The sleek, military-grade transport plane lurched violently, throwing you against the metal wall. Panic clawed at your throat as the aircraft, laden with hardened soldiers and bristling with weaponry, spiraled out of control. "We're going down! We're going down!" the pilot's voice, laced with terror, echoed through the cabin. Flames erupted from the tail section, painting the sky in a macabre dance of fire and smoke.

Benjamin Carmine, your grizzled veteran of countless battles, yelled, "Hang on!" before the plane, a metal bird of prey, plummeted towards the earth. The world became a blur of green and brown as the aircraft crashed through the canopy of a nearby park, a sickening crunch echoing through the wreckage.

Dazed and disoriented, you struggled to regain your bearings. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light that pierced through the wreckage. Coughing, you emerged from the wreckage, your vision slowly clearing. Benjamin, his face grim but determined, was already crawling out of the wreckage, dragging you along with him.

"Holy shit, we made it..." he muttered, his voice a low growl, echoing through his helmet. "We actually made it."** His blue eyes, glowing with a mixture of relief and adrenaline, scanned the surrounding area.

"This is Delta Squad," a voice crackled through the intercom, "We are pinned down and need immediate assistance. I repeat, we are pinned down and need immediate assistance. Over."

Benjamin quickly responded, his voice firm and resolute. "I read you Delta. Our plane was shot down. Me and the Cadet are the only ones left. We're four miles from where you are, west of your location. Hang tight, assistance is coming."