• Published 27th Apr 2018
  • 2,217 Views, 19 Comments

The Lost - Immortan Joe



After a routine paratrooping sortie gone wrong over the Arizona desert. Freelance Journalist, Frank Hugh, and a company of soldiers find themselves stranded in Equestria with only their tools to survive and curious locals searching for them.

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Prologue

I was just a simple journalist, a freelancer who had happened to score a deal with the United States; contracted to report on the United States Air Force’s next paratrooping test. It was just supposed to be a routine test sortie over the Arizona Plains, two Boeing C-17s, each one filled to near full capacity. So much so that as we loaded onto each plane, I couldn’t even begin to count how many soldiers loaded onto each of the massive transports.

I remember being issued a partner in which I was supposed to jump tandemly with as I recorded the footage and was then ordered to dress into the standard jumpsuit and given some basic equipment in case we went off course. Most however was given to my lead jumper, the man I would cast off with, Sgt. Huey Ross. A large, stocky man who had not even a speck of hair on his head; so much so you’d need sunglasses to talk to him outside.

After boarding the planes each and everyone found their respective seats and sat down while I held my Canon camera out and recorded the footage I thought would go great for my report. I jotted down notes on the soldiers and transcribed brief interviews I had with some of the men as the planes shuddered and shook as they made their way down the runway. During take off my stomach lurched and churned and the boys around me laughed as I became the target of their playful harassment.

Taking the abuse in stride I continued recording what I could to pass the time just as the plane steadied and we began the first phase the operation. We flew for roughly ten minutes over the Arizona desert as the interior of the Boeing felt like that of a male’s locker room. The boys inside were relaxed and joking, most seeming excited for the jump as I heard it's been a good two weeks since most of the men here had skydived due to the reported weather phenomena.

“Freakish weather?” I asked as I lowered my camera to my lap, the lens angled upwards as it captured Cpl. Zeke Skews.

The young man, looking fresh out of High School, smiled as he scratched the stubble on his chin. “Yeah,” He said in a matching, young voice. “Crazy ass thunderstorms over the desert, going on for almost a week now. Could see it from base, almost looked like a hurricane.”

“Hurricane?” I cocked an eyebrow and took notes. “Sounds kinda odd for a place as dry as Arizona.” I chuckled.

“Right?” The lad smirked and fished into one of his dozen pockets to show me his phone screen. I blinked as I leaned forward and saw his locked screen contained a vast picture of a massive purplish, pink storm cloud flashing periodically with lightning. The captured image of lightning strikes splintering the air around them as they struck the ground made for a captivating image. “It also made for shit like this.”

With that I continued my talks with the nearby paratroopers about the aforementioned storm and interviews about each and everyone of their time on base. I talked with them about what it was like doing what they do, their reasonings and so forth. Time passed easily into another ten minutes before boeing’s intercom kicked in.

“Attention: desert storm sighted four kilos from jump sight. Mission aborted, repeat: mission aborted.”

Around me groans of disappointment filled around me, along with curses, and even a few comedic wines similar to that of a dog came to my ears. Admittedly when I heard this news I was honestly a bit relieved, the thought of jumping from ten thousand feet made my gut churn a little.

That is before the C-17 struck turbulence. I let of a sharp cry as many men around yelped before cheering humorously at the brief moment of excitement before suddenly killing said humor when the plane shook violently once more. Then it shook once more and once more.

“Jesus Christ!” My jump partner growled as he clutched his seat tightly. “What happened to the storm being a few kilos away?” I gripped my camera and my bag tightly to my chest.

I looked to the Sergeant. “Maybe we had to cut through it to turn around--ah!” I yelped and cried when the plane jerked horrifically and literally tilted sharply off balance. More startled yells from the troops around me made it quite obvious that this wasn’t natural, nor fun.

“I fucking doubt that,” The Sergeant gripped his seat tighter and glanced around, for even a higher rank compared to the men, I could see a faint of nervousness on his face. Though from the way he was looking at the boys around him, it was clear he was more nervous about them. So I hoped.

I another wave of turbulence struck the plane and creaking groan filled the cabin’s hull as suddenly, the plane began to tilt. Lights inside the hull dimmed before changing to red glow as a loud horn blared inside, my heart racing as the pilot came over the intercom.

“Jump! Everybody, fucking jump!”