Hisao and Kenji- Master Detectives! Conclusion? Update

[Dumanios]

The Predator, eh? Well, as long as this is better than Alien vs. Predator, we're good.

[Hoitash]

The Predator, eh? Well, as long as this is better than Alien vs. Predator, we're good.

I kinda liked that movie, but I can see why it was disliked by the fans. I'll do my best not to disappoint (though you're not setting a terribly high benchmark )

Update within... three hours, folks.

[Hoitash]

Alternative, less serious title: I Need a Weapon!

Previous Chapter

Part Two: Equipment


Late the next morning, Kenji and I received text messages with instructions on where to meet the Good Doctor. Well, the Good Scientist with a Doctorate. Fortunately it was a Saturday, so I was able to leave work shortly after receiving the text. I picked up Kenji on the way, and we ended up parking in a garage a few blocks from the meeting place.

The address he had texted us turned out to be a small rental laboratory. The kind companies rent for a few months to test something with a high test animal mortality rate, so they can say they weren’t doing the tests when the paper trail fails to lead to their own research labs. It was a simple, gray, concrete building with two stories and very few windows. The second floor lab was our destination, and after a quick climb up some gray concrete stairs in a gray stairwell, we found ourselves standing in a narrow hall in front of a white metal door in a white plastered hallway.

“You sure about this?” I asked Kenji.

Kenji shrugged, “after that shit with the freighter, I think we can trust Claudia on this. And I got my Nambu if shit gets real.”

Oddly comforted by Kenji’s paranoia, I wrapped lightly on the door three times and waited. It opened a few moments later and we were greeted by a short man with cropped light brown hair wearing large, round, silver framed glasses. He wore a simple black suit and looked like he had drunk one too many energy drinks.

“Hello, you would be Mr.’s Nakai and Setou, right?” he asked, his voice quick and chirpy.

I nodded, “yes, I’m Mr. Nakai, and the one in the scarf is Mr. Setou.”

He stuck out his hand and we started exchanging handshakes, “Doctor Fargo, but call me Fargo, everybody does. Wait, that would be formal for you two. Call me Douglas.”

He was a fast talker, that much was obvious. He gestured for us to step in and we did, telling him he could call us Kenji and Hisao as he closed the door behind us. The rental lab he was using was almost completely empty. A counter on the left wall had a coffee pot with several white mugs and half a pot of coffee already made. The blue shelves and cabinets seemed neglected, but the large lab bench near the right hall was covered in pieces and bits of some sort of metallic device. Near the bench were several wooden crates, all of which were open. A small laptop was shut and perched near the edge of the bench’s left side, towards us. Douglas strolled over to the laptop and wheeled around on his heels to face us.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Douglas said, “since we’re short on time. Oh, would you like some coffee?”

I nodded, and after I had a cup of not terrible, though not terribly exciting, coffee, in my hands Douglas waved us over to the bench, where he plugged the laptop into a cord and opened it. Kenji and I watched as he started up some data and video files. As he motioned for us to surround the screen with him, he turned to face us, his face oddly firm.

“What I’m about to show and tell you is all classified by the United States Department of Defense. The only reason you are allowed to see it is because three Warehouse Agents and a former employee of the Department of Defense personally vouched for you. Also, I really need someone to test this equipment before my next performance review,” his face lit up in a brief smile before resuming a more serious look, “and I’m really looking forward to your book series, but that isn’t really pertinent.”

By the time we were done being informed about how much shit we were in, I was pawing at my sternum and trying very hard to keep my blood pressure down –probably should’ve skipped the coffee. Kenji, as usual, seemed eager for the chance to once again defy death in new and bullet-filled ways. It took both Kenji and I to break the language issue, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, and it gave me a chance to collect myself.

“So, you’re telling me,” I said when Douglas had finished, trying very hard to keep my voice steady, “that the Alien and Predator movies are based on real alien species?”

It might seem odd that I was willing to believe him so quickly, but he had a lot of irrefutable evidence. Besides, I had once fought a werewolf with my wife’s best friend’s sister, so I wasn’t really in a position to question the man.

Douglas nodded, smiling lightly, “yup, although obviously the movies are based on highly inaccurate accounts and memories from the real incidents, when they take place in contemporary times. Mr. Weyland, for example, did die in the Antarctic, but he died manually detonating an explosion that killed the xeno Matriarch. Any more questions?”

Kenji raised his hand, “how the fuck do we kill this motherfucker?”

Douglas shut the laptop and handed it to Kenji, who nearly dropped it, and clapped his hands excitedly, “easy- with new prototype power armor and weapons!”

“What.”

“Don’t worry,” Douglas waved a hand and smirked in what I guess he presumed was a reassuring manner, “all of the equipment has been thoroughly lab tested. All we need now is a good field test, and we’ll be able to prove this equipment works! And you get rid of the Predator before it kills again! It’s win-win!”

“No, it’s not,” I snapped, jabbing a finger at the laptop, “I am not facing an alien hunter with advanced weaponry in a prototype tin can suit.”

“C’mon man,” Kenji said, glancing at me over his thick glasses, “do you really want Mr. Hakamichi’s death on your conscience? Especially after Shizune already lost her mother?”

Shizune’s mother died of cancer when she was twelve, “Mr. Hakamichi can take care of himself.”

Kenji raised an eyebrow, “the same way he took care of being captured?”

I sighed and palmed my forehead, stalling for time. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a lot of options. At least two US Special Forces squads had been wiped out by these things in the past, so I doubted the JSDF could handle it, even if we could somehow convince them to help. Douglas seemed pretty confident in his toys, and, having dealt with power armor in the past, I could see where that confidence came from; whenever I had faced power armor, I had either had help or gotten extremely lucky -or both. Hell, I still nearly died once fighting the damn things.

There was also the minor problem of having agreed to help Mr. Hakamichi. Remembering that caused me to shiver slightly; I wasn’t sure what frightened me more at that point, the alien or a pissed off Shizune if we didn’t keep our promise.

“So,” I heard Douglas pipe up, dragging me back to reality, “we can keep going?”

I gave a groan and nodded, slowly lifting my head so I could look at him properly, “I don’t suppose there’s a chance Kenji can wear the armor?”

Douglas shook his head, “the optical sensors on the helmet can compensate for poor eyesight, but not the extant required for Mr., uh, Kenji. And in case you're wondering why I didn't bring someone, no one was willing to go, and this trip is barely legal as it is, so I was kinda limited in who I could ask.”

I sighed and shrugged, “alright, so what do we do?”

Douglas clapped his hands together and hopped in place once, “you’re gonna need to put the armor on now, so you can learn how to fight in it. So let’s get to it!”

Douglas indicated the array of pieces on the bench. Now that I was finally focusing on them, I could see how they laid out to form a suit of armor, though the power armor Douglas had in mind wasn’t what I expected. Instead of bright, ceramic power armor like I was used to, this armor was dark gray metal, and resembled the armor worn in the Fallout video game series. It was somewhat bulky, but was also more streamlined than what I was used to. I took off my shoes and pants, and the three of us started getting me into the armor to try it out.

After having faced soldiers wearing power armor, actually wearing it was an interesting experience. Though not as bulky as the Crusader Power Armor I was used to dealing with, the armor was still pretty heavy, and putting it on conjured to mind feudal samurai donning their armor in preparation for battle or training. They didn’t have to deal with a bunch of wireless monitoring programs and power systems, though all things considered, they had probably dealt with the alien Hunters once or twice, at least.

“So, what exactly powers this thing, anyway?” I asked as I practiced walking in the boots and leggings.

The servo and power systems were isolated for the legs and torso, arms, and the helmet. The upside to that was- theoretically- if a portion was damaged or incapacitated, it could be removed without rendering the suit entirely useless. The downside was an increased risk of overheating the power systems. The laptop was wirelessly connected to the armor’s systems, so Kenji could monitor it while I played The Most Dangerous Game.

“Good job on the movement there,” Douglas observed as I slowly adapted to the lumbering steps the armor required. Kenji, meanwhile, was leaning against the counter by the coffee pot and out of danger should I trip, “oh, and it uses a set of biochemical crystals.”

“Really? So they fixed the issues with the random overheating and exploding?” I may have been a high school science teacher, but I still liked to keep abreast of the latest scientific discoveries.

As I looked up at Douglas, the grimace he gave in response was not comforting, “In theory, yes. Like I said, we haven’t had a lot of chances to seriously test this stuff out yet, so…”

I rolled my eyes, “you have got to be kidding me.”

“It’ll be fine man,” Kenji piped in, “remember, I can switch you from the crystals to the backup batteries in no time.”

“Yeah, except those only store a few minute’s of power.”

“Beats getting disemboweled by an alien,” Douglas quipped, with a slightly dopey looking grimace.

I sighed and shrugged, “fair enough.”

The rest of the armor was a bit easier to put on and try out. I even managed to drink coffee while wearing it. The waste storage and heat sinks were helpful in that regard.

“Okay, helmet time,” Douglas said, handing me the large rounded helmet with the built-in gas mask and eye sensors. I sighed lightly at the thought of being entirely encapsulated in metal, then put the helmet on.

“Its pitch black,” I said, my voice dulled by the metal.

“It’s all voice activated, just say ‘power on.’ In English, though.”

I did, and immediately I was blinded by green light. The light quickly faded, and I was able to see everything as I could with my normal eyes, except… sharper.

“The normal eye sensors function at essentially high definition levels,” Douglas explained, “so that might take a second to adjust to. Also, you need to have the Heads Up Display on, so just say ‘HUD On.’”

I did, and the corners of my vision were filled with small images of my armor in green, a list of my vision modes- also green, with the abbreviation NORM highlighted- and something that looked disturbingly familiar.

“This has a heart monitor,” I stated, my voice coming across slightly robotosized.

“Yes. The HUD has a system for monitoring the heat, power, and damage levels of the armor, the effectiveness of the different vision modes- normal, thermal, night, and UV- and for you, I was able to install a heart monitoring system- I put it on during the plane ride. It makes sure the stress of combat and operating the suit don’t over-exert your heart, and it can administer mild dosages of emergency medications to prevent a heart attack. I don’t recommend you go that far, though. Not only will they cause a nasty crash later, they might interact with your current meds and cause slower reflexes or muscle spasms –which includes possible cardiac arrest.”

“Great,” sometimes the cure is worse then the disease, “Still, thanks for the thought. How did you know I have a heart condition?”

Douglas shrugged, “Claudia told me. Oh, and the armor should cushion your chest and back from any possible concussions. Anyway, try out the vision modes, because you might need all of them tonight. The Predator’s armor includes thermal and ultra-violet vision, but we don’t know if the hunter himself can be seen with either vision modes.”

After a thorough test of the helmet’s functions, Douglas clasped his hands together excitedly and started hefting things from several of the crates onto the bench. We had apparently moved on to the weapons. Douglas seemed to have trouble hefting the weapons and ammo from the crates, which didn’t surprise me, considering they were designed for someone wearing power armor, and even then, he wasn’t a very well toned individual. He actually failed to lift one of them, heaving at it futilely before grunting and looking hopefully at me.

“Uh, could you help me with this last one?” he asked.

“Yeah, I need the practice anyway,” I said, lumbering over to the crate. Inside was a minigun, a relatively unremarkable one, really. It had six barrels and the standard rotary system, and was rather bulky. I managed to heave the thing up somewhat easily, using both the handle partway along the barrels, and the main handle that was bolted around where the user’s right arm would be. The trigger itself was just behind the motor, power system, and ammunition pack, with a resting bar for my arm attached to the motor.

“Whadda you think?” Douglas asked, “it fires 5 mm rounds, and we’re equipping you with seven hundred and fifty armor piercing rounds. The rounds are in 250 round packs, with two that can be strapped onto your armor belt, and one already slapped in. I can show you how to use it, but you can’t practice with it here. Sorry about that.”

I smiled at his grimace, even though he couldn’t see it, “No problem, I’d rather not shoot it until I have to, anyway. Is this all you’re giving me?”

Douglas chuckled, “no way. Predators have an extensive arsenal, so you’re going to need more than just one weapon,” Douglas snapped his fingers, “I almost forgot, your armor will protect you from most of the alien weaponry, except the plasma caster. That thing will cut through it pretty easily. You can use the thermal vision to check for it, or you can just look for the red light. Anyway, moving on.”

While I digested the possibility of being cooked inside the armor by plasma –a rather intriguing death for a chemist- Douglas went to the bench and held out what looked like a heavily modified M-16. I put down the minigun and examined the weapon more carefully.

“You can probably tell that it’s an M-16, but it’s been pretty seriously modified. You can fire it one handed if required, and it fires 5.56 mm armor piercing rounds. You have ninety rounds for it in thirty round magazines, with two packs on the belt and one already in. You can fire it full auto or semi auto. Don’t forget: short controlled bursts.”

“Right,” I said, aiming down the sights for practice’s sake. It was weird holding the weapon while wearing the armor. I hoped that wouldn’t be a problem later on.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Yes,” Douglas said, now holding two very large, shining gray pistols that almost resembled bolt pistols. He handed one to me, and then gave the other to Kenji. While the belt of my armor had a holster, it took Douglas a second to realize Kenji needed one, which he started searching for in the arrayed crates.

“Those pistols fire .50 caliber armor piercing rounds. You have eight shots in a clip, and three clips total. Two on the belt, and well, you get the idea. That goes for both of you.”

“Why is it that the smaller the weapon gets, the less ammo I get?” I asked.

“Because,” Douglas said as he handed Kenji a holster and some ammo, “the smaller the weapon gets, the more important your need to aim.”

“Sweet,” Kenji said as he practiced aiming the pistol, “one lone gunman could be all that stands between a homicidal maniac, and his alien hunter.”

“More or less my thoughts,” Douglas said, “I figured you’d want to be near Mr. Hakamichi in case Hisao, er, fails to stop it.”

“Yeah, Mr. Hakamichi will love that,” never mind how we’d convince him to hide in a storage room of an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town- Kenji had come up with that plan on the plane ride.

“Do I get a knife or something?” I asked Douglas.

“Better,” Douglas was holding some sort of sword in a large, bulky, black sheath. I took the weapon and tied it to my belt, then pulled it out, revealing a long, bulky sword-like device. The handle had a small switch and a large grip with a lever attached. Instead of an actual blade or edge, though, the sword had a boxy covering and a series of sharp, shining chainsaw teeth. Bulky and painted almost entirely in black, the exception being the large double headed aquila of the Imperial Guard prominently painted in silver on each side of the blade.

I leered at Douglas from behind my mask, “a chainsword, really?”

Douglas shrugged, “why not; the Predator has a flying death Frisbee.”

I returned the shrug, “touché.”

“The sword has three settings; off, slow, and fast. It uses the same kind of power source as the power armor, so don’t worry about it running out, unless you fight the thing for more then four hours. If the Hunter pulls out his wristblades, you definitely want to use this to defend yourself –I’m not entirely sure if the armor is tough enough to stop those.”

“I’ll remember that,” I sheathed the sword and took off my helmet, “and thanks for all the help. Telling us all this and getting us all this equipment must’ve been a pain in the ass.”

Douglas smiled and waved his right hand casually, “yeah, but it was worth it to help Claudia. Besides, the data recorded on that laptop will be extremely valuable for research.”

“Do you want any of the alien technology?” I asked; it was a valid question.

Douglas shook his head, “any time anyone has captured their tech, the results have been… well, bloody. Just make sure the Predator realizes what a threat you are, or it won’t fight you head on, and you need it to do that to give you the best chance to beat it.”

“That’ll be the easy part,” I said as I carefully started attaching the various ammo packs to my belt, “the hard part will be convincing Mr. Hakamichi to be bait so I can fight the thing.”

+++
Next Chapter

"They shall be my finest warriors, these men who give of themselves to me. Like clay I shall mould them, and in the furnace of war forge them. They will be of iron will and steely muscle. In great armour shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns will they be armed. They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them. They will have tactics, strategies and machines so that no foe can best them in battle. They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines and they shall know no fear." – God-Emperor of Mankind

[Oddball]

If you were trying to turn your story around, then this last chapter was a complete U-turn.

Shame too. Just a little bit before this you had some excellent work with Hisao and Shizune practicing together.

[Hoitash]

If you were trying to turn your story around, then this last chapter was a complete U-turn.

I think complete U-turn is a bit much, but then again, it's quite clear at this point I have no idea what I'm doing -I write what I like, and pray I'm not the only one who does .

Also, I'm kinda shotgunning it right now, see what people want/don't want. It's a methodology I'm familiar with, but it has the risk of ticking off my fans. On the bright side, when I get feedback, I know whether or not its working, so thanks for the feedback

Oh, and going through the next few parts, I think the tone is going to see-saw a bit, so it should buff out (if it doesn't, I'll go buy some wax so it will )

Shame too. Just a little bit before this you had some excellent work with Hisao and Shizune practicing together.

Ah, someone liked that one shot. Or at least part of it. Glad you enjoyed it .

[Mirage_GSM]

Douglas seemed pretty confident in his toys, and, having dealt with power armor in the past, I could see where that confidence came from.

Yeah, I remember he personally killed a couple of guys wearing them, aremd with only a pistol...

"...I don’t recommend you go that far, though. Not only will they cause a nasty crash later, they might interact with your current meds and cause slower reflexes or muscle spasms –which includes possible cardiac arrest.”

And this is why they use a chemist with a heart condition for field testing instead of one of their own agents... Heck, Jigoro himself would be a better option.

[Hoitash]

Yeah, I remember he personally killed a couple of guys wearing them, aremd with only a pistol...

Tesla pistols, not normal ones. A grenade was involved once, too.

And one time nearly killed him, and another he had backup from highly trained personnel, plus the machine gun barrel gave them a lucky shot.

I do try and keep the continuity consistent, if nothing else .

Heck, Jigoro himself would be a better option.

Yes, yes he would. Unfortunately, no one seems interested in his opinion on the matter. (I'm sure he'll take it well and will not be at all upset in the next part )

As for one of their own agents: why risk getting one of them killed when they can have some one else handle it?

Edit: Handwaves added to text where they belong, hope that helps

[Mirage_GSM]

As for one of their own agents: why risk getting one of them killed when they can have some one else handle it?

A better chance of having one less dangerous alien on the loose and having their equipment returned to them in one piece?
They expended two Special Forces squads already, so it seems they really want that beast taken down...

[Hoitash]

They expended two Special Forces squads already, so it seems they really want that beast taken down...

Well, the squad from the movie Predator was in the area for a completely different reason. The second squad was sent specifcally to take out the alien, though. So you make an excellent point, and the only good defense I can think of is that their expecting Fargo to fail and want to cut their losses (in the series he's a bit of a joke, which is a shame cuz he's probably one of the saner scientists around. Though the button pushing didn't help.)

So my downfall there was using a reference that was more obscure then I anticipated. I'll remember that for future writng. This whole conversation has been a help, actually, so thanks for reading and commenting .

[Mirage_GSM]

Maybe I should mention that I have seen neither "Alien" nor "Predator" nor "Alien vs. Predator" nor that TV series your character hails from.
I have some vague idea that a predator is some kind of invisible alien that hunts lesser species for sport, but that's about it.
I'm going solely from your story, so I have no idea, under what circumstances those SF sqads were killed.

[Hoitash]

Ah, so obscure reference pools are my downfall.

I must remember this for self-publishing purposes.

[Hoitash]

Alternative, less serious title: I Need a Hero!

Is the song stuck in your head now? Good

Previous Chapter

Part Three: Bait


Somehow, Shizune convinced her father to meet the two of us at the warehouse Kenji had somehow acquired for our alien hunt. The power armor and weapons were packed in a van we were borrowing thanks to Douglas. As we parked the van near the large dark green warehouse, I wondered if I should ask Shizune what daughter trick she had pulled to convince her father to come. I figured the knowledge would come in handy for when my girls got older.

Kenji was holding the laptop when we left the van. Despite the heat he was still wearing his scarf and suit jacket. I had left my jacket in the car, along with my sweater vest, which Mr. Hakamichi would just make fun of, anyway. Kenji handed me the laptop as he made sure the holster for the large pistol was strapped properly under his jacket.

“You don’t need to wear that until tonight, you know,” I reminded him, “none of the murders have taken place during the day.”

“Never can be too careful, man,” Kenji remarked, grinning deviously, “besides, if Mr. Hakamichi gets ideas with that sword of his, I can kneecap him before he does anything stupid.”

I decided not to mention that a .50 caliber bullet to a man’s knee would probably amputate the leg, especially since Kenji already knew that, so I remained silent as I opened the warehouse’s large gray double doors. Our eyes took a second to adjust to the lighting; the warehouse didn’t have power, so the only source of light were the large rectangular windows high above us. When they did, the sight was underwhelming; the inside was as unremarkable as the outside. Broken windows, old wooden palettes, rusted barrels, and the like were all strewn about the vast inside of the warehouse. Two long metal bars supported the length of the ceiling, while another dozen were placed along the width. Most of them had vents and light fixtures –none of which were on- bolted to them, and a few fan vents dotted the ceiling. Since none of the fans were moving, that was probably going to be the Hunter’s entry point. Unless he came in the front door, which I doubted- though it would be a refreshing change of pace for us.

“Sweater vest!” someone barked.

I looked around the poorly lit warehouse and finally noticed Mr. Hakamichi. A bear of a man in old dark blue slacks and a matching Hawaiian shirt, he was standing near an old brown metal door near the far wall- the door to the office he’d be hiding in, it’s large window heavily boarded up. He quickly strode toward me, his katana’s scabbard held in his right hand. His black hair and beard were long, shaggy, and somehow neatly trimmed and parted, with some graying on the sides. As he stalked towards us I also noticed he was flanked by his daughter, Shizune, and his son, Hideaki. The young man resembled his father, except his clean shaven face and short hair had a youthful, almost feminine quality to them. Boyishly handsome, I think the girls would call it. He was wearing a navy blue suit that offset his hair. Before I could ask where Misha was, Shizune signed something to her brother, who translated what she said to Kenji and I once we were finally in front of each other.

“Misha is babysitting,” Hideaki said, answering my unasked question.

“Ah,” I acknowledged, “and hi. It’s been a while; how’re you handling married life?”

Hideaki shrugged, “about as well as could be expected. Kenji, how’re you handling the looming wedding?”

Kenji sighed and shook his head, “don’t ask, man.”

I smirked and noticed Shizune silently giggling, her right hand covering her mouth- Hideaki had been signing the conversation for her. I turned to face Mr. Hakamichi, who looked about ready to decapitate me.

“This was your idea, wasn’t it!” he barked, “making me hide here like a coward while you play white knight to the defenseless old man! As if I don’t know how to use this!”

He waved his sword like a baton for emphasis.

“That’s not accurate, sir,” I said, raising a hand placatingly, “for one thing, my wife cured me of my white knight tendencies in high school,” a complete and utter lie, obviously, or I wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place, “For another, I have no doubt you know how to use your sword, especially after witnessing your daughter use it, and then train me how to use one as well.”

Thank God my wife thought our upcoming novel was entirely fictional, or she’d be the one with a heart attack.

“However,” I continued, “the murderer that has been targeting people of your… nature is a far more serious threat then you may realize.”

“Outlandish!” Mr. Hakamichi boomed, “If it’s human, I can kill it!”

Yeah, that was the problem. Fortunately, I had a cover story, “I don’t doubt that. However, this murderer, based on our investigation, has undergone major experimental surgery involving highly advanced augmentic prototypes. It’s more machine now then man, twisted and evil. It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.”

Mr. Hakamichi grunted, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it. Fine, time to hit below the belt. Before we drove here, Kenji and I had made a stop to an informant of Kenji’s to pick up some pertinent information.

I sighed and glanced at my partner, “Kenji, could you show Mr. Hakamichi the names of the murder victims?”

Kenji nodded and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his inside jacket pocket. He handed the paper to Mr. Hakamichi, who snatched it up and unfolded it. As he read, his face went from blood vessel bursting rage to oddly pensive. After a second, he glanced up from the page to look at me.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was the quietest I had ever heard, “I…knew some of these men. They… wouldn’t have gone quietly.”

“That was exactly why they were targeted,” Kenji said, “they had families, too. So do you.”

Mr. Hakamichi glowered at us for a second. We stared back, and after a moment he glanced behind him to each of his children. Shizune had folded her arms to glare at him over her glasses, while Hideaki merely stared blankly back. As he looked at his children, something about him changed, and for probably the first time, I was able to get a true sense of his age. A tired man with adult children, faced with his own mortality. He could stand his ground and die, or yield to the next generation, and perhaps, maybe, he might make it through. I saw that internal struggle play out in his eyes, and, when it reached its final conclusion, Mr. Hakamichi sighed and turned his head to glare at me some more.

“Alright!” he barked, “I get the idea. Fine, I’ll hide in the office like a coward.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you,” Kenji declared, revealing his holster and pointing to the laptop I was still holding.

Mr. Hakamichi did not look pleased with that knowledge.

Once the sun had set, and Mr. Hakamichi had sworn he wouldn’t kill Kenji, the two of them hunkered down in the office, the laptop on and seeing what I saw through the power armor helmet’s thermal vision. Shizune and Hideaki had left once Mr. Hakamichi had agreed to let me handle the Hunter, and I couldn’t help but notice how solemn they seemed. Before leaving the three of us to our twisted hunting party, Shizune had dragged me aside. Holding my hand carefully in hers, she slowly traced out a simple request in deaf-blind sign language:

[Come back safely. All of you.]

[We will] I had promised. And I intended to keep that promise, or quite literally die trying.

That last thought had me a bit consternated as I walked around the warehouse, keeping a firm and resolute grip on the minigun as I did so. I sincerely hoped that one of these days my wife’s best friend’s extended family wasn’t going to keep getting me in life threatening situations. On the other hand, if it wasn’t for Shizune, the world might be a much worse place. Okay, enough internal monologueing, I needed to focus. I looked up and started scanning the ceiling for glimmers and bursts of heat that might indicate a perimeter breach. I was walking one of a series of patterns designed to keep me in sight of, but away from, the office door. Even after all we’d been through, after everything Douglas had showed us about this thing, I seriously doubted even I could handle it. Perhaps I should’ve had some help, but with the minigun the risk of friendly fire was too high. Worse, if they were out here, there was a chance I could kill the thing and one of them would still die.

This way, if the alien got to them, I was already dead, and then it wouldn’t be my problem anymore. Not the most positive of outlooks, but hopefully, if I couldn’t kill the bugger, I could at least wound it enough to give Kenji and Mr. Hakamichi a fighting chance.

That was Plan B. Plan A was I didn’t die. I much preferred that plan.

So much for not monologueing. For nearly an hour I just roamed around the warehouse, the internal systems of the power armor keeping me cool, even managing to compensate for my anxiety as I waited for something, or worse, heard something too late to stop it. As I scanned the ceiling fans as part of my next patrol, I noticed a sliver of heat and immediately focused on the fan in question.

“Kenji, did you see that?” I asked through my in-helmet radio.

“Yeah, man,” Kenji grunted a reply, “There’s something up there, alright.”

I switched to normal vision and noticed three thin, red lines of light beam its way toward my chest, coming from the offending ceiling fan as they formed a triangle. I revved up the rotor on my minigun and dodged to the left just as a burst of plasma scorched the concrete floor where I had been a moment before.

I looked up at the ceiling and readied my minigun. With a resigned sigh at the task ahead, i couldn't help quipping, “Let’s rock.”

+++

I am such a geek. SyFy Channel, if you’re reading this, I can be bought: $10k upfront and a weeks paid vacation on top of my regular salary. In lieu of the cash I’ll take a replica chainword and bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label.

Oh, and I’m doing a thing Saturday, so Part Four will be posted early on Friday.

[Hoitash]

Here, have a soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Part Four: The Hunt


“Holy shit, that motherfucker isn’t playing around!”

“I noticed that, Kenji,” I quipped.

I switched to thermal vision and noticed the heat residue from the plasma caster firing. I squeezed the trigger on the minigun and braced myself as I started sending bursts of bullets at the ceiling. The slivers of heat darted from the ceiling fan to a nearby crossbeam –the laws of thermodynamics preventing its heat signature from being completely hidden for long- and as I fired again I noticed that my shots weren’t getting anywhere close to the damn thing.

“It’s zigzagging, you imbecile!” Mr. Hakamichi barked into my ear, “Lead your target!”

I raised my eyebrow behind my helmet, “Considering the biggest thing I’ve fired before this is a shotgun, I think I’ve done quite well.”

I heard a derisive snort before Mr. Hakamichi spoke next, “I am humiliated on behalf of anyone you may have killed that they could die to such a loathsome shooter as you.”

“Kenji, could you pistol whip Mr. Hakamichi for me?” I asked.

“You come near me and I’ll disembowel you,” I heard Mr. Hakamichi snap.

“Excuse me?” I cut in, “trying to work here.”

Granted I had started it –kept them distracted from possible impending doom, at least. In any case, leading my target seemed to work, and after a couple bursts the thermal imaging picked up more heat present above me, almost forming the shape of a leg. I switched to normal vision and noticed the alien’s cloaking device was flickering and pulsing. I couldn’t see very well with the warehouse’s power out –the only light was the city lights outside filtering through the windows- so I switched back to thermal imaging and fired another burst. The Hunter jumped from beam crossing to beam crossing, and even as I led my target, it seemed a few seconds ahead of me. On my last burst before my first ammo pack ran out, I saw a burst of heat on its shoulder. Switching to normal vision, I saw sparks sputter from the Predator’s shoulder- I had hit the plasma caster and destroyed it. The alien above me made a low growling noise, and I quickly kneeled down to reload the minigun. I tried to keep my eye on the Hunter, but I needed to look at what I was doing to reload the gun. Before I could get back up after reloading, something wrapped down around me; something black, and according to my armor’s damage monitor, sharp.

“He launched a razor net on you!” Kenji shouted, rather unnecessarily.

Damn, I had to move quickly before he headed for the office. I reached for the scabbard tied to my belt on my left side, using my left hand to awkwardly pull out the chainsword. As I started it up on its max setting, I noticed the net was contracting around me. I hefted my arm up and the sword’s teeth ripped into the net, groaning slightly against it before the net yielded to my weapon’s unorthodox blade. I used the armor’s extra strength to rip myself out through the hole. I sheathed my sword and grabbed the reloaded minigun while looking around for the alien. Before I could find him, something zipped down and sliced through my minigun, hitting the motor before scraping against the cement below.

“Combi Stick!” Kenji declared as I looked down to see what the hell had happened. The telescopic metal spear had sliced right through the motor of the minigun. It was useful as a club, but that was it.

“Clever bastard,” I dropped the gun and yanked the modified M-16 off of my back.

I switched the safety off and started looking around for the Hunter, rifle readied and held with both hands. Using the thermal scanning, I managed to just barely make out the bits and slivers of a body a few meters from the office door. Using semi-auto, I fired a short burst at the alien, which hadn’t moved, so I think I hit it. The Predator was uncloaked for a moment, so I switched to normal vision to get a better idea of what I was facing. I could barely make out its dark green body and the gray face mask of the Hunter’s helmet before it cloaked again. I fired another burst at where I thought its wrist computer was - I wanted that cloak down. By then, of course, the agile alien had darted off somewhere.

I switched back to thermal and tried to trace its movements. It seemed to have headed for the other side of the warehouse. Good, it wanted to hunt me now. I heard something bounce on the concrete behind me and turned around. My thermal vision didn’t pick up anything, but a chunk of wood was on the floor that hadn’t been there before. Repressing a frustrated groan, I turned around- and the damn thing was right in front of me.

“Clever,” I fired a burst at its torso and it growled at me as I somehow apparently missed. It swung its arm at me and I ducked. I fired another burst as I stood back up, but it was gone again.

By then I was more than a little frustrated with its ability to dodge my gunfire. I also wanted it focused on me, so to taunt the alien –brilliant idea, I know- I shouted, “C’mon, Yautja; you wanna fight me or not?”

“You are worthy,” the voice was recorded and automated, so it was probably something his last victim had said. It was also coming from above me. I looked up slightly and noticed some heat shimmers on top of a large stack of palettes. As I fired another burst from my rifle, something small and metal zoomed at me and whacked my left arm, making a scraping noise as it bounced off my armor. It had made a muted saw-like noise as it had whirled past.

“Smartdisc!” Kenji cut in, again stating the obvious, “Remember, Douglas said you can track his guidance of it with your UV vision.”

I switched vision modes and noticed Kenji was right. I couldn’t see the Hunter, but I could see a triangular line aimed towards my head as I heard the disc come whirling back at me. I deflected the swirling bladed disc with my arm and it veered away. I heard some serious scraping there, and according to my armor’s diagnostics, that strike managed to dent the armor and could have damaged the systems to my gauntlet. So it was probably best I to avoided direct strikes if possible. I switched the rifle to full auto as the Hunter prepared to send the disc my way again. I started emptying my magazine at the alien, using the strength of my armor to fight the recoil. Naturally the alien had darted off to another palette, but as it moved it made a muted grunting noise, so I might’ve managed to hit it, and I was able to keep firing at it. Which explains what happened next.

Before I emptied the magazine, the Predator hurled the disc straight at my head. I was so focused on firing I didn’t have time to move or deflect it any other way, so I hefted the rifle up to protect my head. The disc crashed into the rifle, imbedding itself firmly, straining and groaning as it tried to return to its master. I tossed the disc-fused weapon onto the floor and stepped on the disc, hard. I heard the weapon crack and stop whirring as it died.

I switched back to thermal vision and noticed the entire silhouette of the Hunter was visible as he stood atop a stack of palettes some distance away. I switched to normal vision and saw that the alien was entirely uncloaked.

“Magnify,” I told the armor.

Zooming in on the Hunter’s left arm, I noticed its wrist computer screen was cracked, and the device itself looked like I had hit it a few times. Good. The alien gave a muted roar and jumped for the ceiling. I pulled out my pistol and the chainsword, holding the sword in my right hand and the pistol in my left. I switched back to thermal vision to find the alien, but before I could fire something slammed into my helmet, hitting the left side of it hard enough to make a dull clang, hurt my head, and cause the helmet to short out and overload, going completely dark, which if it weren’t for the adrenaline would’ve had me in quite the panic.

“What happened?” I asked Kenji; the radio was an isolated system linked to the laptop, not my armor.

“He had another Combi Stick,” Kenji said, “must be sick of you having extra vision, too.”

“Guess chivalry has its limits,” I holstered my pistol and quickly yanked the helmet off my head- I couldn’t see a damn thing with it not working and there was no time to try and reboot it.

I nearly had a heart attack when I looked up and saw the Hunter barely three meters in front of me. This gave me a chance to truly examine it. It was slightly over two meters tall, with dozens of long, dark green dreadlock-like things behind its simple gray helmet-mask. The alien was obviously very muscular, its bare body covered in black webbing. His arms and legs were mostly exposed, and had a reptilian, light green scalyness to them. I could see the damaged plasma caster and wrist computer clearly, as well as the net launcher on its right shoulder. What seemed to be the tracker for the smartdisc was attached to the remains of the plasma caster. Around its neck was a necklace of long, sharp teeth and bones. A similar chain was around its waist, and on each wrist it had a bracelet of polished human teeth. Based on the form of trophies it was wearing, it was probably a recently blooded Hunter with delusions of grandeur, if Douglas’ data was accurate. Good, it meant I had a shot at surviving this with at least most of my limbs intact.

The alien tilted its head at me, examining my face for a second. Slowly it reached for its mask with its right hand, and, after a click and some hisses, it pulled off the mask and dropped it. Guess he was a fair fighter, after all. The Predator’s face was just as ugly as in the movies- it had a large pink mouth, prominent, scaly forehead, four weird mandibles that ended with small tusk-like teeth that clumped around the fleshy, cheeky mouth, and did I mention the sharp teeth? Its eyes were beady and set under the prominent brow in deep sockets. The left side of its forehead bore the acid induced clan mark from a xenomorph kill. It opened its mouth to roar at the same time it raised its fisted hands level with its head. As he did so, the two sharp blades on its wrist armor shot out from each arm, revealing four wrist blades. Roaring again, he assumed a passable imitation of a boxer’s defensive posture, goading me into making the first move.

Having gotten rather weary of his idea of sport, and now that my heart had recovered from my earlier efforts to shoot him, I was willing to oblige. The alien’s Code of Honor prevented me from just plugging him in the head, but I set my chainsword to its full setting and leveled my pistol to fire at its torso.

+++
Next Chapter

I know, I’m see-sawing between genres and tones.

I kinda like it; keeps things interesting and my insanity up to par, like The Doctor if he was Michael Bay.

Having said that, a few people have expressed remorse that I didn’t go a more suspenseful and less nerdgasmy route. I concur with this sentiment, and if it’s any consolation to my readers, at least I know what I’m doing for next year’s Halloween .

[Mirage_GSM]

The telescopic metal spear had sliced right through the motor of the minigun. It was useful as a club, but that was it.
“Clever bastard,” I dropped the gun and yanked the modified M-16 off of my back.

Probably would have been even cleverer to slice through Hisao's head...

I fired another burst at where I thought its wrist computer was - I wanted that cloak down.

...but since Hisao is just as clever...

“He had another Combi Stick,” Kenji said, “must be sick of you having extra vision, too.”

You don't usually do headshots to disable the enemy's night vision googles.

The left side of its forehead bore the acid induced clan mark from a xenomorph kill.

When did Hisao have time to study alien sociology?

[Hoitash]

Probably would have been even cleverer to slice through Hisao's head...

True, but then the trophy would be ruined...

You don't usually do headshots to disable the enemy's night vision googles.

...Or the alien missed. Either idea works

When did Hisao have time to study alien sociology?

He saw Alien Versus Predator and put two and two together. There was probably something in the info Dr. Fargo showed them, too.