Royce, his face a mix of exhaustion and exasperation, scanned the alien jungle. "We need a new plan." His ragtag team—Isabelle the IDF sniper, Nikolai the Spetsnaz soldier, Stans the death row inmate, Mombasa the RUF officer, Hanzo the Yakuza, and Edwin the creepy doctor—nodded, their eyes locked on Raja, who was secretly using his observation telepathy to track the predators' movements.
Raja strutted ahead, his Enchanted Arnold Knife twirling like a baton. "Follow me, folks! We're on an alien planet, so let's find their spaceship and joyride off this rock!"
Stans groaned, wiping sweat from his brow. "Where we going, man? We're on a fucking alien planet!"
Raja grinned, unfazed. "To the spaceship, Stans! Gotta escape in style. Maybe it's got a snack bar."
The team twitched in unison, their nerves frayed by Raja's carefree vibe.
Isabelle muttered, "How is he so chill? We're literally prey." Nikolai clutched his mini-Gatling, muttering about vodka.
Hanzo just stared, probably regretting every life choice that led to this moment.
A sudden whoosh broke the tension. A V-shaped alien drone zipped overhead, its eerie glow spooking the group. Guns snapped up, hearts racing. "What the hell was that?" Cuchillo hissed, before a rustle in the bushes turned their panic to eleven. A pack of alien beasts—bulldog-hog hybrids with tusks and too many teeth—charged, snarling like they'd skipped breakfast.
"Light 'em up!" Raja yelled, his modified assault rifle roaring. Its armor-piercing rounds, enchanted with a pinch of Wyllt Industries magic, dropped the droogs with headshots, their skulls popping like piñatas.
The team fired wildly, bullets tearing through the jungle. The beasts barreled through, scattering the group.
Stans screamed like a B-movie victim, diving behind a rock. "These ain't Chihuahuas!"
Raja danced through the chaos, picking off stragglers, saving Nikolai from a tusk to the face and yanking Edwin from a beast's jaws. "Stay alive, doc! You're creepy, but useful!" Then, a sharp whistle pierced the air.
The remaining dogs froze, spun, and bolted in the opposite direction. Raja's telepathy locked onto them, marking their path. "Gotcha, Fido."
Isabelle panted, sniper rifle trembling. "That whistle… someone sent those dogs on purpose and called them back."
Raja nodded, reloading. "Check your ammo, folks. Anyone hurt? Those fuckers are testing us." He paused, frowning. "Wait, where's Cuchillo?"
A cry echoed. "Help!" Raja sprinted toward Cuchillo's voice, the team hot on his heels.
They found him kneeling in a grassy field, head down, still crying out. Raja's eyes narrowed. He chucked a stone into the grass, triggering an electric trap that crackled like a wizard's prank gone wrong. The team jumped back, spooked.
Raja glared at the trees. "I know you're watching, fucker! Your death's gonna be messier and bloodier than ever. Mark my words!" He spun, startling the team. "Cuchillo's dead. That's a recorder luring us into a trap. Let's move."
Royce blinked. "Where to?"
"Following the dog tracks to their base camp," Raja said. "I need to count the predators and confirm is their spaceship so we can steal that later."
Royce grinned for the first time. "Finally, you're speaking my language."
"Stay close," Raja ordered. "If you see a mirage-like shimmer, light that fucker up." The team nodded, gripping their weapons, and followed the tracks to a gruesome clearing. Corpses hung from trees, skulls and gutted alien organs littered the ground.
"Trophy central," Raja muttered. "Act normal, but when I call a direction, fire a round and run the other way. We're here to count them, maybe bag one."
The team spread out, tense but obedient. In the clearing's center, a predator was tied to a pole, unconscious. Nikolai crept forward to poke it. Raja's telepathy buzzed at peak performance, sensing movement. The predator roared awake, thrashing.
"On your six, now!" Raja shouted. The team unloaded, bullets grazing shimmering figures. Green and yellow blood sprayed as three predators decloaked, scattering.
"Run the other way, go!" Raja yelled, covering their retreat. The predators fired laser cannons, blasting trees to splinters.
Raja returned fire, his enchanted rounds forcing them to miss. "Three hunters, plus the tied-up one!" he shouted, tossing a grenade. The explosion sent the predators diving. "Nikolai, ditch the mini-gun and run!"
The terrain sloped downhill. The team tripped, tumbling over a cliff into a waterfall lake.
They surfaced, gasping, as a predator drone scanned them and flew off. On the shore, they dried off, checking ammo.
Raja grinned. "Everyone okay? Four predators, including the captive."
Isabelle rounded on him. "Raja, you knew about these things. I saw your face—you're not shocked like us."
Raja leaned against a tree, smirking spewed his BS. "Alright, story time. Ancient Indian records, hidden from colonizers, talk about these creatures. Aztecs, Mayans, Egyptians—they worshipped them as gods. Helped build pyramids, taught engineering. India fought 'em off with tricks. They see in infrared, track heat signatures. Our ancestors used mud to mask their heat and shanked 'em."
The team's jaws dropped, eating up his BS like it was biryani.
Stans whistled. "That's wild, man."
Raja nodded. "Cowardly fuckers use cloaking and energy weapons. Total losers."
Royce, all business, said, "We set a defensive perimeter, make it look like we're holing up. Draw them to a choke point, overlapping fields of fire. Kill 'em all. I need cooperation."
The team agreed, fortifying a clearing. An alien—sleek, like the container bugs—sprinted past, erratic.
"Edwin, you're bait," Raja said. The doctor cursed but ran, luring the creature.
Isabelle fired her sniper rifle, grazing it. The alien dropped, but she cursed. "Missed the kill shot!"
A faint voice whispered, "Over here." A man in predator armor decloaked. "You talk too loud. I smelled you from a mile away. If I can, they can. Storm's coming."
He led them to a wrecked spaceship hideout, stuffed with scavenged weapons and gear. "Name's Noland Roland, Air Cav. Survived seasons, killed two predators, took their stuff."
Raja's telepathy pinged—Noland planned to smoke them out and steal their gear. The team relaxed, eating scavenged rations.
Raja, smirking, used telepathy to put Noland and the others into a deep sleep. He carved an apology on the metal wall: "Sorry, had to dip. Predators to kill. IOU snacks. —Chaos King"
Slipping out, Raja reached the predators' trophy base at night. He doused it in flammable potion, lit it up, and fired a flare gun, the blaze illuminating the jungle. "Come get me, you cloaked cowards!" he yelled, ready to solo the hunters and claim their ship.