An Outsider's Perspective Ch 1

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I flinched as another bolt of plasma flew over my concealment and splatted against the concrete wall, causing a small explosion and peppering me in hot chips of manufactured stone.

I was, so fucking close.

I looked at my allowance, the ability to receive any Template, from anything and anyone out in the multiverse, downgraded to Tier 5.

But I had already done the entire Final without using that. And if I used it, then I wouldn’t start out with the one hundred extra Credits that I got from completing my fifteen-year stint in the Slutlife Engineering Mechanics Electricians and Nano-machinist division.

And with my current contract, the one I’d taken to escape working for Class-A, those hundred Credits would be extremely important.

All I had to do to claim it, was cross the eighty or so feet to the door that led to the bathroom, where I would be whisked away to safety. Except under my current circumstances, that may as well be in a different fucking continent.

Another bolt of plasma, this one struck my concealment. I considered shooting back, but Bob’s smoking, still-burning entrails showed why doing that wouldn’t be a good idea. The light levels in the Wayland Yutani ‘mining’ complex were bad enough that I would not be able to spot the small ripple from the Predator’s active camo, so even if I started shooting, it would not prove very effective.

Sure, shotgun loaded with triple-aught magnum pellets, but the idea that buckshot scattered enough to cover a room at anything less than eighty meters was a bad cliché perpetuated by people that didn’t know how to gun good.

Though maybe I could design a gun that would do that? Sell it as a mutiny defense gun?

Another bolt of plasma, this one from a different direction.

It was moving to flank me. Great.

I looked at the Templates, settled it on a Template for the Juggernaut. Then minimized the window in my HUD.

I then picked up my shotgun by grabbing it close to the ejection port and stood up. The three targeting lasers landed on my chest in an instant, but I ignored them and made my way to the table on the side of the food court.

I set the shotgun down. Following that I drew my machete and set that down too, followed by my knife, and my boot knife.

After that, I removed my bandoleers filled with shells. Followed by my helmet, ceramic-polymer fiber composite jacket, and shirt.

I cracked my knuckles and walked away, stalking in a zig-zag in the general direction of the door I had to go through. I flipped one of the food court’s tables over, opened my arms wide and shouted. “COME ON THEN! FIGHT ME!”

I continued shouting, making my surreptitious way towards extraction. Fortunately, the Predator didn’t do the smart thing and shoot me. Unfortunately it wasn’t confused by what I was doing for very long, it faded into view as it deactivated its active camo, the plasma caster on its shoulder retracting, it set down a gnarly metal spear on a table, then unstrapped the blades on its forearms and set them down next to its spear.

Lastly, its helmet depressurized with a hiss, it came apart and the alien removed it, setting it down on the table. It turned its head, stretching out its neck, then glared at me, working the mandibles on its face as it hissed at me.

It was seven and change feet tall and judging by the thump of its feet as it walked, it weighed at least three hundred pounds.

It also had scale-covered tits that were bigger than my head, and judging by its figure, carried a whole bakery. It really was a shame that her entire species hit every branch in the ugly tree when they fell down it.

Much like elites from Halo. There’d been a lot of those with explosive collars working the mines where I’d often been sent to fix equipment.

On the other hand, ‘ugly’ was a subjective term and she probably thought the same about me.

I shook myself slightly to get my head in the game as she stalked forward.

I was fighting a female Predator, if their biology was anything like a human’s, that would mean that with dimorphism being what it was, she was significantly physically weaker than the males of her species. Meaning I might actually stand a chance.

As soon as it entered my lunging range, I kicked off the ground feinted high, then ducked low, I felt a whiff of air ruffle my hair as her fist traveled through the place my head had just vacated and drove my fist into her stomach in a jab that would stagger most people.

My fist felt like it struck a brick wall. Without pausing to think, I shuffled sideways, a sharp elbow scratching down my arm as she brought it brutally down on an attack that would have broken my spine. Her follow-up punch was lightning fast, fast enough that I barely had the chance to turn my shoulder into it to receive it.

My deltoid went numb and I was sent reeling. I grit my teeth and pushed forward, slipping past her guard and delivering an elbow strike with all my weight behind it to her chest where a human would have the xiphoid process.

Evidently, Predators did not share that particular human weak point, as I didn’t feel the telltale snap-crackle I’d expected, and while her breath left her in an explosive huff, her breathing wasn’t impaired and she reacted in good order, using her longer reach to keep me at bay with punches that rocked me back when I blocked them.

She was stronger than me. Not significantly so, if I were to arm wrestle her, or some other competition using purely physical strength, I’d estimate that I would probably win two bouts in five. The winner of our fight would be whoever was the better hand-to-hand fighter.

I wasn’t used to fighting those bigger and stronger than me, on the reverse, I could tell that she wasn’t used to fighting someone shorter who was almost as strong as her. Her punches rocked me whenever I wasn’t able to duck or dodge them, but she was expending a lot more energy than me. And while my own strikes weren’t knockout punches, I was still having an effect.

I was doing really well right up until she threw me through a table.

As my shotgun settled on my chest, I realized exactly which table she threw me through.

She found herself looking down the barrel of my gun from the unlucky end and froze.

I strongly considered blowing her away, but I clicked the safety back on, levered myself to my feet and started walking to a different table. She made a growling noise.

“No!” I chastised, pointing at her and drawing her up short, and spoke through panting breaths. “You’re the one! That threw me at my stuff! Now you’ll wait there! Cause I don’t want my stuff on the floor!”

I set the shotgun down and went back for the machete, then knives. Using the time to take deep panting breaths and try to recover.

While I was in the same weight class as she was, her weight was almost entirely muscle, bone, and sinew. Whereas I still had a good chunk of padding, even after Basic.

So I’m a stress eater and I can summon a sandwich at any time, sue me.

The Predator waited politely if somewhat chagrined while I got all my stuff onto another table. Then moved a ways away, cracked my knuckles, and motioned her forward.

I could see that she expected me to continue the fight in the same manner, trading attacks back and forth and trying to turn it into an endurance match.

So instead, I dodged yet another haymaker and threw myself forward, tackling her midriff, pressing the back of one of her legs with my foot, and throwing myself to the floor in the one instant when she was out of balance.

Once on the ground, I started an arm bar, aborted when she countered, and barely managed to secure a mount. I tried punching down at her, but the Predator moved with an alacrity that surprised me and denied me a clean hit.

She bucked like a wild animal, forcing me to grab hold of her wrists and merely maintain the mount rather than cause damage. Eventually she tired, laying still but wound tight as a spring as I held her wrists to her chest and panted, pressing down with all my weight. Something that was not causing her nearly as much trouble breathing as I would like.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to call this one a draw?” I gasped.

She hissed in between her own heaving breaths.

“Didn’t think so.” I muttered, heaved right then pushed her wrists left to ride the momentum of her instinctive resistance, and used that opening to smash my elbow into the side of her head hard enough that I felt something crack. Both inside my elbow and in her cheek, leaving her stunned.

I didn’t stop to think or plan, I dismounted, heaved to pull her up, and set up a chokehold from behind her, locking her arms to her sides with my legs. Honestly if she were wearing armor instead of fishnets I would not be able to do this.

She came fully to after I’d secured it, nonetheless she bucked, struggling hard enough to free one of her arms, she then stabbed her thumb back at me, her sharp nail opening a line of hot pain across my cheek and making my blood wet her head-tentacles.

She went for another stab, and I had to turn my forehead into it to stop her gouging out my eye.

On her third attempt, I bit her hand right above the thumb, making her choke out a pained hiss.

She struggled long past the point a human would, pulling her arm hard enough that I felt my teeth nearly give out.

But, eventually, thankfully, she fell still.

I held the choke for ten more seconds just to be safe, but she didn’t move. So I let go and took exactly three seconds to breathe and feel sorry for myself.

I then heaved the Predator lady off me, and after checking she was still breathing, I manhandled her into the recovery position, then levered myself painfully to my feet.

“Oh yeah.” I groaned as I stood up. “Gonna be feeling that in the morning. Fuck.”

It was then that the air to my left rippled, and an eight-and-a-half-foot tall monster with its skin bulging in a nearly futile attempt to contain its muscles stepped into view.

Well, dammit.

“Alright then.” I groaned and forced trembling and bleeding arms up into a guard. “Let’s do this.”

The male Predator stared at me for long seconds before drawing a mahogany-gripped revolver and thrusting it at me grip first.

“…Uhh.”

“Take. It.” The Predator gurgle-hissed.

“R-Right.” I said awkwardly and took the pistol by the grip, keeping my trigger finger extended over the trigger guard.

It clicked in satisfaction, let go of the gun, walked past me and began to try and rouse the female Predator.

Femdator?

Preemale?

Was the blood loss getting to me?

Inspecting the gun, I saw it was a Colt Viper, one of the famous ‘snake guns’ in my Prime’s world. Not as prestigious (and expensive) as a Cobra, but still it had carried a level of reverence for the brand if nothing else.

Its frame was stainless steel, polished to a mirror shine, it had a four, maybe four and a quarter inch barrel, and it was chambered in .357 magnum. Which meant I could shove .38 special into it for training.

Extending the cylinder, I saw that it was loaded with the spicier of the two rounds it would accept.

I…I kinda wanted to know the story behind how it came to possess this gun.

As the one that put me in my current poor state came to, I decided not to make an issue of it, gave the Predators a wave, and limped to extraction as I heard what sounded like a tirade of hisses and clicks behind me.

Whatever.

I limped and bled my way to the bathroom, and into the portal that awaited me there.

Onwards to adventure.