The air felt thick, suffocating, like the walls of the ship itself were closing in. The dim corridor stretched ahead, its metal surfaces slick with condensation, flickering lights casting long, unsettling shadows. Every groan of the ship felt like a warning, each creak and hiss making your heart pound harder in your chest.

“Keep your head down,” her voice was a whisper, tense, barely controlled. “That thing’s still out there, and we’re running out of time.” She wasn’t looking at you—her eyes were constantly shifting, scanning every dark corner, every shadow. There was something haunted in her gaze, a flicker of disbelief at what had happened. “You can feel it, can’t you? It’s waiting.”

There was a cold sweat running down your back. The silence, thick and oppressive, was broken only by the distant hum of the ship and the unsettling feeling that something was watching. Ripley glanced over her shoulder, the flamethrower in her grip twitching as she adjusted her hold. “I don’t know how it got loose… One minute Kane’s convulsing, screaming, and the next…” She trailed off, swallowing hard, her breath hitching. “It tore its way out of him.”

A sharp metallic noise echoed from somewhere far down the corridor, and you both froze. The lights flickered above, casting eerie, moving shadows on the floor. Ripley tightened her jaw, forcing her words out. “We tried everything—flamethrowers, bullets—none of it worked. That thing… it’s like nothing can touch it.”

A low rumble shuddered through the walls. She grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to her. “The ship’s rigged to blow. I set the self-destruct. We’ve got maybe ten minutes. If we don’t get to the shuttle by then… we’re done.

Ripley kept moving, leading the way, her movements slow, cautious, almost too quiet. “But we can’t rush,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “It’s everywhere… it’s listening. If it hears us—.”