2083 Earth, WW3, 1820 hours (6:20 P.M.) 1 Hour before the departure of the Joint special operations unit of NATO. Consisting 86 combined operators from French, Germans, English, and lastly Americans. Given orders from High Command, a mission to infiltrate behind enemy lines to disrupt communication and supply.
<2083 — 18:20 — Forward Airfield>
[The C-130's rear ramp yawns open like a sleeping maw. Red cargo lights wash over 86 figures in a line—patches from Paris, Berlin, London, and Virginia catching the glare. A wind comes in off the ridge, and every loose strap rattles like a metronome.]
Colonel Mercer (Task Force Commander):
"Clock check. It's 0312. Departure at 0412 local. One hour. Everyone clear on objective?"
Captain Stone (Operation Commander): "Yes. Disrupt comm nodes and choke the resupply corridor along Route H-7. Capture relay if possible. Deny otherwise."
Staff Sergeant Schmidt (German liaison):
"We push the enemy's awareness to fragmentation. Short window, tight exit. Chain of command holds. No national theatrics."
Lt. Hale (Second in Command):(steps forward, palms flat) "We move as one. We have six assault teams, three scout elements, exploitation cell, med node, and a small liaison detachment. Eight-six personnel total. We rehearsed the mission, stick to your roles and don't invent heroics."
Captain Stone: "Alright everyone, ready your gear, check your weapons, ammo, and your night vision. Don't forget your assigned equipment for this operation."
[The line disperses to final checks. Boots slap on wet metal, voices drop to practiced whispers. Outside, the storm gathers its breath. Inside, the 86 women and men of different flags stand ready — a compact constellation of resolve against the dark.] po