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Fan Literature   -   The Fury of the Trophy   -   Chapter 1
The Fury of the Trophy
Written by:  Predator Punk


Chapter 1 - Chapter 1


The mist from the shipís floor crept like a ghostly vine up the Predatorís trunk-like legs. The Predator at the dashboard cocked his head to the left and purred contently at the image that had flickered to life on the dashboardís monitor. A sweltering, steamy jungle lush with leafy, heavy growth glowed on the screen. The Predatorís mandibles quivered.

The Predator parted the haze on the floor as he walked towards the rack of weapons that jutted from the pulsating walls. He paused as he passed his trophy wall. The shiny skulls winked in the dim, red-tinted light. Skulls with hollow eye-sockets lined the rack. The Predator stopped briefly to run a finger across the brow of a particularly vicious looking skull. Two tusks protruded and curved upward. A row of brutal, knife-like teeth lined the mouth. He remembered this kill quite vividly.

The beast oozed black blood that ran down its armor-like hide in rivulets. It lunged at him, but he was ready. The Predator dropped to his knee and raised his spear. The barbed tip sunk with a sickening squelch into the soft underbelly of the beast. The beastís eyes, now face to face with the Predatorís, widened with a look of mingled surprise and pain. The beast let out a decrescendo moan that ended abruptly. The Predator set the dead beast onto the ground and tore his spear from its dead body. He raised his thick arms above his head and let out a savage howl.

The Predator stared at the empty place on his trophy rack. It was a searing reminder of why he had come this far. He needed to fill it. He didnít know why. He had to. It mocked him every time he passed. It was a blank space on his shelf that needed filling. The Predator shook his head and sent his dreadlocks swinging. He could fill it. He knew he could. He had confidence. The Predator puffed out his chest with pride as he made his way to the weapons.

The array of high-tech weapons was impressive. The Predator surveyed the collection and chose carefully. He chose his traditional mesh-like net, which he wore around his torso. He selected thick body armor plates and a ribbed chest plate which all locked into place. He made a motion and blades shot out of his wrist cuff. They looked particularly menacing in the dim light. He checked his cloaking device. All fully functional. He flipped open his opposite wrist cuff and his reptilian eyes fell upon the keypad.

He had watched it from high above in the ship from a window. Even though the scene grew smaller as the ship flew away, it was still very clear to him. He knew what was happening. The electrical blue lightning crackling through the air. Rippling through the air before the white-hot explosion blossomed and burned everything in its path. He bowed his head in respect for a moment, but then turned on his heel. After all, he had to prepare for the next hunt. He glanced at the bloodied skull dangling from his belt. His sash was stained with the fresh blood.

The Predator shook off the memory. After a momentís deliberation, he chose a plasma gun that aimed wherever he chose to lock. Onto his waist sash, he attached a sharp-edged boomerang-esque disc and a folded shuriken.

The Predator flexed, almost as if testing himself. His equipment flexed with him. It was no longer enhancers that weighed him down. It was a part of him. When he moved, it moved. They were one in the same.

The Predator returned to the dashboard. The ship was dropping into the atmosphere at an easy pace. The inky black of space was melting away and the stars were falling into clouds and instead of the icy moon, a fiery sun scorched the sky.

The invisible ship whizzed over the dense canopy of forest with just the slightest whisper of mechanical whirr. It dropped down in a shadowy clearing and landed softly.

A quiet beeping noise alerted the Predator that his ship had landed. He clicked twice and then folded his mandibles as he set his mask over his face. He lifted his hand in front of his mask and saw the heat from his hand.

The hatch at the back of the invisible ship slid open and the invisible hunter stepped onto the ground.

He made his way into the tangled mass of foliage and ascended a tree with the aid of his wrist blades and powerful hands and claws. From a thick branch, hidden in the shadows of the blanket-like canopy, he surveyed the forest. He absorbed it all.

He scanned for another sturdy branch on another tree and leapt without hesitation. He cleared the distance easily. He de-cloaked. With one arm, he hugged the tree and with the other he fingered a bone that dangled like a decoration off his sash. He paused to document the feeling of adrenaline that coursed through him. It wasnít a new feeling, but it was a welcome one. It was one of the few emotions he had ever felt. This was the hunt.

An amazing force took the Predator by surprise. An animal had collided with the Predatorís back. His head jerked back violently and he teetered on the edge of the branch of the tall tree. He tried to keep his balance, but his clawed fingers were slipping, carving grooves into the tree. The animal was tearing at his armor.

The two were falling, locked together in surprise rather than in combat. They hit the soft, leafy ground with a muffled thud. As soon as they hit solid ground, the black monster had straddled the Predator. It was gnashing its double jaws and was raising its sharp tail above the Predator, ready to strike.


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