[Isabelle is pointing her rifle at Royce, Nikolai and Cuchillo]
Royce: You want to lower the weapon?
Isabelle: [Isabelle shakes her head] I've never seen this jungle. And I've seen most.
Nikolai: All right, you think this is Asia? Maybe Africa?
Isabelle: Too hot for this time of year. And the topography is all wrong. Amazon, maybe. I saw more parachutes.
Royce: [to Noland who is wearing a Predator mask] What the fuck are you?
Noland: [Removes mask] I'm alive. You talk too loud. Smelled you since you got here. If I can smell you, if I can hear you, they can, too. Storm coming soon. This way.
Isabelle: Wait. Who are you?
Noland: [in sing-song voice] Noland, run away, live to fight another day.
Noland: I'm the one that got away. The one you don't fuck with.
Royce: Now, let's find a way off this fucking planet.
Isabelle: I saw more parachutes.
Royce: Which way?
Royce: So I can figure out who threw me out of a fuckin' airplane.
Stans: How long have you been here, man?
Noland: Uh... Seven seasons, I think.
[responding to his imaginary friend]
Noland: What? Ten? Damn.
Stans: [the group enters Noland's hideout] Wow, what a shithole. You live here?
Noland: Oh, no. No. This is my summer home. I winter in the Riviera. The schools are so much nicer there. And the men... Ooh, la, la! By the way, you're welcome.
[Hanzo finds the Samurai Katana]
Hanzo: This is old. Very old. They've been doing this for a long time.
Edwin: So you speak English.
Edwin: Why don't you say more?
Hanzo: Because I talk too much.
[holds up his left hand to reveal his pinky and ring finger have been chopped off]
Noland: [to his imaginary friend] You see the shit you've gotten us into, man? I told you that. You never listen to me, though. Six more. Six more fucking mouths to feed. I can barely stand living with you.
Noland: [shouting] How am I gonna live with them, too?
[Stans jumps on Berserker's back and starts stabbing him repeatedly]
Stans: Die, you space faggot! Who do you think you're dealing with, hoss? Is that all you've got?
[to the group]
Stans: GO! GO!
[Berserker throws Stans off of himself]
Stans: [laughing maniacally] Come on. Come on! COME ON!
Noland: Anyway, there's two different types of them out there. Hmm? Now, they're similar, but they're different. It's kind of like the difference between dogs and wolves. The one's that are running things up there, the larger ones, hunt the smaller ones. It's some kind of blood feud, I guess. Been going on for a long time.
Royce: They do this just for sport?
Noland: Oh, yeah, they bring in fresh meat season after season. I mean, shit you wouldn't believe. Bring it in, hunt it and kill it. In that order.
[Celebrating Nikolai's killing of the Tracker Predator]
Stans: We killed it. We killed it. We killed it! We fucking... We fucking killed it. We killed it. Whoo! We fucking killed it. Huh? Who's your daddy now, motherfucker? Who's your daddy now, motherfucker? Hunt my dick, bitch!
Noland: Anyway, every once in a while, once of us kills one of them. And, let me tell you, that's when they get interested. See, they learn quick. They adapt. They develop a whole new set of skills. They come back the next season in threes, always in threes. Their armor might've changed, or their weapons have changed, or their tactics have changed. It's amazing
Nikolai: So, it's like evolution. They're trying to make themselves into better killers.
Noland: Mmm hmm.
Royce: You said they come back.
Noland: They got a ship.
Royce: A ship?
Noland: Yeah. It's 30 yards from their camp.
[to his imaginary friend]
Noland: I told you they wouldn't see it. I told you they wouldn't.
Noland: You want to survive? You dig in deep. You stay hid.
Stans: Yeah, well, we're gonna go with door number two. How do we get out of this valley?
Noland: Oh. Ten seasons. First two seasons... No, three seasons I was there, I was walking in the same direction, trying to reach the edge of the preserve.
Noland: Let me tell you something, there ain't no edge of the preserve.
Royce: Maybe you and your friend wanna tell me about that ship.
Noland: Let's see. That's a brilliant idea. Brilliant. The whole time I've been here, it never occurred to me to commandeer the alien spacecraft. But I wouldn't know how to fly it. He would. Of course, you know how to fly it?
Royce: I'll give it a shot.
Noland: [laughs] Well, I'm gonna get some sleep. No noise. They're out there. They're always out there. Water in there. Help yourself. All of you.
Isabelle: Hey, we need to rest.
Royce: So rest.
Isabelle: You look like you could use it too.
[Royce keeps walking, ignoring Isabelle]
Isabelle: You got a name?
Royce: Look, I'm sorry. You want to play scout leader? Great. You want to follow me? Fine. But I'm not doing this... I'm better on my own.
Isabelle: Want to see something fucked up?
Isabelle: [Isabelle shows Royce a make-shift compass which constantly spins]
Royce: Well between that and the sun, I'd say we have a real problem.
Isabelle: What about the sun?
Royce: It hasn't moved since we got here.
Isabelle: What do you think is really going on?
Royce: What do I think?
[Royce looks to Nikolai]
Royce: Spetznatz Alpha Group
Royce: Los Zetas Cartel Enforcer
Royce: R.U.F., that's a death-squad from Sierra Leone
Royce: Yakuza Inagawa-kai
Royce: The FBI's Most Wanted
Royce: and... him. They're all heavy-hitters, he doesn't belong.
Isabelle: Belong to what?
Royce: I'd say we were chosen.
Isabelle: What about you?
Royce: What about me?
Isabelle: You know the jungle, all the players. I'm guessing Ex-Military, Black-Ops, probably Mercenary.
Royce: You got a problem with that?
Isabelle: Not at the moment.
Royce: What's the last thing you remember, Nikolai?
Nikolai: War. Yeah. I was with the Chechnya. And then there was a light. And then I... Then I woke up and I was...
Cuchillo: Falling. Yeah, same thing. I was in Baja. And then there was a light. And then chingao.
Nikolai: Where are we?
Royce: Maybe she knows.
[Royce directs his gaze, the other two turn to see Isabelle standing there aiming her rifle at them]
Royce: How do we kill them?
Noland: However you can.
Isabelle: They must have a weakness.
Noland: Not many.
Edwin: Excuse me. Just what the hell is going on here?
Royce: We're being hunted. The cages. The soldier. All of us. All brought here for the same purpose. This planet is a game preserve. And we're the game. In case you didn't notice, we just got flushed out. They sent the dogs in, just like you if you were stalking boar or shooting quail. They split us apart and they watched. Testing us.
Isabelle: How do you know this?
Royce: Because, that's what I would do.
Stans: [to Edwin] You know, man, if we ever make it home, I'm going to do so much fucking cocaine. I'm gonna rape so many fine bitches. I'll be like, "What time is it? After 5:00? Damn. Time to go rape me some fine bitches."
Stans: You know what I'm saying?
Edwin: [humoring Stans] Oh, yeah. Totally. Like; 5:00, it's bitch-raping time.
Stans: Mmm. Yeah.
[Edwin moves away from Stans and sits down next to Nikolai]
Nikolai: You should stay away from him.
Isabelle: [Isabelle punches Royce] You set us up. He led us into that death camp, then hid and waited for that thing to strike. We were bait.
Royce: I needed to know who we're up against. Now I do.
Stans: A man is dead because of that.
Royce: This morning you were ready to kill him.
Stans: Well it ain't this goddamn morning, is it?
Royce: Well at least he didn't die in vain.
Stans: Why? So we could find out firsthand what it feels like to have our asses kicked?
Royce: No. We found out that there's more than one of them. That they use projectile and energy-based weapons. That they have some sort of cloaking device. That they're bigger than us, stronger, but also heavier.
Stans: Hey, where are we going?
Royce: Someone put us on this rock. There's got to be a way off it.
[Falconer's aerial device flies overhead]
Stans: [Stans instinctively pulls out his knife] What the fuck?
Stans: [Stans looks at his knife then looks at how everyone else has a gun] Hey. You know what? Fuck this. This is bullshit, man. I want a gun.
Stans: [to Cuchillo] Come on, man, you got two motherfucking guns, man. Somebody give me a gun.
Stans: [to Nikolai] Come on, Russian. You got a big fucking gun.
Stans: [to Mombasa] Come on, man. Give me a gun.
[Stans puts his knife to Mombasa's throat]
Stans: Give me your gun. Right now. Give me your gun.
Mombasa: [Mombasa puts his sidearm to Stans' chin] I'm ready to die. Are you?
Royce: [a confused Nikolai starts shooting at Royce and Cuchillo. Royce flanks him and puts his shotgun to Nikolai's head] Please stop doing that. You're shooting at the wrong people.
Nikolai: How do I know?
Royce: Because otherwise, we wouldn't have be having this conversation.
Nikolai: All right. You wanna show me the right ones?
[points to chest]
Nikolai: Nikolai. I mean, I'm Nikolai.
Isabelle: Do you remember a plane?
Royce: I woke up free fall, you?
Royce: You IDF?
Isabelle: Yeah, you in the service?
Royce: Not exactly.
Edwin: [to Isabelle] I guess now you realize why they chose me. I was right in front of you guys the whole time. Just watching you. Earning your trust. You couldn't see me for what I really am. You see, back home, I'm a murderer. I'm a freak. But here, among the monsters, I'm normal. I like it here. I wanna stay.
Edwin: [Royce arrives at the top of the pit] Oh! You came back.
Royce: I missed my ride.
Edwin: [Pretending to be relieved] Oh, thank God. Help us get out of here.
Isabelle: [Royce wants to booby trap Edwin] This isn't right. He's one of us!
Royce: He is. That's what they're counting on. They want you to feel something for this man. To be human.
Isabelle: And what are you?
[Nikolai goes to touch a strange looking plant]
Edwin: Uh, yeah, I wouldn't do that.
[Edwin sticks his scalpel into the plant and it secretes a fluid]
Edwin: Yep. Archaefructus liaoningensis. That is really, really poisonous. Wouldn't take more than one scratch to cause total paralysis...
Nikolai: Thank you. I'll watch for you out there.
Isabelle: [to Edwin] You made a buddy.
Stans: [Nikolai is looking at a picture] Who's that?
Nikolai: My kids. Big one, Ilya. And that's Sascha.
[Nikolai hands the picture to Edwin]
Stans: [Stans lifts up his shirt to reveal a tattoo of a big breasted woman] Uh... This is, uh, Candy Lee. Tits like Howitzers.
[he pokes the breasts with his fingers as if to play with them]
Edwin: Is that your girlfriend?
Stans: No. It's my sister.
[Royce is checking on Isabelle who is paralyzed with his back to Edwin]
Edwin: I didn't think you'd come back. But she, she never lost faith in you. I guess I owe you an apology. You are a good man after all.
[Edwin goes to stab Royce with his scalpel]
Royce: No. I'm not.
[Royce turns, disarms Edwin and sticks the scalpel into Edwin's chin]
Royce: But I'm fast.
[Stans picks up an armored vest and is inspecting it]
Noland: [Acknowledging his imaginary friend] Hey. Yeah, I'll tell him.
Noland: Hey, Agent Orange, you wanna put that down? Certain people around here are particular about other people messing with their shit.
[Stans puts down the vest]
Noland: Very important, though. Disrupts the heat signature. You motherfuckers.
Royce: So, you killed one?
Noland: Uh-uh. I killed two. Maybe three. I can't remember.
[the group hears movement outside their perimeter but can't figure out why it doesn't attack]
Royce: Hey, Doc.
Royce: I think I just finally figured out a way you can be useful.
[cuts to Edwin running around as bait]
[the group finds a monolith with a pile of skulls and bones at its base]
Stans: What the hell is that?
Isabelle: Who would do this?
Mombasa: Whoever they are, they take trophies. In my culture the warrior with the greatest trophies commands the most respect.
Nikolai: It's a test. To see how we do under pressure.
Isabelle: If this were a test, you'd all be military. Total strangers. Live rounds. This is something else.
Cuchillo: Maybe it's ransom. Back in Tijuana, we kidnap you, put you in an oil drum. The ransom's not paid, we light you on fire.
Stans: I hear these stories about these experiments they run on cons. They stick drugs in your food and they sit back and watch what happens.
Edwin: Well, it's not drugs. If it was a psychotropic compound, we'd be feeling residual side effects. Loss of motor skills, blurry vision. And if it was a behavioral experiment... I mean, there... There'd be a point.
Mombasa: What if we are dead?
Stans: I was going to be executed in two days.
Nikolai: And I was in combat.
Mombasa: So was I.
Cuchillo: This is hell.
Royce: Last time I looked, you didn't need a parachute to get there. But it doesn't matter what happened, or why. We're here. Only question is, how do we get out?
[the group looks across the landscape and sees that they are not on Earth and view all the other planetoids in the sky]
Royce: We're gonna need a new plan.
Isabelle: What happened to you? What made you so fucked up?
Royce: "There is no hunting like the hunting of a man. And those who've hunted armed men long enough, and like it, never really care for anything else thereafter."
Isabelle: That's pretty poetic. Did you come up with that all by yourself?
Royce: No, actually. That was Hemingway.
Isabelle: Where are you going?
Royce: To high ground.
Isabelle: We should stick together.
Royce: Then you should follow me.
[after the group narrowly escapes a heavily booby-trapped area, they find a rotting corpse whose chest is blown out]
Mombasa: We triggered a dead man's trap.
Edwin: It's two weeks, judging from the rate of decomposition.
Nikolai: He took up a position here. Shooting in all directions. This was a last stand.
[Nikolai Checks the man's pocket and finds some documents]
Nikolai: United States Special Forces. This is strange. He is supposed to be deployed in Afghanistan.
Stans: What's he doing here, setting traps for us?
Royce: They weren't meant for us. He was hunting something else. Something a lot bigger.
Royce: The trunk was a deadfall. Rule of thumb with a deadfall is you set the weight five times that of the target animal. Whatever it was, got through the trip wires. And did this.
Edwin: What are we gonna do?
Isabelle: We should go to higher ground.
Edwin: Really? We're on an alien hunting planet. You really think the solution is to walk more?
Royce: It wants us to run. That's how it hunts. This is its jungle. Its game. Its rules. We run, we die.
Isabelle: What's the alternative?
Royce: We need to know what we're dealing with. Dog tracks go that way. We go after it.
Royce: [to Noland] Say goodbye to your little friend.
Noland: You're in my house, motherfucker!
[Royce fires his AA-12 into the hull of the ship]
Stans: Yeah, that didn't open up shit.
Royce: Wasn't meant to, asshole. I'm calling in the cavalry.
[Stans and Mombasa are fighting. Then just as Stans goes to hit Mombasa with a log, he sees the rest of the group watching them]
Stans: You with him?
[Mombasa shoves Stans off]
Stans: Then why don't you mind your own fucking business?
Isabelle: We have bigger problems right now.
Stans: Okay, "boss". Whatever you say.
Mombasa: [Grabs Stans] I will finish, what *you* started!
Stans: Strength in numbers huh?
Isabelle: Something like that.
Stans: Yeah, then maybe we should get that guy hanging in the tree?
Royce: [to Isabelle] You know what the difference between you and me is? We both do the same thing. You just do it for a country, so you don't have to admit you like it.
Cuchillo: Do you think the water is safe to drink?
Edwin: I will if you will.
Nikolai: I wouldn't.
Edwin: All right you guys, I got to umm... I have to... you know... pee.
Cuchillo: Women pee, men piss.
Edwin: And what do you do?
Cuchillo: I unleash.
Cuchillo: I thought bitches weren't allowed to be snipers.
Isabelle: Is that why they didn't take you?
Cuchillo: Ha-Ha-Ha... bitch.
[they find Cuchillo's body in a trap]
Mombasa: Wound one man. Make him suffer. Make him bleed. Make him call out for help, and set a trap and kill those who come. I know because I have done this.
Stans: So we're gonna leave him here, right? Come on, look at him. He's done.There's nothing else we can do, right? Right?
Royce: We leave him.
Isabelle: I can't.
Royce: Then, that's on you.
[they all see the strung up Predator]
Stans: What the fuck is that thing?
Isabelle: This is a mistake. We have to leave. Now.
Edwin: [about Royce] Where's the tough guy?
Isabelle: He left us.
Mombasa: It's here.
Isabelle: You put us at risk yourself. You want to be on your own, you got it.
Royce: Why don't you tell them the truth?
Isabelle: I don't know what you're talking about.
Royce: You know what I'm talking about. The way you looked at that thing that was strung up, the way you reacted. She knows what it is. Don't you?
Isabelle: We don't have a name for them. '87, Guatemala. A spec ops team went into the jungle. High end. Six men plus a CIA liaison. Only one made it out. In his debrief, he said they came in contact with something. He gave a detailed description. The thing on the totem. It wore some kind of camouflage that adjusted to ambient light. Made it nearly invisible in our spectrum. It could see in infrared. Heat signatures. He used mud to block his. That's how he beat it. It hunted and killed his team, one by one.
Royce: Whatever it is, wherever they're from, we're going to kill them all. We set up a defensive perimeter. Make it look like we are holing up. That'll bring them to us. We force them into a choke point. We get them in overlapping fields of fire. It can be done. I can't do it alone.
Isabelle: You know what I was doing when I was taken? Ishak, my spotter. He was caught. I could have done something, but then I would have been slaughtered along with him. So, I hid. I watched him die. I wished I pulled that trigger.
Royce: You do what you have to, to survive.
Isabelle: You said we were chosen. I asked, "For what?" I should've asked why. It's because we are predators. Just like them. We're the monsters of our own world. It's probably better that we're never going back.
Royce: I am going back. I'm going after that ship.
Isabelle: You learn how to fly it in the last hour and not tell me?
Royce: No. That thing strung up at the camp might know. My guess is, it'd do just about anything to get free. Enemy of my enemy.
Isabelle: That doesn't make it a friend.
Noland: [to the Tracker Predator] Oh. Finally found me, huh, big dog? Well, what took you so long?
Stans: Hey y'all motherfuckers! Y'all know I'm famous right? Number three on the FBI's Most Wanted list!
Edwin: What's your name?
Stans: Stans, Walter Stans.
Edwin: Oh shit! Yeah, I've heard of you.
Stans: Yeah, most people have. You want my autograph?
Cuchillo: Hey, I kill people for big money, a reason. You slaughtered thirty-six people for nothin'.
Stans: It's thirty-eight.
Stans: Well, my lawyer said I was crazy. But you wanna know the real reason doc? Why the fuck not? God damn I love this humidity.
Stans: Hey Tonto! How much further?
Stans: Hey, you tired?
Stans: Yeah. Yeah, you know I love fucking. Look, just hear me out okay? You're hot as shit and it's been a really long time for me. And if those things up there, if they ever get to us; we're never going to get to fuck again ever. This might be our last chance. So I was thinkin'; you know what? Let's just do this thing. Let's get naked. Hot and wet, you and me, right here right now. And maybe I could find a sheet for you, you know. Get you some privacy or something.
Stans: Wow. Really? Okay, okay.
Isabelle: Let's go. We need to work as a team.
Cuchillo: Bitch! Does this look like a team-work orientated group of individuals to you?
Isabelle: Somebody did this to us. You want to kill each other? Do it after we get out of the fucking jungle!
Stans: I don't take orders from snatch.
Isabelle: Fine, go the other way. Get eaten by something. Enjoy!
[the rest of the group follows Isabelle. Stans hesitates]
Stans: [muttering to himself] This is so fucking weird. Ah, fuck. Fuck this!
[Stans runs to catch up with the others]
Royce: [as Cuchillo holds him at gunpoint] Don't. Calm down.
Cuchillo: Hey, fuck you.
Royce: Calm down.
Cuchillo: Fuck you!
Royce: Single shooter.
Cuchillo: How do you know?
[Royce goes running through the jungle to find Nicholai reloading the mini gun]
Royce: Please stop doing that! You are shooting at the wrong people.
Nikolai: How do I know?
Royce: Because otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation.
Stans: [To Mombassa who's tripped over] Looking good there boss.