Space.

To Mankind it was known as the final frontier, endless possibilities lie ahead of an endless void filled with many new worlds, some lifeless, others with their own thriving ecosystems. Ripe for colonization, for the expansion of industry and exploration, a grand dream for greatness.

One thing they weren't expecting however was that they were most certainly not alone in the universe, and that dream, would turn into a nightmare.

For little over a century now the existence of the Xenomorph, a race of parasites that bring destruction and death wherever they go. Reproduction exclusive to a Queen breed that lays large eggs occupied by a "Facehugger", that then forcibly implants an embryo into another living creature that will house the embryo until it violently bursts from the chest cavity, killing the host but also releasing a near perfect killer.

Their only natural enemy is the perfect killer.

The Predators.

A much more intelligent and advanced race of seven foot tall bi pedal humanoids, arthropod-like mandibles but also akin to reptiles by the nature of their skin, dreadlock style hair, and massive muscle mass. Not only are they physically imposing, but their mastery of Faster Than Light technology (FTL) allowed them to travel the greatest of distances, voyages that would've seen twenty generation pass before being completed, all being done in the time it takes to drive one hundred miles.

With great technology came even greater weapons, using a variety of plasma based cannons and rifles to secure themselves as a dominant military power in the darkness of space. However, they also appreciated the classics; spears, swords, axes, wrist blades, and their own physical strength.

The thing that holds the Predator (Hish, Yautja) society together is their most primal urge to hunt prey, a whole code of honor dedicated to an honor sporting hunt. Their prey had to be an equal to them; cunning, strong, and deadly. They needed to be old enough, healthy enough to fend for themselves against the Yautja.

As long as the Yautja followed their code, they'd be honorable members of society. Some however either strayed from the code or intentionally broke it, they are deemed "Bad Bloods" and are usually dealt with swiftly. Unfortunately a clan long since thought destroyed as reemerged, the Killers Clan. This clan trained the mighty Xenomorph's to be their hunting and attack dogs, effectively making themselves not only a grave threat to Yautja Civilization, but also to Humanity itself.


In the vastness of space one could see an uncountable number of stars and a suffocating amount of darkness. Stars and worlds would fly by as a dark ship made its way through the insides of the Alpha Centuri System, the ship was dark but not as dark as the vacuum of space, its outsides was smooth and very sleek, if it were to be hit by water then the water would just slide off of the ship's bulbous head.

Most defiantly not a ship of Man, but a ship of the Yautja.

However this ship's destiny was not that of another glorious hunt to break in a Youngblood, or a leisure hunt for a seasoned veteran, no. This was an extermination mission.

The ship slowed its speed as it approached a dark world with gray skies, down below if your were looking at the right spot at the right time you'd see lights on what was barely even a fraction of the planet, only these lights were not the usual glow of synthetic light used to mark a civilizations growth.

They were the fires marking the death of a colony.

Onboard the ship a massive screen displayed trails made in space by the spacecraft that travel to and from the planet, the trail they had been hunting lead them to this world.

A Predator walked through the halls of the ship, his armor was more than that of a typical Hunter's marking his rank; he had an ornate older mask, an heirloom from his clan, armor that better covered his chest but still left more than enough room for him to flexible, the armor was made from a light but incredibly tough metal.

Two skulls adorned his right and left shoulder, both Human, one helmeted like a Roman Legionnaire, the other one had a Russian styled helmet, presumably Cold War era. His arms held two wrist blades, a Glaive spear sat in the small of his back, a Maul resting on his side. To top it all off he had two plasma shoulder cannons folded on his back.

This was not your average Hunter, he was a Master Hunter, an Exterminator sent to rid the Bad Bloods of their miserable honorvoid existence.

As this Exterminator made his way to the drop pods he reviewed the data collected about the planetoid surface…

Number of Dead Humans: 500 in estimation, unknown number of Humans beforehand.

Number of Dead Serpents: 139 in estimation making sure they were dead was a priority.

Number of Dead Hish: 15 Bad Bloods, 3 Killers Clan Initiates.

Mission status: Drop unto planet, make sure everything is dead, destroy evidence, continue hunt for Bad bloods.

This was the tenth Human Colony in five months, they were starting to take notice, and these recent attacks have made things for the Hunters very difficult. Their prey was already aware of their presence in the universe, but because of these attacks they have been much more… careful so to speak, and the Elders on Yautja Prime have called out one of their greatest warriors out of retirement; who personally destroyed ten Hives, fifteen Queens, and has collected well over twenty thousand trophies during his time.

His name was Damocles, a name he forged during the Roman Empire Reign on Earth. He went by that name because it had a certain ring to it after learning its translation from human writings, it had been so long since anyone called him by his birth name that even the Elders forgot it, so Damocles he was called.

Damocles was honored by the Elder Council's decision, retirement was boring even with the affections of all the females he could want, but no thrill was like that of the Hunt, it was only natural.

This mission however he would not go alone, for the millennia he has lived through he had only bothered to father one son, Theron, a Hish of similar stature but still young by Hish standards.

He was barely five hundred years old.

In the pod bay did his son wait for him ever so patiently; adorned in his Hunting armor, crafted similar to his father's, a human skull stuck upon a spike on his left shoulder, a rabbit's foot hanging from his belt, on wrist blade gauntlet, Glaive spear on the small of his back, a plasma cannon on his left shoulder, and a Smart Disk resting in a holster.

Theron fell to a knee crossing his right hand over his chest, "Father."

Damocles motioned him to rise, "Keep your wits sharp as you'd keep your blade. Never underestimate the Bad Blood, they are as crafty as you or I and are as dangerous as the Serpents. Your head will be on a swivel."

To an outside human audience this conversation would've sounded like a whole lot of clicking and low growling.

"I will serve the clan honorably, and bring you honor. Father." Theron said bowing slightly forward with his arm still over his chest.

Damocles chuckled heartily, "You overdramatize things Theron."

Theron himself chuckled lowly, getting himself settled in his own pod, "It is not every day you go on a hunt with a Legendary Hunter."

"It isn't every day that we must kill those that have strayed from the honorable path either." Damocles said softly from their shared comm link.


The descent to the planet was quick, it was like being a missile, a missile that slowed down before hitting the intended target but a missile either way.

Theron cloaked himself before leaping from his pod onto a destroyed aircraft belonging to the Colonists, plasma burns suggested that it was shot down by the Bad Bloods, there were no signs that the inhabitants survived their crash, most of the damn ship was buried anyhow.

Conducting a brief scan of the area around the drop site showed the young Yautja the brutal measures the Bad Bloods went when it came to killing without honor, most of the ships lying about weren't even capable of firing back, everything suggested that they were mere passenger ships.

"How disgusting," Theron nodded, "They treat our prey with no respect."

Damocles switched to a spectrum referred to as 'Human Spectrum' and observed the field from what would've been their view; over the years he had purposefully learned the language of his prey, a difficult task as the language would develop more and create subvariations of the old tongue he heard in the days of the Golden Eagle.

Gently moving some rubbish out of the way he read the words printed on the hull of a ship, "Medical Transport." He growled lowly, it was a very well-known fact that the weak were to be excluded from the Hunt, the only acception being if they could still fight effectively. Yet when he examined the dead inside the ship's hull… he roared in anger.

Not a single one inside the ship would've been able to defend themselves; mere pregnant women, elderly, and young children were the occupants. All as cold as the hearts that beat in the chests of Bad Blood Yautja.

"Cowards!" Damocles shouted smashing a dead Android, he breathed heavily remembering the sights he had seen from previous sites the Bad Bloods struck, this had to the worst to date.

Theron peered inside the ship seeing all his father saw, "There is truly no way of repentance for the Bad Bloods now, this is unforgivable."

Damocles stormed out of the ship and glared at the burning Colony, "We must find them, their deaths will slow!"


The inside of the Colony fared no better.

Death was prevalent through the streets, civilians and Colonial Marines littered the ground only it wasn't just regular Marines that were on the ground. They had similar uniforms, only tattered and worn, the words 'Renegades' were scratched or painted on the chest pieces. Pulse round holes emptied their blood.

"It appears they have their own Bad Bloods." Theron said flipping one of the dead men over, his face wasn't entirely there, thanks to a shotgun.

Damocles nodded, moving the hands of a fallen woman over her chest respectfully, "Humans have always had a habit of killing themselves, don't think of them any less, there was a time where even we couldn't control our urge to kill."

Theron looked to his father, then to the damage, "We used to have wars like them, long before even I was alive. Our kind suck together because of the Hunter's code, never think of the Humans as less than us. We wouldn't hunt them if they truly were below us."

After observing the massacre more thoroughly, he was confused. These Renegades as it seems were attacking the Colonists at the same time the Bad Bloods arrived, none of them had any plasma or blade based wounds, not a single one of them was mauled by a Serpent either.

This discovery shook him to the rage filled core, two cowardly traitor groups band together for piracy! By the Gods this was outrageous!

"Aaahhh!" Both Predators looked to each other before they started off in the direction cloaked, wrist blades at the ready.


Cheering and hollering came from their direction, "Aaah, you little shit!" A loud smack, flesh against flesh was heard, making both Hunters raise a brow.

Silently the stalked upon several of the Renegades in a circle, they were cheering in a small circle.

Theron stealthily jumped up to the rafters of the Cafeteria room, what he saw interested but in-raged him.

Inside the small circle a man, obviously a veteran Renegade was clutching his eye, sneering angrily at a boy that lied on the ground holding his cheek.

"I'm going to beat your ass so hard," The larger man said cracking his knuckles, "you're going to wish those big ugly motherfuckers killed you with your fucking family!"

He lunged with his leg posed ready to stomp on the boys chest, Theron was about to intervene until his father stopped him, "Wait."

As the boot came down ready to crush the child's chest, he rolled to the left, sent his right heel forward right into the larger man's crotch.

"FUCK!" The man roared falling forward; right into the boy's second kick, this time to his throat in a sickening crunch, "Uck!"

The Renegade fell to the ground twitching, choking on his collapsed Larynx, the boy rose from the ground and started stomping the man directly on his nose, breaking it directly into his brain.

With a bit of strain he raised his hands in a boxer stance, waiting for the next "man" to jump into the ring.

"He fucking killed him, that little bastard!" A soldier with aviator goggles snarled, he jumped into the ring with a lead pipe, "Alright you little shit, time to learn ya a bit."

The boy stared straight at him, hatred in his eyes, bared bloody teeth, his stance hadn't changed even when the man charged with the pipe raised to strike.

Damocles watched with interest, the Human boy was not letting up as easily as most of his kind would have; he had apparently been fighting tooth and nail against his obviously stronger opponents for a long time.

When the lead pipe came down the boy side stepped his left foot out and spun underneath the man's guard, in a flash the boy stomped harshly to the back of the man's knee, making him scream out in pain. The Renegade soldier swung his pipe backwards, missing the boy and exposing his shoulder, just as the boy planned on him doing.

With all of his strength the boy wrapped his arms around the man's elbow and pushed his foot as hard as humanly possible at the joint in the shoulder, dislocating it, sending its owner to the floor in pain.

Unluckily for the Renegade, it wasn't over for him just yet.

Arming himself with the discarded pipe, the boy began mercilessly smashing the pipes end into the man's skull until all that was left was mushy brains and bone.

"I've had enough of this," The Officer looking man of the group said upholstering his pistol, "We've wasted enough ti- ack!"

The Officer wasn't the only one sick of the charade, Damocles saw all that he needed.

Spasming from the sudden backstab the man in the Officer's uniform barely had any time to scream in pain as the other hand of his attacker ripped his head off in a swift motion, shutting off his lights.

Theron fell from the rafters uncloaked, landing on top of one of the Renegades crushing him into paste. With his spear in hand he decapitated one man while slashing his friend's face into thirds with the wrist blades.

The last of the men fared no better as the two Predators bisected them with lighting precision, no mercy is spared on the merciless.

Damocles himself put an end to the last sniveling coward, pulling his head apart with his wrist blades like how one would tear open a piece of paper.

With all of their enemies dead all that was left was the boy, who had stood and watched the slaughter.

Stepping heavily on the metal floor Damocles stood five feet away from the boy; normally even the largest of men would be cowering or trembling in some way, but not him, not this child.

He could see it in his eyes, hatred, enough hatred to fuel a thousand angry hearts, hatred that could only be forged through intense grief and pain.

It took Damocles a few seconds to piece together what he wanted to say to the child, "Good fighting," Came his first typed message, "Put it down."

The child sneered raising the pipe in challenge, a brave little bugger.

"No harm, friend, no harm." Damocles tried again, the boy didn't budge, he only tightened his stance.

In an unprovoked motion the boy launched himself forward swinging the pipe, only to find a very strong had stop his strike and raise him into the air up to the owner's eye level.

"Stupid move." Damocles tightened his grip around the pipe, crushing its body like an empty Coke can.

Out of defiance the boy kicked both of his legs forward, hitting Damocles in concrete hard abs, sending himself skidding across the bloody floor.

Theron shook his head looking down at the child, "Stubborn boy."

"Yes, a very admirable trait."

Damocles looked upon the boy with merciful eyes, he had seen a thousand children like this one, lost and angry, stuck in survival mode to cope with their losses; but this also brought out what he loved most about Humanity.

It's undeniable stubbornness.

Though it seemed like the boy wasn't getting up again, he tried in vain as his wounds started to take their toll and slow his movements.

"Theron," His son looked towards him, "Call in a ship. We're done here, and this boy is coming with us."

"What?"

"You've seen what he is capable of, and look, "Damocles pointed to what looked like a treated acid burns and claw marks on the boys back, "he has fought the Serpents, he is more than worthy of becoming an Apprentice for our clan."

Theron seemed to have thought this over for a moment before nodding, "As you request Father."

Damocles patted his son's shoulder before turning his attention to the unconscious boy, 'Welcome to the Dark Blade Clan boy.'


BAM! Alright, I'm a huge AVP fan, especially when it comes to the Predator portion. I picked my favorite clan from Predator: Concrete Jungle and put them into the mix of this AVP crossover. Now I know you'll have many questions... I don't intend on answering them, the story will do that for me, in no way whatsoever am I stopping the Death Korps of RWBY so don't have a conniption, the Walking Death Korps will also receive an update more frequently because if I'm not mistaking my first story is having itself a one year anniversary! So that means an over hall of some of the first chapters because I don't like how I originally wrote them. Don't have kittens everybody I just wanted to get this idea out there before I get totally engrossed by it mentally.

Doomsdayguy out!