"I don't want to try for Rostok tonight," you say, "not after this," the others nod. The idea of braving new, lonely woods does not appeal.
"Bird, help me cut the head off, and let's take it back to the hangar. Get a few more good shots, too."
"What about the body?" Damsel asks, though you know she knows the answer.
"We burn it."
It takes some time, but your group manages to seperate the thing's head; it makes you uncomfortable just TOUCHING it. The hike back to the hangar is utterly quiet but has totally lost any sense of pleasantness; by the time you get back, it's early evening and you've never been so glad to see a bunch of unbathed slavs squatting in a derelict building. You address one of the door guards, "Say, mind giving the captain a buzz? We have something that I think he'll want to see."
(and that, guys, is it for me tonight; I plan to run a session tomorrow if I can starting earlier (8 pm) again if possible; if things don't work out and you don't see the thread go up, though, don't worry - I'll either be on again later or on another day; feel free to comment/ask questions/etc.)