Blade Runner vs. Predator
December 7, 2017
Los Angeles, California
3 A.M.
A biting cold atmosphere was sweeping across the industrial district of Los Angeles. A man sits on a mattress inside of a decaying structure, an old, abandoned textile mill. He stares down at the floor; rows of paste are applied on the floor where the tiles are missing. Outside, a screen of blue tint and red grid is scanning an industrial landscape. Loud and heavy machinery being operated autonomously with smokestacks above them have fire emanating from them under a brown, red and orange sunset. The red grid then expands back onto the view of the entire screen again after dismissing the smokestack and the blue screen slides over to a cluster of orange blots staining the monochrome screen. The red grid then falls sharply into the area of the cluster. A black bar with a wavelength frequency pans into the screen from the left side. The wavelength flashes and buzzes until it gets a concrete signal. Audio begins to be fed through the audio bar. A loud noise of a pipe hitting the ground makes the waves expand and intensify, expanding wildly. "God dammit. I dropped it again."
One specific orange oval blot bends and contorts itself and shortly returns to its normal position. An analysis is again performed on the cluster; prompts and smaller interfaces stretch out from the highlighted cluster. Bio signatures are found, yet none of them have biosynth traces. The red grid flashes back onto the whole screen and the prompts and scans disappear. The screen then shifts to a single lone orange blot, it's grid zooms in and scans are entered and read by the screen. Bio signals are being emitted, but the bio signals are putting off a synthetic trace. The genome on the orange blot is confirmed as a biosynthetic signal. The blue screen turns off and the red grid disappears. The screen is now a clear vision of an industrial landscape atop of a smokestack. The screen then shakes and flashes around the environment with the sound of sliding and shifting on a concrete surface until a different view is displayed on the screen.
Somewhere else in the industrial district, a black haired man in a suit is emerging from a car and walking to a textile factory. He walks to the entrance and steps over the door, which has been knocked down and walks to the middle of the lobby of the factory. He stares down at the paste lines in the missing tile spaces on the floor. The man opens the door at the back of the entrance room and walks into an office overlooking a field of decommissioned machines and conveyor belts. Click. His flashlight turns on, allowing him to get a view of the machinery before him. He examines the machinery by stepping out of the office overlook and walking down grate stairs. Inspection of the rotary textile spinner is cut short when a blue light beams out from behind the man briefly before dissipating. Immediately after, the window of a room above the office shatters with violent fervor making a loud shattering sound as the bits of glass land on the ground at once He looks up at the room above the office where he just was and sprints to the grate stairs after he hears the sound of rustling and pounding, followed by continuous grunts until all noises are stopped by a scream and the clanging of a pipe falling to the floor. He races up the stairs to the second level and a noise comes from the room again, a crackling and crunching noise. He reaches the door to the room of conflict and shakes the knob. Locked. In a panic, the man puts his shoulder up to the door and rams it with full force. The hinges of the door snap and the door gives way and crashes onto the ground. The man now has his gun, pulled out from his holster and walks into the room. A room that was briefly filled with noises of fighting, crunching and screaming are now silent. With no sign of the man's target anywhere, he examines the entirety of the room. A mattress rests at the middle of the room beside a metal pipe. A large wet bloodstain rests on the mattress with blood drips coming from above landing into the stain. The man raises his flashlight beam to follow the direction of where the drips come from. His flashlight's beam illuminates a body hung off the ceiling from the feet. The body's limp arms swing back and forth, hinting it's newly placed position. The body's skull removed, but the jaw remains.
The man drops his flashlight on the ground and runs out from the building. He sprints to his car, opens the door remotely and jumps into his car. He turns on his dashboard computer and types a serial number into the keypad using a small note with various serial numbers for reference and a man's voice is tuned into the computer's speaker. "Yeah, this is Dick, why'd you call, Holden?" Holden responds back to the screen "Dick, is there any other agents inside industrial?" "Not unless they're there for fun, you're the only agent on the job inside the industrial. Why do you ask? Need help with a skinjob?" "Not really, someone got to my target before I could. The guy was creative too, hung him from the ceiling from his feet. And tore his skull off…" "…Well, that's no retirement, that's just murder. This stuff is out of our hands, you should just leave. You made sure it's your Skinjob, right?" "It's in the exact same address," Holden said as he got out from his car. "…But I suppose it isn't too far fetched of a theory that it just could have been a bum squatting in the factories, I'll go ahead and check again but I don't want to, I'll call you back when I'm done." Holden then pulls a dial on the computer and turns it off.
Holden walks back to the room and scans the interior from the doorway with his dropped flashlight on the floor, illuminating a neon green splat staining the end of a pipe on a counter of broken jars. He looked at it when crouching down to grab his flashlight when he gripped it and reluctantly looked up at the mutilated body above him. "Eugh… What a mess." Although Holden knew of things like this happening in his profession, he wasn't used to it, as not a lot of people would be. He accessed the features of the body and matched them up with his depiction, although, there wasn't a lot of matches he could make, seeing that a vital part of identification was removed from his head. "Body of white male wearing factory service uniform, roughly one hundred sixty pounds and six feet one inch, carrying the fake ID of a 'Richard F. Baxter'." He recited while focusing on the body. "I've got to cut the guy down and search him." He thought. He then backed up and guided his flashlights beam up the rope that held the body. The rope was ran in multiple loops around the steel beam until it extended out from the beam and continued in a slanted angle into a cabinet. He had focused the beam on the cabinet and opened it once he reached it. A strange black triangular grapple was hooked into the wall behind the cabinet. It was fully attached in, so the blades or hooks were hidden.
"Killer was in a hurry but diligent when he hooked this thing up. This is ridiculous." He thought to himself while turning back to the body. "Well, time to cut Richard down." Holden grips the rope and holds his pistol up to the space on the rope next to his hand and fires, snapping the rope in half, causing the rope to fly across the room making the body to collapse onto the floor. Thud. Holden then looks down at the body, reaching in both pockets of the service uniform and groping. He gropes the top right pocket of the uniform and takes out a plastic card with the matching name on top of the ID card. "Yeah, this is the guy, alright...".