~I wish more people would have tried to warp this game for 'humorous' purposes, so I'm going to give it a try for myself. Just a note, this starts at the end of the first game and will gradually bleed into the second one, so if it looks outdated no worries. We all know I own nothing.~
It's been about six days since the ultimate destruction of Aegis 7, and Isaac is still hovering around deep space in the executive shuttle. Needless to say things are really 'off' in that cramped little space. Currently we join the engineer as he scribbles furiously (as usual) in his journal, or as he calls it, 'the Memoirs of his Sanity'...
"-and I still haven't gotten over that damned Kendra's shit, I swear she got off lucky when that stupid 'mega-morph' got her, I mean it I was about to rip off her arms and slap the hell out of her with her own appendages. Wonder if she was wearing any rings, preferably those really big grandma-rings, heheh those things hurt like hell. Unless they're those big cheap plastic ones. My grandma liked those. I doubt they would hurt, maybe sting but not really hurt... oh well it doesn't matter, although now I think about it if that planet were still intact I'd drive down there right now and-"
His ramblings are cut short as suddenly there's a small burst of static from the comms reciever. Or at least, he thinks there is. Sure enough though, a thrill of excitement floods through him as another burst of static comes through. Someone's finally picked up his signal! Diving from the small bench like a man possessed, he dashes to the reciever and starts to try to communicate to the other party.
"This is Isaac Clarke, surviving engineer of the USG Ishimura, come in third party, come in-"
Through the static, there comes a voice...
He repeats his message once, then twice, with only static on the other end of the reciever. Just when he starts to panic that the reciever might be failing, the voice returns, (unfourtunately) much clearer this time...
Fuming, he roars into the reciever:
"Dammit woman what part dont you get? WE...WILL...NEVER...BE...WHOLE! EVER! Now get the hell off this reciever!"
She starts to speak again but he quickly shuts her down and storms off to write down more furious nonsense in his book.
"Um, sir? What the hell do you make of that?" a young man turns from the ship's comm to give his captain a confused look. His captain just sighs heavily and shakes his head.
"They don't pay me nearly enough for this shit." He says dryly.
"So what do we do?" the young man presses.
"Are you kidding me? We pass this prick up and let some other weirdo get him. I mean, really, does he sound sane to you?"
So salvation passes up the nutter in the exec. shuttle. And yet, onboard said shuttle, Issac's 'musings' are interupted yet again, this time by a soft shuffling sound just beyond the wall. The sound is so low, only a person who has spent way too much time alone in their surroundings would have heard it, hence why Issac picked up on it so well. Sighing irritably, he sets the book and pen down yet again and goes over to the side of the room, to a slightly bent-up steel pipe he's been making use of lately. Ever since that time Nicole pounced on him, he's been careful not to over-use his prize plasma cutter. That and using the lead pipe efficiently requires a little bit more 'finesse'; in effect it keeps him in shape. That being said, he stations himself beside the well-worn vent and waits.
Sure enough, not a moment later and the expected necromorph (a slasher) dives out of the gaping hole in the wall, only to get cracked hard in the back of it's head region by the crazed engineer. It howls out in what one might refer to as 'pain', and whirls to face him, only to get cracked again, this time in the side. A few more well-aimed blows later and the now very beat-up slasher is scrambling to try to drag itself back to the vent, but hell if Issac isn't done. Sparing his trusty pipe from further abuse, he goes ahead and grabs up the leg he stomped off his adversary and proceeds to beat him with it, yelling all manner of various bullshit. The slasher manages to get into the vent almost enough to escape, but not before losing another leg to the maniac before finally falling down into the depths of the ventilation system. Not quite done with his would-be attacker, Issac sticks his head in the vent and hollers down "Yeah! Try walking now, prick!" before dumping the dismembered legs down the vent after their owner. If the creature had any manners left, it would take those things out of there before the whole place started to reek like death...more so than it already did. Feeling slightly better, Issac goes about busying himself with the small fridge in the one sector of the vessel. There was hardly any food worth talking about, but the stash of alcohol was just enough to sustain someone struggling with their own sanity for about a month. Lucky for him, right?
Down in the cargo hold of the shuttle, however, the story is a 'little' different...
In the mediocre space that they have (it's certainly no Ishimura, but it works for the moment), a female necromorph stands at a poor excuse for a podium, addressing her rag-tag group of stow-aways, mostly slashers. She's quite different from her following, as she retains more of a human-form, but of course it's because she's...
"-wait a minute, where's Fred?" she snaps, scanning the crowd. One slasher raises a scythed hand and quickly explains, as best it can through all the drooling, "He went up to try to bring The Master to his senses. I take it by his prolonged absense that he failed in doing so."
"Ugh," the necromorph at the podium sighs. "Don't you people pay ANY attention? I tell you guys NOT to go up there through the vents, but do any of you listen?"
"Hey, woman that's a harder habit to break than you know!" another slasher snaps. "It's like kicking lurkers, you just get addicted and next thing you know-"
The slasher cuts off in favor of booting the nearest lurker across the room, where it smacks hard into the adjacent wall and sticks a moment before peeling off.
"What the-WHY the hell did you do that?" the necro at the podium yells.
The slasher shrugs as the others snigger, or at least make noises reminiscent of sniggering. "I told you it's a hard habit to break, courtesy of course of the Master."
The necro at the podium is not amused. "The 'Master' isn't even one of us. Why the hell would you go abusing your brethren in honor of-?"
"Oh, come on! No one likes those little shits anyway!" Yet another of the congregation pipes up, interupting her. This one happens to be a leaper. The others (not lurkers) seem to agree.
"It's the point!" The leader yells over all the sudden noise.
"Hey look! It's Fred!" cries a divider. Due to it's insane height it's able to see over the congregation to take notice of the battered Fred, returned from his ordeal. The others fall silent at once, all trying to sync up their thoughs with his. Needless to say, this sucks for Fred, whose head hurts like hell already.
"Dammit! Why can't I just EXPLAIN it to you guys? I mean damn, didn't the Hive Mind teach you anything about MANNERS? Or privacy? Or just some common effing courtesy?" Fred shrieks.
The others immediately withdraw their thoughts, and someone growls darkly something to the effect of, "-told you guys convergence was a lame idea..."
"You creatures are so negative." the leader grumbles, scowling at the others. Eventually Fred gets to tell of the horrible beating he endured at the hands of 'the Master', to which case the others all seem sympathetic. Then, ineviatbly, they all turn their attention to she who by now fell asleep at the podium.
"Ah hell, what was her name again?"
"Wasn't it something about 'stars'?"
"Bring up that song one more time and so help me-"
"No wait! It was, um, shit...hold on..."
"You ass! I'M Lenny!"
"Oh! THERE you are! You dick, I've been looking for you since yesterday!"
"Hey! Hey, I think I got it-!"
"Ah the hell with names! I say we just hit her with something!"
"Great! Here, take my arm!"
"Perfect! -wait, how the hell do I go about this...?"
"No really! I think I got it! Her name's 'Ni-!"
"AHA! I got it!"
Next second the 'arm' thrown at her thoks her dead in the forehead and drops her like a sack of decrepit potatoes. As the others congradulate a job well done, a very irritated Nicole gets up from the floor, and treats them all to the wrath of her high-pitched and extrememly annoying vocal cords, as an unholy shriek is unleahed from her maw-
"-stupid bitch is singing again..." Issac growls, continuing his game of solitare unfazed. (He's clearly heard this way too many times by now to care.)
Back in the cargo hold...
"WHY do you DO that?" a slasher, this one wearing the tattered remains of a lab coat, howls out.
"Because...it's like, my thing." Nicole says soflty, zoning out momentarily before snapping back out of it. "And anyway, do you have any IDEA how bad that hurt?" To emphasize this, she reaches up and yanks the blade-arm from her forehead, causing blood to gush out for a moment in a hefty stream before peetering out.
"Woman, seriously? We're already dead. We don't feel that much to begin with. Get over it."
"Hey, you speak for yourself over there!" the necro known as Fred growls.
"He's got a point. Those gravity boots hurt like the dickens." chirps up one of the small necromorphs holding together the divider's left leg.
"Bob!" the divider's head snaps. "What did I tell you about your opinions?"
"Uh, something to the effect of, 'They're like pissing in a vaccuum'?"
"Exactly! -Well not quite, but I guess it works-"
"Something tells me this is going to take forever..." Nicole growls to herself. These things have been falling apart ever since the destruction of the planet, and the Hive Mind along with it. Little did they know, their real master was with them all along...and deeply considering just how stupid each one of them was individually, of course, it can only get better from there...