I grab my sniper rifle and put a magazine of armour-piercing rounds into it. I love the satisfying sound of it sliding into place.
"Two minutes until drop off," yells Hank our support class. Makarov starts the personal check.
"Trapper ready?" he yells.
"Trapper ready," replies our trapper class, Maggie, while she pats her dog.
"Medic ready?" he yells.
"Medic ready," I yell back.
"30 seconds until drop," Hank yells, flicking the safety off on his mini gun.
"Support ready?" booms Makarov
"Support ready!" Hank shouts back.
The ships doors open to reveal a beautiful forest with huge trees. In the distance black ash pours into the sky from what looked like some sort of colonist settlement.
Hank starts the count down. "Drop off in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Go!".
We all jump, including Maggie's dog, out of the ship. Wind flies passed my face as we decended into the forest below.
"Slow decent," yells Makarov.
We all turn on our jet packs to slow our fall and Maggie pushes a button on her arm that opens a parachute strapped to her dogs back.
