Well damn,no choice I guess. (Various aliens x Male reader)

Chapter 6: Particles of Glass And Lots of Awkward.

[Somewhere in the middle eastern desert..]
(No POV)

The sun looks down upon the hot, vast and barren lands we call the desert, where water is necessary and the temperature plays with you more than she does.
But amongst the mass amounts of sand, few shrubs and little to no trees, a rather large base was also apparent in the open.

The sounds of motors running, slow driving and few rotors spinning or engines burning. Steps amongst the concrete placed beforehand alongside the buildings of militant significance.
In one of the many buildings, a small storage place. And inside we can hear the banter between two marines.

*Click* *Clack* *Tss..*

"I signed up to do something with myself, not to have my finger closed by the damn chamber."

One of the marines remarked, holding his rifle by his side while he moves his hand, trying to ignore the simple pain. The other marine just looks at him, eyes half lidded and brows low, as if he just heard the most stupidest thing known to him.

"Never stick your finger in the chamber, never look down a barrel and for the love of our nation, don't keep your finger on the damned trigger and keep your discipline. We're not even active yet."

The marine from before huffs, before going back to tending maintenance on his rifle whilst the other one continues to stack up boxes of various supplies. From the small boxes in the middle shelves, to big containers on the top shelves.

The two continue to spend time in there before they heard a handle dragging down and a door being pushed open, and the small sounds of sand make the floor sound like a rug being moved. Along with boots marching towards the two. The marines turned their heads towards the door and saw another fellow marine, they looked unimpressed, but then again there's not much to be impressed about around a desert under a scorching sun.

"Whatcha two doin'?"

Their voice, leaking a bit of Texan but that itself was of not much importance. They wondered why there were two marines in the storage, when only one was needed. But they wouldn't pry, unless it need be.

"Just stacking up on the regular, or in simplicity. Putting away Uncle Sam's presents."

The two continue about their business as usual, and the marine takes their leave and goes to elsewhere.
It was one quiet day, for now that is. Everyone's doing something since it sure as hell isn't gonna fix itself.

Time is sometimes longer than usual, so that makes it the more fun for the marines. Working in the scorched hell that is a place one certain individual dislikes.
On another note, the attention is brought to the airfield and where a small drop ship can be seen landing.
Having two engines on the side being held by supports and takes the appearance of an osprey, something similar to the thing at the very least. The back opens up, panel down and out comes a few other marines. Most likely a transfer.

The assumed Sargeant walks up, two other marines aside him. He takes a good hard look at the marines, seeing them line up neatly and in formation as they should, before each gave a coordinated salute from left to right.
The Sargeant nods his head at this, seeing that they're fit for duty, later on that is.

"Well I'll be damned, we finally got ourselves a proper batch of monkeys to join the rest of our dysfunctional little family. You will refer to me as Sargeant, or Sargeant Pierre! Understood?"

He orders, as the line of marines straightened their backs and all shout the same 'Yes sir!' to meet the expectations and get on the same understanding ground.
When Pierre heard them, he nodded once again, glaring his sight onto them. Analyzing each and every one of them, who's big or broad. Small or thin.