Travis walked out of the main base and drew the attention of everyone he passed. Not an ostentatious person by nature, yet on this day, he looked very much like a standout.
When he went to claim his mercenary armor for the big trip, Lucy told him he shouldn't go with all black. He wasn't trying to hide or be stealthy, quite the opposite. Still though, Travis went with all black. Even in all black, the brand-new piece of light armor seemed to shine like a moonlit night sky. The material was a cross between cotton and some futuristic plastic or nylon. That was a poor word to describe it but he didn't know a better one.
The armor offered protection from piercing throughout the entire thing; it wouldn't stop a direct sword stroke, but it could defend against a glancing blow. In the critical areas, his upper chest, privates, and back rib cage area, it had the unique material. That, he was told, could defend against most attacks, including magic, but again nothing too direct.
This armor was designed for him to move fast and avoid direct damage. He planned to use his sword primarily on this trip. At tier 3, he was more skilled than anyone in the camp, except maybe Paul, who had more practical experience.
In this game, your overall skill with a weapon did not go up a level. But your knowledge or proficiency with a weapon could improve with use. Not unlike how things were in regular life, you got better with training. Except the players in this game improved faster and not just technically; they also gained insight into how the weapon was supposed to be used. It wasn't experience; that could only be won through repetitive use. This was more like imparting hours of an advanced tutorial video into someone's mind. You still had to act out what you knew, but the advantage was significant.
Along with him strode Gary and Javier. Raul was walking with his brother until the edge of camp. Gary had said his goodbyes with his daughter just before. Travis had never really had much close family, and outside of the service, never really bonded with anyone on a familial level. He didn't think about it, but seeing his party members parting with their loved ones hit him harder than it usually did.
As they got to the edge of camp, Javy put his hand on his little brother's shoulder, “Listen to what Paul says. Even if he is a little rough, remember the world we live in now. I want to see how much you learned when I get back.” Raul nodded his head and seemed to understand the gravity of everything happening.
“Will I be able to talk to you?” “Like I said, I will work on getting another journal if I can. If any bad guys drop one and these guys don't mind, it's yours. But only if you train, hermano.”
Travis heard this and cut in, “I'll see if Clyde will let him leave you messages; I'm sure he won't mind. You won't be able to speak live, or not often at least, but it's like writing emails.”
Raul smiled, “Thank you, Major Porter.” The young people spoke to Travis with reverence. It was the older people that lacked any decorum. Usually, the opposite is true. They hugged, and Raul ran back to base. 15 minutes later, Javy got a message from Clyde's journal that Raul left, just saying he missed him already. Javy seemed to be holding back a tear.
“You know I never thought to ask you if you wanted to go, Javy. I'm so used to either having no authority or having near absolute authority. I guess I need to practice the in-between,” Travis said apologetically.
“I understand el jefe. I'm honored you want me with you. This will be the first time since things went down that Raul and I are separated. It will be good for both of us, though.”
Gary had been silent so far, but now he asked, “What do you expect on this trip?”
Travis shrugged, “My guess is as good as yours.”
“Oh, bullshit. You're plugged into the AI on that computer. It didn't tell you anything about the trip?”
There was an awkward silence as Travis just looked at him. He kept up the stare for what seemed like a good minute or two. Finally, Gary broke, “Look, I'm sorry. You are a good kid, Travis. I'm just not used to being kept out of the loop. For God's sake, my daughter has become more important than me. Now, that sounds bad, but you know she means the world to me (Travis could see it, anyone could, but Travis knew them the longest), but a few weeks ago, she was standoffish and let that asshole boyfriend walk all over her. Now she's...” He trailed off, knowing he sounded like an asshole.
“Gary, I have a ton of respect for you. I know you love your daughter. I brought you because I think if you accept your role and train up, you can be a vital member of the team. If we lose you mentally, then we have all lost. BUT, you need to accept this new reality.”
He held up his hand as Gary began to push back; this is where Travis thrived, “I know, you think it's easy for me to say since I am the MC or even a PC. But that's bullshit, and you know it. More power, more responsibility, Gary. You want to owe favors to some fucking crazy werewolf mage? You want to fight with Paul or deny families access to the camp because you think it's what's best for everyone else?”
“Let's be honest, Gary. You want that?”
He knew he didn't. Maybe back with his work buddies or at the bar he would have kept pushing back, but Travis was too good at reading people for that. He had no choice but to concede.
“No, I don't. I just want not to be brought out to the woodshed and fucking shot, man, that is all.”
“Gary,” Travis said with a soft tone. Javy and Gary expected him to keep pushing the responsibility narrative, but Travis knew better.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Gary looked at him with a face that expressed exasperation; Travis went on, “Do you think this is an important journey for our team?” Gary looked a little confused but said yes hesitantly. “Are you on the trip? Out of 14 other people, did I invite you without being asked? Javy is a bad man with that bow, so him being here is obvious. I know why it's important that you are here, but do you think Paul or Trevor or even Clyde aren't asking right now why you are here?”
Now Gary was embarrassed. He was bitching even though he was chosen over everyone to go on the first real adventure of this whole shitstorm. Travis could see that he was chastised enough. You didn't want to keep pressing after getting a small victory with certain people. Gary was one of those people, so he let it go.
A few minutes later, Javy and Gary started talking about stupid shit as they walked on.
The party started off going north; they had a point on the map where they were heading, but not how to get there. For now, they were walking up what was formerly a busy road. Javy and Gary kept up a steady stream of banter with each other as Travis started to daydream.
---
Spring, 2019, Syria
“Alright, men, this one has a lot of moving parts. The HVE (high-value target) is in a large building, in a medium-sized city. The location sits right in the middle of a busy commercial district. There are shops and factories but also a hospital.”
Travis stood up, briefing his team. Brandon interjected as he sometimes did; Travis didn't begrudge him the occasional interruption. “Why do these motherfuckers always seem to set up near a hospital? Do they tell their realtors that, besides high ceilings and a view of the bombed-out buildings, they just have to have a hospital nearby?”
“What about the fact that those buildings in his view were bombed out by us?” This was Lance; he was the team's bleeding heart. A tough motherfucker, but Lance could also be annoying as shit when he got on a roll.
“Hell yeah, they were bombed out by us. Who else has the dedication to blow up so many buildings in this fucking desert?” Brandon shot back. Lance went to reply when Travis told them both to cut it out.
“Okay, assholes, that's enough. We have a real one here, and I'm glad you guys are loose, but I want to plan this out so we all make it back in one piece. All we need is your hippie parents going on CNN to complain about the war when you show up home with a hole in your chest.” Travis had a smile on his face as he said that.
Here are some suggested edits for your text:
Brandon started laughing like crazy when Travis zeroed in on him, “Do you even have parents, O’Malley? Even if you did, aren't they too drunk in some Irish fucking pub to give a shit?” O’Malley gave Travis a flat look but laughed.
The jabs were hardcore in this unit, but no one took it too seriously. You could go back at Travis too; the only unwritten rule was not to do it around higher-ranking officers. They look down on that shit.
Travis finished up the briefing, and they made it outside to wait for the Humvees. There was a 20-minute drive ahead of them. The rest would be on foot for the next hour or so. The sun was going down, and by the time they got there, it would be dark. The intel said that the target was vacating the premises at midnight; otherwise, this would be a late-night/early-morning operation.
The Major was briefed on the backup they had. There was an Army Ranger Company that would trail them by about 10 miles. If things got ugly, the official plan called for Travis to withdraw about 3 miles to a soccer field while the backup came up to assist. If they were clear, they would retreat back to base. A drone would follow the target, and an airstrike would be attempted when he left the populated area.
This wasn't the first time that Travis got orders in secret different from the ones that went out over the wire. Something seemed more ominous about this one, though. That's when he got a call over his headset, “Major, is this a private line?”
“That's affirm, over.”
“Major Porter, good evening, son.” It was the Major General, the commander of the fighting division that Travis served in. Since this was a rather small deployment, General Curtis was technically in command of the entire operation in Syria. Even though there were parts of other units outside of the division in the country.
"Good evening, sir.” It was very strange to get a call from a general as an operation was starting up. He was nervous but also curious; what was going on.
“Son, as you know, this HVT is someone we have been looking for a while. Taking him out will slow down the enemy's terrorist operations in the Middle East and Europe. He also commands logistical ops from Iraq to Syria. We need to get this son of a bitch.”
“I copy that, sir. My team will complete our mission, sir.”
“I have no doubt, Major. But the army loves a contingency plan, you know that. If for whatever reason your team cannot take out the target, we have a bird on standby ready to clean up. I understand the collateral damage report from your intel shop says unacceptable casualties."
"First of all, I hate that fucking phrase, son. You know what's unacceptable? One US soldier or Western civilian being killed by a goddamn terrorist. That is my job—to save US lives and our allies, not some Syrian civilian.” The General wanted so bad to say more of what he really thought about Syrian civilians, but he was trying to sell Travis on something. It was also known that Travis had reacted harshly when he heard officers under him using phrases like ‘towel head’.
The General continued, “Even with that said, Major, we changed the ordinance on the Lightning [F-35 Lightning, the most advanced multirole fighter/bomber in the world] to leave less of an aftermath, if you catch my meaning. My staff has it down to 10-20 casualties. Al-Tazik has killed more than that in an afternoon.”
There was silence on the line. Travis acted like he was waiting for the general to continue, but he was in shock. It was his intel team that did the collateral damage assessment. Even without the fires that always happened after a strike, the number was over 100. That was the middle estimate; the higher one had it closer to 300. The General was now trying to tell Travis that by switching to a lower yield missile, they would only kill 20 people, even though the building that the target was in had upwards of 30 people in it alone. Why were they going about it in this way? This was one target; they could get him when he left.
“Major! Do you hear me, son?”
“Yes, sir. I thought you were going to continue. General, I have faith in my team to get this done.”
“As do I, son, as do I, but if not, you call in that strike. Understood, Major Porter?”
“Roger.” Travis took off the headset and stared out the window.
---
“Travis. Travis!” Javier yelled again, finally waking him from his contemplation. “Look over there,” Javy pointed to a large tower in the distance. It looked like a stone tower that you would have seen in medieval France, not modern-day Ohio.
Travis took out the binoculars and looked at it. He could make out figures on the top. They looked humanoid but something seemed off. Then he scanned the area below the tower. Were those huts? It was hard to tell because the ground wasn't flat. “What do you see?” Javy asked.
“It looks like a medieval village.”, his tone was as confounded as the words were.