USCMRPG

The door slid open and revealed a dim interior. The loud baying of animals poured out, along with a stench that slipped through even the rebreathers. First Squad determined the entrance to be clear of threats, and so they moved in and set up a perimeter inside the doors.

First Squad was standing on a metal floor sprinkled with wood chips and dirt. It was about five meters to the central hallway that ran down the length of the building. Animal moans came from multiple directions, but the building seemed half empty, and much quieter than might have been expected. Moving up to the central walkway, they peered down the rows of stalls. To the south, they saw some half empty stalls with the giant cattle in them. A couple of walls were broken down, and a large herd of a dozen grows were packed into the southwest corner of the feedlot. Their eyes were bulging wide with anxiety, and they were pressing close together as if trying to push their way out the corner of the building.
<Tag First Squad>

Second Squad and Master Sergeant Soles entered and passed the thin line of First Squad, moving north along the central walkway. The dirty metal floor clanked under their heavy boots. On either side were rows and rows of pens, full of feces and wood chips. Clearly, these pens were normally packed full of animals to the maximum capacity.

They didn’t have to go far before they started to see signs of violence. Bent metal bars, gates snapped off of their hinges, and dark lines of blood. Up ahead, they saw something terrifying. Many of the grows had been collected in the northern pens and were laying on the ground, glued to the floor and walls with a translucent, slimy resin. Anyone who had seen it before recognized the habitat-changing excretions of xenomorphs. The poor, pathetic animals appeared to be out of fight, with very little struggling, and only emitting a weak, pained mooing.

The motion tracker was almost useless in this building packed with huge, struggling life forms, but it pinged as three unknown targets moved, twenty-two meters ahead. Moving forward cautiously, Second Squad noticed something violent happening ahead of them. The shiny, black exoskeletons of xenomorphs were making sharp, jerking movements. Shoulder lights fell on a scene of the creatures furiously dragging a groaning grow toward the north wall of the feedlot.
<Tag Soles/Second Squad>

Corporal Hicks wrote: ↑Sun Apr 13, 2025 3:17 pm The motion tracker was almost useless in this building packed with huge, struggling life forms, but it pinged as three unknown targets moved, twenty-two meters ahead. Moving forward cautiously, Second Squad noticed something violent happening ahead of them. The shiny, black exoskeletons of xenomorphs were making sharp, jerking movements. Shoulder lights fell on a scene of the creatures furiously dragging a groaning grow toward the north wall of the feedlot.
<Tag Soles/Second Squad>

Soles, holstered his pistol as they moved into the barn, he shouldered his pulse rifle and moved in formation with second. He kept his head on a swivel and stopped when the motion ahead drew their attention.

"Contact!!

Henniger watched his squad from the corners of his eyes as they advanced in the sweetly rank pens. Perfect deployment. A unit jammed full of vets who could run their own in any USCM line unit was a pleasure to behold, but old habits die hard.

"Contact!" He heard. He twisted obliquely to the right to shine his lamp more dead center ahead.

His shoulder lamp caught the lumbering, matte carapace of a pair of creatures dragging a large animal.

"Left side left, right side right, semi-auto or burst! Flamer! Torch it!"

He raised his pulse rifle and tapped the trigger on semi-auto, attempting four groups of three shots, without the climb of full automatic fire, the barrel tended to resettle where one wanted it.

<tag Second Squad>

The door slid open with a hiss, releasing a wave of stench that hit like a wall—sour, organic, sharp with ammonia. Even through her rebreather, Ava Blake grimaced. The noise followed—panicked baying echoing from deep within the building. Metal flooring clinked beneath their boots, scattered with dirt and wood chips. Dim lighting cast long shadows across the rows of animal pens stretching down either side of the central corridor. Pvt Blake moved up quietly, shotgun in hand, eyes sharp. What she noticed with the cattle was obvious... something had terrified them. Her gaze swept the damage, noticing the bent metal and shattered walls. Whatever it was, it was obviously done with aggressive force.

She murmured just audibly enough to hear, “Animals are clustered southwest. Breached stalls, heavy force. Whatever scared them, it wasn’t just us.”

She crouched, fingertips brushing a deep gouge in the floor, feeling it for a moment before looking to the others, "Think we should get in a spread formation? Might be good to do a quick sweep, just in case."

She stood, shotgun raised again, senses wired tight. The silence was heavier than it should’ve been. Something went through here. Fast, loud, and strong. And it might still be here. Under her breath, she muttered, “Let’s not be next.”

<Tag First Squad>

Paulson tried to find a clear target amongst the shapes he was fairly certain there were no friendlies out there but recalled that one worker had been sent to investigate the camera outages, seeing the carnage around the barn he was probably dead but better be sure.
sucking in air through the rebreather paulson braced himself ready to shoot any clear targets he saw keeping his eyes to his zone ready to laep frog around squad two one they had finished their move around him.

“Frantic Movement, Sir” Giosso called out as he examined his motion tracker. He pointed along the sweep of the unit. “That way.”

Moments later, the shoulder lights illuminated the scene of xenomorphs acting as much like huge struggling ants as the deadly killers they were. Moments later, Pulse Rifles ripped through the air. Though he felt a quick twitch through his arm, Mark didn’t raise the shotgun - the creatures were beyond effective shotgun range still. Instead, he glanced around looking for some of the work lights he might be able to wire a power pack into, all while keeping the creatures in the edge of his vision, just incase one decided to lunge.

Perez entered the barn, smartgun at the ready. That stench was intense, but he had smelled worse. Giant cattles produce giant piles of shit. But something was wrong, and he knew exactly, what it was, seeing that secreted resin stuff. Xenomorphs.
Well, here we go again.

Second squat moved ahead and it took not long, before the shooting started.

As the situation was a little bit confused, Pered readied himself and overwatched the situation closely, ready to fire upon any black shiny xeno.

<Aim and Shoot, if possible>
<Tag Squad>

Torres filed in with the rest of 2nd Squad, stepping into the foul-smelling barn. Animals darted past him and the other Marines, their movements chaotic and frenzied. Torres kept his rifle trained on them, his nerves still raw from the earlier encounter. He wasn’t taking any chances.

Cautiously, he crept further into the barn, his eyes scanning every pen for signs of activity. The sounds of suffering animals filled the air—a harbinger of something sinister. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging through his veins. The beam of his shoulder light cut through the dimness as the Corporal’s voice rang out, calling targets.

Torres maneuvered around Paulson, his pulse rifle and shoulder lamp snapping to the right. He caught sight of the abomination—a grotesque figure—and fired immediately, unleashing two precise bursts.

"One on the right side! Don’t let ’em out of your sight!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding.

<roll gun combat>

Morse didn’t flinch when the stench rolled outta the feedlot like a punch to the teeth. He’d smelled worse in tighter places. The bayin’ of animals, the busted pens, the damn quiet—it all painted a picture, and he didn’t like what it was spellin’.

First Squad moved in like they were supposed to, and Morse was right behind ‘em, Pulse Rifle raised and shoulder-tucked. The metal underfoot gave too much noise for his taste, and every animal noise bounced off the walls wrong. Like echoes had teeth.

When Soles and Second Squad slipped past, he caught the glance—orders changed. Breach team just became the plug in the drain.

"Copy that," Morse muttered, then louder, with a grit that ground down to bone, "First Squad, shift it. We’re the line now."

He moved back to the doors, checking angles, posting his squad where the shadows leaned hardest and the sight lines ran clear.

"Get tight, eyes sharp. You see anything twitch that ain’t got a uniform or a hoof, you light it up and don’t wait for nobody’s blessin’."

He knelt behind a feed bin that stank of rot, pulling up his rifle to scan the dark past the clumped-up cattle. They were scared. Animals knew. Always knew before people did.

"You hold this line. I don’t care if you hear nothin’ but wind an’ pissin’ ghosts—don’t you drop focus. Bugs don’t come when you’re ready. They come when you blink."

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his glove. The cold of the prosthetic pressed into the dirt beneath him as he braced for the inevitable.

Always when it's quiet...

"Keep your damn heads on a swivel," he said low and hard. “We ain’t the first wall. We’re the last.”

Tag First Squad

Corporal Henniger called out the orders, and his squad did the best they could to spread out and get an unobstructed line of sight on the enemies. It was difficult to do so in the partitioned feedlot, but not impossible.

The first gun to open fire was the smartgun of First Squad, halfway across the building. The advanced targeting computer could tell that it had a clear line of fire, even if the eyes of the operator strained at such a distance in a dark room. Two bursts erupted: the barrel locking on to the target and gently tugging Perez’s arms into the right firing position. The first burst struck the xenomorph in its center of mass, and the second tore its head in half like a soggy banana.

The grow let out a deep, bellowing, cow-like scream as acid splashed across its massive body. The intense pain seemed to give it a new spirit on resistance, and it started to kick hard with its muscular legs. Even laying prostrate on its side, these limbs could mount serious force. The body of the dead alien was launched into the wall five meters away with enough force to dent the metal.

The two remaining xenomorphs abandoned their weakened prey to face this new threat, capable of killing them at a distance without even a struggle. They rushed toward Second Squad with piercing screams, leaping over the walls of animal pens as they came.

Private Torres got a clean shot and fired. The rattling sound of the pulse rifle echoed in the confined space, and the darkness lit up in a series of bursts as he squeezed the trigger. The first squeeze sheared off the alien’s left arm, and the second toppled it to the ground. The third made sure the target was dead, melting into the metal floor of the building.

One xenomorph dodged the burst of Heinrich and ran along the sheltered side of a wall, staying low on all fours and moving fast, even for one of them. Master Sergeant Soles was just noting how odd its speed was when it burst through a gate, snapping the metal hinges off and sending it careening down the hallway toward the Marines of Second Squad. Soles sidestepped the sliding metal, but Lance Corporal Giosso was looking at the other xenomorph, and the gate slammed into his shin. His leg armor took most of the blunt force, but the shin stung bad enough to bring tears to his eyes, unbidden, and a cry from his lips as he dropped to one knee.

Without waiting, the unusual xenomorph charged, running on all fours with its head locked down like a battering ram.
(Actions)

Henniger swore as his rounds missed the quickly dodging target, he still had ninety rounds and tucked his pulse rifle under his armpit to prep for close quarters.

"Watch the acid spray! Mind your backdrop!" He hollered to his squad, sweat drops slithering down his neck and into his fatigues.

Thankfully, the other Marines around him had done serious damage to the vile aliens at a distance.

"Giosso, you good?!"

He hoped his Marine was okay and still in the fight, but his focus shifted as the thing charged their line.

He dig his boots into the floor and squared his body up to the front. First had their back, so his focus narrowed to a forty degree arc to his front. He tossed his head a bit to get his helmet seated better and flipped his selector to auto. This was not going to be marksmanship, this was now a knife and gun show as any he's ever seen.

<tag Giosso/GM>
<tag 2nd Squad + Attachments>
<roll reactive shooting, burst, tight grip>

Knowing that he didn't have any other choice. Soles stepped forward and dropped to one knee. He balanced his off elbow on his knee and took careful aim. He waited as the incoming Xenomorph raced towards him and 2nd Squad. Breathing deeply, despite the stench he was calm and relaxed.

Gently squeezing the trigger, he fired off three three round bursts.

(Aim)
<Tag GM, and Others>

The fight was almost over before Paulson realised it had began, two crisp take downs had cleared most of the visible targets. Unfortuneately that left one and it was pissed and heading their way.
a line of sight became clear he took his time even as the distances shrank finally when he was as sure as he could be he fired two small controlled bursts and prayed his aim was good.
<aim>
<roll combat>