[b]African Congo, Odzala National Park[/b]

The hot wings of a slicked back aircraft cut through the hot African air as it soared over the green mat of forest. Rolling over gentle hills a vast jungle spanned in all directions for as far as the eye could see. Deep rivers cut through the green jungle below, barely visibly through the heavy vines and leaves that crowned the forest below. A dark world lay below, hidden in its tangled vines and dense under-brush. A land that was suicide to trudge through.

But they were in the air.

The aircraft, a duel-rotor Advanced Osprey from out of the US in the late-war was a sleek, cut back sort of plane. Low angled cuts across its surface gave it a dense, polygonal structure. The heavy rotors at its side spun and burned with electric force, hacking at the dense humid air with mutilating speed and pushing them forward as each of the flanking rotors hung pushed forward, running parallel to the ground that the great black comet streaked over.

The windshield of the craft was almost invisible against the sleek black carbon-body form. Under its nose hung a bulbous camera fitting that spun, scanning the thick green forest below as it continued its route onward. A number of weapons ports were embedded into the gun-ship's side, tucked in sunken portholes. Invisible.

The new Osprey though wasn't as dark as the jungle was green though. As sure as Odzala National Park was a checkerboard of environments so was the Vertical Take Off craft. Though, many might consider it some kind of vandalism, it was still within the accepted company plan. Though it made many officers cringe all the same.

Drawn across the nose in big blocky white text were the words, “Love and dominate”. The same phrase was repeated in French just below it.

The tail of the helicopter was equally painted over. On the fins of the rear tail assembly bore – on both sides – the image of a white pony. Reclining on red pillows the snow-white equine lay posed as if in some manner of burlesque parody of a sexy woman. What might pass as the content of a lingerie ad, and where the model was unafraid to show off what she had.

It would have been all, if the subject wasn't holding a pillow in her mouth. As well, a light-pink heart inset with a reversed swastika rested over the side of her ass.

The decal shone in the African sun with a ceramic gloss quality on the outside of both fins. The roar of the engines whisking hot breath past her waiting stare.

Inside, the interior of the aircraft was hardly as warm as it was on the outside. The soft kiss of air-conditioning managed to keep the inside at a cool and crisp twenty-five degrees celsius. The warm yellow of the sun was replaced by a dull red glow. And the sights of a green forest was hidden behind tiny windows, covered over in an assortment of spare gear and first-aid kits.

On the far rear wall assault rifles hung on racks, clean and ready for use. Their owners sitting on benches flanking a pair of sealed doors on either side. From the cockpit emanated a soft blue light from the flight consoles. A weakened sun pouring through the tinted cockpit glass before loosing itself in the computer glow on the pilot's laps.

“A'ight, yer mugs,” one of the pilots yelled back through his coms to the waiting team in the back. His voice thick with an Australian accent, “We're coming up on tha Gabon border. I'ffin ya need t' give another brief cap', I'd do it now.”

A man looked from the back, seeming to hesitate as he ran through the words. But as they sunk in not a few seconds later his expression lit up, and he jumped to his feet in the middle of the cabin.

He was a tall man by his nature, fit well. His face looked to be something that could have been excused for a Hollywood facial job, if the only thing that was changed about it was his tan or his hair; noticeable even in the red glow of the interior cabin lighting. Sharp angled nose, broad chin, strong brow, and bright blue eyes. As he cleared his throat to speak he slipped his helmet on over his short cut, douche-bag California dyed blue hair. His helmet bearing some light modification in the form of a orange pony plush with blue hair, secured on with heavy black zip-ties. White marker proclaimed his nickname to be “Flash Sentry”.

“Alright!” he said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together. “Welcome to Air Sentry.” he cheered above the noise of the rocketing Osprey. He had no fear in holding back his enthusiasm in his face. He was practically jumping on his heels with it, “Today's mission is the neutralization of some cunts Kinshasha has said need to go.

“Now we've observed our suspected targets between here and Gabon, which intelligence suggests our targets are using as an operational base for when shit gets to rough for their tender asses to take in this northern part of the Congo.

“Our run is merely going to run as interception against a patrol suspected to be a part of the Mboko group of the Lingala people who had the reason to start a civil war up here when they decided they didn't like their neighbor's cattle. As we believe the responsible army has fled to Gabon to escape and continue beating each other with clubs, but we're going in to get them out.

“Command wants us to get what prisoners we can to bring them back for interrogation. So that is our objective men. Today's wonderful waifu.

“Oh, also. We need to be quick about this. The longer our asses are in Gabon the more danger we put at being found out we're not supposed to be there. I don't think they have any reason of knowing we're there, but the shorter and quicker we can get out, the less we have to worry about Liberville having felt us driving something hot and heavy deep up their ass, and the less pain means the less pain for us.”

“Captain Flash, sir,” a younger soldier said, leaning against the hull of the osprey as it pressed its throttle ever heavier to Gabon. He was dressed over fully in his equipment, helmet on tight, and darkened goggles obscured most of his face. But he was clean, perhaps hardly old enough for a full beard, “What's the ground plan looking like if we do find them?"

"What do you think, Vinyl!" Sentry shouted, laughing and pointed to the window, "Have yo looked outside."

"Last I checked we were in Savannah, sir. That's before we loaded up the windows with our shit. No offense, but I got no damn view!"

"Then I hope you look good, hard wood when we manage to get down there." smirked a larger soldier. A heavy reinforced suit of armor clad him over. Bulky servos built into the legs and arms no doubt helped him move. Scars and burn marks ran a pattern work like a children's puzzle across his bald scalp, and his lips stretched thin across his broad cheeks as he grinned.