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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

He would put an end to this, once and for all.

Escaping a fight was the way of a coward, but it was to be expected from a traitor such as the one he was hunting down relentlessly.

Nrak'thwei let out a trail of frustrated clicks, metal-tipped tusk hitting against the ones that were still all bone, as he stared at the vastness of space before him, his hounds grunted and moved around in anticipation. He'd brought them to track the Fugitive, wanting to make him feel even more like prey, like a pest he would rid the galaxy of, and they were ready for the hunt. But despite the damage Nrak'thwei did to the stolen ship, the Fugitive managed to elude him. Given the yautja's advanced technology, he could be anywhere.

Or so he thought, until a hologram lit up in front of him, showing a recently activated biomask's coordinates– the Fugitive's.

His mandibles spread into a smirk as he informed his people of the current situation.

The clan's orders were simple: he was to locate the traitor, execute him, get back the stolen cargo and ship, and if retrieving it proved to be impossible, he was to destroy it. Any Soft Meat losses were justified for the sake of the mission.

He looked forward to killing Soft Meats almost as much as he looked forward to killing the yautja who had once been his good friend and was now nothing more than a traitor, a thief, a fugitive. His clawed hands ached for retaliation just thinking about the treason. That's what made him perfect for the mission. He didn't allow emotional attachments to interfere with the goals the clan set for him. Perhaps because he lacked any attachments stronger than the one he had to his clan. Nrak'thwei, that's what his people called him now. The Blood Guardian. It wasn't his birth-given name, but a name given to him by the now Fugitive during their years of youth, and yet it remained fitting. He was the child of his clan, bred and raised to meet and enforce their ideals of perfection, he was without flaw, the next step in yautja evolution that other clans were too blind to realize was necessary to ensure their supremacy over the species they preyed upon.

His chest tightened as he coughed out a lump of blood that had gathered in his throat, it lost its bioluminescence relatively fast, turning a darker shade of green as he wiped it off the console with his forearm, finding that it'd ever so slightly burned a mark onto the metal while his hide remained unscathed.

While it was not normal for his kind to cough out blood, Nrak'thwei ignored it. He'd long ago been taught by his clan that such symptoms were only the proof that all the procedures he'd endured were affecting his body. In his own experience, some blood was nothing compared to the bone structure realignment and muscular changes he'd endured growing up. Still, the soreness in his throat and tightness that settled in his chest were annoying.

The wormhole opened before his ship, a gap opened in the very layer space-time like the cut left behind on flesh by an expertly sharpened blade, allowing him to see the blue and green planet that Soft Meats called their homeworld yet continued to destroy as if they weren't still decades away from making any substantial advancements in space travel; and just as quickly as it opened, the wormhole closed seamlessly behind his ship. The lurid red proximity alarm gave the cockpit an ugly sheen when the spaceship hit one of the Soft Meats' satellites, sending the primitive communication device tailspinning out of the planet's orbit and back into the atmosphere, being engulfed by flames as gravity made it pick up speed.

Soon, his ship followed, though in a much more controlled way, its descent into the planet.

Soft Meats, while still fairly primitive in comparison to even the most old school clans of yautja, evolved fairly quick in the past decades; and so when they responded to his arrival by sending airships of their own in pursuit, Nrak'thwei had to admit he was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps they had once more become a challenge worthy of him.

It was entertaining to watch them chase after him, enough so that he only took down one of the airships before deciding that this would keep them distracted.

He set his ship on autopilot, the AI was programmed to eliminate any threats and once that was done, find an isolated spot to land; and he trusted it to achieve it without him manning the controls, moving off the seat and past his hounds. He commanded them to stay put. Perhaps they wouldn't be necessary, his gauntlet indicated that the Fugitive's signal was quite close– more specifically, in the human facility he was nearing at high speed. He walked into the pod, slammed the side of his fist against the screen just outside of it before it closed, and left him into the cramped space. A moment after the lid sealed shut, it was ejected from the ship.

The pod, much like his ship before he decided to toy with the Soft Meats, was cloaked both visually and thermally, which caused it to be easily missed by the enemy airships in favor of continuing to chase the much bigger and still visible spacecraft. It was built in a way that ensured the valuables inside, whether they were cargo or a living being like him, would reach the ground unharmed despite the height and speed at which it neared it, thanks to the plasma shield that surrounded it, absorbing the blow. However, no amount of technology could protect him from the way his stomach flipped when the pod reached the ground.

Nrak'thwei slammed his side onto the pod's lid, the force of the blow ripped it from its frame and sent it flying several feet away. He stepped out, shaking his head to rid himself of the sudden dizziness that threatened to blur his vision, and scanned his surroundings.

Spotting the Soft Meat settlement he'd previously seen from the ship, he realized it was some sort of factory– or so he thought until he spotted the Soft Meats driving the race's usual military vehicles and carrying the weaponry to match.

Activating his cloak, he left the pod to be inspected by the first group of Soft Meats to reach it in favor of better prey. The Fugitive was close. It didn't take Nrak'thwei long to find him jumping off the metal catwalks that stretched through the facility and onto the pavement, being closely followed by a Soft Meat that chased him on foot and others that went after him on a large transport that Nrak'thwei didn't hesitate to run after.

At least until the Soft Meat that was following the Fugitive on foot went and jumped onto the vehicle's roof with little care for its own well being or the fact it possessed no claws or musculature that would have allowed it to hang on if it was to slip a bit too far off– and it almost did, somehow not only managing not to fall off but also stopping Nrak'thwei on his tracks, stunned.

He knew for a fact that Soft Meats were unpredictable creatures, but he also knew that most of them had lost any predatory drive that they might have once possessed in favor of a more sedentary life based on trading. To watch one chase a yautja so passionately was new and completely strange for him. It made his blood sing with newfound curiosity and expectations. Perhaps he'd finally found the challenge he'd sought so thoroughly.

The Soft Meat perched itself onto the roof, wobbling slightly as it raised the strange weapon it carried, aiming for the Fugitive, perhaps it would have hit him if one of the Soft Meats inside the transport hadn't shot its weapon first, alerting the Fugitive of their intentions and prompting him to shoot at their vehicle, causing one of the tires to explode and for the transport to screech to a halt.

Nrak'thwei didn't stay behind. He could have shot him, but that would have been too quick a death for a traitor like that one– no, he would drag it on, make sure the traitor regretted ever being born. So he continued his pursuit of the Fugitive until he lost him among the mess of Soft Meat transports driving full speed in different directions, unaware of his presence and so leaving Nrak'thwei with no choice but to dodge them lest he wanted to be hit. His head throbbed as he tried to follow the one he was certain he'd watched the Fugitive jump into, but the dizziness that he blamed on the messy pod landing made it impossible to keep track of it when all the transports looked identical.

Damn Soft Meats and their lack of both creativity and individuality.

He checked his wrist gauntlet, suppressing the urge to let his anger out as a deafening roar upon realizing the signal vanished. So the Fugitive knew he was here, so much for a stealthy approach.

Turning to the Soft Meats that had been giving chase to the Fugitive as well, he was once again caught off guard by their behavior.

The distance made it impossible for his technology to pick up and translate the language they spoke, but their gesticulations were simple enough that Nrak'thwei could understand them. The one that had shot at and missed the Fugitive was gesturing for the one on the roof, which was smaller, to come down, leaving it clear that it would catch it; only to step away last second and let the smaller one hit the ground, fleeing with the other Soft Meats that had been in the transport and leaving the small one behind.

Something was wrong with the small one.

Unlike just moments before, the Soft Meat's movements were slow and clumsy. It failed to stand up and looked quite disoriented as Nrak'thwei, still hidden from sight by his cloak, approached; only for another Soft Meat to come and point its weapon at it.

This time, he was close enough to hear what the Soft Meat was saying to whoever was at the other end of its comms, and what they were saying back.

"Stargazer, I got eyes on the woman, instructions?"

So the small one was a female– a woman, as Soft Meats called them. She was still on the ground, her movements slow as she propped herself up on her forearms despite seeming unharmed. Nrak'thwei scanned her and yet, he couldn't find anything wrong with her aside from her temperature being ever so slightly higher than what was the average for her species and her heart rate being quite slow for the situation she was in.

"Eliminate her." came the voice from the other end of the soldier's comms, causing the yautja's attention to snap to him. "Retrieve any contraband."

"Roger that, stargazer."

And just like that, the soldier was pointing its weapon at the female. There was seemingly nothing left in her from that curiously alluring hunter determination she'd shown before falling off the bus– if he was being honest, she looked like she'd be as much a threat as a not-yet-of-teething-age youngling. Lethargic, vulnerable, and unarmed. There would be no honor in killing her, not when she could put up way more of a fight if given the chance to recover. Nrak'thwei had just witnessed that potential. But now, she was not at all a threat.

That didn't stop the soldier, and so Nrak'thwei took it upon his own hands to teach the Soft Meat some honor– or more like punish it for its lack of honor.

His blade went through the Soft Meat's back with wonderful ease, blood coating, revealing its form, as a few inches of it came out through the front, having pierced through flesh, organs, muscle, and gear with as much ease as if he had stabbed through a block of melting snow. It was then that he decided to reveal himself, deactivating his cloaking device as he yanked the weapon off the soldier's hands with his free hand, turning it around to watch the primal horror in its eyes as it realized who was its attacker, its killer.

Oh, how Nrak'thwei would have loved to drag this moment on. But he was a busy male.

He whipped his arm to the side hard, the momentum, along with the blood coating the blade working as a sort of lubricant, caused the soldier's body to slip from his blade with ease and land a few feet away, still letting out weak noises of pain but for sure to die soon from either blood loss or the damage caused by the injury. Nrak'thwei shook his arm to get the blood off the blade, then had it retreat into his wrist gauntlet as his attention turned back to the female.

She'd managed to bring herself to her feet and stood on shaky legs before him, swaying slightly as she stared up at him.

It was strange, being stared at the way she was staring at him. There was no fear in her eyes, the concern he'd see in them when she'd had that gun pointed at her having faded to be replaced by something else, a hint of realization. But even that look faded as her eyes rolled back into her skull and he realized what was about to happen.

Nrak'thwei was fast. He gave a step forward and caught her just as she began to fall forward, lifting her and holding her limp form under one arm. The white gun, so similar yet different to the ones the soldiers carried, caught his attention, and so did the little white cylinder with some red fluff on one end. A dart, he realized after a moment. She must have accidentally hit herself with it somehow when the Fugitive caused the bus to stop abruptly. It was a rookie's mistake to fire without meaning to, but she would live to learn from it. Possibly. If she cooperated with him and was honest about just how much the humans knew, and what reasons she had to be chasing his Fugitive, perhaps he would let her live to recover and be a proper challenge.

If she turned out to be an obstacle, however… well, not even his honor code would save her from the Yautja's wrath. But there was no need to be thinking of the worst-case scenario just yet. For now, Nrak'thwei turned to follow the coordinates of his ship and activated his cloaking once more. This time it enveloped both him and his prisoner.

Behind him, he heard engines going off and multiple Soft Meat voices being loud. But he didn't care, barely gracing the group of Soft Meats with a glance over his shoulder, just to weigh their intentions. He had other priorities and no time for the yapping of lesser beings. The Soft Meats, so stupidly reckless and seemingly uncaring of the well-being of the female he was taking with him, shot at where they'd last seen him standing before he cloaked, but they only hit the pavement and the transport they'd previously abandoned. By the time they thought about shooting the surrounding area —an equally stupid idea as shooting blindly at where he'd been, but it was to be expected from such simple-minded creatures—, he and his prisoner were long gone.

—

When Casey's consciousness began to return, she felt as if she was experiencing the worst hangover known to any human being. Her mouth was dry as sandpaper, tongue heavy and eyes burning from the light above her, sweat caused stray strands of hair and the fabric of her clothes to stick to her like a very uncomfortable second skin, her limbs felt like they weighed ten times their actual weight, and so it took her a moment to realize they were being held down at her wrists and ankles by metal, leaving her pinned to the surface she was lying on.

Her brain caught on to this fact after a minute of processing, and upon realizing that she couldn't lift her arm to shield her eyes, Casey panicked.

She tried to shake herself free, but she couldn't even move aside from turning her limbs in the shackles that rendered them useless. Casey clenched her teeth, stopped, and forced herself to think. Her first thought was that Stargazer caught her, found out that she'd stolen one of the vials from them, and were going to lobotomize her the way they did with the sniper who first came in contact with the Hunter. This hypothesis seemed to be confirmed when the memory of a soldier finding her right after she'd accidentally shot herself on the foot with the tranquilizer returned to her. He'd been given orders to kill her, she'd heard that much. But Traeger was an unpredictable man and it wouldn't surprise her if he changed his mind as easily as he'd decided Casey's life wasn't worth more than a bullet through the head.

Casey's eyes finally adjusted to the light. She found herself not on the Stargazer Project's laboratory– or in any place that at all resembled the idea she had of what a CIA secret facility or CIA-related mental institution where they still performed lobotomies in the 21st century might look like. But in a room of walls built of what looked like some dark, organic material that reflected the light, strange pods on one wall, and even stranger machinery and devices all around.

The inspection of her surroundings led her to turn her head to the left and so she was met with a sight that made her freeze.

Another Hunter stood there. Its back was turned to her, allowing her to see that it'd grown some sort of exoskeleton–like plates which rose and fell with their shoulders as breath after concerningly labored breath left the creature. It was also much bigger and of a darker coloration than the one she'd gotten to study at the laboratory– or so Casey thought until it turned, making direct eye contact with her like it wasn't even surprised to find her awake, as if it'd known she was watching, and stepped closer to the surface she was cuffed to. As it stepped under the painfully bright light, its previous coloration: a greyish blue with long, red markings littered over his body that were the most prominent on his torso and head and resembled —at least those from the neck down— a tiger's stripes, turned into a dull yellow with pale brown markings.

The Hunter's breathing evened out, but it wasn't a natural transition, more like it was forcing itself to breathe as normally as possible. It stared down at her with an expression that, despite its alien features, was surprisingly easy for Casey to read. His brows were pierced in disgust and yet there was a gleam of curiosity in those light green eyes. If she had to guess, she'd have said that he was sizing her up.

Casey remembered the situation with the other Hunter back in the decontamination showers, it hadn't thought her to be a threat and so it'd let her live with only a bit of mocking but otherwise no attempt against her. Surely, this one couldn't consider her a threat, could it? This time —thankfully, because she wasn't sure she would have been able to endure the humiliation twice—, Casey wasn't naked and kneeling on the floor, fearing for her life like a cornered animal. She was strapped down to a table, unable to move; her knowledge of these species ended with that gesture of mercy from the fleeing Hunter, but the hypothesis that such mercy was a cultural thing, some sort of honor code, allowed her to remain calmer than she was the first time.

The Hunter seemed to notice that, because he slammed the side of its fist against the edge of the table, making her tense to the point the metal shackles seemed to tighten around her wrists and ankles. Casey's breath caught in her throat before she was able to exhale, heartbeat quickening.

A trail of clicking noises left its mouth. It came from deep in its throat instead of from its tusks and was accompanied by more coughing as it wrapped one arm around its torso, over its protruding ribs. That motion and the deep breath that followed its coughing fit made her realize the bastard was laughing at her to the point it'd choked.

"What's so funny?" she questioned, unsure if the Hunter could even understand her. But she had to know, and so what better way to ensure a reaction than to say: "You saw yourself in a mirror?"

It was a childish thing to say, incredibly so. But it worked. The Hunter's upper mandibles, which had risen when it'd let out that noise of amusement, lowered and pressed together while the lower ones flared slightly and his brow furrowed once more, this time in anger.

So it understood English.

Its hand slipped from the table, knuckles brushing the bare skin of her forearm. Then that same hand went up to her head, the heel pressed to her forehead as the fingers went through her hair, the very tip of the middle one reaching the back of her head. Casey felt an unhealthy mix of terror and awe mingling together at the size of its hand. But her feelings soon turned to confusion and concern when she realized that the Hunter's skin was hot and clammy to the touch.

These creatures weren't reptiles, they possessed nipples and a musculature that was too mammalian in nature to be, but Casey knew for a fact that they were cold-blooded, that's what all the tests run by Stargazer showed. The species must have evolved from some kind of therapsid-like being native to their home planet, they couldn't– shouldn't possess a high body temperature.

Something was wrong with this one.

Whether it didn't know or it was ignoring it, she didn't know. But the Hunter showed no signs of caring for its -being, beginning to make noises that went from clicking to hoarse rumbles in succession and with small pauses in between some noises until Casey realized it was talking.

"I have no idea what you're saying," she pointed.

The Hunter stopped, stared at her in annoyance, and roughly removed its hand from her hair, long fingers getting caught in some knots in her hair causing a tug at her scalp that made Casey hiss. The noise got its attention. Its annoyance just barely softened to allow a hint of curiosity to show. Like a cat swatting at a paralyzed rodent just to see if it would do anything, the Hunter watched the way her hair got tangled in its fingers, Casey moved her head away as much as she could, until her cheek was pressed to her right shoulder. She braced herself, but also glared at him.

"Don't you dare."

Casey regretted opening her mouth the moment she saw the Hunter's mandibles shift into what looked like a smirk. Her blood ran cold when she felt its hand on her head again, fingers slipping from her hair only to curl around a larger portion of it. He yanked his hand away from her scalp. Casey's body tensed, fingers digging into soft material as her eyes squeezed shut and a small noise of anticipated pain left her, but the pain didn't come.

She opened her eyes and found the Hunter staring down at her. Casey tilted her head up the best she could, and realized that it'd stopped just a fraction of an inch before it could pull her hair taunt or —given what she'd seen the much smaller member of its species do back at the laboratory— most likely rip it right off her head.

As the Hunter's hand abandoned her hair and it fell out of the way, Casey noticed her backpack also just so happened to be hanging off the wall.

Another trail of clicks erupted from deep in its throat. Once again, it was laughing at her and, once again, the laughter sent it into a coughing fit, this time more serious than the first one.

But Casey didn't care, all she cared about was that she'd been able to dig her fingers into the examination table's surface that she'd until that very moment she'd believed to be solid. It was then that she realized that despite being made of some kind of relatively solid material, it budged like a memory foam mattress, having moulded to the shape of her body. Casey retreated her fingers, watching as the Hunter, still recovering from its coughing fit, walked away from her and towards the ship's control panel. With her eyes focused on the alien to avoid being discovered, it took her a minute and a few attempts at pressing down to realize that it was because of her body heat. Whatever technology made this table work, it was not programmed to handle the heat of a human who's body was still sweating off the remnants of a very potent anesthetic.

If she was going to break free, she had to do it before her body temperature went back to normal.

She'd never been a religious person. Casey could count the times she'd gone to church with the fingers of her hands and still have a couple to spare. Now, she prayed to whoever watched over her as she moved her wrists from side to side, rubbing them against the surface, creating friction to generate heat. Her skin growing sore but that didn't matter because it was working, her hands were sinking more and more into the material while the shackle that had previously pinned her remained in place, and she slipped her hands out from under them.

With her hands now free, Casey froze for a moment, she watched the Hunter as it activated some red hologram that showed symbols in a language she couldn't even begin to try to understand, it's breathing once again heavy and labored, getting wheezy.

Her vision blurred as she pushed herself to sit, but Casey forced herself to push through the sudden dizziness. She rubbed at her calves with the same goal as she had her hands, but with far more desperation. She was so close to at least getting off the table. Casey's right leg slipped free first, hanging off the side of the table as she rubbed as the other and as soon as she was able to, she slipped off the table.

As it turned out, the examination table was farther off the ground than she'd predicted, and so her feet hit the ground hard and loudly.

The coughing stopped, replaced by a deep growl.

"Fuck."

Chapter Text

Time slowed down and adrenaline rushed through her veins, her blood running cold when she looked up and found the large Hunter's eyes focused on her. It charged forward and Casey bolted to her left, going for her bag as the Hunter crashed into the table with such force that it bent under its weight despite being attached seamlessly to the floor moments before. Whatever air it'd managed to breathe in after that coughing fit was pushed right back out upon colliding, and yet it came after her as soon as Casey got a hold of the backpack and bolted for a hole low in the wall that resembled a ventilation shaft. She dropped to her knees and crawled in, spotting a flash of translucent green falling from her backpack and catching it, realizing it was the vial she'd stolen from the laboratory, still sealed and intact.

Less than two feet in, the angle of the ventilation shaft changed, turning to a perfect 45 degrees angle that threatened to send her sliding back, right into the waiting claws of her kidnapper. Holding the vial between her teeth, her hands and feet pressed to the sides and she pushed up to climb out of the Hunter's reach. Her backpack, forgotten in her desperation to get away, slipped down and was clutched by the large hand that reached in. Casey forced herself to breathe and squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears of panic as she listened to the backpack be torn to shreds. But she also felt relief, because it wasn't her.

However, her fate wouldn't be much different from that of her packpack if she didn't find a way to ensure the Hunter wouldn't kill her the second it got the chance.

Then the hand was back trying to reach for her, claws dug into metal causing an awful shrieking noise that Casey felt all the way to her gums.

Casey looked up, lips wrapping around the vial for extra grip on it as she started clumsily and slowly making her way further up the shaft, about halfway up, she was able to feel a breeze. Considering she hadn't been sucked out, Casey deducted they were not in the air and her nostrils flared with a sigh of relief so strong it almost made her limbs give in.

The Hunter's roaring subsided, replaced by softer, strange noises. Casey stopped moving and looked down, straining her ears to try and make out what he was doing, trying to predict his next move. She didn't want to poke her head out only to have it cut off if he caught on to her intentions and might step out and wait for her outside instead. So she stayed as still as she could, limbs shaking with the effort of fighting against gravity, and tried to listen to whatever he was doing. What she heard was far from an advanced, sentient being plotting her death.

Casey heard him crash to the ground, his coughing turning to wheezing, then to gurgling.

Leave, she told herself. Get the hell out of here.

But she didn't.

Tucking her arms and legs in, Casey let herself slide back down with the vial now clutched between her fingers. When she reached the vent's entrance, she spotted blood just outside. Thick drops of bright green, naturally  bioluminescent blood stood out on the otherwise spotless black floor, seemingly polished to the point it reflected her face. The drops led away from the vent and back towards those strange pods she'd noticed before in the far wall, one of them was wide open, the Hunter collapsed in front of it, and all kinds of alien-looking medical supplies scattered around.

Its eyes were wide, pain and horror mixed together as the Hunter continued to spit out clumps of bloody mucus, yet whatever was obstructing its breathing didn't budge. There was also its smell: it was something like cinnamon mixed with a copper-like scent, the only way she could come up with to describe it was that he smelled sick.

Too see such a large creature reduced to a shaking, choking mess on the floor was pitiful and, at the same time, astounding. The Hunter was far from human and yet, Casey could have swore she was witnessing textbook symptoms of a body rejecting a transplant, or perhaps the very clear signs of an untreated genetic disease.

Genetic. Transplant. The words being used in the same train of thought made something click in her brain. She thought back to the laboratory, the sample she'd found under the smaller Hunter's claws where the tissue was one creature's, but the cells were all different and attacked each other, only surviving because they replicated faster than they could kill those different than themselves; the human DNA in the asset, and the vial she was almost killed for stealing. She'd been offered to study samples of the asset's blood, skin, mucus, but not…

"Bone marrow," she thought out loud, staring down at the vial she held.

It was only then that the Hunter looked up from the puddle of its own blood and mucus, noticing her presence; and attempted to stand up.

Casey rushed forward, confirming that it was quite weakened when she slammed her side against him and sent him crashing back to the ground. Its current state was deplorable. She would have even dared say it was dying– or would die, if something wasn't done.

"Don't ever let it be said that I don't take risks," she breathed out, looking around until she spotted one of the medical tools scattered around: some sort of injector, and picked it up.

For all she knew, the liquid in that vial could be anything other than bone marrow. There was no way for her to be certain without equipment to run the necessary tests– or more like necessary for this to be an ethical procedure; and even if it was, what proof did she have that this Hunter and the one from the laboratory were compatible donors? None, absolutely zero, as far as she knew the only thing they had in common was that they seemed to belong to the same species. If she was a doctor and this was her patient, it would be completely unethical and downright illegal for her to do what she was about to do.

But this one was going to die whether Casey did something or not, so she might as well try and see what happened.

She poured the —hopefully— bone marrow into the injector's tube, sealing it and trying to figure how to make this work. Casey lifted the Hunter's arm, ignoring the way it tried to weakly shake her off. Its skin as hot and clammy as the first time she'd touched it, with the new addition that now the look in its eyes was one of both pain and disorientation. She turned its arm upside down and thanked whoever was watching over her —or perhaps over the Hunter— for blessing it with veins that were easy to find. She held the injector over his vein at an angle, finger hesitating over the button at the injector's handle before she took a deep breath, looked it right in the eyes, and pressed the 'trigger'.

Both Casey and the Hunter flinched when the needle shot out of the injector, piercing through flesh and delivering the fluid straight into the Hunter's blood stream. She held it in place even after she was certain every last drop of the bone marrow had been pumped into its veins, and as soon as she removed it, the hunter was clasping at its own arm to prevent any bleeding.

The injector clattered to the ground as both Hunter and Human panted in unison. Casey stepped back until her back met the table that was now bent into an almost perfect U shape from when the Hunter had crashed against it, she slid to the ground and forced herself to calm down, heart threatening to burst out of her chest. Her eyes never left the Hunter, and its own never left her. She wasn't sure how much time passed, but her legs went numb from where they were crossed under her, and it was slowly recovering, at least enough to push itself onto a sitting position.

The way it was glaring at her told her it would live.

Not an it, Casey decided as she watched him flex his clawed fingers, like he was getting used to his own motor skills once more. A him.

He grabbed the injector and proceeded to toss it towards the far wall, the glass contained shattering into a dozen tiny shards as the injector itself came apart. Casey's head instinctively followed the motion and noise. When she looked back at him, he was getting closer to her at concerning speed.

"I saved your life!" she cried out.

The Hunter stopped with its face barely a couple inches away from Casey's, mandibles flared and eyes glaring daggers at her. While Casey's eyes were wide and once again watery with panic, hands shaking as she held them up in an instinctive attempt to shield herself. But she refused to be prey, the look in her eyes went from scared to determined in a matter of moments. She lowered her hands, nostrils flaring with the magnitude of her determination to be seen as an equal and not a terrified creature for the Hunter to kill like one would a pest.

"You are only alive because of me, and if you have any honor, you will not harm me," she spat, hoping beyond hope that her previous hypothesis was right and the possible honor code was a cultural thing. "You owe me your life."

The Hunter's eyes went wide with shock and realization before they were once more filled with rage. However, this time it didn't feel like it was directed at her, at least not completely. He reached out and the back of Casey's head hit the table in her failed attempt to move away. Her whole body tensed as those claws hovered dangerously close to her throat. But no harm came to her. Instead, his fist slammed against the examination table, mandibles flaring as wide as they could as he roared at her face; it was a short roar, couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds, but it left Casey's ears ringing.

He pushed himself away from her as if just being near her was harmful to him, stumbling ever so slightly as he got back on his feet and headed for the flight deck.

Never had Casey been so relieved to be right about something as she was in that moment. Neither had she ever been so disgusted upon realizing that in his rage display, he'd splattered bloody drool —or perhaps mucus, but she'd rather think it was drool— all over her face.

—

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening to him!

It was unheard of, at least in his clan, for such a thing to happen; and if it was unheard of in his clan, then it was wrong.

Soft Meats were nothing but prey, some of them honorable, but prey nonetheless. They were as primitive, reckless and disgustingly dishonorable as they were cunning, and they were one of the most cunning species the Yautja had ever come across. But they could also be quite stupid, to the point they couldn't even keep their own planet from collapsing because of their greedy, destructive tendencies, the very people they allowed in power willing to drive the entire species to extinction if they could make a profit out of it.

And one of these primitive, reckless, dishonorable pests just saved his life.

What would his clan think of him? What dishonor would all this bring upon him when he hadn't even yet caught the Fugitive? All because of this Soft Meat female that distracted him from his main goal, made him curious because of her determination and drive to catch the same prey he was after. Made him consider the possibility of her usefulness, of an alliance.

Now he owed her his life, and the worst part was that she knew.

This was the traitor's fault, no doubt.

Nrak'thwei's knees buckled and threatened to give in as he avoided the mess of bloody mucus and scattered supplies that he'd made of the floor during his attack in favor of reaching the flight deck. When he reached it, he froze. His hands hovered over the dozens of buttons and tactile screens, fingers twitching indecisively before both hands retreated just as the holographic screen came into view when one of his digits brushed too close to a screen, enough for it to register it as a command. But he was quick to shut it down.

If only he'd been that quick to catch the sneaky little Soft Meat.

He couldn't tell the clan council about this. He wouldn't, Nrak'thwei was quick to decide. Not until his mission was accomplished and the target was eliminated. Then, this situation with the Soft Meat female would be nothing but a memory to make fun of, an experience to learn from, a brief lapse of hardship in an otherwise successful hunt.

But what was he supposed to do with her?!

Glancing over his shoulder, Nrak'thwei glared at the female as she stood up, surveying the mess he'd caused because of her. If she'd stayed still, he wouldn't have had such a severe attack and would have most likely been able to walk it off like he'd done so many times before. But she had to try to escape and work him up, leaving him to have a near death experience.

Oh, how he wished he could kill her. How his claws ached to dig into soft flesh, her soft flesh; to make her regret coming back for him.

She came back for me.

The realization struck him like a well placed kick to the gut as his head whipped back to stare at buttons and tactile screens. She could have left, that was the smart thing to do in a situation like hers; and even if for some reason it seemed logical to her to come back, she should have done so to kill him, not save him. Surely, her kind would have spared her life if she was to being back his well-preserved dead body, along with his ship, for them to pick apart and study.

"Hey!"

Her alien voice snapped him out of his conflicting thoughts. He didn't like her tone, especially not when she spoke again, more insistently.

"I'm talking to you."

Slowly, Nrak'thwei turned around. Because of his height, he was used to having to look down at people to make eye contact with them, but she was even shorter than the shortest adult Yautja he'd ever encountered. Her height resembled more that of a juvenile, not even old enough to be blooded. It'd been a long time since he'd had any reason to visit the Soft Meats' home planet. He'd forgotten just how short some adult specimens were, even if they were of average height for their own species' standards.

And still, she stared up at him as if annoyed because he hadn't responded to her calling right away.

She was a bold little creature, that's for sure.

"You're sick," she told him.

It wasn't Nrak'thwei's first time hearing that from a Soft Meat. He was far from a novice hunter. Back in the clan ship, the trophies he'd taken from many worthy human back in his youth, when they were any match to him, adorned his walls. He knew them, enough to know one of their go-to phrases was 'sick bastard'. But this one didn't say it with the disgust that others of her kind usually did– no, she looked at him, concerned. She was not insulting him, just pointing out his condition. Her gaze focused on his lower face and he reached up to find what it was she was looking at, his fingers coming in contact with sticky warmth: blood. He roughly wiped it off.

"Why are you here?"

Now, that was something that made more sense coming from her weird little mouth: interrogation. Nrak'thwei wondered —and hoped— that was her reason to help him. That had to be it, she wanted answers that no other being on this dying planet could provide and he would be of no use for her if he was dead.

Perhaps the possibility of a mutually beneficial alliance wasn't lost just yet. Clearly, the Soft Meat was smart.

Nrak'thwei held his arm out, pressing a combination of buttons on his wrist computer that activated a hologram, it showed the traitor's face, along with some data he doubted the Soft Meat could understand because it was written in his people's language. But he saw the recognition in her eyes when he tilted his arm to allow her to better access to the hologram while also holding his arm at a comfortable distance because he didn't want her touching his gear.

Her weird, hairy brows furrowed with such thoughtfulness. It made him wonder what was in her mind; thankfully, he didn't have to wonder for long. This little Soft Meat was the kind that spoke her mind. That would make things easier for him.

"You're the reason he crashed."

It wasn't a question. What an intuitive little thing she turned to be. Nrak'thwei would admire such a trait if it wasn't for the fact her intuition having saved his life deeply humiliated him. But for now, he could put that feeling aside and focus on the mission.

He nodded and watched how she looked pleased with herself for being correct, though her expression remained thoughtful. Nrak'thwei pressed a different combination of buttons and after a moment of processing the command, a single the Yautja word replaced the hologram of the traitor's face. Another moment and it was translated into clear English symbols.

"Fugitive," the Soft Meat read out loud.

"Fugitive."

Her face turned pale and her eyes went wide when her own voice spoke back to her, not from her own mouth nor from the wrist computer, but from the Yautja before her's very mouth. Nrak'thwei's upper mandibles pulled back and he let out a trill in amusement. Soft Meats were so easy to scare, he'd forgotten how funny it was.

The Soft Meat collected herself, taking a deep breath and releasing it as a long, relatively silent exhale, her brows still pierced in introspection as her eyes focused on him.

"So he–" she motioned to his wrist computer. "–is a criminal?"

Nrak'thwei could have explained that the Fugitive's crime was relative depending on the clan, he could have gone in depth about the complicated and broadly different rules and ideologies of each different clan. He could have done that, but he didn't. The ways of other clans didn't matter for theirs were wrong, and his clan's was the only true way. To his clan, Fugitive was a criminal. That was all the information that mattered.

A nod in confirmation was all the information the Soft Meat would get from him.

The female crossed her arms. "He's a fugitive here too," she pointed. "He killed two in Mexico, and many more back at the laboratory."

There was something else she wanted to say. He could tell. But it took her a moment to continue, the first time so far that he'd seen her show hesitation. Nrak'thwei almost wanted to demand that she spoke freely and already, because she hadn't shown hesitation when she made him make a fool of himself, why now?

Just as he was growing impatient, she spoke.

"We can work together," she offered. "The laboratory has information on him and where he was found, which I can most likely still access. You are the embodiment of all the information I want. It's a win-win situation."

He didn't like the idea of letting some Soft Meat poke at him. Nrak'thwei already had enough scientists back in his clan's ship taking samples, adding new DNA, and just finding any and all reasons to put needles in him; he didn't want a Soft Meat doing the same. Yet, there was something about the way she said it, calling him the embodiment of all she wanted, that was just too much of an ego boost to pass up on hearing what else she might say about him if he stuck around.

The Soft Meat held her right hand out towards him. "So?" she asked, head tilting slightly to the side. "Do we have a deal?"

Nrak'thwei didn't grab her hand, he grabbed her forearm instead, clasping it firmly even when his hand wrapped around it to the point he could touch the first knuckle of his own thumb with the tip of his index finger, and felt her much smaller hand hold onto his own forearm, no chance of wrapping around it.

"It's a win-win," he repeated, borrowing her words and voice.

Chapter Text

Casey was beginning to regret her decision.

Perhaps she expected too much from a creature who's species hunted her own for sport, or she got too confident with the idea that him not being able to hurt her because of some sort of honor code meant he was not going to do anything that upset her either. He proved her wrong when, instead of letting go of her arm like he should have after the deal was made, he kept his grip on her, turning towards the far wall away from the pods and pulling her along with him.

"What are you doing?!" Casey clenched her teeth, her other hand balled into a fist and collided with the Hunter's arm over and over. It left her first sore as all hell. He didn't even flinch. "Let me go!"

Completely ignoring her, he pressed his free hand to a wall and a panel opened, revealing a compartment that stored gear far more advanced than anything humans ever came up with and most likely would come up with in another century or two, some of it looked even more advanced than what she'd seen back at the laboratory with the Fugitive. He grabbed something that resembled that wrist computer he wore, but with a smaller touch screen-like part, and placed it around her arm, pressing the button and, instantly, a beam of red energy connected her 'cuff' —because as fancy as it looked, she realized that was the purpose he was giving it— to his wrist computer like a chain before disappearing. Only then did he let go.

Casey stepped away, glaring at the large alien, until her back made contact with one of the sealed pods.

"Motherfucker," she cursed, uncuffed hand attempting to remove the device.

The Hunter didn't like that. He pressed something on his wrist computer and that chain of red energy appeared again, shortening and sending her stumbling forward and closer to the Hunter.

Casey planted her feet on the ground, pulling back with all her might, but there was no stopping it. It was like one of those retractable leashes for dogs, forcing her forward unless she somehow managed to get the device off. Her shoulder ached with the exertion and that ache soon turned into pain, after which she relented and stepped forward on her own. He stopped pressing the button once the gap between them was reduced to maybe three feet, staring down at her with a look that told her he was doing it just to make a point.

They might have a target in common, but the big bastard wouldn't let her go far.

"A warning would have been enough," Casey pointed, rubbing at her now sore shoulder.

He sure was making it hard to not regret saving his life.

—

Things had calmed down outside of the Stargazer Project facility. Now that there wasn't an over seven feet tall, armed alien or a group of military trained, dangerously volatile ex-soldiers actively trying to escape it, the many members of the 'staff' —that included both armed officers and scientists— had returned to their usual activities.

Casey didn't have a clue about what his plan to sneak them in might be. He wasn't telling her anything.

He hadn't said a word since they left the ship.

"I doubt they think anyone is going to be sneaking in after the mess your Fugitive caused trying to get out," she noted, voice low even if they were at a distance because she didn't want to risk as much as accidentally attracting attention. "But that doesn't mean it will be easy to get in. Not without a plan."

The pinch of determination tightly set in his brow told her he already had a plan, one that hopefully involved her getting in there in one piece as well since they were still chained together thanks of his technology. But that didn't ease her mind, there was just so much that could go wrong. It didn't help that she knew for a fact that these creatures were unpredictable.

Her skin crawled and a sense of vertigo settled in her stomach as she remembered the way the Fugitive used a woman as a shield to avoid being hit by the rows of bullets that were shot his way as soon as he stood from the examination table without even stopping to consider if said woman was a threat.

Casey'd been standing closer to him than that woman was just moments before he woke up.

It could have been her. It still could be her if Big Guy 2 so decided.

Staring down at her hands for a moment, hair falling to frame her face and cover her peripheral, Casey gave a full body shiver. The consequence of having a mind that very graphically considered all the possibilities was that it included the possibility of her imminent death. Her sudden trepidation didn't go unnoticed to her unlikely ally, his gaze focusing on her for a moment before he looked back ahead.

The next time she turned his way, he was gone.

"What the–" she started, standing up from her crouching position and looking around.

The Hunter was nowhere to be found. It didn't make sense. He was an over 10 feet tall alien, he couldn't have just left without making a single noise to alert her of his departure. Unless...

The files had said something about some kind of cloaking device that the Fugitive possessed and had been damaged by the time they'd found and captured him. The technicians had still been trying to figure out how it worked when the big guy decided he'd had enough of being a lab rat and left; but if he had that kind of technology, then it meant the other one should too.

A soft clicking noise, like bone against metal, from behind her made Casey inhale sharply as she spun around, heart hammering inside her chest.

With the bright, white lights from the facility's perimeter reaching them just enough to allow her to see what was right in front of her, Casey was able to make out the tall, translucent silhouette standing right there. She reached out, hand level with her own face, then remembered just how tall this Hunter was and reached higher, refusing to even risk touching him below the belt. Her hand came in contact with toned abdominal flesh and instantly retreated.

When she read the words 'cloaking device' in the files, she didn't expect it to be full on invisibility.

In the blink of an eye, he was visible once more, looking cruelly amused by being responsible for the wide eyed, gawking expression on her face before Casey shook her head and collected herself, frowning up at him.

"You could have given me a warning," she told him off, rolling her eyes before she focused on the illuminated facility just ahead. "If we–" she pointed back and forth between the two of them. "–want this partnership to work, you have to remember we're on the same team. Scare the others, not me."

He trilled in a way that told Casey he liked the idea.

She almost felt bad for whatever poor soul he would implement it on. But then again, these people were going to kill her and she had no doubt they would still try if she gave them the chance. So she couldn't bring herself to feel bad enough to actually stop him.

The fact she probably wouldn't have been able to stop him anyway made that resilient pinch of guilt she did feel in her chest way easier to endure.

Casey caught sight of his hand reaching for her arm and managed to move out of his grasp. He let out an offended chuff as she clutched her own forearm– or well, the device around it. He growled, hand hovering over his wrist computer as if to threaten her, but this time she didn't relent.

"Would it kill you to ask?" she huffed.

Her frustration was met with a huff of his own, an annoyed one, as he rolled his eyes and instead of reaching for her or using his wrist computer to force her towards him like he did back in his ship, he held his hand out, palm facing upwards and fingers bending ever so slightly to beckon her forward.

She would have liked it better without the open display of annoyance, but it was a good start.

Slowky, Caseystepped forward, placing her cuffed arm on his awaiting palm. His fingers wrapped around it, but this time they were loose as his other hand came and pressed a combination of buttons Casey attempted to memorize even if she didn't know the symbols' meanings: top left then bottom right then middle right then top left again.

Some kind of green light extended from the device and enveloped her hand, then up her arm until it covered her entire body like an imperceptibly second skin, scanning her. It disappeared and so did her arm.

"Holy shit," she breathed out, now gawking at his empty palm, but she could still feel the weight of his touch even if the device kept him from touching her skin directly.

Her other hand, just as invisible as the right one, reached up and came in contact with her arm. Despite her intelligence and knowing that this was the advanced alien technology at play, her brain was having a hard time processing the fact that even if she could touch her own limbs, she couldn't see them, it sent a signal down her nervous system: like the unpleasant sensation of ants under the skin when your goes numb, and Casey wondered if this is what a phantom limb felt like.

The Hunter let out a trail of clicks that made her look up. He was saying something, and looking at her with a slight frown and closed mandibles that showed slight disapproval and maybe, if she was reading the look in his eyes right, some concern. Not for her though, more like about the situation.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Stay close," he said, the first word coming out in a woman's voice while the second came out in what sounded like an older man's.

She didn't need to be told twice. Her hand wrapped around his wrist and he seemed taken off guard by it for a moment before his own hand wrapped around her cuffed forearm, starting his way towards the treeline and becoming invisible just as he began stepping out.

Casey took a deep breath. She'd been pretty lucky so far, considering she'd somehow managed to form an alliance with an extraterrestrial mercenary.

But she still mentally begged to whoever might be watching over either of them —she didn't have one specific belief and wasn't about to get picky with deities, maybe the Hunters' would be more helpful than Earth's tended to be— for luck to stay on their side.

—

An uncomfortable tension had settled in Nrak'thwei's neck as they left the relative safety of the trees to approach the facility. The Soft Meat couldn't see herself, nor could she see him. He wanted to beat himself for forgetting to provide her with a chip that would have allowed for her to see him, and herself, without a biomask, because there was no way he was giving the human one of those. She might be as determined to catch the Fugitive as he was, but that didn't erase the fact she was a Soft Meat.

It was especially hard to forget about that when she had her hand, so soft and warm in comparison to a Yautja's, wrapped around his wrist.

First she moved away when he tried to reach for the device and now she held onto him like a youngling with separation anxiety. He'd never understand Soft Meats, especially not this one.

But she was right about one thing: they would need a plan to get inside the facility. Nrak'thwei favored spontaneity and improvising, but the amount of Soft Meats his censors detected in the area quickly threw that option out the window. As they reached the parking lot, he stopped, assessing the area carefully. There were multiple narrow walkways over the concrete parts of the facility.

"Your Fugitive came out through those," the Soft Meat spoke beside him. "I have no idea how, but chances are he made a mess on his way out and we can find it."

Nrak'thwei grunted in acknowledgement, starting to walk once more until they reached the closest area that led to the walkways, which were above ten feet off the ground.

"The ladders are this way–"

He didn't give the female time to end her sentence, yanking his arm from her grasp and wrapping it around her waist instead to lift her off the ground. She struggled at first, but as soon as he jumped, her hands were clutching his arm as she shrieked. The walkway rattled when he landed on it, the Soft Meat's blunt nails digging into the underside of his arm in a way that tickled him. Even after he let her back down, it took her a moment to let go, and she only did so with one hand, not wanting to lose him.

"You're such an asshole," she groaned.

Surprisingly, she sounded less agitated than before, perhaps she was growing used to his behavior. Nrak'thwei wasn't sure if he liked the idea.

Despite knowing she couldn't see him, his head tilted at the word. Soft Meat insults must have changed since the last time he was on Earth, because he hadn't heard that one ever before. But Nrak'thwei had to admit, comparing someone to the hole from which waste came out was a good insult. He liked it.

He might use it.

For now, he focused on the task at hand. The Fugitive had been injured when he escaped, and Nrak'thwei's chip still picked up the remnants of dry blood left on the metal, it was just a matter of following it before they found the way he'd gotten out through.

"Oh no," breathed the Soft Meat.

It was a long way down. Nrak'thwei's brows furrowed upon realizing that the main part of the facility must be a long way underground; the Soft Meat had warmed him about that on the way here, but she'd forgotten to mention just how far down these Soft Meats had hidden.

Such cowardice and secrecy for nothing, his ship's technology had still been able to pick up the traitor's technology's signal down there.

His gaze turned from the seemingly endless void to the female when she stepped away from exit the Fugitive had torn open through the glass dome, which would now be the entrance. She looked pale. Nrak'thwei had to remind himself that humans were far from proficient climbers, most of them weren't even decent at it. Given her lack of defined musculature on her upper body, he should have guessed she wouldn't be the exception.

A shame. But there was no other way, and he wouldn't leave her to wander unsupervised.

His grip tightened on the scientist's wrist, not enough to harm her but enough to leave it clear to her that she wasn't going anywhere but down with him. Nrak'thwei turned to meet her gaze and found her staring at the empty space where the glass panel should be, eyes wide and teeth clenched as her nostrils flared. She looked like she wanted to bolt, and it made him chitter in amusement.

Only then did her gaze turn to him– sort of, she was missing his eyes but a few inches, glaring at his neck instead.

"Fuck you," she hissed. Her brows furrowed in contemplation as she stepped forward once more. "How are we doing this?"

Nrak'thwei could admit, solely in the depth of his own mind where there was no way for the Soft Meat to find out, that he was growing fond of her attitude. She complained and cussed as every other member of her species did, yes; but she was a being of actions, one that wouldn't just stop at complaining and cussing expecting such childish behavior to fix anything, but would get things done. Even when she asked that question out loud, he could tell that she wasn't asking him, but merely thinking out loud as she assessed the situation and searched for a solution. It was the kind of personality that he could grow to admire.

"Look," she spoke again, bending into the dome far enough that for a moment he almost felt concern, his grip tightening on her hand once more. But upon moving closer, he watched her drag her hand over some deep indentation on the concrete wall. "There's more on the way down, it must be a ladder for maintenance staff."

He chuffed in acknowledgement as she straightened herself. His hand slipped from hers and instead rested on her back, he felt her tense as she pushed to get her to step forward, closer to the opening. The Soft Meat reached over her shoulder and missed on the first try, but clung to his arm on the second as she planted her feet firmly on the ground.

"Why do I have to go first?" she questioned, staring wide-eyedly in his general direction and once more missing his face by a few inches. He just might start taking this personally. "I've seen what your kind can do. You always land well. If you slip and fall it would probably barely give you a muscle ache, if you fall while climbing down after me you're going to bring me down with you."

Nrak'thwei couldn't help the snort that left him at her reasoning. Of all the things this little female could be afraid of involving him, she was scared that he would slip and fall? He really was going to start taking offense.

The thing about Soft Meats was that if they were miserable, they made everyone around them miserable; it wouldn't be such a problem if he could just kill her and be done with it, but he had honor. If it meant getting this over with sooner and with as little annoyance as possible, he could accommodate her.

So he nudged her out of the way, struggled to fit through the opening the Fugitive had made, and set his foot on one of the dents in the concrete, then the other, and down he went until he left enough room for the Soft Meat.

He watched her approach then stop, looking around and over her shoulders with the telltale paranoia of a prey animal that felt threatened, then lift her cuffed arm and start pressing a combination he couldn't see on the buttons, but which seemed premeditated. At first nothing happened, then she pressed them again, the opposite way this time, and her eyes widened when the cloaking was deactivated.

She let out a breathy laugh. "I didn't think that would work," she confessed, looking quite proud of herself as she swung one leg over the edge and felt around for the dents on the inner wall.

Her surprise was nothing compared to what Nrak'thwei felt in that moment.

This little Soft Meat was really smart. She'd memorized the pattern of the code after watching him use it once, and not only that but she'd figured out that the same symbols pressed in the opposite order would deactivate the cloaking. Either his passwords were too obvious, or this was something to be impressed by.

Either way, he made a mental note to be mindful of what technology he used around her and just how much he allowed her to see from now on.

For now, he focused on the task at hand. Using a voice command, he turned off his cloaking to ensure that the female would see his hands and not step on them. Looking down, and despite his enhanced eyesight, Nrak'thwei was only able to see a seemingly endless void. If it wasn't because he knew the Fugitive had been down there, he would have doubted that there was anything but a pit dug by the Soft Meats to fulfill Paya knows what purpose.

One thing was for sure. It would be a long way down.

Chapter Text

Casey never considered the possibility that she suffered from vertigo. But as it turned out, it was just because she hadn't been forced into the right circumstances to arouse that response from her.

Until now.

It was frustrating because she couldn't even see the bottom, so to her logical mind it didn't make sense to feel vertigo. But that was part of why this whole situation made her blood run cold. The further down they climbed, the harder, or straight up impossible, it was for the light could reach them and that meant moving blindly, feeling around for the dents that, logically, she knew were there because there would be no way for the large alien under her to keep going down otherwise, but a primal part of her brain planted the illogical fear of there being nothing to hold onto in the dark, of him somehow falling without her realizing in time to stop herself from suffering the same fate. It was the same primal part of her brain that also planted the fear that there might be something dangerous in the darkness below.

Technically, considering that one of the Stargazer Project's soldier tried to kill her and the building was full of them, there was something dangerous below. But Casey was trying to forget that right now and focus on finding the next dent in the concrete, pushing her fingers as far into it as she could, then searching for the next one for her foot, then doing the same with the other side's limbs, and repeat.

Who would have known those summers spent in camps where she was made to climb would come in handy?

Letting out a shaky breath, Casey reminded herself not to look down. Though, honestly, looking up wasn't comforting either; they were pretty far down and the sight of the light getting farther and farther away only reminded her of that. On top of that, her hands ached from the exertion of having to hold onto a rough surface that was probably meant to be available only for personnel wearing gloves.

The hunter below her stopped moving, and Casey froze with one foot in the air, hovering over his hand because he hadn't moved it out of the dent she was supposed to put her hand on.

"Cjit."

The sound he made felt way too much like a word to not be one, but that wasn't the only thing about it that caught her attention. There was something different about the tone: it was that of someone realizing something was wrong. Casey inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

"What does cjit mean?" she asked, already dreading the answer. "What's going on?"

The silence that followed dragged on and felt eternal to her even if, logically, she knew that it only lasted a few seconds. The lack of an instant answer was enough to confirm her fear that something was, indeed, wrong.

"No–" he started, her voice being replayed by his mimicry device. "–dents."

There were no more dents. Nothing else to hold onto. Casey wanted to cry, her eyes stung with the frustration of this whole situation. Fuck the aliens, fuck project Stargazer and fuck whoever designed this stupid place. She hoped an alien ship crashed directly over them.

His hand wrapped around her ankle and he pulled down; it wasn't a hard pull, Casey was certain she wouldn't have been able to hold on if he'd pulled with the intention of getting her to let go. But it was insistent, like he wanted to convince her to do so. Casey shook her head over and over, knowing for a fact he could see her despite the awful illumination. But her negative wasn't the answer he wanted, and so he huffed in frustration. He changed tactics.

Next thing Casey knew, he was no longer below her, but over her. He'd somehow managed to place one foot on the dent where he'd previously had his hand, and pushed his body up until he reached for the dent above her head. The sudden action left him winded, his chest rising and falling against her back, forcing her even closer to the wall. His muscles and exoskeleton made it feel like she was trapped between two walls and so along with the vertigo, Casey felt suddenly claustrophobic. But she didn't have much time to consider the possibility of that being a phobia if hers when one of his arms wrapped around her torso, his knees flexing as he readied for his next movement.

The son of a bitch launched himself away from the wall, bringing her along with him. Gravity took hold in seconds, Casey screamed on the way down and turned in his hold, wanting to strangle him but settling for holding onto him for dear life as they plummeted towards the void below.

The fall ended almost as soon as it started. Casey's body was as tense as a wooden board. She didn't let go, not until what felt like a minute or two after his feet had touched the ground, and it would have taken her longer to pull away if it wasn't because he pulled her away from him like someone removing a tick and placed her down. Her knees bobbled and threatened to give him, so she stumbled towards the closest wall and leaned against it with both hands, ducking her head between her outstretched arms and forcing the bile that clung to the back of her throat to go back down to her stomach.

Of all the things she'd thought his species capable of, a perfect landing from at least 16 feet wasn't one of them.

"Crazy bastard," she breathed, her voice trembling as she glared his way. "Never do that to me again. You hear me? Never."

She must have been looking quite pale because for a moment, Casey could have swore he looked concerned. But the look didn't last long. It disappeared as soon as there was a muffled sound that came from somewhere just beyond the wall she was leaning against. Casey felt around until she found a doorknob, pushing it down slowly to avoid the telltale clicking of the door opening, and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the thin shaft of light that filtered into the darkness as she opened it just a crack.

Cloaking technology or not, maybe they should have come up with a better plan to how to get through the facility.

—

The Soft Meat's hammering heart didn't let him think, the panicked rush of it setting off an instinctual need to provide a solution to the problem causing her distress, and so he'd acted stupidly. He'd climbed back up, surrounding her with his much bigger frame and holding her close before he'd jumped, feeling her arms wrap around his neck and her short, blunt nails dig against the back of his neck in a way that made him glad none of his tresses had gotten in the way of her terrified grip.

Even after he'd landed, her face was pressed against his collarbone. Her warm, shuddering breaths caused gooseflesh to erupt where the quick puffs of air made contact with him. Soft Meats had a high body temperature, he was well aware of that. But Nrak'thwei'd never experienced it like this before, right against his body and clinging to him instead of trying to pull away.

As soon as he realized that it was a comforting sensation, he hastily removed her from his personal space, placing her down and watching as she stumbled like the offspring of one of those horned herbivores native to Earth until she found the wall and was able to lean onto it, her face paler than he thought possible, to the point she looked sick. And yet, despite her ill looks, she insulted him.

This Soft Meat's spirit was truly unbreakable.

Sounds from beyond the wall she was currently leaning against gained his attention. Footsteps and voices in the Soft Meat language that his translation implant wasn't able to pick up because they were muffled by the structure.

Then Nrak'thwei's attention turned back to her as she moved in the dark, finding a door he'd failed to notice, too used to control panels or doors that opened through motion detectors.

So primitive, he thought at the sight of the doorknob.

Light illuminated her face for a moment before he stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder, nudging her back. Nrak'thwei almost reached for her arm, but upon remembering how she'd managed to turn the device off before, he ended up just pointing at said device with an insistence that reflected on the clicks he let out. She understood him well enough, staring down at it for a moment with a thoughtful frown set on her hairy brows, before she pressed the command.

Her capacity to memorize the command despite the high stress he'd put her through was impressive and, to a lesser degree, enviable.

Activating his own cloaking, Nrak'thwei allowed her to go first only because she fit through the door more easily. The primitive, horribly narrow doors had a better chance at being the death of him than any Soft Meat ever did– or, well, almost any Soft Meat. His attention drifted back to the female.

He still didn't understand why she hadn't killed him when she had the chance.

And not only that, but there she was, keeping watch, glancing from one end of the hallway to the other in short intervals and back to the door, checking up on him even if she couldn't see him while he ducked and squeezed his way through the door that was only half as tall.

She almost jumped out of her skin when he touched her arm.

"Fuck!–" she yelped, then clenched her jaw and spoke through gritted teeth. "–ing invisible alien."

A purr left him as his mandibles spread into a smirk. She was so easy to scare, yet to feisty at the same time. Nrak'thwei couldn't help but find amusement in her reactions, even if she attempted to insult him.

His amusement was abruptly cut off when her hand found his, her fingers getting inbetween his hand and her bicep, holding on as she started walking, seeming disoriented. It was then that he realized she probably didn't know the way exactly, but a part of him couldn't blame her, this place was a maze of white walls and long halls, the scents of Soft Meats and whatever chemicals they used to sanitize were assaulting his nostrils, making his stomach twist nauseatingly.

As humiliating as it was, her much smaller hand squeezing his grounded him.

She guided him around a corner and to yet another hall.

"Okay, now I know where I am," she whispered so low that his translators didn't quite get all the words. But he understood from her tone, her body language, and what it did catch that she wasn't disoriented.

He kept count of how many halls they went through, of how many turns they took, in case a swift retreat was needed. Then he stopped when he hears a voice coming from a door they passed, low and stuttering, muffled by the concrete of the walls and metal of said door. His arm was tugged and the Soft Meat stopped as well, turning back as if that would give her an explanation as to why he stopped, but obviously she couldn't see him.

So he lifted his arm while her hand still held his, having her touch the door in an attempt to indicate something was happening there.

"Oh..." the small noise of acknowledgement was almost endearing, but mostly frustrating.

After a moment of contact with the double door, they slid open, making them both tense.

The Soft Meat inside didn't acknowledge them, too busy talking to someone on an old Soft Meat communication device.

The female's hand released his as she stepped into the office, disabling her cloaking.

How foolish.

—

Casey had never been one for stealth– she'd trained in hand to hand combat after moving away from home for college out of a sense of unsafety, yes; but one thing was knowing how to throw a punch or a kick and a completely different one was knowing how to creep up on someone unnoticed. Yet here she was.

She was sure it had little to do with her and a lot to do with the fact the man was too busy speaking in whispers to whoever was on the other end of the line of what looked like a burner phone.

What does a scientist need a burner phone for?

"You are pressuring me too much," Dr. Keyes whispered, his hands shaking with tension as he held the cellphone to his ear. "I cannot gather the necessary intel if you put me at risk like this. We are lucky everyone is too focused on the creature... I know, yes. Yes. I will see to it. I will call as soon as I can gather more information."

Then the call ended abruptly, and the man was left to rub his temples, trying and failing to massage a stress-induced migraine away.

"Dr. Keyes."

He jumped off his chair when he heard her, knocking some pens and a piece of technology of some kind off the desk as he turned and faced her, eyes wide and color having drained from his face.

Sean Keyes had been nice to her. Casey didn't want to think he had anything to do with the situation– if her almost murder could be described as just a situation.

Her partner in crime, however, didn't think the same.

One large, clawed, now visible hand rested on her shoulder and pushed her aside as the other readier a dual-blade that had emerged from the wrist brace he wore, ready to put an end to Keyes' life.

"No, wait!"

It was the stupidest thing she'd ever done, and for a man who might be involved in her assassination attempt. She was well aware of that. But she needed answers. So Casey jumped in the way. Her wide-eyed stare went from the blade up to the hunter's eyes.

"Just wait, okay?" Casey straightened her posture, voice lowering into a serious tone. "I got this."

The Hunter stared at her, his hairless, protruding brows deeply furrowed. Then the look of confusion and disapproval in his eyes turned into a glare as he looked over her shoulder and glared at the man currently cowering behind Casey.

To hide behind an unarmed female, and one at least a head shorter than him at that, was quite a display of cowardice no matter the species. Casey was aware of just how his kind despised such weakness, it was all over their files how they favored the brave.

Not to mention the man was actively tinkering with Yautja technology.

She only realized this because as the Hunter relented and stepped back, seemingly deciding that it wouldn't hurt to let her handle this so long as it worked, he went for the small device that had fallen from the desk when Dr. Keyes almost jumped out of his skin.

Casey turned her back to the Hunter, facing Keyes and holding her hands up to show she didn't mean any harm. She wished she could say neither did the tall alien behind her, but that would be a lie and she'd never been one for such blatant dishonesty.

Then she remembered the very last direct interaction she had with a Stargazer Project member, and her brows furrowed.

"Dr. Keyes," she started, her tone lacking any of her previous sympathy. "Did you know that an order was given to kill me?"

Sean's eyes snapped from the hulking figure behind Casey to her, eyes wide from fear that turned into shock at what he perceived to be an accusation.

"What?" he asked, afraid to raise his tone beyond a whisper. "Of course not, I– nobody here would do that."

"When I got here, the order to lobotomise the witness was already given," Casey pointed. "and all he did was be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I stole a vial of extraterrestrial bone marrow. I'm not asking if someone would, I'm asking if you knew."

"No!" Sean shook his head frantically. "I cannot even think of who–"

"Stargazer, I got eyes on the woman, instructions?"

Both Casey and Dr. Keyes jumped where they stood and she wiped around to find the source of the voice, expecting to find a guard that somehow managed to sneak up on them ready to put a bullet through her head, or Dr. Keyes', or both. But all she found was the Hunter, gazing down at her.

The voice was coming from him.

"Eliminate her." came next, and Casey realized it was Traeger's voice.

The Hunter had been witness of her assassination attempt. He must have recorded everything.

"Retrieve any contraband." commanded Traeger's voice, then it changed back to the first one: some soldier that was no longer among the living if he'd been the one standing between her and the Hunter just before he'd abducted her. "Roger that, stargazer."

Casey turned her head back towards the doctor, having to pretend that she knew that would happen to keep some semblance of control over the situation. She tried to put herself in the man's shoes– to him, in this moment, she and the alien behind her were working together, having stalked into his office and cornered him. He probably wanted to make a run for the once more closed double doors that were the only exit, but was too scared to move, and too smart to think he could outrun the Hunter that current had to bend slightly at the waist to even for into the office standing up. But most importantly, Sean Keyes had no knowledge of just what kind of deal or understanding had allowed for such an alliance to happen, he had no idea if the Hunter respected or agreed to obey her, and she planned to keep it that way.

It was time for some good cop, bad cop.

"I believe you," Casey said, giving a step to the side, but still remaining somewhat in the Hunter's way. "But my friend here... well, he was attacked when he got through the atmosphere, so you surely can understand why he's not too fond of us humans."

Catching on with what she was doing, the Hunter let out a long, guttural growl that drifted into soft yet threatening clicks of his bone tusks against his metal one.

"But that could change. He could trust you and you get to walk out of here unharmed, or not. It will all depend on if you are honest with me– completely honest." Casey's understanding expression hardened into a serious, no-nonsense one, her tone losing its softness, turning demanding as she gave a step forward, and the Hunter behind her did so too, cornering Dr. Keyes between them and his desk. "Who were you talking to?"

Chapter Text

Just about a day ago, Casey was just a microbiology teacher, spending the early afternoon with her dog at one of those campus events that allowed for both students and university personnel to take their pets and spend time with them on the many green areas.

It was easy to forget that, given her current situation.

As Dr. Keyes spoke, fast and understandably afraid, about yet another group that sought to make contact with the Hunters and any other alien lifeforms that might try to interact with the Earth, Casey became more and more aware of the terrifying reality that she might never be able to go back to being the Casey Bracket that was just a college microbiology teacher ever again.

But she didn't let it show, keeping a tight grip on her emotions so that they wouldn't filter into her voice or expression even as her heart hammered inside her chest and her vision got encircled by darkness with the dizzying shock caused by all the new information. She blinked that dizziness away, finding some comfort in the Hunter that towered behind her.

It was ironic to feel comforted by his presence considering he would have killed her in his ship if it wasn't for the fact he suffered an attack of some kind. But she was becoming desensitized from the possibility of death– being almost killed three times in a matter of maybe 18 hours by three different individuals who didn't share motives to make an attempt on her life had that effect on her.

"The Stargazer project is part of a much bigger program," Keyes explained as fast as his speech capacity allowed. Not wanting to risk the Hunter's frustration if he took too long and the creature grew impatient. "One that's been active since the late 80s, and works all over the globe, not just America and surrounding countries. The Other Worldly Life Forms Program, OWLF for short."

The chuff-click sound the Hunter let out conveyed what both he and Casey thought. It was a stupid name. Its stupidity, however, was irrelevant.

"If you were talking to the people paying Stargazer's bills you wouldn't have been acting so secretive," Casey retorted. The Hunter growled behind her. "So let me ask again."

Before she could say another word, the sound of crushing metal behind her made her turn around. The Hunter had held the little stolen device in one hand and crushed it, the pieces now falling from his open palm, bent or straight up reduced to unidentifiable scrap. He had a look in his eyes, one that left it clear he'd do the same to each of Keyes' bones if given an excuse. After all, he'd just broken something that belonged to his people without hesitation or remorse. He could certainly do worse to a human he didn't care about.

He was born for the bad cop role. A complete natural.

Casey turned back to Dr. Keyes. "Let me ask again*,*" she articulated her words in a flat, monotone voice. But as she spoke, she gave a step forward and stared intensely into the doctor's eyes. She noticed how, behind her, the Hunter also gave a step forward and let out a growl that came from deep in his armored chest. Casey repeated the question, hammering it out with staccato precision: "Who were you talking to?!"

"I'm a spy!" Keyes finally cracked. "I work for Weyland Corporation!"

Her fiery determination turned into visible confusion when he said that. Then her brows furrowed.

"He's lying," Casey said, giving half a step to the side.

It was all she needed to get out of the Hunter's way. He didn't hesitate, stepping forward as Keyes paled, stumbling back but not getting very far because his own desk was in the way. The Hunter towered over him even as Keyes crawled onto the desk to try and get it between himself and the giant of an alien, but the Hunter grabbed him by his lab coat and yanked him back.

"I'm not lying!" Keyes was visibly at the brink of tears now. Casey couldn't blame him, she'd be crying too if she was in his place. "I swear I'm not lying!"

"Weyland Corp is a technology and communication company," Casey retorted. "They make phones, satellites, and–"

"And fourteen years ago, the founder died during an expedition in Bouvetoya," Keyes spoke. "He died searching a pyramid buried centuries ago."

He stopped. The Hunter stopped and just gripped the fabric of Keyes' coat, his mandibles tight against his mouth and his eyes wide with what Casey registered as recognition and realization.

A heavy sensation settled deep in Casey's gut. The kind of discomfort she always felt when she could tell that everyone in the room knew something she didn't, and if there was something she absolutely despised, that was being out of the loop. She stepped forward again, reaching to rest her hand on the Hunter's arm. Before she could make contact, he retreated his hand from Keyes, giving a step back and going back to looming over her.

He was being really cooperative all of a sudden.

Something was definitely wrong.

She remembered the incident Keyes spoke of well. It'd been the only thing the media talked about for a long while, a lot of money had been lost in the stocks market because of Charles Bishop Weyland's death, the families, friends and sympathizers of the expedition's crew members would stand outside Congress and multiple embassies demanding to know why nothing was being done to retrieve the bodies of their loved ones– hell, she'd named her dog after the sole survivor. That was the impact the news had.

"That was an accident," Casey said, though her words didn't hold any conviction, she was just repeating what the news had parroted for weeks. "A cave-in killed everyone but the guide."

"That's what they told the public," Keyes panted, visibly shaken by having been quite literally in death's clutches just moments before. "I'm sure you can imagine the panic that would spread if they'd told people that crew was killed during an alien ritualistic hunt."

The Hunter growled behind her. But it wasn't the "You're lying." kind of growl, it was more the "I don't like that you know that." kind.

Slowly, Casey turned to look up at him. He didn't meet her gaze right away, glaring at the scientist before he lowered his head to stare down at her. She took a deep breath, then released it slowly before she spoke.

"Is that true?"

A part of her wanted him to say no. She'd rather believe than Keyes was lying than believe his kind's attacks weren't something that happened only to soldiers deployed to shady missions that nobody would ever find any document about or people who actively stick their noses in the Hunters' business, but to a group of researchers off on an archeology mission.

But he nodded, confirming Keyes' words, and whatever Casey believes she knew about his kind crumbled like a dry sandcastle under the relentless force of a tsunami.

Focus, she told herself.

Casey still needed answers and she wouldn't get them if she let Keyes believe that this partnership wasn't rock solid.

However, she didn't have to pretend. The sound of some alarm under Keyes' desk left her with no time to. The scientist paled once more, moving around the desk faster than Casey could stop him– thankfully, it was only to turn off the alarm.

"Someone's coming."

"Shit."

Instinctively, Casey turned to the door trying to figure out a course of action. But the Hunter had other plants.

He stepped towards Keyes, grabbed him not by his robes, but by his shirt and lifted him off the ground and up until the flailing man was at eye level. If looks could kill, Casey knew for sure that Keyes would have died on the spot.

"I'm a spy!" came Keyes' distorted voice, perfectly mimicked by the Hunter. "I work for Weyland Corporation!"

Then, the Hunter growled, placing the scientist down with a gentleness that was completely uncharacteristic. But he didn't break eye contact, staring for half a minute before he gazed towards the door, then back at Keyes. The threat was clear.

If they fell, Keyes was falling with them.

The death glared disappeared when the Hunter turned to Casey, pressing a few buttons on his wrist computer and activating both their cloaking. Casey was left looking at Keyes' awed and confused expression before she felt hands on her shoulders urging her to walk backwards until her back met the wall.

There was a harsh knock on the door that startled the scientist.

"Come on in!" Keyes called, voice taking a higher pitch than he probably intended it to.

In came two soldiers. Their primary gun on their holsters at their waist while semi automatic rifles hung at their backs. They paused at the sight of the office, more specifically the mess around the desk, and the pieces of broken technology on the floor.

"Traeger asked me to dispose of some evidence," Keyes was quick to lie. "Nothing big, just something the college girl left behind."

Casey would have been offended by the fact she'd seemingly been nicknamed "College girl" if it wasn't because she was currently way too focused on the fact the Hunter was right in front of her, his body leaving very little space between them, as if he was trying trying to shield her despite the fact they were both invisible.

She lifted her arm and instantly regretted it. Her hand came in contact with his thigh, following the line downwards to find that both his knees were touching the wall at each side of her. He'd ducked down, and he was facing her, and he could see the way heat crawled up to her face, turning her face her in mortification.

Overwhelmed by the proximity, Casey pressed her hand flat against his chest. The mortification that plagued her pushed to the side as worry took the spotlight, his heart was beating rapidly– not the "I'm very close to someone." type of rushed heartbeat, but a concerningly quick one. On top of that, his chest kept rising and falling with short but quick breaths, as if he'd run a marathon.

Fuck, now was not the time for the symptoms of whatever was wrong with him to make an appearance.

And on top of that, she'd completely missed whatever it was that Keyes was talking about with the two soldiers. By the time her attention turned back to them, they were sharing a polite but uncaring farewell and both armed men exited the office.

Casey counted to ten in her mind, feeling a total of eighteen beats against her palm on his chest, before she moved her hand away and deactivated her cloaking, moving over the Hunter's knee and towards Keyes.

"He's sick," she told Keyes. "I don't know what he has, but I have my theories. He had an attack earlier and he's experiencing tachycardia right now. 18 beats every ten seconds. We need to move him somewhere safe."

The use of 'we' was her unspoken cry for Keyes' help. Perhaps it was hypocrite to ask for anything from the man when just minutes before she'd been threatening him with death by the hand of an eleven feet tall alien who, most likely, already had a numerous body count.

"You didn't warn me about Traeger," she accused.

They'd already resorted to threats and extortion, there was no reason for her to be above guilt tripping him into helping them.

The Hunter's breathing became laboured, giving away his position somewhere just behind Casey. Somehow, she didn't react to the proximity, body already far too tense to do anything but stare at Dr. Keyes.

"You owe me this much."

Sean Keyes was a man who'd struck Casey as kind and perhaps far too non-confrontational for his own good when she met him, then as a coward and a liar. But now, as he muttered a curse and turned back to his desk to grab the burner phone and some other nonsensical things, she finally saw the Sean Keyes that might actually be a spy infiltrated into a CIA project and working for a corporation worth billions of dollars.

Especkallr when he headed for the door, his hand grabbing Casey's arm, stopping for some fraction of a second when he noticed the alien device he'd come in contact with instead of skin, with an assertiveness that made him almost respect him.

The Hunter grabbed her other arm, pulling her back towards him with a dangerous growl that was cut off by a wheeze, which still managed to be threatening.

Keyes' assertiveness died.

"They'll kill us all if they f-find you here," he stuttered. "I- I know where we can safely check what's wrong with him."

The desperation in Keyes' expression grew with each passing second as Casey stood there with her arms stretched like Jesus on the cross. Then her hand wrapped around the Hunter's forearm– or tried to, because she wasn't even close to fully wrapping her fingers around it, and she gave a step towards Keyes, pulling the Hunter along while yanking her other arm free of the scientist's hold.

"Lead the way," she conceded.

He was out the door like a bat out of hell before she fully finished the sentence, but they followed closely behind.

About a day ago, Casey was a college microbiology teacher. Her only worries were grading papers and the usual, brief laps of insecurity about of she was a good teacher when some student managed to just completely misunderstand all the material she'd explained in class. Now, she was a giant, sickly alien hunter's doctor, leading his cloaked self to safety by the hand, following a corporate spy through a CIA facility. And somehow, her only concern was not the situation, not even her own safety, but the murderous alien's well-being.

There was no way she'd ever be able to go back to her old life.