Okay i know this chapter is longer, yay for that. but im a little blah about it. i basically wrapped this thing up today for you guys, and though i feel like it started well, i cant help but tell i was getting lazy towards the end, so apologies in advance for that. I HAVE decided however to make this into a series, so there will more than likely be 3/4 more "The Enemy's Heart" continuations to this one once its complete. By then i should be a lot better with this fandom and writing for these characters. Hope you guys enjoy _ i worked my fingers wearily trying to come up with something for ya. Until next time...

Also, sorry for any typos. i tried to catch them but more than likely failed.

COMPONENT IV

Lex's eyes shifted about the small aircraft – observing everything while her mind worked a mile a minute to decipher the situation; and quite frankly, the young woman didn't like the looks of this at all. The six marines across from her were strapped into their seats but – unlike Lex – appeared perfectly content with the lack of information they'd been briefed on about this trip. To them this was the military – secrets were more often than not part of the job whether they liked it or not. Her brown irises assessed the crew: even taking headcount of the weapons strapped upon them…the visible ones at least.

For that she was both grateful and disturbed. How many times had weapons meant to protect found themselves turned on the ones who should have been getting the protection? One time too many for her liking. Then again, after what she had went through Lex found herself often wanting the presence of armaments nearby. Aside the constant and boisterous chatter of the Marines over the engine's roar Woods' mind was surrounded in the silence of deep thought, fingers occasionally reaching to touch the Predator spear holstered onto the female's left thigh protectively. Fact of the matter was the Environmental Technician and guide wasn't particularly fond of being stuck on the ground with neither Agent Dubois – who was walking out of the cockpit before taking a seat beside her and giving the woman a smile that made her skin crawl – or the militants. Men with guns tended to think their word was law – and someone always got hurt…or in the case of the Antarctic ruins a year ago: everyone died as a result of their ignorance. Woods had accomplished many guiding parties and even rescue missions since then and yet the cycle always seemed to repeat itself. The young woman had come to dread the stupidity and selfishness of man. It seemed as if the deadly Predators had more sense and reason and honor in their death dealing than her own kind.

And the lack of information received pertaining this particular rescue was needless to say rather unsettling. After having gotten dressed in tan cargo pants, a purple t-shirt, black mountain boots, and once fully packed, Lex had boarded the chopper heading for a military airfield where they'd depart to the New Zealand coast. Dubois had stuck out a hand, lingering his hold upon her soft one. "It's nice to meet you face to face, Ms. Woods," he had said with a crooked smile. "I've heard a lot about you."

Alexa raised a brow, frowning a little. She bet he did. If he was up to no good the government really needed to retrain this guy on how to hide it. If you're going to lure Alexa Woods into a false content, you needed to have some serious skills. "It would have been much nicer without the additional presence," she retorted, referring to the extra cars and government agents that flooded her block like they were looking for terrorists who'd just tried to assassinate the President.

Dubois chuckled. "We had to take…necessary precautions. Like I said, this wasn't a request."

Alexa crossed her legs and leaned back into the seat, looking the agent straight in the eye without the slightest blemish of worry or fear of him – or fear of what her government could possibly do. Dubois thought she was rather bold in her situation – and that made her slightly more attractive. "Speaking of requests: I'd like to know just what the hell is going on." It wasn't a question – and that made him groan internally with desire. This woman wasn't like the countless others. No, she had spunk and drive…and a sinfully plump rump to add to her lovely features. Lex continued, unaware of the ever growingly perverted thoughts going through the agent's head, "You say you lost some men: lost them how? How many were there? Which wild range of New Zealand? You also said something about them having someone the U.S. wants. Who is that someone? What were they involved in?"

Amused by her seriousness Frank Dubois chuckled, "You're a rather demandingly inquisitive woman, aren't you Ms. Woods?"

"I like to know what I'm walking into – before I walk into it. You want me to guide your people and potentially keep them safe? Fine. But I can't do that unless you give me some details. And the more information I know, the better I can do my job." This wasn't just about getting a check. Lex's parents had taught her that if she was going to do something, then it had to be done with excellence. Bullshitting was not an option – especially when it came to preserving the lives of others – environmental and human alike.

Agent Dubois crossed his legs in return, lacing his fingers together across the knee in a display of superiority that made the African American woman roll her eyes alongside a loud and rude huff – which resulted in the agent grinning outright. "I appreciate your business mind set, however we'll review everything with the others upon arrival."

"You'll review everything with me now," Lex snarled with a sudden spring of aggression that shocked even herself. Frank Dubois was caught off guard by her hostility, but then shifted in the seat, pulling his overcoat slickly over the crotch of his pants to hide the growing bulge. She wasn't some simple woman that could be influenced by the amount of zeros presented to her. Lex despised being toyed with: she was not stupid – and screwing with her was not a favorable road to head down. Dubois was starting to learn this; even come to terms that maybe choosing her (despite her background and reasoning of the situation) wasn't the smartest choice after all. "You're not going to bend me over backwards. I don't give a damn what you idiots threaten me with or end up doing to me as a result – but I'm going to make this very clear with you now," Lex hissed between furrowed brows. "Tell me what I need to know, or I will back out of this thing: regardless of the consequences." The E.T. had always been bold, but even still this was just ridiculous. Could it be those hours with her alien brought out a bravery within that shunned even death itself? Bravery or stupidity – whichever she was displaying right now it was almost impossible to tell the difference.

Silence flowed between them for only a few brief seconds that somehow felt like hours before Dubois sighed and cocked his head to look out the window. "Alright, here's the deal. I can't tell you much because I don't know the exact details myself. But I do know that approximately seven hours ago a small team was out gathering some details. Exact location – don't ask. It was supposed to be a routine run, you know, the usual sit around. Turns out they got a lead on a threat to the United States and our allies as well."

Lex stiffened, somewhat intrigued by this information despite her reservations. "What kind of threat?"

"Terrorist," Frank responded, noting the lights of an air strip up ahead in the distance and beginning to buckle the seatbelt. "Some big shot who's been threatening, gathering, even testing warheads. From what I was told he's a head gun in leading rebellion and acts of terrorism against the U.S. He's even been working with our enemies, having spies on our shores selling out information. This guy alone is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of U.S. troops and officials from our country and the countries of our allies. He's a radical. One who has successfully drafted over 213 American citizens into his ranks and cause. He's a heavy hitter and potentially one of the greatest enemies of our time because he's not understood."

Understood? How do you understand or even attempt to want to understand a murderer? The image of a monstrous sized being looming above in a darkened hall with his futuristic weapon pointing at her, its red scope lining the survivor up for the kill, flashes across her eyes and Woods paused at the realization that she really had no right to talk or judge on that particular field. "If he's such a bad guy, why not exterminate him on contact?" Lex questioned vaguely doubting some aspects of the story still. The girl had a gut feeling – and it was usually always correct – not to trust the agent as far as she could extend an arm.

"Because Ms. Woods," the agent responded, turning attention back for her, "he holds a great deal of information. His plans, his troops, his weapons. Everything in that devious head of his could be beneficial to the wellbeing of this country that you and I call home. It can help ensure the continued state of freedom that we hold so dear." He watched as Lex nodded mutely in a somewhat mutual understanding. "Anyways, the team managed to capture him, loaded him on a transport plane and then proceeded to return back to the U.S. before we lost contact over New Zealand."

Now here was where his story really began to get weird and where the pieces just didn't fit together comfortably enough for the guide. "New Zealand," Lex hummed with a rise of the chin and untrusting expression. "And just where were they coming from?"

Dubois blinks. "That's classified Ms. Woods."

Lex holds up her hand, temporarily submitting to accept that much. "Okay," she tries again. "Then maybe you could enlighten me on why in the world take a back route over New Zealand? It seems like they were going pretty far out of the way to get back home. That's a lot of wasted fuel, Frankie."

"Security purposes, Alexa," Dubois had answered as steady and unflinching as if he'd been rehearsing this conversation for weeks. Though it wouldn't have surprised Lex if he had had some prior coaching on what to say. "Back ways are sometimes the safest ways. Surely you of all people can understand that much?" he stated innocently with a pout, looking at her from the corner of his eyes to see whether or not she would accept it. When she relaxed more into the seat, fastening her seatbelt as well via the pilot's orders he could see that she was content with the answer – even if she didn't like it. And content was better than further questioning on the matter. "We believe they could have been shot down, or perhaps our target simply roused up some unexpected trouble while under their supervision. It was a younger team – we should have let someone more experienced accomplish the take down, but a chance such as that may have never come again. It was a risk – calculated and well known. That's where you come in Ms. Woods. You're familiar with that particular area we're combing. If anyone can find our fallen brothers the government believes it's you."

A fair enough breakdown. Bullshit? Probably a 90.9% chance of it; however in spite of the loopholes and drawn blanks on the matter Lex concluded she'd been given a sufficient amount of data to perform her duties appropriately. "Alright, then who's tagging along with me on this little excursion?" How she dreaded the answer she'd gotten.

"Myself," he answered, smirking at her failed attempt to hide her disapproval, "and a small group of Marines."

The woman gave Agent Dubois a reproachful look as his answer registered; already her instincts had been assured and were screaming that something was definitely off about this mission. The chance of bullshit had just shot up to a 97.9%. "Marines?" Lex asked incredulously as the chopper landed. "Why do we need Marines?"

Dubois had slid open the chopper door before turning back to her with a wide grin that instantly made the woman doubt everything she'd been told. "Security purposes, Alexa. Security purposes."

Scar sat in the chair, watching expectantly as Earth grew closer on the window scope of the space ship. It had been almost a year since his last time on Earth, his last "hard meat" (a rough English translation for the name they called Xenomorphs) hunt…the last time he'd seen the human woman. Somewhere in the back of his mind the young Yautja wondered if he would ever see her again – in fact he hoped for it greatly and prayed to Paya their paths would cross. But that was not the reason he was returning to this planet.

In his time away recovering from injuries the Xenomorph Queen and Predalien chestburster had befitted the warrior with, he begged forgiveness for his sin – and received just punishment. The Elders knew what happened to the fallen brothers was not his fault, but still he had made an error that cost multiple sain'jas their souls. His punishment? Though they allowed him to keep his "Blooded" status, for half a year he could not participate in any hunts to maintain his honor. A small price perhaps in the eyes of mortal men, but a great suffering to the species whose whole life revolved around the act of the hunt and battle.

He shamed himself – counting the days of enslavement amongst the ship while his fellow hunters went off and the few returned donning the prizes of their fights. He had become an outcast to himself, much like the lone and powerful hunter Wolf had been. The others regarded him for his great Earth battle – but to the Yautja who allowed himself to be impregnated by those filthy bugs: what he'd done on Earth that time ago meant nothing in light of the aftermath.

That was when the Elders had called for him again, explaining that their scanners showed there still lived a kiande amedha (Xenomorph) within the ancient Pyramid. Scar stared at them emptily in disbelief. He had blown those ruins to the heavens and yet one survived? Another mistake on his account? He expected more punishment to come: for them to strip him of his title completely. But that was not so. The Elders explained that scanners showed the creature buried beneath the ice. They wanted him to go retrieve it and destroy it before the alien could be found by the greedy oomans and end up disrupting the balance of the hunt, and overrunning the planet. As cold and devious as the Yautja may have seemed, everything they did not only satiated their bloodlust, but strived hard to never threw off the balance. It was how for thousands of years they were able to accomplish their kv'var on Earth, for example, without being discovered.

Yet an opportunity such as this to leave the ship and return to where it had ended, to reclaim his honor and avenge the fallen ones and, if the great spirits would allow – meet his partner in the old battle again, made Scar both humbled and jubilant. He slammed a fist against his chest and declared that it would be done on his life…but asked of them one thing in return. The Elders clicked and looked amongst one another…

The ship was approaching Earth's atmosphere as he scanned in on the remains of the dig on the ice…but his monstrously large frame lunged forward from his control seat and panel in disbelief before the male bent back to shake his fists for the ceiling and growled out in pure anger. Those fools! He wouldn't make it in time…

The plane took a turn and descended, jolting Lex back to the now with a flip of the stomach as the pilot's voice over the speaker confirmed that the party was nearing its destination and prepare for immediate landing. "About damn time," a young woman with a dark brown razor chopped, nape of the neck length Mohawk exclaimed with a breathy sigh of frustration. She was a soft tan with a build similar to Lex's and radiant green eyes that drew you in before she commenced to slice out your jugular – though she wasn't quite as curvy and had a much fouler mouth. Already Woods knew that at some point they'd butt heads. Two well-trained independent women surrounded by testosterone? It was like fate had orchestrated this and was sitting in on a blossoming drama with popcorn ready. Ugh. Her name was Lily Little: "Lil" by her comrades in arms.

"Still scared of flying?" Manuel Arnez, the Latin American medic and all out sweetie of the group teased his counterpart. Lil rolled her eyes annoyingly. He giggled like a child and closed his nearly black eyes when she reached out and messed his midnight buzz cut. In spite of how much they taunted one another Lex could tell there was some kind of bond there between them. Maybe Lil seeing Manuel as a little brother to be protected; and he seeing her as the woman he loved desperately but was too far out in the friend zone to be interpreted as more than just a "sibling" of arms? Lex tried not to think too hard on that one. She liked Arnez though – he was adorable and realistic. If it weren't for the Latino's exceptional medicinal skills he probably wouldn't fit in amongst this group. He was different, and Woods liked different. She'd proven that already…

Ricky Arrowhead sat on the other side of Manuel, eyes closed and holding a totem tied around his neck as the Alaskan Native American whispered a silent prayer to his ancestors for safe journey. Arrowhead was the weapons specialist. Any chemical, component or compound, shell, or weapon imprint found he could tell the make, model, firing range and capacity; then put it together all over again. He was quiet, buff to the point that it was intimidating, yet held a surprisingly still disposition and seemed undisturbed by the brashness of his teammates. Lex liked him too. They needed another level head in this bunch – he obviously held the intelligence and instincts that would work well to their favor should they run into trouble.

Their captain and platoon leader was a tall and dark mannered young man with dark blonde spiked hair and rugged handsome looks and icy blue eyes that made the technician falter when they initially met. Keith Johns "Jonesy" was serious and business-like. He did things by the book, sure – but it was plain to see that he cared more about his team than anything else and would purposefully jeopardize or abort any mission for their behalf. Lex hoped he would make smart choices and not be one of those superhero types who had good intentions but were dumb and wound up making matters worse. God knew she was tired of those type of men in her parties!

The remaining travelers consisted of "Pilot" the pilot (very original, she knew) – an African American young man who although was fresh off his air certification navigated the skies like he'd been doing it all his life. He was a far darker complexion than Lex was, donned a completely shaved head and average militant build. He was pretty handsome too – in fact, all of them were.

Then there was "Trigger" – the red haired, brown eyed, lean yet muscular, constantly dirt covered looking, gun happy trigger crazed IDIOT. Lex grimaced just at the thought of him. He hardly ever holstered his weapon, claiming that a good Marine was ready at all costs. Basically the dummy was spewing a pathetic excuse that really meant he was a big coward who had a certain unhealthy obsession with firearms. Trigger was the kind of man who liked to talk big but couldn't back it up on his own; he was a "Bullet Boy" – a fool who hid behind the barrel of a gun rather than his mama's skirt. Lex figured sooner or later she'd have to drop him. Secretly…she couldn't wait for that opportunity. After that it was Dubois and herself. Joy.

Even though this little excursion technically didn't "exist", the Marines wore their woodland MARPAT bottoms and boots and solid green tank tops underneath a thin utility vest. They weren't dressed for full warfare – in fact, other than the vests and weapons strapped to their frames Lex would have thought they were just lounging about on base. Dubois had on black khakis and a matching t-shirt and combat boots with a gun strapped to his waist belt. Lex rolled her eyes. This didn't seem like a rescue mission. It seemed like Dubois had orders to not make things look too conspicuous…but it seemed to do the opposite to her.

"Sooooo cutie," Trigger cooed from diagonally across from the female, giving Woods the sly eye as he leaned forward and waved his gun around in her direction to indicate the fool was addressing her, "I hear you're the best at your job. Hear you're going to keep us safe?" He said the last part as if it the idea offended him.

Lex sighed, avoiding eye contact with him by staring straight ahead for where Jonesy sat as if to inform the leader that already his man was working her nerve. "That's the plan."

Trigger snickered, looking from his mates and back to Lex with a bewildered and amused expression. "Right. But, didn't your last group die in an avalanche or something?" Lex rolled her eyes and he noticed the stick strapped to her thigh. "What's that thing you got?"

With this Lex smirks. "A gift."

"A gift huh?" Trigger repeated, getting up from his seat despite warnings and strolling his way right over to the woman. He stood before her, tilting his head to the side a bit curiously as the plane bounced roughly once it touched the ground and Trigger grabbed the railing above to steady himself. Because her hair was tied up now as opposed to when they first met he was able to get a full view of the strange marks carved into the flesh on the left side of her face, intrigued by the unusual yet somehow sensual pattern of them. "Nice scars," Trigger noted, lightly brushing a nail across her cheek in a swift motion before, "Well," he practically demanded, reaching a hand down for her thigh in annoyed but blatantly mischievous interest, "what the hell is it supposed to do?"

But the male winced once Lex's hand suddenly whipped up and grabbed the Marine's wrist, giving it a tight and painful squeeze causing him to hiss in discomfort and force his gaze to meet her threatening one. "It comes in handy," the E.T. warned simply before releasing her hold and shoving the guy back as she unfastens her seatbelt, feeling the plane begin to slow down on the runway. "Touch me again, and I'll show you EXACTLY what it does." Her eyes conveyed danger, enough to make the cocky Marine take a step back. He did so with a scoff of false care, but at the end of the day the guy still backed down and couldn't change that fact.

"Focus," Jonesy forewarns as the aircraft comes to an immediate stand still and bay doors open slowly. Pilot comes out from the cockpit with a wide grin of victory amidst his comrades' praise before strapping himself up in gear.

Once the doors had fully opened and crew gathered up the remaining supplies they stepped off the plane to find a secluded and abandoned dirt road surrounded by lush, green forestry so thick you couldn't even see three feet into it. According to Dubois this strip had been the start of a military air station, but the plans had been tossed and all development ceased. The New Zealand government permitted them use of the air space and sector as an independent entity for 72 hours for the sake of secrecy. If they could not find their comrades by then, however, then New Zealand authorities would have to begin assisting in the search: which would no longer keep the capture and possible death of a highly influential terrorist quiet – and could spark retribution from his followers. That's why this mission was such a desperate one, according to Frank Dubois.

They wasted no time, gearing up completely then heading deep into the woods to begin the search. They were at least half a day's journey from the area where last contact had been made – and wanted to get there to set up camp before it got dark. Once there the group would check the map and come up with a circumference to comb for potential survivors. It was getting to the location of last transmission that was the tough part, however it seemed.

The journey had proved rigorous as the landscape, though lovely, seemed to transform almost instantaneously from forest to plain, to mountain-like. Between that and the summer heat the company surprisingly found themselves wore out in little time heading into the trek whereas Lex had energy to spare. She was more than familiar with this neck of New Zealand since she and a small group of environmentalists had done some research out here on a few occasions before moving on. It hadn't been touched very often by the presence of mankind, making it not only far more beautiful – but also far more wild and hazardous to unprepared visitors; especially being so far out from civilization: even the range of their radios were null the majority of the time.

Lex navigated them through rough spots with ease as they struggled, claiming her way as opposed to the map based on the direction of the abandoned air base would actually shave four hours off their travel time. She was like a whole other person out here: lighter, at peace and knowledgeable in regards to her surroundings in ways that proved her instincts to be attuned with nature…free. Needless to say: as much as the others hated to admit it: gratitude for the breaks Woods allowed them was more than appreciated. Until leading up to an opening in the trees…an opening that caused the group to halt in awe.

A small plain laid before them between another forested area, this one far more ancient and untouched by civilization as the trees extended wide and high with age, shadowing the rest of the world beneath their arms. But it wasn't the initially presumed empty space that held the surprise. There was a large trail in the ground of violently disturbed earth that slid along the area's length before finally disappearing beneath the metal form of an aircraft that managed to find partial rest within the edges of the forest; tilted on its side and broken into shambled pieces due to the severity of the crash. Dubois's brows flared upward as the group approached the crash site in sheer stupidity, overlooking every spilled and destroyed bit of material – kits were scattered aimlessly about the debris, paper crumbled and threatening to blow away in the soft wind as charred remnants of what could have been now extinguished harmless pockets of fire were spread about the earth, even portions of a few medical packs were less for wear. Manuel Arnez inspected these particular materials, placing the objects still good enough for use into his small backpack. Dubois looked at his map, then at the plane, then at Alexa. "I don't understand…we shouldn't have gotten here this soon. Which path did you take us by?" the agent asked while straining to find their location on the large paper in hand.

Pilot walked past the agent before coming to a stop and gazing at the plane like a lost child while his comrades spread out in observation of the wreckage, an assortment of whistles and profanities of shock at the damage ringing out. "Wrong question, sir. Based on your map, it looks more like this baby shouldn't even be here."

"Maybe," Dubois stated with confusion evident in voice and turning the map upside down to make sure he wasn't reading it wrong, "whoever handled this marked it wrong."

Jonesy rested a leg up on a boulder, slouching against his knees as he looked at the crash through squinted eyes. The sun still had a little time until beginning its descent and the leader looked from the plane to the forest half of it resided within. "Wrong or not: we've found the crash site. What now? Should we begin to comb the outer areas?"

Lex stood alongside the large metal aerial object, trailing a hand over it lightly prior to addressing the Marine with a shake of the head. "No, we need to get camp set up first: that's priority. Once everything's in place then we can try to figure out what happened here. We've got about three and a half, four hours tops until the sun goes down. We don't have much to worry about out here, but I wouldn't recommend fondling around once it's dark out." She looked about, counting the heads around her…and noticing one in particular had went missing until he came crawling out from around the opposite side of the plane. When did Dubois get passed them and aboard the vessel? Odd.

"Ewww Dubois," Pilot had shivered, jumping back and pointing. "What the fuck is on your boot?" The agent looked down and raised a leg as a thick slimy textured bacteria oozed like a spider web from the base of his shoe and the ground. Ordinarily Lex would have taken a closer look, but she had paid Frank no mind from the moment she saw him reappear – too busy focusing on getting things prepped for the night and tossing her backpack on the ground with the first sigh of exhaustion she'd exerted all day.

"Alright then," Jonesy complied, taking off his pack as well and surveying their surroundings before ordering, "secure the perimeter." They got to work setting up operations: from installing battery operated perimeter lights, retrieving fresh water and scouting the woodland border, to setting up the three tents (one for Lex and Lil to share, the second for the guys, and the third as a communications and operations center) and working on getting a signal on the radio to the outside world. Dubois however had vanished inside the COC ("Communications and Operations Center" as he called it. The Marines rolled their eyes: idiot thought this was Boy Scout trip) tent immediately after it was up without making a bother to help the others; causing a chorus of curses to ring off in his direction. Agents – they sat behind a desk and had the impression the world rested in their hands while the troops, the REAL defenders of life as they knew it, were too busy losing their lives because of political crap. The Marines realized this had to be part of the reason why Woods had been so adamant about her role in this situation…realized and understood.

The company got everything accomplished within an hour or two: but didn't call it a day just yet. There were still some things that had to be put on the table for the main search tomorrow – miniscule but necessary operations to put this mess a little more in perspective. The platoon started to investigate the crash thoroughly searching for clues and signs that would explain a little more about what occurred those hours previous. But it was practically impossible under these circumstances. There wasn't much to inspect: the site, the plane within itself, was nothing more than a hollow shell. No schematics, plans, even the weapons case was barren save a couple grenades and handguns. It was like the transport was fitted solely for flying and seating. What the hell kind of military vessel was that? Usually these things came with a table that was basically just a large, flat, computer monitor. Its screen was activated and performed on via touch: maps, documents, anything military that could be opened, sent, and read was accessed through that table. But the table on this plane though partially intact was questionably empty. Save for a couple maps or two whose images were distorted because of screen damage it was like nothing had ever been installed or linked on it…or like it had been completely wiped clean. But – that wasn't possible: to do that the governmental base in Washington would have to send a kill code to THIS particular system on THIS particular plane. They only had the technology to do that with the connected and larger, more important systems: like data stored on Air Force One, for example…or the Pentagon. These computers weren't retrofitted for that kind of programming.

The longer they looked, the more baffling the scene was. There were a few shell casings inside of the hold, a number of splattered spots of blood too. But aside from that and the structural damage the plane was practically spotless. They'd just about given up on finding any clues from the crash. Lex was hovering over a piece of tail that had broken off. She had dragged it onto a set of large rocks and placed it on top to act as a table of her own. Dubois had came out of the COC long enough to deliver the maps she demanded, and right now she had them spread out on the tail piece (each corner held down by smaller but heavier rocks) and overlooked them. Frank had told her the coordinates from where the first, only, and brief mayday transmission had come in from before losing all contact and the guide tracked those coordinates, found their current one, and with a pencil drew the lines together. Her eyes shifted about the line in confusion as she squinted and retraced the coordinates again before cocking her head to the side and looking for Dubois' temporary hiding place suspiciously. This was off…Bullshit level currently at 99.9%.

But before she could go and force an explanation out of Agent Dubois, Ricky Arrowhead had come around the other side of the plane, trotting through the uneven grounding as displeasure bore upon the Native American's features. "This plane wasn't shot down," he said with finality, passing by Lex and taking her hand into his own to steady the young woman whom lost balance wheeling from Dubois' direction back to Arrowhead to hear his assessment. She gave the man a smile of gratitude as he grinned back in return – eyeing her marks briefly in recognition but not prying…for the moment. His people used markings for tribal events, markings that reflected a vast variety of things. He wondered what hers represented…and who gave them to her.

"You sure about that?" Lil challenged amid a huff of disbelief, slouching her hips a little and lightly cradling an arm against the top of the black rifle slung across the woman's shoulder, propping the other arm on Manuel's shoulder as he folded his to resist the temptation to grab the female's hips and of draw her closer. "I mean, look at this dig! Ain't no way this is a normal landing."

Arrowhead craned his neck in irritation. "There aren't any signs on the hull of the plane being hit by an explosive object, or any object for that matter. Whatever brought this plane down wasn't external."

Pilot nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, even the pattern of the track is inconsistent with a normal emergency landing. This baby just came down, my guess is something happened and the pilots lost control?"

So now came the next question: Where the hell was everyone? Even if this had been an emergency situation that caused the plane to suddenly come down violently as it had, shouldn't there be some kind of evidence left behind showing whether or not it was fatal? Most of the time in crashes like this at least one person died. But from what they could gather there was nothing-.

"YOU GUYS BETTER COME TAKE A LOOK AT THIS!" Arnez's voice suddenly shouted from inside the military transport, causing everyone (even Dubois found time to dash out of the communications tent to see what was going on at the desperation in the Latino's cry) to exchange glances and dash back around the vessel where Manuel was standing in front of a large breach in the metal – it was without a question unnatural as the metal splintered outwards from the inside. Arnez was hunched over the bottom of this opening and pointing to a splattered line of stained red. It gathered in one spot before pooling off. The medic took his index and middle fingers and touched the red on the ground. "Yo, there's a trail of blood here."

Frank Dubois nearly lost his footing as he turned the bend and stumbled into the hole in the hull. Somehow in their assessment, none of the crew noticed this before. There was a parachute lying on the ground beside Manuel; it had been dangling over the top and side of the plane but no one had moved it until Arnez a few moments ago…

"Whoa!" Trigger exclaimed for the first time since Lex embarrassed him back at airbase. He gave attention to the blood and back to the strange breach before making a face and cooing out nervously, "The fuuuuck?!"

Jonesy's eyes followed after the erratic trail of red, following it slowly before coming to a halt at the tree line. "It leads into the forest. Could be a survivor, maybe whoever used the parachute. If so, they're probably alive in there somewhere. Let's go." Without another word the Marines took off after the blood trail as Lex called out to stop them; but her cries fell on deaf ears. She growled an intelligible bout of profanities before giving the gaping hole a worried gaze. Woods gave Dubois a dirty look, almost conveying that they had some serious discussing to do when returned. But for right now there was potentially a group of soldiers out in the wilderness who needed help and nothing else mattered as the two followed after them. Plus they both silently agreed: with that strange unexplainable chasm bearing out of the aircraft, staying here alone wasn't an idea neither of them found smart.

Unfortunately their short trek through the ever darkening wood turned up fruitless. The trail of blood became less and less visible and they were growing uncomfortably further from base without flashlights. Lex may have been the guide, but not even she could get them back in the pitch night. Defeated, tired, they turned back and slumped about camp – Frank heading directly back into the COC, the light of his battery operated lantern illuminating the tent fabric in a dull glow. She could make out his shadow standing, pacing back and forth and moving his hands as if he were arguing with himself. In truth she was glad to be back. While out there the woman couldn't quite shake this disturbing feeling that they were being watched. And yet no matter where she looked or how quickly she did so there was nothing there…which made it all the more eerie. Her mind drifted in a tremor of anxiousness back to the Pyramid: how Weyland's party had been stalked by virtually invisible hunters. Nothing could have prepared them, no instinct could protect them from those horrid fates…fates that were always watching…always hunting…

An explosion of sound erupted behind Lex as she whipped around in time to find a small flock of birds taking off into the darkened sky with cries and chatter. She exhaled and grabbed her opposite wrist in an attempt to calm the uncontrollable shaking as the fingers clutched for dear life to the spear strapped close to her flesh. "Calm down," she whispered, growing hot from the journey as she absentmindedly took off her purple t-shirt revealing a tight and low cut purple tank top. Lil gave an approving whistle as Lex rolled her eyes and walked for her and the other woman's tent to set the shirt with her backpack when her left foot struck something wet and slipped a little. Lex gave a loud gasp and steadied herself with a hand on the ground to prevent the full fall…and then stiffened. With a squint of the eyes something clear yet shiny reflected off the perimeter lights. There was a thin layer of it on the grass, but in the back of her head familiarity of the substance struck a chord within her. It couldn't be….it couldn't be! Lex left her shirt on the ground and turned on her heels, looking over the shoulder briefly to make sure no one noticed the rush: the Marines were lounging about with their guns on the ground and Dubois was still in the tent.

Alexa Woods walked away from the perimeter back for the plane that lay shielded in near darkness save for a few specks of glow from the lights. She turned the corner slowly and approached with caution. She could hear herself breathing and paused to calm down outside of the main door. God knew Lex prayed that she was wrong. Maybe she was just tired – and paranoid as a result. But she had to be sure. Alexa pulled out the spear from its holster and touched the button that made the blade spring forth readily as she stood before the darkened entrance. The guide lingered out for a few brief seconds before reaching up and pulling herself inside and standing still, waiting and listening for anything abnormal. Woods grabbed a small pocket flashlight about the size of her finger and directed it forward. She flicked it on.

The pain – the searing, aching, horrid pain! From within the deep obscurity of a tunnel came the agonizing screeches of a horrific evolution. Strapped to the walls by a series of web-like thick secretion were numerous bodies, quiet and still in a comatose like state while their captor writhed upon the ground. Grid's claws extended, its spine elongated as the muscles pulsated. It turned swiftly, nails slicing through the flesh of a human male nearby and snapping him in half. The human had been granted a swift and painless death in the motion – the Antarctica Xenomorph survivor on the other hand endured far worse.

Yet despite the suffering Grid welcomed the change with a conniving sneer. It was a beneficial and trivial endurance in light of the scheme of things to come. It was the necessary beginning! The plan, the destruction to come! The alien's mind interpreted every possibility for control – and longed for it more than life itself. It could already see this world succumbing to the force of its power alone! Oh the thought of it caused Grid to hiss lustfully before falling onto the rocky floor of the dark cave it currently called home in the deep thick of this forested environment.

The creature arched with a scream as its crown extended and spread, shaking about in the shattering discomfort as its skin molted and began to peel off into a husk of the Xenomorph's former self. Though for some odd reason the definitive checkered scars upon its head stayed as vibrant as they'd once been previously. Finally the pains slowed to a dull throb as the evolved monstrosity panted in exhaustion, gathering any remaining strength it could find. Grid raised up smoothly, its large feet stomping upon the ground as it hunched and let out a quiet hiss. At last, the first change before the last. Grid threw back its large widened head with a victorious roar. Xenomorph drone it was no more. Now the extraterrestrial was something greater, stronger, more powerful than it had once been. Its prey on the wall began to awaken, struggling against their bonds at the sight of their new captor in terror. Grid's jaws made an attempt to curl…the deadly jaws of…the Praetorian.

She shone the flashlight along the plane interior, finding the object as barren as before yet continued the investigation, walking the length of the vehicle from the cockpit down before pausing at a paneled door near the base of the plane. It was large and thick with steel and should have been merely an extra storage hold perhaps for parachutes or additional weapons; but what caused the young woman to stop wasn't that the door was gaping wide open – No. Her breath caught in her throat as Lex approached and looked at the destroyed keypad on it while her chest began to pump up and down harder and faster as the flashlight shone on what remained of the "storage hold". What gave her pause was the manner in which it was open. The door, like the other hole in the plane, was buckled outwards – the sole difference? This appeared dissolved away into jagged edges of remaining steel: like it had burned or melted away. Lex froze, eyes fixated on the stage of deterioration with anxiousness. Holding her breath Lex knelt down and reached a shaking hand inside the darkened room, stiffening as her fingers touched something warm, sticky and unpleasant. Pulling the hand back out the lass nearly bolted in terror at the secretion that laced between her fingers as remembrance overcame her mind like an icy avalanche of death. The light shone inside and the woman felt almost ill. The entire floor was covered in it and damp with water. "Oh God!" she exclaimed under her breath, rising to full height after wiping the substance off onto the walls in disgust and starting to back away.

In that moment the realization was immediate: it was all a lie. There couldn't have possibly been a terrorist. The plane didn't crash because of some attempt to free a criminal. It crashed because they had a "serpent" on board and it escaped. For the first time Alexa Woods regretted her curiosity and shook uncontrollably now. There was a possibility that that creature was still out here, lurking, watching, hunting! How many were there? How many would there be soon? They had to leave – NOW! Lex spun around. "Lex…"

The young woman halted then as she stared down the other end of the plane where the entrance was…only to find it empty. No one was there…no one was there! She was immobilized, terrified as she next tried to turn and bolt in the opposite direction for the secondary opening (the large gaping hole from where something had burst out of), but, "Lex…"

It was ahead of her? Her irises struggled to discern as the air suddenly moved and Alexa Woods found herself petrified as something partially invisible began to make its way towards her, the plane rocking under each step. "No," she murmured in disbelief and widened eyes. Not them too! Not them too! It advanced steadily and Lex whipped forward the spear, swinging it directly for the camouflaged assailant only for it to stop in mid-air as it strikes hard against something. She tugs, but it doesn't move and she falls back onto her bottom. The spear dangled in mid-air as Woods took a deep breath, prepared to let out a scream and final warning to the others when the camouflage dissipates, melting off the frame of a large warrior covered in fishnets and barely there armor. A clicking resounds from behind the hardened metal mask as the dreadlocks pouring from out of it tremble with a shake of the head. "Lex…" the mask whispers again in a grainy and yet compelling aura, and this time Woods notices a set of marks on the crown of the mask…marks that perfectly matched her own.

She touched her exposed cheek; hardly believing it but knowing that this had to be the only reason that she was still alive right now. "You?" she whispers, flinching for a second as the masked invader kneels down before her, cocking its head slowly as she relaxed a little and sat up further, coming onto her own knees whilst staring into the empty silver eyes of the masked being before her – wonder and awe blatant on her own . "It's you, isn't it?"

"Lex…my Lex…"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Alright, so we'll get to see some Lex/Scar interaction next chapter, and will more than likely also get into a little more action plot wise. Now, i've got some words in here in the Yautja language, and here's their rough English translations according to Xenopedia. (I'll try not to use too much of the Yautja language in this first addition of the series, cuz i dont want to confuse people, or Lex) LOL

Paya - God/Conquering Warrior

Sain'ja - Warrior

Kiande amedha - "hard meat" aka the Xenomorphs

Kv'var - Hunt