Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Alien/Predator series or any characters and may not follow all customs and cultures found in Alien/Predator movies.

Oh fuck . . .

The beast crept, timing its steps for the kill. The saliva glistened its teeth and fell like raindrops. She tried to slow her breathing, appearing unafraid. It didn't matter, offering little to dissuade interest, it intents were to slaughter her.

Her instincts kicked it, just as the creature screeched and jumped in the air with sharp, dagger-like claws, jaws opened to shred flesh. Sara rolled to the side, barely avoiding the beast slamming into the nearby ground. It shrieked, quickly got up and dashed at her again.

She thought fast, raising her forearm so it bit down on that instead of her neck. Its teeth were excruciating than she thought, piercing so deep that it sunk into the bone. Resisting the urge to scream, she kicked at its abdomen but did little to help her. The skin was as hard as stone, like trying to break a boulder with fists alone, the taste of blood urging it on.

Sara resorted to pry its jaw off, not the best choice but only one. Sara snaked her fist inside its mouth to force a reflex, grabbed a lump of flesh and squeezed as hard as she could. The beast gagged, enough she could get her arm out, a quick kick on its face for good measure before she ran toward the opposite direction without looking back, holding a bloodied arm.

Fuck. That thing did a number on me. Despite applying pressure, the small needle-like punctures oozed fast, adding that it started to go numb. I need to find an exit . . . or a weapon.

Sara kept going, hoping to find anything to escape this hellhole alive. There could be more creatures other than the one she encountered, she prayed to be proven wrong. Her arm was throbbing, fingertips going numb and cold, heart pumped faster, more than her legs could keep up.

Just get to a wall! Figure something out and then—

Something solid hit her from behind like a wrecking ball, the growl of the same creature gave no surprise, fear rose in her. It bit down on her shoulder, more brutal than the first. She screamed her lungs out, pain blinding everything else but the sensation of warm flow of blood pouring into the dirt. Her vision blurred, her head felt like it was about to explode. The thought of death suffocating her. Shit! I have to do something!

She caught sight of a broken branch laying inches away, broken into a jagged edge. Against the thrashing of the creature, she stretched her hand to reach it. Too far . . . I need to push.

Her eyesight darkened, drifting towards unconsciousness. One. More. Push!

With everything she got, she hurled forward and finally grabbed the branch, twisted and aimed for its head. A quick thrust and it punctured deep into its eye. Fuck you!

The creature released, howling towards the sky with blinding agony, purple liquid oozed from the wound. As it swung itself like crazy, Sara struggled to stand, failing each time as her body refused to respond. She crawled to a nearby trunk, leaning to watch the beast break the stick off.The creature settled down and glared, animosity directed to her. Its eye was gone, a piece of the branch stuck out like a nasty thorn as it bared its fangs. It snarled and raked its claws into the ground, forked tongue licking the remnants of red blood.

Now defenseless, the beast took its time, sadistic in some sense, letting despair almost overtake her but she wasn't going to give up without a fight.

She inhaled sharply, "Come on, bastard . . . Come and get m—"

Something else came from the her horror, it was another one of its kind, and from the way they didn't bother to glance at each other, I assumed it was one of its buddies. Fuck me then. Got two on my ass.

With no way of contact, sustained severe injuries, and two unknown species ready to make her their dinner, she closed her eyes in thought. She tried not to reminisce about the past but near death, her life flashed before her eyes. Is this how I was going to die?

No . . . She tightened her fists. I can't die like this. Not after everything I've been through.

She glared at the creatures. I'm not going to die! Not like this!

They came closer, teeth snapping.

Fuck death! Fuck it!

Out of nowhere, a flash obscured her vision for a second. She heard howling, full of distress and rage. When Sara opened her eyes, a huge crater was in between the beasts. What?

They turned in a direction and growled. The next thing she knew, one with the wounded eye was thrusted high in the air, something invisible she couldn't perceive. Something skewered its stomach, its blood dripping around an object. The other beast roared, charging at whatever got its partner, but it was in vain.

It was pinned down by the head abruptly, thrashing in an attempt to get away, the sudden shock she felt when its head was ripped off, spine with it and floating in the air. The other beast screamed for revenge but it morphed into gurgles, throat slashed and left to linger in a slow death. In a matter of a few minutes, the creatures laid dead and mangled, worse than she imagined. Their blood soaked the ground in the dim light. What is going on? What killed them?

There were sparks of electricity and then slowly materialized into a figure. It looked like a humanoid but bigger than any man she'd seen, even the army men appeared puny compared to whatever this thing was. It wore some kind of armor but had the familiarity of cameos and military gear, except for the cold sense of the biomask it wore. It had dark green scales with highlights of blue stripes, two blades protruding on its wrist, sharp like its claws. She compacted against the tree, not knowing what to do.

The figure tilted its head and she swore it made clicking sounds, taking one step too close for comfort. She was wary and confused. Is it going to finish me off? Will it kill me?

Sara tried to stand up but there was no energy left in her. Her vision was blurred again, fading in and out.

I have to stay awake. I have to—

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Hunt was going very well as usual. It had been a while since he and his brother had a break from discussing with the oomans, as fragmented and frustrating as it was. It was too good to be true though when they heard the Kurn's cries, chasing something through the bushes and trees.

"Oh great. They did it again." Ma'dti ripped his ki'cti-pa from a fallen prey, a 'bear' the oomans called them, not much to hunt, "Can't they give us a break?"

"I guess not." He flexed, dah'kte emerging, "We should take care of it."

"Why?"

He growled, "You know why."

Ma'dti clicked his tusks in irritation, "They did this to themselves. I'm not going to play with the clean-up crew again."

His brother proved a point, they have to do the dirty work for the oomans, all they would get are guns pointed at their heads. It had been that way ever since they arrived on this backwater planet. He debated whether to agree but something picked at his mind . . . something wrong. He honed his biomask's sensors to where the sounds were coming from. A single ooman was fighting against a Kurn, surprisingly keeping its ground but the ooman had no choice but to run. So much for courage.

I'koh paused. Wait . . .

Ma'dti snorted, "Let's finish the Hunt and take care of the mess later. It's not our fault if one stupid ooman dies."

His words went through his skull like thin air, he couldn't ignore the cry of the ooman as he saw another Kurn coming to finish the job with its partner. He shook his head, dreadlocks slapping on his shoulders. It's probably nothing.

I'koh walked to grab their kill when he heard a scream, one he'd never heard before and yet strangely familiar. C'jit! He took off without hesitation, activating the cloak while ignoring his brother's plea, nothing was going to stop him.

He ran hard and fast, zipping past trees and bushes efficiently. When he reached them, the Kurn were inches from the fallen ooman, about to deliver the final blow.

I'koh reacted, shooting a warning blast to grab their attention. Like lighting, he slew the wounded beast, relishing the kill, heat rushed through his veins. The other Kurn came for revenge, he didn't bother with it. Ma'dti had followed, expected and dealt with the last Kurn, ripping its skull clean. A good trophy to have.

The glorious feeling overshadowed with the nagging from his brother, "You're a fool, I'koh. I told you to leave it."

He ignored him, checking on the ooman lying on the ground. The heat signature showed it was growing cold but still alive, struggling to breathe and unconscious. He shifted to ooman vision to get a closer look, a new feature given to them. It was a female, obviously having milk glands. When he observed a little longer, he hissed, taking a step back in shock. It's her!

The ooman with the dark skin and strong demeanor, the one he saw a while ago. Here she was, unconscious with a chunk of her shoulder gone and a bite on her arm. She had fought well, seeing that the Kurn he killed was missing an eye with a stick through it.

"So another ooman . . and a female no less. They are a merciless species." Ma'dti came without a sound, spitting on the ground.

I'koh kneeled on her side, softly brushing a strand of her unique hair. She was merely resting but she lost a lot of blood and needed immediate treatment, the smell of iron was overwhelming. He couldn't leave her like this, reached for the wrist gauntlet and entered the code.

"What are you doing?" Ma'dti growled.

The alarms and flashing lights in the hunting grounds went off, a setting given to them in case of emergencies. The oomans would rush immediately and come for her, the least he could do was make sure to deliver the female. He picked her up, carrying her to the closest door.

"Brother." Ma'dti stopped him, "They'll shoot you if you do this."

I'koh sighed, "I know." He glanced at the female ooman resting in his arms, "But this is my choice."

Leaving his brother, he headed for the door and stood to wait. The oomans were already there, in panic and guns loaded, targeting his chest and head. One shouted its weird language, he hadn't gotten much practice speaking their language, only having the help of a translator when he wanted it. He waited until the ooman he was looking for emerged, the 'Commander' Evans approached through the line of soldiers, anger clear on his face.

"What did you do now?" He didn't speak, clicking his mandibles. The oomans tensed, guns cocked in unison, "Hold your fire!"

The soldiers took a step back but their guns unwavered in their purpose. Evans inched closer but held a hand over his sidearm, "Drop her on the ground."

He growled. Filthy ooman.

"Do it," His voice deepened on the edge of pure animosity.

With no other choice that wouldn't welcome confrontation, he placed her gently on the ground. Evans motioned two soldiers to pick her up, heading back towards the door. I'koh could only watch as she disappeared, somewhat worried. The soldiers dispersed behind the metal barrier, not turning their backs, which was a smart move on their part. Evans was the last to leave, a message of warning he gave to them.

"One more incident like this . . . or else you'll regret it," His back turned, walking away from the scene.

"Please . . ."

I'koh spoke as much as he remembered, minding his vocal cords didn't make the correct sounds and his loop had no registry of oomans saying that. Evans paused, surprised in some way, maybe confused.

"Help . . . her. Keep . . . safe," That was as much as he could muster.

Evan huffed, offended at the remark. I'koh didn't expect anything else from the puny ooman, it left a bad taste in his mouth the way he saw the fire in his eyes. He was relieved when he left, quickly overshadowed by a sense of guilt. Why?

"Brother," Ma'dti spoke, "Let's get back to the Hunt."

He agreed, no sense in staying when nothing else can be done. He stayed behind his brother, contemplating the recent events. He didn't know what came over him, communicating— no, more like a plea to the ooman, very unnatural. He assured his restless conscience that they'll heal her, usually do anyway.

His heart ached though, irritated. He didn't like it one bit.

Notes:

C'jit = Shit

Dah'kte = Wristblades

Ki'cti-pa = Combistick

Kurn = Hellhounds (from Predators movie)

Normal = Any human speaking English (ooman language)

Bold = Any Yautja speaking English (ooman language)

Bold and Italic = Any Yautja speaking Yautja language