Idaho felt anxious, not the good kind of anxious, the bad kind of anxious. The pre-emptive feeling of dread that came before a mission was what he was feeling. Idaho reflected again on how he wasn't good enough to make that leading team, the team that commanded the leader boards. He would never be as strong as Maine, as fast as Carolina, as compassionate as North, or as witty as York, but he knew he had something; otherwise he wouldn't be leader of his squad. Holding his head in his hands, Idaho pushed that feeling down into his stomach, putting it out of his mind, 'Focus, I have to focus on the mission.' He thought to himself.
"Hey Idaho, lighten up would you, the older agents would be crying if they saw your sad face," DC said sarcastically, though Idaho knew his friend meant well. There were two Wash's active in Project Freelancer, Washington and Washington DC. DC was the younger agent, and he was Idaho's best friend. Alaska and Indiana are the other members of his squad, and what could he say, girls stick together. "Yeah ok fine, if that'll make you happier I'll do it," Idaho grunted, forcing a smile onto his face. DC took one look at Idaho's face, and threw his head back, laughing heartily.
A blow caught him to the back of his right shoulder that pushed him forward. Idaho turned to see Alaska grinning back at him, her crystal blue eyes laughing. Her pale grey-white armour flashing in the dropship's light. Her brown-blonde hair was tied behind her in a neat ponytail, with stray strands tucked behind her ears. Her lovely smile was the last thing Idaho saw before her helmet encompassed her face, the golden visor hiding those crystal eyes, she was beautiful. Indiana, with her dark brown eyes and black hair, was pretty, but didn't compare to Alaska. Her white and ice blue armour glinted in the illuminated room, her golden visor standing out like a searchlight.
DC, with his blue and red armour and silver visor (the only Freelancer without a gold visor) was standing strong at the rear of the dropship. His friend was tall, blonde, blue eyed and pale, as he had spent so much time in his armour. Idaho looked at his own armour, forest green with rust coloured trims. His brown eyes, short brown-red-black hair, and dark tanned skin were unusual in Project Freelancer.
"We're approaching the drop site now," the pilot's voice crackled from over the P.A system. "Aye-aye," Idaho spoke back, donning his helmet, "Lock and load guys." His squad responded instantly, equipping and loading their weapons. DC checked the ammo readout on his M41 SSR MAV/AW rocket launcher; Indiana clicked the safety off of her dual M6G Magnum Sidearm pistols while Alaska slid armour piercing rounds into her SRS 99-S5 AM Sniper Rifle. Idaho checked his MA37 Assault Rifle, making sure that there were no visible jams in the loading mechanism.
"Drop now, go, go, go, go, go!" The pilot yelled as the dropship's rear door opened. The Freelancer squad leapt out of the plane and entered free-fall down to the rebel base below them. "Now's our chance to prove to the director that we have what it takes to be proper agents, so let's go!," Idaho transmitted over the intercom, and he got three agreement lights back from his teammates. As soon as his boots hit the ground, Idaho was ready to face anything, but then he heard the explosion. Simultaneously, all four Freelancers turned to see the ball of burning fire where their dropship had been, where their ride home had been. All of them heard the click of automatic weapons loading behind them and knew what it was, the rebels had found them.