magically transform into a terrible hell-sent beast and try to eat him. Seeing as Weird Science was on the other side of it, such an occurrence was not out of the question; it was even likely. But today, Lance Corporal Eric Vasquez was out of luck. No foul beast materialized and tried to eat him, and his armory guard shift continued as inexorably and uneventfully as it always did. He shifted his heavily armored feet and leaned against the wall.
From around the corner, the sound of metal-clad feet shuffling on deck plates heralded the arrival of… something. Vasquez straightened, praying for a suit of possessed armor or maybe to obscene spawn of an insane AI. Instead, the figure that rounded to corner was the easily-recognizable form of his Top, FLEET Gunny Sergeant Eisenhart.
Vasquez crashed to attention, bringing his plasma rifle to port. Obviously this was a surprise inspection- bad news for Vasquez. His suit diagnostic would reveal several maintenance issue he had been putting off in favor of playing poker with first squad. Vasquez began to sweat. If he were lucky, he might get away from this without being consigned to WeirdSci cleanup for the rest of his natural life and most of his unnatural one.
“Gunny! Lance Corporal Eric S. Vasquez, on station, Gunny!” Eisenhart failed to react, merely shuffling closer. His arms were limp, and his single biological eye seemed to unfocused and glazed. Vasquez relaxed slightly, puzzled. The Gunny was normally the very epitome of military form; his posture was so sharp you could cut the insidiousness with it, and Vasquez had never seem him anything but alert and attentive to detail. “Gunny, are you alright?”
The voice that came from the senior NCO sounded like him, but it started and stopped strangely. Vasquez would later swear the mouth didn’t move a bit. “Of course, I am, private! Open, this door! I need, to inspect, the armory!”
Vasquez froze. On the one hand, the being before him obviously wore the skin of the most senior NCO in the Funky Horror’s company of STRIKE Marines. On the other hand, something was obviously amiss. As he watched, Eisenhart’s head rolled back and a string of drool fell from his lips and onto his normally immaculate service uniform.
“…right, Gunny, I’ll just step aside and you can put in your access code.”
“Yes! Right! The, access code!” The apparition fixed Vasquez with a stare from Eisenhart’s bionic eye- which was, Vasquez now noticed, twitching about frantically. “I, have it right, here!” The thing started shuffling towards the control panel.
Vasquez stepped forward and around it, slowly unshipping his sidearm. He still wasn’t sure what was happening, and he figured if the Gunny /was/ possessed by some soul- munching monstrosity that Man Was Not Meant to Know, he wouldn’t begrudge Vasquez too much if he blaster out its kneecap. He was interrupted as he took aim, however, by a nude, damp form that came hurtling around the corner.
“Lance Vasquez, lock down the armory!” said the /new/ Gunnery Sergeant Eisenhart, who wasted no time in tackling… himself. Vasquez wasted several seconds watching his naked NCO grab himself and grapple the imposter to the ground. Vasquez noticed the sour stench of RESPAWN fluid filling the corridor as the new Eisenhart wrestled the old Eisenhart in a puddle of the slimy stuff. All he could think of was how much the Boardies would pay for the footage from his helmet cam. He was thinking about how to set up the auction when the naked Eisenhart grabbed his counterpart and ripped off the top of its head.
Vasquez watched in shock as what appeared to be a tiny mammoth flew from the empty skull and ran off down the corridor, with the naked NCO in full pursuit. “Come here, you furry little bastard!” he shouted, leaving a slick trail of RESPAWN fluid.
Vasquez watched the pair depart, and then glanced at the corpse on the floor. The brain cavity was full of complex electronics. Some of them looked like parts for the Gunny’s bionic eye, but the rest comprised an obvious control interface. There was also a tiny spoon.
It was a relatively simple matter to immolate the remains with his plasma cannon, and then Vasquez was back to staring at the same spot on the wall he had examined so thoroughly during this shift. He shifted his heavily armored feet and leaned against the wall.
Bored, bored, bored.