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Registered User
Currently Offline
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Posts: 129
Join Date: Jul 2008
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On patrol in the Jungle, the Ghost Who Walks comes across a horrid scene- a whole village slaughtered- the men skinned and hung from the trees, several women sprawled lifeless in the dirt.
In the eery silence of the scene, the Phantom examines the bodies, discovering a variety of wounds; horrible, large tears from a twin bladed weapon, gaping holes from a spear thrust, cleanly severed limbs and curious burns.
Suddenly, the Ghost of the Phantom's own father appears and warns him to duck. The Phantom dives to the side as a huge ball of flaming plasma flies past, striking a hut and setting it ablaze.
Rolling in the dirt, the Phantom fires his twin .45s in the direction of the shot. 840 grain bullets begin dancing off the Predator’s armor, distorting it’s cloaking field. A few lucky rounds fidn their way to the plasma shoulder cannon, disabling it.
The Phantom rolls to his feet and sprints behind a hut as he reloads his .45s. The Predator meanwhile has drawn his spear and lets it fly- his heat vision clearly making out the shape of the Phantom crouched behind the hut.
Deflected by the grass and stick structure of the hut, the spear goes wide, barely scraping the phantom’s arm. Teh Ghost Who Walks winces at the pain from a wide gash in his left arm, but jumps to his feet and sprints away from the hut and into the jungle.
The Predator leaps to the ground from his tree, and sprints after the Phantom- crashing through the hut with ease. Scooping up his spear, the Predator ignores the collapse of his cloaking field and chases after his prey.
The Phantom runs in a wide circle through the Jungle, his pistols re-holstered. With Tarzan-like dexterity, he springs from root to trunk to low tree limb, then begins leaping from tree to tree. Eventually, the Phantom eases against the trunk of a large tree, facing back toward the village.
In seconds, the Phantom sees his pursuer- the armored Predator, spear in hand, crashing through the brush. The Predator comes to a stop, carefully examining the foliage, and looking up into the trees. The armored gaze of the Predator eventually settles in the Phantom’s direction and locks there. Reaching up to his gauntlet the Predator then strokes the ornate metal and promptly flickers and fades away.
Wondering if this is some sort of supernatural being, the Phantom lies quietly in position, waiting for something else to happen. Keen eyes eventually make out the glimmer of distorted air where the Predator had been. The monster was not gone- only rendered invisible.
Leaping from his tree, the Phantom unleashes a double-barreled volley of .45 fury. Rounds hammer into the Predator, some glancing off thick, alien metal, some finding their mark in alien flesh. Amid a splatter of flourescent green blood, the Predator howls in fury and lets fly his spear.
For the Phantom, the spear is an unwavering missile of death, appearing out of thin air and slamming into him just as he lands on the ground from his leap. Sharp metal rips through costume and flesh and the Ghost Who Walked is thrown back off his feet.
The Predator decloaks and walks toward the Phantom, who is now suspended by the spear- it’s shaft sunk deep into a jungle tree’s trunk. Both combatants are bleeding from wounds.
The Predator stops before the Phantom and removes it’s mask. The horrible alien visage is revealed to the Phantom as his life pours away with his blood.
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