As a writer, I like to challenge myself. This is one of those challenges. Below is one of my first fanfictions, based on the brilliant Alien versus Predator franchise. Now, the main challenge in this was writing it from a Predator (or Yautja) point of view in a way that maintained their mystery as a species. I am a huge fan of the franchise and hopefully have done it justice. Here is the first part.

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Zarack’s fingers glided the control console of his ship, tapping in a series of ancient glyphs known only to his race. A holographic display appeared before him showing the layout of a human cruiser that he was fast approaching. Red blips appeared throughout the maze of corridors and rooms. The lights emanating from the holograph were signs of life. They were, however, not human. Zarack grinned, his webbed maw clicking as his fangs met. He had come to hunt humans, but what had taken over their vessel, would make for a fine hunt indeed.

Zarack was a Yautja, an ancient race of warriors. Known as predators to the limited minds humans. Colossal in stature and strength. Monstrous in appearance. Advanced in technology. A race of hunters. From the moment that they can wield spear and wrist blade, the hunt is what they train for. It is what they lived for. Every fight is another fight toward perfecting the ultimate killer. And Zarack was no exception to this. He was one of the greatest among his species. His name was spoken in whisper among the other Yautja. His tales of slaughter were told to the young blooded before their first hunt. To the humans, he was known simply as the reaper, for his presence meant only one thing. Death.

The Predator closed the display before him and arose from the console. Long black quills flowed like hair beyond his broad shoulders, a testament to his age and experience. He walked over to another console, his footfalls thunderous on the metallic flooring of his ship. A flickering beam of green light scanned his biosignature. When the ancient technology was assured of the Predators identity, a hiss and the whir of servos erupted from the wall before him. A large panel slide across, revealing an arsenal of ornate weaponry and an assortment of armour.

Zarack prepared himself for the hunt. He loaded his gauntlet with vorpal darts and a razor net. He selected a combi-spear from the several that were displayed. It was a long weapon, deadly from point to point. Glyphs and runes were crudely etched along its entirety, marks of how many lives it had taken. He spun it round in his hands to check the weight, it was perfect. Pressing a button on its shaft retracted the weapon to half of its length, and he holstered it on his back. A plasma caster, one of the most feared weapons in the Yautja arsenal, was fixed to his shoulder armour. To complete the preparation ritual, Zarack removed his helmet from its stand. Its ornate form was decorated with claw marks and glyphs, bone and fang. Pressing it to his face, the pressure clamps hissed, fixing it in place. The heads-up display appeared before his eyes, a series of red runes, informing him that all was functioning as intended. The Reaper was prepared for the hunt.

His rank among the Yautja meant that Zarack had his choice of the finest hunters in the galaxy to accompany him. But he, like many others of his species, revelled in the challenge and the glory that it would imbue on him if he succeeded alone. And this hunt would bring him great glory indeed. The creatures on the human ship were Xenomorph. A creature that had evolved to be the ultimate killer. Every part of its biology was a weapon. From its rending talons to its spiked tail. Even down to its blood, that melted armour as easily as it burned flesh. He and his kind had hunted the Xenomorph for centuries, and so Zarack knew their bio signature well. Only the elite of the Yautja could face such a creature and survive. And the reaper had hunted many before.

Zarack set his ship to remain in place and relay the layout of his destination to his gauntlet. As he stepped in the pod, its pneumatic doors closed behind him as the auto harness locked him in place. The pod was only just large enough for the predator, but the cramped space fulfilled its purpose. It was a means to the hunt. Zarack could already feel his blood begin to boil. The call of the hunt was strong in every Yautja. They craved the kill and the slaughter. It took centuries of experience to restrain it in order to stalk their prey.

The propulsion matrix whirred as it launched the small vessel from the ship. The pod shook violently as it gained speed towards its target. Zarack closed his eyes and prepared himself for the hunt. The time had almost arrived, and he was ready for the fight. He was Yautja, and he would hunt until either his prey took his life or he was forced to take his own. He was the Reaper.

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Thank you for reading! The next part will be here very soon.