Difference between revisions of "Reaper's First Drop: Chapter 1"

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‘Damn’ I swore as I hit my head on the wall. I’d been just about to fall asleep too. I sighed, resigned to a sleepless flight. I decided I should see how my team was doing. They looked nervous. No-one else would have been able to tell, but I could.

I was their leader and brother and I could read their actions. The slight tick of a finger, the tight tension in the jaw and shoulders. Who wouldn’t be nervous? This would be our first real fight. Not a drill, not a field exercise, now it was kill or be killed. They had all been hand picked, by me, to be the first and best Death Angels to go into the field.

We had been trained from birth together as siblings, fighting, eating, training, and sleeping together. We were created from the genes of the best soldiers and chemically augmented before birth. I was born in a lab, grown in a machine for one purpose: to fight the Northern Federation. Out of all of the Angels, I had been selected to be the head of Angel Company, as we were called by the politicians. To the rest we were known solely as Death.

Now I had chosen my team. We would be the best of the best. Put in the thick of the action, sent ahead of the troops to raise morale and kill all the Northern Federation troops we could. We were the top. No one could tell us what to do, except the highest ranking commanders and generals, and of course the President himself. We were Echo Team.

Our call signs were Lone wolf, Rouge, Siren, Ghost, and Trigger and we would be known throughout history as the unstoppable force that ended this war. Russians would run from us, Cubans would cower before us, just the sight of us would create mass mayhem in the North Korean lines.

I looked to my left at closest friend, my brother in all but blood, Matt Kenderson. He was my first pick as our combat engineer, partly because our bond was greater than that of any other of the Death Angels, and because he was smart, level headed, knew his way around any engineering problem that could come up and could fight me to a tie in hand to hand combat.

He was twirling a combat knife around in intricate patterns, his fingers dancing through the air, the Blood II arcing through the cabin of the helo with a deadly grace. With his enhanced reflexes and speed, the knife, and his hand, was a blur of black and silver lines that traced out a complex beat.

His hair had gotten him the name, Rouge. His long blond hair defied regulations, but when you were a ton of steel, Kevlar, and special ballistic plastics and ceramics no one really questioned you.

Across the hold was our sniper, Jessica Alender. Her scary, ghost-like ability to hit a target perfectly from a mile away and stay completely hidden from sight had gained her the name Wraith. Her short auburn hair was set in a crew-cut at her cheek to keep it out of her way. She kept checking and rechecking her FALCON MII 37 caliber sniper rifle. Yep, she was nervous. The rifle-checking thing was mainly for comfort.

On my right was our medic and stealth expert, Lindsay. I was debating about choosing her. I had a crush on her since... well since forever, but if our team was going to be the best it needed the best, and she was. I mean, if you can sneak into an enemy base while it's on high alert in broad daylight with our black and red ‘scythe‘ armor you have some serious skill at sneaking.

Her ability to take down gaurds with a little flirting, sneaking, or just lying was second to none. She had shown how you earn the name Siren. Deadly and beautiful didn't start to describe her.

Our last member, Erick Lane, was blasting some classic heavy metal band from the beginning of the 21st century. Indestructible by Disturbed. It was an appropriate choice for our line of work. He was our heavy weapons expert and could usually be seen with his M66 Medium Machine Gun (MMG). His head was shaved bald and his sunglasses were ever-present on his face.

Where he puts them when he has his helmet on, when he has very little baggage and when everything he does have is filled with ammo, I'll never know. All in all a typical group of 16 year old super soldiers in with the most advanced armor to be seen on earth and toting weapons that would make any arms dealer drool. Well, about as typical as they get.

“Why do you listen to that crap? That's like their worst song. Turn on Down With the Sickness or something.” Matt yelled over the drone of the engine.

“Aw come on. Indestructible is so much better. Plus it puts me in the mood.” Trigger argued.

“Somethings messed up in your head. At least put on Inside the Fire. Or I Will Not Bow or something.”

“Your crazy.”

“I know.” Matt admitted.

Of course it was all joking, but the pilot didn't know that.

“Will you kids shut up!” The pilot yelled over his shoulder. Wrong choice. You didn’t want to piss us off. Matt just slid his knife into its sheath and stared the pilot over, treating the man to his best demented stare. Matt didn't blink when he was doing this. It was actually rather creepy, and the pilot hurriedly turned back to his instruments.

“New guy?” Matt asked after a moment of drilling two holes in the pilot's headrest.

I nodded, suppressing a chuckle. Just then “AA” fire silenced anymore conversation we all got our helmets on and got ready for battle.

It had been five minutes and the fire hadn’t stopped, but we hadn’t been shot down. However, we had taken some shrapnel. The armor was weaker back here in the hold, but our diamond hard armor protected us. The D9-7 drop ship had been made to carry personnel, and supplies and if the need arose a vehicle. It was the workhorse of the American Space Corps.

Suddenly we heard a series of thumps followed by a sharp crack as a line of flack stitched across the windshield. The pilot took a lucky .50 cal shot in the head. It tore through the weak pilot issue visor and splattered the mans brains all over the inside of his helmet. Lovely.

The ship nose dived as the pilots body pushed down on the stabilizer. The armor we were wearing kept us safe from the serious G’s we were pulling, but we couldn’t move to stabilize ourselves. Our harnesses soon broke from the pressure and we were thrown across the hold. I hit the wall and started blacking out. Somebody was yelling my name but I couldn’t break free.

‘So this is how it ends, without a fight.’

Things came fuzzy at first. My head was on fire. I tried for a word. “Unnhhh...”

Matt walked, limping only slightly, into the dim interior of the ship. “Oh good, your awake.”

“Yeah, although whether or not that's a good thing I'm not sure. Sit-rep?”

“We've set up a perimeter around the crash site. You took quite a pounding in that crash, Wolf. Our armor's operating at half capacity and our communications are being jammed. Trigger's dead.”

My head jerked up at this. “Oh, terrific. What's the low-down on weapons?”

“The bird's systems are all fried, obviously, but most of the mounted cannon still operate. The 40mm nose cannon still work, and I've got Siren on that one. The .50 cals on the sides still work. Wraith's posted up in a tree somewhere, but beyond that I have no idea. You've been out for an hour.”

“Nice.” I said sarcastically.

“Trigger's MG's right here. Your rifle's smashed to bits.”

I glanced down at my rifle. The barrel was twisted and the stock was cracked in half. “I guess I'll use it then.”

Matt passed me Trigger's .50 cal. “I'd gear up quick. Hostiles inbound from the North.”

“Now that you mention it,” I got up and rifled through a crate of ammunition, coming up with a spare sidearm and several boxes of ammunition for the MG. “Get on that side gun and give some suppressive fire. I'll pull along the flank. Can you keep the attention here?”

Matt pulled back the charging handle on the side-mounted chain gun. “I think we can do that.”

“Roger that, Rouge.”

This would be fun.

I took stock of our position. We had landed at the edge of a cliff, looking out across wide grasslands. Great. We were cornered.

I made sure there was ammo in the box before I crept into the wreckage. Matt would keep 'em occupied while I took care of a special project.

My short-range Friend or Foe Distinction System (FOF) showed 30 little dots on my Tactical Map (TacMap).

Five minutes later I was hidden behind the ruined left wing with Trigger's machine gun balanced on a tripod.

The Russian point man advanced cautiously over the hill, rifle held before him. I didn't even have time to aim before the ground blew up beneath the man's feet. Siren at the 40mm's.

I opened fire, carefully calculating the bullet's path both through the weapon's optical sighting and the bright red tracer shots that spit out every 7 rounds. One after another the Russians fell, like dominoes, and I received only a scattering of return fire.

Then one of the Russian's Armored Personnel Carriers (APC's) opened fire with a 100mm explosive shell that threw shrapnel across my Scythe armor.

I jumped from behind the wing just in time to see it blasted by another 100mm shell. I crossed the 50 yards in long sloping strides hoping to find cover. I dove towards the rocks to my left, rolling to disperse the energy. I crouched putting the rock between me and the Russian troops just in time to see fire dust kicked up where I had been standing. Two Russians stumbled around the rocks, hoping to flank us.

I ducked under the first's swing and clocked him with the heavy MG. As he fell back, his partner darted forward and shoved a blade into the weak joint plating of my shoulder. The blade slipped in between the armor plates and dug into my shoulder. It wasn’t deep but it would hurt later.

The pain didn't even register. I whipped out my own blade, classic back-handed style, and cut across the Russian's throat. He went down, and I darted past him and stuck the other Russian in the back of the neck.

But now I was exposed. Crap. Eight Russians turned and leveled various nasty-looking weapons at me.

I was dead. As tough as this armor was a volley of that many bullets would eventually find a weak spot. This was a firing squad.

Just then Wraith opened fire, two sharp cracks resounding over the plains, and two Russians fell, their heads bursting like overripe fruit.

The distraction allowed me to roll behind a piece of cover while Rouge took up fire with his machine gun. Except that it wasn't Matt, because Matt was right next to me now, holding his hand out. I grabbed it and he pulled me up.

“I rigged the gun.” He responded in answer to my questioning look. “Took the nav computer out of the cockpit and re-wired it into the MG. I hooked up a couple spare boxes of ammo and let the computer do the firing.”

I grinned. That was Matt. Battlefield engineer.

“So what do you say, Wolf? Lets go knock some heads.”

“Roger that, Rouge.”

My FOF showed 67 infantry dots and 3 big dots. I looked out from behind the rocks to see three ‘Scorpion’ 323 light land vehicles gliding through the waist high grass. One of the gunners head jerked and he slid down out of sight. Wraith's work no doubt. So that one was incapacitated until it could get a new gunner. I fired the last of my ammo into a group of infantry coming up the slope.

“The 40’s dead and I can’t take down those 323’s.” Siren shouted

“Shit. Okay fall back down that cliff and set up a fallback position.” I said more calmly than I felt. “Rouge goes with as backup.”

They did as they were told. The Russians had regrouped and were heading up the hill. I started digging through the wreckage. I found a Basilisk and aimed at the lead 323. I fired, but there was none of the expected recoil. The first shot had been damaged in the crash. The 323’s 30 cal opened fire. Bullets started skimming across my armor. A round found the weak spot in the inside of my elbow. The bullet lodged in my arm but the armor had slowed it down enough to keep it from damaging the joint.

I slid behind some debris and slid the damaged missile out of the chamber. I stood back up and fired again. It hit the front paneling of the Scorpion blowing the engine back through the passengers’ compartment and lighting the gas tank up. The next shot missed but it took out some of the infantry units behind it. The last shot hit the rear Scorp’s turret taking out the gun and gunner and tipping the vehicle. A blue flag blibbed up on my Tacmap signaling that they had set up a fallback position.

“Wraith get out of here its getting hot” I yelled over the comm system

I didn’t listen to her reply. I dropped the launcher and picked up a Russian refitted M96. The Northern Federation obviously didn’t much care about this area. They were giving the men 50 year old rifles. I crept down the path along the cliff face to a trail that led downwards. The Russians swarmed over the downed craft. They found what they were looking for, ammo. I pushed the detonator button on my wrist and 20 pounds of C4 went off blowing up the extra Hawk rockets in the cargo hold. The ship went up in a fireball taking most of the Russians and the remaining 323. They wouldn’t be able to pursue us for awhile if ever and when they did we would be long gone. My greatest hope was that they didn’t have enough men to send after us.

When I reached the fallback point I checked my FOF for my squad. It was clear but that was to be expected they turned their tags off so that an enemy couldn't find them. Our Scythe-II armor had energy suppressors and other scramblers so that in the field we were virtually invisible. It had one of the most sophisticated com system known to man. The Death Angel techs had made sure that the worlds best soldiers had the worlds top armor system. This 3 person family had made sure we were the best protected men out there. They had spent so much time on it that they had become part of our family especially since Shannon and John were the ones that created us. Their son Forrest had gone on to be one of the best engineers in the UNC forces eventually taking the job as the Angels top engineer.

All of the sudden Matt's tag flashed on my screen signaling that he was coming out one by one they stood in the tall grass that had hidden them so well. We had triangulated our position and found that we were in Mongolia or China. Mongolia was more surprising considering China was an important supplier for the Northern Federation and the troops we had engaged were badly armed, poorly trained, and in outdated armor. We headed East to get to the coast so we could head to Allied Japan. We found some supplies in abandoned farmhouse where we decided to rest for the night. The next morning we came upon a NF airfield. Whitney snuck in in some civilian clothes from the farmhouse. While we waited we captured a Russian truck full of fuel drums.

2 hours later she came back and reported. 150 infantry, 50 civilians and roughly 30 pilots and engineers. The guards were all asleep or not paying attention and their were a few aircraft that would be easy to steal. We could sneak in and hijack one or we could go in guns blazing and hijack one. Either way we needed to take out the communications so they couldnt radio our activities in. I was leaning towards guns blazing since I wasn't all cloak and dagger. We just needed a plan. I looked at the captured truck.

"I think I have and idea." I said

Reaper's First Drop: Chapter 2