Meanwhile, the Space-Helicopter had just landed on the planet. There was fire freakin’ everywhere, man. And annoying Aliens shrieking and shooting laser pistols at everything that moved.
“Yo, fuck this,” said Space Marine 1, scoping the scene with a pair of binoculars, “There’s no way inside the facility without running into those gray fucks.”
“We can take them,” said Space Marine 2, “They’re like 5-feet tall. And their guns are bullshit, I don’t even know why we’re losing this war.”
Rob took the binoculars and saw for himself. Indeed, the Aliens looked shrimpy and non-threatening. Their laser pistols barely seemed stronger than pellet-guns.
“It’s their sheer numbers,” explained Irish Pilot, “There’s like a fucking trillion of them altogether. Any man can single-handedly take a dozen of them. But they just keep fucking coming.”
“Also, we can teleport and read minds, faggots,” said an Alien who had just appeared before them.
“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” shouted Space Marine 3, and he open-fired on it, blasting it into a million pieces.
“KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!” shrieked an Alien, pointing the hoards in direction of the Marines.
“Johnson and Smith, you tropes stay with me,” instructed Irish Pilot, “The rest of you, circle around behind them and get into that damn facility! There’s still survivors in there! We’ll hold this position until you return!”
The Marines split up, Rob going with the Rescue Team. They went far around the battle, which the Extraction Team seemed to be near-effortlessly winning. The Alien hordes kept pushing at the landing zone, but they were unable to take it from the Marines with their superior… everything.
They made it to the facility door, and Space Marine 2 kicked it open without hesitation.
AND WHAT THEY SAW INSIDE SHOOK THEM TO THEIR BONES.
[To be continued]