"Too much oxygen, there was just too much God Damn oxygen on this planet. It always blows my mind, pisses me off, and perplexes me to the point of seeing red. Everything on Pandora, wonderful name for a planet by the way, is too fucking big. So space and this much plant life pumped out the O2 like it was cool. By default all of the animals and insects got pretty freaking big and you know what when you have a bug that's as big as your two year old daughter, you know you shouldn't be here. I mean, what the fuck? You get off the fucking OETT, that's Orbital Entry Troop Transport but you knew that and bam, you're high as all hell giggling like a Japanese school girl. You know what's pretty screwed up though? So much of the crap we need to breath and stay alive is one of the biggest things that messes you up. I mean think about it, if you stand next to a ficus the size of a fucking guerrilla whats gonna happen when you start chilling under the big oak tree ya know?"<br/><br/>The young Expeditionary Forces Operator, commonly referred to as Marines, only because of their cocky attitude and well know prowess in battle. To be honest, since their inception they had only conducted a handful of boardings which in their own right weren't all that noteworthy to begin with. Pulling the mask over his face, the experienced Operator stepped off the transport and followed the young Marine. They were so old fashion, steeped in tradition, it was curious really. They had issued him a Seabag, a freaking Seabag for his gear and authorized personal belongings. This thing was no shit woven fibers and not the now commonplace flexi-mesh crap they probably grew in a cows vagina at some cosmetics lab trying to make the newest version of vagisil. The complex was freaking huge, it blew his mind how they threw all of this shit together in just three weeks. It was always expanding and the See Bees, those crazy engineers, just kept on going and that's when the shit hit the fan. Turns out when you leave Earth the planets start giving no fucks as to what you thought was possible. Once the Operational Facility got a little too big nature decided to kick some ass and take a lot of names, literally, a couple of sticky fingered midgets with wings started stealing name tapes. Oh yea, Pandora happen to be the place of residence for every God Damn fairy tale you've ever heard and a few that you're gonna tell your grand kids later.<br/><br/>The bay doors to the hanger were massive and could take a full transport with gunships abreast like dropping a pencil into a mineshaft. He was escorted through Receiving, the Motor Pool, and the Armory until they finally reached the Head Shed. Once he'd met Gunny, Top, and the Sergeant Major, he was introduced to the Executive Officer, Commanding Officer, and finally the Commanding General. He loved how they never changed the rank structure, it was the same as when they still fought in trenches and just barely learned to fly.<br/><br/>"Sergeant Reed Schoolcraft, Forward Relations Platoon Leader reporting as ordered Sir." The twenty eight year old career Special Assignments Infantry Platoon Leader snapped into a sharp crisp salute which was returned with a curt nod.<br/><br/>"Sergeant, you know why they sent ya here right? Regardless, I'll tell you. You're here to be a tree loving, bunny hugging, plant licking, goody two shoes ambassador in arms here to represent us in the hopes we'll stop being rapped up the ass by what I think is a Japanese tentacle porn monster when we piss on the wrong fucking petunia."<br/><br/>Reed had a hell of a time keeping his military bearing but choked down the giggle fit and only nodded at the four star General. "Alright Schoolcraft, go see post flight Medical and make sure you're all green and good to go."<br/><br/>With another sharp salute, the Platoon Sergeant took his leave and made his way down the mineshaft of a hallway to medical. Before he even stepped through the clinic style double doors the medical personnel were all over him like ugly on an ape. They spirited the man away to what could only be describe as a stalkers dream machine. Stripping him down to his skivvies, they threw him into a vertical cat scan machine that recorded anything and everything about him. Dirty blond hair, emerald eyes, scarred weathered face, hands and arms all attached to his 5'9'' body of a Teutonic God.<br/><br/>"Heheheheheeey, I didn't think I'd ever see you on this side of the cosmic fart cloud, Schoolcraft, report to the staging area, you're heading out like five seconds ago."<br/><br/>Giving the male medical specialist a wet kiss on the cheek and a slap on the rear, Reed grabs his gear and catches one of the roving trollies to the air lock. Taking the time to put on his gear, the platoon leader's battle rattle was set up beforehand just for situations like this. It was time to meet the team. The trolly took it's sweet ass time to reach the staging but when it did he was dumbfounded and not in a good way. Looking out over the stupidly large space Reed realized that they were pretty well screwed. Instead of exo-suits, Armored Personnel Carriers, Air Support, Air Chav, and yea they were pretty much fucked.<br/><br/>Cutting the pleasantries to nothing, Reed synced his Battlefield Awareness system with theirs and got an instant flood of personal information on all seven members of his team. They'd have time to get acquainted on their ride in the light transport. It was some five hours before the half strength squad was dumped unceremoniously into the middle of the ancient movie Honey I Shrunk the Kids mixed with Alice in Wonderland, not the one that was all drawn up, the one with that creepy dude and the chick that looked like she snorted the inspiration to play her characters. Along with all that God Damn oxygen there was a lot of God Damn humidity, too little God Damn gravity, and way too much God Damn, mother fucking, cock sucking, green. So now that they had been dropped into a rainforest on meth, crack, speed, and a little bit of nicotine, they started their hump to an insignificant compound made by a few crazy Eco-terrorists who are doing a lot to piss off a whole planet. Beat the fuck out of Reed how but they did. It was going to be a long, long, day.<br/><br/>After another twelve hours, six near death experiences, and one proverbial death by salad, the generals band of tree hugging, bunny fucking, plant licking, goody two shoes band of merry men found the what they were looking for.<br/><br/>"Sergeant, we have a soft contact three o'clock seven hundred meters out. I smell what seems like a Vietnamese whore house on an Irish dock during a menstrual cycle, how copy?"<br/><br/>"That is an A-firm, little green pine trees unavailable at this time, just hold your nose and choke it down."<br/><br/>"Wow, why haven't they cut our communications budget yet?"<br/><br/>"couldn't tell ya, But it's time to wait and watch."<br/><br/>As Sergeant Reed said, the little Special Interests platoon waited for any reason to make their surgical strike. It didn't take long for the excuse to arise as the radical interest group exited their excuse of a hidden bunker command center rolling barrels of what had to be radiological and biochemical waste. Stuff that make anthrax look like the white sugar powder on donuts. They planned on pissing off everything in the area in a way only a human could. With this new turn of events Reed and his team began to move into position but it all came tumbling down. With a sudden explosion of weapons fire Reed watched in a numb state of shock as the people he was supposed to take care of fall to the ground. It all happened in horrific slow motion, they all fell, it didn't make sense, there was no reason for it o... A sudden concussive blast knocked Reed down the ridge they had set up and the Sergeant tumbles, over and over and over, until finally with a bone crushing thud he comes to rest beside a shallow grotto. He couldn't... Couldn't stay awake... So then the inky black set in.