.x.
My voice grabbed the attention of everyone, though I hadn't screamed out for the purpose of a diversion. Reed and some of his men whipped around, weapons rising, while the rest stayed focused on Scale and Tank. I'd acted out of terror, out of fear, but as Scar exploded into action beside me, as his two comrades took the momentary interruption to launch their own attack, I realized that perhaps what I'd so inadvertently done had been a good thing.
The world exploded into sound in a split second. The men facing my direction began to fire as Scar hurtled towards them, and though he moved so swift he was a blur I was certain he'd been hit at least once. Vibrant, brilliant blue seared my eyes as from where he stood flanking the men, Tank's cannon fired, and frantically blinking the lingering spots away from my vision I watched in numb awe as Scale let fly his shuriken to be followed rapidly by his spear. One of the men now striking ineffectively at Scar with the butt of his assault rifle was decapitated in a spray of crimson gore, and the spear cleanly impaled another that was in the panicked process of reloading his weapon. Clutching my own spear, unable to act, I observed in a state of shock as Scar neatly and skilfully eviscerated another man, and as he fell screaming to the ground, clutching at his entrails which threatened to spill over, my eyes were drawn to the moving form of Reed.
He was running, whirling from the battle before him, from the decimation of his troop and making with all his speed for an opening in the cavern some twenty feet away. And driven by instinct, unthinking, I bolted after him. I leapt across the body of the screaming man, slipping slightly in the already substantial pool of blood widening around him. Stumbling to regain my balance I reached the tunnel just in time to see Reed disappear around a corner. I followed, feeling a perturbing, icy calm settle over me. All that was happening behind me and all that would await me meant nothing then, for I was focused on one thing and one thing only. Reed couldn't escape, and on some small level it frightened me that I wasn't afraid to do what had to be done in order to stop him.
Reed had to die.
.x.
I ran for all I was worth, arms pumping in rhythm to the racing thunder of my heart. Can't let him get away, sang my inner voices. Perhaps it was the adrenalin, or maybe just the iron determination I'd suddenly been beset with—whatever it was, every ache, every pain in my body melted away, leaving me only with cold and grim resolve. Vaguely I realized that the tunnel I was racing through was elevating slightly. Was this an exit, or simply another labyrinthine deception? It didn't matter, though, because as I slipped with as much agility as I could through an S curve in the passage I found myself on the receiving end of a vicious uppercut.
My head snapped back and my vision swam; reeling I staggered back, colliding hard with the wall behind me. Reed leapt at me, swinging the shotgun he held two handed and as I desperately dove to the side to avoid the blow I took heart in the fact that he was obviously out of ammunition. Despicable, underhanded, and scourge of mankind he may have been, but he knew how to handle himself in combat, and as I tried with increasing difficulty to avoid being struck I wondered if perhaps my assumption I could take him down had been a tad premature.
And then he stumbled.
A stalactite had snared him, and as he lunged for me, thrusting out with the butt end of his weapon he went down to his knees. I took the opportunity deliver a heartfelt and furious kick to his midsection, and as his breath left him in an agonized whoosh, as he crumpled to the ground, I felt a very uncharacteristic smile curve my lips.
"How's it feel?" I asked him softly, and everything I felt for him was blatantly evident in the trembling undercurrents of my voice.
He panted, eyes glittering with what I could only assume was hatred, but still he kept his maddening grin. He held his splinted arm across his midsection and staggered to his feet. Our glares locked upon each other. "Is that all you have?" he taunted, though his breath was labored.
"No," I said. I stabbed at him with my spear. He caught the end of it with his good hand and twisted it down and to the side. Enraged, hating him with everything I was, I swung out in immediate retaliation with my free arm, and the noise my fist made as it connected with his cheek was the most satisfying I'd ever heard. He released my spear. Wanting to pummel him until every bone was broken I struck him again with a backhand, and as he stumbled back blood flowed freely from both his nose and his mouth.
"BITCH," he snarled, suddenly leaping forward. He jabbed the butt of the shotgun forward viciously. It caught my injured shoulder even as his other hand shot toward my stomach. He didn't seem to care about hurting his wrist further, if the force behind it when it connected with my stomach was any indication.
Winded, I spun aside, attempting to avoid his next shot, which struck me a glancing blow off my stable shoulder. It's hard to be nimble when you're doubled over and gasping for breath, but somehow I managed. When he caught me across the back with the length of his shotgun I went down hard, sprawling on all fours against the unforgiving, rocky tunnel floor.
Reed was upon me before I could regain my feet, kicked me hard in the side and made me collapse. "You know what I hate more than having to brush little obstacles out of my way?" he asked as he approached, and I could hear him tap the tip of the shotgun against the stone meaningfully. "Uppity women who don't understand their place in the world." He reached me where I lay, towering above me in the darkness. I could almost feel the barrel of the weapon hovering somewhere near my head. "It's too bad. I bet you'd be a tiger in bed."
"You'll never know," I wheezed past the constricting ache in my lungs. He hefted the shotgun, preparing to hammer it into me, and I lashed out with the utmost desperation. My leg sliced a wide arc, hitting his behind the knees and sweeping then out from under him. He toppled, landing with an audible noise on his tailbone. I reared up on my knees and shoved my spear down in one hurried and frenzied movement.
It took me a moment to realize what I'd done, to take note of the stain steadily darkening Reed's clothing, to comprehend that I'd actually impaled him. With a face rapidly becoming white he stared at me, mouth opening and closing, and when he found his voice it was almost noiseless, heavily strained.
"I..." he began to sink to the ground. "...I...hah." Reed struggled to speak, to say something worthwhile as his life faded. "Lex..."
I stared down at him and was devoid then of guilt, of sorrow for what I'd just done, of horror at myself for having done it. Within me there was only a vindictive satisfaction, a righteous exultation because I had brought him down after every threat and wound he'd given me. I came to my feet slowly, painfully, and with a wrench I ripped the spear free of his body and Reed let out a strangled cry as I did so. Standing over him, I said quietly, "It's what you deserve."
"You..." he choked, "...bitch. I...I hope you...die." He let out a wheezing laugh, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. "M...maybe screwing...your monster."
"My monster," I repeated without inflection. "You're more monster than he is." Leaning heavily on the spear, I crouched down beside him, wincing as muscles not shielded by adrenalin protested the movement. "I'm a monster too, because I'm not sorry for killing you, Reed. If anything … I'm glad it's over for you."
A gurgling noise came from him as a small torrent of blood erupted from his mouth to splatter against his chin. He tried to speak twice and failed, body tensing in a convulsion undoubtedly brought on by pain. Both his hands clenched at the wound in his gut, and both were coated in the crimson fluid that steadily flowed forth. His death was going to be painful, and it didn't bother me at all.
Once upon a time, said a sad voice I didn't want to hear but couldn't ignore, it would have.
His breath rattled in his throat as he formed words, but they died as suddenly his eyes widened, focused on something behind me. I didn't have to turn and look. I already knew what was there.
"...have me," I caught the tail end of his faint, gasped words. Fear made his voice stronger just for a moment, and he repeated, holding up a bloody hand in pathetic supplication, "Don't...let them...have me!"
I could have done as he asked. I could have ran the razor edge of my spear head across his neck or thrust it through his eye socket. And in that moment I found myself faced with a decision that pulled at separate halves of me, to take his life immediately, a merciful gesture, or to let him endure the inevitable torture at the hands of the predators. It took me but an instant to decide, and I rose to my feet slowly while shaking my head.
"It's what you deserve," I said again, but this time accompanying my words was the slightest twinge of remorse that I hurriedly attempted to smother.
Whatever whispered plea passed his lips next was lost in the soft growling of Scar as he stepped up to stand on the other side of Reed. Tank and Scale, I was relieved to see, were both alive but bleeding, and stopped only a few paces away from where Reed lay. All their collective gazes were on the contorted form of Reed, and I wondered whether they'd leave him here to die or end it themselves. When Scar removed from where it was tied in a coil at his waist the length of wire I'd seen him use again and again I watched with as much indifference as I could muster—not an easy feat considering my conscience had finally crept back from the depths I had cast it into—as he knelt and roughly lifted Reed's ankles before lashing them tightly together. And when he looked back at the three of us with an odd barking snarl and began to drag Reed's writhing body further into the passage, we followed after him. I trailed behind the hunters, using the extended length of the spear for support as each step jarred everything that hurt within me. I was torn, irrevocably so, for as much as I didn't want to see what was about to happen to the man I hated, there was something inside me that yearned to observe his torment and anguish, because if ever there was a person deserving of such things, it would be he. As we traveled, a gruesome, brutal procession, Reed's sounds of suffering echoed back to me. Trying resolutely to ignore them I flicked the spear I carried back into it's compact version and attached it again to my belt.
We didn't go far. The tunnel spilled into another cavern with a roof close to fifteen feet in height. The wall nearest the entrance we passed through was rife with jagged, angled stalagmites as thick through as the torso of my companions. I stopped just inside the cavern, suddenly leery of going any further, and so I watched as Scar, dragging Reed and flanked by his comrades, approached one of the hooked, curved outthrusts of rock splitting out from the wall. With a purpose seemingly single minded he reached up and wrapped the wire binding Reed around the stalagmite, which was situated a few inches higher than Scar himself stood. He pulled it tight then, walking backwards with the end, and as he did so Reed's body rose slowly into the air. Once Reed dangled effectively helpless above the ground, Scar swiftly tied off the wire. With a growl he moved to stand before a fervently whispering Reed and with one swipe of his hand tore free from the dying man's frame his blood soaked jacket and shirt.
The clothing fell in tattered shreds from Scar's grasp; I couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped me as the wound I'd inflicted to Reed was exposed in entirety. It was a crater in his abdomen, jagged edges made by the spear head's barbs clearly visible, glistening slick with blood. It was a mortal injury, of that I had no doubt, one of excruciating pain. A gut wound was a slow way to bleed out. The fact that he was still alive was somewhat surprising, although I found myself wishing I had in fact done as he'd asked back in the cavern and ended his life. I didn't want to see what was about to happen, I didn't, and had actually taken two steps back before I realized I was moving. And when Scar turned from Reed and strode towards me, I experienced an almost overwhelming sinking sensation. He slowed as he neared, head cocked with a soft chitter, before pointing with a thumb over his shoulder to where he had left Reed.
"No," I told him, shaking my head, eyes wide, "I can't."
His chitter became a growl, and as I started again to back away it deepened into a snarl. Lightning fast he reached for me, wrapping one arm around my wrist, and when he turned and began the path back to Reed he was more dragging me than leading me. Reaching our destination he stepped around behind me, placing both hands firm on my shoulders, and I was caught with nothing left to do but gaze upon the man I had condemned to death.
Long moments Scar held me captive thus. Though my eyes wanted dearly to look at something, anything, other than Reed with red froth coating his lips and more crimson staining his upper body completely, they were drawn uncontrollably back to him. He was cursing me soundlessly and I could see the hatred in his tortured gaze. And when I felt the familiar burn of tears prickling at my eyes, when I felt the telltale ache in the back of my throat, I was then relieved—there was a piece of me, untouched, untainted by my trials, that was still human, for I was split between wanting this man dead and feeling horrible for what I'd done.
As I fought to restrain my turmoil, to blink the moisture away from my eyes Scar's hands fell away. He circled around me to stand before and to the side of Reed. His head turned to me, and from beneath his visored mask I could feel the weight of his gaze, judging, measuring. His wrist blades, retracted again to reside within his gauntlet, sprang forth with a sound that echoed in the eerie stillness of the cavern. I stared at those weapons, and furiously hoped I wouldn't be called upon to do as I feared I must …
Scar rumbled, an inquisitive noise, and I closed my eyes in despair. And when that rumble became impatient and angry my eyes snapped open to fix on him again, and I suddenly couldn't control everything I felt, everything threatening to drown me, to consume me. With a voice that wavered badly I cried out, "Kill him!"
He did as I directed; in one swift, effortless movement he'd turned, slicing Reed open from collarbone to groin. I was close enough that spray from the blow splattered against my face, my lips, and soaked through my clothing. Reed's dying scream resounded painfully all around us and as his innards slithered forth to lie in a horrific pile upon the ground it died away into a haggard gasp. Riveted to the spot, I watched as Scar circled around the still twitching corpse. When his blades rose and fell again I averted my face, trying to block the sounds of flesh being rent, trying not to notice that Scar was dismembering the body. It was a lengthy task, and when finally I heard his triumphant bark I raised my reluctant gaze to see what trophy it was he took—immediately I felt my knees give way, and then I was on the ground looking up.
Scar held Reed's head aloft by a tuft of hair, the attached spinal column glistening dimly in the light. I heard a soft noise, a sound of dismay, and it took me a moment to realize it had come from me. Scar paid me no heed, stepping around me to rejoin with his companions, and I had time then to wonder if I would mind if they left now, and I never saw them again. I heard the predators converse for long minutes and then the telltale sound of footsteps receding, and actually found myself faced with the prospect of being alone down in those depths with a dead man hanging not five feet from my face. A gravely purr came to me then, and it was another moment before I could find the strength it took to rise, turn and face Scar.
He was emptied handed once more, wrist blades sheathed, and stood with head inclined to the side in contemplation of me. His bare torso was decorated much like mine in spatters of Reed's—and his own—blood, and the vivid color was an offset to his mottled, dusky skin tone. Silence stretched on between us; what was he waiting for? Did he expect me to condemn him, to hate him for what I'd just witnessed? How could I, when I was the one that had instigated it—I'd had the chance to grant Reed a quick death, after all—I'd done nothing, really, to cease Scar's actions …
And there I had it. Reed was dead because of me, had died the way he had because of me. It may not have been my hand that had completed the task, but it had been my will that had directed it. Through the mixture of self-condemnation and disgust I fought for clarity, for peace of mind, and took the faltering steps I needed to be standing before him. Reed had been an enemy, one that had obviously been deemed a threat by the hunters, and Scar had done what I'd seen him do with the aliens he'd hunted and slain. This was no different, though Reed had been human, for I was beginning to understand that in the grand scheme of things there was only hunter and prey.
When Scar caught me by the shoulder and hauled me closer I let him, and I rested my forehead of my own volition against his chest, ignoring the coolness of drying blood I felt against my skin. And quickly I pulled away, letting him trace the mark on my cheek as I did so, letting him comb two fingers through the loose pieces of my hair. And when he took my hand in his and tugged me after him as he began to walk, I went willingly. I didn't know where we were going, and I didn't look back.
.x.
He led me out of the caverns and tunnels, out of the hell I'd endured, and an immeasurable time later I felt the familiar icy chill of open Antarctic air brush my skin, and raised my lowered head to peer past Scar's shoulder. I'd paid no attention whatsoever to our surroundings, so lost was I in inner misery, and now I found that we were walking down a snow crusted passage towards a sky I could see that glittered with stars.
We left the tunnel and the cold almost took my breath away; I'd left my jacket somewhere back in the caverns. Standing not far off were Scale and Tank. I studiously avoided looking at what macabre trophy dangled from Scale's grasp. And then I noticed other things—the gathering of buildings not far off and the glow of headlights which belonged to snow crawlers, and realized that our trek below ground had brought us almost full circle; we'd exited from rocky bluffs on the other side of the whaling station.
Scar began to walk again, releasing my hand, and I trudged behind in his footsteps. Tank and Scale were ahead of us, forging the way through drifts of snow, and by the time we entered the furthest reaches of the whaling station I was feeling the first indications of frostbite in my extremities. Our party came to a halt then, Tank in the lead turning to face Scar and I, Scale following suit. When Tank approached me and clapped me hard on my uninjured shoulder with a soft roar I knew instinctively he was bidding me farewell. A rough pat on the head was the last of his goodbye as he stepped aside for Scale, who merely inclined his head with a chitter and lightly ran a finger over my mark. As one the two turned and began to walk, heading further into the village, and I was left very alone with Scar.
He was heading in the other direction, and when I didn't immediately follow he snarled quietly. I caught up with him as quick as I could, wondering somewhat dazedly what was going to happen now, and feeling dread creep in to torment me along with everything else. We didn't go far. As I watched the lights of the snowcrawlers draw nearer I knew a swift pang of sorrow at what I feared was about to happen. Scar didn't stop until we stood directly before one of the large machines. The Weyland logo along the side of them informed me they were what Reed and his team had taken to arrive here from the Piper Maru.
Hunter and human we faced each other, and a familiar poignant silence stretched on between us. When he tugged fondly on a lock of my hair I knew that what I feared was inevitable, and it was confirmed when he reached up and removed the hoses from the side of his mask. With his countenance exposed, mask in hand, he took one step and then another closer. He stopped when only a hairsbreadth separated us. Both hands came up to place themselves on my shoulder. It was with closed eyes that I felt a soft, minute sensation flutter across my temples, and they snapped open again as I realized he'd graced me with the touch of his mandibles.
He didn't move back, but simply regarded me with the intense amber of his gaze. He was, I knew, saying goodbye. I didn't have to wonder why he was leaving, for despite whatever mutual affection we may have had we were different creatures from different worlds. I'd suspected, back in the caves and separated from this reality, that it would most likely come to this. Strange how I felt so hollow, so saddened by the truth that confronted me.
"Goodbye, then," I whispered, lifting my hand to tug on a piece of his hair. He caught my hand with his own and squeezed it tight for a minute before releasing it. His fingers moved to trace slowly the mark I bore, the mark he'd given me. And when finally his hand fell away, when finally he took one step back, it hit me just how much I'd come to depend on and enjoy the company of this hunter. Our eyes met and held again, and then he lifted his mask back into place and replaced the hoses, one at a time. I watched numbly, noting how his movements seemed slightly sluggish and slowed. Without the mesh, without his armor, was he succumbing to the bitter cold? I was beginning to feel the effects of the harsh climate as well, and I wrapped my arms tightly around myself.
After another second of regarding each other he thumped himself on the chest once and inclined his head. And despite all I felt an answering smile curved my lips.
"I'll see you later," he said in a voice I recognized to be that of Ana—he'd expanded his vocabulary, I noted with aching amusement, when on board the Piper Maru. He turned then. I didn't bother watching him head back towards the whaling station, back towards his comrades and whatever waited with them. I fumbled with shaking fingers with the door to the nearest crawler, and when it opened I hauled myself inside awkwardly. The key was in the ignition and when I turned it I was greeted by the loud rumble of the crawler's engine; I flicked the heater onto high before letting my head fall to rest against the steering wheel.
The Piper Maru was still out there, for it wouldn't leave without Reed. I didn't know what I'd tell them when I returned, and at that moment didn't really care. I was alive yes, against all odds, and while part of me was jubilant at this the other part, the part that mourned the loss of whatever brief flicker of involvement I'd had with Scar, was greatly saddened. And so for long minutes I sat, mired in an internal abyss, until I recalled just what it was that Scar had so recently said to me.
I'll see you later.
I'd assumed he'd meant it as a farewell, but perhaps he knew the full meaning of those words? What if he'd meant exactly what he'd said?
And quite suddenly, I found a smile again gracing my face.
.x.
Author's Note: This is the first ending, meant to wrap up the story entirely. There is another ending that leads into a third fic in the series.
