click
I stared into the eyes of the being before me. There was no hint of malice in them. There was no intelligence either.
clack
Its antennae twirled wildly. It had to discern what I was before taking action, all while making its sounds in what we might call an unknown dialect. It had no meaning, likely.
Click click
Time seemed slow for me. How many had died because of these corrupted beings?
Clack Click
It started to realize who I was. Another species. What I was to my people it didn't even know. All it knew was that I was not of its kin, not of its hive. In other words, an enemy.
Clack
I could swear it would be salivating if it was possible within its biology to do so. Another easy meal for its queen, it would think, if possible. I doubt there were medals or scraps of cloth to decorate members in its society. He was not rewarded for helping his conclave. It did it because that was what was done. It had no feelings for its actions. It just did.
CLICK
I wasn't an unarmed civilian though. I was a fighter. I have killed. I have a weapon. I would not lose to a mindless monster. People depended on my winning. If I died, so would others. Not now, maybe, with the rest of the militia behind me. But there would be more danger.
CLACK SNAP
I returned to the world at large. It came now. No plan. It would strike as best it could, as fast as possible, inflict damage like an enraged bull, no thought to its movement. It's first strike would be a desperate bite, like everything it could throw. A desperate strike for anything, anything, anything it could it gets twisted form to hit. This meant an easy dodge. To the left, of course. My favorite direction.
And I did. It missed by feet. I punched its mandible, glistening sharp for its deadly task. It was broken in two, a jagged edge left behind. If it survived, its eating would be severely impaired.
CLACK!
It let out a confused chittering, turned into enraged clicking and clacking and snapping. It had never been hit by a fighter before. Unfortunately for it, it would never hit one either. I brought my iron shamshir into its abdomen.
CRRR-ACK!
It was dead. Sliced in two. 3 strikes had been thrown. I was 2 of them. It left behind a sickly green ichor, which I wiped on the cavern moss at my feet. The fight was over. The threat, eliminated.

Author's Note

Here's the first chapter of DashedOwl. Yes, you will figure what's going on. Not yet, though. Most chapters will focus on different characters. Who this is? You'll find that out too. Have fun.