.x.
Controlled violence in motion—that's the only way I could describe the battle as I watched it. As they collided, all I could see was a tangled mass of limbs and weapons. Celtic tore free and lifted the squirming alien, one handed, until it was no longer touching the ground. The alien lashed out with both its mouths, prompting Celtic to pivot about and hurl the creature with a ferocious cry. It soared several feet, striking the pillars behind it with such force that they crumbled into pieces. It was on its feet instantly, shrieking, and Celtic surged forth to meet it. The alien met him halfway. Airborne, it struck the predator and drove him down, down, its claws rending his arms. Horrified, I watched as Celtic kept the alien's mouth away from his head with one powerful hand about the neck. With the speed of a striking snake, he drove his wrist blades firmly into the alien's flank. He avoided the spray of caustic blood by casting the alien from him and rolling swiftly to the side. Coming into a crouch, he screamed, a primal, challenging sound.
The alien was tottering on its feet, its agonized shrieks a distant cousin to Celtic's fierce call. For a moment I thought it was over, for a moment I thought the alien would fall. But it gathered itself and leapt and again they tumbled to the floor, rolling almost beyond my line of vision. Unconsciously I crept forward, only to have Scar haul me roughly back with a warning snarl. I paid him no heed. My attention was solely on the struggle in front of me.
Celtic had the alien pinned. I saw suddenly that his wrist blades had been almost completely destroyed by the alien's blood. He had another blade in hand, a large one, but as he brought his arm down in the killing arc the alien's tail erupted through his shoulder with a shower of radiant green fluid. The predator was thrown backwards with a flick of the alien's tail, skidding across the stones to strike the wall. He'd maintained his grip on the knife, and surging to his feet with a quickness that belied his large frame launched himself at his enemy that had only just regained its feet. Time seemed to slow as Celtic twisted mid-air to avoid the alien's furious rush. I watched in awe as he drove the length of his blade through the long, black skull. He landed hard, tumbling to a stop with a growl of obvious pain. The alien took one wobbling step and then another before crumpling to the ground. There was a silence for several tense moments. Celtic bellowed his triumph then, and it was loud enough to make my ears ring. He rose to his feet slowly. Blood trailed in neon rivulets down the length of his body. I glanced at Scar, who still held me by the arm, but his attention was focused solely on his companion.
Celtic crouched down and wrenched his blade free of the corpse. The weapon was still intact—it must have had some sort of resilience to the acid-like alien blood. He laid it down before reaching up and disconnecting the two small hoses that were attached to his helmet. Air hissed from the hoses as he let them fall. As he slowly lifted his mask away from his face I caught my breath in fascination.
Funny, how masks can give the impression of humanity. Celtic's visage, uncovered, was anything but. His skin was mottled greenish-yellow, almost reptilian like, and his eyes, close set and beneath a large, prominent brow, where a dark crimson in color. Framing his toothy mouth were four mandibles that moved as though they had a life of their own, each tipped with a small tusk. From the back of his head fell the long, thick tube-like tresses that were, I realized, his hair. He was ugly, yes, but there was something feral, something undeniably haughty in his features that gave him an undeniable presence. At my side, Scar rumbled quietly. I turned to see him regarding me—judging my reaction to his comrade's appearance? Beneath that impassive mask that watched me now lurked something similar, but the knowledge strangely didn't terrify me. I nodded once at Scar before turning back to observe Celtic.
Laying his mask on the ground beside him, he tore off a finger from the grid-scarred alien and brought it to his forehead, just as Sebastian and I had seen Scar do earlier. He made no sound as he etched wa mark into his skin with the corrosive blood—the same mark, I noticed, that both Scar and I had. When he was done he let fall the finger, rose slowly and with obvious pain to his feet, and approached us both.
Face to face with Scar, he clasped him firmly on the shoulder, and Scar returned the gesture—they were acknowledging each other's triumphs. Releasing Scar, Celtic turned to me. I stared into that fierce countenance and tried not to flinch as he bent down and roared directly in my face, mandibles flaring wide. When I didn't move, he wrapped his long fingers around my neck and hoisted me effortlessly into the air. I choked and clawed at his grip with one hand, because there was absolutely no way I was dropping my shotgun. From the corner of my eye I saw Scar step forward with an angry noise. Celtic thundered at me again, bringing me to eye level, and in his vivid gaze his contempt for me was clear.
Gasping furiously for air, I decided I'd had enough of this pissing contest. I kicked out as hard as I could with my legs and landed a blow very close to where the alien had impaled him. With another deafening roar he cast me from him. I dropped to the floor, staggering into the chamber and very nearly falling into the widening pool of alien blood. Trying to get my bearings, rubbing my throat, my eyes widened as Celtic strode swiftly towards me.
"Don't!" I shouted, lifting the shotgun while thumbing the safety off. This gave him momentary pause. I knew he was recalling what I'd done with this weapon the last time. Finally he shook his head, hair flying, and flared his mandibles at me once more.
Scar was suddenly there, interjecting himself between us both. For a moment the two hunters simply stood, matching glare for glare. Celtic had acknowledged me earlier as a warrior, I understood then, but he didn't regard me as an equal. Abruptly Celtic whirled with a growl, knelt down beside his kill, and with his knife began to dismember it. Shakily I released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and moved to the far corner of the room, wanting to get as much distance as I could between myself and the unfriendly hunter. Scar remained where he was, glancing between the two of us before he too shook his head and made a sound of disgust. He stalked off to his own corner before beginning to use the device on his arm.
I sighed, still massaging my abused throat. One grown human with two temperamental teenaged predators. What fun.
.x.