ROYCE: Well, at least he didn't die in vain.
STANS: Why? So we can find out first hand what it feels like to have our asses kicked?!!
ROYCE: No, we found out that there's more than one of them . . . that they use projectile and energy based weapons . . . that they have some sort of cloaking device . . . that they are bigger than us, stronger, and also heavier.
ISABELLE: You put us at risk for yourself. You want to be on your own? You got it!
ROYCE: Why don't you tell them the truth.
ISABELLE: I don't know what you're talking about.
ROYCE: You know what I'm talking about. The way you looked at that thing that was strung up. The way you reacted. She knows what it is . . . don't you.
ISABELLE (referring to the events of Predator): We don't have a name for them. 87 Guatemala, a Spec Ops team went into the jungle, high end. Six men plus a CIA liason, only one made it out. In his debrief, he said they came in contact with something.
He gave a detailed description, that thing on the totem. It wore some kind of camouflage that adjusted to ambient light, made it nearly invisible in our spectrum. It could see in infrared, heat signatures. He used mud to block his, that's how he beat it. It hunted and killed his team one by one.
ROYCE: Whatever it is, wherever they're from, we're going to kill them all. We set up a defensive perimeter, make it look like we're holding up. That will bring them to us, we force them into a choke point. We get them in overlapping fields of fire. It can be done, but I can't do it alone.
Later, the group is resting in the thick of the night jungle.
STANS: You know, man if we ever make it home, I'm going to do so much fucking cocaine. I'm going to rape so many fine bitches. No matter what time is it, five o'clock, damn, time to go rape me some fine bitches. You know what I'm saying?
EDWIN: Oh yea, totally. It's like . . . five o'clock . . . bitch raping time.
STANS: Hmm, yea!
Edwin gets up and sits with Nikolai.
NIKOLAI: You should stay away from him.
EDWIN: Yea.
Near them, sits Royce and Isabelle.
ROYCE: You still pissed?
ISABELLE: Fuck you.
ROYCE: You know what the difference between mean and you is? We both do the same thing, you just do it for a country so you don't have to admit you like it.
ISABELLE: What happen to you? What made you so fucked up?
ROYCE: There is no hunting like the hunting of a man. Those who have hunted armed men long enough and like it, never really care for anything else they were after.
ISABELLE: That's pretty poetic. Did you come up with that all by yourself?
ROYCE: No, actually, that was Hemingway.
Suddenly, another alien creature appears, larger than the dogs, standing upright. The group alert, cower down and searching for a sight of the creature that seems to be dashing behind the trees, but not towards them.
ISABELLE: Why isn't he coming?
ROYCE: He sees our traps.
Royce crawls over to Edwin.
ROYCE: Hey, Doc.
EDWIN: Hey.
ROYCE: I think I just figured out a way you could be useful.
Edwin glares at him with wariness.
Royce coaxes Edwin to use him as bait. Edwin races frantically through the woods.
EDWIN: Oh shit...oh shit. . . I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!
Isabelle is searching through her sniper scope to get a visual on the creature.
ISABELLE: Come on, come on!
EDWIN: Oh shit!
Royce also has his gun lined up to take a shot, they can hear the creature, but no visual yet.
ROYCE: Come on, come on!
EDWIN: Fucking shoot! . . . Shoot already!!!
Just as one of the aliens is about to pounce on Edwin, it drops to the ground after Isabelle fires a round from her rifle.
EDWIN: FUCK! . . . ALL OF YOU!
The group close in on the kill.
STANS: Is he dead? Why ain't you smiling? . . . oh shit.
NIKOLAI: The thing from the cages.
ROYCE: Maybe it thought we were the ones that dropped it here. Good shot, though.
Noticing a bullet hole in a tree, Isabelle realizes she missed. They become alert when they hear an echoing whisper.
VOICE: Over here . . . over here.
The voice seems to come from everywhere as the group turn looking in all directions. Then an electric sound just behind Royce.
VOICE: Turn around.
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