Author's Note: Forgive me for using LOTS of creative liscence while writing this fic! (you know, Cliff at the Battle of Mogadishu Cliff kills a soldier in the end, telepathic Predators, Cliff's sword, which is just an imported katana, or samurai sword. The forms Niman and Shii-Choare not actual sword fighting styles, but it is based off of lightsaber forms in Star Wars: KOTOR 2…lol, I'm such a geek)

Prey to a Hunter:

Chapter 15:

Honor and Duty

(Jack)

Mira, Cliff, and I all looked at each other uneasily. How could we possibly hope to take on all of these Predators, when it took an entire town and a squad of Marines to defeat just one?

Mira swung first. Five of the hunters stepped back, making a semi-circle around us. Mira and the lead hunter, from whose shoulders hung many dried skulls, some human, circled each other. Mira's blow sliced through the air, missing the hunter. The creature merely evaded the attack and regained its footing. A sharp roundhouse kick to the head remedied its arrogance, and caused the creature to roar in surprise. It extended its wristblades, the long blades sliding into place with a menacing click of metal on metal.

Mira was relentless. A swipe at the face, a feint to the jaw, a solid kick to the gut, followed by a swift stabbing attack to the chest. The dueling Predator was a proficient fighter, parrying all of her blows unarmed. Mira held the Predator spear close, spinning a dance of death that attempted to lope the Predator's head off. The creature was too fast, and evaded her every blow.

Cliff and I nervously watched this fight anxiously. If Mira went down, we both knew we stood no chance against this monster.

Mira twirled the blade above her head, parrying an overhead blow aimed at her head. The creature's arm slid to the side, but this error was quickly rectified as the creature dropped to one knee and swept at Mira's legs. The Marine fell like a sac of bricks.

(The Yautja)

As my two clansmen departed and disabled the bomb on the other's wrist, I dueled the human. Since the first hunter had been a coward, and refused to fight the human to the death, as tradition ordered, he decided to commit suicide. ABOARD the ship. Blasphemy!

The humans had boarded a Yautja ship and seen the workings within. The only way to cleanse a warrior's honor after prey had tracked it to a ship was to fight the creature in a final duel of honor, using only the ceremonial wrist-blades.

The small indicator beeped once in the Yautja's ear. Good, his clansmen had cleansed the ship of the heretic it contained. No such cowards were allowed to live amongst the Yautja. No exceptions.

This human, the Yautja could understand why his kinsman was afraid. This human was, as far as could be told, the perfect balance of Yautja and human. With Yautja strength, intelligence, and speed, combined with human genetics, this was a superior blend of human and warrior.

All the better for a one on one duel such as this. The human was good, but the hunter was better. After all, the humans were prey, and the Yautja was the hunter. The hunter was not the one to die during the hunt…it was the prey's position. The hunter cackled as a fist connected with the human's face, sending it sprawling at the feet of its comrades.

(Jack)

Mira fell at my feet, exhausted, bloodied, and panting, in obvious pain. Her hands, slick and covered with both red and green blood, still gripped the Predator spear in a vice grip.

Scissoring her legs, Mira rolled backwards and brought the spear up to counter the hail of blows given by the hunter. Mira slapped the blunt end of the spear across the hunter's temple, causing it to stagger. Screaming in anger, she brought the tip of the spear up and around, aiming for the chest.

The hunter sidestepped the point of the weapon and grabbed it, behind the tip. Almost mockingly, the creature laughed, kicking Mira in the gut. She grunted and fell backwards, sprawling all over the ground. The creature laughed triumphantly, but Mira, fury palpable in her eyes, wasn't quite finished yet. Mira turned, as if to run, and spun in a complete circle, the kick slamming into the Predator's neck. The creature let out a small grunt of surprise and rolled to the side. It was quick, parrying Mira's follow-up attacks, one by one. The way the creature fought seemed almost like a twisted mockery of a human fighting style, or at least based off of what I had seen in cheesy martial arts movies.

The hunter was brilliant. Barely using any effort at all, it easily shifted, parrying Mira to the side with it's palm and following up with a powerful strike that would have probably decapitated the Marine. Mira's arm arced upwards and intercepted the incoming blow, and grabbing onto the appendage, she flipped the massive beast over her shoulder. The sound of crunching bones was audible over the hunter's snarl.

An uppercut to the chest doubled Mira over, followed by a swift kick to the head sent her flying. Fearfully watching as the hunter stomped down, trying to break Mira's ribs, I wondered just how long the Marine could hold out against this powerful foe.

(Mira)

This Predator was fast, faster than even the one we had faced back in the experimentation room. I was wondering how much longer I could keep up the fight between him and I. This hunter seemed amused, barely using any of his energy and technique in my battle. I was giving everything I had, if not only to survive.

The spear I was holding was alien in design, so it could go head to head with the wristblades of this new hunter. The weapon, heavy before, grew heavier and heavier in my arms as I spun the weapon in my off hand, parrying a strike to the side. Block, parry, strike, an endless dance of death we weaved. It might not be endless for much longer, because as I tired, my reactions became slower. Cliff, I could see, was on the verge of bursting into the fight. I had to end this battle, but how? And even then, there were more of these hunters to deal with after this one.

I just didn't think I had the strength to go on.

(Cliff)

The hunter finally landed a solid blow. Mira gasped, coughing raggedly, blood and sweat pouring from her body as the hunter stabbed her in the thigh. A quick kick to the left caught Mira's arm, snapping it like a twig. She couldn't last any longer, it was obvious.

"Mira, get clear!" I yelled, firing a grenade at the creature. Mira looked up, and leapt out of the way. The hunter, however, stood stock still, watching the grenade travel in almost slow motion towards its head.

And, to my surprise, the hunter, faster than I ever thought possible, sidestepped the projectile, slapping it to the side with its hand. The grenade sailed into the night sky and harmlessly detonated above our heads.

The hunter's shoulder cannon moved up, the targeting reticule coming to bear on my chest. Was this how I was going to die? I didn't think so! The last grenade on my belt was quickly in my hand, and I rushed forward, priming the grenade, screaming manically as I rushed the creature. If I was going to die, I swear, I would take this big bastard down with me!

(The Predator)

I was impressed by the human's display of courage. The desperate human charged, holding a fragmentation grenade in its right hand. I laughed dismissively as the suicidal human gained ground, rushing towards the entrance of the ship where I stood. I could destroy him before he even came close to hitting me.

But then, I realized, almost too late, that the human did not intend to die himself in the blast.

The human threw the grenade quickly. It landed at my feet and promptly exploded. Shielding my face with my arms, I allowed myself to be flung, outside of the ship, by the explosion. Landing on the ground, I crouched, preparing for battle.

The last thing I expected was the same grenade human to charge out of the smoke and dust, brandishing a human blade of oriental design. Well, if he wanted to tangle like that, I would match him. My wristblades and combistick would cut through such a primitive weapon like a blade through a murf'taka.

(Jack)

Cliff charged, holding his sword high. This Predator, it seemed, had one, final surprise for Cliff as it drew two human swords. One was a short medieval sword, and the other was a saber. I could not tell what time period it was from, but a vague image of the weapon from my history class in high school helped me identify the weapon.

The two blades parried and swept Cliff's initial assault to the side. Cliff grunted and was almost decapitated by a retaliatory strike meant to gut him from shoulder to sternum. Cliff was nimble, darting in and out of the creature's guard.

Stay out of this battle

The thought, alien in origin, pierced my skull and lingered for a second. I staggered, shaking my head. What was that?

(Cliff)

This is between the half breed and myself.

Half breed? I assumed the hunter was speaking to me in my head, somehow. Maybe the damn thing was telepathic, or using some kind of alien technology to broadcast it's thoughts. As for half breed, I assumed he meant Mira, but I could not understand why he referred to her as a "half breed".

I could see why this hunter had tired Mira so easily. The form he was using was called Niman, an ancient form dating from the ancient feudal times of China. I recognized the form because my instructor who gave me this blade had used the style as his personal combat system. He too had wielded two blades, but not as strange as the ones the alien was using now. A Civil-war esque saber and a short sword were an odd pair, but still usable, I guess. A good chunk of my hair was lopped off as I ducked to avoid a sweeping attack. Niman was a well-balanced style with no real weaknesses. It was both offensive and defensive at the same time.

My personal fighting style was named Shii-Cho, a simplistic form best utilized against two or more opponents. I was adept at this style because I had been a rebel, constantly outnumbered and outgunned, and I had to survive. From small raids of villages in Middle Eastern countries, to the legendary fight in the streets of Somalia, I had always been outnumbered. I had become a mercenary at the young age of fourteen, and that same year, I had been hired as a militaman two days before the infamous battle of Mogadishu, and had been in the mob that overran the position of two American soldiers protecting a wounded pilot. I had looked them in the eyes right before they died. Their defiance and courage in the face of death had astounded me at time, and for the rest of the day, I had wondered in a daze, somehow escaping the death and carnage that had surrounded me.

And then, I found her. A female US Army Ranger, during the evacuation of the city, had rounded a corner, right in my face. I did the only natural thing at the time. I punched her in the face, and held my sword at her throat.

Her words played in my mind as I dueled the hunter. Mockingly, I remembered.

"Go ahead. Kill me"

"American swine. Die, like all of you should!"

"There's nothing worse you can do to me. Take your time" she retorted. I grinned, a sadistic grin, and raised my arm to strike.

"Hey, meat! Back off, I saw her first!" a big militaman rounded the corner, scowling at me. He was wearing the combat vest of a US Ranger, an obvious trophy from one of his kills.

"She's mine" I said coldly. Words were no longer needed as we discarded our weapons and began to fight. Just because we were on the same side didn't mean we had to get along.

I grunted as the big man slammed his elbow into the base of my skull. I fell over, gasping for air. He kicked me in the ribs and drew a captured Colt pistol, another trophy from a downed American. I cringed as he pulled the trigger, sending the bullet that inevitably would spell my doom.

And then, she stepped in my way. The bullet impacted her chest as her throwing knife sunk up to the hilt, jutting out of the militiaman's neck. He fell, a look of surprise on his face.

"Run, kid. When they find me, they'll kill you" she warned, glancing towards the retreating American forces. I didn't care why she decided to protect me then, and warn me now, but what she said was the truth. I ran, running even faster when the excited shouts of the American troops reached my ears. They had found the soldier.

I winced in pain as the hunter's blade made contact with my skin. It cut a deep gash into my right arm, the blood pouring forth and splaying onto its blades. I couldn't help but scream in agony as the hunter's follow up strike slashed across my face, then across my chest, and finally my legs. I fell to the ground, gasping for breath. The hunter gurgled triumphantly as it prepared to strike, bringing both blades high above it's head. I winced, preparing for the long-awaited death that I had avoided for ten years.

Well, we all have to go sometime, don't we?