Chapter 2: Speak, ooman
The predator's voice was deep and booming. It almost seemed like the room shook when he spoke. Vaughn was stunned to hear it speak his language. The predator looked down at the stunned man with impatience. "What is the matter ooman? Have you lost your ability to speak? Or can you simply not understand me?" The predator then started to speak in what seemed to be German, Japanese and then in Spanish. Vaughn stuttered "I speak English just fine." The predator seemed pleased then aggravated. "Then why did you not speak up sooner ooman? You are all the same, strong or weak, you are all stupid." Vaughn got a little angry at that comment. "How about you let me go and I'll show you how stupid I am you fucking monster!" The predator growled and grabbed Vaughn by the shirt "you call me a monster?! I call you the same!" The predator stepped back and composed himself "it is good that you have spirit ooman, you will need it. But you will soon learn to watch you tongue."
The other predator picked up another instrument from the table and stepped forward. It looked to be a small gun, but with a tiny blade on the end on it. The larger predator spoke again "ooman, you have been chosen. This is an honor shared by very few, only the toughest oomans throughout history have been given the honor of blood ooman" Vaughn eyed the gun suspiciously. "I'm no damn blood ooman, and I'm not even human if that's what ooman is supposed to mean, I'm a synthetic!" The smaller predator loaded the gun with a small cartridge. The larger one spoke "of course you are not a blood ooman yet, you have not earned that title yet. And I am well aware of what you are, but it does not matter, you are an ooman none the less." The smaller predator in the tunic put the gun up against Vaughn's chest and he could feel the tiny blade, ready to puncture. "Wait! What are you...?" And Vaughn was cut off in mid sentence by the loud "kachunk" of the gun as it punched through his flesh. Vaughn cried out in pain and writhed on the cot. The large predator spoke up again "this, ooman, is a chip, a chip that we will monitor you with. And control you with if necessary. Many oomans die from this procedure, sometimes right away, sometimes from infection. We will give you no aide; this is your first test." He turned and walked out of the room. The remaining predator unhooked Vaughn from his five straps, and also started to leave the room. It was about five feet away from the door when Vaughn took this opportunity and leapt from the table. The dashed across the room at the turned back of the predator. The predator casually walked out of the room as the sliding door slammed shut and Vaughn crashed into it. He slumped down against the door, he had hit hard, and now his shoulder felt almost as bad as his chest. He sat against the door, clutching the wound in the center of his chest. He knew that his body would heal soon, but he wasn't worried about his health, he just didn't want the predator chip in him. He stood up and looked around the room. There wasn't much in it except for the medical equipment, it was dark, no windows. He found what he needed on the table. There were three instruments. The syringe, the gun, and a large, multiple bladed scalpel. Vaughn picked up the strange blade and sat on the cot. He removed his tattered shirt and tore off a strip of it. He bunched up the strip of shirt and bit down on it. The wound on his chest was still bleeding a little, so it wasn't very hard to find were he needed to cut.