Rating: M for violence/gore, strong language, adult themes and more. Read at your own discretion.
Summary: Royce once promised Isabelle he'd find them a way home… but nine months later, he's holding his infant daughter, tears staining his cheeks. He's determined to protect her no matter what but things take an interesting turn when the Yautja learn there's an Ooman pup on the loose.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Predators/Aliens universe, all rights belong to Fox and all the respective parties. (If I owned anything, the new 2018 Predator movie would be radically different)
Additional Notes: While, I am mainly following the Predators movie (and the other AVP movies) for this fic, I am keeping the comics in mind as well. However, the comic concerning Royce and the four-armed Yautja isn't going to be followed and instead, I'm making up my own plot (so for all intents and purposes, that particular comic never/hasn't happened yet).
Also, keep in mind this story is unbetaed and while I preview and edit everything to the best of my abilities, I cannot possibly account for everything. This is also my first fanfic, so go easy on me! :)
In the ruins of the Predator camp, sat two lonely and forlorn figures side by side.
The man, covered in grime and grit, held a woman securely to his chest as if he was afraid she'd disappear at any moment. The woman, wounded and exhausted, was slumped against him; her almond brown eyes dim and unresponsive.
Yet an ominous rumble in the distance caught both human's attention and the man slowly raised his head to glare up at the sky.
Rising with his companion, he took note of the parachutes floating down from the sky, his eyes dark with enmity. While scanning the horizon, his companion, who clasped her wound tightly, was counting the number of parachutes with a growing tendril of hope. To her, the new arrivals meant new possibilities and possibilities meant a bigger chance of escape.
The man however only eyed the newcomers with caution and hostility. The eleven parachutes merely meant more trouble to him and he already had one liability clinging to him; he didn't need anymore meddling and potentially compromising walking and talking problems. Still, as he had learned, bigger numbers were useful for somethings.
Mind made up, he drew the woman closer and felt his resolve strengthen. '' Now...,'' he began, his companion glancing up at him,'' Let's get off this fucking planet.''
Thus the two battle weary and bedraggled humans trudged into the thick jungle undergrowth; their shadows growing with every step.
Seven Months Later...
'' On your six!''
Royce spun around just in time to intercept a huge and ferocious beast lunging from the bushes. Dodging the beast's snapping jaws, he whirled around gun spitting bullets as he tracked the beast all the way to the forest floor. Blood gushed from the bullet wounds as the alien hound roared in both pain and fury.
He had already killed six of these things this morning and this last one was getting on his nerves. It seemed to be the alpha of the latest pack dumped on Hell, as he and the others had begun to call the planet they were stuck on.
This alpha was the largest of the horned hounds that he'd fought and was taking more bullets that he cared to shell out. Conserving ammo was always high on his priority list and this thing was pissing him off to a fine degree.
Shaking itself, the beast crept towards him intent on mauling Royce despite its grievous wounds. Scowling, Royce dropped his SMG and unclipped his Bowie knife, raising it defensively in front of him.
Considering his new choice of weapon, the hound carefully inched forward, favoring caution now rather than wild savagery.
Smart son of a bitch, the former black ops soldier mused grimly as he and the hellhound circled each other.
Tossing its head impatiently, the beast finally lept at him, claws poised to rip into him but Royce was faster. Sidestepping quickly past the hurdling beast, he swung his knife down in an elegant arch, slicing through the rough hide of the beast, neatly decapitating it.
A breath of relief escaped him as he wiped his knife off on his pant leg and crouched to examine the hound.
Suddenly, a shrill whistle of admiration cut through the air and Royce's face instinctively twisted into a hostile snarl. Spinning around, he punched the whistling moron in the face. '' Again, I have to tell you to shut up,'' he growled quietly, focusing on one of the newest editions to the group.
In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't be so harsh. Isabelle wouldn't approve but then again, she hardly approved of anything he did as of late.
'' I'm sorry, s-sir... I just- that was so cool and I-I-'' Royce wanted to punch the kid again. Did he ever shut up?!
The ''kid'' was named Romnie Newburgh and he had claimed to be serving in the Queen's Guard before getting snatched by their glorified keepers. Whether that audacious claim was true or not remained to be seen as Royce had yet to see in any real meddle in the boy.
All he saw was a freckled Irish kid with a brilliant shock of ginger hair and a mouth big enough to fit his motherland in. And he was utterly useless in terms of survival to boot.
'' Look kid, I don't care if you see fucking Superman out here... you keep your damn trap shut, understand?'' Royce warned him with a seething glare that promised an ass-whopping if the kid did otherwise.
Nodding hastily with a muffled,'' Yes, sir'' Royce rolled his eyes and turned back around.
'' Good, now go get two of the other hounds and we'll start back,'' Royce ordered sternly before beginning the arduous task of dressing the dead alpha beast at his feet.
Since he had yet to find another way off Hell, Royce had begun to adapt to his new lifestyle. First came finding a new hideout and then finding a way to keep him, Isabelle and every other newcomer fed and healthy.
Thankfully, the hellhounds the Predators released every cycle provided ample prey and occasionally fish were caught from the local streams and rivers. The new recruits that were brought in never had any rations on them so teaching them how to hunt the hounds had been a demanding task.
And keeping the Predators off their scent was another problem altogether. The hunters were smart and were constantly trying to track and hunt them. Which is why Royce's current hideout was located several long miles away from their usual hunting grounds. After several failed camps later, he had finally found the one place the Predators were reluctant to go.
The Mountains.
As it seemed, the almost indestructible and resilient species hated the cold. And although they had the advantage of thermal vision, they seemed to avoid the alps in which Royce had made a home in.
However, despite the protection the ice and sleet offered against the normally dauntless hunters, the mountains were, of course, a hazard to humans as well. Keeping warm was always a challenge and Royce had seen many in his group slip and fall to their deaths from the icy slopes, lose fingers and toes to frostbite and catch their deaths from vicious colds.
However, it was currently the only deterrent against the Predators that Royce had found. So it would have to do for now.
Loading up a sled full of dressed hound carcasses, Royce and Romnie prepared to head back.
Since the sleds provided their hunters a well-marked trail to follow, Royce and Romnie were forced to take detour after detour and carry the meat most of the time. Sleds were positioned strategically a half mile apart and were only to be used if absolutely necessary.
While walking with several pounds of meat tied across their backs made just about anyone exhausted, Royce had long since gotten used to it. He found it to be good exercise which kept his physique in top condition and of course, a good way to get all newcomers into top shape as well.
Most of the new drops consisted of overly beefed up and testosterone-fueled jackasses that couldn't outwit a Predator if their life depended on it... which it did. And after learning his lesson several times, Royce had resolved to leave most of the newcomers alone until they proved to be worth the trouble of saving and dragging back to his hideout.
Unlike Noland, he didn't lure the recruits back to his hideout just to sell them out; Royce simply helped them if he saw potential. Someone with hunting skills, someone that could construct traps, someone with medical training... the list went on.
The kid behind him, however, had been one of Isabelle's recruits.
Despite Royce's orders, she had strayed from the safety of the mountains to gather edible roots and plants and had nearly gotten herself killed. He'd been about to send a group out looking for her when Romnie showed up supporting the limping sniper.
Apparently, the Irish kid had shot down a Predator as it was just about to kill Isabelle who had been cornered. There was no proof aside from the kid and Isabelle's word and at the time Isabelle's word had been enough for him to accept the ginger into his group.
But now... he was seriously considering abandoning Romnie somewhere where he knew the kid wouldn't come back from. The boy was obnoxiously loud, had no survival skills to speak of and had pissed off half his men on his first week with them. And just a couple of cycles ago, he had gotten bitten by a hound for underestimating it.
And Isabelle insisted Royce babysit him.
Just my fucking luck, Royce thought irritably as he cast a look back to check up on the kid. The ginger was trailing glumly behind him but seemed to be watching his footing and keeping silent like Royce had ordered.
Snorting, Royce turned his attention back to the journey ahead.
It had been a challenge but Royce had found a suitable place in the alps to settle down. A series of linked caves had been located along a steep and perilous shelf which had provided a breaker from the howling wind and shelter.
Getting there was a feat in itself but after making the journey for months, Royce considered himself mountaineer material now.
'' Boss!'' came the sudden call from the blizzard that surrounded them.
Royce halted, scanning the thick snow for shapes before making out three human-sized shadows making their way towards him.
Waving at them, Royce waited until the three caught up with them and was pleased to find three of his best hunters with packs full of meat slung over their shoulders.
'' Huntings been good today,'' came the casual greeting from Todd Thomas, a retired Navy Seal who acted more or less like everyone's father-figure. Royce would have made the old man his second but unfortunately, he couldn't trust him to make the necessary sacrifices if the group ever became compromised. The man reminded him too much of Nikolai and look where the Russian's selfless behavior had gotten him...
'' No sign of those scaley bastards either,'' chimed Saveli, a Ukrainian Black ops soldier, a man Royce trusted about as far as he could throw him. Nonetheless, the shifty man had established himself as an asset to the group and an excellent hunter. Royce just didn't trust the way he acted; quick to flatter and obey orders but sneaking around when no one was watching.
'' I see the rookie's still alive,'' Todd commented with a nod of acknowledgment in Romnie's direction. The said Irishman perked up at the brief recognition and Royce suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. The kid was far too attached to the Seal for anyone's good health.
'' Boss, we met French team on hunt and they said they go inland, not listen to your orders,'' came the annoyed and heavily accented voice of Hashim who was, as usual, glaring at everyone. While he spoke little English and refused to tell them his background story, everyone suspected Al-Qaeda origins. However, the Middle-Eastern had made himself useful and so far, trustworthy. Aside from Royce, Carter and Romnie, he was one of the only guys in his group that had taken down a Predator on his own. And Royce had actually seen this takedown too.
'' Yeah, the damn French bastard even shot at his own team when they tried to ditch him,'' Saveli stated with a dark scowl and Royce was internally grateful the black ops soldier hated Mark as much as he did.
Mark, ever the proud French officer, had made himself a problem from day one and was currently competing with Romnie for the position of most problematic.
'' I'll get Carter positioned on the bridge to dispatch him if he makes it back, can't have this shit anymore. He's gonna lead the hunters straight here one of these days,'' Royce grunted as the rest of his men nodded in agreement.
Only Todd looked put off by Royce's blatant apathy but he didn't care. He knew the old man cared for every one of his men but that was why Carter was second in command and he wasn't. It wasn't a matter of skill but who Royce could trust to get shit done.
'' Come on, we need to get back before dusk,'' Royce added and a collective '' Yes, sir'' arose from the group.
An hour later, the five of them had finally arrived back home with their goods and the sentries congratulated them on their successful hunts.
A twenty-four-hour rotating guard had been set up to monitor the narrow shelf and hidden scouts had been positioned on ridges with rifles and flares. Every man and woman was armed to the teeth and Royce made sure each one was willing to give their life to keep their home safe and undiscovered. However, if someone got compromised, the soldier was to lead the Predator away from the camp at all costs. Never were you to return if followed or chased by a hunter until you had killed your pursuer or were 100% sure you eluded them. Even then you were to wait several days before attempting the journey back home.
Of course, there had been the desperate few that had attempted it despite his instruction and that's why Carter was around.
The merc was one of the only reasons the Predators hadn't discovered their current abode yet. And while people like Isabelle and Todd disapproved of Carter's actions, Royce found the sniper invaluable despite his grey morals. They couldn't take any chances and Carter understood that.
And speaking of him, the Hispanic man came to greet them at the entrance, nodding respectfully to Royce.
While his men ventured further into the caves, Royce hung back with Carter, a much-needed discussion brewing.
'' Mark's group went further inland than whats safe and I'm worried about the lack of Predator activity. Their up to something and that French motherfucker is gonna lead them straight here,'' Royce explained quietly, so the sentries couldn't overhear his words.
Carter simply nodded, as he shifted his .50 cal rifle on his shoulder. '' Sí, señor. Hay algo mas?''
Royce shook his head and said,'' After the last team, Mark's aside, comes back, no one else goes out. Same as usual.''
With another nod from his second, Royce left him to his orders.
When word got around to Isabelle about Mark's team's elimination, she'd probably give him one of those infamous disappointed looks of hers and forgo speaking to him for weeks. She never did forgive him for Kelly's death...
Shaking his head, he refused to think about that particular event and instead focused himself on checking up on everybody.
Every single person here had a purpose. Whether it was to cook, guard, hunt or create; everyone had a job they were expected to perform to the best of their abilities.
Even cripples or the those that had sustained injuries that prevented hunting or fighting, had a purpose. They could use their hands or keep guard. There was no wastefulness or incompetence... except in Romnie and Mark's cases. Though Romnie still had a chance to prove himself.
The busiest and most secure part of the caves was nicknamed the Davenport. It was the largest section of the cave, ranging about 1.44 million square feet with that towered 260 feet from the ceiling to the ground. It made a perfect gathering place for everyone and it was where everyone slept, ate and trained. It housed close to thirty men and women from around the world and Royce was in charge of every single one of them.
The Predators, however intelligent the massive aliens were, seemed not to mind the amassing number of humans. They still kidnapped all sorts of dangerous folk from each of the seven continents and dumped them on their hellish hunting reserve. And through the months, he had gathered quite a following with Isabelle's help.
While he hadn't been here for years like Noland, he had already made this place and its people his own and put every effort into making it the perfect place to call home. While Davenport couldn't beat a nice and comfy picket fence house in the 'burbs or the typical American dream home, it was comfortable enough to where Royce was 90% certain everyone else was as attached to this place as he was.
He hadn't meant to get attached to the caves and for the first few months on Hell, he had tried telling himself that it was only temporary. They'd eventually find their way off this god-forgotten planet and go home, back to Earth.
And then Isabelle had sprung life-changing news on him and he'd been forced to consider long-term plans instead.
To be honest, he should have seen this coming but in his defense, he'd been too busy evading the Predators and trying to keep everyone alive to notice. And it wasn't like he and Isabelle had been very careful about it either. After all, on Hell... any moment could have been their last.
Of course, that was the general excuse for most crimes on Hell. As it seemed, some idiots got in there head that just because they were on Death's doorstep, killing fellow humans, raping them and stealing their shit was suddenly okay. So after a shit-ton of transgressions, Royce had assembled Davenport together and stressed that if someone felt the need to blacken their karma, they do so knowing that if caught, Carter would throw them off the shelf.
Isabelle had argued that he should just kick transgressors out but Royce had argued back that the criminals were potential liabilities and couldn't be trusted not to lead the Predators back to them out of sheer stupidity or revenge. So the message was spread that if you broke the rules, you were thrown off a two-thousand-foot drop. It kept everyone in line to a certain degree but Royce still had to install sentries to help keep all the under-the-table crap to a minimum.
And thank God, those scaley assholes don't let anyone drop down with drugs and shit or this whole place would be high as a fucking kite, he thought, grateful towards the Predators for something.
Just then a round of high-pitched feminine shouting caught his attention and Royce had to suppress a groan. Seems someone had provoked her wrath yet again but in Isabelle's defense, in her condition, anything was liable to set her off.
'' How many times do I have to tell you to keep your mouth shut and follow orders, you imbecile!'' Came the shrill and irritant screech of his wife as he made his way to the source of the commotion.
Isabelle had cornered Romnie in the bunk area and was brandishing a grass-stuffed pillow at him, dressed in a long hide dress.
Well this is a surprise, Royce thought with a small smirk as he hung back and watched the sniper chew the young Irishman out.
Though Royce would never tell Isabelle to her face, he found her little tirades cute at times, especially since she was normally a level-headed person. While she hated how emotional she had become and cursed her condition to the moons and back, they were both aptly awaiting her due date.
Yet Royce wasn't sure about having a mini-him and Isabelle running around and being wholly liable for the upbringing of it. Isabelle, however, felt confident he was up to the task. While he didn't know what she saw in him in the ways of parental skills, it was encouraging to know she had faith in him even if he didn't himself.
And speaking of problems, he'd better rescue Romnie from the red-faced woman or he'd have a moping Irish kid on his hands the next day.
'' Belle,'' he called softly, watching the dark-haired woman spin around at the mention of her nickname,'' Why don't you leave the chewing out to me, kay?''
Isabelle just frowned at him and slung the pillow on a straw bed with an annoyed huff. '' Fine but I'm not done with him by a long shot,'' she snapped peevishly as she rounded on the hapless ginger once more,'' If you ever in danger my husband again, I'll skin your freckled hide! Got it?!''
Raising an eyebrow at her apparent concern over him, he waved Romnie off, who promptly booked it, and walked over to his seething wife.
Wrapping his arms around her and gently cupping he belly with his hands, he buried his face in her long brown hair with a tired sigh.
Almost instantly, Isabelle relaxed in his arms and let out a small noise of contentment. '' I was worried about you today.''
'' Why?''
'' I've been talking with Todd lately,'' Royce couldn't help but mentally sigh at that,'' and he was mentioning we haven't seen a Predator in weeks now. While they are still releasing hellhounds and new recruits come in every cycle, I can't help but get a bad feeling about all of this.''
Letting out a real sigh this time, Royce turned her face him. '' I've already doubled the watch as much as I can and stressed more caution to every party that goes out. There's nothing else we can do but wait, Isabelle,'' he told her softly as she laid her head against his chest.
'' I know but if we're going to raise a child in a place like this, I'd sleep better knowing there wasn't some monster just waiting to yank their tiny little spine out the minute they step foot out of the caves.'' Well, there's no getting that horrible picture out of my head now, Royce thought, subtly flinching at the mental image Isabelle had just painted.
'' Belle...,'' he began, already planning what he'd say next,'' The kids gonna be surrounded by the toughest and most lethal folk from Earth. He or she is as safe as their gonna be... and their not gonna be helpless either.''
Isabelle looked up at that, her brow furrowing in consideration to his words.
Continuing, Royce explained,'' We're gonna train them. They'll learn how to hunt and survive from the best. They'll be the best of us and I'm gonna make sure every time they step out of the cave, the only blood they come back covered in... is that of their enemies.''
A small smile spread across the brunet's face and she laughed quietly. '' A hunter, born and bred, huh?''
Royce nodded, his hold on Isabelle tightening as he hugged her as close as her bulging tummy would allow.
'' A hunter, born and bred.''