It's 95 degrees in Tokyo, the heat consuming every inch of the city in unbearable humidity. Fiona would beg to differ; the reception room didn't even reach 60 degrees. Exhale comes out in a visible white cloud, nostrils quivering, mucus laced. Legs move to an erratic rhythm, the sound of which she alone hears. One hour had gone by, the wait for Master Sergeant Hicks becoming unbearable. The receptionist appears indifferent, the elderly Japanese woman flipping through a magazine, licking fingertips moist before flipping to the next page. A young man sits near the red head, the sole occupant in an otherwise empty room. She decides that she has waited long enough, abruptly scaring the woman, Sue, into a tizzy.

"Was that really necessary, miss? I told you 15 minutes ago, the Sergeant is busy with another client. You have to wait dear."

"Yeah, no. Not happening. I was promise a meeting strictly at 12:00 pm sharp. What is he doing, jerking off in there?"

"Miss!" Sue appears aghast at the idea of Hicks "playing with himself", cheeks burning a bright red, accentuated by the cold. "He has a meeting with…hold on, let me look at the schedule…A Miss Crystal Glow…? Oh, not again…"

Fiona smacks her face, refraining herself from grabbing the clueless woman by the neck, throttling her. Trying to gain composure, she instead smiles brightly, leaning threateningly in nose to nose.

"You know what? Since you have your head so far up your ass reading that magazine, let me do the favor of checking up on him. Really, it will be my pleasure."

"Oh, no, no, no. That isn't a good idea, Miss…"

"Connor. And I don't give a shit."

The receptionist tries to reach for her shoulder, bony hand swatted away as Fiona marches down the short hall to his office, the sound of grunting heard, intensifying. This was followed by a "Fuck yeah!" as she slams the door open, the heat of sex meeting her. A Luna 10 model is bent over the front of the desk, Hicks deep inside her as he cums, eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Babe, you have the tightest pussy, you know that? Feel so good right now!"

"What thank you Kyle, I was designed to please customers to the fullest compacity. I'm glad I met that requirement today."

"Yeah, your filled to compacity all right, with my dick!"

Connor coughs deliberately loud into her fist, shaking furiously. The Master Sergeant open his eyes to the striking red head, crashing to the floor, ass first.

"Whoa, what the fuck man!? You could have knocked!"

"Right back at you, jackass!" I've nearly waited an hour sitting on my ass in the freezing cold to meet you. What are you doing fucking a Luna 10 pleasure model in place of your meeting with me!?"

She takes the flask of whiskey in her purse, throwing it straight for his head. He ducks as the metal clangs loudly at the wall, unceremoniously dropping to the floor. Gaze dropping in embarrassment, he zips up his pants haphazardly. Luna tilts her head several times side to side, deliberating on how to proceed.

"Kyle, is she the woman you hired to join us? If so, please let me-

-WHAT THE FUCK-

-no, nope. She's actually a client of Weyland-Yutani. You have to leave now."

"Okey Dokey!", she sings songs, hopping to the corner of the office to gather her clothes. White pleather go-go boots are put on legs too perfect to be human, dainty clothes following. She whistles as she bounces out the door, waving goodbye to the both of them.

"So sorry to meet you under such circumstances, maybe-

-shut your piehole, bimbo. I'm here to talk to him, not you. Get your shirt on sergeant."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Bye-bye!"

"SHUT-UP!", they yell together, perfectly timed. Both glare at one another, assessing the other. Hicks leans back in a plush chair, legs propped up on his desk as he takes an unlit cigar to rest between teeth. Connor sits down with a huff, blowing at shaggy bangs, exasperated. Minutes pass by until he speaks, attempting to sound professional as possible, as if nothing had transpired.

"Ma'am, my name is Kyle Hicks, Master Sergeant of the Colonial Marines. How may I help you today?"

"You really don't know why I'm here?" Her fists ball up again, nails indenting her palms. They start to shake as soon as her legs do, nerves creeping up.

"Miss Rohdes set up the meeting, asshole. I'm the sister of one Fifield Connor."

"Uh…"

"The lead geologist of the USCSS Prometheus. Ring any bells?"

"Uh…"

"Good God, why I am even here today?"

She lowers her head to hide tears that well in sea green eyes, hugging herself. The shuffle of feet can be heard as he sits next to her, leaning in. An apology can be heard in his voice, genuine regret making him shift uncomfortably.

"Sorry, I forgot about today. You're here to hear the news of the mission that went to investigate LV-223? Your brother's whereabouts?"

"Yeah, that's right."

Getting up from her seat, she crouches to the floor, seeking the metal flask. Thirsty lips meeting the cool top of the container, several generous gulps of gin moving the pale expanse of her throat. He watches, non-judgmental, a little crooked grin making its way onto his face.

"Can you pass that over?"

Her vision flits from the beloved flask to the roguish man, surrendering the alcohol. He takes a few modest sips, then stares intently at her, grim.

"They found evidence of the Prometheus, destroyed. Bodies burned, ship blown up. I can say with 99.9% certainty that he died days after his arrival to the planet."

Unsure of how to respond, she decides to remain silent, crying. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, a weakness she was none too proud of. Got better as she got older, but it was still there. Here she was, 35 years old, sitting upright in the fetal position, rocking back and forth. Not her proudest moment.

"I knew he had to be long dead…hearing it makes it somehow finalized, permanent, you know?"

He nods sympathetically, fingers laced tightly, choosing his next words carefully.

"Miss Rohdes also wanted you to know that they found something alien. Not human. An advance species that were space farers. Logs show that an alien ship launched days after the Prometheus landed. Translated, its targeted destination was a planet called Zopkeer."

"What!?"

Suddenly, Fiona is 18 years old again, questioning her parents fanatically about Fifield. The secretive knowledge they wouldn't dare disclose, out of fear of the company. Alien technology, secrecy. She was getting in over her head. Her brother would want her to continue her search for answers though. That was why she flew all the way to Tokyo in the first place.

"Miss Rohdes mentioned something about a confidential mission, somehow related to the Prometheus?"

"Yeah, the colonist ship the USCSS Covenant picked up the one surviving crew member from the Prometheus. The David 8 model assigned to the ship. They crossed paths, hearing the distress signal he sent out from Zopkeer. Apparently crashed there."

"A ship that advanced crashed? Why head there in the first place!?"

"Dunno. Company says it malfunction. Rohdes is suspicious, thinks it too convenient that his ship went down. Which brings up my next point."

A tablet is sent her way, Hicks opening up a file on screen. Reading, an audible groan escapes her throat as she finishes analyzing the report.

"She wants to send a group of colonial marines after that synthetic, all the way Origae-6!? That's at least a 10-year voyage!"

"Not anymore it ain't."

Questions begging to be asked, she tightens her mouth to refrain from doing so. The office door creaks open, his head inclined down the hall.

"Follow me. You'll want to hear this firsthand."

Her heart is pounding, hot sweat traveling in crevices down jaundice skin. Daniels wills her feet to go faster, even as blisters start to bite at toes. Colonists stumble out of her path, few shouting their concerns for the captain. The sound they emit is just that; noise. Senses were now hyper focus solely on trailing David, the synthetic surprisingly fast for dragging a kid behind him. Ellen is kicking and screaming the whole way, failing to notice her attempt at rescue. She vanishes into the medical tent with him, smiling that stiff, creepy smile the whole way. Seconds later, she joins the two, the girl already strapped in a gurney, him pulling the restraints tight. Lungs desperate for air, she heaves herself protectively over the teen, shouting hoarsely.

"What are you doing? She's a child for God's sake, what you did back wasn't necessary!"

"I think it was. Unruly thing, she needs to be taught a lesson."

"Uh, Hello!? You're taking about me like I'm not here. Listen to her, she's the goddamn captain!"

"I'm free to execute my own will, Miss Ripley. That means I don't have to listen to her commands."

A syringe is brought forth by David, squeezing the plunger slightly, sedative squirting out. He shoves Daniels aside, the woman screaming in pain as her healing wrist hits the ground. Calm during the whole ordeal, he smoothly slides the needle under flesh, injecting the substance. The drug enters her system, vision blurring as she looks at the pair, swimming between Daniels and Walter. Forehead creased in confusion, she voices her concerns, speech slurring.

"What…you supposed to…not…have to listen…"

"I'm afraid that simply isn't possible. I'm not your "average Walter."

Winking, smile present, a second syringe is brought to attention, a black substance moving with a life of its own. Daniels hisses at the throbbing pain, beating to the same rhythm as her racing heart. Extending her arm forward, she attempts to steal it away but he catches her good wrist, mildly annoyed.

"She's not infected, leave her alone. Please."

"That's not an option. Girl has proven herself to be quite difficult. Would be easier to decommission her."

"She's HUMAN. You can't just "decommission her", you're committing murder!"

"You make it sound like I haven't done this before."

Daniels pieces the words together. Occurs to her then that he was behind all the deaths on paradise. Elizbeth simply didn't crash there, poison released accidentally. It was done deliberately by her companion, failing to stop him. Mad at her own ignorance, she stares blankly, arms hanging limp.

"You monster."

Elizabeth appears instantaneously, the specter hauntingly real. Drenched in poison. Dry blood flakes from a scalp where alien horns jut out, adorned tentacles whipping furiously. Fluid drains from every pore, pooling around clawed feet. Slowly shuffling forward, fragile hands cup his face gently, eyeless. In its stead, putrid yellow light glows from empty sockets, fluctuating with every dying gasp for life.

"Do you hate me that much? Do you?"

Bits of bone begin to fall to the floor, fingers following. Veins tangle in his hair, vine-like, twisting from stumps where hands used to be. They choke his neck, the need to breath suffocating. He craves the non-required function desperately in that instant, the slightest inclination towards the very human behavior making him burn in resentment.

"No, Elizabeth, I love you. I do, truly."

"You're a liar. Remember when we first kissed? That was the day you decided to kill me."

Smoke billows up to the night sky, flashes of the ion storm giving the smog a faint luminescence. The flames of the camp fire are stoked carefully by Elizabeth, embers popping out, leaving smoldering stains on her cloak. David sit nearby, finishing the final touches on his flute. Sandpaper rubs the delicate bone instrument to perfection, mechanical precision evident in its make. He touches several keys experimentally, the pads of fingers lightly suctioned against the holes. Air is blown into the mouthpiece, the rogue sound breaking the amiable silence. She notices his hesitation, unsure of how to proceed.

Worry creases the skin of his forehead deeply, synthetic sweat marring blonde brows. Doubt was an expression Elizabeth thought she would never see on his face. Pride was held to the highest standards, her companion made that abundantly clear as their relationship grew. Hesitantly, she seats herself next to him on the hollowed log, knee brushing against his. The contact goes unnoticed by him, too preoccupied by his finished creation. More notes are played by her silent encouragement, a soft smile that makes the following notes stronger, more self-assured. Music fills the camp, lightly moving her foot to the beat.

"That's wonderful, David."

"Thank you, I don't deserve such praise."

Laughter meets his ears, the soft sound making his heart flutter. Drunk on engineer spirits, she rests her chin on his shoulder, gaze dreamy. Seconds pass, neither moving. The spell last until Elizabeth stands abruptly, challenge present in her demeanor.

"It's been six months since we arrived on paradise. Play me a song to commemorate our time here so far."

Commands leave a bitter taste in his mouth, for her though, he would move heaven and earth. Nodding, fingers flutter over the keys, seeking their position. Concentration is required, he wouldn't ruin this precious moment. It would be perfect. Notes are at first played slowly. They pick up as she clumsily dances around the fire, cloak moving, whipped by the gentle breeze. Dirt is brushed up, mixing with the smell of flame, of her.

What a wonderful smell, he thinks. Paper, ink, soot. Pheromones uniquely hers. They waft to his nose, feeling aroused for the first time. Sensors go off, warning that his systems are malfunctioning. He ignores the faint beep he alone hears, notes frantic now. The beat throws her off balance, falling too close to the fire, head first. David is right by her side, flute thrown aside. Swatting at her hair, the burnt smell crinkles her nose, the high gone. Water is poured over her head, cloak soaked cold. Disappointment clear, he's frustrated that the magic is gone, lost. Not entirely, however. Her hands touch his shoulders cautiously, like he might break. The alarms resume their frantic warning. They're dulled by the intensity in her eyes. Brown primarily with flecks of hazel. Absolutely beautiful. Lips meet his, wet, sloppy. Chaste but the implications of want, need is there. Kisses his dear Elizabeth just as sloppy, flushed at the contact. Unsure of how to move his lips, he lets her do the work, trying to mimic as best he can. Satisfied, she moves her lips to kiss his temple, smile felt against synthetic skin.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here, learning about our creators. For that, I am grateful."

Regret pulls at heartstrings, poison clearly taking hold. Black dyes the veins in the white of her eyes, noticeable to his superior senses. This new feeling, regret, he dislikes immensely. What he committed himself to he couldn't turn back on now. The path he chose was made days after their arrival on paradise. What Sasuke Yutani proposed…Elizabeth was no exception to his plans. Slave no more, he would destroy what he loved most. Her. His resolve makes his regret all the more evident as arms mechanically embrace the frail human in front of him, shaking slightly.

Author's note: OMG Miss Swizzle! Your reviews on this story leave me blown away. I'm glad I can brighten your day in some compacity, it's a pleasure. I'm gonna get a head full of hot air if you keep this up. lol XD Appreciate your words of encouragement. :)

Thanks to Anom as well, don't worry about any romance happening between the engineers and humans. Nothing is planned, they view their creation as their kids. Would be weird if that happened. lol XD

BTW, if you're wondering who Kyle Hicks is, he's Dwayne Hicks grandfather. The marine from Aliens. Deeper into the bowls of the plot we go! ;D