When they received the files for their newest assignment, him and his team had a good laugh. Aliens, they joked, what shite is this?

It was less funny when they saw the footage of the beasts in action. And just like that, an air of seriousness settled over the Task Force.

Their job was simple: protect the scientists on planet 88B56 while they tried to learn about the xenomorphs and find a way to protect against their kind.

During the travel to the planet, MacTavish couldn't help but look over the files on the alien again, taking in the typically sleek forms of the creature. There was something undeniable sensual about the alien, even the ones that weren't the 'traditional' xenomorph. He could feel the fascination deep in his gut as they prepared to land.

Once on planet, they all got settled in, getting acquainted with the scientists and the base. The air outside was breathable, but they were warned to be on guard if they went out and to always carry weapons. There were other guards, of course, but the 141 were the most capable ones here.

Over the next few weeks, Soap followed the scientists around, keeping an eye on them whenever they stepped out of the safety of the base. Yet during this time, he never once saw a xenomorph in the flesh. A shame, he genuinely wanted to see one of the buggers.

It would be dangerous, aye, but it was part of the job– to research something, you needed a subject to observe. And the scientists had complained a lot that the xenos had kept their distance.

Today, Soap was standing guard by the windows observing the Eastern 'forest'– though the trees were feckin' weird– when he spotted movement in the treeline.

Standing at attention, he watched, spotting a xenomorph– an actual fucking xenomorph!– peering through the leaves and shrubbery.

Straight at him.

Swallowing, Soap felt that feeling in his gut again, and adjusted his grip on his gun to ease his nerves.

"Holy shite, aren't ye a bonnie thing..." He mumbles, eyes dragging over your alien form.