Chapter 1
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 coldness of night breezed over the trees, rattling the leaves and branches. And yet, it was deadly silent like corpses lying in their final resting places, tension being the dominating force that swept like a thick fog.
For Ethan, it was the usual routine of his job. Sitting on a high branch, he checked the layout of the narrow dirt road that weaved in and out of the trees, scanning for his target with the scope of his rifle. It had only been hours ago that he received a last minute notice, being assigned for a solo mission and required to take down his target efficiently. Like last time . . . sure.
He was eager to take it, given that it would provide an excuse to prevent returning to his old world . . . miserable as it was. He didn't want to relive that nightmare over again. He wasn't ready to face it. Work allowed him to delay confronting what he dreaded, but he had to admit that he wanted a little rest. His last mission was excruciating, tracking someone whose offences were so minor that it could pass up for being in prison for 30 days and yet the destruction left behind during the pursuit made it worse, only to gain little pay for it. He rolled his shoulders, the ache annoying to his muscles. His body was tired. Not now.
"Echo Charlie 01. This is Foxtrot 5. Do you read?"
The radio comes to life and Ethan answers, taking it off his belt and moving the speaker to his lips. "This is Echo Charlie 01. Over."
"Have you reached location?"
"Affirmative."
"Any signs of the target yet?"
He looked through his surroundings, checking for any signs of life. "Negative. Still some sunlight and no activity."
The radio cackled, "Got your info. The target should be arriving in a few hours, east of your location. The target will be meeting a cartel to exchange weapons and information on our military movements. Be careful. We got word that he's carrying hostages probably to sell off as slaves or labor workers for the enemy. We can't let them die."
He nodded to himself. Sick asshole.
"Many have already died from this motherfucker, soldiers and civilians alike. He must be eliminated . . . at any costs."
"It will be over quick. Echo Charlie. Over and out."
Ethan placed the radio back on his belt and sighs, looking out towards the horizon filled with many colors of the setting sun. He admired the beauty, but the memories flooded to his mind, he turned away. His head throbbed, he didn't need to worry more about his ailments . . . or anything else for that matter.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Mp3 and bluetooth headphones attached to it. It was his favorite item that he always carried, the only thing that pacified his thoughts from the outside world while he waited . . . a small bit of happiness in such a dark and lonely world. He put a headphone on and pressed play.
There's a port on a western bay
And it serves a hundred ships a day
Lonely sailors pass the time away
And talk about their homes
He hummed with the tune, one of his favorite songs and a fine melody to drown out the misgivings of the world. He laid back on the trunk and folded an arm behind his head.
And there's a girl in his harbor town
And she works layin' whiskey down
They say, Brandy, fetch another round
She serves them whiskey and wine.
He closed his eyes and drifted into a soft nap. Although he should be on alert, he made sure to set an alarm on his device to wake up an hour before the estimated time. This song tugged too close to his old life but the soothing it brought was a comfort. He let himself sway as the evening slowly turned into night.
The sailors say, "Brandy, you're a fine girl!"
"What a good wife you would be"
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"So this guy is a general from Venezuela, nicknamed Juan. He smuggled weapons and drugs at first, bumped up to being a war criminal when he killed American spies trying to stop his operation, etc."
Ethan checked his target's profile again while waiting through the last, excruciating hour, surroundings dark and like a hot swamp. A few drops formed on his forehead as he wiped them off. No use in complaining now. He read the small piece of paper once more, pulling back in disgust. "Sure a big fat ass. How he managed to evade our forces for years is beyond me."
Right as he put the paperwork into his pocket, his radio came to life again, "Echo Charlie 01. This is Foxtrot 5. Has the target reached location?"
He cleared his throat. "Nothing yet, Echo Charlie 01. Still no signs of activity."
"He should be coming soon. A black van will be arriving with your target first and I will meet him there soon. Be on the lookout."
"Yes, sir."
Placing the radio down, he grabbed for his rifle. He moved the shaft around and activated the scope, checking though night vision. He scanned around until he spotted the location they marked. Nothing yet, but it will be soon.
He waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. An hour was gone and nothing happened. It's quiet . . . too quiet. A bad feeling crept into Ethan's chest. Whenever he got that sensation, it never ended well. He waited for a few more minutes, studying the area but it felt like an eternity. Twenty minutes passed with no word of his informant or any signs of him, he has to contact his informant.
"Foxtrot 5. This is Echo Charlie 5. Do you copy?" He awaited but met with a lingering static, "This is Echo Charlie 5. Do you copy?"
Out of the blue, he heard screams and cries from the radio that it hurt his ears, followed by gunshots and then animal-like sounds, "Help us! Please!"
Ethan felt panic starting to creep inside. My informant!
"Foxtrot 5! I repeat! What's happening?!"
He listened closely. The static was growing in volume, almost deafening the voice trying to call back. "There's this . . . *static* . . . We're getting . . . *static* . . . We need help!"
"Calm down! Tell me your location!"
"East of your . . . *static* . . . Oh God . . . Help us!"
The static grew louder, "Repeat! Foxtrot 5! Repeat!"
"HELP!"
He listened to the blood wrenching scream then the tearing of flesh and gurgling. Ethan slammed his fist. His informant was dead, no doubt about it. Was it the general? Did he find out about our plan and got to him before we could execute it? It was possible since they were dealing with a criminal but it didn't feel right.
I have to find out.
Gathering his things, Ethan climbed down and raced towards the East. He pushed his legs as fast as he could, weaving through bushes and mud. He saw fire in the distance, a big one and spotted everywhere as he got closer. He ran faster, mentally preparing himself for the worst. But when he reached there, he didn't think that it could be more grisly than anything he'd experienced before.
When he arrived, it was nothing but chaos.
There was blood almost everywhere, decorated the ground, the surrounding bushes, anda few trees. The smell made him sick to the stomach. He counted several bodies lying around. Some were cut into pieces, ripped apart like they were nothing. The strangest thing was that a few had their heads pulled out, spines included. Oh my God.
His eyes wandered until he noticed a vehicle turned on its back. There was a giant crater blown in the middle of it, blown to pieces. Ethan held his rifle tightly and went closer. When he got a better view, he realized it was the black van. Is that . . ?
He felt a drop of something hit his hand. He looked to see it was crimson red and sticky. Blood? Another drop lands and then another, curiosity and dread got the better of him as he slowly lifted his head. He froze, horror gripped him like a vice.
What the holy fuck?
There he saw a body hanging from a branch, stripped of any skin or hair and left to dangle like some piece of meat. Its eyes were open wide, last moments being one of pure terror. Ethan gasped, stepping back. His eyes never left the body, "Jesus fuck."
"Who goes there!?"
Ethan froze, pointing his gun at the direction he heard it. Ethan pointed his rifle as four men emerged from behind the burning van. Wearing bloodied clothes and carrying AK-47s, they surrounded him. He didn't recognize any of them except for one in the front.
It's the General! Ethan took another look at him. There's no mistake. It's him.
He noticed the General's hands were shaking so badly that his pistol rattled, teeth clenched together. Ethan saw the eyes of the party, nothing but the black abyss of their pupils, filled with absolute terror. It struck him as odd. Even they are terrified. What did they see that made them so scared?
Ethan shook his head, he had a mission to take care of, "General Juan. On behalf of the United States of America, you're coming with me. Either we settle this the easy way . . . or the hard way. Your choice."
The General was unfazed, "You fucking idiot! We're all going to die! That thing is out there!"
"That thing? What thing?"
General Juan started to pace, acting like a madman, "That . . . thing. It came out of nowhere. It destroyed our van with a single blast from the sky . . . torn my men into shreds. Even that guy we were supposed to negotiate was hung like hunting meat in front of our eyes. They're monsters!"
Ethan jumped at the realization, remembering the body in the tree. That's what happened to my informant.
"¡Señor! ¡Tenemos que salir de aquí! ¡Va a volver a matarnos!" One guy screamed like a banshee.
"I know, you fool!"
He saw the group begin to leave, heading for the cover of darkness provided by the forest. I can't let them leave!
Ethan raises his rifle, aiming for the General. "You're not going anywhere. Not until I know what happened here and take care of you."
General Juan stopped and pointed his pistol at him, "I'm not going to die here like an animal! Kill him!"
Driven by command, or maybe mostly from fear, two of the men aimed and fired. Both missed as Ethan rolled out of the way and shot with precision, killing both men with bullets in their head before they could reload. The General called out something and the rest charged. Come on, you bastards!
Suddenly, a blue blast flew through them, blasting a hole into one of the men's chest like butter, guts spilled everywhere before his body hit the ground.
Ethan freezed. Fuck! What was that!?
"¡Señor! ¡Está aquí! ¡El demonio!"
He didn't like what he was saying. Demon?
The General wasted no time getting out of there, running wherever an escape was possible. "I'm fucking out of here!"
Ethan ran after them, "Stop!"
He wasted no time and shot, the bullet barely ripped the side flesh of the General's thigh, forcing his target to collapse with a loud thud. His last man, driven by adrenaline or reflex to protect, ran after him with a scream. Ethan fell to his knees, avoiding the hit from the gun's butt. Pulling a knife, he stabbed into the man's chest and watched him gurgle blood before he kicked him away. With the last of his defense gone, the General was there for the taking. He walked closer to him.
"Don't come near!" The General tried to get up but failed with his leg badly damaged, "I don't want to die!"
Ethan ignored the pleas, grabbing his collar, averting the shot of a pistol from the General's final move. With an effective maneuver, he knocked the gun away and pointed the knife to his throat. "You're more trouble than your worth, but this is where it ends."
In a bizarre moment, the General chuckled. He finally lost it?
"What's so funny?"
The General spoke with a grin on his lips, "You will get what's coming for you, far worse than my own."
Ethan was done with the insanity he was brought in. Once he's taken care of this, he can end this nightmare and return back for a report. Whatever was happening, it was beyond his capacity and he'd rather not fraternize anymore.
As he was about to finish him, he heard a sound, vibrating and unusual. Clicking? It was a constant tone but lasted a few seconds. It was close . . . as if it was right next to him.
The General's expression turned to horror, "El demonio . . . está aquí."
Ethan barely registered what happened when the General's chest exploded in blood and gore. He saw two serrated blades go through him. What—?!
He released his grip, only to watch the General's body go flying in the air and land on the faraway ground. Ethan tried to look back at what or who was there. Nothing? There was only empty space. I swore that someone was—
He felt a sting in his neck. He hissed, taking it out to realize it was some sort of dart, the metal and structure of it was foreign and unusual.
"What in the—?"
His vision began to waver, focus went in and out. A sleeping dart . . . Ethan felt his legs collapsing like jello as he tried to fight the wave of drowsiness. But it was inevitable as he collapsed, falling on his side but gripped the ground in the hopes of getting back up.
As his vision morphed into darkness, he heard the clicking sound again. Ethan used all of his remaining strength to look up. In shock, he saw a form materializing before him. It was large mass and staring down at him with a black mask. It was the last thing he was before he fell into darkness but not before he heard one last thing.
"El demonio . . . está aquí."
Hi everyone!
The first chapter for Respect is here after so long! I hope you enjoy and leave a review, all are welcomed and great motivators!
Happy Hunting to all!
Notes:
Song - Brandy (You're a Fine Girl) by Looking Glass
¡Señor! ¡Tenemos que salir de aquí! ¡Va a volver a matarnos! — Sir! We have to get out of here! It's going to come back to kill us!
¡Señor! ¡Está aquí! ¡El demonio! — Sir! It's here! The demon!
El demonio está aquí — The demon is here.