Chapter 1: Boot
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Battlestar Pheonix, Knights of Trope flagship, in geosyncronis orbit over Seattle Washington, 9121 hours military time, A day -10.
The CIC was a buzz of activity as newly minted officers of the Knights of Trope rushed about checking the latest intelligence, the ships systems, and other vital bits of information. At the center of the CIC's pit Ranger stood at the tactical table strategizing. He wasn't dressed in his usual atire but a grey unifrom over which he wore his standard green cloak. Behind him however the CIC doors opened to admit an other grey uniformed officer. He wore glasses and had brown hair. He strood over to Ranger and snapped to attention, saluting.
"At ease," Ranger stated without turning. "Good to have you on with us Joe."
"Thanks," Joe replied with a thick texan accent.
Ranger then passed him a fist full of papers, still without looking at him. "Have a look at these."
Joe frowned and took the papers flicking through them. "Invasion plans for Seattle?"
Ranger nodded finally turning to face him. "In the past few days since declaring war against Twilight the Twitards have been massing in Seattle to defend their sparkely god."
"Edward Cullen," Joe muttered. "I thought he was in Forks?"
"He was but when they heard about the declaration they rushed enmasse to Forks and evac'd him with a mass car pool using Civies so we couldn't target the vehicles." Ranger answered.
"And they moved him Seattle for a better chance of a focused defense," Joe muttered.
"Correct," Ranger stated. "They over ran the city and the civies either ran for it or were secured in Athletic arenas. The twitards then raided every gun store, National guard depot, police station, private security office, house hold, Army Navy story, and muesum in seattle to arm themselves."
"How many are the ground troops looking at?" Joe asked.
"Roughly 66,000 twitards, maybe more. We have roughly 78,000 troops finishing up boot camp or ready to go for the invasion within ten days time. But thats not the biggest problem." Ranger stated picking up a small box from the tactical table.
"What's that?" Joe asked.
"Inside is the same type of Microchip used to make artifical vampires." Ranger answered. "We boarded a frieghter carrying hundreds of the things. It also carried body armor, armored vehicles, assault weapons, and explosives."
"They're not cutting any corners are they," Joe growled.
"Doesn't look like it," Ranger replied. "They began fortifying the city after securing it."
"Be hell for the infantry," Joe sighed.
"Thats why we're beggining day and night bombing and bombardments. Soften them enough and the infantry might take a few less casualties." Ranger said. "You'd best head to ground, we got another couple of grunts getting final clearance today. I want you taking control of the first Vanguard personally."
Somewhere in Northern Minnesota, Knights of Trope Training camp, Firing range, 1610 hours military time, A day -10. Lance Corporal Van Compton, 1st Vangaurd Regiment, 2 Battalion, E Company, Second Platoon.
The roar of Pelican and Raptor engines along with the smells of grease and cigars was enough to overwhelm the senses of one not used to it. Still Lance Corporal Van Compton was used to the smell. Even as the noon sun shone down upon them he felt only a little warmth. He was thin and as some would put it looked to Bishonnen to be fighting in a war. He had crew cut blonde hair and light green eyes.
And right now he felt the eyes of a dozen raw trainee's watching him with interest as he stood at the firing range with a large and powerful Lancer assault rifle clentched tightly in his hands. All the while the sergeant stepped forward, outfitted neck to toe in body armor, his head he left uncapped and uncovered to display a black main of hair bedecked with warrior blades. Of course Sergeant Major Garlon Harfang was hardly an orc to be messed with on subject of proper decorum.
"Listen up you green horn whelps," he snarled at the rookies. "Today we're doing point yer stick and kill something 101. Corporal Compton has been kind enough to assist me in pissing some wisdom into your ungrateful skulls."
The sergeant nodded to him and he raised his Lancer up for all to see.
"Take a look boys and girls, what Corporal Compton is carrying is a Lancer assault rifle with chainsaw bayonet attachment. This is what most of you will be fighting with as it is the primary weapon of all Knights of Trope infantry. He will start by showing you how not to shoot." He then nodded to Compton who leveled his rifle on the targets in front of him and emptied half his clip into the targets. Less than half of his bullets even hit a target as his rifle shook violently as it roared out hot silver lead composite rounds.
"You see that?!" Garlon barked. "He's spraying fire all over the range and wasting ammo! If you want to actually hit a target you need to use your damn sights, and fire from a stable stance. Preferably from cover!"
He gave Compton and nod and Compton courched and brought the rifle up to his shoulder. He then opened fire full fury on the targets mowing them down without mercy. Within seconds all targets were KAI.
"You see that? Lethal, efficent accuracy! It is with that gift that we will be killing sprakly freaks in combat! Am I clear!?" Garlon demanded.
"Sir yes sir!" All the recruits barked.
"Damn right," Garlon growled then he turned to Compton and gave him a nod. "Dismissed Corporal."
Compton nodded slinging his rifle and heading off into the camp. It was well ordered lines of hybrid cabin tents that housed roughly 4,200 troops of the first Vanguard Regiment. When the time came to march against Twitards they would be on the front lines. First in meant heavy losses which mean superior training was needed to even hope for a more than sixty percent survival rating. He made his way over to the chow hall hoping to find a few of his buddies for a drink and something to eat when suddenly someone ran up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"You Corporal Compton?" The soldier asked.
He nodded.
"You're to report to the fire pit ASAP, new CO's having all the NCOs run it." The stated. Compton sighed and then adjusted his Lancer before making his way over to the fire pit. The pit was a live fire obstical course that tested a soldiers ability to quickly eleminate various targets in not a lot of time.
When he entered the starting area of the pit he found another soldier waiting to start the test as well. He was average height, with dark eyes and dark hair. He wore pretty much the same uniform as Compton did but his had a small patch on the side. It depicted a small chibi bat on a red field. That patch announced this guy as a Youkai (or monster) volunteer Irregular Regiment, monsters trained by Hellsing to kill other monsters serving as speacil forces. In his hands he was futsing with a custom hand gun the a cross shaped muzzel.
The Irregular looked up at him and nodded.
"You're the next runner?" He asked.
Compton nodded.
"We'll you'd best get a side arm and some flashbangs from the table," the Irregular replied.
Compton nodded again and headed over to the side table which was covered in various weapons from AA-12's to a Spartan laser. He simply grabbed a M6S and a couple of flashbangs before he turned back to the Irregular who had put his side arm in its hip holster.
"Command wants all of the NCO's to be able to run the Pit in less than sixty seconds. You have one minute to clear the whole combat zone, you can start whenever you're ready." The Irregular explained. Then for some reason he extended his hand.
"Aono Tsukune," He said.
Compton shook it then stepped up to the starting line. Then like a round from his rifle he shot out onto the course rifle raised.
Somewhere in Northern Minnesota, Knights of Trope Training camp, Pit observation deck, 1610 hours military time, A day -10.
"You like what you see sir?" Colonel Uther Huxely asked Joe as he watched the latest runner hit the course.
"Yes I do," Joe replied watching as the runner gunned down target after target successfully.
"He's one of our most controlled shooters sir, rarely puts more than three rounds into a target and always aims for vitals." Huxely continued.
"Heart and head only?" Joe checked.
"Anywhere else on those chip boys is useless unless you can take off a limb," Huxely replied lighting himself up a cigar.
"Well they'd best all be ready," Joe muttered. "We start off for Washington tommorrow."
"I'll have the boys make ready to break camp by tommorrow." Huxely replied.
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