The Predator s ship, in a special effect that must have looked awesome in the eighties, had just entered the orbit of the forest moon of Endor, and its muscles were tensing. He knew he would find his quarry on this planet: the most legendary of all hunters, the greatest trophy a hunter could claim: The Ewok. They defeated the largest intergalactic empire since the Old Sith Empire, and did so with sharpened sticks, rocks, and mud. The Predator had a soft spot for species who could best them with sticks and mud, and he knew he was destined to hunt them. El cazador trofeo de los hombre would soon be El cazador trofeo de los Ewok.

The pod landed, and the Predator stepped out, surveying its surroundings. The forest moon was aptly named, as it was quite clearly not a planet. Wandering out into the deep, forested forest, the Predator activated his cloaking system, and put on his mask. It didn t really need it, but it felt really self-conscious about his looks, ever since it was called one ugly motherfucker. Normally the reptilian space-killer wouldn t mind the occasional trash talky comment, but it had really hurt it this time. After all, he had just removed his weapons as a sign of trust, and this is how it was re-payed? Lost in his train of thought he walked into his first Ewok. As a reflex, he gutted, skinned, and hung him from a tree. Happy to find out the Ewoks bled to facilitate their killing, he went on. He knew that it was one specific Ewok he was looking for...

Wicket.

He would kill Wicket. The leader of the attacks on the Empire, he had also managed to hunt and capture their god, an achievement few Predators could match. Traversing through the jungle, he asked an Ewok to turn around, turn around, and then proceeded to trofeo de los Ewok. Their skulls were diminutive, but the Predator had long since learned that size doesn t matter, no matter what his ex-wife said. The Predators thoughts about that bitch were interrupted by a rock thrown towards him, that pinned his arm cannon to a tree, disabling it in the process. He knew that only one life-form could have skill to sneak up on an invisible death-monster and the cojones to throw a rock as a warning shot:

Wicket.

He turned around, and tried to slash at it with his knife-thing, but Wicket was too fast, and cracked him on the ribs with a stick. The Predator stumbled, and coughed some blood, again showing that he could be killed. Wicket needed no confirmation: he knew that if it walked the earth, it was only a matter of time before he would manage to kill it. Once more charging at the Predator, yelling out obscenities, he could see the Predator jump into the trees, but it was too late. It had escaped. Realising that a good axe could mean the difference between life and death, Wicket yelled out Get me a chopper! but the response was a skinned Ewok thrown at his feet. Wicket sighed deep. Honeybunch only had one day left of service in the military. The Predator stalked the remaining Ewok, and only too late did he re-realise that Wicket was smarter than he realised. He had led it into a trap! The Predator had hit a trip-wire, which sent a log hurtling towards him, destroying his cloaking system and throwing him across the forest, straight into the Ewok village. Surrounded by fifty teddy-bears wielding spears and rocks, the Predator was aware that he would not get out of this with stealth. Luckily he knew he packed a punch, and proceeded to fight all of the charging bears. In slo-mo I guess it might ve looked cool, but at regular speeds the end result was the Predator easily killing all of them, until...

Wicket.

Wicket thrust his spear straight through the Predator s heart, twisting it until he heard the Predator s spine snap. The snap was really more of a , but that s not really an onomatopoeia for a reason. The Predator coughed blood, and was ready to have to have a meaningful echo to the Ewok s question, followed by detonating the bomb he carried with him. However, Wicket knew exactly what the hell the Predator was, and his earlier rock had broken the detonator to the bomb. Dejected, the Predator slumped in one place, and started bleeding profusely from his mouth. The Ewoks hadn t really even spoken, so his meaningful repetition of an earlier piece of dialogue plan was shot as well. The best he could manage was to up the irons, and tell Wicket he s a worthy opponent in his gurgled throat speech.

Wicket.

Wicket dragged the Predator s corpse to a faraway ravine, and threw it in there, but not before taking the Predator s face-mask and skull. He already had ten of them, but they made great wedding gifts. If he cleared out his Xenomorph shelf, he was sure he could fit it in somewhere.