The next few days were busy for the people of the Initiative, as they tried to ensure that "Hostile 100", as the Xenomorph had been codenamed, stayed both healthy and under control. The modifications to the cell and power system were carried out quickly, closely supervised by Traeten. This suited Professor Walsh just fine, as it meant that Traeten was doing his own job and no longer pushing the limits of his authority. The modified second shield worked perfectly, which was a good thing since the Xenomorph proceeded to demolish the first one immediately after it finished eating. The second shield proved too strong for it, though, and it spent the rest of the day angrily pacing its cell, which was far too small to allow it much room for angry pacing, which only made the creature angrier- until it decided to simply smash its way out.
Around midnight, the alien went berserk. Slamming itself repeatedly against the reinforced shield, the massive alien was repelled by massive electric charges coursing through its body. Unable to break through the shield, it switched to trying to dig its way through the solid rock wall of the cave instead. Cracking the stone with its powerful claws, thrusting and prying with its tail, and slamming its head into the rock, Hostile 100 was soon making good progress towards bypassing the electric shield entirely.
Fortunately, the cell was under close video supervision from the hall, and the single, small air duct in the cell had other uses than keeping the atmosphere fresh. Five minutes after it became clear to the Initative that Hostile 100 wasn't giving up easily, a small hose popped out of the duct and sprayed the Xenomorph with a powerful stream of liquid nitrogen. That put a stop to the digging in a hurry, but created a whole new problem. Some time after being sprayed, the Xenomorph began to shiver and moan, and sank down to the floor of the cave. It looked sick.
"Professor Walsh, I respectfully insist you send a medical team in there now!" Traeten's usually amiable voice was barely below a yell, while Walsh just stared more coldly than usual.
"The thing is obviously faking it, Mr. Traeten, and please don't raise your voice in here. We like to maintain our professionalism."
Traeten swallowed, and continued more quietly. "I'm sorry, Professor Walsh, but we both have a lot invested in this specimen and if anything happens to it-"
Walsh's voice was like ice. "Nothing is going to happen to it. If it can dig through solid rock without breaking a nail, it's not going to be brought down by a cold, especially one that's a total fabrication."
"It's demonstrating more intelligence than I would have ever dreamed of," Doctor Angleman noted, ignoring the fracas between his superiors. "To consciously feign sickness shows not only an ability to plan, but an understanding that we want to take care of it. It's certainly not a sentient creature, but it may not be an animal either…"
Walsh nodded. "Clearly, Hostile 100 is the most powerful and intelligent specimen that we've ever brought in, and we are neither going to let it die, or trick us. Now, if that is all..." she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Traeten fuming.
Two hours passed, and Walsh's instincts were proven totally correct when the Xenomorph suddenly became hale and hearty again, as soon as it was clear its captors weren't going to be fooled. It resumed pacing its cell, snarling at whatever came close. The cave truly was too tiny for it, and was another cause of concern for Traeten. However, within a few days it was clear that Walsh was not listening to him anymore, and in fact was beginning to consider him a problem- a state of affairs which, in the Initiative, was not conducive to one's career. He seemed to give up trying to get better accommodations for Hostile 100, and busied himself with observations.
Through Riley, the Scoobies were kept partly aware of these developments, but such mundane and everyday tasks as slaying vampires, practicing magic spells, researching hideous demonic creatures and reorganizing book piles, renovating crypts while dreaming of drinking the blood of the innocent, looking for work, explaining to 1'000 year-old ex-demon girlfriends why, when looking for work, using a potential employer's toupee as a subject for friendly small talk is not a good idea, and being university students kept them from giving it much thought. As far as Buffy and the others were concerned, the Initiative had everything under control, and the Xenomorph incident was officially over.
For Private Richard Jones, one of the newest additions to the Initiative, the Xenomorph incident was far from over. On the contrary, it was standing right in front of him. His assignment was to keep an eye on Hostile 100, "just in case". While he had initially had reservations about the potential boredom of the assignment, which was about as low-profile as Initiative work got- he had nothing but a pistol with which to guard the enormous alien- he was now convinced that a locate-and-capture mission involving multiple hostiles would be downright relaxing by comparison.
Although it had no eyes, he could always tell that he was the Xenomorph's main focus of attention when it wasn't eating, pacing, sleeping, or inspecting its cell for an escape route. There are few things more unnerving than having a dangerous, five-meter-tall extraterrestial staring at you without any eyes. Jones was glad that once he'd proved himself, he'd be able to go on field missions with Forrest, his superior. It would definitely be better than spending day after day with this Thing staring at him. He heard it let out a quiet snarl, and turned his head. Nothing. It wasn't doing anything except staring at him, with one skeletal, clawed hand resting on the shield, tail twitching-
Clawed hand resting on the shield!
Jones realized what this meant at about the same time Hostile 100 did. It lifted its head and let out an exultant roar as the private's left hand went for his sidearm while his right went for his talkie. The two items had barely cleared his belt when the Xenomorph reared back its head and drove it into the non-electrified glass with all its might. The shield shattered like an icicle dropped on pavement, and Hostile 100 surged out of its tiny cell, free to move and kill once more. Jones had time to utter a single, panicked cry into his talkie before the alien swatted him out of the way and trampled him, not even looking down. The last thing Jones saw was Hostile 100's foot descending towards his face.
Professor Walsh watched in horror on the video monitors as her life's work went straight to hell. The Xenomorph didn't even pause after crushing Private Jones, but kept moving. It only slowed down for a moment to reach up and crush the video camera Walsh had been watching on.
But Walsh had already seen enough. Within moments, she'd put the entire Initiative on alert and had scrambled Graham's team with orders to subdue and contain Hostile 100 at all costs.
The Xenomorph burst out of the hallway, emerging into the center of the Initiative, accompanied by screams, blaring sirens and flashing red emergency lights. The personnel working around the Pit scattered as they saw the creature coming for them, running for their lives. Not a shot greeted the alien as it moved unopposed through the Initiative, the elite personnel of the government fleeing in terror before it. In the chaos, Graham's well-organized squad of commandoes dashing towards the armory stuck out like a sore thumb- and attracted the attention of the alien.
Noticing the potential threat gathering, the creature acted swiftly. It strode to a passing go-cart, whose occupants were frantically trying to get to cover. The sluggish, overloaded electric go-cart never had a chance of escape. The alien bore down on it and reached out, snagging the cart and lifting it as though it was a toy. Terrified scientists spilled out of it, some running, some lying where they fell, petrified with fear.
The only remaining person in the cart was Technician Hicks, who had been in charge of studying the Xenomorph. Now, getting a much closer look at it than he ever wanted, he clung to the steering wheel and sobbed as the creature pulled the cart off the ground, and then heaved it through the air in a perfect arc up and over the Pit, towards the armory.
Graham had just gotten the armory door open when someone behind him yelled "Incoming!" He turned around to see the go-cart hurtling towards him and the armory.
"Scatter and fall back!", he yelled before running himself. The commandoes moved, just barely avoiding being crushed by the cart, which hit the ground a second after its unfortunate driver did. However, while Technician Hicks just lay where he fell in a crumpled, motionless heap, the go-cart had too much momentum to stop. Its front end crumpled from the impact and it slid forward in a shower of sparks towards the armory- and the explosives within. Graham knew what this meant. He and his men dove, ran, or ducked for the nearest cover. Not finding any, Graham could only throw himself on the floor, cover his head, and await the blast.
Nothing happened. There was no ear-shattering detonation of stockpiled weapons, no screams of dying men. Graham looked up and saw the go-cart lying in harmless ruin on the floor of the armory. He then turned his head just in time to see the tail of Hostile 100 vanish around a corner. Cursing himself for watching too many action movies, he reassembled his team and headed for the corridor, while reporting his failure on the walkie-talkie.
On the advice of her subordinates, and her own common sense, Professor Walsh had taken the elevator back to the Lowell House after she'd sounded the alert. In the safety of the house, she continued to monitor and control the operation via radio. She was now growing increasingly alarmed as she received Graham's report, and began to pace in front of the mirror/elevator door. She was not accustomed to her commandoes failing.
"Well, do you know where it's headed now?" she demanded.
Suddenly, the mirror behind her exploded into hundreds of glass shards as an arm smashed through it. Walsh turned around to see the Xenomorph slowly squeezing its bulk out of the concealed elevator shaft. The Professor dropped the talkie and ran, but Hostile 100 lunged forward, taking most of the wall with it, and cuffed Walsh gently (by its standards, anyway) over the head. She dropped to the ground, unconscious. With a squealing of exoskeleton against metal, the Xenomorph pulled the rest of its body from the shaft. It then picked up Walsh, and smashed its way through the front of the house, into the darkened street. It was finally completely free, and it let out a triumphant screech that echoed throughout the night.
Kill. Feed. Breed. Live.
She was in darkness, surrounded by moving things. They slithered and crawled around her, barely visible as shadows in the blackness. Warm, moist air brushed over her skin.
Kill. Feed. Breed. Live.
A presence was there, a mentality that surrounded her so closely she could almost breathe it. Cold and pure as a blade. Intelligence and primal force alloyed together into a lethal machine of a mind. Each one of them driven by evolutionary whips, filled with hunger and bloodlust yet endowed with reptile patience and cunning…
Kill. Feed. Breed. Live.
The perfect survivors, all around her, infinite in their purpose, eternal. Closing around her, she could feel their shells against her, their tails twining around her, squeezing her soft flesh, because she was small and weak and unworthy of life and all they needed was one to make a horde and they would never ever stop-
"No!" She cried out, and they fell upon her, and she heard their echoing, triumphant screech-
Buffy's eyes snapped open as the unmistakable sound of a monstrous creature on the loose reached her ears. She sat up in bed, listening. Beside her, Willow tossed and turned fitfully as the cry triggered unpleasant dreams of her own. The sound didn't come again, but Buffy was sure it hadn't been part of her dream. Looking outside, she saw lights coming on as other people who'd heard the sound woke up. There was no sign of what was going on, though.
She decided to call Riley; the Initiative might now what the hell was happening. There was no answer at his room. She called Lowell House, she called Walsh. Nothing. And the cry had sounded a lot like something very big- something like the creature Jacob Traeten had assured would never escape. Now she was seriously worried, and got dressed, determined to locate the source of that screech.
Hostile 100 padded down the street with a speed and quietness that would have astonished an onlooker who wasn't already astonished by the sight of a building-sized monster running around campus. The shiny black-green of the Xenomorph's exoskeleton helped it blend into the shadows with ease. It's every step was carefully placed to avoid making sound. It was well aware that it was still surrounded by potential enemies, and was searching for a place to hide, where it could then deal with its captive, who was still out cold and tucked underneath an arm like a piece of lab-coat-wearing luggage.
It was so busy avoiding waking any more students that it failed to pay attention to the sound of motors approaching. Its mind, still unaccustomed to Earth technology, assumed them to be background noise, and paid them no heed until their engines suddenly revved, and then it was too late. The Xenomorph hissed and recoiled as harsh headlights blasted it from three angles. The Initiative Humvees had executed their trap perfectly, and had surrounded the Hostile with a triangular formation which reduced the chances of crossfire. Heavy machine guns on their roofs focused on the alien as commandos piled out of the cars, led by Riley, Graham, and Forrest, and pointed an impressive array of weapons at the Xenomorph. Jacob Traeten and Dr. Angleman had also been brought along.
"Hold your fire!" Riley yelled. "We can't blast this thing while it's still got the Professor! Professor, are you okay?" The limp professor gave no response. Riley sighed. "Traeten, you're a negotiator, right?"
Traeten's eyes widened. "A business negotiator…" he stammered, "with humans!"
Forrest thrust a megaphone into his hand. "Just try to make it let go of the Professor, or distract it or something while we figure this out."
"Okay... okay look..." Traeten paused, entirely unsure as to how he would handle this. He'd negotiated dozens of deals with humans, but Hostile 100 was an unknown extraterrestial, who probably didn't understand English. He began to accentuate his words with exaggerated hand gestures. "No one wants to hurt you, we just want to get our friend back." He pointed at Dr. Walsh, feeling like a bit character from an old sci-fi B movie who at any moment would offend the far superior Martians and be incinerated...
The key with all negotiations was to find out what the other party wanted. What could this creature possibly want? He turned away from the megaphone and spoke to Riley. "Do you people have any food?"
"There are some rations in the Humvees," Riley said. "Do you really think you can bribe this thing?"
"No, not really," Traeten admitted. "Pile them up." He raised the megaphone again.
"Please put her down... that's all we want." He motioned downwards with his hand, then swept grandiosely at the pathetic pile of rations tins being assembled beside him. "Would you like this? If you could just put her down…"
Hostile 100 regarded the little creature with the artificially-enhanced voice with a mixture of amusement and disdain. The Xenomorph shifted Walsh from its main arms to the smaller secondary ones, freeing its primary weapons. The smaller arms held Walsh like an old lady carrying a shopping bag, but there was still no mistaking the effectiveness of the claw resting gently yet meaningfully on Walsh's jugular.
"Mr. Traeten, I don't wish to do injustice to your negotiating skills, but the hostile does not appear to give a damn," Angleman observed, licking his lips nervously.
"Just keep stalling!" Forrest called. "If I can get a good position and a big enough gun-" His proposal was drowned out by the roar of the alien as a new factor entered the situation.
Buffy came running up, and stood on the perimeter with her hands on her hips. Despite her pajamas, she seemed formidable, powerful. "Now, would someone please tell me what a girl's gotta do to get some sleep around here?" she demanded.
The Xenomorph's entire attitude changed at once. Both its inner and outer jaws opened wide as the alien hissed furiously. Ordinarily, it regarded its enemies with a cold, calculating caution, but when it came to the yellow-furred little creature who'd wounded and imprisoned it, who had actually come close to threatening its survival, rage took hold in its mind.
Buffy saw the enormous alien pivot as if to charge her, and wondered if it might have been a good idea to have brought with her something more substantial than Mr. Pointy. Suddenly, Riley sprang forward wielding a very impressive-looking grenade launcher. Interposing himself between the creature and Buffy, he pointed the weapon at its head. "Don't even try it," he warned. All the other Initiative soldiers moved forward as one, safeties clicking off.
The Xenomorph paused. The attack of these creatures would destroy its prisoner, might even harm the alien itself. Slowly, the alien shifted Professor Walsh back to its primary arms, removing the claw from her neck, and Traeten sighed in relief-
Faster than anyone could react, the Xenomorph hurled Walsh at Riley. She crashed limply into his midsection, bowling him over. Fortunately, he retained the presence of mind not to fire the grenade launcher as he went down. As he fell, the creature made a flying leap onto the roof of the nearest Humvee. The roof of the vehicle crumpled like cardboard while the windows cracked and burst outwards under the creature's weight. The commandos held their fire as the Xenomorph's mighty legs tensed for another jump, unwilling to risk hitting their comrades around the Humvee, who were diving to the ground as the alien's long tail flailed amongst them. Then the alien leaped again, claws digging into the wall of a nearby building, and the soldiers opened up. Bullets chewed the wall and the Xenomorph's shell as it swiftly scrambled up the wall, over the roof, and was gone.
And then it was off, leaping from building to building leaving a trail of dislodged shingles behind. The soldiers stood there, dismayed. Buffy didn't. She sprinted after it, trying to keep track of it. She heard Riley shouting after her, telling her to wait up, but kept on going. Hostile 100 wasn't going to wait for her backup, and neither was she.
The chase was silent, the only sounds being Buffy's ragged breathing, the WHUMP that came every time the Xenomorph landed on a building, and the sound of sirens in the distance as reports of a large animal on the loose began to filter into the police station from the rudely awakened residents of the buildings Hostile 100 was using as stepping stones.
Then, at the edge of the campus, there was another WHUMP, then a scrabbling sound as it slid down the side of the building opposite from Buffy. "Damn!" She sprinted around the building, but the Xenomorph had vanished down a side street. It had escaped. There was nothing but claw marks on the wall as evidence that it had ever been there at all.
By morning, the marks would have been altered by Initiative specialists, and a popular subject of discussion at the breakfast table would be what a bear could have been doing in Sunnydale last night.