Once Predator, Now Prey

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: One moment she was hidden, with a hardened criminal in her sights, then she was gone in a flash of light, awaking as she plummeted toward the surface of a strange planet, one of many rounded up to be hunted and killed for sport. Soon she and the others find themselves embroiled in a struggle for survival, both from the alien creatures stalking them and from one another. Does Desma have what it takes to survive, without risking her humanity, or will she be defeated in the end?

Disclaimer: I can't claim ownership of anything related to the Predator universe…I'm just borrowing a little here and there to tell this story. The only thing that I can claim is Desma and her family.

Author's Note: I personally love the character of Isabelle in Predators, and longed for a continuation of her story with Royce, but I always use my own characters in my stories, hence the introduction of Desma, who will fill-in as the Isabelle character, with a few differences here and there, to make her my own.

Warnings: This story is rated M for violence, cursing, and sexual innuendo.

Chapter One

Ensnared

Desma's POV

Rodney Milner had no idea that he was about to die, otherwise he surely wouldn't be standing around, vigorously picking treasures out of his nose while simultaneously scratching his left butt cheek. These were behaviors that were favored by the male of my species, especially when they thought that they were alone, and there was no need for them to pretend that they had good manners for the benefit of others, mostly the female of my species.

But Rodney wasn't alone…I was with him, watching him, making ready the shot that would pierce his heart and kill him instantly, a much more humane death than a monster like him deserved, but one that had been declared necessary by three generations of the Reed family, all of whom had stepped in to take up a rifle, to offer justice to those whose families had been destroyed, when the legal system failed to do so.

Don't get me wrong…there were none of us that believed that our work was sacred, or that we were on a mission from God, no, this was something that had been started by my grandfather Zedekiah after his oldest child, Katriel, was raped and murdered by a group of men who'd been acquitted by the offering of a flimsy alibi from a well-respected member of the community…a well-respected member of the community who had each and every one of the men on trial on his payroll.

Grandpapa had always been a law-abiding, God-fearing man up until that point, when the justice system failed him and his family so miserably, and then he stopped believing that it was wrong for a man to take the law into his own hands. Katriel had been a bright, beautiful young woman, sixteen years old, with her whole life ahead of her and those fiends had made her suffer horribly before they killed her, just for a little sport with a girl whose family had no money, no connections to fall back on, and were therefore vulnerable.

My grandfather started to fear for his daughter Sarina, fourteen years old and just as beautiful as Katriel had been. If those men had taken one daughter from him, who was to say that they wouldn't do the same to the other. He also saw how these men taunted my father whenever they saw him out and about, headed to school, or down to the river to fish, and he saw the flash of fury that filled my father's eyes, and knew that his son wouldn't be able to control his temper for very long. He was young, my father was, only twelve, but that fact wouldn't stop those men from beating him to death if he ever gave them an opening to do so, and Grandpapa knew that something had to be done, and if the law wasn't on his side then he'd just have to do it himself.

He'd moved carefully, but quickly, dispatching each and every man who'd taken part in the defilement of his child…along with the bigwig who'd provided an alibi for the men he'd known were rapists and murderers. A lot of time passed by and Grandpapa made his peace with God for the murders he'd committed…only to see examples here and there where others were left in the same place that he'd been, grieving both over the loss of a loved one and the fact that those responsible would never be made to pay for their crimes.

He knew that it wasn't right to take another's life, he knew that murder was a sin, but he also knew the depth of the pain involved with having a beloved family member violently taken from your grasp, and thus the family business had been born, a nonprofit, vigilante system of justice that served the needs of all of those who'd been screwed over by the court of law, and who were left with no other option but to take matters into their own hands, then place them into Grandpapa's, followed by my father Japheth, and now into mine.

Papa hadn't been blessed with any boys, so the role that he'd filled from the age of twenty-one would have to go to one of his daughters instead. I was the oldest at twenty-three, followed by Thea, who was twenty, and the baby, Zoya, who was seventeen. They had no clue whatsoever what it was that Papa did in his spare time, his other "job", the one that didn't involve the official family business, which was the tiny pizzeria that we all worked at six days out of the week. No one knew our secret…not even Mama.

After he told me the truth, after I learned what he expected of me, I stayed mad at him for an entire month, refusing to speak to him, or even to look at him. I'd flirted with the notion of turning him in to the authorities, I'd accused him of being no better than those he hunted and killed, and to my surprise he'd absorbed my fury and my outrage, and had told me that everything that I'd said was true. He said that there was no righteousness to be found in what he did, but there was a grim satisfaction in telling the family that you are working for that the scum who shattered their world wouldn't be free to do it to anyone else…he explained each facet of what he did…and then he took me to meet the Harper family.

I remembered back on all of the lessons that my father had taught me as I lined up my first kill in my sights. It was hard to steady my breathing, because it was running fast, along with my heart, but I made the effort none the less. If I didn't calm down I was liable to start sweating, perspiration that might run into my eyes and make them burn, making it necessary for me to take my eyes…and my rifle…off of the target, which might in turn lose me the chance to deal with him right away, and another day would be lost while I waited for the next opportunity…so I had to calm down…I had no other choice.

Suddenly my target froze, his finger firmly rooted in his nostril, his other hand stationary on his buttock, paused in mid-scratch, and for one awful moment I thought that he'd somehow spotted me, or that maybe his innate sense of self-preservation had kicked in…either way he was staring in my direction, as if somehow he'd looked through the veil of branches that surrounded me, within the camouflage that covered my body and the paint that blended my face with the surroundings…as though he could see me, with his naked eye, from three hundred yards away.

Dear God…I couldn't do this with him looking at me. It would be hard enough as it was, working past my fear and the nausea that rose again and again inside of me, convincing me that there was no way that I would be able to accomplish my task without tossing my cookies. Papa assured me that it got easier, that soon it became almost a second nature in your life and of all the things that he'd said lately that disturbed me, that one definitely took the cake. Taking a person's life, no matter how miserable and abominable that existence was, should never come as a second nature to anyone…lest you become just like the monsters that you have dedicated yourself to hunting.

I waited for him to snap out of his reverie, but if anything the look on his face changing from one of wonder and confusion to an expression of outright fear…only he wasn't looking in my direction anymore. His gaze seemed to have shifted to a spot right behind me, and after several seconds passed by with me watching his terror grow and grow I forgot about the necessity to remain motionless and slowly turned to look behind me.

Several words came to mind to describe what it was that I was seeing, but none of them should have been possible. A giant ship was lowering out of the sky, stopping to hover right above the tree tops, disturbing them, making them sway crazily from side to side. What appeared to be lightning danced along the surface of the enormous vessel, which was visible one moment, then hidden the next and I watched it, mesmerized, terrified, not breaking eye contact until I heard the panicked shrieks of Rodney Milner as he finally came to his senses and ran pell-mell back toward the safety of his house, leaving me alone with what appeared to be an alien spacecraft…if such a thing were even possible.

For one hysterical moment I considered making a mad dash myself, no doubt I'd be able to outrun my prey easily enough, but before I could move I found myself bathed in a bright flash of light, a blinding, frightening luminance that came from within the strange craft and I felt myself being lifted into the air, arms and legs flailing wildly, and then everything went dark…and I knew no more.

There had been many times in my life that I'd found myself woken from a sound sleep, convinced that I was falling from a great height, jumping and hitting my mattress, waking with my heart racing, cold sweat all over my body, nearly sobbing with relief to discover that it had all been a bad dream…but this was not one of those times. No matter how I twisted and pumped my legs, I couldn't find my mattress…and I knew then that this wasn't a dream…I was falling, plummeting to the earth.

Everything in me wanted to release my terror in the form of a scream, but again I was reminded of my childhood, of awaking from a nightmare, an all too frequent occurrence, doing my best to call for my mom, needing her near me to soothe away the fears that had taken hold of me, only to find that I couldn't summon a scream no matter how desperately I tried. This was that moment all over again…mouth opened, throat working…but no sound. I felt tears leaking from my eyes as I clawed at the foreign object on my chest and discovered straps that were holding something on my back, a something that I hadn't placed there…a parachute…which meant that I still had a chance.

I couldn't begin to understand why I had a parachute strapped to my back, let alone who had put it there, because I knew good and well that it hadn't been me. It was a mystery, one that I was profoundly grateful for, just as I was thankful for the fact that I had awakened cradling my papa's old Heckler and Koch safely in my arms. Lord only knew who…or what…I might encounter when I landed, that was, if I survived the fall, and it was nice to know that I was armed with more than my wits, if circumstances demanded that I would have to defend myself.

I searched in vain for the lever that would open the chute, the one that would save my life, but my search was fruitless. All that I could find was a large button, and nothing happened, no matter how hard I hit it. A sob welled up in me, escaping in a pitiful keening sound as the ground grew closer and closer. I was going to die…I'd never fallen in love, never had children of my own…and now I was going to die.

I was close enough now that I could see a seemingly unending forest below me, growing more and more clear, and just when I'd given up the last shred of hope that I'd stubbornly been clinging to, the button on the chute flashed red and emitted a sound that grew in frequency and urgency, and the salvation I'd thought was lost to me flew out of the pack, lifting me just a little, but not enough to have a significant effect on the speed with which I was dropping to the ground.

Wasn't that a pisser…all of that drama, followed by a split-second of relief, and here I was, about to die anyway…that sucked nuts, plain and simple.

Royce's POV

There are several ways that I enjoy being awakened suddenly from a deep and peaceful sleep. Most of them involve a naked and eager woman, well-trained in the art of thoroughly pleasing a man in any way that he desires, a couple involved the mouthwatering aroma of food or drink, and one very secret pleasure was the soft, warm tongue of a playful puppy, swiping right across my cheek. All of these were pleasant ways to be stirred from the rare occasion of a thorough slumber…hurtling toward the earth at a rapid rate of speed, however, did not qualify as either pleasant or enjoyable, which was probably why it disturbed me to awaken to find myself in that exact circumstance, and what's more, why I chose to waste my time and energy on a good shouting fest as the ground rushed closer and closer to greet me.

I couldn't remember much at that moment, just a remnant here and there of the mission that I'd been on, then a blinding flash of light. None of that made any sense to me, it made even less sense why I was falling out of the damned sky, with what seemed to be a parachute strapped to my back and Liv slung across my shoulder…wait a minute…I had a parachute strapped to my back…maybe I'd be able to limp away from this after all.

I couldn't find the lever that I would pull to engage my chute, and shouting again, this time in frustration, I pounded on the button that was resting where the damned lever ought to have been…nothing…followed by more pummeling, but to no avail. No matter how much I abused the thing it remained unresponsive, and the ground was pretty close now…close enough that I was seriously beginning to panic…shit…I was going to die…I hadn't gotten laid in six months and I was fixing to die…that was messed up, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

It seemed like the perfect time to try and make things right, before I took my last breath and all, but I knew that there was too much that I needed to account for, and it would take too long…besides which, I'd gone through life all of these years never saying that I was sorry to anyone, for anything, so why the hell should I start now?

Have you ever had those moments in your life when you figured that this moment was that one where it was all over with, only to have life let you in on the fact that it was just messing with you, just having a good laugh? Kind of pisses you off, doesn't it…anger that's followed immediately by an overwhelming relief that's so profound that it almost makes you want to cry…that's what I felt when that button on my chute turned red and started making all kind of racket…intense anger, followed by a consuming sense of relief…that was until I looked down and saw how much closer the ground was in relation to my plunging body.

The chute sprang open, which would have been good news, had I not been right above some sort of seemingly endless forest at that point…long story short, what was the use at that moment? Halle-freakin'-lujah…my chute opened, but I was willing to bet that it was a little too late to do me any good, considering the fact that I was almost on the ground anyway…I'd always been what some would call a pessimist, but which I've always considered to be a realist…I was screwed, plain and simple.

There would be some who would also feel that it was necessary to point out that the late springing chute did help to slow the rate with which I crashed through, and continued to make my way through, very painfully I might add, a cluster of trees. These same helpful assholes would probably feel that it was their duty in life to point out to me that the trees, agonizing though they were to travel through, had also aided me in the deceleration of my descent, to which I'd have to wish them a very abusive, very sarcastic word of thanks…that is, if I didn't succumb to my injuries first.

While we're on the subject of pain, which has taken the lead as the thought plaguing my mind as the seconds fly by before I say hi to the ground by plowing into its surface, have you ever noticed that it always feels worse when you know what is fixing to happen, when you ready yourself by tensing every muscle in your body? You try to tell your body to relax, that it won't be as bad if you're loosened up, and your body responds with something along the lines of "you're joking…right?" and proceeds to make itself as tight as it possibly can…I hate that…but that's exactly what I was doing as I made my way through the trees.

I started to count as I got closer to the ground, why, you might ask? Hell if I know…all I knew was that I hit before I made it to the double digits, and had only a brief moment to lose myself in the pain of it all, as my breath whooshed out of my body, as everything went dark once more, and then I lost all awareness of anything and everything.

Looks like it was time for me to sleep again…I could only hope that the next awakening would be better than this one was.