I can feel the anger through the sound waves. The shots ring out like a million tiny splinters tearing through sheet metal. Sharp. Violent. Quick. Tendrils of incensed thought snaking out to choke the consciousness and poison the air.
Time slows.
I can see them, fury blazing from their guns like flame from a dragon's gullet. Something has been growing in the subconscious layers, something alien that can't be stopped. I embrace it; it gives me the ability to do things.
Pain blossoms, a broken capsule pill spilling its powdery contents across a table. Manic dread fuels the fibers in my limbs, panicked fury driving me back to my feet to protect the scaly creature fleeing before the guns.
Their eyes tell me a story. I can feel the anger in their gaze. I feed off the hate, screaming curses at the whirlwinds of dust and hot metal. Driving. Fighting. Killing.
I know I'm not human anymore. The way my mind transitions from one to the next, systematically, like a drone. How it only half regards the popping and ensuing curtain of blood as a sin. How suddenly my interests have shifted to protecting him as he runs before me. It changes tacks like a machine.
My strength fails, but the deed is done. The bark of a firearm cripples, teeth piercing what is left of the spine to drag the prey to the ground. The predator to my prey. Booted feet approach.
I can't see. Vision blurs. The sound waves lessen. Flee.
Flee.
…Flee…
Dirt sends searing pain through the open wounds. I don't feel it. Something comprehends the words spilling out of the lion's mouth, recognizes the dread, black instrument in his hands. I can feel the violent triumph behind his talk.
It tells me nothing. Only the end.
...
AN: I have recently become obsessed with District 9. This would be from Wikus' perspective in the last firefight scenes before the movie ends. Just some creative outlet. Let me know what you think!