Title: Dark Grievances
Character Pairings: Xenomorph/Human
Genre: Horror/Romance
Rating: T-MA+
Warnings: Future Sexual Content, Graphic Gore, Profanity
Disclaimers: I only own this story and my characters; nothing associated with the Alien movies or the Xenomorph creature in general. (If I did, I would totally have one lurking inside my closet . . .)
Summary: It's the year 28650 A.T. (After Technology), and technology has changed Earth dramatically. There are hovering cars, brain transplants, galaxy travel, and robotic beings to do our dirty, unsavory jobs. Unfortunately, those are only the very few positives of out of the many, many horrors that technology has brought us . . .
Recommendation(s): Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.
Author's Note:The Xenomorph has always been my guilty pleasure, and I've wanted to write a story involving an OHF for THE longest time. I would have had one up, too, had my computer not EATEN my whole first attempt nearly five years ago . . .
Hopefully this one will turn out better than my last one because with my lack of scientific knowledge, I'm simply going out on a limb here. Only the desire to write about my favorite movie monster/alien of all time is what's keeping me balanced.
Enjoy!
08/22/08 Edit: I went back and revised the prologue. I got too excited and posted it way earlier than it should have been. I'm sorry for those who actually read the first version. It was so disjointed and confusing that I felt like dying with embarrassment. Hopefully this version is much better.
Prologue
He would call him Lucifer.
Wealthy and renowned scientist, David Krasmire, stood in front of the reinforced safety glass, his clipboard clutched tightly to his chest as he stared, green eyes wide, at the lone, deadly creature on the other side. His heart was pounding with excitement, fear . . . and even arousal.
Oh, how he loved playing God.
No . . . I am God, he thought, a sadistic, oily, conceited smile stretching across his worn features as he watched, with a lewd sense of hunger, as the captured Xenomorph paced its cell agitatedly.
Lucifer . . . It had been the name of God's beautiful, fallen angel.
The name that would be given . . . to his fallen angel.
The lithe, death-black creature prowled around its titanium confinement, restless and aggravated like the caged beast it was, desperately searching, in vain, for an escape route. More than once, much to his delight, it had attacked the safety glass, leaping and slamming its sleek, solid body against the transparent barrier.
The beast's aggressiveness was purely a marvel to behold . . .
Unable to stop himself, he lifted a trembling hand . . . and pressed it fully against the cool, flat surface of the glass.
Oh, how he wanted to touch it; to run his fingers over the ridges of its black, elongated head; to stroke a hand over that spine-like tail . . .
"Doctor Krasmire?"
He tensed, startled out of his daze . . . and then fought the urge to sneer. He short-sighted his vision and caught his unwanted visitor's reflection in the glass.
" . . . Yes?" he inquired, forcing politeness into his tone all the while glaring, loathingly, at the reflection.
"The . . . um . . . lab is ready for Bio-Weapon-689."
He gritted his teeth painfully as he turned his glare onto his reflection, his eyes narrowed dangerously behind the circular lenses of his spectacles, his anger raging hotly but silently.
Oh, how he hated his colleagues . . .
Taking a moment to breathe in deeply, to steady himself, he then turned to regard the young man, his hostility barely contained. The child's ignorance . . . it was disgusting.
Fighting against voicing that opinion, he replied calmly, though his tone was cold, "Fine. Sedate him . . . then ready him for the injection."