The sound of a hundred legs scuffling in the dark followed by bloodthirsty shrieks and clicking sounds sent chills down Thorne's spine as he stood and held his rifle, aiming at the distance. The faint light from the street lamp wasn't potent enough to illuminate the incoming horde just yet, and he strained his eyes to make out a target, droplets of sweat rolling down from his forehead. He looked at his brothers-in-arms with a quick glance, as they similarly held their position, aiming and not moving an inch, not making a sound.
He focused his eyes into the darkness again as one of them emerged, first moving slowly, then seamlessly changing pace into a horrifying gallop. Others quickly followed. Dozens of the beasts frantically charging at his position, he placed his finger on the trigger and took a deep breath.
"Open fire!" - He shouted at the top of his lungs as he squeezed the trigger, firing in short bursts at the moving targets. The marines quickly followed, opening fire almost in unison, the sound of piercing lasers and deafening gunfire drowning out all other sounds.
The creatures, though bathed in a barrage of bullets and energy bolts, advanced on their position with unshakable fervor, unfazed by the occasional casualty on their side. Thorne watched in horror as the creatures closed in, one breaking through the barricade in a head on kamikaze-like assault, quickly mowed down by the concentrated fire of the panicked marines, but for naught.
A few of the creatures used the opening to pour through, while others simply scaled the rudimentary barricades of crates and barbed wire. Thorne slowly retreated backward towards the cliff face but continued sustained burst fire.
Though the occasional beast was felled, the creatures dished out more punishment than they took, the marines getting torn apart, one by one, their screams filtering through the now waning gunfire. Advancing on one of the last men standing, the creatures seemed to take their time, and prowl on the unarmed victim that dropped its gun in the heat of battle. The marine hyperventilated as he retreated backward and searched his belt in a panicked manner.
Thorne's magazine was empty, and he had backed up as far as he could go, his back now brushing against the bare cliff face. He threw his now useless gun at his feet and desperately looked around for any form of salvation, as he unsheathed his combat knife from his belt. A quick succession of beeping sounds drew his attention, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the distinctive red light blinking, the arming of a frag grenade
He first looked at the surrounded marine holding the grenade up, then quickly looked away and ducked to brace himself, the roaring blast interrupting him in mid-duck and throwing him into the cliff face.
