Somewhere off the west coast of America
Gilson was outside the labs, standing near one of the entrances of the lab complex disguised as an oil rig. The people meandering about in rig worker uniforms simply hired to perform maintenance on the structure of the Rig and make it appear occupied. He ran his hand through his hair and took a drag of his cigarette. As he blew out the smoke he could make out the bone coloured Dropships heading for the rig. A large Neptune class flanked by two smaller Tritons. The Neptune there to carry the physical component of CA, a large metal container. While the Tritons were there to carry the staff back to the mainland.
The Neptune touches down over be metal crate while the Tritons land beside it. A welcoming crew in Rig uniform approached the ships through the gusts of their landing, the heavy drone of the Neptune drowning out all sound.
Theres at least 100 staff members here, no way could they all fit in two Tritons
As soon as he realised what was happening with a sickening twist in his gut he saw the ramps of the Tritons slide out of the transports, one deploying a full squad or armed Tombstone Immortals in their bone armour and faceless helmets, the other dismounting half a squad with another half of a Longreach team characterised by their nano cloaks and long rifles.
Without words the immortals open up on the welcoming crew, gunning them down in seconds.
"Oh shit!" Gilson exclaimed, spitting the cigarette from his mouth and fumbling the door open to run outside. He took a minute, breathing heavily, only hearing sporadic gunfire outside and screams. Soon after the gunfire stopped. Then he heard a far more terrifying sound. Rather than the staccato of rifle bursts he heard two shots close together, a third following soon after. Still struggling to control his breathing he peaked out the entrance way.
The Rig workers were all dead or dying. Some groaning or coughing as they writhed on the floor. The immortals had fanned out across the Rig in small cells, neutralising any they came across: Gilson saw Adams trying to crawl his way to the entrance, dragging a trail of blood across the floor. Gilson couldn't warn him as he saw an immortal casually stride over to the man and use his boot to roll the man over. The faceless mask of the immortal tilted quizzically and knelt down, picking the ID badge off Adams' chest. The immortal nonchalantly dropped the ID to the floor and stood up, raised his rifle and put 2 rounds through Adams' chest and one through his head.
Gilson stopped peaking and wiped more sweat off his brow. He had to move, warn those inside.
