Chapter 5: Revenge Solves Everything
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! This isn't good, this isn't good, THIS ISN'T GOOD!, was what encapsulated the extent of Anteros's thoughts in this situation. After all, he had just royally fucked up beyond all belief, and was now dragging the unconscious Human female — Samantha — by her feet, down a hallway. He shuffled backwards as fast as he could while standing on his hind legs and hunched over from the dead weight, trying to find the nearest apartment. A thick, long trail of blood was being drawn across the length of the hallway's floor, from the wound on the girl's left arm. Three bullet holes from a three-round-burst of a battle rifle.
This situation was a very distressing one— Anteros was torn between taking a slow, methodical pace to ensure the Human's injuries weren't exacerbated, and just pulling her over his shoulder so he could sprint to a safe place and tend to her wound, faster.
How all of this happened was... still a blur to him. One minute, he had dropped down from the ceiling behind the female in a desperate attempt to try and swoop in to fix the situation she'd gotten herself into— at first by just making a lot of noise in order to make the Marines get a move on. But when they all pointed their guns at her, he figured the situation couldn't get much worse... so he dropped in on things... and he was proven wrong. The next thing he knew, he was watching her fall down from a gunshot and... he didn't really know what happened next. But he knew it involved a lot of screeching, slamming the conveniently-placed door in the soldier's faces that may have been comical if seen from an outside perspective, and pulling Samantha's body through more than a few vents while finding a way to avoid the group of soldiers.
So, at the time, he decided to get... Samantha — it would take some getting used to, thinking of her that way — back to The Apartments where he could do something about the bullets currently lodged in her bicep. She had woken up part way through the trip, but only partially, and she quickly lost consciousness after ward— he guessed from the blood-loss...
It shouldn't need to be said how far away Anteros's thoughts were from being anything close to coherent, right now— "frantic, panicked haze" would be a light way of putting it. Why? Because the Human whom he'd just learned the name of was in the process of bleeding out, and he couldn't deal with it until he got her out of the open and somewhere safe. He couldn't afford to let her die because of this... the one good thing he had going for him— the one asset he had in this world was in danger of being snuffed out. He needed to get to the nearest apartment as soon as possible. The effort he'd put into keeping the girl safe would be wasted, and any chance of learning why he and her were linked would be lost. Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.
What was only fifteen minutes, to find a suitable apartment, felt like twenty years to him. Though the Ancestral couldn't give less of a shit if Samantha died of exsanguination, the Unknown and his own acquired conscience caused his heart to hammer within his ribcage out of sheer hysteria. He swore that, were it not for his exoskeleton, the organ would have already burst from his chest.
Within minutes he had kicked in the front door of a domicile that seemed a good enough distance into The Apartments for safety, placed the Human on the, immediately bed, locked the door, searched the very small apartment, slathered the door hinges and vents in Hive-Resin to lock them down, and switched on every possible electrical device he could find. The apartment only consisted of three rooms, so he didn't have to spend too much time on getting things wrapped up.
Anteros briskly trotted out of the bathroom, mind set slightly at ease now that they weren't as obvious of a target, and sprint-jumped onto the bed on which Samantha, the Human, lay. He sat up on his haunches, more than half of his tail hanging off of the cushy platform.
And now... he had to tend to her wound. Tentatively flipping over the Human's unconscious body, Anteros's lip cracked open in trepidation— he knew less about treating Human injuries, than he knew about high-end art pieces! Literally! He didn't know the first thing about serious, modern Human medicine, yet he somehow knew what "three-point-perspective" was? That just didn't make any sense, and it certainly didn't help him, in this situation.
But that wouldn't stop him from trying. He wasn't going to just let the effort he'd spent on keeping this Human alive go to waste. Especially not when he could do something about it. Not when he actually had the chance to keep a person from dying. Not when it was his fault that the person was hurt in the first place.
Once Samantha was lying on her back, she squirmed in discomfort in her stupor, causing electricity to flash through her injured arm. Barring the fact that it probably caused her pain to do so, it allowed Anteros to temporarily examine the bone of her right upper-arm. He knew what a broken or damaged bone would look like when it was moved, and he could plainly see that the bullets had not torn into Samantha's humerus.
The three rounds had only dug through the bicep. The main problem was the bullets themselves. From what Anteros knew, the ammunition that the Colonial Marines used for their guns were designed to cause heavy bleeding, and were partially made from a toxic material called "lead". Each round had serrated ridges and, sometimes, carried incendiary materials that ignited a small amount of napalm when they struck something.
Luckily, the bullets that Samantha was hit with were not flammable. Anteros was pretty sure that this kind of ammunition was illegal, somehow. But whatever laws were in place probably didn't apply to dangerous extraterrestrials.
The second thing to worry about was the profuse bleeding.
It probably should have offended Anteros that the Human weapon-designers were doing everything in their power to make everything that their soldiers used as deadly as possible to Xenomorphs, but he didn't really blame them. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that his species were almost living weapons, themselves.
Anteros wasted no time in deftly tearing the Human's shirt into pieces with his talons and tossing the scraps of cloth off to the side (the clothing was soaked with blood and ruined anyway). With nothing to get in the way... he began to attempt the task of digging the offending bullets out of Samantha's arm.
He gently gripped the injured arm near the shoulder with his right hand, applying pressure to try and stem blood flow. He'd heard something about that being important. Granted, the Human he heard it from wasn't a doctor, but they knew more about it than he did. The female squirmed and whimpered in pain, tossing her head in the other direction as her brow creased. Holding down her shoulder to the bed, Anteros slowly and methodically stuck the index finger of his left hand into one of the three bullet holes— the one highest up the arm. He gently slid the claw inside and stopped when he felt his claw be stopped about an inch of the way in.
He had the feeling that this would be very painful, so he planted his right foot on Samantha's stomach in an effort to stop her from moving and exacerbating the injury. He was aware of how easy it would be to bruise one of her organs by doing so, but he was willing to take the risk.
Anteros took a breath and tried to hook his claw around the bullet. The Human groaned in her dazed unconsciousness. He hastened in his efforts to get his talon in a favorable position— hooking it around the bullet, within. It took a few seconds, during which, blood dribbled out of the bullet-hole and down to the bed's sheets Finally, feeling that his claw was in the best position to dig out the foreign object… he took a chance and quickly yanked it out.
He got a nasty surprise when the female's eyes snapped open, accompanied with a loud shriek of pain. When she jolted off the bed, entire body seeming to spasm as if having received an electric shock, her fight-or-flight instinct must have kicked in when her unrestrained fist swung and delivered a weak punch to Anteros's head, making him snarl from shock. The brief burst of energy on her part then promptly subsided as quickly as it had come. She began to go into shock from the pain, somewhat conscious, but completely out of it. Which didn't last long, thankfully.
Just before she fully lost consciousness and passed out, she seemed to take note of both him and her wound. Or... more directly, he heard her conscious mind register it. Anyone else wouldn't have picked up on it, though.
Even when she's barely conscious, she's still a fighter...
If Anteros had been Human, (and had the necessary digestive system) he probably would have thrown up by now. Humans seem to harbor an aversion and discomfort toward blood, injuries, violence, and death in general. Apparently, feeling nothing beyond slight guilt at causing Samantha pain (as opposed to instinctual nauseousness) was a good thing. In Anteros's case, at least.
Despite the female's instinctive retaliation to the pain, the bullet had successfully been removed, it was now on the carpet to the left of the bed.
This now left Anteros with a new problem. The bullet had served as a blockage while lodged in the wound, but now that it was gone, blood had begun to gush from the hole at a far more accelerated rate— from a mild trickle to a running tap. This left him in a temporary state of panic— he didn't have anything to wrap up or bandage the wound with. For a second, he just "stared" at the bullet hole in trepidatious indecision.
Then he came up with something...
Opening his maw, Anteros's Piston Jaw extended from his throat and hovered over the weeping wound in Samantha's arm. A thick, bile-tasting liquid began to slowly drip from the pharyngeal jaw's opening, as he started to regurgitate Hive-Resin. The amorphous liquid spread over the small bullet hole, only somewhat falling into the wound, but no more than a centimeter due to it's elastic nature. Almost instantly, the blood-flow stopped, and the wound was entirely patched over with membranous mucus and saliva.
Now, with the bleeding completely stopped, Anteros was then able to extract the other two bullets from Samantha's arm a bit easier, now that he knew how to do get it done.
This solution was, admittedly, probably ill-advised. He had no idea what effect Hive-Resin could have on Human physiology. Granted, it worked for his kind— whenever a Soldier or Ranger was injured, the first thing they'd do is slather Hive-Resin over the wound. Anteros was well aware that Hive-Resin acted like a painkiller, in most cases. As far as he could surmise, it was a natural disinfectant and even encouraged healing. But... if using it on Samantha turned out to be a bad decision, then…
... then it would be his fault. Simple as.
That wasn't to say that Anteros was, in any way, nonchalant or flippant when it came to Samantha's potential mortality. He certainly didn't want or need her to die— not that the Ancestral gave a damn either way. If she died, "so what?", right?
But, no. Anteros did not want the female to die.
There were multiple reasons, of course. The first, and most logical, was that he didn't want the time and effort that he'd spent in keeping her alive and safe to go to waste. The second was the longterm goal that he'd already set himself on: finding out why his mind and body reacted the way it did to Samantha, and finding out what the Unknown was. The third was because... given his previous experiences with it, he was willing to bet that the Unknown would probably stage a visceral opposition towards the idea of the Human dying, and said opposition would most likely come in the form of instinctual override or a seizure. And if she straight up died, well... the shit-fit that would likely ensue wouldn't be pretty. Given the seizure he'd had only ere-yesterday... he didn't rule out that such a thing might even kill him.
The fourth reason was because Anteros... admired Samantha. For a Human female, she was an exception among her species. Unlike almost all others, she was able to out-sprint a Soldier, and was almost a challenge for him, a Scout, in a footrace. She definitely wasn't lacking for bravery or willpower, either. Even though she had been undoubtedly afraid when he'd first met her, she still possessed the will to act. That was bravery: the ability to will yourself past your own fear.
Not that... he had ever had much cause to feel the emotion— he and his race were uncontroversially at the top of the food chain on this planet.
Plus, she, uh... to say that Samantha was tough would be an understatement. Especially for a female civilian. Human women who weren't in the military, more often than not, had the muscle mass and general backbone of bird-hatchling. He'd seen this for himself, multiple times. Sam also seemed to be a lot smarter, or... at least, more scientifically-inclined, than others of her sex.
Samantha was fast, brave, determined, (relatively) durable, strong, and smart. Again: simple as.
The fifth reason for Anteros's concerns was... well, his own conscience. A very naive, very inexperienced sense of morality, granted, but... well, that was that, wasn't it?
After five minutes of meticulously removing bullets and sealing wounds with Hive-Resin, Anteros released the female's arm and allowed her to simply lay on the bed where she was.
Blood had seeped into the bedding in a large stain, mostly beneath Samantha's back. He went over and grabbed the blanket that had been on the bed when he came into the room. He'd chucked it aside, earlier, so he now haphazardly covered Samantha with it.
What, uh... what else is important about medicine? Water, right? Hydration... yeah, hydration is important... she'll need a drink..., he wondered to himself.
He rooted around somewhat, found a plastic cup, in the drawer of one of the beside-tables and went to the bathroom to go and fill it with water.
As Anteros turned on the tap of the faucet and held the cup beneath it... he was struck by a thought.
He knew who had shot Samantha. Only one Marine had actually pulled the trigger, when Anteros first made his entrance. Gorm... the Private with the battle rifle... he'd been the one that screamed like a little girl... and it was his weapon that hit Samantha.
As the cup began to fill... Anteros felt... angry. Indignant. Irritated. Utterly vexed.
He wasn't sure exactly what he was angry with the Human about. But the fact that he... out of all the soldiers present, was the only one trigger-happy enough to take a shot at him... and that he hit Samantha in the process... it... Anteros just really didn't like that.
Anteros... really didn't like that.
In his head, the image and sounds of how it happened replayed over and over and over, again— he dropped to ground in the doorway, the Marines registered his presence, mostly in the form of flinching and aiming their guns, Gorm screeched and fired his weapon after barely taking aim... blood erupted from Samantha's shoulder... she fell backward, to the floor at Anteros's feet...
That image... of Gorm shooting, and Samantha getting hit. Something about it just... really got on Anteros's nerves. He'd felt Samantha's pain and shock and fear as it had radiated from her mind, the numbness in her shoulder, the vertigo as she plummeted... he saw at least a few of the Marines in that room gape at the sight of Samantha falling, as he was slamming the door in their faces.
Private Gorm...
Only one word came to Anteros's mind, as he ruminated on the incident...
Incompetent.
A splash of water struck his chest, bringing him back to the land of the living. The cup had been full for about a minute, now... and his fist had clenched hard enough to break it. Realizing his blunder, Anteros tossed the broken cup away and retrieved another one. He filled it properly, left it on the bedside-table... and left the apartment.
As he was re-sealing the door to the apartment with Hive-Resin, Anteros felt his mind go blank. All at once, he was overtaken by the desire to find those Marines— to find Gorm. He didn't know what he planned to do when he caught the man, he didn't know if any of it was a good idea, and he didn't know if it would backfire in any conceivable way. In all honesty, Anteros didn't know if he cared, right now. All he knew... was something he had learned a very, very long time ago...
"Revenge solves everything".
Two hours later.
The half-asleep form of Samantha tossed and turned in the bed which she lay on. A myriad of sensations assaulted her exhausted mind. Pain, aching, a dry throat, what felt almost like a mild fever, something cold and scratchy that pricked at the skin on her right arm, an inability to move said arm without copious amounts of throbbing, a crushing sense of tiredness, and a nauseousness that could only come from blood loss.
But most of all...?
She felt like a bitch.
That Xenomorph, the amber-clad bug. She had been distrustful of it to a fault. She had been, understandably, paranoid, and she had allowed that to get in the way of what she knew to be the cold, hard facts of the situation.
That Xeno could have killed her whenever it wanted. It could have dragged her to the Egg Chambers of the Hive. It could have done a dozen different things to kill or harm her, up to and including a Head-Bite. And there would have been hilariously little that she could have done to stop it.
But it hadn't. Granted, its behavior was odd, ambiguous— of an unknowable motive. That ambiguity was, admittedly, of a far greater concern. But the Alien had never shown any kind of violent inclination toward her, beyond some posturing and growls. And she wasn't forgetting about when she was trapped under all that rubble! Looking back, she realized that it had obviously gotten her out from under that mess.
She had never seen a Xenomorph display the slightest shred of compassion for anything. And yet, it had rescued her from entombment, brought her somewhere warm and safe, and even went out of its way to bring her food. But there was much more to this entire debacle than just tallying up the good and bad things it had done. In fact, before she went unconscious... she was pretty sure that it had just been treating her wound! A while ago— maybe an hour?
If the Xenomorph did have malicious plans for her, then it was doing a really shit job of it.
Almost everything it had done, so far, was a boon.
And what had she shown to it in return? Distrust. Fear. Willful ignorance. The very same lack of appreciation that she had been shedding tears over, earlier today.
Many would have said that trust was wasted on a creature that understood only savagery and hatred. But if that had been the general consensus a few thousand years ago, Humanity wouldn't have tried to tame wolves and domesticate them into companions. It made Samantha wonder just how pivotal those few moments were— when those minorities of early peoples tried to reach out to another species. Those first interactions between hominid and canine must have required a lot of trust from both sides, even if one of them wasn't technically sapient.
But it was a well-known fact now: that of all domesticated creatures, dogs were the ones who understood Human beings the most, on a fundamental level. There were breeds of dogs that had the intelligence of Human infants— perhaps more! And yet wolves, for most of history, had been branded with a reputation far worse than what reality showed them to be.
How was this any different?
Additionally... the Xenomorph species was largely an enigma. Most only knew the basics about Xenos — endo-parasitism and a general sense of lethality — and the supposed "experts" couldn't deduce much more about them. Who knew... maybe the Xenomorphs were smarter than people thought…
In any case... if this was one of those situations— when a potential connection between species could be forged... then Samantha would have to try her best to make sure it went well...
For a second or two, she seemed to be coherent enough to realize how utterly nuts she sounded.
Samantha didn't know if she was thinking this way because of her exhausted mind and lack of hemoglobin, or if she was just going insane. All she knew was... she didn't want to keep hating things that she barely understood.
Well... in any case, if she was going crazy and she was speaking complete and utter nonsense, then at least she'll die with good intentions. Well… that or her intentions will turn out to be the wrong ones and she'll end up going to Hell for them. Like a medieval knight who thinks that his killing-sprees and body count are in the name of the Lord, but then he gets booted down to Hell and shouts, "wait, no! I didn't mean it!"
... Samantha's mind goes to really dark places, doesn't it? That was actually kind of grim... not as grim as the way she'd been thinking, earlier this morning, though, so... she could live with it.
It took him two hours to locate the Marines. They'd moved about a lot, trying to find the quickest route to the EVAC location they'd been given by USCMC/W-Y Command. Once Anteros caught up to them, he spent around twenty minutes just watching them, staying close. Funny thing, most of the group, other than the Synthetic and Wey-Yu Merc, had spent the entire time berating mister Gorm and giving him crap about his idiocy— the trigger-happy pillock he was! The man had nothing to give but excuses and weak semantic arguments.
He still didn't know what he was planning to do, here, but an opportunity came, nonetheless. At some point, around twenty-seven minutes in, Anteros had spent enough time around the Humans, hiding in the vents, that he could start to just about barely hear their thoughts. That was when he'd moved into action…
There was something he'd learned a while ago about communicating with Human beings. There was a brief period of time between he could "start to hear their thoughts", and when he could actually "be able to speak to them". During this short interval, the mental connection between brain-wave activity was weak— it was like two cell-phones trying to transmit to each other over too long distance. It was filled with "static", and "lag", which came in the form of a high-pitched keen that Anteros would feel in the back of his head. In order to be able to speak freely, he'd have to wait until said "keen" subsided and the connection became stronger.
But… if Anteros tried to speak while there was still static — especially if he tried to form any complex concepts into English — the result would be immediate and very painful for the Human in question. It would cause a Human to experience an acute, and searing pain within their own skull. Their brainwaves would be overwhelmed, and thus the pain from it wasn't just a migraine— it was something that affected Human-beings down to a psychological level. He had botched more than a few communication attempts to know how it worked. They literally couldn't hear themselves think— their brainwaves were completely disabled, it was like being struck "mentally deaf", but keeping all senses intact. Being completely unable to think (at all) reduced Humans to acting and thinking on a purely instinctual level. And because of the pain due to all of it, more often than not, they'd react with fear and go into a frenzy.
Luckily for Humans, the affect would only last as long as Anteros (or any other Scout now that he thought of it) wanted it to. Ten seconds of this experience would only cause them to be stunned and mentally incapacitated. Any longer, and the side-effects would be chronic... and temperamental.
The group of soldiers had entered into a courtyard, one with a glass roof separating it from the open sky. Uncut grass, moss, and vines had spread across much of the cut cobblestone and granite benches about the place. A fountain in the middle of the area had long run dry, and mold had cultivated itself in the pool beneath where water had once filled it. The group had been making their way to it, as a radio-beacon had been set up there, next to the fountain, as a means of signaling their EVAC location.
Anteros made his way out of a vent, onto the infinite roof of New Scena, slowly crawling his way to the shattered glass windows that were the courtyard's sky-light. He watched them from above, as they set up a defensive perimeter around the beacon-device— a large radio-fixture with a satellite dish and an inter-faceable console at its base. Gorm and the other Private, Pereskova, had been ordered to operate the beacon and use it to call for EVAC, while the others had taken up positions at each entrance to the courtyard. Cole, the police officer, made a comment to Gorm about the man being liable for court-martial, or at the very least, a pay-cut. Gorm was silent.
Anteros was still largely operating on auto-pilot as he watched the group... when the keening noise in the back of his head began to ring. In it, he realized what he use it for, and waited for an opportune moment to capitalize on its effect. When the ringing in his head reached a fever-pitch... Anteros struck.
He reached out with his mind, toward that of all the Marines present. He felt each of their minds react to the intrusion of his own, and once he heard the negative feedback, he sent a mental signal to each Human present. In a wave of psychic noise, wherein Anteros simply transmitted the continuous, looping sound of a Xenomorph's roar into the Human's heads: all of the humans present abruptly screamed in unison, grabbed at their own helmets, and fell to their knees.
Now... in some small part of Anteros's mind... this was about as far as he cared to take this little vendetta. A part of him felt that this was enough— that he would leave after this. However... what happened next through that little idea out the window.
All of the Humans who'd been effected by Anteros's attack had fallen to the ground and begun spasming, writhing, screaming, and moaning in agony. Despite their pain, they kept their weapons in their hands and kept still— whether this was out of defensive impulse or discipline, Anteros couldn't tell. But whatever it was: Gorm clearly lacked it... because, the instant the psychic wave struck their minds, Gorm's first reaction was to bring his rifle to bare, try and fail to find the source of the pain, and then start mashing the trigger of his weapon and flailing spectacularly..
The next thing Anteros knew, Gorm had fired his battle rifle seven times in the space of barely four seconds, resulting in...
A): at least four bullets striking the beacon-device and causing it to spark and shut down.
B): a spray of shots hitting at least two fellow Marines in their legs or arms.
C): the Combat Android (who'd been seemingly wondering why all of the Humans around him were having seizures) getting its shotgun knocked from its hands and probably broken.
And, finally, D): a burst of shots striking Cole square in the face, sending his lifeless body tumbling to the stone floor, with a spray of blood painting the nearby fountain.
... needless to say, this display of teeth-shattering incompetence and the utterly unnecessary loss of Human life drove Anteros into a special kind of rage. He'd already been feeling out-of-sorts and incensed from Samantha getting hurt. He already barely understood why he was doing any of this and why he was even there. But when he witnessed Gorm cause all of that damage, Anteros's already-hamstrung common-sense was sent flying out the window. The only thing he managed to conceptualize before hatred overtook him was: "how the Hell hasn't your weapon been confiscated, yet, you bumbling fuckwit?!".
The next thing Anteros knew: he'd jumped down into the courtyard and lunged at Gorm, knocking the Marine off his feet. More screaming ensued, more blood was spilled, and by the end of it, Anteros was scrambling back out of the courtyard's glass ceiling... with Gorm's decapitated head, in tow.
It was only as he had dropped the head and was sprinting away from the scene of the crime that Anteros began to second-guess himself. And when he did, the first thing that he knew to have been a mistake was leaving Samantha on her lonesome for this long. When he thought of the amount of time that had passed... he started feeling very, very guilty...
One hour later — Anteros
Anteros... would have spent some more time thinking on what just happened. You know— what with him tearing that Marine's head off of his torso like his neck was made of tissue paper. What was there not to think about, after that? Example: the fact that Anteros had just gone out of his own way, and spent two hours of perfectly useful time, to go and kill a guy for the sake of avenging a person whom he didn't even know that well... could be a sign that all of his struggles — past or present — were now paying off in the manner he had wished them to.
Oh!— Or! Or. Conversely, the fact that he now felt zero remorse, whatsoever, for killing Private Gorm could possibly mean that none of his endeavors had resulted in any desired effect. In a more practical perspective, there was the possibility of retaliation from those Humans to consider... although they weren't exactly in any shape to fight... especially after two of them were wounded, and their chances of extraction were reduced to nothing...
The more he thought about it, the worse he felt, in all honesty.
But, yes, Anteros could have spent a good long while sitting around and contemplating all of this, following his slipping away from the still-disoriented squad of marines. It probably would have been another big topic of debate, for himself— another failure for him to beat himself up over. He probably would have started getting bent out of shape over it... if he didn't realize something as he was jogging away from the mishap.
Anteros had spent the last two hours away from Samantha... after he had, pretty much, abandoned her... while she was recovering from a bullet wound... in an apartment that — while out of the way — was not at all discrete or hidden enough to stop members of the Hive from finding her, indefinitely... and she was comatose... with no protection whatsoever...
Thus: it did not come as a surprise when Anteros's thoughts on this matter began and ended with a succinct: "... well, goddamn— that was an idiotic decision".
So, he immediately went sprinting back to where he thought the apartment was... until he got lost and had to backtrack... multiple times...
Samantha
It had been forty-five minutes after fully waking up from her debilitated stupor— sitting up and tossing the blanket that covered her off to the side of the bed. The first thing Samantha noticed was the fact that she was shirtless, with no clothing above the waist, except for a modest black bra. She was wondering what happened to it, until she sat up and noticed the shreds of white fabric all over the floor near the bed she was seated on. Her thoughts on the matter? "Eh. The thing was old and covered in blood, anyway. I just hope there's some spare clothing still in this apartment".
The next thing to come to her attention was the itching sensation on her right arm— the reason for the shirt being torn to shreds. An oblong splotch of gray/black/beige material that could only be identified as Hive Resin. The stuff smelled of nothing and the naked, tanned skin surrounding the resin was red— irritated. Her upper-arm was, nearly, completely numb— save for the incessant itching sensation that permeated in and around the covered wound.
If Samantha had to guess, she'd say that she was having a minor allergic reaction to the Hive-Resin. Before now, she thought that Hive Resin served no purpose other than a radical method of redecoration. But now, it seemed as though Xenomorphs use it as a painkiller and disinfectant. She seriously considered satisfying the ever-growing urge to scratch at the stuff— maybe peel it off and see how her wound was doing.
But... she didn't know if doing so could end up being detrimental. More often than not, when it came to Xenomorphs, (or Weyland-Yutani... or the United Americas Allied Command) there was always much more to every little detail than there seemed to be— no matter how negligible. It made her wonder where that particular Xenomorph had went... the one who had, apparently, patched her up. Looking down to her right on the green carpet, she spotted the three, golden-colored bullets that were clawed out of her flesh, one at a time.
She had to wonder, one more time, why the Xenomorph with the amber hide had gone to such lengths, just to keep her safe. Or contained. It had to have fought off those Marines that had been about to take her in, dragged her, at least, a kilometer back to the apartments, and took care of her wound. She still wasn't 100% certain what to think of the creature, but she was sure of one thing. The "Amber Demon" would return, at some point. Exactly "when" was hard to say. But it would. Samantha could feel it. And when it did come back to this apartment... well... she would at least… try to be "civil"? If that could even be considered a viability.
Speaking of apartments, the one she was in now, seemed to be... lower in quality, than the last one she'd woken up in. Not that she was in any position to complain. She could tell immediately just from where she sat on the bed that it was a "Class B: Utilitarian Domicile"... so, "second class", if it were an apartment on a freighter. It was only a single room with a bed, and a bathroom and closet on either side. That being said, it definitely wasn't a hovel, by any description. Quite the opposite- it's walls and ceiling still retained the same golden "glow" and paint that one would expect from anywhere in the Apartments. Even if the bed was only medium-sized (barely enough for two people), it was still as comfortable as the day its sheets were made. It was the kind of thing that one would stay in for less than a week — a pitstop, maybe — due to the lack of any kitchen or cooking utensils.
Looking down at her left leg, the one that had been bruised and swollen, she could see that, while the flesh was still enflamed and slightly puffed up, its condition had improved regardless. It still retained its persistent shade of saturated purple, but the previously red areas had turned back to the normal shade of tanned skin.
Samantha believed it high time that she search the apartment. There wasn't usually much worth taking in these Class B apartments, and if there was, those that had lived here had probably already taken it with them during the evacuation of New Scena. But, for the sake of possibly finding a spare shirt, Samantha was willing to try and look.
Now, mind you, she didn't think that the sight of her somewhat generous cleavage (she had, after all, managed to keep herself fairly well-fed throughout the Infestation, thank you very much) would cause... "negotiations" with the Amber Demon to... "deteriorate"— but she didn't want to risk it. She understood very little about the creatures, after all. Plus, the apartment wasn't really heated, and it was surprisingly chilly. So, yeah.
She scooted forward and sat at the foot of the bed. Keeping her hand on the bed to steady herself, Samantha slowly stood up, testing the stability of her leg. With only a slight wobble, at first, and a minor ache within the bone of her left shin, she became confident that she could walk at least somewhat competently.
The first thing she found... was the cup of water on the beside-table. The moment she saw it, she immediately chugged it... and then took the cup into the bathroom and filled it up at least five more times.
She realized that the Xenomorph must have been smart enough to know that she would be thirsty, and smart enough to find and use a cup... but she didn't know what to make of the revelation. She tried a few times to gauge exactly how impressive a feat of intellect that was, but kept remembering examples of standard Earth-animals showing intelligence on-par with human infants... so, that led nowhere.
After quenching her thirst, she immediately located a wood-paneled door on the right side of the room. Sam walked toward the closet with a slight limp and grabbed the small handle, yanking the door open. She was expecting to find the storage space empty. However, in a fortunate turn of events, she was pleasantly surprised to see that her preconceptions were proven wrong! While the closet was mostly empty, Samantha found her eyes immediately gravitating to the one item on the single, chest-high shelf. A microwave-sized, clear, plastic, vacuum-sealed package containing what looked to be clothing... or, some variety of cloth.
It was hard to tell which, but Samantha didn't care— she'd already uttered the word "jackpot", with a grin, and quickly snatched up the package, bringing it back over to the bed. Since the word "airtight" didn't even begin to describe just how tightly sealed the container was, it took Samantha a while (and a few chipped nails) to fully open the Goddamn plastic zipper which kept her from her prize. When the dusty packaging finally yielded to her will, she reached inside and yanked out the contents. Once she did… she became instantaneously ecstatic. A solid, jet-black tank top and... a scarf. Odd combination, but she wouldn't complain.
Standing up, Samantha held the top up to her chest to judge if it was her size. The fabric felt similar to cotton and had a slight stretch to it— and, thanks to the package it was stored in, it was still as flexible and clean as the day it was stored away in the closet. Shrugging, she pulled it over her head to try it on, and it fit like a glove. An ever-so-slightly tight glove which exposed about an inch of her midriff, but it fit, and it looked good, so she was keeping it! Sitting back down, Samantha picked up the scarf that was held in a tight ball by a rubber band.
Having no crucial need for the thing, she did the first thing to come to mind and unraveled it. After a moment of thought, she then began meticulously wrapping the jet-black scarf around the wound on her arm— like a pseudo-bandage. Samantha made sure to completely conceal the entire splotch of Hive Resin. Once done, she used the rubber band that had kept the scarf coiled to overlap the "bandage" and keep it from going undone. This way, the itching sensation was mostly mitigated by being blocked from the open air.
Then... she waited. She sat, cross-legged on the bed and waited. The thought of leaving the apartment and running off on her own never crossed her mind. She was simply too curious about the Amber Demon to run away. She knew it would return- felt it, even. Samantha couldn't explain it, but she was certain that when it came back... well— she had no idea. Precognition is impossible, after all. But... despite the growing anxiety that built up in her throat, Samantha had the odd feeling that she would have nothing to fear, in the end. Call it a woman's intuition. And a woman's intuition was always reliable... probably.
The sound of staccato foot-falls just outside the front door of the apartment, ten feet in front of her... and a nearly-silent, alien pant reached her ears...
... and almost immediately, her esophagus felt like a vibrating rubber band— trepidation becoming king within her thoughts.
Yeah, scratch that— "woman's intuition" my ass..., Samantha gulped, nervously.
Anteros
Anteros's breathing came in quick, ineffectual pants. He'd sprinted the entire way back to the apartment he'd left the girl in— backtracking and all. And now that he had arrived, lying down on his side in front of the door to said domicile, he was... intrigued to see that he now had some good news and bad news. The good news was that the Human hadn't moved from her resting place, and he could detect no signs of any Hive-Mates— not within the surrounding hundred feet, at least. None above or below him, either. The bad news? The female was awake and seemed to be sitting on the bed. The shining pulse that was her heartbeat pulsated at a rate that indicated severe anxiety— she must have heard his approach.
Oh... well, shit. That's a, uh... that's a complication, he thought, impassively— remarking that his initial plan was to be present by the time she woke up and…
Wait... why hasn't she run, yet?
While Samantha was anxious and somewhat afraid... he could feel a growing sense of determination building within her mind. While there was no definitive descriptor for the emotions and thoughts that swirled like a vortex in the female's brain, she was gathering a certain amount of gumption...
If Anteros were to simplify all of it into a sentence that hardly did the "vortex" justice, he'd say that, while scared of the possible outcome, Samantha was determined to "confront" Anteros.
It seemed that she was now the one "testing the boundaries" between them. And it would depend on Anteros's behavior how wide or thin these boundaries were.
It dawned on Anteros how severe this development was. He would have to draw on all of his past experience with Humans— he'd have to make every effort to ensure that he made a good impression with Samantha. If this would be the start of formalities between them, he would have to come across as benevolent as possible. Anteros had been thinking of how best to go about the situation. He'd considered almost everything, but still had details to iron out. He knew that he should attempt to act as submissive as possible, for one thing— Humans liked feeling as though they were in control. He stood up and took a long, deep breath. It was time to begin diplomacy.
It was time to say "hello".
Anteros rose up on his hind legs, his four-digited hand reaching toward the doorknob…
Samantha
Samantha heard the doorknob turn. The door was pushed inward 'til it hung ajar. Barely an inch of opening.
Well... it was definitely the Amber Demon. If it were any other Xeno, she'd probably be bleeding out by now.
Despite her efforts in keeping her breathing even, it still came hot and heavy with anticipation. Her mind raced as fast as her heartbeat. Should she... straighten up? Sit forward a bit? Perhaps check or adjust her clothing? Or would that be seen as fear— as a prey-response? Wait— what was she even thinking about?! It's a Xenomorph, it doesn't!— uh... well... how should she approach this situation? Would it be better to stay as she is, or should she be prepared to move in case all this faffery with the Xeno went sideways? Would doing so be a sign of weakness? Or would that be exactly what would work out— could acting weak appease the creature?
Would it be prudent to adopt a specific kind of posture? Could Xenomorphs pick up on or understand facial expressions? So many things to consider in so little time...
A small thump outside the door prompted her to hurry the Hell up, and before she knew it, she'd scooted forward to let her boots touch the carpet— hands on her knees.
Hopefully, it's just as nervous as me..., she thought, face set in stone.
The door slowly inched open…
Anteros
Ha! "Nervous"? You have no idea…
Anteros was making sure to pay special attention to the constant broadcasts from Samantha's mind— that way, if he made a misstep, he'd know almost immediately. Hopefully, he'd be able to correct himself before it became a problem.
He dropped back down to all fours after opening the door. Taking a small step, he nudged it further open with his "snout". Anteros's lips were tightly sealed over his teeth— the gaps in the "straps" of muscle that made up his "cheeks" were enough to breath through, for now. He also made sure that his tail stayed plastered to the carpet, and not flailing about in every which direction. He didn't want to look like he was about to kill someone… ironic as that may seem..
The front-half of his head poked through the gap in the door, as his left arm did the same. Immediately he felt her eyes focus directly on his face, which Anteros found... uncomfortable.
He walked forward, shouldering the door, opening it further— about halfway. As he brought the rest of his body into the room, and oriented his head in Samantha's direction, he could hear her heartbeat increase. Which only grew further as his body turned to face her, fully. In a subconscious fit of habit, his tail quickly pushed the door closed, behind him. He stood only seven feet from where she sat on the bed. If he wanted it, he could (literally) tear out the entirety of her esophagus faster than she could blink. It was probably only due to the Ancestral's recent apathy toward the Human that Anteros was able to think on the fact and not feel the urge to do so.
A pause. Woman stared at beast; beast "stared" back.
Okay... so far, so good..., he thought, cautiously. The Unknown was pushing for him to greet her with child-like enthusiasm. The Ancestral was only just starting to become agitated by the human's presence.
Anteros's mind was... empty. He honestly wasn't expecting that to be the case, but it was. He wasn't worried. His thoughts weren't racing. He just felt... concise. Can one feel "concise"? Can that even be called an emotion? Or... would the more accurate way of describing it be... focused? Mentally clear. Calm. He knew what he had to do, and he knew what would happen if he didn't make it work. There was nothing else to really think about— all there was for him to do is... it. Just do it.
With nothing to stop him, Anteros took two slow, deliberate steps forward, ignoring the brief spike of fear that pulsed from the Human's mind, until there was only a two-foot space between Samantha's knee(s) and his face. Remembering what he had planned, his head bowed, neck bending downward— his chin held barely an inch above the floor. His left arm lowered 'til his elbow rested on the carpet, palm face down, while his right arm extended forward, but stayed upright. He hoped that doing this would convey a benevolent or... perhaps submissive message...
... it was a posture he'd only ever taken in the presence of his Queen…
Here's hoping I'm not making a fool out of myself.
Samantha
This was... surreal, to say the least!
Samantha's heart may have been beating at a rate that would have made it feel as though her ribcage was being vibrated to pieces, but she barely noticed it. She felt as though she was... she... it was like every fiber of her being had been sucked into her skull, and was supremely fixated on what her eyes were telling her. It felt like her organs were weightless, and it felt like there was a cold sheen of sweat layered over her entire body. Neither was actually true. In reality, all of the blood in her body was being diverted to her muscles, but, even then, to her it felt like it was all flowing to her head.
And... there was a... not a ringing, per se— not a pulsing or pain, but a... silence in her head. It was like no outer sensation was being registered by her brain— every neuron and impulse was focused entirely on her vision. She felt deaf, yet hyper-aware at the same time.
And, all of it, naturally, could be attributed to the fact that THERE'S A FUCKING XENOMORPH STANDING AT ARM'S REACH IN FRONT OF HER!
Not only that, but the creature was... bowing to her! This— this is… this is just plain Goddamn incredible! The sheer absurdity of the current situation was utterly laughable! If she told this story to anyone that didn't trust and know her explicitly, she'd be sent to a fucking insane asylum! Maybe not even then— they'd probably send her to the looney bin regardless of who they were! A manic grin broke out onto her face without her permission at the sheer lunacy of all of this.
Samantha wasn't sure how much time had passed after the Amber Demon had, seemingly, "bowed" to her like she was royalty (her mind wasn't cognitively situated to track the passage of time). But, eventually, the gears of her brain began to slowly turn once more, and the very first thing that came to her... was the urge to reach out.
Before she could stop herself... her left hand loosened its grip on her knee and idled forward…
Anteros
Anteros knew what she was thinking. And, frankly, he couldn't think of a better ice-breaker.
He waited for just the right moment... and stood up, taking a half-step forward.
Samantha's open palm connected and flattened against what could be called Anteros's "forehead". With the constant electric flow through the bones of her hand and wrist, it essentially created a "hand-shaped" blind-spot in Anteros's vision. It was... odd...
Samantha
... to touch the creature's head.
Samantha released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Just like that, with a simple touch, it was as though this... pressure in her skull "popped", as she felt blood flow return to the rest of the body. A rush of warmth and slight euphoria. She couldn't help the tiny laugh that escaped along with that same pressure.
Huh... so that's how it is..., she mused.
For a few seconds she simply remained frozen, waiting to see if the Amber Demon did anything else. It didn't. It simply stood there with its head pressed into her palm. Like a dog. Consequentially, the sudden thought of a Xenomorph playing catch and rolling over asking for a belly rub made Samantha audibly chuckle giddily and grin. She took a deep breath, gaining more composure and realized that her hand had been absent-mindedly… well, "petting" the creature's domed-skull, rubbing back and forth in a slow, simple pattern. Almost as if by instinct.
To her surprise... the creature's skull seemed to vibrate beneath her hand in a way that one could only equate to a cat's purr.
So that's how it is..., Samantha thought, again, with a small smile as she came to the realization that... everything was "fine" between them! As she'd suspected, the Xenomorph held no ill-will against her, and a bit of effort on her part had paid off! But, what to do now?...
This is so fucking cool...
Anteros
When the female's hand began... "petting" Anteros's face, he, initially, didn't really know what to do about it. The contact wasn't really unpleasant or uncomfortable, despite the Ancestral becoming decidedly squeamish, but he wouldn't say that it was... well, he was indifferent, he guessed.
Since he had no other ideas, and the Unknown was throwing an ecstatic fit of joy, he did the only thing that really came to mind. The only thing that seemed to be a logical response.
Until right about now, he'd never had an actual word for it. "Purring". It was something that all Newborns of his kind would do as they bonded with their Queen. It would be surprising to outsiders that Queens show affection to their children, but... they do. In fact, for the entirety of the first five days of any Newborn's life, they'd spend day-in-day-out "snuggling" with mother. Anteros wouldn't have had any real explanation as to why a species of vicious, virulent, vociferous monsters would possess the instincts necessary for that sort of behavior. It just sort of... happened. It simply felt like a... logical thing to do, at the time. Then again, Anteros barely remembered very much of his first week of conscious existence...
In any case, after about... oh, say... thirty seconds of prolonged "petting", Anteros broke off the contact, sitting on his haunches. Despite not needing to, he made sure his skull was pointing vaguely at her face— it was for her benefit, since humans tend to get nervous when they can't tell where a person/animal was directing its attention. From what he could hear... Samantha was reasonably pleased with how well this interaction had turned out, so far! It appeared that she'd had the same intention as him, going into this.
And he shared the same sentiment. Had he possessed a human face, he would have returned her current smile. Instead he would have to settle for letting out a small "chuff", at her... not sure if that would send the same message... She barely seemed to even register it.
His on-going echolocation pulses were bringing near-constant "updates" as to the female's body language and facial expressions. If Anteros was reading both that, and her thoughts, correctly... her mood had shifted to something akin to fascination. Head titled to one side, eyes slightly narrowed. She was, understandably, curious about him.
Needless to say, the Ancestral was doing the psychological equivalent of anxiously fidgeting…
... why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?…
It came to him as Samantha leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. Her wound.
It was wrapped in some variety of cloth... he couldn't smell blood, at least. And there was no scent of rotting flesh, so it wasn't infected. He should still check on it though... how to go about that?...
Samantha
The creature was sitting in front of her now, in a posture that was akin to a regal cat. Its tail had coiled into a tight spiral, next to the Demon's right leg. It reminded Sam of old nature documentaries about Komodo dragons that would coil their tails in a similar manner, as a warning. If said warning wasn't heeded, their tails would already be poised for use as a whip. She supposed that Xenomorphs use their tails for (sort of) the same reason. Except, less whipping, and more impaling.
The thought of "what happens now?" or "what's the plan?" hadn't yet occurred to Samantha— at the moment, she was perfectly content with studying the creature before her. She'd never been this close to a Xenomorph before— at least… she'd never been this close without also running away. And she was the kind of person who watched nature documentaries for fun as a kid, as one could probably tell, so this wasn't an opportunity she was about to miss out on.
It wasn't until the creature's gaze (if you could call it that) shifted, and its arm lifted to... point at... something... huh...
Anteros
Anteros decided to try something that would... probably work? He wasn't sure if his physiology would get in the way, but it was his only real option for the moment. At least until he could find ways to safely communicate.
So, doing what he thought would convey the clearest message, he oriented his head toward Samantha's injured arm. He then lifted his left arm to point at the "bandage", and leaned on his right. His hand, which consisted of two fingers and two thumbs (each thumb on either side of his palm), attempted to mold itself into a "pointing" gesture. It looked a bit… odd, but it should get the point across.
The female frowned, tracked his finger, looked down at her bound-up wound, and looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. Her mind raced for a few seconds as she tried to figure out what he wanted. Anteros waited patiently, as he made "eye-contact" with her. Her left hand lightly grasped at the cloth coiled around her right arm, as she gave him a sideways look.
"… uuuhhh…", she said (if a noise can be considered a sentence), in confusion.
Anteros moved his pointing arm, and grabbed his upper right arm with his left hand. His hand made a motion akin to pulling something off of the limb it had grabbed. The claws of the same hand then tapped against the flesh of the arm, which produced a dull noise that sounded something like tapping tree-bark with a knife.
Samantha watched the demonstration keenly...
When Anteros let both of his arms drop to the floor, her injured arm raised up a bit as she leaned forward.
"You… want to look at my injury?", she said in slow, careful voice. She probably wasn't trying to sound condescending, but he had just demonstrated that he could mimic human behavior and was thus intelligent... unless animal mimicry isn't all that impressive in Humanity's experience.
Nevertheless, he made a non-verbal acknowledgment of nodding and chuffing simultaneously.
She seemed surprised, but nonetheless began slowly unwrapping the makeshift bandage, keeping an eye on him. Standing by, Anteros hoped that she hadn't scratched off the Hive Resin, and thus sent out a few echoes to check the room for any discarded shards...
The strap of cloth (which the human's mind revealed to be a "scarf") came away and was dropped off to the left side of the bed. Samantha leaned forward, carefully extending her right arm, cautious to the point of paranoia while showing him the wound. Anteros was glad to see that the Hive Resin was still there, and had fully solidified into a brittle substance. The six-inch long, two inch wide splotch of... well, mucus (basically) had done its job and the wound was healed.
Ah... well that's that, then, he thought. Anteros oriented his head to "look" to his right, feigning a loss in interest.
...
Anteros... had never felt "awkward" before. But, right now? He, uh... he was starting to get it. The thing was... Samantha was staring at him. Hard. Even as she absent-mindedly began re-wrapping her wound with the scarf, her eyes never averted from... raking all across his form. The sensation of being studied— being evaluated... it really didn't sit well with him. He didn't know if this feeling of awkwardness was normal under the circumstances, or if it was a result of his self-awareness, but either way… the Human female not four feet from him was boring holes into his skin with her eyes, and he didn't know how to disengage the "interaction".
He was about to literally start fidgeting when a saving grace made itself known. Samantha's stomach rumbled, reminding him that she still hadn't eaten for the past two days.
Oh, look! An excuse!, he thought, immediately standing up and padding his way over to the door. Barring the need to escape Samantha's scrutiny, he did actually need to find some food for her.
He was about to stand upright and open the door, when the thought of the female following him crossed his mind. He could sense that she hadn't tried to get up. Anteros turned halfway to "look" at her, and raised a hand in a "wait" gesture. He didn't need her running around, at the moment— he couldn't risk the possibility of being found by the Hive or losing track of her position.
Samantha... registered his hand-signal and... did nothing. Her thoughts were, more or less, blank, but she seemed content to do as he "said". Anteros decided to take that as an "okay".
He turned away once more and rose to his hind legs, grabbing the door-handle and pulling the door open. He stepped out and fluidly shut the door behind him. Briefly watching her through the door, he saw her begin to whisper to herself and start walking about the room, shaking out her legs and rolling her shoulders.
Satisfied that nothing bad would happen in his absence, he re-sealed the Hive-Resin over the door's hinges, and began trotting down the hallway, hoping that the direction he was going in would lead him to food.
Additionally, Anteros decided to look for some variety of medical supplies, as well— maybe some actual bandages or disinfectant. He still didn't know if the Hive-Resin in Samantha's wound could end up being detrimental to her health, or not... best not chance it.
As he scanned his surroundings... Anteros couldn't help but feel relieved. Not just that he'd managed to escape that uncomfortable scrutiny... but that the air had essentially been... "cleared" between him and the human.
If anyone's confused, a Xenomorph's hand is… well, imagine that you didn't have a middle finger, then imagine that your pinky finger is actually a thumb opposite of your original thumb. It's basically like the Sangheili from Halo. Or Glacius from the newest Killer Instinct.
The point is, Xenomorph hands are tetradactyl in nature. Two thumbs, two fingers. Despite any evidence that you may have seen to the contrary— (cough, Alien: Isolation, cough). I believe any deviations from tetradactyl to be the result of mutations. Yes, even Xenomorphs can be subject to genetic mutation; when you have an organism that splices its DNA with that of its host, there's bound to be occasional complications. I believe mutation to also be responsible for a lot unique Xenomorph traits. The Lurker from Alien: Isolation, the appearance of a human skull in some Drones and Lurkers, the fact that some Xenos are smarter than others— a bunch of stuff.
If you know anything about genetics and the process of meiosis, DNA replication, and mitosis, you'll probably agree that random genetic mutation is responsible for this type of thing.
