It took me two days to come up for a title for this story! XD Then it just came to me, while watching Predator and Predator 2. Anyway new story about a CIA agent undercover in Moscow. Forgive me, I don't know to much about Moscow, but the whole story won't be set just there. Rating might increase... Peace Out!

Disclaimer:Do not own Predators or anything related to them. Kind of wish I did though...

Moscow

Walking through the crowded streets of Moscow was my current mission. I had to get to Arseni's shop. It was a alcohol store that was small and served mostly regulars. In my two years of living here, I became one of those people. Spotting Arseni's sign I veered to the left, trying to avoid running into most of the people. As I made it to the front door, I smiled triumphantly and walked in.

The bell above the door made a low dinging noise that drifted through the small store with a slight echo. I glanced at the main counter and saw three bottles of vodka. That made me smile. Arseni always knew what I wanted, and seemingly when I was going to get there. Glancing around that no one was in the store, I strode up to the counter and leaned against it. "Arseni? You in here?"

A late forty's, early fifty's, man came out from behind a curtain that resided behind the counter. "Ah. Sandra. Here for vodka?" I nodded. "Honey, pepper, and regular." He grabbed the three bottles and placed them in a bag for me. "There you go." He spoke in his mature Russian accent. I could mimic one pretty well, but the real Russians always amazed me with theirs.

Grasping my vodka bag, I smiled at him. "Thanks Arseni! I'll tell Nikolai hello for you." The older man just nodded and gave me a wave of farewell. Before leaving the store, I stared out the window contemplating whether I wanted to drive all the way home in the freezing weather. My mind won out, as I stepped through the doorway and into the low temperature.

Shivering involuntarily, I booked it down to my car and got in. Turning it on, turning the heat on high, and gently placing my vodka in the passenger seat, I drove off. Living in a smallish house thirty minutes north of Moscow, I didn't come down that often. I only came down for my vodka, fun times, and my boyfriend, Nikolai. Getting home was my main priority now. They said a major storm was coming, and I really didn't want to be caught in a blizzard. Right before I left I saw what looked to be a shooting star.

Home

Just as I pulled into the driveway, snow started falling. At first it was slow and steady, but as soon as I crossed my threshold, it picked up and started howling. Slamming my front door, I whirled around and pointed at the snow in particular. "Ha! I beat you!" I laughed sardonically at the frozen precipitation. Walking over to my kitchen counter, I placed my vodka on the counter, then bolted upstairs to take a hot shower and change into some warm pajamas.

My shower lasted for roughly thirty minutes, for I did not wish to leave it's warm clutches. Looking in my mirror, I imagined what my visage would say if it could talk. My dark brown hair that ran to my waist, green eyes that had the color of summer trees. I raised a thin eyebrow and ran a hand over my face. 'God, I need more sleep.' I thought that right before I heard a creak of steps.

My mind went into defensive overload. I immediately looked for something I could use as a weapon. A flatiron? Down the hall I heard a click. That signaled that the user had a gun. 'Shit.' That means I had nothing, and the person knew which room I was in so no ambush would be successful. Sighing I hoped that I could struggle it away from this person.

They turned the corner of the door. No sign of the man's face was visible in the shadows. "Who are you?" No response. They raised the gun slowly and pointed it at me. I had no time to try and attack. All that was in my ears was two explosions in my ears. The two shots fired. I fell to the floor feeling agonizing pain in my lower left abdomen, and just below my shoulder, right above my right breast. My vision went slightly blurry from pain, and I couldn't make out what he had said, but I knew the voice was familiar.

Upon raising his weapon again, something else in the house moved. My attacker lowered his gun and bolted for another exit. I let my head slump against the floor and momentarily went unconscious.

Somewhere in the blizzard

Rek'hish was not a happy yautja. Some pauk-de Bad Blood, shot his ship and made his crash land on the ooman planet. He was uninjured, but his ship was a little worse for wear. He sat in his slowly dying ship contemplating if he should step out into the freezing temperature. If he stayed the ship would shut down and he'd most likely freeze to death. If he left, he could find some warmth and wait to come back when it wasn't so cold to salvage his ship and make a distress call back to his planet.

He let out a sighing growl. He might as well reserve some of the ship's energy to salvage it later. Shutting off the ship's systems, Rek'hish stepped out into the winter wonderland. He gave an involuntary shiver. 'Damn ooman planet.' He retrieved some of his more portable necessities to take with him before he started off to find some warm sanctuary.

Using his infrared vision he searched for the most typical place that matched his requirements. Around fifty noks from his current position, there was an ooman residence. 'Better than nothing.' He silently thought to himself. Trudging through the snow paid off when he was a measly five noks from the house. Stepping up to the small door, in comparison to him, he pushed on it. Nothing. He saw the handle further down and decided to turn it and push. The door swung open. Quickly entering the house and shutting the door, Rek'hish felt at ease with the sudden warmth.

On the upper level he heard feet on the floor, running out another exit. Well that meant no one was home. He scanned the area to make sure. Nothing again. He sighed internally and found a burning fireplace that he decided to set himself in front of. 'Ah warmth.' Was the only rational thought that entered his mind. Rek'hish figured he might as well get some rest. He slowly drifted off unawares of the injured ooman upstairs.

Sandra

After a minute of blackness, I started to see things in my vision again. The pain had not subsided, and I knew that I would have to clean my wounds and get the bullets out. Sometimes working for the CIA had its perks. Like survival training. Grabbing the edge of the counter for support, I slowly began to rise from my painful position on the bathroom floor. As soon as I was upright and vertical, I swayed. Maybe this was a bit more difficult than originally thought. Trying to keep myself upright, I made it to the top of the stairs. Deciding that sliding down on my butt would be a bit easier, I did so.

Each thump was jarring in my side and chest. It felt like a thousand acupuncture needles going into the same spot at the same time. Repeatedly and at the speed that a semi would go. The last few steps, I straightened my back and stumbled over to my counter and grabbed a stool. Sitting on the stool and leaning my back on the counter, I grabbed my personal med-kit from the top right drawer, my regular vodka, and some salt.

Opening my med-kit, it wasn't your typical one for little kids when they get boo-boos. This had supplies to make my own IV drip, gauzes, tape, a syringe, some liquid to ward off infection, and a long, thin pair of tweezers.

Taking my hand off my gun wound in the left abdominal region, I grabbed the tweezers. Finding something I could bite down on, a dish towel, I made sure that I was biting hard. I inserted the tweezers into my skin, I screamed into the towel. The utensil just went deeper and deeper until I could feel the bullet that had found its way into my body. Gripping it tightly, I slowly retracted the shot and placed it on the counter. I repeated the same step on the bullet above the right side of my chest. It hurt like hell.

Next I grabbed my vodka. Taking a swig, which I should have done before just to get my mind off it, I poured it over both my flesh wounds. It burned more than the surface of the sun. I cried into the towel. Now for the salt. I poured it on and had the same reaction as the vodka. Speaking of, I took another swig from the bottle.

The final parts were easy. Wrapping up the wounds in gauze, I took out the syringe and liquid. I looked for a good vein to stick it into, and used the one in the crook of my arm. I barely felt it, for my mind was still registering the pain of the gun shots.

I was finally done. Smacking my head back into the cupboard, I took another long gulp of the vodka. 'Ahh settles the tummy.' I heard a growl and looked down at my stomach. "Was that you?" Another growl. I quirked a brow. "Guess not." I looked around my kitchen and glanced in my living room, all while on my little stool. My eyes jolted back into the living room section, and I saw a man, I think, standing there at least seven or seven and a half feet tall.

Already knowing this guy wasn't the one that shot me, didn't really give me any comfort that he was standing there. Then I thought back to when I was shot, and remembered my attacker didn't finish me off because someone else entered the house. This must be the guy that entered then. Another growl emanated from this…man? I stood up quickly, and regretted the decision. My knees buckled, and I was face first on the floor.

Laying there, I heard the stranger's heavy footsteps come over and pause in front of my motionless body. Hearing a strange clicking noise, I tried to turn my head up to look at the intruder clearly. I failed and my head plopped back down on the oak floor. Hearing metal against metal as he, I believe, crouched down to look at me more thoroughly, I started thinking about how much I hated the CIA for sending me to Moscow to spy on Nikolai and other men possibly from the Russian mafia.

These might have been my last moments. Might have been.

The stranger's hand poked my unwounded side as though inspecting me. After a few minutes, that seemed like seconds, he grabbed me carefully and lifted me up. Hmm. A breaking-and-entering person, with chivalry? This day was getting better and better. I think I started giggling to myself, for he paused to look at me. Me, on the other hand, had blurry vision, and a really multicourse mind, I couldn't think if I wanted to thank the man or ask him if he believed in unicorns.

Whatever that liquid was, it was starting to kick in. I was giggling continuously now, and was probably scaring my guest. 'Oh great. Now he's my guest.' Two seconds later, roughly, I was dropped upon the couch with no gentleness to it. "Ouch! You..sshould…watch it missster!" I was getting really droopy, and decided to sleep it off then and there.

And with the last thought of, 'I wonder if he knows any good cooking recipes?' I was out. It was a dream filled nap. Little did I know that I would get one rude awakening in the morning. And it wasn't going to be a very easy day.

Rek'hish

A female ooman awoke me with her muffled screams of pain. I sat up quickly and looked in her general direction. Watching her, she did something else and let out another muffled sound of pain. From the looks of it she was tending to her wounds. I watched the ooman work, occasionally she let out a pained sound. After she seemed finished, she drank a clear liquid out of a glass container. I stood and made a growl in my throat so the ooman would recognize my presence.

The female looked down towards her stomach and asked it a question. 'Is this an ooman thing? To talk to your internal organs?' I growled in confusion. The female looked up and spotted me. Growling again I took a step forward, and she tried to stand, only to fall upon her face in the process.

I walked over to the fallen ooman, but hesitated before I did anything. Oomans were known for their cunning. Clicking in curiosity, I crouched down and pressed two of my talons onto her skin, that was opposing the wound on her left. Fragile skin. First thought that entered my mind was just that. The next thing to cross my mind. 'What do I do with her?' I didn't know whether to put her out of her misery, or put her on the bed type thing by the fire. I didn't want to kill a defenseless ooman anyways, that was dishonourable…so I picked her up.

As I was walking to the fire, she started making a weird noise. I was assuming it was laughter, because her ooman lips were slanted upwards and in my studies that was a good thing. Then, surprising me, she asked a question. "Do you believe in unicorns?" I glanced down at her, and dropped her onto the cushiony thing. "Ouch! You..sshould…watch it missster!" And with that the ooman was sleeping.

For several more minutes I looked at her. Such interesting creatures, oomans were. Now later when the female woke up, I'd have to find out what a 'unicorn' was.

Yay! Unicorns! Well that was the first chappie! I don't know when I'll update again, cause school is a bitch...

R&R please! Suggestions help!