Chronichles of Malus Darkblade: Straight to hell.

Yo, here's part one of a avp story I'm working on. It stars my RPG character 'Malus Darkblade' and covers his first encounter with the Xenos. Tell me If you like it ok? :)

I'll probably update in a while.

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Malus Jay Darkbade sat and waited impatiently beside the large synthetic Christmas tree, staring at the small, neatly wrapped package with his name marked on it. He looked at the tree, Dad did a really good job on it He thought, looking proudly at the red and white lights flashing on and off to the tune of 'We wish you a merry Christmas' Which was being played through the new surround sound system in the mess hall of the USS CALIFORNIA, the ship where his father was stationed. He turned his attention to the old grandfather clock that was in the corner of the room. Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock. He watched the minute hands slowly edging towards the 12, and the hour hand closing in on the 9. Almost time, almost time. He thought to himself. Almost time to open my present, I wonder what it is Malus thought distantly as he looked over at his dad, who was looking about as anxious as he was, even though his features were calm and collected, Malus knew his father. He looked at the marine armour his dad was wearing and felt a surge of pride. My dad's in the army, how cool is that? That was when private Jarred walked into the room, yawning and stretching. He saluted to Malus's father and said. "Morning Sarge." Malus looked at his dad as he returned the greeting. Every Marine squad had a smartass, and Jarred was it. He was the kind of guy to make a joke about anything and everything, but for some reason, he was friends with everyone. Even Malus.

"Morning kid!" He said as he walked over to Malus, his heavy boots impacting against the steel floor and making a CLUNK! Sound. "Hey, Jarred. It looks like there's one here for you too!" Malus said exitedly, pointing at a tiny present in the corner. Everyone knew that it was a medal and a promotion badge; everyone knew that Jarred was being promoted to corporal and given the Colonial Cross after how he had saved 2nd squad in an incident with some terrorists on the last mission. Malus, of course hadn’t gone on that mission, as at only ten years of age, he was far too young to be fighting on the front. Not that he wasn’t ready, of course. His whole life he had been training in drill, feildcraft and with firearms. He was more than ready to fight, but he was legally too young. Malus looked forward to the day when he would finally be able to defend humanity and kick ass like Jarred and his Father.

Everyone knew what Jarred was getting.

Everyone that is, except Jarred himself. His promotion and medal was one of the best-kept secrets in the entire unit, and it was well known that Jarred didn’t even suspect that something was up.
Suddenly the grandfather clock's bell went off. BONG!..........BONG!.........BONG!...... It rung 9 times and Malus knew it was the time he had been waiting for. It was Christmas a he was going to open his present.

But he could wait just a few minutes more, as he really wanted to see the look on Jarred’s face when he opened that package. It seemed that all of the other marines agreed, because they all piled into the room at once. Malus saw Pfc. Kawalski walk in first, and gave him the thumbs-up. Kawalski returned the gesture, and sat down in a seat in the corner. He had always been the quietest in the unit, as well as the best at making things. He hardly ever talked, but he could make a sniper rifle from scrap metal in minutes flat. After Kawalski entered, the ship’s pilot Rico followed him. Both Malus and his father disapproved of Rico. He was a show-off who thought he was utterly invincible, and most of the marines in the unit didn’t like him, as he thought he was better than the rest of them, and constantly reminded them that. He said nothing, and continued to an empty sofa and sat down there. The rest of the marines piled in, including Lieutenant Harry, who’d been recently assigned to the unit, and was fresh from boot-camp. He wasn’t the usual stuck-up officer though, and recognized his inexperience, relying on Jay and Jarred’s knowledge. Malus liked him, but knew that he was the weak link in the unit, but he was learning.

They all motioned for Jarred to open his small package, and Jarred looked around suspiciously before snatching the package and ripping off its green wrapping. He pulled out the medal and the rank patch, and looked at ever
He looked back at his dad and asked: "Can I?" His father smiled at him and replied, "Sure, go ahead." And before Sergeant Jay Darkblade had finished his sentence. Malus was already reaching for the neatly wrapped package. It was made from REAL tiger skin. And my dad shot the tiger himself Malus thought proudly as he unwrapped the present.

He saw a flash of jet black metal, and quickly finished unwrapping it.

A Shiny, black handgun fell into his lap with a quiet ‘Thud.’

Malus picked it up and held the small pistol in his hands; He stared at it, taking in every feature of it, from the laser sight scope resting on the top of the gun to the long silencer barrel. The gun was painted jet black, and most importantly it was his. And attached to it with sticky tape, was a gun license.
Malus Darkblade looked at his father, sheer joy radiating from his every feature.
"Merry Christmas, son." His father said quietly.


*******

Malus Darkblade stood behind the sandbags at the ship’s firing range. Time to see how this works was the main thought in Malus's head as he glanced at his new jet-black pistol and pointed it at the closest of the clay targets that dotted the long room of the firing range, which was full of small obstacles and was lined with bullet-proof glass, just in case someone missed and shot the wall. We wouldn't want to put a hole in the wall and breach the hull. Malus thought, looking down the laser sight and singling out one that looked like Charles Bishop. Kawalski is always doing stuff like that. Malus thought with a small laugh. Kawalski was the quietest member of the squad, and not very much was known about him. He liked to make stuff, however, and was always upgrading his Minigun and making clay targets for the firing range.

Malus looked through the scope and squeezed the trigger.

The gun jerked slightly in his hands with almost no recoil and ejected a single bullet from the muzzle. The silencer ensured that any noise it made was reduced to almost nothing.

So was the clay target. Bishop’s face had been turned into a nice little pile of broken clay and scattered around the room. So much for Kawalski's artwork.

Malus looked at the demolished target, then at his new gun, then at the shattered remains of the clay target again. Explosive rounds? Malus aimed the gun at another target and fired. Again, the target (this time in the shape of the newly promoted Corporal Ethers, something which made Malus laugh) was utterly annihilated. He then proceeded to blast another another.
Soon, there were no targets left.

Malus looked at what was left of the perfectly nice firing range and smiled slightly, before turning his back on the shattered clay, and returning his new weapon in it's leather holster (a weapon that he was now VERY impressed with) and walked slowly out of the room. He was stopped by his father, who was standing in the doorway with a look of sheer amazement on his face.

Every single bullet had hit their mark.

Wow, and to think I had to train for years to get that good. He found himself thinking. "Do you like it?" He asked his son, and was rewarded with a rather enthusiastic shout of "YEAH!" and a great big hug. Jay hugged his son back, and wondered if he'd made the right decision. Malus is too far young to be fighting; he’s not ready for this. His father thought sadly, but his son was going to have to fight on the front someday. And everyone on the ship knew that Malus’s combat and survival skills were far beyond that of anyone in his entire platoon, and that his potential was unlimited. He’d been trained all of his life for combat, though young Malus did not know it.
“Come on son, command has given us another mission, and I think you're old enough to come along this time." Jay said, as they walked out of the firing range and into the steel corridor that was beyond it.



Malus shifted uncomfortably in the armour he was wearing. It was too big and too heavy for him. This uniform is itchy, and smelly He thought as he distractedly looked around and fixed his gaze at the giant dropship at the other end of the large cluttered hangar. It was in every way top of the line. It had two deployable wings that were tipped with multiple missile launchers, and a smaller missile rack near the tail of the ship, which was filled with nukes. A large Gatling gun was mounted under the nose of the ship, just under the cockpit, and could belt out thousands of bullets a minute. The dropship was in every way deadly, and was going to be their ride to planet’s surface, and the mission below.
Malus sat in the battleship’s armoury, watching through the window as his dad and the others prepped the dropship for the mission ahead. Jarred was loading the missile racks with explosive rockets, using the exosuit to pick up one heavy missile after another and carrying it to the missile pods, next to the space where the crates full of ammunition had been, before they had been loaded into the combat dropship's storage bay.
Malus stared at the large exosuit. It was painted jet black and covered with red skull motifs, courtesy of Kawalski. Kawalski had also upgraded it with a pair of old miniguns slung under the machine's arms and fitted the whole thing with additional armour plating and life support; it was no longer just a load lifter, but a walking tank. Malus's gaze shifted to the dropship again. It was also painted black with the same skull pattern, and nicknamed the Grim Reaper by its pilot Rico, who was definitely a show-off. Malus and his dad both disapproved of Rico and his stunts.

Here the others come. Malus thought as they ran into the armoury whooping and shouting as they came. They loaded their guns and checked their armour, making sure their dark grey night-camo uniforms were in good shape and their black armour (with skull pattern) was tightly fixed and had no holes in it. Then they put on their helmets and adjusted their gas masks. Malus was helped into his. Malus made sure his heavy pistol was loaded, and that the scope was tightly fixed to the barrel and not coming loose again. He then looked at his dad as the squad stared at the small 10 year old armoured figure standing in front of them with his new heavy pistol gripped tightly in his left hand.
â€ÂLook, it’s a travel-size badass!†Jarred remarked, and the entire squad roared with laughter at once, thumping each other on the back and cracking jokes. Malus walked over to the mirror, noting the noise that his heavy (perhaps too heavy) boots made against the metal grille of the floor and stared at him in the mirror. He couldn’t help laughing too, and smiled along with the rest of the unit. Malus knew that it was their way of shrugging off the fear and doubt that was most probably eating at them from inside. Malus didn’t feel that fear yet, but he knew it would be a matter of time. Well, if you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined. Malus thought to himself, repeating a well-known military saying. Then Malus’s dad stopped laughing and started his usual sarge rant.

“OKAY MARINES! SETTLE DOWN!†He shouted in true drill sergeant fashion, and everyone suddenly went silent, even Jarred. “Make sure you’ve got your gear and get your asses to the ready line!†He ordered, and after shouting “YES SERGEANT!†and taking the flamethrower offered to him by Jarred and refilling the fuel canister, Malus followed the others to the ‘ready line’ and stood at attention, still getting used to the weight of the flamethrower. That was when his dad gave his lecture and LT Harry gave his briefing. Apparently ICC command had lost contact with yet another planet, and they were being sent to see what had happened. It was a typical bug hunt, as Jarred remarked a little too loudly. They’d all been on them before, and bug hunts had a reputation of being infamously boring. Malus had heard the rumours, of course, about a certain hunt where his uncle, Private Hudson, had been involved. The same rumour had said that there had been no survivors. Malus felt the pang of grief, but continued to pay attention to the briefing. Apparently the same bugs that had reportedly killed his uncle were suspected to be involved, and that they were to move with EXTREME caution.

Then Jay opened the main door of the APC, and the marines all started piling in, stowing their weapons onto the racks next to their seats and sitting down, putting their harnesses on as they did so. Malus was the last one to board, and headed for the only seat left untaken, which was right at the back of the APC, next to where Lt. Harry and his father were sitting. He placed his flamethrower in the rack next to his seat and locked it in place, before sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, and strapping himself in. “Okay, we’re all in, take her in Kawalski.†Lt Harry called from the back of the APC. “YES SIR!†He replied from the driver’s seat, and drove the Armoured Personnel Carrier up onto the boarding ramp of the Grim Reaper, and into its cargo hold. As the gigantic steel restraints from the dropship connected into the sides of the APC’s armoured form with a loud THUNK, Malus felt the pre-combat fear take hold. Why did I think I was ready for this? Malus asked himself as the dropship was slowly propelled to the boarding airlock by the clamps built into the hangar roof. Everyone was quiet as the dropship stopped moving, and the inner airlock doors slowly opened. Everyone looked at each other to make sure that they were all okay. Malus smiled and gave his father the thumbs-up to show that he was okay. Then Eric’s voice came in from the internal speaker system, telling them that he was going to launch.

“Okay. Engaging primary sequencer: on my mark.†Eric announced over the ship’s internal speaker system, and everyone made sure that their restrains were secured.
“Ten.†Eric said, starting the countdown. Malus gripped the restraints of his seat tightly, praying that his first mission would not be his last.

“Nine.â€Â

“Eight.â€Â

“Seven.â€Â

“Six.â€Â

“Five.â€Â

“Hell yeah, GOING DOWN!†Jarred shouted gleefully over the voice of Eric’s countdown.

“Three.â€Â

Malus closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting for the sudden jolt of the launch, and the descent into hell.

“Two.â€Â

“One.â€Â

“Mark.†Eric said, and fired the sequencers. The dropship fell free from the ship with a roar. “YEEEHAAA!†Jarred shouted from his seat: always the thrill-seeker.