As the chopper pulled away, Janice prepared to debrief the team.
"Our mission is as follows: We are to investigate reports of an extraterrestrial in the area. Should you happen to find any biological or mechanical traces of said extraterrestrial, notify me immediately. Do NOT keep it for yourself."
"If you encounter an insurgent fighter or unit, do NOT engage them. Notify me of their location and numbers so that I can organize an appropriate response."
"And finally, I expect nothing but professionalism in the field. I WILL administer discipline if any of you fall out of line. Is this understood?"
The mercenaries nodded their heads. "Then let's move out!"
Janice took the lead, followed closely by Lynch. Silver, Myers, and Hinks formed a defensive line, with Lee and St. Wilmer taking up the rear. The column slowly made its way thought the jungle, ready for action.
After half an hour, Janice raised his hand to stop the column. "Do any of you smell that?"
"Smell what?", Silver snapped. "All I smell is Hinks' refusal to use soap."
Hinks grunted, almost as though he was both laughing and feeling offended.
"Wait. I smell it too. Gasoline?" Lynch raised his rifle up in the direction of a thick cloud of smoke waifing through the trees.
Janice prepared himself mentally. "Lynch, Silver, and Myers, you're with me. Everyone else, fall back and stay in radio contact."
The group weaved its way towards the plume, taking small steps and concealing themselves every so often so as to avoid prying eyes.
Eventually, the plume led them to a large camp. It appeared deserted, with trucks filled with supplies left idle and campfires half-hazardly put out.
"Split up and look for fighters. Remember, do not engage without my permission."
Silver and Myers began checking tents and storehouses, their weapons cocked and ready to shoot. Lynch took the supply trucks, while Janice made his way to the small shack that served as a command post.
Finding the door locked, he pointed his weapon and kicked in the door. "Knock knock", he taunted. To his surprise, there was no response. The camp commander was slumped over his table, a pistol in his left hand.
Unsure of whether or not he was really dead, Janice used the barrel of his gun to push him off. The man turned over, revealing a gaping hole in his chest that ran all the way to his head, almost as though someone had carved the skull and spine from his body.
In all his years, Janice had never seen such brutality, even from the cruelest of enemies. And it reminded him of something Schaefer had mentioned in his report: "He was skinned alive..."