A/N: So! I saw the Ghost Recon Future Soldier trailer and was trying to come up with an idea for this story, figured with a few adaptations, this could work out quite well! Thus, I made the Reaper Section, an elite force inspired by Ghosts, Rainbow, SEALs, SAS and CSOR, with what I believe are the best elements of each. I hope, anyway.
Feel free to give me suggestions or take the idea and write something better, I don't care, most of my idea is stolen anyway.
One last thing, I am not used to writing 'normally' I usually wrote from someone's perspective, but now I wanted to keep the focus on team Zombie as a whole, so no present narrator... Gonna be tough :S
Ripper caught the power pack in mid flight and blew on it to clear the dust before shoving the thing into his las carbine, flipping the 2x scope's cover to inspect the lens before punching Priest's shoulder pad.
The old man nodded and lowered the black balaclava over his face, the top half of the thing was decorated like a skull, white as snow and contrasting with the mate black armor, while the lower half had been cut off, looking like a character from some cheap superhero story.
This was addressed when Pig tossed him a chalk colored breathing mask. The thing covered the man's mouth and nose, completing the intimidating skull pattern with a breathing grill whose symmetry contrasted heavily with the organic skull above. He then adjusted a black beret on his head and checked himself in a nearby mirror.
The Skull wearing a mask the emblem of Reaper section, the most underrated outfit of the Imperial Guard. Sure, they were not Kasrkins or Kriegans, -the former thought war was a matter of honor and the latter were plain suicidal- but they had established themselves in this sector as the guys you don't want to mess with. Ever.
Reapers were professionals, to them, killing the enemy was a secondary matter, a bother to be avoided, the mission always came first. So when a bunch of hivers got whiny, two years prior, they crawled their way trough the city with high explosives and Inquisitorial support, then blew the power plan, water treatment station and the PDF weapon stockpile.
Thousands died, but the crisis was contained without a single firefight breaking out.
They had a one hundred percent success rate so far, so this philosophy was successful enough.
Unlike the rest of the company they were attached to, the 32nd Aldrian Tactical, the Reaper section was not actually part of the Imperial Guard main command structure. This was because of a very simple piece of paper signed by the Emperor himself; a Warrant to Trade.
That Warrant was no longer used as an authorization to fly around in a ship, however, and the only part of it still used by the section was the one on security, stating that the one in possession of the warrant could hire anyone he desired and equip them with whatever equipment he wanted, but he was to lend his help to imperial worlds in need.
Long story short; the Reapers were descendents from a bankrupt rogue trader ship who decided to use their Emperor-signed privilege to create the best Special Force outfit in Imperial space.
"On me, gentlemen!" Father called from the armory's door, the three men completed their equipment quickly; Ripper grabbed the small chain axe –more like chain hatchet or tomahawk- he owed his nickname to, Pig picked two ammo belts and four 'ballsack' drum magazines for his customized autogun while Priest finished attaching the ghilie suit to his flak armor.
The armory was small. Reaper section had only a limited support in the higher sphere and had to use funds stolen during missions or looted equipment to stock themselves. This also gave them one of the best price/effectiveness ratio in the Imperium, neatly superior to even Astartes.
This lack of popularity was due to the fact all of them were selected from planets who had been separated from the Imperium long enough to have grown atheistic or at least fully secular.
A special force unit is always better when its operators are not religious fanatics afraid of technology. Only Priest came from an Imperial cult led world, but he was also a former Vindicare assassin, so Top Dog, the commander, had made an exception for him.
This lack of piousness was a bad thing when it came to Chaos, but the members were carefully screened to root out all warp contamination.
They all assembled around their team leader, waiting for mission orders.
"What do we have, Dad?" Pig asked the scarred man before him. Father had been on over a hundred missions and the 'Don't engage unless absolutely necessary' policy had not spared him quite a few injuries
"A lone ship just attacked Edrios," Ripper almost scoffed at the idea. Edrios was primarily a coal mining world, why would anyone attack that rock? Not that it actually mattered; the Spec Ops operator intended to kick their asses all the same.
"Isn't this something for the Navy?" Priest whined, his long las hanging under his shoulder.
Father's Carapace armor always fascinated Ripper, it was so heavily customized, using pieces of armors salvaged on the field, yet never loosing a very professional feeling.
The operator could spot both Tau and Dark Eldar technology, the Ceramite plates reinforced in some areas by lightweight Tau armor and an Eldar Mesh armor replacing the usual Kevlar under suit.
"Hey, Ripper!" The officer snapped, "Focus!"
The soldier blinked and shook himself. ADD and Special warfare duty were not always compatible, but Father was a patient leader and Ripper a good soldier, so this relationship worked. Better than the one between Father and Priest, anyway.
"Like I was saying, the Navy is going and they want four squads ready to drop," The man explained, adjusting his shotgun, "That's Spectre, Revenant, Ghost and Zombie, that's us, people." The man reminded them, as their squad name was rarely used. Reaper squads worked better on their own.
"No kidding?" Pig scoffed. He had his autogun tightly clenched by both the fore and rear grips, ready to kill things right away, even though their base was a three days flight away from Edrios. Pig was always ready to kill something, or, as his name suggested, roll in the mud with his pals, eating shit and tossing shit right back. He just loved when a fight escalated into a shooting fest.
"So, this means we're getting Valkyries this time around?" The sniper asked, hopefully, "I am sick of civilian vehicles who's machine spirits is not dying only because it was dead for two century…"
Priest was Pig's complete opposite, praying the Emperor for forgiveness after each kills and showing the kind of mercy one would not expect from an old assassin to anything he shot, be it an Ork or an hive ganger, the old man would always reduce the suffering to a minimum. And he enjoyed complaining immensely.
"I think that was pretty fun…" Ripper pointed out, a grin audible in his voice.
Ripper was somewhat less extreme than his companions; Born in a tribe of some feral world, he had been trained for stealth and melee combat from birth, intended to serve as one of his clan's warriors. He loved the rush of battle and excitation of the hunt, but considered the body to be sacred so long as a soul inhabited it, thus refused to ever torture anyone. Killing was another story; Ripper respected his enemies, recognizing them as his equals and, thus, refusing to show mercy, as, to him, this would be a grave insult to them.
"I'm too old for this kind of fun, Ripper, this time, we're riding first class and we have three Guard squads backing us up, and a Leman Russ."
Finally, Father was a family man, with four children of his own and half a dozen of orphans he had rescued on the battlefield. His two sister and three brothers, along with their own families, lived in the team leader's house as well and were like family to the rest of the team, who spent more time in Father's place than their own habitations. He valued the life of his man over his own and pretty much anyone else's. These people were the best, ready to risk their lives for the sake of people that would rather see them burn on a stake, all this for the same pay as an average Guardsman.
They were mad men, but they were HIS mad men.
"Top Dog wants us in a shuttle two hours ago, people," Father concluded, stepping out of the doorway and motioning for his boys to get going, "So let's hustle, don't forget he's the one signing our paychecks!"
"Uah." Ripper groaned without much conviction.
The whole team filed out, sharing what they knew about their destination and what they thought the lone ship was, while father inspected the Armory's table for something he could use. Pig had plenty of explosives, everyone carried a combat knife, they had plenty of power packs, their camel backs could be filled on the shuttle and Ripper had an humidity extractor, just in case, and Priest carried the Falcon, an hand made Anti-Materiel rifle firing heavy bolter rounds. They were in the green.
Father pressed his captured Tau communication headset and spoke on the squad-wide channel, "Squad, Comm. check."
"Pig here, We hear you, Dad." Pig confirmed.
"Priest, loud and clear."
"Ripper, Lima Charlie."
"Alright, children, set up and get some shuteye," He ordered, walking out of the armory and taking a left in the metal corridors, "tomorrow we're setting up a kill house and going over our landing strategy."
This was one thing that made the Reapers elite, the commanders were not the only ones taking part in the battle plans, the men would put the different strategies to the test in kill houses, changing things they thought could use improving and going trough the thing until they knew the battle plan by heart.
This would have been impossible with a bigger outfit, but they worked with small teams, making the thing manageable. This way, they kept two moves ahead of their enemies at least in the first phase of battle, making the latter phases easier.