'God, not again...' I find myself thinking upon reexamining present circumstance after waking from a brief rest. This wasn't my first time in a drop-ship, though, it was a first for most of us here. My gaze lingered on the horrified expressions of my current comrades as our cabin jostles and shakes in response to explosions being set alight someone near our vehicles exterior hull. Things must have gotten pretty rough out there to rouse me like this.
I only wish my assigned team could remain calm. Terror can be witnessed gripping them tighter than the metallic braces locked against each of their panting chests. Sure, Purge Cor. wasn't a job faced with sanity. Regardless, this hardly permits terror to dictate your actions. We were getting ready to face literal nightmare army's, not the fears already gripping our minds.
"Oh god.. Oh god, why me?" Someone nearby could be heard muttering aloud between hurried prayers. There were sixteen of us lining this rooms walls, it's likely only eight of us would make it out alive. That's the fate of an emergency strike team in our suspected conditions, the strongest survive. Regrettably, the weak couldn't depart at this point, the locks beneath us already releasing several of their initial bearings.
"Drop zone red, air-support pulling out. Prepare for premature release." Over the loudspeaker our pilot could be heard summarizing present circumstance. Things are grim. If our drop zone is red than we're being put somewhere far from the designated landing coordinates due to excessive danger. This results in an extended trek to our objective and a near guarantee at finding new obstacles. If air-supports pulling out as well, then we're definitely on our own out there.
My mind races to grasp the current situation, retracing instruction whilst preparing to survive an already smoldering battlefield. We were debriefed so there shouldn't too many unaccounted variables.
Summarized, our briefing is as follows: Panzer Settlement was reported with a type-3 epidemic fully underway two days past. The dominant population was rendered into bloodthirsty ghouls almost literally overnight. These ghouls don't show any severe anomalous traits aside from the atypical enhancements to strength and senses roughly twice that of an average human. First response forces succeeded in erecting a quarantine barrier along the edge of the target settlements land before the plague could spread to any neighboring jurisdictions. My unit's here because it was determined an unnumbered amount of ghouls have retained enough operational knowledge to have directed this settlements primary weapon defenses towards our barrier. This equipment has capacities to damage the barrier, but has yet to accurately land a shot. Since this could create a breach, our current mission is to disable the equipment so no other lands suffer contamination. We need everything to hold together until a member from 'The Ivory Hand' can arrive to fully remedy this plague. You'd think something this important would demand more than the greenhorns they've given me. We must be stretched pretty thin these days.
Upon finishing my inner briefing, I once more look upwards. The four bronze walls of our current space do nothing to compliment the already faint lights provided to us inside this jostling coffin. We all wear super-alloy suits meant to mechanically enhance our combat abilities. Despite said armor coating the full exterior of each my soldiers, I can still practically smell their feverish sweat. They shake, they whisper, they prey on fears of the self that have no place on a battlefield already caked in terror.
"Release in five..-" The dim luminescence surrounding us switches from green to red, meaning we're only moments from catapulting towards the surface below.
"-four-" I take several deep breaths, the ragged panting of that same praying soldier now reverberating unto a silent audience.
"-three-" Metallic plates can be heard quickly shifting beneath each of us, ushering our hearts to throb in readiness of whats to come.
"-two-" With the shrieks of a rusted lock system, the doors beneath each of us open to the searing dawn. Powerful light now leaks freely into dim space.
"-one.-" And with that final count our metallic braces push us downwards into the open sky before releasing their grip to allow free fall towards the cataclysm below.
"HOLY SHIT!!" I hear someone scream through our open com system. I inwardly question whether he's ever sky-jumped whilst stabilizing my free fall. My eyes moves to check on him, private Bender, the first to show how scared he was to pursue our assigned duties. Shortly after seeing his trained instincts were keeping him from spinning to his death I glance to check on the others. All of us appeared to be stable, to which I'm sure is no small miracle in consideration of nearly my entire unit being struck by hyperventilation during the ride here.
*Boom!* A distant explosion rumbles overhead, the drop ship having nearly been hit by yet another explosive projectile. I scope the Earth below Whilst still in free fall to attempt at finding where this well-aimed gunfire is coming from. Even semi-intelligent ghouls aren't capable of that. We would truly be unlucky if the reinforcements had to pull out before drop due to our unit discovering this as a type-2 outbreak.
-POST 1 / Revision 1 -
