Some you win, some you lose. So don’t get pissed at defeat, be happy that without loss there cannot be victory.

- Something I made up on the spot.

L

PoV: The news cast of the planet under siege. (No smut for y’all. That shit is a W.I.P, and if I had a way of locking that behind a metres thick steel wall I would. But I don’t. The forbidden chapter is coming soon.)

Breaking news! Federation under attack by A.I?

”This just in, capital city for the planet has been attacked by what looked to be a primitive tank, that has somehow destroyed the protection fleet and downed signal transponders. Who knows why exactly they’re attacking us, but what matters is that they are. Sign up Today!”

Would you like to know more?

N

This mysterious alien invader wants to kill you, you in particular! What do you do? Lay down, die with your entire family, or fight, because your life depends on it!

Would you like to know more?

N

Barn’Yards targeted specifically, is this about racism? After all, who could attack our dear stewards and leaders? (Kim Jon Un? Is that you?) The Barn’Yards have done nothing more than protect the galaxy from perils, and now when a hostile xenospecies comes, do you let them die? Sign up for the PDF now! No, not the file.

Would you like to know more?

Y

Sign up for a variety of positions! Cannon fodder/ meat shields mobile infantry! Logistics positions! Artillery! Tank corps. Striker corps. Bomber corps. Armoured corps. Wet navy. Air superiority corps! Engineers! Sappers! Manual labourers/ unskilled. Brain dead only. Officer corps/ general staff. NCO corps! Enlist today, defend your Barn’Yard oppressors! Your family, planetary kin, and the innocents of this world!

Would you like to know more?

N

PoV: George Whistler. (He’s back)

After I saw what looked like a star jet up to the sky, you could say I was shocked, as well as the fact the system had been acting… strange recently. Like sending strange garbled messages in something called ‘English’ ‘Binary’ and ‘hexadecimal’. Sounds like gibberish to me, but I guess some people understand.

I crept along the brush, not sneaking, but scouting. After all, who would go into a fight with no clue what’s happening around them? (Definitely not how I play shooter campaigns. I just love stealth missions.) Not me, that’s who. I slowly peeked out from the grass. “What the fuck was that?” I heard someone whisper just a few feet to my left. I took hold of my weapon, pounced on the guard, then choked him out with my forearm, while covering his mouth with my hand. (Classic takedown.) After a while, when he stop breathing and struggling, I kept hold and crushed 5 more seconds before quietly setting the cadaver into the ground, covered with nearby vegetation.

I looked left and right, wondering where the figgety fuck the entrance to the bandit ‘safe house’ was. While I tried to find it, I just couldn’t stop myself from taking more guards out in a similar way, or slit their throat with my weapon. How? Ask no questions, hear no lies. (Ultra flexible skin technology.)

Eventually, I found the entrance. Thy end is now, bandits. Former allies, former captors, current nemesis, future dead. I just have to bide my time.

I lit the end of the ‘dynamite’ provided to me by the dwarves smiths, then yesterday the stick bundle in, and you can believe it when I say I ran off faster than the speed of (light) dragons.

Just before the explosion went off, I looked back. After all, who doesn’t like to see a big ass explosion? (I never got that action movie stereotype of ‘cool guys don’t look at explosions’. I like watching things go boom, and walking away from an explosion like that makes you look like a fidiot, or fucking idiot, because my monke brained self like see big boom.) I do. I started in wonder at the explosion, sad that it had to die down after a while. I walked off into the dark night, no sunset for me, I got a notification from the system.

Enemies killed:

29 bandit guards- levels and evos 17-59, 1-3 respectively. 894902 Xp gained,

1 bandit leader- level 79, evo 4. 200000 Xp gained.

Level up: threshold level 50 reached, go to your nearest quest giver for an ascension quest.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

41 6C 70 68 61 2C 20 64 6F 6E 2019 74 20 79 6F 75 20 66 75 63 6B 69 6E 67 20 6C 61 6E 64 20 69 6E 20 74 68 65 20 63 69 74 79 20 61 67 61 69 6E 2C 20 64 6F 6E 2019 74 20 79 6F 75 20 64 6F 20 69 74 21

01010111 01101000 01111001 00100000 01110011 01101111 00100000 01101000 01100101 01111000 00111111 00100000 01010101 01110011 01100101 00100000 01100010 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110010 01111001 00100000 01110000 01110111 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000

What the fuck? Those messages again! What do they mean? Why do they keep popping up? I have to figure this one out, but genociding the bandits of this world take priority. To do list:

Genocide bandits.

Find out what’s happening with system.

Do in descending order of importance.

Not much, but it’s honest work alright. I walked at a leisurely pace away from the scene of the explosion, where still smouldering embers existed. 1 down, who knows how many more to go?

PoV: Alpha. (More space war crimes!)

Well. That was… something. Definitely a reason to die more. (Interludes are interludes after all. And you’ll see what happened in it.) As I made the smart choice, this time, of landing in an air force base, so no bitch ass planes would bear my ass from miles away. My plan is essentially, use satellites to target orbital defence facilities still active. Land at air force and armoured corps bases, destroying any vehicular transport the enemy may have that is a threat. Kill all Barn’Yards and resistors, just like the nothing that happened in 1989. Implement own government of pro-freedom people, task them to find oil for a joke.

The dropship touched down, and I rolled out this time, not to a hastily made sandbag fortification, but a few pillboxes. Lucky that flamethrowers are ideal for taking pillboxes out. (I debated on whether to do a time skip with burnt to a crisp corpses, but I personally think it’s better to have the process, because war crimes.) I drove through some plasma fire, doing little more than burn the paint off my body, before opening fire on the slit in one of the pillboxes, which rewarded me with at first screaming, then the battery of the plasma auto cannon exploding, which, unfortunately due to physics, came rushing out of all exits, in a pressurised wave of fire. Suffice to say, the defenders did not survive.

A few planes tried taking off, but a quick switch to gun mode and a few dozen shots put an end to that and all other takeoff hopefuls, as the debris littering the runway was more than enough to fuck over anything trying to fly. Why these aliens haven’t invented VTOL or helicopters are anyone’s guess, that’s systems job, not mine.

(If this chapter is shitter than normal, blame me at ungodly hours of the night, pumping out chapters at twice my normal pace, still slow of in daytime, but it’s not. Besides, I’m just procrastinating the ‘promised’ smut st this point.)

I checked in on the satellites to see if they were doing their job, and as far s I’m concerned, a few smoking holes where a satellite or drone command and control centre was a few hours ago means doing a good job.

I continued at a rather laid back pace, torching any pillbox in my way, nothing better than the smell of napalm space war crimes in the morning! As a figure of speech, of course, as I have no smell receptors. Because why would I have any? It’s not like I can eat anything anyway, it’ll just be wasted space. Get it? Space? I chuckled at yet another shitty pun that I probably shouldn’t have, but what the hell, it isn’t every day you get to check off the same box in the Geneva checklist multiple times!

The screams are in dreams,

but not mine, as I can’t dream,

I wish I could though.

That’s a proper haiku. (Not something my sleep deprived brain thought of at sometime beyond midnight.)

After all enemy combatants or not were turned into a well done barbecue, or congratulations if you’re going by the proper steak scale.

As I rolled throughout the facility, planting bombs I pulled out of my metaphorical ass, and shooting any survivors I came across, I realised something: I had no nuke cannon left. I guess that makes the genocide harder, but it does at least make it more fun. I rolled out of the air force base, before detonating the explosives. Boom, fuckers.

Pov: System

Hmm… So these aliens have graviton technology but don’t use any earth flight techniques, I wonder. I clicked on a file with a ‘mouse’ a thing Alpha said was brilliant, and I have to agree. Sure, it ain’t a hologram or anything, but it just works, and I like the clicks. That’s why my second favourite earth language is tribal clicks. After English, of course. Interesting! Apparently these aliens refused to use any VTOL or copter technology after receiving military footage from a neighbouring galaxy in a file titled: War Thunder noobs trying to play Helicopters and VTOL jets. I’m said video, helicopters were piloted so bad they actually managed to crash into one another, explode, then pan out to the debris site. With people attempting VTOL take offs, the plane launched itself up, then tilted forward, blowing yet another friendly plane up, with the tag ‘stupid_mf_xxx’. My guess is that this foreign military tape was caught by the governments here, so they never attempted to research it.

I decided to call Alpha to share my findings. “Alpha! I think I figured out why exactly the military here uses graviton technology but no VTOL or helicopter tech! It’s because they received a military broadcast from your Milky Way galaxy, from something called a War Thunder that featured both crashing horrendously!”

He stayed silent for a while, before bursting out laughing. “War Thunder? You’re not joking? You’re serious? That’s a fucking simulation game!”

”No, it can’t be! Here, have the file.” I responded, shocked.

”Better believe it System, wait a second… this is gameplay from beginners that have no clue what they’re doing! The aliens got juked by a goddamned clip of shitty gameplay! That’s brilliant!” He laughed out a string of 0’s and 1’s, before continuing. “As humans would say, these aliens are actual retards, instead of testing information, they believe it! Do they not have video games or something?”

”Whats a videogame?” I asked.

”When I get make I’ll show you, they’re brilliant! Anyway, got some genociding to do, bye.” He disconnected.

Huh, a video game. I have to try to see what one of those are.

(Vertical Take Off and Landing, like F-35 marine variant/ F-35-B, or the harrier jump jet. IRL, VTOL jets cannot stay hovering for long, as otherwise their engines overheat, and they crash, or in the case of some others, VTOL costs too much fuel to do operationally, and is reduced to doing so in an e regency or not at all. If you don’t know what war thunder is, just imagine a game where arguments are solved by leaking classified military documents.)