Arriving at higher ground, they find themselves staring at an alien sky, after a jaw-dropping moment, they realize they are not on Earth.
ROYCE: We're going to need a new plan.
The group move on through the jungle.
STANS: Hey, where are we going?
ROYCE: Someone put on this rock. There's got to be a way off it.
They are startled by something flying overhead. Stans freaks out, pulling out his small knife. Realizing everyone has guns but him and Edwin, he pleads to the group to give him one of their extra guns.
STANS: What the fuck! . . . Hey, you know what, fuck this! This is bullshit, man. I want a gun. Come on, you got two motherfuckin' guns, man. Somebody give me a gun. Come on, Russian, you got a big fucking gun. . . Come on, man, give me a gun.
He lunges at Mombasa with his knife pressed to Mombasa's throat demanding a gun.
STANS: Give me a gun! Right now! Give me your gun.
But Mombasa points his pistol under Stan's jaw.
MOMBASA: Are you ready to die? . . . Are you?
Suddenly, a pack of vicious quadrupedal alien beasts, or 'alien dogs,' launch an attack on the group. One of the dogs is about to lunge on a fleeing Edwin.
EDWIN: Help!
Isabelle shoots it just in time.
Another beast jumps on Stans who stabs it repeatedly with his knife.
STANS: Help! . . . Fuck you! . . . Fuck you!
Mombasa races up and kicks the beast off of Stan and shoots it multiple times.
MOMBASA: Looking good there, boss. . . As bad as you are, those things are worse.
Another attacks Isabelle as Edwin scrambles up a tree branch, her large sniper weapon won't load.
ISABELLE: Oh shit!
She shoots it with her pistol but only wounds it. It's about to leap on her, she places the pistol to her head.
EDWIN: N-o-o-o-o!
Then all of the beasts retreat after hearing a distant whistle.
EDWIN: So they just, what, left?
ISABELLE: No, the whistle. They were called.
ROYCE: Allright, listen up. Everybody do a shell count. We got to conserve ammunition. Reload, do it now.
EDWIN: Excuse me, I'm . . . just what the hell's going on here?
ROYCE: We're being hunted. The cages, soldier, all of us, we're all brought here for the same purpose. This planet is a game preserve . . . and we're the game. . . In case you didn't notice, we just got flushed out. They sent the dogs in, just like you would if you were stalking Boar, or shooting Quail. They split us apart and they watched, testing us.
ISABELLE: How do you know this?
ROYCE: Because . . . that's what I would do.
EDWIN: Fantastic.
MOMBASA: Wait . . . there are only seven of us.
The group realizes Cuchillo is missing. They hear him calling in the distance.
CUCHILLO: Help meeeeee! . . . Help!
They find him in a grassy opening badly wounded. Isabelle starts to advance forward to approach him, but Royce stops her.
ROYCE: Wait!
ISABELLE: What?
ROYCE: It's a trap.
Royce picks up a rock and throws it in the grassy opening. Lethal blades are triggered, spinning at the thrown rock. Cuchillo continues calling for help.
EDWIN: Fuck . . . me!
MOMBASA: Wound one man. Make him suffer. Make him bleed. Make him call out for help, then set a trap, and kill those that come. I know because I have done this.
STANS: So we're going to leave him here, right? Come on, look at him. He's done. There's nothing else we can do, right? . . . Right?
ROYCE: We leave him.
ISABELLE: I can't.
ROYCE: Then that's on you.
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