A Little Borrowed Influence

Guns.

There are plenty of guns in this town, because this is America, where everyone enjoys the freedom to bear arms.

But there are many kinds of guns: a BB gun is one, a classic AK is another, and an anti-materiel sniper rifle is yet another. For Si Ming at this moment, what he needed was undoubtedly the kind with the most formidable firepower.

A regular gun shop could no longer satisfy his needs. It was hard to say if there were any high-end shooting ranges operating in this town, but he could be certain of one thing: a National Guard armory definitely existed within these borders.

There were armored vehicles.

Armored vehicles mounted with heavy machine guns.

He didn't know the exact specifications; his knowledge of firearms didn't exceed that of an entry-level enthusiast. He only knew that the U.S. military was filled with M2 "Ma Deuce" machine guns that never seemed to run out. At the very least, as a baseline, he could fight while wielding one of those.

"The net weight of an M2, if I recall, is around 40 kilograms? Hmm, does that weight include the ammunition?"

Si Ming thought to himself as he cut off the outer shell of the Xenomorph's head. He casually drained the blood and wiped away the internal fleshy tissue; this piece of polarized silicon looked like a uniquely shaped, oversized gauntlet. Its appearance wouldn't arouse suspicion from ordinary people, and in the first movie, the protagonist had once used it as a shield.

The grip felt decent. The weight and structure were quite suitable for holding. But Si Ming had other plans for it, and he wasn't particularly accustomed to fighting with a shield anyway.

Very well.

His gaze swept across the bridge underpass, now a mess of acid-corroded blood.

There was no more movement nearby; no living things stirred beneath the well shaft. The three objects to which he had attached his Dou Qi beacons were being dragged at high speed through the sewers. Clearly, those three gang thugs acting as bait were about to meet a rather undignified end.

Si Ming shrugged, his attention immediately shifting away from this area. And the moment he stepped out toward the outer streets, the last trace of sunlight at the edge of the firmament vanished behind the horizon.

Night was falling.

Shadows cloaked every corner of the town, only to be slightly repelled by isolated, feeble lamps. If one could look down from a great height, they would discover a certain dark and restless aura surging within the town. People were busy, anxious, arguing with uneasy minds, or burying their heads in their work. Like an anthill before a flood, everyone had a vague premonition that something was about to happen, yet no one knew what they ought to do.

Night had arrived.

A dim veil of Dou Qi spread over Si Ming, masking his tracks. His figure flickered elusively within the shadows. He gave a slight nod to the environment that allowed his abilities to be pushed to their limit.

He reappeared, then stepped into the light beneath a streetlamp.

The journey from the bridge underpass near the hospital to the National Guard station was about five kilometers. Even if one chose to take a taxi, the time required would exceed forty minutes.

Traffic jams were everywhere.

Everywhere there were arguments and shouting. On the streets, people were suddenly brawling, both sides left bloodied. Occasionally, the shrill sound of sirens would ring out, but when the brawlers stopped, they would find that the speeding police cars were merely brushing past them, disappearing into the distant night.

A strange scent floated in the air.

It seemed like blood, yet also like some kind of rot.

It surged out from the sewers and flowed into countless windows and chimneys.

Si Ming revealed his presence.

He appeared outside the National Guard station.

His gaze swept over the surroundings, observing the personnel movements inside the base. Every so often, guardsmen arriving by car or on foot would hurry into the facility, accompanied by the roar of vehicles and machinery.

This was not strange; the National Guard were, after all, America's militia. They were not elite professional soldiers, and they bore responsibilities for maintaining public order, disaster relief, evacuation, and civil rights protection. In this town surrounded by mountains and forests, a string of disappearances and deaths was enough to stir this long-idle group.

After all, this was 2007 America; the grassroots of this country had not yet rotted beyond use. Perhaps they would still follow the original movie script and only officially mobilize after receiving a request for help from the police station after ten o'clock at night. But that did not prevent them from being in a state of alert and preparation before that moment arrived.

So...

His figure began to sway.

Ten seconds of observation were enough for Si Ming to locate the sentries and the security cameras—which were not yet ubiquitous in this era. He slipped lightly and silently into the night, his feet exerting force as he vaulted over the middle of the outer wall, a spot the sentries could not and would not watch. No one would believe that someone could scale a four-meter-high wall topped with electrified barbed wire without tools, but for him, it was easily accomplished.

His toes touched the ground.

Someone was walking in this direction nearby.

His senses extended sharply in all directions, and in an instant, Si Ming shifted behind a pillar.

Several men who looked like officers passed by quickly, their footsteps rapid and their speech hurried.

"Something isn't right tonight. Get everyone ready. Call back all the boys on leave; we might have to take action soon..."

The man giving the orders was reflected in Si Ming's eyes.

Si Ming noted his appearance and his destination. But now was not the time to make contact. He simply left without a sound after the officers passed, weaving through the well-fortified military base.

The Night Dou Qi wrapped around him, concealing his aura and silhouette.

A few guard dogs with exceptionally keen senses lifted their heads and whined, but naturally, they found nothing.

Si Ming bypassed them—he even patted one of the guard dogs on the head. The startled animal barked vigilantly, which actually drew the attention of many soldiers nearby.

The effect was good.

Their attention was diverted, which in turn cleared a path for Si Ming. And the road leading to the armory was thus clearly revealed to his eyes.

Very well.

Captain Anderson suddenly shivered, a strange sensation passing through his entire body like an electric shock. He stood up from his chair instinctively, his gaze sweeping over his empty office before looking out the window—the night was dark, and an oppressive aura lingered in the air. He knew this was high atmospheric pressure, and it meant a downpour would soon arrive.

This was not good. This rain had come at the worst possible time.

He still remembered the missing persons case that had caused such an uproar in town—a father and son pair of hunters had vanished, and a stray dog had dragged back a severed hand still wearing a wristwatch. Yet, another detail unknown to the public was that during last night's search and rescue operation, a lone police officer had been killed, skinned, and hung upside down from a large tree.

This implied a single murderer, or perhaps a group of them, with cruel methods—and a sudden, torrential downpour would likely provide the perfect cover for them to strike again.

"I hope those cops can actually be of some use..."

He turned around.

The moment he turned, Anderson's right hand instinctively moved to the holster at his waist—the door, which had been closed, was now slightly ajar, and a stranger shrouded in shadow, whose features remained obscured even under the light, was sitting in the guest chair.

"Relax, Captain." He spoke in a language that didn't sound like English, yet the Captain understood every word. A faint stinging sensation pricked his fingers as they neared the holster; despite not being attacked, he saw a thin line of blood slowly manifesting across the back of his hand!

Is it... some kind of assassination tool like a wire?

"...Who are you, and what do you want?" He instinctively raised his voice.

"This town is about to be destroyed. Something... you could consider a runaway biological weapon has arrived here, and they will soon unleash a massacre. They move with speed, their reflexes surpassing those of a cheetah. Their defenses are tough, with carapaces strong enough to withstand close-range fire from small-caliber bullets. Their intelligence is comparable to that of a ten-year-old child, and most crucially, they use humans as hosts to expand their population, and they reproduce very rapidly."

A sketch appeared on the desk out of nowhere. The dark, monstrous creature, filled with streamlined structures and curved arcs like an upright giant serpent, made Anderson's heart tremble—it was as if some evil force had been gathered and manifested. Even just looking at its form, his back tightened and his blood surged, much like a threatened feline.

"...What on earth are you talking about? What biological weapon?" He already believed him by fifty percent. He knew just how obsessed the American upper echelons were with biological research.

"The truth." The stranger replied calmly. "These monsters' bodies are filled with highly toxic, acidic blood. They can easily dissolve concrete, metal, and flesh. Do not attempt to fight them in confined spaces."

A limb appeared in his hand; the pitch-black, thick appendage clearly did not look like a product of nature. Green sludge remained on the severed end, and with a light swipe, the Captain's desk was sliced, a clean corner falling away amidst a plume of smoke from the acid corrosion.

The Captain gasped. The severed limb, resembling a finger bone, was left on the desk. Now, he believed him by over seventy percent.

"But they have weaknesses. Among them exists a massive Queen. And the Queen's nesting ground should be at..."

The stranger tilted his head, seemingly sensing or calculating something.

"Taking the orientation of this desk as zero, it is at the ten-twenty-five position, two thousand four hundred meters underground. And the moment you attack that location, every Xenomorph in this town will be provoked into action."

He said, then stood up.

"If you still don't believe me, contact the highest-ranking superior you can reach. Ask him about the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, ask him about the pyramid beneath the Antarctic. Ask him where the renowned explorer Lex Woods is right now. Then, you will obtain far more intelligence than what I have told you."

The Captain suddenly asked.

"That police officer, was he killed by you?"

"Sharp, but that was not me." The stranger, about to depart, seemed to smile. "That was another powerful hunter. Perhaps you will have to contend with it as well—try your best, Captain. Even if you don't intend to save this town, at the very least, you should consider what fate awaits you and those who fail to evacuate once these biological weapons spiral completely out of control."

The darkness suddenly exploded, shielding the eyes of the Captain, who had assumed a defensive stance.

And when his vision cleared once more, a large, curved shell fragment, riddled with indentations and holes in the center, was rocking slightly on the floor before him.

"Also, use armor-piercing shotgun shells or 12.7mm machine gun ammunition; those are most effective."