Okay, I need some suggestion on possible movie to be included in this fic.
I am considering adding Alien vs Predator 1.
Not sure what else to add.
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Matias crouched low in the underbrush, watching the clash erupt before him. The Giganotosaurus was relentless—every thunderous step shook the ground as it lunged forward, its massive jaws snapping inches from the mother Carnotaurus's neck. The mother roared in defiance, lowering her horned head and ramming her skull into the predator's side, forcing it back a step. Dust and loose soil exploded around them with each impact.
The Giganotosaurus retaliated, swinging its massive tail like a battering ram, slamming into the Carnotaurus and nearly toppling her over. Still, she dug her clawed feet into the earth, holding her ground between the giant predator and her trembling offspring, who cowered behind her legs.
Matias's gaze flicked to the young one, its wide eyes darting between its mother and the monster bearing down on her.
He couldn't help but wonder—where was the father? In the animal kingdom, many predators would fight side by side with their mate, defending their young to the last breath. The absence here was glaring.
Either the father Carnotaurus was far from this territory—which made no sense in such a dangerous environment—or he had already fallen to tooth and claw, leaving the mother to defend their bloodline alone.
Matias also noticed how the Giganototaurus refused to abandon its pursuit. Predators in the wild rarely waste precious energy on grudges—they hunt, they eat, and they move on. But this one… this one was different. Its relentless aggression wasn't mere instinct; it was personal. That, Matias knew, was a sign of higher intelligence.
Did that spark any guilt in him for killing a creature capable of such thought? Not in the slightest. Out here, there was no place for sentiment. This was survival of the fittest, and morality was a luxury only the powerful could afford to uphold.
The clash was relentless. The Giganototaurus' massive head lunged forward, teeth snapping with the sound of bones breaking in the air. The mother dinosaur pivoted, slamming her armored flank into the predator's side, forcing it to stumble back a step. Every movement she made was deliberate—not for herself, but for the small, trembling form hiding behind her tail.
Her thoughts were primal yet focused: **Protect the calf.** Every breath burned, every wound she endured was worth the life behind her. She sidestepped another bite, her claws raking across the predator's snout. The Giganototaurus roared in rage, spittle flying, its eyes narrowing with predatory calculation.
But her strength was waning. Blood dripped from a deep gash in her shoulder. Her stance faltered for the briefest moment, and that was all the predator needed. With terrifying speed, it feinted toward her before snapping its head toward the calf.
The young one froze, too small and too slow to dodge. The Giganototaurus' jaws opened wide, shadows falling over its prey.
And then—
Matias moved.
He exploded from his cover with a guttural shout, every muscle coiling like a spring. His weapon slashed upward, meeting the Giganototaurus' snout mid-lunge. Bone cracked under the force, and the predator's head snapped to the side with a howl of pain.
The mother blinked in shock, her instincts warring between fight and flight. This strange biped—this creature—had attacked her enemy, saving her calf in the process.
Matias didn't stop. He pressed forward, using the predator's momentary confusion to slam another blow into its jaw, his expression set in grim determination. He wasn't here to be a hero. He wasn't even sure why he moved so fast. But something deep inside him refused to watch the young be slaughtered.
Matias and the Giganotosaurus circled each other, heavy breaths steaming in the cool air as their massive tails carved deep gouges in the earth. With a rumbling growl, Matias planted himself between the wounded Carnotaurus mother and her trembling offspring.
His eyes never left the predator before him, but in the corner of his vision, he caught the mother's gaze—wide, exhausted, yet burning with a silent plea. They couldn't speak, but the message was clear: Protect my child.
The Giganotosaurus bellowed, the sound like thunder rolling through the ground, and charged. Its claws raked forward in a blur, jaws snapping shut with a bone-crushing CRACK—but Matias twisted aside, his massive foot stomping down to shatter the earth beneath them.
The predator lunged again, but this time Matias met it head-on, their skulls colliding with a deafening THOOM. Dust and debris exploded around them as Matias drove the Giganotosaurus back with a series of brutal tail sweeps and crushing bites, each blow forcing it further away from the mother and child.
Desperation flared in the predator's eyes—it lunged low, feinting at Matias before snapping toward the calf. The young Carnotaurus squealed in terror. The mother shrieked, trying to move but collapsing from her wounds.
Before the killing blow could land, Matias blurred forward, slamming his bulk between the predator and its prey. With a roar that shook the trees, he clamped his jaws around the Giganotosaurus's neck. Muscles bulged, teeth ground bone, and with a savage wrench, the predator's resistance ended in a final, wet crunch. The massive carcass collapsed to the dirt, lifeless.
Matias released his grip, chest heaving, and glanced back at the mother Carnotaurus. She met his eyes again—not with fear, but with gratitude.
The clearing was eerily quiet now, the only sound the soft rustle of wind through broken foliage. But the peace was a cruel lie—blood still ran across the dirt, and the air was thick with the scent of death.
The mother lay collapsed, her breaths shallow and ragged. Deep gouges tore through her hide, exposing bone beneath shredded muscle. Chunks of flesh were missing where the Giganototaurus's teeth had ripped into her. Blood spread in a slow, dark pool beneath her, soaking into the soil.
The calf pressed against her side, nudging and whining in panic, its small body trembling. Each push grew more frantic, but the mother's limbs would not respond. She could barely lift her head now.
Her gaze found Matias.
There was no fear in her eyes—only pain, exhaustion… and a desperate plea. Protect my child.
Matias stepped forward, lowering his head to meet her gaze. A deep, resonating growl rolled from his chest—solemn, steady, and certain. He would honor her request.
The mother's eyes softened. A faint growl, almost a purr, left her throat—relief flooding her tired features. She turned to her calf, brushing her snout against its head. The gesture was slow, lingering, filled with a love that defied the agony in her body. She was imprinting herself into the calf's memory, one last time.
Her breath grew shallower. Her eyes began to close, but she fought to open them just long enough to look at her calf again. With a final exhale, her body went still.
The calf froze.
It nudged her once, twice, then again—harder now. A small, high-pitched chirp escaped its throat, then another, turning into a wavering, confused roar. When no answer came, the sound broke into something raw and pitiful, a cry that carried across the clearing.
Matias lowered himself to the ground beside them, his massive body forming a wall between the calf and the forest edge. He stayed there as shadows grew long, keeping scavengers at bay with an occasional low, warning rumble.
As dusk settled, the calf lay curled against its mother's side, refusing to leave. It dozed and woke in turns, each time nudging her as if hoping she'd stir. But the mother remained still.
When night fell, the stars blinked faintly overhead, and Matias remained by their side. He did not sleep. The calf's soft whimpers filled the silence until they faded into exhausted quiet. Only then did Matias lift his head to the night sky, his eyes cold and unreadable, but his vow unbroken.
The next morning, Matias found the calf still lingering beside its mother's body, head lowered, eyes dull with grief. But they could not stay here—danger would come sooner or later. With a low, rumbling growl, Matias urged the calf to move. His tone carried the meaning: 'We must go.'
The calf grumbled in protest, its small roar edged with sorrow, but it understood. Reluctantly, it stepped back.
Matias turned toward the fallen mother. He stared at her for a long moment, honoring the silent promise he'd made. Then, with a deep breath, he opened his massive jaws and began to feed. The calf's shocked cry split the air—an anguished roar as it rushed forward to stop him.
Matias halted briefly, fixing the calf with a steady gaze, his growl resonating like distant thunder.
The calf's breathing hitched, its body trembling, but it backed away. Matias knew the mother had understood this inevitability before her death—that her body would not be left for scavengers or rival predators. Better her strength nourish the ones she had fought to protect, even in death.
Matias rumbled a deep, commanding growl, his eyes locking with the calf's.
Eat.
His gaze shifted to the massive carcass of the Giganototaurus—the beast that had taken the mother's life.
The calf's nostrils flared as it approached, the stench of blood and death filling the air. Recognition ignited something fierce in its eyes. With a roar that shook the nearby undergrowth, it lunged at the corpse, sinking its teeth deep into the flesh.
It tore savagely, ripping great chunks free, devouring the killer of its mother with primal fury. Each bite was more than hunger—it was vengeance written in flesh and blood.