Kenny Rouge jogged around the exterior of Fort Kickass, the cold air breeze wafting up his painfully short silky shorts and dancing across the Eagle Globe and Anchor tattoo on his chest. His gun belt and M9A4 bobbed up and down heavily as he pushed a nearly 15-minute for 5-kilometer pace.
He and Yule shared their favored pistol, but the old Army salt insisted the A2 was the better version. Kenny preferred the A4 because it allowed him to attach a light and a red dot sight. Sometimes, he thought the other commander of the Veil Riders was just a boomer in their regard, and at times it even got on his nerves.
Kenny smiled as the light of dawn illuminated the fields around the base, the soft rays warming the tall stalks of grains. It looked like barley to him, but he wasn’t precisely a farming expert. However, it still made him think of home back in Wisconsin as he kept on pace.
After all, he had somewhere to be in only forty minutes.
Today, Koko, his company commander, would give him a new mission. He could finally get back into an assignment that would let him use the skills he had sharpened for years in the Marine Corps: shooting, scouting, reporting, and kicking in some teeth—-just like Chesty Puller would want any Devil Dog to do.
He had enjoyed his break, but after the third day of taking afternoon cat naps, he started to get bored. On the fifth day, he was afraid he might go insane because he had nothing to do.
Around him, Platoons of Zerg Company Auxiliaries conducted their morning physical training(PT). Their Sergeants barked at them, calling stragglers and PT studs “lazy fat bodies undeserving of their uniform.”
Kenny enjoyed this element of the Auxiliaries; they treated the military as it should have been, mirroring the mentality of the United States Armed Forces during the 80’s and 90’s. Koko of Zerg Company and Yule of Cosmoline Company agreed on this, ensuring the young recruits were iron-skinned and mithril-minded.
One Sergeant was calling out cadence in American English, and all of the recruits had learned the song to the point he could understand it. Seeing that made Kenny smile. Despite none of the troopers being Humans, the NCOs (non-commissioned officers) and recruits had taken to helping the Veil Riders repeal the Southern Elves like fish to water.
Most platoons made a hole and allowed him to run unmolested; a few did not, but he barreled through them, regardless of species. He was not about to let a few Elves, Yamatu, or Dwarves slow down his pace. After all, he was already known for this, and the other recruits not warning the new guys was their problem.
Thank the gods that all the Veil Riders had drilled into the locals that Humans were not to be messed with, with most species giving Humans a healthy and respectful distance, other than the Oni, Gnolls, or Himalayan harpies. Those battle junkies could not be clawed off single Human men or women, with the far latter nearly taking it as a challenge. Even as he ran through the base towards the main gates, he could feel the hungry eyes on the back of his neck.
Kenny waved and smiled at a pair of Valley Elf women guarding the main gate; both had athletic figures complimented by the flat olive-drab green uniforms hugging their lissom curves. Both returned the gesture, not even checking to see if he should be there; Not like they needed to, there were barely a handful of Humans still on base, and he knew that pair by their asses alone.
God, their asses looked like a plump handful, and their sporty build made his brain go unga bunga each time he saw the blonde duo. Too bad that they did not seem interested in him. If they ever changed their minds, he would take them for a ride they would never forget.
After returning to his barracks, Kenny tossed off his gun belt, showered, and donned his woodland Marpat(Marine Pattern). His woodland cammies made him stand out on the base. The other troopers all wore the standard olive drab uniforms of the Veil Riders, whereas he sported the woodland and desert digital camouflage that was unique to the USMC. Koko had tried to get him to change to the typical uniform many times, but fuck that—Kenny was a Marine and should dress like one.
The other notable thing about him besides his attire and being Human was that he was missing half a hand and his left eye, which he typically covered with a black leather patch. These were reminders of his failure to stay awake while driving in Afghanistan, not seeing the IED in time, and paying with flesh for his mistake.
That failure haunted him like a cruel specter. It mocked him every night about how those good Lance Corporals were gone forever.
But that was in the distant past. Now was the time for the future, one filled with all the blood, guts, and danger a Marine could swing a stick at.
Kenny excitedly donned his plate carrier and slung his rifle, a highly customized and tuned AR-10, built to be his workhorse whenever the bolt action hanging on the wall was too slow. Kenny tossed on his old boonie hat and headed toward the chow hall before his date with destiny.
—-
Koko’s office was so clean and organized that it felt wrong to leave even the slightest dirt on the polished floor. Morning light flittered through the cracked window, offering illumination and front-row seats to the sound of platoons calling cadence and the sight of the Veil Riders flag flapping in the morning breeze.
Across an intricately carved wooden desk sat Koko, the man leading this entire base and the one who had to deal with all the paperwork. In neat and file order between them were stacks of the things: requisition slips, recon reports, spy communications, commendation requests, and correspondence with Yule back at Valhalla Hill.
All the files were waiting for Koko’s signature and attention, but Kenny had been bugging the sharp-eyed man for weeks about reassignment back to the front lines. As such, the Devil Dog had the Army salts full bore attention.
Koko ran a thumb down his cheek as he watched Kenny enter through the open door. He was right on time, as per usual.
“So, do I get to lead a platoon back on the front?” Kenny impatiently asked, quickly sitting in the plush chair before Koko’s desk.
“Not even a hello? How did you sleep? Brother, I get you are excited to get out of the FOB(forward operating base), but still,” Koko rolled his eyes, aware of the impatience this Recon Marine had shown over the last few months. “You can temper your enthusiasm enough to greet me at least.”
Koko did not want to send Kenny away; he was too valuable. The man had directed half the construction of Fort Kickass's fortifications, taught the Auxiliaries skills only a few of the Veil Riders could, and was always reliable in leading a mission. As a matter of fact he was hoping to keep Kenny on the base as a full-time instructor, as the Marine alone could speed up the training of far better recruits.
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But Kenny's annoyance had become evident. He was not getting sloppy, but his cobalt-blue eye had lost its luster, and his step had slackened a little more, lacking their usual blood-drunk enthusiasm.
Kenny was miserable on the back lines, and if Koko kept him here any longer, the Marine would either start drinking away the boredom or sneak off without him knowing.
And all of that was before considering that there were less than a hundred remaining Humans on this side of the Veil, so sending one off to his death for no reason was not something Koko was willing to do. Sure, there were some prisoners Yule had a hold of after Tallwheat, but he was not sold on that idea.
“What do you want, boss? You told me I was leaving today; I want to get to the point.” Kenny argued, gesturing wide to the base outside. “If we wait any longer, I will have to plan around mid-day chow.”
“Fine, fine, you impatient ass,” Koko sighed, waving off Pitila, who had just opened the door to bring them piping hot cups of tea.
Kenny glanced over his shoulder at the secretary slinking back into the hallway, barely getting a look at the white-feathered Owl Harpy. His eyes did not linger long on her. She was a lovely lady—a bit of a stick in the mud, but that was fine since birds weren’t his thing anyway.
Koko sighed and pulled a scroll from one of the drawers, tapping it in his hands.
“Is that it?” Kenny said, nearly leaping out of his chair and snatching the scroll.
Koko saw this coming and quickly retracted the paper, looking earnestly at Kenny down his Roman nose. That was something Kenny would not call uncharacteristic of the man, but something was off.
Usually, Koko was serious in the way a CO(Commanding Officer) was to his troops; this felt almost like a brother getting ready to explain why hooking up with that cheerleader would be a bad idea.
“Are you certain there is nothing I can say to dissuade you from this?” Koko said in an almost pleading tone. “The troopers love to learn from you. I mean, they are terrified shitless of you, but you teach them all the things they never knew about close-quarters battle and riflery.”
“Not a single thing,” Kenny replied instantly, leaning further over the desk and grabbing the paper.
“God dammit, man, I get you are miserable. But I can't lose you; there are not enough of us left,” Koko growled with a sigh as he held the scroll tight, the two sharing a knowing glance. “Yule may think he can turn those turkeys green, but we will still be as rare as nut-free squirrel shit.”
Kenny was stubborn to a fault and would not chip in anything Koko could use against him. He decided to leave and planned that if Koko kept telling him no, he would sneak out in the next convoy. That and because Koko had already drafted the orders, they knew Kenny had already won. They were handwritten, after all, and Koko would not waste time like that.
With Koko conceding, he let the paper go and let Kenny read his fate.
The Marine settled into the chair, looking like a kid about to open a new Christmas present. A bright, toothy smile filled his face, and his back wiggled against the backrest. That did not last long once he unsealed the scroll and began to read the orders.
Koko watched as Kenny’s excitement faded into confusion, then horror, and finally, he looked up at Koko, flabbergasted.
“Is this some kind of joke, Top?” Kenny asked as he shook the paper at his CO.
“Nope, It’s all there in black and white,” Koko assured, having expected this kind of reaction. “Yule alerted me to an issue he learned from Gruesome.”
“A local contact and reporting team leader? I’m a door kicker, not a spy,” Kenny argued, his voice raising in volume as he gave the paper another flick in the air.
Kenny did not even mention the parts in the orders about where he was going or what it was for. So what if there was an old fort named Last Tower that was now a small city? Who gave a shit? Why was he not going to the front to drop bodies? Why not send one of those trench coat-wearing dorks from the intelligence corps to go there?
“Yeah, you are the man I want in charge of this,” Koko replied, leaning back in his chair. “Look on the bright side; you get to pick who you will work with. Other than someone from my staff, that is fine.”
“Oh yeah, a real nice consolation,” Kenny mocked, “I get to go grab some rando, a Humvee, and go prancing about away from combat and write you letters.”
“You and I both know that observing and reporting is what Recon Marines, and particularly Scout Snipers, are good at,” Koko pointed at Kenny and smirked. “You will know exactly what to do when you get there, how to get there alive, and how to get there without being spotted too much.”
That almost made Kenny boil, but Koko was right. Most of his time in the Helmand province had been spent sitting in a hide and using a radio. Yeah, he got to drop some bodies when he worked with other Recondos, but those missions were the exception, not the rule.
“Is there any limit on what I can requisition for the operation?” Kenny asked, resigning himself to this new fate. He started folding the paper into a small square for his records, rolling his jaw in nearly unbridled annoyance.
“Not really, so long as you aren't asking for a tank or anything too extreme,” Koko chuckled. “Just fill out the forms and send them my way before you and whomever you are taking leave. I will also need their information to transfer them to your team.”
“I can do that. When do you want me to go?” Kenny asked as he stood and turned toward the door, now a little less excited to grab and pack his ruck.
“Asap,” Koko replied as Kenny opened the door and stepped out, not even waiting for Koko to finish his sentence. “Oh, you’re just going to lea–happy travels, dickhead!”
That was something Kenny did understand, walking by the quietly giggling Pitila. Yeah, observing and reporting was not what he wanted, but with the right finagling, this could end up the way he wanted it to.
Now, to just find the right trooper to be his spotter.
Once outside, the morning sun welcomed him again, and he inhaled his first lungful of active-mission air. Kenny scanned the star-shaped base and wondered what shop would have the trooper he wanted— he needed someone who could be a good shooter, able to carry their weight, would do paperwork, and would, most importantly, be detail-oriented.
He had many options for the type of trooper he could recruit from the base, which had almost all the types of soldiers he could ever want. Kenny ruled out several instantly: cooks, mechanics, admin, and the military police; he did not have time to train them before they set off, hopefully in the morning.
That left him with the Infantry, mortar crews, or the tankers. All had negatives and drawbacks, and some definitely shined brighter than others.
The Infantry were good shooters and could carry their weight, but good luck getting those knuckle draggers to do paperwork. They barely even filled out their proper requisition slips as it was.
The tankers were in the same boat as them, plus getting those grease monkeys away from those iron horses was impossible. It didn’t help that every vehicle was special and highly expensive, and operating one was akin to riding a King’s war stallion into battle.
That left Kenny with one pool he could recruit from—the mortar batteries. They were smart, used optics to range targets, and knew how to write, do math, and read a map. They also had to lug around all that heavy kit all the time.
Kenny performed a clean left face, marched with a purpose, and imagined what kind of Oni or Dwarve would want to sign up for this little excursion with him. The options were mouthwatering because those people craved war the same way he did, and there would be very little fuss if they had to open up and pop some heads.
He marched past some troopers unloading crates, and they all stepped out of the way, many of them holding their bladed hands to the space between their eyebrows and bowing their heads, respectively. This was a new thing, as many of those around Fort Kick Ass were beginning to only give this kind of salute to the Humans.
Kenny rendered them a casual salute in return but paid them no mind as he cycled through all the mortar teams he knew—Kenny had trained half of them, and they were eager folk—so he had no doubt a line of potential candidates would come forward.
Oh, how wrong he was.