Chapter 31
Much like how I was created by humans, and humans were created by the Engineers, I believe that the engineers are the byproduct of genetic manipulation as well. Wilks' eyes scanned over the neatly-written note. From the texts I've been able to translate, they are the creation of another, greater race. One that they try to emulate in society and scientific research. That is why their armor, if it can be called that, has the strange, trunk-like appendages on their faces. If my extrapolations are correct, these 'creators' - the 'elephant-men' as I've taken to calling them - are even larger than the Engineers. They were giants compared to the Engineers, both in stature and intellect. Just as the Engineers are to humans. They created the Engineers, and may have been the original creators of the Xenomorphs. The perfect creatures. The perfect weapons…
Wilks tried to read the rest, but the page had been damaged by water, causing the charcoal to run and blend.
"This shit keeps getting weirder and weirder." He said to himself as he folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. He'd pass it along to Knight for analysis later on.
"Fan!" A panicked voice echoed up the stairs that Bradford and her group had descended. "Someone get down here and fucking help me!" Wilks grabbed his weapon and started towards the door, which Fan, and Busch had already disappeared through. Wilks paused, looking behind him. Something wasn't right, and he felt as if he was being watched yet again.
He couldn't quite place his finger on what was different. His eyes ticked over the smaller creatures on the table, then down the row of larger bipeds. Wilks took a tentative step closer, both hands on his rifle as he leaned in to inspect them.
One of the black-skinned ones had thick lines of saliva dripping down from its mouth. Wilks narrowed his eyes and raised his rifle as he stepped closer. The thing didn't appear to be moving, and he reached forward with his non-firing hand to wipe at some of the liquid. It was viscous, leaving long strings of the clear liquid between his gloved thumb and forefinger.
"The hell is that?" He muttered to himself.
The shadows above him shifted. He looked up, reaching to toggle his helmet light.
A nightmare was staring back at him.
Wilks only had time to let out a surprised bark as it descended upon him. Sharp claws pierced fabric and flesh, drawing blood as they bit into his shoulders. It landed on him with such force that he felt like he'd just had a refrigerator dropped on him. He would have yelled again had the wind not been knocked out of him. He stared up in horror, desperately trying to get his sidearm out as he tried to fill his lungs with air. His eyes widened as he took in what he was looking at. The smooth skull, the black exoskeletal-like skin, the metallic needles for teeth.
It was one of them, one of those things! One of-
Wilks' struggle was brought to an end when the Protomorph's inner jaws shot out like they were driven by a piston. The jaws punctured Wilks' forehead, just below the crown of his helmet. The Staff Sergeant's body went rigid at the intrusion before beginning to spasm. He was dead before he realized what had happened.
After so many years in isolation, with nothing to hunt after killing the one that wasn't edible, the Protomorph had been driven to a state that could best be described as madness in human terms. It tore Wilks' body apart with both sets of jaws, ripping flesh and uniform away with clawed hands. When it was finished, it looked back around the chamber. The others had left the area, descending to where the remaining eggs were waiting.
With no other prey in the immediate area, it crawled back up the wall, starting towards the hidden ventilation tunnels that were obscured from view by the high ceilings' lack of light.
Invigorated by its first kill in such a long time, it sought out others.