2nd of April, 2027.
Claude found himself in the back of an armored personnel carrier, moving swiftly down a slightly congested road. He rode in the back of the vehicle, inside the dim metallic interior, cramped together with a bunch of other Demon Extermination Force operators.
He could feel his bum and back start to ache from sitting on the hard seat for so long, while the drive's quality exacerbated his pain. Each bump it hit sent waves of vibrations into his body and sometimes made him hit the roof of the vehicle. Worst of all, there was no room to spread his body, not even to look outside the small window behind him. He would just have to make do till they arrived at their destination.
Claude was not dressed in his usual casual attire anymore. Instead, he rocked the DEF operator combat uniform, which consisted of an urban camo top and bottom, some tight leather boots and gloves, a plate carrier holding ceramic plates and magazines for his gun, and a strong ceramic helmet.
Though unlike most military uniforms, his and the other rookies had a black armband sown to their shirt's sleeve, to indicate to the other, more experienced operatives on the field that he was a rookie.
Perched on his lap rested Claude's very own service rifle, an M4 Carbine. It was equipped with an ACOG optic coupled with a red dot, as well as a stubby grip under the barrel. This older piece of American military hardware was mainly handed out to the recruits, as the army didn't want to lose the more expensive XM7 rifle to the demons. They were to use this rifle until they got promoted to first class, when they could be trusted with more modern hardware.
As Claude waited to be dropped off at the battlefield, he moved his eyes to examine the faces that surrounded him. All but one looked unfamiliar, as he hadn't met these people at bootcamp. He had rather found himself in this situation thanks to some unique circumstances.
Usually when the 2 weeks are up, the inexperienced rookies are chosen by a DEF unit filled with army men to help them out. They will be introduced to one another before officially joining the platoon. However, thanks to Claude's rather subpar gunplay performance at long ranges, he was not picked by any platoon.
Thus, he and a bunch of other leftover men from bootcamp were randomly assigned to a unit that desperately needed the manpower to fill the ranks before sending them out to the war zone. He was not given an introductory phase. He was just brought to a base, cramped into the back of this APC, before being sent off.
Claude first looked forward to stare down the man in front of him, Private Clancy Flynn. He looked to be an average man of average height; his only unique features were his strong front jawline, his curly ginger hair, and the copious number of freckles all over his face.
The man had a cold demeanor and was currently staring down his XM7 rifle. He was the only first-class private in the unit, a former army man who went through the full 10 weeks of training. From what Claude heard, Clancy was about to get deployed to the Middle East when the Demons first attacked. He was the familiar face Claude already knew about.
He first saw him back at boot camp, when his unit squad came by to pick up new recruits. There, Claude could remember a once bright and promising smile on his face, one that he wore as he talked and joked around with the recruits. It appears to have disappeared now, and Claude already knows why.
To Clancy's left sat Second Class Private Marco Slater. Marco was a slightly chunky man with absolutely no sense of style. His luscious blonde locks were ruined by his bowl haircut, and his rather tall frame was plagued with a bit of fat, although not enough to be classified as "obese."
His head currently rested on Clancy's shoulder, while his eyes were closed shut. He hit the sack the moment they entered the APC, claiming that he wanted all that energy to "fight the demons more effectively." Nothing, not even the turbulent ride the group was enjoying, had managed to wake him up.
Sitting to Clancy's right, contrasting Marco Slater's vibe and appearance, sat Second Class Private Pete Vainor. Unlike Marco, Pete was a visibly muscular man full of energy. Even when sitting inside his cramped space, he'd stretch his arms to admire his muscles, smirking smugly as he did so.
Pete had styled his long black hair into a mullet, which wasn't currently visible thanks to the dim lighting of the interior and the helmet hiding half of it. His only other identifying feature was his thick black mustache, resting above his lips.
As for the two men sitting next to Claude, to his left was Second Class Private Jay Haughton, and to his right was Sergeant Jake Skinner, the leader of the squad. The two men were rather similar; they had the same triangular face shape, the same blue eyes, and were around the same height.
There were key differences that separated the two. The sergeant had a few battle scars on his face and had a more fit frame compared to Jay. Jay, however, had a nice mustache, similar to Pete's own, and had rocked a buzzcut. Together, they comprised the 12th Squad of the 25th Platoon of the Demon Extermination Force.
As Claude waited and waited, his patience drained and evaporated. It has been a while since they have been stuck inside the back of this Armored Personnel Carrier. When are they going to get there? Desperate for answers, Claude coughs and turn to face his superior, Sergent Jake Skinner.
"Excuse me, Sergeant Skinner?" Claude spoke, grabbing his attention. The man turns his head to face him.
"Yes, Private?" Skinner replied with his deep voice, one that fits a battle-hardened Sergeant like himself.
"How much longer is it going to take to get there? The DOZ?" He asks, his New York accent reverberating throughout the cabin. Claude then faintly hears the sound of gunshots in the distance, slowly getting louder and louder.
"From the sounds of it, we are getting close," the sergeant replies.
"I think in about… 5 minutes? More or less," he elaborates.
"Oh, alright. Should be then eh… wake up Private Pete?" Claude throws another question, while pointing to the overweight blonde of the group.
"Yes, yes we should," Jake replies.
"Hey, someone wake up Private Pete. We are going to need him awake if he needs to do his job," Skinner follows with an order. Claude leans forward and lightly tap Pete's face, trying to drag him out of his deep slumber.
"Private Pete! Wake up Private Pete! We are nearly there" he exclaims, but to no avail. Pete just kept on snoring louder, ignoring Claude's attempts.
"Hey! He said get up!" Clancy yells into Pete's ear, before shoving his head off his shoulder. Pete's head moves up and hit the top of the roof. His eyelids immediately shot up, exposing his green emeralds to the world.
"Oh! Ow, ow! Fuck…" he mutters sheepishly.
"What… what happened? Where am I?" he continues.
"We are in the back of an APC, you big oaf. On our way to kick some demon ass," Jay speak up for the first time.
"Now, wake the fuck up before I punch that shitty face of yours!" Jay responds, a pint of anger emitting from his voice.
"No need to swear here, Private," Jake interjects.
"Sorry, Sergeant," Jay apologizes. Pete looks around in confusion before rubbing his eyes. He then blinks a few times before looking back up again.
"What? Oh, I see. Sorry," Pete apologizes, before grabbing his gun off the floor.
As they got closer and closer, the gunshots got louder and louder. Jake ordered his men to check their weapons, just before they come to a stop. Claude and the others immediately grab their guns and do as they are told. Claude first ejected the magazine to see if it was full by pressing his fingers down on it.
He then slides it back inside the mag well before pulling the charging handle halfway to check the barrel. Seeing that there was nothing inside the barrel, he pulls the charging handle fully before letting it go. The gun loads and is now ready for action.
The APC starts to slow down, its tires squealing as it rubs against the asphalt road. Once it stops, the back doors quickly open wide, letting the operatives jump out. As Claude exits the cramped back of the vehicle, his vision is temporarily blinded for a second as the sun flashes its rays on him.
when His eyes quickly adjust to the lighting, he finds himself in the middle of an intersection, nearby a railway line. To his south-west stood an expanse of trees, probably part of some local national park, and to his front was a wide 4 lane road leading to a generic Chicago suburb.
On the 4-lane road leading to the suburbs stood the barricade built up by the army to keep the demons inside. It was built entirely out of barbed wire, sandbags, and a few armored vehicles with a machine gun mounted on top.
The stationed soldiers pointed their guns and rifles at the road, now littered with the bodies of various demons, both big and small alike. Some looked familiar, while others looked completely alien. In the distance, further down the road, hundreds upon hundreds of demons marched forward, attempting to overrun the defensive line.
"Alright everyone! Take positions near the barricades and start shooting the demons down! Don't stop until I tell you all to!" Jake Skinner issues his first command before pointing to the barricade.
"Yes sir!" the rookies reply before jogging forward to join the soldiers firing down on the demons coming down on them.