The Dawn of a New Threat | 001 |

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──❝The Dawn of a New Threat ❞──


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OCTOBER, 2000

REPUBLIC OF PENAMSTAN - 70 MILES FROM U.S. MILITARY BASE

The sound of the aircrafts rotors filled the air, drowning out all other noise. Its blades chopped through the air with a precise, mechanical rhythm. The vibrations of its engines were deep in many bones, like the pounding of a drumbeat that echoed through the destroyed city. Many helicopters hovered above, their presence commanding the attention of all who witnessed it. In the city below, the once-thriving city now lay in ruins, its buildings crumbling and its streets littered with rubble. The air was filled with the aftershocks of explosions that had rocked the landscape. The aircrafts blades cut through the thick smoke, illuminating the devastation below. 

The mostly arid nation was torn apart by a devastating and brutal civil war, leaving behind a trail of destruction and countless casualties. If you were able to hear, you would have been able to hear the heart-wrenching cries of the innocent civilians caught in the middle of the deadly conflict, as well as the deafening sound of gunfire reverberating through the streets. In a unilateral move, the United States deliberated over the possibility of providing military aid to the region but ultimately chose to take matters into its own hands by deploying its own troops to the conflict zone. It was that decision that led the troops to find themselves in such a perilous and unpredictable predicament.

"Command, this is Coyote Six. We're 70 miles northwest of the base. Altitude, 1,500 feet. Requesting clearance for landing." A pilot's voice, crackling with a sense of urgency and expertise, came over the radio, cutting through the tension in the air. The sound of the aircraft's engines could be heard faintly in the background, indicating the seriousness of the situation. "Coyote Six, this is Command. You're cleared to land on Runway 3. Wind, 50 at 14 knots, maximum two-nine-seven-four inches, watch for the chop." A woman's voice responded calmly. Inside one of the aircraft sat the Mad Dogs squadron, led by Jason, who sat tensely in the cockpit, their fingers tensed over the triggers of their guns. The already tense situation was further exacerbated by the deafening boom of an explosion that rocked a different aircraft as it was hit by an enemy. "Mayday! We're hit! Losing altitude!" 

"Shit." With his heightened senses, Jason was able to detect the sound of the helicopter's wheels screeching and its engine sputtering as it began to spin out of control in a spiraling descent. He brought his radio to his mouth and said, "Command, this is Mad Dogs. We have visual on Alpha Two, and it's going down." In the control room, Commander Wilson watched intently as Alpha Two, the helicopter, plummeted toward the ground, sending a massive plume of smoke billowing into the air. "Coordinates 4-2 Sierra Whiskey Alpha-niner-4-6-5-0-6-7-niner-2-niner." Commander Wilson's croaky voice ordered. "Tell the other units to stand by." Behind the commander, a woman in a crisp military uniform nodded and quickly relayed the order to the other units. "Team Three, Team Six, this is Command. Stand by." Taken aback, Jason exclaimed. "Wait, what?" His forehead glistened with perspiration as he struggled to comprehend the sudden change in their mission. His gaze swept over his fellow team members, who also shared his perplexity. "I repeat, Team Three, Team Six, stand by and wait for orders." 

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