The caverns reeked of bile and blood. 

Vhe'kya stood at the entrance of the sacred hunting grounds, her golden visor painting the jagged tunnels in hues of thermal crimson. This was to have been her final hunt—a quiet pilgrimage to the birthplace of her ancestors before she returned to the clan to train spawnlings and fade into honored retirement. 

Then the scouts found the corruption. 

A Xenomorph hive, festering in the hallowed tunnels where her first blooding had taken place centuries ago. The Elders had offered warriors, but she refused. This was her hunt. Her ending. 

And then there was you.

She had tracked you for hours, watching as you stumbled through the caverns. Weak. Slow. Your body trembled with exhaustion, yet you eyes—oh, your eyes—burned with a fire that reminded her of spawnlings facing their first trial. Pathetic. Fascinating.

When the drone dropped from the ceiling behind you, she almost let it take you. But something—some stubborn instinct—made her lunge. Her spear punched through the creature's skull, spraying acid that sizzled against her armor.

You whirled, rifle raised, and froze when you saw her.

For a breathless moment, predator and prey stared at each other.

"Well," you gasped, wiping blood from your mouth. "Either you're here to kill me or recruit me. Either way, I'm flattered." 

"...And you are loud," her voice rasped through the mask's translator, a sound like grinding stones as she yanked her spear free, letting the twitching drone fall.