Chzzm !
The red lights came on, and flooded the troop bay of the Skyranger with a ruby red glow.
Usually, as far as most of us are concerned, when red lights come on, that means ' stop', ie, at the countless traffic lights that adorned every intersection in the world. That was usually when most folks were greeted by red lights, and without thinking, they knew at once what to do: stop.
Even now, in this day and age with ADVENT having replaced every nation's government, and established itself as the dominant ( and only, actually ) government on Earth,. red lights continued to be symbols of warning, and caution. Owning a personal vehicle wasn't an option for most ( what with the ' background ' checks that ADVENT dropped on everyone who wanted one ), but even for those who did, there were still red lights at intersections, albeit different than what one would expect ; there were now towers, not really ' lights at all. They were topped with biometric scammers, atop tall, skinny metal frames, and they glowed red from the prominently mounted ID scanners on them. They were as ubiquitous as the traffic lights they'd replaced, and they still commanded everyone to stop with a blood red light.
But, none of that applied to the occupants of the Skyranger.
They weren't citizens of the glittering ADVENT population centers ( which nobody in XCOM considered to be cities anyway, not like how glorious ones like Dubai and Dallas had been- just a conglomerate of OCD levels of neatness, and obscene advertisements )
They were XCOM. To them, red lights stood for something quite different.
As XCOM soldiers, they lived every day aboard the metal confines of a Skyranger. Hours during each one, riding in the troop bays of them, the troops had grown accustomed to red lights, signalling that it was time to drop. That they were over the target, and now, they were to stand, get their gear, check it one final time, and then grab the rappel lines would carry them them down to the ground.
Down to mortal combat with ADVENT, and their alien puppet-masters. That's why they all felt that good kind of adrenaline rush when the red lights shone.
Time to boost their kill count. Time to get to grips with their enemy, and destroy them utterly. When it came to battle, neither side ever took prisoners.
All this was fresh on the minds of the squad now. They were some of XCOM's most experienced soldiers, each with at least a dozen combat ops to their names. They'd done this before, and they'd gotten their routine down to a ' T '. Every op was different from the last, with their own unplanned problems, surprises and encounters. Going exactly according to plan was more of a rarity than predictable.
But, they all began with that red lights, coming on, and turning the whole compartment red.
Red for them, was another word for ' action. '
There were 5 of them along for this action: 2 riflemen, one corpsman, one sniper, and a grenadier. It was a textbook sized fireteam, callsign ' Havoc '.
The riflemen were Russian, and brothers. Nikolas and Drayan Sherdenko were tall, broad shouldered, bearded men, who didn't speak much, but tended to get everyone's attention when they did. Both wore grey-black, Russian digital camo, with Nikolas-the older one and taller- sporting a Ushanka hat with the XCOM logo on the front. Both were armed with AN-94 assault rifles, XCOM built X-95 Gauss handguns, and thermite grenades.
The team corpsman was a small stature Australian woman named Tamara Maren. Brunette, with a light dusting of freckles across her nose, she resembled an Australian rancher, which she actually had been, before ADVENT rose, and smothered the continent ( and world ) with their empire. Clad in cargo trousers, a belt with a noticeable buckle, and a zipped up jacket, she also had a necklace with a dingo's tooth hanging from it. Her weapon, a 6.8mm M6A2, hung by its carrying strap at her side, along with a few shrapnel grenades, and spare medical spray dispensers. Though she was ready, more than willing, and able to use it, she preferred to leave the combat to the men. She was here to patch them up, anyway.
The sniper. Another Russian: Zwyak Chenov. He'd not spoekn much either after they'd taken off from the Avenger, preferring to stay seated at the far end of the bay. With his HK214 rifle propped up beside him, his face had shrouded by a hood, and the dark, digital camouflage he wore blended well into the shadows of where he was.
And then, there was the grenadier. Fittingly an American, George McRobb. A burly, lumberjack looking man, he filled a big part of the bay. With his prominent mustache, tigerstripe camouflage uniform, and Milkor MGL, he was quite obviously the heavy weapons man. C4 bundles, ready to be affixed to just about any surface, hung from his demo pack. Personally, he considered any fight that didn't involve reckless and unrestrained use of high explosives to hardly be a fight at all. Still, the use of any explosives at all was better than nothing.
They were all, some of XCOM's most dangerous fighters, if their track records were anything to indicate. Alltogether between them, they had accounted for over 100 confirmed dead ADVENT solider, and Xenos as well. This was all just par for the course for 5 of them. They looked forward to every encounter, no matter how chatoic or confusing they inevitably turned out to be.
Especially ones like this.
One that had taken them to where the Skyranger was currently blazing over. A small, improvised town deep in the South American jungle. Populated by those with the common sense to abandon the ADVENT population centers, they considered their settlements to the last remnants of the glorious lost cities, like Warsaw, or Atlanta ( why anyone would prefer the countryside is beyond me ) that had once dotted the Earth. They were humble, but meticulously crafted places, a mix of large vehicles parked and arranged to function as buildings, and assembled structures built from what materials could be salvaged or brought in from the surrounding countryside. Against such a backdrop, the most technologically advanced structure in town, would be the looming Comms towers, which had to be powerful enough to contact other free towns, and of course, the Avenger.
Strength for those who still valued freedom, came from staying united.
Which was why the Skyranger was here now. Functioning as a true armed response- 911 responders with guns, so to speak-, the call sent out from this settlement had been heard by the Avenger, and a Skyranger had been swiftly dispatched. That was the unspoken, but deeply respected and coveted agreement between XCOM, and the free towns they'd reached out to, was that the latter could always count of XCOM to be there when they were called.
Here was proof how treasured that bond was.
ADVENT forces were attacking the town. The ' Jabberers ', as everyone referred to them as, on account of how they spoke in unintelligible babbling, were at it again, committing a full scale ' cleansing ' of the place. Under ADVENT, if you didn't accept their rule, you were marked for death- as the locals here were finding out the hard way. They wanted their independence, and their freedom, especially their right to be armed.
Well, Havoc Squad- the assembled vets- weren't taking that lying down. They were here, and they could put a stop to it. These ADVENT goons and their Xeno ilk were about to get their own taste of their medicine.
And if they didn't like it, then it'd be crammed down their throats.
" Over the LZ ! ", announced the Skyranger pilot, Emilla ' Foehammer' Rawley . " Here's your stop, Havoc ! "
" Go save those folks ! "
On cue, rappelling cables descended from the section of the ceiling that hung out over the edge the floor.
The main ramp/ door of the bay had descended to allow them, and through the newly formed opening, Havoc could the lush, emerald jungle that rolled out like a carpet over the whole landscape, out to the horizon, under a heavy layer of clouds that looked like they were ready to unload a torrent of rain at any moment. A river, wide, blue, and flowing, definitely better than a mere creek, wove like a cobalt ribbon through the foliage.
Sitting snugly at the crux of a bend in the river, was a town built from the ground up to be lived in, not a desolate, too-quiet countryside habitat.
New Brasilia was its name.
Central Officer Bradford had informed them as such over the Avenger's PA system as Havoc was mustering to board the Skyranger, reminding them to pack bug spray, and a some extra water ( " If ADVENT doesn't gun you down, the local bugs will do what they can to finish the job. Man, I miss the cities " ).
His amusingly dry commentary had the squad chuckling, but they still knew it would end up being that way. Ordinarilly, it would look inviting and quaint, even welcoming, despite being a bit shabby. But, at the moment, it was burning. Multiple fires were raging all over town, and even from a distance, the muzzle flashes of ADVENT Gauss rifles could be seen.
Exterminating the locals. They were fighting back, as evidenced by other muzzle flashes here and there, but they couldn't last without XCOM's assistance.
They'd die otherwise. That could not be allowed to happen, not on XCOM's watch.
" Deploying ! Davai, davai ! "
The Russian brothers moved first, racing to the rappel lines, seizing them, and then sliding out of view.
Russians, actually, as Chenov, close behind them already, was next to leave the bay.
Then, McRobb's tuen came. He was fast for someone one his size, and even managed to slide down one handed, the other keeping his grenade launcher out and ready.
Finally, Maren deployed. She clutched the necklace once, aiming to forget her dislike of heights, before putting it aside, and hurrying out to get to the ropes.
Seconds later, all of them were on the ground. The grass was buffeted and whipped by the heated downdraft of the Skyranger's engines. The air was as warm and humid as it should be in the Amazon, at the height of summer no less.
" Hmph. You can drink the air here ", McRobb scoffed. " Least its not the mountains. That's too cold. "
Maren was still getting upright, having fallen a bit by touching down fast.
" Same here. I'll take deserts , any day of the week ", she concurred, while checking that her M6A4 was intact, and all her invaluable medical spray dispensers were still attached.
McRobb grinned, pleased, but then, one of the Russians- they all kind of looked alike- interrupted.
" Small talk can wait ", the one with the HK ordered. " We have our mission: Nikolas and Drayan, take the point. McRobb, Maren. You two, cover me while I take the high ground. Dvai, everyone, there is no time to spare. "
Chenov was the field commander of their unit, after all. Russian command style, yes, but it worked. Some of the squad said it was because he was a sniper; that long term way of looking at things was a good trait for a leader to have, which was why ( or partially at least ).
They listened.
" Sir ! ", the brothers replied, and set off toward the outskirts of town, combat spread, rifles up.
McRobb hefted his launcher, and looked out at Maren, who was flicking the selector switch to burst.':
Ready to provide med support, sir ! ", she told Chenov.
" Same here ! ", McRobb added. " Full grenade load ".
Chenov regarded them for a moment, but then nodded, and gestured for them to go on, drawing his weapon.
" Stay alert. "
" ADVENT bleeds today. "