The Cessna 172, specially painted black for nighttime parachute ops such as this one, glided through the thin winter air, it's engine silent so as to enter undetected. Whilst Intel had confirmed that the occupying force did not have RADAR facilities (not that we had them either), we kept above the thin, wispy Irish clouds for as longs as possible, before falling beautifully and faultlessly beneath them, to confirm our position, and of course, to make the jump.

My mission, as assigned by the secret service, was to track down and assassinate David, before his actions (whatever they were...) could endanger the republic. HQ didn't really have that much information on where he might possibly be staying, other than the fact that my previous target was a specialist in asymmetrical warfare, and that David might have been planning to overrun specific points of interest around the country, before seizing power.
Jess was with me as a spotter, and to provide 'general surveillance and support'.

We always were a persuasive couple.

I readied my chute, and made one final check over of my equipment. My weapons and small range of tactical equipment were all in good order, complete with ammunition. Local money, papers and ID, (extremely crude at this time), and maps were all packed. The Parachute itself was well tested and ready to go.

Time to fly.

Stepping forward to the small, modified jump door at the back of the plane, I gripped the door, took one last look around me, closed my eyes, and launched myself into the open, pure air.

The thin, crisp air bit into my jump clothes, as I hurtled through the skies, wind whipping at my face like an angry lion tamer. Spreading my arms out, to create the largest surface area possible, the evil, spitting feeling of the air retreated, and was replaced by the cool breeze that flowed unhindered over my body.

This must be the feeling that skydiver's craved for.

In the days where normal people, even adults went skydiving.

As I descended past a new, thinner still layer of cloud, I knew it was time to pull the chord. Gripping it furiously with both hands, I pulled as hard as I possibly could, probably endangering myself with the risk of ripping it...

Hey, everyone's nervous on their first jump.

To my greatest relief, the chute opened in perfect sequence, just as the needles of the pine treetops began to brush past. I landed on the cold soil with no more than a bruise, Jess following seconds after. I gazed up into the heavens, trying to catch a glimpse of the Cessna, that would by now have banked back to the airfield in Pembrokeshire.

"Oi, quit stargazing!" Jess whispers as loud as any of us dare. "We've got contact!"

I bite the dust, and quickly pick out the silhouette of an off duty SFF soldier, his bright red armband being his most distinct feature in the darkness. However, I could only watch, as Jess pulls out her SMG, a suppressed MP5 complete with Beta magazine, and sends a burst of silent, deadly rounds into his head, as he drops to the floor, blood spewing from his skull now lain open to the stars.

All in complete, perfect silence.

As she rushed out to the body, I bundle together the two parachutes, and begin looking for suitable area to make camp. We had landed in the Knockatarriv forest, near to the town of Tralee in the south-west of Ireland, where another guerrilla warfare "expert" was stationed. HQ had expected that after seeking other advisers on the same subject, our target might make his way here to search for more advice.

We would be waiting for him.

Following a small ditch, I found 2 trees with branches forking off at about the same height, about 2 meters apart. Lifting a fallen branch that I had (quite literally stumbled across) into place across the two forks, I created the 'backbone' of the structure, to rest other fallen branches across. Despite knowing full well that this was my only chance of shelter, I groaned at the thought of all the building that lay ahead of us.

Just as I was hauling another piece of pine, it's sticky resin staining my hands, I realize that the shelter already has a roof! Emerging into my view, Jess spots me hauling the wood, and flashes me a ridiculous smile.

"You forget about the parachutes?" she whispers as loud as she dares, knowing full well that tree sap is one of the hardest and most annoying things to wash off.

"Oh shut up." I reply.

She laughs, and begins setting up the Trangia oven outside the mouth of the shelter, to start heating the first of our rations.

"That's right, get in the kitchen, girl."

She scowls at me, and I give her the same ridiculous smirk that she'd given me.

Revenge.

A few minutes later, just as the light of dawn began picking it's way cautiously through the trees, I trudge through the barely settling morning dew, down towards a stream that I had clocked earlier, to gather some more water.

As I emerged from where the trees fell away, the sheer beauty of the scene was enough to make me stop and stare. As the brand new sunlight poured from the heavens, and illuminating the surroundings, the stream seemed to flow so perfectly, it almost seemed to be alive somehow.

i had always been generally solitary when I was younger. I would always try and prove myself, then worry about others later. When you're in a team, you're no longer in control. There are other people, other needs, other ideas, other hates. One person always seems to be quite complicated enough to me.

Sure, I was never a complete loner. I had a small group of people that I would call my friends. And I certainly wasn't socially awkward. Just content, a factor that apparently made me very different from other people. And when the disease came, I had enough respect amongst the really popular people, the survivors, to get myself some basic rations, before eventually moving on to the wider, more dangerous world.

I scooped up some water and headed back.

Upon arriving back, I could smell that breakfast, consisting of (generic) dried meat and some bread, was done.

After stopping for breakfast, we decided it was time to investigate the town. Burying the equipment in our backpacks, and concealing our pistols and silencer's, we began the march into the unknown.