AJNotAMonster "Click"

Click. Click. Click. It took him a few seconds before he realized he had stopped firing. It took another precious couple of seconds to realize what that meant. Reactions coming with a delay of thunder after lightning, he dropped behind a small piece of cover and turned on his weapon's safety. His cut burned and he felt like he was getting drunk. He couldn't hear the klaxons anymore. Just his own breathing under his gas mask and the screams of those who got to close to the skip. The torrential rain of fire that began the fight and slowed to a small pitter-patter of lost hope, of broken morale, and broken bodies.

He resolved that he would not go out the way his friends did. That he would do something about this beast that roamed the halls of his workspace. He opened the metal strip on top of his LMG and began to reload. He heard a large explosion. A beastly scream, then a man's. He heard the report of a hundred shots as he sat behind his little piece of life.

He pulled out the belt that once held bullets, and his comrade, his friend, his better half was thrown over him in his alcove, entrails leaving a trail of blood on the ground. He watched in horror as the man he had known since he joined the foundation breathed his last, with only half a body left. Hardly a body at that, as it was bloodied and pulped into an unrecognizable stew. He wanted to get as far away from that mess as he could, to run and never come back. But he knew, if he ran, and in the small chance he live, he could never forget those blank eyes staring across at him.

He released his magazine, a tin box that now held no more use than his numbed extremities. He knew that he wasn't up to mental code. For some reason, the breach alarms sounded like a siren's music. The shaking of his hands felt happy, as if they were the fastest, most overjoyed part of his body. This breach is fun! No. It cant be. He was never used to seeing his own blood. If this breach was good, why was he bleeding?

He opened his backpack with a long, grinding
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip.
He shuffled through it for what felt like the fifteenth time, in a routine searching. His hand passed way too much empty space, and finally grabbed another large tin box. He hoisted it out of his backpack, fumbled, and locked it into place in his gun.

He opened the box and pulled out a belt of bullets. These bullets were his lifeblood. If he could only get them into the damn gun. His hands were shaking like a surgeon on speed. He dropped the bullets into his lap before getting back some focus.

He put the belt into place, slightly satisfied because the first bullet in place was a red tip. He realized the loud reports of his partners had died off. Nobody was firing their weapon anymore. It felt like there was a reason why, but he was glad he could focus on his own weapon.

He closed the metal bit and gave it a solid whack, just like basic firearms training. He pricked his ears up metaphorically and heard a different clicking. A deeper clicking, a beastly clicking. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was moving around, going real fast, real unpredictable.

Clickclickclickclickclickclick click.

Clickclickclickclick click.

He was suddenly jolted, as if he was drunk before and had sobered up. This clicking was the enemy. He had to destroy this clicking. He slid the bolt back and heard the solid satisfying noise of a round being chambered.

A short scream from his commanding officer cried out for help. It called for anyone who could hear. It was quickly silenced with a heavy thud. The thing was no more than five feet from him. It looked around, and satisfied there was nobody around alive, it turned back to its catch. There was somebody alive however. It passed right over him. He sat, weapon ready, right under its nose as it looked for him. Somehow, it didn't see him.

He steeled himself, waiting for the opportunity to destroy this clicking creature. It was munching down on something. He didn't want to know what. It was clicking in between each bite.

Mush-click-squelch-clickclick-crunch-click.

Clickclick-crunch

He felt a rage rising from the lowest he could feel on his body. He stood up shakily, and saw the beast he meant to destroy. A large, pale THING. His rage boiled to a point that couldn't be just felt alone. It came from his gut, up his throat, to his mouth. He let it all out in a great war cry. A sound of all the power, grief and rage he had ever felt in his entire life. He could hear it resonate across the entire chamber and back into his own ears over and over again. He could shake mountains with his shout. He was invincible. In mere seconds of movement, he jumped into sight of the beast, brought up his weapon, placed the sights right on the beast's head, pulled the trigger and—

click.