Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator or Alien franchises, I'm just having a bit o' fun with the characters.
Decisions made by someone over your head will seldom be in your best interest.
Vulcanville, the city Stan Murphy built near the foot of an extinct volcano, was home and paradise to a variety of colonists that included former adventurers, bored ex-Colonial Marines, miners, and their families. It was the only inhabited settlement on a continent dotted with extinct volcanoes, deep lakes, and tropical hardwood forests.
Anyone who came to Vulcanville remarked at its rawness, its youth, and the sense that it was on the edge of civilization, of the familiar. It did not lack in natural beauty though. Surrounding the city were hills of volcanic glass and mineral deposits built up over countless millennia by volcanic activity. Shaped by time and the forces of wind, water, and heat, the hills glistened with shards and crystalline ridges sharp enough to cut an intrepid hiker to ribbons. It was very likely that these hills were alive with the sound of screaming.
Looming over the hills and city was the massive bulk of the extinct volcano, Mount Wart (named by the survey group that mapped the region,) and over the hills and far away were the primeval forests similar to the long dead and lamented rainforests of old Earth.
The continent was one of four on the geologically active planet Sarkand-883. Murphy was fortunate in settling the most stable of the four; there were none of the massive calderas that spewed lava continuously neither were there any of the unpredictable and dangerous cinder cones that could decimate a settlement the size of Vulcanville a hundred times over with a devastating explosion of superheated gas and burning debris.
Murphy saw to it that the forces of nature would not endanger Vulcanville; it was always a good idea never to emulate the ancient Terran cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. However, Stan Murphy did not foresee the trouble caused by his own actions.
Stan Murphy was a gambling man, plain and simple. When he had nothing to lose, he wagered everything he had, including his wife, and won the Outer Veil planet of Sarkand-883 during a high stakes game; his wife immediately divorced him after the game.
It was no wonder that Vulcanville remained the only settlement profiting from its gambling establishments. Murphy didn't have any plans to explore the rest of his world. He would rather play his games and entertain his planetary 'party guests', the colonists. He left everything else, i.e. running the city's various municipal duties, working and staffing the power grid, and basic police force, to his friends and assistants to sort. He was willing to give homesteads to the hardworking miners and anybody else who had the ambition to start a life outside of Vulcanville. Yet the majority stayed in Vulcanville for the comforts and entertainments it offered. If anybody wanted to go out into the world and explore, it was fine with Stan Murphy just as long as he or she left Vulcanville alone.
"How's the Bastard?" inquired Stan.
"You mean that bug? Damn, Murphy, you should've killed it when you had the chance. I'm beginning to think you brought that thing here just to turn my life into a living hell!" The trainer turned to one of his fighters and started to adjust his body armor and straps.
"Well, I thought your boys would like the challenge and besides, I won't let it get too far with your fighters. My people are always nearby to prevent anything fatal from happening. Anyways, you're getting a fair share of the profits and there are off-worlders out there willing to give their arm and leg for a chance to see these fights."
The trainer sighed. "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. If that thing ever escapes, I'll be the first one out there with a pulse rifle, profits be damned!"
The sound of somebody clearing their throat distracted Stan, and as he turned, he saw one of his friends standing nearby.
"Ahoy there, Stan, the Jolly Cephalopod is coming in with a boatload of tourists and a crew of Marines just itchin' for a vacation. Do you want me to meet and greet?" asked Sicky McGee.
"Sure Sicky, just go over the intros and the dos and don'ts. Will the captain be joining us?"
"I think she's going to spend her vacation here. That bug doctor fiancée of hers is accompanying her too," replied Sicky.
"Okay, they'll be here in time for a bit of extreme fighting. Bring the captain and the doc over when they're ready." With that said and done, Stan went back to arguing with the trainer.
xXx
"Are you sure you want to see this? I mean, the slightest spillage of internal body fluids makes you violently queasy and for you to insist upon coming along, well, it might not be a great idea. Do you remember that time in Thule when Gus got a nosebleed? You barfed and then fainted on the glacier, and we had to thaw you out of your own frozen barf to get you off the ice."
"I can take it Nora. Don't worry about me!" cried Pete as he eagerly looked forward to seeing his first fight.
The arena they were heading for was one of the largest buildings in Vulcanville, second only to the spaceport. Sicky McGee kept up a running commentary as they drove through the crowded streets leading to the arena. Pedestrians hurried and scurried among the electric vehicles crowding the roads while vendors started to set up their little booths of souvenirs, refreshments, and snacks to sell.
"The volcano you see behind the arena is called Mount Wart. Fortunately, Murphy didn't name his city after the volcano, but he did hold a naming contest, hence the beautiful name of Vulcanville."
"Gee, I would have liked to have lived in a place called Wartville," commented Gus from the backseat. "If you think about all the lovely images that name conjures up, it's enough to bring tears to one's eyes."
"Leave it to you, Gus, to make the name Wartville sound so exciting," said Pete as he craned his neck to look at the vendors lining the road.
"The forests you see dotting the hills and ravines consists of various species of tropical hardwoods similar to Terran mahogany and teak. They are endemic to the volcanic soils and mineral strata found in the different areas. The main forest, North Woods, begins just outside the city limits, north of the arena and curls up the slopes and behind the base of Mount Wart. The Humberto River, which is named after Stan Murphy's dog, runs through Vulcanville and through the North Woods, cutting through deep wooded ravines in some places and skirting the base of Mount Wart, the source of the Humberto River." Sicky McGee continued his monotonous drone as Captain Dora, Pete, and Gus made appreciative noises and stared up at the snow-capped peak of Mount Wart.
The three finally made it to the arena. Ushers escorted them inside and to their seats in Stan Murphy's VIP lounge. Sicky McGee stayed for a while to brief them on the day's entertainment, which was a hand-to-hand affair similar to the gladiatorial combat of the ancient Romans. He asked if they wanted to place bets on the combatants, but they declined.
Sicky soon left to place his own bets and as he was making his way down, he met Murphy on his way to the lounge.
"How are my niece and her boyfriend?"
"They're fine and in good cheer. Their friend, Gus, is a hoot though," observed Sicky.
"Ah, you mean Gustav. Nora's been telling me that he's the one with the street smarts and who keeps Pete Loligo in line," said Murphy as he headed up. "Don't forget to place your bets!"
When Stan Murphy entered the lounge, Nora Dora stood up and gave her uncle a hug. Pete and Gus came forward and shook hands with the owner of the planet.
"So, how does it feel to rule this world?" asked Nora.
"I wish I can tell you that it sucks, but I actually feel very good about it," replied Murphy. "It's just about the most exhilarating feeling in the universe!"
Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a lone spotlight illuminated one end of the arena.
"Look, the show's starting! This is so exciting," cried Pete as he strained forward in his seat.
Having all your body parts intact and functioning at the end of the day beats the alternative...
Down in the cheap seats, not too far from the nosebleed sections, the spectators murmured and spoke to each other about the bets they placed and the amount of money they would have to pay back to the loan shark if their bets went sour. Some even listened carefully to what the food vendors were selling as they made their way down the aisles
"Peanuts get your peanuts! Fresh roasted peanuts!" yelled one.
"Hot dogs, nice and hot, get 'em while they're hot," shouted another.
"I thought they stopped making hot dogs a long time ago."
"I thought peanuts were extinct."
"Shut up! I'm trying to watch! The match's about to begin and for your information, peanuts are not extinct and hot dogs are still manufactured on Earth, but from what, I have no idea."
"Soylent Green?"
"I told you to shut up!"
xXx
Stan turned to his guests. "The match all of you are going to see took a while to set up because we ran out of special 'contestants' for our fighters to go up against. Luckily, we managed to find the Bastard on a planet we stopped on for a bit of repair. Capturing that xenomorph was the hardest thing I've ever done. It was quite an interesting planet though. The creatures were incredible, and we would have stayed longer, but we had a schedule to keep and the repairs were minor, so the job went quickly."
"Did I just hear you say xenomorph?" said Pete, "the kind of creature you don't want to mess with in the first place?"
"Uncle Stan, I thought it was extremely dangerous to have a xenomorph in captivity, unless you were doing bio-weaponry research for you-know-who."
"You-know-who could kiss my ass. I don't give a flying rat's ass about you-know-who. I'm running the show here and that's it! I've safety precautions everywhere. There will be no breach in containment here," snapped Stan.
"I'm just curious to know what sort of desperate fools would fight such a thing in the first place," said Gus. "Lone xenomorphs are known to be vicious and unpredictable. They're cunning and quite voracious when it comes to fresh meat."
"The 'desperate fools' you're talking about just happen to be former soldiers and fighters. They're here to test their skills and to see if they're still at the top of their game. I'm just giving them an outlet for their boredom," explained Stan.
"Yeah and giving the spectators an outlet for their bloodlust too," Nora replied.
"Oh gosh, it's starting," whispered Pete as an armored box slowly lumbered into the arena and a lone fighter approached warily.
xXx
Meat, it sensed meat everywhere. It was ravenous, and in the darkness, it itched in anticipation. Its black exoskeleton gleamed in what little light there was in its moving prison. It shifted its bulk and readied itself to pounce on the prey it sensed was getting closer to its lair.
xXx
Chuck Walla, on and off adventurer, never knew what it was like to be a Colonial Marine. He was never in a firefight where one had to face down an advancing horde of xenomorphs with only a pulse rifle, the amount of ammunition one had left, and any other weapons one can find to prolong one's life. He scoffed at the exaggerated tales the former Colonial Marines told him. He'd encountered various aggressive creatures throughout his life, so a xenomorph shouldn't be very hard. Too bad these assumptions were proven wrong.
It was unfortunate that Chuck Walla was the first challenger in this brutal game, but what did he have to lose besides his life? It was all about the glory and the chance to win a hefty sum if he defeated the Bastard.
The crowd was cheering him on, and as Walla strode forward, he hefted the spear he was given. The body armor he was wearing was a bit heavy, but comfortable enough for him to move easily.
"Go Chuck Walla!" screamed the crowd.
The attack came so suddenly, Chuck didn't even have the tiniest chance. Once the door to the armored crate opened, the xenomorph burst outward with a shriek of pure psychotic fury. It latched its claws onto the surprised combatant and bore him to the ground where it started to rip into his body armor. Chuck tried to get the spear wedged between the creature and his body, but the weight and frenzied thrashing of the creature kept his arms pinned to the ground.
"Go Chuck Walla!" encouraged the spectators.
The advantage belonged to the xenomorph and as it unlatched one of its clawed hands from the armor, it jerked forward and grabbed the wire mesh that was part of the facemask on Chuck's helmet. It tried to pry his helmet off, but its claws became entangled in the wire mesh. With a shout, Chuck began to wriggle and squirm his way out from beneath the furious alien as its hind legs tightened their hold on his body armor, slowly piercing the soft flesh of his belly. The creature finally tore its claws from the facemask and raked them along the fighter's unprotected upper left arm eliciting a scream and even more desperate flailing. It tried to get its tail in position to impale, but the slight shift in the creature's body weight gave Chuck an opening. He drew up his spear quickly with his uninjured arm and jabbed at the alien's abdomen, knocking the thing off briefly, but not before its tail caught him on the side of his headgear, knocking his helmet off.
Dazed, Chuck Walla got to his feet only to be tripped up by the tail as it swung again behind his legs. With a gasp, he saw the head of the alien rocket forward and the secondary jaws within shooting towards him. With a quick scramble backwards, he managed to get his head away from the lethal jaws. It was all in vain though because the jaws managed to catch Chuck in the shoulder, punching a bloody wound through and through. Screaming in pure agony, the fighter now had to endure the alien's claws as it scrabbled once again at his body, trying to tear off the armor and at the same time gouging the living meat beneath. With cruel strength, the xenomorph lifted Chuck off the ground and began to thrash him; it was shaking its victim like a hound of Hell with a human piñata and its contents were spilling out.
"Go Bastard! Go Bastard!" hollered the crowd as soon as they saw who the clear winner was.
xXx
"Stan, get him out of there!" bellowed Nora Dora as she saw the xenomorph start to play with the injured fighter.
"Get the team down there ASAP! Don't hurt the Bastard, but get it back into its crate!" Nora's uncle also managed to utter a few curses into his comlink before he dashed to the door. "Stay put all of you!"
"Look!" Gus was standing on the railing, peering at the new and sudden commotion in the arena.
Nora saw dozens of men emerging from various hidden doorways surrounding the arena. Armed with shock rifles, they rapidly approached the xenomorph, and as it released the fighter, it turned and began to lope towards them; with the creature distracted, a few medics rushed forward and rescued the nearly lifeless combatant, hurrying away with their patient before they could attract the xenomorphs ire.
With a hiss, it tried to intimidate the men by charging at them, but the shock rifles made it balk. It shrieked at the men and ran towards the crowded stands where it bounded over the high wall, but it stopped in midair as it struck the invisible energy barrier that protected the horrified spectators from any wayward debris thrown up by battles or from escaping animals.
As the xenomorph fell back onto the arena floor, the overwhelming numbers of the containment team overpowered it with their rifles. Volts of electricity writhed and engulfed the xenomorph as the men herded it towards the waiting crate.
xXx
In the corner of the VIP lounge, Pete was vomiting his breakfast and brunch, plus the few peanuts he managed to scarf down before the match began.
"Damn my uncle for bringing in that monster in the first place!" Nora fumed as she looked down at the emptying arena.
"Your uncle still wants to keep it alive," observed Gus, "I don't know why he should bother; the thing's a danger to everybody while it's still breathing."
"My uncle is one of the most stubborn men alive. If he thinks he can get a good deal out of something potentially dangerous, he's going to go all out for it," sighed Nora as she sat down.
"I guess we just have to change his mind then," said Pete, fully recovered from his bout of vomiting.
"How are we going to do that?" asked Nora and Gus.
"Well, we can try to persuade him to stop using the xenomorph in any future matches until he can find a non-lethal alternative." Pete looked from one to the other.
"Or we can just go in and kill it without telling uncle!"
Stan appeared just then along with Sicky McGee. They both looked shaken at what had happened.
"I need a drink! That was close, too close!" Stan crossed to the bar and poured himself a large amount of whiskey.
"Chuck Walla is going to recover, but his injuries are life-threatening. What are we going to do?" asked Sicky.
"Let's keep the Bastard in containment. I'll postpone the matches until I can figure out what to do next. By the way, how did the odds go in this match, and how much did we rake in?" Stan took another sip of his whiskey.
"Ah! I've just about had it up to here with all your gambling crap!" Nora stood up to face her uncle. "If you don't kill the darn thing, I'll do it myself!"
"Sorry about that! I just can't help myself." Stan backed away from his niece.
"You really need some serious help on that gambling problem of yours, man." Pete came forward to stand next to Nora. "She's right about the Bastard. If you're not willing to kill it, we'd be happy to kill it for you. I've seen what its pals can do and even just one of those things is a disaster waiting to happen, oh wait, it's already happened. You saw what it did to the poor guy in body armor; think of what it could do to the defenseless tourists and families you have out there if it ever escaped?"
"Goddamnit, alright, take this down Sicky and make sure you get every word. I'll make sure the Bastard is terminated." Stan Murphy then turned to Nora, Pete, and Gus, "I thought the three of you were on a vacation? Get out of here before I change my mind! Go take a vehicle and explore for goodness sakes!"
