"Or do you want another round with the shock batons?! 'Cause I'm bored enough to make it personal!"
That shut the table up. They sat down again, slow and deliberate. Porks poked at the "food." One of them sniffed a spoon and gagged.
And then, like the professionals they were, they returned to the art of talking sh*t, now in hushed, bitter mutters.
"This is all on Drac. That f*cker better be in a coma, 'cause if he's conscious and sipping wine somewhere, I'm going full berserker."
"I'm gonna slap that dramatic bastard so hard, his next five reincarnations will feel it."
"If he's not here in the next week, I'm declaring myself Imperator and nationalizing every beer tap on E*rth."
"He probably forgot we existed. Probably shacked up with some bimbo and grew a beer belly the size of a tank tread."
"When I see him again, I don't care if it's the middle of a street I'm punching him in the kidneys."
They kept chewing, muttering, simmering. Because if they were still mad at him? It meant they still expected him.
And deep down, under all that scar tissue and profanity... They still believed he was coming.
...
T-minus 3 seconds.
The master chief's voice cracked in over comms, sharp, no nonsense, and full of barely contained glee like he enjoyed watching people suffer.
"Combat drop in 3... 2... 1!"
Then gravity vanished. The entire dropship free fell as the pilot cut the engines and sent us hurtling straight down toward the Earth like a metal coffin with wings.
"MOTHERF*CKER!"
I roared as my stomach tried to exit through my spine. I grabbed the crash seat rails like my life depended on it because it absolutely did. And then...
"C*use I'm T! N! T! I'm d*namite!"
AC/DC started blasting through the dropship's interior speakers like this was a g*dsdamn music video.
Invicta. Of course.
She sat In front of me, completely unbothered, bobbing her head to the beat, arms casually crossed like she wasn't in the middle of an orbital nosedive.
And the clones?
Those insane, brainwashed bastards were nodding along to the beat too. A whole f*cking conubernum of super soldiers casually syncing their heads to TNT while combat dropping into a black site like it was just a midweek workout.
"For f*ck's sake,"
I muttered, voice cracking from the pressure.
"And I thought I was the crazy one."
The master chief's voice barked again, harder this time.
"Thrusters kicking in 3, 2, 1..."
The altimeter ticked down across all our HUDs 3,000… 2,000… 1,000... 100 Then the pilot slammed the throttle.
BOOM.
The thrusters roared back to life, slamming us upward as the ship stabilized in a violent jerk. My ass came down like a hammer onto the crash seat.
"GAAH... pretty sure I just broke my f*cking pelvis!"
Didn't matter. No one cared.
"HOOK THE CABLES!"
The master chief bellowed like a war g*d.
Overhead, the ceiling panels snapped open, and a series of thick, drop cables dropped like coiled snakes, swaying under the cabin lights.
The clones were already on their feet, seats unlocking with synchronized clicks. No hesitation. Each one hooked themselves to the drop cables with a solid CLUNK, chest plates locking in smooth and efficient.
Invicta stood with zero effort, mid rhythm head bobbing unbroken, and clicked her cable in one handed like a bored pro.
Then she looked back at me, head tilting.
"Oh come on, don't be the slowpoke now, dearest hubby,"
She jabbed, voice full of sass even through the modulator.
"Oh f*ck off will you!"
I snarled as I scrambled to unbuckle myself, my arms flailing like a drunk toddler trying to escape a highchair.
Eventually, somehow, I hooked the cable to my chest plate, praying to any d*vine entity with a sense of humor that I didn't just attach it to the wrong latch.
The lights in the cabin turned green.
The side doors hissed open. The tail ramp dropped, and the three lazer gatling guns swiveled out, spooling up with a deafening electric scream.
Then came the lazers.
A storm of red fist thick continous stream of lazers lit the sky as the side and tail gunners unleashed hell, tearing the ground defenses apart before we even landed.
"DROP! DROP! DROP!"
The floor beneath our boots split open as the square drop hatches slid away, before I could comprehend what happened I was already seeing the belly of the dropship.
...
A few seconds before the chaos, the watchtower platform creaked under the weight of two bored, underpaid, and sleep deprived guards.
They stepped outside the prefab tower's metal door, each lighting up a cigarette like it was the last luxury left on a dying planet.
The wind howled. The fence below buzzed with a broken power field. Spotlights scanned lazily across the cracked dirt and razor-wire.
"You see the latest broadcast?"
One asked, exhaling smoke into the cold air.
"Which one?"
His buddy replied, rubbing his gloved hands together.
"The riots? The water shortages? Or the fact another continent's sliding into civil war?"
"All of it, man."
He took another drag.
"Whole world's gone to hell. I swear, it's like the gods hit 'reset' and walked out for coffee."
The other grunted.
"Still better than being stuck out here babysitting ghosts."
He nodded toward the interior of the black site.
"What are we even guarding anymore? Place is more forgotten than the bottom drawer in a priest's sock cabinet."
Then came the moment.
"Huh... what's that?"
The first guard squinted, raising his cigarette as if it could help him zoom in. Far in the sky a dot. Getting bigger. Fast. Way too fast.
"Looks like a bird"
One said uncertainly.
"No… wait..."
He didn't get to finish the thought.
FWOOM
The sky ripped open as a dropship came down like a thunderclap, four vertical thrusters Igniting with blue fire, screaming through the clouds like an angel of death on a deadline.
BOOM.
It hit hover mode, stopping just ten meters above the courtyard with impossible, terrifying precision.
The guards stood frozen, cigarettes still in their mouths.
Hissssss.
The side doors slid open. And from the exposed hull
a rotating, manned laser gatling gun unfolded, locking onto them with mechanical finality.
"Oh f*ck me..."
That was the last thing he ever said. Because in the next heartbeat, a stream of red hot laser fire fist thick, continuous, and unrelenting tore through them both.
No screaming. No diving for cover. Just instant annihilation.
The platform disintegrated into red mist and burning steel, falling silent beneath the dropship's roar.
...
MC POV
My boots hit the ground, hard. I managed to stay upright for all of two seconds before gravity and adrenaline caught up with me and I promptly collapsed on my armored ass, armor clanking against the dirt like I was a dropped trash can.
"Ugh… g*dsdamn... I hate heights"
I was still trying to remember which way was up when a shadow fell over me.
"Need a hand?"
Invicta stood there, her silhouette framed by the fiery blue glow of the dropship thrusters.
Her demon mask gleamed beneath the floodlights of the dropship, and her laser edged blades blunt side rested casually on her shoulder.
She offered a hand. And behind that mask, I swore I could hear her smirking.She was definitely enjoying this.
I took her hand. Big mistake. Because the moment I grabbed it, I felt the ground vanish beneath me.
"WHOA...!"
She yanked me up like I weighed nothing, and I flew into the air like a sack of tactical potatoes, landing a meter away with a surprised grunt as my boots slammed down.
"Oops. Sorry. Used too much strength,"
She said nonchalantly, patting my armored shoulder like she hadn't just launched me like a f*cking trebuchet test round.
Behind us, the clones moved like a machine, fanning out in flawless precision, setting up a 360 degree perimeter with rweapons raised and visors scanning.
Every movement was mechanical, deliberate, exact.
"F*ck... just how strong are you exactly?"
I asked, massaging my shoulder where I'd nearly dislocated my pride. Invicta shrugged like she'd just helped move some furniture.
"I can flip an APC. No sweat."
I gulped. Note to self. Never try to outmuscle the murder machine. She turned on her heel, blade still resting like a fashion accessory, and gestured forward.
"Let's go already. Time to say hi to the bastards who locked up your bros."
"Right..."
I muttered, unhooking my cable, fingers steady despite the surge of anticipation. I grabbed my rifle, pressed it against my shoulder, and fell in step behind her.
...
Canteen Block
The first sign of trouble was the flickering of the lights.
The second was the shrill, teeth grinding wail of the alarm klaxons, suddenly flooding every inch of the facility with blood red emergency strobes.
"CODE RED. BREACH IN PROGRESS. ALL UNITS TO LEVEL B-7."