The cacophony of spooling drives, droning rotors, above it all, the groans and grinds as the massive blast doors of the launch silo cranked out, letting light in from the world above. As they marched to the drop ship, Red Pack gawked at their first sight of natural light. So powerful compared to the photo-lights that illuminated their world. Anticipation built as they neared the drop ship
Lacking a cockpit, the drop ship flew entirely by auto-pilot, with a "navigator" determining the destinations. Designed as a VTOL, Vertical Take-off Or Landing, the plane could reach mach 3 with a full load and reach any point in the continent without requiring a refuel. All of this was explained by the instructor leading them to the backwards facing hatch in the rear of the plane. Marcus admired the flowing lines and sweeping wings of the plane.
The hold consisted of forward facing seats, just enough for all thirteen of them. One pack leader and three fire teams. All were proud, for they doubted that yellow and orange were getting to engage in this mission. If it was a single team mission, their superiority was ensured. As they buckled in Lucius quipped, "We have clearance Clarence. Rodger Rodger, whats our vector Victor?", a line the instructors quoted when driving one of the compound's hovercraft. Once they were strapped in, the instructor explained that for their bodies to handle the accelerations, Red Pack would be drugged for the flight. All were given a small plastic cup filled with clear water. Brutus took the shot and the pack followed suit.
Marcus felt deep in his stomach that they were not prepared for this. No matter how much training that they had, ten cases of body bags could only mean that wherever they were going, it was going to be the final stopping place for some. drowsiness overtook him, his eyes closing as the screen in the front of the hold showed the ship lifting off.
It scuttled through the rubble and ruins of the area its pack had claimed. The beginning drops of a thunderstorm pelting its hide. Stopping to sniff a bicycle still tied up to a tree; the animal scavenged for any scraps. Deciding to look around, the animal stood up. A man, though only in appearance. It looked down the street and saw a large barricaded structure off in the distance. The breeze turned and blew towards the feral the scents of habitation, of food. The animal turned, loping off towards the pack den. disappearing in the thickening downpour.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
