Operation Hades

Commence Operation

A rapid glance behind him, and back right ahead. Acheron crawled and pulled himself through the dirt, staining his green uniform. To his left and right, dirt walls rose above him, sheltering him from the sounds of terror above. Bullets whistled by overheard, along with faint crackles in the distance from the bombardment of artillery weapons. The air held a distinct, peculiar smell. One he was all too familiar with. Death.

Ahead of him lie an open area in the trench. His breathing was ragged, and his face reflected upon the situation. His eyes were wide, focused. His teeth were clenched. His thoughts, racing. His hand splashed into a puddle, breaking his one-track focus. To add to the fear and disgust, his hand was submerged in a pool of blood, dripping from a corpse hanging from the wall to his right. He momentarily buried his head downwards to recuperate, and took yet another ragged breath. He tried to survey his surroundings.

To his left held an alcove, bracing a weapon. Instinctively, he mounted the gun. He didn’t even bother to look upon it. Unwavering, his view held a deep jungle, and the humidity reflected such. Yet, for the next hundred meters was only the desolation of corpses of trees and the scorched soil. No-man’s-land.

The air was still, and the land was empty. His conditioning was beginning to kick in, and he was able to compose his thoughts better in his combat high. It was sudden to him that he had no idea where he was or what he was doing. One thought dominated all others at the time, and that was survival. Dead silence cut through his train of thought.

With only a moment to think about it, his mouth fell agape. He knew exactly what would follow a cease-fire like this

In an instant, hundreds upon hundreds of voices cried out in wretched cacophony. It was coming to him. And the very force behind it was shaking the hilltop. Sweat dripped from Acheron’s jaw, mortified. He was alone

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Shrugging forcefully, Acheron threw the grip off of his shoulder. He looked to his left, only to notice the last of the Agency squad disembarking the helicopter via rope. Zephyr slowly let his arm rest, and waited for a sign from his comrade. Acheron let out an exasperated sigh, rising. Zephyr checked how secure his weapon was on his back, before going over and sliding down the rope. Acheron, walked over and leaned halfway out of the helicopter. Holding onto the bar beside the open blast, he observed the location. They were above a town, but not a glimpse of life was in sight. Vehicles parked along the sides of the road, vacant. Loosened, snow was kicked up by the breeze that nipped at his open extremities. It may have been bitter cold outside, but the place was just too empty to be coincidental. His instincts told him something was seriously wrong. He grabbed the rope, and followed his comrades to street level.

Upon hitting the ground, he had his knees bend to absorb the shock. Blending it with the motion of his recovery, Acheron drew his sidearm. He’d save the rifle for when he really did need it. He preferred a pistol, anyways. Glancing around, he saw Zephyr crouched, just staring on ahead through the orange shades of his.

Kerrigan pointed at Lyle, who was going through his things not too far off, “Run a bio-scan,” Lyle nodded. Kerrigan put the finger onto the button on his earpiece.

“Command, this is Shield team. We’ve landed. Awaiting further instruction.” The sounds of the helicopter faded into the distance. There were being abandoned; all hope of leaving was flying away into the distance. Not like there was any to begin with.

The asphalt beneath them was worn with years of use, a network of cracks advancing on all sides. Just down the road, cars lay condemned with the doors aghast. Several trails of smoke rose behind the guise of the rooftops, within their vicinity. A small glint of light came into the corner of his eyesight. He instinctively shot his gaze in its direction, gun trained. Yet, the light moved with his pupil.