At the base's edge, where the woods ended, a lone figure was sitting. A pilot of a machine who doubled as a fantastic footsoldier when the need arose, A tall man who looked to be in his mid 30s, relatively built and in very good shape, his hair a bit longer than most place's military standards, but not so much that it could be grabbed, naturally a vaguely reddish brown colour. He was wearing a standard grey piloting jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the zipper undone to about his stomach revealing a black undershirt, and above that, an olive drab jacket with multiple pockets. His right hand was covered by a leather glove, the left bearing a fingerless equivalent. The pair of dark-lensed glasses worn over his eyes added to his not-quite-within-standards appearance.
"Impulse 1 here. Acknowledged," He responded. A suitcase-shaped piece of metal next to him was hit in the center with a balled fist. A hiss of air escaped it, and the block began rearranging itself into the shape of a futuristic, two-barreled rifle. He picked it up and slid his hand into a gap on the grip, and when he squeezed it, a bladed chain emerged above it. A squeeze of a secondary trigger down by the grip activated the saw, which would be useful for removing any foliage in the way. It was a bit loud, though, so for now he gave the grip another squeeze and retracted the blade.
With the weapon in hand, he scooted off the ledge he was seated on, landing in a squat on the ground about 10 feet below. Almost immediately, he was standing again, and he bolted into the treeline. While running, he flipped a switch on the side of his rifle. The lethal rounds loaded into the magazine would be ignored in favor of the secondary mag's non-lethal bullets. The barrel on the uppermost part of the gun closed, and the one below opened, allowing them an exit. The rounds themselves were comparable to long-ranged tasers, but with enough impact to hurt even if the electric charges couldn't activate.