A/N: This was an idea I had after having read some Alien/Predator Fanfictions. I noticed there wasn't enough FemalePredator/MaleHuman stories, so I'm taking a crack at it. Don't worry, I'm not a complete rookie at this. I am aware that Female Predators are actually larger and stronger than their male counterparts, and i'ma keep it that way. Also, I'm not gonna do the whole 1st Person POV thing, cuz honestly, I find those annoying in some genres. So be prepared for a whole bunch of 3rd Person! :)

P.S.: I seriously decided to make this on a whim. Please Review, whether you Love it, Like it, don't care, Hate it, or want this story to be burned with fire. Review Anyway. I had to translate this idea into story form. And please, Readers, review every chapter that you read! Don't just read it and leave, drop some feedback!

Chapter 1

One wrong move, and his head probably wouldn't even exist anymore.

He continued his reckless sprint, pushing a couple to either side of him roughly as he passed them. Before they could shout to his back, a blue beam of energy struck the pavement that the man pushed them from. The two bystanders watched the smoking spot owlishly before looking at each other and then the man who just saved them.

"Shit, shit, shit!" the man seemed to chant, ignoring the numbness beginning to crawl up his legs. He abruptly turned a corner into another intersection, narrowly missing another burst of blue energy. Quickly, he shuffled into an alley, looking for anywhere to hide. Spotting a large dumpster, he climbed into it without hesitation, his nose wrinkling at the horrible smell. Was this some sort of punishment for pranking people with a slingshot 15 minutes earlier?

He blanked his thoughts, attempting to slow his breathing. He only succeeded in making his breaths short and choppy. To improvise, he breathed in through his nose so he wouldn't make his hiding spot so obvious.

Clang!

Something tapped the Dumpster. He shuffled as quietly as he could to a lit spot inside the giant trash bin. A small hole in the wall. It wasn't large enough for him to make out any shapes, but it was definitely large enough to tell if someone...or in this case, something, happened to walk by.

The telltale sign of a shape passing the dumpster tipped him off. That, and the weird clicking noises the Olympic athlete sized thing was making.

How the hell did he get a crazed monster with dreadlocks chasing him anyway? He struggled to peer towards the side of the hole in the dumpster wall, hoping to spot it. None of this craziness occurred until he began correspondence with some military personnel to find out what happened to his Uncle. Alan Schaefer was always away on his military ops business, but he was good family. Every now and again Uncle Alan, or "Dutch" used to gift him a souvenir dog tag, that would have his nephew's name on one side, and his age on the other. Even though his Uncle was a marine veteran, he himself wasn't really interested in jobs involving guns and all around mainstream bad-assery. Of course, he'd taken some martial arts classes.

But what good was that gonna do him? He hadn't practiced in three years and he only ever got to "Brown Senior Belt". That wasn't even a black belt!

Thoom!

There was that noise again. This time though, the heavy footfalls seemed to be backpedaling away from the alley and making it's way...up the wall?

That thing definitely isn't human, he thought to himself with a frown. He got a good look at the alley before he dived into the dumpster. There were no service ladders or any humanly possible way to go up the wall.

Nonetheless, the thing seemed to have lost sight or interest in him. He hoped it was a little of both. Almost religiously, he fingered the souvenir dog tag around his neck.

Anthony Schaefer / 20, it said on his tag. Darting his head around quickly, he picked up what looked like a rock. Slowly poking his hand through the trash he camouflaged himself with, he tossed the rock into the alley.

"1, 2, 3," Tony counted silently. No sound. Slowly climbing out of the trash, he pivoted over the lid, landing quite ungracefully onto the ground.

Keeping his legs bent and back low, he quickly made his way to the nearest bus terminal, grabbing some poor resident's coat from a nearby laundry line. He'd return it if he ever gets the chance. Besides, whoever owned this coat wasn't being chased by some kind of a giant predator. Luckily, the coat had a hood and he quickly pulled it over his head.

He was surprised to have gotten out of it alive. He was looking off into some unknown spot on the floor, sitting quietly in the bus.

What was he to do? He was sure he'd lost sight of the predator. Yeah, he'll just call it Predator for now. Frankly it sounded badass, but then he was quickly disgusted with himself for trying to give a murderous stalker a cool nickname.

Not that the name wasn't unfitting. He tossed the thought aside for the moment as he tried to reevaluate his situation. The Predator, whatever the thing was started chasing him two weeks after his first correspondence with the Fort Hamiltion military base. He didn't know if he was just being biased against the military, but that seemed like one heck of a coincidence to him. He needed to ask his father if he knew anything of something like this. He always used to pester his father about his exploits in the NYPD, but he'd get unusually melancholy every time he asked him. Maybe it was just the nature of the job, but he always thought it was strange how he never seemed to tell him about what happened in the 90's when he was a fresh detective.

The bus came to a stop that was near his house. Several people were getting off and he realized he forgot to ring the bell, as lost in thought as he was. Quickly rising from his seat, he stepped down from the short stairway and ran for his home. Of course all of this would be happening during Summer Break, he laughed inwardly, without mirth.

The weekend finally rolled around, and he was ready to go somewhere that he hadn't yet planned, with his backpack and windbreaker jacket. The events from yesterday afternoon still played heavily in his mind, and he couldn't work up the excitement he wanted to feel.

That thing had to still have been looking for him. Glad he remembered to bring it, he pulled his baseball cap out of his bag, placing it snugly on his head. Not much in disguise, but anything might help.

Tony jumped when he heard a rustling noise to his left.

"Get a hold of yourself, man," Tony berated himself. It was just a damn cat sneaking around like they all do. He shook his head with a reassuring laugh. With a better resolve, he figured he'd drop by a game store before calling one of his friends. Maybe they could all catch a movie.

Not far from where he initially stood, a helmet recorded his statement, the wearer watching him leave towards the inner city. Turning away, it activated the bug it planted on the male called Schaefer. Even though the Ooman's "Uncle" was presumed missing, this one would be the next best thing. It chuckled menacingly, a low, baritone kind of noise. The Predator actively allowed the Ooman to live, testing to see if it could escape. Surprisingly, the Ooman did drop under the radar when it ran into the alleyway, but was found afterwards. The Ooman's Uncle killed the Predator's cousin, and even though having the skull of "Alan Schaefer" would have been the ultimate trophy, a relative would be the next best thing.

The hunt was on.

A/N: In case any of you are wondering, no, the Predator wasn't really trying to kill him earlier. I am aware that they have a Warrior's Code and don't kill unarmed targets with weapons. Till' next time.