Mercs On Mars - Logan's Log 2: We Made it
The second audio-log of Logan Aeneas Septimus Forest. Good news. for once
Logan’s Log 2:
We made it. We fucking made it. And it was... goddamn me, it was easy! It was certainly not as advertised.
So this Ozzy hotshot Kenwick’s a better dead-eye than me, and that’s saying something. That Russian spotter’s head exploded from 10 whole Mikes away! Afterwards, Kenwick showed me the math on his scope-comps, how he tweaked the calculations in the parabula, and the whole playback on his HARK’s telemetry-vid. I’m telling you, that skull-pen and brain-out was perfect, beyond textbook, a thing of beauty! Fucking poetry in motion...
Anyways… Intel was wrong again. Figures. There were only two Xenos, and they were the wrong speesh to boot. It was Dog-Limmers, not Slithers or Lurkers of any kind. Thank God when they geysered, Val and I were able to guesstimate fast and (Thank God again!) correctly. We used some modified Stryker Lances and dismembered all eight tentacles proper, along with the brain-stem growths afterward. We were able to keep our skin and armor clear of the Guano spray. Val was pressed to it for a bit, almost made Fected, but… it was nothing she and I hadn’t done about a hundred times before.
Who knows why the damn comm jockeys can’t get their seismic signatures right. And God only knows where all those Slithers went, if they even were Slithers...
Anyways, the destination sure wasn’t Dirtmouth. So I guess we’ll have to die in that particular valley later.
Oh, speaking of dying, we… we did actually leave one in the gulch. Scooter Travis. He was up against a team of three Russian hoversuit pilots. One of ‘em glided in close and microbladed him repeatedly. They were about to jet out again before I got there and sorted ‘em out myself.
But, Scooter…
–That guy was a dick anyway.
He was always talking shit to Lupe on account of her being a Tejana and not white or black or any color but brown. And I swear to God, if he eyeballed Perkins with that leer one more time I was gonna put a hole in him myself.
Besides, what kind of stupid name is “Scooter the Shooter” anyway? Fuckin’ goofy as hell. I’ll be glad to replace his dumb ass as soon as we get back to New Austin.
Let’s be official ‘bout it.
Total Count:
2 Freaks
8 Reds
1 Dead
Fuck it. I just came to a decision. A new conclusion, as it were:
(Pause)
Henceforth, these logs are solely for me and my noble brothers and sisters in the Lonestar Colonial Mercs. So let’s try this again. From the top…
(End Log)
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