Atlantis Rising: Perfect War
Here's a bit of background, because most of the story I already have sorted out, but it will take a while to write out. Basically, this tale is seen from the eyes of Scott West, member of the elite Special Operations 13th Black Ops division. He, along with nineteen other Black-Ops soldiers, are sent in an XV-22 Valkyrie to secure a classified 'package' from an American research outpost being overwhelmed by Russian forces. Two regular V-22 Ospreys are sent as escorts and to air-lift any survivors.
The mission goes off without a hitch. None of the 13th are killed and they find and successfully escape with the package, about the size of a coffin and shrouded in solid steel. The other Ospreys stay behind as Scott's leaves the hot zone immediately.
This is where the account begins.
Homepage: Atlantis
03:47 Hours, August 3rd, 2017 (Military Calendar), XV-22 Osprey Twilight Flame en route to Alpha Base, over Atlantian jungle, Atlantis Mainland
Scott West inhaled deeply as he hit the hydraulic catches on his full-face blackout helmet, eager for a taste of the sweet, unfiltered air. The helmet released with a pneumatic hiss, and the matte-black headpiece came away. Scott turned the helmet over so the visor was facing him and examined the helmet.
It was similar to the standard issue Tactical Combat Armor piece, part of the CROC Armor, but with considerably more high-tech, high-expense advancements. All of their gear was high-tech, high-expense. The 13th always got the best of the best. Advanced armor with higher-density ballistic gel, a more sophisticated electronics suite in the suit, a more powerful exo-skeleton that lifted the armor's considerable weight and then some, high-class weaponry. The helmet Scott was twisting between his hands had the addition of a full-face front with internal air scrubbers, externally-silent comm. system, auditory amplification, and integral Sonics emitters. Turn it on, high-frequency pulse blasted out, any dinos or other creatures with sensitive hearing scattered in every direction for a hundred yards.
And of course, everything was completely customizable. Scott set his helmet on its cradle next to his seat, watching as the others in his squad removed the various pieces of their customized armor. There were thicker-than-normal gauntlets that delivered an electric shock at the touch of a button, immediately rendering anything live touching it unconscious. There were bulked-up pauldrons that could blast an EMP, leaving any unshielded tech unworkable for several minutes. Elbow joints with short, squat metal spikes. Bayonets that could slide out on springs from the forearm portions of the gauntlets.
Scott looked over his back and smiled. He had enhanced his own armor with an integral jump-jet pack, and enough non-volatile fuel for a minute of continued max-power. He couldn't fly, but it let him jump to absurd heights before gravity reasserted itself. Jack had had the same thing installed in his armor, too.
Jack sat directly across from Scott. Although Scott was close to every one of the 19 other 13th Black Ops soldiers, Jack was something special. He and Jack were their own army of two. Against-all-odds, come-out-smiling kind of partnership. The two had been together in more scrapes and gotten out alive than either cared to remember.
Scott set his rifle in the cradle with his helmet, stood, and stretched. They had been flying for about twenty minutes, away from the outpost that was their latest successful mission, away from the Russian ground forces and fighters. The back hatch in the XV-22 Vertical Takeoff and Landing (VTOL) Valkyrie was jammed open, frozen in place from damaged hydraulics. But that meant Scott got a clear view of the Atlantian landscape, pale underneath the wan light of the full moon.
