The thin metal walls around him shuddered as the dual rotors picked up speed. He had always hated the MV-22, he understood how appealing they seemed to the top brass, but he doubted any of them had actually ridden in one. He looked around the cramped hold, grimacing as he observed the fluids leaking from the the various hydraulic lines that ran along the wall. He gripped his rifle tighter and slowly leaned as far back as he could before his flak stopped his movement. He felt a slight comfort knowing that he had at least some protection, even if it was mostly mental.

The loading ramp was down and LCpl. Reese was in position manning the vehicle's single M240B. Jason missed the old CH-46. At least it had windows he thought to himself, staring blankly at the gray paint tinged with stains from the constant leaking. He had asked about that the first time he had ridden in an Osprey. "Oh that? That's normal." the crewman had said. "If you notice it stop leaking, thats when you should worry!"

He shook his head at the memory and took a quick glance around the hold. He didn't know many of the Marines here. Yesterday the Company Guns for 2-1 had stopped by his shop and asked, word for word, "Which one of you POGs wants to see how real Marines operate?" Jason let the insult slide and instantly volunteered. He had been stuck in Afghanistan for almost 4 months and had yet to go outside the wire. He jumped at the opportunity. This was his second deployment. The last time he was here, he spent most of his time within the turret of an MRAP. Not exactly the most dangerous job, but a hell of a lot more thrilling than sitting behind a desk staring at a computer monitor. He snatched at any chance of action they threw at him. He didn't feel terribly important within the camp, spending most of his time dealing with little administrative bullshit that had nearly driven him insane out of boredom.

"SINDER!". Jason started and looked at the Staff Sergeant who had stood up and grabbed hold of one of the handles that ran along the ceiling. "Wake the fuck up. Since your pansy ass couldn't make it to our formation yesterday, I guess I'll just have to brief you now." Jason heard snickers from the grunts around him.*sigh* it must be "pick on the POG" time. "Aye, Staff Sergeant." jason replied. The Staff Sergeant raised an eyebrow "Just stay the fuck out of the way. if rounds start flying, find a rock and crawl under it. God knows you probably can't hit shit anyway."

Jason smiled inwardly as the men around him chuckled. Truth is, he could probably outshoot any of them. He had always been a natural with a firearm, learning the basics from his uncle on their farm, and then soaking up every piece of knowledge he could through Boot Camp and MCT. He had almost gotten a perfect score on the range last year,with the unheard of score of 348 points. which was unbelievable to anyone who hadn't ever seen him shoot. On average, a grunt would shoot maybe 320 points. and those were the good shots.

The Staff Sergeant turned around and started bullshitting with the other grunts. "So," he asked, "how many of you guys have been in a helo crash?" A couple of the older sergeants raised their hands while the younger guys just sat there with smirks on their faces. "Just you two huh? Well there's a first for everything. I'm assuming you guys have heard of how often these things crash."

Jason's mind wandered as he glanced out the back of the helicopter. It was nearly 8 o'clock and the sun was beginning to set. The desert blazing into a deep orange as the dunes cast rolling shadows across the landscape. Their operation was set to begin at 10 and their goal was to eliminate an Al-Qaeda cell within a small village near the border. The location had been revealed by one of their informants within the town. At least some people appreciate all the work we do for the average citizen. Without those civilian informants, we would be making no progress. Jason thought to himself as he started drifting to sleep.

Jason awoke with a start as the Osprey violently shook and began taking evasive maneuvers. A loud crack and a flash of brilliant purple light filled the bay containing the Marines. Jason blinked his eyes rapidly to clear the spots from his vision. The sky had darkened considerably and bolts of purple lightning were striking all around the aircraft.

"What the fuck is happening?!" screamed a Marine towards the front of the vehicle. the other Marines were dumbstruck as they grasped violently to anything they could use as a handhold.

LCpl Reese was holding on for dear life to the mounted gun as the vehicle took increasingly sharper turns to avoid the lightning storm that had materialized around them.

Another bolt struck right next to the Osprey and shook them to their teeth. Reese lost his grip on the weapon and began rolling towards the end of the ramp. Jason quickly jumped to his feet and moved to grab a hold of the young Lance Corporal who was dangerously close to falling off. Two nearly simultaneous strikes shook the aircraft and caused Jason to lose his footing. He fell hard onto the non-skid surface of the ramp and he reached out and grabbed the top edge to stop himself from rolling off the side.

He glanced to the bottom of the ramp, trying to locate Reese. His heart sank as his glance revealed nothing but empty air. FUCK he cursed inwardly. If only i was faster. he quickly realized however, that if he had been, he would be in the same situation as Reese, and that was not somewhere he wanted to be.

At that moment a bolt of lightning struck one of the rotors that powered the aircraft, causing it to burst into flame and lose power.

The aircraft began a horizontal spin and started losing altitude. Jason could feel his grip slipping as he grasped onto the top of the ramp with all the strength he had, his weapon rattling against him as the aircraft shook in it's downward spiral.

One final bolt of lightning struck the top of the vehicle and immersed the Marines in a dazzling purple light. Just as his vision began clearing, Jason's grip finally gave way and he was thrown into the open air. He flailed his limbs at a vain attempt to slow his descent. He managed to roll onto his stomach and extend his arms the way he had seen skydivers do, his weapon hanging from it's sling below him. He grabbed it and moved it to his back. If I somehow manage to survive this fall, I do NOT want to end up being impaled by my rifle.

He glanced over toward the flaming helicopter as it sped toward the ground, which was approaching quickly. He didn't see any of the other Marines jumping out. Damn, He thought to himself, Don't they realize they have a better chance of survival if they get out of that giant hunk of metal?

He gritted his teeth as he watched the hulk of machinery smash into the ground. A fraction of a second later a ruptured fuel tank came into contact with a flaming piece of electronics and the whole vehicle exploded into a huge fireball.

He looked away. No one is walking away from that one, Staff Sergeant. He thought to himself with grim humor.

He took the last few moments to look at where he would soon be landing. There were trees and he tried to move himself toward the thickest bunch he could see, hoping they would cushion his fall.

Wait, why are there pine trees in Afghanistan? Was the last thing he thought before he hit the top branches. His flak jacket took a large portion of the impact and he could feel his SAPI plate crack as he smashed through the top branches. His kevlar bounced off another branch and threw his head back, rotating his body so his back would take the remaining impacts as he made his way to the ground. He felt his leg snap as it twisted his head towards the grass below. He rolled his neck forward and hit the ground on his upper shoulders, causing him to temporarily lose vision and started his ears ringing. The rest of his body landed with a thud.

The ringing in his ears began fading and he started hearing people shouting.

I made it! He thought to himself as he slowly lost consciousness.

I'm Alive.