Author: BioKraze PM
Enemy Unknown series. A look into the mind of the terrifying Alien creature known as the Chryssalid. Oneshot.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Horror - Words: 956 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 1 - Published: 12-21-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3299815
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
X-COM: UFO Defense, its concepts and personalities are copyrighted by Atari, Inc. I, BioKraze, own nothing save the original plot of this fanfiction.
Saturday, Octopber 9, 1999. Aliens mount a terror strike on the city of Chicago, Illinois at 9:08 pm Central Time. The aliens land their terror ship just outside of the city limits and proceed to wreak havoc amongst the helpless human population. Police barricade the area to protect other areas from the alien assault. Forty-five minutes later, fourteen of the Extraterrestrial Combat Unit's elite operatives arrive in their Skyranger to deal with the Snakeman strike...
Light as a feather and quick as the wind, the clicking of the Chryssalid's clawed feet are barely heard above the sound of heavy plasmas and alien grenades. The night has matured, the moon grown into the starlit sky. It is a beautiful sight to behold. But these thoughts are not in the Chryssalid's mind. It seeks targets to propagate. It seeks targets to frighten. Terror and reproduction. That is all it desires in life. It has been trained not to turn against its masters. It knows it will be put to death, and it knows enough to remain alive. The tension of combat is thick in the air, but the Chryssalid does not care for such matters. Its brain is well developed, but it only thinks of fear and life. Of terror and reproduction. Its alien masters have sent it out to transmute as many of the civilians as it can, to destroy the human innocents at any cost.
Moving with a grace unexpected of such a crablike being, the Chryssalid blends into the night sky with perfection. Its dark gray and purple were designed for hunting during the evening hours. The time is perfect for it to breed, to make more of its kind, the only way it knows how. It catches a scent it has not smelled before. A new hope? A new target? It can't be sure. Whatever it is, though, it must be organic. A babe might be born from this scent! The Chryssalid moves lightly, seeking the source of the scent.
A human teenager huddles in fear from the plasma blasts of the Chryssalid's alien masters. A warehouse that once housed a rave is his only refuge. He does not recognise the real threat within the barricade. Already, seventeen people have fallen to the lethal bolts of green energy. Three of the youth's friends -- one of them his girlfriend and lover -- were killed in the alien attack. He never knew there were such things as aliens, and now he has been made a believer.
Ah, yes! The target is frightened. The stench of terror is cloying, a sweet scent of death to the Chryssalid. It hesitates, savouring the fear like the bouquet of the finest wine. After fifteen seconds of sheer bliss, nearly orgasmic delight, the Chryssalid moves in for the kill. It captures the human in its massive crablike claws, and bares its teeth to reveal pointed fangs. The human screams in terror. After all that has happened this night, even he will lose his life to the aliens!
The Chryssalid bites down, gently, into the human's jugular. A potent neurotoxin is released into the boy's bloodstream. Within minutes, the human's brain begins to fail upon it. Upper cerebral cortex twists in pain as synapses and neurons fall at the hands of the alien poison. The poison flows through the blood, tainting it with a greenish colouration. The boy's pale peach skin becomes an unhealthy jaundiced orange. He is a mere zombie, an incubator now for the egg that the alien will surely lay in its body cavity.
And lay the egg it does. The Chryssalid makes a small thrust with its abdomen. From the purple flesh exposed underneath its hardened exoskeleton, a large green egg about the size of a honeydew peeps out. The alien terrorist uses its other claw to rip a small gouge into the dead youth's stomach. With a final thrust, the egg is safely placed inside. It will only take a minute or two for the egg to reach maturity. The Chryssalid is a fast grower, maturing faster than any other alien being. It has laid one of its twenty eggs. It seeks to make more of its kind before the humans can mobilise a defence. The Chryssalid moves around the corner again, waiting for another target to claim for its race...its masters...itself...
The egg splits open within forty seconds, ripping the zombie's flesh apart in a shower of blood and shredded organic matter. Intestines and lungs are spattered against the wall of the warehouse, along with several pints of blood and alien neurotoxin. Another Chryssalid awaits, memories of ttaining imprinted into its genes from alien masters aeons ago. It cannot resist; the training is in its body since it was an egg. Now, bearer and babe seek new targets, new humans to hunt for themselves...for their masters...for their race--
A small proximity grenade had been thrown by a soldier, her aim perfect as always. The newly born alien crab beast tripped over the sensor of the grenade, igniting the primer with a small electrical shock. The grenade took out the wall of the warehouse, along with the two Chryssalids. Their shells exploded into dark grey fragments, their skin rupturing to reveal lavender organs. Nineteen eggs flew out, smashing into the ground, pieces of putrid alien organic debris littering the side of the warehouse. With a grin, the soldier gave her backup a thumbs-up. Together, they moved in for the next kill on an unlucky Chryssalid...