Always Something

'Prefer hot and humid conditions, possibly cold-blooded,' the dossier read.

That couldn't be. Wolf had been so warm. How did they figure that?

The first two documented cases had been in the middle of the rainforest and then again in Los Angeles during a record-breaking heat wave in the middle of summer, so I could see the correlation—maybe they were like reptiles and couldn't produce their own heat.

But what about in Antarctica? Late-fall Colorado?

Though, Colorado hadn't been their first choice if I thought about it. They'd crashed into my mountain, that was it.

The captured predator had been found in southern Africa, drawn by local armed conflict, so it was probably warm there, too. That had been what drew the first documented predator attack as well: armed conflict.

In Los Angeles, there had been a violent gang war, so everyone had been shooting at everyone. They were drawn to places where there was fighting.

And worthy opponents.

Worthy TROPHIES.

I had the file open on my lap, reading through choice bits of information as the bus trudged onward. To avoid prying eyes, I sat in the back of the bus hunched over the papers like a vulture guarding a kill.

Though I hadn't seen anyone so much as glance in my general direction, I couldn't be too sure.

There were only four—now five—documented encounters with the predators, but it was under the assumption they had been visiting for longer.

Each recognized visit shared a common denominator: one survivor. A member of Delta Force, LAPD's finest, an environmental technician, one high school soccer player, and finally the FBI alien-hunting veteran Morgan.

One of those things was not like the others.

At least now I was an alien-hunting rookie, but I wasn't sure how I managed back in the day.

I was unable to dwell further on my blind, dumb luck—the bus was coming upon my stop. I flipped the file shut, tucked it under my arm, got off the bus, and started walking the short distance from the stop to headquarters.

Devon was waiting by the first floor elevators. When he caught sight of me, he pushed the call button behind him and nodded his head in greeting. I acknowledged him with a wave.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked him.

"You," he said with a grin. "We're a package deal, remember?"

With a heavy sigh, I said, "You know I barely remember saying that, right?"

"You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts."

"Do people say that?" I asked incredulously.

Devon shrugged. "Something along those lines."

The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside, heading to our office.

"I felt like we were up all night reading the whole Lord of the Rings trilogy all wrapped up in one big package. Except way more boring," Devon remarked.

I made a non-committal sound. "Almost."

"Glad I came over yesterday, it was much more bearable with us going over it together."

"It was nice having the company for a while. You could have stayed if you wanted instead of heading home at one in the morning," I told him.

He gasped. "How scandalous! The neighbors would have gossiped."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please."

"Think there's a pop quiz or something? I don't think I'd pass," he teased.

Sometimes I didn't think Devon was real. He didn't seem perturbed by anything and was always happy as a clam.

Meanwhile, I was trying not to crawl out of my skin or split apart at the seams as the elevator ascended, bringing me closer to Hassan and the promise of seeing Jailbreak again.

"I doubt it, but maybe we should trivia-check with each other just in case," came my sarcastic remark.

"That's what I'm saying!" He flipped open his file and started to thumb through the leaflets. "I should have made some flash cards or something."

Thankfully, the door to the elevator opened before he could start drilling me for his hypothetical pop quiz. He groaned in disappointment but I hurried off, letting him trail behind me.

Dixon's office was empty and I didn't see Hassan anywhere, either. I'd forgotten to ask if he had his own office somewhere, so we'd just have to wait for him to show up.

"Woah there cowgirl, why you in such a hurry?" His footsteps hastened so he could catch up to me. "Oh wait, scratch that: I already know the answer. But I mean, shit, can't I go get a cup of coffee before we barrel into this?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was being serious, and the big dumb grin on his face told me no, so I pursed my lips.

"Haven't you already had five cups this morning?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Well, I mean, yeah, but I want at least two more cups to help me prepare."

"Don't you know coffee stunts your growth?"

His playful shove made me lurch and I shot him a glare.

He said, "Well that explains why you're so short!"

Half of me wanted to slug him, but I settled for an indignant huff. "I am not that short and I barely drink coffee," I muttered.

Maybe I was shorter than him, but I was the same size as most women my age! Lots of people were shorter than Devon, the bafoon.

"Just means you've got such a low tolerance to coffee , ya shorty."

This time I did slug him. Right in the deltoid. He leaned away and grabbed the arm with a hiss in mock pain. "Ow! My old football injury!"

"Shut the hell up. You played baseball."

Someone cleared their throat next to us and I started. It was just Hassan, though, so I dropped my guard. No one seemed to notice, but I was still a bit embarrassed by how jumpy I still was.

"Joseph! Good to see you again." Devon greeted him with a smile.

Hassan offered us that uncanny smile and nodded. "It's good to see you both, as well. Glad you two seem to get along so well. That kind of camaraderie is always good to see. And how punctual you both are!"

"Always on time, that's us," Devon agreed.

I just nodded along.

"I know Nichole is eager to begin interrogation, but I must check with the doctors first. I'll contact you when I know more," Hassan said.

My spirits fell somewhat, but it wasn't a 'no' yet.

"Sounds good, sir," I said, trying not to let the disappointment into my voice.

"In the meantime," Hassan continued, indicating to the back of the room, "my office is out the door and down the hall. First door on the right. In case you need me."

"Thanks!" Devon chirped.

Hassan asked, "Did you two manage to read much of the files?"

"Kinda," Devon said, thumbing the papers in his hand. "Lotta information in here."

Hassan chuckled. "Yes, we've been studying them for some time. They're only going to get thicker now that we have one in custody. There's so much to learn from him."

Custody was better than possession but it still made me grimace. I just hoped no one noticed.

"You have time to read more. I'll speak to you soon," Hassan bade, taking his leave.

Devon and I headed back to our desks and I barely managed to avoid bumping into a man walking in the direction we had left.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, nodding.

"We're good," I muttered with an errant hand-wave.

"Do you happen to know one Joseph Hassan?" the man asked.

Nodding, I pointed him out. "He just left that way. If you hurry you mighty catch up to him."

"Thank you."

I watched him make his way toward Hassan's office. Just as he disappeared around the corner, I realized he was wearing a much nicer suit than any agent I ever saw.

Turning to Devon I asked, "Who was that guy?"

He shrugged. "Didn't get a good look at him."

A curious hum vibrated in my chest, but I brushed thoughts of the man aside. Hassan was an important guy, I assumed. He had people to see and shit to do.

We sat at our desks and poured into the files again. Devon glanced at me several times but never spoke.

There were a few instances I thought for sure he was going to speak up, but every time he sucked in a breath, he held it for a few seconds before letting it out quietly and resuming his silent sentry next to me.

Though I was aware he had something to say, I didn't press the matter.

I had to sweep aside my meager belongings to make room for the huge file—mostly just a couple pictures of my family that I decorated my desk with. They were only there so people didn't think I was weird.

Before I forgot to, I removed my sidearm from the locked drawer of my desk and put it in then holster at my hip. I didn't like taking it home with me so I just left it behind at the end of the day.

Devon didn't have much at his desk either; pencils and an armful of figurines, mostly. I didn't know what the little plastic figures were—I think he'd told me they were from some game he used to play.

"There's my two favorite agents!"

Dixon's sudden appearance made me start once again and I cast him an irritated look.

He suffered it in silence and smirked. "A little jumpy there, Shain. Got a guilty conscience?"

I held my breath for an extra heartbeat before letting it out in a gust. "No, I've always been jumpy."

"Yeah, boss. Watch," Devon said, pausing for an unnecessarily long time.

Just when I thought he wasn't going to do anything, he shouted, "Boo!" and even though I was looking right at him, I was still startled.

"You're an ass!" I yelped, throwing a pen at him.

It hit him in the chest but he was too busy laughing himself sick to care.

When he was finished, he turned to the department head and asked, "What can we for you, boss man?"

"Nothing, I just saw you l two sitting here and thought I'd say hi," he said. "Hassan already here?"

We nodded.

"Any word on the interrogations?"

"He's checking with the doctors," Devon explained.

"Ah, right. Gotta make sure that thing is in good enough condition to speak up," Dixon said. "Well, I'll be in my office if you need anything."

"Sure thing, sir. See ya around," Devon said.

"I'll hold you to it," he said, pointing at my partner. His other hand was shoved deep into his pants pocket.

Before he closed himself up in his office, he paused and looked at me. "Don't be too disappointed if it doesn't go the way you want, Shain."

A tremor shot up my spine and I couldn't do anything but stare at his door. 

/What could he possibly mean by that?/

My jaw clenched and I fought the urge to open the doors and confront him.

"He seems to be in a weird mood. Acting kinda funny," Devon observed, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

I huffed. "Just a little bit."

While Devon and I read, more and more agents started to trickle in. Before long, there was somewhat of a commotion going in, drawing us from our reading assignment.

"What's going on?" Devon wondered, not speaking to anyone in particular.

I stood up. "Let's find out."

Agents were out in the hall crowded around the entrance to Hassan's office. I picked out the only familiar face in the crowd and tapped on her shoulder.

"What's happening, Morgan?" I asked.

She glanced at me and her eyes widened in recognition. She was still leaning on her crutch. "Oh! Shain, hey."

Devon raised his brow and looked at the two of us. "You guys know each other?"

"Sorry, how rude of me," I said with some measure of chagrin. "Devon, this is K.B. Morgan. She caught the predator. This is Devon Hart, my partner."

They exchanged handshakes and Devon said, "Damn, I'm gonna need to work hard to keep up with you two, aren't I? Here you are, hunting aliens and taking names and I haven't done a damn thing."

"You have to work ten times harder to keep up with anyone," I snorted.

"Ow, my feelings!"

Morgan chuckled. "Well, it's nice to meet you."

Devon jerked his head toward the door and the other three agents ignoring us. "So what's going on here? Some sort of pow-wow?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. We all want to talk to Joseph but he's in there with some guy we've never seen before. He looks pretty irritated with him, too. We're trying to listen in but they're both being real quiet."

I peered around the shades blocking the door window, but I could only make out a few non-descript silhouettes.

"How can you tell?" I asked, my brow furrowed.

One of the men—a pasty, mouse of a guy—glanced at me. "I saw him go in there."

"Okay, so, why not just knock on the door?" Devon asked.

Everyone turned and gave him a look. "You don't interrupt Joseph when he's in a meeting with someone," the pasty guy said.

I heaved a sigh and decided to go back to my desk "Okay, sure."

Devon followed after me and I added under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear, "What a bunch of pansies."

He snickered but made no response.

Devon settled into his chair and adjusted some of his figurines. I gave him a bemused expression and looked at some of my pictures, maybe stalling a bit with this giant file.

One was of my old dog, Atlas. Another was a family photo we'd taken one Easter when I was nineteen. There was one candid photo of me and Devon included, one Devon had taken.

It was when we first met. He'd suddenly put his arm around my shoulder and shouted "New partners!" before snapping it

Then he framed it and gave it to me.

I knew it had just been a giant joke, but I didn't want to throw it away and be rude, so I'd just kept it on my desk. I was giving him the weirdest look, so it wasn't the most flattering picture of me, but whatever.

It was goofy and very Devon.

Having noticed me staring at it, he suddenly plucked it off my desk and said, "Whatcha looking at?"

"Hey!" I squawked indignantly.

"I remember this! I didn't think you'd actually keep it," he teased, studying it for a moment before placing it back where I had put it.

"Why? I wasn't going to throw it away. You bought a frame and everything."

He chuckled and readjusted some of his knick-knacks. "Ah, it was just a cheap dollar store frame. I guess I never really noticed you had it."

"Sounds like a you problem," I said.

"Just didn't think you were so sentimental," he teased.

"I'm going to go see what's going on," I announced, standing up abruptly.

Devon frowned and said, "I was only teasing."

"Huh? Oh, no. Sorry, you're fine. I'm just impatient," I assured him, smiling.

With a snort, he said, "Yeah, you kinda are."

"Oh, shut up."

Leaving him to his desk organizing, I headed to Hassan's office. The others had somewhat dispersed, giving the door a wide berth to make it look like they weren't eavesdropping. Maybe they were too scared to do something about it, but I wasn't.

I had spent all night after Devon left coming up with a half-baked plan. I wasn't going to let some stranger in a nice suit ruin it all for me.

Before I could make a scene, though, the door opened and everyone turned in unison. Hassan poked his head out and looked around, then stepped out to address the crowd.

"Ah, I apologize. I didn't know I was keeping so many of you waiting," he said.

Hassan lifted his arm and stepped aside to allow the sharp-looking suited man to make an appearance.

The same man I had almost run into earlier.

"This is Luis Barrera of Weyland Industries."

My heart skipped a beat, plummeting into my stomach at the same time.

Weyland.

"Here pretty soon, that might change to Weyland-Yutani," the Barrera guy said.

Hassan's smile was terse and his nod curt. "Yes, well, Mr. Berrera has just taken jurisdiction over our guest and will be moving him to the Weyland facility in California. He'll want to talk to each of you—"

"What the fuck do you mean he's moving him?" I shouted, unable to contain my outrage.

All eyes turned to me but I didn't waver or flinch.

"Jurisdiction? What jurisdiction? He works for a fucking technology company! I can see him trying to fucking snag his gadgets but he doesn't have any say over who gets the alien," I continued.

Another voice rose up with mine. "Yeah! We caught it! Our friends died bringing that thing in and Morgan was injured."

"How'd he even know it was here?" someone else called.

Berrera raised his hands and made a calming motion with them. "Now, now, please calm down. I'm not here to muscle in on your collar. Anyone who wishes to transfer and continue working with the specimen is more than welcome to fill out the request form."

My hands balled into fists. I couldn't let this happen.

"Just ask Joseph and we'll get the paperwork emailed to you," Berrera finished.

Murmurs broke out but I was too furious to discern what anyone was saying.

"I will be sending a few of our own associates to speak with you all in turn to get your opinions and statements," Berrera said, responding to the speculations.

"What do you even want? Last I heard you were coming for the xenomorphs in the near future, but what interest do you have with the predators?" I snapped.

Devon, having finally joined us, put a hand on my shoulder but I ignored him, glaring instead into the calm face of Luis Barrera.

His smile was hidden behind embarrassment, but I was certain it was false humility. "I don't think I'm allowed to talk about those with our present company?"

Hassan shook his head. "It's fine, we all have a general idea about the xenomorphs since they were seen in relation to the predators, twice now."

"In that case, I'm sure you're well aware of the incident in Antarctica."

I leaned back and took a deep breath. "The expedition, yes. Your company was involved."

"Precisely. We lost Mr. Weyland himself in that incident. It was through a combined effort of both xenomorph and the—predators, was it?"

"Correct," Hassan nodded.

"Well, as we've established, both of the species were there. We'd like to learn more about them and use what they did against us to better humanity. I know we're not a big government agency, but we are quite wealthy and have an impressive team of lawyers who worked on this," he explained.

Fucking lawyers and money. Is that all anyone needed to do whatever the fuck they wanted?

Berrera was still talking. "Anything else I'm afraid I can't tell you unless you meet the requirements for the transfer."

Devon leaned in toward me and whispered, "Well this is weird. Usually, we're the people throwing around our weight. Never had it happen to us like this before."

It was an attempt at humor, but I didn't find it funny.

"Then what about the Xenos? You gonna come back in a month and run off with them, too?" I asked.

"No, that would be a waste of time and resources. They will also be on their way to California in . . . ," Berrera looked down at his wristwatch, "well, the next ten minutes or so."