6 H-Hour

"Command to Fireteam Gamma-2: Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear command."

"Copy. Your mission is to recover documents from the reactor; Secondary mission is to recover and medevac all survivors of Gamma-1."

"Copy. Any intel on possible whereabouts?"

"Gamma-1 mentioned a bunker somewhere in the town that they took shelter in. Their last transmission was twenty-six hours later, requesting reinforcements."

"We're the reinforcements, seventy-two hours late?"

"Proceed with the mission Gamma-2. Out."

Loukas Paulotis puts his radio back into his shirt pocket. Of course the O-12s would send their private little child army to recover documents from a nuclear reactor post-meltdown. Loukas begins to look around for a place to deploy their flare.

"Reinforcements have arrived," Wilhelm Behrmann grumbles. German lad with a mild temper. He has the stereotypical blonde hair, but gray eyes and black hair. A bit skinny, but quite tall compared to the rest of the team; he is the team's tech wiz.

"They said 'medevac' like they actually have intention to save them," Izumi Natsuko complains. A pure-blood Japanese girl, born in Tokyo; long brown hair, green eyes, and a chest flatter than graphene. In stereotypical fashion, the team's female field medic.

"I don't think any of us like being deployed so let's just get through this ASAP," Javier Alvarado instructs. A mexican with peach fuzz, short black hair, and hazel eyes. He's somehow the team leader, specializing in heavy weapons.

Perched upon a hill, they look at a revealed part of the town. Nothing notable, except that it's the neighborhood part.

"Maybe the bunker is in one of the houses," Wilhelm suggests.

"Gamma-1 found it early right? It's my best guess it's there," Natsuko adds.

"Then it's settled," Javier decides. The team begins their slow trek down the hill, which is unsteady with loose dirt and rocks.

"Watch your footing," Javier reminds. The moment after, Loukas steadily slides down the hill, landing safely on his feet.

"Okay," Loukas acknowledges. Wilhelm also slides down while everyone else continues to shimmy down.

"Scout ahead; we'll be right behind you," Javier instructs. Loukas hands Wilhelm their flare, who then takes lead into the town. The two climb over a decaying wood fence, spitting out into a two story house's backyard.

A lone tree towers above them, dangling a ruined swing set from a branch.

"Fireteam come in," Command rings.

"This is Fireteam Lead. Copy," Javier answers.

"Fireteam be advised: we are detecting increased levels of radiation from the reactor and other pockets. Proceed with caution. Out," Command advises.

"Copy that," Javier replies, "Deploying flare."

"Guess we'll just toss it onto the street then," Loukas shrugs. He and Wilhelm walk around the house and jump the fence gate. Once he lands, Wilhelm rips off the flare cap and grinds it against the exposed striking surface.

Molten chloride and magnesium spews out as a brilliant red color while Wilhelm approaches the front of the house. He throws the bright flare to the open street. A support helicopter flies overhead, carrying a care package.

Using auto-extract, the loadmaster deploys the parachute, yanking their package out of the helicopter. Wilhelm and Loukas watch it slowly descend to the street while Javier and the rest of the team arrive.

"Attention Fireteam Gamma-2," Command calls on the radio.

"This is Gamma-2-4, Copy," Wilhelm answers. An audible sigh is heard before Command issues orders.

"Gamma-2, remain consistent on comms. Team medic: do you copy?"

"Yes, I copy. Over," Izumi replies.

"It is your utmost priority to keep the team in good health and take active measures to decontaminate equipment and personnel. Some may have already been irradiated by dust and debris. Fireteam, you've been equipped with combat rad-suits. Complete your objective, but don't make things hard for your medic.

Officers have authorized Enlisted to terminate you on sight for attempting evac when posing a threat towards the health, safety, and/or stability of The Emissary. Your field medic has the same authorization. Out."

"Copy that," Loukas groans. Eyes fall upon Izumi, filled with curiosity or dislike.

"Well, you heard Command. Get those suits on," Izumi intructs. Wilhelm unbuckles the crate locks, propping it open with internal rods. Crates of guns are set aside, along with basic medical supplies and rations.

A crate marked "HAZ-SUIT" is pulled out.

"The suits may or may not be in that crate," Javier jokes.

"'Soldier did you load hazmat suits into the payload?''Sir, no, sir.','Ehh, they're expendable." Wilhelm mocks. A good chuckle lightens the mood, but they find it hard to disconnect from their reality. The Federation trains underaged teens into loyal soldiers to join their PMC; imagine a youth training corps, but actually deploying underage troops.

They zip on their suits and fasten their gas masks. Javier distributes guns to each squadmate. Everyone receives an M4 Carbine, M9 Beretta, and three spare magazines for each firearm.

"Let's get this show on the road I guess," Wilhelm sighs.