Disclaimer: I can't own AvP if the sky is blue. The sky is blue, therefore, I do not own AvP.
---------------------
Before: The trio's escape is halted by none other than the hard meat Grid, who smacks Rave over the ledge before going straight for Lex. Ignoring the fact that she was carried in the arms of an extremely pissed and concerned Yautja, Grid feints a strike and catches Scar off guard as it slams Lex into the wall. Hard. Scar goes beserk but Grid ends up escaping, Rave making it back up to the ledge in time to get Scar's priorities straight. Priorities such as getting Lex and themselves out of the pyramid before it blows. They make it out barely in the nick of time. Of all people, Rave is the one who figures out to send Lex back to her Ooman ship in order to heal. A small Yautja transporter de-cloaks near them and Scar takes the opportunity instantly. Rave, after tossing the Queen skull trophy inside and ensuring no one questions Scar's decision, goes back out to finish his Hunt. As he is deposited near the ship, Scar nearly loses it as he waits for the Oomans to appear and take Lex to their Ooman healers. She gains consciousness just as a few are heading their way and she refuses to let go of the warm body holding her. Her eyes aren't open, but she knows who it is holding her. It breaks Scar, but he knows he has to let her go, and he asks the same of her. She cried then and she's crying now, in the present, as the memories pour vividly into her mind. They abandoned her…
----------------------
'Was it something I did?' Lex wondered miserably, her tears long gone as she lay there, staring blankly up at the ceiling, 'Why did they leave?'
But then again, what exactly WAS one supposed to expect in this sort of situation. She was finding it hard to believe people just ran across aliens every other day. Lex had even been accepted into the Clan. Whatever that meant.
"Doesn't that MEAN anything?" Lex questioned the stillness around her, half-hoping for a reply.
But there was no one else in the room.
No one but her and her lonely thoughts.
"Whatever." Lex sighed bitterly, shifting to half hide her face with her arms, "I didn't even want to come with them anyways."
That had been the truth. At least, before it had been the truth. But now...
Now she wasn't so sure.
The moon beams streaked across the room, half of it draping over the bed. If there had been anyone there at all, they would have seen the glimmer of tears through the barrier of her arms.
-o-o-o-
(STAND back!) Scar growled warningly in clicks, his presence growing as he squared his shoulders and took a threatening step forward.
The younger, Unblooded warriors stumbled back at the sudden challenge. The fully blooded warriors didn't back away, though they didn't step forward to face him either. The healer, Umtok, was the only one who seemed unfazed by his aggression.
(I SAID I don't NEED a Healer!) Scar repeated angrily, huffing as he stepped past Umtok in an attempt to get away.
But the older, taller, and thinner Yautja fell into step with Scar, trilling calmly, (I understand you are upset-)
(You understand! I DEMANDED to be let back onto the planet. I REQUESTED audience with the Old One commanding this Hunting ship! TWO of my people are still ON that planet. And still... STILL the transport brought me BACK to this Hunting ship! AND you CLAIM you understand?)
Scar had pivoted before he started shouting, and now he was mere millimeters of striking distance away from the Healer, his voice having dropping dangerously low near the end of his rant.
He knew Umtok was a healer. He knew, despite the fact that the ranks of Healers were considered equal to fully blooded warriors, that to seriously injure or kill one was a major offense without due cause. And he also knew the Umtok was the Old One's nephew.
But right now he didn't much care.
He had LEFT Lex on the planet. He had left her and she could be dead right now. Not to mention the hotheaded fool Rave was still down on the surface as well.
(So the warriors Vohnn and Rave still live?) The Healer Umtok inquired, not intimidated by Scar's foul mood. He had lived long enough to experience the return of many newly blooded warriors. One more angry one didn't make a difference.
Scar's eyes flashed with regret before he looked away, (Not Vohnn.)
A little confused, Umtok replied, (But you said there were two.) The Healer turned to cast his gaze among the other Yautjas, older warriors assigned to ensure those returning from the Hunt didn't stir up trouble, as he inquired, (I am correct in the assumption that only three were sent?)
(There is...) Scar's voice trailed off before he begun again, (There WAS a new clan member. She was Ooman and she participated in the Hunt.)
Instantaneously, mutters and exclamations of surprise and disbelief rose from the group around Scar.
(An Ooman? Impossible!)
(And a female at that?)
(How can tha-)
(-cannot be-)
Umtok demanded silence before he stated, (Such a thing is unheard of.)
(Not true.) Scar's amber eyes flashed, (It has happened before. With other cultures. Other races who have stumbled into the Hunt without intent.)
(Yes,) Umtok nodded, (OTHER races. OTHER cultures. But not this race. NOT this culture.)
(Why is it such a difficult thing to comprehend?) Scar muttered, muscled arms folding over his chest as he stared down, or rather stared up at the Healer.
(Because Oomans are weak.) One of the Yautjas responded.
(Yes,) Another agreed, (they exist to serve us.)
(They have not served us for centuries.) Scar growled back, throwing the fact that everyone knew but wouldn't admit, (They no longer submit to our will.)
(Because we do not allow them to acknowledge our presence.) Umtok answered with an arrogant air.
(I'm not stupid. I've seen how the Oomans have developed over the past millennia.)
(Their weapons have yet to match ours!) Another from the crowd crowed, his laughter short and harsh.
Scar whipped his head towards the direction of the comment, countering the statement, (Did you realize what you just said? They have YET to match ours. Meaning that they will reach our level one day.)
(Are you trying to prove the worth of the Oomans?) Umtok questioned, his gaze narrowing.
Without thinking, Scar blurted out angrily, (I don't care about the rest of the Oomans! Just this one.)
Silence swept through the Yautjas like an invisible wave. Instead of cowering before it, Scar rose to meet their silence with his own defiance, (She has killed a hard meat with her bare hands. And not just one. She has killed more than an average Yautja could brag about during their own first Hunt. And not only that, but she assisted in the defeat of the Queen. Say what you like, do what you like, but I... I WILL stand beside her.)
Shock and gasps of utter awe escaped the expressions and mandibles of those present. To kill many hard meats in the first Hunt was suicidal. To look upon, much less assist in the killing of a Queen, was rarely heard of during an initiation. At least, not with any Yautja survivors. And here Scar was telling them an Ooman had done it. And the Ooman had been female.
It was a double blow. And it would take some time for the realization to sink in.
Knowing he had gotten his message across, Scar turned and started walking off.
He hadn't spoken to the Old One yet. But he grew impatient. He needed to go back.
Consulting with the Old One be damned. He seriously needed to go back RIGHT now. He didn't know how, but in some way he felt a small link between himself and the Ooman. Probably due to her use of his mask. Her use and survival of his mask was shocking enough, but this...?
Right now, he sensed something was terribly wrong. She wasn't dead, but he dreaded the worst.
(Stop.) The voice was commanding in its mere tone.
Without realizing it, Scar felt his feet stop of their own accord, his teachings trained to the very fiber of his muscles. When an Old One spoke, a Yautja listened. And that voice had been most certainly that of an Old One.
Turning around slowly, Scar saw that everyone else in the corridor had already assumed a rigid, bowing posture. With the exception of the Healer, who had gracefully lowered himself to his knees in utter respect.
There, halfway to the other end of the hall, stood an Old One adorned in his full attire. Numerous scars and wounds adorned his tough old hide, grizzled and whitened in age. A crimson, blood-soaked cloak draped from his shoulders was a stark contrast to his pale skin and made his appearance more bold. As if the vast amounts of trophies, detailed armor and Combistick didn't make his presence bold and intimidating enough already.
Quickly giving a bow of his own, Scar opened his mandibles to speak.
But the Old One spoke first, (I have been hearing things, young one. I have been hearing many things indeed. You need not tell me what has transpired, for I already know.) His clicking was roughened with age, though it held a deep resonance that could be described as... harminous. The others no longer bowed, but rather watched the Old One with respect and reverence.
He, like all the rest of the Old Ones, had earned his place by surviving more battles than any warrior could dream. And, like all the Old Ones, he had given up his name willingly. As he grew old and withered with age, his sight was taken from him, leaving him with milky white eyes. It has happened to many Old Ones, for their age is sometimes larger than the average Yautja knew how to count up to.
Scar fought with the urge to demand leave with his respect for the Old One. Scar opened his mandibles to speak, but this time nothing would come out. What was he to say?
The Old One's mandibles stretched into a knowing expression, his brow crinkling with thought, as he trilled, (Go, newly blooded warrior Scar.)
At Scar's wide-eyed gape, the Old One chuckled and continued, (Go. I grant you the leave you are so determined to receive. Though, I hope when you return, you shall not come alone.)
Recovering after a few moments, Scar nodded numbly, his voice set on automatic as he replied, (Of course, Old One.)
About to run off, Scar quickly turned and bowed once more, (Thank you, Old One.) Then he was off, his footsteps echoing in the armored hallways.
Umtok tried his best to stifle a look of utter horror and shock as he turned to face the Old One, (But why...?)
(Really Umtok,) The Old One admonished, though he was speaking to the rest as well, (Change is not always such a horrible thing.)
-o-o-o-
(Fuckin' piece of SHIT.) Rave growled, (WHERE are you?)
Whose brilliant idea had it been to go off and track the hard meat? Oh yea, Rave's. By the Hunter's Moon, he shouldn't have made this foolish decision. As much as he wanted revenge for himself as well as for what was done to the Ooman, Rave should've known better than to nominate himself for tracking it down.
He couldn't track any better than a youngling much less try to track a single hard meat through this blizzard. And it didn't help any that the blizzard had only grown stronger during the past hour.
With any luck, maybe the hard meat was already dead.
Then again, Rave didn't trust luck so much.
(I can't track worth shit.) Rave grumbled under his breath, (The weather's crappy. My feet are about to fall off. These boots are worthless. That hard meat needs to die. Hell, the creator of these boots need to die.) Well on into his rant by now, Rave threw back his head and shouted, (And WHOEVER invented snow NEEDS TO DIE!)
(You idiot. No one INVENTED snow.) Scar scoffed, standing in the middle of a rectangular glow.
Wait-no. Not a rectangular glow. Rather, it was a doorway to the camouflaged transport.
(I don't care.) Rave stomped past him into the transporter's heated interior, (And what took you so long anyway?)
(The Yautjas flying the previous transport refused to let me back on the surface.) Scar growled.
(They were from Umtok's part of the Clan,) A young, unblooded warrior said, shaking her head, (they're all pretty worthless, if you ask me.)
Rave grinned, jerking his thumb towards the ebony-skinned teen, (Hey, I like this kid.)
Ruffled, the unblooded warrior retorted, (I'm NO kid.)
(You are if I say you are.) Rave shrugged, un-intimidated by the little Yautja.
(What's your name?) Scar inquired, noting with appreciation that the kid hadn't wasted time in starting the transport off once more.
(Jet. Named from the color of my skin.)
(No kidding.) Rave commented, (I thought black skin was a rare birth defect.)
Scar rolled his eyes at Rave's attempt at tact. Actually, WHEN exactly did Rave ever use tact? Never. So this was just another of Rave's blunt questioning.
(Do you like insulting people or is that just another of your charming qualities.) Jet inquired, batting her lashes for effect before ruining it by scoffing. Loudly.
Rave barked out in laughter, giving Jet a friendly punch on the shoulder. Of course, said friendly punch sent the girl stumbling sideways a step or two and a pounding bruise, but it was all made with good intent, (Where were you when Scar and I needed a transport earlier?)
(Finishing detention for his royalty, Healer Umtok,) Jet rolled her eyes at that, continuing, (for accidentally spilling all the contents of my lunch tray onto his robe. Did I mention I hate the guy?)
Rave only grinned wider, grabbing the smaller more nimble Yautja into a gigantic bear hug as he stated, (Did I say like? I meant I love this kid.)
After freeing herself from his suffocating embrace and shooting an accusing glance at Scar for not helping her, Jet noted the obvious, (I take it you don't like Umtok.)
(Who does?) Scar muttered, remembering vividly just how easily he could've choked the thin Healer. Though, despite his moody exterior, Scar was actually surprised. The big Yautja didn't take a liking to much people. And from the few seconds Rave had known the kid, it was apparent these two could get along well.
(There's a ship.) Jet alerted them, forcing all gazes towards the sensor screen, (Is this the one?)
Scar frowned, then shook his head, (No. That's not the Piper Maru.)
Rave growled one word, (SHIT.)
-o-o-o-
Someone was knocking on the door.
Lex toyed with the idea of feigning sleep, but decided not to as she croaked, "Whaaat?"
"Are you decent, Ms. Woods?" An unfamiliar, male voice inquired.
From his tone, Lex realized it was probably one of the men wishing to 'interrogate' her. Damn. Maybe she should've pretended she was asleep.
Well, it was too late now.
"Yeah," Came her unfortunate answer, as she levered herself up to a sitting position on the bed.
Not wasting a second, the man stepped through and the first thing that she noted his arrogant air and way of walking. His hair was slicked back and his large nose held up high, like a Toucan imitating an aristocrat. His blue eyes did little to veil its cold exterior, though he did manage to adorn his body with an expensive looking business suit.
Could he be worried about Weyland's death? Yeah right. More like he couldn't wait to pry the corporation from Dr. Weyland's cold, dead grasp.
Then the wave of cologne hit her, making her senses reel. How much did the guy use? A whole bottle? Or two?
"I apologize for the string of unfortunate events you were put through." The man said in his stiff, nasally voice. Of course, Lex would be a naïve fool to believe he meant anything he had just said.
"Unless you were the cause of it," Lex said bitterly, folding her arms across her chest, "which I highly doubt, then you have nothing to apologize for."
'Except for almost making me hurl with the unreasonable amount of cologne you put on.' Her thoughts made her eyes narrow.
There was a brief pause, his cold eyes calculating her own brown ones, when he stepped forward, "Nevertheless, I offer my apologies."
"Thanks," Lex started a smile that was as fake as his, before she dropped it and continued harshly, "but NO thanks."
The tip of his forced smile twitched ever-so-slightly at her abrupt rudeness. No doubt he never received such impudence before. He must've always gotten his way before then. Either that or he must've had a really inflated ego. Or maybe both.
"Well," Lex stated, starting to push herself up from the bed, "as interesting as this conversation was, I think I've had about enough."
In two quick strides, the man was leaning over her, his hands gripping the edge of the bed with whitened knuckles. That ghost of a fake smile barely clung to his thin lips as he said in a barely controlled voice, "I have been waiting... PATIENTLY... for four whole days now, Ms. WOODS. I need to know what has happened down in those tunnels and YOU can tell me. I think I have been patient enough. It is time for you to give me a detailed description of what happened in that unfortunate 'tunnel accident' as they call it."
Startled at his sudden action, and almost at a loss of words as he leaned close, his own body blocking her escape, Lex's eyes narrowed. She had been trapped in the dark for days with nothing but her and the help of the Yautja's to keep herself from dying. She had faced down the hard meat's Queen, even standing against a horde of Aliens. Why would she fear this snake of a man?
"I SAID I've HAD enough of this conversation," Lex repeated, her jaw clenched and voice strained.
Just how much trouble would she be in if she punched loose one or two of his teeth? Ah hell, why not all of them while she's at it? It's not like he needed them for smiling or anything. Who knows, he might even learn a little humility after having to chew with just his gums for a couple days.
The snide man was quivering now. She could read in his eyes just how mad he was. Slamming the bed with a clenched fist, he roared, "I decide when you've had enough, Ms. Woods!"
Lex bared her teeth, about to push herself up and shove past him to the door, "WHO do you think you-"
But the man gripped her upper arm painfully as he forced her to remain on the bed, earning a crazed glare from the black woman. He had a feeling he was cornering a vicious leopard, and cats fight back when cornered. No matter, he knew he could handle her well enough.
"I am MR. Winston to you, and I am the inheritor of Dr. Weyland's corporation. If you do NOT inform me of what happened back at the whaling station, I JUST may have to inform the proper authorities that Dr. Weyland's accident was no accident at all. But the misguided scheming of a disgruntled black woman who has been against his company's intentions from the start." Winston was sneering, his iron grip twisting painfully as he glared at her.
"And I just may have to break your nose if you don't get your hands off me and get outta my face right now." Lex growled. The pain on her arm was bad.
But she's felt worse.
"Oh I am sure that will make you look REAL good once I get my report out to the proper autho-" He started to sneer once more.
But Lex had enough.
Hand balled into a fist, Lex swung, meaning to knock some sense into him. What she got instead was the man flying all the way across the room and slamming against the far wall.
Grimacing at reawakened pains as she stood, Lex let the soothing satisfaction of hitting Winston flow over her as she stepped to lean over the downed man.
"What makes you think I give a fuck what the authorities think?" Lex snarled, a pleased grin on her face as she saw the bruise forming at the man's suddenly swollen cheek.
The man coughed something out onto his hands. Lex noted with grim satisfaction that the small bloodied lumps were teeth.
Hmm, only three. Maybe she should've hit harder.
Glaring up at her, Winston tossed the teeth aside, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
For a second, Lex's eyes flickered over to where the teeth had flown. For a second, she actually caught herself considering keeping them as souvenirs. Wait... souvenirs wasn't the right word.
Trophies.
Startled at her train of thought, Lex clamped down on the urge, knowing full well that the Winston guy was not worthy to take trophies from.
Blinking, Lex forced herself to watch the man as he carefully pushed himself up. She couldn't help but grin slightly as a grimace of pain slipped through his mask of calm and control.
"This isn't over, Ms. Woods." He spat her name like it was something vile.
As he departed, rather hastily if you focused close enough, Lex stated aloud, "Yeah, it was nice meeting you too, Mr. Winston."
Sighing as the door finally shut, Lex flexed her arm painfully, swearing she could see his hand print in the shape of a bruise. He was stronger than he looked, apparently.
'This is gonna be a long ride.' Lex realized with a frown.
