Raptor is a horrible person

Raptor is a horrible person. Mmmyep. Like I said. Dark. My sister moved in with us, which is nice. I am almost done school now and this will be the last update for a little while at least because I'm going away to work on my Practicum in a camp bakery. Is a very nice bakery, or so I've heard. Not open fires, but an actual proper kitchen. I'm excited except for the fact I don't get paid. Also a little scared. I quit my job at McDonald's, which was wonderful. FREEEEE!

So, please read and enjoy!

Pauk-de- Fucker or fucking.

Thwei-Tjau'ke- Bloodstone.

Setg'in-kwei- Tricky and quick.

Guan-Thwei- Night Blood.

Chapter 8

Matt spent hours in the chair, seemingly forgotten, until his muscles cramped, his joints throbbed and he thought he would explode from his need to use the facilities. Finally, they dragged him back to his cell.

Thwei-Tjau'ke limped over to the glass, dragging his useless prosthetic limb. "M'aat-hew, what did they do to you?"

"They tortured me. I did not say anything, but I have a feeling they are not finished yet." He exhaled, deep and shuddery, crawling onto the bed and dragging the thin blanket over himself with bruised, aching hands.

"Something is wrong with M'aat-hew. I have seen him shrug off beatings that were as good as torture, but this is different. I am worried." Guan-Thwei said.

Thwei-Tjau'ke sighed, looking up from the fused circuits of his leg. "Is any help going to come? They may just assume we are all dead or will leave us to our deaths. Perhaps they will bomb this pit of horrors."

Guan-Thwei shrugged. "They may or they may not; I do not claim to be able to predict the whims of the council."

"No one does. Cold-hearted pauk-des." The crippled Yautja smirked and then finally just twisted off his leg from the port set into his flesh and bones, throwing it in the corner. He got up and hopped with surprising agility closer to Guan-Thwei.

"Is he asleep?"

Thwei-Tjau'ke nodded. "Yes. Quite deeply too, I think."

"What if I spoke to them and bargained something? I stay, everyone else goes."

"It will never work. Oomans have no honor; they would just break any promises. They do not have to worry about losing their honor, as most do not have any. We should just keep playing the vicious animal."

"Poor M'aat-hew. I hate to see him going through with this."

"Yes. But he is strong."

"He is strong. This is different. He seemed very listless; he had none of his usual anger. This torture is so much more than physical; he saw something terrible. I will give myself up for him and the rest of you."

"No!" Thwei-Tjau'ke barked, "We need more time. Just wait a short while longer. Then, if you must, you can sacrifice yourself and see what good it does. You are in charge of your own life, but you may end up suffering far worse than poor Setg'in-kwei."

"Do you think I like to see M'aat-hew suffer?" snapped Guan-Thwei, rising.

"No. But why hurt yourself too?"

Guan-Thwei clattered his mandibles in frustration. "He is my friend and I said I would look after him."

Thwei-Tjau'ke blinked slowly and replied, "Can you look after him if you are in there with him?"

The older warrior hissed, "No. But I would rather be there with him than stuck in this cell. I cannot do anything in here! I am helpless and I hate it!"

The two elder warriors became increasingly worried; when Matt woke up, he did not speak, barely even moved, staring out the cell dully, deep in thought. They came for him again a few hours later. Matt did not fight; he simply let himself be dragged out.

"Oh, Matthew, my boy. Your stubbornness is incredible. Caine has not had someone like you in a very long time. You delight him and he has not even really started yet." Matt stared at Mr. Smith, looking so out of place in his neat green suit in the dismal torture chamber.

The Soft Man, Caine, stood in the corner, knuckly reddened hands nervously fondling a scalpel. His slack mouth moved constantly as if he chewed on his tongue.

"You could easily stop all this, you know."

"No." Matt rasped.

"Your 'honor' will get you no where here. Only juicy secrets will."

"No."

"Very well. Caine."

The flaccid man came forward, a smile on his stubbly face.

"No. Not that. The other, fool."

His face fell momentarily before he understood, nodding and leaving the room.

Mr. Smith sighed and leaned on his cane. "Honestly. I don't know how he ever caught my eye enough for this position sometimes." A light turned on behind the previously opaque window. Matt saw the Soft Man bent over a chair, much like the one he was in but bigger. Guan-Thwei was in the chair. "Mr. Adams told me that this one escaped him several years ago, or at least one very much like him. Was he the one that you first met? The one that introduced you to that barbaric culture?"

Matt's hands tightened into fists, his muscles straining against the straps that held him in place.

"Ah. I see I am correct." The old man smiled slightly. "I did not want anymore damaged, but I need to get through that thick skull of yours." Caine began to wash his hands, drying them carefully and pulling on white gloves. He pulled a wheeled cart over and picked up a wrapped square. Opening it, he pulled out an antiseptic wipe and bent over Guan-Thwei, swabbing a section of his face. The warrior struggled, but he had been even more heavily bound than Matt and could scarcely move an inch. The Soft Man threw the sterilized towelette away and took a number of bizarre tools out, examining them carefully. He affixed one to Guan-Thwei's face, though Matt could not see where because of the swell of the warrior's forehead. Obviously, it was uncomfortable as Guan-Thwei began to struggle again, his mandibles flexing and straining. Matt's heart began to pound. Caine's brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of his pink tongue protruding from between his teeth. Suddenly, his expression turned to triumph as he yanked his arm upward, holding something in a pair of tweezers. Guan-Thwei thrashed, his roars dully audible even in the soundproofed room. In the tweezers was a smallish, round object, a few strands and one cord-like projection hanging from it. It was covered in the neon fluid that was Yautja blood. It took a moment for it to click. Once it did, Matt's stomach rebelled. Vomit sprayed the floor, Mr. Smith staggering away with a curse of disgust. A rage-filled cry tore itself out of his throat! It was Guan-Thwei's eye.

Mr. Smith's voice held a threatening, sharp edge. "Now, I want information and I ant it now. I'm not allowed to do anything permanent to you or your sister, but they are not human. Talk. Now. Or it will be his other eye!"

Matt spoke. A momentary swell of triumph was obliterated almost instantly. He did not understand a single word coming out of the boy's mouth. It was a fairly harsh language, a guttural tongue, filled with rolling growls and sharp clicks.

"In English, dammit!" He slapped Matt hard across the face.

His breath came in a sharp hiss, but no coherent words issued from his mouth. Smith stormed out, a sudden thought coming to mind. Caine watched him go through the window and hesitated a moment. He looked at the agonized alien and would have liked to continue his grisly job, but thought better of it. Mr. Smith might not like it. The old man could be so fickle. He made his decision and left.

Caine peeked out, seeing Mr. Smith's diminutive but threatening form. He was limping back and forth, muttering, but clearly deep in thought.

"Mr. Caine." he said suddenly. "Is it possible to break someone's mind? I've only heard rumors."

"Uh… Yeah. It can happen. Takes a lot though."

"Matthew has finally decided to speak but not in any language I recognize. I am sure he knows worse will happen to the Predator if he doesn't talk because he's not stupid. He does not speak English, though!"

"Uh, you could have broken him. He could just be faking though."

Smith stroked his beard. "Will he get better?"

"I dunno. Sometimes they get better. Sometimes they don't."