bakerstreet | I JUST... REALLY LOVE XENOMORPHS

I JUST... REALLY LOVE XENOMORPHS

IN SPACE, NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU MEME

Sure we've got your fun interplanetary romps, your space spaghetti westerns, your xenoromance. This is none of those things. This is you getting lost in the depths of space. This is you being stuck in a silent hulking dead ship with no idea where to turn. This is you hiding in the dark and hoping the creature doesn't see you. This is you, surviving some kind of horrors. Or not. Do your best.

THREAT

• YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES Xenomorphs, facehuggers, necromorphs, predators, whatever: the threat you're up against is some kind of being you've never seen before. Perhaps they're engineered somehow, perhaps they've evolved this way. Either way, I hope you can figure out how to kill them before they kill you.
• I'M AFRAID I CAN'T DO THAT Why the hell did we think building un-tethered AI was a good idea? Your threat is an android, or a ship's AI, or I don't know, a sentient race of evil ships that want to destroy all life and suck it into tubes to make a weird baby shaped ship. WHATEVER. The point is, technology is going against you. Can you beat out something with that much processing power? Maybe having bigger firepower will help.
• I LOVE... ROCKS Your threat is environmental. An exploding sun, an alien planet with an inhospitable atmosphere, your ship's life support systems have failed, your shuttle has gone down in flames. Can you cobble together some way to fix the problem before you all die?
• THIS IS NOT A RESCUE SHIP Screw the other problems, what you're up against are HUMANS. Or, you know, whatever species/race matches yours. We're not xeno-racist here. Anyway, you're being targeted by your own. Maybe you're in the way of a scientific development, or you've become expendable, or they want to take over your ship, or they're just plain evil.
• ABOUT 15 SECONDS Holy shit. Holy... shit. You were outside your ship making repairs and you got knocked off track. Maybe your fancy magnetic boots failed. Maybe some debris from your ship took you down with it. Either way, your space walk has become a space "holy shit help I'm going to get spaced, someone get me back on board." Try not to panic.
• WE'RE THE ENEMIES You've been out in space too long. Everything is going strange and everything is a threat. Is your space sickness psychological or physiological? Is it spreading? Is there a cure?

LOCATIONS

• PLANETSIDE Crash landed. In an outpost. Building a new life. You're on a planet not your own and things are going horribly wrong. What can you do when you have no way home?
• STATION SWEET STATION Whether you're out in your ship or in a streamlined space station, things are rotten in Denmark. You'd better fix that circuitry before you all die. Just a suggestion.
• THE GAPING MAW There's nothing around you and all you can hear is your breathing. Are you calm? Panicked? What's it like floating in the vast expanse of space?
• IT'S INEVITABLE You're lost in your own head. You can be anywhere, but maybe you're the threat because you've short-circuited from being in space too long. The mind can only take so much. Try to be gentle. Try to breathe. No one's after you, it's all in your head.

As always, these are just suggestions. Also, not all examples are strictly hard sci-fi but we do what we want in these parts. Make up anything you want, as long as you're having fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not my favourite plan. I'm sure it goes without saying, but be sure to take a range of weapons. I suspect that if we get it wrong the first time, there won't be much opportunity to head back and try something else.

[ There's a pause, and if IGNIS had a physical body it would be radiating discomfort. ]

Noct, I need to ask you to make a slight detour through communications. I can't turn off long-range by myself, and I fear I've made something of a misstep. I sent video and a report back to Weyland-Yutani and I've just received the response. They're asking that we preserve it.

They what?! [ The suggestion is just so stupid that Noctis is sure for a second that he's hearing things, or that IGNIS is making a bad joke. But no, that's what IGNIS said, and IGNIS wouldn't do something like play a trick on him right now. He shakes his head violently, rejecting even the thought of trying to keep the thing alive. ] Fuck that.

[ If he tries, he's pretty sure it'll be at his own expense, and he may be getting a paycheck from Weyland-Yutani, but he sure as hell isn't going to die for them. Communications is only a little out of the way, it'll be quick enough to duck in and... well, he probably shouldn't break the whole comm array, but do something to keep Wey-Yu from trying to send IGNIS any orders. Checking to see if IGNIS can break its own programming, particularly if the answer is no, isn't something Noct wants to mess with on top of the lethal alien monster problem today.

With that in mind, he ducks into the armory, swipes in his code, and purses his lips as he stares at the vast array of weaponry in the arms locker that swings open for him. Right. What's going to maybe kill a creature that incubated itself in Fortis and looks like some kind of cross between a giant bug and Noct's worst nightmare?

Speaking of... ]

Why do they even want it? It's already killed most of the crew!

[ Everyone except him, he thinks, because by now the rest on the derelict are write offs. The thought has him banging his fist against the locker, wincing as much at the impact as the loud noise. Hopefully the thing doesn't have super hearing to be drawn to the sound. There's nothing he can do now if it does, though, so he goes back to digging through the weapons, pulling out one after another, intent on providing himself with as much of an arsenal as he can. Screw regulations, and screw Weyland-Yutani. ]

Research.

[ It's something snipped out, all the anger he shouldn't be capable of feeling hissing through the word's sibilant middle and snapping on the ch. They hadn't known it had escaped when they sent the request -- he hadn't known to put it in the report -- but given the display of savagery it had put forth, they can't have thought it would be a low-risk endeavour. They'd weighed the life of their remaining employee against the potential benefits of having this creature to themselves, and decided Noctis was worth less.

What personality IGNIS has is modelled largely off that of his creator, a man who'd been so much more comfortable with machines than humans that he'd devoted his life to them, and even IGNIS is sickened at such a callous decision. ]

The type of research wasn't specified. Bioweapons, I'd imagine. I haven't responded. The communication delay will buy us some time, but I'm not capable of falsifying a response and I believe a failure to respond will be taken as refusal.

[ And if he refuses, they'll use their override. He'll be left with all the autonomy of a home entertainment system, unable to assist Noctis in any way. Perhaps actively working against him.

He'd rather be deleted. ]

[ Bioweapons. Of course. Yeah, a thing like the creature with its claws and acid saliva and the thing in its mouth that Noctis doesn't even have a word for would make a pretty terrifying weapon to go up against. Hell, he's terrified of it right now. It makes him sick, thinking of a monster like that unleashed on anyone else. And it pisses him off that Weyland-Yutani considers him expendable, because they've as good as signed his death warrant by prioritizing capturing the creature. And he's sure IGNIS wasn't supposed to tell him about that. If it was any other AI, Noctis would have no idea, wouldn't know until it was too late, until the ship itself was turning on him. Helping the thing against him.

The thought sends a chill down his spine. Suddenly, IGNIS's comment about safety protocols seems a lot more relevant than it did five minutes ago.

He shakes himself, like a dog shedding water, trying to rid himself of the thought. It doesn't matter. IGNIS wouldn't do that to him. IGNIS is on his side, he has no doubt of that. ]

Right. Then... I'd better take care of that.

[ He grabs whatever's at hand, shoves the rest into a duffel and slings that over his shoulder. Maybe it's overkill for one fight, but he's not going to underestimate the creature, and there's no guarantee he'll have a chance to come back later.

That done and armed to the teeth, Noctis sets out at a jog, ducking into the communications room. He pauses at the console, teeth gritting as he stares at the message from Weyland-Yutani up on the screen. ]

Is there time to send another message to the derelict?

[ Everyone else is probably dead, but still... Noct feels like they should do one last ditch effort, just in case. ]

[ He'd half expected to have to convince Noctis, knowing that while humans were perfectly capable of making unethical decisions there was often a little resistance at the idea of others making them, especially as pertains to themselves. It's much easier with Noctis trusting him at once, getting on with things directly. ]

Just enough. I think a warning to stay away until advised otherwise by you would be most appropriate, unless you'd like to record something yourself.

[ Sentimental, really, but Noctis is a brave and clever man. It seems a shame to waste an opportunity to have him heard by human ears when their current situation may very well lead to his final words being spoken to a computer. ]

[ What IGNIS doesn't seem to get is that the AI's decisions don't seem unethical to Noctis. They go against Weyland-Yutani's interests and orders, sure, but it all goes back to how he doesn't view IGNIS as just some program running the ship. He thinks of IGNIS as a friend, as someone who cares about him, and someone he cares about in return, as odd as that may be. He wouldn't want to see IGNIS's memory banks wiped, just like it seems perfectly natural that IGNIS doesn't want to see him messily killed. IGNIS is choosing Noct's life over his orders from Weyland-Yutani, and that's not surprising. He trusts IGNIS, doesn't even think to question the AI. If this is what IGNIS thinks needs to be done, then he'll do it, and without a second thought.

Just like he trusts IGNIS to take care of him — his corpse — and whatever else needs to be done if this all goes south.

Noctis stares at the console for a moment, then shakes his head, mouth curving in a wry, grim smile. ]

Nah. Just tell 'em... Tell them that unless they can get in contact with me, assume the ship isn't safe. Make sure it's a warning, not an SOS. I don't want anyone coming after me and getting killed for it.

[ IGNIS, for all that he's artificial, has always been better with words than Noct has. If these are his last words, they're better off in IGNIS's hands. ]

Very well.

[ The message he composes starts out brief. He declares the ship unsafe, describes the life form and its unusual abilities, advises of the deaths of Fortis and Khara and that no attempt is to be made to board unless Noctis clears it.

It doesn't feel like enough. He can't add that Weyland-Yutani's requests on the matter should be ignored; he can advise but he lacks authority, and it may only make matters worse if he tips his hand. In the end, he pulls two pictures from private communications sent to the fallen crew members by their families. Something to remember them by, if anyone on the derelict is still living. Fortis sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, looking completely oblivious to the camera as he beams down at the newborn cradled in his arms, Khara and his partner both sweat-drenched and giddy, the arms not looped around each other raised in victory at the finishing line of a marathon. Human things, loving things, far removed from the ruins of their bodies left in the mess hall. It's not much, but it's the best he can do. ]

It's done. I've included instructions to stay away unless advised otherwise by you, directly.

Your conduct is admirable, Noct. I know this is... difficult.

[ It's something of a double-edged sword, really. Perhaps if Noctis was slightly less admirable, less determined and witty and kind, IGNIS wouldn't be doing things like disobeying direct orders, or leaving Noct's picture off the message in a fit of sentimental superstition. ]

[ IGNIS's praise earns a harsh huff of laughter, something grim and thorny that tears at Noct's throat as it comes out. Admirable. Yeah, he guesses holding it together when he's scared shitless because an alien monster has killed the rest of the crew and is probably stalking him through the ship at this very moment counts as admirable. It's really not, though. Sure, he could go hole up somewhere and pray that the creature doesn't find him, but that's a sucker's bet. This is just because he really doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to have to see anyone else end up with their guts torn out as they die horribly. There's less a choice about all of this than IGNIS thinks, at least in Noctis's view.

But still, it warms him a little to hear IGNIS say that, a brief comfort cutting through the cold fear that's settled over him. The praise isn't really warranted in his opinion, but it's a reminder that he's not alone in this. IGNIS is with him.

That's enough to have him flashing the tiny camera in the wall a quick smile, startlingly boyish for all that Noct's still wound up and on edge. ]

What, this? Come on, it's a walk in the park. [ The words are sheer bravado, but he doesn't really want to let on to IGNIS just how bleak an outlook everything has. Bad enough he's in this situation already, he doesn't need the AI to be mourning him before anything actually happens.

Now there's an odd thought. IGNIS, mourning him. And yet, Noctis has no doubt that if something does happen to him, that's exactly what IGNIS will do.

Well, he'd better make sure there's no reason for that to happen. Who knows if all that emotion would fry IGNIS's circuits? He shakes the melancholy thought off and squares his shoulders, bracing himself. ] Having you wake me up with the alarms was way worse.

[ His smile goes a little tight as he crouches and pulls off the access panel from the console. One deep breath, another, and then he reaches in and yanks out the wiring. The comm unit goes dead with a sparking shriek.

And now, he's truly alone and stranded, the last connection to any sort of help destroyed at his own hand.

Except for IGNIS. Thank god he has IGNIS, because if it was just him... He shoves the thought away and stands, dusting off his hands. ]

Any clue where it is now?

L̶̦̑u̷̻͊c̸̥͂ḳ̷̛ý̸̭ ̸̥͑ỳ̷̧o̸͍͑u̵̖͐ ̵͎̊ḧ̵̟́a̵̦̾d̶͍̈́ ̶̛͉a̷̩̍l̷̤͗l̷͈̃ ̴̛̰ț̶̋ḧ̴̟́a̶̮͌t̷̢̐ ̵̩́t̸̛̮r̷̲̕a̴̖͘ī̴̮n̴̪͝ì̷̧n̵͇͌g̸̦̔.̸̧̄

[ A blip, distortion in his circuitry as his long-range communications go offline. It's a blessing, really; two people (people?) already provide too many opinions for everything to be nice and clean, the way it should be. The way it would be, if they hadn't gone overboard with his own specifications. There's a garbled electronic sound, like someone trying to choke out an ice cream van, and his voice goes back to normal. ]

It's doubling back. Loading bay, I think.

[ As brief as the distortion in IGNIS's usually smooth tones is, the staticky whine has Noctis flinching, a full body jerk as he reacts on instinct to distance himself from the console. He's never heard even the tiniest glitch from IGNIS's system. IGNIS doesn't have glitches, his own self diagnostics make sure of that. And even though Noct knows why the momentary glitch, had been the one to damage the system that caused it, it's still unsettling. It feels like a bad omen, something that shouldn't have happened and now it's too late to take back.

He breathes out through his nose and squares his shoulders, trying to shove away the feeling. Luckily, he's already as tense as he can get, his back rigid, every inch of him on edge, so there's probably not much change in his body language to reveal just how disquieted he is.

Noctis nods and turns away from the dead console. Now, he and IGNIS are really well and truly on their own. ]

Right. Okay. [ A useless excess of words as Noct tries to steady himself. ] That's good. I can bottleneck it there if I can catch it.

[ This time he does have much more in the way of a plan than trying to shoot the creature in the face, but... well, IGNIS isn't going to like it. ]

If it... gets me. [ He has to take a quick breath, doesn't like talking like this. It feels like he's borrowing trouble. ] You can detonate the cargo hold, right?

[ If it gets me, he says, and everything in IGNIS wants to rebel at the suggestion. Were he blessed with more human traits than he possesses, it would be so easy. I won't let that happen, he'd say. You won't. But foresight and perhaps a little science fiction-inspired paranoia have been folded into his creation, and despite the sound of Noct's breathing and the rigid, distressed set of his body afforded by the cameras, IGNIS is not capable of offering him the sort of gentle lie he wishes to. The probability of Noct's survival is enough to make him think that despite lacking a body to give him context, he finally fully understands the meaning of the word ache.]

I still have full control of the ship's functions. Should the worst occur, I will not allow your death to be in vain. You have my word.

[ He flashes a smile, tight, but still genuine. It shouldn't, not when they're talking about his death, what IGNIS has to do in the worst case scenario, but hearing that IGNIS will take care of things if he doesn't manage it has Noct's shoulders loosening a little with something close to relief. ]

Good. Thanks. [ He breathes out, a sharp exhale through his nose, and finally turns away from the console, his last chance of help that he's destroyed with his own hands. But he's not alone here. He's got someone at his back, and it's with something almost like his usual laconic bravado that he adds: ] But don't start fussing, I'm not gonna let that happen.

[ It's a weird thought, Noct knows it, but he has no doubt that if he doesn't make it out of this, IGNIS is going to mourn him. And he doesn't want to make IGNIS do that.

It's kind of awful, actually, worse somehow than the thought of being torn apart by the creature to think of IGNIS in this husk of a ship, completely alone in the dead of space. No, Noct isn't going to let it come to that, no way. ]

See that you don't.

[ He'd like to be relieved, but there's at least something to be said for pretending together. It's tempting to try to offer reassurances, or even just to joke, to try and draw things out, but there are more important matters to consider. ]

It's there, Noct. I can't do anything about the vent it traveled through, but would you like me to lock the exits down until you arrive?

Yeah. Try to keep it there, if you can.

[ It might be a vain attempt, but Noct at least feels better knowing where the thing is. It gets rid of that uncomfortable itch between his shoulders that the creature might be lurking just out of sight, watching him, waiting for his back to turn to pounce.

Ugh. He doesn't need to be psyching himself out before he even gets near the thing.

With a long huff of breath, he starts jogging. Better to get it over with instead of giving them both more time to worry. And better chance the damn thing will actually be in the cargo hold still when he gets there.

He holds his breath as he slows to a stop outside the doors, almost afraid to ask, memories of the cafeteria all too fresh and no convenient glass window to look through. ]

It's still in there, right?

Still there. The feed is live; I checked.

[ Maybe it's not the time for self-deprecating jokes, but of course there might not be another. Watching Noctis jogging towards the cargo bay, towards that thing is awful. He's one man, brave and magnificent but fragile, breakable. Killable. Promises aside, there's a very high probability that he's about to watch Noctis die. It's enough to make him want to shut down the cameras, to spare himself that final moment, but then Noctis would be alone. That's an even worse thought than watching his end. Still. ]

Be careful, Noct. Please.

Aren't I always?

[ A brief flicker of his usual cocky grin, marred by how Noctis hasn't looked away from the doors. He inhales, a deep, steadying breath. They both know that he's usually the opposite of careless, that his game plan is always rushing in head first and dealing with the consequences later. The consequences have never been quite so final, but changing now will just mess him up, he figures, make him more off kilter than he already is.

That's no comfort to IGNIS, though, he's sure. He adds, voice a little softer: ]

I always make it out, too. Promise I won't change that up, either.

I believe you.

[ He wants to, at least, and that should count for just as much. Wanting it to be true should give him a chance, like Pinocchio wishing to be a real boy.

It costs him something he doesn't quite understand to unlock the Noct's outside. For once it's nothing to do with his programming, not the jarring sensation of doing something in such blatant contravention of his task to keep the crew safe. It's just Noct; sweet, brave, funny Noct, and the impending loss of him. But it seems churlish to dwell on his own opinion of the situation when Noctis is the one taking on all the risk, so he shoves the feeling down and away. ]

The door is unlocked. For when you're ready.

Right. Well, here goes nothing.

[ He doesn't give himself time to think, time to second guess anything. What other choice does he have? They've been through this already, this is the only option that gives him a chance of surviving this disaster.

It's a shitty option, but it's the only one nonetheless.

With a deep breath, Noctis slaps his hands against the door panel. A beat passes as the scanner reads his ID. A light flips over from red to green, and the cargo doors groan open. Noct steps inside and drops the bag of ammo with a thundering clang, head whipping from side to side as he searches for the thing. The doors slam shut behind him.

He doesn't see the creature at first. He has his gun up, leveled and ready, but there's nothing. Just the dim interior of the hold, the soft hum of coolant, the blinking of status lights. But the back of his neck prickles uncomfortably. He's sure it's here, watching him. Waiting.

He doesn't have to wait long.

Something hisses and the next thing he knows, a dark blob is upon him. Noctis shouts as he's pinned to the door, the thing leaning over him, black and gleaming. Shit, shit, this is just like how Khara died — as he watches, the thing unhinges its fucking jaws and that second— mouth, proboscis, what the fuck ever emerges, dripping viscous saliva, displaying vile, razor teeth.

Noctis pulls the trigger and the gun trapped between him and the thing explodes in a concussive blast. The thing goes flying, Noct slammed back against the wall, bruised all along his body by the kick. But at least he has space, and he curses as he gets eyes on the creature again.

It's bleeding, that odd, keening sound that he'd thought was equipment screaming at the shot coming from it. As he watches, the blood drips down its exoskeleton and sizzles as it hits the floor. ]

Fuck. IGNIS, it's—

[ He doesn't have time to finish, has to dive and roll for his bag as the thing lunges for him. The gun gets knocked from his hold, goes skidding across the deck plating, but it doesn't matter. His fingers close around a handle and he scrambles to his feet, hilt held in front of him.

As it comes at him again, he waits— waits, until it's almost upon him, and then he ignites the nanosword. The blade slices cleanly through the thing's armoring and Noct screams as the thing's blood splashes onto him, over his arm, across his chest, a few drops spattering onto his cheek. Fuck, fuck, it burns—

It hurts so much that he doesn't notice the thing's claw through his stomach until it rips it out, and then Noct's screaming again.

But it's dead. Dying, with a horrible, rattling sound, and Noct drops the sword, weakly kicks the creature away.

He stumbles back a few steps until he can collapse against the wall. ]

IGNIS? [ His voice is rough, raw with pain. ] You there?

[ There's a fault somewhere in IGNIS' programming, he thinks, because as Noctis fights for his life there's a part of IGNIS that is completely preoccupied with how few of the phrases people use in these situations apply to him. He doesn't have breath to hold, doesn't have a heart to pound in terror as he watches his friend fighting for his life. It's only a moment of silliness, really, and then he's trying frantically to find something - anything - to help. He's making a futile attempt to force a remote override on one of the suits used for loading when Noctis screams, and it's - it's terrible. ]

I'm with you, Noct.

[ Clearing a path as he speaks, opening and closing doors for the fastest route, because Noct's vitals are all over the place and he's losing blood, and this cannot be allowed to happen. ]

You did well. Very well indeed. Just a little more, now, and then you can rest. I need you to get to medical.

[ He wheezes out a horrible gasp of laughter, high with something like hysteria. IGNIS wants him to get to medical? He's not sure he can stand, let alone traverse half the damn ship. ]

Fuck. [ Quiet, not really meant for IGNIS to hear, and then Noct is silent for a long stretch of seconds, the only sound he makes his labored breathing. ] You always— nngh, have such high expectations.

[ Despite his attempt at levity, his voice is thick with pain, blurry around the edges, just like his vision. Everything's a little swimmy, lit a little too brightly, his vision spiking, and Noctis closes his eyes against the way the world is spinning, dips and dives that have him perilously close to throwing up.

But still, he scrabbles for a hold against the wall, trying to push himself up. Trying to do what IGNIS is telling him to, because it's about all he can concentrate on, IGNIS's voice familiar and reassuring. If IGNIS is saying it, it has to be done, he trusts that.

He's just not sure he can manage it. ]

[ He'd love to play along, really. To make a joke, to try and buoy Noct along with positivity. But the pain in his voice is clear, and when Noctis moves his readings spike into alarming hills and valleys. He's losing blood, more of it as he moves, and it's clear that unless he makes a shift into delirium he's in rather a lot more pain than even the tortured sound of his voice indicates.

He is dying. He will die unless he gets to medical, and bar some sort of miracle he would also kill himself with the exertion of getting there. Noctis is going to die, and IGNIS can offer him false hope or comfort, but he cannot prevent it. The realisation keeps IGNIS quiet rather longer than he'd like.

Finally, quietly: ]

Is it too much?

[ It's a question to which he already knows the answer, but if Noctis still has hope he should be allowed to keep it to the end. ]

I— [ The word hangs. It is. He's sure IGNIS knows it. But still, Noct doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to let the awful admission hit the air, become that much more real. He's pretty sure there's no chance in hell he's going to make it, but it'd be nice to let IGNIS think he is for a few more minutes, seconds. However long he can manage.

Slowly, painfully, Noct reaches a hand up. He leaves a bloody streak on the wall as he scrabbles for a handhold, finally finds one in the form of a clamp meant to hold cargo. It'll do.

He wheezes as he pulls himself up. Spots are flashing over his eyes, he can't see a damn thing, and he can feel warm, wet blood under his shirt, but he makes it. Slowly, laboriously, he makes it to his feet. He's so dizzy that he can't move, has to close his eyes and breath through his nose until he doesn't feel so much like puking, but that's better than sitting there and just waiting to die.

Hoarse from the effort, he pants out: ]

I am having a really shitty day. Next time just let me sleep.

[ He pushes himself off the wall. One step, then another, limping. But that's two steps closer to medical than he was before. ]

I imagine I'll be out of a job after this. Perhaps when we get back I'll be reassigned as an alarm clock. I promise to underperform appallingly.

[ It's pitiful, that all he has to offer is a joke. But until (unless) Noctis makes it to medical, it's all he can do. It doesn't help matters that he's halfway to thinking Noctis is right - if the creature had found its way to Noctis as he was, deep in sleep, chances are he'd have died none the wiser. None of this fear and pain, no having to drag himself along when his body must be begging him to stop. It almost seems like torture to ask him to keep moving, but while there's a chance IGNIS can't bear to suggest that he stop. ]

I'll try to interfere with the meal schedule when they get you to hospital. Care to place a breakfast order?

Ha— fuck.

[ Low, the ragged attempt at laughter cut off by a sharp spike of pain. Noct presses hand to his side; it comes away wet, the blood hidden by his dark shirt, but he ignores it. He's bleeding out from plenty of places, one won't make a difference. If he stops to try to patch himself up, he knows he won't be able to start moving again.

His breath is wheezing as he drags himself along, gathering himself. But finally, finally, a red trail behind him in the corridor, crimson droplets on the floor, smears on the wall from where he's balancing himself, he gets enough breath to answer. ]

You know me, something sweet. No nutritional value at all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I JUST... REALLY LOVE XENOMORPHS

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