Sometimes these films are gross, and sometimes they are super gross.

The path from the hallowed 1987 Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle Predator to Friday’s Shane Black–directed The Predator-the sixth movie in the series, counting a ludicrous two-flick hookup with the Alien franchise-is fraught with chaos, wild-eyed diversions, grody overindulgence, and geysers of blood both red and fluorescent green. Which members of this new ragtag crew will get disemboweled, and/or decapitated, and/or skinned alive, and/or extremely blown up? Will this gore be PG-13 whimsical or hard-R repugnant? Will our favorite mysterious race of murderous space aliens be the bad guys this time, or just kind of the bad guys? Will the killing field be located in Central America, or Antarctica, or space, or the parking lot of a Colorado Papa John’s? Will the dialogue be merely “OK, pussyface, it’s your move” uncouth, or full-blown “If your mom’s vagina were a video game, it would be rated E, for everyone” uncouth? Who will yell, “ GET TO THE CHOPPER”? And who will actually get to it? You walk into each new Predator movie with a very specific, and very rigid, set of questions.

Alien Vs Predator Pivot Pack