DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own Hicks (wish I did L) or any of the known ALIENS-characters. I don't even
own the aliens, except for the one I'm keeping as a pet in my basement. Everybody else
is mine… but I'm not making any money with them, either.
NOTE: This is a work in progress. Please stay with me and remember that English is not my
mother tongue…I already apologize for the screw-ups which are certainly going to happen.
Special thanks go to my clone Jesse (aka Corporal Hicks) for the tons of inspiration and
great ideas and AlienSlof for the hard proof-reading!
'Death came to Phooka today. It was a major event after a phase of numbing routine, if not absolute boredom. The first event of any importance for weeks, but also much dreaded. I could see the fear and disgust on everybody's faces - behind their masks of curiosity- as they came from their offices and labs to witness the cryo-chamber being guided through the corridors down to the high-security compound. They all were trying to get a sneak peak of the monster, no matter how much they had spoken against this idea before. Darwin told me it's human nature. It must be, because I don't get it. People want to see the horror, want to watch it from as close by as they dare getting without running into danger of being bitten by it themselves. Every catastrophe has its fascinated audience, even if it will show them the most gruesome images they've ever seen, even if it's more than they can actually handle. People are drawn to disaster like moths to the light. Humans… what can you say? I'm sure I'll never understand them, even if I tried.
But it's funny how some of their behavior seems to rub off, because I, too, was eager to get a good glimpse of Raven as the security guards passed with his tube, but my view wasn't obstructed by a convolution of confusing emotions. I saw what I saw with perfect clarity and my full analytic capacity which makes me so darn endearing to my colleagues (sarcasm… another acquisition I picked up here – hooray): A man, bodily age (I know he could well be over a hundred years old, if he had been frozen for long periods in his life, but even I go after appearance) somewhere between his middle 20's and 30, sleeping the deep sleep, because it would have been too dangerous to transport him in a conscious state. A man whose physique underlines every grisly detail known about him. A human tank, muscular almost to a ridiculous point, but with an edge to him telling you there's real power behind his mass, that he isn't just a blown-up bodybuilder, who might be able to lift a few hundred pounds for a few brief seconds– but would falter if he'd have to carry the cans of instant protein shakes up to his apartment from the parking lot himself.. Yes, his physique is certainly impressive enough… yet it's nothing in comparison to his face. I don't know how to put this… how to do him justice... Even in deep sleep, frozen into a coma, this guy looks… lethal. It's the best word I can come up with. There's that slight curve around the corners of his mouth, the slightest hint of a cruel smile that tells you at first sight to get the fuck away from him, should you have the bad luck to run into him while he is awake. It tells you he enjoys what he's doing. He's the grim reaper, personified death.
His head is shaven bald, as are his eyebrows, which only adds to the impression of looking at an alien, not a human being. His head and face, as his body, has a powerful bone structure. I bet he's never broken a bone in his entire life. He looks downright indestructible. More like a cyborg than me.
Okay, that ain't hard, I know. After all, I'm human-looking enough to get Alexander hot, even though he knows I'm anything but a standard lay. But that's not the issue, right? I'm trying to come to grips about Raven, the worst psycho the universe – or at least the colonized part of it – has ever known. What is Darwin's plan for the beast who reportedly tortured, murdered and dismembered 123 people "for the fun of it", and is the suspect in at least a dozen similar cases on Beringh II? They 'must' have a greater plan for him. Why else did they "buy" him out of the death-cell from the authorities for heavy money, bribing them into declaring the monster officially dead to the revengeful public… only to bring him here? Do they want to find the messed-up gene that turned him into a human mincer and… heal it? Or develop it for future use? Ugh… I don't think I want to follow that train of thought. Although I guess it's very possible. Humanity is that sick. If I learned one thing during my brief existence, it's that with humanity, everything's possible. You can't predict just what they're going to do. Which sort of closes the circle.'