Hello, and welcome to my first strike witches fanfic. This story is quite anti-meta maybe, because this is told mainly from the Neuroi's perspective. The main character of this fic isn't a witch, isn't a pilot, but an officer, and a Neuroi, possessing a human body. Because I don't want the context of the story to be bland, I decided to make my own universe, which is still based on the strike witches universe, but with territorial changes, and write the story in a different perspective. I don't know if this is such a good idea, but I believe it is.
Anyway, the prologue is pretty short, as it is...a prologue. It is a prelude to the events of the story, which I will try to extend it when I get to it. Also, the first chapter is very much inspired by the intro of the game Napoleon Total War. I've watched Napoleon in the game initiating a huge landing on the coast of England while delivering an awesome speech. The first line in this story is directly quoted from one of his line.
Enjoy the first chapter, and be sure to leave a signed review if you want to praise or criticize my story. Constructive criticisms are always welcome. Honestly, I read every each of them, so your opinions won't be overlooked.
Disclaimer: All strike witches characters belong to their respective owners, only the OCs are owned by me.
"My enemies are many. My equals are none…"
The year was 1942, somewhere in September, midnight, on the Southern Eastern Coast of Britannia, a young man, in somewhat his late twenties, with spiky black hair, crimson red eyes, wearing a long distinguishable black coat, decorated with multiple red hexagons, red epaulettes and red buttons, pants and boots that shared the same color and pattern, was standing on top of Britannia's great white cliff, among a vast but transparent blanket of grey hanging heavily over the area. It wrapped around him, swooped past him, trying to obscure his vision, trying to blind his fovea, trying to freeze his skinny silhouette.
But to no avail.
The man stood upright, proudly and undauntedly, like a titan, a god, a conqueror of time and space, with his countenance towards a fleet, consisting of 3 ultra-heavy Neuroi battlecruiser, floating and lining up orderly just off the coast. They were all ready for the biggest conquest that was never thought to be possible just a year ago.
A flash of grin appeared on the young man's face, as he thought back.
"Standing behind the Maginot, Gallia is impenetrable, they said."
They were horribly wrong.
Those humans. Their puerile tactics doomed them. Their overconfidence led them to their grave. They thought they can hide safely behind a defense line made of concrete, installed with what they called the best arsenal in history. Fools!
The Neuroi headquarters, after some consideration, decided to initiate one large lightning campaign against Gallia in the summer of 1941. With simply one swift maneuver of ground Neurois through the Ardennes forest, Paris fell almost instantly. The campaign effectively ended, only one month and a half from its outset, a huge decisive victory for the Neuroi, with the occupation of the invaded country. The remnants were forced to retreat to Britannia, as the Neurois paraded triumphantly under the Arc de Triomphe.
"Sitting inside the tanks and trucks in North Africa, the Neuroi will never reach the Suez Canal, they exclaimed."
The next thing he reminisces, was the North Africa campaign. After the fall of Gallia, the Britannian, Gallian and Karlslander decided to send a large majority of its forces to North Africa and attack the Neurois there, hoping to establish a foothold so that they could launch a counter-attack on Southern Gallia. But that hope of theirs was utterly crushed soon after.
After the arrival of the Elite Neuroi Corp, they never stood a chance. From the successful siege of Tobruk, to the two decisive victory at El Alamein and Suez Canal, the Neurois once again triumphed, even though they had to face some losses due to the appearance of a new type of fighting unit: witches. To be honest, they were maneuverable, fast and agile, capable of destroying heavy to ultra-heavy Neurois. However, it was not enough.
"Living in the freezing cold winter, Orussia will never be conquered, they believed."
Once again, they were proved wrong.
The lightning campaign that gave the Gallian a terrible defeat at their very own homeland, also worked in Orussia. A simultaneous assault in three different directions had led to the capture of most of their cities and resource plants. After only a month, the only cities standing were Leningrad, Stalingrad, and their capital Moscow.
The Orussian fought valiantly, they must admitted. From witches, to every generals, officers, soldiers, they all had ginormous will to protect their motherland. And the Orussian winter, they were terrifying. Some small Neurois couldn't withstand the extremely low temperature, and were frozen, unable to fight. The Orussian sometimes launched a counter attack then, which gave the Neurois had quite a hard time.
But it was just quite.
Once winter had passed, all was lost.
Without the weather blocking their advances, the Neurois marched again, destroying all in its path. In April 1942, Leningrad fell. 3 weeks later, Moscow fell. Finally, after some fierce fighting that lasted for over 6 months, Stalingrad also fell into the Neuroi's hand, effectively ending the invasion of Orussia, with the occupation of the Neurois in that country.
"Now, no one of them dares to say anything. They are all silenced. They hated me. They cursed at me. They fear me.
I say I am Alexander Kherol. I am a Neuroi!"
He was back to reality, as the fog started to clear, revealing a starry night sky above the coast of Dover.
The three battlecruisers flashed a red light from their hulls, illuminating the entire coast line.
They are ready.
The young man placed a black peaked cap on his head, as he gazed down on the Neuroi fleet.
This is it, a new era for Europe, and for all humanity.
"Let the invasion begin!" He said with a loud and clear voice, reaching out his arm, his hand opened, as if he was holding in it the entire continent already.
In an instant, the three battlecruisers opened its hull, revealing hundreds, thousands, possibly millions, of smaller sized Neurois, in different types and forms. They all flew out simultaneously, filling the sky with nothing but blacks and reds. At the same time, hundreds of amphibious Neurois, each carrying yet another dozens of smaller ground Neurois, appeared from the ship's lower hull, preparing to land on the coast.
As he watched the deployment of Neurois, the invasion forces marched slowly but terrifyingly towards mainland Britannia. There is no one that can, or dare to, stand in their way.
Their destination: London.