Watching training

In the Colonial Marines, you have to be tough, you have to be rough, you have to be frosty. We spend a lot of time training. If we're not on a mission, then our time is spent getting physical, sweaty and dirty, drilling all the time. Never ending.

I was looking out at a pair of female marines who were sparring with different hand-to-hand combat techniques. They were giving each other quite a workout, if I were quoting some of my pals from Xavier's Institute, I would say that no quarter was asked, none given. But I'm not, so I won't.

During their exercise, I watched them go the motions and I started to think about the corps. My home. Women here are expected to pull their weight just as much as the men, they pilot the dropships, crew the smartguns, and do everything else that a man can. In fact, I know some who can do more.

I think about Vasquez, she was one tough broad. She could rip your leg off and force feed it to you and all you could do is sit there and say "Yum, can I have more, please?" We were on the same squad when we went to LV-426. Oh man, LV-426 was hell, sometimes I wonder how I even got out of there alive.



Those creatures were horrible, I often wake up in a cold sweat from their dual-jawed mouths snapping at me in my dreams.



"Private!" My squad leader's yell snapped me out of my daze.


"Sir?" I answered.


"You have some visitors," he answered and walked away.


I looked to see who was here to see me, I couldn't believe it, though.


"Vampi?"