Mark of the Yautja

If waking in unknown territory, with unfamiliar people, wasn't bad enough, I was also buck-ass neked. Oh, but it gets so much worse! Someone had split me down the middle, stirred up my guts with an egg beater then closed me up with barbed wire.

Okay, that was only half true... I think. No barbed wire, but my fingers easily followed the crudely sewn incision traversing my body from chest to crotch. And I realized the inflamed, tender flesh of the incision was the standard Y shape a pathologist cuts when performing an autopsy.

So quick rehash, I woke up in hell, because really, where else do you dissect a live human being for shits and giggles if not hell or a serial killer's kitchen floor. The assclowns talking shop about the specimen, aka moi, weren't exactly trying to be discrete. You'd think I'd pissed in their Cheerios for all the love and warmth in the tone of their conversation. The moment they realized I was awake, they disregarded me and spoke as if I were an object and not a person, using endearing euphemisms like it, or the subject, but my favorite was their constant use of the term specimen. Maybe it just made them feel smarter using a three syllable word.

But why it? With my vagina on full display, it was kind of hard to miss the fact that I was a woman.

"Impressive."

That voice. It belonged to the same man who'd first realized I was awake. Gritting my teeth, I awkwardly rolled up onto an elbow and put a face to the speaker. A man with wispy brown hair, a pot belly, and... a monocle? Yes, the man approaching me from the other side of the crystal barrier was wearing a gods-fucking-honest monocle. All the dude was missin' was a pointy goatee and a white cat.

A quick glance at the other two people in the back of the bright room revealed nothing other than they were the brainiacs. The lab coats were a dead giveaway, but really, it was the way they watched me as if I were a tiger in a zoo. Meaning the man who now stood in front of my cage, wearing a double vested hoity-toity I'm-a-high-maintenance-douche-bag suit, was the money man.

"You should be dead."

My eyes narrowed, but I remained impassive. Silence wasn't one of my virtues -Ha! Virtues, riiiight.- but past experiences cooled my desire to make a snarky retort. Stripping me naked had been done to throw me off my game, to rattle me, which meant they were interested in me for a specific reason. And I had a feeling I'd learn more from this double vested tool if I stayed silent than if I started screaming profanities. And honestly, what could I say? If this place wasn't hell, the snide curl of his lips said he could easily make it hell.

"She is the only surviving specimen of the Xeno Regenesis Projects. That is aside from Specimen 2 and Tessa Kellen, the lead bioengineer Dr. Christy Cherish's daughter." One of the talking heads from the back of the room piped up. He was a squat man, probably in his mid-forties, with one of those pointy butt chins, and a hook nose.

Excuse me but what the ever-loving shit? Xeno Regenesis? Dr. Cherish... I blinked in confusion. The name Cherish had struck a chord. Why do I know that name?

Not only Dr. Cherish, but a doctor named Greg Isles surfaced in my hazy mind. I didn't have the faintest clue who those two people were, and yet the alien memories of a room eerily reminiscent of this one surfaced in my mind's eye only to pop like a soap bubble when the second talking head -a tall, lanky, dude who'd clearly lost the battle with Rogaine- spoke.

"But unlike Dr. Cherish's daughter, Revna's DNA has been completely recoded."

Okay, that name had my face contorting with an are-you-shitting-me expression. "What did you call me?" My throat was raw and my voice oddly- smokier? Was it just because my voice was hoarse? Sore or not, the tenor sounded strange, and by strange I mean not mine.

There was a pregnant pause of silence as if the caged tiger had done the impossible and actually spoke as if she were, oh, I dunno- human!

"Revna," the double vested tool said slow and deliberate. His brows drew together in confusion, "Your name is Revna."

Revna?! Seriously, what the fuck is going on?!

Revna was the name of my D&D character. A kickass female Tiefling that starred in every single one of my fantasies whenever I read fanfiction. She was everything I wasn't. Short, petite, stupidly sexy, with a sensual smoky voice, and a prehensile tail...

Freaked, I twisted. It hurt like a bitch, but I ignored the pain as I ran my fingers over my shoulders, the back of my neck and in that awkward spot in the middle of the shoulders. No tail. I sighed in relief. At some point during my manic search for an additional appendage, I'd stood up and speed-walked over to the reflective metal set into the wall beside the toilet and stared at the complete stranger mirroring my wide-eyed expression of holy-fucking-shit-balls!

That, ain't me!

Oh, but it was. The woman mimicked my every move, touching the soft flowing black ringlets of my hair as they swept over my ahem big fucking D's! My lips were pink and pouty instead of thin and covered in black lipstick. Green eyes stared back at me, wide and weirdly mine. I skimmed over my naked flesh realizing my tattoos- my body! Oh, my fucking gawd, I was taller! Okay, it was official this was hell. Not only was I at least a good four to five inches taller, but I had the musculature of a woman who spent way too much time in the dojo on the mats instead of under the sheets. I'd always had an athletic build, but I could see my fucking traps for crying out loud! Who the hell did I piss off to be reincarnated as the female version of Andre the Giant?! A sexy giant but that ain't the freakin' point!

Critical miss there Buddha! Unless you did this on purpose you fat rat-bastard!

Annoyed and utterly freaked, I stared uncomprehendingly at my reflection. I blinked several times. Pinched myself. But nothing I did changed a goddamn thing about this reality. My reality. I thought back to what happened before this. Why wasn't any of this making sense? I remembered being in the shop- no a ship! No, the shop. What ship? A smell. The smell of home and someone... warmth, the memory of someone enveloping me, holding me...

The spell broke and the unfamiliar, yet familiar impressions shattered as my eyes latched onto a scar above my left eyebrow. Pale and a dull red, the cuts had been deliberately made by something sharp and hot. With the tips of my fingers, I traced the curved edge of one line, then the blunt slash of another. A deep sense of pride filled me as I touched it, though, I couldn't explain why. And after decades of healing, the mark was perfectly smooth against my skin.

Perplexed, I leaned away from the mirrored surface. How did I know it had taken decades? And the woman in the mirror only looked to be in her twenties, so how... My eyes retraced the mark, over and over as if staring at it would unlock the secret. I knew this mark. I'd seen this mark before. It was mine, but... how did I know? Where had I seen-

My brain came to a thunderous halt. I knew exactly where I'd seen a mark like this before.

Holy shit...

I whipped around to face the Tool, "I have a fucking Yautja clan mark?!"

The Tool stared at me with a bemused crease in his brow as if I were telling him something he already knew and something I should've known.

The symbol wasn't identical to any of the marks I'd seen in the movies or the graphic novels, but there was no denying what it was. The very essence of the mark vibrated deep in my bones. It was mine. I'd earned it. Fought and almost died for it.

Weird images of me, er, Revna balancing on the head of thrashing xenomorph queen... a spear raised- I shook my head, trying to shake away the ludicrous memories. None of this made any sense.

Maybe there never was a man wearing a pigs head. Maybe I cracked, had a nervous breakdown, and now I'm on the floor of a padded cell...

My eyes caught the reflection, latched onto the mark. No. This shit was real. I sure as shit couldn't explain it but the part of my brain that was still functioning and hadn't gone kablooey when I saw my reflection embraced what was happening. Comprehended it on a level (on a very, very, very, very deep level) that I didn't fully understand. The ominous flickers of memory weren't mine and yet, they were. The Yautja... Xenomorphs... those had all been fantasy... but now they were real, something else I understood deep down but couldn't completely grasp.

I gaped at the scar as the implication fully sank in.

Jesus fucking Cripes, I've been marked by the Yautja... that's awesome!


A/N: Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed Chapter 2, Mark of the Yautja! Thanx for all the love and support!

angel897: Eee! So happy you enjoyed it XD

Tenfangirl: Omg, lemme tell ya, my brain is on fire right now! Lol, and oddly smells like burning toast! XD Thanx so much for the love!

KittyKatt25: Lol, I know right! I do it all the time! She might burn something down ;) Or blow it up XD

KTCameleon: Hehe, did you catch what I did in this chapter ;D No, I don't hate redheads, lol! ;)

Luna Silvereyes: Omg! XD Your review had me giggling XD Ah, thanks for the compliment! I'm thrilled you liked it! Lol, did you catch who I referenced in this chapter ;)

First Dragon: Germany?! Oh, that's freaking cool! Hi hi! Thanx for the love! XD