O ALIEN DAMNATION.

{    he’s been hearing strange noises since he entered the      room, shuffling unlike anything he’d grown used to      hearing since leaving the sim lab. it almost sounds..      human? it’s a possibility, though he’d only ever seemed      to just miss a chance to save someone. anyone.             ( more movement. pause, morgan, listen.              that’s not the static sound of a mimic,              the overlapping whispers of phantoms..              something new? )         something behind him, he can feel it. a brief thought      of alex, quickly dismissed; he’d never approach this      quietly. closer, closer, and when he felt the thing get      too close, spun just in time to see a wrench in the air,      dropping, and ducked out of the way though it struck      his shoulder. a shocked cry and he scrambled back,      pulling out a shotgun but strangely unwilling to pull      the trigger.            ( mimics!! be aware of mimics!! )         psychoscope dropped, and he froze, confused by      the results:                                MORGAN YU         is it human? is it himself? heart hammering in his      chest and he retreats further still, moving on impulse.      surprises himself by raising his hands in surrender,      barrel of his gun pointing upwards. maybe this’ll stop      the thing.    }

the cry sounding from the other shocks him, eyes widened,  & he seemed to freeze in place. how long has it been since he heard noises only a human can make ? phantoms  & poltergeists failed to truly imitate humanity; this is different. every other chance that there was to really hear it, the typhon, in one way or another, usually ended them before long, or they succumbed to the void of space.

a step backwards,  & his wrench is put away. alien dna within whispering  &  enticing to kill, as it always does. almost obeys it, listens to it, allows it to control, purely automatically. yet. . .he finds hesitance in himself. refrains. something in him telling him to let this one live. whether or not it stems from the shotgun pointed at him is unknown.

he watches as the being raises empty hands in hopes of peace, mercy. decides to lower himself closer to the ground, now, crouching. psychoscope drops to make sure he didn’t just hear a shriek of those long dead, to make sure the isolation isn’t getting to him. it reaffirms his suspicions by claiming the other is. . . MORGAN YU.   that. . .can’t be right, there’s no looking glass separating them. . .

scope retreats & he’s left studying the supposed morgan. his own extremities are empty, digits trailing along lobby floor  & offering support as he slowly makes his way closer.