Ben tugged at the collar of the shirt he wore under his body armor and HALO repulsor gear. It was a memetic poly-carbon weave not unlike the uniforms that the first X-Men had worn, but they had not had the benefit of being able to get the skin-tight clothing tailored to their exact body dimensions, and parts simply didn't fit as well as they could have. He supposed it couldn't be helped, but that didn't stop him from feeling the tightness of the material around his neck.
He had to give SHIELD credit, though. He had been sure that the weapons and armor General Cole was allowing them access to would be a disappointment, but everyone on the team had been pleasantly surprised by the quality and sheer volume of the equipment. While nothing quite so fancy as the exo-skeletal, nanite-enhanced suits that many of the world's armed forces now used almost exclusively, the uniforms that they had managed to piece together were certainly nothing to turn your nose up at. Body-contouring carbon-fiber and ceramic plates covered his vitals, as well as the tops of his arms and legs and over his shoulders, kidneys and spine. The technology behind the plates, while outdated by several years to be sure, was still a wonder, allowing the light, nearly impenetrable material to flex with his body's movement There was even some in the gloves most of them chose to wear, sitting above the first three fingers and the top of the hand to serve the same function as brass knuckles, as well as protection. He was not so sure that the mission would break down to exchanging blows, but it was reassuring, nonetheless.
Vascha and Gansükh had taken the most out of the storage locker, hefting guns and ammunition and armor in their arms and over their shoulders, so much that Agent Travis had actually taken a SHIELD soldier aside and made him help Vascha carry her load. At the time, Ben had wondered where exactly the two planned on putting so much gear, but he had to hand it to them; Though they looked over-encumbered, nearly every piece of equipment they had selected was strapped here or there onto their bodies where it would not interfere with their movement, and they bore the load with no complaint, even when the SHIELD scientists had strapped the batteries they needed to use the CHBs onto their backs. They were only about the size of two soda cans stacked on one another, but Ben could tell by the face Gansükh made when it was attached to him and linked into his own CHB unit that it wasn't light.
Ben himself had decided on the same carbine that Vascha had selected from the locker; An XM10 Scorpion manufactured by the now-defunct Stark Weapons Systems, and he lifted it onto his lap for probably the third time to inspect it's components. It had the reliability and efficiency that one would expect from a gas-operated carbine of its type, with the ability to exchange parts and accommodate a variety of additions to the weapon. Despite that appeal, Ben imagined that Vascha had chosen it for the same reason he had; It was one of the only weapons that had been designed to accommodate the fabled 5.56x45mm PhoenixBane ammunition that they had all been shocked to see in large quantities in SHIELD's possession.
Before traditional bullets had been replaced by coil and repulsor technology, there had been a demand on munitions companies to develop an ammunition type that could penetrate a variety of shield types used by mutants, as well as slip through telekinetic and magnetic interference. Each round projected a miniature shield of its own that allowed it to blow through most energy barriers and psionic shields easily, as well as chew its way through body armor. As far as Ben had known, the ammunition had never gone into full-scale production. A notion obviously disproven by SHIELD's crates upon crates of the stuff. Going into a situation with so many unknown variables such as this, the PhoenixBane was at least a little comfort.
If this thing goes south, Ben mused, It won't be for lack of shooting back.
Ben looked around him in the small, cramped space of the Helicarrier's aptly-named 'body dropper.' Unlike most traditional HALO jumps, which took place out of the rear cargo hatch out a plane or transport carrier, SHIELD had designed a separate room into the Helicarrier with the expressed purpose of people jumping out of it in mind. It seemed insane at first, until you considered that the Helicarrier's cargo areas were the size of basketball courts, and maybe opening the massive doors in the middle of a flight wouldn't be such a great idea unless you wanted to take the time to strap down several tons of equipment and crates first. The red operational lights were the only source of illumination, which made Vascha that much harder to see. From where Ben sat, her outline appeared fuzzy, as though his eyes could not bring her into focus. Gansükh sat next to her, and though he could not hear their words over the cacophony of engine noises that plagued the body dropper, he imagined they must be discussing the mission. They would effectively be the leaders of each group of three.
Hunter, Ciara and Rin sat in a stark contrast to Vascha, Gansükh and himself, Ben noted. Between them, the only one that carried a noticeable weapon was Rin, with her three Japanese swords stored securely on her back, each in their own carbon-fiber cylinder where they would avoid damage in their descent. He knew that Hunter would carry a combat knife somewhere on his body, but he preferred to fight using blades of air that he conjured from the atmosphere around him. Ciara had a similar distaste for any conventional weapons. The closest Ben had ever seen her come to armed combat was beating a soldier nearly to death with his own gun. She had even forgone a majority of options that had been made available to them in body armor, choosing to keep her body as unencumbered as possible. Ben envied her bravery, but imagined that having a healing factor was at least partially responsible for that.
A door in the front of the chamber opened, and there was a rush of air as Travis stepped into the room. For once, he did not wear his usual black suit and tie, but a flight suit, gloves, and helmet. For a moment, Ben had not recognized him without seeing his slicked-back black hair.
Travis touched a finger to a microphone at his throat, the same type that they all now wore, and the receiver in Ben's ear clicked. Ben realized that Travis had turned his microphone off. He motioned for them to do the same. Ben reached up and flipped the small switch on the device wrapped around his neck, touching his adam's apple, and the ambient static in one ear faded.
"We're nearing the drop zone!" Travis shouted over the dull roar of the ship's engines, then turning to look at Vascha's ill-defined form, "I have something for you!"
Vascha stood and walked toward him, holding one hand over her ear to better hear Travis as he shouted at her. He opened his flight suit and produced a small package, the size of several packs of cards, and placed it in her hand.
"SHIELD would never officially endorse this," he yelled over the noise, "But if you can't take out Sinister, your next best bet will be to destroy The Ark! This package will do the job! It has a remote trigger, all you need to do is consult your blueprint and decide where to put it. Any of the reactor engines would work!"
"Let me guess!" Vascha shouted back, "If it comes to that, we probably shouldn't come back here!"
"It's a last resort," Travis shouted, "And not a great one! But what I said is true! If you can't get to Sinister before he takes off in The Ark, you'll probably never be able to get close to him again! You're right, though! The penny pinchers will never let you get away with blowing up a multi-billion dollar investment!"
"Well," Vascha tucked the small explosive package into her shirt between the armor plates, "No one expects us to come back anyway!"
Travis frowned, "You know a lot of us are rooting for you, Ms. Aleksandrov!"
Vascha laughed and punched Travis in the shoulder, "Call me Vascha!"
"We'll see you when you get back, Ms... Vascha!" Travis shouted, then clicked the microphone at his neck back on. Ben and the rest of the team did the same.
"Masks on," Travis's voice crackled in Ben's ear, slightly hoarse from the strain of shouting, "Drop in one minute!"
One cue, a standby light blinked to life on the ceiling, signaling the doors at the far end of the chamber would open soon. Travis took a moment to fasten his suit to one of the many handles that lined the wall and slipped a respirator mask over his mouth.
Ben and the rest of the team stood to join Vascha. They each reached over their heads and pulled the black leather and kevlar caps over their faces. The masks covered everything except the nose and mouth, with a set of eyeholes covered in glass, making each of them look like insects with compound eyes. Suddenly Ben's visible world was much smaller, his peripheral vision eliminated almost entirely, forcing him to stare directly at anything he wished to see. Then, each in turn, they produced the mouthpiece of their masks from their equipment and snapped them into place. Ben heard a hiss and felt the rush of compressed, cold air fill his lungs as the respirator began to do it's work.
"Drop gear!" Travis' voice sounded in his ear.
Ben looked down at the panel on his chest. Affixed there was a device almost as impressive as the CHB harness that Ben had been fitted with underneath his armor. From what he had been told, it was a single-use personal repulsor that allowed for extremely rapid air drops without putting soldiers at risk by making them sit in the air suspended by a parachute. The device would sense when they had reached a minimal altitude, and deploy a repulsor field that would stop the free fall almost instantly. He pressed down on the large, crystalline chest piece, and it powered up with a satisfying vibration. He looked around at the others, and figured he was probably the only one of them besides Hunter who was completely okay with jumping out of the Helicarrier. He had been separated from the Earth for nearly a day now, and while the urge to vomit and fall asleep at the same time had waned over time, the intense anxiety the sensation caused him was barely under control. He would gladly plummet to the ground if it meant he could touch it.
A secondary standby light illuminated, and there was a tremendous rush as the chamber depressurized, and the door at the far end of the room opened outward, creating a ramp into the oblivion of the sky. The first thing that struck Ben was the cold. It was a thin, biting, knife-sharp cold that penetrated his many layers of armor and clothing with a disturbing ease. Ben took a look at his equipment strapped to his body and lightly tugged at his carbine, making sure it was securely affixed to him.
As though they had done it a thousand times, the team calmly formed a circle around Hunter, each grabbing hold of him somewhere on his body armor, making sure to keep his hands and arms free. Hunter did not wear a repulsor, and would be using his air manipulation exclusively both to slow his own descent, and to guide them to their landing zone.
Speaking of landing zone... Ben thought, remembering to power up the guidance system of his mask. Instantly, small images began to crowd the surface of the goggles in front of his eyes, forming a heads up display the included direction, wind speed, and altitude. A small red arrow dance across his vision, indicating where their primary landing site had been painted with a GPS satellite.
"Ready to drop!" Travis shouted, again fighting to be heard over the roar of wind and air.
"Ready!" they each shouted back, giving thumbs up.
A green light illuminated overhead, and Travis made a sweeping motion with one arm towards the open door, towards the breathtaking vastness of the open even sky, dull orange with waning sunlight.
"Go! Go! Go!"
"This is going to be rough," Hunter warned, "When we're this high up, there's less I can do to control the air. Hang on tight."
He made a waving motion with his hands, and there was a vague glow of blue light as Ben felt a buffet of air gather up beneath them, growing stronger and stronger with each second. Then, Ben's heart leapt into his throat as the air current shifted and they were all blown out the open door and into the freezing void of the upper atmosphere like bullets out of a gun.
For a moment, Ben was gripped with fear as the wind blasted against him, it's cold bite gnawing at him where there was the least amount of coverage between his skin and the open sky. The sensation of free fall caused his mind to panic on all fronts for several seconds before he managed to get a handle on the effects it had. He struggled to maintain his hold on Hunter's armored torso, and somehow managed to keep his grip. Ben turned his head to look at the Helicarrier. It was already disappearing into the darkening sky, it's massive engines thundering through the air, seeming to tear a hole though the clouds as it passed them, as though it were wounding the sky with it's size.
The lights on the heads up display in his goggles began to jitter with rapidly changing information, telling him of his descending altitude, his speed, and the various meteorological aspects of the atmosphere around him. Most importantly, it highlighted their landing zone, only indicated by the same familiar red arrow; The ground was still not visible through the thick cloud cover they descended through.
Hunter was waving his hands, making slow, methodical gestures this way and that, the air around him glowing with that faint blue light, and Ben felt a sudden shock as a current of air hit them as hard as an ocean wave, urging them in the direction of their target. It came several times more in rapid succession, pushing them further and further in their intended direction, the red arrow in Ben's goggles coming closer to being directly under them with ever wave of air. Ben wanted to shout something to Hunter about doing something to soften the force of the wind, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hear.
Everything went a hazy white as they passed through the densest of the clouds as they began to enter the lower atmosphere of the Earth. For several seconds, Ben could not even see he hand in front of his face, only the numbers and letters in his goggles, one of which was dropping very quickly. Ben felt suddenly soaked with freezing moisture as they passed through a particularly thick section of clouds, and just as quickly, they were gone, and the clouds were left behind them. Nothing between them and the ground except...
Holy hell... Ben thought to himself.
The blueprints and holograms they had studied of course had given indications as to the size of The Ark, but you could not really grasp, could not really see how vast it truly was until it filled your vision. Deep purple and blue, with highlights of gold and orange from the waning light of day, it was like the exoskeleton of some great dead insect, it's slick, shimmering surface dancing in the evening sunlight, bright almost to the point that Ben felt the urge to look away. All over it, tiny points of white light blinked or emitted a steady glare. Light, Ben realized. It was getting ready to take off. It had it's lights on.
Ben could not help but marvel. It was one of the largest things he had ever seen. It was a mobile fortress. A movable city. The Helicarrier, for all of it's bulk, did not even compare, and seemed more a toy than a flying fortress when compared to The Ark.
Hunter began to gesture again and, as he had promised, the currents of air came smoother now. They were being gently eased towards their destination, rather than shoved. It would not be long now. The repulsor on his chest confirmed his suspicion by emitting a low hum as it detected their proximity to the ground.
I hope you're ready for us, Sinister, Ben thought, I really do.