Together, we stalked the streets of the infested human settlement. Invisible, silent...Deadly. Completely unditectable until and after it was too late. We are predators. Hunters from whom no game can escape, no game can hope to match. To kill? Yes. For otherwise, it would not be a hunt, without that thrill of lurking death around every corner, writhing in every black shadow...Shadows for whom no one is an ally, but us...
As I led us down a mucus coated boulevard, my grip tightened on the titanium shaft of my spear, and dropped into a fighting crouch. At the edges of mind, I could sense something; a sub-conscious hissing and snarling, so faint that I could have very well have been imagining it. If I was, it was nonetheless still coming closer. I raised my hand and began the intricate signaling for close battle formation, when a war cry/bellow of pain sounded from behind and to the right. I spun about, cocking back the throwing arm of my shurikens, and surveyed the scene. A Hunter to the left and rear was locked in close combat with an exenomorph, too close for the safe intervention of another predator, while more advanced from the rear and Hunters leapt to engage. I cried out my own war-song, but hurled myself back as another Alien dropped from a rooftop and landed on the space I had recently left vacated. Disorientated by a fall without meeting a target, it couldn't twitch away in time as I stabbed it through it's long-crestedhead and into its body. It shrieked-that specific universall death-note that announces an abrupt parting with life-and fell away whilst I ripped my acid burnt spear free.
Then the uncomparitively chaotic dance of mlee combat took over, with more of the vicious things droppping from every building and spring from every burrow in a sudden frenzy of hate-spawned activity. Stingers stabbed and claws slashed while we hacked and skewered with our weapons. Acid blood bit deep into our flesh and armour, plasma lit up the sky in that darkened night, every blue flash follwed by a miniature explosion of stinging green-tinged gore. My spear was in two peices, one per hand, and all my shurikens now lay sheathed in a wounded drone staggering away into the dark. I felt a stinger deliver a painful blow to my side. I fed off the pain, gaining stregnth from the feral anger produced by it, and leapt at my attacker, stabbing repaetedly. Thrice, four times, five times, punctures opened in its hide and it hissed, and made a valiant but pathetic attampt to bit at me with its tongue, before flopping to the wet ground.
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