THE SPECIAL REGION
by CasuallyNoodles
1-1
Welcoming Party
A year and a half ago, a portal appeared in the fertile farmlands of rural North Carolina. What came out of the portal was a massive fantastical army of swordsmen, cavalry, dragons, and great beasts of fiction. They burned the fields and nearby towns, they raped every woman they encountered, and they murdered every man and child that stood in their way. A unified National Guard, a local department, and a number of infuriated townsmen was enough to defeat the invaders. The horror became known as the "Carolinian Incident".
Some of the invaders were captured, specifically those who were human. Those who weren't were immediately disposed of. There was an obvious language barrier, but experts and eggheads were able to successfully decipher their language. It was seen as a major milestone.
In the days that followed, President Donald Trump made a speech remembering the fallen lives of service members and citizens alike. Afterwards, he called for the complete destruction of whoever was responsible for this.
2300 Americans were brutally slaughtered that day. The otherworldly invaders had given them no second thought, and offered no mercy. American blood was spilled on American soil, and that was enough to unite a country deeply divided by the burden of political discourse.
Months after the attack, scouts and recon teams were sent into the portal to gather vital information about the land and it's inhabitants. This new world was officially dubbed as the "Special Region". They learned that the major power in this region was the "Saderan Empire". They had good reason to believe they were responsible for the attack that took so many lives.
The CIA had sent multiple operatives for deep intelligence gathering. By then, numerous operatives had infiltrated the many levels of the Empire from the life of simplicity to the lavish benefits of a high-ranking military officer. They even infiltrated the Imperial Palace itself.
A military base had immediately began construction around the portal. It took a year to build what was known as "Joint Expeditionary Base Armistead", named after Confederate General and North Carolina native, Lewis Armistead. It hosted an uncountable number of servicemen and women from the Marine Corps, Army, and Air Force.
Produced from these events was a military plan to force the Emperor to surrender. "Operation Thunderous Retaliation" was the name given by the Pentagon. The plan was to conduct a shock and awe campaign by bombing numerous cities and vital Imperial Military sites. Then ground troops would quickly sweep over the region, destroying anyone who stands in their way. Overwhelming the Empire was the goal, and America's technological advantage would give them just that.
Now, the year is 2022. The 1st Ranger Battalion is transferred to JEBA to spearhead the Army's invasion of the Special Region. A new era of modern warfare has begun.
Joseph Allen
Journal Entry: July 20, 2022
I didn't feel like buying a GoPro to film the coming adventures of entering the Gate. I broke my other camera a few months ago. Instead, before coming here, I bought a composition notebook along with three writing utensils to jot down my thoughts about America's conquering heroes. I guess you could call me a scholar.
And here I am writing in my bunk.
So, here I am at Joint Expeditionary Base Armistead. Right now I should be hitting the hay, but I'm taking some time off to write my first entry. We're about to step off a few days from now on. For weeks we've been prepping for what seems like what would be one of the most shortest engagements in modern American military history.
We still don't know what to expect on the other side. Not sure what's going to happen when we arrive until the President decides what's going on and stuff. However, that's understandable. New world and shit. Who knows?
If we ever encounter those Rose Order of Knights, the Empire's supposedly elite knights in shining armor riding on a stallion we've been briefed about - maybe in a city like Sadera or whatever, and they choose to stand their ground and fight us? We'll kick their ass. I also wonder what'd it be like to kill something like an elf or an orc. I guess you could say I'm looking forward to it.
I suppose I'll be writing a lot for the next few weeks if I have the time, but right now it is around 2200 Hours. I have to be up at 0530 to get ready for PT.
I'll be signing off.
Joint Expeditionary Base Armistead, North Carolina
July 21, 2022
0530 Hours
1st Ranger Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment
Allen's alarm clock was enough for him to lazily open his crusty eyes. A sign that he had slept well. He rubbed his eyes to remove whatever those crispy crumbs in his eyelids were.
He yawned, he stretched, then he hit the snooze button as he slept for another ten minutes before finally struggled up. His roommate, Cpl. James Ramirez, was still knocked in the head.
Allen washed his face and took a number two on the toilet. He finished up wiping his ass, then he washed his hands. It was the daily morning bathroom routine for him. He did each and every task in a certain order to the point that he had become an emotionless robot.
"Get up!" Allen hurled a pillow at his snoring squadmate. The pillow fell onto the floor.
The snoring stopped as Ramirez suddenly opened his eyes and said something unintelligible.
Allen glanced at the alarm clock which read 0550. "Ten minutes until six o'clock."
"I'm awake, I'm awake." Ramirez attempted to convince himself as he grabbed his iPhone off the floor and began to scroll through the screen. "I'm awake."
Allen replaced his pajamas with his black PT uniform with the word ARMY imprinted on the shirt. He added his reflective belt as the finishing touch.
He entered the small kitchen and took an orange Gatorade out from the refrigerator. He began to gulp it down as if he had been severely dehydrated.
Allen, like many others in his company, was an avid drinker of sports and energy drinks. He'd drink it anywhere at any time, any occasion. Like water, it was natural to him.
"Suicide has been considered." Allen told himself as he reattached the cap onto the bottle. "Just don't have the guts."
0630 is where the fun begins.
The sun had began to rise from the east a few minutes ago. The weather was going to be perfect. The sky was clear with no clouds in sight. A cool breeze meshed with the rising warmth of the sun provided ideal running conditions. It wasn't too hot nor cold. The humidity was low. It was just plain tolerable.
Allen would have negative thoughts before PT would start. He wondered if he'd suddenly throw up during the two mile run, or if the 1SG would ever yell at him, but in the end, it turns out that PT wasn't as terrible as he thought it would be.
The 1SG came out of nowhere as he faced all the tired, sleepy grunts before him. He gave a devilish smile in his PT uniform as he made eye contact with every man in each line.
First they did roll call as the 1SG called out Bravo Company's many ranks and names. It was boring for Allen until it finally reached his row.
Allen was prepared to yell his name to make a good impression every morning to the NCOs - show that he's a good soldier. At times when he's alone, he'd quietly rehearse himself calling out his name and rank.
"Staff Sergeant David Foley?"
"Present, First Sergeant!" Two-One Alpha's team leader called out.
"Corporal Jake Dunn?!"
"Present, First Sergeant." Corporal Dunn casually stated his presence.
"Corporal Joseph Allen?!"
Allen made himself well known and crisp clear. "Present, First Sergeant!"
The 1SG went on to the next man.
"Corporal James Ramirez?"
"Present, First Sergeant." One could hear the hint of Hispanic in his tone.
The 1SG continued through each platoon and team throughout Bravo Company until they finished up by saluting the colors.
Bravo Company's 1SG was often one to give motivational speeches before every running session. Sometimes he'd speak about pushing yourself past your limits. At times he would talk about how obsessed the Rangers should be about the grind, and how it never stops. He'd talk about holding one another accountable, and that they should lift their buddies up. This time it was about combat readiness.
"Alright, gentlemen. Before we step off, I want us to be as fit, as combat ready as possible." he addressed everyone. "Let's push ourselves this morning. The enemy we will fight once we go through that Gate is afraid of us. I say we put the fear of God in them."
The Rangers ran their two miles. Some were quick as a hare while some had slowed down near the end. Then they finished up with push-ups and sit-ups.
All of this sweat in one hour.
Joseph Allen
Journal Entry: July 23, 2022
It's been three weeks since our battalion was transferred to Armistead. Everyone here is starting to get a little stir-crazy. We have our usual daily routine to keep us busy, but we try to find ways to stay motivated. A few guys are a little on edge due to the fact that we're invading a completely new world with new lands, new resources, new countries, and possibly new beings. It's every fantasy nerd's wet dream.
A typical day at JEBA starts with us waking up at around 0530. We do physical training; eat chow; have our morning intelligence briefing; depending on what unit, you'd either work at desk, work at the motor pool, or conduct live fire exercises at the range, and sometimes it's a cycle; we clean our weapons; then we eat more chow; then we have a class that teaches us about Saderan tactics and weaponry; then we do whatever.
Since this is a peaceful installation, we'd have weekends off, but sometimes we don't. We always got the MPs watching our backs. Security is tight entering the Bulk. You never know if something goes wrong on the other side, or if some freaky shit comes rushing out and killing everyone.
I still don't understand why the brass calls the Gate the "Bulk". It's a fucking Gate if you look at it. It doesn't take a rocket-scientist to realize that.
I got a few buddies that brought their cameras to film our adventures, so we'll have a lot of story to tell when we get back home.
Corporal Lake Keating from Two-One Bravo approached Allen with a camcorder filming his face. A few other guys were heading into a large room with their uniforms on. Keating had been going around the barracks asking other Rangers from Bravo Company how their morning was progressing. Some responded, some didn't.
"How's your day going, Allen?" Keating asked with his deep, southern accent.
Allen gave a blank expression to the camera as Keating began to chuckle. "Pretty bad."
"On a scale on one through ten, how would you rate your day?"
Allen gave his answer a bit of thought as he tried to make it as creative as possible. "My friend, I woke up and realized my wife is back home in Georgia, so I didn't wake up to a blowjob. That automatically puts it at a five."
"Continue..."
"I woke up at 5:30 to do PT. Do you like doing PT?"
"No."
"Exactly, no one fucking likes PT, so my day drops down to a three. After this, I have to work at the motor pool, so now my day is at a solid zero." Allen gave an account of what daily life in the Army looked like for him.
"A solid zero?"
"A zero." Allen confirmed his current position.
"Is zero the average day rating for you?" Keating continued.
"More like a three, but today is a definitely zero."
Morning intelligence briefings started at around 0915. They would usually bring everyone in by platoons as the classroom wasn't large enough to fill a whole company, but it was large enough for an entire platoon.
Everyone sat wherever they pleased. The majority sat within their respective teams while some sat among friends. Keating carefully recorded what was going on while Team One's Assistant TL, SSgt. Christopher Macey, urged him to put the camera down and turn it off.
"My guy, how are you going to be driving my MRAP while recording the horrors of war with a fucking camcorder?" Macey growled at him.
Keating reluctantly closed the camcorder and set it down between his legs as he faced his squad leader.
"I could be rich, bro." was Keating's excuse.
"You think the mainstream media is gonna want your version of the war?"
"I dunno. Maybe."
If it was a war, because technically it wasn't a war - it was a military operation. The United States hadn't declared war against the Empire.
"Lake, they don't care about your point of view. CNN, MSNBC, ABC, all they fucking want are views and ratings. You see, a grunt's point of view doesn't appeal to CNN's peace-loving, snowflake audience and agenda. You get me, Corporal?" Keating's superior NCO lectured him. "Democrats want to defund us, man!"
Allen sat between Dunn and Ramirez. His TL's back-head was completely blocking his view. It was quite too crowded for him. There were too many men on a high-protein diet inside a single room.
Captain Nathan "Megamind" Kearse was the Intelligence Officer of the battalion. The Rangers would call him "Megamind" due to his huge forehead, and the fact that he personally believes he is "hyper-intelligent". He's from Battalion S2 where he and many other officers either do their job, or completely fuck it up and turn into incompetent junkies.
Megamind ran the intelligence briefings. He'd usually get the information from the many recon teams that have been sent into the Special Region. They've gathered a lot of mission-critical material.
"Alright, gentlemen. Welcome back to your daily intelligence briefings." in front of a PowerPoint presentation, he addressed everyone in the room. "Since we're about to step-off a few days from now on, we're just going to review what we've learned from the past few weeks."
Megamind hit an arrow button bringing the presentation to the first slide. A paused YouTube video was the first thing everyone saw with the title reading, "Slay That Dragon!"
The soldier running the PowerPoint let the video play.
"It's a new world out there past the Bulk! New countries like those piece of shit Imperials! New lands like the Special Region, and a limitless amount resources like water, trees, and oil!"
A few Rangers in the classroom chuckled while others remained silent and confused at what they were watching.
"And there's new fantastical creatures we thought were myths like goblins, orcs, elves, and dragons!"
The video showed a nerdy teenager beginning to ask a question, "Did you say dragons?"
"That's right, dragons! Don't you want to enter a new world? Join the United States Armed Forces, for a chance to be sent to the Special Region to fuck shit up, bring freedom, and slay that dragon!"
The soldier paused the video as a few Rangers clapped and laughed while others were very critical of it.
"I wonder if people actually enlisted because of this video." Dunn quietly mumbled.
"So, clearly that video was satire. However, I like the message. Slay that dragon, hooah?" Megamind stepped forward.
"Hooah!" the Rangers united their voices into one.
Megamind continued on with his intelligence briefing. He reviewed about the environment and terrain the Rangers would be fighting in. He informed everyone about recent enemy movements within the Special Region as they prepare for a fight. He also mentioned the political discourse occurring within the capital of the Empire through hired informants by the CIA.
"Saderans prepping for a fight." First Lieutenant Lawrence Church leaned over to Sergeant First Class Rance Hurley, his platoon sergeant.
"Mm."
"Any questions?" Like a classroom teacher, Megamind eyed for any raised hands.
"Sir," one Ranger poked his head out as he raised his hand. Megamind gave him the nod. "Are there any hot cat chicks on the other side?"
The room had bursted into laughter from the silly question that had been asked. Allen did wonder if there would be any humanoids in the other side. Sometimes he wished he a member of one of the recon teams.
"I have no word on that." Megamind answered the silly question.
At HHC, LtCol. George "Warlord" Marshall had gathered all the officers in the 1st Ranger Battalion for an intelligence briefing of his own. They all sat in the conference room as they listened attentively to their commanding officer.
"Word from CG is that he wants us maintain our readiness." Warlord spoke. "We've been preparing for months. I'd like to keep it that way as we cross into the Bulk-" the Colonel coughed. "Our objective remains as is: getting into that A-O; capturing the city of Endura and holding it for the rest of the Army to pull through."
The Colonel paused again as he made eye-contact with his fellow officers who were waiting for him to continue.
"I am aware that riding in the Special Region in high-quality MRAPs is not how the 75th Ranger Regiment rolls, but General Shepherd wants us to go by our motto, 'Lead The Way.' And that is exactly what I intend to do."
The Colonel was firm in his statement. He wanted to complete the mission with as little casualties as possible while at the same time trying to get in the action as much as possible.
The commanding officer of Alpha Company, Captain Patrick Carter, raised his hand.
"Captain Carter?"
The commander of Alpha Company made his concerns known, "Sir, my company doesn't have enough maps for the A-O."
"We'll have those maps for your company by tomorrow, Captain. Rest assured."
Captain Daniel Reyes, the commanding officer of Charlie Company, raised his hand from across the conference room.
"Sir," he began. "Is battalion having a translator when we push through the Special Region?"
Warlord hadn't expected that kind of question to be brought up in the meeting as he hesitated, conjuring a legitimate answer for his subordinates. "As of now, I am unaware of any translators being embedded into our unit. I'll raise the concerns to General."
Warlord allowed for one more question to be asked. He nodded when the commander of Bravo, Captain Bob "Spongebob" Sealey, lifted his hand for a question.
"Sir, what is the policy of the wearing of the beanies?" hearing this, some of the officers raised a brow while some grinned. "When should they not be worn?"
"Mantaining the grooming standard is mission critical. These men fancy themselves an elite unit, which is true, but they don't make the rules. By 1000 and 1700, watch caps are a no go."
The motor pool was bustling with activity as Bravo did their daily checkups on all the combat vehicles they will be riding in.
SSgt. Alex Kingston was conversing with a fellow NCO until a Ranger called out to him.
"Kingston!" a Ranger called out to Bravo Two-Two's squad leader. "Turret won't go past my six."
Kingston shifted his attention towards the Ranger working on the 50 Cal. mounted on the MRAP.
"Did you ask Jabe to fix it?"
"Um," the Ranger hesitated as he looked around the motor pool. "No."
"He'll fix you up."
Foley walked past a line of MRAPs as he watched numerous Rangers working on their vehicles before they prepare to step off into the Special Region. Macey hopped off his MRAP and approached the TL.
"Check it out." Macey caught Foley's attention as he pointed towards the gunner's position on his MRAP. "Only vehicle in the platoon with a minigun."
Foley grinned while tapping his assistant TL's shoulder. "As long as it brings death and destruction to our enemy."
No one realized that Two-One Alpha was the only vehicle in the entire platoon with a Mark-19 mounted. Nevertheless, the more firepower the better.
The majority of the MRAPs were in perfect condition since all they had to do was drive them to JEBA. Some needed a few fixes and adjustments before they'd be ready to deploy. It was all going throughout the motions, and all of them had gotten accustomed to it.
"Sergeant," Dunn drew closer to his TL with a large, folded up paper in his hand. "Maps for the A-O."
Dunn unfolded the map and held the large paper near Foley, displaying it to him.
"Wow, it's actually in color this time."
The two Rangers scanned the map as they saw all known strategic strongpoints for the Empire. All the cities and major towns were labeled along with geographical points such as lakes and rivers.
"Where we'll be." Dunn pointed towards the border staging area. Dunn then pointed to their objective. "Endura."
"That's around 80 klicks from the border staging area." Foley remarked.
"It's the whole A-O all the way to Sadera." Dunn added.
Foley took note of the many cities the Empire had built of a long period of time. He fathomed that the American entry into this new world would change the course of history forever for both worlds. Foley figured by the time a year had passed, American interests would've been deeply embedded into the Special Region. The Empire would've been unrecognizable by then. They're building and destroying history.
"Stow this on my MRAP." Foley handed the map back to the Corporal.
"You got it, Sergeant." Dunn folded the map as he entered deeper into the motor pool, searching for Foley's MRAP.
It was the third chow of the day, and after all the sweat-inducing work everyone had to endure, the men were finally itching for some decent chow. Burritos, hotdogs, hamburgers, and grilled cheese sandwiches would make one begin to salivate like a dog being called for food
Allen sat with his team members. He remained quiet as usual. Allen was never one to talk in large crowds. He'd go with the flow, and let others speak for him.
Dunn had finished his food in a flash as the talking barrage began. "Ramirez, how you feel about that wall being built on our southern border?"
Ramirez grinned while chewing his food. "As long as it keeps those bad hombres out. My man, I'm cool with it."
"I thought you were Mexican." Allen entered into the conversation.
"American."
Foley finally took charge of the conversation, "Corporal James Ramirez here is an assimilated Mexican. No longer does he identify with his Mexican heritage. Rather, he has joined the world of the white man, as have I."
Those across the table chuckled at Foley's witty jokes; Ramirez shook his head in agreement. Foley was known for cracking intellectual jokes. Great leadership and jokes is his unique quality. Dunn was known to talk too much. His sudden outburst of annoyingness was enough to make one's head explode, and Ramirez was that other funny, Mexican guy.
"Preseason starting in a few weeks." a Ranger from the other side of the table was heard from the rest of the chatter.
Dunn stood from his chair, professing his football passion. "Go Chiefs!"
"Ass." Allen replied.
"You miss me with that football shit. I'm taking a knee." Ramirez voiced his disdain for the American sport.
"Preseason doesn't even matter."
Chow time ended a few minutes later. Everyone stood up and began to throw away their trash and clean up their area. Then they went back to their barracks to get ready for the night.
LeLei La Lalena was in awe of the American fortress that stood on the other side of the Gate. No Imperial fortress or village could compare to the monstrous fortress that they called, "Armistead". There were guards on every corner bearing their strange, metal staffs of destruction she had heard of, but have never seen until now. The American warriors wore strange clothing from head to toe; their armor was completely different from that of the average legionnaire.
They did not use horses, nor carriages for transportation and warfare. Instead they used carriages made of steel. They utilized black wheels which were far more robust than the wooden wheels of a carriage. It came in all different shapes and sizes, and they all appeared invincible.
They had iron elephants which had the ability to destroy an entire legion. Facing one was enough to have even the Emperor himself tremble in fear.
Their dragons were made of steel and spat concentrated fire much more deadlier than that of the infamous Flame Dragon. They called them "Jets" and "Helicopters".
These people had no knowledge of magic, the dark arts, nor sorcery, but they made up for it with their creation of invincible and deadlier weapons. She understood that these "iron beasts" weren't actually creatures, but rather machines being controlled by men.
It was explicitly clear that these Americans were far more superior mentally, physically, and technologically. She clearly understood that the Empire had stepped on the griffin's tail, and the Empire would pay the price in full.
She first met the Americans when a small group of their soldiers arrived at Coda Village. Seeing them for the first time, she was intrigued by their way of life and culture. She wished to know more about these Americans.
She dedicated herself to become fluent in their language, so she volunteered to help them communicate with those who lived within the Falmart, and with a few months of study, she finally was able to understand and speak the American language, which they called "English".
A few escorts brought her to an office room where she sat on a very comfortable chair. In the room with her were two Americans. One was standing in front of another who sat behind a desk.
"Lieutenant Church." Warlord spoke. "I'd like to introduce you to battalion's translator, Ms. LeLei La Lalena. She'll be embedded into our company." Warlord gestured toward the blue-haired woman sitting on a chair with her mysterious, large stick in her hand.
He shot a friendly smile and waved. She seemed like a very introverted individual.
Lieutenant Church was more than amused by her wacky appearance. Aqua teal hair, teal blue eyes, strange robes, and that strange staff with a blue orb sitting on the top of the stick. It was like some type of anime cosplay, but he's never seen anything like it. What stuck out to him the most is how young she looked. He assumed she was in her late teens, but he believed no woman belonged in combat, especially one of her age. To him, it was a man's game.
"Recon Teams were able to snatch her from a hamlet. Intrigued by our American way of life." Warlord held a piece of paper and read her file. "A member of a nomadic tribe called the Rurudo, she is an arch-mage and sorceress of the human race, the second disciple of Cato El Altestan, the elder sage. Aspires to be a translator."
Lieutenant Church raised an eyebrow. "Sorceress? Can't say I exactly approve, sir."
"Lieutenant, I trust that you can keep your religious beliefs out of this matter."
"Understood, sir. But are you saying we're invading the Special Region with only one translator?"
"She was the only volunteer we could find."
Church nodded as he stared at her large staff.
"Take her to the barracks, and let her get used to the guys. She can be very helpful to our efforts." Warlord concluded the meeting. "Dismissed."
Lieutenant Church noticed how silent the girl was. She appeared so emotionless as she walked with him towards the barracks. Initiating a conversation with a quiet one wasn't so easy for him, and he wasn't quite the talker himself.
"So, how are you liking it here?" he hesitatingly asked.
"Armistead is a very massive fortress. You Americans know how to build such massive structures."
Church didn't know how to answer that.
"You're from the Special Region?" he asked.
"Yes." she made it plain as day.
"I've always wondered what the Special Region and its inhabitants are like."
"Lush greenery and cultivated fields with hills and mountains providing a satisfying taste to the eye. It's a diverse group of humans and demi-humans like Elves, the Warrior Bunnies, the Cat People, Orcs, Goblins, Dwarves, and many more."
"Wow." Church mouthed, intrigued by the many races that inhabited the Special Region.
Church was in awe of her fluency in English. It's only been a year and a half since the Empire first set foot on American soil, and here's a native already speaking perfect English.
"Do demi-humans exist in this world?" LeLei asked her first question.
"No, just us. Humans." he said. "We see demi-Humans as fairy tales."
They arrived at the barracks' lobby room. The first thing LeLei saw were numerous men laughing and having a good time in fellowship. It was some sort of room where people would just chill out and have fun. They was a small group of men sitting around talking around a table. One was drinking some sort of dark, brown substance. Two were hitting a small, white ball back in forth with paddles, and much more.
The sorceress had never seen any games like this before. The only games she knew well was competing with her sister and other mages.
"Gentlemen." Church gathered their attention. "I'd like to introduce to everyone the battalion translator, LeLei La Lalena."
The games had ceased, and the audible talking had stopped - only whispers remained in the room as the Rangers stared at the blue-haired girl in silence. Some were puzzled by her rather strange appearance; others questioned her age and gender; and the rest couldn't believe the amount of blue she had on her profile.
One Ranger was confused by her odd name. "LeLei the fuck?"
"A translator?" Lars spoke from the back.
Corporal Trey McCord followed after Lars. "Translator?"
"What's with the get-up?" Dunn joined into the playful interrogation, eyeing the sorceress' cosplay-like robes.
"She's a fucking porn star, my guy."
The Rangers assumed this was some type of anime-loving, Japanese-sympathizing lowlife who had nothing better to do except working as a cam-girl to please all the pedophiles itching for a little bit of action, then she suddenly realized there is actually a purpose in life, so she somehow learned the Saderan language and volunteered to be an Army translator
"She's from the Special Region." Church finally revealed her mysterious background.
There was a sudden shift in their tone. The Rangers suddenly rushed out of their seats as if a large dose of adrenaline was given to them. There was no doubt they were eager to meet the young lady from the other world. They crowded her and asked her all sorts of questions. The Lieutenant ordered them to calm down, and he allowed her to introduce herself to the Rangers.
"My name is LeLei La Lalena." she said. "I... am a translator that wishes to serve the American warriors in their fight against the Empire." she refused to bring up the fact that she is a sorceress, an arch-mage. She feared an adverse reaction from the Americans if she had mentioned it.
But the Rangers were astonished by her perfect English.
"The indoctrination operation has been successful. We've turned a plebeian against her own people." Foley chimed in.
Allen had chosen to seclude himself from all the constant chatter. He remained in his chair muttering below his breathe, "Oh, how the loyal have fallen."
Corporal Dunn grabbed her by the shoulder and began to introduce her to all the Rangers in the room one-by-one. It was obvious to the Lieutenant that his platoon had taken over the welcoming party - leaving him out of it, so he left the lobby and made his way back to headquarters.
Departure
July 30, 2022
0900 Hours
"I feel like it's fucking Christmas!" is how one Ranger described it.
The 1st Battalion had begun to prep their gear, and began to load all the necessary equipment onto their vehicles. The majority were fully geared, while some took some time to use the restroom while they still can.
The atmosphere was a mix of frantic rushing, and a glimmer of glee. Entering a new world gave many a sea of joy. Some couldn't wait to see the landscape, the weather, and all the different kinds of people that inhabited the region.
An hour passed, and they were ready to go. By this time, all the Rangers were fully geared; their weapons stowed. They were ready to invade a country, an entire world.
General Shepherd stood in front of the entire battalion fully geared as well. The officers formed a line behind him while the rest of the Rangers went into formation by company. LeLei La Lalena spectated the event from the side. Their vehicles stood idly behind them - positioned near the entrance of the Gate.
She took note of how the Rangers presented themselves. She would describe it as complete compliance and obedience; well-trained and heavily-disciplined. She could tell that these men were built to follow orders, and be a devastating killing machine. It was a complete turnabout from what she had seen the Rangers do in their free time.
"Gentlemen, we are the most powerful military force in the history of man." General Shepherd began his monologue. "Every fight is our fight, because what happens over here, matters over there - we don't get to sit one out. Learning how to use the tools of modern warfare is the difference between the prospering of your people, and utter destruction. You see, the Saderans have no understanding of this concept. We can't give them freedom, but we can give them the know-how to acquire it; and that my friends, is worth more than a whole army base of steel. Sure, it matters who's got the biggest stick, but it matter a helluva lot more who's swinging it. This is a time for heroes, a time for legends. Let's get to work."
The speech had lasted for a little over a minute. The General had made an accepting nod toward Sergeant Major Marcus Murphy as he left the small stage. Thereafter, Murphy stepped forward. "Thank you, sir."
Murphy delivered the after-speech, "Gentlemen, the eyes of the world are watching. Not only that, the President is watching, America is watching, but most importantly - Warlord is watching. We are going up against an army full of sword-swingers. Hear this well, there will be no fuck ups! This is history in the making, gentlemen. Our children, our children's children, will see us as heroes. Does anybody not want to go?"
"No, Sergeant Major!" was the collective voice was enough to shake someone out of their boots.
"Rangers, kill on three!"
"One!" Allen thought this chant was a bit cheesy.
"Two!" he quickly glanced at the translator to see if she was ready to have her eardrums bursted.
"Three!" Allen sucked in all the air he could.
"Kill!" every Ranger shouted, unifying their voices into one single, intimidating shout. Allen noticed that the translator, even after the chant, remained in her usual manner. It shocked him.
A long duration of silence took over as Murphy eyed every single soldier in the battalion. LeLei was in awe of the American display of discipline.
"Dismissed!"
The entire battalion began to cheer as if they were coming out of the tunnel for a football game. They were all excited. Like sheep following a shepherd, they rushed towards their vehicles in jubilation. It was Christmas for them. Some yelled their own motivational one-liners; others like Allen remained quiet.
The MRAPs formed a single line. Every vehicle was organized by its corresponding company. Alpha Company was in the very front; Bravo Company in the middle; and Charlie Company covered the rear. Delta and Echo followed close behind. Following directly behind Bravo One was Foley and his team leading Bravo Two.
Corporal Dunn served as the driver and RTO of Two-One Alpha. Sergeant Foley rode shotgun. Corporal James Ramirez manned the Mark-19 while Corporal Allen and LeLei were the rear passengers.
An hour had flew by, and they haven't been given the order to head inside the Bulk. 1st Battalion had to sit boringly inside their MRAPs. Their vehicles moved not a single inch. Some grew impatient, while others passed the time by chilling beside their vehicles.
"Sergeant, what's taking so long?" Ramirez asked.
A frustrated voice suddenly spoke through the radio, "Hunter, this is Hunter Three Actual. Interrogative: how long are we gonna sit here with our asses hanging out before we move into the Bulk? My guys are itching for a fight."
"And there goes Bravo Three's commander." Dunn sighed. "Someone should really put a rag over that asshole's mouth."
"Hunter Three Actual, this is Hunter Actual. There's a heavy lightning storm on the other side. We've been given the order to remain stationary." Captain Spongebob replied through the radio.
"Heavy lightning storm. We're gonna have to wait." Foley relayed the answer to his gunner.
"Just when you thought things were getting amped up. Bro, I got blue balls now." Dunn suddenly cracked a joke.
Allen removed his helmet and took out a Hershey's chocolate bar. Silently, he chewed very small bits of it to give his taste buds the pleasure of a lifetime. He broke off a small piece and offered one to LeLei who gazed it with curiosity. She kindly took out and bit the side off carefully. She chewed it, inspecting its taste as it melted in her mouth. The taste of this "chocolate bar" was like a gift from the gods.
Allen grinned as he saw LeLei get a first glimpse of American candy. "It's good ain't it?"
"It's delicious."
"Warlord, Warlord. This is Assassin, the storm on the other side has ceased. We are Oscar Mike into the Bulk!"
A shiver went down Allen's spine. The hairs on his skin began to spring up. He took a deep breathe as he equipped his headgear. It was hard to fathom that they were about to cross into another world, possibly even another universe.
The yelling further added to the presence of heavy sound pollution. Dunn had started the engine. The rumbles and vibrations of the MRAP had felt satisfying for every man itching to pull the trigger. This is what invading a country felt like.
The Rangers who chilled outside began to run towards their vehicles. Ramirez began to conceal his entire face with his black shades and balaclava. He wanted to look as intimidating as possible; he wanted the Saderans to fear him.
LeLei simply looked at all the commotion. She was going back to her own world, but this time she brought along an entire invasion force.
"All Hunter Victors, we are Oscar Mike. I say again, we are Oscar Mike." Lieutenant Church reiterated the commotion.
"We are Oscar Mike to the border staging area." Foley repeated Church's previous order. "Alright, gents! Let's make some money."
"Let's go! Get in the vehicles!" a Ranger howled to his team.
"Let's slay that dragon!"
"Breathe while you can, fellas! This'll be the last time we'll inhale the oxygen given by almighty God!" Macey had yelled out of the window.
A large mechanical sound began to screech. The large dome concealing the portal had slowly opened. It revealed what looked like eternal darkness and damnation. The sun could not shine its light in there. No one in the battalion had seen the Gate in person. It was mesmerizing to say the least.
"Can you believe this shit?" Dunn quietly mumbled from his seat.
"All Hunter Victors, all Hunter Victors. Stepping off in five-four-three-two-one."
The Rangers' invasion had come under way. Dunn changed the vehicle's gear to drive as he maintained a steady distance between him, and the MRAP in front of him.
"All Hunter Victors, maintain 50 meter dispersion at 4-5 kph, over."
"Roger that."
The military police keeping over watch began to cheer the Rangers on as they began to enter the void between two worlds.
Lieutenant Church's reassuring voice spoke through the radio, "All Hunter Victors, we are Oscar Mike. Maintain 50 meter dispersion at 45 kph."
The MRAPs followed one another in perfect synchronization until they dissapeared into pitch blackness.
The Rangers of the 1st Battalion began to understand what it felt like to invade a country. From the beaches of Normandy, the jungles of Vietnam, to the deserts of Iraq and Afghanistan, up until the greens of the Special Region. The new frontier, the new war. The motto kept replaying in Allen's mind. It had become his well being.
The Rangers would lead the way on their own accord.
And thus, the 75th Ranger Regiment fought there.
A/N:
This story is inspired from Generation Kill.
So, here's the first episode of my new story. I do hope you all enjoyed reading it. Mind you all, I am no military expert, so don't expect this to be ultra-realistic. Please forgive me if I did not appease all the military perfectionists. Sorry, not sorry!
None of the Call of Duty timelines are embedded in this story, only the characters are.
Jot down a review if you will.
. . .
Here are the company call signs for the 1st Ranger Battalion:
Alpha Company - Assassin
Bravo Company - Hunter
Charlie Company - Mercenary
. . .
Helpful Terms:
"Hunter Victor" - Any vehicle in Bravo Company
"Hunter Two-One" - Bravo Company, Second Platoon, First Squad
"CG" - Commanding General
"HHC/H&H" - Headquarters & Headquarters Company
"RTO" - Radio Telephone Operator
"MRAP" - Mine Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicle
"TL" - Team Leader