[b]In orbit, [i]Independence[/i] Station, 10 minutes beforehand[/b]
Two hatches opened along the outer edges of the station, both some distance from the other. Out one came a gunship; out the other, a dropship. Both were matched in speed, while the dropship had better armor, the gunship had better handling and maneuverability. Both were dispatched to go act as support, for evac and strikes. While the twins piloting them both had never seen live combat before, they sure were ready for something, being young and rash.

[i]"This is First Ell-tee Hellingsworth, gunship, callsign [/i]Phoenix[i]. Reporting for duty, ladies and gentlemen, a nice buzz-run in about ten minutes, hold on tight and prep all enemy targets for a cut off the top. How you guys doin' down there?"[/i]
Right after Alvin finished, his brother Spencer cut in, saying, [i]"And the other one, dropship Hellingsworth! Callsign [/i]Wendigo,[i] moving for evac. Sit tight people, Phoenix'll buzz 'em and I'll come on down!"[/i]

Both craft gently slid out of their docking ports, which were one-way, and slowly flipped themselves to face their bellies to the planet, and fired a few more RCS jets to get them moving. No sound could be heard, nor made. In the deathly, unearthly silence and stillness, twin brothers watched their descent, breath caught in their throat. So high up, the planet wasn't the horrible, dreadful place it was. There was no poverty, no rich from so high. It was just a great, big, shining planet of unmatched, unparalleled beauty and grace.

Then they entered the atmosphere and everything turned hell-ish red. They dropped like a rock, and both of the brothers had their eyes crammed shut, silently freaking out at the re-entry. In this, they were twins, because they were both terrified of the thought of not even dying on Earth, of burning up in the atmosphere. Once they were through, though, and the friction settled to a less heated ordeal, they re-assumed command, and descended rapidly.

A dropship full of [NPC] infiltrators for intelligence deeper into Russian territory, and a gunship ready to blitz some walkers. The gunship guarded the dropship all the way; the infiltrators were first priority, recon second. They landed some distance out of the city, coming down for a quick stop to let off the seven infiltrators, who sprinted away from the dropship and rapidly disappeared, and then rose again. As they did so, a warning started blaring its speakers, calling for attention to two small streams of white smoke rising towards the two heaven-bound VTOLs. Both began to weave around each other, while firing off flares, to confuse their heat signatures, and as the missiles neared, they broke their small formation and dipped towards the ground in opposite directions. Their formation had worked, for the most part; both of the missiles had instead targeted the gunship. Finding that the gunship was safe, and rapidly circled around and away to complete the next objective, Mr. Alvin Hellingsworth was faced with his first real combat situation. With two missiles rapidly closing, and a city on his right, he decided to, well, blitz it. 

[u]Half a minute later[/u]
Two Russian unmarked soldiers talked idly while waiting for orders, both sitting in a building's 2nd floor corner, looking over an intersection between two commercial lanes. Neither were very excited- oh yay, invading more people. They drew guard duty. They were sitting there, playing cards, talking about the 9-foot-tall mech of unnamed specifications, when a low thrumming noise rapidly grew in their ears. They had heard and seen the missile launch, just an intersection down, closer to the edge of the city, and didn't really care much: they couldn't see what was happening. 

As Russian #2 pulled out his water canteen for a drink, and the thrumming noise grew to a new pitch, Russian #1 called out from the window. The mech in the intersection turned around to see a medium-sized aircraft coming in quite fast. That was because it was made to be more jet-like than other gunships- if it came down from orbit, they wanted it to handle the speed better, while still provide VTOL capabilities. Expensive stuff. Anyways, the mech swung around and stood, stunned for a moment, as a flash of light erupted from the lower nose of the VTOL's body, tearing into the portable AA system [who was still reloading its missiles from a nearby truck]. The rounds from the truck-sized gatling cannons could not individually destroy any armor, but hundreds of them in rapid succession could. 

The AA vehicle was torn in half, one of its tires being torn and thrown violently off as the gas tank was hit, resulting in it bursting. Combined with a missile being hit at almost the same time, the middle section was torn apart in a rather dramatic explosion as the other two halves of the AA vehicle were tossed aside. The VTOL swooped overhead, unknowingly getting a scrap of metal stuck in an exhaust vent, which would later come into play, and clipped the top of the slowly-disappating explosion. As it began slowing down, it angled up, much to the mech pilot's surprise, and began firing loads of flares. Three hatches opened and collectively shot out about three dozen flares. Moments later, the two missiles appeared, flipping out because they just got scrambled by flares, explosives, and special systems inside the gunship. 

One missile shot up on a twitchy course; the other decided to interrupt #2's session of oh-my-God-I-just-wanted-a-drink -ness. The mech pilot stood there for a bit, a little shocked at the arm to his buddy being draped over one of his cameras.

The gunship to cause all this flew away, lower over the edge of the city, occasionally buzzing any kind of fortified position, eventually leading to a couple holes in his wing and his ambition suitably chastened.

Some distance away, the dropship circled over the general area of the recon units, requesting, "All recon units, this is Wendigo, ready for evac, pop smoke and wait for a buzz run, and I'll drop right in. Phoenix is en route."