Hannah's heart raced and she felt the heat of rage rise in her cheeks. Her knuckles turned white around the gun against the strain to pull the trigger. She wanted to, oh she wanted to pull the trigger. The only reason she didn't was because there were four other guns in the room. Three were pointed to the backs of Ellen, Mike and John's head, the last was pointed at her.

"Let them go," she snarled through her teeth.

"I see your temper hasn't gotten any better in the past… what has it been, twenty years?"

She didn't correct him, he had been a snot-nose brat even back then, despite him being her own age when it happened. Fourteen-year old spoiled rich boy telling her to mind her own business. Nothing had changed but the age.

He grinned, "put the gun down Hannah."

Hannah glanced at her friends kneeling before their captors. Ellen's eyes were red and swollen and she was whimpering. Mike, also scared and recovering from being pistol-whipped for his stunt, was trying to comfort her with as little movement as possible, glancing at Hannah, lost and confused. John's eyes were hard, and were roving around the living room, planning.

Weyland nodded. The threat did not need to be spoken. Hannah set her jaw and bent setting the gun on the ground, standing back up with her hands raised.

"Good, thank you for cooperating, unlike the past couple of times. I'm down seven men because of you."

"They shot first."

"Irrelevant."

Ellen chocked on a sob. Mike touched her hand and gave Hannah another look. She couldn't tell if it was surprise at the fact that she had killed people, or the horror of how deep this situation really was, that human life had already been lost over it.

"Why are you here."

Weyland laughed, "you made a phone call from a small hotel to this residence. And you sounded very distraught."

"You tapped the hotel phones?" Hannah felt a chill run through her, wondering if Weyland had caught Lex and them first before coming here.

"Welcome to two-thousand thirty Hannah. I don't need to tap anything anymore," he grinned sinisterly.

Hannah's hands lowered and the gun that was trained on her stiffened. She gave it a glance, then her eyes returned to Weyland, "I'm guessing you want to know where it is."

Weyland chuckled, "Hannah, I know where it is. It hasn't moved in the past two months. I have satellites surrounding this planet, it's not hard to have an eye on you when you have something I want."

Hannah bristled, "if you know where it is then go fucking get it."

"No, no, Hannah, that would be suicide," Weyland's smile faded slightly, "here's how it's going to work. You're going to come with us and take us to where it is."

"Why?"

"It seems to like you. If it doesn't want you dead, it won't kill us, and we can take it safely away. And I promise you, I will be out of your hair for the rest of your miserable life," that promise had been made before. By someone surprisingly absent from the room.

"I'm insurance," she said, looking about and through the window, to see if there were any cars outside where Mr. Smith may be waiting.

"Sure, let's call it that."

Hannah stared at Weyland, straight into his eyes. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. There was no guarantee that he was going to let her friends go. It was likely that they knew too much now, just like her, just like Alexa. If they survived, they were going to be monitored, even hunted down forever, just like Alexa. Would it be worth it? Selling out Jar-hidda to save her friends, only to doom them to a troubled life? Would they forgive her for the possible millions of lives lost to alien technology in the wrong hands?

She looked over her friends. If any of them were in her shoes, what would be the decision they would make?

Hannah set her jaw as Mike caught her eye again. Good gentle Mike who had always been there for her. She saw something in his eye, a flicker of something before she looked away to Weyland again, who was waiting on some kind of answer.

"No."

"Bad answer."

The gunshot registered only a split second before the pain sheared through her torso and Hannah dropped. She vaguely registered Ellen's small scream as blood poured through her fingers just above her right breast. She coughed, writhing in pain for just a moment before forcing herself to sit up.

"You're just, going to use it to kill people," Hannah snarled, propping her knee up to stand.

"I don't need aliens to kill people," the somber and cold answer came.

There was movement suddenly. Hannah watched in horror as John snapped back, his elbow meeting the groin of the man who had the gun to his head, and he stood, whirling around to grab the gun. A gasp left Hannah's lips as the deafening sound of a gunshot pierced John's skull. Ellen's scream tore Hannah's heart from her chest as the woman threw herself over the body of her son, as he bled out in the carpet, dark eyes staring unseeingly at Hannah.

While the woman screamed in protest and disbelief, Mike reached up and grabbed the gun from the man behind him, trying to wrestle with the suit and took five rounds to his abdomen. Hannah could hear his pained grunt as he fell to his knees, drained instantly of strength and a final bullet to his brow knocked him to his back.

Ellen screamed again, reaching over towards her husband with one hand still fisted in John's shoulder. Everything sounded far away, the gunshots, the yelling, the fighting, and Ellen's agony, that was suddenly cut short with the movement in the action of a gun, ending her suffering.

Hannah couldn't breathe, shuddering, hand gripping the smooth fabric of the windbreaker, staring at the carnage.

Weyland looked at the three bodies and shook his head with a disbelieving smile, then looked at her and spread his hands at his sides.

"See?"

The guttural scream that wrenched out of Hannah's stomach turned into a roar. The cheetah was in her bloody hand in an instant and four guns trained on her, hesitating only a moment with the movement of Weyland's hand.

Hannah was going to kill him.

Gunshots tore through the living room, breaking glass. Weyland ducked and jumped towards the couch to hide behind it. One of the suits fell to bullet wounds that littered his body. Hannah hadn't even pulled the trigger.

The front door busted open, and an automatic gun swiveled from her to the other suits who had joined Weyland behind the couch. Bullets tore the stuffing out of the cushions. Hannah's brain finally registered the man behind the gun as Mark. He was giving cover to the door as Alexa came in, eyed the pile of death on the ground and grabbed Hannah's shoulders with one hand, the other had a handgun.

"Hannah," the woman said, "Hannah we need to go," Alexa ducked as the Weyland goons returned fire. Hannah reflexively grabbed Alexa by the front of her parka and dragged her to the kitchen, she didn't notice that the Miller brothers had also joined them, handguns ready and firing at the couch, but not even hitting it.

"I got this, you guys go!" yelled Mark, and the two left without hesitation.

The four of them ran into the backyard, and Hannah collapsed in the snow, clutching at her wound, she unzipped her windbreaker to look at it. Her lung was hit, there was no way around it.

"We need to keep moving Hannah," Alexa commanded and Hannah forced herself to her feet, faltered, then ran forward.

"This way, around the house to the car!" yelled Jacob and the group turned. The gunfire in the house stopped suddenly, and Hannah had a sinking suspicion why. She was falling behind, Alexa continued to encourage her to run, while ordering Scott to start the car. The four of them ducked and scrambled as bullets began to fly around them, kicking up the snow in short bursts. More grunts were piling out of three black trucks parked outside the house. Hannah turned, the familiar sight of her truck becoming her immediate focus point and she ran to it.

She was suddenly hit, and it felt like a hammer had stopped her dead in her tracks, the air in front of her was blurry and distorted, and there was a heavy weight gripping her shoulder. She gasped, turning and looking behind her at the men behind her. She was thrown to the side, and a bullet meant for her hit solid nothing. A nothing that bled green.

The crackling electricity scattered around a large form, fading away to reveal the large alien hunter. His fingers moved to the wound in his chest, touching the blood and looking at it through a cold metal mask. The red light on the mask turned on, and it swung over to a group of three men. A deep rattle resounded through the sudden silence, as three dots landed on the forehead of the man with the smoking gun.

One of the three guns on Jar-hidda's back swiveled.

"Put it down but keep it alive!" Weyland yelled, pointing at the hunter, issuing his orders to one dead man. The chestless body fell backwards from the percussion of the plasma bolt alone, the front of his chest blowing out the back and coloring the snow. A roar tore from the alien as he fired another blast at the two figures retreating into the house. The heat from the plasma caster set the wood instantly on fire.

Hannah was startled out of her stunned state by Alexa, falling down next to her. The Miller brothers had ducked behind their car, staring at Jar-hidda.

"We have to go," Alexa said and Hannah nodded, feeling light headed.

"Get to my truck," she insisted, and Alexa helped her to her feet. One hand fisted in the other woman's parka, Hannah moved towards her truck, getting the keys out of her pocket. Alexa called to the two men who ran over.

Hannah called to Jar-hidda.

The alien looked over his shoulder at Hannah, throwing the body of a man off of his glaive. A bullet hit him in the shoulder and he whipped around, looking at the people still shooting at him. His mask turned to face the woman as she got into the truck, and looked back at him.

The hunter turned, lifted his wrist-gauntlet and fired a single small bolt at the one who had shot him, and retreated towards the truck. The entire vehicle rocked as Jar-hidda swung in, tearing through the tarp and causing Scott to curse loudly as he was the one in the bed of the truck with the giant alien. Alexa was next to Hannah, trying to apply pressure to the wound as Hannah started up the truck, Jacob was in the passenger side doing up his seatbelt. They were still being fired at and Jar-hidda roared in challenge. He didn't like leaving this battle. Hannah glanced at her side-view mirror.

"Jar-hidda, take out the trucks!"

His head whipped, dreadlocks flaring out around him and smacking against his shoulders as he looked from Hannah to the black vehicles. He leaned over the side of the truck, massive hand gripping the metal tightly. The red light activated again and swept along each black truck. All three guns on his back came to life, swiveled at a different angle and fired. The explosion sent the trucks flying into the air and crashing down hard, nearly shattering them. What remaining men there were jumped away from the blast, some weren't so lucky, falling into the snow as flaming corpses.

Hannah was peeling away before the smoke had even lifted into the sky. She tore down the road, with her plow lowered. Fire was reflected in all her mirrors, slowly fading away in the distance.

"Mark's dead," Jacob said, staring ahead in shock, "he's dead. They killed him."

"Jacob," Alexa looked over at the man, but her voice caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say, "I'm sorry."

"Bastards," cursed the man, putting his hand to his brow and gnashing his teeth.

"Bastards," agreed Hannah quietly and felt a red-hot, heavy stone settle in her chest.