"Yes, we know I'm pretty, but we gotta get back to work."



"Don't make me rip your arms off and beat you to death with them!"



"We are FUBAR."



FUBAR, Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.



"Dear humanity... we regret being alien bastards...we regret coming to Earth and we most definitely regret that the corps just blew up our raggedt-ass fleet." Regrets of the Prophet



"When we meet the enemy, we will rip their skulls from their spines, and toss 'em away, laughin'! Am I right, Marines?"



“John is gonna jump in this tank, roll across the bridge, and blow up any inhuman son-of-a-bitch dumb enough to get between him and the Prophet of Regret! Pull yourself together, 'cause you're going with him.”



“When I joined the Corps, we didn't have any fancy-schmanzy tanks. We had sticks! Two sticks, and a rock for the whole platoon—and we had to share the rock! Buck up, boy, you are one very lucky marine!”



“Usually, the good Lord works in mysterious ways. But not today! This here is 66 tons of straight-up, H.E-spewing dee-vine intervention! If God is love, then you can call me 'Cupid'!”



"Sergeant Major Avery Junior blow-the-hell-out-of-your-alien-ass Johnson, reporting for duty!"

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