Chapter 9: Locking the Hunter
In the original script, Dutch's squad was already being watched. The moment they left the guerrilla camp, the Predator would begin picking them off one by one in a gruesome war of attrition.
Staying with them was zero upside and all the risk. Dante had every intention of going rogue.
But before he vanished into the green hell, he needed to prep.
He mixed a bucket's worth of thick, foul-smelling mud using a water source near the camp. Then, he scavenged a few choice pieces of tactical gear from the guerrilla corpses—knives, extra bandages, and a high-grade canteen.
Once his kit was settled, he did something that would have looked like suicide to any other candidate: he tossed his AR-15 into the mud and slipped out of the camp like a ghost.
As he moved through the dense foliage, Dante mentally replayed the movie beats.
Right now, the guerrilla "main force" was closing in, cutting off Dutch's extraction. The squad had to hike through a treacherous mountain pass to reach the border for a pickup. That was the gauntlet. That was where the real blood would be spilled.
Dante's plan was simple: shadow them from a distance.
If the plot stayed on track, he'd wait for the final showdown. If things went sideways, he'd have to intervene to make sure the Predator didn't win too early. Failure meant Obliteration, so the alien had to die—by his hand.
To do that, he had to stay off the creature's radar.
He took the bucket of mud and began slathering it over every inch of his skin and gear. It was a primitive trick—the movie's "plot armor" for Dutch—but it worked. The cold mud masked his body heat, turning him into a ghost in the eyes of the Predator's thermal vision.
Caked in filth, Dante crouched in a thicket of ferns, watching the camp.
Ten minutes later, Dutch and his team regrouped in the plaza. They had just realized the extraction chopper wasn't coming. They were pissed.
Dillon was snarling, dragging a Latina woman in guerrilla fatigues by the arm. She was trembling, her eyes darting toward the trees as if she could feel a cold gaze on her neck.
Anna. The heroine.
Dillon, having burned his bridges with Dutch, was looking for his own people. "Crowley! Leo! Jerry! Monica! Where the fuck are you?"
Leo, Jerry, and Monica scrambled out of the shadows, looking like frightened sheep. Dillon scanned the area, his face darkening when he didn't see the big man.
"Where's Crowley?"
The three candidates shared a blank look and shook their heads.
"Goddamn it!" Dillon spat. "Useless, the lot of you. Whatever. He's a big boy; he can rot out here for all I care. New orders!"
He shoved Anna toward them. "Watch the prisoner. She knows the layout of these hills. If she runs, I'll have your heads."
Watching a bound woman was easy enough. Leo and Jerry nodded vigorously. "We got her, sir! No problem!"
Monica looked at the woman and felt a chill. Dante had predicted this—that Dillon would take a prisoner and that she had to stay close to her. 'Everything he said is coming true,' she thought. 'I have to play my part if I want to see tomorrow.'
The squad finished their sweep and began the march east.
Dante didn't move. He stayed submerged in the shadows, his eyes locked on the central plaza.
'It'll show up. It has to.'
The Predator's active camo was good, but it wasn't perfect. If it moved, there was a distortion—a refractive "shimmer" in the air. In the movie, the creature always scouted the camp after the humans left.
Dante focused on a specific spot near some discarded crates. Mac had crushed a scorpion there earlier. He remembered the creature investigating the kill.
Seconds turned into minutes. His eyes burned from the strain of staring into the humid heat. He was beginning to wonder if the "Hidden Mission" had altered the behavior patterns.
Then, the air near the crates rippled.
Dante didn't blink. He watched as a faint, translucent silhouette took shape. Once you knew what to look for, the disguise was thin. It was like looking at a man made of warped glass. Light passed through it, but it bent at the edges, creating a kaleidoscope distortion.
The Predator crouched over the scorpion, its movements fluid and alien. Dante didn't breathe. He used those few seconds to lock the creature's "vibe" into his mind—the way it displaced the air, the subtle sound of its breathing.
The creature stood, looked toward the jungle where Dutch had gone, and leaped into the canopy.
Dante waited a heartbeat, then slid out of the ferns and followed.
***
Clank! Clank!
Leo was a walking hardware store. Every step he took resulted in the loud metallic ring of gear hitting gear.
Dillon whirled around, his face a mask of irritation. "Leo! What is all that shit? You're louder than a brass band in a library!"
Leo puffed out his chest, patting the three rifles strapped to his back. "I'm just being prepared, sir. Like Dante. If that thing shows up, I'm going to be the one taking the lead."
Dillon stared at him, unimpressed. "Whatever. Just don't get in the way. And where the hell is Crowley? He should have caught up by now."
"Probably dead," Leo sneered, clearly enjoying the thought. "Probably got ambushed by a guerrilla patrol or eaten by a jaguar. Good riddance."
Dillon shook his head. "A guy like that doesn't just die in a ditch. Forget it. We'll wait for him at the LZ."
Leo turned to Monica, holding out a sleek, lightweight pistol he'd scavenged. "Hey, babe. You sure you don't want this? It's a lady's model. Very easy to use."
Monica waved him off with a delicate sigh. "No thanks, Leo. I feel perfectly safe with a big, strong man like you protecting me. Besides, guns are heavy and they smell like old blood. I don't want to ruin my outfit."
Leo beamed, his ego inflated to bursting. "Fair enough. Don't worry, I've got enough lead for both of us. If Dante tries to pull his 'tough guy' shit again, I'll turn him into a sieve. Trust me."
Monica looked away, a secret, dark thought crossing her mind. 'Leo, you couldn't handle Dante on your best day.'
She remembered the raw, overwhelming power Dante had displayed in that hut. A man like that was a shark in a world of goldfish. She sighed inwardly. 'I wonder if I'll ever get a chance to be targeted with ill intent by him again... that guy was a beast.'
Ahead of them, the jungle grew darker. The hunt had officially begun.
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A/n: This is a bonus chapter for a 5 star review. If you want to see what happens next asap, keep those 5 star reviews coming! (You've got 5/10 chances left.)