Trapped

The pain was unreal, nothing had come close to inflicting such agony inside him, no scars after a Hunt proved worse, especially inside his chest. The electricity flowing through his heart was excruciating, harder to catch his breath, and yet . . . something else overpowered his mind.

The darkness cloaked everything around him like a dark veil, his body felt strange as he tried to command his fingers to clench but no movement. Except for his neck, something invisible wrapped around him, constricting him to stay as still as a statue. As much as he tried to contain it, the fear of the unknown reached into his soul, almost breaking him. It was almost like . . . death.

Cetanu . . . Are you so eager for me to join you?

Just then, he sensed movement from the corner of his eyes. Dachande followed but it was gone and then it moved to the other side, and again it disappeared. His mandibles clattered nervously despite the urge to resist. He never felt like this since he was a pup, first learning of the terrible stories of creatures and what he would face in the future following the harsh physical and mental training into Young Bloods. From then on, fear had been far away from his mind, honor, and bravery were the greatest to achieve in becoming great hunters.

But now . . .

Dachande can sense he was surrounded, being stalked like prey. Anger and frustration grew in him, this wasn't him to be trapped like this, targeted by the unknown. This was no Paya.

"Show yourself," He growled, "Coward."

Part of him almost regretted spewing those words, unlike a hunter to call out their enemy with emotions, that got most young warriors killed and he was a Leader. Regardless, the creature that hid in the darkness finally emerged slowly with clear intent but it wasn't anything he'd expected.

The face was first to emerge, the elongated snout puffed streams of its body heat as it crept to the ground. Its claws dug and scarred the invisible floor, sharp as the spikes lining the back among the scales shining somehow in this abyss. Dachande planted his feet, the internal struggle to defend himself as the bigger picture of the beast came forth.

It was massive to say the least, twice as large as any Queen kainde amedha he'd ever seen, let alone hunted and killed, a serpent of great proportions that stood more than a few meters higher, excluding the two horns. Wings on both sides spread as it snarled, tail whipping behind with agitation and flashing the black hue of its skin. Dachande's instincts roared for him to prepare for the fight but his body was still frozen, unable to even lift a claw, helpless as his dhi'ki-de came forth.

Is this what you want, Cetanu? He inhaled deeply, the serpent creature growled deeply, fangs glistened with saliva, his body relaxed and eyes shut in the revelation. Let it be done quickly.

But nothing happened . . . Silence was all that occurred for those crucial moments.

The beast quieted down, raising its head from the ground to inch closer, the animosity no longer was there. Dachande held his breath, mandibles turned rigid as the serpent stopped inches to his face, every breath was like a heatwave on him as it gazed with such intensity.

As he was about to hiss a warning, he paused as he caught sight of its eyes. They weren't like anything he'd expect from any creature, round pupils surrounded by a rim of chocolate and beige colors. He couldn't pin where or when but they seemed familiar . . . full of emotions, unlike a creature driven only by instincts.

They're almost like—

He blinked for a split second but the next thing he knew, the darkness and the beast were gone. Instead, a hand reached out for him, small and almost fragile-looking with pale, soft skin. It moved slightly to the right to reveal the ugly face of a creature with its thin mane draped on its head.

Dachande widened his eyes and tensed. Ooman!

He thrashed in mere seconds, driven by instinct to fight back. The ooman panicked, falling to the ground in terror. Dachande's roars were muffled by a device of some sort pumping cold air in his lungs. His arms and legs were bound on a table by leather straps, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get free. Fear and anger threatened to surface from inside him.

No sooner did more oomans burst from a faraway door, two of them bulkier and taller than the others, racing to check the fallen one and giving a wide-eyed look at him, the shock clear enough to see. He growled and the oomans pulled back. At least they know a warning . . . for primitive species.

What are you doing here!?

The one with some weird-looking hat began to rant gibberish at the first ooman, almost berating in a sense. The ooman in a white coat pulled up the smaller one off the floor and then raised its hands as if pleading to stop.

Stop this Ackland! Enough!

It only agitated the first one more, spitting its fluids like a gruesome beast. They bickered back and forth, enough that it was giving Dachande a headache. Just when it couldn't get worse, another smaller ooman with a short, black mane came stomping from outside with another following behind to stop it, clearly aiming for the one with the hat. Despite the size difference, it screamed as if scolding a suckling for disobedience.

How dare you!? Sneaking things behind my back!?

The babbling continued for a while, enough that he wanted to shut his eyes to sleep. He needed it badly, his body still hurt a lot and he knew well enough that rest was important until his plan to escape commenced, bad enough and disgraceful for a warrior like himself to be strapped to a table. Finally, the oomans had enough, walking out of the room as the smaller one grunted in disappointment, herding the one in the hat to do the same, leaving the last two alone.

It was . . . interesting to some fact, the white-coated ooman had a demeanor of a caretaker, similar to a jag'di as she grabbed the small one's shoulder and shook with the gentlest of touches, speaking calmly and somewhat shame in tone. They conversed quietly, not as if it mattered since he couldn't understand. He watched the young one, to his judgment of age, lowered its gaze in a moment of guilt. Surprisingly, it snapped and pushed the other's hand away, abruptly ending the conversation. The look on the ooman's face displayed such hatred but not for the other. Strange . . .

After a minute of silence and with a disgruntled shake, the older ooman pulled away and headed for him. Dachande hissed a warning to stay away, both flinched for a second and then proceeded closer. He tried to thrash once more, hopeful the bounds would waive until the white-coated ooman pulled out some medical device with a needle filled with clear liquid. He drew up all of his strength to free himself, throwing his head around in a frenzy.

Unfortunately, he lost the battle this time, much to his dissatisfaction.

The ooman maneuvered carefully as she injected the needle into his shoulder, the chilling sensation flowing into his veins made him tremble. He roared as loud as he could as the ooman pulled away but the look on its face stunned him, one of sorrow and despair.

Why are you looking at me like that? Get the pauk away, you filthy . . .

His vision began to fade, drowsiness creeping behind to consume him into the darkness once more. He tried to fight it, shaking his head, flexing his muscles, anything to keep himself awake . . . but all in vain.

As everything around him became disoriented and his head felt like it was going to explode, he could see the white-coated ooman motioning the smaller one to leave with it. He watched through a sliver of sight, it was better this way, being alone than observed like a caged creature and it would bide his time to think and heal.

But then, the small ooman stopped, pausing for a second to turn and look straight at me. Something inside Dachande stirred, unknown and yet not, a feeling he couldn't describe, only assuming it had to do with the vision he had.

Perhaps . . .

Come on. We need to leave.

The white-coated ooman called out something and the little one shook its head as it left with the other. The room suddenly became cold as the last bit of his consciousness faded into the darkness, that recent thought still floating in his mind . . . like an old, familiar dream.

"Shit . . . Oh fuck . . . This isn't happening."

Robert trembled, heart racing like it was about to burst, his fingers were covered in so much sweat that the gun almost slipped a few times as he heard the gut-wrenching screams followed by tearing of flesh and spilling of fluids. He curled tightly under the table as the chaos grew.

"It was supposed to be an easy pickup trip . . . that's all," He whispered, fumbling the bullet as he loaded into the chamber, "Not this shithole."

When he signed up for this contract job, all that was in the description was to take the ship and pick up the first load of rhynth beasts to be harvested for meat. Everything was going well, the health checks Dr. Revna conducted and then the drive to get the animals into the Lector. All of what he expected to happen and hoped he would get a long break to play video games.

He never thought that he would be in the middle of a massacre. Robert remembered some of the rhynth acting unusual, coughing and slumping as if half asleep but nothing out of the ordinary. The next thing anyone knew, the beasts shrieked in such agony, something reaching out of the chest cavity while ribs cracked and shattered like twigs, and then the blood gushing out until it burst to reveal—

Robert closed his eyes shut, whimpering like a scared puppy. Don't think about it. It's just a dream. You'll wake up and go about your day like it's nothi—

He gasped as a body suddenly flew over the table, landing a few feet away from him. He hid his eyes in the few seconds of silence before he dared to peek. He wished he wasn't so curious, witnessing the horror of dead eyes staring at him, belonging to someone he knew, stomach ripped out and intestines strung out like spaghetti.

His lips quivered, "Steve . . ?"

A dark figure jumped in between, jolting Robert to press back into the legs of the table. Oh no . . .

The figure hissed then threw its head in the air and screeched, his hands covered his ears as the sound pierced into his brain. When it was done, it started to feast on his friend's corpse, using another set of jaws that came out and in from its throat in a feeding frenzy.

Robert couldn't control his breathing anymore, his hair standing up in goosebumps as he finished loading the gun but he made a grave mistake. The trigger clicked loudly and the creature hissed, its blood-soaked face turning to see him.

His eyes widened. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Intentionally and maybe sadistically, the black creature stalked him, timing its steps while its tail whipped behind. In a panic, Robert aimed the gun and screamed as he fired. The creature jumped out of sight as sparks flew, keeping the bombardment in the hope that one would hit the mark.

However, the tail of the creature severed his wrist like butter, his decapitated hand and gun fell to the floor as he screamed, watching his warm blood and snapped veins squirting like a broken faucet, the pain was unbearable. He had no time to react as the beast landed in front of him again.

Robert's eyes widened. Not even one hit!?

It came at him again, inching closer until there was a small gap between his face and the creature's, clear liquid dropped from its mouth. The thought of the beast enjoying the thought of tasting flesh sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't speak or think, frozen in the last seconds before his fate would be sealed. But out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something materializing, sparks of electricity popped to outline a figure watching them, a sound of clicking mixed in.

What is tha—

The beast charged, darkness fell over him . . . and then nothing but his screams.

Hi everyone!

As many of you know, today is June 12th and it marks the day that the movie Predator was released 34 years ago. So what better way to celebrate is a new chapter for Honor Above All although I hoped that I could post Rise Up as well but I'm still editing for now.

Don't worry! I'll make sure to get it going and posted ASAP but I hope all of you enjoy reading this as things are already getting messy . . . and it's only just the beginning.

Thank you all and hope to hear from you in comments/kudos/reviews.

Good Hunting and Happy Predator Day! :)))))

Cetanu = Black Warrior (aka Death)

Jag'di = Bearer (female Yautja; mother)

Kainde amedha = Hard Meat (aka Xenemorphs or Aliens)

Pauk = Fuck

Normal = Human speaking human language

Bold and Italics = Yautja speaking Yautja language