High stone walls loomed over them. Noland headed for them, moving with the practiced precision of a seasoned hunter. An odd sight ahead stopped them in their tracks. Three Predator skeletons—ancient, bones bleached, rib cages pulverized, skulls shattered—laid on the ground. The blades didn't have a speck of rust, even after all these centuries—driven into one another, locked in an eternal struggle. They took in the eerie sight, staggered by it.

Sophie glanced at it a little longer than the others did. Hopefully they wouldn't end up like that. Noland just brushed past it. He'd seen it all before. Thunder clapped in the far off distance. Plants began to close up. Noland picked up the pace, before turning around to the crew.

"Hurry." He spat at them.

Drops started to fall. Sizzling on the skeletons. One hit Sophie on the shoulder, burning right through fabric.

She yelped once. "Shit, make that acid rain. Figures!"

Stans laughed until he got pelted by a couple drops. There was a dead end ahead. Sophie had no idea where this weirdo was leading them. Was it into a trap?
Noland marched towards it, undeterred. He pulled back a heavy camouflage net, revealing a cave entrance behind it. He disappeared inside. It was either be smoldered by acid rain or trust this PTSD-looking stranger in his hole of darkness. All of them immediately ran inside.

Nikolai pulled a Claymore from his pack. Planting it, about to string some trip wire around their camp. Noland shook his head at the Russian. "Too smart for that." He told him.

He moved off into darkness. Clearly, this man knew every inch of this place. Yet we know nothing about this man who was so helpful to us, Sophie thought to herself. The passage continued ahead, curving to the left. Noland pushed up against a wall. A hatch opened up from the pressure.

After Isabelle and Edwin were the last ones to enter. Noland pulled a heavy trap door closed behind them, securing it with alloy rods. He then turned up a dial on some strange device. Light washed over, illuminating the place. It was large and spartan. There was a cot next to the hatch, a makeshift table and bench, all sorts of guns and magazines, bits and pieces of gear everywhere. Some were man made though Sophie could tell that most of it was alien.

A scavenger's den.

Noland put down the rifle. As he peeled off his suit, he asked. "They drop you in?"

Royce nodded.

Noland grunted, his body shaking as he did so. The way he laughed almost made him sound crazy. Only Sophie decided to put in her input. "I woke up without a parachute. They snatched me up in their ship and drugged me." She explained all at once.

Royce could attest to this. He was the one who found her unconscious on the ground. The asshole Predator youngblood Kvar'thwei most likely just dropped her off onto the ground, not wanting to risk hurting his delicate prey just yet. Sophie could only imagine it.

Stans eyes were filled with greed, envious of all the scavenger's stuff. He knocked on a chest plate of armor, liking the sound. "Where did you get all this?" he inquired.

Noland wasn't appreciative in his tone of voice. "Off the guy who didn't need it anymore," he answered, snatching it from Stans. "Don't touch my stuff, Agent Orange."

He began humming to himself in his gruff voice, stirring some sort of stew he had made. It might as well have been shit. But at this moment in time, there was no complaining. Sophie and the others hadn't really had food in the day and a half or so since they had been here. All the adrenaline and constant threat of death forced them to ignore the hunger pains.

Isabelle broke his awkward little tune. "How long have you been here?" she asked.

Noland motioned to a wall before taking a sip of his soup. Thousands of lines were carved into stone. Thousands of days. Years. Maybe even decades. Nikolai slowly shook his head. "Jesus..." he muttered under his breath.

Noland shook his head. "Don't see much of him around here. We win the war?"

"Iraq?"

"Vietnam."

Fuck, this man had been here since the 1970's. So even if they killed the Predators, there was no way off of this rock. They were stuck here forever. Just trying to survive. Almost as difficult as high school, the more Sophie thought about it. Sophie held in all of the horror on the inside.

"No, we lost." she answered.

Noland let out an exhausted side. "Figured we wouldn't. Victory's in the mind. We lost before we even went in." He took another bite of soup, eating a chunk of meat. "The same for here."

"Then, how did you survive this long?" Edwin then interjected.

"Being smart. Keeping my head down. Salvaging what I can, when I can, from whatever I can. Making sure they don't know where I am. You want food?"

Edwin gave him an over excited nod. Noland nodded to an earthen bowl. Edwin peeked inside, quickly losing his appetite. Berries it was.

"I'd tell you it tastes like chicken. Except I don't remember what chicken tastes like," Noland told him. "But you can live on it."

Sophie wasn't entirely sure about that. Who knew what was in the soup. Who knew what affects it would have on a mind for over four decades. "What is this place?" she asked.

"Far as I can tell, a game preserve. And you and I are the game." Noland answered.

"They stock it." Royce said, not a question.

"That's right. You're lucky. Most humans don't make it this far." Noland leaned over to look at Sophie. "Least of all a little girl. Granted, I wasn't much older than you when I was taken." He smiled once. "Drafted into the Vietnam war at eighteen. Six months later, I was drafted into this fucking place."

Sophie couldn't help but feel sorry for this bloke. He was trapped on this planet constantly being hunted and just trying to survive for over five decades. "So all this is just for sport?" Isabelle scoffed.

Noland raised his finger in objection. "I didn't say that," he corrected. All ears were on him. "Every year they bring in the fresh meat. Shit you wouldn't even believe. They hunt 'em. Kill 'em. But every so often one of us kills one of them. That's when they get real interested. Slice the poor son of a bitch up. See what makes him tick. Next season, when they are back, maybe their weapons have changed, or maybe their armor. Their tactics. They better themselves here. And truly, that is the essence of it. You can only become stronger on the battlefield. Sure, the gun range helps. But nothing compares to experience."

This was so true, Sophie thought to herself. Yet she managed to kill that praying mantis like animal earlier without a problem. Maybe she was just being arrogant. Everyone traded nervous glances. If they had been practicing fighting for decades and possibly hundreds of years, what chance did a little girl who had only been taught how to fire a gun only hours before stand a chance? Royce and the others weren't much better in comparison. The negative thoughts began to overwhelm Sophie once more.

Royce wasn't interested in the planet's mythology. "How do we stop them?" He asked in his hoarse voice.

"You don't," Noland replied. "You can't."

"They've got to have a weakness."

"Some ones we got. Two or three, I can't 'member. 'Cept what kills a man only hurts them."

Sophie paused for a moment, before giving a slight nod. "Well then, I guess it's a good thing that I'm not a man."

That made Noland chuckle really hard, rumbling through his entire frame. He pointed at her with amusement. "Good one," he smiled with a touch of insanity. Sophie couldn't blame him. She had only been here for twenty four hours and was already going insane. Sophie was surprised that this man wasn't a full blown schizophrenic.

Noland looked to his side, as if someone were sitting next time. He nodded hurriedly, "Sure. Yeah, that sounds about right," He stated, before looking back at his visitors. "We're going to sleep. No loud noises. They're out there."

Sophie let out a quiet sigh to herself. Of course she had to jinx it.


The storm had passed after what was probably a day. Royce attested to that with his military watch. Noland put the lights on low. Sophie still didn't trust this man, he would have to earn it like the others did. She made sure to check his cot every now and then to see if he was still cuddled in there asleep. He was.

The crew was arrayed around the cave. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Just time to kill. And ponder. Sophie hated having to wait. That night only made her impatience worse. But this was the only way to survive. She noticed that Hanzo had his eyes on a piloe of weapons in the corner. She recognized most of them being just guns, knives, and other stabbing or slicing weapons. Hanzo pulled out a katana, studying it with reverence. He pulled the blade half way out of the scabbard.

His dark eyes were reflected in the steel.

"This is old." He said in a heavy Japanese accent. "Very old."

Sophie reacted, both to the statement and the fact that he finally broke his silence in the two days they'd been here. Royce didn't seem to care. In fact, he liked the fact that Hanzo wasn't talkative like a certain annoying guy in an orange prison jumpsuit. "They've been doing this for a long time." He simply said to the Yakuza clan member.

"You speak English?" Nikolai asked.

"Yes." Hanzo replied.

"You speak?" Sophie added with an exasperated look.

Hanzo rolled his eyes at her, turning back to the ancient weapon. "Yes."

Stans had a stupid look on his face. "Then, why didn't you say something?"

Hanzo lifted up his diminished hand. There were two fingers completely missing. "Because I talked too much," he answered. Explaining the missing fingers.

Nikolai merely laughed. Not a sound you heard often in this place. Stans chuckled as well. He then nudged Edwin on the back with his foot. "So what's your story, white bread?"

Edwin shrugged. "I'm a doctor."

"Can't be, every one of us in here has done something bad," Stans turned to Sophie. "Except for Miss Saved by the Bell here. She's too damn perfect and too damn cute to do anything wrong."

Sophie had no expression on her face, which contrasted with the middle finger she flung out to them. This caused Stans and Edwin to laugh together. Isabelle and Royce sat in the far corner, apart from the rest. "Noland's right though," Isabelle pointed out. "Even if we do survive, we're stuck here."

Royce was messing around with the remaining ammo to his shotgun. He gazed towards the bored looking Sophie. "Not me. I'm going home." He stated boldly.

"But how?" Isabelle asked incredulously. "It's a long shot trying to kill these monsters, flying an alien space ship isn't the same as flying a airplane...That's if you even know how to fly an airplane."

"No, but that thing strung up at the camp might know." Royce answered. "And my guess is that it will do just about anything to get free."

Isabelle looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "What makes you think it would help us?"

"Because it has a code of honor," Royce took a long drink of water. "Enemy of my enemy."

"That doesn't make it a friend."

Sophie peered over the table to check on Noland. It was empty. I knew it! Sophie exclaimed into her mind, turning to the rest of her crew in alarm. "Noland is gone!" She said in a loud voice. That was when the smell and sight of smoke began to fill the room.

"Smoke...smoke!" Royce yelled. "Smoke! Get up everyone!"

He kicked Stans on the way to the hatch. Royce moved to the hatch, trying to pull it open to no avail. No dice, it was sealed from the other side. Sophie kicked at the metal door. "Noland! Noland, open this door!" she shouted. "You asshole!"

No response. It was futile. Noland had planned this. Not everyone was worthy of trust it would seem. Stans and the others didn't catch on as quick, aside from Hanzo. Edwin's blue eyes went wide. "He's a scavenger, he wants what we have!" He yelled. Edwin and Stans began freaking out as more smoke filled the room.

Sophie held the sleeve to her jacket over her nose and mouth, as the others began to do with various pieces of cloth or clothing. Nikolai attempts to plug the vents to no avail. They weren't going to die to the Predators, they were going to die a more pathetic death: smoke inhalation.

"YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE, MOTHERFUCKER!" Noland's voice screamed through the vents. He began laughing like a maniac. In the spur of a moment, Royce jacked a green shell into his shotgun. "Get down." was all he said.

"What are you doing?" Isabelle cried out.

Royce leveled the weapon toward the far wall. Everyone doves for cover upon realizing what Royce was going to do.

BOOM!

Whatever round Royce put into his shotgun. It effectively turned the shotgun into a rocket launcher. The concussion destroyed the metal plate covering Noland's room. Sophie could feel her ears ringing, dust and debris covering her body. She was helped to her feet by Nikolai. With an open exit now, Royce shouted to the crew. "Alright, everybody, grab all the weapons you can carry!"

"No, we need to leave now!" Sophie shouted. "Everything in the God damn forest heard that blow, including the Predators!"

"Then move double-time!" Royce yelled back at her, unwilling to give up all this good weaponry.

Sophie groaned, being forced to lower her sleeved arm and inhale the smoke. It was the only way as she needed both hands to fill a bag with ammunition and grenades. She didn't want to be a pushover, but Royce did have a point. They needed more ammo.


Noland stood outside, stoking the fire, fanning the smoke upward into his cave. When he stopped. He heard it. He knew that it was already here. "You crazy fucker," he muttered under his breath. Noland booked for the exit but it was too late.

BLAM!

A plasma round plastered him all over the wall. The Predator moved past the charbroiled corpse, looking for fresher, stronger prey. Including the pauking loud-dte kale that Kvar'thewi was so obsessed over.


Yautja terminology

Pauk/pauking - basically just the word "fuck" or "fucking" lol