Predator
Predator
Written by
Jim Thomas and John Thomas
FADE IN
1 EXT. OUTER SPACE 1
The infinite blackness punctuated by a billion stars.
As we slowly DESCEND through the varied shades of blue
of the Earth's atmosphere, we HEAR the first strains of
a haunting, Central American FLUTE, joined by a swelling
background of JUNGLE SOUNDS. We descend further,
through a lush JUNGLE CANOPY, backlit by a setting sun.
DISSOLVE TO:
2 EXT. JUNGLE COASTLINE - DAY (MAGIC HOUR) 2
Through a collage of shimmering HEAT-WAVES, a dark,
OTHER-WORLDLY OBJECT drops INTO VIEW, backlit by the
fiery, ORANGE-RED sphere of a setting tropical SUN,
heading slowly towards us, floating, as if suspended by
the rising heat of the jungle.
Continuing to approach, the shimmering object resolves
into a MILITARY ASSAULT HELICOPTER, its rotors strobing
in the fading sunlight. Drawing closer, the SOUND of
powerful TURBINES, throbbing in the heavy air, becomes
dominant, overpowering.
Guided by COLORED SMOKE and LANDING LIGHTS, the chopper
looms hard INTO VIEW, pitching forward and settling to
the ground, kicking up a maelstrom of dust and vegetation
2-A INT. COMMAND POST - DAY (MAGIC HOUR) 2-A *
Where a MAN wearing a military UNIFORM watches through
the large open windows the helicopter as it continues
to approach. Before the skids have even touched down he
SEES the first of the MEN, dressed in CIVILIAN CLOTHES
but carrying full COMBAT GEAR, alight gracefully from
the chopper, double-timing in close order to one side,
the orders SHOUTED by one man lost in the ROAR of the
chopper.
The man turns away from the window, to a FIGURE, hidden *
in the shadows.
MAN *
He's here.
He turns back, lowering a BAMBOO SHADE, obscuring the *
window.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
2
2-B EXT. HELICOPTER PAD - NIGHT 2-B *
On adjoining PADS, two other HELICOPTERS are VISIBLE; in
the b.g. can be SEEN several concrete and THATCHWORK
BUILDINGS, a secret command post disguised as a COASTAL
FISHING VILLAGE.
The post in a flurry of activity, AMERICAN ADVISORS
shouting directions to dozens of LATIN AMERICAN SOLDIERS
who stand by to assist the landing helicopter and to
load EQUIPMENT into the other choppers.
Inside the chopper, one man remains, stretched out against *
the bulkhead, as if asleep. He stirs, sits up, lighting *
up a CIGAR. With fatigue showing in his motion, he leans *
forward, descending to the ground. *
A JEEP pulls to stop, the man swinging casually into the *
front seat, tossing his GEAR into the rear. With a *
lurch the jeep heads out towards the command post. *
In the doorway TWO MEN solemnly watch as the jeep
approaches. Reaching the command post the man alights
from the jeep, heading towards the two men.
Into the pool of light cast by the fixture above the
door steps MAJOR ALAN SCHAEFER, the team leader, 38, an
intelligent and intense man. He informally salutes,
GENERAL H.L. PHILIPS, 55, hardened, close-cropped graying
hair, his nameplate and insignia identifying him as a
member of an elite commando unit in the U.S. Army. He
clasps Schaefer warmly on the shoulder.
PHILIPS
(with affection)
You're looking well, Dutch.
SCHAEFER
It's been a long time, General.
They walk up the stairs, entering the palapa, leaving
the other man on guard.
3 INT. PALAPA - DAY 3
Large, two room concrete floor, thatched walls and roof.
Behind a partially drawn curtain in the kitchen, a naked
lightbulb hung from the rafters illuminates a bank of
compact FIELD RADIO EQUIPMENT, MAPS and AERIAL
PHOTOGRAPHS. Otherwise the rooms are primitive and
stand out in stark contrast to this high-tech invasion.
Philips and Schaefer enter the room.
(CONTINUED)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
3
3 CONTINUED 3
PHILIPS
(growing serious)
We've got a real problem here,
something right up your alley.
They cross to the center of the room to a folding table,
covered with a large TOPOGRAPHICAL MAP of the Central
American highland jungle. Philips leans over the table,
circling a set of COORDINATES and a MARK on the open
map.
PHILIPS
Eighteen hours ago I was
informed that one of our
choppers, transporting three
presidential cabinet members
from this charming little
country, was shot down...
(point to
the circled
area)
...The pilots radioed from the
ground that they were all
alive. Their position was
fixed by the transponder
beacon onboard the chopper.
(points)
Here.
Schaefer studies the map. He looks up at Philips.
SCHAEFER
That's over the border,
General.
PHILIPS
(dead serious)
That's the problem. Apparently
they strayed off course.
(pause)
We're certain they've been
captured by the guerrillas.
Schaefer looks up, puffing lightly on the cigar.
SCHAEFER
(quietly)
What have you got in mind,
General.
(CONTINUED)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
4
3 CONTINUED: (2) 3
PHILIPS
We figure we've got less than
twenty-four hours to catch
up with them. After that,
there's not much hope. We
want a rescue operation
mounted tonight. That doesn't
give you much time.
Another puff on the cigar.
SCHAEFER
What else it new? When do
we leave?
Philips looks at his watch.
PHILIPS
You lift off in three hours.
(pause)
There's one other thing.
SCHAEFER
What's that, General?
PHILIPS
Someone else will be going
in with you.
Schaefer stubbs out his cigar in an ashtray.
SCHAEFER
You know we don't work with
outsiders, General.
VOICE
(o.s.)
Who said anything about
outsiders, Dutch?
Schaefer turns, SEEING the outline of a figure standing
in the doorway of the communications room, holding a
sheaf of PAPERS.
Wearing pressed fatigues, DILLON, mid-thirties, black,
walks into the room.
Although as rugged looking as the others, his bearing
and grooming indicate he's been away from the business
of soldiering for sometime. His quick intelligent eyes
reveal his current profession.
(CONTINUED)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
5
3 CONTINUED: (3) 3
DILLON
Last time we danced, it was
Lieutenant, Schaefer.
A grin breaks out across Schaefer's face.
SCHAEFER
Dillon, you son of a bitch.
The two men step forward and simultaneous swing from
the hip as it to land a punch...but their hands SLAP
together in a gesture of friendship, their forearms
bulging, testing each other's strength.
DILLON
(warmly)
How you been, Dutch?
They continue the contest, Schaefer has the edge, forcing
Dillon's arm slowly downward.
SCHAEFER
You've been pushing too many
Pencils, Dillon. Had enough?
DILLON
(grinning)
No way, old buddy.
SCHAEFER
You never did know when to
quit.
They look into each other's faces, each remembering
something from the past. A moment's hesitation and they
quit the contest. They laugh, Dillon slapping Schaefer
on the shoulder.
DILLON
That piece of work you guys
pulled off at the Berlin
embassy last week was really
something. Blew the entry
points on three floors and
neutralized the opposition
in eight seconds flat.
Beautiful.
SCHAEFER
Like the old days, Dillon.
(CONTINUED)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
6
3 CONTINUED: (4) 3
DILLON
Also heard that you passed
on that little job in Libya.
Schaefer looks at Dillon, quietly considering him.
SCHAEFER
Wasn't my style. We're a
rescue unit, not assassins.
(smiles)
This must be good. Big shot
from the CIA, leaves his desk
to come back to the bush.
What's so important?
DILLON
Those cabinet members are
very important to our scope
of operations in this part
of the world. They're about
to get squeezed. We can't
let that happen. I needed
someone who could get the job
done, quick and quiet...no
screw-ups. I needed the best.
The best. So, I pulled a few
strings at the State
Department...and here we are.
SCHAEFER
Go on.
Dillon goes to the map.
DILLON
The set-up is simple, Dutch.
One day job. We pick up their
trail at the chopper, run 'em
down, grab the hostages and
bounce back across the
border before anyone knows
we were there. You've done
it a hundred times. Nothing
out of the ordinary.
Schaefer considers this.
(CONTINUED)
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