He opened his eyes, the sudden sun light blinding him for a few moments, he must have been in the dark for a long time. Then noise, the sound of water drops beating on glass, yet muffled, not how it was supposed to be heard like. He could see now, he could see clouds and the drops of rain coming down from the heavens. Rushing at the glass in front of him with all their force yet exploding into bits of nothing no matter how hard they tried. He only wanted to hear them properly, he remembered that he liked the sound, frowning when he could not hear it as he wanted.
Better now, not as cold..why?
The tune of the rain changed it's tone, he could hear them as they were, as if he were outside, yet wasn't he? No, it took him a while to realize that, the glass was familiar to him, he wondered why. He had watched the rain for a full five minutes until he realized, it was part of a helmet. That's why he was familiar with them, different types, many..small, large, comfortable and uncomfortable. Something was blocking his view of the clouds and rain, a tall shadow. A building, a wrecked skyscraper.
Borneo, war, the skyscrapers falling..what?
He remembered.
Troy Valen, Captain, Colonial Marine Corps, Military ID Number 53041120297100
The memory hit him hard, adrenaline surging through his body. His hand went to his waist, sidearm now in his hand. Quick as lightning he stood up in a crouched position, pointing his gun from side to side until he completed a circle around him. No hostiles, nothing moving..except the rain drops. He was in a small open space surrounded by wreckage, twisted steel pipes, concrete buildings blown to rubble, skeletal towers and a skyscraper, it wasn't too tall.
What's going on? Where am I?
He tried to remember, yet pain filled his mind and his brain kept on repeating the same thing over and over to him. Nothing else.
Troy Valen, Captain, Colonial Marine Corps, Military ID Number 53041120297100
He saw a large long case, steel, on the ground. He went down on his knee, the case was locked, a holographic keypad appeared the moment he touched the small green projector light. His vision blurred and then sharpened once again, words and letters dropped down in his visor, a six digit password.
Six Three Four Zero Zero Two.
The case gave out a silent beeping sound, the victorious sound of metal parting from metal followed soon after. He opened it to find two weapons, one with an extremely long barrel and nozzle, the other shorter. Wire-frame images and information on both of the weapons dropped down into his visor a moment later yet he didn't need the extra data, his memory instantly recognized his two favored weapons.
XS-441 Anti Material Rifle, long range, high caliber, extreme accuracy. Weapon of choice.
YK/RN-99 Assault Rifle, semi automatic, long range, easily silenced.
Another set of images and information scrolled down, his sidearm that he had reflexively drawn beforehand. The ammo-counter showing a full mag, eight rounds.
REV 4S Heavy Pistol, high caliber, short clip, semi-explosive rounds.
The weapon case also had several magazines of ammunition for all his weapons as well as tools and several gadgets to customize his weaponry, he had everything perfect in under a minute. Still hadn't lost his touch. A noise, a slight difference from the natural sounds in the area, somewhere behind him. He lifted his rifle and turned around so quick even he was amazed at his speed, he was fast, yet not that fast. Not before at least. There was someone or something here, watching him. He was at full alert, scanning his surroundings with his unyielding reflexes..nothing.
No..you're there, what are you.
A fluff of white caught in the corner of his eye, his rifle's barrel turning to it faster than lightning. He lowered his weapon. A bunny.
A bunny...really?
He was going to laugh, yes, the muscles around his face twitched as he grinned, yet before he could complete the cycle and open his mouth to laugh. The bunny opened it's own, a four jawed mouth with razor sharp teeth. Worse, it practically jumped at him, directly for his head. It took his hands and arms less than half a second to drop his rifle and draw his sidearm, the high caliber semi-explosive round launching from the 4S' barrel at supersonic speeds to hit the bunny like a freight train, stopping it in mid-air a moment before the round blew it up into nothing but scorched fur and crispy bits of meat.
The hell..
His speed was impossible, his agility unlike anything he had experienced, what had happened to him? More importantly, why the hell did that bunny have four jaws filled with knife sharp teeth and was able to jump at him from almost five meters away. Either way, his first instinct was to get out of there and get some help, yet he needed to get in contact with someone..anyone.
Communications.
He had only begun wondering how to find some kind of comm's device when a light flashed on his visor, an icon in form of a satellite dish. It automatically searched for any frequency or technology ranging from radio waves to focus-beam transmissions. Nothing.
He was indeed in some sort of assault exo-skeleton, he couldn't feel the cold as if should have been, as well as being cutting-edge technology considering the reaction speed. It must have had some telepathic or neural connection to his brain. He simply thought and a full HUD selection appeared on his visor, weapon and ammo state, suit integrity, communications as well as a full body health scan of himself.
Useful.
But he still didn't know what for. He remembered nothing yet someone must have brought him here and had given him enough weaponry to...survive, at least. Yet where was here? Was this some crazy world where crazy scientists were allowed to do anything they could imagine? Some maniac that mutated harmless and peaceful bunnies into man-eating freaks of nature? He checked the soil around him, it was hard, tough and baked due to extreme temperatures and was still steaming as the drops of rain hit the ground. A ship had landed here not too long ago, probably the one that dropped him off.
Then he was obviously here for a reason. Some sort of test? Did high command see it fit to send him on some elite evaluation process? Doubtful, yet...he could never know, not yet at least.
Screw this.
He checked his HUD for the compass and then turned north, taking a good last look around his surroundings, he then started off steadily jogging north, he had to start somewhere. He could see a line of dirty green in the distance in front of him, his visor zooming in for more clarity, it was a jungle.
Water. So much water. The jungle was packed with small streams of water all around the jungle floor. He was thirsty, very thirsty yet could not drink at all, his suit showed the water to by heavily polluted, he didn't have the necessary medicine to keep him alive if he tried drinking it. He had been walking for hours, the web of leaves above the jungle floor wasn't as thick, and it let rain pour down on him. He had been grateful that whoever put him on this damned planet had at least put him in good survival gear. The suit was water and air-proof, the air that he breathed was let through filters and a complex mechanism that let him breathe air that wouldn't kill him. Even though the rain would leave some room to breathe openly, washing away the pollution and radiation. Yes, radiation, there was a constant level of radiation no matter how much it was raining.
Why? It's a jungle.. Nuclear fallout, thermonuclear bomb, high yield, multiple warheads. What?
Did he just think that? How did he even know that? Although it made sense, it would take several nuclear weapons to have this sort of fallout radiation in a jungle. A jungle, a jungle should have had many species of animals, there were many types of plants or insects, but he had yet to see a mammal of any sorts. There was only the sound of rain.
What was that?
Croaking sounds, many. Frogs croaking in the rain in a jungle landscape, he suddenly felt..light, as if he were in air, it was as if he was hangover. Then he remembered, the memories raced through his head, past memories of his training in a jungle like this, the croaking of frogs and the yelling of his drill instructor in his ears.
Is that how your mother jumped on top of your dad's c*** you little f***!? Your mother didn't have an army of cannibals firing at her now did she?
A marine doesn't crawl on his knees like a slaving prostitute, get in the mud marine, keep your head down or you'll lose it, the Republic won't benefit from your deaths you bastards, you'll just have them pay your god damned families compensations. Now stick your face in the mud marine!
People would have thought that the CMC's most elite units would have a more humane training program compared to regular marines, yet primary front line was always the same, no matter how perfect you did everything, the drill instructors always found a reason to punch you to the ground, even if they had to kick you upright in the first place. He hadn't thought of who he was except his name, rank and ID number, yet the memories kept filling in. He was Hispanic, born to a pure outcast family and taken as prisoner by the Colonials when he was too small to even remember anything, then trained to become what he was, a perfect killer. Then a thought smote upon his mind like thunder, he had been without it for hours.
Cardamine!
No..he doubted there was a place where he can scavenge for Cardamine in this desolate place, nor could he order any in. His own family had been Outcasts for many generations as well as his psychological training allowed him to endure the need for Cardamine longer than an average user, yet it wouldn't matter in the end. He had seen Cardamine Withdrawal and even felt it himself on occasion due to his training, it wasn't pretty.
How am I going to survive? Nano genetic engineering, somatotroph cells replaced, cell control via neuro-electrical manipulation of passive hormones. ...what?
How did he know that, he -knew- it, it wasn't told to him, he just knew it for sure. More memories -more like instruction manuals and guides- filled into his mind, his addiction was supposedly cured, he knew how yet could not explain it. He thought back to his training and surgical enhancements...no, nothing about curing the addiction; his last mission perhaps? He couldn't remember his last mission, just the one before yet at that time he was positive he had used Cardamine. What was happening to him?
What the hell is happening to me, how do I know all this..
His reflexes suddenly kicked in, there was a disturbance in the natural sounds..the croaking had slowed down, the frogs' voices were difference, growling? His eyes searched the floor level, there they were, under the bushes, red eyed frogs...with three pairs of legs each, some with four or even five. Thinking of his experience with the bunny before, the frogs would probably pose as a threat as well. He was going to level his rifle, his training and common sense told him otherwise; shouldering the rifle and taking out his pistol. The frogs had stopped croaking and were silently getting closer. Six meters.
My knife...but I don't have one! Knife, waist, lower equipment belt, specialized thermal electronic combat knife.
His hand went to his back as his reflexes demanded of him, taking out the long knife, it's cold steel color immediately changed to a glowing hot red, rain drops sizzled as they touched the hot blade. The movement alerted the frogs, they suddenly charged towards him, leaping. About twenty frogs -more like giant toads- as large as his gloved hands were leaping towards him, their mouths open with trios of bright red tongues hanging out. Two of the frogs were a bit ahead of the other, his initial strike was spinning forward, the knife cutting through both of them mid air, slicing them in half with no problem at all. He was about to take the others on when he stopped and stepped backward.
Why am I even trying? Screw this.
He turned back north and ran away from the brigade of frogs, not even looking back to see if they were following, yet he doubted it. He couldn't believe his speed, it was like he was driving an off-road vehicle, his strength combing with his speed, not even caring about the low branches or thick mud, he was practically flying. Then he looked back, and saw it. Some king of predator, black with two pairs of bright blue eyes, four limbs and chasing him, it was was taller than a human being. Troy sheathed his knife, still running he took out his sidearm and shot backwards twice. He heard a thump and a the silent sound of a body sliding in mud. He didn't even look back and didn't stop running for the next ten minutes. He had seen a large rock formation ahead, a small area without trees, he stopped to catch his breath, surprised that he actually didn't have to. He felt as if he could run forever, perhaps it was the adrenaline? Doubtful.
What kind of planet am I on? Is this real? What the hell is happening to me?
![[Image: Sniper2.png]](http://dl.dropbox.com/u/10917450/Online%20Images/Sniper2.png)