Here's my new fanfic (finally)! Hope you like it and don't forget to review lots! If anyone can think of a title for this, please tell me. Rawr, the selective writer's block strikes again. I have no problem writing this(There's already more than 14 chapters written), I just can't think of a title. Anyway, enjoy!

Ki'cti-pa: Wrist blades.

Pauk-de: Fucker or fucking.

Ki'its-pa: Retractable spear.

Kainde Amedha Chiva: Hard Meat Trial, the Blooding Hunt.

H'sai-de: Curved sword.

Shuriken: Throwing star.

Oomans: Humans.

Guan-Thwei: Night-Blood.

Chapter 1

A large, sleek ship hurtled through the blue-blackness of space towards the blue planet. The interior was bathed in dull orange light and a white mist swirled around the floor. On a computer screen, angular red glyphs appeared, scrolling down rapidly. A loud beep was emitted by the computer and the scrolling stopped abruptly. A chamber opened with a loud hiss and a tall figure stepped out, stretching and yawning. It sat down in front of the computer and began to tap out commands.

Guan-Thwei growled softly to himself. He hated re-entry with a passion! The bumping, the shaking and the landing usually made him quite ill. He strode over to his armory and removed a suit of netting. The Yautja warrior shook it out and began to put it on. He remembered his first re-entry vividly: On an early training hunt, Guan-Thwei threw up in front of his age-mates, teacher and father. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. He still was not allowed to forget it! To prove that his sensitive stomach was not a sign of weakness, he worked extra hard in training. Guan-Thwei finished putting on the netting and began shifting around and stretching to check if it fitted correctly. The netting was a very important part of the battle gear. Not only was it useful for hanging small trophies, teeth and claws on, it provided an anchor for some of the armor and padding, could generate heat when it was cold and was part of the cloaking device. Guan-Thwei sighed as he remembered his Kainde Amedha Chiva: Guan-Thwei had nearly been the first cull because a roiling stomach had prevented him from noticing a concealed Hard Meat. He still sported five long scars on his back and another on his left thigh. He buckled on armor for his legs and attached several small pouches under the plates for shuriken. Next he put on a wide belt with holders for trophies and a sheath and h'sai-de. Guan-Thwei swore angrily as the computer announced that re-entry would occur in ten minutes. He lifted on the back and shoulder armor with the various sheaths and holders for his knives, Smart Disc, ki'its-pa and medi kit. Lastly, Guan-Thwei selected a plasma caster from the weapons rack and attached it to his shoulder. To think that when he first began training in full gear he found it difficult! Now he barely felt the weight. The computer signaled that re-entry would occur in five minutes and the warrior scarcely resisted the urge to hurl a dagger into it's voice generator. He performed a quick check on his cloaking device and slid his ki'cti-pa in and out a few times. Then he grabbed his mask and headed to the cockpit.

The ship shook violently as it plowed it's way through the blue planet's atmosphere. Flames spat and licked around the hull. Inside, Guan-Thwei's stomach clenched and he swore viciously at the computer calmly reciting data about the ship. Several farmers gaped in astonishment as the ship hurtled into view for a few seconds, and then vanished.

The ship slammed into the ground, throwing Guan-Thwei around. He scrabbled at his harness until the button released. The warrior half ran and half staggered out, not bothering to check for Oomans. He hardly had the mask off when a choking wave of vomit rose in his throat. After he finished voiding his stomach of its contents he rolled over onto his back, staring at the sky and gasping. The air was far too thin, but Guan-Thwei could not put the mask on until he could be sure that he wouldn't barf in it. More time passed and he finally felt well enough to get up. This attack didn't last as long as it usually does, he mused, perhaps I'm even getting used to it. But he doubted it. He was only lucky this time. Guan-Thwei checked the ship's own cloaking device and set off for the near-by ooman city.


Nightfall. Guan-Thwei sucked in a breath, smelling through the filters in his mask the scent of the oomans, the cool night air, and unpleasantly, garbage, exhaust from the vehicles and rot. The silly oomans had polluted their planet, making the air even more unbreathable, fouling the earth and water. Slowly they were realizing this, so perhaps they were not completely stupid. He stood up and leaped to a lower ledge, a rather intriguing group of oomans was passing. He leaned forwards and zoomed in on them, clicking his mandibles eagerly. They walked along the centre of the sidewalk, forcing others to go around them. They wore leather and chains and radiated confidence. Experience had shown him that these were often good prey, good fighters. The group of oomans met another group and exchanged something, then separated. Guan-Thwei itched to kill them, but he was only observing for now. In a few days, he could begin his terror tactics; he could begin to flush out the most desirable prey. The Yautja warrior carefully memorized their heat signatures.


A few days later, Guan-Thwei began his hunt. He was following the gang of oomans, carefully stalking them along ledges and rooftops. He jumped off a window sill and grabbed a convenient flag pole. The warrior swung around it once and let go, landing in an alley. A garbage can fell over with a clang as Guan-Thwei recovered his balance.

"Pauk-de." He swore as it rolled, noisily spilling it's contents. The oomans glanced at each other and exchanged words. They headed over. Guan-Thwei grinned and extended his out of there! We don't like strangers around here!" shouted one. His friend, a lean, hawk-nosed man called out as well,

"Hey, come on mother-fucker, let's see you!" Guan-Thwei's grin widened. He knew those words; they were fighting words! He understood a great deal of English and spoke it as well, except, a lot of it was understandably, curses. He laughed softly at their bravado. Hook-nose took that as an insult and stomped forwards, drawing a small knife.

"You have until three to get your ass out here, or it's mine! One…Two…Thr-YEEEEEE!" Guan-Thwei grabbed Hook-nose by the shirt and pulled him into the shadows, running him through in the process. The other two became alarmed and headed into the alley. They also had small knives, which they waved inexpertly. The shorter, bearded male nearly slipped on a dark stain. Beard reached down, stuck his fingers in it and sniffed.

"Oh, shit! This is blood! Let's get out of here and get more people!" His companion answered,

"No! He could be bleeding to death in there! We gotta-" Beard peered at his friend; he had gone strangely silent and a dark stain was growing on his belly. He gurgled and blood bubbled out his mouth. Beard gasped and backpedaled as his friend was lifted two feet off the ground and Something materialized behind in a haze of electricity. He took one look at the thing and ran, screaming bloody murder.


The Yautja warrior snorted in disgust. They were not the challenge that he had hoped for. The gang members were really just overgrown children, bullies. They put on a brave show and shoved around other oomans, but they were untrained in the fighting arts. He ripped the spine and head out of Hook-nose's body with satisfaction. Perhaps this was not a total loss. Hanging their skinned bodies from a light post would certainly attract worthier prey and Beard's terrified tales would bring more gang members. Guan-Thwei smiled as he remembered Beard's expression and how the man had wet himself. He finished the grisly job and stalked away to his lair on top of a condemned apartment building.