USCMRPG

Corporal Henniger was the first to squeeze off rounds as the creature bowled toward them. Two bursts lit up the dim room, and the xenomorph’s flat, bull-like head acted like a target on the range. If it was a target, Henniger got the bullseye, twice. Without even a scream, the alien collapsed, its armored limbs thumping in a bunch as they hit the grated metal floor. Its body skidded forward a few more meters before coming to a stop.

“Clear!” shouted Soles through his rebreather. The Marines regrouped and prepared to continue their sweep, making sure to avoid the acid blood of the aliens. The big bull grow was dead where it lay, but there were plenty of the panicked beasts still glued to the floor, or clustering madly in the corners.

First Squad declared the southern section of the building to be entirely clear, and they leap frogged forward, passing Second Squad and moving into the north side of the feedlot. There were no more xenomorphs, but plenty of signs that they had been here. The pitiful groans of the trapped grow gave the whole area an ominous feeling, as if they were standing in the gateway to Hell.

“Staff Sergeant,” said Paulson, in a stressed tone of voice. “You better take a look at this…” Morse and the rest of the squad moved toward one of the northernmost pens in the feedlot. The floor was ripped out, and the gate had been snapped off its hinges. Where the floor had been was a dark hole, coated with resin, and three meters diameter. The Marines aimed their shoulder lamps down into the pit, but the light barely illuminated anything beyond the entrance to the tunnel. In the silence, a pin drop could have been heard, and their ears picked up a faint baying coming from somewhere deep inside.
<Tag Marines>

Paulson kept the hole covered both visually and with motion scanner while he waitted on others to make descisions as to wether they where going in.

He definately didn't want too but was almost certain they would.
<roll perception>
<roll motion scanner>

"Staff Sergeant,” said Paulson, in a stressed tone of voice. “You better take a look at this…” Morse and the rest of the squad moved toward one of the northernmost pens in the feedlot. The floor was ripped out, and the gate had been snapped off its hinges. Where the floor had been was a dark hole, coated with resin, and three meters diameter.

MSg. Soles stepped forward and took in the hole.
"I need a scan of the hole. I also want topography map and a geological survey of this location asap. Second Squad, set up a defensive formation and bring the APC into the barn and setup a FOB."

<Tag GM and Squad>

Giosso pulled himself up off the ground where he'd dove to evade the charging xenomorph. Still keeping his weight mostly off his bruised shin, he slung his shotgun.

"It's like being in on the most horrifying ant-hill." Giosso commented.

Suppressing a wince on the first step, Mark started moving back towards the APC, already thinking through the adjustments that would be required to get the system to scan down through the concrete and dirt.