AN: This is another gift for a friend, this one is a little late, but it's a graduation gift. The character is one of the characters from an Alien Vs Predator bughunt thing I've been running this summer. He is one scary character though.

xXx

Xander smirked as he snatched up a few of the cheaper weapons available, he didn't have much cash available, but he wanted to have some fun though.

Six waterpistols that could easily be spray painted to look right, a pair of swords, a few pieces of armor, and his military fatigues along with a silver wig and a pair of sunglasses.

It didn't take long to dress as a soldier, of sorts, a marine who saw the kind of action that would have given a vampire nightmares.

xXx

The hunter smiled slightly as he rose to his feet, he must have been conned into a drinking binge with Twitch. A brief smirk crossed his slightly darker than tanned lips as he remembered how Sarge had chewed the cowboy out during his last try.

It felt good to be on earth again, deep space missions were things that always felt draining, especially when Xenomorphs were involved. His genetic ties to the bugs was something that wasn't exactly something he was proud of, but that part of his genetics was something that gave him some major advantages in a combat situation.

The screaming drew his attention to his surroundings as he pulled his sunglasses free of his pocket and slipped them on, making sure to cover his eyes, not that he really needed any light to actually see.

He moved at a full dash that would have made a slayer jealous befor vaulting onto a tree branch with a calm ease. His fingertips brushing the well used metal of his custom pistols, weapons designed to handle acid easily.

A free hand slipped his TacComms unit out and up to his ear, folding the overlay in front of his left eye as it powered up.

"Damn it, this is definately not Earth," he muttered to himself as he tried to interface with the CMC Communications Satelite, "Unless..."

He trailed off as he remembered the odd flash of light, "..I'm either in the past, or else I'm in some other dimension, damn it, Hammer should be shot if he tries messing with the hyperdrive again, sure it was necessary, but how else did I end up in suburbia before..."

He heard a scream that somehow seemed familiar, and definately female.

"Not Cloud or Booker," he whispered as he tried to place the voice, "Couldn't be Maggie, or Christy..."

The last name brought back memories of the woman who had given her life to save him from the nightmares of the instalation when he was little.

He spotted a screaming girl in a strange dress running from some of the oddest creatures he had ever seen, and they seemed dangerous, and possibly somethings he could work his anger out on.

Swooping to the ground, he left cracks in the pavement as he landed in a crouch and started walking calmly towards the onrushing blonde.

His hands moved to the hilts of his twin blades, bare fingers brushing the hand bound swords and pulling them free with a flourish that made them sing.

For a moment he remembered learning how to use these weapons, a gift from one of the few, other non-humans with the 13th Squad. The Yautja they all referred to as Tusk, the one who gave him the same mark he had given to blooded warriors.

He remembered recieving the blades when his friend after a mission where the Predator was mortally wounded. A memoir of a long lost friend, one who was almost a father to him.

He sidestepped the girl and spun both blades in a low arc, using the flats of the blades he seemed to clear the street almost instantaniously.

"Well that was easy," he muttered to himself, "No real challenge, and definately not worth killing now."

He turned his head slightly to the girl who seemed somewhat dumbfounded at the sword wielding, CMC officer. But then again, it seemed to be less insane than half of the shit his Squad had been through.

"Damn it, my life is so fucking screwed!" he hissed to himself, "Got to tell Booker to add time travel to that list of hers."

He calmly wiped the blades clean and sheathed them as a part of him wondered if the synthetic had already experienced time travel, it wouldn't suprise him.

"God I hope the others are alright," he stammered as the girl looked shocked at his language, and he started thinking about the time period when that type of clothing was commonplace.

"Look lady, I'm not a fucking saint, and the things I fight make demons seem friendly," he said, "So don't get on my case about my language."

He shook his head slowly as the girl started screaming at him, it was going to be a very long night.

xXx

A half hour later found the soldier getting seriously annoyed at the girl, but he couldn't leave someone defenseless behind in this hellhole. He was also getting annoyed by the constant attacks by these pathetic creatures.

He heard the girl scream yet again at something behind him and he drew his pistol and took aim.

"Demon!" the girl screamed while pointing at a car.

"Why me?" the hunter moaned as he holstered the firearm and turned to face the girl, "That's not a demon, the damn thing isn't even alive, it's like a horse or carriage, or something of the sort."

He looked up at the moon with a scowl, "Why couldn't I at least have an APC?"

Then he looked at the girl again, "And why the hell do people think the medieval period was so romantic?"

Then he noticed another human running towards him, well, he thought she was human until she walked through a trashcan.

"Ah fuck," he muttered to himself, "And a ghost to make the wierdness complete, I hope!"

He just shook his head slightly and wondered how he ended up in an episode of the Twilight Zone, or at least in a world wierder than his own.

For a moment he checked the power supply he wore, the modified powerpack that could supply him with all the power he would need for years was still at full charge, and the modified Yautja generator was operating better than it really ought to, of course it was built by Booker and Tusk while being kept well away from Hammer's tinkering.

God he needed a drink of something, preferably something stronger than a human could take, something like Tusk's private stock. Now that was some rotgut liquer that would actually let him get drunk, something his own unorthidox biology normally didn't allow.

Then he saw something else, some white haired humanoid that didn't feel right to him, not to mention the thing didn't show up on thermal. That jarred some memories of the only other critters he knew of that didn't show up on thermals.

"Anyone know what looks human but doesn't have any body heat, and if it's any challenge?" he asked as his hand triggered something attached to his right wrist that expanded into a rather large disc that had a lot in common with a circular saw blade.

"Vampires!" the ghost yelled, "You can kill them!"

"Good, O need to work out some of this agression," he stated with a truely demonic smirk as the predator Smart Disk fired into the crowd of targets with a high pitched whine.

A second later the weapon returned to the hunters hand with ease, though it missed the white haired one.

"Now to start the party," he commented while stashing away the blade.

He walked fowards slowly, casually unsnapping the latches of his coat before dropping it on the asphalt with an audible thud that seemed to shock Spike.

The hunter still wore almost standard issue armor and loose clothes under it, numerous smaller weapons were strapped to him in sheathes and holsters, though the biggest were the twin blades that seemed larger in comparison without his coat.

"Come on punk," he chuckled at the vampire, "Legends say that leeches are tough, so this should be fun."

He dodged a punch with a casual ease, not even moving his feet as he grabbed the bloodsucker's wrist and twisted, hard.

The sound of bones breaking echoed down the street as the two fighters broke apart, well, the hunter stepped back and Spike hit the ground on his back.

"Pathetic really," the fighter appraised, "Faster, stronger, and more brutal than an untrained human, but against me, you're a gnat just waiting to be swatted."

He sidestepped another attack, "You do have some skill, but no more than the average bar room brawler, and it seems that you have far to much rage to know when to cool off."

A lucky punch managed to get through and break his sunglasses.

Reaching up, the figure removed the broken glasses from his face and shrugged as he tossed them aside, "So the mosquito does have a bite, I was starting to wonder."

The hunter grimaced slightly, the vampire had actually managed to draw blood with his punch, something that it shouldn't have been capable of.

It was at that moment that Spike realized that he had drawn blood, but not in the way he normally would have. His hand seemed to be on fire where the red liquid was eating into his hand.

"Bloody!" he shrieked while trying to get it off of him.

"Sorry, I forgot the acid blood," he chuckled, "Stuff eats through pretty damn near anything, or so I've been told."

The creature seemed even more pathetic as he clawed at his arm, trying to stop the damage.

The hunter grabbed him by the throat and hauled him upwards to dangle just out of reach from the ground.

Spikes eyes widened as he saw the completely obsidian eyes that seemed to pierce his soul.

"You are one of the most pathetic parasites I have ever seen," the other commented, "But I guess I owe you my name, after all, you did manage to draw blood."

The smirk wasn't one that Spike enjoyed seeing, it was one he often gave those he was torturing.

"My name is Dante," the hunter laughed, "Named for someone who went to hell and back, of course, hell has got nothing on some of the places I've been, or demons against what I have faced, make sure they give you the same room I sent the Xenomorphs."

And then Dante dropped the vampire, drew one of his blades, and beheaded the leech.

"Ashes to ashes," he whispered with a glance skywards, "Dust to dust, eh, Padre, guess you were right about demons."

He sheathed his blade with a calm motion as he grabbed his coat and pulled out a pair of sunglasses that seemed identical to the destroyed pair.

"All to easy."

He smirked slightly as he turned towards the two girls, "Now that was fun, what's next?"

Dante felt the power within him, the rage of the creatures that gave him most of his power, a moment of fury as he felt Sister die in the conflagration of the stations destruction. Memories echoed through him as he felt that power surge through him at violence.

It was a drug to him, something highly addictive.

His face was fully healed, the almost paranormal regeneration rate of his other kind made manifest in the absence of any damage now.

A part of his realized that while he was not truely human, he couldn't indulge his non-human heritage without risking his humanity.

He was a hybrid, half human and half Xenomorph, one of the few recorded, though he was the closest connected to his Xenomorph half.

The death, destruction, and mayhem that had filled his life was something that made him who and what he was. The mark on his right shoulder gave him full authority as a blooded hunter to the Yautja, and his earned rank of Colonel in the Colonial Marine Corps gave him authority almost everywhere else. And to his enemies, he was a nightmare and death mixed into one nasty little package where all semblance of pity or mercy had been left out.

He was death itself for his enemies.

Then he overheard the ghost mutter something about costumes being the only thing that made any sort of sense.

"Now where were these costumes acquired?" he asked with interest.

xXx

He had managed to leave the two with someone they called Angel. The being was another vampire, but aparently on their side. The guy still made him nervous, but he went along with it on warning of disembowling the leech if anything happened to the two.

Another thing was him kneecapping a pirate and disabling some strange dog creature before he'd reached his current location, which was on the roof of the costume shop that was responsible for this mess.

He hissed slightly as he hit the ground, his mind using a slightly different mode to let his look for his prey.

The place was mostly empty as he slipped in without a sound, crawling on the ceiling as he did so.

His instincts were going off as he positioned himself above the human that seemed to be responsible for this mess, then he hissed louder.

"No..." Ethan stammered before he was yanked upwards to dangle by his collar from the hunter on the ceiling.

"Now then, you can tell me what is going on, or..." Dante stated, "...I get creative."

The mage spilled his guts instantaniously as the being seemed to snicker.

"Game over men," he cackled as he tossed the mage through the statue, shattering it, "Game over!"

A flash of energy flooded the room and the hunter hit the floor in a heap, twitching slightly.

xXx

Power, it was something that he had now, the former human mused, nothing could take it from him now.

He was truely the bringer of death and destruction to the darkness, the newest nightmare to the demons.

But he knew that he was not alone.

Dante would never have abandoned his squad, and Xander could never abandon his friends.

xXx

An Uknown Number Of Centuries Later...

Dante groaned as he crawled out of the cryosleep pod and glanced around the Cassius' cryobay.

"What a dream," he muttered to himself, "What a god-damned, mother fucking dream."

"Dante," he heard Sarge yell, holding a small package.

"Yeah," the hunter responded while stretching and grabbing his coat, "What's up?"

"Package, apparently the things ancient, and for your eyes only..." the massive smartgunner commented while handing it to him, "What ever the fuck it is, gotta be worth something."

He opened the package and his jaw dropped, a pair of familiar, broken sunglasses sat inside with a letter.

"No fucking way," he commented, "No bloody fucking way!"

He turned and started to head towards the lounge, "Booker! You're not going to believe this!"

xXx

AN2: Dante is a hybrid similar to Ripley in ALIEN: Resurection, though he has far more Xenomorph traits than Ripley did.