[h3][color=DarkGray]The Anuriite Basin[/color][/h3] [h3][color=DimGray]Jungle Depths - Wrecked Turret[/color][/h3] [center][h3][color=LightGray]-Pvt. Areffon Warder-[/color][/h3] [img]http://i1298.photobucket.com/albums/ag58/Silux45/d7464019-093e-470b-bb4a-008128242fd8_zpsdkbddze0.png[/img][/center] [hr] [i]Shit. Shit![/i] Was the first thought that came to Aref's mind. It had all seemed too easy, too quiet. Why would he lull himself into a false sense of security? Stupid. [i]Stupid.[/i] But maybe it was just a technological malfunction. Maybe it was just the scanner picking up the motion of some solitary bird rustling though the canopy. Yes. That seemed plausible, and it wouldn't even be the first time it had happened. His mind raced with possibilities, denying the very real possibility of hostile contact in hopes that if he believed it hard enough, it would not come to be. The others had heard the piercing beep, too. Fords almost shit himself, and the rest of the team lowered themselves into the undergrowth to conceal as much of themselves as possible. All but the sergeant, who calmly severed radio contact with high command and slowly but steadily made his way to the wrecked turret as a means of cover. And then there was silence. Just for a moment. Where the empty wind funnelled through the winding verdancy with bellowing cries to emphasise the eeriness of the alien world, and where the gently wafting of unusual leaves above made Aref a little calmer than he had been. He lowered his rifle and took a moment to stare at them; dancing, swinging, twirling to the rhythm of the wind. Hypnotic. Mesmerising. The wind was growing stronger, stronger still, and they seemed to lean away from each other, as though in fear of some greater event. Aref had seen this before. He had never wanted to be a soldier but he knew the signs when he saw them. "[b]Incoming orbital insertion![/b]" he screamed to the squad who were content to not stare longingly at the leaves, the only telltale sign of the drop. [center][h3]"[i]Take cover![/i]"[/h3][/center] And then, just as quicly as he had noticed the first indicator, the sound erupted through the jungle. A screaming, wailing screech like no other, the sound of steel repelling the force of the entire atmosphere opposing it, the terrible howl of some godforsaken skyborn demon crashing and tumbling to the ground. The leaves shook and the trees rumbled, the men could feel it in the ground, Aref lost his footing for a brief moment as the rest scrambled to lay prone to avoid such a thing. And then came a dirty streak of fire, scarring the air with black smoke that lingered for far longer than its creator had. After that - a crashing sound. The sound of crushed branches in the distance. Then the rumbling stopped, the sound stopped. Just as abruptly as it had begun. The sergeant poked his head around the frame of the turret, demanding a role-call to see who was hurt. Fortunately nobody was, despite the wounded ego of Aref for falling flat on his behind during the shake. He didn't think that anybody had seen him, thankfully. "Sounds like a crash landing, sarge," Beric piped up. The sergeant nodded his head. "Probably come to secure the area themselves. Fuck," he muttered to himself. "What if they have support?" Fords asked, somewhat erratically. He was scared. [i]Probably for the best[/i], Aref had thought. "Preemptive strike, lads," the sergeant replied. "We've got no choice. Those drops don't come in alone, so I reckon they'll be packing some-" He was interrupted by the muffled, shrill screeching of one of the native beasts. And then of gunfire crackling. A scream. A dying scream, perhaps. And then the dying scream of whatever warlike creature had come across the crash-landed party. The men looked to each other uneasily. Aref felt that familiar nausea in his belly. He keeled over, clutching to his gut as it provided him some mild relief from the discomfort. Fords looked down at him, and then back at the sergeant. "Don't say it, Sarge-" he protested. "This is not a fuckin' democracy, Fords," he reproached, turning to face the soldier aggressively. "We're going in, and we're killing every last one of them before they kill us," Aref couldn't hold it in any longer, and vomited across the forest floor. --- Once more they weaved through the forest after Aref cleaned himself up. This time, however, they moved with purpose and intent. They were the hunters, not rightened animals waiting to be hunted. They had the drop on the enemy this time, the sergeant had said. He would not listen to any other plans. He was determined to eliminate the hostiles before they had a chance to react. Aref hated days like this. Hell, he hated this. He hated being on this godforsaken planet with these godforsaken people, killing [i]people[/i] that he didn't even know. He had no gripe with them, no real reason for doing what he was doing other than he was told to - [i]forced[/i] to. He thumbed the barrel of his rifle. It was loaded. Primed. Ready. A tool built for killing. Made by the lowest bidder, and for what reason? To secure an area of alien jungle that a hundred years prior, every nation was happy to go without knowing it even existed. "Fuck," Fords whispered, holding his hand flat to signal that the squad should hold tight. "Fuck fuck fuck," he whispered again through the comms. For a moment, Aref was confused. [i]Why were they stopping?[/i] But when he mustered the courage to lift his head to look forwards rather than down, it became clear. They were right there. 'Hostiles'. Hostiles who were on their knees in grief. One of them was crying, and another was consoling the affected. '[i]Hostiles[/i]'. "Jesus..." Aref mouthed to himself. The rest of the men scattered into the trees as to not provide the enemy with a direct line of sight, instead concealing themselves in bushes and leaves, the barrels of their guns all aimed on the grieving 'targets' ahead. He dropped to his belly, doing the same but with no intention of firing off a single shot. Evidently the others did not feel the same, as when the very quiet voice of the sergeant through the intercom requested that they were to fire weapons free, the jungle came alive with flashes of light from their rifles. Aref just lay there, though, sobbing through his helmet, his weapon staying cold and passive. He wasn't sure he could watch as bullets whizzed through the air. He didn't want to guess how many people were about to die. [h3][color=DarkGray]Kol'Khen, City of Gods[/color][/h3] [h3][color=DimGray]Vanericko Sector[/color][/h3] [center][h3][color=LightGray]-Mjr. Aiden Reson-[/color][/h3] [img]http://i1298.photobucket.com/albums/ag58/Silux45/76e360f8-5256-487e-b2e5-ecbea1117e57_zpssrxxpjrx.png[/img][/center] [hr] Aiden Reson had not necessarily always wanted to be a soldier, like a great many of the Venusian forces on Anuria, but unlike some he had grown to love the life. He joined before conscription was implemented, doing it mostly for the money and the glory at first; never really believing in all that quasi-political crap that the government spewed in their propaganda campaign, but if anything were to reel in the girls, being a veteran of a great interstellar war seemed like a solid way forward for him. He had always been a bit of a meat-head, a grunt, a [i]patriot.[/i] His family could trace lineage back to the original Venusian settlers and back to those who took initiative in fighting for their freedom from Earth. And hell, Aiden was not about to let long-dead 'wrinklies' have all the glory. When he actually spent time on Anuria, however, things changed for him. It became less about patriotism, and he cultivated a real and very true desire to help the native population who were unable to defend themselves. It became not about him, but about them. About protection and aid. This realisation led him to request a transfer to Ceres Company several years into his tour; the company that existed to defend native interests and, primarily, the defend the sacred site of Kol'Khen from other, more aggressive initiatives from other, more aggressive nations. And today was his lucky day. He hadn't lost his desire to fight, he merely complemented it with a strong moral code and virtuous intent. Apparently the EFS, the so-called 'Omegas' had come out to play. Command wasn't sure of their intentions, but if their actions within the last few moments had been indicative of it, then Aiden was fairly certain they were going to do their best to present themselves as gods to the natives. "Damn, that's shit is [i]fuuuuuucked[/i]" he cried to Lt. Teron, standing on the opposite gunnery-point to him. He had to scream his lungs out, as the wind lashed past with astonishing ferocity. "Still!" he shouted once more "Gotta love riding shotgun on Dropships!" Lt. Teron smiled at Aiden, personally unable to gather the strength to call across the thundering hull of the vehicle. The two often leaned out of Io class Dropships, finding freedom in the wind through their hair, and adrenaline in seeing the battlefield below. The ship was accompanied by a Callisto Class gunship, some of the best support High Command could offer at the time; brimming with guns and missiles, energy weapons and shields, that thing was not going to go down easily, and Aiden felt a whole lot better with one of them flying by his side. Their objective was not far, perhaps a minutes flight further: one of the temples housing a wealth of sacred native artefacts and, importantly, a statue of the God Vanericko. They had received anonymous intel that that was where the EFS planned to strike - the information was like a godsend, with exact coordinates and all. Back at camp the men had joked about having a guardian angel. Fitting for the Holy City of the natives. The plan was to shock-and awe the intruders from above, forcing them out of the temple before gunning them down and dropping soldiers to re-secure the temple for the natives. It didn't seem hard to pull off, and Command was even willing to donate a Callisto Gunship to the cause. Aiden smiled at his partner as the dropship began to slow, as the wracking wind began to die. They were slowing, and they were slowing fast. Aiden didn't have a single moment to make a snarky comment before the Callisto gunship, in all its armed glory, sped ahead of them, unleashing a torrent of what could have only been hellfire upon the temple below.