[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Supply Raid: Air Control [Thundercracker, Windshield]
Dec 1, 2023 21:06:35 GMT -5
Post by Megatron on Dec 1, 2023 21:06:35 GMT -5
Episode 3.5 | Week 2 | Day 4 | Open (With Permission)
Glades International Airport, Florida - 11:45 PM Local Time
The Glades International Airport, a modest hub for cargo planes in central Florida, couldn’t be said to boast many accomplishments—if any at all. Ever since the near-total monopolization of international freight, “The Glades” have been on a downward trend, losing hundreds of thousands in revenue a month just to stay operational. In recent weeks, the threat of bankruptcy crept ever closer as its owners, Gladys and Jonathan Willow, all but resigned themselves to the airport’s fate. The Willows were to lose everything—their company, their land, maybe even their homes—until a seemingly miraculous stroke of luck saved them from certain doom.
One week ago, a fleet of military transports made use of the airfield.
Three Lockheed C-5 Galaxy aircraft were forced to divert their flight from a nearby airbase due to a costly clerical error. The Willows were paid handsomely for the use of their facilities, staving off dreaded bankruptcy for the foreseeable future. But unbeknownst to the proprietors, these gargantuan cargo planes contained valuable materials for use in computing technology by the US military. Rare conductive metals, pressed into circuitry-ready wiring, guarded by only a few dozen soldiers at a remote civilian location.
It was a stressful situation for all involved.
As military bureaucracy ground to a halt, the C-5s remained. For a day at first—then two, three, and eventually an entire week. Currently, there was no end in sight to the pencil-pushing back at Pentagon, to the endless circle of blame and accusation more befitting of decrepit bureaucrats than soldiers charged with the defense of the United States. Nearly everyone at The Glades had just about enough of the tiring back-and-forth. The soldiers were frustrated, apathetic, and sick to death of MREs, beef jerky, and granola bars. Their commanding officers didn’t know what to tell them anymore.
Still, the planes would have been safe, they all thought…
And were it not for a sudden uptick in Decepticon surveillance, they would have been right to think so.
Unbeknownst to the US military, the stuck cargo was in more danger than ever. Two Decepticons, agents of an alien empire, were about to make a move on behalf of their tyrannical leader. This was a mission of utmost importance, stressed so in the name of their felled warship—The Nemesis—for without this new wiring, they could scarce begin to repair its advanced infrastructure.
In short, the margin of success for this mission would determine the speed of recovery—which made the complexity of the assignment all the more worrying.
It was a two-pronged plan. First, an operative on the ground would sabotage the C-5s, render them flightless. He would be assisted by an airborne operative, a Seeker, to serve as his eyes in the sky and air-to-ground combat support, should they engage in combat. Regardless, once they ensured the planes could no longer leave, they were to cut power to the area and call for a GroundBridge.
Meanwhile, a platoon of worker drones awaited patiently at Blackridge Hold. They would raid the planes for their materials while the operatives neutralized any resistance. Then, they would all exfiltrate together. That was the plan. A black mustang. A blue fighter jet. They were chosen for this. One for stealth, the other for flight.
Designation: Windshield, Intelligence Agent
Designation: Thundercracker, Elite Seeker
A GroundBridge tore into existence a mile away from the airport. Ahead loomed a colossal hangar: old, worn, industrial, but sturdy. It rained terribly at the cusp of midnight. Through a communications channel, the voice of a tyrant urged two operatives into action: “Begin the operation.”
Glades International Airport, Florida - 11:45 PM Local Time
The Glades International Airport, a modest hub for cargo planes in central Florida, couldn’t be said to boast many accomplishments—if any at all. Ever since the near-total monopolization of international freight, “The Glades” have been on a downward trend, losing hundreds of thousands in revenue a month just to stay operational. In recent weeks, the threat of bankruptcy crept ever closer as its owners, Gladys and Jonathan Willow, all but resigned themselves to the airport’s fate. The Willows were to lose everything—their company, their land, maybe even their homes—until a seemingly miraculous stroke of luck saved them from certain doom.
One week ago, a fleet of military transports made use of the airfield.
Three Lockheed C-5 Galaxy aircraft were forced to divert their flight from a nearby airbase due to a costly clerical error. The Willows were paid handsomely for the use of their facilities, staving off dreaded bankruptcy for the foreseeable future. But unbeknownst to the proprietors, these gargantuan cargo planes contained valuable materials for use in computing technology by the US military. Rare conductive metals, pressed into circuitry-ready wiring, guarded by only a few dozen soldiers at a remote civilian location.
It was a stressful situation for all involved.
As military bureaucracy ground to a halt, the C-5s remained. For a day at first—then two, three, and eventually an entire week. Currently, there was no end in sight to the pencil-pushing back at Pentagon, to the endless circle of blame and accusation more befitting of decrepit bureaucrats than soldiers charged with the defense of the United States. Nearly everyone at The Glades had just about enough of the tiring back-and-forth. The soldiers were frustrated, apathetic, and sick to death of MREs, beef jerky, and granola bars. Their commanding officers didn’t know what to tell them anymore.
Still, the planes would have been safe, they all thought…
And were it not for a sudden uptick in Decepticon surveillance, they would have been right to think so.
Unbeknownst to the US military, the stuck cargo was in more danger than ever. Two Decepticons, agents of an alien empire, were about to make a move on behalf of their tyrannical leader. This was a mission of utmost importance, stressed so in the name of their felled warship—The Nemesis—for without this new wiring, they could scarce begin to repair its advanced infrastructure.
In short, the margin of success for this mission would determine the speed of recovery—which made the complexity of the assignment all the more worrying.
It was a two-pronged plan. First, an operative on the ground would sabotage the C-5s, render them flightless. He would be assisted by an airborne operative, a Seeker, to serve as his eyes in the sky and air-to-ground combat support, should they engage in combat. Regardless, once they ensured the planes could no longer leave, they were to cut power to the area and call for a GroundBridge.
Meanwhile, a platoon of worker drones awaited patiently at Blackridge Hold. They would raid the planes for their materials while the operatives neutralized any resistance. Then, they would all exfiltrate together. That was the plan. A black mustang. A blue fighter jet. They were chosen for this. One for stealth, the other for flight.
Designation: Windshield, Intelligence Agent
Designation: Thundercracker, Elite Seeker
A GroundBridge tore into existence a mile away from the airport. Ahead loomed a colossal hangar: old, worn, industrial, but sturdy. It rained terribly at the cusp of midnight. Through a communications channel, the voice of a tyrant urged two operatives into action: “Begin the operation.”
