Aliens
Vs.
Predator
Vs.
Guyver

Prologue

He who Hunts the Hunters…

June 12, 2008

A bell tolled, a sky sparkled with pin pricks of light farther than most men can imagine. Hidden within the shadow of the tower a faint glow surfaced, the burn of ash and the smell of tobacco drifted from the light as one of the pin pricks flashed brilliantly and fell from the deep navy of sky, slow at first, but quickly gaining speed before erupting into a blaze of inferno miles away atop a hill over looking the small and decrepit city. With one deep breath the owner of the cigarette was illuminated faintly in an orange luminescent light before what remained of the deadly narcotic was flicked aside into the gutter of the church's rooftop. His form appeared crawling up the bell tower, a cutout in the night sky it seemed as he even pulled himself atop the cross and balanced atop it, gazing out towards the well lit city. He then spread his arms, as if he would ascend into the kingdom of heaven with god's favor. However he did not rise nor did he float up into that starry sky. Instead the shadow fell forward, its hair billowing out suddenly along with the long coat the figure had on. Its lips moved in a silent prayer before its arms spread out to the sides, mimicking the Christian's savior if one were neglecting the lack of cross.

The flight came to an abrupt end into the earth. An on looker may have mistaken the figure for dead, only to be shocked as it slowly rose from the ground and brushed itself off then stared out into the city again. A click came from its hand and soon a flame erupted, lighting another cigarette, the sudden glow showing little more than a young and rather beautiful youth before the black lighter in his hands was flicked closed. A long drag and a puff of gray cancerous smoke later he began his long trek towards the city.

Within something of an hour his feet went from the soft cuts of grass into the hard cement of a cracked side walk, the stench of car exhaust among other stinks lingered about in the air. He gave a sigh as he shook his head; he missed the old days when people walked, when people used more of their own physical and mental prowess and didn't depend on a machine. This city was once run by Chronos, an enormous multinational corporation that had its grisly claws into some of the most horrible of secrets. Once as in no longer, the corporation had fallen some time ago thanks to what was left of the US Government and a few other unseen factions. The youth was furious with his lack of participation in the rebellion but he soon grew to accept it, however due to the fall the city was over run by people that were once captured and used for their monstrous tests.

Sickening, even now he found a neon sign depicting the sale of sin and vice that wasn't there even a week ago. He stopped for a moment, eyeing the sign silently. The glow was displaced, as if some one took a few thin sheets of plastic and made a mold of themselves as a transparent mannequin. Just as he began to see even the hint of figure it was gone. The marks of odd scars suddenly twitched and pulsed in his back. Something not of this world had made itself known. He quickly stepped up his pace and entered a dark and rather long alleyway. He could feel it, its shape, and its intent. It was like the beast within him, it was looking for a thrill. How quaint. The youth and this thing shared something in common. He was deep in shadow now, the creature was around him some where but he could not pin it down.

"Come on out, you wanted a fight and here I am" He said solemnly, yet the answer he got was not one he expected.

"well well, lookit what we got here" Some poor random scum bag said from the darkness. Around the youth men stepped forward, surrounding him, all wearing the same colors. Some poor local gang that didn't know what it was dealing with, but they would know soon enough. The being was watching, the youth could feel it. A test maybe? No, but it did pronounce interest in the events occurring.

"He's got a purty mouth, what should we do wit 'im?" The situation wasn't improving any. One stepped up to the youth, near a foot taller than him and burly as a pro athlete. He grabbed the youth's chin and tilted his face up; the boy's face seemed to be locked in that cold stare as the man only grinned as his mind went through all the perverted possibilities. Though the only thing that came after that was a rather deep throbbing pain as the hulking mass lurched and fell on its side the youth gave a rather sinister grin.

"what a bunch of fags, any one else wanna try?" one by one they charged him, and one by one they fell by either a spear chop to the neck or a swift kick or knee into the kidneys and stomach. The last one however he danced with a bit, leaning or ducking each punch to his opponent's ever growing fury. Finally he ended it with a small knee into the man's stomach and a falling axe kick into his spine. He straightened his collar and gave a jerk at his jacket.

"Poor bastards"

The clicks of a gun being cocked stilled him before he craned his neck to view one of the 'poor bastards' standing with a forty-five trained on him. All the youth did in response to this was turn, spread out his arms and smile.

"Be my guest pal, death and I haven't had much of relationship these days"

The man's grip was faulting, the gun shaking as he stared at the youth. In that moment his eyes became frozen, not on the youth any more but the hulking beast above clinging to the bricks of an old dilapidated building. The revolver fell from his fingers, not from fear or from awe but from the muscle tissue and tendons relaxing as his mind ceased to send it's signals the moment a blue ball of plasma seared through his torso.

The body fell and the boy gave a sigh as a splash erupted behind him. His voyeur decided to join in. He turned and found an outline of something tall and menacing, warping the picture of whatever lay behind it around its features, he only could guess at its form as it fell from its place on the bricks onto the ground. They took a moment staring at one another, or at least what could be seen until the chameleon as it would stomped forward slowly. The boy spread his arms in a shrug.

"For some reason I don't think your gonna give me a hug"

Something warbled from the chameleon as it quickly crossed the distance between them, a very warped facsimile of a very perverse man.

"Got, a, Purty, Mouth" it called out to him and the boy gave a grunt.

"Ugh, another fag" The sound of metal scraping came to his ears before he felt two painfully serrated blades force themselves through his torso, shredding his organs with a pained growl, even lifting him up off his feet and into the air. The chameleon raised him higher, a guttural roar rolling from it, proclaiming its victory and claiming its trophy. However the trophy gave the thing a shock as it grabbed at the arm holding him up. Pops and snaps rang from his neck as he looked down at the chameleon with a grin.

"See, now that's what I'm talking about!" He managed to bring his leg back and give a swift kick across the chameleon's head, dropping the boy though as he landed on the ground he cursed having done it. Bastard was wearing a helmet… or had a skull made of steel.

"What the hell are you?"

His focus was drifting in and out; the massive bleeding from his wound was dropping his blood pressure dangerously. Some intestine was shredded and a kidney was pierced, that was all he could tell at the moment. He was amazed the blow didn't touch his spinal cord. He couldn't fight like this, he could barely stand. Immortal yes and true but far from impervious to being skewered like a suckling pig on a roast.

"Got a purty mouth" this time it was far less warbled, and followed by a series of clicks.

"I'm sure you say that to all the guys" the boy muttered, taking a shaky stance. It was hard enough to see the chameleon but now it was virtually impossible to defend against another strike. Briefly he imagined a silver medal flash brilliantly as it lay among thick red tentacles, and with a grin he cocked his head.

"Been so long I nearly forgot… let me show you some of my own blades, Guyv—!"

A siren cut his cry short while getting his attention distracted a moment. When he turned back the chameleon to the best of his knowledge was gone. All he could do was force a grin and cough up blood with his words.

"Bastard ran…"

He blacked out before he even hit the pavement.