Hi and thanks for choosing to read 'Predator: Mexico City' I hope you like it and I would encourage any reviews or comments. This is based on the 'Predator Universe' of films. This is set between the first and second film.
….. …..
PREDATOR
-Mexico City-
Miguel's body slams against the brick wall at the end of his
yard. The pain in his body quickly snakes around letting him know that whatever
has just picked him was big and very strong. He picks himself quickly up.
"Shit shit shit! What the fuck man!" He gasps as
he tries hard to get his breath.
Miguel's a member of the 'Terror Boys' gang that own a good
portion of the lower west side of Mexico City. He was sixteen when he joined
and has successfully turned his hand at any violent crime. His reputation was of
a gang banger, scared of nothing, be it a gun fight or a fist fight but
whatever this was it had him scared. He had come out of his home at around
midnight because it was too hot to sleep. Something moving on the garage roof
had alerted him. He drawn his old colt 45 from the back of his low slung
fatigues and shouted demanding to know who was there. "Show y'self hessay!
Or you'll be getting 'some of dis brah!" he had yelled referring to his
pistol, He had pushed and prodded the 45. Into the humid blackness as if to
stab at an invisible foe. Out of nowhere he was lifted from his feet and thrown
full length of the back yard, Slamming into the wire and timber fencing before
collapsing into a heap, the breath snatched from his chest. Miguel was a sturdy
man, well-built but whatever had just tossed him aside like a used beer bottle
was clearly something else and in a league of its own. He was now back on his
feet with gun at the ready before he had time to fully collect his thoughts. It
was dark but he should still be able to see who had thrown him, but no one was
in front of him. It was at this point he could see what looked like two eyes
glowing in the darkness from across the yard, hovering in mid air as if from an
invisible beast. He could feel the warm run of urine down his leg as the eyes
disappeared and the clicking noise replaced it. He found himself stuck to the
spot, unable to fight or run. Standing there in the black an old ghost story
his papa used to tell him crept to the forefront of his mind chilling his soul
to the core. A story about a shadow beast that would attack on the hottest
nights and take the heads and skin of its victims. A glint of moonlight flashed
across the predator's blade as it swipes across Miguel's neck, it was quick, it
watched the humans head come away cleanly, the body stood for a few seconds
before succumbing to gravity and inevitably dropping to the ground. Its first
human trophy skull collected, bagged and slung on its belt.
He was sweating like a pig in the heat and Grant Price was
already sick of the weather here in Mexico. A city too warm in the summer
normally was having one of their hottest months on record. Grant was an ex SAS
man and had been to most of the war torn sewers around the globe. He had fought
in every major UK war or conflict since 1982, it was however, the Falklands war
where he first stood out enough for the SAS to take notice. He was only 19 at
the time but had flown through Paratrooper training. He and 3Para had been
outstanding in their battles against the Argentinean and Grant had even managed
two hand to hand kills at the battle of the 'Two Sisters' Mountains. By the
time the conflict was over the SAS had already ear marked him for service. The
rest as they say was history. He was greeted by his CIA contact as he stepped
off the Boeing 777 at the quiet end of Mexico City's major airport.
"Commander Price I presume?" The contact smiles
with that over confident know it all grin most American secret service types
have.
"Come with me please sir and we'll transport you to the
HQ".
Grant followed the man into the back of a large black SUV.
He could tell it was fitted with light armour and bullet proof glass, hardly
surprising as Mexico had a well deserved reputation for kidnapping and
shootings.
Fifteen minutes later and he is arriving at a compound that
was located in a discrete warehouse in a low rent industrial part of the city.
The SUV pulls up next to a small portable office. The driver indicates for
Grant to get out and head inside.
"Welcome Grant, good to have you here…" Came a
voice from the darkness of an open security door.
The tone was husky and thick with years of experience.
As grant stepped forward into the gloom he found himself in
a security office, greeted by a white bearded mountain of a man.
"I'm General Daniels, pardon at the lack of formality
and uniform but in the 'Bug Stompers' it's strictly an undercover party".
"Bug Stompers?" Grant asks.
His reply comes from an unseen man in the next room.
"Yes the nick name the team came up with; I guess when
you are a squad officially with no name or call sign then a nickname was bound
to sprout up"
Grant recognised the voice straight away. It was his old
commander from the SAS.
Nicolas Johns was a legend in the Regiment. He was old
school hard as nails and even through he was kicking eighty years of age he
could probably kick the crap out of any normal solider. He was Grant's boss for
six years before he retired and just dropped off the map. Everyone had assumed
that he would walk into a job in military intelligence or something but it
never happened. There was a rumour though that kept doing the rounds that he
had went to work with the Americans on something top-secret as an advisor.
"How are you doing young man" Johns asks.
"I'm doing well sir. Good to see you again. So I take
it must have been you that put my name forward?" said Grant as he gets
waved passed the checkpoint into the room.
"I've got to say it was a waste to see you drift off
into early retirement Price. When this gig came up yours was the first name
that sprung to mind" smiled Johns
"Drop your shit here and come with me" He says as
he passes a file he was holding to Grant.
Grant follows his former commander into an adjacent
interview room where he could see a large TV and DVD player set up. The only
other distinguishable features in the room were two seats for them to use.
John's motions for him to sit as he hits the play button the remote.
"I don't need to tell you that what you see here is top
secret and you don't repeat to the outside world do I son?"
"No sir"
"Good lad" Johns replies as the recording kicks
into life.
Grant thought to himself that he was used to the old cloak
and dagger exploits from his service days but he didn't expect a Private
Contractor set up like this to be so secretive. The screen flickers and flashes
codes and information used for archiving before whiting out and revealing an
old recording of a jungle clearing with army officials in HASMAT suits appears
on the widescreen TV. Grant watches as people are taking radiation readings and
plant samples, the soundtrack plays out a narration voiceover that has clearly
been added later. In the time code the bottom of the screen you see the date,
it shows 7/08/1987.
"The Val Verde jungle was showing a residual radiation
fall out unlike anything we have on file. Our first concern was that it was
dangerous like a nuclear fallout but it soon became apparent that it was
actually fallout from the creature's overload of its power systems…"
The images now shift to show a massive, well built man tied
to a gurney being packed into a Huey helicopter, Grant thinks maybe special ops
from the guys load out and cheesy appearance. It always made him laugh at these
American spec ops fellas with all their macho bollocks and their need to all be
Rambo.
The voice over continues on the tape
"Major Alan Schaeffer was the only survivor of the E.T
encounter…"
Grant tips his head and pulls an expression as mush to ask
if he just heard that right. He turns to look at Johns only to see his former
commander having a small chuckle at his expression, without speaking Johns
points back at the screen to tell him to continue watching.
"…along side one other civilian who was later dealt
with in regards to the national secrets act. Although Major Schaeffer suffered
superficial wounds and fatigue he suffered no signs of Radiation poisoning. But
the unique radioactive signature did stay in his system for a few weeks
allowing us…"
On screen you see a lab and some scientist types working on
a large electrical dish
"…to create a device that was able to track this
radiation type unique to the E.T and its technology".
The DVD is paused as Johns turns to Grant.
"I'll stop it there mate. It's all a bit to take in and
to be honest I'm sure you think it's a piss take. You're a solid man Price and
you deal in facts only. So do you remember those US Rangers we came across
during Desert Storm?"
"Hard to forget skinned men hung from the ceiling
Colonel" he replies.
"You remember how we thought it was some in surgent voodoo
or whatever? Well watch this next bit". He presses play again.
On screen you see now the cameraman is in thick jungle
alongside a local guide and small Green Beret unit. He is pointing up towards a
downed aircraft stuck in the trees he moves around it and then is lead away to
another clearing. What Grant sees next almost blows him off his seat in
surprise. He is seeing six men hung up and completely skinned.
"Major Alan Schaeffer reported his team found some
others but must have missed these gorillas strung up. CIA local offices in
south America and Middle East began coming across reports of similar killings
within rural areas…"
"So this 'thing' likes a suntan does it"? Mumbles
Grant still a little shocked at what he was seeing as the DVD is switched off.
"Yep, third world and sweaty. So…" Johns finally
says smiling "…how soon do you fancy
giving ALF a kicking"? Grant stares down at the file in front of him; his
eyes are fixed of a blurred shot of a creature jumping from a rooftop in what
looks like Egypt.
"Yes sir" He looks up "But who's paying for this
party"?
Grant watches as John punches in the digital code to the
vault. With a big swing the door comes open and facing the two men is clearly
the armoury with a meeting desk in the middle. Currently stood around it are
three men, and from the way they're carrying themselves Grant could tell they
were ex-mil like him and serious guys.
"Grant this is Kal" Johns beckons towards the
closest of the three, a man of maybe early 40's and slender but toned.
"He's ex French Legion".
Behind him was a massive black guy, by the looks of him
African. "That's Enu he's a former African army tracker".
Enu smiles and waves which Grant thought was out of place
for such a big hard looking bastard of an African. Finally he was introduced to
Michaels a fellow Brit
"Hello pal, I'm Michaels you must be the SAS fella
aye"?
Grant smiled and shook his hand but didn't answer. Most if
not all Ex Regiment guys never let it be known they were Special Forces. It was
the professional thing to do.
After the greeting Michaels showed Grant around the armoury.
Handing him a Heckler and Koch MP7 he began by saying.
"This is the main weapon handed to us mate. Tiny
fucking round but leaves a massive hole in a Bastard".
With a confused look on his face Grant asked why it was such
a small round but before he could finish Kal butted in.
"It's the Bug's skin, Intel says it likes to go bare
chested but the 5.56 rounds don't do an awful lot. These new ones are small to
pierce the skin and any head armour but goes in a way to leave an exit wound
similar to a 7.62 AK round".
Grant cocked the weapon to check it; it was small enough to
keep under a jacket while in public he thought to himself a handy trait to have
for any weapon in his line of work.
Twenty Minutes later all four Mercs where tooled up with
their MP7's, back up pistol and as many clips as they could fit into their
civilian clothes. Underclothes armour it seems was optional. Each man had been
briefed that the alien's weapon of choice was bladed and from various old
hunting sites over the years the thing was sharp enough to cut through most
metals, the general thought was it was better to stay light and agile in that
case. Commander Johns entered the room with some gusto. "Right Lads"
he begins "its on, radio up and be in the SUV's in five".
In no time they were split into two teams, Grant and Kal
were in the first SUV and Enu and Michaels following in the second. In what
seemed like moments they were speeding down the motorway towards an old suburb
district just outside city limits. Everyone's radio crackled into life, it was
Johns back at HQ.
"Right local police reported a killing last night. Body
was found without a head or skin. Our satellite scan of the area has picked up
the scent and we're getting a strong hit an old school in that district. We'll
have a UAV online shortly for live video feed"
The end transmission click came through but before he could
relax Grants Radio popped back into life.
"Grant don't acknowledge you’re hearing this, it's a private
line" It was Johns "Bring them back alive son, it's why you were picked.
Watch out and not just for the alien"
Then the line went dead. Grant was spooked by the
seriousness of the tone in John's voice. Today was getting weirder and weirder
for him, he'd only been off the plane a few hours and all of a sudden he was
hunting an alien. He would have laughed it all off and went home if it wasn't
for the fact Johns was serous, he needed no more than that, and even after all
this time if the big man said it, then its concrete. They pulled their vehicles
off the main highway and into a suburb. This place was a cesspool from top to
bottom; it was clear that a lower class of under privileged people lived here.
Also given the size of the place, clearly there was something off. Hardly a
soul could be seen on the street. "Probably scared they'll get skinned like
that kid" Grant said to himself.
The radio crackled "Enu here… we're going to pull around
the back of the school… see if we can pick up a track".
"Aye mate no problems" Grant responded
"So you guys been a team long"? asked Grant
turning to Kal.
"Yes about six months my friend" Kal replied
"this is onl your second bug hunt though.ThefirstwasinBrazilbutwenevermadecontactbeforeitleftorbitinitsship".
Kal didn't even look over as he said it, it was all 'matter
of fact' to him, Grant almost laughed out loud at the preposterousness of what
he was hearing and the manner in which it was intended.
Kal pulled the SUV over and they both got out. Grant watched
as Kal adjusted his iPhone strapped to his wrist. On the screen was the
blueprints to the abandoned school on the edge of the housing block. MP7's
raised they entered the front doors. Radio confirmation came back that Enu and
Michaels were entering via the rear west entrance. The school was a single
story primary school which was a decent size but didn't offer many places for
the alien to hide. Grant clicked the safety off and the gun torch on as they
entered the dank interior.
The Predator lay in wait at the far side of the school.
Since it was its first hunt on Earth the clan elders had issued a cloak
satellite in fixed orbit allowing the hunter to get 360 scans of a mile wide
circle around him at all times. It had picked up the two human vehicles coming
towards the building and the sensor array was flashing on its 'Head up Display'
that these humans were armed. The plan was simple, wait cloaked and ambush the
two humans at the rear as quietly and quickly as possible then take out two
entering the front.
Enu and Michaels entered through a window that had the
boarded section pulled down. Both men slid into the empty class room.
"Christ it stinks of piss in here" Whispered
Michaels. Enu turned to give him a 'Shut your mouth and concentrate' look. But
before he could respond a gentle clicking noise broke the silence. They turned
their weapons to the door, the noise sounded like it was emanating from the
hallway. Sprawled in the ceiling the Predator watched on his heat sensor
through the thin plaster panels the two men walk towards the door. It
calculated it would drop in the next five seconds on the trailing Human. The
hunt it would seem was on. As it readied itself to drop on the unsuspecting
human a warning flashed up on its HUD again. The satellite was now picking up
four hovering human craft in a holding pattern just under a mile away. Sensors
were picking up that those on board the craft were heavily armed. It made no
matter as the scent of the humans were deep in it system and its hearts were
pumping hard. Michaels didn't have time to react to the noise of crashing
ceiling and alien hitting the deck behind him filled the room. In one swift
move the Predator de-clocked and let fly its six bladed throwing disc. It tore
with ease through Michaels' skull just above his mouth and continued into the
neck of Enu who was now positioned behind his now killed partner. The alien was
suitably proud of the double kill as it placed a foot on Enu's head to pull the
disc free. It decided to kill its H.U.D info and proceed to the next targets.
"Michaels come in" whispered Grant into his
two-way Motorola "Come in. Enu are you there? over". Kal gave Grant a
look as if to say that this can't be good. Grant motioned for them to both out
in the direction of the other half of the team. Within a minute they were at
the far south west of the school. As they slowly approached Grant was first to
see Enu's half decapitated head sticking into the hallway, the blood still
slowly moving out from the horrific wound and pooling into the floor. The
adrenaline in Grant's system was already high but now it was about to burst
through his head. With his gun raised he stepped slowly to the room.
The Predator had managed to circumnavigate the two humans
through an adjacent room, its plan was to attack from the rear but another
alarm on its HUD had brought it to a halt. The scanner had picked up three
human craft flying low in from the east. The I.D programme showed on the HUD
they were Blackhawk Helicopters, the scanner also confirmed that the craft were
all full of heavily armed humans. It considered its tactical options; it could
easily kill the two humans but not collect any trophies in time.
Grant nodded to Kal to cover him as he moved into the room.
Stepping over Enu's body he could see Michaels had been sliced by something
big. What the fuck is going on here? He thought to himself. The craziness of
the situation suddenly hit him hard, 24 hours ago he didn't even know about
aliens and now he's in a black ops group hunting them. And to make matters
worse two of his four man team is dead. Having enough he called into HQ on his
radio but was met with just static. The transmission was being hacked and
suppressed.
"Kal try your radio" Grant said turning "I think
we're being fu…"
But before he could finish his sentence the hallway lit up
in a blue light and he watched in horror as Kal's chest explodes with a flash
and smoke. The air is filled with the stench of burnt flesh and an ozone smell
of electricity. Grant throws himself prone on the floor and without thinking
opens fire to the side of the door opening in the hope to catch whoever was by
the door in a lucky hit. Within a few seconds the mag is emptied and he quickly
switches in a new magazine. He's interrupted by the side wall collapsing, for
the first time Grant got to see the enemy. It all happened in slow motion as he
watched as the 7ft alien crashed through the weak plaster wall. Its demeanour
was one of pure power and agility. All the years of training and live
operations should have had Grant automatically raising his weapon to shoot but
instead he lay there stunned stuck to the spot, mouth wide open. The only thing
that snapped it out of him was a thick Austrian accent screaming at him from
behind at the open window.
"GET DOWN, GET THE HELL DOWN"!
It kicked him back into reality and he rolled away swiftly
and reloaded his weapon as the sound of the automatic shotgun fire filled the
room. He watched the alien get hit multiple times in the chest as its glowing
green blood splattered up the wall. Without hesitation he opened fire himself
on full auto. Sparks and ricochets bounced off the creature when a round hit
its minimal armour.
"Don't just lie there you asshole" Came the accent
again "get up, come on the choppa’s are coming" Grant turned to find
a haggard looking Major Alan 'Dutch' Schaeffer screaming orders at him to leave
while he reloads his Spaz-12 auto shotgun. He couldn't believe his eyes but did
as he was told. He had just saved his life so Fuck It he thought and he dove
out the open window.
A painful cough and spurt of warm blood from its mouth
awakened the Predator as he found himself on his back on the floor. The
auto-medic kit on his belt had brought him around but he would need to see to
his most serious wounds soon. The display was now showing that the helicopters
had landed and the troops were fanning out towards its location. Pulling itself
to its feet it moved under cloak. It planned to head to the maintenance room
and from there into the sewer system. The targeting warning light flashed up.
The orbital scanned quickly picked up a fast moving object… a missile.
Still in a state of shock Grant found himself being led away
by one arm by Dutch.
"Get up, you dumb ass Marine" Dutch growled as he
dragged the Brit away.
"Cheeky twat, I was many things but not a fucking soft
arse Marine"
Grant pushes Dutch away from him as a high screech from the
sky breaks over all the other noise. The resulting explosion and shockwave hits
the two men and threw them to the ground. Grant picks himself up and staggers
about to regain his footing. It's in the rain of debris he notices the
Blackhawk's silently land. Unlike the movies when a real explosion goes off you
don't have the ringing and seconds of silence, its just shock and Grant has
been around enough explosions not to be fazed, including unexpected ones like
this. The Blackhawks were of the black ops variety in that they had muffled
engines and stealth adaptations all over it. It was only the most secret Seal
Teams in the US that used this helicopter. Grants grabbed by Dutch and pulled
in to cover.
"We need to get out of here" Dutch pants covered
in debris "these guys are not your back up, come on." Both guys
managed to get out of the area and to Dutch's parked van. Before leaving he
spotted the Seal team entering the old school or at least what was left of it.
The damage was consentient of a tactical bomb hit. He's seen the American's use
these before within cities in Iraq. Basically you want to take a fucker out
without bringing the whole building down you drop one of these from miles away
from a F18 Super Hornet. What Grant couldn't work out was why they had used it
knowing they had assets in there. Luckily for him Dutch was about to answer all
his questions. Back at the van Dutch had told Grant to drive while he directed
and kept look out with his shotgun on his lap.
"Okay Mate, fuck knows who you are but I want pissing answers"
Grant began.
"You already know who I am yes?" Dutch replies
whilst sending a text.
"Well I'm working with your old boss Johns. He sent me to
pull your team out before you got killed by either the alien or the Seal Team...
take a left up here" Dutch grunted in his this manly Austrian accent.
Following orders Grant pulls the van onto the freeway.
"Johns? Look pal what the hell is going on here? I'll be
honest I've had a funny sort of twenty four hours and a few answers would be
nice, Savvy"?
Dutch's phones beeps as a text comes back in. "Your team
was bait; your whole mission was fucking bullshit. You were sent in there to attract
the Alien and while it killed your men the Seals would kill IT with a tactical strike
and retrieve the body"
Grant should have been shocked but he wasn't. The military
had a long history of screwing over its fighting forces no matter which country
it was. "And what about Johns"? Grant finally replied.
"He didn't like being taking as a fool, he used me to
get you all out when he found out what was going on. He couldn't say earlier as
to blow his cover. There are some big players in this and Johns knows that.
You're the reason you’re on the team. He knew you could keep them alive long
enough for me to extract you all. Clearly not it fucking seems".
Dutch was right Grant thought. Less than five minutes of
contact and he's lost his whole team. "And what's your fucking story mate"?
Dutch glanced at him. "Don't feel bad, one of those bastards
took out my whole team. After they rescued me, debriefed me and packed me away to
a military mental hospital I was left to rot as a security risk. It was Johns that
got me back into the game. Busted me out. You see me and him have the same ideas
on these Aliens".
"And that is?" Grant asks.
Dutch closes the phone and points to take the off ramp
ahead. "We hunt and kill the bastards".
Twenty minutes later the van pulls up to an old warehouse
across town. Both men get out and walk inside. Dutch had told him that the text
was off a secure line and this was the co-ordinates for a meet. Inside it was
old and rusted, Grant wondered if a bird landed on the roof if it'll be enough
to bring to the whole thing down. Parked in the centre in a none descript
saloon was Johns, even at this distance Grant could tell the old man was heavy
with sadness. Even back in the regiment he never liked losing a man.
"Grant I'm sorry I put you through that" Johns
began "the plan was to have the whole team back here".
"What the fuck is going on here Sir"?
Johns leaned back against his car and lit a cigarette. "I
learned purely by mistake that me and my team were a shell for this bug hunt, we
have been since Brazil and it's only by dumb luck we didn't all get killed back
then. We're bait, some thing to lead the bastard out while a secondary team brings
in the fire power to kill it. We were never to capture it but to take it out and
then locate its hidden spaceship. It's the tech they are after, they don't give
a rat's fuck these aliens are killing humans".
Dutch interrupts "That's why I was busted out, so far I'm
the only human to have survived one of their hunts. So Grant you up for this? You
want to help?"
Rubbing his forehead and taking steady breaths Grants
finally answers.
"Do I bollocks. This is fucking insane and you have no real
set up and now you're on the run from your own blokes, Got no need to be dead for
a lost cause" and with that Grant turns to walk away. An angry Dutch
watches him leave.
"That asshole is a born warrior, he'll be back"
Johns quietly turns away and heads back to his car. Without
looking at Dutch he quietly says "No he won't".
** The End **
