20mm shells punched through the aircraft's belly, shredding through steel like paper. Blood splattered across the interior.
The master chief didn't even get to finish his sentence before his torso was torn to f*cking ribbons. His upper half disappeared in a cloud of red mist, his lower half collapsing into a lifeless heap.
The plane tilted violently to the side. A frantic, panicked shout came from the cockpit.
"WE'VE BEEN HIT! ENGINE ONE DESTROYED... WE LOST A WING... WE'RE GOING DOWN!"
The interior erupted into chaos. The Death Squad grabbed onto whatever they could as the plane spiraled into a near fatal roll.
Nope. You know what f*ck this, screw the g*ddamn plot.
I stood up deciding for once not to follow the plot to the letter, forcing myself to keep steady. The wind ripped at my half cloak as I ran to the open door.
"CHANGE OF PLANS LADS WE JUMP NOW!"
I roared. No hesitation. I leapt out. Behind me, the Death Squad followed, diving into the hellish inferno of the battlefield below.
The world below and In the air was pure chaos. Streaks of AA fire tore through the sky, bright lances of death ripping apart unlucky paratroopers mid fall.
The air roared with the sound of machine guns, explosions, and screaming men. Above me, the dogfight between the Teutonica Air Force and the Imperium's fighters raged on.
The TX1 Falcon was having a field day. Pebbles ripped through enemy planes with merciless efficiency, 30 mm and 20 mm rounds shredding biplanes to smoking pieces.
I turned my head. Just in time to see a poor bastard's parachute get punctured by 20 mm shell. His screams were drowned out by the wind as he plummeted to his death.
Another paratrooper, unable to steer his descent, went straight into an enemy biplane's propeller. And lets just say the sight wasn't pretty, In a way that the enemy pilot who couldnt see s*it because of all the blood and biological matter covering his front glass collided with another enemy fighter.
"Motherf*cker,"
I growled.
"My armor better not get damaged from this s*it..."
But just as I wrote ERC had other plans. A stray AA round nailed me mid air.
BOOM!
I was flung off course feeling my organs play ping pong Inside me, my body spinning uncontrollably. Sky and ground flipped violently. And If that wasnt enough.
CRASH!
I slammed into the cockpit of an enemy fighter. The impact shattered the glass canopy, sending shards into the pilot's face. The poor f*cker screamed, his hands flying off the controls as blood gushed from his eyes.
The plane lurched violently. I was barely holding onto the fuselage when ERC decided to f*ck with me again. A massive shadow loomed over me.
I turned my head just in time to see my own burning transport plane barreling straight toward me.
"Oh f*ck me, I forgot I wrote this part too..."
BOOM!
The flaming wreck smashed into the enemy fighter. The explosion flung me away like a ragdoll, sending me into another spiraling, uncontrollable death spin.
"F*CK! I JUST HAD TO WRITE THIS CLUSTER F*CK OF NONSENSE, DIDN'T I?!?"
I plummeted toward the ground, wind howling in my ears, my vision blurring from sheer velocity. The ground raced toward me at terminal speed.
At the very last second, I yanked my parachute cord. The chute burst open, jerking me mid air with bone snapping force only for peeble sized burning debris to burn straight through my parachute, I just looked up wordlessly as I began to free fall again.
Damm I wrote ERC to be a piece of work vengful b*tch with temper problems didnt I?
...
The air screamed around them. Wind roared in their ears as they hurtled toward the battlefield below.
Through the chaos, Gaius Marius the criminal convicted of 24 murders kept his eyes locked on the target, the barracks, positioned behind an active AA emplacement.
He could already see the Teutonica gunners frantically reloading, their faces tight with panic as the sky rained death.
Then, impact.
His combat boots slammed into the dirt, knees bending to absorb the force. He hit the ground running, detaching his chute with a single practiced motion.
To his right, the contuberniums NCO summoned dark skined Nerva landed, rolling forward before coming up in a crouch.
To his left, a younger paratrooper, barely 24 years old, stumbled slightly as he hit the ground but managed to stabilize.
"Cut loose and find cover!"
Nerva barked. They ripped their parachutes free. But in the process...
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!
A Teutonica AA crew commander had spotted them, his submachine gun screaming.
The young paratrooper grunted as his body jolted backward. Blood splattered across the cold concrete. He crumpled to the ground.
"Man down. Cover fire!"
Nerva snarled, raising his rifle. Gaius dropped to a knee, sighting the enemy officer through his assault rifles mechanical sights. He squeezed the trigger. Controlled bursts.
BAM-BAM-BAM.
The AA commander's chest erupted in red. He collapsed over the sandbags, his gun clattering uselessly to the ground.
WHUMP.
Nerva followed up, lobbing a grenade after yanking out the safety pin. The explosive bounced off the sandbags and disappeared behind the AA gun.
BOOM!
A blast wave rolled through the area, sending shrapnel and debris flying. Nerva didn't wait. He was already moving.
"Gaius watch my six!"
Nerva grabbed the wounded paratrooper by the harness, dragging him across the concrete while Gaius covered their six, rifle snapping toward any movement.
Behind a stack of fuel barrels, he dumped him onto the ground. The young paratroopers chest was a mess of crimson, his breath ragged.
"Stay with me, Antonio,"
Nerva growled, tearing open his EFAK (Emergency First Aid Kit). His hands moved with brutal efficiency, combat gauze out, tearing apart the mans combat uniform. The wounded man grimaced, his lips and voice trembling.
"I... It's bad, isn't it... sir?"
Nerva didn't look up as he started stuffing the gauze Into the mans bleeding hole.
"You re luckily the bullet didnt go through youre lung."
He said as he wrapped a bandage tightly arround his chest only for a burning armored figure to crash through the barracks roof and come out, from the wall and land on the ground.
...
MC POV
I stood up, dirt and debris scattering around me as I pulled my armored boots from the ground. My HUD flickered, running combat diagnostics.
Vitals: Normal.
Armor Integrity: 87%.
Damage Log: Moderate Impact Trauma Non Critical.
I exhaled sharply through my nose. Still functional. Good.
Flipping my rifle's safety off, I snapped my gaze toward my Death Squad Indicators In the corner of my view. Their vitals blinked green on my HUD.
So I barked out the order.
"Follow the plan. Over."
Clicks. No unnecessary words. No hesitation. Just precise, professional confirmation. As for the plan? Simple. Secure the airbase. Kill everything in our way.
I looked down, my crimson round visors locking onto the three paratroopers huddled behind the barrels. One of the paratroopers vitals flickered erratically In my HUD view, but he was holding on.
The paratrooper NCO straightened immediately, raising his hand to his helmet covered head in salute.
"First paratrooper Cohort, First Century, First Contubernium!"
He shouted, his voice steady despite the carnage around him.
I glanced at the fierce looking paratrooper on their six, the one with the RPG slung over his shoulder. He was already gripping his rifle tight, eyes cold.
"You. Grab that RPG pack and follow me."
No hesitation. He immediately complied, grabbing the RPG pack from the wounded paratrooper, slinging it over his back before taking a step behind me.
I turned toward the battlefield. Tracers ripped across the airfield, burning smoke and fire illuminating the night.
Target Acquisition Mode: Engaged.
My HUD flashed red outlines over every enemy in sight. I raised my rifle, aligning the holographic crosshairs. And then, I started moving.
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM.
Each pull of the trigger sent a 12.7mm round tearing through the enemy ranks.
The recoil kicked against my armored shoulder, but the exoskeleton absorbed most of it, stabilizing my shots.
The first soldier's torso exploded, his upper body turning into mist. The second collapsed backward, his head shredded into ribbons.
The third didn't even have time to scream his chest cavity imploded, bones and flesh bursting outward.
I kept moving. My Death Squad that landed all over the airbase followed, executing targets with precision.
BAM-BAM. A Teutonica soldier tried to run a single burst punched through his spine. BAM. Another was still fumbling with his rifle, I put a round through his skull. The paratroopers I recruited followed close behind, their RPGs loaded and ready.
"Destroy those fuel tanks!"
I commanded, my voice sounding electronic and distorded because of my fully enclosed helmets loudspeakers filters.
"Roger that Imperator!"
The paratrooper with the RPG confirmed.
WHOOSH!
An RPG screamed forward, slamming into the nearest fuel storage.
BOOM.
A massive fireball erupted, consuming several parked fighters that had been mid refueling.