The Diner
An amorphous shape separates itself from its surroundings. The rogue hunter’s outline is barely discernible from the backdrop of trees, dilapidated buildings, and old automobiles.
The first yautja, an enormous male, turns from left to right. His eyes flash as anger surges through his veins. Two other forms walk slowly up to the first. They communicate suit to suit, doing what is necessary to avoid detection unless given no choice.
“I want to know exactly how many oomans inhabit this compound,” the leader of the rogue hunting party demands. “D’tak…You gather the intel. Glor…You and I will seek out the traitor. If any ooman stands in the way…Remove them. We will sterilize the site once our mission is complete…If necessary.”
Anger once again takes hold and another electrical impulse surges through the yautja leader’s mask, illuminating the places where his eyes meet the interface. He focuses his attention on a gas station several meters away.
Both D’tak and Glor move off in opposite directions. The enormous yaujta heads for the gas station. A burst of blue light flashes, followed by the sound of glass exploding outward. The yautja leader whirls on his heels. Paul Bunyan’s body sails through the air and lands with a heavy thud on the ground. The large ooman’s head lolls. The traitor has made a kill.
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Emitting a low growl, the yautja leader ejects his wrist blades and bends his knees in preparation to run. Another bright blue streak of light cuts through the daylight, and the leader pauses. He takes on a fighter's stance, expecting to feel the slice of a laser or the explosive force of a shoulder cannon blast. There is no corresponding sensation of pain.
A strong gust of wind blows sand and debris into his face. The single gust swells to a violent storm; threatening clouds building on the horizon as far as the eye can see. The leader clicks his mandibles in fury and irritation. Nothing must keep him from his enemy—the traitor. The falling ooman is proof that Crank is here. He is inside that building.
The leader glances up and catches sight of Crank. The yautja youth is visible for only a brief moment, his arms tightly grasping what appears to be an ooman female. Growling with anger, the rogue leader charges where he last saw Crank. However, the young yautja is not there. Chittering loudly and turning in a furious circle, the rogue hunter stands in disbelief. The two other hunters, still in cloak, approach him on either side.
“The oomans have greater technology than we thought,” the rogue leader says suit to suit. “He was transported out of our grasp.”
“How is this possible, Flade’ha?” Glor inquires incredulously. “We have no intel which suggests the oomans are even close to transporter capabilities.”
“Even so,” Flade’ha says. “The oomans do have this technology. I watched him be snatched away before my eyes. There is an ooman female with him. He must have shared secrets with her. We will find them…And eliminate them both. Then, we will destroy this compound. Come. We need to return to the ship and inform High Command.”