This map is designed in such a way, that whilst entering it I felt so exotic, like that elusive, something, that I always longed. Some adventure, even a surprise or two. Now on my way out, it is proving to be the most difficult level to move around in. It is almost a dead end situation. I’m in tears now. How will we get out of this level. It is a nightmare, It was built for the destruction, now I know. God save us.

I’m not getting out of this one. I’ve tried it so many times. It is too hard too long for me to traverse. The alternate way has power, feels better, safer. The direct way is ablaze and does not have any good hiding points. Dying here feels good. The Alien is on about something. It is very agitated very violent. I should not be able to escape this part for some reason.

So far we’ve been doing lot of stuff geographically. Bound by here and the West. Most of the alien wahems originated from these set of nations and my native. The house and Sir. We are clear of these artifacts. After a decade maybe, I’ll see them as relics of this blog. Now going ahead let’s do more local artifacts in my purview, people in which the alien wahem showed interest in. Rest of the times it should continue with games.

This episode is getting more and more frightening chilling, entertainment value, soaring, nothing can beat isolation now. What will we do when it is over? I’ve manged to get down to the main lobby, it is a U shaped really long office area. I have to get to the other end. The Alien is loose there, and the direct route is filled with power lines cut and ablaze. So I must traverse an alternate path, through air ducts and other office areas that have power and are well lit. I’ve run into the Alien once during my exit plan through alternative routes. The Alien kills, and running into one, means sure death.

What is time? It is synchrony, it is relativity, a conflict, an entanglement. The number of bruses, scars, the amount of pain in my body, my conscience, my soul. The Grey in my hair. My skin shriveled, and dry. Inabilities and nightmares. Cause. My wahem, my alien. My God, my faith, my Religion. Prayers. God Bless.

All this is like poetry. How we write short stories, episodes. Then turn it into battleLog. That’s when it looks pretty, or something. Like a real post. I’ll try to bring in more influences from 19th-20th Century poets and authors. Science fiction is all about Dickens, Frost, Elliot and Keats. Considering my readers are either marines or zombies, their is not much to differentiate with. Writing about accounts true to life ones. specially, those happening in real time, are pretty high end stuff, that people enjoy here. I’m a marine, I have to give them logic, politics, and science, to go with all that. Some agent that brings the change, cause of the eventuality. It is only about the eventuality, like the Red Queen, all these protagonists, must learn about Skynet, UAC, Weyland Yutami, Umbrella, and maybe even Star Trek. Then when all this is even, between the two, then we can watch Star Wars. It will all come out as fantasy, of all times. The saga of life, without the anti-hero is not withstanding. So we build our own monsters. Put them in cage. Later they come out as heros, and we get to be bad guys. Remember Narus is all emcompassing, no exceptions to that, otherwise, you are Narus. You make the rules, you be the judge. Being true to its calling. It will come for you, as Narus incarnate. Until then live the life of a hero, being tormented by a villain.

That’s what we’ll call it. Yes. That’s the new subsidiary that we were looking for. It’s the new buzz word, the new hashtag, so on so forth. Everyone should tune into it, work on it’s programming, then come here, with it. Did you know, you could kill it, and it would come back on it’s own. It’s indestructible. It dies on it’s own.

It’s wahem, it’s lure, that elusive, can’t have, longing, that drives us, that binds us. We must bring it back to life, even in death, it lives on, somewhere, in some form, wanting to come back to us. Then again, the hunt begins. Do we bring it back, or leave him their like a curse, a warning, for people who get lured by its wahem. It wants to be born again.

I’m the marine now, tell me what to do. This place is going down, the UAC Mars base. The hell creatures, now dubbed as XX121 are crawling all over this place. You must survive, through some alien technology. Rest is the same. This should integrate well into Alien movies. The hell dimension has materialized itself as the Alien species, XX121 here on Sevatapol. But earth is over now, we’re in deep space, that’s all. Don’t go back home, nothing remains in that home solar system.

Everybody is dead, inside the Sevatapol space station. I’m the only survivor now. Will I be able to make my way out of here. The Alien, will it let me go. What’s keeping it from killing me too. I don’t know but I’m scared, too lonely in here. I’m watching everything do down in flames. Soon the station will crash too. The horror of being on board, how did I get here. Samuel’s and Taylor are dead too. I don’t know what to do, comms are up, that’s all Torrens should be on approach.