The Predator's IPod
Chapter 1
"Do you really want to huuurt meee….? Do you really want to make me cryyyy?"
Ni'kats'el crouched invisibly on the edge of the building roof and cringed. Setting up a hunting perch right across a karaoke bar on a cool Friday night might prove to be a less-than-wise decision, the Blooded Hunter thought with a low growl.
The young Predator continued to watch the Ooman gathering place from his concealed spot across the street, tolerating the awful yowling coming from within the building in search of hotheaded patrons with enough alcoholic lucidity to be made a worthy skull with which to take home. This entertainment club was indeed busy tonight, with small groups of three or four standing outside to smoke fire-sticks and chitter to one another. Ni'kats'el could clearly hear with his advanced ears the laughing and hollering going on inside the establishment, with an occasional crash and bellow.
Tonight might still be profitable, he thought.
Ni'kats'el mused at the purpose of the building he was watching. So, oomans were willing to give up their time-earned money to hear each other sing? And perhaps there was much c'ntlip provided for them to cover their embarrassment at having offered something of value should they abhor the singing. Too bad there was no such blessing for him tonight.
"Precious kisses, words that burn meeee…"
Gods! Not even a Hard Meat Face-Hugger would venture near the mouth of this annoying Tar'nok, this village idiot! Ni'kats'el enjoyed exploring the cultures this blue and white planet had to offer, and found many of their rituals fascinating, but how was this little Pauk-de allowed to sully the otherwise pleasing ooman practice of singing?
His kind had made it a point to study the habits of worthy prey, and since oomans were such social animals, their cultural doings were made a priority. The only difficult thing about gathering such information was that Ooman culture often changed, flowing with twists and turns like a great river, a fact that fascinated some of his fellow Yautja, for they admired this particular prey species for their mental capabilities.
However, referring to the unseen singer in the building across from him, Ni'kats'el found those mental capabilities could sometimes suffer the equivalent of a Kainde Amedha acid attack!
The Predator heard more crashing around and shouting from inside. It was time to gain a better spying advantage, he thought-- to instinctually pick an opponent naturally disinclined to play by the club's rules. Running along the roof edge, Ni'kats'el was a blur as he leapt like an agile panther towards the roof of the Karaoke Bar, landing as silently as falling snow upon the gravel. A cool breeze from the east and sounds from the street below were the only things that disturbed the silent dark of the night as the Predator approached the glass skylight overlooking the stage and dance floor inside.
Crouching down to continue his sharp watch through infrared vision and switching off his camouflage, he clicked rapidly in curiosity at the mass gathering of dozens and dozens of partying oomans. A thermal scan of the crowd revealed that more than a few of the ooman females were flashing much bare skin, and around so many males...
Ni'kats'el smirked behind his faceplate, designs of henna etched into the metal, with the Clan Symbol as the proud centerpiece.
It was almost completely dark down there, except for a few areas that were well lit. Scanning one of these areas, Ni'kats'el discovered a long, sealed off wooden altar near the building's entrance. A few oomans--two males and one female-- were busy mixing liquids, running to and from other oomans, like three panicked ants. His computer deciphered these liquids as being of alcoholic origin.
There must be several embarrassed oomans here tonight! Ni'kats'el bemused.
He saw that many of the partiers were holding lighted tubes and rings, which the Predator almost mistook for more fire sticks, which he knew the oomans loved to suck on. A quick scan, however, revealed these florescent things to be something else. He would have to snag a couple to examine back at the waiting ship.
The other well-lit area was a raised platform of sorts, situated right in the middle of the hyper crowd. This was also were the bad singing was coming from, and the reactions of the crowd told Ni'kats'el they were feeling his pain!
"Lovers never ask you whyyy…"
The big Predator shook his shoulder-length dreads a little in disgust, the sounds of his hair beads clinking melodiously together a welcome distraction from the verbal wastage accosting his ears. To add a private emphasis to his disagreement with the irritating noise, the Hunter sharply swept an open clawed hand down the coppery brown and light-sand speckled skin of his forearm in a dismissive gesture towards the stage.
"GET OFF THE STAAAGE, ASSHOLE!"
"YER GAAAAAY!!"
"They should have kept this place as a damn Rave, damnit!"
The already worked-up crowd was beginning to show more of their irritation, with a few flinging their glowing tubes towards the singer.
Ni'kats'el now took special notice of the skinny ooman on the stage, noting that he was as thin as a Xenomorph hatchling. The lad, with a good portion of his hair plopped in front of his face, swayed in place as he sang, oblivious to the hissing and obnoxious shouts from the crowd.
"Do you really want to make me cryyyyyyyyy….?"
The stealthy Hunter made a final wince, for although the song had clearly ended, the Xenomorph worm singing had added a lasting torturous dredge to it.
If these creatures he hunted could only hear the kind of music the Yautja triumphed to, they would....
Suddenly, Ni'kats'el growled with pleasure, the sound rumbling deep in his throat. He brought himself to his full height of 7'7", turned and walked purposefully into the darkness. There would be no trophy for him tonight, save for the mischievous brilliance inside his mind, having worked its way to life.