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CWC: Helldivers — Description
'Here we go again', thought the battle hardened clone. Sergeant Kel was no stranger to drop operations, considering he was an active member of the Helldivers led by Commander Hawke- he saw deployments deep in the unpredictable forests of Valmaya, the snowy wastelands of Cylas Prime, and even the loneliness of space orbiting the Unknown Debris Belt. This time was different though, the 77th was dispatched to the archipelago-littered, water world of Flauro to salvage high priority equipment aboard a befallen Senate cruiser. 'This task should've been left to the Guard- when's the last time they got their armor wet?' Complaining would get him nowhere, but it saved him from having to listen to the sound of LAAT/i engines and shuffling troopers. "Oh well, not like we've anything better to do I suppose." Sighed the NCO. A neighboring clone adjacent to him chimed in, "Dont die of old age until we get to the waterpark sarge!" Cracked a joke from his right, Deuce, another veteran of the Helldivers- albeit an annoying one that can't seem to catch a blaster bolt to the mouth. Kel was used to the title of "old man", it meant he didn't die young like many others have. The title also demanded respect, and Deuce did provide that, in his own sort of way. Quad, the trooper to his right- another fellow Corporal who's stood the test of time, was inseparable from Deuce. He was relatively quiet, but when he did make a remark, it was usually twice as heavy as his buddy's- pretty fitting for his name. Though Kel couldn't help but feel a slight pain from seeing the two get along- not for any petty reason as being left out, but because if something ever happened to the other, it'd have catastrophic consequences. He left that train of thought and noticed the red light in the cabin turn Yellow, signifying their nearing the drop point.
"Divers- UP!" Exclaimed the onboard jump master, who was just a Light-Combat armored Pilot. He walked to the rear bay door as the passengers rose from their seats, maneuvering around the crowded cabin and planted himself just to the left of Kel.

"Check- GEAR!"

The clones each patted their brethren in securing locations on their armor where jet packs and other equipment were attached. No words were exchanged, just grunts, nods and thumbs ups. The jump master checked Kel's, giving the OK as well. The crewman then tapped the side of his helmet to listen better to what one could assume was the cockpit crew. "THIRTY- SECONDS!"

Kel chimed into his squad wide communications channel, which sent a jolt through all the troopers onboard. It was game time.

"HUDs synced, and waypoints added. This is no different than any other drop lads, remember your numbers and follow the jumper in front of you. If you get separated, follow the protocols as briefed prior to the operations."

"Yes, SIR!" Shouted all the paratroopers.

"And if that's still not enough, just listen for Deuce's smartass remarks or Quad's bitching- you won't be far!"

The cabin was filled with laughter, even with the countdown on everyone's helmets quickly reaching the number zero. The gunship crewman were even laughing while trying to sound off the countdown. The bay door then opened as the numbers hit the final ten digits. The air was flooding with salt and even some exhaust. The light turned green and the jump master signaled the cabin: "GO- GO- GO!"

Kel then looked forward, reciting the ritual of the unit. "Grab your gett'se!"

Wherein which the remaining troopers shouted in return: "IT'S TIME TO DIVE INTO HELL!"

Hawke's Helldivers piled out of the gunship in impeccable form, ready to face what await below- friend or foe.

-----UPDATE 26 SEP 18-----

Better scanned image and I added the proper markings on Kel's helmet! This is the final!