It was barely past midnight. The Sergeant readied her fighter for the "suicide" mission ahead of her. She was to fly with her squadron to try and beat the early warning system of Oasis. They were to launch from the aircraft carrier they were being carried on now. She slid out from under her fighters right wing and stood up, looking at her handiwork. She had reloaded and recharged her fighters weapons. She looked around at the rest of the hangar bay, seeing other pilots, some joking and laughing with each other, some with a sad expression on their face, and still others looking a pictures, reminiscing to before they were placed on this ship. It seemed that only some of them knew that they might not make it back.

Nyx walked out onto an observation deck and held onto the handrail to look down on the ocean below her. The aircraft carrier was an aircraft itself, and the powerful lights penetrated through the midnight fog. Soon they would have to cut the lights and launch as many fighters as possible, hopefully some would be able to land and cut the barrier and it's creators, thus leaving a hole for the transports to move ahead and land troops.

She walked back inside and headed to the armory to get her favorite weapons to use when she landed. If she landed, even though she was sure she would.

Bryce took a long drag on his cigarette, and sighed, smoke jetting from his mouth as if he was a dragon of lore. The transport ship was dark and rather dank, but then again, most under-surface divers were. The utterly massive submarine that he was in lurked beneth the surface, waiting for it's moment to emerge from the writhing sea, and smash into land, where the invasion could begin. Just another day in the Armor Division.

Taking a final puff of his cigarette, he flipped the butt away from him, the low glowing flame at the end fading out as it rolled over the side and into the underdecks. He would look around his hanger, and his other team members. They were talking amongst themselves, as usual, about women. He knew that they were Army based, but that didn't mean they had to oggle anything that had breasts.
"Hey. Will you guys stop fappin' over there? It's not like you don't do that every night." Bryce called out to them.
"We're not, asswipe!" Called Denison, a Reaver pilot, "We're currently out of pictures of your WIFE." He said smirking.
"Oh really? Well I've got some pictures of me and your mother..." Bryce retaliated.
"Yeah yeah, tell it to the Commandant, Cry-son. Think you're a hot shot 'cause you get the Mammoth." Another soldier, Wesson said.
"Well sooorry. At least I don't blow the commander trying to get him to reasign ME to it. Besides, they issue tanks according to dick size." Bryce shot at him with a grin.
"Oh, you're right. So they have they have to compensate you?" Denison mocked.
"No, I just can't fit into one of those dinky, piss-poor excuses for an armor division."
"Aahh, shut it, Bry. You can stick with your slug." Another responded.
"And you can stick with my piss in your coffee tommorow."

They ended the dialoug with their various hand gestures, before their Commander came over their headset.
"Captain Aurgo is right about the vehicle thing. Why else would they have given me this entire SHIP!" He said, before the entire group burst into laughter.
"In all seriousness, though. Get to your Armor, boys. It's almost go time." The burly voice said over the headset. Bryce, and the rest of the pilots sitting around the hanger, began to jog to their respective machines. Bryce climbed up into the tank, and grinned as he started the vehicle, the massive war machine roaring to life. Bryce pushed earplugs into his ears, before turning his headset to max volume, the combination resulting in hearing the people over the headset, but not the almost deafening roar of the tank. "Mammoth 05, 'Juggernaut', operational and on standby!" He called over the tank's sound.

Nixon left the armory with her laser rifle, just after her squad. They were all headed back to the fighters. While some were to remain for air support, most were to be sent straight to attack the island. She was finally going to head off an assault on those mentally impaired idiots across the ocean. They won't know what a gun is until it shoots them in the face.

She and her wingmates made their final preparations for the takeoff. Their large carrier, aptly named The Hellish Wolf, was about to go dark, and radar would be the only means of navigation. She got into the cockpit of her fighter. "Alright ladies! Let's hope they're as visually retarded as they are mentally!" The closest words of good luck she could ever want to say.

She closed the above cockpit window and prepped her plane. She prepared a broadcast to her squadron. "All wings report in." She paid some amount of attention as her wingmates sounded off, five in total, including her. And other than her squadron, there were about three more on this carrier that would be in on the assault with her. All comprised of fighters, since having heavy ordinance bombers would waste space on the carriers.

She gave a nod to an engineer in the hangar who then proceeded to activate the lifts, which carried the planes up to the launch decks. Being so high in the air already would prove to be an advantage, as the planes can gather speed with a descent and launch at once. "Get ready for the launch, five minutes after the we go dark, the Wolf will stop and we'll drop on my go."

She could hear chatter over the comm lines. She understood that her squad might not see each other, much less anyone, after this battle alone, never mind the following campaigns. But it was a part of war. The N.T.M.F. was fashioned for just this purpose: War.

The lights suddenly all slowly dimmed throughout the carrier. Nyx could no longer see the sea below them. "Just five minutes now..."
"Longest five minutes of my life." One of the rookies, Eddie, only in this squadron due to the loss of Zach, the previous pilot in his position.