Okay, let's get this over with.
Welcome to part eight of my annotations on the Aliens versus Predator 2 fan fic adaptation I wrote in late grade school. Chances are if you're reading this, you've probably been following along for most of it so you don't really need to be filled in. You've seen the shoddy prose, the hamhanded characterization, the clumsy dialogue, all of it. But brothers and sisters, believe me when I say the whole bloody affair hasn't gone off the rails until now. At this point, approximately in grade 8, I thought, "You know, Monolith made a pretty damn good game, but I know I can make this story better."
So I went to town.
Sorry if the formatting is off this week. Switching over to a new computer and I don't have Word installed yet. Cheers, everyone.
Harrison opened the hatch and dropped down. There were no guards around, just the deserted labs, each with windows overlooking an experimentation cell. There were only a couple corpses, one, which was the remains of a scientist who had been in charge of the latest ‘catch.’ Harrison saw the catch: down in the nearest experimentation cell was the weirdest looking creature ever. It was a 7-foot tall humanoid, with orange, reptilian skin, sharp claws on each hand, and a rounded head. The head had black, braided hair, four small mandibles for a mouth, each with teeth, and small, beady eyes, which were closed right now.
Harrison picked up a datapad on the desk near him. It read:
Subject: Predator Creature
Stasis: 5 Weeks
Status: Alive
Findings: The Predator creature, as we proposed to WY, has radioactive blood; though, not enough radiation to affect anyone. We have managed to remove its weapons and tools, all except for the mini-computer on the left forearm, and the wristblades on the right forearm. Its body armour is almost grafted to its skin, and we’ve only managed to remove the helmet from it. It is unknown why General Rykov wishes to keep it alive.
"Hey, Mike?"
"Yessum?"
"It's Jim, from Observation. Listen, I really don't know who to talk to about this, but the general has been coming up to Observation Room 4 on a daily basis for the past week."
"Last I checked he's allowed to. He is the general, after all."
"I don't want him out, it's just... well, he keeps staring at the thing. Doesn't speak to us, doesn't say a single word. He just stares."
"Well, you know, he has pathos."
"This is true. Ah, well, guess we got to make do with it."
"Coffee after work?"
"Maybe something a little stronger, if you get me."
"I'm down with that."
Fascinating, Harrison thought as he put down the datapad, but I’ve got bigger problems on my hands. He noticed that there was an elevator nearby that lead down into the experimentation cell, which the Predator was concealed in. Across the cell was a lift that went up to the living quarters, which would get him off this level.
Why would they build crew quarters immediately above a section designated for the containment of potentially dangerous creatures? That just seems like poor planning.
Inner me: "You did that, you know."
Oh shut up.
He activated the elevator and went down into the cell. He walked across the room, taking a better look at the Predator, which was sealed in an airtight cubicle, and then continued. When Harrison activated the keypad next to the living quarters elevator, nothing happened. He looked around for anything that could open its door.
Harrison noticed another keypad on an adjectant wall. He activated it, and waited. He could not hear the sound of the lift starting or anything. Though, he could hear the sound of a certain cubicle opening.
“Oh, damn,” Harrison groaned. He turned around and saw the Predator’s cubicle open, to reveal the creature inside even better than before. Its eyes fluttered twice, and then it opened them, showing its yellow irises. It seemed tired, though awake enough to extend its wristblades.
“Crap, crap, crap, carp, crap!” Harrison repeated over and over again as the Predator walked toward him and picked him up by the neck.
Swift-Death had awoken.
Harrison was raised a foot off the ground, right at the Predator’s eye level. It examined him for a moment, and then pulled back its wristblades to prepare for an attack. Harrison desperately pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the Predator’s face. He pulled the trigger. . .
It was jammed.
Harrison knew the end was here, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. But nothing happened. Swift-Death had let his wristblades drop to his side. He also let Harrison drop to the floor.
The Marine got up, dazed and confused. “Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked the creature stupidly.
“You were unarmed,” Swift-Death said in very deep English.
You might as well start drinking. It's not getting any better from here.
“How?” Harrison asked, not even dumbstruck on how it could talk.
This is one situation where it's actually perfectly fine to be dumbstruck, Harrison. Just go with the flow.
“Your weapon was jammed.”
“Ah. Now, I must be going,” Harrison said nervously. Just then, he was held back.
“Not so fast, human,” Swift-Death growled. “You’re going to get me out of here.”
"One's a skilled extraterrestrial hunter. The other is a wisecracking marine. Together, they are the ULTIMATE BUDDY COP COMBO."
“Now how would I do that?” Harrison sarcastically asked. The Predator pointed its wristblades at the Marine’s head.
“Move it,” Swift-Death ordered.
“OK, OK, OK!” Harrison responded. “Just to warn you, I’ve got fifteen guards after me.”
Swift-Death growled.
“Shutting up, now,” Harrison whimpered as he started toward the living quarters elevator. He touched the keypad once, and said, “Can’t open it.” Swift-Death grumbled again, and shoved the human out of the way. He walked up to the keypad, and sent a spray of plasma electricity from his mini-computer, right at the lock. In five seconds, he had it unlocked.
“There,” the Predator said at ease. “Easy as meat.”
“What?” Harrison said as he entered the lift.
"No, you don't get it: I'm supposed to use the streetwise lingo. C'mon, be the Judge Reinhold to my Axel."
Just as they closed the door, a voice came on over the elevator’s radio. “You’ve got thirty seconds before you’re dead, soldier,” the menacing female voice growled.
“Damn, they rigged the lift, too!” Harrison grumbled. Just then, he realized something. “Hey, you’re that technician I met on my way to the computers. You know, Tomiko!”
“You figured that out pretty quickly,” Tomiko’s voice said, slightly calmer. “OK, so you’re not going to be dead, but I need your help.”
At this point in the game, Tomiko actually uses a voice filter for an extended period of time. Also Harrison hadn't suddenly teamed up with a Predator, so you see how I'm just changing things with gay abandon.
“Where are you?” Swift-Death groaned.
“I’m in Pod 1, in my quarters. See that camera above the lift’s door? You would say that’s me. I can use the radios placed about the Pods to talk to you.”
“What do you want from us?” Harrison asked.
“I need you to get something for me. In the lab on the living quarters level, in your Pod, there’s a datapad on the desk. Get that for me, then meet me in Pod 1.”
“We’ll need to get past a lot of guards,” Swift-Death said.
“Don’t worry. Eisenberg’s sending out an evacuation order throughout the facility. Any personnel here are going to gather at the Auxiliary Landing Complex.”
“Wait,” Harrison started. “That means we’ll have to go through Pod 2! There still might be Aliens in there!”
“You get my armour, and I can help you,” Swift-Death said. “It’s in the observation lab, where I was kept.”
“You can go get it,” Harrison growled. Swift-Death exited the lift, and in a few minutes, came back with almost all his gear back on.
“Where’s your helmet?” Harrison asked.
"You're not my mother."
You'll notice I'm not really going heavy on the commentary, but really, this shit is speaking for itself at this point. I'm just going to hide in the corner and eat cookies in shame.
“Someone must have took it,” Swift-Death grumbled. “This will do.” They started up the lift into the living quarters. Once inside, they looked at the level layout on the wall.
“The lab’s this way,” Harrison said after examining the map. Swift-Death followed him as he went down a corridor. In a bit, they reached the lab and went inside. They found the datapad and picked it up.
“Don’t read it,” Tomiko’s voice said over the room’s radio. “That’s confidential information. Just get it to me.”
“Whatever you say,” Swift-Death growled. They exited the room and went for the nearest lift door.
“The skytube to Pod 2 should be right around here,” Harrison said. “Right through these doors.” They opened them and stepped into an almost transparent tube that went from Pod 3 to Pod 2. As they crossed it, Swift-Death looked down.
“At the base, look,” he pointed. “They really are evacuating.”
“But where’s my team?” Harrison asked. “Geez, duck!” Both the Marine and the Predator dropped to the floor, as a Company dropship flew over the skytube, scanning it with lights. The two got back up and ran to Pod 2.
Eisenberg sat patiently in his truck as Rykov and Ivan approached him.
“Have you found anything?” the doctor asked them.
“We’ve scanned the skytubes. The Marine and Predator aren’t in them. There is no trace of them in Pod 3, either.
“We think they went into Pod 2, but that wouldn’t be a good choice. As far as we know, the Aliens have infested it,” Ivan explained.
"So, are we just taking for granted the fact that a human and a Predator just pulled a Tubbs and Crockett and joined forces? Isn't this a monumental moment in both of our species' histories? Hello?"
“Hmm. We must hurry to the Hive,” Eisenberg said.
“What? I thought we were going to the Auxiliary Landing Complex,” Rykov groaned.
“Just because our science facility has been infested doesn’t mean we’re giving up. I still must reach the Hive, and extract our ‘prize.’”
“What do you mean?” Ivan asked. “The Hive is far too dangerous to enter!”
“Don’t worry, Ivan. You’re staying here to search the Pods with some of your men,” Rykov objected.
“What? Aren’t the Marines supposed to do that?”
“The Marines no longer fit into this picture. I’m afraid they’ve learned too much,” Eisenberg said calmly. “Ivan, get to the Pod 2 lift.”
“Pod 2?!”
“Now!” both Eisenberg and Rykov said at the same time.
Ivan slowly walked into the shadows with some of his men.
I imagine him letting his head hang, like downtrodden Charlie Brown.
Harrison and Swift-Death ran down the dark hallways of Pod 2, pausing at each intersection to check for possible Aliens.
“Why couldn’t your Marine squad arrive here?” Swift-Death asked.
“I don’t know. Something seems wrong about this,” Harrison said. He noticed two pulse rifles on the ground. “Here, use this. It’s better than your blades.”
Swift-Death picked the gun up and examined it. As he tried to put his finger in front of the trigger, but it wouldn’t fit in the guard. The Predator tried over and over again to get it in, but with no prevail. Harrison finally noticed Swift-Death’s struggle.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Can’t fit it in.”
“Improvise.” Swift-Death let the gun drop to his side, thought for a moment, and then broke the trigger guard off with his claws. Harrison was impressed. “No wonder you guys evolved,” he joked. The Predator growled, and they continued on.
Ahhhh, great, now Harrison sounds like Chris Tucker in my head. I'll never be able to unhear this and neither will you.
After walking down another half-kilometre of corridor, the two came into a well-lit hallway. Suddenly, an Alien dropped from above. Unknown to them, it was Jimrakh. He opened his mouth, and the other two pointed their weapons.
But they both hear the same thing: the sound of five sentry turrets tracking them.
“Oh, damn,” Harrison groaned.
“Go!” Swift-Death shouted. He jumped into an alcove, hiding from the turrets’ view. Harrison jumped, ramming into Jimrakh. They both fell in the alcove next to Swift-Death, and just in time, too. A wall of bullets soared through the air, barely a second after they escaped the trackers.
The three weren’t able to catch their breath until the firing stopped. As soon as it did, though, Swift-Death spoke, “OK, where were we?” Both he and Harrison pointed their pulse rifles at the Alien, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
“Crap!” Harrison exclaimed. “Why do we always get the jammed guns?!”
“Maybe it’s because you never read the ammo counters, dimwits!” a cold, Australian voice replied.
“Oh,” Swift-Death said. They checked the counters; both read zero. But they weren’t worried about their lack of bullets. They were worried about where the voice had come from.
Jimrakh had said it.
“What the Hell. . . “ Harrison cursed.
...
.....
.........
What. Why. I just can't process this. I took the Alien, one of the greatest villains in fiction, a disturbing figurative rapist from beyond the stars and saddled him with not only the capacity for speech but an Australian accent? Rather, what I thought was an Australian accent, because I was so into Jango Fett at the time and didn't realize Temuera Morrison was from New Zealand. Goddamn I sucked.
Also, he called them "dimwits." Jebus Hell.
“And they call my species primitive,” Jimrakh spoke again. He turned his back on them and began searching for other ways out of the alcove.
“But how can you - “ Swift-Death started.
“Talk?” Jimrakh finished their sentence. “What? Are you afraid of something you thought shouldn’t be intelligent?”
"No, just incredibly and increasingly confused. Please, anyone, give me a break. I was knocked out like, five hours ago. For all I know you two are the product of brain trauma."
“Just follow me,” Jimrakh commanded. “I can get you out of here.”
“Why aren’t you going to kill us?” Swift-Death asked.
“Well, you being a Predator, I might kill you, but your little human pal just saved my life.”
“What the. . . “
Seriously, that logic doesn't in any way rationalize him not killing Swift-Death. Did I even think any of this through.
Inner me: Well, actually...
Shush.
That being said, I do like Harrison's prolonged incredulousness.
“Stop pausing and follow me,” Jimrakh ordered. He spat acid at a vent above them, which burnt away. The Alien jumped up into it, and in a second, a ladder dropped down from above.
“Where to?” Jimrakh asked the dumbfounded human and Predator. “Let me guess, Pod 1. See, we Aliens aren’t that dumb.”
“Why do you want to help us?” Swift-Death asked.
“I’m guessing since you’re both without gear, like prisoners, that dumb company who runs this place is after you. And I’m guessing you want to get back at them. Well guess what? I have the same goal. If you help me, I can help you.” The other two paused for a moment, and then Harrison spoke.
“So why should a human, a Predator, and some intelligent Alien depend on each other to survive, when we’re all mortal enemies?”
That is a really, really good question.
“Let’s just call it a desperate alliance,” Jimrakh said, smiling. Well, if an Alien could smile. “Just trust my species for once.”
No groan in the world could truly channel how groan-worthy this is.
It took Harrison and Swift-Death a minute to make up their minds. “Alright,” Harrison said. “But you better not kill us.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you, but if he pulls anything funny, I’ll tear his heart out,” Jimrakh grumbled.
“And vice versa,” Swift-Death growled. They all crawled into the vent and hurried off.
I really wish I hadn't used up my mic-dropping moment, because I could have used another one. Then again, would any mic drop be able to fully sum up this chapter? I think not.
See you next month.
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