More chapters are to come my friends!

Anyways, please remember to comment, please do go check out my second story, (sorry if I come off as rude or expectant, but Wattpad seems to be trying its hardest to make sure that my story is non exist, (what the fuck I still can't find it!))

Mark let out a barrage of plasma bolts, leaving a path of destruction in front of him, clearing the accumulated host of serpents.

He gritted his teeth, trembling with barely restrained rage and lunged forward, blade in hand.

He was like a whirlwind of death, the jumping attacks of the kiande amedha proved to be useless as pushed through their still recovering ranks, looping heads and limbs of here and there.

God, the frenzy he was in felt glorious! He was the beast here, he was the hunter! These bugs would fall to his lighting fast strikes, and he would purge this infestation.

The hybrid cleared out entire sections of the town on his own, removing any lingering presence of the serpents from the sector.

'Fuck me!' he panted, not out of exhaustion but out of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Mark was covered in acid blood, but it did not do anything to his technologically advanced armor. He was unstoppable.

The veteran warrior stalked the halls of the large building, the metal walls were covered with webbing, typical of the serpents. Soon enough it would be cleaned.

He walked out of the room, still simmering with bloodlust. It was frightening, really, the way in which he seemed to have a dual personality: when he wasn't hunting the kiande amedha, he was his regular, broken self. But when he was fighting, it was like he was entirely someone else, he did not hear the hissing and shrieking in his head, it was like watching a movie from his perspective, almost as if a different person replaced him all together.

The other Mark was, cold, pragmatic, calculating, and most of all driven by the need to fight.

In those moments he wasn't himself.

And it was in those moments of fury that he was at his calmest.

It scared him.

He did not know what to make of it, what to do with the knowledge of this symbiotic presence in him. It reminded him of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

The hunter made his way outside of the building, walking into a clearing. He recognized the open space as the public square of the clan that had been infested.

It truly astounded him, the way in which a group of seemingly proficient elites could act so carelessly with a transport of serpents. The ship had crashed landed not to far away from the small settlement, deep in the neighboring forest. Obviously, many of the kiande amedha were still alive, and he had the nagging suspicion that so were some facehuggers.

And that could only mean- an ungodly roared shattered the silence of the sky. 'There you are.' he thought to himself as he zeroed in on the abomination.

The bastardized creature stood tall on its hind legs, its dreadlocks shaking and rattling with every tilt of its large, domed head. The mandibles were spread wide to reveal a row of pearly white teeth, pulled taut in a hiss.

It looked so much like a yautja, and yet it was so different. And killing it was the job reserved for exterminators like him. The battle would be thrilling, the satisfaction of retrieving its skull even more so.

That would make it the tenth skull in his collection of predaliens, the alternate name he had given them. It would be a glorious battle indeed.

He watched silently as the cases that held the most prized of his newly acquired trophies were loaded in the belly of the ship.

Once he entered he would quickly sort them out, so that he could later properly clean and mount them.

Mark's attention was directed behind him, as a trill of greeting was echoed. The elite turned his head a little to the side, observing the group of four yautja that had come to talk to him.

His remaining eye hardened when he smelled their scent: aggression lingered over them, and he knew that it was because he was a pyode amedha.

"Ooman, the honored elder Ihrool has requested your presence. You are to follow us now." he focused his gaze on the loading containers, knowing full well that the action angered the assholes greatly.

He spoke in english, knowing full well that those who wore their masks would be able to understand them.

"Ooman, you must obey our elder!" "I am not a part of this clan, I frankly do not care what you elder wants to do with me unless it is about my payment." he answered with a monotone voice.

"I shall not tolerate the disrespect that you keep giving me. Call me by my proper title, and maybe I will decide to go meet with the elder." a single blooded hunter had had enough and roared, initiating a challenge.

If one hadn't been in front of Mark, then he his cold smile would have been missed; he checked his gauntlets, making sure that they were secured to his forearms, and then he cracked his knuckles, briefly enjoying the small relief it gave him, and turned around.

The asshole had already started charging, intent on running him through with his wrist blades, but Mark unexpectedly remain still, waiting until the other raised his arm to pierce his heart.

In a flash, he shot his open hand forward, grabbing his enemy by the throat. Still just as fast, he squeezed, and his armored fingers dug into the soft, exposed flesh tearing it open as blood gushed out in small quantities.

The bastard briefly chocked on his own vital liquid, but it was too late: Mark ripped out the yautja's trachea and esophagus, an explosion of green followed the mangled organs, painting the front of his body and splattering to the ground.

The blooded hunter looked at him in horrified astonishment, still chocking, and fell forward, dead.

Mark drooped the contents, and flexed his fingers, itching to fight once more. "Is there anyone else that wishes to follow in his footsteps?" he demanded, hostility very much apparent in his stance.

The remaining three shared looks of nervousness, unsure of what to do before one spoke aloud.

"Very well elite, we shall inform the elder of this development." they began to move forward, intent on retrieving the corpse of their fallen comrade.

Mark stepped forward as well, so that he stood in front of the dead fucker. "You will give him all the proper burials when the elder comes to discuss with me. Then and only then, will I allow you to collect his body."

Begrudgingly, they left, probably to go report back to the elder. Mark sighed, staring at the body before spitting on it, "Racist motherfucker..."

He knew he was being a pain in the ass, but over the decades, he had found out that his patience was wearing thinner and thinner when it came to regards about his status as a hunter.

It was true that he rarely stopped by the colonies of the Fire Skull clan, and that his presence there was a welcomed one, but in reality, the majority of hive outbursts happened near the edges of yautja controlled space, and typically by the minor clans, those in which the lines between the honor code became blurry, and their actions strayed to that of a clan of bad bloods.

In the past, Mark had given information about potentially dangerous groups, and he had Kyiv and Y'rall's eternal gratitude for that.

In general, Mark had become much more reserved and especially lonely. His addiction to the relaxants hadn't stopped, and now even those didn't guarantee a full night's worth of rest.

He was extremely decorated with prestige for his near fanatical obsession with hunting the serpents, and yet he came to resent himself more and more for it.

Mark was, for lack of a better term, depressed. He didn't consider himself a human anymore, not since the process of augmentation.

'I'm a freak. An artificial monster...'

He couldn't help but hold a little bit of hatred towards Kyiv. He would always be his friend, of that there was no doubt, for he had vouched for him on all occasions and dearly helped him even when he didn't need to... but it was also because of him that he suffered.

That night which he was first taken away from Earth seemed to be from millennia ago. If he had just bleed out, he wouldn't have had to go through all of these hardships, navy seal or not.

And now he was but a shell of his former self: bitter, resentful and broken.

He was mildly surprised to see a lone figure approach him. He was even more surprised once he saw that said figure was unarmed.

The yautja of this clan were shorter than what he was used to, but in truth they were average in height: the Fire Skull clan was famously known for growing hunters of great size.

Still, the elder was just over eight feet, his head came up to his shoulder, and the irony was that once he had been in the opposite position; but that was a long time ago.

The old hunter approached him, the only decorative piece of armor that he had was the blood red cape that was traditionally used to indicate the rank of elder, but other than that, there was nothing else.

"Greetings, honor hunter elite. Hunter Ihrool I am." 'My god, this guy just keeps on giving.'

He chuckled, "I appreciate your attempts to speak my language honored elder, but there is no need to do so, use your own mother tongue." the other looked relieved, and stared at the still fresh corpse.

"I apologize for the actions of this unruly youngblood, I had tried to warn them of addressing you with respect, but alas he didn't heed my advice." this hunter seemed to be honest, and most of all humble. Mark decided that he liked him.

"Before we proceed, allow me to offer you a cup of C'ntlip. Come." he invited him inside the ship, "Do let the other hunters of the clan that they may retrieve the body."

He sipped the fiery beverage, before taking a long gulp of it. After having emptied many bottles, he had all but brown used to the taste of it.

The elder looked around the ship, very much fascinated with it. It was probable that the technology displayed here was many leagues better than what his clan possessed, but then again, the technology of the Fire Skull clan was now the best of the entire race by default now; once again, all thanks to him.

"Honored elite, I have come to proceed with the payment that you are so." Mark coughed, interrupting him.

"My problem with what you are offering, is the fact that I am due 50 million credits, not 5. You are giving me but a tenth of what was on the bounty. So how come was this changed."

Ihrool looked quite ashamed, and he lowered his head, "The matriarch of my clan decided to lower the amount when she discovered that you were an... ooman, I tried to advise her otherwise but she would not listen."

That piqued his interest: "And where you sent as a negotiator by her behalf?" the other shook his head, "I came here out of my own will. The other members of the clan, they don't take well to your species. Forgive me if I have caused offense."

Mark smiled, for he was glad of finally talking with a good, honorable hunter. "Very well. When you leave, tell your matriarch that I will take of payment of 25 million credits. The other half will go to you exclusively." the elder looked at him, speechless, "To me? Honorable elite, I am not the one who has performed the cleansing; I cannot accept such a reward." he patted him on the shoulder.

"It is not a reward, but a gift. And you deserve it elder Ihrool. Here drink some more. Oh and so remind your matriarch that if she does not uphold her end of the bargain, then she will have to deal with the Fire Skull clan."

More of a filler chapter here. I'm mostly setting up things here, for the final arch of the story. As things are, I'd say that the ending will be somewhere along the lines of forty five (ish) chapters.

Remember to comment and vote.

Until next week.