"Are we never going to find a way home?" - The Knights of Eldwood is a relatively small Player Guild in the Full Dive VR Game of Dark World. After being defeated multiple times by the larger Player Kingdoms, they're now forced to the most dangerous...
Walking out of the hangar under a heavy snow, with the ceiling lights illuminating the B-52 Strategic Bomber behind him, Trevor was now in his skeleton form. Donning a complete set of Special Forces Combat Gear all in black, he immediately boards the C-5M Super Galaxy, inside were there helicopters all packed up and ready for the airdrop as the large engines of the cargo plane spool up with the blizzard falling hard, but the veteran pilots weren't fazed by it. They quickly fired up their engines, preparing to fly into the darkness of the night.
Ready to escort them, his remaining helicopters started their engines, tailing the cargo plane into the haze of snow and strong gusts of wind.
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"It's show time, ladies!" as he hoists his M4 SOPMOD up in the sky, the squad leaders with their skeleton operators board the cargo plane. The Loadmaster then closed the door as they began to taxi out with another cargo aircraft following closely behind them.
Fully decked out in black Kevlar and equipment. Each of the squad leaders had ten Black Ops soldiers armed to the teeth with the latest military equipment Eldwood had to offer. Rattling filled the fuseleague as the cargo plane took off and quickly disappeared into the clouds. Even without seeing anything two feet in front of them, the Pilots use their aircrafts cockpit instruments to fly. The passengers could clearly see the quick adjustments and movements the skeletal pilots were making to keep it in direction.
It was after an hour of shaky and rocky flight did the air finally become calm and the cargo plane could fly to their destination without turbulence. Though still unable to see anything, Trevor opens the cargo plane's rear ramp and sits on the edge with his belt tied down to the floor.
He didn't look apart from the others, the only identification they had was the tag behind their helmets. From A1 to D1. Denoting the person's position on the squad, Alpha 1 was behind him on the helicopter. The flag on their helmets was their country of origin, Trevor handpicked fellow American players to join him on his Spec Ops team. Their quad lens GPNVGs on its downward position as they look for anything that might catch their eyes. Bored, the squad leader opens up to the general. "Anything bothering you sir?"
His eyes gazed upon his men, Trevor sighing as he turned his eyes to the doors meant for parachuters, the window just showing the blizzard and the darkness of the night. "This entire thing. Why are we here, why the Gods of this world brought us to this foreign planet. We're not chosen ones, not heroes, I have a bad feeling of what role we'll play." With the safety on, he removes the magazine of his assault rifle, pocketing it as he pulls the charging handle, catching the bullet with his gloved hands as it flies out of the chamber.
"Though, I am an Ushakov. Wouldn't be the first time this family name got uprooted from its life. Just that... it's not a Famine but a teleportation..." Sitting down at the edge of the benches, the interior lights of the cargo plane flickered as it hit some turbulence. "What does the Gods want from a bunch of people playing Heroes?"
