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All Good Things Come to Those Who Wait	By : torturequeen06 Category: M through R > Predator Views: 13303 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Predator or anything associated with it. I don't make money off of this and never would ask for any. This is simply for enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 10
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- 12
bloodravyn- Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Hope you like this one as well.
Priscilla- I'm glad you're liking the story so far. No matter how sparse you review it is much appreciated.
Uchiha Mizuki- Thank you for the two reviews. Here's a new chapter for you.
Well, I made this chapter extra long for you guys to make up for my lack of posting. Hopefully, I'll have another one up for you guys eventually. Not as climatic as I had hoped it would be,but it'll do for now. Hope you enjoy.
*** *** ***
The fiery orange eyes of Mar’tak’s watched the Arathians from the safety of the thick foliage the forest provided. The Arathian that appeared to be the leader was studying the new men that had arrived just moments before (the reinforcements had made it). There were only fifteen Arathians in total, but Mar’tak knew that would be more than enough to decimate the oomans inside the complex that was located not even fifteen yards from where he currently stood. Even with that ooman female (he was sure her name was Jack) they didn’t stand a chance. He was sure B’rasch and him wouldn’t make much of a difference either. The Arathians were fast, strong, and relentless (the ones that chose to fight) as he had discovered while trying to protect the ooman female that B’rasch had deemed important. Though she had been unarmed and caught completely by surprise, the ooman female had fought with just as much ferocity as her opponents. Mar’tak had known the female was a fighter, having watched her those years ago, but he had not known just how well she could defend herself. Even sustaining a large amount of damage, she continued to fight until the Arathians had been forced to retreat, which hadn’t been until most were dead. Having joined the fight later, Mar’tak had been the less injured out of the two of them, having received only a deep cut on his forearm, which had bled freely until he had reached the ship to treat it. With the wounds she had received, the ooman had passed out almost instantly the Arathians had left. Not knowing what else to do, Mar’tak had waited until her comrades had come, only leaving after he was satisfied the clumsy male, who had tripped over her snow covered body, could take care of her.
His attention went back to the Arathians he was currently spying on. The new arrivals must have passed inspection for the leader gave them a curt nod and gestured for them all to take their seats. When the men had sat as they were told to do, the Leader moved a good distance away from the group and stared at the complex as if he were trying to see through the thick walls. The male’s mouth kept moving as if he was speaking to someone though no one was near him. Mar’tak’s mask was sensitive enough to where it could catch little breaths of air coming from him, but it could not pick up the words that were being said. The way the male’s eyes darted back and forth, Mar’tak guessed it as his way of forming a strategy. It was confirmed after several minutes when the male went quiet, headed back to the group, and started to speak quickly and quietly to them occasionally pointing toward some spot on the building.
Mar’tak chose this time to leave. He hadn’t seen a point in him sticking around since he could not understand the language, and even if he got it translated, it would most likely be too late, not to mention it was starting to snow heavily- the storm had stopped its threats and decided to act finally. At least he knew there was going to be an attack, he just didn’t know when or what exactly was detailed in the plan. If he could get word to his younger brother, then the Arathians’ inevitable attack wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Perhaps the oomans could strengthen their greatly weakened defenses for the assault. But, that was never going to happen. There was just no way for Mar’tak to speak with B’rasch. After the attack on the ooman female, he was sure that no one would be allowed to leave the building without an escort, if they were even allowed to leave at all.
The ship Mar’tak had been calling home for the past few months was nice, warm, and humid, in other words, absolutely perfect. As soon as he stepped inside he felt more at ease. Though he had trekked through the thick snow leaving perfectly evident footprints, Mar’tak had no fear of being discovered. The ship, a small private vessel his family had used for hunts for many years, was nestled deep within the woods only the forest creatures keeping it and him company. Not a single ooman or Arathian had ever traveled this far into the forest, but to be sure, he left the cloaking device on (useless now because of his carelessness). A weary sigh left him as he sat down for the first time in hours, resting his legs and feet. Spying on the Arathians was proving to be a pain. Completely sitting down had been out of the question since he had to be prepared to move at any given moment so he had settled for a crouch, a position he had held for hours. Not like it did him much good. He hadn’t understood a single word the Arathians had said. The only real thing he had learned was that they had reinforcements and sometime soon they were going to attack the compound. The time he had spent in hiding really didn’t seem worth it to him having learned only those two things.
If only he could learn where his youngest brother was, then everything that happened would be worth it. Mar’tak knew that Ja’thii was somewhere deep in the jungle on the ooman planet. The very same jungle B’rasch and he both had frequented as often as they could. But the jungle was vast and there were many possibilities on where he was located. All Mar’tak hoped was that Ja’thii wasn’t trapped in some ooman facility as B’rasch was. It would make extracting him a little more difficult. Not that they were supposed to go get him. What they were doing was against the Code, but it was something that they had to do. Neither B’rasch nor Mar’tak could leave their brother on a strange planet to die, especially when it wouldn’t be an honorable death. When they got Ja’thii back and went home, many were going to shun the young yautja, but then again, given the circumstances, they might overlook everything. Ja’thii had not been the only yautja hunting on the ooman planet, there had been one more. A partner of sorts. This other yautja had been the one to play the pair to the planet, and had unexplainably left the younger yautja on the planet with no means of getting home. Mar’tak swore if he ever found the male who had vanished without a trace, he would kill him.
Reluctantly, Mar’tak’s eyes slowly started to close. It had been a long time since he last slept, worry too much about his brothers to do so, and he was long overdue for it. If he had had a choice, he would have tried to force his eyes to stay open, as he had been. His body had decided it was finally time to rest, and he could no longer muster the will to fight against it. A couple of hours, that all he needed. Just a couple of hours and he would be back up and spying on the Arathians or staring at the compound in hopes of catching a glimpse of B’rasch. Yes, just a couple hours, and with that thought, he finally fell asleep.
*** *** ***
Jack kneeled on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom she shared with B’rasch, her face hovering inches above the water in the bowl of the toilet (prayin’ to the porcelain god). A violent heave emptied the remnants of the meal she had eaten less than a half an hour ago. Small splashes echoed in the bowl as the bile hit its mark. This was followed by another heave and more splashing. All too soon her stomach was empty, leaving her to dry-heave over the bowl, which lasted for five minutes until she regained control of her body once again, considerably less time than when she had first started this routine of vomiting three days ago. It happened after every meal, and it was really starting to affect her. Ashley had even halted his experiments to try figure out what was wrong with her, which had proved to be a near impossible task. Since she was so biologically different now, he couldn’t tell what was normal and what wasn’t. Being completely stumped, he had asked for Hamilton’s help, but he quickly proved to be useless when it came to anything medical, leaving Ashley to try and figure it out all on his own. He hoped that he could figure it out before his sister died.
Groaning, Jack pulled herself off the floor by using the sink. Fearful she was going to pass out, she held onto the edges of the sink so tightly her knuckles were paper white. She released one hand and turned on the faucet to rinse out her mouth and splash the cold water on her face. B’rasch large form hovered in the doorway, knowing she would need help into the bed and prepared to catch her if she were to lose balance or consciousness. Somehow, she had always managed to make it to the bed without him, but he was sure she was going to need his help this time (he was always sure of it). Her condition had been worsening at an alarming rate. One day she was fine, and then she was nauseous which quickly turned to puking. Just earlier that day she was complaining about having being tired and finding it hard to stand on her own. Several times while walking from the mess hall to their bedroom she had to stop to rest. It worried B’rasch, but there was not much he could do but try to help her around and pray to Paya she would get better.
The room seemed to spin as Jack pushed off of the sink and turned toward the door B’rasch hovered in. Instinctively, her hand reached for the sink, missed, and she nearly fell down. If it weren’t for B’rasch, she would have surely cracked her skull on the floor. With the condition of her body at that moment, that small fall could have possibly killed her. She was grateful B’rasch had caught her, she was not ready to die just yet, though it seemed like something was telling her it was time. No matter what was wrong with her, Jack was going to fight it. Even if Death himself came to collect her, she was going to fight him all the way. There was no way she was going to die without a fight.
So out of it Jack was, she didn’t even feel when B’rasch lifted her in his arms, and carried her to the bed. As if she were going to break at any moment, B’rasch laid her gently on the bed. Her eyes were still opened, but vacant, as if she were lost in thought. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was breathing, he would have believed her to be dead. Then, her eyes shifted to him and smiled. “Don’t worry,” she started, her voice raspy, “I’m just sick is all. I’ll get better after I get some rest.” Though she had meant it to reassure him, it made her feel a little better just saying it. Maybe that was all that was wrong with her. It was possible. They may have amazing immune systems, but Arathians did get sick, and she technically wasn’t full Arathian so it would be easier for her to catch something. There were many diseases and germs lurking around in the facility, so something could have infected her. She vowed to wash her hands more thoroughly after she got well.
Jack’s eyes slowly started to close and after several seconds she was sound asleep. Not really knowing what else to do, B’rasch left the room and headed over to what the ooman’s called the gym. Doing something would get his mind off of Jack and her worsening condition. There really wasn’t much to do in the complex, and going to the gym had been something that B’rasch rather enjoyed. It helped him keep up his strength, though most of the machines just didn’t work for him because of his size and strength. There were a few machines that had to have been replaced because he had tried them out and broken them. They were built for oomans, not for his kind.
In a rarity, the room was nearly empty when B’rasch entered it. Usually it was teaming with men and nearly every machine would be in use, but not that night. He was the sole individual and had his choice of what he wanted to do. The safe choice was the weights since that was the one thing that had withstood his strength for an extended period of time, and he planned on staying in that room for at least a few hours. To ensure he did stay for his intended time, he chose some of the “lighter” weights. A quick thought of stretching came into his mind, but he pushed it away. If he pulled something, then he pulled something. It would be his fault and his alone. Maybe if Jack was feeling better, she would have yelled at him about it, but she wasn’t there and so it fleeted out of his mind in a flash.
The peace he felt in the room was near overwhelming. It had been long since he had time to himself. Someone was in his presence. From Jack and Hamilton to the many scientists in the building. That was the first time he had been alone since entering the facility, and it felt wonderful and uncomfortable at the same time. Once he was back home (something he looked forward to greatly), he couldn’t wait to just lie in his room in silence, as he used to do. Though he wouldn’t be alone anymore. Jack would be there.
The thought made him halt his activity. What exactly was he going to do about Jack? How was he going to explain it to Mar’tak and the others? Sure, many yautja had brought pets back from their many hunts, but none of them had been like Jack. They were all quiet and kept out of the way of the larger beings around them. If they got in the way they were quick to apologize and if one yautja tried to shove them around, they just took it, trying to stay out of trouble. Jack wasn’t like that. If a yautja tried to start a fight, Jack would readily except no matter who they were. She was quick to jump into a fight when a challenge had been issued. With her inhuman strength and speed, she was sure to get herself into a lot of trouble, though those would help her out a great deal if she did get into a fight with a yautja. He would have to speak with her about the whole thing once again when she got better. If she got better. B’rasch shook his head. No, he couldn’t think like that. Jack was going to get well, and it was going to happen quickly.
The sound of light footsteps entered the room and Brach’s ears perked up. With each step the sounds got closer, informing the yautja that it was a possibility they were heading for the gym. B’rasch could tell that it was only one person so he didn’t mind if they did come or not. One person didn’t bother him, but if more decided to show up he was going to leave. The steps stopped outside of the doorway and B’rasch turned to see who it was. He was happy to see it was a friendly face.
“I was looking for you,” Hamilton informed the other male as he entered the room and headed toward B’rasch. “I checked your room first. Figured you’d be in here when I didn’t find you there.” An empty bench sat in front of a mirror several feet to the left of B’rasch. Hamilton took the seat and studied the yautja for a moment before asking, “She’s getting worse, isn’t she?”
There was no need to ask who Hamilton was speaking of. Everyone in the complex knew there was something wrong with Jack. Some were happy about it (mainly the men whose asses she had kicked), but there were a few that shared worried glances when she walked by or entered the room they were in. It wasn’t hard for them to tell she was sick. Skin so pale it appeared gray, sweat forming on her brow when she exerted herself even the smallest amount, and not to mention the heavy breath and vacant stares. Her inability to keep her food down was not public knowledge since she always managed to make it back to the room before the vomiting started.
B’rasch sighed heavily and nodded in response to Hamilton’s question. “I’m kinda shocked that you’re not in there with her,” Hamilton stated. “Then again, there’s really not much you can do while she’s sleeping.” Not knowing how to respond, B’rasch shrugged his shoulders. Hamilton looked down at the thin, dirty, dark blue carpet that covered the ground. A whiff of musk from all the sweat it had absorbed over the years from the many men who had worked out in the room lingered in his nostrils. It nearly made him gag just thinking about it, but he managed to hold it back somehow. “I’ve contacted my brother and sister to see if they can help her. They’ve agreed to come. They’ll be here in a few hours.” Churo and Monro were staying at their mother’s winter house (she loved the snow), which was just a little over an hour’s drive away. The pair would be coming by foot so it would take them a little longer, especially hindered by the equipment they would bring along with them. “If anyone can figure out what’s wrong with her, it’s them.” That was said more for Hamilton’s own comfort than the yautja male he was speaking to.
“Did they not want to take her away before?” B’rasch asked the hybrid, the words coming out awkwardly (he still hadn’t got a full grasp on the ooman language Jack called English). He didn’t comprehend why those Arathians would help her, but others wanted Jack dead.
“They were trying to protect her. Get her out of here before the others showed up. Well, at least my mother was. She’s the only reason they’re coming.” Hamilton’s mother had grown to love Jack as one of her own and would do anything for her, including risking her life and reputation. Not that her reputation was that great any longer. Not only had she mated with a human, but that union had produced an offspring that was overly violent. An offspring she had defended when he had been put to trial. A lot of good it did since he still got banished from his home no matter what she had said. At least they didn’t try to kill them as they were doing with Jack. He was lucky on that one.
The reason why the Council was hell-bent on killing Jack was lost to Hamilton. He didn’t know and didn’t really care to know. No matter what it was, he would help protect Jack to the best of his abilities, and not because that was what his mother wanted. He wanted to protect her. Jack was his friend, one of the few he had, and her life meant a great deal to him. The only reason he had asked his brother and sister to come in the first place was because of how bad off she was. If Jack had showed event the slightest sign of getting better, he would not have called them or even considered it. He just hoped that it was worth it and they figured out what was wrong with her. If they didn’t, he was going to be pissed. Spending unnecessary time with his family was something he found dissatisfying. Just the thought of it made him cringe.
He definitely was not looking forward to seeing them.
*** *** ***
Panting heavily, Rochelle rested her head against Ashley’s chest, listening to the sounds of his rapidly beating heart. His chest was rising and falling just as quickly as hers, but soon he would regain a normal breathing rhythm, whereas it would take her a little longer. He always recovered quickly after they made love.
“Made love”. Rochelle hated that term, and hated it even more when a man said it. It just made him sound like a pussy. She was glad to know that Ashley hated the term just as much as she had. Those words had never left his mouth unless he was making a joke. He preferred to use the term “fucking” which Rochelle felt was a little vulgar, but it always seemed to turn her on when he said it. Or it could possibly be what he was doing while he said the word. Either way, she was just glad to know that he would never ask her to make love, because what they did was not what she considered making love. That term made her think of a smooth, tender act, which was the complete opposite of what she liked and what Ashley did. What they did was near violent, and it was the best sex she ever had, and was happy it was with Ashley, someone she never expected.
When the two had first met, back in the beginning of the project, Ashley had seemed cold, distant, and a complete asshole. The more she had worked with him, the more those thoughts were confirmed. It hadn’t been until she witnessed an exchange between him and the General when she became intrigued by him. She had never before seen that kind of exchange between father and son before. It had seemed like neither one of them had wanted to be near each other and had let the other know as such. There had been no yelling, but their tones were sharp and eyes hard. When the General had left, she had expected Ashley to start yelling at everyone, taking his pent up rage out on the others. But he didn’t. Compared to his exchange with his father, he seemed almost nice. That had intrigued her even more.
It wasn’t until they were alone months later that they had their first “encounter”. She had been alone in a lab, typing up some notes she had taken earlier, and he had managed to sneak up behind her, scaring the shit out of her. “Mother fucker,” she had snapped when she knocked over the small pile of papers next to her hand all over the floor. He had laughed lightly at her, kneeled down to pick up the papers, and shooed her hands away when she tried to help him pick them up. All she could do was watch him in wonder as he picked up the papers one by one. She was even more amazed when she saw a small smile on his face. That was the first time she had seen him smile, even though you would have to looking really hard to see it, which was what led her to realize she had been staring at him. Her head quickly snapped to her computer screen.
When Ashley was finished picking up the paper, he laid them in the spot they had been before Rochelle had knocked them to the floor. “Your notes are very thorough,” he commented. “I appreciate that. Much better than the others. Keep up the good work.”
Thinking he was leaving, Rochelle had swiveled her chair around to watch him go, only to come nearly face to face with him. Not knowing what else to do, she tried to sputter out a thank you, but his lips had crashed onto her before she could even get out the first word. The kiss was hard and demanding, and she was shocked to find herself responding with just as much vigor. He wrapped his one arm around her waist, the other hand holding her thigh, and lifted onto her desk with a strength she never guessed he could possess. It wasn’t until they were panting on the floor- she didn’t even know how they had ended up there- naked, rug burns on her shoulder blades, knees, and forearms that she finally realized what had happened. She had just had sex with her boss and couldn’t wait for it to happen again.
From there her relationship had evolved into what it was, and she couldn’t be happier. “I love you,” she mumbled tiredly reaching up to touch his cheek. She accidently poked him in the eye and they shared a laugh.
Tears streaming out of his left eye, Ashley adjusted himself so he could kill her on the top of the head. “I love you, too, even though you tried to take out my eye.” She poked him in the side, making him laugh and squirm (he was very ticklish). There was another attempt to poke him, ending up with him penning her down beneath him. He gently stroked her cheek as he stared down at her in the dim light of the room. “When are you going to marry me?” he asked her, all joking leaving his tone.
“When are you going to ask me?” she shot back in a teasing tone.
“I thought I just did.”
Rochelle studied the man above her for a moment before replying, “Are you serious?”
Ashley nodded. “I know it’s a little unconventional, since I don’t have a ring and all, but, given the circumstances, I thought that was a little understandable.” In order to get a ring, he would have had to leave the compound and the nearest town had been completely decimated when it had been infested by the xenomorphs.
“Are you sure?”
Ashley had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Rocky, you are the only person in this world I care about besides my sister. I’m damn sure.” When she was positive he was serious, she finally said yes. “Thank god,” he muttered, “if you would have said no I would have to kick you out of my room completely bare-assed.” Mouth agape in shock, Rochelle whacked him on the head, which earned her a laugh and a deep passionate kiss. “I love when you get violent,” he murmured against her lips.
*** *** ***
Alone, the General sat in his office staring at the paper that informed him he was going to die. The paper had given him three to six months, so far, he had lived eight (enforced his idea that most doctors didn’t know what they were talking about). Exceeding his expiration date didn’t give him any hope of becoming a cancer survivor. He was going to die, he could feel that much. The cancer would slowly eat him alive until there was no more. It had already spread throughout most of his body, so it was only a matter of time. Not that he was really worried about it. Death was a natural part of life and it got everyone in the end (they all die in the end). The only thing that upset him was knowing his death wasn’t going to be in combat. He would just slowly waster away in a hospital bed (the complete opposite of what he had thought), until he passed on full of regrets. His main regrets? Treating his children as he had; the very same way his father had treated him while he was growing up.
All he had wanted for them was to grow up strong and not have to rely on anyone to help them out. And they had done just that. Both of them were strong, smart, and absolutely self-sufficient. The only people they seemed to rely on were each other, but they were twins so it was just natural. He wanted to tell them how proud he was of them, but that would ruin all the work he had done to get them where they were. Sure, both of them hated him because of what he had done, but it was a small price to pay for them to because the adult they now were. Now, that he thought about it, he didn’t regret treating them the way he had.
Really thinking about it, his main regret had been marrying Margret. She had been a horrible wife (a cheater) and a horrible mother. Always worried about work and never about her family. The General had been glad when he had won custody of their children after he had finally worked up the nerve to file for divorce- he had been raised to believe divorce was evil. Of course, Ashley and Jack loved their mother and viewed her as the better parent (he knew Jack did, didn’t know about Ashley), and he let them believe that, even reinforced it- children should love their mother. But when it came down to it, he had been the one that was always there regardless of what it was. He had gone to the plays, parent/teacher meetings, games, and the science fairs. He had made sure they did their homework and was at the school when one or both of them had gotten into a fight or some kind of trouble- it had happened more often than he would have liked. It had always been him, never Margret. No matter how far in advance he would tell her about the various activities that came with being a parent, she had always been “too busy”. Even Ashley’s college graduation wasn’t enough, and he had graduated early and at the top of his class (Jack’s basic training graduation he never expected the woman to show up). The woman was horrible. Marrying her had been a mistake. Then again, he would never have had his children if he hadn’t.
Okay, maybe he didn’t have any regrets. That was fine by him. Just meant he could die a free man with nothing weighing on his soul except the many people he had killed during his many years of service. Those deaths were somewhat justified. It wasn’t as if he randomly gunned someone down in the streets. The people he had killed had either tried to kill him first or had died for the greater good (kill the few to save the many). There was one death that did weigh on him more than the other. It was a death he would have to speak to his daughter about.
Jack. His poor Jack. Something terribly wrong with her and no one could figure it out, and they had tried. Oh, how they had tried. No matter what they did, it just made things worse. The General had almost immediately noticed the change. Looking over her testing, he had started to see a decline in her running time. Jack ran religiously almost every day, so that right there was the first clue. Then, he noticed how she started to tire more easily. He pointed out the problems to Ashley in private and ordered him to figure out what was wrong with her. That had been a week ago. The General had ordered his son to keep it under wraps so no one would panic (no need for that). The boy had done a good job in doing so, but then she visibly got worse. Now, her weakened condition was public knowledge. Hamilton had informed him that he had called his siblings to look Jack. He hoped that they could figure out what was happening with her. They were to arrive soon. At least they’ll better than to ask for Jack again. As long as he was alive, Jack was going to stay in the complex where he could keep an eye on her. But Jack always managed to get herself into trouble one way or another, as she had proven with this unexplainable sickness.
A heavy sigh left him followed by a wince. The pain in his body was getting much worse. He should probably be taking the painkillers his doctor had prescribed to him, but he refused. His job required him to have a level and taken pain medication would fog him up. Besides, he like feel the pain. It let him know he was still alive. Still, there were some days when it hurt so bad he could scarcely move days that were getting more and more frequent. But he forced himself to get up no matter how long it took. He knew he wasn’t going to win this war, but he could make it last as long as possible, which he was doing to the best of his ability.
A knock came from his door and he gave permission to enter. Vegas peeked his head in before walking all the way into the room. The General had come to notice the boy did that every time he entered any room, as if he was making sure you weren’t doing anything unseemly. It was an irritating habit, but the General was too tired to ever say anything. Another horrible habit the General had come to notice about Vegas was the fact he rarely stood at attention when addressing his superiors. “They’re here,” Vegas informed him.
For some reason, Vegas seemed nervous. His eyes kept shifting back and forth and he could stand still. “What’s wrong?” snapped the older man.
“I was just thinking about the big guy.” Big guy was just another name Trunks had accumulated from the men. “He’s pretty protective of her. What if they do something that hurts her or he perceives as hurting her. He could get violent.
The General heard everything the man had said, even thought it was a good point, but couldn’t get over the fact that he had used to word perceives correctly. That was something he never expected from infantry. “Then distract him,” replied General Evans when he finally snapped out of it, while standing up painfully to leave the room. As he was leaving, he could hear Vegas cursing himself for his big mouth. Babysitting Trunks had not been something he wanted to do. Not many people would, considering how frightening the alien was.
Walking at a leisurely pace, General Evans headed toward his son’s room, knowing full well Ashley was not going to be alone. Though Ashley had been trying hard to hide it from him, the General had always known about Rochelle. Hell, he knew his son was attracted to the girl before Ashley even did. He could see it in his eyes. It was exactly the same way he used to look at Margret. Luckily for Ashley, Rochelle was the real deal and not hiding who she really was by playing nice. If there had been any hint that Rochelle was no good, he would have taken care of it long ago. In fact, he rather liked the young woman. On several occasions, he had had time to speak with her (always work related) and she seemed to have a level head. She wasn’t afraid of him like the other scientists. Most refused to even look him in the eyes, but she did. Even glared at him a few times when he said something she felt was out of line. Yes, his son definitely picked himself a good partner.
Once he reached Ashley’s door, he knocked loudly to announce his unwanted presence. Muffled curses were heard and some rustling. After a few seconds, a shirtless Ashley answered the door. The General didn’t wait for the boy to give him a greeting. “They’re here. Walk with me,” he commanded. “Two minutes.” He nodded to the boy’s naked chest. Two minutes was more than enough time to get dressed properly.
Ashley nodded and shut the door so he could get ready. While he was searching for his shirt- he had no idea where it had vanished to- Rochelle asked him what was happening. “The aliens,” he didn’t know what to call them, “are here to examine Jack,” he explained quickly. He managed to find his shirt which had found its way under his bed. His socks and shoes were easy, they were right next to the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Rochelle just nodded knowing there was no point in offering to go with. If the General was going to be there (no question about that one) then Ashley was not going to let her go.
With a kiss on Rochelle’s cheek, Ashley left the room and caught up with his father who had been slowly making his way down the hall. “That wasn’t two minutes,” he pointed out.
“That’s why I was walking slowly.” The General made a point in picking up the pace. “Why not have Ms. Williams joined us?” Wide eyed, Ashley stared at his father, almost horrified that the man knew about the love of his life. The General chuckled lightly at him. “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” Ashley had responded that he had hoped he wouldn’t. “Ashley, my son, I have always known.” A short pause. “She’s a good girl,” he conceded. “A good match for you.” The General would have loved to use the word perfect to describe the girl, but he felt that would have been a little too over the top.
“Who are you?” A pleasant father was not something Ashley was used to. In fact, this was the first time he remembered the man saying a nice word; especially about a girl Ashley was interested in. “You never like my girlfriends.”
“They were no good. This one is,” the older man stated plainly. That was the final thing the General had to say on the subject. He was already tired of it, and just plain tired. His body was pressing his to rest, but he still forced it to move on. His daughter’s life meant more than a few aches and pains. Besides, soon enough he would be dead and rest eternally, which happened to be very appealing at that moment. But he couldn’t give in just yet. There were still several things he had to see to first. One of them was making sure Jack was taken care of, and he didn’t mean current state of health. The General wanted to ensure there was someone in her life that was willing to take care of her (as if she would let someone do that). Jack tended to get herself in trouble, and he needed to know there was going to be someone to either help her avoid it or to help her fight her way out of it. Jacob had been that man, but unfortunately he was dead- he needed to speak to Jack about that. As far as he could tell, Jack didn’t respond well to many of the men in the complex nor did she find them attractive. It was looking like the General was going to have to trust Jack to find someone on her own. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. Nope, he’ll just keep pushing his expiration date back until he found someone or until she found someone he liked and trusted.
Ashley walked with his father in silence, contemplating if he should ask if his mother would be there, but thought better of it. He already knew she would. Margret couldn’t stand the sick- she wasn’t a medical doctor. If him or Jack ever got sick when it was her turn to have them, she sent them right back to their father. There were a few times that Ashley had faked an illness just so he didn’t have to be around the woman. He wasn’t as fond of his mother as Jack was. Honestly, he didn’t care much for either of his parents, but if he had to pick the one he preferred, it would have been the General. At least, the man had never faked what he was. He was cold and distant and sometimes downright cruel, but he never let you think differently of him. Margret had attempted to, but she couldn’t fool Ashley as she done with his sister. All the hugs, terms of endearment, and smiles had been fake. He could tell by her body language and every once in a while, he could spot her cringing. He knew that she loved them, he could tell that much, but she didn’t care for them, like their father did. Ashley just wished Jack would see it. Well, she probably already knew but chose to ignore it; to keep on believing that their mother cared them as deeply as she was pretending to.
Rounding the corner, the silence was broken by the sounds of an exceptionally loud argument that definitely wasn’t in English. Son and father shared an exasperated look and picked up the pace. While on the way toward the verbal fight, they passed several soon to be spectators, but the General shot them each a look that stopped them dead in their tracks. Some ever turned around and walked the other way, none of them wanting to face the wrath of the infamous General Evans- even if he was sick and dying, he was still one scary man. Making a left turn, they ran into quite the crowd. “Back to your posts!” General Evans snapped above the increased volume of the argument. The men scattered quickly and only two remained, Vegas and Mark. Hamilton was there, but he was currently one of the ones yelling. His brother and sister were the other participants- mainly his brother. “What the hell is going on here?!” the General directed toward the siblings.
Quick as a snake strike, Hamilton’s head snapped in the older (only in appearance) man’s direction. His face was set in a frightening snarl and it was very clear that he was pissed off. “Hack’s been poisoned,” he informed them, his voice taking on an unnaturally gravely quality. “There’s no antidote for it because they never saw a reason for creating one.”
“Why not?!” inquired Ashley, completely and utterly shocked at the revelation. He had never heard of anyone disregarding a poison as Hamilton’s people had done. That was just foolish and reckless.
“Because it only weakens them slightly,” Hamilton explained. “No damage is caused. They just get a little tired. They never took a hybrid into consideration. What only weakens them could possibly kill us.” Actually saying out loud he was a hybrid felt strange on his tongue. This was the first time since he could remember actually admitting he wasn’t fully human to these people. He had no idea how to feel about that.
He didn’t get much time to ponder on it because Monro said something to him sharply. Hamilton replied loudly and just as sharply. Soon they were both screaming at each other, and Ashley decided to join in not caring if he knew the language or not- it was his sister’s life at stake. The General sighed and left them to their own devices heading into the infirmary to see his daughter. Hamilton’s sister followed closely behind him; Vegas and Mark behind her. Jack was laying on a bed in the middle row on the left hand side of the room. Trunks sat on the floor, facing the General. He gently stroked her back as she lay on her side, eyes closed, facing the same direction he was. Noise that the General guessed were to comfort came from Trunks as his large hand rand from her shoulder all the way to her lower back. “I thought I told you to keep him out of here?” the General directed to Vegas, not bothering to look at the man.
Vegas shrugged, forgetting his superior couldn’t see it. “He was docile the entire time. Didn’t see a reason to make him leave.” In fact, it seemed as if the big guy completely understood that the two aliens were there to try and help Jack, not hurt her.
The General nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Another question. How the hell did you beat me here?” Seeing Vegas was somewhat of a shock. The General had figured that he would have beaten the younger man there since he had left his office first. Then again, he had stopped to get Ashley, which was a little out of the way. It was perfectly reasonable for Vegas to have gotten there first. His answer, on the other hand, was not.
“I’m a ninja.” Mark hid his laughter behind an unnecessarily loud cough. The General slowly turned his head toward Vegan and gave what could only be called the crazy eye. The look only want to make Mark want to laugh all the more, while Vegas had a shit eating grin on his face.
Nobody knew what could have happened at the moment. It could have been very bad, or very funny, but most likely very bad. Jack had saved the day when she called her father to her side. Instantly the old man’s attention to her and he sat on the bed with her. Her hand found his and she gave it a weak squeeze, opening her honey-brown eyes to look at him. “Good news?” Though her voice was raspy and weak, he could still hear the hopeful tone underlying it all. Not finding it within himself to verbally lie to his child, the General just smiled and patted her hand. “That bad, huh?”
“They don’t think you’ll make it,” he told her honestly. “You better prove them wrong.” Prove him wrong as well. Just seeing her was as if looking at a corpse. “I’ll be damned if you go before me.” He was damned anyways. “Do I have to remind you about you having to kill me as well?” he asked in her ear. He kissed her on her cold colorless cheek, while brushing her hair with the tips of his fingers. “I’m insulted that I have to remind you of that.”
Jack’s respond was a dry chuckle and to squeeze his hand a little harder. “Don’t worry, old man, I don’t plan on dying just yet. I haven’t forgotten about putting you out of my misery.” Exhausted, Jack closed her eyes. The grip she had on her father’s hand slackened. “I’m really tired,” she muttered hardly intelligible. “Just going to go to sleep for a few minutes. Just a few…” and with that she drifted off.
Once Jack was asleep, Churo silently crept forward and set the back of her hand on Jack’s forehead. There was a slight change in Jack’s temperature. It was a little higher, which was good since she was as cold as death. Churo turned toward her patient’s father. Though he was trying hard to hide it, Churo could tell the male was distressed. “Your daughter is very strong,” Churo started in an attempt to comfort him. “She will survive this.”
“I know,” acknowledged the General. Jack was the strongest willed woman he had ever known. If there was anyone who would survive this poison, it was her. She would just will it away. “How did they manage to poison her?” That was the million dollar question that everyone had failed to think of.
Churo sighed. “I believe it was on one of their weapons,” she told him. “This particular poison doesn’t show effects immediately, especially when the victim is inactive. The more active they become, the faster it works.” Churo’s golden eyes flittered across the room at a seemingly frantic rate before settling on the General’s honey-brown ones. It was as if she had been looking to make sure no one was listening to their conversation, which everyone in the room was. “We could make an antidote,” she admitted quietly, “but with the level of toxin in her body, it could possibly not work. The time it would take to make it is lengthy. She could die before we finish it.”
“Make it.” There was no hesitation on the General’s part. If there was even the smallest glimmer of hope to save his daughter, he was going to take it. “Make enough for her and Hamilton to keep on them just in case it is to ever happen again.” (Better safe than sorry) The humanoid alien nodded her head and stood up with a grace that even the greatest human dancer would be envious. When she was gone, the General leaned down and whispered, “You hear that? You’re going to get better. You’ll be up and moving and killing me in no time,” in her ear.
A few seconds later, Churo returned with a needle and cylinder. A blood sample would be the only thing she needed from Jack, at least, that was what she told the man. The General just nodded and stood up. “I trust my daughter will be safe with you?” Churo’s head bobbed up and down in confirmation as she stared at the cylinder that was quickly filling with blood. He moved away from his daughter and headed out of the room. Before he left, he looked to Mark and Vegas. “Go get his weapons.” He indicated toward Trunks.
“Sir?” That was an odd request Mark would have never believed the General would ask.
“I have a feeling he’s going to need them,” was all the old man would say on the matter. Mark shrugged his shoulders and gestured for Vegas to follow him. The other man did, shooting the General an odd look.
The older man followed the pair out only to stop to study Ashley, Hamilton, and Monro. Hamilton had Monro in a headlock on the ground while Ashley pushed off the wall he had been leaning on to go to his father’s side. “The woman is going to try to create an antidote,” he informed the men. Hamilton looked up and smiled, still keeping a tight grip on his older brother. “Ashley, stay in the room with her. You’ll be safe there.”
“Safe? Safe from what?” asked Hamilton finally releasing his brother who was gasping for breath. Then Hamilton’s eyes widened. “You think there’s going to be an attack.”
“I’ve moved beyond thinking to knowing.” With that, he left them, moving slowly toward the com room.
Once his father was out of sight Ashley headed back the way he came at full speed, but he didn’t get far. Hamilton caught up with him and cut him off. “Where do you think you’re going?”
If he had been any normal human, Ashley would have attempted to knock Hamilton on his ass and continued on his quest to get Rochelle. But Hamilton wasn’t any normal human. Hell, he wasn’t even human. After seeing the way he fought with his brother, the quick, sharp movements, Ashley knew there was no way he could get around the man. “I need to get someone,” he replied as desperately as he could sound in hopes of persuading Hamilton to move. It didn’t work.
“Go back to the room and I’ll get her,” it could only be a woman, right, “for you. Where is she?” Ashley told him where Rochelle was. “Alright, I’ll be back with her shortly. What’s her name?” He thought to ask before he took off.
“Rochelle.”
“Nice name,” commented Hamilton and then he was gone. Ashley stood dazed for a moment staring at the spot Hamilton had once stood. Shaking his head and blinking repeatedly, he headed back toward the room as he had been told.
No one was outside the door and he guessed Hamilton’s brother had moved inside. Ashley stared at the door for several seconds. Just beyond that door lay his sister, who could possibly be dead in a few short hours. That thought make him not want to enter the room and instead hunt down the fucker that poisoned her and kill him. Of course, he knew that whoever it was would kill him first. Not only was Ashley not a fighter (he was good with a gun though), but after seeing Hamilton’s display of speed, he knew that even if he could fight, he still wouldn’t stand a chance. Yeah, it would probably be for the best if he just went into the room and sat beside his sister to comfort her. Sure, some people might perceive him as a coward, but he didn’t feel that way. He was just a man that knew and understood his limits. He wasn’t a fighter and if he tried, he would just get in the way of the professionals. What he could do was help his sister, or, if they needed it, help Hamilton’s siblings.
“Don’t just stand there,” a male voice that was vaguely familiar called from behind Ashley making him jump, “open the fucking door.”
Ashley turned to see who had spoken to him and spotted Mark and another man, arms laden with Trunks’ many weapons and bits of armor. While opening the door, he inquired about Trunks’ things. “General ordered us to give them to him,” replied Mark, slightly out of breath. “Didn’t ask questions. You know the whole jump-how-high thing.” All three walked further into the room. “Here ya go, but guy.” As nicely as possible (didn’t want to offend the giant, overly strong alien), Mark and Vegas set Trunks’ things on the bed behind him. Then, they moved away so that he could put it all on.
As soon as B’rasch’s hand stopped its strokes Jack woke up. She tried to sit up, but the male halted her movements with a heavy hand on her shoulder. She adjusted herself so that she could see him without sitting up since it was evident he wasn’t going to let her. “What’s going on?” she asked hoarsely. B’rasch indicated toward the pile of weaponry on the next bed. Confused, Jack looked around the room until her eyes landed on her brother. “Is there going to be a fight?”
“The General seems to think so.” Ashley sat on the bed with his sister and set his hand in place of B’rasch’s so the male could get ready. “But, you don’t need to worry about that. All you need to worry about is getting better.” Jack made a sour face, earning a sigh from Ashley. “I know it’s hard for you to sit back and do nothing, but that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do. You’re sick Jack. You can’t help anyone in your condition.”
Though it hurt hearing it, Jack knew her brother was right. Even if she could get up and move, which she couldn’t, she would just get in the way and accomplish nothing but making herself worse. What she had to do was just lie in that bed and let everyone else do all the work. It was going to be difficult (not really since she was felt exhausted), but she would stand back. “Find. I’ll just lay here and do nothing,” she retorted with as much bitterness as she could muster in her voice.
“Don’t make that face,” chided Ashley, “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
*** *** ***
“Well, Sir, we’re fucked,” stated the com officer when the General walked into the room. “None of the towers are responding to our calls.” That was because they were all dead. It had only taken a matter of seconds before the Arathians had killed all the guards.
The General took a moment to process what the boy had said. “They’re probably already inside, but sounds the alarm. If they’re going to kill us, we’re going to be fighting at least.” The com officer nodded his head and set to do as he was ordered. A deafening siren rang throughout the building. The General got on his walkie-talkie. “Mark?” There was a crackle of static before the man answered. “I was you and Kelly to stay where you are and help Trunks protect everyone in the room.”
“Who’s Kelly?” Was the reply he received from Mark.
The General couldn’t help but roll his eyes. A superior officer that didn’t know a unit member’s name (especially when that man was right next to them) was downright shameful. “Vegas.” Deadpan would be the best way to describe the General’s tone. “I’ll be returning there shortly. Make sure my son and daughter stay safe. Keep yourselves alive while you’re at it.
“Will do, Sir.”
Replace his walkie-talkie, the General looked to the come officer, and for the life of him, couldn’t remember the kid’s damn name (shame, shame!). “Will you be fine here by yourself?”
The kid nodded. “The door is heavy and if it’s locked from the inside, it’s nearly impossible to get intl.” The kid gave the General a winning smile. “Made it that way so I can blow the place if we ever got overrun.”
“Keep your hand by that button,” the General started as he walked out of the room, “just might end up needing it,” he finished more to himself than the boy.
Just to be sure the boy had not been lying to him, the General stood by the door and listened to it lock. The lock sounded loud and mechanical. That satisfied the older man greatly and he started to head for the infirmary. That kid was secured in what was most likely the safest room in the complex. He was luck for that, but unlucky because he had to make the decision of when they all died if the enemy were to overrun them. He, himself would not hesitate, and he hoped the kid wouldn’t either. If he did, that it would be long enough for General Evan’s son and daughter to get out of the building (fuck everyone else).
About halfway to the infirmary the General spotted a man he failed to recognize. The man was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. With him standing so leisurely he was immediately eliminated as one of the soldiers, not that that had been the only giveaway. Not a single piece of camouflage adorned the male and his hair was much longer than what was regulatory. A black skin tight shirt covered the entirety of his torso all the way to his elbows. His pants were slightly looser than his shirt, but not by much. Most of his legs were covered in armor, making the pants nearly nonexistent. The armor that covered his legs and forearms seemed almost ancient in nature- thick strong leather with metal plating stamped on it. Knicks in the metal informed that this was a seasoned warrior. The man had seen much battle. This man was a killer and a very good one at that.
The General did not stop walking until he was right in front of the man. He turned his head to the left so that he could see the man’s face. Just like Hamilton’s siblings, this mad had angular cat-like features. There were several scars cutting across his face, but they were hardly noticeable having nearly faded away. The most striking feature on the male was his eyes. Yellow-orange in color, they resembled the blazing embers of a fire pit. They were slightly unsettling the way they seemed to bore into the soul, but the General just shook it off. He was not going to show fear to the man that was trying to kill his daughter.
Short burst gunfire drifted into the hallway from far away. “You fight dirty,” commented the General. “Outnumbering a woman in the dark and then poisoning her is disgusting.” He had no idea if the man knew English or not, but it was the only language he knew and he was going to speak it.
Hasinth studied the older human knowing full well who he was. He would recognize those honey-brown anywhere. “Your daughter is a very strong fighter, possibly the best I have ever trained,” he began in perfect English, “outnumbering her was necessary.” That put a smile on the older man’s face. He was very proud that his daughter was such a great fighter. “The poison, I knew nothing of. That is very dishonorable and when we are through here, I will punish the one responsible.” Severely punish. Whoever had done it had done so without orders. That was disobedience, something Hasinth did not take kindly to.
“What did she do to deserve death?” The General didn’t think it was a very good question (there were many things Jack had done that people would kill over), but he was stalling for time, hoping to think of a way to get a message to Mark to get Jack and Ashley out of the building.
For a moment, Hasinth studied Jack’s father wondering how long the man had been suffering from the sickness that was eating away at him. Since he could not smell any form of medication on the man, he knew the man must be in a great deal of pain. A small needle of pity poked into Hasinth’s heart. He was glad that he would be able to end the man’s misery. “I don’t know what she did,” he finally answered. “I was just ordered to find her and execute her.” She angered the wrong people was what had happened. How she had pissed them off so much, Hasinth had no idea, but she had done it. With the time he had spent with Jack, he understood she was very good at pissing people off. There were several times she said one word and he wanted to kill her. Yes, she was very, very good at pissing people off.
“Were you and my daughter lovers?”
Hasinth was shocked at the question. Not only was it random, it was very rude. “Why would you ask that?” Was all he could manage to say.
“You just seem like her type.”
“How so?”
“You’re a dick.” That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say to someone who was much stronger and faster than he was, but it was true. This guy seemed like a complete dick, and for some reason or another, Jack always fell for that type. Even Jacob had been a dick to everyone, though he seemed to have been nice enough to Jack, which was all that mattered to the General. Not like Jack couldn’t take care of herself. If Jacob had even swung on her once, the General would hate to see what the boy would look like after she got down with him.
The man moved from the wall, and the General straightened himself, prepared to die. He didn’t even feel the knife slide into his chest. It wasn’t the death he wanted, but it was better than wasting away in a hospital bed.
*** *** ***
Covered in blood and gore, Hamilton finally returned to the infirmary with Rochelle in tow. Though he looked exhausted, there was a large grin on his face. Every time she looked over at him, Rochelle shuddered violently. What he had done to those people had been absolutely dreadful. He was a blood-thirsty monster and Rochelle no longer wanted to be near him. But he had saved her life sever times. All the people he had killed (mutilated would be a better term) he had done so to save her life. Still doesn’t make up for the fact she threw up four times while watching him fight. Rochelle couldn’t really explain the way Hamilton had fought. His only intention had been to kill his enemy and way he could, but his movements had a dance-like quality to them, and he could deal massive amounts of damage with little effort. A trained berserker was the only label she could think of to describe his style. It seemed the most fitting.
When Ashley rushed over to take her in his arms, Rochelle was still staring at Hamilton, her dark eyes freakishly wide. Knowing she wasn’t used to the site of blood, he whispered comforting words to her and they seemed to work for she relaxed enough to wrap her arms around his waist and closed her eyes. Taking stock of Hamilton’s appearance, Ashley had to ask, “How many did you kill?”
“I don’t know,” replied Hamilton shrugging. “Four, maybe five.” He had never been one to keep a kill count, never really caring how many people he killed. He had always viewed keeping count of how many people you killed was sick and twisted. Sure, he may kill people violently and rip them apart- sometimes accidently- but he wasn’t sick in the head. All his kills had been necessary to his survival, or some he cared about’s survival. It was not pleasurable. He did not enjoy it all the time. They had just decided to mess with the wrong man.
Churo and Monro stared at their blood soaked brother. The female was horrified, the male disgusted. Hamilton turned to look at them, his eyes narrowing to coin slot sized slits. “Don’t you two have a job to be doing?” his tone was venomous. “The sooner you get it done the quicker we can get out of here.” He didn’t know why he had to tell them that, they already knew. But, for some reason, they chose to stare at him instead of doing their jobs. Churo quickly turned back to her work while Monro gave his little brother one last look before returning to his task. “How much longer do you think until you are done?” He asked his siblings.
“The poison was not complex as I believed it to be,” Churo stated without turning from her work. “I should be done shortly.”
Hamilton was visibly relieved. Soon, his sister would have the antidote read and they could give it to Jack and finally get the hell out of that place. “It is only a matter of time before they find out where we are, don’t waste any time.” He knew he was annoying his sister, but he didn’t really care. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” he announced to no one in particular when he finally caught a glimpse of his bloody hands. Since he couldn’t see himself, he could only guess there was blood all over him and that wasn’t very attractive, not to mention it was starting to dry. If he hurried he could possibly get most of it off.
After he saw himself in the bathroom mirror, he decided that there was no enough time to clean himself. So, he settled for wiping as much blood off as he could with the fresh, white paper towels stacked in the dispenser. More than half of them were gone before he was through. Glancing into the mirror once again, he resembled more of a sane person rather than a homicidal maniac. There were still globs of blood and other matter stuck on his shirt, but his face was clean, for the most part. There was still some remnants of blood in the creases of his made (made him appear older) and under his nails, but there was not much he could do about it. Once they were all safe, a shower would be the first thing on his to-do list. Then, getting a good night’s rest.
A single shot echoed into the room and Hamilton tore himself from his reflection to see what was going on. Vegas was standing with his back to everyone, gun trained on the door. There was a single bullet hole in the door. “What the hell, Vegas?” hissed Hamilton. The noise of the gun could have attracted who knows how many Arathians to them. There was other gunfire throughout the building so he hoped their noise drowned out Vegas’ single shot. Their ears were good, but he didn’t think they were good enough to pick out a single shot from hundreds.
“There was someone behind the door,” countered the trigger happy human not relaxing his stance.
“And you didn’t stop to think it could have been one of ours?!” This came from Mark who was yelling louder than normal. The gun had been fired close to his ear and it was ringing slightly, but he could hear perfectly from his left ear.
“No,” Vegas finally relaxed his stance since it was clear no one was going to come through the door, “because he,” he pointed to Trunks, “was the only one that heard them coming! That was not human!”
Knife in hand, Hamilton moved toward the door, stuck his ear to it and listened. After several seconds of hearing nothing, he slowly pushed open the door just wide enough to look through. “Nice shot,” he complimented, thoroughly impressed. Vegas had somehow managed to blindly hit his target in the head.
Vegas just shrugged. “Pure luck,” he amended. He didn’t like getting complimented on a shot that had been pure guesswork. He could have just as easily missed and have been dead along with everyone else in the room (though he had a feeling Hamilton and Trunks would survive). And yes, it could have possibly been one of his own out there. Nothing about that shot had been skill. Just sheer dumb luck that would never happen again. It was not something to get congratulated on.
“Luck or not, it was still a good shot.” And hopefully it didn’t get us noticed, he thought to himself, not wanting to say it aloud. It would just cause further problems. They already had enough on their plate; they didn’t need to add panic to it.
Stomach starting to churn, Jack rolled over until her head was hanging off of the bed. There wasn’t even time for her to gag before the bile rose up and left her body. The taste was horrible and nearly made her vomit again. To get it out of her mouth, she did her normal routine of spitting it out. It never really got the taste out, but it helped her think of other things besides the puddle of puke splashed on the once clean white linoleum floor. If she thought too hard about it, the bile would rise up once again and she would add more to the puddle. She felt B’rasch’s clawed fingertips brush her back in a soothing manner. It never calmed her stomach, but it did make her feel better, though this time, it wasn’t working. She was starting to feel worse. Her body really wasn’t taking the poison too well. Not too long from now, she was going to be dead. “I don’t want to die in this compound,” she whispered.
“You will not,” B’rasch reassured her. Their time in the compound wasn’t going to be much longer so B’rasch did not care that Vegas and Mark knew he could speak their language. What he did care about was Jack getting better, and he could see by scanning her that she was getting worse. Some of her organs were attempting to shut down on her. He looked to Hamilton, hoping to convey his thoughts to the man. It seemed the male understood him since he walked to his siblings and started to speak to them in their strange language quickly. He nodded a few time before turning back to B’rasch and giving him a thumbs up. B’rasch understood that to be a good gesture and felt gladdened.
With a needle in hand, Churo headed toward Jack. The needle was filled with a clear liquid. B’rasch couldn’t help but wonder how something so invisible could possibly save Jack’s life. It didn’t matter if the antidote was black as pitch, if it helped Jack, he would be happy. Then, he could really get her to safety and hopefully save his little brother from the Arathians as well. If both of those could happen, then it would be a victory. The needle was pushed into one of Jack’s blue veins and Churo pushed the fluid into her body. “It will take some time before she will show any signs of the antidote taking effect. But since the antidote has been administered, she can be moved.” Now, that was some good news. Everyone in that room was ready to leave as soon as they could.
Now, all they had to do was come up with a strategy to get out of the compound. The discussion hadn’t been going on for long before an argument broke out. The fight was mainly about who was going to carry Jack. It was agreed that since Hamilton and Trunks were the strongest fighters, their hands should be free. Monro completely refused to touch Jack and Churo had to carry her equipment. That left Vegas and Mark. Neither one of them could figure out who was the better shot and who should carry Jack. They were mainly the ones arguing while everyone just rolled their eyes or screamed at them to hurry up and make a decision. Finally, getting fed up with the bickering; Ashley announced that he would carry his sister. Mark couldn’t help but laugh while Vegas agreed it was a good idea. That quickly put a halt to Mark’s laughter. “What?!”
“I said it was a good idea,” Vegas retorted. “Clean the shit out of your ears.”
“What makes you think he can carry her?” Though he was used to being insulted by Mark in this regard, it still didn’t fail to piss Ashley off. Just because he was a scientist didn’t mean he stayed in the lab all the time. One of his favorite things to do was life weights, and he did so in his spare time (though that was no longer as often as he liked). He may not be a bulky mass of muscle, but that didn’t mean he was weak. Ashley just preferred his muscles to look more natural. Besides, if you bulk up too much it makes it harder to do certain things, not to mention some woman didn’t find it attractive (Rochelle was one of those women).
“Because he wouldn’t offer if he couldn’t do it,” snapped Vegas. He knew Ashley was the over-logical type of person. If he couldn’t carry Jack the entire time and slowed them down, he would not have opened his mouth.
Finally having agreed on who was to carry Jack and what positions they were to be in, it was time to go.
*** *** ***
“Hasinth,” called Rajtris frantically, running toward his commander. Hasinth was kneeling over a couple of bodies that had once been his men. Rajtris’ sky blue eyes widened at the sight. “By the god!” he shouted. “Who did that?” So sickened he was by the sight, he had to turn away from it. Never in his many years had he some such a horror. There wasn’t a full body amongst the pile. He couldn’t even tell who they once were and he had known the name and face of all that had been in the group, including the reinforcements.
A humorless smile crossed Hasinth’s face. “Do you remember Churo?” Of course, Rajtris remembered Churo. The young male had had a crush on her for years, something Hasting knew full well. “It was her little brother, Anro, that did this. The half-breed is very fearsome.”
Rajtris’ jaw clenched so tight his teeth ground. “Hybrids,” he corrected the older Arathian. “We prefer to be called hybrids.”
“I do not care what you prefer to be called.” Hasinth stood. “I will call you what I please. Now, tell me why you came searching for me.”
“The Council has ordered an immediate retreat.”
‘Why?” Normally, Hasinth was not one to question orders, but ordering a retreat was highly unusual.
“They have received word that Selest and her traitors are on their way here in full force. They outnumber us greatly. Defeat would be imminent, and the Council wishes to keep you alive.”
“Inform the others.”
“I already have. We are waiting for you.”
Another humorless smile appeared on Hasinth’s face. “Do you hear that, Anro? We’re retreating.”
Hamilton stepped from around the corner him and the others had been hiding behind. Ashley asked what he was doing in a hiss, but Hamilton calmed him down with a gesture of his hand. They had been trying to find their way out when they had heard Rajtris’ voice, forcing them to stop. “I heard.” It was good news for them. Now, they didn’t have to fight their way out of the building. They could leave in peace.
“We will be back.” Hamilton figured that, but that didn’t matter. No one would be in the compound if they came back. They would all be safely hidden somewhere.
“Good for you,” Hamilton snapped back. His eyes shifted in Jack’s direction while keeping his face pointed toward his enemies. “Jack will be healed by then.” His eyes snapped back to Hasinth. “You might want to train a little harder,” he advised. “You look as if you’ve gotten a little lazy in your old age. I’m sure Jack wants to kill you when you’re at your best.”
“Ha! You were always so funny. Even when you were trying to rip my insides out with your bare hands.”
That was a day Hamilton would never forget. It had been what had caused his banishment from his family and home. “It is not very nice to call other people names. Besides, I would say we are even. I tried to rip out your insides, you ripped me away from the only home I ever knew at a young tender age. Neither one of us died. I would call that pretty damn even.” Actually, Hamilton didn’t think it even. All Hasinth got was a scar; Hamilton had been banished from his home in a humiliating public trial. They never once let him speak for himself. Not that it would have mattered. The Council would have still voted to banish him. He had nearly killed their favorite pet. It was a mistake he would gladly commit again. There was no one on the planet he hated more than Hasinth.
“Hasinth,” a gentle voice called. Upon hearing it, Hamilton relaxed. No matter how long it had been since he heard it, he would always recognize his mother’s voice. It was a mixture of soft kindness and hard authority. He never knew how she could blend it together, but she had managed. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” she suggested, her voice having a sharper edge to it than normal. Several more Arathians appeared from behind her.
Hasinth knew when he was beaten. He was grossly outnumbered and all he had with him was Rajtris, who was useless in a battle. The only way he was going to get out of this was if he walked away, which he would do with honor. Besides, he had been ordered to retreat, and he never disobeyed an order. “Another time then.” He gave Selest a little bow and then left without another word.
Selest turned to her son. “You always had an uncanny knack for making friends.”
“I try.”
A sigh left his mother’s lips. “Come along then.” The rest of the group appeared from behind the corner. B’rasch earned a long admiring stare. “All of you,” she quickly amended. With a gesture of her head signaling them to follow, she turned around and started to head into the general direction of the exit. Hamilton copied his mother's head gesture and followed her out, the rest following suit.
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All Good Things Come to Those Who Wait