"A surge of joy welled up in Nikolai and he began shouting as he walked toward the Predator. Then he jogged, then he ran, trailing green dust like an airplane trailing smoke as it spiraled to the ground. "You!" He yelled in Russian as he ran. "Over here!" The Predator turned around and saw him when he was about fifty yards away. The creatures shoulder weapon pivoted with the Predatoe, locked onto him, and Nikolai knew that three red dots had appeared on his forehead. No problem."

"He laughed, tossed away his M16 and his Winchester 70, thre away his glockenspiel into the grass. He unhooked his ammo belts, let them fall from him, each act leaving him lighter, freer. Then took out a syringe filled with uppers and jabbed it into his arm, pushed, felt liquid energy enter him. Nikolai drew his machete in one hand and a hunting knife in the other."

"Come on!" He shouted. "Fair fight!" Code of honor and all that!" A perceptible hesitation on the Predators part, then the shoulder cannon swiveled away from him. The Predator took two metal disks from his belt, tossed them aside. It held out its left arm, so Nikolai could see the double-blades knives that locked into position a good five inches past its own claws. Then it reached over its shoulder and pulled a long blade loose from a back scabbard. It looked to Nikolai an odd scimitar, etched with strange patterns and letters."

"Nikolai ran at the Predator and the Predator ran at him." Pg.239-240 chpt.63