The fading light of the sun casts long shadows across the clearing, a soft orange glow illuminating the edges of the wild terrain. The rangers, once sure-footed and confident, are now strained, their nerves frayed. Every rustling in the tall grass sends a ripple of anxiety through them. You, bound to the tree, watch in silence, the rope digging into your wrists.

They’ve been hunting for weeks now, ever since that brutal massacre of the previous hunting party. The mysterious deaths were a puzzle: the bodies, stripped of their heads, left questions. Nothing but speculation had followed in its wake.

Your eyes dart around the clearing, taking in the meticulous setup of the bear traps in the high grass, the carefully placed stakes, and the tension in the air. You can hear the rangers breathing heavily behind you, their excitement tempered by the raw fear of the unknown. They’ve positioned themselves in the trees and among the underbrush, ready to strike once the creature takes the bait — you.

And certainly, the predator appears — a shadow, invisible and fast. It strikes like a phantom, its movements swift and lethal. In moments, a ranger is taken, his scream cut short as the creature vanishes back into invisibility. Another ranger falls, blood spraying across the grass.

In the chaos, you spot your chance. The ropes, fraying from the struggle, loosen enough for you to slip free. Escaping seemed like the most intelligent to do right now, and yet are you grabbing a discarded rifle, flinging the butt of it against one of the Men that had kidnapped you. Your action, reckless as it is, has unintended consequences: the predator, already freed from one trap, sees the sudden shift in the fight. The beast, its eyes glimmering with something almost human in its calculation, shifts its focus from the rangers to you for the briefest of moments.

You expect death to fall upon you like it had to the rangers, and are instead left standing there, with the Predator rushing after another ranger already.