I do not own Predator vs. Alien
I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.
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Chapter Five
First Light
At first light it stirred, its eyes opening, watching him as he slowly shifted into consciousness. He moved, his eyes opening beneath his mask, and he looked around. His eyes drifted to his trophies and he blinked, eyeing them. One might wonder how he would so quickly notice several missing, but wouldn't an expert notice a single missing display in his museum? A man with a collection notice a single missing specimen? Would they not look at these collections often, fondly?
He stood, walking over to the trophies and moving through them. His mind raced with the realization that some were gone. Alarm, anger, frustration. He growled, turning, his eyes searching madly around the room.
With regulated body heat, the creature was immune to his piercing gaze, and he roared darkly at the loss of his trophies, hands clenching and unclenching. He closed his eyes, snarling, and then he whipped around, stalking up to the water pool and 'plopping' down. He began cupping some water in his massive hands and spooning it to his mouth. He repeated this process and then stopped, blinking. There, at the edge of the water, was a small bubble of air, submerged in the water.
To put this simply, there was a bowl of empty space in the water. The water just ended, as if coming up against a solid surface. But all that was there was air. His hands parted, the water pouring back into the pool in several rivulets, as he stared silently at the spot a moment. Then he reached forward to touch it, to figure out what it was, for there was no heat there and no signature of a fellow predator.
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First Encounter
His hand came into contact with something that felt... like air, only wrong... It was feathery... and solid... He jerked his hand back and inch and then reached forward again, brushing against the soft surface and feeling downwards. There, at the bottom. Long, nimble fingers, equipped with slender, powerful talons. The hand moved, lightning fast, closing over his wrist. He growled on impulse, pulling back. His arm didn't move, the power holding it there astounding. His eyes snapped to his arm and he yanked backwards, feet jamming into the dirt.
Nothing. Not a budge. Yet he could tell that whatever was holding him was not heavy. How the hell was it holding him in place like that? It was like it was imbedded several feet into the ground! He blinked, looking in the direction of the invisible thing with silence. There was a pause... and then his spear whipped forward- to be stopped short with a jar to his arm, his spear seeming stuck in midair.
A low, unpleased growl sounded from before him. And 5, thick gashes ripped open in his mask, the force throwing him backwards into the ground. His cheek cracked hard against the side of his mask and he growled loudly, jumping to a squat and feeling over the gashes in the metal. His visors changed repeatedly... but... there was nothing, NOTHING, there...
Suddenly- There, in his normal vision, something quickly materialized. The ball of heat quickly took shape, forming in a small, catlike creature in a crouching position in front of him, its hands on the ground, gazing up at him.
He just stared. This thing had the power to catch HIS blows, push against HIS strength, tear open HIS mask, and throw HIM backwards!? He was a Yautja! And this... this THING was no more then a childish being, just shy of five feet! He DOUBLED its height and QUADRUPLED its mass!!!
It just looked up at him curiously, like a pup, a child. Black streaks whirled through its white eyes, suggesting a white 'pupil' where none was visible. And as he thought these things to himself, staring down at the tiny creature, its eyes started whirling faster, and it growled, it's pointed nose, lips, and brows wrinkling in aggression. Ears like fins of feathers laid back in its feathered mane.
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First Fight
And then, a thought hit him. This must have been what stole his trophies. Hatred blinding reason, and eyes blinding mind, he roared his challenge.
In roughly 6 seconds, he was pinned 6 feet off the ground by the tip of a scorpion tail. The tip had split in half, two instants before it collided with his neck, instead pinning him by the throat to the wall, half choking him to death. The creature landed on the wall beside him, crawled right up to the thick tip of it's tail, and lifted a hand. It unclipped his masked and pulled it off, sticking its face inches from his own.
Lips tightened into a sharp beak, jaws spreading to reveal 4 massive steak-knife fangs, frontal incisors as sharp as a razor, and hundreds upon hundreds of shark-like teeth, row upon row.
It's contracted lightly, breathing it, and then roared, its eyes glowing red with heat in his vision.
Rule #1: Things are NEVER what they seem. He didn't budge, didn't return the challenge, and didn't try to stab it with the spear he held. In fact, the spear retracted with a 'click'. This seemed to satisfy the creature, for it snorted and dropped him with a thud. He slipped quickly to his knees, holding his throat, rubbing away the welts. The creature jumped down, the scorpion tail going straight to his throat. Immediately he turned his head to the side, tilted it, and lowered his eyes, effectively baring his throat and averting his gaze. The sign of submission. This little creature wasn't prey or equal. It was not a Yautja, but it was, in the supreme, his better. He could admit when he was lacking.
The tail stopped pressing threatening and instead cuffed his cheek lightly, before pulling back. A gesture of acceptance?