Night of The Dead- Chapter 1: The End

The night was already drawing to an end. The surrounding was silent, save the roar of the machine propelling the helicopter we were in from the outside, and the radio reports announcing our arrival back to base from the front. It felt like heaven having boarded the helicopter, as if god gave us a second chance at having to see another sun rise.
It was there. The sun. Rising from behind a mass of fogged up mountains, and it was like a carpet of golden ray flooding up the world. The veil of darkness will once again be revealed. I could feel my temple pounding, pulse feeling like a hammer slamming in my head. I was getting my migraine again. There was no medicine to take away that pain right now, but somehow I was happy to feel it. I was happy I could still feel anything, actually.

To my right, the rest of my team. The highly respected Omega Squadron, supposedly being able to fulfill any requirements set for us. Propaganda. They wanted the people to feel at ease. They merely wanted to control panic from the civilians. What we saw last night, they will make us keep silent. What we saw last night, we could never forget.
Sitting at my right was Chris. The Ghost Division of the Marine Corp calls him Sergeant Major Night Cat. The government military bragged this person having the eyes of a cat at night, that he could see through all shadows of darkness, that his marksmanship was the best. They were right, actually. There was no one else I would've trusted to support our team with, but his ability to precisely puncture the enemies' hearts from 3000 feet away.
Still holding on to his sniping rifle, Night Cat was already halfway into wonderland. That rifle. The M-29C Black Arrow .50. An armor piercing gun that loads up ammunition so sharp and slim, they could penetrate kevlar like paper. That was regarding man-made protection suits. The ones we've encountered last night was rather.... unconventional.
In front of me sat Ric. His face scarred from bad shaving unkeep, and souvenirs of previous battles. The Marine Corp calls him 2nd Lieutenant Kheez. I called him the Torch. Kheez was a trained expert at a specialty known as a Firebat. In normal circumstances, his expertise was only needed in Search And Destroy (SAD) missions. The previous mission was a little more delicate, but his unwillingness to 'keep the fire small' prove to be quite an asset.
That gun he was holding. It looked as if it could weigh half a ton. Black steel exterior, with carbon stains still hung onto the edge of the wide double-barrel sitting on the ground of the helicopter. They call it the Arclite M23 Hecate, but I personally would scrap off that docile scientific rendition of the Hellfire Edition-X. Next to the gun was a twin gas tank, now empty. Still, I could smell the heavy sense of petrol hanging in the air.

The helicopter was banking left, and from where I sat, I could already see civilization. Too much has happened last night. I could make do with a nice shower, some lovely pancakes, and 3 days of continuous sleep. Not to mention a 6-month holiday to the beach. But the incident last night was far from over. I had a feeling the Admiral would only allow us access to shower and pancakes. She was nice, Admiral Ling. But her actions were always tied by the authorities above, the so-called Hands-of-God. Relating themselves closer to being with God just meant that they had the power to create and destroy all of us. Those idiots. They made a mess of the world, and they send us to fix it.
I should think there'll be a lot of explaining to do once we land. Being the leader of a squad is surely an itch of a hassle more than the rest. I guess it sure does pay off, when I get to come home with all my teammates intact.

Mikel Raikov, the fourth person on board the helicopter. His callsign was Crucist, and I personally think he was the best reconnaissance soldier I've ever worked with. He could study the map for half an hour, and remember almost precisely every grid and inch of the map for a week. On top of that, he could run like an Olympic Gold Medalist. Crucist was an important asset to my tactical planning, as he could track enemy prints and project their movements easily and correctly.
Crucist was the second man I have in command, although his job could be calculated as being far more dangerous than any of ours put together. He was given Number 2 only because his sensibility, of rather, sanity was still present in him. Also because he was ranked Captain, second to mine.

We were already closing in to our destination. All of them were awake, and had begun packing their 'luggage' now.
"So much for a 'simple' SAR mission, eh," Night Cat broke the silence, speaking at a volume higher than the machine's roar. I gave a slight nod.
"I think they've got more explanations to do instead of us," I agreed.
Silence hung around for a moment, then Kheez said, "I just wanna go get my cigars."