Chapter Text
September 15th, 2553
-==-
[REDACTED-B364] = Scythe-1
[REDACTED-B173] = Scythe-2
Armagio LaFran [REDACTED], Roulette = Gemini-1
Priya [REDACTED], Lotus = Gemini-2
-==-
Location Data = [NULL], Low Orbit
{OPERATION SLEDGEHAMMER}
It's silent, always is these days with the operative. Not outside, almost never outside. Soldiers running drills and protocols, engines rumbling hot and angry, politicians droning on about policies and the future without seeing the galaxy in shambles with their own eyes. None of that is important to him, never has been, never will be. The only noise he needs to care about is in his ears right now, crackling through the technically and literally sealed internal comms. He turns his gaze to the side to consider Scythe-2's quiet banter with the pilots. He was always better with the normal troops. And with others in general. Scythe-1 doesn't mind either way; as long as he focuses on the mission at hand, Scythe-2 can flirt all he likes. Speaking of the mission...
"...s to HALO jump into insurrection territory, retrieve the movement data, and extract. That is your PRIMARY objective. You know wha..." And Scythe-1's gaze drifts back to the other operatives. Geminis 1 and 2 in the cockpit with Scythe-2 leaning through the door. All of them had this same briefing drilled into their heads every hour after lifting off, even Scythe-1 grew a little bored of it.
He watches Gemini-1's hands tighten a little on the controls, as if he's refraining from making a dry remark about repetition on audible comms. Wouldn't matter if he just whispered it either, he'd be heard. Gemini-2 is no better with her eyerolls every time the same word is repeated in a different context the same way, talent stuffed in an impatient box of sass. It's a miracle she hasn't snarked already, for both Scythe's sake and Gemini's. Then Scythe-2. Being a higher level asset means less tells, but Scythe-1 has known the man too long to miss the way his head tilts just that much as the term 'objective' is mentioned again. Not that Scythe-1 can blame him, it's been said far too many times to be healthy. Like anything is healthy anymore at this point.
"...ight, understood?"
"Crystal.", that was Gemini-1, irritated but seasoned enough to bury it.
"Understood...", thankfully, again, Gemini-2 held back her sass.
"Acknowledged, String Master...", switching back to semi-formal, Scythe-2 does.
"Acknowledged."
"Good, get ready. You're approaching the drop point. String Master out."
Gemini-2 sighs, settling back and giving the comm a light glare, "It's like they WANT us to go insane out here. They don't think we heard them the first time?"
Her superior officer snorts, elbowing her lightly, "You know how the Spooks are, they'll brainwash us proper if it means we'll do their job right."
Scythe-2 shifts back to his semi-banter state, leaning on the side of the modified Pelican, "Ah well, at least we'll get a pat on the back when we get back, eh?" He chortles a little at his own joke.
Gemini-1 gives the Spartan an incredulous look over his shoulder, "You're kidding man, you've gotta be kidding. Are you kidding? I can never tell with you big shots..." He sighs, then keys the control panel, "Anyways, we're approaching drop point. Get your entry packs and-"
He's cut off by the crackle of the radio, "Scythe Actual, this is String Master. Be advised... that place is a ghost town. Acknowledged?" The Pelican falls into the silence that could only be occupied by people who understand a message very few are supposed to hear.
Scythe-1's voice is flat in his response, "Acknowledged, String Master. Scythe Actual out." The comm cuts out while Gemini-2 closes the cockpit door and Scythe-2 hands 1 his entry pack.
"You heard the man, boys," Comes Gemini-1, "Good luck, call us down when the field's dry." He crackles out, leaving Scythe-1 to place the pack on his back. The lead presses a button on the side of the Pelican, watching the troop bay door open to the vacuum of low orbit.
He takes the Battle Rifle Scythe-2 gives him, the second whispering the words over internal comms: "You heard 'em. Nulli superstites." Scythe-1 nods, placing the rifle on his back and looking back out at the planet below. He gives a count on his fingers.
1.
2.
Then, he jumps.