This is it, are you ready? xD

Another long, crazy, dangerous ride is about to start with a bunch of old and new characters. I have been writing and rewriting and re-rewriting to get this prologue the way I want it, and it's finally close enough. Now I can't wait to start showing you everything I have planned. Soooo many cliffhangers incoming! ;D

Disclaimer: I don't own or make money off of Aliens or Predators.

Let's begin!

A wailing alarm blared across the incapacitated Yautja ship, reacting to an automatic system analysis that had concluded its shields were down and it was running on backup power. As a result, every warrior was gearing up and getting ready to face the invasion they knew to expect.

Deadlock hoped they would put up a fight worthy of the hunt.

The elite warrior's mind was calm, centered, as he followed the lit symbols on the unfamiliar ship's walls, coming to a two-storey trophy hall. Near half a millennium of experience kept him ready for anything, even on such a sudden and upleasant mission as this. The audio enhancers in his biomask filtered away excess noise, allowing him to ignore the piercing alarm and to concentrate on his mission.

He wasn't hunting alone this time. Deadlock had made a quick decision to take his students along, deeming them ready for the challenge. Like him, they had used their short-distance transporters to invade the small mothership, scattering to hunt by themselves. The seasoned warrior kept his instinctual excitement under control, reminding himself it was his students' turn to show their prowess. His mission was mainly to evaluate how far they had progressed with their training.

That, and beheading one target personally.

Deadlock would've preferred to get the latter done first, but having linked his biomask with those of his students', he was expected to start viewing their battles as soon as they would give the signal. His own prey would have to wait.

Sometimes, however, it seemed the Black Warrior grew impatient and guided things more to his liking.

Deadlock stopped, hearing a door open on the upper level. An unmasked Yautja walked into view, broad, jagged swords in his spotted hands. Excluding the lack of a biomask, the sturdy warrior was well covered in protective body armor, prepared more for war whereas Deadlock's gear was as light as possible, suitable for nimble movements during a hunt.

"I cannot imagine what you expected to achieve, Enforcer..." the armored hunter growled, walking to the ledge and dropping down to Deadlock's level with a heavy resounding thump. "...by bringing mere three warriors with you to face an entire clan. May all of you die honorably."

Splitbone. Deadlock knew enough for the name to fill him with disgust. The leader of the small, disgraced clan of Bad Bloods they had come to hunt. He had taken the title by defeating the former leader and anyone who opposed him in official duels. After that there had been nothing honorable in what he had done. Seldom had one hunter been able to turn an entire clan away from the path of honor like he had. The severity of the crime was what had spurred Deadlock to come aboard instead of monitoring his students from their own ship.

Deadlock wasn't given the time to answer as Splitbone's armored body already sprung forward, thick arms pulling back to one side for a powerful strike aimed at Deadlock's unprotected middle. Despite the disadvantage it brought against two long swords, he chose to use his preferred weapon, extending a pair of wristblades from his gauntlet and bracing his body to catch the attack.

The first toothed blade locked with his, but the latter had changed its angle on the fly and headed past his wristblades, straight for his stomach. Separating their weapons Deadlock slipped out of the sword's reach, a sudden noise within his biomask catching his attention. The first of his students had now engaged in their battle. Well. It seemed he would have to fulfill his duties as their mentor first after all.

Deadlock deflected another blade and kicked Splitbone in the chestplate to push him back before activating the link between the biomasks. Doing so opened a live feed of his student's view into the corner of his vision.

Crypt.

The first of his students and undoubtedly the most skilled one. He had advanced the furthest during the decades Deadlock had trained them, already aspiring to become a Spear Master. The young warrior had outgrown most of his peers in height, though not in mass, lean muscles a well-toned instrument of graceful death. On top of that, his self-discipline was outstanding. And he knew his place, which eliminated the usual arrogance found in young warriors Deadlock so much despised.

Appropriately for the disciplined hunter, it seemed he had chosen the ship's training hall as his battleground.

Splitbone recovered his balance and charged back towards Deadlock, who dodged the aggressively swinging sword and swiped a low counter-attack with his wristblade, swiftly blocked by the other sword. He was capable, the older warrior noted, but too impatient and too reliant on physical strength. Flaws many hunters shared and grew out of if they lived long enough.

In Deadlock's shared vision, Crypt stood in the middle of the spacious hall and its many arenas, surrounded by multiple warriors. A strategically unwise position for taking on several enemies at once. Unless one was a Spear Master. Or even far enough into their training, as Crypt was.

Deadlock counted five young warriors, possibly more behind his student. Despite the presence of such a volatile group, an unnatural stillness reigned under the hall's high ceiling. No doubt it had something to do with the body of an impaled Yautja sliding slowly down on the end of Crypt's combispear.

The blood-dripping Yautja had already lost his head, courtesy of the curving blade of the glaive in Crypt's other hand. An example of how quick he was to utilize more than one of the retractable spears and glaives stored around his armor.

Deadlock could envision it. The taunts and roars rising like an oncoming storm as the Bad Bloods anticipated certain victory. Crypt's silent indifference and unbreakable focus. One of the eagerly chanting warriors charging head-on to claim the first strike. The chanting coming to an abrupt stop as Crypt's combispear struck seemingly out of nowhere like a gust of storm wind, sinking through flesh and thick bone. The next attack taking the paralyzed hunter's head in the blink of an eye.

Deadlock expected, and accepted, nothing less from his top student.

The tall warrior detached the dead Yautja from his combispear with a forceful tug, resting both the spear and the glaive to his sides and turning the weapons downwards in an invitation to attack his unguarded form.

The silence continued in a moment of hesitation, which made Deadlock scoff even through the reflexive moves his body was performing in the middle of his own fight. True warriors didn't hesitate.

Bellowing their battle-cries, the group finally rushed to strike their foe down. Their skills paled in comparison to Crypt's, who changed his weapons fluently into and out of his hands as he needed them. Few could keep up with the rapidly twirling and stabbing spears, either falling to the precisely aimed strikes or to the wide sideways blows that knocked them off their feet. Deadlock rarely allowed himself the luxury of pride, but watching his student wield his chosen weapons with perfectly executed movements, he couldn't deny the feeling that swelled in his chest.

He was very much pleased with Crypt's progress.

Splitbone was pushing his attacks harder, impatient to land an incapacitating blow. Deadlock kept one step ahead of the soaring and diving blades, half of his focus on the performance of his student. His evading seemed to infuriate the clan leader, but for the moment Deadlock wasn't concerned about that and just let their fight lead them out of the trophy hall and into a long corridor.

One by one the remaining hunters fell to the dance of the spears and soon there was only one left. Crypt had remained completely unscathed, while the other Yautja had suffered at least a broken arm. Deadlock waited to see what the injured and out-skilled warrior would do. Even if he was young and foolish, he should've known the proper way to greet the Black Warrior.

The young hunter glanced around himself, at the blood and entrails of his fallen clan members, and turned to run.

Deadlock felt the sour taste of disappointment.

More armed warriors entered the hall, some readying their plasma weapons and netguns when they realized what had happened to their clan members. None of it would make a difference. Deadlock had seen enough. He turned off the double view, and dodged a powerful lunge from Splitbone, simultaneously slicing at the exposed hand that passed by him. His wristblade drew a deep gash and an outraged roar from Splitbone, who dropped one of his swords. It didn't stop him from continuing his attack with the remaining sword.

The ferocity reminded Deadlock of his second student.

Activating another readied link revealed a corridor much like the one Deadlock had entered. But unlike his current position, this one was packed with brawling warriors. And it appeared that Deadlock's second student had situated himself in the middle of the raging chaos.

Wrangler.

The youngest and the most volatile of the three, Wrangler was the complete opposite of Crypt. An impulsive brawler with poor judgment and an unquenchable thirst for battle, a thirst so strong it hovered on the edge of madness.

Deadlock had once stepped in when a skirmish between two un-Blooded had turned into a frenzied battle of life and death. Killing another Yautja without an official permission or a clear case of self-defense was a punishable act, and even though Deadlock firmly believed fools deserved their due fate, he also knew all young warriors were fools. He had been one too, centuries ago.

He had taken action, grabbing and lifting the two fighters up by their dreadlocks, and slammed their faces together. The other youngling had wailed in pain and submitted, cowering from the elite hunter's wrath, but Wrangler...

Deadlock still vividly remembered the change in the young fool's expression. The stunned surprise as he had stared up at Deadlock, blood running under his eye, then a flash of realization as he had recognized the older warrior. At that point, any sane youngling would've submitted quickly in the hopes of avoiding a more severe beating or even death.

Wrangler hadn't.

The untrained, inexperienced would-be-warrior had actually had the audacity to attack the immensely more skilled elite hunter, charging forward at his legs. Deadlock had pounded the insolent youngling into the floor, hard enough for the sound of the impact to make the other Yautja in the room grimace. He certainly hadn't held back, thus he had been quite surprised when he had felt the sting of sharp claws digging into his leg before the echo of the blow had even died out.

That brainless pup, had been his first thought as he had kicked the insolent youngling in the face, breaking a mandible. The persistent thing had held on, surprising Deadlock again by starting a gurgling laughter. The elite hunter had pried the claws off his leg and lifted the barely mature Yautja by his neck with a passing thought of releasing the clearly insane creature from his destined to be short life.

Searching the youngling's eyes had, however, changed his mind. Even with the killing intent Deadlock had been projecting towards him, the excited gleam in Wrangler's eyes hadn't been distilled by fear. Deadlock had growled and pulled him closer to his face.

"Your life is destined to be very short if that's all the sense you possess in that thick skull of yours."

Blood had dribbled from the youngling's mouth as he had given his answer. "I don't care about that. Just give me a fight, give me a challenge and I will face it whatever it is."

It might've been on a whim, but Deadlock had given him what he had asked for, and made him his personal student. Hesitating had never been a habit of his, especially not when his instincts had told him he had something unusual standing in front of him.

Wrangler's stamina certainly had proven to be on a level far above normal. There seemed to be no limit to how much pain and damage he could endure and continue to fight. Still, Deadlock was slightly surprised the young and impulsive hunter had survived this long, given the magnitude of his recklessness.

Deadlock caught Splitbone's remaining sword with his wristblade, locking the two weapons and their free hands together in a battle of strength. At the same time he watched Wrangler endlessly grabbing and tearing, kicking, punching, whirling, clawing and headbutting his enemies as more charged at him. Blood had stained Wrangler's hands, his enemies and the narrow corridor, spilled abundantly by his spiky metal gauntlets and knee protectors that tore flesh and cracked bones. It was impossible to tell how much of it was his, but one thing Deadlock knew for sure.

He was laughing with every strike he took or delivered.

Wrangler's mad flailing was far from graceful, but Deadlock could see the improvement his strict training had had on the hard-headed student. His movements were better balanced and attacks executed with greater efficiency, even if Deadlock hadn't been able to cure him of his recklessness.

It was a shame where they would one day end up. Deadlock knew that as soon as Wrangler would feel he had learned everything there was to learn from him, he would challenge him again. And that time there would be only one warrior walking out.

Deadlock still hoped it wouldn't come to that. It would've been a waste to throw away years of hard work.

Splitbone's mandibles flared in a challenging roar, bringing Deadlock back from his ponderings. Splitbone was ignoring his injured hand and squeezing harder in an attempt to force his older opponent back. Deadlock noticed the sharp eyes stealing a quick glance behind him. This wasn't just showing off. There was something or someone behind him the overt aggressiveness was trying to conceal.

Deadlock stopped pushing back, instead yanking Splitbone forward into a headbutt. His biomask gave him the upper hand in that clash, making it easy for him to kneel and flip the dazed warrior over his shoulder. As he did, he could already hear the rhythmic pounding of someone running towards him.

He dove to the side, a current of air crawling across the back of his shortened dreadlocks as something swished by him and crashed forcefully into the wall.

Deadlock moved swiftly back and straightened himself, right away seeing a large metal ball more than half the size of his head, embedded into the plain wall. It was a spike-adorned mace with a long, sturdy shaft. Then he turned his head and saw the sizeable and clearly aggressive masked female on the other end of it. At that point he deemed it wise to distance himself and take a moment to assess the changed situation.

The female gave a tug and the hefty weapon came loose from the wall with a mournful screech, leaving behind a ragged crater in the metal. Deadlock could feel the intense stare aimed at him through the featureless biomask.

He made a quick evaluation of his new foe. The destructive huntress appeared young, definitely more inexperienced than either of the males. Still, it would've been dangerous to underestimate a female Yautja, especially when they were armed and angry.

Splitbone had gotten back to his feet and called the female, who unexpectedly refrained from resuming her attack. Deadlock cocked his head curiously. It was more usual for females to shove the smaller males out of their way, not stand down at their beckon. Mates perhaps? Had to be, strangely devoted even, considering she was willing to bear the consequences of becoming a Bad Blood with him.

The two regrouped and began exchanging their own silent hand signals, which seemed to support Deadlock's theory. He had hoped to have more time to observe his students, but it seemed he was faced with the need to finish his own battle without delay.

Deadlock checked one more link to see where his third and final student currently was.

He saw nothing.

Trounce wasn't wearing his biomask.

Anger seeped through the experienced warrior's composure. Whether the biomask had been removed by choice or because of carelessness in battle, he didn't care. Trounce had a history of removing his biomask when facing formidable opponents, and normally it would've been considered a sign of bravery and showing respect to worthy prey. This time, however, Deadlock had specifically instructed them to keep their biomasks on during their hunt. It wouldn't have been the first time Trounce had disobeyed him either. Sometimes he wondered if he had been too hasty in taking the arrogant youngling as a student based only on one exceptional feat he had accomplished.

There was no time to dwell on the aggravating matter. The female was already charging again at Deadlock with the mace pulled back for another heavy strike. Deadlock had to push back his anger and forget Trounce for the time being.

Splitbone and his supposed mate had agreed on a strategy, and no doubt the female was acting as the spearhead that masked the more lethal attack following it. Focused now solely on the large huntress, Deadlock rushed to meet her charge, pushing his body to a speed beyond anything he had just demonstrated to Splitbone. To a speed that bypassed most defenses.

With a striking serpent's agility, the elite warrior dove past the mace, thrust his wristblades forward and broke the spearhead.

He heard Splitbone bellow as the twin blades pierced his mate's side, effectively stopping the female in the middle of her run. Deadlock didn't miss a step, twisting his wristblades in the wound and yanking them out as he moved on to Splitbone, who raised his own jagged sword and flared his tusks in rage.

The weapons clashed and sparked with Splitbone's entire armored weight thrown against Deadlock. Hatred fueled his strength and he forced Deadlock off balance, revealing a weak point in his defense.

That same hatred also clouded his judgment.

As soon as Splitbone pulled his arm back to deliver the strike, Deadlock utilized the opening he had feigned and launched his own attack, striking faster than the new clan leader could follow. The wristblades found the targeted opening in the heavy armor, sinking into the pit of softer tissue under the clan leader's arm.

Splitbone uttered a surprised grunt, raised claws squeezing the remaining sword tighter for a brief moment before succumbing to the massive damage quickly exhausting its strength, and dropped the weapon.

Deadlock withdrew his wristblades, bringing forth a gush of blood from the convulsing warrior's mouth and dropping him to his knees. He had impaled at least one of Splitbone's lungs and opened up several large blood vessels in the process. A wound too severe for any hunter to shrug off without treatment. Splitbone was facing a bloody suffocation. A befittingly pitiful end for a traitor who had forsaken the warrior's way.

For a low-life who had chosen peace over honor.

A distinguishable sound of metal scraping metal made Deadlock turn his head. He wasn't surprised to see the female getting up and lifting her mace, severely hindered by the deep and profusely bleeding wounds on her side.

"Accursed hound...!" the sizeable huntress hissed through the obvious pain, raising the spiky mace and smashing it seemingly senselessly against the wall with the same, destructive result as before. "If you are so keen on destroying our future, you be the first to die."

The raw power of a fully grown and armed Yautja female was something undeniably marvelous. Enough to shatter bone and metal alike.

Even enough, Deadlock realized, to smash through the ship's outer wall and plunge all three of them into the void of space.

Despite her lack of experience, the huntress was smart enough to know their chances of defeating Deadlock in regular battle had vanished. She also knew the ship's protective shields were still down and that this was the only thing she could do to give the rest of their clan better odds at surviving. Despite her being one of the disgraced Bad Bloods, Deadlock respected her determination.

The heavy mace swung back again, aiming at the weakened structure. At the same time, two wristblades shot out from Deadlock's gauntlet, striking the female straight through the head and killing her instantly.

The taut muscles lost their tension immediately and the lifeless body gave in to the ship's artificial gravity. Deadlock lowered his arm and looked back to Splitbone, who slowly turned his eyes away from his fallen mate, the earlier fury replaced by grim resignation to his inevitable fate.

"You... and your pupils... will never defeat us all", the gravely wounded warrior croaked, coughing up more blood, but still holding his head high. "Our purpose will... remain... even after your bodies have been... ejected from the ship."

Deadlock grabbed the edge of his own biomask, detaching and removing it to meet the dying warrior eye to eye. "I have seen your defeat already."

He cast the mask to Splitbone's feet. "Look for yourself."

The kneeling clan leader glanced at the piece of hardware, refusing to pick it up and confirm what Deadlock already knew would be as certain as the devastation caused by stars at the end of their life cycle. Splitbone's clan of Bad Bloods would fall, and his reluctance to face the consequences of his actions only spurred Deadlock to drive the metaphorical spear deeper into the honorless warrior's gut.

"Your cowardly plan was doomed from the start. You knew very well the Elders wouldn't tolerate it. And now not even death can redeem your honor anymore."

A hacking laughter rose from Splitbone's bloody throat as he struggled to say all that he had to say. "Who will be left... to remember honor... if we don't replenish our numbers...? Ceasing all but... the essential hunts for a few generations... is the most honorable way... out of all the options."

Deadlock crouched to pick up Splitbone's sword, a tone of finality in his voice. "We follow only one way."

He ended their conversation. Splitbone's head rolled on the floor next to his collapsing body. Deadlock raised his foot on top of it and put his weight down until the thick skull cracked, caving in and rendering the former clan leader's features unrecognizable. Picking up his mask, Deadlock placed it on his face again, contemplating their encounter as he retrieved his wristblades and set out towards the command center.

He should've felt at peace. One less corruptive influence warping the minds of young hunters. They didn't need to rely on numbers, as he and his students had demonstrated. Skill and dedication meant everything. Simply to live a stagnant life of building and breeding... it was for the hard meat and the cattle-like races they collected trophies from. Not for a warrior.

Deadlock should have felt at peace, but the thought of so many warriors actually embracing such a future left him disturbed.

On his way Deadlock glimpsed more dead Bad Bloods in an intersecting corridor. As his biomask quickly fed him information on the scene, his restlessness only increased. Laser marks on the walls, traces of explosives. Another fine example of the ruined morals in Splitbone's soon to be extinct clan. Lasers and mines were for exterminating pests, not facing warriors. It only showed how imperative it was to maintain rules and discipline, as well as severe punishments for those who failed to live by them.

He wasn't as satisfied with his own students either anymore. The bodies in the hallway had worn sloppy gashes, clearly from ineffective use of wristblades. All three of them should've been beyond such clumsiness by now. Trounce's failure to follow the mission's directions had already aggravated him, now he would have to get to the bottom of this too.

Upon arriving at the empty command center, Deadlock sent his students the signal to regroup, then turned to inspect the surrounding monitors. He knew that the main systems would come back online soon, but wasn't willing to wait. Quickly rerouting the ship's reserve power, he transferred some of it to navigation and communications. Splitbone's clan's absence had just left an impact that would necessitate certain actions, negotiating new hunting grounds for the neighboring clans for starters, before they would start to fight over them. As an Enforcer, initiating and supervising negotiations was within Deadlock's authority.

A quick look at the ship's records revealed that Splitbone had been keeping track of other large ships, careful to avoid any potentially dangerous pursuers. Unfortunately for them, Deadlock's ship had been too small and fast for them to notice in time. The elite warrior kept reading. The closest ship found was still far, inconveniently far away, and would require locating and stretching out suitable space anomalies to lessen the travel time.

Deadlock chose the closest ship and tapped a message on the console, demanding identification and a meeting on neutral ground.

Before long, his students returned one by one, Crypt silently, with a mere scorch mark on his shoulder, and blood-covered Wrangler sneering and giving a rude gesture at Trounce who came back last. Trounce ignored him, crossing his bare arms and facing the monitors. Deadlock couldn't deny finding Trounce's lack of warrior spirit somewhat disappointing, even if he didn't need a fight on his hands right then.

Before he could address his students, especially Trounce about his error with the biomask, an incoming message stole his attention, drawing a rumbling growl from his throat.

He recognized the clan's signature.

Wolf's clan.

If there was one warrior, one warrior in the vast universe he yearned to destroy, it was his former ally from their Hive Challenge years ago. Deadlock glanced over the message quickly, not knowing or caring what it meant by unusual complications that kept the ship from leaving some planet's orbit. He wasn't ready to wait this time either.

Deadlock's claws clicked heatedly as he composed a reply.

Keep your location. We'll come to you.