Man, it seems like ages since I wrote one of these. In spite of the almost frightening lack of quality of this lengthy work of fan fiction I wrote in grade school, I’ve come to miss it a little, like a tweaker yearning for some subpar crystal meth. So let’s jump off the wagon once again and wade into the murky terrain of the Annotated Aliens versus Predator: The Story.
Eisenberg stared at the monitor, once again fondling a pen in his hand.
Think Freud ever came up with a name for this fixation? Regardless, I’m getting creeped out.
It was a remote monitor, showing an external view of the Pods. Pod 2 had two huge gashes in the side, and there was debris damage on the other three Pods. Readouts of the facility were on the computer screen next to it. As Eisenberg stared at it, Rykov approached him from behind.
“We’re ready to enter the Hive,” the general said.
In hindsight, the last couple sentences sound really dirty.
“What are you waiting for?”
“It amazes me,” Eisenberg began, not even turning, “that we came to this planet with supplies, almost an army, and two excellent facilities. Now thanks to that Alien, that Marine, and that Predator, everything’s almost turning out to become the Observation Post 1 incident.”
“Many things have gone to waste here,” Rykov agreed. “Aren’t those three vermin dead yet?”
“No, and it amazes me yet again…”
“…also, and you might not have noticed this, but I have a low threshold for amazement…”
“…We set up every trap imaginable to dispose of them, and yet they have eluded every one. Now only one trap remains,” Eisenberg said. He pulled out of his pocket a pencil-sized cylinder.
“You aren’t thinking of the Pod Self-Destruct system, are you?” Rykov asked.
“I am, and I have good reason to. It’s the only way to get rid of these. . . creeps, who are ruining my plan!” Eisenberg growled.
“Those… those buttheads!”
“You would have to have a lot of morals not to pull that off,” Rykov said.
Wait, what? Was I vying for the award for Most Poorly Constructed Sentence?
“That’s the thing,” Eisenberg chuckled, switching quickly to a cold whisper, “I have no morals.” He twirled the detonator around in his hand and pressed the Execute button.
No morals? I never would have guessed that from his steely demeanour, unethical experimentation and imposing choice of wardrobe.
The alarm klaxon sounded. “Warning. The Emergency Destruct System has been initiated. You now have 15 minutes to reach minimum safe distance.”
“Damn. That doesn’t sound good,” Swift-Death said.
“You didn’t tell us anything about a self-destruct system!” Harrison shouted at Ivan.
“How would I know it would be used?” Ivan objected. “The thing was supposedly shut down when Pod 5 was destroyed.”
“Well, I guess it wasn’t,” Jimrakh growled. “We have to get out of this place. What’s the escape route?”
“You were supposed to take a ladder up to Pod 5, where you waited for dropships to pick you up,” Tomiko explained.
“Normally we would have relocated the escape route following its destruction, but, y’know, budget cuts.”
“Crad,” Jimrakh cursed in his language. “Maybe we can get on top of the Pod supports, and run to the canyon walls.”
“Good, so let’s go,” Harrison said. The five rushed out of Tomiko’s quarters and headed for Pod 1’s core. The core was a huge shaft that contained bridges leading from one part of Pod 1 to another. Hopefully there was something in the core that could get them up on top.
The group ran through the mess hall and onto a bridge in Pod 1’s core. The top fan vents were nine levels up, and it would take some time to climb up by hand.
“We’re never going to get up this thing!” Ivan complained. Jimrakh and Swift-Death looked at each other, nodded, and faced forward.
New drinking game: take a shot every time it seems appropriate for the “Axel F. Theme” to start playing.
Swift-Death jumped up five levels, and Jimrakh climbed up just under him. They began to hack at the bridge supports, and in a matter of moments, the bridge broke off and smashed through five four other bridges, just above the others. There was strong grip tape on the fallen platform, which was rough enough to be held on to.
As the others climbed up the core, Jimrakh and Swift-Death continued crashing bridges to use as a ladder. By the time they got to the top, there were ten minutes left. Jimrakh spat acid on to the fans, which melted and made a hole. They climbed through it and jumped onto the Pod 1 roof.
Save for the three humans below, who were splashed with the acid spat directly at a rotary fan and died screaming.
They immediately turned around and headed for the quickest way off Pod 1. It was blocked, not able to be used for escape.
“Crap! Where’s the quickest unblocked way?” Harrison asked.
“There,” Jimrakh said. Far across, near Pod 4, was a support that led on to the canyon wall. They sprinted toward it, Jimrakh in the lead.
Suddenly, a support behind them exploded, showering fire and metal everywhere. Ivan shielded Tomiko from the inferno, and Swift-Death used his Shoulder-Cannon to blow oncoming debris away.
“Remind me to sue your Company when I get back!” shouted Harrison.
While Harrison’s quip might have been inappropriately timed, it probably should be said that Weyland-Yutani is the biggest and best argument for governmental regulation of corporations.
“C’mon!” Tomiko cried. Another support was blown to bits, and Pod 2, which they were on, tilted a bit.
You know, just a bit.
Five minutes left.
The five headed onto Pod 3, which was a bit more stable than No. 2. As they rushed across, Swift-Death froze.
“Run. Faster. Now,” he ordered. Just then, the upper supports of Pod 2 buckled, and they broke. It leaned over, only being supported by the bottom struts, until its top struck the side of Pod 3. The structure lurched and everyone was thrown to their feet.
So, they hopped?
Harrison was hurled five metres, where he barely caught the edge. Jimrakh snarled and reluctantly helped the human up.
“Thanks,” Harrison said.
“Nah. We just needed your weapons,” Jimrakh growled.
The characters display such absurd apathy toward each other’s safety you’d think this was a sci fi-themed episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Also, I confess this bit with the collapsing walkways is lifted directly from the Moria chase scene in The Fellowship of the Ring, which was my absolute favourite movie at the time. 13-year-old me had no shame.
Pod 4 was just across the next bridge support. As they hurried across it, the remaining Pod 2 supports exploded. Pod 2 blew into five chunks and fell down into the gorge.
The group was finally on Pod 4, but they had barely any time left.
“Warning. You now have 1 minute to reach minimum safe distance,” the main computer boomed over a loudspeaker. Now the five were really running.
Just as the feet of Harrison, Swift-Death, Tomiko and Ivan touched the last support toward the gorge wall, the bolts nearest to Pod 4 blew off. The one end of the strut slid down the side of Pod 4, so that it was diagonal in direction.
“Climb!” Harrison ordered. As they did, Jimrakh was stuck on Pod 4. “Warning,” the computer sounded once more, “you now have 30 seconds to reach minimum safe distance.”
Jimrakh, out of options, watched the group make it to the gorge wall. He immediately retreated to the other side of Pod 4, and faced the cliff wall. He let out an ancient Alien war cry, and sped forward.
“MEH TSA KAN!!!!!!!!”
“Warning, you know have ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, goodbye.”
For a detached computerized voice meant to serve as an allegory for Weyland-Yutani’s collectively inhumanity, it’s remarkably polite.
Jimrakh jumped across the gap and landed on the cliff wall, right at one. Immediately after, the remaining three Pods exploded, along with their supports.
ALL EXPLODING ALL THE TIME
The flaming remains of the Forward Observation Pods crashed to the ground.
On the cliff wall, the desperate alliance tried to catch their breath.
“I, am, going, to, kill, you,” Harrison gasped at Ivan.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Ivan replied.
“Alright, where to now? We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no one to help us!” Jimrakh growled.
“Patience,” Swift-Death said. “Do you think we can get to your Marine squad?”
“Yeah, but they won’t be happy about an Alien, a Predator and two Corporates coming with me,” Harrison answered.
The second, long-awaited sequel to Three Men and a Baby.
“Deal with it. They’re the only guys who can deliver this disc back to Earth,” Tomiko said.
“What’s with the disc? I know it has records on it, but what else?” asked Jimrakh.
“You know how the Company got the Aliens in containment, within the POC and Forward Observation Pods?” asked Tomiko.
“Yeah, they were captured,” Ivan replied.
“No. Bred within the facilities. Via the personnel.”
I’d just like to point out that these humans are carrying out a semi-casual conversation with an extraterrestrial big game hunter and a would-be rapist from beyond the stars as if it ain’t no thang.
Harrison shook his head. “No way. Weyland-Yutani may be a bit off their rocker, but they wouldn’t sacrifice their own staff.”
“Eisenberg’s at the head of the project. He’ll do anything to study Aliens,” Tomiko objected. “I should know. My brother - he died. Accidental death. Eisenberg signed it himself.”
“okay, that has nothing to do with the illegal experimentation thing,” Swift-Death said.
“Yes it does. The first Alien in captivity was put in the labs the same day by brother died.”
At those words, everyone froze. Eisenberg had done the one thing that would give him the chair: sacrificing humans for scientific research.
I love how no one considers that might be a coincidence for even a second.
“okay, now I get your point. But, I don’t know where my APC is,” Harrison fretted.
“Your species should deal with these sort of things on your own,” Jimrakh snickered coldly. Everyone except Swift-Death glared at the Alien. Just then, Ivan objected.
“Well, I know.”
“What?” Harrison asked.
“They’re on the other side of this ridge,” Ivan explained.
“Why would they be there?” said Harrison.
“Some of my men, got into an authority fight with one of your friends,” Ivan said. “He kind of looked like you.”
“Duke. Figures,” Harrison grumbled. “Well, go on. Take us there.”
“Alright, alright,” Ivan said. He started toward the other side of the ridge, and the others followed. It took them three hours, but they finally reached a ridge overlooking small crater, where Red Team’s APC was parked.
Why did I skip past that lengthy walk? Think of all of the witty banter I missed out on!
“It’s undamaged, so none of your species have trashed it,” Harrison said while inspecting it.
“Now, why would we do that?” Jimrakh snickered. Harrison made his way around the vehicle to the side hatch. He flipped open the latch and slid the door open.
Almost immediately, a pulse rifle muzzle was shoved in his face.
“Goddammit, Johnson, put down the gun!” Harrison shouted. Jones, who was standing in the doorway, holstered the pulse rifle and stared at the ragtag group before her.
Wait, are Johnson and Jones one and the same? Space Crying Game, everybody.
“Two things, Frosty: why are you with two Company scumbags, an armour freak and a damn lizard, and why aren’t you dead?” she asked.
“First answer: they’re the only ones who can help me. Second answer: because you didn’t pull the trigger,” the Marine replied.
“No, I mean everyone else said you were dead,’ Johnson said.
“Who’s everyone?” Swift-Death asked.
“Well, just him,” Johnson answered, as she turned around and pointed at Duke. Jones, Shugi, Blackwell, McCain and Decker were with them. Duke waved innocently as Harrison stared at him.
“Really, I was just passing info on from McCain. He said you were dead,” Duke said.
“Yes, because that’s what Eisenberg told me,” McCain explained. “What the Hell happened?”
“Those dumbass Company security guards knocked me out and put me in a jail cell,” Harrison replied.
Jones got up and pulled out a pistol. “Harrison,” he started, “get down, some shooting’s going to start.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Ivan protested, as he pointed at Jimrakh and Swift-Death, “these two helped Harrison out.”
“I’m talking about you,” Jones said.
I love how casually Jones advocated straight up murdering a dude. McCain must have let them at his secret stash of Jim Beam.
“Damn,” Ivan whispered as he raised his hands. Surprisingly, Jimrakh came to his aid. He lifted Jones by the neck and pulled him close.
“He’s a good reason ‘Frosty’ managed to get back alive. I suggest you put the gun down,” the Alien snarled.
“Guys! Less blood, more information,” Shugi shouted. “Frosty, what the Hell is going on?”
“The Company executives here are selling us short. They’re using their own personnel to breed Aliens. Not to mention, Eisenberg and Rykov are planning to break into the Master Hive and capture the Empress,” Harrison explained.
“Damn, too much information,” muttered Shugi.
In Shugi’s defence, that info is absolutely mindboggling.
“Do you have proof of this, Harrison, or did the Company do something to you?” McCain asked skeptically.
“In the name of all things sacred!” Tomiko burst out.
“And who might you be?” Johnson asked.
“Tomiko Maurita, who gave Harrison this information. Is there anything in this APC that can read and display disc information?”
“Yeah,” Blackwell said. He pressed a button, which activated a small console on the APC dashboard. Tomiko opened a disc drive just below the display screen and slid in the disc that Harrison retrieved.
“Watch and learn,” she said as she pressed a key. Immediately, data flashed onto the screen. A long list of Company names were shown, starting at the most recent and ending at the first. Each name was a file, and every one contained a short video clip of that certain person. Each video clip showed a chestburster emerging from each host’s ribs. The last in the list, which was the first bursting of them all, had the title Test Subject 01: Maurita, Hoshio. Right away, the Marines knew who it was: the brother of Tomiko.
“Hoshio”? Now I’m imagining some Japanese dude cosplaying as Mario screaming as an alien fetus bursts out of his chest cavity.
“Those damn Company execs used my brother as the first host for their experiments. Eisenberg said he died in an accident, but I knew it wasn’t true. My brother was a very meticulous man. He didn’t make mistakes.”
“Hey, I know that mug from somewhere,” Ivan pointed out. He was looking at the Warrior version of the same Alien. “The one that broke out of its pen in the POC had that same scar.” Sure enough, the scar was there.
“They shot that one, too,” Tomiko said. “The Company killed him twice.”
The group paused for a moment, absorbing the horrifying images from the computer screen. Finally, McCain spoke up. “Alright. What do you want us to do?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We find your doctor and your general, and give them Hell,” Jimrakh said.
“Whoa, there, Silver! We just can’t kill somebody. We have top bring them back to Earth, have them attend a trial, and wait for the news of his prosecution. That’s Earth law for you,” explained Duke. “You know, even though I still hate this guy.”
Remember when Duke’s fellow Marine suggested they Ice Ivan not a minute before? These guys seriously have the memory spans of goldfish.
“Yes, but to clear things up, we’re on my planet, and we use our laws,” Jimrakh objected.
“And what exactly are your laws?” Swift-Death snarled.
“Just one: kill anyone who threatens either my species or the planet.”
“Fairly simple. okay, but only if you get to him, first,” Harrison said.
“And now, for the plan,” Swift-Death said. “Anyone?”
“I have one,” Harrison said. “Swift-Death, Jimrakh and I will head for the Hive to stop Eisenberg and Rykov. The rest of you will go to the POC. I think the Northern Landing is still uninhabited by Aliens. There’s a communications tower their, which you can use to contact the closest ship of ours. By the way, which is the closest?”
“The Tyrago. It has full armament, crew and dropships,” Johnson said.
Fun fact: the Tyrargo was a level in Rebellion’s first AvP game based off the Marines’ ship from Aliens, which also shared the same design as the Marines’ ship in this game and oh my God what have I become.
“How can we be sure this’ll work?” Duke asked.
“Let me put it this way: my species will be really pissed off once the Empress has been taken. They’ll react to all of this.”
As Harrison, Jimrakh and Swift-Death were about to go out of the APC, Duke signaled to the Alien and Predator. “Hey,” he started, “how exactly are you able to talk?”
“What, you expected us to be damn insects? You’re out of your mind,” said Swift-Death.
“Hopefully Jimrakh’s species will co-operate,” Harrison said.
“What happens if they don’t?” Ivan asked.
“We’ve still got a chance,” Swift-Death replied. “I mean, where is your Company going to get help?”
If you guessed I thought I was trying to set this up for a totally badass revelation, you’re absolutely right.
Rykov paced around impatiently, as Eisenberg waited, reading information from a mini-computer in his hands.
“How do we know we can trust them? They’re outside our species, for crying out loud!” Rykov shouted.
“Don’t worry. I made the deal clear with them. The only things they kill are the Marines and the Aliens, and maybe that blasted Predator if necessary.”
“It’s still insane. You know how I hate their kind.”
“Trust me, for once. They’ll do their job.”
Just then, a small ship appeared on the horizon. It soared at a high speed toward them, until it landed in a clearing nearby.
It was a peculiar-looking ship, with many features that looked organic. It was red in colour, with many engines coming out the back. A boarding ramp lowered from the bottom of the ship, which let its passengers out.
The passengers were a group of Predators, though not your normal everyday hunters. Some had weird armour, or parts of armour, or almost no armour at all. One of the Predators, whose red mask neatly formed his mandible and eye sockets, stepped forward.
“Greetings, you may call me Eisenberg. I’m sure that everything’s in order?” the doctor said. He held out his hand, as in a gesture to shake it, but the Predator muttered something in its own language.
“What did it say?” asked Rykov.
“He said that he is not their leader,” a voice spoke from inside the ship. Suddenly, a final Predator stepped out of the ship. He looked different from the others, mainly because he was decked head to toe in Predator armour. Not a bit of skin showed. Even his hair was tucked into his mask. In fact, his mask was more of a helmet, since it covered all of his head. The only way the Predator could communicate was through either the vocoder in his helmet, or the two short aerials on top of the right side of his head. On his back was a large spear launcher, with a long spear sticking out of the top. On the bottom of the launcher was a strange electrical device. The Predator cradled a sawed-off plasma rifle in his hands.
Overall, the freakiest Predator Eisenberg had ever seen.
“My name is Dark-Hunter,” the Predator said. The vocoder slightly silenced his voice, but it only made him seem colder. “And I assure you, no Alien or Marine will get off this planet alive.”
I’m just going to leave this here…
…and apologize profusely. See you next month.