I was never the type of soldier who enjoyed deploying to neighborhoods. Each time I did, there was a sound of thunder that would echo over me. Seeing the dreaded looks of all the folks just minding their own business, then suddenly having marchers roam their streets. It is unbearable, yet I know that we are just doing our duty as warriors. Then why did I still feel like this? Each time a military chopper descended, or a tank left tread marks down a neighborhood, why do I always feel like shit? Either way, I continued monologuing to myself for the remainder of the trip, staring down at the foggy skyline from an aerial troop transport window. 

“Alright, we’re on approach to the Unitarian Guard LA Base!”

The military helicopter activated its landing gear just after the pilot shouted. The high-powered energy turbines’ sound faded as the helicopter touched the ground. It slowly descended like a Pegasus from its grand view of the multi-complex city of Angels. Once the thrusters stopped burning energy, my main squad hopped off and removed their helmets, all while gasping. Tough, strong-minded people scrambled left and right, moving around like it was rush hour. Buzzings of small drones swarmed the perimeter like the base was a beehive. The sounds of tank treads wheeled across the mechanized ground with an intense rumble. These are the sounds I have had to adjust to since the day I enlisted. While they are a reminder of the force we use to protect, they are ominous and filled with terror. To top it all off, there was a sign right by the laser security gate, Unitarian Guard Base 03.

“Seems like this is going to get real then?” A voice erupted near me. 

“Captain Jackson?” I lowered my brow and looked to the left direction. Why was he here? “Aren’t you supposed to be overseas right now?” 

Gently lowering the heavy gun down from his shoulder, “Hey Captain Hunter, well, change of plans, I guess. Command ordered me back to the fold,” he appeared just as confused as I was. 

This is odd, I thought, as I gazed at a few heavily armed helicopters roaring over the base. Stepping forward, I took a deep breath and tried to calm my mind. “Is the rest of your squad here?” 

“Yeah, they’re on standby in the barracks. It was a long trip, so I let them have their short break. 

“Do me a favor, Captain Jackson, I must check in at the front office to give details about my last mission. Can you send this file over?” Leaving the folder in his hands, I proceeded in the direction of the restroom. 

“Whoa, where are you going!”

“Drank too much water on the flight. I’ll see you in a bit!” Waving my hand at him. 

In the next area, I turned around, making sure no one was looking, and slipped behind the restroom building in an alley. Scrolling through my on-screen wrist utility communications, I opened a locked-off comms channel and spoke with Command, or rather, the Director of the Unitarian Guard. “When you assigned me back here, I was not given clear details about the situation. And based on the heated activity around the base, I assume this isn’t a regular patrol or scouting mission?” 

Seconds went by with no words sounding through my wrist device. Then, “Captain U.G 1962, Jasoc Hunter, I apologize for the uncertainty, but I couldn’t risk the details falling into unwanted ears.” 

“So, this is a special forces assignment then?” I asked. 

“Precisely, but due to the contents around which the assignment revolves, you and a platoon will be the only ones completing the mission. The rest have another task to do, which is why I called back so many reinforcements.” 

A loud metallic noise echoed nearby, I peeked at the corner of the alley and noticed a crate being unloaded. “Let me guess, the massive black crate being unloaded?”  

“You will join a convoy in escorting that crate with a transport vehicle. Safely escort it to a secret hangar at LAX. That is all you need to know.” 

Digging my fingers through my hair, I looked up at the gloomy grey sky and its vastness. “Copy that, Director, I’ll get my equipment ready.” Ending the call, I walked back out of the dark space to find Cormack. 6 Unitarian Guards stood watch while clanking stomps echoed from across the yard. As I suspected, the crate being loaded by the large construction mech had the markings from the Director of the Guard himself. Which meant that the crate was to be personally delivered to him. What exactly is in that crate that is so important? There was no time to speculate, so I stopped monitoring and remained silent about my suspcions. 

I was puzzled by the laughter coming just outside Cormack’s squad’s barracks door. When I opened it, most of the squad was matchmaking in some PlayStation 5 game. Seeing them laughing, eating fresh food instead of rations, and playing games helps me remember that we are still human. Not these soulless entities whose only purpose is to flag enemies. Of course, these are recruits that Cormack brought, so it made sense they appeared lively. Speaking of which, he approached me with an annoying smirk and offered a water bottle.

“Sure, thank you.” Did he think I was begging to use the restroom? Not that I really had to go, though. 

“Want to talk in the hall?” he said.

I revealed to Captain Jackson the mission details, as we have fought alongside each other for an exceptionally long time. A trait I admire about him is that he continuously checks in on soldiers outside of his own squad, including me. The day I met him was when I was assigned to another special assignment fresh out of training, where an oil rig threat loomed out in the Pacific. Unfortunately, we were not able to stop it from exploding, but Cormack and his squad managed to provide an escape at the last second. Since then, we have gotten along well and have even met up on my missions that coincided. 

“So, we’re going to be the main force. Everyone else is the decoy?” he asked. 

“Exactly, we will move out with a platoon convoy, but we will not be getting any more support than that. The other guards will go with the larger decoy convoy in a separate direction. Granted, I don’t completely agree with the no further support thing since the sky raids have gotten worse recently.”

Taking a deep breath, Captain Jackson wondered, “What’s in the crate anyway?” 

“Don’t know, but all the Director wants is for us to transport it over to LAX to a secret hangar. We’ll need to suit up right away.” 

Captain Jackson glanced at the barracks door and crossed his arms. “Alright, I’ll let my squad know. We’ll be down in a few minutes.” The illuminated hallway changed to a dark red corridor with flickers that looked like a light show, and an alarm that I would not want to hear at 3:00 AM.

Attention all Guard personnel, a mandatory lockdown/evacuation has been issued for downtown Los Angeles. At this time, please report to the deployment area for further instructions. 

The announcement rumbled through the halls like a sonic wave. Captain Jackson and I nodded at each other and went in opposite directions. As I ran, my mind’s memories about the squad having fun began to fade, thump, thump, thump, my heart kicked up a notch. Here we go, I thought, with my eyes locking themselves forward with burning determination. 

Out in the cold yard, after loading up the crate, the door shut with a loud, metallic bang. “You’re good, go!” the guard pounded on the door. 

Elsewhere, at an undisclosed location, an officer walks along a brightly lit hallway. While passing, squads of Unitarian Guards walked up and down. The officer swipes a card with holographic properties and enters through a tightly secured door. Inside, rows of holographic screens were present with computer operatives speaking nonstop in a dim command room.  As the officer took a step forward, they fixed their posture and formally said, “Director, it’s ready.” 

Inspecting the bright blue security monitors ahead of him, the man in the grey trench coat, otherwise known as The Director, responded, “Commence transport.” 

Powerful engines growled outside in every direction, creating vibrations that could be sensed easily. High-powered turbines and rotors formed whirlwinds with leaves dancing. The absurd yells of the commanding officers shot back and forth. After a short outdoor meeting regarding the overall mission, convoys of freight trucks, armored military vehicles, drones, and motorcycles raced out of the main front security gate and into the damp streets. Aircraft zipped across the runway, and helicopters ascended to the grey heavens. Operation March Line is greenlit. 

With the citizens in downtown Los Angeles evacuated, the Unitarian Guard made its move in delivering the Director’s classified crate. Now that we were good to go, I decided to call upon one last straggler who would be a major help for this. “Keegan, are you in position?”

The sounds of the gunship's thrusters filled the drop bay. One single Unitarian Guard sat on the sides, scrolling through Instagram. “I’m inbound, 10 kicks north, air traffic has been heavy, and all of this rain hasn’t helped either.” 

The gloves felt stiff, so I adjusted them while booting up my bike back on the ground. “Well, keep in mind Keegan, that Director Ryan is keeping a close watch on this operation.” My battle helmet’s visor was so foggy. 

“Who, the old man? I couldn't care less about what he thinks! Either way, I’ll be there soon, just don’t start anything without me!” 

The call ended before I could say anything else. Rubbing my forehead, I couldn’t believe his attitude. “Unfortunately, you’re probably going to miss out on this.” It was pointless to contact him. Brushing away my remaining thoughts, I readied my motorcycle and set out with Cormack and our platoon convoy.