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Saren’te drove his spear deep into the soft flesh of the human. It gave a high pitched cry of pain and fell, its red blood spilling upon the hull’s floor. Saren’te raised his wrist blades high, and brought them down on the back of the human. He stabbed it once, twice, and then raised his fist for a third blow when a clawed hand grabbed his wrist. His head came up, eyes glaring though the lenses of the metal mask. He respectfully bowed his head to his leader, An’tir’de.
He had been in a battle rage. They came often in remembrance of his dead father and grandfather. He had been close to his grandfather, even closer to his father. They had both been killed by humans. His grandfather’s body was never found, yet the main ship received an automatic message that was sent out with the activation of a self-destruct mechanism. His father had been murdered upon his own ship, with his own weapon. This thought enraged Saren’te. No human, dead or alive, was worthy of wielding a Yautja weapon.
“Collect your trophy. We need to count losses, if any, and prepare for any means of retaliation.” The leader turned away from Saren’te. The silence was enough of a punishment for the student. Many called Saren’te mad for his battle rages, but An’tir’de knew better. He had often been in groups with the boy’s father and grandfather. Good, strong warriors both of them. Saren’te proved he had inherited his patriarchal strengths, yet the losses seemed to mess with his mind. He would learn though. If he didn’t... well he would die; whether it be in the hunt or an ordered death by the clan leaders, death would come. Death came to all; some sooner than others, but it was unnecessary to dwell on these thoughts. The hunt was on, and honor was the game.
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“Damn!” Mike Harrigan ducked as bullets whizzed by his head. His team of about two dozen had been put at the front line of a raid on a drug hold. Unfortunately, the information received left out the small fact that the building was heavily armed by crazed, trigger-happy, drug lords and their lackeys.
The building was located in an abandoned part of Los Angelus. It was a four story, rundown, warehouse; perfect for drug and weapon storage. On the roof were four men with machine guns picking off Harrigan’s group one by one.
“Harrigan! They’ve got us surrounded! We’re being picked of like flies! I hope you got a plan to pull our asses of this fire!”
Harrigan struggled to see through the smoke and flames and see the speaker. It was the kid. Her name was Jean, but because of her age, everyone called her the kid. She was eighteen, but had been in this squad for five of those eighteen years. No one really knew what her past was, but she must have done something the government didn’t want her to talk about. In spite of her big mouth, she was a good soldier with guns, knives, and her bare hands.
At the moment, Harrigan wasn’t in the mood for the big mouth. “Kid, get off your ass and take down those machine guns!”
The kid had her orders, and she needed nothing more. Within the next minute, one of the machine gun wielders was dead on the ground while the others ducked as bullets flew by their heads.
Harrigan knew they were going to have to get to the building soon or all of his men would be dead. The orders were infiltrating the building and destroy all those who didn’t surrender. It didn’t look like any of the defenders were going to surrender anytime soon, and the orders said nothing about not demolishing the building. The closest building that held homes or stores was over 30 city blocks away, so the destruction of the building would not anger anyone besides the drug-lords and the generals that give Harrigan his orders.
So what if the bosses got pissed. What would they do? Fire him? No, his place this squad was permanent. It had been for five years; ever since those psycho aliens came. He had battled, and won against one, and they had immediately transferred him to this squad with a bunch of others who either found out or did something they shouldn’t have, and the government didn’t want to waste time or money silencing them.
He called out to his team, “We need to get explosives in that building! I don’t care how, or where; we’re leveling this building!” With a unanimous nod, the team pulled out the explosives they had all been equipped with. Half the team, now about six including Harrigan, provided cover for the rest that charged towards the building headed by the kid. She managed to get under the overhang as did three others. The kid and one of the men raced into the building leaving the other two outside to set and activate the TNT.
After about two minutes, the kid and her partner came running out of the building. The two that had been setting the bombs were back in the limited safety of the abandoned cars and dumpsters Harrigan’s team took cover behind. The kid ran directly behind her partner, which proved to be a mistake. The snipers the drug-lord had set up took down the kid’s partner. She tried to dodge his body, only to jump into the on coming path of a bullet.
Harrigan saw blood and assumed the kid was gone. He was shocked when the kid jumped over the hood of the car he was hiding behind and take cover. He glanced down. She had been grazed by a bullet on the upper arm, but as far as he could see, it was superficial.
“Let’s go!” Harrigan called out to his team. He reached down to help the kid to her feet, only to find the kid was on her feet grabbing his hand to pull him behind her. The bomb had been triggered and they had thirty seconds to get out of the blast area. There were excited cheers coming from the druggies that were soon drown out by a large explosion and the collapsing of the storage building.
After the main blast, the team gathered in the shelter of an old flower shop and radioed for a pick-up. The team of two dozen had been whittled down to a mere nine. Two men were stationed outside, in case if any of the drug lords lived and wanted some payback, as the rest tended to wounds.
Harrigan leaned against a wall wiping his face off that was dripping with sweat. He wished that he could go back to his old life with Danny, Leonia, and even that annoying kid Jerry. Leonia lived though her alien encounter as far as he knew, but her survival was only ensured by the fact she was pregnant. Harrigan raised his head and looked out a broken window in the sky; the death of the alien he fought didn’t seem to even start to cover the revenge he wanted for the sudden downfall of his job, friends, and life.
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Dutch Schaffer sat in the office of General James Andrews. He had been called in from the mission in Venezuela to report for a “top secret” assignment. Dutch didn’t really care what the assignment was; he had been moved around so much that he felt that the Generals were just trying to keep him out of the way. Ten years ago his life had changed. Sometimes, he wished that hunter had killed him, rather than live out his life in this hellhole that the military called his squad.
With the click of a lock, the door swung open to reveal General Andrews. He was a short, stocky man with thinning black hair. He wore all the regalia of a high ranked General. He walked past Dutch and sat down in a black leather chair behind a paper cluttered desk. The General sighed and looked up at Dutch
“Well, I don’t suppose you know why you’re here?” the General asked in a low, deep voice. Dutch smirked and replied, “Another suicide-mission in some third world country? At least that’s what you guys have been giving me in these past ten years.”
“No. The mission I am going to assign you in more... personal that the others you have been given.” The General seemed rather tense, as if he were uncomfortable telling Dutch about this little assignment.
“Hostage retrieval?” Dutch could see this was leading to something big, but exactly what he couldn’t tell. “Well, if there are hostages or survivors, then yes; but it is more of a search and destroy mission if you will.”
The General opened his mouth to continue when there was a knock on the door. The door opened revealing a soldier. “Sir, the other man you requested for is here. Do you wish for me to send him in?”
“Yes, send him in,” the General replied quickly. The solider disappeared for a moment then opened the door and ushered a man inside. He was an African-American at an average height with short black hair. The man sat down in an empty seat next to Dutch.
“Officer Schaffer, I would like to introduce you to Officer Michael Harrigan.”
He had been in a battle rage. They came often in remembrance of his dead father and grandfather. He had been close to his grandfather, even closer to his father. They had both been killed by humans. His grandfather’s body was never found, yet the main ship received an automatic message that was sent out with the activation of a self-destruct mechanism. His father had been murdered upon his own ship, with his own weapon. This thought enraged Saren’te. No human, dead or alive, was worthy of wielding a Yautja weapon.
“Collect your trophy. We need to count losses, if any, and prepare for any means of retaliation.” The leader turned away from Saren’te. The silence was enough of a punishment for the student. Many called Saren’te mad for his battle rages, but An’tir’de knew better. He had often been in groups with the boy’s father and grandfather. Good, strong warriors both of them. Saren’te proved he had inherited his patriarchal strengths, yet the losses seemed to mess with his mind. He would learn though. If he didn’t... well he would die; whether it be in the hunt or an ordered death by the clan leaders, death would come. Death came to all; some sooner than others, but it was unnecessary to dwell on these thoughts. The hunt was on, and honor was the game.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Damn!” Mike Harrigan ducked as bullets whizzed by his head. His team of about two dozen had been put at the front line of a raid on a drug hold. Unfortunately, the information received left out the small fact that the building was heavily armed by crazed, trigger-happy, drug lords and their lackeys.
The building was located in an abandoned part of Los Angelus. It was a four story, rundown, warehouse; perfect for drug and weapon storage. On the roof were four men with machine guns picking off Harrigan’s group one by one.
“Harrigan! They’ve got us surrounded! We’re being picked of like flies! I hope you got a plan to pull our asses of this fire!”
Harrigan struggled to see through the smoke and flames and see the speaker. It was the kid. Her name was Jean, but because of her age, everyone called her the kid. She was eighteen, but had been in this squad for five of those eighteen years. No one really knew what her past was, but she must have done something the government didn’t want her to talk about. In spite of her big mouth, she was a good soldier with guns, knives, and her bare hands.
At the moment, Harrigan wasn’t in the mood for the big mouth. “Kid, get off your ass and take down those machine guns!”
The kid had her orders, and she needed nothing more. Within the next minute, one of the machine gun wielders was dead on the ground while the others ducked as bullets flew by their heads.
Harrigan knew they were going to have to get to the building soon or all of his men would be dead. The orders were infiltrating the building and destroy all those who didn’t surrender. It didn’t look like any of the defenders were going to surrender anytime soon, and the orders said nothing about not demolishing the building. The closest building that held homes or stores was over 30 city blocks away, so the destruction of the building would not anger anyone besides the drug-lords and the generals that give Harrigan his orders.
So what if the bosses got pissed. What would they do? Fire him? No, his place this squad was permanent. It had been for five years; ever since those psycho aliens came. He had battled, and won against one, and they had immediately transferred him to this squad with a bunch of others who either found out or did something they shouldn’t have, and the government didn’t want to waste time or money silencing them.
He called out to his team, “We need to get explosives in that building! I don’t care how, or where; we’re leveling this building!” With a unanimous nod, the team pulled out the explosives they had all been equipped with. Half the team, now about six including Harrigan, provided cover for the rest that charged towards the building headed by the kid. She managed to get under the overhang as did three others. The kid and one of the men raced into the building leaving the other two outside to set and activate the TNT.
After about two minutes, the kid and her partner came running out of the building. The two that had been setting the bombs were back in the limited safety of the abandoned cars and dumpsters Harrigan’s team took cover behind. The kid ran directly behind her partner, which proved to be a mistake. The snipers the drug-lord had set up took down the kid’s partner. She tried to dodge his body, only to jump into the on coming path of a bullet.
Harrigan saw blood and assumed the kid was gone. He was shocked when the kid jumped over the hood of the car he was hiding behind and take cover. He glanced down. She had been grazed by a bullet on the upper arm, but as far as he could see, it was superficial.
“Let’s go!” Harrigan called out to his team. He reached down to help the kid to her feet, only to find the kid was on her feet grabbing his hand to pull him behind her. The bomb had been triggered and they had thirty seconds to get out of the blast area. There were excited cheers coming from the druggies that were soon drown out by a large explosion and the collapsing of the storage building.
After the main blast, the team gathered in the shelter of an old flower shop and radioed for a pick-up. The team of two dozen had been whittled down to a mere nine. Two men were stationed outside, in case if any of the drug lords lived and wanted some payback, as the rest tended to wounds.
Harrigan leaned against a wall wiping his face off that was dripping with sweat. He wished that he could go back to his old life with Danny, Leonia, and even that annoying kid Jerry. Leonia lived though her alien encounter as far as he knew, but her survival was only ensured by the fact she was pregnant. Harrigan raised his head and looked out a broken window in the sky; the death of the alien he fought didn’t seem to even start to cover the revenge he wanted for the sudden downfall of his job, friends, and life.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dutch Schaffer sat in the office of General James Andrews. He had been called in from the mission in Venezuela to report for a “top secret” assignment. Dutch didn’t really care what the assignment was; he had been moved around so much that he felt that the Generals were just trying to keep him out of the way. Ten years ago his life had changed. Sometimes, he wished that hunter had killed him, rather than live out his life in this hellhole that the military called his squad.
With the click of a lock, the door swung open to reveal General Andrews. He was a short, stocky man with thinning black hair. He wore all the regalia of a high ranked General. He walked past Dutch and sat down in a black leather chair behind a paper cluttered desk. The General sighed and looked up at Dutch
“Well, I don’t suppose you know why you’re here?” the General asked in a low, deep voice. Dutch smirked and replied, “Another suicide-mission in some third world country? At least that’s what you guys have been giving me in these past ten years.”
“No. The mission I am going to assign you in more... personal that the others you have been given.” The General seemed rather tense, as if he were uncomfortable telling Dutch about this little assignment.
“Hostage retrieval?” Dutch could see this was leading to something big, but exactly what he couldn’t tell. “Well, if there are hostages or survivors, then yes; but it is more of a search and destroy mission if you will.”
The General opened his mouth to continue when there was a knock on the door. The door opened revealing a soldier. “Sir, the other man you requested for is here. Do you wish for me to send him in?”
“Yes, send him in,” the General replied quickly. The solider disappeared for a moment then opened the door and ushered a man inside. He was an African-American at an average height with short black hair. The man sat down in an empty seat next to Dutch.
“Officer Schaffer, I would like to introduce you to Officer Michael Harrigan.”
