Link : https://m.fan fiction.net/s/9318525/1/Dark-Waters
WC : 96k+
Plot : Matthew served honorably they told him. Now with one good leg and an ass load of pain, he's trying to get it together. Everything has been nice and quite...until he has to save a female huntress not from this world. It just spirals out of control for him from there. He will soon learn that the fight never ends, but some things are worth fighting for. (OC x Predator) ~lol~
Chapter 1
The pain was almost unbearable. The throbbing, burning, tearing sensation seemed to want to shut his brain down and drown him in a sea of darkness. He could taste the metallic tang of his own blood mixed with the dirt and leaves of the forest floor.
"Well this just fucking sucks" he growled
Trying to push himself up on his elbows to get an idea of the damage; Matthew tried not to vomit from the sudden burst of pain. He couldn't help but chuckle with dark humor as he realized that he was probably going to pass out and most likely die in his own back yard. All be it a very large backyard….. One thousand square miles of mountains and forest in the middle of a state park in Colorado backyard to be exact.
With a great heave of strength Mat pulled himself up to sit against the massive fir tree that had stopped his fall…abruptly. Looking at the mangled mess of steel and plastic that had been the brace that encased his knee he began to work on controlling his breathing. Going through the systematic checks for injury that he had learned from his years in the military he realized aside from his knee and some cuts and scrapes that he was mainly whole and uninjured. Looking up at the roughly twenty foot ravine that he had fallen into he was surprised at the limited damage.
It had been a routine hike, the same path, at the same time that he walked every day for the past two years. After his release from the army hospital; the doctors had insisted that he exercise as much as possible. So Mat packed up his life and moved from the deep south state of Alabama and moved north to Colorado. When he arrived he found himself buying a small piece of land and a cabin butted up against the state park. He was alone and that's the way he wanted it.
"Well you're not dying Mat" he muttered to himself "So stop fucking off and let's get home"
Gritting his teeth Mat pulled himself up to wobble on his good leg. After several attempts and some very colorful language he gave up trying to crawl back up to the path and decided to follow the stream that he knew wound around to the back side of his property…eventually.
As he slowly picked his way down the slippery rocks the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. The whole reason he had fallen in the first place had returned, it had drawn his attention to the lush green canopy above him. Not paying attention he had walked off the path into the brush and then over the steep drop.
Sliding to his left Mat crouched into the ferns by the stream, ignoring the sudden pang of heat in his scarred knee….he was being watched.
The hunter trilled in mild amusement. Making its way along the lip of the ravine where the ooman had fallen. Now it watched as he began limping down the small waterway, when suddenly he hunched into the thick vegetation.
Switching to the thermal view on its mask the hunter tracked his movements. With a side cock of its head it watched him scan the ridge line. This ooman was getting more interesting the longer it was watched.
The hunter had been on the blue planet for almost eight cycles now. After having been ambushed by the same bad bloods that it and its mei-jadhi had come to hunt, the two hunters had been separated. Alone and unsure of the whereabouts of its companion the yautja had traveled across the harsh wilderness looking for an area to signal for help.
Only to stumble across this very strange male ooman. It mused.
All though very well built physically and obviously very intuitive. He was deemed unworthy prey due the obvious defect to his right leg. The strange apparatus that supported his leg seemed to also hinder it as he would drag it slightly at times.
But as the hunter had settled on a branch to wait for him to pass he had suddenly stopped and looked almost directly at its hiding perch. The hunter tensed, in that moment believing itself to be spotted, and prepared to leap on him. Then the male just continued walking still scanning the tree line. That's when he had plummeted over the steep slope.
The hunter trilled at the memory of the interesting language he had used as he slide and fell down the embankment. Oomans were such colorful creatures! It decided to follow him a ways as he made his way down the waterway. That's when for a second time the hunter felt that it had given itself away when the ooman suddenly crouched into the leafy plants beside the stream. He sat there for several moments watching the top of the ravine before grumbling some more colorful phrases and moving on.
He has a very strong hunter's sense! He can feel my presence!
It took almost the entire cycle for the male to return to its shelter. The sun had begun to set behind the mountains when he had finally stumbled up onto the front overhang, called a porch or some such nonsense. Though colorful the ooman's language was a tiring affair with far too many words to express such simple things.
Scanning the clearing around the shelter the hunter decided that the cycle hadn't been entirely wasted on its silly fascination with the ooman.
This will make a good place to rest and signal the clan ship for assistance.
It would also allow the hunter to observe this ooman a little longer. With that thought it leaped into one of the large trees that surrounded the shelter and settled in for some rest.
Mat collapsed on his bed, he was exhausted and very sore. This day had not gone anything like he had hoped it would. He was a creature of habit and today had screwed that all up.
Besides the obvious discomfort of the unexpected detour he still couldn't shake the feeling that something had been behind him the whole way. Any army ranger with any field experience worth anything could tell you when something didn't feel right. You learned to have a sixth sense about those things…..or you died. Your six o'clock was your weak spot. Today there was defiantly something on him! Also he could swear that he had seen movement in the trees in the front yard when he had finished cleaning up that afternoon as well.
"Sure as hell wasn't a wolf or mountain lion" he grumbled sleepily "I'll go back tomorrow and sniff around a bit."
And now I talk to myself! He thought sarcastically before slipping into sleep.
Chapter 2
Mat woke with a startled jerk and promptly regretted it. The adventures from the day before hit like a freight train as his body screamed out in agony. He could feel the swelling in his knee before he even bothered to look. Flipping back the blankets and looking down just confirmed it. The joint was purple and green with heavy bruising and it was swollen so bad that it fought against the restraint of the new brace he had put on the night before. Groaning loudly he slide out of the bed and limped into the bathroom, hoping that a warm soak would help, and turned on the water of the tub. Getting the temperature the way he wanted he turned back and hobbled into the living room to stoke the fire. The sun was still several hours from rising and the late autumn chill had crept into the cabin.
Once everything was to his liking he set out around the house to investigate why he woke up in the first place. Something just didn't feel right as he made his way through each room. Nothing looked out of place and all of the doors and windows were locked…but it still felt like his space had been invaded. It was as if someone had just been in each room right before he walked into it.
"I. Am. Losing. My. Damn. Mind!" he yelled into the ceiling.
Scrubbing his hand through his hair and across his face he walked back through the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot before his soak.
The hunter finally let out a slow breath.
Pauk that was close!
It was standing in the ooman's food preparation area, tucked into a corner cloaked and frozen.
The chill in the air outside had become uncomfortable so the hunter decided to go into the ooman's shelter and poke about a bit. The added benefit of the fire was just a perk. The creature had been paruseing one the rooms with pictures of the ooman when it heard the sound of one of the doors open. Creeping from room to room the two had played circles around the house, the hunter barely slipping out of a room right as the male would walk into it. Had he been a few seconds faster in turning on the lights he would have noticed a shimmer, like a heat wave sliding from the room. He had been close enough to touch when they had finally ended the dance. And now the machine he had turned on was producing a horrible stench from some black liquid it gurgled out
Pauk-de enough of this! I need to get my c'jit together and concentrate! The yautja chastised itself before slipping out of the door and using its tools to lock it back. A very handy trick picked up from oomans of all places.
After his long soak and some serious stretching, Mat went about his routine for the day. Even though he was sore and slightly grumpy there were things that he had to get done. Wood needed to be split and the water system needed to be winterized. Eventually he would have to make a trip into town to pick up some last minute supplies before the first snow fell making it difficult to drive out of the valley that he lived in.
That last chore left him even grumpier. The folks that lived in Cold Water were polite enough. Mat just really didn't like people all that much. When he had been injured and ultimately released from the military he had tried to settle down back in Birmingham. The large crowds and noise of the city made him nervous. Plus with the eventual addiction to the pain killers and then his foray into alcoholism only made his tension worse.
The booze and drugs had alienated him from what was left of his family and friends and he found himself drowning in his own personal hell. After a particularly close call one night on his Harley, nearly killing himself and a lady standing at a bus stop, he was court ordered to a clinic in Maui. The first weeks still made him shudder the seizures and sickness lasted for hours at a time and left him a hallow husk lying on the bathroom floor every night for nearly a month.
When he finally kicked it all he had been released back into the world. With no job and no idea what to do with himself he had patched up his relationship with his mom and sister and headed north, looking to remove any temptation and distance himself from a world that he no longer belonged to, winding up on the small piece of property in the middle of nowhere in Colorado. It suited him fine. No phone, T.V., internet, or local corner store to buy a bottle of Jim Beam. He found himself content with it all as he stopped for a break from the woodpile and took in the forest around him and the mountains rising like ancient guardians in the distance.
It's nice and quiet here…simple he mused sitting on the porch to munch on a pear.
As he listened to the wilderness around punctuated by the crunch of his snack he planned his trip into town for the next day. It was getting dark and he didn't like the idea of driving the path in the night's deep glum. He got up to go in for a soak when he froze at the door. The forest had gone silent around him…..
It was the kind of silence when you knew that an alpha predator had entered the area and all the inhabitants where hiding for fear of being the target. As he swiveled on his feet to scan the tree line a long low howl pierced the gloom of dusk
"Sounds like something was caught down at the streambed" he muttered aloud "Mother Nature at work"
With a sigh and small feeling of pity for whatever had met its end trying to get a drink Mat turned to go inside. The shrieking and growling returned louder and more intense.
"The fuck is that!"
Mat couldn't remember ever hearing the particular sounds before and he had become very comfortable with the noise of the wildlife vying for survival.
That sounds like talking! Or something like it.
With a shake of his head Mat reached inside the cabin and grasped his twelve gauge Mossberg that lived by the front door. Loaded with four slugs he kept it close to dissuade the bear and mountain lions that sometimes got too curious.
"So much for quite dammit." He growled as he began walking towards the source of the sounds.
Matthew sat in silent shock. Crouched against a tree in the dark he couldn't believe what he was looking at. He had made his way to the back side of his land and picked his way to the clearing that surrounded the stream babbling across his back yard. When he had approached the water he could hear guttural barks and some sort of trilling along with the sounds of fighting. He had reacted instantly all of his training singing through his nerve endings as he dropped into a low crawl. Ignoring the complaining coming from his knee as he slide along the cool wet grass. Reaching a good vantage point he was dumbfounded at what he found.
Standing in the clearing was the largest person he had ever seen. The, what he assumed was a man, thing was easily eight and a half feet tall and dark skinned. It wore some sort of body armor and had a huge set of blades extended from the gauntlet at his wrist, its face was covered by an archaic looking mask made of the same dark metal as his chest piece. Dark dreadlocks spilled out from under it and fell to his shoulders. It was huge!
The massive creature however wasn't the target of Mat's attention. Lying on its back in the stream was a smaller version of the creature. A bright glowing green fluid leaked from several puncture wounds and slashes along its body….That's blood! He realized.
The prone creature/person began growling and clicking at the tall tank of flesh standing over it. The big one responded with a huge kick to its stomach sending it sliding across the wet stones of the creek. Mat winced at the sound of the impact. Something about the situation didn't sit well with him as the big one stomped over and grabbed shorty by the throat lifting the feebly struggling thing up to eye level. This wasn't right…the short one could barely hold up its head.
With a resigned sigh "Well Matthew…..let's do it" he murmured.
With a new sense of purpose the ex-ranger began to make his way into the clearing. Keeping low in the grass he was a ghost. All of his senses peaked…this is what he lived for, what he was good at. Stalking his prey.
Everything had happened so quickly! The hunter had never heard or even smelled the bad blood that had somehow managed slip past the sensors that it had placed before attempting to bathe in the frigid ju'dha. It had been almost twelve cycles since the hunter had groomed properly and its skin had begun to itch fiercely. The long locks that ran from its head had not molted properly and the yautja was beginning to offend itself with its own body odor. The bad blood had waited until it was at its most vulnerable before attacking. Unarmed and unclothed it had little chance and had been overwhelmed quickly. The only thing left was to spit insults at the filth. Weak from hunger and the colder temperatures the hunter prepared itself to go to the dark warrior. But that final journey was not to be. As the despicable c'jit ic'jit was drawing its blade a loud mechanical chunk-chunk sound drew their attention to the left. Much to both hunters surprise there stood the male ooman with one of the their projectile weapons aimed nearly point black at the taller yautja.
"How do asshole" the small male stated simply.
The small hunter couldn't help the laughter that tittered out of its throat.
"I believe you are pauk-de you worthless filth" the hunter wheezed
The large bad blood reacted as was expected…stupidly. He reared back in an attempt to catch the ooman in the throat. The boom of the weapon was so close and loud, the short one squeezed its eyes closed form the pressure. Falling into the water shocked it back into reality in time to watch the bad bloods head pop like a squeezed fruit. As darkness swallowed it, its last thoughts were amazed that an ooman had come to its aid.
"Awww man that's just fuckin' nasty!"
Mat was covered in the green goop of what was left of the big bastard's head. The brain matter and gore covered everything around them when its head had popped like a watermelon on a hot day. Shorty had fallen back into the water and the now headless bastard lay at Mat's feet. They both smelled terrible now he was this close; like BO and some sort of musky odor and the little one was still bleeding profusely.
Still hyped up on instinct and adrenalin Mat rushed over to shorty's still form. Dropping to his knee in the cold water he rolled the creature over and fell back on his rear in surprise. The face was the strangest thing he had ever seen with deep set eyes and long brow line. It had a set of lower and upper mandibles framing its mouth….well the hole lined with sharp teeth. The skin black as night, but the most arresting feature was the well-formed breast. Mat just sat in quite shock not even noticing his hands pressing down on the things wounds, the green blood oozing from between his fingers.
"You're a chick!" the dumbstruck man chirped "I have an alien chick!"