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Welcome back to FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY! Today is the final fight of our Alien Bracket! Who will move on? Will it be Predator? Or will the tenacious little Critters pull another upset! For a rundown on the rules, click here! To catch up on past fights click here, and then type in FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY!  


Next Friday I will announce our upcoming bracket and then the fights will continue the following week! Let’s get things started!  





The deadliest hunter in all of existence, the Predator won its first two fights impressively. Two different Predators in two vastly different situations that came out on top due to their superior instincts and fierce training.  


The Xenomorph fell first, in round 1. Next came The Thing. Using wit and devastating weaponry, the Predator came out on top. (To the dismay of some of you out there, I know…) If there is one thing to be said of the Yautza, it’s that they always come to fight.  






The Critters were the underdog of the bracket. People sleep on the little guys and forget how savage they can be. Sure, the movies were silly, but there’s nothing funny about a ball of Crites rolling your ass over.  


The Crites defeated JoJo the Klownzilla in their first fight, proving that size isn’t always an advantage. In their second fight, they stripped Sil to the bone before her healing factor could kick in, suffering a few casualties in the process.   




               He awakens to the sound of voices echoing in his skull. Two men. (Not bad...) His vision is blurry at first. He can feel his heart beating in his head. The light shining down from directly above him is bright, and aimed in his direction. The two men speak as he tries to keep up with what they are saying. 


“What the hell do you think it is?”  

“I have no fu*king idea.” The second man's voice is louder, more boisterous. He’s obviously in command.  

“Do you think this is what her email was about?” 

“If I don’t know what the fu*k it is, then how in the hell would I know if it’s what she emailed me about?”  

“I don’t know, I just thought...”  

“Well don’t.” interrupted the louder man. “We don’t pay you to think. In fact, quite the opposite.” 

“Yes, sir.”  

“I want an answer to that question, though. ASAP.” 

“Did you manage to salvage her laptop? Any of her data?” 

“No. Because when I got there... there was nothing but a giant fu*king hole in the ground!” 

“Do you think it was her? That destroyed the lab, I mean?”  

“I think,” says the man in charge, “that that’s enough thinking for now.” 

“Yes, sir.”  

“When the Dissection team arrives, I reckon we’ll get some more answers as to what this thing is. For now, there’s an                    old friend I need to reach out to.” 

“What about our... other guests.” 

“Simple. Make sure they don’t get out.” 


The boss man looks at him questioningly.  

“I mean, yes sir. Sorry. Sir.” 


The Predator sits completely still as the louder man leaves the room. Waiting. Once in his office, he picks up his phone. This wasn’t a call he could use his cell for. He needed a secure line. He dials 9 numbers, hesitates a moment then with a sigh, he dials the last digit.  


“Hello?” The voice on the other end sounds aged, weathered. The accent is thick. “Who is this?” 

“Hello... Dutch.”  

“What do you want?” 

“That thing you fought in the jungle. Back in the ’80s.” 

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” 

“I think we found another one.” 

“What do you want from me, asshole. I’m an old man.” 

“We captured it. For observation and uh, analysis. We’re holding it at...” 

“You listen to me, you fool! One of those things took out my entire team! Trained soldiers. The best there was!” 

“We have it under control.” 

“Are you hearing me? My entire team! We took out hundreds of enemy combatants and just one of those things took us apart like child's play. You fu*ked up.” 

“What are you saying, Dutch? Spit it out, old man!” 

‘I’m saying,” he pauses for a moment as if remembering what he was going to say. “I’m saying that if you really have one of those devils trapped... then it’s because it wants to be trapped.” 


The conversation is interrupted as the phone cuts out along with the lights. The backup generator kicks in after a couple of seconds, restoring most of the power. The alarm sounds and red lights flash in the hallway. 


“Now what?” He heads back to the observation room, ready to tear his subordinate a new asshole. If he was vaping in there again, he was getting sent back all the way to freaking Bootcamp. He opens the door expecting to see a stupid smile on the kids face.  


Instead, the kid’s body is laying on the ground, decapitated in a pool of his own blood. The blood is dark and thick with clots. Gobs of it are stuck together where it had congealed. His spine had been completely removed with the head and tossed aside like an abandoned child’s toy.  


He was no stranger to violence, nor did he consider himself a squeamish man, but the sight of it makes him sick. He let’s go of his lunch (and dinner) right there, on the floor. Then it hits him. The panic. Realizing the creature was no longer strapped to the examination table, it hits him like a bucket of ice water.  


His eyes desperately search the room, landing on the locker that the alien’s equipment had been secured in. It was smashed open, its contents emptied. This is bad he thinks to himself as he takes in what he is looking at, and although only a mere ten seconds pass; it feels like an eternity.  


The plan was a gamble, but it paid off. When the men came upon him in the wilderness, he was injured, frozen and half dead. His ship was completely obliterated in the blast and he had no wrist device to communicate back home with. 

He had only two options to choose from when they showed up with their guns drawn. Fight in his weakened state or feign capture and allow them to think he was weaker than he was until he healed. He chose the latter in the hopes that he could hack some of their equipment and get a message back home to Yautza Prime. 


They would come and get him. They would have to. Besides, it wasn’t like he could take one of the humans' primitive ships. Those things can’t even make it off the planet they were built on, worthless heaps of junk. 

So, he allowed himself to be captured and taken back to their base. It wasn’t hard to take out the first man. He was terrified and put up absolutely no fight. Probably for the best because he still wasn’t feeling 100%.  


He removed the man’s spine from his body the moment he had the chance and reacquired his bio-helmet, plasma cannon, and smart disc. That was easy enough, but now to find a way to phone home...  


He searches the room, there’s a computer but it’s outdated and of no use to him. A window looks onto a large storage area. The far wall is lined with what looks like metal cubbies, each of them about three feet tall and three feet wide.  


Investigating the area, he looks for anything he can use to help him get home when suddenly his helmet picks up a heat signature. Then two. Then several more in a row... 


The man looks up, catching something move from the corner of his eye. His heart skips a beat and tries to escape from his mouth. There it was. The son of a bitch was in the “warehouse”. They called it that because, in appearance, it was very similar to your average warehouse. It also had a bunch of metal cubbies that you would assume are for storage, lining the wall in the back. What they stored, however, was nothing you would find in your average warehouse.  


He heads to the computer on the table in front of the window. The Predator turns toward him, their eyes meeting. A pane of glass the only thing separating the two.  


“You didn’t think that you’re our only guest, did you?” He points to the metal cubbies in the back. “Let me introduce to you to another alien race. They’re small, yes. But I assure you that their appetite is quite large.” 


The man presses a button on the computer keyboard and instantly there is a clicking sound. A locking mechanism being disengaged. With only the emergency lights on, the room was fairly dark. The front of all the cubbies lift open, ten of them, all at the same time.  


The Predator shifts his attention to the back of the room where the little cells were. Inside each one was a pair of glowing red eyes, looking back hungrily.  


“I’ll be back to clean up your bones. That’s all they seem to leave behind...” Before he can finish his sentence the Predator’s Smart Disc crashes through the window and lodges itself between the man’s nose and eyes, taking the top of his head clean off. It then circles back, landing in his hand perfectly. A flawless execution.  


He turns his attention back to the cells on the far wall. All of them now empty. His eyes scan the entire room, calmly and thoroughly. His head hurts and his palms were beginning to sweat. His heart is beating rapidly. Five heat signatures are coming from the left. Five from the right. He aims his cannon, waiting as they get closer.  


The cannon fires as the first five approach, hitting them directly as they roll toward him. The five Critters are almost completely disintegrated upon impact. The Predator turns to the other side, ready to fire again but the Critters are fast. They split in different directions as the cannon fires again, missing entirely this time.  


One of the Critters manages to get its teeth into the Yautza’s leg but is immediately ripped off and torn in half. The Predator lets out a battle cry as the adrenaline pumps through his veins. Blood is splattered up the front of his body.  

He releases his gauntlets, ready for more. Suddenly, he falls to one knee, his head swimming, his vision blurring in and out.  

The four remaining Critters gather around him, speaking to each other and lunging one at a time. With every lightning-fast strike, they remove pieces of the Predators flesh. His green, luminous blood stains the floor like the contents of a broken glow stick.  


He swings his gauntlet, surprised at how heavy it feels. Four Critters become three. The Crites back up, then circle around him again. He staggers to his feet, almost collapsing in the process. One of the Crites rolls in fast but gets kicked in the tiny little face. This sends him flying back and into the wall hard. He doesn’t get up.  


The two remaining Crites' attack, infuriated to the point of rage. They rush in fast, then at the last second, one rolls between the Predators legs and goes right up his back. It gnaws into the bio-helmet, damaging it beyond repair. The Predator grabs a hold of the little guy, then throws him to the cement ground. His foot comes down hard, squashing the tiny Crite like a grape. His breathing is becoming more labored and he once again takes a knee, removing the broken helmet.  


He looks up as the last little Critter comes barreling at him. A ball of fur and teeth. He isn’t sure he can even lift his gauntlet at this point. It was tough even keeping his eyes open. He wanted to sleep. Oh, how he wanted to sleep... 


He wobbles, then falls to the floor. The Critter licks its lips, imagining its next meal. It comes closer and closer as it grows with excitement, opening its mouth wide. 2 rows of razor-sharp teeth line both jaws. It closes its eyes, anticipating that sweet, first bite.  


As its teeth sink in, 2 hideous and malformed limbs burst from the Predator’s back. They grab a hold of the Critter and squeeze.  They squeeze until the Crite pops like an overfilled water balloon.  


A perfect plan so far. It was able to get important people to come to Antartica. Then, it came back to those important people's base, unbeknownst to them of course. Now, all it needed to do was find an exit and a body that blended in. Shouldn’t be too hard. After all, this was D.C. Their capital... 






Come on guys! Did you really think that the Thing was going down that easily? Ok, it’s like this; I do think that the Predator would beat the Thing in a fight. Hands down. The problem lies in what happens after that fight. So, I wanted it to be like what would really happen. 


The Predator defeated The Thing by exploding his own ship. He won that fight. Fair and square. The Thing was eradicated. During the said fight, however, blood was spilled. Remember, the Thing functions on a cellular level. It changes you, cell by cell. Coming into contact with ANY of it pretty much means your screwed. Even one tiny drop of blood. 


In short, you might beat the Thing, but you’ll probably get infected by doing so. The Predator is my favorite in this bracket, and the deadliest warrior by far. It pains me greatly to see him eliminated (basically by a disease) because he is such a contender for the crown. As much as I want to see a Jason VS Predator match, I feel like this is how it would have ACTUALLY played out. Sorry Predator, you would have had it too! 


What do you guy’s think? Am I way off? Are you as sad as me to see the Predator go? Or should the Crites have pulled the upset again, taking the bracket? Yell at me in the comments and don’t forget to upvote your favorite fighter! (Today I will add 3!) Until next time, keep on geekin’ on my friends! 


Joshua “Prometheus” Scafidi 

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