It had been a hard couple of years for Vic. Despite how young people always claimed him to be, he was getting older and more bitter each day. Some marines were ascetic, deeply devout to their training and never seeming to faulter away from their duty, Vic used to be that marine. The world seemed a much darker and colder place these days. Each of these new recruits had a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind, Victor felt as if he was falling behind..It was this feeling that brought him to retake his old ways. Becoming a much stricter, more devout marine. He took on the training for marines in basic, he took on a restricted diet and began to retune his entire system. It was in these past few years, Vic had become...a machine.

He became near careless, completely apathetic to new recruits. He was nicknamed "Lt. Pain " The new recruits soon began to fear Vic and after a rough accidental death...Victor abandoned basic training, he decided he would work with reconnaissance teams, his strict leadership principals and his over-all hard edged attitude was perfectly suited for the command and conquer attitude of the UES military.

He now stood upon the main deck of their transport vessel, this transportation vessel was intended to bring them to their main ship, which was much smaller and lightly armed. They were on an exploration mission, Explore and Exterminate. He was told that they needed to go in, look around for any nasty critters, make sure there were no creaks and the mechanics and bring that hunk of junk back to the UES heading ship to be dismantled and reassembled as a hangar ship. The darkness of space extended before him and he felt himself becoming lost within the memories of it all...but the stark voice of Command Captain Deval brought him from his happy place.

We're a long way from home, Vic... We need to get this shit over quick.... I've got a bad feeling about all this.

Vic chuckled to himself, it was rare to get more than a shift of eyes out of him these days. He pivoted upon a boot clad heel, eyes focusing on C.C. Deval and a small nod of understanding sent his way. There was an old story between the two of them. Victor had chosen to remain in combat divisions, while Deval played politics. They were practically the same age but had much different positions. Truth was, Vic was jealous in the least, he actually preffered it this way. It meant that Deval felt high and mighty, while he was the one holding the gun.

He departed from the main deck, he had to assemble the marines for the docking to the " Griphon " ship that they would soon be transporting with to the UESS Harbinger. He seemed calm enough about it all, he hadn't bothered to dress up just yet. Wearing his standard issue black and greens, which truly had a mixture of black brown and green diamond esque patterns. These diamonds were near microscopic, perfected clamofauge. Honestly, in the darkness of space, it was near useless. It was more for the standardized look of their past. His hair had been recently trimmed and rested in short fathoms just across his scalp, his chin remarkably notable with the strongly prominent goatee forming. He was over-all a 'buff' gentleman, strongly shoulders, thin hipped and having a very 'militaristic' appearance. One couldn't call Vic an unattractive man, It was his silence that had slipped most females away, along with his horrible record of cruelty. This record heavilly noted by that lengthy blade descending in black leather along his thigh. He hadn't bothered with the vest and jacket coverings of his uniform, but rather chose to wear a khaki colored T-shirt. A tightly stitched cotton was meant for little more than warmth.

It took him a very short time to arrive in the mess hall of this hypersized ship. Within the confines of this 'cafeteria-esque' place, there were hundreds, possibly thousands of marines. They were healthy, young and were absolutely ripe for his picking. Slowly crossing his arms he awaited his group to arrive. They knew the rules already.

1. Shut up.
2. Listen.
3. The second you see me, be by me.

Vic had made it clear for them always to directly fall in when they saw him. There was no other reason for him to come around. It would make things much easier, he preffered his marines clean, crisp and sharp minded. A professional, he stood with those powerful arms crossed across his chest. One could catch the fading black of a tattoo upon his shoulder just peaking from beneath his sleeve. UESMC 9987 tattooed beneath the large eagle, but none of his marines had ever mentioned that tattoo..It was an old memory. Victor rarely spoke of memories.........

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I saw the last glimmering starlight of his life and felt his breath cease from it's struggle. My hands quivvered in remourse, my eyes streamedn tears...I cried not because I had killed him..but because he had died--before my masterpiece could be completed.