Vincit qui patitur

Running is supposed to be good for you.

Running away is even better.

Running for your life, now there's a skill to develop, cultivate, cherish, embrace.

Not that it makes much difference.

Some thing can't be run away from.

Some lives cannot be saved.

No matter how fast your legs move you, there's always a pair of them out there that are longer, faster. Jogging? Bah! Great for cardio-vascular exercise, but that just means your blood pumps out stronger and further when ...

Flash of black, scream of sibilant joy, darkness.

"God-frigging-damnit!" A meaty fist thumped into the console as the monitor showed the dark shape tear its victim apart, chitinous banana shaped head buried deep within the ruined mass that was all that remained of the last of the latest batch.

The others in the room, faces almost as white as the lab coats they wore, shrank back, clipboards and PDAs clutched to their chests as if to ward off the fury of the speaker as he spun to face them. Rage contorted his reddening face as he leaned back against the console, resting his hands against the edge in a white knuckled death grip.

"I thought you said this time it would work?" he snarled, but he seemed resigned at the same time. They had replayed this many times now. On the screen behind him, unnoticed, the black shape could be seen tossing the remains aside, then its head swiveled upwards, tracking in an eerie way towards the camera.

"Sir, we thought we had it conditioned this time, it ..." He cut the lab coated man off with an abrupt cutting motion with his hand. "Yes, you thought you had it, it's obvious you thought you had it, but you didn't. And now we've lost another group." The sneer in his voice was stark.

"You've had these things for 5 years now. 5 years!" The creature on the monitor swayed slightly, its head tracking from side to side as if it was sniffing the air, before it turned and scuttled off into the shadows of the maze it inhabited. "A lot of money has gone into this project, so would any of you like to tell me why there is as yet no return on it?"

One of the lab coated women spoke up, indignantly squaring off against the man, out of place in that clean laboratory room in his grey suit.

"No return? Sir, we have come up with silicate based medicines that have beggared belief, we're extended the lifespan of humans by a decade more and that's without even processing the ..." She tapered off into silence as he gazed at her, cold eyes promising untold misery. When he responded, his voice was equally cold, equally uncaring.

"I am aware of all the benefits that the creatures have produced. I am also aware, as you all seem to have forgotten, that none of them are the primary objective of this project. Need I remind any of you that without that objective being met, this project will be considered a failure?" His eyes roamed across the faces of the people in front of him, and none could maintain eye contact.

"So now I am the one has to return to the Company and report ..." He was cut off as a deep throated vibration rumbled through the room. He span to look at the monitor in time to see a cloud of green fluid spread out across one wall, flashes of silver sparking beyond as the gatling guns mounted high up in the test chamber fired through the pulped remains of the creature, aborting its climb towards an opening set high above the floor.

After a few seconds, the guns went quiet, traversing back to their standby positions as their sensors reported the creature's obliteration, and the man bowed his head.

"How long until we can hatch a replacement?" he asked, not looking up. The woman who had spoken out before cleared her throat.

"Once we have a new host, two days. But training a new one will take several months." The grey suited man nodded once, then turned to face her.

"I suggest that the next test be more successful. Or the host after that might be one of you." With that chilling edict, he strode out of the room, leaving the rest of them glancing nervously towards each other.

-

-

"Not yet"

She growled into her mask as she rolled over onto her stomach, then to her feet. Without pause she darted in again, bringing her arm around quicksilver fast but the twin mounted blades mounted to her forearm missed the armored form in front of her by millimeters. Waiting for her swing to take her off balance, it stepped forwards until it was beside her then elbowed her in the side.

She stepped back, wrenched over to one side as her hand rubbed against her ribs where she had been caught. The armored figure in front of her cocked its head to one side thoughtfully, then sank to one knee in genuflection. After a moment, she slowly followed suit.

"You still allow anger to guide you, not instincts." The words scrolled across the display at the bottom of her vision inside the mask, somehow projected inside the eyepieces using the alien technology that had become a part of her mission.

"That anger keeps me going. That anger gives me reason." she retorted hotly, knowing that the one she was talking to understood her language just fine, even if in return it could only speak in grunts, clicks, whistles (and more often simple roars) that needed the translation of her mask for her to make sense of.

The figure in front of her shook its head, braided dreadlocks swaying from side to side as it clucked irritably behind its own mask. "The Hunt is the reason, not revenge."

"Your reason. Not mine." Unspoken, they both knew she needed the anger to bury her loss, the sadness, that was her reason. "You agreed to train me, I don't need lectures."

It growled softly. "You refuse to understand. How you think is just as much part of the Hunt as how you fight. As long as you fight from anger, you will not be ready. You would fall to the least capable." The figure stood quickly, sheathing its own forearm mounted blades as Marisa stood in return.

"There is nothing more to be gained from training you this day. I may return another day, but I have Hunting to do."

"More humans to murder?" she bit out the words scornfully. Her opponent tensed and the strength of will in not attacking Marisa was almost palpable.

"Hunt, not murder. If you were further along in your training, I could show you the difference. But as long as you think the Hunt is all about fighting, you would be a liability." The tall gray armored figure paused, then: "You will never have the chance to face him until you think like him."

Marisa hung her head, not daring to reply as her opponent shimmered and vanished into thin air. She could have tracked its progress by switching the vision modes in her mask, but its parting words had stung her.

"I will never think like you, Yautja" she whispered to herself before she shook off her mood and let the rooftop they had been sparring on, heading home.

My deepest apologies for the delays in Retribution and the finale of the trilogy, Redemption.

Those of you who have been here before may recall there were two chapters posted originally. Those have been removed, and I'm cleaning up the chapters of Retribution and posting them here as and when I find time. You'll understand as it goes along :)

Outsider: Redemption will follow shortly on the heels of Retribution, I hope you all enjoy both of them as much as you did Epiphany.

There are still remaining death scenes in Redemption, for any who know me and are interested in applying for them.

See if you recognize any of the characters in this second book :)

miika