Spring, 2019, Eastern Syria

US forces had commandeered a large compound in the Deir Ez-Zor province of Syria. At this location, the Joint Task Force coordinated with its NATO allies, gathering and analyzing intelligence and occasionally holding planning sessions. Major Travis Porter worked out of this base when he wasn't leading his men in the field. It was incredibly unusual for someone to have a desk at the local CinC (Command and Control) while also leading a team in the field.

These were unusual times, as the military and intelligence agencies had been caught asleep at the switch while ISIS surged through Iraq and parts of Syria taking territory, while also continuing its terroristic operations elsewhere. Now that the Army and its partners were awake, things were happening fast. Travis had been in the country for a couple of months and had been part of numerous operations.

Currently, he sat in a briefing led by a Colonel. There was a high-level ISIS commander who had been sloppy, and they had his location. The people in charge knew that if you wanted something done right in Syria, you called on Major Porter and his team. That's what was happening now; he was given coordinates and whatever information they had on the target. The briefing wrapped up with the Colonel telling Travis that this was dangerous, but he knew he could handle it — the same thing he had been told a handful of times already. They were all dangerous, but Travis thrived under pressure.

He walked back to his Humvee when his buddy, First Sergeant Brandon O’Malley, let out a loud fart.

"Ew, what the fuck, dude?" Travis said, pushing him away with one arm.

"Bro, you know how long I was holding that in. Apparently, you can't rip ass in front of the Colonel."

"Yeah, it's frowned upon for some reason," Travis replied sarcastically, but Brandon was dead serious.

"I don't know why; everybody poops and everybody farts. Sure, the Colonel takes a shower every day, so he thinks things should be clean, but half the guys out here haven't showered in a week. This fart smells better than most of those motherfuckers anyway."

They both started laughing like a couple of kids when one of the commander's staff ran out and got their attention.

"Major, the Colonel wants me to tell you that there will be air support available."

Travis looked at him a little suspiciously; this was an odd way of relaying information.

"Okay, why didn't the Colonel tell me in the briefing?"

The aide got in close and lowered his voice to a whisper. "The target is in a highly populated area."

"Yeah, I know that's why we are going in on foot," Travis cut him off.

"Yes, but the Colonel wants you to know that this target must be taken out. If, for whatever reason, you cannot eliminate him, you are to get to a minimum safe distance and call in the strike."

O’Malley chimed in this time, "Oh, so the Colonel wants the Major here to order a strike that will level a populated area, but he didn't want to give that order on the record. Very convenient."

The aide looked at O’Malley with contempt, then turned back to Travis. "The strike will not go out over normal channels. You are to get to a safe point and radio in a signal, which is 'Oxhide.' Do you copy, Major Porter?"

Travis knew that some of the higher-ups were spineless douchebags, but this was taking it too far. The one thing the Major had going for him was his extreme confidence in himself and his team. If he just did his job, he didn't have to worry about this shit. He looked at the aide and said, “Copy.”

Present

The team hadn't had nearly enough time to practice defense measures, but they were more prepared than any group without a type-A leader would have been. The northern watchtower was about 15 feet high, with a platform wide enough for three people comfortably, but it could fit five or six in a pinch. About halfway down was a larger platform with metal pieces all along the front. It was a mix of scrap metal and stuff they had scavenged, but it would block the defenders from most types of ranged attacks.

Both platforms were reached by ladders. On the middle platform was the bell, and next to it stood Patrick. Patrick was rescued from the neighborhood after his roommate abandoned him a day earlier. He was a 24-year-old white male, average height but a bit overweight. He was quiet and seemed a loner but had taken every job given to him without complaint and seemed to enjoy being on the watchtower. He had been given a tier 1 book on polearms, spears, halberds, etc. As Javy ran up, he saw Patrick looking ahead with a pair of binoculars.

“Amigo, what's the story?” Javier asked as he climbed the ladder. Patrick didn't look up as he spoke, “Well, it's not monsters, but there are a bunch of people out there looking sus.”

“Sus? What the fuck does that mean? English is my second language, but I swear I speak it better than you young guys.” Javier was smiling as he said this. Now Patrick turned his head around. “Suspect, they are acting suspicious. Don't ask me how because it's not something you explain. Here, come look.” Javy came up and took the binoculars. He peered into the trees. He could see about 10 people; some of them looked like they were acting casual, but others were hiding behind trees. They all moved closer to the base with every step. “Fucking A, Patrick!” Javy yelled in excitement.

Startled, Patrick looked at him, “What?”

“You were right, they are acting sus.” Then Javy laughed. At that moment, Travis and Clyde climbed up on the platform.

“What do we have?” Travis asked.

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“About 10 people so far, acting sus,” Javy answered.

“Do you see weapons or anything? Anyone look to be using magic?”

“Not that I can tell. I do wonder why they are moving so slowly and acting so strange. Are the other towers covered?” Javy asked Travis.

Meanwhile, Clyde had climbed to the top to use his heat vision power. “Marginally yes, but if we are attacked on multiple sides, there's not much we can do. Raul is fast, right?”

Now Javy thought Travis was being sus. He answered carefully, “Yes, why?”

“Relax, man. I'm not going to throw your brother into the shit. Can he act as a runner? Going from front to front and just relaying information?”

Javy breathed easier; he trusted Travis, but they had all just met less than a week ago.

“Yeah, of course. Who's gonna tell him, though? I want to start unloading arrows into these assholes if they attack.”

Travis turned to Patrick, who was looking a little nervous, “Nice job, Patty. Go find Raul.”

“No problem. Where do you want me after that?”

“Go tell Sophie to get ready, but also to put the last resort in my bag and bring it here. She will know what that means.”

Patrick ran off. The last resort was three scrolls or potions that they had put together for Travis to take if the base was overrun. There was a super speed and a separate super strength potion, plus an invulnerable scroll. They were only to be taken in the most extreme emergencies. Travis looked at these strange humans and thought now could be the time.

Clyde was looking over these 10 humans as they made their way, quite clumsily, closer to the base grounds. Besides the watchtower, there were not any defenses or walls built, though they would be coming. Clyde had used so much of his power just building basic structures for the extra people to live in.

He could tell these people had ominous intentions, but why were they coming the way they were? He felt like he should be noticing something that he wasn't. No one knew about his power besides Travis, Gary, and Sophie. Travis had stressed how important a power like this needed to be kept secret, even from teammates. People talk without realizing they are sharing house secrets.

The range on his heat vision power was not very far, but still, he scanned around in a 360-degree angle. He realized at that moment what he needed: a high tower in the middle of the camp so he could see everything, but that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

In the weeks since he met Travis, they had a lot of conversations. Ones where Clyde taught him about how RPG game systems work, and others where Travis taught him about tactics and strategy. Or more importantly human behavior, in another life Travis would have been a world-famous shrink. He could understand the things people would do, even before they did it sometimes. He knew something was up here. Clyde called down to Travis, “Hey, these guys are a distraction, I think.”

“Yeah, absolutely. Until we know what they are distracting us from, though, we can't defend the entire base.”

“Aren't you worried?”

“I'm concerned. I'm waiting for everyone else to get here so I can move off with Paul.”

Speaking of the devil, Paul came up the ladder with the only married couple they had at the base, a pair of 30-somethings in Wendy and Trevor. They had basic training with swords and had taken to sparring with each other pretty intensely.

“Paul, these guys are coming in dumb. It's gotta be a trap,” Travis said.

Paul thought about arguing but admonished himself for being a child. “Okay, what do you want to do?”

“Clyde, do you have your fire starter?” Travis yelled up to Clyde. Clyde nodded his head. They had made a contraption out of some scrap metal with lighters attached all around it. It was shaped like a cylinder, designed to go over Clyde's arm. There was a switch that activated the fluid on the lighters, and Clyde was able to shoot flame out of his hand. It only went a few feet, but he had ways for it to be strong, or he had stuff in his bag he could light and throw. They were working on an aerosol attachment, but that was a bit hazardous.

“Okay, Javier, go up top and switch spots with Clyde. When they are at the marker - they had painted markers on the trees to show how far someone was away - give them a verbal warning. If they keep coming, start to fire on them. Use your discretion whether you want to hurt, maim, or kill,” Travis said this to Javier matter-of-factly, as if he were making a sandwich order.

“If they break forward, everyone else knows their training, right? If they approach the false ladder, that's you and Patrick; if they come up, it's you guys,” he pointed to the married couple.

“If they start to...”

Javier stopped him, “We know, mi amigo, we know.”

“Okay, call me through the book for anything. There has to be an ambush, or these guys are just idiots. Paul and I are going to check it out.” Travis jumped down, and Paul followed.

They were jogging when Raul came running up, out of breath, but he let them know that there was no one near the western tower.

“Is my brother okay?” Raul asked.

“Yeah, he's fine. He's on the top platform and is in the least danger. Don't worry, Raul. Who is manning that tower?”

“No one. Vincent was supposed to start his shift today, but when the bell rang, he went inside.”

“Fucking coward,” Paul yelled.

Travis held up a hand, “Paul, relax, man, and keep that to ourselves. Okay, Raul, you go back there. Here, take this.” Travis handed him a flare gun. “If you see bad guys, shoot it straight up.”

Raul looked a little nervous but took the gun and headed back to the western tower. That's when they heard another bell being rung, this one in the east where Raul had been running.

“That's Gary; he wouldn't ring it for nothing.” They ran off towards the tower.

It would be wrong to say that Gary was disgruntled. He liked and respected Travis and Clyde, got along with most everyone else. Plus, his daughter had taken on an important role at the base. Besides Travis, she may have been the most vital person here.

The issue was that his role was not defined. He had always been someone who was at the head of any group he was in, whether that was at work, in the neighborhood, or with his friends. He was Big Gary, and Gary had a dominant personality.

Here, though, because he didn't have a journal or another survival skill, his personality was overlooked. Even then, he was being unfair. Gary had become the unofficial fixer, or as Clyde kept saying, the blacksmith, as if it was actually the 16th century. Clyde always got real serious and assured him that they would eventually unlock a way to craft things, and Gary was the most skilled at it, so he would have an important position. Gary wasn't so sure, though.

Take today, his only job was to be a lookout for 3 hours. He wasn't even on the council. He didn't care that his daughter said there was no official council and if he wanted to go to the meetings he could. Gary was highly respected she said, he just had a hard time believing it for some reason.

Then movement in the woods ahead shook him out of his pity party. He didn't see a person or a monster but a flash of light, as if some skill or spell had been used. When Clyde was teaching Omar about magic, Gary would hang close by so he could hear. He remembered Omar being told that magic was inherently not good for stealth because it gave off some kind of ripple that was visible. That's what he saw here. He was thinking about ringing the bell when he saw it again; this time he didn't hesitate, he rang the hell out of that bell. Then he grabbed his axe and positioned himself behind the metal part of the platform.

What Gary was seeing was a weak invisibility spell being fired every 10 seconds. The person attacking did not have a high intel attribute, so the spell only worked for a very short time.

What he didn't lack was strength, endurance and some tricks up his sleeve, or in his bag. As soon as he heard the bell being rung, this man, who was dressed all in black and with a black hockey mask, went from a crouching position 15 feet from the tower, took a few huge running steps leading to a tremendous leap which brought him down right next to Gary. Gary was stunned and you couldn't blame him, that his why he barely fought when his attacker picked Gary up by his shirt and threw him clear off the tower.