Alien vs. Predator

EXT. DEEP SPACE

We OPEN on TOTAL BLACKNESS, a sea of stars spread across the infinite depths

of space. As the TITLES ROLL, we notice that three of these specks seem to

be moving; one of them picking up acceleration and racing toward us. Our

perspective changes, and we catch a quick glimpse as it HURTLES past, and

into the gravitational pull of a large brownish planet. Kicking up SPARKS of

FRICTION as it hits atmosphere. It seems to be manmade. Or at least

artificial.

EXT. PLANET SURFACE - DAY

The planet is dead, barren. Death Valley on a grand scale. We watch the

object plummet through the wispy cloud-cover, emitting a few last burning

embers before falling to ground way-off in the distance. A BOOMING ECHO

resonates across the dusty plains, before settling back into an eerie

silence.

EXT. FISSURE CANYON - DAY

We're looking into a deep gorge, dark and sinister. A howling wind whips

dust into a sandstorm, reducing visibility to almost zero. About seventy

feet down there's a hole in the rock-face that just might be a cave entrance,

and near is a peculiar SHIMMERING in the air. We hear a mechanical BEEPING

and the SHIMMERING disappears, replaced by FIVE humanoid SHAPES clinging to

the sheer rock - each well over seven feet tall. They are PREDATORS, a race

of intergalactic big-game hunters on permanent safari; their clothing and

weaponry a bizarre mix of aborigine and ultra-hi-tech. In their hands are

circular metal discs; 'smart weapons' which cut into the stone and give them

purchase.

PREDATOR-VISION. From their P.O.V., we see the fissure reduced to THERMAL

HEAT SOURCES. The entrance registers as a black gaping void.

INT. FISSURE NEST TUNNEL

The five hunters climb inside the rim of the tunnel, out of the wind's

banshee wailing. The lead PREDATOR reaches up to his headgear, pulling at

the coupling pipes connecting it to a hidden breathing-apparatus. He removes

the helmet, clips it to his rear utility pack, and takes a deep breath of the

air. A curious speckled pattern runs across his wide forehead, marking him

different to the others; in addition, one of the fangs of his mandibles has

been sheared away. We'll call him BROKEN TUSK, he's the leader of the

hunting party. He reaches out a hand to caress the wall of the tunnel.

Several feet in from the rim, it changes from rock to a textured

biomechanical surface; a swirling mass of disturbing shapes. He hurries

forward in response to the GURGLING-HISS of one of his team who has found

something.

The other PREDATOR holds a telescopic spear up for scrutiny. Skewered on the

end is a shriveled FORM with eight spindly legs and a segmented tail; it's

a FACEHUGGER, the first stage of the deadly ALIEN lifeform. BROKEN TUSK

HISSES a caution to his party; they respond by pulling spears and

elaborately-shaped swords. Several shoulder-mounted plasma cannons slide up

to firing position, tracking with their owners' helmets. Thus armed, they

move cautiously ahead...taking no chances. One helmeted PREDATOR pauses,

scanning the area.

PREDATOR-VISION. He switches through a variety of different views; infra-

red, ultra-violet, enhanced motion-tracking. Nothing.

He's so pre-occupied with this task, he totally fails to notice the skeletal

ALIEN loom up behind him, emerging from the biomechanical growth on the

floor. A barbed tail skewers the PREDATOR straight through the neck,

splashing luminous blood across his chestplate. A gargled DEATH-RATTLE

issues from his throat, the band of PREDATORS spinning around in time to see

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