Predators Page #3

then hid

and waited for that thing to strike.

We were bait.

I needed to know who we were up against.

Now I do.

A man is dead because of that.

This morning you were ready to kill him.

It ain't this goddamn morning, is it?

At least he didn't die in vain.

Why? So we could find out firsthand

what it feels like to have our asses kicked?

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're bigger than us,

stronger, but also heavier.

You put us at risk for yourself.

You want to be on your own,

you got it.

Why don't you tell them the truth?

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- 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?

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 liaison.

Only one made it out.

In his debrief,

he said they came in contact

with something.

He gave a detailed description.

The 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.

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 are holing up.

That'll bring them to us.

We force them into a choke point.

We get them in overlapping fields of fire.

It can be done.

I can't do it alone.

You know, man, if we ever make it home,

I'm gonna do so much f***ing cocaine.

I'm gonna rape so many fine b*tches.

I'll be like, "What time is it? 5:00?

"Damn.

"Time to go rape me some fine b*tches."

You know what I'm saying?

Oh, yeah. Totally.

Like, 5:
00,

it's b*tch-raping time.

Mmm.

Yeah.

- You should stay away from him.

- Yeah.

You still pissed?

F*** you.

You know what the difference between

you and me is?

We both do the same thing.

You just do it for a country,

so you don't have to admit you like it.

What happened to you?

What made you so f***ed up?

"There is no hunting

like the hunting of a man.

"And those who've hunted armed men

long enough,

"and like it,

"never really care

for anything else thereafter."

That's pretty poetic.

Did you come up with that all by yourself?

No, actually.

That was Hemingway.

F***.

Why isn't it coming?

They see our traps.

Hey, Doc.

Hey.

I think I just figured out

a way you can be useful.

Sh*t. Sh*t.

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

Oh!

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