Chapter 22
Disclaimer: I do not own Alien/Predator series or any characters and may not follow all customs and cultures found in Alien/Predator movies.
The dark-skinned male walked casually to them as if he was a buddy of hers which pissed her off even more, "You're no friend of mine so who are you? Or are we including idiot on top of arrogance in your personality?"
The man chuckled. Is he amused? Sara moved to stand but the ache in her body on top of I'koh pinning her gently on the shoulder forced her to sit back down. She wanted to protest until she saw the worried look in I'koh's eyes, completely ignoring the man watching them.
If he wasn't okay with it, he would have said or done something by now. Right?
Sara sighed annoyingly and directed back to the man, "What's your name? If I can ask . . ."
The man chuckled again and she bit her lip to confront the anger, "Nebraska. And what is yours, my beautiful angel?"
Nebraska came and reached his hand to give her a lift. Sara checked with I'koh who answered with a nod. Slowly, she stretched out and held his hand with a firm grip but when he attempted to let go, Sarah yanked him back. Her hand firmly gripped his neck and squeezed enough to give him a fair warning.
"If you ever call me that again, I'll rip out your tongue and feed it to you. Understand?" Her eyes narrowed, awaiting his response.
The man pushed her away, making I'koh come to her side in a heartbeat, and softly hissed. I guess they're not all on the best of terms. It didn't matter as she made her point and she wanted it to get across this stranger's thick skull.
Instead, to her absolute disbelief, he laughed hysterically like a hyena, almost kneeling over as if he couldn't believe what happened to him.
Sara's eyes bulged, and her lower jaw dropped. Is he delusional?
"Aw, sweetheart. You make me laugh," He smiled and comically bowed his head, "You must have a beautiful name to act so cold and cruel. Let me guess . . . Anna?"
Sara narrowed his eyes.
"No, wait . . . Juliet? Jasmine? Mia? Or maybe Maya?"
Nebraska suddenly had a revelation and he hopped like an excited kid given candy or worse . . . one that was on a sugar high, "Olivia! You're name is Olivia, right!?"
He pointed and gave a maniacal laugh. The anger inside her burned each time he opened his putrid mouth. What. The. Fuck?!
She had enough, "It's Sara!"
It took the strength of I'koh to hold her arms to keep from charging, "The name is Sara! You fucking psycho!"
Nebraska's personality flipped like a coin, from the crazy lunatic to a calm state, and yet the corner of his mouth rose in a half-smirk and Sara realized what it meant. He tricked me?!
"You son of a bitc—"
Sara gasped and yelled, a shot of electric pain shot through her body. The next minute she knew, the control over her body went out into the sky, barely able to move her fingertips. Despite years of training to be mentally prepared for the worst, this was unlike anything she felt or was ever taught in preparation. Her core temperature dropped and fear began to rise.
She gazed at I'koh who dropped to her side, "What's happening to me?"
The other man, Nebraska, was at her side as well. The humor he displayed was gone in an instant, "What's the fuck is going with her, dog?"
I'koh softly growled but didn't diverge his attention from her as she trembled, "Side effect . . . creature . . . Poison . . . Antidote . . ."
He spoke so frantically that the translator wasn't keeping up and mixing words that he didn't intend to use so he spoke in his own tongue to convey his message but that made it worse. Before she could even ask further, her muscles spasmed and she couldn't open her mouth.
What's happening to me!?
I'koh looked up and was saying something to the stranger but her hearing was muffled except for a piercing ring that made her want to pull her hair from the scalp. The man and I'koh exchanged a conversation before the first motioned I'koh to follow.
Sara couldn't protest as she was carried by I'koh through the darkness. Where are we going!?
She desperately tried to speak or make some noise to indicate she didn't agree but all that came out of her mouth was a silent moan. Whatever was taking over her was paralyzing every part of her body and the worst part was that she could feel it flowing upward towards her chest and gripping her heart in a vice. The heaviness was causing her to slowly fall unconscious.
Please . . . She reached out a weak hand.
A massive, warm hand took hers gently and squeezed as reassurance. The scales she felt reassured her it was I'koh but didn't fully dissipate the fear growing inside her. It didn't take long before whatever was affecting her body dragged her into an abyss to which no nightmare could break . . . if she could even dream at all.
The night was extremely cold, unusual weather in June but at least easier to deal with than the humidity. Still, it didn't stop mosquitoes from biting into his skin. When one attempted it on his hand, he slapped it, killing the bug and smothering its fluids all over.
He wiped it away in disgust. Damn pests.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the tempting smoke and the effects it brought in the hopes of ridding the stress and doubts. It didn't do much other than irritate his throat and lungs, almost coughing up a storm. Irritated, he threw the cigarette and stomped on it.
Hey Boss . . . Come in . . .
The man groaned. Now what?
He reached for the radio that crackled a response but he cut it short with a growl, "What did I tell you not to mess with the radio?"
There was a long pause, "Hello?"
The radio comes back to life. We need you back here.
The man rolled his eyes, "If it's Baxley having a nervous breakdown again, just lock him in another room. Why do you have to fucking get me involved every time?"
It's not that. Well . . . maybe it is but for a different reason. You should come back with everyone.
He rolled his eyes. Why me with these idiots?
"Fine. I'll pick up the boys and meet up with you."
He heard the voice chuckling nervously. Yeah. About that . . . can you make sure they don't have their guns?
"Why?" That struck him as an odd request.
Just trust me, man. The radio goes dead, no matter what he did.
"Fucking piece of shit," The man hooked the radio to his belt and smothered the cigarette with his foot before setting out to find the 'troublemakers'.
Weaving through the ruins of an abandoned dump site, the man headed into the clearing and hopped over the fence that bordered it, sighing with each step over the expectation of what he was getting into and the repercussions even more.
It was a short walk to a small hangout of bars, food stands, and the most obvious . . . gangs and bikers alike. Most were obviously drunk and having a great time, others took 'fun' to a whole different level. A few decided that trashing a broken-down truck with bats and beer bottles was the best to bring the party high, laughing and acting as if nothing could bother them. Everyone else just sat and watched, either smirking, drinking, talking bullshit, or all together.
The man rolled his eyes. It wasn't his first idea to hide out in this dump of a shithole but they didn't have many options. If being hunted down by some crazy organization who would dump your deadass in a heartbeat for even a sliver of extraterrestrial evidence wasn't an indicator to hide . . .
Even the thought of everything gave him a headache. Just get the boys and be done with this. He checked around the crowd. Where are they?
"Hey, fucker! Why don't you have some of this!?"
The man heard shouting from the right but all he could see was a group of people huddled into a circle, cheering and yelling profanity as if there was a competition. The voice before screamed again and his heart tightened. Oh no!
He ran towards the group, shoving his way through drunks and idiots before breaching the internet circle, not half-expecting to get a fist coming straight at him. The man ducked and another person got his jaw broken, his screams drowning in the cheers as the man got back up and saw a body being thrown at him. He barely managed to twist himself to the side and avoid another collision.
Geez!
The man saw three bikers surrounding a bald one who was raving on, swinging a broken pipe and sticking his tongue, laughing like a madman.
"You won't take me alive, bitches and cunts!"
The man was flabbergasted, "Coyle!"
Coyle paused upon seeing him, surprised but still had a grin on his lips, "Quinn!"
The distraction caused the other men to grab him and his weapon, pulling him to the ground, and began to beat and kick him.
Oh great . . .
Quinn shoved the men away, "That's enough! Get off of him!"
One of the bikers growled as he tripped on his feet, "He started it!"
"That doesn't mean you need to beat him to a pulp. Look at him!"
Quinn picked Coyle up and showed the bloody lip, swollen eye, and several scratches on his cheeks, "I think you've done enough. Go home."
When the men didn't react, Quinn sternly whispered, "Go. Home."
After a long moment, the group slowly dispersed and everyone around went about their own business, which is more drinking and fighting elsewhere. Quinn sighed a deep breath but the problem was far from resolved.
"Oh baby," Coyle chuckled, patting Quinn's shoulder, "Thanks for the help but I had everything—"
"Under control?" Quinn glared and Coyle froze, "What did I tell you not to do specifically?"
Coyle opened his mouth but nothing came out. Why am I not surprised?
He sighed, "Next time, I'll leave you to the wolves if we're not desperate. Where's Lynch and Nettles?"
As soon as he asked, both men appeared behind, out of breath and wide-eyed as if caught with their hand in the cookie jar like a child would. Quinn stared silently for a moment and awaited their response.
Lynch was the first, "Quinn . . . We were just—"
"You were supposed to stay out of trouble," He walked to them, dragging Coyle along, "I left for ten minutes and this is what I found."
"We were just . . ." Nettles paused when Quinn turned to him, "Just . . . playing a game . . ."
"Gambling."
Quinn didn't wait for a confirmation, he already knew well enough that they were up to no good and left Coyle to his own devices. He rolled his eyes and let go of Coyle, "Come on. We need to head back to the hotel."
"Why?" Coyle asked.
"I don't know. Just come on."
Quinn led the way from the wild neighborhood and through the woods, the only quickest way between the two parts but far enough that if anyone recognized them, they could hide in the dark easily and return without leaving tracks but of course, there are no guarantees.
"So . . ." Lynch moved past Coyle and Nettles to walk alongside Quinn though the latter tried to ignore the imbecile, "I may not be the smartest but not a fool."
"You're already past that," Quinn dismissed him.
"Always," Lynch chuckled, "But we wouldn't be leaving so soon like this. What's gotten you snorting mad?"
Quinn wanted to deny it but given the situation, that wasn't a wise option, "Nebraska asked for us to return to the hotel . . . and not to bring weapons along."
"Huh?" Lynch narrowed his eyebrows, "No weapons?"
"Don't look at me. He said it was necessary so I want you to gather them from those bozos and make sure they have no hidden weapons."
"Did he say anything about why?"
Quinn stopped in his tracks and turned to Lynch, "Why do you ask?"
"Well . . . I heard something funny from Baxley over the radio earlier and then Nebraska shut it off. And then I heard a strange noise."
Quinn didn't like where this was going, "What noise?"
Lynch, realizing what he's done, began to stutter, "I mean . . . it might be just some feedback loop from the radios. Probably—"
Quinn grabbed Lynch by the collars and lifted him up a few inches from the ground, startling Nettles and Coyle. The rage building up inside made his skin burn, "I said what noise?"
"Okay. Okay. Okay," Lynch raised his hands in defense, "It may be like some clicking sounds but it could have been crickets right?"
Lynch chuckled nervously when he saw Quinn widen his eyes, "It's crickets. Definitely . . ."
Quinn froze in his spot and let go of Lynch. A thousand different explanations ran through his head but he feared the worst. It can't be . . .
The strange requests from Nebraska . . . the alleged noises from Lynch . . . That can only mean one thing!
"Son of a bitch!"
Quinn sprinted immediately through the bushes, barely giving the others time to catch up, "Hold up, Quinn!"
Lynch had to pump his legs harder just to scream at Quinn, "What's the problem!?"
"You didn't mean to tell me that a freaking alien humanoid is at the hotel!?" Quinn fumed at Lynch.
"We don't know for sure! It could be just a ruse by Braxley—"
"I don't have time to fucking deal with you!" Quinn grabbed a pistol from his belt, "I'm not taking any changes! If it's the same one, I'm fucking dealing with the motherfucker right then and now!"
Quinn ran faster and the others had no choice but to follow, unaware of a figure hiding within the shadows above, tracking every movement as the sound of clicks softly echoed through the leaves.
Hello everyone!
I'm glad I am finally able to update this story, given that I'm preparing to move to a new house within the next month and things have been juggling around, not to mention that I have my bday coming up within a few days and hopefully more inspiration with my summer break for work. Lots of change is coming, lol.
So with that, I got this chapter (and more from my other stories, definitely HAA as I have a big announcement coming then) for you and lots of things are happening on each side of the story, different points of view that will come together. But what is this new figure watching the group? Is it someone familiar or is this a new player in their deadly game of survival?
Thank you and Good Hunting to all!
Normal = Human speaking human language
Bold = Yautja speaking ooman (human) language