Lightning crackled like a whip as gray clouds gathered in the lone night sky. A flurry of rain contributed to the ominous weather, while hypersonic jet engines echoed through the atmosphere. A fixed-wing medium transport manifested itself through the many nimbuses around. The structure was made of refined aluminum, its round features allowed for proper aerodynamic flow.
Inside the belly housed three columns of a dozen soldiers each; warriors equipped with advanced armor, hiding all their human features. While the armor looked identical, the weapons and insignia distinguished their role and rank. They remained stoic while waiting for the promise of violence.
Turbulence struck but the troops didn’t flinch. In the rear, a blood-red light was born near a closed ramp. Within the front row, a specific trooper stepped forward. An insignia signified his seniority over this platoon. His name was Rove, a highly decorated soldier of the Terran Federation. He had advanced the ranks to a Field General, the highest rank to still directly fight in battles. He has been hailed as a genius in military tactics and strategy.
Rove commanded a regiment, call-sign Te’Vau. Rove’s legion consisted of elite infantry units. But only a platoon, known as the Hatchets, were present in the transport. They were shock troopers who dropped directly into enemy units for shock and awe.
“Check equipment,” ordered the Field General.
Instead of wristwatches, retracted blades were attached to each soldier’s left forearm. In unison, the Hatchets unsheathed their blades upwards and they retracted after a few seconds. The weapon worked flawlessly to produce a two-foot blade.
In this world, all living beings possess a core in their soul. Essence gathered into these cores over time, amount and density varied. Essence can be used to enhance one’s own strength and speed.
Soldiers can also funnel essence into their armor forming a kinetic barrier. These shields blocked projectiles with great effect but would break easily against melee weapons. Blades were effective against targets with high-density barriers while bullets were effective against targets with low-density barriers.
The enraged storm’s rumbling competed against other sounds, exploding ordnance. A voice erupted through the intercom systems. “Thirty seconds to drop zone.” said the pilot. The red light near the ramp changed to neon green, signifying air transport to lower its rear jaw. The Hatchets and Rove marched towards the metal curtain unveiling the next stage.
A myriad of explosions and fire enveloped an ocean below, a naval battle was well underway. As if a sea god had protested, violent waves crashed against all naval vessels. These ships were armed with screaming anti-aircraft guns and erupting artillery cannons. The hate is aimed at each other.
The Terran Federation fleet outnumbered their enemy four to one and were surrounding the remaining enemy ships. The imminent victory was stalled by fixed-wing jets, who gave air superiority to the enemy. Federation flight squadrons were devoured as quickly as they appeared.
At the epicenter, a gargantuan carrier was responsible for birthing the death swarm. The hawk-like Te’Vau eyed this particular Kraken from above. Esprit de corps and loyalty fueled their resolve as they waited for the signal. Rove’s sounded off from their helmet radios.
“Live forever.” uttered Rove as he dove headfirst over the ramp while the Hatchets followed without question. Te’Vau had dropped into the chaos below. Their descent from heaven was deafeningly swift. God had banished these fallen angels.
