TornadoofNL

There is shouting in the distance, gunshots. I recognize the voices, we were all in the barracks until that [i]thing[/i] showed up. I run towards the fighting, my cleaver in hand. The gunfire has stopped, the last shout cut off, yet I still approach cautiously. ... It's there. On the ground, wheezing pitifully. It almost looks like a scared child when it spots me. I approach. Its wheezing picks up in pace, it's trying to crawl away from me, its blood covered claws scraping over the metal deck. I raise my cleaver. [i]Silence.[/i]