-reading malus's post very very carefully- as long as he dont' change it....or has yautja weapons of mine or anyones....
I see none of my stuff taken and i am going to copy and paste it here...incase malus changes it to his speculation....or wishes
Sam-Jack-Dunn
2008-10-27 18:19:33
Human
Honour. The idea of integrity, of a fair go. Universally seen as of the highest importance by the shadowy race of hunters, the Yautja. Not even comprehended by the savage, consummate survivalists known as the Xenomorphs. With the human race, it was a more individualistic concept. Everyone had their own opinion as to just how important honour was. There were some, like Kidd Junior, leader of the Colonial Marines, who saw honour as a vital part of what separated humanity from its enemies. The fact that the human race could show mercy, that it could rise above the animalistic survivalism that still held most creatures hostage. However, Kidd Junior, with his idealism and his integrity was nowhere to be seen. Indeed the soldier that was fighting to buy his soldiers the time to escape was the one human who probably held honour and personal integrity in lower regard than anyone else: Malus Jay Darkblade, the soldier-traitor of Alpha Draconis, who had taken command after Peterson had abandoned the other marines.
Malus saw honour as a fool’s prize. The way he saw it, the dead couldn’t bask in glory, you had to be alive to do that. And survival was Malus’s top priority in all things. Malus was by no means the best example the human race had to offer. Vengeful, paranoid, extremely violent and with a mean streak a mile wide, he was undoubtedly a cruel son-of-a-bitch. Not for him hope for the future, not for him the embrace of friendship, or of love. No, he made his mark on the galaxy with blood. He whom had ordered the destruction of an entire planet was not what one would call one of the good guys. In fact, the only reason he was fighting on the Marine’s side was his father’s dying wish. Still, the marines that remained alive on the ship had shown remarkable loyalty to Malus. Enough to cause him to effectively sacrifice himself in order to give them a chance to escape.
He hoped that it was all worth it. Sitting over 40 meters away from his chosen target, a trail of blood leading from her –and her combistick- to his current location, his back against the wall, Malus Jay Darkblade sighed. The EMP blast from his grenade had damaged the lighting in the room, and now the flickering lights finally gave way to utter darkness. Peering through the dark, Malus sighed again. The hybrid had been more powerful than he had anticipated. Far more powerful. She was probably an equal match to anyone in the old ANZAC unit in which he had been raised. He reckoned she’d have defeated his father if they had fought. But Malus was more powerful than his father. More powerful, in fact, than just about any other human being in existence, with the exception of perhaps Kidd himself. He lifted his good hand to his helmet, and flipped down the small infrared eyepiece over his right eye.
Instantly the world took on a new persona. Instead of inky blackness, it became blue, stained with red and orange from their combined spilled blood. The hallway was near the hangar, right where he had challenged her. He still found himself wondering how she had managed to get to him from the bridge so quickly. It appeared that the moment he had finished speaking, there she was. She had been quick. ’Not that you will be going anywhere fast now.’ Malus mused to himself, looking at the orange form, and the gushing red that spurted from her amputated leg. ’You should have put something on that when you had the chance. Now you’re paying the price.’ Malus added silently. The vision modes on his eyes were damaged, but the infrared of his helmet, and indeed the camera, were still intact. He could see her, and he knew that she could not see him. Her hunting mask was about 10m behind her, in the opposite direction to Malus himself. With it, all her vision modes. â€ÂYou cannot kill what you cannot see.†He said slowly as his hand reached for the holster strapped to his hip.
He could feel the dull ache in his gut from her kick, and he could feel a tightness there. He knew that if he had anything in his stomach, he would have undoubtedly regurgitated it by now. The kidney, of course. That was it. He was suffering from internal bleeding. Still, the tightness had not spread to his lungs, and his movement was not yet affected. Much. He fought down a convulsion as his stomach tried to chuck up anything that was in there, but he’d burned up all the food from his breakfast. Perhaps that was for the best. By now, his wounds were starting to take their toll. He was rendered completely unable to walk, thanks to the big combistick hole in his leg. Odd, he’d thought he had put a splint on that. No, that was the other leg, with the Charlie horse. He would have to switch the splint over to that leg when he got the chance. No time now, of course.
When he reached for his holster, he found his movements were slightly slower. No longer were his movements lightning-quick. Now, they were just merely quick. Still, he reasoned he was allright. He had probably another 10 minutes until he started to lose motor function. Another 15 before he was unable to think rationally, and another 23 before he passed out. And besides, the hybrid was in far worse straits. Her leg was still pumping out blood at a pace that would kill her very, very quickly. Her pinkie finger in her left hand also bled, but that wasn’t life threatening. Her right hand was useless, though. She’d taken three throwing daggers through it. There was no way in hell that she would be able to move any of the fingers of it at all. Indeed, the hand was paralysed, the fingers splayed open. And, it was bleeding from at least two arteries. Malus allowed himself a dark, grim little smile as he took a second to look over his handiwork. Yes, she was disabled. Both hands entirely useless. One leg sliced clean off. All technology was gone and he was at a safe distance.
He was pretty badly sliced up, but nowhere near as bad as her. His right arm was his biggest pet peeve at the moment. Completely disabled. Still, that was fine by Malus. He was left-handed anyway, although he had trained himself to the point of ambidexterity. He could shoot even better with his left hand. â€ÂYou were wrong about me, hybrid. You see, I am no coward. I called you out, and I’ve fought you to the very end.†By the time his sentence was finished, he was holding his signature weapon in his left hand. His right hand, after all, had a knife sticking out of it now. He’d taken the precaution of moving to the right after the lights had failed just in case she tried to disable his good hand. His father’s Python .357 Magnum. Painted in matte black, it was invisible in the dark. I used to no electricity, being a weapon ancient in design. And extremely powerful.
This particular model was fitted with a scope. Bushnell Phantom II 2.5x Telescopic Sight, it was. No use to him in the dark, unless you could already see in it. And Malus’s infrared eyepiece allowed exactly that. â€ÂBut I have an advantage you don’t. I don’t have a nonexistent code of honour to hold me back.†He added. He thought he saw a twitch of movement from her –one errant twitch– and his finger squeezed the trigger. His weapon was already aimed. The shot was fired before she had finished the movement. As slowed down as Malus was by the blood, he was still quicker than the hybrid, who was more grievously wounded anyway. It was a little more effort than he was used to, he must’ve been losing motor function more quickly than he thought. Still, the weapon was fitted with a hair trigger, so it responded to his command easily. His signature weapon was highly modified, and it had never failed him yet. Not once. And he knew it never would. He had taken every possible precaution to armour the weapon, and now it was acid-proof, and actually more difficult to destroy than Yautja-mde weapons. It was his hand cannon. His signature weapon. His inheritance and his memoirs and his life, all bundled into one. And it was deadly.
Also, it was loud. Malus was glad he didn’t have night vision as the flash of the weapon lit up the room for a split-second. He had taken the precaution of squeezing one eye shut, so that only one eye was temporarily blinded by the flash of the weapon. The moment that the flash was gone, he closed his blinded eye and opened his good one, the one that was under the infrared. The roar of it was alarmingly loud in the confines of the hallway, and echoed for another few seconds before fading away. Malus took the recoil with stubborn determination, refusing to let his aim be ruined by the pain that shot up his arm. Pain was a mere signal to the brain informing it of damage. Malus was well aware of the damage. Therefore, pain was of no use to him, and he blocked it out. The moment that shot was fired, he switched eyes again and fired again.
The .357 round that Malus’s hand cannon fired was known as a ‘hypervelocity round’. All bullets travelled at supersonic speed, but hypervelocity rounds were unusually fast, even by the standards of bullets. Add to that the power behind the weapon it was fired from –The 2nd most powerful handgun in existence, even with the tech changes– and the second bullet reached the target before the sound of the first one being fired had even reached the hybrid’s ears. Both shots would have killed. The first round was slightly lower than the first, probably because of the pain in Malus’s arm when he had fired the weapon, and his unpreparedness for it. Instead of striking her in the eye, it tore right into her throat. Not only was the .357 round extremely fast, but it was a hollow-point round. This meant that the moment it shot into her neck, the round changed shape due to the fact that it was hollow, mushrooming. The mushroomed bullet shot straight through her windpipe, and right through the spine. When it exited, the entire back of her neck was blown out after her.
Hybrid or no, nothing survived a wound like that. Her neck was snapped, and instantly the nerves died. The hybrid, probably still alive, found that her entire body, everything below the point of impact, was completely paralysed. A throat-shot was difficult, except when it was made completely by accident. She had just enough time to widen her eyes in surprise and shock –both at her injury and that her opponent had used a ranged weapon– before the other bullet took her just a little bit left of her right eye. Malus reflexively slumped over sideways as well, moving the moment that the second shot had been squeezed off. Just in case she threw something at his own head in return. His left arm, protected by the armoured splint, covered his face and throat, the only vulnerable area of him left that was undamaged.
The second bullet was exactly the same as the previous one. Exactly the same. It struck at hypersonic speed, mushroomed on impact, and immediately tunnelled through her brain. Malus regretted not having any explosive rounds, but this one did it’s job. The entire back half of her head blew clean out of her skull, and indeed the back of her skull was also destroyed. A great spurt of blood came from the wound, as well as chunks of bone and grey brain matter. Two shots. Two hits. From his defensive position, he spoke. “Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust. You fought with everything you had. It was almost enough.†A short eulogy, but not a premature one. He could see the damage to her as the lights flickered back on, the adaptive and intelligent AI that controlled the Yautja ship noting the power outage and fixing it. The top half of her head was gone, and the rest was at an unnatural angle, due to her broken neck. The pool of blood by her corpse was startling. Very much so.
Malus had fought and won. The survivalist had once again survived.
None of my weapons are taken at all...i see why not...
malus, don't take my stuff and you would have that safe passage...