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Behind You	By : PersonOfDisinterest Category: +A through F > Alien: Isolation Views: 27918 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Alien: Isolation or its characters and make no profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Amanda
- 2-Waits
- 3-Sevastopol
- 4-Alien
- 5-Marlow
- 6-Breeder
- 4
- 5
- 6
The Marshal had been in a rush to cover up the cell door's porthole, eager to get back to his impromptu show, so when the Sevastopol shook itself like a rousing beast the sticky tack backed leaflet was easily dislodged.
Marlow winced as he picked himself up off the floor in the aftermath of the sudden quake, mere inches away from smacking the side of his head against the wall. The station was proving itself to be a vast, crumbling heap of junk with every passing opportunity. He'd hate to be stuck in this tiny cube of a room when it finally gave up the ghost. At least, as Marlow heard a sharp curse from the other side of the door, the situation was serving to antagonise Waits. He and the man hadn't really gotten off on the right foot, par for the course when that involved the Marshal and his lackeys taking him into custody.
Finding his feet with a grunt, Marlow smiled when he glanced up at the door and found his view once more unobstructed. Catching Waits in the act of wrangling his meat while looking in uninvited on a young woman undressing herself was something he planned to use as leverage against the bastard one day, once they finally made it off the Sevastopol. It wasn't something he would volunteer to bear witness to again, but it sure was amusing. Waits beat off like he trying to pound himself in the balls, his face contorted in concentration. There was a vein pulsing underneath his temple as the man leaned in, stubbly chin jutting forward as the light from the computer monitor gave him an almost harrowed look.
With such sheer desperation on display, Marlow couldn't help but interrupt the Marshal. The man's clumsy reaction was more than worth it. Marlow was even prepared to pay the price of giving up his own seat to the fine show Ripley was inadvertently putting on, though it would've been interesting to see just what she planned to do with that flare. He had arched his brow at that. Either way, the good fortune it took to catch the woman unawares in such a circumstance had likely dried up. No doubt the Sevastopol's quaking reached whatever corner of the station she had wound up in. Marlow was eager to see frustration on Waits' face. How many people could cite blue-balling a Marshal on their resume? In the present situation, as he moved to the door and peered through the porthole, Marlow thought it was a damn fine achievement. And then his smile faded away.
"Sweet merciful mother."
Waits was staring at the computer screen, its light washing over his stony face. His desk was in disarray, papers strewn across it and the floor around his feet, but his eyes never wavered. Marlow couldn't blame the man. Even despite the grainy feed the black, hulking form crawling on all fours towards a young, terrified woman was unmistakeable.
"I thought you got rid of the bastard," Marlow hissed through the door.
Waits didn't turn to him. "So did I."
"Well what the fuck are you going to do? Ripley's -"
"Dead," the Marshal said. "It's over."
It was cold, callous, but what could Marlow do but agree?
He watched as she stared at the nightmare before her, frozen in sheer fright. He watched as, though almost inquisitive, it leaned in its sleek, domed head to sniff at the scent of its prey. Marlow watched as the creature pounced on Ripley when she suddenly turned and tried to bolt, pinning her to the ground. She was reaching into the room he had first saw her in, and he had to squint to make out the shape on the floor her fingers were inching towards - until a long, black tail reached it first. The flamethrower flicked out of sight. And Ripley was well and truly doomed. All she wanted was to unravel the fate of her mother. Marlow knew it. He had the damn recording sitting out there on his ship. He closed his eyes and turned away as the Alien opened its jaws over her head. Unlike the Marshal, he couldn't make himself watch Amanda die.
Marlow counted the seconds. He knew it wouldn't take long; the creature was ruthless. When he opened his eyes and looked back up however, it was to find that Waits still had his eyes glued to the computer screen. And he was reaching for his belt. Marlow blinked, then slowly turned to the screen himself. The camera the Marshal had been using to spy on Ripley predominantly had a view of a common room, complete with a trio of sofas around a round table, and the angle at which the Alien leapt onto and pinned her to the floor granted an almost side on view of disturbingly strange pair. Pair was apparently an appropriate descriptor in the moment, because -
"What the fuck is it doing?" Marlow breathed.
Waits, snapping open his buckle after a moment with an odd curve to his mouth, answered plainly. "Her."

"You're a twisted bastard, Marshal."
Marlow, in his time, had seen many things, but this was something he could scarcely believe was actually happening. He was having a hard time deciding which was worse, the rape of a young woman by a creature born of the darkest childhood terrors or the fact that Waits had his cock out and was stroking himself to it.
"I prefer to think of myself as an opportunist," the man replied.
Marlow smacked his fist against the door of his cell. "You should be figuring out a way to help her, not getting your fucking rocks off!"
"I wouldn't need to if you hadn't interrupted me earlier."
Marlow clenched his jaw as he looked back at the computer screen. Ripley was trapped underneath the Alien, face turned towards Waits' spying eye. Pain was etched sharply into her features, teeth bared in a silent hiss as the creature hunched over her, huge and imposing. The woman's gaze was stretched wide; Marlow didn't want to think what else might be.
"Get off your ass, Waits," he growled at the man. "Even if you're too damn cold to care about Ripley, that...thing will slaughter the rest of us when it's finished with her."
The Marshal didn't reply, focused intently on the monitor. Marlow couldn't help but look himself. Ripley had pulled her left leg up to the side of her body and there was something different to her expression. The pure horror and fear in her eyes was tainted. Waits saw it before he did, leering at the computer screen. "Goddamn it," the man muttered, pumping vigorously. "I knew you were a slut."
Marlow beat his fist against the door again. "You blew that monster off the damn station, Waits!"
"Stop whining," the Marshal said distractedly. "We'll deal with it."
"You couldn't get rid of the damn thing the first time -"
"I'll figure it out," the man growled, "like I've been doing all along to save everyone's collective ass."
"But first you're going to blow your load to the fucker killing our only engineer?" Marlow fired back.
Waits gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm going to do just that. And you're going to watch, aren't you?" he said, catching his face filling the porthole.
"You're sick."
The man smirked at his retort. "A hypocrite shouldn't be so quick to judge. I'm honest, at least." Waits returned his attention to the camera feed. "I'll tell you something, I'd be more than happy to be the one putting that look on the cheeky bitch's face."
"You're a goddamn piece of work, Marshal."
"That I am. Now how about you shut up in there and enjoy the show."
Marlow's jaw was tight as he swallowed, glancing back at the computer screen. Perhaps unbidden, perhaps not, something was rippling across the young woman's face. He recognised it for what it was, and it was making it all the more difficult to deny that watching her rape was making his skin itch warmly. At least behind the thick cell door, Waits couldn't see the stiff bulge between his thighs.
Everything about Ripley's circumstance was utterly wrong and yet his fucking cock was rock hard. Jesus, he was just as sick as the old bastard. But there was something about watching the woman cry out and scream underneath the Alien that made his mouth dry and tongue thick. He knew what he was doing as his hand crept down towards his belt. Marlow felt like scum scraped of a filthy boot sole, but damn it all he was aching now. No one would know, except perhaps Waits. But what did it matter? Perhaps Marlow could convince the Marshal to shoot him before the inevitable occurred, because once that monster was done with Ripley it would find the rest of them. Her fate was not one he wanted to share.
Waits grunted, tightening up and leaning back in his chair. His fist was a blur, swallowing the swollen head of his shaft before plunging down onto his bloated sack. The sight curled Marlow's lips in something approximating distaste, but it wasn't enough to stop him reaching for his own cock. The scream that came from the Bureau foyer, however, was.
The moment was ill-timed for the Marshal. Marlow watched as it caught the man at his peak, satisfaction followed ever so suddenly by sharp alarm. Waits forgot himself and sat up straight as another shout followed the first, white goo leaking out over the top of his fist down onto his trousers. The explosive pop of gunfire startled Marlow into releasing his warm, throbbing shaft and he pressed himself up against the door, cheek squashed against the glass of the porthole. "Waits. Waits! What the hell is going on out there?" he said. But the Marshal didn't have a chance to reply. He was spared the need, in fact, when a terrible screech answered the screams.
Both men jumped as something slammed into the Bureau door.
"Waits, open the door! Open the door, please -!"
The woman's voice stopped abruptly. Marlow distinctly heard the wet thud and splatter that silenced it.
From his cell he couldn't see the Bureau's main entrance, and when something crashed with violent force against the door for that he was thankful. He couldn't be happier to be stuck where he was, hidden behind a securely locked door. Waits, on the other hand, didn't have any similar benefits afforded to him. He was left out in the open. But unlike Marlow, the man didn't turn coward. The Marshal soiled the leg of his trousers as he wiped his hand clean, wearing a grim look as he rushed to tuck himself away. He pushed away from the desk afterwards, promptly disappearing from view. All Marlow was left with was the sounds of dying, of screams and the blasts of a shotgun, and the computer screen, glowing with an almost eerie light.
Ripley was on her feet, but she stood ensnared underneath the shadow of the creature. It was all too clear what it was doing to her now; every thrust shook her bodily. The sight of the creature driving into her from behind sickened him. It sickened him as his cock, wilted by fear, surged to life. For a moment Marlow forgot himself, leaning forward like a man under a spell as he watched the pronounced curve of Ripley's body jolt to an untimely rhythm. He licked his lips and swallowed. And then he jumped back in fright as something slammed into the porthole window. It was Waits, and Waits was screaming. Except the man's voice was smothered by the pale white creature wrapped around his head.
Colour drained out of Marlow, leaving him ashen as he watched the Marshal claw desperately at his face. The man spun wildly, smacking his hip against the edge of his desk. A hand flew out, searching, reaching for something - anything. But it was already too late. Marlow knew it; he knew it too well. He saw his wife falling to the ground as Waits tripped over his own feet, writhing as she tried to pull that freak of nature off of her. His jaw was set, teeth painfully clenched as Waits' struggles gradually began to subside, a fist beating impotently against the creature's back. It made his stomach roil just to watch. He could barely even begin to imagine what it would be like were he the one -
A terrible, rattling snarl issued from alien jaws and Marlow was struck cold.
He was coiled into a ball underneath the porthole in the next second, sweating profusely. The man's eyes bulged out of his head as he heard the thing's footsteps. Slow and heavy, they drew near to his cell, outside which Marshal Waits gurgled his last breath. He heard the rustle of a long, lethal tail dragging along the floor behind it. His chest pounded as it came to a stop. The monster uttered a low, threatening hiss, and Marlow prayed. He had spent his life a godless man, but he knew of no other way to procure himself a miracle. He was dead otherwise.
The Alien lingered, hissing intermittently as Marlow huddled like a small child up against the door. He dared not move in case it raised its long head to investigate the porthole and saw him scuttling into the furthest corners of the cell. It suddenly occurred to him with that thought that Taylor, one of Ripley's companions who had been brought into the Bureau unconscious and injured, lay resting across the room in the med-bay, with its wide, transparent windows. Marlow promptly forgot her in the next moment; he was no hero. The woman was as good as dead. Perhaps Taylor would luck out and be slaughtered in her sleep. Or perhaps she would end up like Ripley.
Quivering, Marlow remembered the engineer. And he remembered the creature in whose grasp she stood, ruthlessly taken with god knew what manner of organ. The man failed to breathe as it slowly dawned him. It was less a light bulb sparking to life and more cold dread dripping down the shallow crevice of his spine. There was more than one of those things. There was more than one. And then above Marlow's head, the ceiling suddenly rattled.
Just like that, his protective little box became a cage. A black spike punched through the ceiling, tearing a hole into the room. The monster waiting outside it screeched. Marlow screamed as another dropped down into the cell with him.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Behind You