NOTE: PREDATOR IS A TRADEMARK OF 21ST CENTURY FOX ENTERTAINMENT. I DO NOT HOLD ANY CLAIMS OF OWNERSHIP. THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE FICTIONAL AND ANY PARALLELS TO ACTUAL PERSONS OR EVENTS IS STRICTLY COINCIDENTAL.

I. Into the Pot

The sky was as clear blue as I have ever seen it. With a sight like that, who would think that such terrible things could happen anywhere on this world. Well, I could sure tell you that terrible things do happen and not just from your fellow man.

The hum of the helicopter was comforting. After the last two days of being frightened, watching your friends killed and fighting for your survival, fatigue can set in. But I am getting ahead of myself. It all started four days ago…

"I said I wanted those fucking sentry guns up by 1800 hours. It is now 1940, what the fuck have you been doing for the last 2 hours and 40 minutes?" I yelled at Johansson and Ridder.

"Ah hell Sarge, what is up your ass?" replied Ridder.

"LT is breathing down my neck, he wants these damn things set up for some reason. Not like we are going to get attacked by anything soon and all. We are in the forrest which happens to be the middle of no where. But I have to act like I have some control over you fuck heads so get a move on with that damn sentry weapon. I don't want to hear any more sit from that guy, he gives me the willies," I said.

"Sure thing Boss, but do we have to do it now?" Johansson questioned. I gave frowned at him as he started to laugh at my inability to instill some kind of work ethic into his life.

I walked away and heard Ridder and Johansson working on the sentry. I headed towards the control tent. This 'war-game' was being conducted under the control of a three-star general and was said to have a 'tactical importance' to the security of our country. To me, I thought this whole thing was a waste of my time. We camp out in the woods for a couple of days, run around playing war games with our 'enemy' which were Special Forces. Dropping a squad of Army regulars in with those SF types was very shaky of a deal.

"Sir, I have just checked on the status of the sentry weapons. It seems that there was some kind of mechanical problem. Johansson and Ridder have diagnosed the problem and will have the guns up ASAP," I reported.

"Very well," gruffed the LT. I was just assigned this guy by division. Apprently my old LT got into a car accident and is up in the hospital in a full body cast. This new LT wouldn't be my first choice. He was a seasoned vet, fighting in Desert Storm I and II; however I can't really place his age. He is a white male, about 5'5" mildly built and he looks to be in his early 40's late 30's and very much a hard ass.

"Sir, Is there anything else that needs to be squared away? If not, I request permission to take this time to brief the rest of my squad on the conditions and rules of the war game, sir." I asked.

"Carry on soldier." Was his reply.

I walked to the large tent that was housing my men. We were a ragtag sort of group. My squad consisted of five persons, six including myself. We had our machine gunner Johansson, three grunts with M16's which included Baxter, Simmons and Costello, our medic Ridder and I carrying an M4 Carbine with ACOG 4x scope and bipod undercarriage.

Sitting inside were, Baxter, Simmons and Costello. Baxter was a scrawny little kid from Texas who joined the Army to get away from his domineering parents. He had hazel eyes and blond hair and stood about 5'9" off the ground. Simmons was a direct contrast to Baxter who was fairly short, but a stocky guy. He had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. Costello was 6'3" tall, had black hair and wasn't exactly muscular but not a wimp either. I have brown eyes, black hair, stand 5'11" and have a medium muscle build.

"Howdy Sarge," Baxter greeted "so whats going on?"

"Hi Baxter. Costello, Simmons gather 'round. Alright men, it seems that we are in a war game situation facing some Special Forces squad," groans emitted out of all three men "I am told that we are to engage the enemy in quadrant E5 during the morning hours of tomorrow. Before you ask the sentry gun is being set up in case they make a sneak attack during the night. We will be using MILES gear which I am sure everyone here is familiar. Any questions?"

"Yea," Costello said, "so we are expected to take out a squad of Special Forces? What chicken shit idea is this? We are going to get our asses handed to us. Requesting to call in sick in the morning."

"Shut up Costello, you will do what you are told and like it. I don't like the whole idea either, but this came directly from a three star. Now, I don't have to tell you what kind of trouble a general with a hard-on can cause you, so I think its best we go out their and die in the most gruesome and militaristic way humanly possible. So we can claim we at least tried," I answered. "If there are no more questions carry on and try to get some shut-eye. Tomorrow we all die."

I layed down in my bunk and dosed off. The next thing I know I am being shaken awake by Baxter.

"Sarge, sarge! Did you hear that?" He asked.

"Hear what, shut up and go to bed," I answered.

"Sir, I thought I heard gunfire and shots coming from the forrest," he said.

"I am ordering you to go back to bed. Its just your nerves getting to you. Don't worry we will get some of those SF guys tomorrow, now lemme alone so I can think clearly in the morning," I said, pointing to his bunk.

I was never bothered during the rest of the night, however I thought I also heard sounds coming from the forrest. I just thought it was nerves, but I was dead wrong.