Harsh winds tore across the desolate city of D'lanor, stirring dust skyward that had been lying dormant on the vacant streets of this once grandiose city. It's once magnificent skyline filled with skyscrapers and towering monuments was now covered in barren structures and crumbling foundations. Any kind of normal life was a rare site to be seen in the present state of the region, all plant life had been destroyed during the Day of Dawn, and many of the civilian residents suffered the same fate, their burnt corpses litter miles upon miles.

The city was almost entirely dead, the smallest sounds could be heard echoing through the infertile streets for miles, though the city was absent of civilian life there was still a strong militant force patrolling D'lanor's inner and outer rims. After the Hammers were dropped on the city, a large contingent of Locust forces infiltrated the city by burrowing through its collapsed sewer and railway systems. Their invasion was swift and deadly, any who were lucky enough survive the Hammers, were quickly overtaken by the advancing Locust hordes. After they took hold and routed out the last remaining Coalition forces out of the city, D'lanor became a major staging area for attacks against the Coalitions last remaining stronghold, The Jacinto Plateau.

Though the Coalition of Organized Governments was severely outnumbered and slowly backing themselves into a corner, they still had a few advantages. One being that their capital was position on a plateau with several thick layers of limestone underneath it so that Locust couldn't burrow up through the ground. The second was their orbital weapon platforms, but there were major problems with the technology, their usability was very dependent on the weather and cloud cover and it took twenty minutes to recharge the driver cores. Beside that set back, the Coalition was starting to gain back ground in the Jacinto Basin area though there were only few minor skirmishes any victory against the Locust was a boost to the overall moral.

But D'lanor was going to be the major focal point for the Coalition's next major campaign. They knew if they could clear D'lanor of its new inhabitants, then they might be able to start working on rebuilding and recapturing their lost territory. There were already plans in motion, a small strike force of the Coalition's Omega Squadron to begin an early bombardment on several minor targets so that the ground force begin taking footholds in the outer rim of D'lanor. Omega began to load supplies and ammunition into their King Ravens, as their commander stepped onto the floor.

He was an elderly soldier covered in scars and war medals; his body armor was made of heavy Kevlar coated in black and gun metal fittings. Though his complexion was that of elderly general he still carried himself like that of new recruit fresh out of boot camp, his posture, walk, and demeanor was as solid as cold cut marble. The look in his eyes could strike fear into the most fearless of hearts, as he walked through the hangar his gaze never shifted from his destination. His stride and pace remained consistent like the beat of a metronome, as he approached the flagship a young sergeant followed closely behind.

A small group of Airmen were convening in front of the flagship as the officer arrived, they barely caught sight of him and then they quickly turned to stand erect at attention, "Colonel Hoffman!" they shouted in unison, he glanced over the core of airmen then smirked,

"At ease," his gaze began to look and assess the company; most of them looked young and inexperienced, which wasn't uncommon with the present state of things. The Coalition had drafted many young men to fill the ranks of their dwindling forces after Emergence Day. Though they were young in years, they were the best trained and most experienced Airmen of the Coalition. Hoffman had more pressing matter than to admire the prowess of these men, "Which one of you soldiers is my pilot?"

One of the elderly Airmen stepped forward, he was war torn and battered captain, the look that was set upon his face was grave as he signaled for a middle-aged lieutenant to do the same. "I am sir, Captain Steven Smith," he saluted as was the common practice when addressing a superior officer, "And this is my co-pilot, Lieutenant Jason Marx. Is there something that we can help you with Colonel?"

Hoffman turned quickly in his direction, "Actually there is," Hoffman began to leer, "How about you explaining why the fuck we haven't left this god damn hangar yet?!" His words echoed off the steel beams and aluminum sidings, "Well Captain, I am waiting?"

Smith could see the blood starting to boil within the veins of Hoffman, though he was shocked at the Colonel's bluntness he had half expected it, "Colonel, I think we should discuss this in private, I have perfectly good explanation, but I would rather deal with this out of earshot from my officers,"

Hoffman looked at him skeptically, "Fine by me, Captain lead the way," he understood exactly why Smith wanted to speak with him in private, he was going to undermined his orders and he knew the repercussions would be disheartening to his fellow officers. But as soon as they entered the small office Hoffman was going to lay into his sorry ass like the fire from God.

Captain Smith took the lead and began to amble to the far side of the hangar towards a small flight command office. He knew exactly what he needed to say but he needed to sell the idea to Hoffman, the last thing he wanted to do was fly into enemy territory without an acceptable escape route. As they approached the doorway, Smith reached out and took hold of it the small brass knob and turned it till the door popped and swung open. Hoffman entered in just as Smith closed the door and turned on a small fluorescent ceiling light.

As Smith turned, he could see that Hoffman was leaned up against a series of filing cabinets staring intently into the massive hangar; he was observing the pilots, crewmen, and soldiers preparing the last few aircrafts for liftoff. Smith slowly journeyed over to Hoffman and began to take steady deep breaths, but before he could even get closer than three steps Hoffman's head snapped right at him with an expression colder than steel. Smith froze in place and Hoffman rose and came charging forward,

"You must have balls of fucking steel," his hands lunged forward and nailed Smith against the wall, "Who the fuck do you think you are?! You weren't trained to think or have an opinion, so why in the name of God do you now?!" Though his rage was driving him on, Hoffman was restraining himself from taking another deadly step forward.

Though Smith was completely pinned against the wall he was still going to speak his mind even if caused further discomfort, "Colonel, unlike you I have a general concern for my men's lives. Whoever drew out that flight plan is an fcking retard, it would take us right through the heart of Locust territory, the old downtown district of D'lanor." Smith was hoping that that his words would at least get him a small reprieve but there was no such providence.

"And the problem is? Unless you have a very good reason for this squadron not leave in the next fucking five minutes, you better get the point." Hoffman stated bluntly, he was tired of dealing insubordinate officers and soldiers, though Captain Smith probably had a valid reason to stall for time; he still needed to make an example of someone, and Smith just happened to be the poor sap that incurred his wrath.

"Colonel, that whole area is covered with Seeders; I have been sending probes and drones out all week, as soon as they come within the twenty mile circumference of the downtown district we lose all contact. And the dead zone is growing…" thump, Hoffman dropped Smith to the floor,

"Why wasn't this ever brought to my attention until now?!" Hoffman was in shock and disbelief that something so major was so under looked, "Did you even report this to any of your superiors?"

Smith gulped down a muscle the size of a golf ball, "I reported everything on that table to Admiral Viera, Commodore Higgins, and General Duran. They told me that my findings weren't strong enough to stop the raids and to stop stalling for time." He stood up and hurried over to a table that sat directly in the middle of small room. It was covered with aerial maps, course layouts, pages of orders, and major targets; he started searching frantically for the most recent course changes, "So instead avoiding the matter, I have been searching for the most transversable route into the downtown area. But no matter what route we take as soon as we cross that line, we loss everything, radios, radar, and GPS, but we will still have use of short range radios. Do you see why I haven't been rushing out of the hangar? We leave now and we will most likely not come back."

Hoffman stood hovering over the table looking through the latest patch of orders, "Why the hell would they ignore something as prevalent as this?" Hoffman turned the page of the today's order set and something caught his eye, "Shit, they didn't ignore this, Smith look here," Hoffman pointed to halfway down the page at section notes as "Concerns",

"It has been brought to Central Command's attention that once the Air Raids commence that there will complete radio silence between Central Command and Omega Squadron. It is our belief that even though there are considerable risks to the safety and security of the mission, it will continue as previously ordered. Omega Squadron will take flight, and begin bombarding the inner most regions of D'lanor…"

"Those bastards," Hoffman was infuriated, especially at his commanding officer, General Duran. The two had never taken liking to each other, Duran was headstrong and an over ambiguous tactician, which had led too thousands of unnecessary casualties. Hoffman was on the other side of the spectrum, he was also very headstrong but he believed in small squads over large invasion forces. The two's animosity for each other was no secret to their enlisted and draftees, they both were very open about how much they hated the other.

But Duran had an edge over Hoffman, his rank, which he pulled whenever there was a suicide mission or routine scouting mission that was doomed for failure. Hoffman was obligated to obey or spend the rest of his life in Suriek Penitentiary for insubordination, and Duran knew it. By some feat of divine providence he had survived each one for the last three years, but now Hoffman felt his luck was running thin along with his tolerance for Duran's impudence.

"Smith go get the flight wing ready, we are leaving within the hour," his face was covered in a sour grimace, "make sure we have double the ammunition and fuel than previously allotted, we are going to need it."

Smith looked puzzled, "Sir, we are actually going to go through with this?"

Hoffman addressed him sternly, "We don't have any other options Smith, either we go or stay here and spend the rest of this war in prison. We have to play with the cards we are dealt," Smith turned to walk away then Hoffman added, "but just we remember Smith, we can always cheat." As he finished speaking there a knock on the door,

"Colonel, Colonel, are you done yet?" a soft voice melancholy came from the other side of the door.

Hoffman rolled his eyes, "Yes, I'm done Maxwell, what the hell do you want now?"

"Sir, a currier just dropped off some new orders from Central Command," Smith walked over to the door, opened it, and gestured with his arms for Maxwell to enter as he was leaving. Maxwell nodded in courtesy and then Smith closed the door behind him, as the lock latched the two men could hear Smith shouting out orders,

"Everyone on the deck, get these Ravens in the air! Double up on fuel and ammo supplies, come on everyone move your asses, double time, let's go, let's go, let's go…!"

Maxwell slowly began to approach Hoffman, who was looking over some aerial maps and trajectory patterns; Maxwell was concerned that this new order set might push Hoffman past the edge of sanity. He stood waiting for Hoffman to acknowledge him, but he just kept strolling through the mounds of unread paperwork. Maxwell summoned enough courage to keep pressing forward and almost enough to speak up when Hoffman finally spoke,

"Maxwell, if a I wanted a fucking mute, I would have hired one," he said firmly with an aggressive undertone, he looked up from the paperwork direct at Maxwell, "Are you waiting for some kind of red carpet or your entourage, here let me get on the fucking phones and call them for you." He picked up a desk side phone and began dialing random numbers to mock Maxwell into blubbering out whatever he had to say.

Finally he spat out a single word, "Brumaks," it wasn't enough for Hoffman to go on but it was at least a start for him, "A currier from Duran's office just brought down a new order that once we complete the air raids we are supposed to…"

"Supposed to what, come on Maxwell we don't have all fucking day, the choppers are ready and the pilots starting the engines," outside the pair could hear the engines roaring to life and see the flight crews loading the last few containers of fuel and ammunition,

Maxwell felt the rush and dire need of the situation; Hoffman dropped the paper work and began heading for the door. He saw Captain Smith heading back towards the office, completely downed in flight gear, "Maxwell unless you are going to spit it out, we're out of here!"

"Sir, after we're finished with the air raids…"

"You dumbass, I know that part get on with it!"

"There has been a pair of Brumaks sighted lingering near Memorial Square, after we finish the raids, we have been ordered to change course and engage the targets..." He was about to finish but it was too late; Captain Smith opened the door and signaled for the two, to join him in the flagship. Maxwell shook his head and figured that it would be best to finish this briefing en-route.

Hoffman grabbed Maxwell by the horse collar of his back plate and dragged him from the office towards the Raven flagship, The Alexandria. Halfway through having his ass hauled along, Maxwell gained a footing and broke free of Hoffman's monstrous grip. He hit the cement floor, hard, but at least now he could walk with some dignity instead being drug around like a gutted pig. He rose from the floor and ran to catch up before Hoffman ordered Smith to take off without him.

Smith was the first to reach the Raven; he hurdled into the cabin and tried avoiding the overload of supplies to the best of his ability but he miscalculated one his steps and planted his shin directly into a diamond plate steel ammunition box. Smith cursed heavily under his breath but he continued to the cockpit as Hoffman and Maxwell filed in after him. The pair quickly sat down and strapped in, Hoffman reached into an overhead compartment and grabbed a couple headsets.

One of which he threw into Maxwell's lap and the other he placed upon his head; their headsets were alive with hundreds of different signals and voices. Though at first the sounds were exhilarating and intriguing, Hoffman quickly made sure that he wouldn't be listening to anything but the Omega Flight Team. He raised his hand to his ear and began turning the knobs on the headset to silence the background noise, and then the Flight crew transmissions began to come in loud and clear.

"…This is flight wing Omega checking for clearance to begin take-off, are we clear tower?" The response was almost immediate,

"You are clear Omega; you may begin taking off at you own convenience," there was a short silence on the radios, and the Tower began to speak again, "Omega once you have left the base, we will be under strict and complete radio silence, if there is anything that needs to be said say it now,"

Hoffman muted his microphone, "Tell Duran to fck off, and that he can kiss my ass when I get back," Though his microphone was muted, Maxwell's wasn't and his message was heard as a soften undertone over the entire fleet. The tower remained silent, to the best of his knowledge they probably couldn't have heard it over the engines, but he knew that Duran had heard him loud and clear, something inside him knew Duran was listening very closely but he had no proof.

Captain Smith rang out over the radios, "We're off tower," the Ravens began to elevate off the hangar floor and tear towards D'lanor, the tower echoed back, "Good luck and God speed." The radios fell silent from Jacinto, but the airwaves were filled with the excitement from the men of Omega, until Hoffman came in, "Cut the chatter, we got sht to do, we don't have time for you idiots to sit around and talk like school girls! Man the guns and make sure everything is in working order, NOW!" He knew his orders were hitting on deaf ears and that getting this force ready would be like pulling teeth. Out the blue Hoffman felt something land on his lap, a small manila folder labeled with the current date and the time stamp of when this folder was processed, he turned to Maxwell

"What the fuck is this?!"

Maxwell grinned, "Orders; that you wouldn't listen to on the ground and since we are mid-flight I figure you have plenty of time to read 'em." Hoffman began to thumb through the first few pages of strategies, mission objectives, and viable options of attack. He reached the satellite cartography and photographs and he knew what was waiting for him in D'lanor.

"Maxwell you need to learn to speak up! Freaking hell, now I understand your hesitation but for fuck's sake you need to either throw this at me or actually speak in a language I understand!" He began to read over the patterns of movement, tracking the creatures travels over the past week, "fucking Brumaks, of all the shit, I have to deal with today, there has to be Brumaks, fuck!"

Omega began to fly over and through the very outskirts of D'lanor; Hoffman could see the Trinity River and the suspension bridge adeptly named the Trinity Crossing, off in the distance. He could see the sun spreading out from the middle of the sky and fires raging through out the city. As they began to cross the river and head southwards Hoffman stood up and hung himself out of the main cabin gazing at the old industrial district and muttering to himself, "Today is gonna be a long day, and I only hope that we can survive the night…"