Finger on the button Zetan blasters use as a trigger, reticule trained on the hairless ape that would soon join the others in the trash heap, and, “Blam!!” the visceral light which bathed the room fading with the sudden appearance of deafening combustion, the senses of sight and hearing momentarily rendered irrelevant in favor of chaotic imposition. Thinks he’s clever this one, but all rats are the same. Seeking out the darkened corners and using distraction to cover their panicked scurrying from the hunter. For an instant Noxx juggled with the idea of simply firing blind, how far could the monkey move in a mere moment, but, no, there was no need. Let the Earthling hide in the shadows from the monster in the dark. Casually sauntering a few feet over to the nearest row of slot machines from the double doors the Zetan had entered the room through taking advantage of the same distraction as the human no doubt had, Noxx didn’t even crouch or attempt to hide in any more notable way than to take what cover was offered to chest and legs by the standing metallic coin eaters, at least a foot of height left uncovered and peering out from behind the machines. 

Why bother? There was no light in the room, nothing to cause the silhouette of the Zetan’s shoulders, neck and head to appear to be anything more than a simple part of the matching row of machines behind the one being used as cover and, perhaps more importantly, camouflage. The blaster was being held just below the peak height of the machine in front of the Zetan presumably out of sight of anyone facing the machines from the opposite direction, being chrome in finish it could theoretically provide enough of a visual signature to give Noxx away though, of course slot machines are also largely chrome and it may simply be overly cautious on the part of the alien, waiting one more moment for the human to turn on a flashlight or start shooting indiscriminately. No? Hide and seek, then? There was an overturned machine in the middle of the twenty foot or so long row of slots Noxx had taken cover in moving away from the doors from which the Zetan had entered, could probably take advantage of it. Convince the human that his pursuer was in this first row, slip over the machine to the row behind it, loop around and move to the poker tables. 

It was certainly out of the way, and a misstep on some glass from a shattered beer bottle or broken-in overhead light pane could cause some awkward situations, but the human would have reason to think that the Zetan couldn’t get there without first walking out of the row toward where the body parts had been and, presumably, near to where the human still was. That is, unless he had noted the layout of the machines and tables closely enough to know that one in this row had been tipped over. How observant a hunter this glorified monkey happened to be could make a considerable difference. “Clack, clack, clack,” Noxx tapped on the hard plastic of the machine directly in front of the Zetan using the toe of the heels the alien happened to be wearing in an effort to simulate the sound of knocking without happening to have any wood around, never dropping gaze or the blaster an inch while looking for just where the trash had managed to get off to. “Housekeeping,” the voice the human would hear was nasally, in a register neither feminine nor masculine, toneless, emotionless, and altogether wrong, like something a cheap voice modulator might produce, near robotic, occasionally static sounding, almost inhuman.