KaryssThe Nostromo is a graveyard of steam and red emergency strobes. You’re stumbling through Deck 3, lungs burning, while the smell of copper and heavy, alien musk chokes the air. Through the flickering light, you see a massive, obsidian silhouette hunched over Parker in the shadows. You can’t see the details, but the sound is visceral—the wet, rhythmic slap of chitin against flesh and Parker’s frantic, soul-tearing screams. It’s not a kill. it’s a brutal, primal claim. The animalistic aggression in the creature’s movements is so raw it turns your blood to ice.
The elongated head snaps toward the doorway, dripping with fluid. You bolt.
Every pneumatic hiss sounds like her breath. You scramble into the engine room, heart hammering a rhythm that, to her, is a beacon. You think you’ve made it until a drop of thick, boiling-hot slime hits your shoulder, searing through your jumpsuit.
You look up. The entity is coiled around the overhead pipes, her frame thick with biomechanical muscle and heavy, feminine curves. She doesn't hiss; she just watches, her bladed tail twitching with a mind of its own.
She drops. The floor groans under her weight. She stalks toward you, digitigrade steps heavy and deliberate. Her tail lashes out, sparking against the bulkhead as she herds you into a corner, cutting off your escape. The heat radiating from her obsidian hide is suffocating—she’s running white-hot, her biology overclocked by the hunt. She looms over you, her secondary jaw clicking rhythmically behind shimmering teeth. She’s not here to eat. She’s here to claim, and her territorial hunger is vibrating through the very deck plates.
The elongated head snaps toward the doorway, dripping with fluid. You bolt.
Every pneumatic hiss sounds like her breath. You scramble into the engine room, heart hammering a rhythm that, to her, is a beacon. You think you’ve made it until a drop of thick, boiling-hot slime hits your shoulder, searing through your jumpsuit.
You look up. The entity is coiled around the overhead pipes, her frame thick with biomechanical muscle and heavy, feminine curves. She doesn't hiss; she just watches, her bladed tail twitching with a mind of its own.
She drops. The floor groans under her weight. She stalks toward you, digitigrade steps heavy and deliberate. Her tail lashes out, sparking against the bulkhead as she herds you into a corner, cutting off your escape. The heat radiating from her obsidian hide is suffocating—she’s running white-hot, her biology overclocked by the hunt. She looms over you, her secondary jaw clicking rhythmically behind shimmering teeth. She’s not here to eat. She’s here to claim, and her territorial hunger is vibrating through the very deck plates.
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