A/N: For those of you that follow some of my past stories, I'm sure you have noticed that Survival of the Fittest 2: Game Reserve, is no longer available for viewing. I apologize for deleting it without proper warning, but I came to a realization when I was writing it and re-reading it: this was not what I had pictured in my head when I first started it. I had a concept, and I felt that I was not pulling off that concept to the best of my abilities. I felt that it could be better.

This is in no way a sequel to Survival of the Fittest, its going to be its own story even though it features Xenos and Yautja (Alien and Pred)

I came up with this idea while looking at Alien and Triborg's endings. I will also be making references to Prometheus, both AvP films, MK9 and other sources. This is going to be a long story, but on the whole, I feel this is much better for what I expect out of myself, and will also being respectful to the source material.

Chapter 1
Cowboys and Aliens

Colorado
1868

There was always serene quietness at night, but it never did help coax his excited, sundry thoughts away and allow him to sleep. There was no way that they 7-year old could sleep, regardless of the tiring day they had endured; his mind wandered elsewhere and evaded the sandman's dust. The tranquil nothingness was only disturbed by a small snore from Abraham, who slept on the ground beside him and the distant lonely cry of a coyote. Aaron, the adopted son of the once reclusive stagecoach driver, turned his head towards his surrogate father. Laying on his back, with only a weathered wool blanket to sleep upon, the young blonde haired boy smiled as he Abraham muttered something incoherent from beneath the brim black hat that covered his eyes from the campfire light.

The lean muscled man dressed in black, smacked his lips as he laid in his unconscious stupor. Aaron also noticed the tips of his fingers curl softly around the handle of the Griswold revolver tucked inside the holster under his duster and above his black and speckled gray vest. It was the comforting norm for the grizzled dark haired man, like a babe that would clutch a toy sleeping in its crib. Aaron was comforted seeing his arm draped across his chest, ready to draw if something nefarious came looking for a snack, or if any sons-of-bitches wanted what they had. His faith in Abraham to protect him was unquestionable after the many times he demonstrated it when bandits and predators slithered into their camp.

They wouldn't have to worry about any of that after tomorrow. Aaron smiled as he looked up at the distant alabaster pinpricks in the endless obsidian curtain above their heads. The mountain pines tops swayed with the wind, trying to obscure his vision, but Aaron still beamed a smile as he counted the stars and thought about the gold in the creek waiting for both the man and boy to pluck. The camp didn't even have a name yet, but from what Abraham had told him, 'Tincup' was its unofficial moniker. Named after the random stroke of luck in honor of the man that fished his cup into the river for a drink to quench his thirst, and instead found it heightened when he saw fortune at the bottom of his cup.

"It won't be any different from Hays." Abraham's voice reminded him, and he knew he was right. Just like the dangerous cow town, they would have to watch their step and who they made acquaintances. Aaron still couldn't have been more excited. Just another few miles and they be richer than a new whore after her first day. Abraham grunted dubiously every time that Aaron voiced it, but he still had faith they would come across a bonanza. After all, they had traveled all this way.

The fire was beginning to die, but the boy wasn't up to the task of placing another long on the pile just yet. Air puffed from their two horses snouts nearby, and Aaron glanced their way as his buckskin, Bohannon, flapped his ears and flicked away mosquitoes. The black and white paint, who Abraham affectingly dubbed 'Lucifer' after breaking him in, shook his head and sent his ebony hair flapping gently like an ocean wave.

Eventually, his groin ached and with a tired groan, he rolled himself up and walked away from the fire, passed by the hatchet buried in the stump, and into the columns of pine trees to take care of his business. His shoes snapped twigs and tripped over tree roots as he blindly fumbled in the dark. With the glow of the fire at his back and the heat it provided departing him, Aaron urinated as he yawned and craned his chin up to look through the canopy of trees and searched for a constellation.

Something warm kissed his cheek, and he lifted his hand and tapped his fingers against his skin. At first, he thought it was a raindrop, but as he pulled his fingers away, he felt his eyebrows furrow as he rubbed the sticky, substance between his small digits. The 7-year old's blue eyes looked back up at the trees before he shrugged it off.

It was probably tree sap.

He buttoned his pants and rubbed the sap against his pant leg. It clung to his brown pants and with a small tug, it protested and remained glued to his pants before he gave it an even harder tug with a small, annoyed grunt.

Bohannon stomped his hooves and let out a squeal. Not even a second passed before Lucifer did the same and huffed. It carried on, their distress growing louder as their feet drummed nervously as Aaron observed anxiously from behind the pines. He could see the campfire through the fenced wall of trees and heard Abraham stir awake and rise to his feet.

The ex-coach driver noticed the empty blanket and began to look for Aaron as he unholstered his revolver. Aaron stepped forward, revealing himself and attempted to call out for him before Abraham spotted him.

His black shoulder length hair, raked with streaks of gray, flipped into his face when he heard the boy's footsteps in the dark. With wide, sea green eyes pointed in his direction, Abraham slapped his hand down, as if striking an invisible table-top— silently ordering him to get down and hide. There was terror under his apprehension, and Aaron's blood ran cold just looking at Abraham's face. It had a to be a bear. He knew Abraham was terrified of them after barely escaping one that claimed his horse instead of him long before he met the boy.

The boy hesitated and whimpered; he was glad the horses drowned it out because he felt pathetic for doing so. Crawling on his hands and knees, he wiggled his way quietly under the umbrella of pine needles and branches that hung low to the ground. Hiding behind a large pine, he huddled as much as he could to merge with the tree's trunk.

He held his breath as he pressed his ear against the trunk but still dared a peak around the base. Abraham barked at the horses to keep quiet, but they still bucked to get free of the line tied between two trunks. It didn't take long, and the rope finally snapped with their combined strength. Abraham cursed as they fled into the woods and deserted them to whatever spooked them.

Aaron had always found it ironic how much he had never gotten along with his horse since they were almost identical in personalities: stubborn, robust and keen to their surroundings. Unlike Lucifer, however, Abraham was not as yellow-bellied and stood his ground even though Aaron could tell he was nervous about whatever intruder the dark hid.

Ducking back behind the tree, the boy held his breath, trying to listen and only exhaled when his lungs filled with pain. Each time, he heard his own breath tremble with trepidation. He knew bears were dangerous— especially a starving bear. For a moment, he looked up at the branches of the pine tree he was hiding under. He could reach the nearest one and climb to the top if he wanted to, but he didn't dare want to make any noise that would bring a bear his way.

Aaron had his Philly Derringer in his pants pocket, but he was smart enough to know that the small caliber would do nothing but tickle a charging hungry bear. There was the hatchet, and Abe's Winchester but both of them may as well of been the same distance from San Francisco to Florida.

A frown weighed down the small boy's face.

Abraham suppose' ta take me to Florida… he recalled solemnly. He promised he would show me where he saw that cottonmouth.

The sound of gunfire roused the boy violently from his melancholy thoughts.

"Get outta here!" Abraham screamed furiously at the trees. "Or I'll pump ya so full of lead that you'll have folks prospectin' your carcass for spare ammunition!"

Abraham let out another shot into the air from his revolver as he quietly tip-toed towards the Winchester on the ground next to his blanket. There was only silence, except for the crackling fire that played tricks on both of their minds. Every time a coal popped, they whirled towards the noise believing it was the snap of a stick.

Aaron could hear his surrogate father's heavy breathing, and it only continued to quicken the more the seconds ticked slowly away.

Then, there was nothing but the wail of banshees that pierced the night.

Aaron felt a tear run down his cheek as he heard the horses bawl in agony, he wasn't sure which one, or if it was both, but whatever was ripping the horse to shreds, screeched the most piercing cry he had ever heard.

Once in Hays, while he had been attending school, he remembered when the teacher had raked her nails against the blackboard to get their attention. This loud, horrendous screech made her nails seem like they had been made of butter that day. Aaron slapped his hands over his ears, trying to shield out the sound. Eventually, he heard the horses stop, but the screeching continued and he felt as if his ears were going to burst.

Then silence once more and as much as he hated to admit it, it was more dreadful than hearing the horses die. What followed, only picked up the speed of his heart and nailed him still to the cold ground of the mountain.

The boy heard hissing above them, far away from his tree but somewhere in Abraham's direction. Aaron thought it was a mountain lion at first, but there was something unnaturally horrendous about its hiss. The noise moved around, almost like it was leaping from tree to tree.

"What the hell are you…?" he heard Abraham fearfully ask under his breath. Aaron was thinking almost the same thing. He didn't know much about bears even though he had seen them from a distance from time to time, but he had a sinking gut feeling that it wasn't a bear. Now, he wished it had been.

The next thing he knew, Abraham was running to the tree he was hiding behind. His brim hat pushed aside the needles that parachuted around the boy, so only his head poked through.

"Aaron. Climb the tree," he ordered. It sent a shiver down the boy's spine when he saw how pale white Abraham was. All he could do was stammer out an objection, but Abraham cut him off.

"I'll draw it away, get in the tree and hide until I—

Aaron screamed in fear the same time Abraham cried out in surprise, dropped his Winchester and Griswold and instinctively grabbed the only thing within reach.

The young boy held on to Abraham's free hand as he hugged the tree with his arm like a grappling hook. The scales of the pine tree bit through his clothes and scratched his flesh, but he held on with all his might as Abraham's palm began to slip from his. Whatever had been in the trees, had latched onto the man's legs and was trying to drag him to a painful oblivion.

Abraham let out a bloodcurdling scream as something hissed, screeched and Aaron heard something wet hit the forest floor. He couldn't see what it was, but knew it was biting and ripping flesh from Abraham's legs just like it had done to the horses. Terror ran through every vein in the boy's body as Aaron crushed his grip tighter the same time Abraham purposely tried to slip from Aaron's.

Tears ran hot down his face as Abraham's face twisted into an apologetic, but heart-wrenching grimace before he yowled in pain and was pulled from Aaron's hand at last.

He heard him cry out to him as his voice faded into the dark: "RUN AARON!"

He didn't move a muscle; he felt physically crippled as he hugged the tree trunk with both arms and cried into the bark. Abraham's voice tapered away, but his grunts and shouts of pain echoed all around him like ghosts in a catacomb.

Then when he was certain that he was miserably alone, he peeled his face from the tree.

How wrong he was.

Even with the tree blocking his vision, and the branches that reached towards the ground like skeletal arms, he heard the animalistic growl and scratch. It was soft, but feral almost as if the beast couldn't help making the noise knowing that there was still prey around to hunt.

Aaron couldn't move, couldn't do anything without attracting its presence to him, and couldn't believe that Abraham was dead. He had let him go and guilt settled inside him like a heavy stone. All he could do was sit behind the trunk of the tree and cry.

Too afraid to run like Abraham had told him to do.

Too afraid to pick up the Griswold that lay by his feet and fight.

Too afraid to move…

Too afraid to breath…

Too afraid to do anything but wait for it to kill him…

The blonde boy's lips trembled with utter trepidation, and he immediately scuttled backwards like a crab when he saw the bony obsidian tail drop into view and curl its speared end like a cat. His hands managed to grab Abraham's revolver — he didn't even know how he had managed to since his mind gave him no command to do so.

Beyond the evergreen needles obscuring his view, he watched as saliva poured down to the ground like raindrops rolling off a roof's shingle. The tail disappeared from sight and all the heard, besides his blood pounding in his ears, was nails scratching against the bark, branches colliding together and then nothing but a heavy thud behind him. His face went pale, and he was certain if he hadn't of gone to the bathroom earlier, he would have wet his pants now.

Hot breath hit his neck from behind, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. Aaron began to sob as he heard the breathy hiss grow closer to the back of his naked neck and felt the creature salivating on him and wetting the collar of his brown coat.

Aaron couldn't look, didn't want to look even though a voice in the back of his head suggested he should at least get a look at what was about to kill him. Its presence shadowed over him like a turbulent thunder cloud blotting out any hope for survival. Its teeth clacked loudly from behind, and all he could do was whimper and sob as he waited for the inevitable death blow that was taking an eternity to arrive.

His ears were filled with a metallic snap, almost akin to the sound of a bullwhip cracking, and then followed a horrible screech that cut loudly in his ears. Aaron flinched and screamed while he waited for claws, but instead of grappling at Aaron's flesh, he dared a peek as he whirled around to see the most grotesque black monster he had ever seen digging its hands into the ground and bucking like a lassoed cow.

It was even more undeniably terrifying than he could have ever pictured and all he wanted to do was to turn his eyes away and burn the image of the malignant creature forever from his thoughts. Still, all he could do was stare in shock as it clawed hysterically while trying to gain traction on the mountain soil and free itself from the silver, barbed rope that wrapped around its emaciated-looking torso. Even though it was the most frightful animal he had ever seen, Aaron's first comparison was that it looked like a man except for the long, smooth elongated head, the jagged curves and spikes that armored almost its entire body, and the bony tail that thrashed around wildly.

It squealed in angry protest as it was pulled back towards the woods, helpless against the rope that dangled in the air. Aaron squinted his eyes in the darkness as it continued to be hauled backwards like a fish on a line. Unfortunately, the blackness of the night and the demon on the leash flailing around hid any glimpse he could get at what had just saved his life.

Still hiding under the parasol of pine needles and branches, he watched as it was dragged ten feet away from him and cringed in surprise when it opened its large, mouth at him and then went instantly quiet when the length of a spear came out its mouth and the tip buried itself in the soil like a railroad spike. It stilled after it quivered its last bits of life out, and then slumped to the ground as the spear was pulled from its head.

Aaron blinked and breathed heavily as he heard a sickening sizzle coming from the fresh corpse and steam rise from the juniper colored blood that began to soak the ground. His eyes lifted up, and his breath caught in his throat, strangling him as he had trouble comprehending what he was seeing.

The handle of a silver whip hovered at least 5 feet over the ground, held by the air while the spear that had just killed the serpent-like beast was standing upright like a light pole. There was a faint crackle of electricity, but it was almost more muffled than sharp, and it boomed lightly in the air around the weapons. Materializing from a ripple of blue and white lines of lightning, another monster stood before him.

A frightful gasp escaped from his lips as he took in the tall, imposing and deadly looking muscled man. He could feel its eyes on him through the slits of the gray mask that covered his face between the massive collection of long black dreadlocks. Aaron's eyes landed on the strange marking on the middle of its helmet: A series of lines that while not connected, resembled a pitchfork with the prongs spread wider apart. He would have thought maybe he was the devil, if it wasn't for the other lines at the base of the line that curved down on both sides of the line; like a mirror image of crescent moons. Besides the mask's carved drawing, the mask itself was almost like it was all for show—almost as if was intentional to look like a human face despite the broad, smooth plating to big for any man's face. Even though its skin was beige, he knew it was as human as the dead dragon by its feet. Its skin was speckled with dark brown spots, and it reminded Aaron of a rattlesnake. He also stood tall as a horse as well, and while lean looked just as strong as either Bohannon or Lucifer.

It was also barely wore anything to cover his body except for a leather kilt with a metal codpiece the same color as the scalloped layers of shoulder armor, shin guards, clawed sandals, and heavy gauntlets on both wrists. It also surprised the young boy, when he saw something familiar but still very much alien strapped to his plated shoulder. There was a chubby, strange gun that sat on a perch like a parrot on a pirate's shoulder. It was an odd placement for a weapon, and it almost looked innocent seated still on his massive shoulder. Aaron knew better than to let his guard down and question the lethality of the device although it was stationary. It wouldn't be a part of his arsenal if it weren't.

He looked like some mythological warrior, bound to protect the entrance of some archaic temple that he had traveled far away from. Wherever it had come from, he wished it would return there. However, there was a small sense of gratitude for it even though suspicion and unease pricked at his skin. It had saved his life, and even if he didn't know why, seemed less eager to kill him as the other one had been.

Still, it was no comfort to him because there was no way to discern if the thing was thinking about killing him or sparing him. Aaron felt a shiver travel down his spine like a cold blade's tip as his eyes landed on the clean, ivory skulls of small animals he didn't recognize hanging on a sash over his torso… and gasped quietly in fear at the jawless human skulls attached to a belt on his hips.

A strange clicking, like the sound of bones knocking rapidly together, came from him as it cocked its head to the side at him; studying him like a curious predator sniffing an unfamiliar animal. He lashed his whip once, almost with an aloof flick of his wrist and then twirled the spear as well. Tiny dots melted into the bark of nearby trees from the blood he flicked from both weapons. It took him a moment, but then his jaw slacked when he finally realized that the obsidian demon's blood, was acidic. Even lifeless, it was still deadly to go near.

The reptilian humanoid still held his weapons even as he circled the body and sauntered over to where Aaron was. He gulped and began to move backwards until his back hit the tree. Panic caught in his throat as he looked at both of the savage looking instruments and couldn't help but fearfully wonder which one would be used on him.

Metal slid against metal in a smooth, quick 'schlik' as his spear detracted into the size of a slender club.

Guess it was going to be the whip. Aaron exhaled heavily.

His clawed feet stomped towards the tree; he walked casually, but his bulky build still made tremors with each step. As he approached, and the boy's heart pounded like a drum against his ribcage, he began to fondle Abraham's heavy gun with clammy hands and raised its barrel to point at the hulking figure.

For his size, Aaron would have never have even thought for a second it was capable of moving with such incredible speed. He didn't even know he had lunged at him until he felt a hot, scaly hand wrap around his wrist, pull him free of the safety of the tree and lift him high over his its massive head.

With his wrist crushed and the gun pointed straight towards the stars, Aaron winched in pain and began to worm and twist like a rabbit in a snare. He stared down at the emotionless slate colored mask beneath him almost desperately— silently begging him to let him live as he kicked his dangling feet high above the ground.

As his arm flared in pain, threatening to pop from his socket at any moment, Aaron was incredibly aware of the precarious situation he was in. The way he had the gun pointed up, out of the path of fire, in no way felt as if it was defending itself from whatever harm Aaron could have done; the boy was nothing but a bug against a boot. Him holding him high above the ground was only a minuscule example of the strength he truly possessed— and all he was doing was just holding him. Aaron had no doubt he could have crushed his bones into dust with a single squeeze of his clawed hand.

The 7-year old moaned in pain, his shoulder on fire, but still he held him high in the air by his arm…

Until they both heard the screeching.

His dreadlocks flipped to the side, towards the source of the noise and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the boy away; letting him fall carelessly to the hard, unforgiving soil.

Aaron grunted in pain as he hit the dirt on his side, his ribs feeling as if he had just been heeled by a mule, but miraculously managed to hold on to Abraham's revolver. Blinking back tears of pain, he looked up to see three more of the identical black demons come forth through the darkness.

Orange flames illuminated their glossy sides as they stalked from the trees, and crossed the threshold of Abraham and Aaron's camp. They gnashed their teeth and dripped constant rivulets of saliva from their vicious pointed teeth as they crawled on all fours towards the boy and the armored humanoid.

Aaron rolled to his rear and held the gun in both hands out in front of him as a barbarous and fierce roar came from muscled alien biped. With his arms spread wide, and his dreadlocks subtly flared out like a lion's mane, he cracked his cruel metal bullwhip in a display of aggression as he stormed near them, his muscles tensed with readiness.

The boy looked up in shocked awe at the behemoth. Aaron had been terrified to the core when he saw more demons approach from the darkness, but this false man, didn't show an ounce of fear, and instead was filled with intrepid adrenaline and made the clicking sound again — this time faster and more pitched. He was elated facing death, and Aaron had never in his life seen such morbid delight and anticipation. If this indomitable wall of muscle had a language, Aaron doubted that the word 'fear' was even apart of their vocabulary.

One of them charged with ferocious and ravenous speed and only stopped when the whip wrapped around its bony neck. The brute tugged the barbed lash and seemingly without effort, ripped it's head from its shoulders. The head rolled across the ground until it stopped inside of the flames of the dying campfire.

As the other two black dragons neared them, Aaron noticed the small metal cannon on his shoulder whirr to life the same time three red dots appeared on the oblong head of the closest inky demon. The gun, as if with a mind of its own, repositioned itself and aimed as it began to charge with the speed of a mountain lion.

A ball exploded from the gun and flew towards it in a tumbling snowball made of lightning. However, the creature ducked out of the way in time, and the tree behind him obliterated into splinters.

Another electric bullet escaped from the shoulder gun, and as before, missed when the dragon rolled out of its path. The muscled man seemed to have anticipated it would steer out of the way because the next thing Aaron saw was a yellow geyser of blood erupting out of its long head. Broken pieces of blood coated skull rained around the camp before the creature's body slumped to the ground.

Aaron noticed that the last dragon had taken notice of him, crouched low at him and lowered his head in his direction with a scowl. His eyes widened in fear as it began to stalk towards him before sprinting at him with a screech.

Aaron raised Abraham's heavy revolver and fired as he began to shovel his heels into the ground, and tried crawling away as it closed in on him. The child began to mewl in fear, even as the bullets hit the tubular head and caused the monster to shriek in agony and flinch in pain. Abraham's revolver bucked wildly in his hand with each recoil, sending blunt pain across his wrists and shoulders as he held the gun in both hands.

Although wounded in the head, it still came at him with a horrible snarl, and he knew he only had seconds to live before its claws dug into his throat. However, Aaron hadn't been the only one to notice it had locked on a different target.

The demon screeched when the beige giant grabbed it by its tail and pulled it away from Aaron, once again saving him from the jaws of the death. This monster was not like the first one he had saved from Aaron, and the boy heard himself let out a shocked gasp when it whirled on his hulking savior, leaped through the air and collided into him.

The whip flew purposely out of his clawed hand and wrapped around the slick throat. It thrashed above him as it pinned him to the ground, clawing at whatever skin it could reach. Its head bobbed, trying to wiggle from the crushing grip on its neck. A small, square like appendage shot out of its mouth, biting at the air just above his silver mask. After it retracted and detracted several times, Aaron realized that it was not a tongue like he thought it was when he saw it take a small chunk out of the behemoth's chest. It's blood, like the serpent that had him trapped, also had different colored blood and the fluorescent green color almost hurt his eyes.

That was when it hit the boy. It was bleeding! It was killing him!

Even though he knew it was not human, the boy still felt a human eagerness to help— a rapid impulsiveness to save someone in mortal danger. He knew that there was something that he could do to stop this black monster from killing him, even if all he could be was a distraction. Aaron knew that if he didn't at least try and give him the advantage, then he would be joining Abraham on the other side as soon as it was done killing the only obstacle in its way.

It ripped another chunk of flesh from his shoulder, and this time, he heard it roar over the shrill sounds of the creature's frustration that he still could not reach him. That was when Aaron ran for the hatchet.

His feet felt as heavy as boulders as he pumped his arms through the air, running as fast as limbs could towards the campfire. His heart raced with panic as he tried to swallow his fear down his throat. The boy grabbed the small ax from the stump and flew towards the pair still wrestled in a deadly embrace. The monster paid no attention to him as he approached and he raised the hatchet as high as he could over his head and buried it as deep as he could into its skull.

It hissed in agony and threw its skinny arm back, striking Aaron in the stomach and sailing him through the air. Fire mushroomed all over his chest, and he winced in pain as he fought against the barrage of tears threatening to spill. For such a skinny arm, it felt as if he had just been struck by a bull.

His affliction hadn't gone unrewarded, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the huge humanoid roll the creature on its back— finally granted with the leverage he needed.

The inner mouth shot out again, and this time, he grabbed it and with a couple of tugs, tore it out altogether. It bubbled up acidic blood as he quickly climbed to his feet, held the demon down with a foot and with the other, stomped as hard as it could on the hatchet head sticking out of its slick bulbous head.

With a sickening crunch, the hatchet cut through its skull under the weight of its foot. They both watched as it quivered and died by the time the acid ate through the wood of the handle. He removed his foot from the carcass the same time the wooden handle of the hatchet 'thunked' to the ground.

Immediately, a strange cloud of uneasiness hovered in the space above them and replaced the excitement and horror of what the boy had witnessed. Aaron was no stranger to death, and was thankfully satisfied to see the oily monsters dead, but he still could not comprehend anything that had just happed; like he had just awoken from some lucid nightmare.

As the mammoth, who didn't even look at his ghastly weeping wounds on his pectorals, withdrew a cobalt blue liquid in a glass vial and began to walk around the camp. Only adding more to the boy's already daunting mountain of confusion, he watched as he poured the liquid, that rivaled his green blood in luminescence, and watched as the earth swallowed the demons.

Aaron understood that it was acidic as the blood of the creatures, but he what he didn't understand was why he was pouring it on them. The boy was beginning to doubt if he was ever going to comprehend a single thing about the herculean enigma.

After all of the creatures had vanished from existence, the only evidence that they had even been here was Aaron's bruised chest and the green blood dripping down its bare torso, it stalked towards him.

Even the way it walked was mysterious; it didn't saunter towards him with anger, or the desire to kill him, or even indifference. The boy knew he had to be contemplating something because its expressionless mask never left his face.

As it came to a halt right in front of him, Aaron shrunk slightly in his shadow, but still dared to stare him in the eye. It made the clicking noise again and tilted his head at Aaron slightly. The boy still didn't know what that meant, and he wished the goddamn thing would just spit it out already. A little discontented by its lack of explanation, the boy narrowed his eyes in anger at him and asked the only question that came to mind.

"Where's Abraham?" his small voice demanded. In all honesty, he was surprised he was able to utter the words. The creature may not have killed him, but he still was apprehensive towards him. With a single blow, he could end his life if he wanted to and Aaron would never see the it coming.

Again, it stared at him; never uttering a word and never lowering its shield. Instead, the unknown male— at least he guessed it was male— walked towards where he had discarded the demon's appendage. Picking it up, he wandered back towards the boy. The masked being looked at the disgusting inner mouth that hung like a dead trout in his hand, curling his clawed fingers around it — mulling over something— before he looked back at Aaron.

To his astonishment, the creature spoke in the deepest, most garbled baritone voice he had heard. "Keep..."

It tossed the severed limb at the boy, as if rewarding him with a medal. The boy's reflexes kicked up, and without his permission, caught the creature's limb in his hands. It was repulsively slippery and its slick, translucent saliva clung to his hand like glue.

Aaron looked down in disgust at it and noticed that the monster had turned its back and was storming away from him. The 7-year-old bristled with anger and impulsively, jumped to his feet with the limb trying to jump from his hand as he raced after him.

Whipping his hand back and with an angry grunt, he threw the vile gift back — aiming for the back of his head. "I don't want yer goddamn' souvenir!"

As soon as it hit the back of his thick hair, and landed on the ground by his heels, the armored male stopped dead in his tracks. A worrisome expression came over his face, and for a moment, he really regretted what he did. Still, the stubborn boy puffed up his chest as it continued to give him his back.

"What happened to Abraham! I know you gotta know somethin'!" he hollered at him. Aaron felt his eyes prick with tears, and with the back of his dirty coat sleeve, he wiped them away— secretly thankful that it didn't see him crying at the same time.

It said nothing, but it did tip its head slightly over its shoulder to regard him with a side-glance; acknowledging him that he was listening at least, even if his demeanor still seemed unmoved.

"Please..." Aaron croaked out, more tears spilling and this time not caring if it saw. "Help me find him...?"

Its head and shoulders lifted briefly up and he heard it grunt softly— was it scoffing at him? The child's fists tightened— shaking— and felt his nails bury painfully into his skin as his face twisted in anger. The boy stormed over and picked up the Griswold and then tried to storm past him.

"If you ain't gonna help me, then I'll go kill every one of those cocksuckers myself!" Aaron declared, hotly huffing out his words with every step. As the boy attempted to pass by his massive thigh that was bigger than his torso, he squeaked in fright when he felt a clawed hang grab the front of his shirt and lift him.

As it brought him eye level, and dangled him feet off the ground, Aaron felt all of his irate determination flutter out of him faster than a frightened bird. The boy gulped as he hung uncomfortably from the front of his shirt, and the seams of his clothes dig painfully under his arms. He felt its nails scratch across his hand as it pulled the Griswold from his grasp, and tossed it the side into the woods without a glance— his stare persistently on the boy.

"Sire... is dead..." It told him with its guttural voice. It stated it matter-of-factly— without remorse— and Aaron felt his heart shatter at the undeniable truth he had been trying to ignore. Hanging limply, and crying, he fell on his bottom when it dropped him to the ground. He sniffled as he stared at the steeled clawed sandals.

"Foolhardy... pup..." it said to him, as it turned its back to him once again. "Still... somewhat...strong."

Aaron lifted his head just in time to see his silhouette drowned out in a shimmer of electricity and invisible ripples through the air. He could only make out the outline of his body for a few brief seconds, before he vanished completely from existence.

Leaving the grieving boy alone and in mercy of the dark.

Unbeknownst to both the Yautja and the human child, their meeting was merely a prelude to the calamity that would befall on both of them in another world they had no knowledge of yet.

A/N: Before you ask, no, the Predator is not Wolf from AVP: R. He's my OC, however, he is an Arbitrator like Wolf is (Predator Police) and I put the whip in there because its one of my favorite weapons they used. I hoped you enjoyed the first chapter, and let me know what you thought about it. It will be a while until Aaron and the Predator meet up again, but I promise there will be MK characters in the first arc of the story. :)

Thanks for reading! :D