PROLOGUE: HUNTED
Sweat dripped down his face, soaking into the collar of his undershirt. The light flashed erratically across him, his glistening face shimmering in the dark. Broken pipes and vents hissed gas into the hallway.
His vision became slightly blurred, coughs and splutters caught in his throat, he dared not let them exhale. His hands shook subtly yet violently, his knuckles white from gripping his rifle. The red glow of his ammo count is ever present in the corner of his vision.
Sixty rounds left in his magazine. Roughly ten paces from lies an intersection of hallways, all shrouded in darkness, his eyes flick between all the different paths, looking for any sign of movement. Just as he nears the maw of the intersection, he hears a faint hiss, barely recognisable but distinct from the faltering gas lines.
He swings around, rifle raised and ready, flicking on its flashlight, his blood runs cold. A large, slimy glistening body clings to the roof, a distinct low hiss begins again.
With but a second to lose, he opens fire on the creature. Green blood coats the hall, sizzling against the metal, as an inhuman shriek pierces his ears. He turns and begins running down the left hallway, as he sprints he yanks his motion tracker of its clip and turns it on - no sense trying to be quiet anymore - pings begin to appear behind him. One, two, three… eight.
"Fuck this" He snarls as he continues down the hall, there must be marines left. He turns his comm system back on, desperately trying to gain contact
"Pauls to command, come in. My squad is down, I'm on my last mag. Fuck, someone respond!"
The shrieks of the creatures grow louder, the sound of their claws shredding the metal walls getting closer and closer. His heart is beating almost out of his chest as he looks down towards his tracker, the display glowing white hot behind him.
Looking back up, in an instant he almost slams into a door. Bodies lay in front of it, mauled and bloody at his feet. The access panel next to the door has a large, red DENIED prompt across it, its red glow covering the walls around him. The beeping from his tracker pounding into his ear drums.
"Fuck it"
Flicking his tracker off and with no other option, he throws himself into the pile of bodies, pulling them over himself, smearing their blood and guts all over himself. Resisting the nausea and the smell searing his nostrils, he exhales and then steadies himself.
With a great rushing and clanging sound, the swarm of the creatures enters the hallway, rustling around, their hisses filling his ears. They pause as a group. A single creature breaks from the swarm and slithers forward, watching the pile of corpses he now lay under. The creature stops within striking distance as he grips his rifle tighter, determined to at least shoot before he dies.
The creature hisses and its second jaw slides out of its wet mouth, the hot breath overpowering the stench of corpses, filling his nostrils. He continued to hold his breath, not allowing his body to betray him.
As if fate itself was against him, he now noticed a young girl staring lifelessly at him, his throat constricting. After what felt like an eternity, the creature turned from him and crawled back to the group, they all slinked away as a single mass, leaving him to his corpses.
Uncontrollably a sob escaped him. The girls eyes were piercing his as she lay sprawled next to him. What started as a sob quickly snowballed into a guttural cry, his eyes welling with tears and his throat becoming blocked with spit. He pushed the bodies off himself and pulled himself up, wiping his tears.
Before he could fully compose himself, the door behind him slid open, the light from the room flooding the hallway, revealing the extent of the bloodshed. Limbs, organs and mangled corpses littered the hallway, the shock still etched on their faces.
In a shambles he spun, barely raising the rifle to his hip. A single woman stood there in a bloodied lab coat. holding some kind of data pad in one hand and a pistol in her other, pointing at him.
"Are you infested?" She finally asked.
"Infected? No." Pauls replied after a brief moment.
"I won't believe you until I scan you" She said sharply.
Pauls hesitated for a moment, but he finally began inching his gun down and began stepping towards her. She raised her pistol instead.
"I won't let you stay until I scan you!" She quivered.
"Okay fine! Scan me! I just want to get off this rock."
She lowers her pistol and gestures into the room while walking back inside. He follows tentatively, still not entirely sure what she meant by scan. Once he passes the door, it slides closed again and a distinctive lock snaps into place.
The room is a sickly yellow with blood splattered across the walls. Perhaps the remains of previous scans? She stops and points towards a bed with a bulky square computer mounted above it. With a gesture, she commands him to lay his rifle on the table next to him. He does so and then slides onto the bed, chest facing up. She strides over and lowers the computer to his chest and after a quick flash, she raises it again.
The computer next to her begins displaying an image of his ribcage, with a distinctive coiled creature lodged under it. She exhales loudly.
In an instant, she grabs her pistol and spins around, seeing him now seated up on the table, his rifle raised directly at her chest. Without even a second to say anything, a crack rings out and a burst of three rounds thumps into her chest with a splatter of blood spilling all over herself. She collapses onto the ground, her breath quickly beginning to run short.
He raises himself and moves towards her, kicking the pistol across the floor.
"Why the fuck, did you try that!?"
She lay there staring up at him, her eyes seemingly looking through him.
"Y-You don't have lo…." She wheezed before her last breath. Looking down at her, his mind is strangely empty.
He fumbles around his ammo pouches and draws a cigarette, pulling his light up and igniting it in his mouth. He inhales deeply, feeling it fill his lungs. A sharp pain suddenly pierced his chest. He looked toward the monitor again, taking another long drag. After a moment he pulls his tracker out and turns it on, the device chirping out immediately. Glancing at his screen he sighs,
"Not much to be done now"
He yanks his weapon back up. The clattering of claws was now in earshot, their shrieks echoing down the halls. He takes another drag to steady his shaky hands and draws the barrel under his chin, staring at the now dead woman on the ground. The door groans loudly, cracking under the pressure. Right as the door bursts open with a crash, he squeezes as hard as he can on the trigger.
'