Tempest | Self-Para
Clang. The noise of metal clashing against metal isn’t a pleasant one. It’s a harsh, cruel sound. A faint echo of that sound reaches its ears. Like waking from a deep slumber, it tries to look around, only to see darkness pressing in on it from every direction. Clang. The sound is a little louder this time.
It’s not just the darkness now, it feels actually cramped, in a space far too small for it, suffocating. There’s a shocking, intense pain that sets alarm bells blaring in its head. Whatever it’s in, it tenses and curls up, and it growls quietly in annoyance.
It’s vision flickers, like a bad movie, and it’s briefly disoriented before realizing that it’s looking down, at two strange pieces of metal pressing against a human’s torso. It takes a moment but then realizes with a sickening thought that it is inside a human now. It places the smell of burning flesh, and the thought that it might die like this, trapped within a human, makes it writhe sharply in resistance.
The blunt metal objects are removed from the human, and it finds its vessel able to breathe again, lungs expanding violently, black spots retreating from its vision.
I’m not going to die here. This is not how I die. And all of you fuckers are going to pay.
As the seconds tick by, it can feel the growing presence of some other thing in its head, as though pushing its consciousness to the forefront. Eventually, it can feel the human’s limbs responding to its whims. Fists tightening, it tests the strength of its constraints. Through all the bloodlust and the rage, there’s a trickle of amusement. Did they really think they could hold it with these constraints? The metal cuff seems to tighten around the human wrists. With a sharp tug, the cuffs break, and unused to the weak, fragile body it controlled, it falls onto all fours. There’s an explosion of pain just then, as the frightened soldiers open fire on it.
It doesn’t matter. The flimsy body holding it prisoner was already giving way. There’s a more constant sense of pain now, fire running through its veins, muscle fibers strengthening and expanding, bones breaking only to connect again, re-building a structure to accommodate the beast’s larger frame. There’s another spew of bullets, but then nothing. Blunt, human teeth are molded into fangs, fingernails into claws, both just itching to rip and tear through the shivering cowards before it. Despicable human scum.
The rage lends to its regeneration, and it can already feel the bullet holes closing up. The cuffs around its ankles break open uselessly. Royal blue eyes survey its surroundings as claws flex against the ground. There are screams and the smell of fear is thick in the air. It snarls, and hears scuffling as the people throw themselves in the opposite direction, desperate to get away. It’s eyes flash, and adrenaline rushes through it in waves, its hearing and vision narrowing onto each and every detestable human being lurking around the compound. Whose head shall I take first?