Unleashed

Dachande had waited for this moment, a window to potentially escape from the oomans, waiting in the darkness of sleep for a while to gather his strength. It finally came when he heard the screams of Yautja, ooman, and Hard Meat alike. Took them long enough. The panicked oomans wailed for guidance and clarity but their leaders bickered, the small, black-haired female shouting in the face of the bigger male with the weird head garment that looked ridiculous. They paled in comparison to true Yautja leaders who were respected enough not to engage in these childish tantrums.

Finally, he got his moment in a surprising twist. The smaller female he encountered before had broken free from the male's grip to stop her and released the bound that held his arm down. He wasted no time and grabbed her by the neck, venting some of his rage at her or anyone who dared come near. The female barely struggled, the air escaping her lungs as he squeezed. He could kill her right here and now for touching him like that, he should show an example of what happens when such ugly prey thought they had the better of him. It would be too easy to snap her neck, seeing the fear swelling in her eyes.

Enough.

A feeling of dread and horrid realization hit it, as if he made a grave mistake on his part and about to be scolded by a Yautja Leader like in his undisciplined youth. His body gripped in frozen apprehension as a dark mist swirled behind the female, floating around her until gathering in a mass in the small space between them, silent as the grave until it slowly formed into a face . . . a Yautja face of black skin and red eyes. My—

In a shattering moment, it roared and Dachance flinched . . . and then it was gone, only the ooman female in his grip remained. What?

The oomans suddenly screamed, a huge blast rang through the area that knocked a few of them off their feet. The small Hard Meats shrieked, scurrying out of sight as a figure flew from the blasted doors, cutting down anyone unfortunate to be in its way. It leapt into the air and came straight behind the female and Dachande caught a glimpse at who it was with blades poised to kill. Tichinde!

"Time to die!" The Bad Blood let out a distinct roar, a Nan-de than gaun, and came down on them.

Dachande let go of the ooman and maneuvered to avoid the blades and grab hold of Tichinde's wrist, swinging him away with all his might, letting him go to send him right into a wall with extreme force. You! He ripped the rest of the bondages and came after the fallen Tichinde, ramming him further into the wall. His side burned as Tichinde's blades from his other gantlet pierced into him, warmth spilling down his leg, "So you came."

Tichinde chuckled, "Took a little longer than expected but I got a few trophies so it wasn't a total loss."

He glanced at the net bag hanging from the Bad Blood's belt, growling at the clean skull of oomans and kainde amedha, particularly the smaller ones that were no doubt from ooman sucklings. The anger was overwhelming. He hunted ooman offspring . . . That Pauk-de!

Dachande ripped the blades out of him, adrenaline dulling the pain and fueling him to fight back, slamming a fist right in the middle of the Bad Blood's mask. Tichinde gasped but recovered enough to kick him and roll out of the way from another punch but Dachande refused to relent, even as his enemy put himself between the small group of oomans. Using them as a shield won't work! He charged like an angry C'hu-ak, shoving them out of the way to grapple Tichinde to the ground.

"Don't mind killing a few unarmed oomans to get to me?! Have you lost your precious honor!?" Tichinde laughed as both exchanged punches and cuts between the two, "Looks like you're no different than me!"

"Shut up!"

Dachande ripped a few dreadlock strands from Tichinde's head and came back for more, relishing in the screams and howls of pain.

I won't let you live! I can't go back without your head! I'll wipe the dishonor you brought to us! I'll kill you!

Distracted and blinded by rage, Dachande failed to see the burner Tichinde had brought out and pointed to his chest. C'jit!

With no choice, he jumped in time, missing the blast by mere inches but got the top layer of his skin that left a stinging sensation and brought unbearable pain he had to ignore. A few blasts rained on him and again he barely dodged them, he couldn't say the same as the oomans. Many were killed instantaneously in a ball of fire while pieces of their flesh and organs sprinkled like meteorites. Others had a worse outcome, crawling with their intestines sprawled and a few dragging themselves with their bottom half of their bodies disintegrated into burnt remains.

His eyes caught sight of the leaders and the small ooman running out toward the exit behind the room. The latter looked back to him for a split second and the sensation of fear and anxiousness came back briefly, seeing her shudder before vanishing from sight.

What are you? He shook his head, dreadlocks slapping against his shoulders as he almost got hit by another shot by Tichinde that burned the ends of his dreadlocks. He hissed at himself. I don't have time for you.

By the time the burner ran out of ammo, the entire room was nothing but a minefield of craters and bodies, no accuracy . . . no precision . . . only the raw intent to kill him at all costs. It was a brief ceasefire that gave Dachande time to catch his breath. Does he plan to destroy us together?

"You haven't learned . . . Have you?"

"I learned more than you'd ever tried to teach me," Tichinde reloaded the burner, "But you won't have to worry about it anymore."

He raised the weapon slowly, almost deliberately in a mocking sort of way, "I'll make sure of that."

Dachande was pinned to a wall after breaking away from the last brawl and he had no weapons or his awu'asa on him so he was defenseless as a suckling. He glanced around anything close by and saw one part of his spear lying next to a turned table, measuring how many seconds he had to reach it before Tichinde shot at him. A few feet away . . . too far though. I need a distraction or so—

A screech pulled Tichinde's attention and Dachande saw a kainde amedha had come through the rubble and rushed after the Bad Blood. Tichinde shot right as the Hard Meat was about to jump on him and it was all Dachande needed. He ran for his weapon, Tichinde noticed what was happening and turned to shoot him, but he was a second too slow. With a quick throw, the blade hit the bottom tip of the handle, forcing the burner to point up right as the trigger was pulled. The blast shattered the ceiling and large pieces of concrete fell on the Bad Blood. He watched as Tichinde screamed, making futile attempts to escape before being buried.

Dachande sighed. One problem down . . .

He gathered his awu'asa, fitted his braces, donned his biomask and snapped his spear together as a small swarm of Hard Meat finally broke through the rubble, the first few slaying the closest oomans like prey to the slaughter while the rest congregated in a circle, trapping him. They hissed, stomping short of his spear's reach to test him. Although the Hard Meat weren't as intelligent as other prey he encountered, they weren't to be taken lightly and that poor judgement would be a death sentence . . . always.

"Come to me, foul beasts. Let me show you true terror!"

The Hard Meat hissed and two rushed from either side, a common trick of their kind to pin down an enemy and then the rest would come for the kill. Dachande weaved a step back to miss the first attack and quickly got hold of the Hard Meat's arm, throwing it toward the next one and they clashed with great force, tumbling to the side as they thrashed to break free. Seeing this, the rest screeched in fury and came at him once more.

Dachande gripped his spear and swung it in the air in a circular motion, the beasts rattled a synched death cry as body parts and acidic blood rained all around. Careful to avoid the acid, he moved with all the graces from cycles of training, bending his body as he jumped away from the carnage he left in his path. The Hard Meat that survived screeched in hatred for their fallen comrades and continued the chase. With the room being so small, he had no choice but to make a small retreat.

He stumbled on the fallen burner left behind by Tichinde as he ran toward the rubble, scooped it up at the last second and fired, creating an opening that barely fit him. The Hard Meat, being as stupid as the smallest bug, crammed at the entrance that plugged it shut. He made it just in time before a Hard Meat could plunge its claws into his shoulder.

He sighed in relief but he knew too well that this was the beginning of something worse. Bad Bloods . . . kainde amedha . . . and now oomans . . . What's next?

When he emerged through, he was met by a battlefield more bloody than he could remember. The room was littered with bodies of mostly oomans but saw a few dead Hard Meats and then a body of a Yautja lying in front of him, chest punctured by a massive hole from a Hard Meat's tail no doubt.

Gyum . . . He paused, remembering the long lost student of his before all of this and then spat on the corpse. What a fool he followed Tichinde. Too bad.

Dachande heard the roars of Yautja, seeing two finishing off a Hard Meat that almost got the better of them, considering the deep cut wounds on their bodies. It didn't take long for them to notice him not far away, growling and unsheathing their weapons.

Dachande huffed and brought out his spear, charging at the Bad Bloods without hesitation. Time to finish this. For my honor and the clans, you will die.

Hello everyone!

I wanted to say Happy Thanksgiving to everyone today!

First, I apologize for the late delays on my stories as the holidays and work have been hectic so I hope you're excited for the new chapter as I wanted to give a surprise on this holiday day!

Hope you all have a great day and enjoy! Good Hunting!

Bold and Italics = Yautja speaking Yautja language

Awu'asa = armor

C'hu-ak = Hard shelled and spiked beast

C'jit = Shit

Kainde Amedha = Hard Meat (Alien)

Nan-de than gaun = Kiss of Midnight (death cry)

Pauk-de = Fucker