Boardwalk Murder: The Predator [Declassification]

Snipers sent by our government offer some acumen in engagement with a lethal invader (Martian perhaps) for watery-theme.

Predator fanfiction (Happy Wednesday!), 

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AMLAN: The government wants us to go to the Boardwalk with HCL-guns.

MARCUS: Antique in design, but acid-loaded, some human stance for Hell.

AMLAN: This alien invader (from Mars?) has been labeled the Predator, pal.

MARCUS: Well, we'll see if his bloody-murder hunt-gams withstands HCL.

AMLAN: We've got to be sure to shoot him in the eyes, lest he targets well.

MARCUS: Yeah, he's tough alright; he'll keep shooting with any finger left.

AMLAN: We'll burn him into ashes following and mourn the species loss!

MARCUS: That's why they hired us, pal...leviathan/uncertainty (Selfie-like).

AMLAN: Quite-cool (sure).

MAYOR: They're to prowl around post-midnight with these antique-guns?

GOVERNMENT AGENT: Stay out of their way, Mayor; this is evil diplomacy.

MAYOR: This Predator has some invisibility cloaking-skill; shock-value?

GOVERNMENT AGENT: Our finest snipers (Amlan/Marcus) have acid-prayers.

MAYOR: This was to precede our sci-fi marathon film screening (damn).

GOVERNMENT AGENT: Who says Earthlings can't offer border-distances?

MAYOR: Nobody (thanx).

The Predator was hideous, sure. Where it came from nobody understood, but the American government had sent two fine snipers, Amlan and Marcus, armed with diplomacy-image antique-design guns for shooting pure acid. The two fine soldiers meant to shoot the evil murderer right in the eyes to blind him pre-burn to ashes for proper human sane prayers of mourning for what'd certainly become a dark omen about otherwise optimistic imaginations about inter-species contact of the intelligent variety (sure). Well, Atlantic City, the Mayor wagered, was the target for mark for bloody-murder by this Predator (from Mars?), because folks simply trekked there to while-away the time and spend money to daydream about fortunes and that cool Ocean by the Boardwalk (Facebook-like).

AMLAN: I see it, but it's got some metal helmet on its snake-hair head.

MARCUS: The helmet's fitted with eye-pieces of some glassy-material.

AMLAN: Well, the acid will at least disarm the Predator for its vision-field.

MARCUS: Or piss him off!

AMLAN: It can't shoot without frustration when its eye-sight is targeted.

MARCUS: Good deal (Facebook-like).

The plan worked for Amlan and Marcus, fine snipers with soldier acumen; and they lured the Predator all the way to a Jersey forest area where it 'consented' to a jungle-hunting war-game which resulted in too much watery/acid shots to its helmeted head portion of its glowing glass-lens covered eyes (wow). They managed to shoot the murderer in the neck sufficiently to decapitate it; then they burned the Predator and said a Christian death prayer (Bible-passage):

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away" (Revelation 21:4, KJV).

MAYOR: All's fare (once-more) in our Boardwalk town of fries/lyrics.

GOVERNMENT AGENT: We're blessed and happy to afford the miracle.

MAYOR: So, is there some mission to Mars post-journals, friend?
GOVERNMENT AGENT: Seems there's some nice room for Super Bowl TV?

MAYOR: Yeah, I'm orchestrating some Super Bowl Sunday event now (ok).

GOVERNMENT AGENT: God bless the waters (for leviathan/uncertainty).

MAYOR: You said it, friend...farewell.

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)