Jacques feels nothing but hatred and disdain for these 'people'. Most of them are scum: those without ambitions, purpose, or meaning in their lives. Violence simply for the sake of violence. They are animals and he is not. Jacques recognizes an attempt to frighten him but is under no illusions: it will be backed up with potentially deadly action. At the very least, these fucking beasts want to test him and the other new arrival. He couldn't care less about her. As he listens carefully for a moment for where the calls seem thinnest, he finishes squirming out of his jumpsuit. They're close. Real close. He picks out a direction and runs as quickly as his legs will carry him, ready to fight at any moment.
Fight or flight. Fight or flight. He smiled. These were new. Clean. They smelled like the world. Fight or flight, it was. Oooh, look. That little piggie was stripping off in anticipation of a good fuck. As soon as he bolted, the watcher whistled. a shrill, short burst, and three tumbled out of trees, out from behind bushes, and gave chase. He wouldn't get far. There had been no particular instructions. (different whistles for different needs, you understand...) so whether that one came back, or came back in pieces, didn't matter. The watcher looked to his right, the two pairs of white eyes peering back at him out of the darkness. "Get me the girl." He blew, as if blowing a mosquito off his arm, and in doing so, the two pairs of eyes disappeared. The watcher went back to cawing like a crow being molested by a chainsaw...
Behind Olivia there was a rustle. A certain motion of the long grass. Her companion had decided his fate, while she crouched on the ground. Her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, and soon she could make out her surroundings. She was in a small clearing, maybe roughly 100' in circumference. It was the crest of a hill, not terribly high in elevation -- but high enough to make an obvious landing zone. The tree-line that surrounded the clearing was thick, dense bush, and in the darkness, there was no telling which way had the easiest terrain.
The rustle behind Olivia became a definite shape, as a man, small, wiry, emerged from the tall grass, a dozen paces from her position. He smiled, and a thin bead of drool dripped from his thin lips. He moved quietly, and as he did so, drew two long, thin blades from behind his back. Pinpointing the source of her immediate trouble, Olivia's attention was drawn to the man with the blades, until there was another rustle, immediately to her right, barely three feet from her right shoulder...
Jacques ran. And it wasn't long before he heard the whoop and caterwaul of pursuers. At least two. Maybe more. He picked up speed quickly, realizing that his path led downhill at an ever-increasing angle. Trees, branches, vines and thick underbrush whipped at his arms, his face. Visibility was less than twenty feet, and maintaining any pace meant glances behind him were next to impossible, lest he place a foot wrong or run head-long into a tree. Whoever they were, they were close, and they didn't care who heard them coming.