Unit 2 marched up to the tarmac, with John leading the way. Each soldier was suited up and equipped for their mission. Black long sleeved shirts beneath a Kevlar lined tactical vest. Black cargo pants and tactical belt. John clenched his fist inside the black gloves. The fabric stretched with his strength, but held its form. The monster was contained...for now. But if this mission took a turn as the last one, nothing would stop him from busting open his gloves.
They stepped out onto the tarmac. The California sun was starting to set over the horizon in the west, sending the sky into darkness. It seemed fitting to see the sun set the last time. Most of them probably wouldn't see the sun ever again. The flight teams moved around the tarmac, prepping for flight. The pilots were seated in the cockpit, finishing their prep list. One of the crew opened the launch door, opening the cargo hold. John stepped to the side as the unit loaded into the chopper.
Hazard entered first, giving John a heated glare in passing. He moved to the wall and picked up M16 rifle. The electronic voice filled the air. "RRTS Special Ops Clearance Verified. Handle I.D. Hazard."
"Handle I.D. Bio."
Jason ran his hand over the barrel of his M39 Marksman Rifle. "Dead on."
"Handle I.D. Sky."
Mitchell patted his double barrel pump action shot gun.
"Handle I.D. Cal."
Calvin hauled a heavy-duty tripled barrels rotating machine gun. "Lock and load."
"Handle I.D. Sweets."
Bradley loaded his assault rifle against his shoulder.
"Handle I.D. Gale."
Abbigail hauled off an M16A2 from the mount and settled herself near the door. She quickly made a cross across her chest, bowing her head in a silent prayer.
"Handle I.D. Mathiss."
Jade strapped her twin submachine guns to her gear.
John hauled himself into the chopper last. He closed the door behind him and dismounted his assault rifle from the wall. The weapon seemed to mold into his grasp. "RRTS Special Ops Clarence verified. Handle I.D. Reaper." He turned to the cockpit. "Take us up." The words were like acid in his mouth. The same words that Sarge had said days ago. Reaper shook his head and took his seat beside the door.
The rotors picked up speed. The chopper lifted off the tarmac in flight. The interior jerked with the take off. Reaper closed his eyes for a moment, enduring the sudden jerk. He hated flying. He searched his vest for gum, only to remember he had none. Vera had given him his last piece three days ago. Reaper set his jaw and took a deep breath. He needed to focus, to complete the mission before he could grieve her properly. But everything seemed to remind him of her.
Reaper shook his head and stood. It was time to get this mission underway. "Look in." Everyone's eyes shifted toward him. "Seventy-two hours ago, Simcon lost contact with the research team station on Olduvai. Unit 6 was assigned to investigate the station and eliminate the threat. The station was secured in the end, but Unit 6 was lost."
Gale lowered her head, muttering under her breath. Cal closed his eyes. Sweets shook his head. Whether they had known any members of Unit 6 or not, the death of an officer was a blow to everyone. But the loss of a full unit was worse still.
"What does that have to do with us?" Hazard asked.
Reaper's eyes narrowed at Hazard, but he continued nonetheless. "UAC doesn't want a repeat incident. We sweep that entire facility and eliminate whatever threat there might be."
"What kind of threat?" Bio asked.
"You'll now it when you see it." Reaper answered. He took his seat, giving what information they needed. They didn't need to know about the data or the vials. They didn't need to know that this was a suicide mission. Reaper leaned his head back, cursing himself internally. What made him any better than Sarge? He was withholding information, information that could get them killed. But that was the entire point of this mission and Reaper knew it. Unit 2 was just a waste, sending them out would open up space for more adequate soldiers.
Maybe they didn't need to know the twisted details behind the mission. Maybe they could live with themselves if they didn't know they were going to die. Maybe they wouldn't die. If the threat of C24 was really gone, then the unit may-in fact-survive. Then again, if they succeeded in finding the information, they might not. Reaper wouldn't put it past General Taylor to shoot them all on sight once the mission was completed. In fact, Reaper wouldn't be surprised if Taylor would be waiting for them once they emerged from the facility. Which meant that Reaper needed a secondary escape to avoid being detained.
Suddenly, Reaper felt a strange pull in the back of his mind. The familiar sensation a person has just before they fall asleep. Only Reaper couldn't bring himself back. All sounds of the chopper engines and internal conversations became muted in his mind. His vision grew narrow, blocking out everything inside the chopper, focusing on what was ahead of him.
Reaper stood in the middle of destroyed and decrepit street. It was the barren remains of a town. It was Earth. Buildings stood above him, barely holding their structure. Windows were broken, cars were trashed. The earth was a deep red, mimicking the surface of Mars. There was a warm, stale breeze, blowing across his face. Dirt rolled across the surface, blowing across the destroyed and decrepit streets. Reaper slowly walked through the town, finding dozens of skeletal remains. He recognized the humans remains, long since picked clean of any meat. Then there were the remains of other creature. Imps and Hell Knights. There was no mistaking their larger structure in comparison.
As quickly as Reaper entered the state, he was pulled back into the chopper. He inhaled sharply and lifted his head. He was back in the chopper, completely ignored by his men, much to his relief. What the hell had he just witnessed? A vision? A premonition? A delusion? Could it have been a psychological breakdown? After everything that had happened in the past few days, it wouldn't come as a surprise. Psych's hadn't evaluated him prior to departure, most likely on Taylor's orders. Then again, dreams didn't leave you still feeling the breeze, or taste the copper tainted air. Whatever it was, Reaper knew it was the end of civilization. And he couldn't let that happen.
The red indicator lights flicked on above their heads. Every head onboard lifted toward the lights. They had reached their destination. Each soldier prepped their weapon for departure, waiting for Reaper's orders. He stood from his seat, weapon strung over his shoulder. The chopper touched down with a jerk and Reaper opened the door.
"Move out!" he ordered, stepping out first.
The air was warm and stale as it had been days ago. The was well out of sight by now, sending them into darkness, if it wasn't for the tarmac lighting. Reaper marched in the front while the unit took their positions on either side of him. He could hear Gale's off set steps directly to his left. Sky and Cal took up the positions behind her. Sweets, Mathiss, Bio, and Hazard took his right. Everyone stood at attention, ready for a moments notice. Behind them, the chopper took off again, heading back to base; stranding them in the middle of Nevada's desert.
A familiar vibration came from beneath the surface. The glistening metallic structure of the service elevator rose from the red earth, inviting them deep with the bowels of hell. Reaper took the first approach toward the elevator. Behind him, the unit followed, though their steps were far from sync. Reaper took the left position of the elevators exterior. Sweets took the right as the unit filed into the elevator. Sweets entered next, followed by Reaper. The doors closed in front of him, sealing the unit. Reaper stared ahead, catching something through the door. She stood at five foot three, standing just a few inches from him. Her violet eyes stared directly at him. He could catch the faint scent of musk and peonies drifting toward him. Her pale lips turned up with a smile. Reaper closed eyes his. His mind was toying with him. She wasn't really in front of him. She couldn't be. There were no scars on her face or neck. Her hair still hung below her shoulders. Her hair hadn't reached her chin when she left. He'd watched the transport explode, killing Vera. He opened his eyes once again and found that Vera's image had vanished, but the void in him had doubled.
The elevator came to a stop at the lowest level. The doors opened to reveal what he'd expected. There was structural damage from the BFG. Sarge had virtually melted the walls and survivors during his rampage, there was no way to repair the damage within a week. However, most-if not all-of the employee bodies had been removed from the facility. The blood had been washed away from the floor and walls, but Reaper could still see lingering's of the blood outlines. He knew the map of the dead by heart. He could recognize the faded stains of the floor and tell which ones had been human and which ones had not.
They stepped out into the main hall of the facility. Dozens of repair crews moved about, working without a second glance at the soldiers. One of the workers looked up, the very first. Reaper saw a mirror motion to Crosby three days ago. The man walked forward, dressed in a dark grey coat and work pants. His blond hair was cut short. He walked from the desk toward the elevator.
"Sargent." he said tersely. "You're late."
It took all of Reapers restraint not to snap at the man in retaliation. "Then let's get moving."
The man nodded and turned. He lead them through the familiar hall, toward the Arc. Like the previous hall, repairs were still in progress. Reaper counted the bullet holes in the wall, holes that he'd made while hunting Sarge. Reaper frowned, growing even more confused as they reached the chamber. The chamber itself, was virtually repaired. The railings were reassembled, the debris had been removed, the pillars were reconstructed. His left hand throbbed. He could still feel the rail pierce his hand. The computer system was working at optimum efficiency.
"Your UAC liaison has already transported to the Mars facility over an hour ago. They're awaiting your arrival to begin the mission." the man informed.
"How could they transport?" Reaper asked. "The Arc-"
"The Arc sustained minimal damage during the previous mission. Despite your best attempts, Sargent." came the reply.
Reaper tried not to growl in response. The man didn't seem to be afraid of him at all. Either he was arrogant, or he was insane. Reaper prayed the man was arrogantly following orders. He did want to deal with the latter too soon.
"Initiating molecular mapping drive." came the familiar robotic voice.
"Once your team reaches the Mars facility, my team will withdraw." the soldier explained. "We'll maintain an open channel between stations in the Arc chambers."
Reaper nodded. "Mathiss."
"All personnel prepare for activation."
Mathiss stepped toward the core, but kept her distance. Reaper sensed her increased heart rate. Clearly she hadn't traveled through the Arc before. None of them had. Each one held similar heart rates and shifted anxiously around the platform.
"Arc travel, fifteen seconds and counting."
From the center of the platform, from the core of the Arc, an orb of metallic silver emerged. It floated effortlessly into the air. The lobby had grown quiet with the anticipation of the transport. All eyes were drawn to the ARC, watching the marines transportation.
"Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
The liquid engulfed Mathiss in an instant, sending her millions of miles into space.
updated! holy cow you guys have been so patient. I'm sorry it took me so long, I got back on my Hobbit wagon and finished that fic. I don't know when the next update will be, but just know I have not forgotten it!