Chapter 13: Finding One's Self

Disclaimer: I do not own Alien/Predator series or any characters and may not follow all customs and cultures found in Alien/Predator movies.

Several weeks had passed but it felt too long for me. No news or appearances of any kind from space to which I expected the Bad Bloods to have arrived sooner. Rory assured me he would let me know along with everyone else. It was nice, knowing he was looking out diligently along with Lex and Dallas.

Qut'suak and the Bad Bloods would arrive. There was no doubt about that. When that time comes, CHPS and the Earth would become a battlefield. It all depended on how much destruction would follow. I could only imagine the worst . . . that they would massacre those who oppose them and kill innocents next. The oomans and this world would be done for if we don't take a stand. So I decided to use the time we had to do something productive.

The oomans were skilled but not enough in the eyes of an honorable Yautja, even more so against a Bad Blood who would do whatever it took to win. So I gathered a few willing to train under my guidance. It was mostly basics on how to dodge and correctly position their bodies. I wasn't about to skip the most important parts despite the limited time. At first, it was frustrating when the students weren't getting it right. I didn't have the patience of an older warrior. My frustration would grow each time. But after a while, things smoothed over and the students got the hang of it before moving on to weapons. Eventually, more oomans came to the training ring, attracted by their curiosities. Even the ones that hated me, in the beginning, couldn't stand back. It's surprising how survival can make a person turn a blind eye to everything else.

This went on for the rest of the waiting game and it still wasn't enough to get rid of this horrible feeling inside me. I couldn't eat or sleep like I used to. The haunting memories of my failed Hunt with Molly nipped at my sanity. There would be nights when I didn't go to bed at all. In the eyes of the Yautja, they would see it as a weakness. There's no point dwelling for the past and the weak.

Lar'ja worried deeply for me, asking for the sake of my health to rest. But even his pleas weren't enough. He stopped asking after a few tries, almost forcing me to stay inside our room one night but he got my message that I didn't want to be bothered. It took a smack on his cheek to make him understand. It wasn't hard but enough. Lar'ja must have told Xen'ork about the incident during one of their Hunts for food. He didn't try to come and bother me like he used to. He was trying to ignore me. It doesn't matter anyway.

I used the rest of my free time to train myself, working with my weapons in preparation. I swung my twin swords around the ring, pretending there was a Bad Blood ready to attack. I twisted my body, aimed with precision and thrust into the open air where I imagined plunging the blade into the Bad Blood's heart. I repeated the move over and over again, to the point that my body began to sweat despite wearing nothing more than black short leggings and a sports bra. But it wasn't enough. My mind began to play its dirty tricks. The memories of Molly as she let out her dying breath. Her eyes widening at me with terror and anger showing.

How could you? You didn't even try to save me . . . You watched me die.

Her voice ringed in my ears as if she was whispering against me. I ground my teeth, whipping my swords around.

How could you?

I swung harder.

How could you!?

I screamed in fury before slamming my swords on the hard ground, sending them across the ring. It created a loud noise but no one was around to hear it. The training room I was in was private and away. Also, it was midnight and most everyone would be asleep by now. I stomped to the wall and pounded my knuckles in fury. I thought the pain would alleviate my suffering but it only made it worse. I stopped, letting my bloody fists fall and heal as I leaned my head on the wall. Why?

I heard footsteps coming from behind. C'jit . . . Must have woken someone. They were slow so I thought instantly that it was Lar'ja coming to check like before. I was prepared to give a mouthful. To tell him to leave me alone. I wasn't ready to discuss this. I whipped around, opening my mouth to get the first say but shut it close when it wasn't him but Dutch . . . the last person I expected to meet.

"Looks like something's eating at you." He stops at the edge of the ring. "What gives?"

The stern look in his eyes burned into me as he crossed his arms. He made me feel like a student being reprimanded by the teacher for a misdemeanor. I turned away. "Nothing. Leave me alone."

I heard him grunt. "It's not nothing if you're staying up all hours of the night to train. Especially to get rid of a horrible thought."

I turned my body to face him, growling. I didn't want to answer him. He has no right to ask what's wrong with me. When he didn't flinch or get the hint of 'get the pauk out of here', I looked away again. He wasn't the type to turn away so easily. I heard him walk closer. The urge to attack him was growing. I tightened my fists harder, ignoring the ache from the recent injuries that were still healing. Not a smart move, Dutch. Not smart at all. He stopped but decided to change the subject.

"I can't blame you. Judging by the wounds on your back and that tattoo on your arm, you must have been through Hell. I understand."

I whipped my head up in shock. It wasn't that he could see them. I've come to terms with showing my scars, especially on Yautja Prime when many warriors saw it as a written history of your triumph and survival. Mine wasn't the same but had to give some credit on the survival part. I glanced at the number tattoo on my arm. #T49320 . . . I pulled it away. No . . . The fact that Dutch thought he knew my suffering was another matter. He doesn't know anything. I turned in anger and my legs urged me to move forward but I didn't. There was no point in fighting him. He had no weapons on him and I wasn't on a Hunt for trophies. Plus, it wouldn't change anything. But the sting of his comment was enough to spit back. If he wants to talk about wounds . . .

"Oh? Do you know? From what scars I see on you, I had worse. You know nothing of suffering."

I kept my eyes on him but Dutch didn't so much as flinch. Instead, he did something unexpected. His hand gently glides across his cheek where the strange burn resided. It was brief and he let his hand fall, gazing back at me with a determination that it made me confused.

"My scars don't look much but they brought more suffering than you think. The Yautjas, as you call them, aren't exactly merciful." He points to the burn on his cheek.

I stayed silent, focusing on the black veins covering the inner part. I still don't know how he got such a wound but it seemed familiar, reminding me of something I hated. I couldn't get it off the tip of my tongue. I wanted to know where he was going with this. I waited, giving him an indication to continue.

"This came from one of your buddies that hunted me and my team back when I was a mercenary in Guatemala. He killed everyone except for me. We fought but I defeated him. But the bastard decided to use a bomb as a last-ditch effort to win."

My interest peaked. "A bomb?"

Dutch nods. "It destroyed himself and everything around it. When I got picked up, it was found that it had some kind of radiation that affected my body since I was too close. In the end, I was marred with this burn and caused me to live much longer than expected. I wasn't the same after that."

Taking every part of his speech, it started to make more sense until it finally clicked in my head. It sounds like a Self-Destruct device. I've only heard of it once in a while by Daugo and others when we talked about random things. It was a weapon that Yautjas used when they were defeated and would rather die in an honorable way. Whomever Dutch fought against seemed to take that path. But now, it reminded me all too much why I never like it. Not only did it seem like the easiest way to die in which I opposed . . . being a warrior and all, but it was dangerous to anyone else. With such great energy, the after-effects were too great. But one thing bothered me.

"Wait . . . What do you mean to live longer than expected? How old are you?"

Dutch answered quickly. I thought he would hold back a minute about his age like many oomans would. "About 90 years old."

My eyes widened in shock. 90 years!? I looked over his features again but it was hard to imagine he was that old and still looked like a tank. I guessed he was around 60 years old if I was being generous but 90 was almost impossible for him. I shook my head in disbelief. I didn't need to say anything to show Dutch my reaction. He hummed, stepping into the training ring. "Still think I don't know suffering?"

Now I felt stupid. Just when I thought I had worse, he brings up another that I couldn't argue. Yautjas are brutal to oomans on Hunts. In some ways, I should have known better. I sighed as Dutch came to my side. We didn't look at each other but I knew his eyes were on me.

"You must hate Yautjas then . . . and I"

His pause was a confirmation. Explains why he didn't like me when we first met. But what he said next turned the conversation into a different path. "At first, I did. With all of my being . . . but then I saw the bigger picture. I survived and I shouldn't let one incident determine me."

Sounds wise. It must be due to his old age.

"Why are you telling me all of this? What's the point?"

I didn't take Dutch as an ooman who discussed sentimental things about his life to a stranger who he barely met in a short time. I heard him clear his throat for a moment.

"You shouldn't let one incident chain you down. So what if you lost Molly? Many have died long before and yet you kept going. For someone who trained with these aliens, you should know better."

In that instant, I knew a little of what Dutch was trying to explain. He's right . . . I thought back to everyone I met who sacrificed their lives to help me. My mother . . . the Loonies . . . Daugo . . . McKenna . . . I did move on. So what's changed? I still believed that it was my fault in the smallest ways but I remembered Molly's final words.

Don't . . . let them . . . win.

Despite dying, Molly was fighting to the end. Any Yautja would have been proud of seeing a young soul with such an attitude, fighting until the end. But what about me? Have I changed so much? Did I lose sight of who I am?

I shook my head, pressing my fist on my forehead whilst closing my eyes. I felt Dutch grip my shoulder, only squeezing hard enough to reassure me. "Don't let this tear you down. Become the strong Leader of the Elites you once were."

Become the Leader I once was . . .

I was about to look up to Dutch when he suddenly let go when a soft growl could be heard. I turned around and saw Lar'ja emerging from the shadows. I knew it was a special warning used by Yautja males to keep competition away from their mates. It's a sound I became too familiar with due to Lar'ja jealousy. Dutch had his eyes on him, watching those golden eyes follow his every move. I saw that Dutch weren't surprised or nervous, taking the situation in stride. A definite sign of a warrior who had seen many fights in his times. No doubt about that.

"What are you doing?"

Lar'ja asked him and Dutch pulled away from me just as I spoke. "We were talking after he heard me cause a ruckus."

Lar'ja looked down at the dried green blood on my hands from where I injured myself on the wall. He looks between Dutch and me, probably to see if he had anything to do with this. He sighs, assuring me that he knew. Dutch clears his throat. "I guess I should be going. Make sure to not push yourself. Excessive training can be bad for your health."

Dutch wasted no time in leaving, giving that one last piece of advice that I knew was true. He was a man of few words and made a detailed point in his purpose. At least I don't have to worry about if he hates Yautjas or not . . . but still up for debate.

With Dutch gone, it was only me and Lar'ja now. I could see the worry in his eyes. They haven't dulled in the time since our last Hunt together. After hearing what Dutch had to say, I had a lot to tell him. Lar'ja walks slowly to me. "Is everything okay?"

I didn't answer, only looking down. I hear him clicking his mandibles nervously, taking a step at a time as I heard him come closer. "Anya . . . are you sure you're—"

"No. I'm not alright."

His footsteps stop. I turned my body and looked into his golden eyes. His arms were lifted a little on his sides like he was being cautious of an animal about to attack him. He relaxes when I sigh, walking over until I am in front of him. Get it over with.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes squinted together and his head tipped to the side, letting his dreadlocks flow like a curtain. "About what?"

I swallowed. "I haven't been alright but I took it out on you when you did nothing to deserve it. Ever since I lost Molly, I went downhill. This whole time . . . I've been punishing myself but I dragged you into my problems."

"What do you mean you were punishing yourself?"

I thought I could explain it smoothly but my mind couldn't come up with a sentence for a minute. Just tell him and be done with it. I took another breath that eases my anxiety and looked back to Lar'ja.

"Just look at me." I spread my arms out. "All this time . . . I thought I became stronger but I'm no different than I was back when I was a lab rat."

It stung my heart to say it but it was the truth. It is what I felt. Lar'ja stayed quiet, mostly listening as I kept berating. "I was scared . . . useless and couldn't defend me, let alone anyone else that mattered. I thought that when I became Blooded and took the role of Leader of the Elites, I would be able to protect everyone close to me."

My fists tightened. My body trembled, struggling to keep my emotions bottled in. My chest rose and fell at a quick pace. I lowered my gaze to the floor, staring into the cold ground of the training ring. "But that thought was destroyed when Molly died. And the worst part . . ."

I glanced at Lar'ja for a few seconds before looking back down. "This time . . . I had the power to save her and yet it was the same outcome. Someone died and I watched it happen. I feel so . . . useless."

That was it. All of the feelings that I kept behind closed doors from everyone over these few weeks were out in the open. The weight of my shoulders had lightened but still there, nagging in my ears. I felt tears forming and I closed my eyes tightly. Was I never going to change? Will I remain the scared, little girl? Is there no hope for me?

My body shuddered in surprise when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. Lar'ja had pulled me to him without my notice and held me in his arms. My face was pressed into his chest so I couldn't look up to see him. His heart pounded hard and I could feel it so well that I could follow its rhythm with ease. His breath was steady but labored. Is he alright? As I pulled away, he spoke.

"You're not useless."

He lifted my chin so our faces met. There was a small spark in his eyes that emphasized the gold and amber in them. They were soft and gentle . . . a trait that wasn't common in Yautjas. They never show emotions the way Lar'ja does. But then again, he's been around me a lot so my influence must have rubbed off of him. But I also sensed something else.

"If you were, you wouldn't be standing here, fighting the Bad Bloods. If you are what you claimed, the Killer Yautja would have their way by now. You would still be imprisoned with the oomans or even . . ." He struggled a minute. " . . . dead. But you're here."

His hand lets go and stretch to hold my cheek. It was burning with warmth, inviting me. I rubbed my cheek on him, inhaling the spring rain that had become a drug for me. I looked back at him, watching him intently.

"Molly may be gone but she won't die in vain. Everyone who has fallen allowed the rest to survive. You protected me, Rory, and Brackett, when Thant'oug attacked us and defeated him. We survived because of you."

He leans his face closer until our foreheads were against each other. I closed my eyes slowly, enjoying this moment. I had to admit that this was a rare moment for Lar'ja. He showed a sign of maturity that I've never seen before. And I thought I wasn't the only one who was still growing. His mandibles stretched, letting his tusks scratch gently on my earlobes. It was one of my sweet spots he found after a few times we mated. Why am I thinking about this now? I dismissed that thought before my body could react and this conversation would turn in a completely different direction. This wasn't the time. But he did use it to calm me and it did the trick. My body relaxed and my breathing returned to a steady rhythm.

"You are strong. Never forget it. And I'm here for you . . . but I would have wanted a better apology than that."

I opened my eyes and twisted my face in confusion. "In what way?"

He smirked. "Maybe more like this."

Without warning, Lar'ja pressed his mouth on me. The teeth of his inner mouth nip at my lips to part them before he descends on me. His hot tongue slithers its way deep into my throat. If I wasn't in such an emotional state, I would have smacked him for sneaking a move like that. But it was welcomed and I answered back. Our tongues battled for dominance and I closed my eyes to focus on the wonderful feeling. My arms wrapped around him, tightening my hold on him. He does the same and slips his fingers through my hair. It feels good . . . Really good. His words and comfort were what I needed for the moment. My thoughts wandered off during the kiss.

He has such faith in me . . . Can I have the same for myself? Am I capable of it?

But then, our moment was shattered when the whole room shook violently followed by the alarm that was installed practically in every room of CHPS. I clung on to Lar'ja when I felt my balance shift. He growls and looks up to the ceiling. I followed and realized that it was beginning to break. Pieces of concrete and metal were falling like meteorites. What was that!? An explosion!? The room shook again as soon as I thought about it. That's a blast of some kind. The only question remaining is if it was an accident or an attack.

The first was debunked when the blast came back a third time. The ceiling couldn't hold much longer. The cracks grew bigger until it finally collapsed. A massive piece of it was falling right on top of us, threatening to crush us. Lar'ja holds me tightly and jumps out of the way in time. The impact threw Lar'ja off balance and we went flying. I was ripped from him and tumbled across the room, slamming into the wall. It was no more of a thud but I grunted from the sudden hit. It didn't take me long to recover and I stood up to see Lar'ja running towards me.

"Anya!"

He comes to me but I noticed the ceiling between us broke and another piece falls. I gasped when I knew it was going to crush him and he didn't even notice, too fixated on me. I ran to him with all my might.

"Lar'ja! Watch out!"

I forced him to fall backwards using my hands. He was like a brick wall but I managed to save him from being crushed. I fell on him as the concrete dug into the training ring, leaving a crater behind. I wrapped my arms around his neck and covered his head from the rubble with my body. I couldn't bear to see him get hurt despite that he's strong enough. My heart pounded in fear and worry as the blasts kept coming over and over again. When I thought that it would never end, it suddenly became quiet. Too quiet.

I lifted my head to see if Lar'ja was alright. "Are you alright?"

He grunts. "I'm okay. You shouldn't have covered me like that. It should have been the other way around."

I rolled my eyes. Of course, he would say that. Males . . .

"I can protect you as much as you can."

I gave him a serious look and he got the message. "At least we're both safe."

I smiled briefly as Lar'ja got onto his feet, lifting me until I stood up on my own. I brushed the dust off of me. "Just what the pauk was that?"

Lar'ja shook his head. He was just as clueless as I was. But then we began hearing screeches followed by screams. It came from above and it must have been loud for us to hear it from down here and through the horrible sound of the alarm. Something's not right. This is no accident.

"Lar'ja! Lar'ja! Can you hear me!?"

I got a bit spooked when I heard the voice. That sounds like Rory. I followed where it was coming from and noticed it was Lar'ja's wrist gauntlet going off. It was suggested that if anything were to happen, Rory added a communication link to our gauntlets so that he could send us a message or talk to us when we were separated. Seeing through that I didn't have my armor and the rest of my weapons with me, Lar'ja was our only means to talk.

He brought his gauntlet so we could all see and answers. "Rory?"

"Is Anya with you!? I couldn't get in contact with her!"

"I'm here with Lar'ja. What's going on?"

I heard Rory gasp in relief for a second. "We have a problem. We're being attacked by your 'not-so-friendly' buddies."

I tightened my eyebrows in confusion. "What buddies?"

"The Killer Yautja."

My heart sunk. I held the hope that someone I knew would come first and help us before the Bad Bloods arrived. I should have known better that they would react quicker than expected. Pauk! This isn't good.

"Were they the ones who blasted those shots?"

Lar'ja jumped into questions. He was one who would try and get as much information as he could before jumping into a situation. We're already in one though. But then, we heard more screaming coming from Rory's end followed by hissing that I knew all too well.

Kainde amedha . . .

"Rory! What's happening!?"

He didn't answer but yelled something inconclusive before a shot was fired. A cry of death was heard before Rory's voice came back. "Shit! They brought those black creatures with them. They've taken over the east section of the top-level!"

"Hold on! We're coming to help you!"

"You better hurry! We can't let them take over CHPS! We'll hold them off as long as we can!"

The communications began to get fuzzy but I could hear more screaming and hissing. I was hearing nothing but chaos. And then . . . nothing.

"Rory? Rory!"

No answer and I feared that the worst had happened. Lar'ja turns the communications off and growls in frustration. "Pauking Bad Bloods."

I spoke harshly. "We have to get to him. And fast."

He nods. "I agree but we'll have to be careful. If the kainde amedha are involved, they'll be crawling all over the place."

"I know so we can't waste any more time."

I searched around the rubble for my swords I dropped behind. I found them surprisingly unscathed by the blasts not too far from me. I picked them up from the ground and headed towards the opening. But Lar'ja stopped me from reaching it.

"But what about your armor and weapons? You can't fight with just your swords."

This is not the right time for this, Lar'ja.

"I have no choice. We don't have time to get them. I can still fight without them and you can't stop me."

Lar'ja hesitated but he knew I was right. It would take longer for me to go to my room, set my armor on me and go into battle. There was too much risk and Rory needed our help. I wasn't going to leave him to defend himself from creatures that can take down even the strongest of Yautja. Lar'ja hesitated but when I glared at him, he backed off.

"You're right. I can't stop you but I won't leave your side."

I nodded, smiling for a moment. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Lar'ja reciprocated it, folding his mandibles to show his own with his inner mouth. It was a small moment but it was enough to encourage me to try. He provided me with the support that no one else could. It was one of the many qualities that made me fall in love with him.

We wasted no more time after that, heading out and into the hallway. I couldn't let this happen once more. These Bad Bloods had already taken Molly and many others before. As Lar'ja and I ran as fast as we could, I thought to myself.

I won't let it happen again . . . I won't let them.

Hello Everyone!

Finally back to posting chapters and I hope you all enjoy this one. It was pretty hard since it focused on the struggles of being herself. I struggle a lot with these parts so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if the chapter is boring. Let me know as your opinions matter to me. But I wanted to show that she's still emotional with her ooman side but still can kick ass as a Yautja warrior. She's such a complicated character but that's what makes it exciting.

But now, the Bad Bloods have attacked and are most likely killing a bunch of CHPS members. Rory has a lot on his plate and Anya/Lar'ja are rushing to come to his aid.

Will they make it in time? Or is it too late to save everyone? Including themselves?

Find out when Chapter 14 is posted next week (Friday the latest). The names of the chapters have changed so much that they'll be revealed when the chapter is posted like before. Plus, it helps so that I'm not stressing over keeping the chapter to the theme until it's finalized (I have a short attention span lol). I hope all of you understand. And apologies for the switch of titles for Chapter 13 :(

Thank you for Mariah, Anonymous-E, Nightroad816, and NeverNeverLady for the reviews on Chapter 12.

I understand Nightroad if you don't want to continue reading. But it's your loss. I do hope that you keep enjoying my future stories.

Thank you and Good Hunting! :)))

Reading notes:

Normal = Anya (human form) or any human speaking English (ooman language)

Italic = Anya (human form) or any human speaking Yautja

Bold = Any Yautja speaking English (ooman language)

Bold and Italic = Any Yautja speaking Yautja language