ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴇxᴘᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ - MIRAGE
1700 ʜᴏᴜʀs
Truly, it was only privileged spoiled brats, rich snobs and the like that could possibly see resting in the shade of a boulder beneath the desert sun something as demeaning, or rather pathetic. Yes, there were millions upon millions of those who befit such a niche, a select number who never struggled, never suffered a day in their life, albeit their own groomed and catered definition of suffering such as not having Wi-Fi on a flight, there being cheese in your hamburger when you specifically asked for there not to be, your housekeeper forgetting that you prefer not to have pulp with your orange juice. These were trivial matters part of a world that almost felt as if it were not of this earth for those who did not have the luxury of experiencing them, if one were to consider such matters luxurious and not the status quo of mindless sheep simply passing the time until death, time gifted to them by the blood, sweat and tears of..
"Annika McCallister, American, blood type O+, Christian" Klaus takes a swig from his flask "Killed In Action. Harriet Blair, British, blood type AB+, Atheist, Killed In Action" he gulps and then proceeds to drag a cigarette "Thomas Larsen, Norwegian," he inhales and takes a quick swig "blood type B-, Lutheran Christian, Killed In Action." he gulps and exhales smoke "Vladimir Mikhailov" drag, inhale "Ada Okafor" swig, gulp "Aberto Silva" exhale, drag "Andreas Müller" inhale, swig "Amane Nakano" gulp, exhale "Yasmin Nejem" drag, inhale "Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed In Action."
Nine more names, nine more families, nine more faces he could never forget. The aforementioned fallen were all members of the Mirage group, he had spent the last twenty-four hours with them but had already inadvertently memorized all of their vital identifiable information, some even before leaving base for the operation. Klaus' vision was something inhuman and he had to admit it was hard not to pry when his eyes were like binoculars. He could count every pore on a face, every eyelash, every crack on a lip from half a mile away, so reading someones dog tags took little to no effort. He could drink himself to death but all the names and faces hes seen since his first day on the battlefield would remain clear as day in his head, now it was time to add nine more. If he didn't see them get gunned down with his own eyes, he could hear the sound of every bullet that pierced flesh, it was quite similar to an arrow plunging into apple.
Klaus heard the gunships approaching before they were anywhere in sight, the sound distinct and clear. He was sitting a hundred yards from the dozens of tents opposite of the PMC facility a mile south. Black Steel was an organization he and his team became familiar with prior to joining Infinity, successfully rescuing an unknown amount of NOAH's from their possession, but it must have been a thousand more or less despite there being numerous other active PMC's spread throughout the globe.
flick. He lit up another smoke to calm his nerves, having estimated there would be time for one more before reinforcements arrived. Despite having inhuman abilities, he was still human in some sense or another, definitely in more ways than one.
In due time the average person would be able to make out the gunship detachment through binoculars from the operation site, the roar of the rotors growing gradually. Klaus begrudgingly pulled himself up off the sand, wearing only dog tags, combat pants and tennis shoes which he switched his boots out for after returning from their attempt at securing a blockade. He wore his compression tee on his head to shade his face and neck. Parts of his clothes were covered in several of his teammates blood after recovering their bodies from the combat zone.
He began walking towards the operation site, looking to see if the entrance to tent 103 was clear. Upon seeing it was, he was there in an instant.
*BAMF*
Black smoke glided gently through the air, the smell of charcoal floating into the tent along with Klaus, masking the stench of cigarettes and vodka. He used his shirt to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. Taking a seat at his table, Klaus pulled his compression shirt over his head onto his body, lifting his dog tags from his neck out from underneath the shirt, proceeding to collect his thoughts for a moment before switching back into his boots that sat underneath his table. It was time to get back to work.
Inside the tent were several lines of folding chairs and tables, with bags of gear already sprawled about the immediate area. Klaus, code-named "Hunter" had placed a table and chair in the corner of the tent once Mirage division settled into the area about thirty something hours ago. What was meant to be a standard reconnaissance turned out to the largest operation INFINITY had embarked on to date. Reinforcements began pouring out immediately after they had confirmed the PMC facility in the area belonged to Black Steel, the worlds most wanted and most dangerous private military corporation, who seemed to have sunk their claws deep into the middle east's skin.
Just hours ago the tent was crowded with some of Mirage divisions most distinguished assets. About thirteen, in fact. That number had been whittled down to four about an hour and a half ago. Now, there was only Vapor, Stargazer, ESP and Hunter himself who was sitting in the corner of the tent, resting his elbows on the table as he rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his gear. He took a deep breath in through his mouth and out his nose, "Fuck!"
ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴇxᴘᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ - ɢʀʏᴘʜᴏɴ
1700 ʜᴏᴜʀs
The blazing sun began to settle over the skies of Afghanistan, nestling itself comfortably within the crest of the western mountains as it began its final descent. Over the midday sky, several black objects in tight formations tore through the darkening clouds. Inside the lead gunship, a silver-haired woman wearing a metal mask lurched from her seat, standing up before navigating her way down the narrow crew compartment to the front deck.
Leaning against the doorway, the female silhouette watched over the shoulders of the two pilots as they made preparations for their final descent. "This is Gryphon Lead to all units, we're approaching the combat zone. All units check in before final descent."
"This is Gryphon 2, all systems green."
"Gryphon 3. We're on your tail."
"4 here, we'll be touching down right behind ya'll"
In the crew compartments of the four gunships were the reinforcements requested by the on-site teams. Nearly a hundred NOAH from INFINITY's Gryphon division, one of the largest teams since Operation Talon was being assembled for a large-scale, multi-division operation. Nearly 500 NOAHs would be present for what would be known as Operation Apollo Spear, "We'll be touching down in T-minus five, Agent Casanova." The co-pilot remarked, his hands dashing between a variety of switches within his immediate work area. "After we drop your team off, we'll be monitoring things from the air and providing aerial MEDEVAC for any possible casualties."
"Thank you." The silver-haired woman nodded. Though she didn't want to admit it, she was almost certain that casualties would be high during this operation. With their final descent time finalized, Agent Casanova stepped away from the cockpit and back into the passenger compartment of the landing craft.
"Listen up. I know all of you were assembled on short notice without a proper briefing." Casanova directly addressed the Gryphon team members within her gunship. Her team was an ad hoc group of individuals, each with different backgrounds, abilities, and appearances. Some looked more imposing than others, the horrors of war still reflected in their eyes, while others she wasn't entirely so sure. She had memorized their names: Bandit, Caipora, Occam, Armstrong, Saga and Jericho. While she didn't have the time to read the rest of their files, she at least committed their faces to names.
"Mirage has located an active Black Steel facility, approximately a hundred miles south of Kandahar and the Burza'i river. The Director and the Chiefs of Staff have authorized a joint operation to assault and seize the facility by force."
"T-Minus 2 minutes!" A voice shouted from the cockpit.
"Once we land, grab whatever equipment you brought with you and report to command tent 103. A full briefing will be presented to you there." Casanova grabbed her personal kitbag, slinging the large bag easily over her shoulder as the aircraft prepared to make its final descent.
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