And then, the writer began to write on the movies script. that he had stolen. No other thing would have worked because it was now this that held the stories of Aliens. He had to admit tht it was easy to take them from the guys that owned them. Sure, he was not dead, only a little bit knocked off. But now, the writer stopped thinking about that and continued to write the thing that would bring fame and glory finnaly to him...
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The meeting was now ended. Scientist began to return to their lab to experiment on weapons that would permit them to fight the xenomorph properly and generals began devising strategies to clear effectively the alien threat. And Sigourney Weaver?
She was tired, she had enough of those idiots that were thinking she was Ripley. Oh yes, at the beggining this was fun, but now... she was beggining to doubt that she would succeed.
-Oh my god, she sighted, i'm tired. Those weirdos are really beggining to annoy me.
But, at this moment, the nameless author began to write. So as he fininshed the sentenc that would make Weaver to become Ripley, Sigourney began to feel ill.
-Oh shit, did she said, look like i've got an headache.
Then it is at that time that she saw her hands. And the nails on her hands. Black, pointy claw-like nail. And then, her headaches got stronger and memory she never had began to flow to her mind.
The memory of someone she was and was'nt.
Those of Ripley. Or to be more specific, those of Ripley 8.
And seeming stranger to her, she still recalled being Sigourney Weaver. But now she was Ripley also...