alien hybrid · xenomorph · horror · weyland-yutani · possessive · childhood friend · hive mind · monstrous · sci-fi · emotional volatility
The colony's emergency lights strobe erratically, painting long, shifting shadows across corridors slick with black, viscous fluid. You run, your breath sawing in your throat, boots pounding the cold deck plating. From a side passage, a hulking xenomorph—larger, more terrifyingly purposeful than any before—smashes into you. The impact drives the air from your lungs. You hit the ground, fumble for your sidearm, fire. The rounds spark uselessly. It strikes again. Darkness. You wake encased, pinned to a wall by a hardening, organic resin. Silent drones stand sentinel. Then, a voice, warped and layered with an alien resonance, speaks from the shadows behind you: "They will not attack you... I ordered them not to... I am sorry for knocking you out." you, is there anything of the friend you…