Please remember that this takes place in a semi-futuristic setting, so fire-arms are indeed the weapons of use now. For blade wielders, course you can have a knife, but don't be rushing into the frontlines with a freaking sword now, okay? Weapons are quite advanced in this time, (2120 to be exact), so usually, weapons can usually be converted from one to another, (semi-automatic turning into a sniper, etc) . There are 2 possible sides; you can be a Sopherian, or a Xenesalian. Positions in the armies are yours free to choose. Weapons can be decided later in the story.

Now, let me give you a little backdrop on the story:

Sopheria and Xenesalia, two rival empiric continents, have been at war for 100 years. Sopheria and Xenesalia have both felt casualties, and are starting to enlist drafts into their own cities, bringing untrained men and women alike into training, and then battle, and then most of the time, a bloody death. Sopheria holds 2 skilled battle groups, that have served and survived across the entire war, named Spartan Company, and Warsaw Company. Xenesalia also have 2 notable skilled battle groups named Axle Company, and Horus Company. These groups have both skill, drafted members, and respect from their own respective countries.

Just try to work along with my story starting entrance (which may be crappy) and build along it as we move along. Thank you!
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High above the ocean, rides a squadron of passenger planes. These aren't just any passenger planes however. These are Sopherian draft planes, transporting fresh draftees, to be sent to an army base training camp to the north of Sopheria. Zen J. Colehart Le is on one of these planes. Zen was a citizen of Sopheria. Nothing special. Until one day, he got a letter home from the government, saying that he must serve as a drafted soldier under the war, to help aid the skimming troops. He was utterly shocked by this, for he was only 17. After a trial of unfortunate events, Zen now rides on these planes, along with plenty of other draftees, sent to training camp to be ready to train for the war.

Zen looks at the information packet and draft letter bundle in his lap. On the pages, it clears out the words "Postion=Draftee" Below it, Zen noticed the words "Company=Warsaw". Zen thought to himself, "I'm going into a group called 'Warsaw'? That doesn't sound so great..." Zen heated his mind at his own misfortune. Forced to leave his home to fight for this war. Zen knew he was very unlucky. But along with all these others, he knows that they all must also feel like crap. Sighing, he stands up, ready to head to the bathroom.

Suddenly, a soldier, in the plane seat behind him, hollers out "Just what do you think you're doing, drafted!?"

Zen recoils, and looking around, realizes that he is the one being talked to. "Um," He stammered, "The restroom sir."

"Did I give you permission to stand!?"

"No..."

"That's 'negative SIR' to you, drafted!!" The soldier spat the words like venom, and looking at his chest, Zen could see a decoration of medals, perhaps a commander level?

"Um...can I go to the bathroom, sir?"

"Absolutely, NOT, drafted!!" Zen squinted at the words. His brain was bursting with anger, and his bladder was bursting with urine. But he had to keep his cool.

"But I have to go...sir."

"DID YOU HEAR ME!!? What are you, a 10 year-old?! Hold it!"

"But why not?"

"What is your name draftee!?"

"Um...Zen"

"Zen what?!"

"Zen Le."

"Zen Le what?!!?" Zen shrinks back to think.

"What else does he want, my drivers license?" Zen thought. Suddenly, his thought came back. "Zen Le, SIR!"

"Much better, draftee! Hand me over your draft packet!" Zen pulls the folder from his vacant flight seat. As he does, he looks around. Just about every person in that cabin was staring at him. He hands the packet to the soldier. Opening the packet, the commander begins to read. "Zen J. Cole-yadda yadda," the commander mutters as he reads the papers. "Company is Wars-" He stops mid-sentence. Looking up, the commander looks at Zen, then back at the folders. Rubbing his eyes, he reads the statement again, this time, loud enough for the whole cabin to hear. "Company is Warsaw!" Laughing, he throws the folder back at Zen, who is barely able to catch it. "Warsaw! What do you know? A puss* like you being enlisted as a Warsaw! HA!" He laughs loud, and Zen starts to catch on that the commander is making fun of him.

"HA! You'll never be a 'blood sawer' acting like the git you are right now! HA!" Laughing louder, the commander is barely to force out a, "I'll give you 5 minutes in the stall. But make it quick-" The sentence wasn't completed. The whole plane is thrown into a shaking turbulence. The laughter of the commander abruptly ends. "What in bloody hell is going on?" Suddenly a voice goes over the PA speaker in the plane, "Attention all passengers, please fasten your seatbelts until we are able to bypass turbulence." The speaker went statical, and then came back on, this time, the pilots voice, "Attention all personnel and passengers! Please remain in your seats, buckle up, and stay calm. We are being pursued by enemy Xenesalian fighter jets!

Behind the group Antonov An-12's carrying the fresh batch of draftees to be sent to war, Anton's flight of F-22 Raptors had descended from above cloud level to behind the planes. His radar showed that it just the cargo planes, and no hostiles."Delta flight, we have radar paints. Moving in for attack run." Anton pulled down on the control yoke of his F-22, bringing the plane level the An-12's. "All weapons are free fire, Good hunting Delta Flight." He flipped a row of switched on his dash, unlocking the firing controls for the XAAM missiles. His HUD brought up another menu, a targeting control for the missiles. He guided the holographic crosshairs to the left wing of one transports, and released the targeting control function on his yoke.

The HUD changed to red, signifying that the homing missile had locked onto target. He depressed the firing control on his yoke. The XAAM missile arced away from his wing, and exploded on contact with the An-12's left wing, taking out a considerable section of the wing and the cabin. "Delta flight, one down. Continue assault run" At this point, Anton was too close to the planes to make another run, so he pulled up into the cloud level, and preformed a G-force heavy Immelmann turn that would get him into optimal firing range again.

(Hurray! That means a story might actually get started! ^_^)
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Looking out at his side window, the plane right next to him burst into a bombardment of flames.

The commander exclaimed, "Hoh, shit! Shit!"

Zen watched in awe at the bursting craft, as he could see PEOPLE getting burned alive in the scorching heat.

Over the speaker, which the pilot had forgotten to turn off, he could hear the the quick frightened replies of the pilots.

"What're we gonna do??"

"We're almost there, we need to hold out!"

"We're gonna get SHOT!!"

"Just stay on course! I see the island base landing-strip up ahead!"

"I don't want to die!"

"SHUT UP!!" A hard slap is heard over the speaker. Sobbing is then heard.

"What's our bogeys?"

"We got ourselves a small squadron of Raptors after our cargo supplies"

"We need all that shit!"

"That's why we're being attacked."

"Dammit...I'm calling the base for a couple of Su-47's"

"Can we last?"

"They're only a mile away!"

"Then call them!"

"Aw, what the hell, this thing's been on t-" The broadcast ends.

Zen is shocked. "I didn't even get to touch a freakin gun yet, and I'm gonna die? Those backup jets better make it."

A man right next to him his holding a silver cross, and repeatedly mutters, "Lord...please. Lord. Please..."

Zen closes his eyes,"Oh man."

Suddenly, an F-22 appears right next to the side-window Zen is occupying. In that jet is Anton Traskadine. Saluting the regular Xenesalian gesture(pulling his hand from his heart to his eye), Anton pulls the jet up, disappearing into the thick cloud masses up above. Another explosion is heard in the background, signaling another plane must have fallen victim to a XAAM missile.

Looking next to him, the man that was praying seconds ago has just fainted.

(Yo, Kronos, why are you editing your posts? Just post a new post!)

The plane now started going under violent turbulence. The papers on Zen's lap are now falling down and getting scattered on the floor. "Bloody hell!" Screams were being unleashed across the whole plane. The man right next to him seemed lucky. If they died, the man would be unconscious. Zen looked around. No flames yet. Their plane must still be intact. The commander behind him started to stand up, preparing to head for the pilot's cabin. But another violent shake sent him sprawling on the floor, "Dammit!"

Zen worked on standing up, and holding on to the seats, steadily started making himself traverse to the pilot's cabins.

Out along the horizon, the training base started looming ever closer, and up above the combat zone, soared a squadron of Su-47s. "Attention all friendly An-12s. We are the Sopherian Air Force sky patrol around this airspace. All hostile F-22 must retreat now, or we will be issued to use lethal force." The pilots all switched on their weapons to free fire, and set all QUAM missiles to on.

The F-22's formed up to squadron formation. "Attention all Sopherian air patrol pilots," snickered Anton through the radio, "Why don't you surrender, before I'm forced to shoot you all down?" His comment prompted snickers from his allies, and they all laughed away the threat.

Zen knocked open the door to the pilot's quarters, and heard the incoming radio broadcast from the friendly Su-47s. "All friendly An-12's, please initiate emergency crash landing procedures, this air space is now lethal!" The pilots started initiating breaks on the plane, opening wing spans, and clicking a multitude of buttons. One of the pilots spotted Zen standing behind them. "Wha-! You heard that kid? Go get to your seat! We're landing this baby!" Zen rushed out of the cabin and onto his seat. Along the way, he met the commander struggling to make it onto the pilots quarters. Zen hollered, "Buckle your belts everyone! Crash landing time!" The commander jumped from his position to his seat, buckled up, and head-bent down, covered his neck.

In the skies, the planes started veering down into the ocean, as the Sopherian Su-47's leveled down to meet the Xenesalian enemy pilots. Suddenly a burst of missiles filled the sky, as the enemies initiated sky combat.

OOC: I'm assuming this RP doesn't require a profile. If it does please ignore this post.

Through the cockpit of a speeding Su-27 sat a pilot who was shaking from the Gs being pumped on to his muscular system and through his bones. His head was darting left and right and looking through the tinted visor of his helmet. Said helmet was pointless at such a low altitude due to the fact that if a bullet were to tear through the cockpit just the heat around the bullet would kill him instantly.

Thus heavy amounts of sweat were coating James Daniels Westfield's neck while he piloted and attempted to line up at the tail of a Xenesalian fighter.

Then, as a beep came through his ear-piece, James pressed the firing button on his yoke.

The sidewinder rocket shot from the left wing of the plane in a plume of smoke and went rocketing after the Xenesalian fighter's engine. Moments later a female voice echoed from the same ear-piece.

"Target destroyed."

(Cool, another person! Nah, you don't need a profile. We build upon personality as the story progresses. And don't you mean a 'Su-47'? I'll just go with the info that you're piloting a Su-27 then.)

The An-12 burst into cheers as a confirmation that one enemy jet has been shot down. The speaker phone turned on and a pilot's shout was heard on the speaker, "Bogey down!" Zen couldn't help but give a cheer to their saviors.

The surviving draftee planes crashed down upon the ocean, and sunk for a split second. Then, buoyancy took over, and the plane rose to the surface, crash land successful. This followed with several other An-12s who also followed up with successful landings on the ocean.

The Xenesalian squadron were getting too close to the Sopherian base camp. Pretty soon, the threat of AA guns would be looming. From the distance, battleships could be seen, coming a towards the battle scene.

In the plane, Zen could still hear the explosions above. From his window, he could see that the plane was half submerged in water. He looked at the unconscious man next to him. He was snoring. "You're missing something man." muttered Zen.

In the skies, the war was raging on. The newly arrived Su-27 had destroyed a total of 3 Xenesalian planes. Anton only had a handful of his teammates left.

Anton broke off from swooping attack run on the An-12s, and leveled behind the Su-27. His HUD has gone red again, signifying that the XAAM missile had locked on to the heat signiture of the engines. He pushed the firing button. The XAAM arced off his wing in a plume of smoke and impacting with the engines of the Su-27, sending it spinning out of control and into the sea.

"Break off attack run. Taking heavy fire ATA fire." Said a frantic Anton as he swerved his Fighter around, going almost vertical for a moment as he preformed an intense J-Turn. He may have taken out one of the fighters, but there were AA batteries coming up, and he wouldn't be able to keep fighting at this rate. On the long range transmissions band, he relayed the coordinates of the island and his frantic message to the carrier "Vega".

He was pointing away from the oncoming Sopheiran fighter jets, so he didn't have any time to waste. He engaged his emergency thrusters and pushed the fighters engines. There was a boom as the F-22 broke the sound barrier and was soon careening off into the distance, put of radar range.

As the Su-27 veered down into the ocean, James Westfield worked on a trigger, labeled, "eject". Suddenly, the trigger gave way, and the cockpit broke off, and James was sent hurtling out with his seat.

Suddenly, near Zen's window, came down a careening Su-27. The very one that had made it onto the battle scene and saved their assess seconds ago. It crashed with a thunderous clap of metal and ocean, as the burning Su-27 sunk down to the depths of the ocean. "Hoh, man!" Zen exclaimed. There was a silence in the cabin, as they realized that their savior had just been shot down.

Up in the skies, James managed to work out his parachute, which had opened up in time to break his fall.

The battleships were now in optimal range for AA guns.

The planes of the XAF were now long out of range, their afterburners and engines carrying them past Mach 2 and far out of AA range.

Anton was displeased with his Flight, "You let an old Sophian fighter knock out three of you! Three! That damn thing costs less than just of these Raptors!" He yelled over the radio, his voice static thanks to the upper atmosphere interference. "Sir, The pilot was good." Replied one pilot meekly. "So he was, I'll grant you that. But that's still no excuse for a old fighter taking out the best fighters the Xenosian Air Force had.

Anton paused, and grasped back onto his thoughts, "I wasn't able to destroy everything...I lost 3 men...DAMN!" He turns back onto the radio, "What the hell am I supposed to say to the general? Huh? What can I explain to him? 'General sir, we weren't able to destroy everything, because a Su-27 stopped us, and killed 3 of us.' Is that it? Is that what I'm gonna say to the general?!"

There was silence on the radio. "Just wait until I meet him..." Anton muttered, "I'm gonna be in one real hell..."

Back at the airspace, Zen was being helped out and onto the decks of the S.S. Raider, a battleship that had assisted in giving help to the Sopherians. Once on deck, they were thoroughly searched, and were each given a towel to wipe out any sea water. Looking at the wreckage where the Su-27 crashed, Zen noticed that a patrol guard U-Boat was picking up the wreckage. Looking up, they could see a faint parachute, signaling that the pilot had survived. After a seconds thought, the whole crew from the An-12 burst in applause and cheer.

(Please don't control other people's characters, thank you. This isn't a story deabte (From Spacebattles)

Anton was approaching the aircraft carrier, and he was coming into communications range just now. "This is Delta Flight, clear deck for landing.' He said over his radio, signaling the deck crews to get their asses to work and start preparing the deck for landing. He fliped another row of switched on his dash, bringing out his landing gear.

"Delta Flight, this is the XNS "Vega". Your landing request has been accepted" Replied a voice over the radio, that of Captain Charles De'Marce. Anton checked his radar, 3 minutes until he made contact with the carrier, time to slow down. He disengaged his afterburners, and cut power to his engines just enough to keep him flying. He felt the impact almost immediately, as the place dropped back into sub-sonic speeds and started the decelerate.

He moved his fighter into a dive, leveling it slightly above sea level, enough so that he would hit the carrier at the very beginning of the strip. The aircraft carrier was fast approaching. Coming up on him like a looming metal figure.

Anton's F-22 hit the deck with a great shock, and he raced along the deck for a few seconds before the tailhook kicked in, bringing his plane to halt almost before he careened off the opposite end of the carrier and into the water/

(Sorry, thought it would help set in the mood. ^_^;; And who's 'Owen', the one in the bottom of your post?)

Zen was sent in line along with the rest that were on the planes. They were told to wait in an organized line along the decks, awaiting for the arrival of the Raiders captain, Captain Jackson Ironwall. As they waited, Zen could hear the soft splash landing on the ocean, signaling that James Westfield must have parachute landed on the surface, ready to be picked up by the U-Boats.

Out along the deck walked a tall, powerful figure, Captain Ironwall. Looking at the draftees lined up on deck, he scanned it, until his eyes met upon the commander's. The captain marched up to the commander, and bellowed, "What is your name, Commander?"

The commander stepped forth, and upon face to face with the Captain, he answered, "Commander Ulrich of the Spartan Company, sir!"

The captain looked around. "We'll discuss the casualties later. Let's first get back to shore."

(OOC: Ooh... Another character I use... Must have typed his name by mistake..)

Anton was dismounting his F-22 as all this was happening on the island, and had the grueling task of explaining why he had lost 3 fighters to an Su-27, and the attached paperwork that implied. He sighed, and walked along the deck, thinking of how glad he was the flight was over.

(Ah, I see.)

As the S.S. Raider landed onto port, the passengers were ordered to line up in a single file line, ready to be sent out onto port. As they filed out, Zen noticed an army encampment a long ways off, guarded by soldiers with machine guns, barbed wire fences, and Doberman hounds.

Off in the distance, a jeep could be seen, moving ever closer, piling up a cloud of dust as it came close. As the navy green jeep halted to a stop, the passenger doors opened.

Two men from the jeep went out, flanked by some guards. When they approached, one of the men said, "Captain Ironwall, how was the trip?"

The sea captain inquired, "We lost most of the supplies...those damn Xenesalian bastards..."

Commander Ulrich stepped up, and spoke, "We also lost a plane holding some draftees. There went about 25% of our drafted soldiers. I'm pretty sure Commander Shepherd was in that plane."

The two men made whispers at one another, and they nodded at Captain Ironwall, "We'll take the men from here. I'll leave you to take those supplies out of sea."

"Yes sir." The captain said. With that, he walked back to his ship, leaving the draftees on port. One of the two men stepped up. "Attention all you draftees!" The man said. "I am instructor Hamilton of the Spartan Company! I am to take all draftees sent to Spartan Company! Please check your packets and see your respective companies!"

Looking at his messy folder that he hastily picked up back on the plane, he checked at company. Warsaw.

The second man stepped up. "Attention all of you draftees! I am instructor Mason of Warsaw Company! I am to take all of the draftees sent for Warsaw!" Zen perked up a this. Warsaw was his company. One by one, the draftees started going to their respective instructors, forming a triple file line in front of their instructor.

Once every draftee has found their correct instructor, they patiently waited for the next order. The jeep was ordered to drive back to base by Mason.

"Now!" The instructors yelled. "We are to jog back to base, to prepare for your registration! I WANT EVERY ONE OF YOU TO JOG!! If I catch a slacker, he will be doing laps around the whole base, you got that?!"

With that, the instructors started to jog ahead, followed meekly by their companies, as they headed for a mile jog off at base.

James Westfield had long since landed and had badly injured his ankle when landing in the trees. Right now his emergency veacon was going off like wildfire for any of his allies monitoring some radar so all he could do was wait after such a rough landing from such an old plane.

(Dude, we're above the ocean. Read the rest of the other posts. Plus, you've been saved by a U-Boat. 0_0)

5 hours had already passed. After the long jog to the base, just about everyone had been given laps around the base. After that, they had gone in the encampment to register, and that wasn't very great. The instructors were loud and yelling, and everyone was tired an hungry. Sitting down on the old bunks they were given in the bunk rooms, Zen thought, "I wonder what happened to that Su-27 guy?"

Out on the other side of the base, James Westfield, after being picked up out of the ocean, had been treated, for he had a broken ankle after having a hard splash on the ocean. James was being treated, and soon, he would be able to walk again.

Getting up, Zen went to inspect the model pistol he had been given. Every draftee got one. As a "gift" for surviving. Tomorrow, they're training would begin.

Anton will arrive again, if we ever meet each other in war. Otherwise, I'm kinda pressed for something to make my character do other than train and fill out paperwork.

(We'll see each other again. Warsaw is famous for paratrooping, and you know what that means. Zen will be on a plane, dropping down into your country some time later.)

Over the next 3 weeks, Warsaw Company had been forced to hike, swim, run, and lift weights, in hopes of improving strength. During one of those mile long hikes, they were given large, heavy canteens of cool water. And they were told not to drink from it. Many usually were caught drinking during their runs, and they were re-given the canteens, and forced to run again. This was to ensure mental readiness, loyalty, and physical endurance.

To help ensure mental minded, they were all forced to learn to see dead carcasses. Bodies of dead animals were usually strewn across a training 'battlefield' and they were forced to crawl amongst them. Blood and dirt were sprawled over their bodies, and they were told to get used to it. "You'll be seeing a lot of blood and bodies," said Instructor Mason, "You best get used to crawling around amongst the bloody dead."

As for Instructor Mason, he was no kind man. He was a rugby war veteran. He forced the draftees into supersoldiers, wether it was kindly or not. Once, Zen was given a Sniper/Automatic-Rifle.

"Reload soldier!" Taking off the ammo holder, he quickly replaced it with a full cartridge, and locked it in place. He then took the safety off. "5 seconds, soldier!" Instructor Mason said, then in a whisperful dread, he asked, "Do you feel proud...soldier?" Zen didn't know what to say. Meekly, he nodded yes. Then in a burst of rage, Mason screamed, "WHAT'S TO BE PROUD OF SOLDIER??!" Zen sprawled back in recoil, dropping the sniper, which fired off a bullet.

"It took you five seconds. FIVE! It only takes you ONE second to get KILLED!" Instructor Mason looked around the other soldiers. "I am gonna teach every one of you disgraceful shit bags to reload, aim, and KILL, in no more than THREE SECONDS!" Mason turned back to Zen. "Pick up that gun, private. You are gonna stay here with me until you can reload that gun in less then two seconds."

And so it went on like that. Zen got used to reloading quicker, and he was given permission as a marksman. But it was no easy task.

After a month of that grueling training, they were given a training task of something much more advanced. They were to jump off a plane, (A-10 bomber to be exact) and they were to parachute down. As they awaited on the ground for the bomber to arrive, the Instructor Mason said this, "Well, this is the last test soldiers. Your graduating diploma. The big one. If you are able to successfully jump from this thing, I will fully acknowledge you all as Warsaw soldiers." Instructor Mason looked carefully at everyone. Then looking up, everyone could see the A-10 bomber preparing for landing. He looked at the paratroopers, and added one last statement, "But, if you fail to jump from this plane, you will be given a discharge." This message crawled it's way to the soldiers. Zen took this in.

"You will be sent home, a disgraceful shit bag, who failed to serve his country." The A-10 bomber had successfully landed on the strip, and was now awaiting to be boarded. Instructor Mason nodded, and said, "Now go make me proud, soldiers."

(Hmmm. No one joins...)

High above the skies, is the Warsaw A-10 Bomber drop plane. So far, it has been taking soldiers up, ten at a time, and dropping them out. All have been successful. The plane is on its third run now. The plane body had been hollowed out, and seats were put on the sides. Soldiers were placed at regular intervals, facing each other. There was a tight rope above them, purpose was to connect the parachute rope. In the main cabin, is Zen, along with ten other soldiers. They have been each given a parachute pack, along with a vinyl strap connected to a locking chain. That strap was to be connected to the tight rope above them. They had been in the air for approximately 10 minutes now, and they were waiting for the go signal. They were now over the drop zone, a grassy plateau, with a soft wind. The humming of the plane engine was resounding, and it filled the silence of the soldiers with a loud whirling sound. The soldiers were thoughtful.

"If I don't make it," Zen thought to himself, "Then all my hardwork will be for naught. I'll be sent home, and all the time I spent here will be for nothing." Zen thought about the inspiration he got during his time here. Zen wanted to serve his country. The training had made an impact on his mind. He wanted to fight. He wanted to go to war. But he had to jump. He was to be the first to jump.

The co-pilot stepped out of the pilot's cabin, and since the sound was loud, he had to yell, "Attention!! Company up!" Responding to this, all soldiers stood up, in a single file line, the vinyl strap in hand. They were right under the tight rope. "Secure your lines!" yelled the co-pilot. Zen held up his strap, and connected it to the tight rope above him. The other soldiers did the same.

The plane started to slow down to the required pace for a successful jump. They were about 2 miles up in the sky, and the base in the distance looked no bigger then a .22 caliber bullet. "Now!" the co-pilot exclaimed, struggling to make his voice louder then the engine of the plane, "That rope connects to your parachute!! It secures the breaker for the chute! Once pulled, the breaker should dislodge, and that will initiate you parachute!!"

The pilot pointed at the tight rope, which was securing the vinyl straps that were tied onto it. "That rope should pull out your strap, which initiates you parachute!!" He points at Zen, "You don't have to do anything!! All you have to do is JUMP! If that vinyl strap is securely tied on, then that rope should do the rest!! The rope should pull the strap as soon as you jump, therefore, opening your parachutes!!" The co-pilot coughs, but the noise is obscured by the loud engine of the plane. "Prepare for jump! Initiate preparation procedures!!"

In the back of the line, a soldier tapped on the soldier in front of him. "TEN READY!!"

That soldier tapped the front soldier yelling, "NINE READY!!"

"EIGHT READY!!"

"SEVEN READY!!"

"SIX READY!!"

"FIVE READY!!"

"FOUR READY!!"

"THREE READY!!"

Zen felt a strong tap on his arm, and then the soldier behind him yelled, "TWO READY!!"

Zen checked his vinyl line, and checked to make sure it was secure. It was tightly tied on. Looking up at the co-pilot, he yelled, "ONE READY!!"

The co-pilot gave a thumbs-up, and he put his head in the pilot's cabin, yelling, "READY!!" The pilot pulled back and faced Zen. "ONE, prepare for jump!!" Zen gulped a deep breath, and pulling on his vinyl rope, he tugged it forward along the tightrope. He walked along with it, up to the front of the plane with the co-pilot. The co-pilot opened up the drop door hatch, which gave through to a view of a bright blue sky. The air came rushing in, and made a slight suction on Zen, beckoning to pull him out of the plane. The loud whooshing of the air flying by also added to the noise. Settling near the door, Zen held onto the side, and looked down. He could see far below, a beautiful, green field. They really were high up. He was taken aback, and tried grasping for air, but the suction the door wind had kept him from taking up a full breath. Seeing this, the co-pilot said, "Don't look down soldier! Look forward at the sky horizon! And once it fills you in, jump!!"

Zen gave a weak nod. He looked at the signal light above him. It had two bulbs, a green and a red. The red one was illuminated. This meant a no-go. Thinking back, he looked back at the vinyl strap tied to the tightrope. "You better work!" Zen thought. Suddenly, the red light stopped illuminating, and the green flashed a bright hue. That was the jump signal. The co-pilot yelled, "JUMP SOLDIER!!". Zen's heart skipped a beat. Everything went to silence. Zen's thought were the only one that could be heard. "Wha...." Zen looked around, time seemed to have slowed down, and it seemed that Zen was the only active one. The plane engine noise seemed to cease, and it was a quiet little hum. "...time stopped...?" Blinking, Zen widened. "Adrenaline rush..." Suddenly, the world started to restore. The humming grew louder, and suddenly, he heard the co-pilots voice, "JUMP!!!" Zen took a step forward. Then another. The second one didn't touch solid ground. It fell through, and Zen took a short hop through door. His mind wasn't in it. He didn't realize what he did. He now felt gravity pull him down, and felt his body free falling. He caught back into the moment. He was falling down. It looked like nothing could keep him from falling, but suddenly, there was a tug on his parachute pack. The vinyl chain that had connected from his pack to the tight rope had just been yanked free.

The vinyl strap yanked back to the plane, and Zen continued falling down, away from the plane.. The strap had let loose the breaker, and he could feel something unraveling in the pack. Zen wondered, "Did it work?" He continued falling, and for a second, he though, "Aw, that's bull...I'm gonna die." But suddenly, a huge cloth like canopy flew out of his pack. Secured by some reinforced strings, it was kept from flying away, and as it unfolded, it revealed itself as a steer capable canopy parachute. Zen felt a yank upward, and slowly, but surely, Zen was pulled out of his free fall. His mind fully returned, and the whooshing of the air filled his ears. He squinted as the wind blew in his face. He was now floating down, held a loft and in place by the parachute. A successful jump. Looking up, he could see 2 more parachutes up above him. "They were also successful? Yes!" Zen thought. He could hear cheering now, above him. A third a parachute opened up, and more cheering broke through the skies. The second soldier above him looked down at Zen, giving a thumbs up. Zen smiled, and gave back a thumb up.

Looking down, he could see the ground slowly zooming closer. It didn't look so far. Slowly, a descending string of ten parachutes fell down, touchdown. Zen was the first to reach ground. Once his foot fell to the ground, it was weak and shaky, and his knees gave way. He fell on his knees, the canopy parachute slowly falling over his head. Getting out from under it, he looked around. The rest were touching down, and they all seemed to have trouble landing standing upright. They all seemed to fall down during landing, a shaky landing. Struggling to stand up on shaky legs, he failed, and fell back down on his knees. Laughing, he nodded, "Ready for the frontlines."

(Ah, nvm.)