Predator 2 Novel 4

They loaded up for bear, suiting up with Kevlar vests and psyching themselves up for the conflict by snorting cocaine.

"Come and get it, putos!" one of them screamed hoarsely through the window of the loft. "El Scorpio is ready!"

There was a sudden, deafening crash as one of the skylights overhead imploded in a rain of glass and, as if in answer to the shouted challenge, a loud, bone-chilling, and unearthly trilling sound filled the loft. Something came flying down through the ruptured skylight, something huge and indefinable that landed with a jarring thump in the center of the floor.

The Colombians whirled around with their
weapons, prepared to face the sudden threat, but there was no way that they could have been prepared for what they did face. Because, for a moment, they faced absolutely nothing. They stared, their jaws slack, their eyes wild, but there was simply nothing there. And then that nothing came at them.
There seemed to be a weird rippling of the light, a vaguely defined shape of some sort that was there and yet not there, as if part of the very air around them had somehow solidified and coalesced into something gigantic and malevolent, something that seemed to bend light waves around itself so that it was not quite invisible, but had somehow taken on the substance of the atmosphere within the room, like some kind of surreal, spectral chameleon.

And the trilling sound it made as it advanced upon them with amazing, mind-numbing speed made the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on end. They opened fire. They didn't know what the hell they were shooting at, they couldn't see it,
not exactly, but their senses registered its awesome presence. Their ragged nerve-endings tingled with stark terror at the alien predator in their midst, and primal survival instincts took over as something deep within their brains screamed at them to fight, to fight for their very lives. All hell broke loose as the room erupted with the sound of automatic weapons fire. Hundreds of bullets spanged off the brick walls and the steel cabinets. The air in front of the Colombians seemed to shimmer and shift, like heat waves dancing over
the desert floor. And then the screaming started.-pg.25-26 chpt.1