Predator: SVU

Title: Predator: SVU

Author: Prairiefire

Chapter: Two: Intriguing Hunter

Fandom: Predator AU

Rating: M/R

Warnings: Adult Situations, Controversial Subject Material, Graphic Violence/Gore, Rape, Sexual Situations

Orientation: Het

Pairings: Human Female/Male Predator, Female Predator/Male Predator

Summary: Two hunters separated by species and lightyears are about to team up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Predator, nor do I make earn any monetary compensation for the stories I write that feature such characters. However, all my original characters are just that, original. That makes them mine, and they cannot be used without my express written permission.

Feedback: Please. I will respond to all signed reviews on ffn, aff

Word Count: 4667

MetroPark

Cass and her partner, Gerold MacKenzie, stood aside as the crime scene investigators recovered what evidence they could. There was precious little that they could see, the consensus being that anything of value would be trace found on the body itself. The normally dark park was lit up with half a dozen flood lights and the blinking lights from the police cars and ambulance. The two detectives observed the forensics team with despair.

“This is number seven isn’t it,” questioned Cass.

Gerold simply nodded an affirmative. As a father of two girls this kind of scene just pushed him closer to retirement faster. While he wanted to grieve for the little life that had been snuffed out like nothing this night his professionalism would not permit it. If not for him and Cass who would speak for her? Who would bring her killer, her torturer to justice? Pausing briefly to collect himself he started telling Cass what he knew of their latest victim.

“Same rough physical description as all the others. Perp seems to have a thing for thin Columbian girls. Petite, dark hair, brown eyes, between six and eight years old as far as I can tell,” he summarized. “God damned perv,” he cursed under his breath before continuing. “She was wrapped in a white sheet. Same brand as the others. Available in any big box store and sold in bulk.” Sighing heavily Gerold knew the futility of trying to trace the origins of such an item to its purchaser. Another dead end. Whoever this guy was, he knew enough about forensics to be dangerous.

Walking up to the pair of detectives, FBI profiler Joeseph RunningWolf looked just as down trodden as the other two. Acknowledging Gerold, he turned to the lead detective. “The UNSUB is still following the same pattern. There is one anomaly though. The first six were found in a more industrial area about 2 miles from here. We’re not too far away, but changing the location of the body disposal could mean other changes in behavior.”

“Like what,” growled Gerold. The apprehension in his voice almost made the profiler step back.

“Most likely,” Joeseph paused briefly, “it could mean an escalation in violence, or a shorter time that he holds these girls.”

“So the bad news just keeps coming,” Cass said stepping in. “Do we have any way to ID her at least?” Both men looked at their feet, ashamed that they could not even help name this girl. “Great.”

“Well, we know from the others that she is probably from South America, Columbia most likely. Used as a mule to smuggle in cocaine, then sold into the sex trade,” Joseph informed the two detectives.

“The FBI knows this and does nothing to stop it?” asked Gerold angrily.

“It’s not that they don’t try to stop it, they do. But resources are spread so thin right now that it is impossible to look for everything. Things slip through the cracks,” Joeseph said defending his employer although he felt the same way.

“Things didn’t slip through the cracks this time,” Cass stated. “A child did.”

Striding up to the trio Captain Stephen Adams addressed the group, “The vultures have already caught wind of this victim. I need some information to give them now, before they start making up their own stories.” Gesturing to the waiting media vans, “Do we have anything to give them?”

The strobing lights of the police cars at the entrance to the park, plus a lone ambulance that would not be needed anymore, reflected off the sides of the news vans from each of the major networks and 24-hour news radio stations. The chaos was held at bay outside the yellow police tape. Inside that barrier the orderly evidence gathering of the technicians was interrupted by the arrival of the medical examiner. The dark van marked “Coroner” pulled up to the police tape as the crowd around it was cleared away by the uniformed beat cops. The young doctor got out of the driver’s seat and walked up to the head CSI and listened to his report of the scene before proceeding over to the covered body.

Pulling the sheets back to examine the body of the young girl, she steeled herself to the feeling of sorrow that always came to her when she had to examine a child. She had promised herself long ago that the day that feeling didn’t come was the day she would quit her job. As she collected the data that would help her determine the time and possible cause and location of death Cass separated from Gerold, Adams and RunningWolf. Walking up to the ME, cautiously avoiding anything that had been tagged as possible evidence, Cass crouched down beside her.

“Anything you can tell us, doc,” asked Cass.

Turning to face the detective the ME nodded. “Liver temp tells me that she died between five and five-and-a-half-hours ago. Anything else will have to wait until a full autopsy is performed,” the disgust was think in her voice and only got thicker. “I can confirm that there is evidence that she was abused. Bruising on the inside of the thighs, around her arms, and what looks like a hand print around her throat. Several older bruises on her face, like she has been used as a punching bag for a couple days. Fits with the profile, but then again, nothing is positive until I perform the autopsy. With the change in location, it could be a copy cat.”

“Not likely, the white sheet was our hold back. A copy cat couldn’t have know about it unless he was at all the crime scenes before we got there, but you better go back and tell Adams that,” Cass suggested. “He looks a little impatient, the reporters are breathing down his neck already,” she continued waving her hand towards the older man tapping his foot waiting for them.

“Probably right,” the doctor replied looking at the captain herself. Summoning her assistants to collect the body for transport to the morgue the ME moved away to talk with the captain of the special victims unit. As the assistants arrived to remove the body to the waiting coroner’s vehicle Cass took a final look at the little girl. Heaving a sigh she studied the small face. She would etched every detail into her memory like she had all the other victims she had worked cases on. Silently she pledged to the little girl ‘I promise to find whoever did this to you, I promise.’

The attendants finished placing the girl, known only as Precious Doe #7, inside the black body bag. The zipper hissed as it was drawn to close the bag. Carefully the burden was lifted onto the gurney that would take it to the waiting vehicle. Remaining where she was crouched, Cass reflected on the new circumstances of her case.

After a few moments Cass stood up and was about to go to her truck to head back to the station. There was much to do tonight, and she was bone tired already. Suddenly she heard a snap in the brush. Had it been on the ground she would have dismissed it as possibly a drunk missed in the sweep to clear out the park, but this was from above her head. Like it was in a tree. She looked up at the dying tree off to her left. In the tree she saw a shimmering wave that didn’t look like it belonged there. The branch below it was slightly bowed. Rubbing her eyes she looked again, but the shimmer was gone and the branch blew gently in the breeze that had made its way inland from the ocean. She quickly dismissed what she saw as a heat distortion from the incredibly hot weather that they had been having for weeks and the stress of the case getting to her. She had already decided she was taking Sonya on a trip once this case was over.

Cass turned toward her truck and spotted Captain Adams still talking with the media. Gerold and RunningWolf had already headed off to the prescient, and were probably waiting for her. With nothing left to do at the scene except get underfoot she made her way to her dark blue Chevy. She slid in behind the wheel and flicked off the flashing red light on the dashboard. Pulling it off, she replaced it under the seat and drove to her squad’s office.

Uniformed cops had picked up several park regulars, including the one that had flagged down the patrol car. There were many people throughout the department hoping that these people had seem something, ANYTHING that would help them. Cass didn’t hold out much hope. That particular park was notorious for being home to nothing but hard core drunks and junkies. The chance of gleaning any useful information from any of them was negligible. Sighing again she made her way to the observation room of one of the interview rooms.

Gerold and RunningWolf were in the room pouring coffee down the throat of the bum that had flagged down the cruiser. The guy was a regular to the Vice squad. A man who hadn’t fallen from grace too long ago, but the alcohol took everything quickly. The running joke among Vice was that all the coffee in a Dunkin’ Donuts couldn’t sober this guy up. Still, he was the first to see the body. Of course, that is after he claimed that an alien had stepped on him in his sleep.

Turning away Cass went to interview another of the group. Picking the one that looked the most lucid of the group she escorted the 18-year-old heroin addict down to the second interview room. Flipping through a file that accompanied the girl Cass began asking questions.

“It says here that you were lying on the bench not 20 feet away from the body when the police arrived. You had to have seen something,” Cass started.

“I didn’t see nothin’. I was trippin’,” the strung-out girl countered.

“Yes, you probably were. At least, that is what the needle near you when you were found would tell us. When did you shoot up?”

“I don’t know. Sometime after the park closed. It was still light out.”

“And you didn’t see anyone carrying around a bundle of sheets.”

The girl looked at the detective like she had two heads. “Have you been down there recently? All the drunks carry their bedding around. Business as usual.”

“But you didn’t see anyone approach the fountain at all?”

“No one but this old cripple. Crazy one. Wearing a toque and parka in THIS heat? Dude was seriously nuts. Then I must have tripped out again, next thing I know, cops are hauling me off to a car.”

“This old cripple, what was he wearing?”

“I don’t know. I had better things to do. Dude just kind of limped past. I just noticed the parka. Guy must have thought he was in Alaska or Canada or something.”

“Hair color, eyes, skin? Anything?”

“Nah. Can I go now?”

Sighing, Cass noted she had been doing that a lot recently; she got up to escort the junkie out. Nothing was found on her, and she was reasonably coherent now so she couldn’t be held in custody. She noticed the sun coming up, a new day dawning. Finding Gerold with a different drunk she told him she was going to go home and she’d be back later that night.

XXXXX

Outside Miami SVU

Vek’rin’ka was attracted to the lights and noise and commotion of the scene at the park. There were many places that the small vehicles with the armed oomans screamed in the night, but the added noise from the ambulance and eventually the communications vehicles were enough to get his attention. He figured that if the Bad Blood pack he was tracking was in the area they would be attracted to it as well.

Vek’rin’ka didn’t pay much attention to the oomans as he scanned the area for other yautja signals. When the larger members of the group moved away he saw a small bundle that they all seemed to be avoiding touching. Scanning closer his mask made out the form of a small child. The child was most certainly thei-de, had been for several hours. Why was it here though? Should it not be with its mother who was most certainly grieving over loosing one of her offspring?

Before Vek’rin’ka could scan more deeply two more oomans, ones who clearly possessed some form of authority, walked up to the body. The larger of the pair was tense. Vek’rin’ka was too far away to scent its pheromones, but undoubtedly it was upset at the death of the child. The smaller one seemed to be in charge as the larger deferred to it. Setting his mask to scan more closely, he made a discovery. The smaller was female. No wonder the larger one, revealed to be male, was deferring to her. It was the natural order of things for females to be in charge. They were smarter than males after all, and the future of any species.

Armed oomans were moving through the bushes rousting the intoxicated ones. Vek’rin’ka had accidentally stepped on one of them earlier and woken it. The smell of intoxication was so strong on the man that Vek’rin’ka doubted he would remember his sleep’s interruption. Vek’rin’ka’s only task right now was to find Al’brk’vix and his pack and deal with them. Alerting the oomans to his presence would only complicate things. Al’brk’vix, however, was being difficult to find. He left plenty of bodies behind, but neither he nor his ship could be found. Not any trace of them.

Climbing silently into a large tree near the center of the ooman’s focused attention Vek’rin’ka observed another one approach the child’s body. This one was also female and flanked by two more oomans. The two that were next to the body previously had moved off and were conversing with two others. The new female started examining the body and the punctured it with a long slender instrument. Vek’rin’ka prickled at such desecration of a child’s body but didn’t move. He watched as the first female approached the second. They communicated in their own language before the second female moved away. The first female stayed as the body was wrapped and taken way. It looked as if she was PRAYING over the body! Oomans didn’t pray. From what Vek’rin’ka had been taught about them they possessed no sense of honor nor did they possess the capacity to act selflessly. Asking the gods to watch over a departed spirit was not something they would do. This one, however, was a female. Only the males had been studied to date, so maybe she was different.

This ooman’s actions intrigued Vek’rin’ka. He decided to learn more about ooman females while on the planet. That was, of course, after he had dealt with the pack of Bad Bloods. His code of honor prevented him from hunting any of the females, unless they attacked him, but he could still learn about them. The new information would be added to the mother ship’s databases to aid future expeditions to this planet.

As the activity in the park began to die down Vek’rin’ka shifted on the branch he was standing on. The sudden movement caused the branch to creak. He noticed the female looking up into the tree he was watching from. Pauk, he cursed in his mind as he slipped off the branch and back onto the ground quietly. He used the trunk of the tree as an extra shield from the prying eyes of the armed oomans around the area.

Sneaking through the park, Vek’rin’ka made his way to the edge before climbing onto the roof of a building. Looking over the edge he saw his subject climb into a vehicle and leave the area. He armed a tracking device and fired it off with his spear gun. The tiny tracking device embedded itself in the corner of the flat, open area in the back. Now at least he could find her again if he lost her now.

While Vek’rin’ka was adjusting his mask’s controls to accommodate keeping the tracking signal active he was interrupted. A low growl started to emanate from behind him. Turning quickly he say the heat signature of another yautja. Three other signatures quickly joined the first on the rooftop.

“Getting sloppy, Vek’rin’ka,” the growl’s owner mocked.

“And you stay the same Al’brk’vix. Never could face anyone, always coming up behind them,” Vek’rin’ka snarled back. “Tell me. Is that how to managed to kill Shalna?”

With an enraged snarl Al’brk’vix signaled to his two smaller companions. Both fairly flew at Vek’rin’ka. One extended his modified ki’cti-pa and dove at Vek’rin’ka’s muscled legs. Extending his own ki’cti-pa Vek’rin’ka easily parried the attack from the low assault. The other unBlooded warrior drew a ki’its-pa from its place on his back. Extending it as he charged at the occupied Arbitrator, he followed through the motion to bring it down on the shoulders of the larger warrior.

After parrying the attack of the first unBlooded, Vek’rin’ka sidestepped and brought his wrist blades up to block the blow from the bladed staff. The younger fighter tried to force the larger warrior back while his companion recovered. Using his free hand, Vek’rin’ka grabbed the staff trying to bear down on him. Ripping it out of the stunned adolescent’s hands he spun it and parried another attack from behind him. Swinging his ki’cti-pa at the unarmed yautja he forced the youngster to jump to the side, ending up landing precariously close to the edge of the building. Spinning to counter another attack from the second unBlooded, he brought the appropriated staff down with a slash that would have sliced the young idiot’s throat. Choosing to show a little prowess, Vek’rin’ka merely left a shallow cut on the poor excuse for an opponent’s throat.

Continuing the spin, Vek’rin’ka lowered the ki’its-pa and leveled it to collide with the legs of the other yautja that was preparing to attack him with a kainde amedha dagger. Tripping up the pathetic fighter, Vek’rin’ka hissed at the defeated adversary.

“Nan-deThan-guan,” Vek’rin’ka snarled at the prone form before plunging the staff into the unBlooded’s chest. Turning back on the other whose throat he had cut he knew that finishing this one off would be gkei’moun-an easy mission. Discarding the ki’its-pa in his hand, he brought out his own. The bladed ends extended to their full six-and-a-half foot length with an ominous snick. A single piece of black chitinous armor hung from its handle.

The remaining unBlooded yautja stood his ground, one hand on his throat to staunch the flow of blood. Vek’rin’ka scoffed at the display of weakness. The wound was barely superficial, yet this little pup was acting as if it would kill him. Vek’rin’ka wasn’t going to make it that easy. He waited patiently until the younger warrior realized what he wanted him to do.

It finally dawned on the young yautja. Seizing the last shreds of his courage the young male charged again at the older warrior. The open frontal assault disgusted Vek’rin’ka. There was no wonder that this male was not a Blooded warrior. His skill was severely lacking. Even if an Elder had given him an assignment to a Kainde Amedha Chiva this little s’yuit-de would never survive. He had obviously not earned the weapons he had or the armor he wore.

Dodging the over powered charge, Vek’rin’ka brought his ki’its-pa around and slammed the sharp tip into the back of the rushing target. The momentum pulled Vek’rin’ka around to face the space that Al’brk’vix and his second, Wrk’va, had occupied at the beginning of the fight.

Before realizing that the other half of his quarry was gone Vek’rin’ka spoke in victory, “Nain-desintje-de.” Looking over the roof and switching through the vision modes on his visor he could not spot the other two Bad Bloods. “Cjit, how does he keep doing that?” He cursed at himself for letting Al’brk’vix get away again.

Vek’rin’ka searched for the trail thoroughly. The lack of any sign of Al’brk’vix frustrated Vek’rin’ka beyond anything he had ever experienced. The constant scent of something else disconcerted him as well. It smelt like an ooman, and if seemed to follow him everywhere. It lingered in the places he visited more than once. It was almost comical to believe that an ooman was tracking him. He would have to keep a sharper eye out from now on. Deciding it would be best if he took a break from his fruitless endeavor he turned his attention to the softly blipping indicator in the corner of his mask’s visor. The tracking device showed that the vehicle it had been planted on was stationary near one of the armed ooman’s bases.

Vek’rin’ka reached the building as the sun started its ascent. Spotting the vehicle parked in front of the building he started scanning the interior with the advanced thermal settings on his mask. The image of the female was stored in the mask’s operating computer both as a thermal and visible spectrum image; however, the solid walls of the building made the visible spectrum scan pretty useless.

Not finding his target Vek’rin’ka kept scanning grumbling that it just was not his day. The program he had set to monitor the tracking device interrupted his thoughts with a quiet beat. Checking the tracker he was informed that the vehicle had started to move. Looking down at the street he spotted the truck pulling away from the curb. Quickly descending the building, he sprinted across the vacant sidewalk. Before the vehicle could accelerate away he grabbed onto the back of it. Still running, he quickly pulled himself into the cargo area. The large truck hit a pot hole as he landed on the exposed flat surface disguising any possible shifting on the vehicle’s suspension. Bracing against the sides he lay down to avoid exposing himself to the buffeting winds created by the speed of the vehicle. Savoring the heat from the dark surface as it collected the sunlight he settled in to enjoy the ride.

After the seemingly endless jolting ride, Vek’rin’ka felt the vehicle slow and turn. It came to a complete stop in front of another building. This one was smaller than the ones cluttered toward the center of the city and there were many of them spaced out. Here, the adult oomans were greatly outnumbered by the children. It’s a residential area, the realization dawned on him.

As the female got out of the vehicle Vek’rin’ka remained perfectly still until he heard the female move away from the vehicle. Climbing quietly out of the vehicle he made his way over to more substantial cover. He scaled a leafy tree next to the home and tried to make himself even more inconspicuous against the trunk.

Sufficiently sure that he would not be spotted by the younglings that were active in the area Vek’rin’ka scanned the building for his subject. Through a window near his perch he spotted a small ooman gathering equipment. His interest was peaked when he saw the little one add a narrow club to the collection of things she was added to a bag. Combat training? For one so young? And why would a mother risk her life being a warrior when she had a young one to care for? It didn’t seem to fit that the male would stay home to care for the young. They were typically the warriors of the oomans.

Vek’rin’ka’s thermal scans showed the female he had been following was in a washing room pouring water over herself. The thermal imagery was distorted somewhat from the hot water that was cascading down from the facet in the wall. The ritual was fascinatingly different from his culture that preferred taking leisurely baths. Not particularly wanting to watch such a boring event he turned back to the window to the child’s room. Abruptly another adult female walked into the room and started conversing with the child. Dismissing the new female as an aseigan by the way she went about doing the simple domestic chores, he figured the warrior human to be the dominant female of the house, and the mother of the child. The aseigan was probably used to take care of the child when its mother was out of the house, though he still could not understand why the female would risk orphaning her child by being a warrior. He had seen reports and studies of how the males of this species did not discriminate between their victims. They, in fact, often sought out those they perceived as weaker than them. A dishonorable way of life.

XXXXX

“Sonya, are you almost ready, dear?” Joan asked her young charge.

“Almost, is Auntie Cass going to come?” the youngster replied without looking around to her nanny.

“Yep,” Joan answered. “She’s taking you there herself and she’s going to introduce you to someone.”

Once Sonya was finished packing she grabbed the bag and headed down the stairs. The nanny set the bundle of clothes onto the dresser to put away after she made breakfast for her charge and turned to leave the room.

XXXXX

Vek’rin’ka watched as the warrior female and child left the home with the bag. He followed at a discreet distance observing their interaction. It was obviously a mother/pup relationship. The pair led him to an open area with many other pups and their parents running around, both mothers and fathers. The ooman warrior’s charge ran to join the other children gathered in two groups around a square field that was fenced off from spectators by a metal mesh.

Shortly, two other adult oomans split the group of children in two and walked to two different sides of the field. The children from one side of the field ran out and took up positions around the square shape drawn on the ground and spread out behind it. The other group sent one of theirs up one at a time with a club. The child in the center of the field would through a round object at the child holding a club, who would then try to hit it.

It was a lesson in team work, the idea dawned on Vek’rin’ka as he watched the rest of the players on the field try to catch the object when it was hit. The concept of the game came quickly to him as he watched. The teams would switch off who was in the field and who was hitting. By the end of the game he had figured out that the score was determined by how many hitters had made their way around the safety bags and back to where they started. It was a good game to teach the youngsters teamwork.

While observing the game that the children played, Vek’rin’ka also watched the warrior human he had been following. Part way through the game a male joined the female he was watching. The male embraced her and she leaned into it. This must have been her mate. If she had a child she had to have a mate.

This male disturbed Vek’rin’ka though. Something about him prickled at Vek’rin’ka, though he could not put his talon on it. Moving closer, Vek’rin’ka studied the male closer. It was not until the wind shifted and brought the scent to his nose.

This ooman was the sourced of the smell that had been haunting him for days.