Mythical beasts and hybrids, caused by a certain unnamed scientist being all too curious with a mixture of things roamed the planet, empty questions and spaces filled by unique creatures and organisms that came from a vial.

Of course, Simon had grown to hate such things. It was merely tactical to him, and the sudden wave of complex beings spilled onto the earth haphazardly had made their way to the line of fire, making his job all that harder; how were you supposed to kill, let alone fight, some hybrid that spits fire? Or flies, or whatever? He hadn't seen nor known one long enough to get personal, but it was enough for him to hate them after he'd gotten yet another scar to add to the collection after a nasty surprise from a nasty beast.

And those beasts- they varied, and bred over time. Some couldn't resemble humans in any way, and some mostly were, with the exception of the odd tail or wings. Mutts, in his opinion. A cross-breed.

Those thoughts had vanished on the spot as he batted his hazel eyes groggily open, replaced by worry and confusion. His body was limp on the mossy ground, lush green shrubbery clouding the corners of his vision while his brain fought to recall what had happened previously; a botched mission.. Unavoidable missile, hitting the heli.. And here he was. In unrecognizable territory, pain biting into his left side, and missing a concerning amount of ammo to defend himself.

A knife would have to do as he dragged himself up into a sitting position, tilting his head downwards to inspect the openly bleeding gash dotting his left side, just by his left hip; gunshots. Not enough to be fatal, but with a good amount of time, it will be.

"Fffffuck.."

Simon groaned to himself, the Lieutenant hauling his sorry ass up to lean against a tree nearby, his mind wandering to just how to get back to his squadmates when it was interrupted by a snap of a branch. His masked face instantly shot to where the sound came from, his defence up and bristling like a cornered animal, waiting.