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.

Zarack hurtled through the dark void of space to the hunt. He braced for impact as collision with his pod, and the human vessel was imminent. It was a matter of minutes before the metal alloy that encased him shuddered intensely. He had made contact. In a bright burst of light, the hull before the pod was transformed to molten slag. The doors of the pod slid open and released the predator from his restraint. Zarack leapt from the breach, landing on the floor with the crunch of metal beneath his immense form. The corridors of the vessel were dark and narrow. Failing lights flickered as they hung loosely from the ceiling. The Yautja flickered his vision through infra-red to bio signature to night vision. There was nothing alive close by, but a mass of things not. Red painted the room that he stood, and wet lumps of flesh lay strewn across the floor. They were human, mutilated beyond recognition. Torn apart by claw and brutal strength. Among the massacre was one of them. A Xenomorph. It was an infant among its kind, barely formed into the warrior that it would become. Its tail ended in a scythe like blade and its fingers ended in long vorpal claws. It's black chitinous hide reflected the glow of the light. Sickly green blood boiled around it, dripping from bullet holes that riddled its elongated skull. Its fang lined maw was open, revealing a second smaller maw, still slick in thick red. The Xenomorph was a powerful foe indeed. The humans fought back and won, but at heavy cost. The tracking system in the reaper's helmet began blipping, three red dots on his superimposed display warned him that something was close. This creature was not alone in its attack.

The vents above the predator began to shake, the sound of claw on metal echoing from within. The creatures must have led dormant in the area after the slaughter had ensued. Zarack prepared himself, flicking three long blades from his wrist gauntlet and activating his combi-spear in a single perfected motion. He was the hunter, and they, his prey. They just didn't yet know it. Zarack roared a challenge, a deep guttural sound that reverberated around the metal hallways. The first of the Xenomorph leapt from the shadows of a vent, it's claws poised to rend the Reaper. Zarack launched his combi-spear in response, his reflexes immediate to the attack. Such was the strength of the predator, the weapon carried the creature with it. With a dying hiss and screech, the Xenomorph was impaled to a wall. It wasn't long before the other two were upon Zarack. The predator tracked the first with his tri-beam targeting system, the plasma caster on his shoulder whirring as it followed its mark. The ancient weapon hummed as plasma built up within its chamber. With nothing but a thought, the weapon was unleashed on its target. The creature was obliterated from the super charged bolt in a shower of acid blood and gore. The metal alloy of the ship steamed and boiled where ever the remains fell.

The second leapt at Zarack before he could react. The creature brought its deadly claws down on the predator, carving further gouges in his helm. Before the Xenomorph even touched the ground, the Reaper caught it in a vice-like grip around its throat. The creature flailed with claw and tail in an attempt to escape but to no avail. With all of his might, Zarack slammed the Xenomorph into the grated metal floor with a crunch. It writhed and twitched as it struggled to move its wracked body. Zarack felt the fury of his species and let it overtake him. He was not yet finished with this foe. He kicked it sprawling across the ground before obliterating it with a shot from his plasma caster. A roar of victory ended the fight, but the predator knew, that this not be the last in this hunt. He would not take trophies from these infant creatures, they were not worthy of his prowess. For there to be infants, there had to somewhere be an adult, and that would be a worthy prey.

Zarack reclaimed his combi spear from the impaled Xenomorph, its body now fallen lifeless. The predator had learned of the creature's acidic properties long ago, and so his armour and weaponry were forged of a resistant alloy. Adapting was one of the Yautja greatest strengths, and was a trait that the humans could not keep up with. Still steaming with the Xenomorph's blood and entrail, but entirely unscathed, Zarack returned the combi spear to its holster and retracted his wrist blades. The ship had gone eerily silent after the fight. Activating the holographic display on his wrist gauntlet, the layout of his hunting ground appeared before him. Several more red dots appeared, stalking the vent shafts and empty rooms. The Xenomorph, like him, were hunting. But it was not the predator that they were hunting. A room on the far side of the ship blipped with the faint signal of humans. But that was not all that caught the reaper off guard. A green blip signified that another predator was aboard the ship. This hunt would not be as simple as he had first thought.

Activating the communicator in his ornate helm, Zarack searched for the nearby Yautja's signal. In a series of clicks and growls, the Reaper warned. "This hunt is claimed. Leave."

Static burst from the responder immediately, the other predator responded simply with a deep guttural laughter.