Do I need to tell you guys anything? You should know the deal by now. Go in, make the bad guys dead, control the capital. Murder is what you do. Half of you are literally built for that sole purpose. Do what comes natural.
The permission work doesn't even register in your mind. Stasis, the walk to the shuttles, you've done it so many times that it's barely worth considering. You could do it in your sleep, if you even sleep anymore. The hotdrop shuttles raise more of a reaction from where your gut used to be. There are memories attached to those. Memories of falling, of fire, of pain, of death. But you're stronger now, far stronger, and you've seen more than your share of death. You strap into the skeletal metal frame and watch as the stars roll past. The stars are subsumed in flame heat and light as the shuttle punches through the atmosphere, the forward cone of ablative armor taking the brunt of it while you sit in the wake. The armor breaks free as you enter the lower atmosphere and the thrusters kick on.
>Beginning Transmission of the Truth across all radio bands, hijacked television stations and other communication systems as well as the shuttle broadcast system. Get ready teams, things are about to get ugly.
The hotdrop shuttle screams downward at full speed, bobbing and weaving erratically. There are no shells this time. No lasers, no explosions to rip the ship into pieces and send you tumbling down. There is only the descent and then the hard reversal, the pull up. Buildings and streets are a blur beneath your feet, no more then a few meters away. The wind is roaring around you and the strange doppler distorted squawks of sea birds and roaring surf breaking through waterways and against stones assaults your ears. The shuttle rises suddenly, just barely making it over the top of a high wall, and then drops hard while slowing down. It stops, just for a instant, and drops you. You fall a good 10 feet down onto stairs which have been carved straight into the stone of the island. Smoke from the engines overwhelms you for an instant before the shuttle roars away, dispersing the haze with a blast of exhaust. You're standing in the middle of a long, wide thoroughfare, a long, low angle slope of slab like stairs which lead up the side of a heavily worn island mountain. Below, back along the path, is a stone wall, easily 40 feet high, with a wide ornate gate at the start of the stairs. Ahead, maybe half a mile, is the wall of the mountain. You can see what looks like a large cave mouth, but it with large stone pillars supporting it and giving it an almost temple like appearance.
There are a few very frightened and confused looking civilians in your direct vicinity. Some are standing around, staring. Most are running one way or the other.