If anyone is curious as to what the characters look like, check out my DA page in La Caza folder. My name is the same on DA

Chapter 2

Gentle soothing jazz played softly throughout the candle dim quiet and nearly empty bar. There are soft chatter and murmurs among the bar patrons as they spoke among themselves. The soft clicks and clatters of glass as the bartender work behind the bar. In the corner of the bar, there is a comfortable lounge set up with lazy boys' chairs and comfy love seats and sofas. Coffee tables set up near the furniture for patrons to rest their glasses as they watch TV. The TV itself is large and is mounted onto the wall; it currently broadcast the 11 o'clock news.

"Breaking news in the Skid Row district, viewers discretion is advised. The mass murder group had struck again, but this time they had hung their victims for the public to bear witness. In total, twelve bodies of unknown genders were discovered, skinned and headless. Police and the FBI are desperately working on discovering this murderous group and bringing them to justice. In the meantime, they advise that everyone stay indoor because the group attacks at night. If you choose to wander out at night, please be safe and watch your surroundings." The news lady pleaded to the camera for the viewers to understand.

A cloud of smoke clouded the TV screen; a tall, strong-looking woman sat in one of the lazy boy chairs. She stares at the TV with tormented and tired mismatch eyes, she sighs deeply with frustration as she blew another puff of smoke from her cigarette. Cazadora Guerrero wasn't a smoker but unfortunately, she had fallen into the nasty bad habit when a fellow coworker offered it to her to destress her nerves. In some ways, it did help in settling down her nerves, along with visiting the local bars to drink. She knew it wasn't the right way to solve her problems. However, at this point, she no longer cared, she will do anything to forget whatever she had seen thus far.

Like today, she, along with a unit, had gone to Skid Row to do crowd control while the bodies were taken down. Oh god, the victims, they were hung like animals. Completely skin, exposing their raw muscles and dripping blood. Their missing heads made everything worst as she just kept thinking of them as skinned meat from the butcher shop. The sense of humanity lost in death is haunting to her. They didn't deserve that; no one should ever be tear away from their humanity, especially in death. To add salt to injuries, the group of monsters wrapped their victims in Christmas lights and hung them along with the festive décor. Cazadora tightly clenches her teeth as if in pain, but in reality, she is a boiling volcano ready to burst.

It has been twenty days since the first incident at the warehouse with the little gang war and ever since that night. Incidents like that begin to arise in some areas with the high rate crime where gangsters are known to hang out together at night. They'll be targeted before leaving a gruesome slaughter scene, by morning there will be hung, skinned victims. Cazadora and her fellow officers were misfortune enough to witness the horrifying sights, forever scarred from the events. Night after night, it was practically the same. During this time, the police and the FBI did their best to keep things under wraps and keep it out of the public eye to avoid a panic. Sadly, the news eventually broke out, and the whole city is in a panic mode. Crime begins to rise because the police force is spread thin to try to maintain and settle the panic.

However, the increase in crime seems to draw this group in as they target the wildfires. It was enough to scare people to hide into their homes and especially the gangs, to hideaway. In some sick twisted way, the crime rate had dim down, especially in the violent areas. The streets are eerily quiet without a soul in sight. The media thought this group was some sort of heroes going after the injustice, but they were proven wrong when the killers begin to randomly attack people. From the poorest to the richest, the youngest to the oldest, the message is utterly cleared; no one is safe.

Residents quickly had begun to move out of the city to hopefully escape from the unknown group. Sadly, the crimes were too much for a large number of officers, especially the older officers. Many of the officers had either quit or retired. Making the current officer's jobs a lot harder as their units were now spread thin. Cazadora feels overworked, especially when she comes onto the scene of these slaughters. With each case, she felt herself becoming numb, slowly breaking. One day she clearly remembered when she arrived at one scene. She remembered when she first saw the skinned woman, Cazadora had instantly stormed out of the room to throw up, and she was close to passing out.

Cazadora shakily breathes deeply, tears were streaming down her face as her body tremble. She pants heavily as she felt as if the air was leaving her as she quickly recalls the memory. She sobs quietly. "The basterds." She growls. The victim was a young pregnant woman, she was hung like a deer with her stomach sliced open, her dead unborn lay off to the side, discard and missing their head.

Cazadora shakily took a sharp gulp of her drink, she groans softly as she felt the alcohol burn her throat and instantly haze her mind. She rubs her eyes, trying to wipe the tears away. She coughs and wheeze, slowly settling down as she tries to control her emotions that seem close to ripping her apart. She breathes deeply, clearing her throat before looking up to the TV. She instantly narrows her eyes as the news anchors spoke with a supposedly specialist, they were coming up with some theories about this unknown group.

"Bullshit," Cazadora hiss to herself. She glaring at this specialist as he rambles on screen. No one knows this group, they haven't stepped forward and spoken about themselves. The police and especially the FBI have no clues about this group. However, Cazadora feels like the FBI knows something but isn't telling no one regardless of what is happening. There is evidence among the older officers, Cazadora had notice how they were spooked. They knew something but were scared to speak about it. Cazadora did her own little investigation because she remembers the old officer the first night. He was nearly scared half to death; he was clinging to her and rambling nonsense, but it was enough clues for her.

He mentioned something in 1997, she tried searching for any cases that could possibly match the current circumstances but found none. That'll be a lie because some files had been blocked out, classified, and she wasn't a high enough rank to see these files. With no way of getting around, Cazadora had to give up her search. If anything was happening and the FBI knew something, she was the last person they will ever tell.

Cazadora sighs deeply as she put out her cigarette before finishing the rest of her drink. She prays and hopes with all her being that this group is brought to justice, and the killings will just stop. She gets up and begins to leave the bar, ordering an Uber to take her home.

In the dark of the night within Griffin Park, there is a very faint and distant sound of wailing and screaming. Their cries echo loudly into the night as their screams for mercy fell on deaf ears. Their tormentor purr with sickening delight as he watches a pitiful ooman desperately struggles to crawl away but was laughably failing miserably because the ooman was messing their arms and legs. The amused Yautja had cut them off because he wanted to see the ooman squirm helplessly. The ooman scream and sob loudly as blood gushes from their empty limb sockets, they beg for the mercy of death. But a swift death did not come, as a dagger is thrust into their throat, muffing their screams. The Yautja watches with fascinates as the ooman squirm and thrashes about like a limb cut off from a lizard. Eventually, the ooman slowly stop moving, their eyes going dim as the life in them fade away. Their body becoming cold and numb as death finally took mercy and took their soul.

Achea scoffs with disappointment as his fun comes to a short end. These flesh bags are pathetic, unable to last long enough to fully enjoy his fun. He brutally yanks his dagger back, causing the dead ooman's head to rip off and rollback. He didn't take notice as he wipes the blood off his blade, but his attention shifts to the remaining oomens that were still alive. A good reason to capture more than one ooman so he can guarantee his fun will last. He chuckles with sinister amusement as these odd soft fleshly aliens tremble before him, wholly petrified by him.

Their fear reeks the area, and their fear turns him on, it fuels him, thrill him, and he hungers for more. He loves their fear. Loves seeing them squirm and beg for their lives. He felt power over them, they didn't stand a chance against him. Their lives were in his hands, and he decided their faith. Their fear is his drug, and he is addicted to it, he only wants more. Achea chuckles coldly as he begins to approach the whimpering trembling oomen, he smells their fear, and it became heavier with every step he takes. He could hear their little hearts beating wildly in their tiny rib cages. A cute, amusing sound that made him grins wildly with a purr.

Achea chuckle coldly as he stood before the cowardly ooman, they stare up at him as if he was the dark hunter himself. They scream when Achea snatches one of them by their neck, holding the squirming and trembling weak creature. Its eyes widen as it stares at him with complete raw terror. Their neck so thin, it a miracle that their neck is capable of holding their fragile head. One little cut and they could bleed, one wrong movement and their necks could snap.

The ooman must be the ultimate joke, these weak creatures have been warned to be the most dangerous out there. Stories about them claim they were capable of killing some of the greatest warriors. However, seeing them for himself, everything that has been said must be lies. They're downright laughable. They couldn't leave a mark on him, let alone hurt him. Instead, they were nothing more than his toys, his source of amusement and pleasure.

The ooman choke and gasp when Achea begins to apply pressure in his grip. He chuckles as he watches this weak creature struggle to breathe. The air escaping, fleeting as Achea watches the life leave it. Achea flicks his thumb; there a sickening crack that seems to echo. He will never understand what gave these creatures such a reputation for Yautja to pause and be cautious.

Achea glaze over to the other oomen, they stood frozen in terror. Achea smirks as he flares his mandibles wide and latches onto the dead oomen's head, it cracks and crunches underneath his maw. The loud squish that follows as its skull squishes the ooman's brain. Blood sprays from the gushing body as it falls limp to the ground at Achea's feet. The Yautja's chest and maw cover with blood. Achea licks his maw with a sinister purr.

Screams echo into the night, within the mountains of Griffin Park. So close yet so far from civilization.

In the early hours of light, Cazadora is out on the trail, her daily mile run. Despite her late-night outing, she woke up to her regular early hours, she couldn't go back to sleep, and her dog wouldn't allow her. The adorable husky wolf mix demanded his breakfast, and he will drag his owner out of bed. Sadly, for Cazadora he has done so many times, the impatient pup.

Cazadora looks down at her side to see a bright, happy smile of her panting dog, Blue. He could have run ahead of her, but he prefers to run alongside her, easily keeping pace with her. The pup barks loudly with excitement, his bright blue eyes taunting and daring her to run faster or to chase him. Cazadora laughs as she begins to run faster, she chuckles weakly as Blue bolt pass her, barking happily.

"You're such a goofball! Darn dog!" She laughs as she chases after him.

Three years ago, Cazadora was part of a drug bust; she and her unit had taken down an illegal operation. The bust wasn't the typical drug ring, they were also running an exotic animal breeding program to sell off to the black market. Among the animals were some hybrid animals, brown bears with polar bears, tigers with lions, and grey wolves with regular dogs. Blue and his siblings were among them. The FBI had wanted to put down the canine hybrids, but she and a few of her coworkers pleaded they didn't. After some paper works and strings pulled, Cazadora and her coworkers managed to adopt the canine hybrids.

Cazadora was instantly drawn to Blue because of his piercing blue eyes. At the time, the one-month pup had jumped onto her lap. He is a gorgeous dog with a grayish-blue fur with black markings. She knew that Blue belongs to her, and she is glad she adopted him; the pup had brought so much joy into her life. She can't think of life without him.

Eventually, Cazadora came to a slow stop, she pants heavily as she had run over a mile nonstop. She wiped her forehead before checking her Fitbit, it said that she had run nearly two miles. Most of the time, she has been sprinting due to chasing Blue. Said dog was panting heavily, he whimpers and whines, pacing as he looks up at her. His long pink tongue hanging out and his hot breath panting against her leg. Cazadora chuckles softly at him. "You wanted to be chased."

She takes a seat on a large rock and pulls out her canteen. She pours some water into Blue's cup, and the dog rapidly drank despite it being pour. She rolls her eyes as he practically drank from the canteen. She playfully nudges him away. "Alright dog, you drank enough. Let me have some." She chuckles. Blue lay down at her feet, enjoying the shade as his owner drank water.

Cazadora gasp softly with relief as the refreshing water cool her heating body. She sighs deeply as she leans back, instantly relaxing as the nature all around her soothe her nerves. She could smell the fresh leaves, the crisp coolness of the morning due, and the lovely charming chirps of the birds. She could hear some of the smaller critters move about throughout the bush. She smiles happily as she felt at peace, being so far away from the bustling city life.

She knew the area perfectly well; she had spent a large part of her life in the great outdoors. She often seeks out trails to hike and mountains to explore. She an adventurer at heart with a deep passion for the wilderness, she wants to be closer to nature, and she is also a thrill seeker for the unknown. She had wanted to be a park ranger at first. She wanted to be like her grandfather, who was a park ranger, but the old man had begged her that she didn't become one. Rather he pleaded with her to instead follow the path of a police officer if she wanted to help people.

Whenever she had tried questioning him about the reason for his panic over her wanting to become a park ranger. He answered her with a thousand-yard stare in his old weary eyes. "The wilderness of the unknown is scarier than the barrel of a gun."

It was evident that something had happened in his past, but he refused to speak about it. Cazadora wished she could have gotten something out of him before he had passed away due to a sudden heart attack. It was recent, too, making the situation disheartening. However, what troubles her the most is that her grandfather passed away just when the sudden mass murders begin, literally when the public got word of this unknown group. Cazadora can't shake the feeling, but she feels that her grandfather knew something, and the fear just overly stressed out his old heart.

Cazadora jolts from her thoughts when Blue begins to bark loudly, but from the tone of his bark, he sounds aggressive. He growling, his fur bristling and his hackles raised, he glaring at something as he bares his sharp teeth. In moments like these, her dog definitely looks like a wolf. She frowns confuse. "Blue, what's the matter? What has gotten into you?" She tries to seek out what is stressing her dog.

She gets up slowly and begins walking. Blue quickly staying in front of her, guarding her against a possible attack. That made her tense, she knew her dog, and he has been specialized trained. He wouldn't act like this on purpose. She frowns. "Hello? Who's out there? Show yourself, I know you're out there. Stop this right now; I am an LAPD officer. I am ordering you to show yourself." She said firmly. There is no answer, and she walks further ahead.

She flinches when she felt a wet drop hit her forehead; she wipes her brow with her hand, and when looking down. She froze, it felt like her heart stop as she stares horrified at her bloody hand. She quickly looks up to where the drop had come from; she instantly pals, and she felt a scream caught in her throat. Even though she had seen the sight on near regular basic now, it scared her to the bone.

She stares up at the multiple skinned bodies that were hung high in the trees. Her heart begins to race; she looks down at her dog, who is still growling and snarling. She figures the killers might be out there, possibly watching her. She had her taster and pepper spray, but she knew it would be useless to a group of murders that are capable of taking down dangerous gangsters. She stood no chance; her only best bet is to run as fast she can and call 911.

"Blue retreat," Cazadora order, she could hear the fear in her own voice. She felt like she was going to be sick. She felt weak, but she knew that she has to run for her life. In a split second, she took off into a mad sprint. Blue hot on her heels as they sprinted back to the car. Unaware that Cazadora was right, she was being watched.

Achea watches the frighten creature, and its little pet runs away; he chuckles coldly. He didn't expect an oomen to be way out here, he thought about killing it. It wouldn't have been difficult; he could have quickly jumped down and cut the ooman's head clean off. However, he decided against doing so because he knew that the ooman is bound to bring more oomen.

Dumb prey, instead of running away, they always come to investigate the kill. Thinking the oomen are capable of taking down whatever had killed their fallen clan member. Achea rumbles a deep amuse purr as he lazily strokes his necklace, which was that of a tiny skull of a ooman pup, he will wait. He will find it interesting to have his prey come to him. He had hunted what these oomen call gangsters; they're feisty, but he curious of what these police officers can do.