Relic of the Future: Chapter 162

Their conversation was interrupted by Clover and the Ace-Ops appearing and loudly instructing them into the drop craft. They were sleek, flat aircraft with thrusters on the back and, oddly enough, open bottoms. Numerous claw-like appendages were hanging from those, and Marrow was demonstrating how to use them for the sake of the audience. He stepped inside and reached up to clasp two handles with his arms. The claws then came down to grip his waist, locking him in place.

"The striker aircraft will fly low to minimise anti-air fire." Clover explained loudly. "At a programmed time, the clamps will release, dropping you free-fall toward the ground. This is designed for robotic drop or huntsmen only, as you will need to employ your own landing strategies. The drop will be small, no more than twenty metres, but the speed will need to be accounted for."

"Flying into anti-air gunfire with my stomach and legs dangling down." Qrow muttered. "Sounds lovely. Only Atlas would think of this."

Jaune couldn't help but agree. Now that he looked, the clamps were more like in one of those roller coasters where you were held by your chest and shoulders with your legs free. They would basically be flying forward and released like a human bombing run.

Robots and huntsmen for sure. A normal soldier would explode into giblets on impact.

[...]

Fighting Grimm was one thing, fighting people another, but flying out into a mad air battle with little more than a roller-coaster seat holding him in place was another matter entirely. While he probably could survive a drop from this height, it wouldn't be easy and certainly not something he wanted to experience. The landing would be fine; the fight would be fine…

The flight was another matter entirely.

[...]

It was just like a roller coaster. The aircraft twisted into a downward corkscrew to escape the gunfight above, twisting its way under the hull of the flagship and down the opposite direction it had come out. The gut-wrenching manoeuvre was as brief as it was painful, but soon the aircraft evened out and took a more gradual descent, and the momentum was all forward, wind kicking their legs back and pressing them into the restraints.

[...]

Suddenly dropping again, the striker craft rushed down to a dangerously low altitude, so low he could see the Grimm on the ground, and they could see him. Beowolves leapt for his exposed legs but fell short by a long way. Up ahead, fire and missiles came from the base of Salem's tower and corkscrewed their way toward the fleet. They fell short, losing momentum and arching down out the air into the hordes of Grimm themselves. From the angle of their approach, it was doubtful the anti-air could even be turned to face them.

[...]

"Five, four, three-" a robotic voice chimed out. "Two, one, drop commencing. Ready for drop."

A loud sound beeped once, twice and then a third time – the clamps snapping open on the third chime. Jaune's entire body lurched as gravity took hold, yanking him out from the underside of the aircraft and sending him hurtling diagonally downward. He tucked his legs and arms in, forced his eyes opened and took in the rapidly approaching ground. Beacon had taught him what a landing strategy was, but the launch of the cliffs had given ample time to prepare. Here, there was mere seconds and no Pyrrha to spear him out the air.

He didn't need it. Not anymore. Forcing aura to his legs, he pushed as hard as he could below him. The impact of his boots on the ground at however fucking fast they were going sent pain spasming up his knees. Without aura, his own legs would have pierced back up through his pelvis and into his body, impaling him from the inside out. With aura, it was merely torture, like being a human bouncy ball hurled at a wall.

Not everyone's landing was as rough as his own. Qrow was able to lessen his landing with high calibre fire, while others used Semblances, weapons or add-ons to their equipment to act as parachutes, soft landings or even to drift down to the ground safely.

"Move!" someone yelled. Jaune wasn't sure who it was, but he put muscle to action anyway, running ahead despite the pain.

—Relic of the Future: Chapter 162