Rivers Run Deep

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters related to Predator El, other unrelated human characters, and the character names of the predators Imade up, the concept of predator do not belong to me.



Authors Notes: This is a work of Fan fiction. please read on and enjoy.



WARNING: The following work of fiction contains, extream violence, course language (at times), sexual sudgestions, nudety, and explicit sex. If you are
under 18 (or whatever age is appropriate for your location), HIT YOUR
BACK BROWSER BUTTON NOW. If you find explicit sex offensive, please
don't offend yourself by reading further.



Author: Charlotte (jemstone5)

Email: jemstone5

Feedback: Please, yes lots.

Forward to others: would be flattered if you did.

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Rivers Run Deep



Chapter 2



She was late again. Her coach was going to have her head. She tossed her duffle bag on the bleachers, and pulled off her jogging suit, revealing her tight fitting body suite. “YOU’RE LATE!” the man bellowed.


“Sorry coach.”


“Well…”


She turned to look at him. “Well…What?”


“I’m waiting for you to begin your routine.”


“I’m getting to that,” she huffed, pulling off her pants, and sliding her special footwear over her feet. “I need to warm up first.”


“Forget it. We’re done here anyway.” The man turned to the other girls across from her. “Remember, practice is the most important activity to your aspirations in Gymnastics. If you’re late,” and he glanced over his shoulder to the girl as she listened to his booming voice, “it lets everyone know you’re not committed, and you may as well quit. No use wasting all our time when you will be staying right where you are. A nobody.” He heard the girl toss her clothing hard against the bleachers. He grinned as he looked at the papers on his clipboard. “You can all go home now. Remember, practice is every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. You have conditioning a choreography training Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. DON’T BE LATE.” The young girls all nodded and left.


They couldn’t deny, he sucked as a coach, and his motivational speaking seriously lacked. He strode across the mat to the girl as she packed up her belongings, pulling on a green and white leather outfit rather than her jogging suite. “I told you to get rid of that bike,” he said angrily, tossing the clip bard across the floor. “You’ll kill yourself!”


“No I won’t.” He grabbed her wrists and held them up.


“I’m not convinced,” he said staring at the scars on her wrists.


“I didn’t make those,” she said, pulling away from him. “Police investigation proved that a guy I dated tried to kill me. But then you should know that. IT WAS YOUR SON!” The man tried to backhand her, but she ducked, swinging her boot out to his ankles. He landed hard on his side, the girl’s foot to his throat. “Try that again, and I’ll make sure the parents know exactly what kind of person you are.” And she walked away, threading her duffle bag over her shoulders.


“You’ll never amount to anything! You’ll be stuck here like all the rest. A NOBODY!” She raised her finger to him as she left, and not the nice gesture either.






Outside, she strode across the street and into the dinner. Behind the counter an older man looked up, his oversized girth puffed up like a proud father, as the young woman marched in. Her entire composure, her stride, and her look, told him enough to just hand her the keys. “All fixed,” he said. “You be careful.”


“Careful doesn’t have fun.” She grabbed the keys and went out the back door, the old man’s chuckle bright in her ears. She threw the doors open to the back yard, full of old cars, many of them already repaired, but not yet sold. She unlocked the shed, and stepped inside. The gleaming polish of the motorcycle stared back at her. It was an older model, an 80’s edition. She couldn’t remember the year without looking at the registration. She loved the color, white, with green, the color of her eyes. It was the only thing she had left of her family, the only thing that survived the fire.


She took her helmet off the shelf, and straddled the bike. She took off her duffel bag, taking out her wallet, tossed the bag aside, and tucked her wallet in her pants pocket along her thy. “Thought you had practice,” said the old gruff voice from the door.


“Bastion’s a fucking jerk,” she said.


Now the old man was upset. The only time that she ever swore was when someone really ticked her off. “What did he do now?” he asked.


She looked at his face, he was sweet, the only one in the entire town that she respected like a father. She got off her bike and went to him, putting her hand to his chubby cheek. “Nothing you need to get your meat cleaver for,” she said.


“You sure?” She nodded and returned to her bike, securing the helmet over her head, threading her long hair through the special loop she’d attached at the back to keep her hair from working its way to her chin, which truly annoyed her.


The old man gruffly laughed, as she turned the key to start the bike. He pushed a button and the shed’s wall opened up. It was a cleverly hidden garage door, and he always loved to surprise people with it. She revved the motor, and took off. He knew she’d be back for diner. Satisfied that the ride would ease her temper, he went back inside to find an older Asian man sitting at the counter. “Well, Mr. Com, how can I help you?”


“Coffee please,” he said, and slid a ten dollar bill across the counter. Looked like he was going to be here a while.


“How’s my little girl doing in her training?” he asked, sliding the coffee across to him.
“Her technique is sound, but she has far too much aggression. Unless she learns to calm her temper I will not be teaching her any more.”


“Well I think she’ll calm down now. She got her bike back. It was laid up waiting for parts. But she’s just taken it out for a spin. She’s used to doing that everyday. I think the speed helps, though I can’t see how. I go much faster than a walk, I get sick.”
“I’m surprised you walk fast at all.” He jested, poking the good natured man in the gut. “You have been following what I have told you?”


“To the letter. Cholesterol is down, my blood pressure is normal, and - ” he hefted his pants up again “ – I lost about three inches off my waist. Can’t keep my clothes on. You’d think I was back in high school.”


“Oh please,” the man begged, “No more stories.”