Chapter 1
Fort Moore, Georgia, USA
4pm September 17, 2063
“So, fuck-marry-kill, anime edition. What do you say, sarge?” SPC. Justin Wallace asked the other soldier in the guardhouse.
SGT. Hernandez glanced up from the book he was reading. The latest installment in a popular web novel about an ax-wielding maniac, no doubt. “You know I don’t go in for all that tentacle shit, specialist. Ask PFC Jenkins when you switch with him.”
“I’m just trying to keep it interesting, sarge. How ‘bout video games edition?” Justin replied. “Here, I’ll make it interesting. Lara Croft, in all her low poly glory, Tifa Lockheart from the remake, and Mass Effect 2 FemShep?”
“You know, I might actually answer that one, Wallace. I’d have to kill FemShep. Way too much possibility for full-blown evil there if I don’t. Plus, the whole thing with sparing her the fate of ME3. Tifa is a total tease, so for sure going to fuck that, besides, who wouldn’t? And that leaves low poly Lara Croft. Wedding bells, anyone?”
SPC Wallace sucked in a whistling breath. “Well, I agree with you on FemShep; as noted she should be spared the ME3 fate of full zombie, but I think I’d have to marry Tifa, since I could get over having to fuck low poly Lara Croft, but I don’t think I could stomach having to return from deployment to that. Besides, at least Tifa can cook.”
“Well, Tifa’s cooking abilities are certainly a point in her favor, but we both know Lara has the cash to eat whatever she wants whenever she wants, and she’s got access to a private chef. But you really don’t have time to be bullshitting. You need to get out there and relieve Jenkins.” SGT Hernandez nodded at the clock on the wall above the door. A quarter after 4pm.
Wallace shrugged and picked up his plate carrier and gun belt from the floor where he’d left them (against regs, but who was checking) and strapped them on before picking up his M7 and hanging the sling around his neck.
For some reason, command had ordered base security to threat level red for the day, so both weapons were rocking full loads of live ammo. Normally gate guard duty required live ammo anyway, but Wallace wondered why they were rocking the rest of their equipment.
“Hey, sarge, before I head out, do you have any intel on why the base is at FPCON Delta? They didn’t tell us anything when I came on shift.”
Sargent Hernandez put his book down and turned to look at the specialist. “What, you haven’t been watching the news lately Specialist?” When Justin shook his head no, the Sargent continued.
“Remember the groups that’ve been popping up claiming they went to some kind of video game dungeon thing and came back? Supposedly some of them had special instructions from what they call the ‘system’ to tell earth that we would be invaded. Obviously the government isn’t going to let them cause mass panic about that by discussing it on TV, so instead the pentagon has been working on some real top secret hush hush stuff involving the scrapped Iron Man project from a few years ago to combat any possible invasion. Supposedly this is part of that. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“I thought all that was just some publicity stunt for that new VR game. Something about how uncanny all the interviews were made me think it couldn’t be real. You think we have anything to worry about, sarge?”
“I think you are about to have to worry about my boot up your ass if you don't get out there and relieve Private First Class Jenkins” The NCO responded.
Justin hurried toward the door, and checking his gear one last time, stepped out. The sweltering humidity of mid-August heat in south Georgia drenched the specialist in sweat almost as soon as the door swung shut behind him. The line of cars waiting to get on post was a bit longer than usual, but nothing unexpected. Wallace waited for the PFC to finish directing the vehicle he was currently working on before walking over.
“I got another one. Damn SOF guys think they’re above the law. We’ll see how he likes being ‘randomly inspected’. That’ll teach ‘im.” PFC Jenkins huffed. The poor girl was from Alaska and had only recently joined the unit. She obviously hadn’t acclimatized to the infamous Georgia heat yet.
“Ha. I do love giving the greenies a hard time now and again. Anyway, you owe me 3 packets of Zyn before I relieve you, so pay up.” Specialist Wallace chuckled.
“How the fuck do you figure that? I was paid up last time I had a shift with you. And don’t try to say I owe you from drunk poker, I didn’t go out with you guys over the weekend.” After a moment she continued. “Wait… Noooo… Don’t tell me you got the sarge to play fuck-marry-kill!”
Wallace chuckled and nodded. Before he could speak, a loud HONK-SCREEEEEEE drew his attention. A white Ford F-350 pickup slammed into the blue Honda sports car in front of it causing the crunch and screech of twisted and crumpled metal. Wallace turned his head to make eye contact with the PFC, making sure they’d both witnessed the same thing. The shocked expression on her face likely mirroring his own.
********
SGT. Gio Hernandez hurriedly strapped on his plate carrier. Unlike the other two junior enlisted, he’d been around long enough to know why they kept their gear on while inside of the ‘office’, but he wasn’t going to sweat his squad if the platoon sergeant didn’t find out. It looked like the two would learn their lesson today. Verifying his M7 had a round in the chamber, he stepped out of gatehouse #4. The guards in the other lanes were keeping things moving, but a few people had gotten out of their vehicles to see what was happening. He needed to get this sorted out before anyone did anything crazy. A bunch of FNGs with live ammo facing a gawking public in this heat was not his idea of a good time. God only knew what paperwork he’d have to do if there was an accidental discharge, or someone got their weapon taken.
PFC Jenkins was talking to the driver of a blue Honda sports car while SPC Williams motioned for the driver of a white ford pickup to get out of his vehicle. At first Hernandez couldn’t figure out what had happened, but his stomach dropped as the driver in the white pickup pointed up.
At the same moment, Gio noticed an odd buzzing sound. Looking up, he saw something he’d never expected. A silvery box hoovered in the air, high above. Three much smaller objects surrounded it, growing larger by the second.
“Williams, get the fuck back here. Help Jenkins get the Honda driver out of the vehicle, and get behind the concrete barriers.” Gio issued orders as he strode forward bringing his M7 chambered in the new high power .277 Fury round into a low ready. He grabbed a bullhorn off a plastic chair in passing and turned it on before addressing the pickup driver.
“Attention all civilian drivers, please put your vehicles in reverse and vacate the area. This gate is closing until further notice. Military Personel, pull to the side of the road, turn your vehicles off, and proceed in an orderly fashion toward the closest MP, where you will receive further orders.”
lGio hoped the drivers would comply. He’d been forced to pull the trigger before, and it had made him question everything he thought he knew about doing the right thing. To have to do that to an American citizen was not something he was comfortable with, but he couldn’t have people ramming each other at his gate, causing a possible blockade.
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Gio reached for the push-to-talk at the right shoulder strap of his plate carrier before realizing he hadn’t attached it this morning. Instead he fumbled with his radio for precious seconds. A quick glance up let him know they would be fighting for their lives in seconds, as several more dots were now falling from the sky.
Just as Gio got the radio in his hand and keyed the mike, a loud roar filled the air, followed by a several “BOOOOMs” and the distinctive “shiiif-shiiif-shiiif” sound of surface to air missiles launching sounded almost immediately after. Two Air Force F-35A flew by, one of them emitting chaff as it passed. A third boom followed a brilliant explosion that lit the sky.
Once Gio realized he was still keying the mike, he spoke quickly. “This is gate 3. We are under attack from unidentified airborne forces. Air Force assets have engaged the enemy craft. All men take defensive positions and prepare to engage ground forces as they land.” as soon as he’d finished, he slid the radio into the pouch in the back of his plate carrier and wished again that he’d taken the time to set up a proper Push-To-Talk.
“Williams, Stay with the other driver. Jenkins, move up and cover me!” Hernandez turned to look over his shoulder and issue commands. It proved to be a deadly mistake.
Jenkins quickly brought her weapon to the low ready, sprinting to the blue car, before ducking behind it and moving into a cover position with the Sergeant.
A figure in thick shining armor landed gracefully, right knee slightly bent to brace the impact. There wasn’t any parachute that could be seen, and the figure didn’t roll forward as any normal airborne trooper would. Instead, her ice cold blue eyes swept the surroundings with disdain. Golden blond hair fell across the figure’s neck and shoulders, partially hiding her face. The armor seemed at first intricately designed, somehow accentuating the figure’s feminine curves Her, with lines of glowing blue and green swirling into gold and silver patterns. Her eyes landed on the soldiers in front of her, and her nose literally rose slightly at the sight.
“Bow before your new ruler silly mortals! I am Princess Rineth-Fayin, the Raven Huntress, and I claim this land for the Unseelie Court! I have come, and what I see, I shall conquer!”
The perfect image of beauty was marred as the air around her wavered for a moment, displaced by the flared thrusters of more soldiers landing behind her. At the same moment, a glittering sword of ice materialized in a gauntleted hand. A swift flick of the wrist was all it took to decapitate SGT. Hernandez, his hot arterial blood spraying over the Huntress. The motion flipped the woman’s hair back, revealing long, pointed elvan ears.
PFC Jenkins hesitated for a split second, but as soon as the princess’ eyes met hers, something deep in the subconscious part of her brain blared a warning that all was not right, and the adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream.
“Get fucking dead” Jenkins screamed, opening fire with an erratic burst of .277 fury rounds. Shortly after, the sharp bark of other M7’s joined in, as the rest of the MP’s found firing solutions on the ethereal beauty who’d just murdered their squad leader.
Unfortunately things wouldn’t be quite that easy for the soldiers manning gate 3 at Fort Moore. Sparks flashed as rounds were deflected around the fey princess. Fortunately the deflected rounds found homes in the bodies of the elvan soldiers marching steadily out of the portal.
The princess laughed, raised her hand, and made a series of gestures that would have been impossible for anyone except a trained contortionist to execute. pale blue lightning lanced through the air, bringing with it a cold wind and the smell of the north sea, before striking PFC Jenkins center mass, and discharging into the blue Honda she’d been using for cover. Instead of exploding, both the car and the private were instantly encased in a block of ice, the same color as the princesses eyes.
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Specialist Wallace’s stomach. Too much crazy shit was going down at fuck-you speed. The gate would be overrun. He needed to pass along what intel they had so that the personnel on base could re-group and fight back. Thank God everyone was rolling in full battle rattle. If this had been a FOB, or an installation in another country, they might have stood a chance with the additional firepower of heavy weapons emplacements, and a mounted QRF, but stateside, even at FPCON Delta, the only thing he could do was get to a radio and hope it’d be enough.
Wallace grabbed the driver of the blue Honda by the back of the shirt, and shoved him down between the concrete barriers. A loud thunderclap rang out of the cloudless sky, and Wallace shivered a bit, almost tripping over himself as he turned and ran for the gatehouse. Another bright flash preceded a second thunderclap, but Wallace didn’t turn to look. The haunting laughter of the princess told him everything he needed to know.
After sprinting full out toward the guardhouse for what felt like an eternity, Wallace finally reached the door, slamming into it, before quickly yanking the handle. Nothing happened. “Shit! Fuck! Fucking shit fuck!” The specialist swore, fumbling in his pocket for his CAC, precious seconds wasted on additional security features that hardly mattered at the moment.
Wallace’s fingers closed around the thin plastic card, before he yanked it out of his pocket and sliced it hurriedly through the reader panel next to the doorknob. The light on the panel flashed green, and with another yank, the door flew open.
Wallace strode purposefully toward the radio. He could already hear panic induced professionalism in the voices going out over the net. The US military had what some would call an excess of combat experience, so most of the radio operators were keeping to script, rather than screaming into their transceivers.
“All stations this net, this is SPC Wallace at gate 3. We are being overrun. Some magical elf girl sliced up the sarge and is throwing lightning ice balls around. I say again, we are being overrun by air assault elves and magic. Request immediate reinforcement by heavy weapons. .277 isn’t doing a shit-fucking thing!” Wallace cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. If he made it out of this, he’d be doing push ups for the rest of his life. He could kiss any future promotions goodbye. Actually saying “elf” and “magic” on an open net would brand him forever. Gods only knew what new nicknames the guys would come up with for him. It might almost be better if he died here.
The sound of shattering glass brought the specialist back to the present. He ducked just in time to avoid having an arrow the size of a javelin impale him. Instead it sunk a solid 8 inches into the wall behind him. Something rolled off the desk and bounced on the floor in front of him. The distinctive pin and spoon assembly identified the object as an M67 HE fragmentation grenade. Time to give a little hate.
‘Thumb the clip, twist and pull pin,’ Wallace thought, body somehow following along through sheer muscle memory as the adrenaline spike caused the specialist to shiver continuously. 'Sneak-a-peek' Wallace thought as his eyes came up just high enough to see out of the broken glass. Massed elvan infantry marched toward him, long bows taller than themselves drawn and ready to fire more javelin size arrows, getting closer by the second. The princess was nowhere to be seen, but the last of the sporadic rifle fire cut off in a gut-wrenching scream answered that question.
Wallace made eye contact with the panicking driver still hiding between the concrete barriers before shouting. “Frag the fuck out!” and lobbing the grenade into the middle of the advancing infantry formation. Wallace watched for a moment, noting the elves' seeming disregard for the explosive. They’d learn this lesson the hard way.
SPC Wallace dropped back down behind cover, just in time for a thunderous roar to fill the air. A wall of heat and force flew out before seeming to contract back on itself. A satisfying spray of blood, viscera, and bits of chainmail coated the back wall. Wallace grinned viciously, a feeling of violent glee filling him. That feeling faded to confusion as a blue window seemed to pop up, filling Wallace’s vision.
Kill Detected
Multi-Kill Detected
Kill streak leader detected
System Initializing….
SPC Justin Wallace, Welcome to the system. Killing a sentient being from another world has granted you access.
Scanning…
You have Killed (18) enemy combatants, and have been awarded a multi-kill and kill streak achievement.
Judging baseline stats…
You have been awarded the class soldier (common) in recognition of your life experience. Would you like to accept?
[Yes]/[No]
Wallace waved his arm, and blinked repeatedly, but the blue box wouldn’t go away. 'Fuck it, yes! Now get the hell out of my brain’ he thought, accepting the class assignment. Right now all that mattered was survival, and this blue box shit was seriously getting in the way of that. He might eventually regret making this sort of decision in a tense moment without properly analyzing it, but there wasn’t really any other option if he wanted to stay alive.
SPC Justin Wallace gripped his M7 as soon as the box disappeared, and stood up, hoping to re-engage the broken infantry formation. Instead, he found himself face to face with the Ice Queen from Hell.
“There you are, little mouse. Don’t you know better than to hide from me, especially after blowing up so many of my toys! A soldier should have the decency to stand and fight. I guess maybe that’s too much for your puny human brain to comprehend?” The princess slowly reached out for SPC Wallace’s throat, and he found himself powerless to move or resist.
“Now be a good little play thing and don’t die too fast.” The princess giggled. Wallace felt the edges of his vision going dark, and could vaguely hear himself gagging and choking. Just when it seemed Valhalla would call him home, the force keeping him immobile vanished.
“How bout you pick on someone your own size you twat!” An accented voice buzzed over a radio Wallace couldn’t see. He was too busy trying to catch his breath to see what happened, but the unmistakable “THWUMPA-THWUMPA-THWUMPA” of a Maw Deuce opening up in the near vicinity painted a decent enough picture. Somehow backup had arrived, and just in time too. Odd he didn’t hear the distinctive rumble of any vehicles, but at least they’d bright the big guns.
Wallace glanced up, but what he saw didn’t make any kind of sense. A metallic humanoid shape, roughly the size of an upright row boat, kneeled forward in a supported firing position a hundred meters inside the base, facing him and the fae princess. As he watched, the barrel of the distinctive anti vehicle machine gun mounted to the thing’s arm flared a few times, followed by the distinctive sound of .50 BMG going to work. ‘What the flying fuck is that? Am I hallucinating? Did I die and go into limbo or something?’
“AAAAAH!” The princess screamed behind him, and Wallace’s already damaged ears stopped working. The princess’ backhanded blow was the last thing Wallace saw before slipping into the pitch blackness.