WARNING: This story contains graphic depictions of violence, and foul language. Reader discretion advised. 

Prologue: The Chill

Jom hung low on a tree. He felt his leg, and winced at the pain. One of the Monar grazed him with a stray shot. It bled on his hand. “Damn. That hurts." Jom Said. "But no matter. I have the perfect plan. They won’t even know what hit them." 

A Thin Monar walked around the snow, trying to see through the misty fog to find his brethren. If any were left standing. 

"HEY!" He heard from a distance. It was his language, and he recognized the voice. "Check other beer!" The Thin Monar puzzled over the bizarre arrangement of that sentence. 

"Uhhh, WrrrrZZZZCh-kItCh Ch-check. Over. Here!" 

"Must've… caught a cold or something.” the Thin Monar thought.

He followed the sound of the voice. The fog was clearing, but he made sure to keep his gun on all attack points. He bumped into a tree and blindly fired at it. Once he noticed, he sighed in relief. But he saw some green liquid in the snow. Had to be the blood the chief was talking about. He followed a trail of it to a big pool of blood on the floor. He wondered why it just stopped there, and where could it have gone?

“Look Out!” One of the other Monar Yelled from the side. He saw the green eyes, the blood dripping from it’s leg and it’s steps through the snow. 

The Thin Monar ducked just as it jumped, and it landed face down in the snow in front of him. Whatever turned it invisible stopped, and he could see it clear as day. A huge monster with chrome armor, a spiky helmet, and a tail protruding from the back of it’s head. It turned and looked at the two Monar. It’s eyes almost seemed… embarrassed to them. 

He was about to shoot it, then it threw snow in his eyes. It got up and ran as the other fired. 

“Everyone on me! I got it!” He yelled as he gave chase. 

“[INDISTINCT ALIEN DIALECT]'' It yelled back at them.

Jom tried to think quickly to get out of this. He equipped a disbursement grenade in the middle of his run. He activated it and quickly threw it at the chasing Monar. It landed in the snow, and the chaser at the front had time to kick it far away before it exploded. Jom Cursed. 

He ran through a row of trees. 

He ran back as two more Monar cut him off and chased him. 

He turned and ran down a clearing. But ANOTHER duo of Monar were ahead of him. 

He boxed himself in a triangle consisting of six Monar with their guns aiming at him. There was no escape. It was now Jom’s breathing that quickened. They were about to finish him off. But he had one masterful idea left. 

DUCK!

As he crouched and covered his head, he heard a series of shots ring out over him, then just as quickly stop. Soft thudding in the snow followed soon after. 

He leaned his head up, and his green squinting lines flickered open as he assessed the battlefield. All six men lay on the ground, moaning, and holding some bleeding part of their body. 

Jom stood and posed triumphantly. “Ha! You thought you stood a chance against me!? Well I Jom, soon to be the strongest Hunter in all of Yu–” 

“[INDISTINCT ALIEN DIALECT]” One of the Monar heard it rambling on. He was barely paying attention, what with the searing pain his arm was in and all. From the cold floor he reached over with his good arm, grabbed his gun, and tried his best to aim it with one hand. 

He shot at it, missed, and it jumped. He continued to shoot until it grappled up to a tree. 

The Monar struggled to get to their feet. “Is Everyone alright?!” the one with the arm wound said. 

“Yeah.” the Thin one said, holding his ribs. “Just flesh wounds.” 

“Good thing there’s only one of those things’ Right guys?” Another one said, not at all ironically. 

Then the Monar with the arm wound suddenly convulsed, with the sound of an impact in the snow behind him. There was blue blood splattered everywhere. And he fell, cleaved clean in two halves. 

The men shook as they saw what remained in his place. Nothing but an invisible blade dripping with blood. Before anyone could think, the specter lunged at the skinny one with a flash of those fierce green eyes. 

Screams continued to echo through the forest for the Young Monar and the Tough one to hear. They stayed by the cart of food back-to-back. The young one was obviously shaking. The Tough one tried to keep his composure, but fear mounted in his guts. He was uncertain of their chances. Of their next move. How to get them both out of this. 

He finally came to the cold realization that they both were not going to get out of this. 

“Boy.” he whispered. “When I give you the word, Toss me your gun, and run." 

"What?" The Young one said. "B-but I can't--" 

"Yes you can!" The tough one quietly barked back. "You have to. You have to get back home. You have to be brave now. You understand me?" 

"Yeah. But, well... I mean I can't find home. I don't know the way back." 

"Oh… Well what you want to do is, take a right, and… You know what? Just keep going in that general direction. Someone will find you." 

He heard a crack above. 

"NOW!" 

The Young Monar tossed the tough one his gun, and ran like hell. 

The Tough Monar ran the opposite way and shot the guns up wildly. 

"Come on you bastards! You want it?! Come get it then?!" 

In mid-stride, he was quickly swept off of his feet, and flew up into a tree. He dropped one of his rifles. He didn't have time to fight out of what was holding him before he was dropped on a high branch against the tree trunk. The beast pulled himself onto the branch in front of him. It pulled it's knife out, and spoke to him in his own language. 

"HA HA! FEED MY HORNY!!!" It said, triumphantly. 

The Monar stared at it bewildered. "I… I beg all of your pardons?!" 

"What? Uhh hold on." The Beast turned away from him and started fiddling with some switches on its helmet. The Tough Monar just stood there not knowing what to do. Its voice buzzed, and beeped, and clicked, and it's eyes shape constantly changed, until finally it seemed to find what it was looking for. 

It looked back at him, and once again extended it's knife to him. "Ah HAH! Now! Feed my glor--" 

(BLAM) 

The Monar shot the branch between them, and it fell, screaming all the way to the floor. He waited till he heard the thud. 

"It's probably not dead." He figured. "But how do I get down from here?" 

A grappling line shot back up from the ground, and latched into the tree trunk near his head. "That'll do." He said. He pulled out a piece of leather, and used it to brace his hand as he rappelled down the rope. 

The beast was zipping back up at rapid speed. The Monar shot at it on the way down. It covered itself up with it's free arm, His blasts not penetrating the armor. They collided in mid-air, and the grappling line broke off. They both dropped to the floor, but the Beast's body broke the fall for the Monar. He groggily got to his feet, and pointed his gun at the beast as it stayed on its hands and knees. 

"I don't know where you came from, bastard." The Monar said. "But since you can understand me, understand this. I'm sending you back in a fucking bag." 

Suddenly the beast got to its feet and had some device in its hand. 

"HAH!" It exclaimed. "You foolish weakling! You fell right into my crap!" 

"Huh?" The Monar checked his feet. 

"Grr." The beast punched its helmet. "Trap!" It pressed a button on it's device. 

… 

It… pressed it again. 

It continued to press the button rapidly. It's green eye shapes signaled worry. 

The Monar had had enough. He held the trigger and fired at the beast. 

Jom quickly turned and crouched down so that his equipment pack would block the blasts. He kept trying to activate his floor trap, but it wasn't working. He got frustrated. He took off his helmet, bundled some of the cord, and bit into it hard with his large teeth. That definitely did something right, because it sent a strong electric shock throughout Jom's body. Right where the Monar was standing, 2 spiky metal walls sprang up from the snow and pressed the Monar between them. The firing stopped, and Jom released the cord and tried to shake off the daze of the shock. He saw that the trap worked, and jumped with joy. 

"Yes! My first kill! I did it! Easy peasy, slicey…" 

Before he could finish his celebration, the spikes in the trap popped through the outside of the walls, and fell to the snow. Then both walls completely fell apart, revealing a still breathing, and unamused, tough old Monar tribesman. On the plus side, his gun seemed to have been damaged. He tossed it to the side, pulled out a knife, and got into a fighting stance. 

Jom groaned. He put his helmet back on, and the green circles morphed into two sharply focused dagger-like eyes. He bore his wrist blades on his left gauntlet, and got a big knife in his right hand. 

Jom charged the man. He thrust with his wrist blade, but the Monar ducked, grabbed his arm, and slammed him to the floor. He tried to stab Him in the neck, but Jom pushed his hand back. Jom tried to stab him with his own knife, but his arm was kept pinned. Jom headbutt him, and kicked him away. He got up, and thrust with his knife, The Monar picked up his broken gun, and knocked the blade out of his hand. Jom winced in pain, and the Monar hit him in the face with the butt of the rifle. Jom thrust with the wrist blades again, and the Monar moved the gun in the path, and he stabbed it. The Monar's back slammed into the tree, and he used his knife to stab the control panel on Jom's arm, breaking it, and causing the wrist blades to retract. He kicked Jom back.  

Jom angrily slapped his gauntlet. He quickly gave up on it, and tried to pull a weapon from his Backpack. It buzzed with electricity, and delayed for a moment, but it finally gave him a collapsible spear. 

"Hah! You have sealed your own fate now! YEAAAAAA!!" Jom charged the Monar with his spear pointed out. 

The Monar side-stepped, and tripped him. While Jom was down, the Monar mounted his back, grabbed the spear, and tried to use it to crush his throat. Jom thrashed and tried to stand, but his calf was kept pinned by the Monar’s foot. His air ways were being compressed, and he struggled to pull air into his lungs. “Wow this is good technique”, He thought. “I gotta remember this!” He was starting to succum to the lack of oxygen, When they both heard something crack. Jom was sure it wasn’t his back or his neck. He heard the noise again, and as it continued, he realized it was the crackling of electricity. From his previously damaged backpack. The Monar loosened his grip momentarily to look, said “Ah sh–” then KABOOM! The pack exploded.

Bodies laid strewn about the white forest in the wake of the attack. The chaos was over, and all that remained was silence. Fayda, the thin, female hunter, stepped heavily through the snow with the body of the Monar’s chief slumped over her shoulder. The silence was broken by the powerful engines of their transport ship which descended into the area. She saw where it was touching down, then went to find Jom. 

She found him in a pit of melted snow, littered with destroyed equipment, across from a dead Monar. He lied belly up with two green spirals circling in the visor of his helmet. She kicked his helmet to see if he was alive. He stirred awake, and switched his translator back to his own when he saw Fayda above him. “Did I win?” He asked. 

“You survived.” She replied, flatly. 

He sat up, and saw the tribesman who died in the explosion. 

“AH HAH!” He stood with jubilence. “My first kill! I told you! I’ll definitely earn my shoulder gun now! I’m on my way to becoming legendary! And not a scratch on me!” He took a step and his wounded leg gave way, and he fell to his hands and knees. “And but one scratch on me! Hey did a second man get caught in the explosion?” 

“No, just the one.” 

“Ah, I see. I am concussed.” 

Fayda dropped the body face down in the snow. “You know you would have sustained less injuries and had more than one kill, if you hadn’t goojhed up the plan we spent several classes practicing. But you gave away your position, got all your gear destroyed, and left all the remaining eleven targets to me.” 

Jom stood up on wobbly legs. “Wait, I think i saw one running away, did you get him?” 

“Yes. I did. And if you saw him, why did you not get him?” 

“Because that one had 2 guns. Obviously a ploy to make himself look scarier. But I fear nothing. So I completely ignored the one escaping to prove my metal.” 

Fayda’s green eyes narrowed in disappointment. “No Jom, I do not think you’ll be earning a shoulder gun.” 

“Hrmph!” Jom pouted. “We’ll see what Alpha Ryken has to say about that.” 

Fayda sighed. “But you did somehow manage a kill… Albeit accidentally. This was my first true kill as well, and we should take pride in that. For what is a hunter’s credo? Game feeds the body, but a truly worthy kill…” 

“Feeds our glory.” Jom finished, raising his fist. 

“Correct. Now take your prize, and lets get back to the ship. We’ll probably have time to eat their food while they clean up your mess.” 

“Right!” Jom went to the body of his kill and flipped it so it’s back pointed towards the sky. 

Fayda forced her clawed fingers through the flesh of the chief’s corpse, gripped its spinal column, and in one swift motion, pulled the spine and skull out of the body. It dripped with blue blood. 

“Ah yes. The bones of a leader.” Jom said. “A promising sign of your future prospects.” He gripped his own prey’s spine. “And as for me, This is the day they all see me as a mighty warri–” He pulled, and only extracted a single vertebra. “Um… hold on.” He dug in again, and pulled out another vertebra. “Gorth damn it. Come on.” 

Fayda looked on in disgust and disbelief as he, with both hands, tore the Tribesman’s body apart ripping each individual vertebrae out one at a time. 

Finally, with battlefield cleared of all signs of their presence, and the Monar’s hunting haul stowed on board, the airship rose back into the sky, and reignited its cloaking device. 

Fayda sat in a chair near the cockpit as the backup crewmen praised her for her savagery. She stoicly nodded in acceptance. 

Jom sat on the floor in the back of the ship, covered in blue blood, with a sack of bones at his side. He took his helmet off and winced as he felt his wounded leg, slick with his green blood. He looked ahead as she basked in the admiration of the other experienced hunters. Again. He took the sewing kit and swabs out of the puch on his thigh, and resigned to tending to his own wounds on the way back home. Back to Yusha.