Bruce limped over to the thing’s remains, trying his best not to collapse over what was left of his right leg. The shotgun acted as a make-shift crutch. He felt no pain, probably due to the euphoric rush from the lack of oxygen in his blood stream. And a lack of blood, most of it now staining his clothes. Of course, he was also feeling pretty good about bringing down the thing.

He finally reached the corpse and began to scale its ten stories. Twelve minutes later he approached what he believed was the thing’s eye. Bruce smiled at his reflection in the large milky white sphere. He then hawked up a bloody gob of spit right into it.

The eye blinked.

Bruce yelped and landed hard on his back. He felt the pain now. His skin, flesh, and bone afire. Yet he thrashed through it, readying his gun for the battle. He sat up, screaming a battle cry, aiming at the eye.

The eye simply stared at him.

It blinked another couple of times, Bruce’s fingers tightening on the trigger each time. But nothing came of it. The face-off continued.

After a minute, Bruce grunted and began to slide along the thing’s clamy hide. The eye was following him, he was sure. It was hard to tell without a pupil, but Bruce was still sure.

Closer now, the shotgun now hovered only inches from the orb. The stand-off resumed again. Another silent minute passed, punctuated with a blink, and then Bruce lowered the gun. He began to giggle. And laugh. And have a coughing fit, but while still laughing.

“Ha!” he yelled triumphantly. “HA!!! Got you, you gargantuan piece of shit!!! Who the hell did you think you were?!?!”

“I AM VOLON!!!”

Bruce collapsed once more. He looked about in panic. That voice. Loud, impossibly loud. It had been everywhere yet came from nowhere. Panting, Bruce fought with himself. The thing was dead, or well on it’s way, of that Bruce was certain. No need to hear that voice again. No need. Except a silent voice within said it had to be done. A combat as epic as theirs had been, he had to know it all.

Bruce whispered: “What the fuck’s a Volon?”

“I AM,” came the response. Loud. But not as much.

“WE WERE … BORN … WITH THE FIRST SUNS! ALONE IN THE NEW, COLD LIGHT! IN … SILENCE! FOR CENTURIES WE REMAINED, STILL, UNMOVING… HAPPY!

“UNTIL YOU CAME!

“IMPOSSIBLE!!! LIFE AGAIN IN THE UNIVERSE!!! INTELLIGENT LIFE, AND NEARBY!!! BUT NOTHING LIKE US!!! NOT … BEAUTIFUL … LIKE US!!! NOT STILL!!! AND WITH NO SENSE OF … BEAUTY!!! THE … BEAUTY … OF THE UNIVERSE!!! FILLED IT WITH YOUR … NOISE … YOUR RADIO, YOUR TELEVISION, YOUR … SHIT!!!

“WHAT WERE WE TO DO!!! NOTHING!!! OUR WAY WAS TO BE STILL … NOT LIKE YOU … STILL!!! WE … SAT THERE, AND … ROTTED …IN YOUR NOISE!!! ALIEN SOUNDS, VISIONS … POISON TO US!!!

“THE OTHERS!!! THEY WERE LUCKY!!! TV KILLED THEM!!! NOT ME!!!

“IT DROVE ME INSANE INSTEAD!!!

“I THOUGHT THE UNTHINAKBLE!!! I … DECIDED… NOT … TO BE STILL!!!

“I MOVED!!! I CAME TO END IT, AS IT ENDED MY PEOPLE!!! FIND ITS SOURCE!!!

“MONKEYS!!! DIRTY MONKEYS!!! KILL YOU!!!

“BUT A DIRTY MONKEY HAS STOPPED ME!!!

“THE LAST VOLON!!!”

The boom of the last lament faded around Bruce. He stared grimly at the eye. The thing, the Volon, looked back.

“HOW?!?!” it asked.

“Easy,” said Bruce. He raised the shotgun again. It wouldn’t miss. “Like this.”

Bruce fired.