I wrote a short fanfic for SS2 as a test-story.

[6750ab4b20376Glory to the Many]

Tags: °fiction °SS2This is a short Fanfic of a Hybrid fight

Glory to the Many- A SS2 Fanfic


A figure walked as a ghost across the dimly-light bedroom, he was careful not to make any sudden moves, slowly moving his sidearm, a standard-issue pistol, from left to right, his whole body tense. He saw the outline of a faintly human-esque corpse on the bed, apparently in a moment of repose and privacy, its shirt was torn open by a powerful blast, perhaps a shotgun, and the head was a barren stump resting against the wall. Next to his right hand was a blood-smeared Audiolog. Bearing the Triop’s logo, he saw that he had met this person before, in another log, he was a… Derrick L’Anse, an engineer of some variety who went up to Ops in an attempt to meet up with those in the Mess Hall, it is clear he did not make it now, perhaps he had some association with Malick or Bronson. He checked the corpse for any items of value, finding only a soiled bag of chips. The figure went next to the bed, staring at the door into the room with his pistol raised, and pressed the “Play last recording” option.

Personal Log File- --_Data Corrupted__Last Log time was_______

How have I lived before, as a blind man wandering in a sea of wastes… unwilling, unable to see all the glory that exists beyond my sights? This glory of the flesh that I feel, it must be-be preserved, I feel it must, as if it were my own child… born from my own womb, oh how I feel the glory of life passing through me, from father to… child. I must preserve our love for all to see…

Oh, hello Bronson… It has been awhile since I’ve seen you… We are aware of your motives behind your… Hate… It is only… --Two shotgun bursts, the sound of flesh being torn, although the flesh appears to have an inhuman inconsistency, the creature still lives—Fear of what you dare not See!”


--A final burst, striking the head of the creature, as evident by the new paint job on the wall behind him where his head would be, judging by the overall shape of the corpse, the attack was done rather calmly, the work of a figure of cold blood and little life—

A message flashed on the small screen of the data-log: ---File corrupted---- 00:29 minutes could not be played, please…

He looked back to the corpse and decided that it would be better to trust the dead, who were at least on his side, for the moment only perhaps, rather than some psychotic-bitch wielding insanity as a means of control. Hell, he’d even opt to join Shodan if he got the chance…




Somewhere, the Many stirred, it felt its song fade, ever so slightly, but ever so noticeably. It felt sorrow, and this sorrow turned to pain, the pain to a realization that the work must be completed before Bronson, or the Machine Mother’s servant, realized the true importance of their task, they no doubt would attempt to silence it.

The collection of biomass continued, although there was not enough biomass left from the corpses of the humans and other organisms on the Von Braun or the other ship, the Many duplicated, psychically, the biomass that would be required. Of course this would lead to imperfections, but now was not the time to be too picky about the children, it is best they be a bit… unhealthy rather than starved.

It sensed another presence, the Servant, it felt not anger, but pity. It also felt its mortality, a thought that caused the Many to mentally rumble, the servant made it clear it would not view the works of the Many as beauty, but in the eyes of the Mother, as the voice of a deceased… bringer of the Mother. The Mother, the thought sent a mix of lament and worry, the Mother will return to her…

Now was not the time to be picky about the children, it is best they be a bit… unhealthy rather than starved.

Let the Servant come to the mass, let it see the glory… the winding ocean that is the Many, and watch as it is in awe, in fear, in contempt as it is swept away and crushed by the Many. This brought comfort; this would bring time to prepare the new children…


1a-Hypodronics

A high-pitched screech echoed from the halls, followed by the tense clanking of metallic limbs, moving quickly if stiffly, across the ground. The sound came slowly, the creature holding some sort of object.

“Do-Do not be Afraid little on-ones, we Will give you new homes and food soon… Do not cry, Mother will be here so-sooo-soon.”

A knock came at the door, the first two hits were dull, coming from a tired fist, but the following impacts were from metal, the creature was wielding some sort of metallic object.

“We hear a song that is not Ours… The Discord Within….”

He remembered the cyborg-women patrolling the halls, and holstered his pistol, instead opting to take out the creature using… he had nothing else, he prepared his fists, mentally calculating the strength required to snap the creature’s neck.

The creature at the other side made a groaning side, the door, it realized, was not motion sensitive, it apparently took a moment to pause.

It spoke again, this time it was more forced, as if it took a lot of energy to get the words out, “Help me please… They’ve… Kiiilll..” The voice trailed off into a series of disgruntled murmurs, the voice returned to its “normal” self, letting out terse statements proclaiming about the flesh and the children.

A rhythmic tapping according just right to the door, the keypad…
The soldier looked, noticed a small bathroom just left of the bed, and hid inside... a simple plan, wait for it, and then surprise it.

The figure thought mentally, come on you horror, come and step into my trap…

The door opened, the blinding light of the hallway broke into the room, revealing a thin band of light, leading to the torn corpse… the Hybrid appeared to have expected this, although it did not know where the Discord was hiding.

It stepped in, a worm gaping from its neck, wrapped around its now exposed spinal column. It took steps, slow steps, the metal object it wielded hushed the air, the door slowly slamming shut behind it… no noise, it made a gurgle, and a splash of mucus hit the floor. The pipe struck against the floor, and the soldier felt it slowly ride against the carpet, making a grinding noise against the metal floor before.

The soldier leaped from the corner, knocking the pipe out of the hybrid’s hand with his right hand. The Hybrid reacted quickly, slamming its fists wildly against the Soldier. He felt two dull-thuds against his chest, the sound of the wrists and bones of the Hybrid snapping under its own force, grabbing the Hybrid’s neck, he threw it to the ground, groping for the pipe. He felt a cylinder… like-thing, but it was wiggling… he became aware of a chirping sound… the mucus was carrying some worms…

The hybrid groaned as it tried to lift itself up with broken hands,
“AAAARGHH-KILL ME—KILL MEEEEE”

Shit, shit, shit, shit….

He placed his hands together, and slammed against the back of the Hybrid’s hand, it slammed into the floor with a crack. After a moment, it regained consciousness, murmuring wildly in nonsensical sentences, the soldier kicked it in the temple, the Hybrid fell to its side, and grabbed, awkwardly, the soldier’s legs.
   
With its broken hands, its grip was weak, but the soldier felt a sudden sting… the worm bit into his leg…

Shit…

Already he felt the poison moving up his leg, flowing with his blood… several indicators began to flash, indicating an Unkown toxic substance within his body, recommending immediate expulsion and anti-toxins…

He unsheathed his pistol, moving it to the Hybrid’s head

“Rest in peace…”

He fired a shot, the skull exploded making a gushy, pulpy spray on the carpet, the body, still controlled by the worm, made an attempt to move, but could only seizure slightly, flicking out fragments of brain tissue and gunk onto the floor.

The worm screeched again, apparently aware of the demise of its sibling, squirming wildly as it tried to move away from the soldier, heading towards the door. A second shot echoed in the room, the worm exploding into a pile of goo as the bullet tore through its flimsy body.

He paused, two shots… he was down to five now… a mournful silence fell upon the room, the sound of a torn pipe quietly providing white noise somewhere in the hall.

He flipped through his data-reader, looking for the last email sent by his friend up above… The schematics of the ship showed her to be one floor-above, perhaps at most 200 meters away from him… or some short distance, yet the elevator leading to that floor is broken… this floor is the breeding ground…

The PA system sounded off in the halls, the speaker in the room blared a light-static with a rhythmic tone indicating “signal damaged”.

“This is Xerxes, as a remainder to all personnel, there is only 157 shopping days left until Christmas, work a couple more shifts each work cycle, and you will have all you need to give that special someone a memorable gift you can cherish. All hail the glory of the Many, long live the new flesh. This is Xerxes, signing off.”


Constructive Criticism/Cussing out appreciated

[6750ab4b204f3leaf]

All I can say is WOW. That was good. Real good.

The vocabulary used was fantastic.
I saw no spelling errors.
Great story premise.
Great short story overall.

Nice work!

[6750ab4b208a3Chandlermaki]

In the words of Microsoft... The WOW starts now....
Excellent job. I like it. A lot.

[6750ab4b20994Not You]

That was amazing.  I'm looking forward to seeing you write more.

[6750ab4b20a79The Punisher]

Awesome writing.
No spelling errors whatsoever.
Keep up the good work.

[6750ab4b20b5aGlory to the Many]

I got an account now, is there any way to tie the thread to this account?

And thank everyone for their responses

[6750ab4b20f10Kolya]

I got an account now, is there any way to tie the thread to this account?

Done.