A/N: Oh boy, muse is really kicking.
Author's note time:
First off, thank you all for sky rocketing this story to one of the top followed, favorited, and reviewed in this section. It's really appreciated and each review just urges me on to keep pushing out massive chapters like this.
Anyway, review responses:
Nerdfish – Yeah, I know they're not actually Gepards, and I'm impressed you actually called that out, but the Guntanks are similar enough I imagine Emerson here would refer to them as Gepards. I mean, I play Wargame: Red Dragon enough to know what it is, and I have to imagine a lot of people into this series are as well. I'll be shipping over Harriers and Blackhawks soon, so we'll have more fun with equipment soon. Feel free to keep calling anything out, if not for me, but for trivia for everyone.
Guests, Shadow Marshal – Thanks for saving my butt and pointing out some inconsistencies, like Itami's commission and pushing me to a place where I can read the manga. Helps out and gives me some more desperately needed sources.
Twitchel – I think you'll have your answer in this chapter initially. I mean, I want Itami and Emerson to be together, just to have the American v Japanese views on things when it gets hot and controversial later on, so I presume. If I find myself in a situation where Hitman goes off on their own, and I do have a situation which will call for it in both an endgame and a mid story arc, I'll shift away.
Shadowstorm117 – Emerson's bisexual. I'll say that outloud and proud right here. But he's a good soldier and so it has no bearing on him or this story's plot sans the occasional soldier to soldier ribbing, as is very much displayed in this story's other source: Generation Kill. As for other people… well, I'll try some things out.
Now in general:
Yeah, it always starts out as an America fuck yeah thing, doesn't it? Iraq, Afghanistan, the Middle East and all of our wars since World War Two. I'm telling ya, go watch Generation Kill, America fuck yeah can only go so far before we have to go back and see what that means in the long run, past the elation of superiority.
Cameras, the Go-Pros you'll see, they'll serve their purpose eventually. Not for Hitman though. They know better. They all do. As for the other Americans… Well, wait and see.
The Beginning of Section 1
Section 1-1
The infrared sight was exchanged with an ACOG when we had gone out. It had served me well these past four days, but the entire mess of two kilometers out from Omega Point, as was the codename for this end of the Gate, was alight with bodies still warm from the slaughter of the last seventy hours or so.
We had been crouched just below the crest of this particular bump in the land about a kilometer out from the Gate and our defensive line, but Itami saw no need in Masterson's, Loke's, or my own defensive posturing, and how tight we held onto our rifles. He had just simply walked past us and stood on the hill, rifle down to the ground, idle.
The only sound was that of the orgy and buffet of vulture like birds going at the results of our massacre a kilometer down and the lonely ruffling of a broken flag.
Itami looked down at us, tilting his head quick for us to join him.
Loke had been a Pakistani woman of considerable gentleness, despite her conduct in battle, so she hadn't wanted to stare too long at the mess she had, although marginally, helped create.
Masterson, and perhaps even me, had been used to it.
Itami had shown apathy.
"In all my years of being a rancher, I ain't seen anything like that before sir. And hell, I was a bad rancher!"
Three months since the Ginza Incident
D-Day + 2
The Gate – Omega Point - ?
"Rancher?" Kurata, a sergeant under Itami's command, had asked my 2nd Squad leader, casually not even taking in the death before him that rivaled the original Ginza Incident's in scale, according to the UAVs we had launched earlier to try and take a headcount. We had been counting both pig, ogre, and whatever horrific monstrosities that were now.
Kurata was another piece of work in my mind, having rattled off to me and Masterson during our first shared night watch that he was expecting of the wonders that this kind of world had. Was a bit more open than Itami had been to me initially, but that had made it so me and Masterson had known what type of man he had been hitting for.
'Ain't nothing wrong with a fine female specimen, even if she has a tail and a pair of ears.' Was Masterson's take on it. I kept quiet. As much as Itami tried to get me into that weird show about magical girls called Mei Com, I had stayed pretty much tied down to more western works and magazines.
Like Hustler, or the Food Network Magazine.
"Yeah. I was a cowboy and all that crap, family kicked me out of the house and the only work I was able to find for the first eighteen years of my life was in pushing around livestock. Ranger training was easier, let me tell you."
"So that's your accent?" Itami had said.
"I don't know if this would make you an apostle or the scum of the Earth, sergeant." Loke had said, brushing her black bangs out of her hair as she had slung her M4A1 onto her back again.
"How so, Talia?" Masterson asked as he had idled his weapon, leaving me to only get a read on the aftermath through my weapon's optics.
"Only those who aren't even considered in the caste are fit to work with cows in India… but then again you didn't kill cows, did you?"
"Less a bull charged me, then no."
"This is why I'm not sure what to call you."
"Just call me sergeant as you have for the last year, Tal'."
"Mmm."
The thought of cows and slaughterhouses didn't exactly sit well in my stomach, I forgetting there was a body not even five feet from us, below this old, tattered flag that showed off some house banner.
"How are soldiers seen in Indian culture, Corporal Loke?" I asked.
"I think the reputation of the Indian Gorkhas should be an answer enough for that, lieutenant."
So highly held in society… not that we had shown any respect in battle to these men. If we wanted to hold any semblance of honor we might've as well had gone out here and affixed bayonets. Though I was not victim to the platitudes of old warfare.
I mean, I was stabbing people, technically. With bullets.
The casual talk was needed, given the atmosphere of death and spent munitions. As I had been busy tearing the flag from its broken pole, Itami had led my two attached soldiers over to a crater, an object of interest leading him over.
Marine Force Recon, Hitman, and the JSDF had sent infantry out in the two kilometer bubble surrounding our FOB, just to scan and recover anything worthy of intelligence. I had been more than convinced some of the "Marines" hadn't been, given the fact that Wilbur hadn't even been in a MEU until a few months ago for the express purpose of being here.
Asked him what kind of person that necessitated him being here, and, worryingly, he said he used to work with British Petroleum. That and he was a crack tank commander.
Didn't think too much into it. Couldn't afford to.
Took the flag and tucked it inside of my kit as I made my way back to my detachment.
Youji had just tossed the object of interest away.
"I heard we killed around 60,000 of them." Kurata said.
Between the three main attacks these last few days plus the smaller skirmishes, it made sense.
Masterson had grunted, drawing that camera he had been snapping away with for the last four days. "Damn hard to confirm kills in the dark you know… or when you can't tell whose guts were whose."
Whatever object that was had been in a crater made by one of the mortar tubes earlier, between the traditional and the air burst rounds, they were really all we needed. Not that anyone told the Abrams, Howitzers, the autogunners, or the machine gun placements to stop firing.
"They sent 60,000 to Ginza, too." Itami dryly admitted.
"120,000 in all." Loke had stated, still not wanting to look at the further carnage behind her.
She was used to killing, she really was, one on one, but enmasse… well, she had her head straight right.
"That's as much as you Americans killed during Iraqi Freedom, right Kay?" Itami asked, casting his low gaze once again through the mass of tangled limbs, wooden spears, horses, and whatever had been liable to get shot at.
I had done a lot of research on Iraqi Freedom, even before I joined the military. I was born on the day Iraqi Freedom kicked off, and if I hadn't been curious I was lying to myself.
"Around three times that, actually." I admitted.
"Hey, Ell-Tee, your iPhone." Masterson had made it sound like I dropped it, but when I checked my front pocket it was still there in its ballistic case. I took it out and Masterson held out a hand, I gave it to him. He had flipped on the camera as Talia and him had latched onto my sides with happy faces, holding out the camera with its front towards us as he motioned for Kurata and Itami.
Didn't know why, but I flashed a peace sign as I found myself in an odd place for a group selfie.
The two JSDF soldiers had gotten on a hand on both my shoulders as they said cheese, the picture snapping and Masterson shoving the phone into one of my mag carriers.
I took it back out to view the gallery.
It was rather nice, minus the death and destruction in the foreground.
"The hell was that Cam?" I asked.
"Memories my man. Text me that when we get back, alright?"
I only shook my head in moderate disapproval.
"iPhone 20, right? Hell of a field of view." Kurata asked.
"20S. Regular version was too big for me." I simply stated.
"What use is a phone over here anyway?" Loke spited. "Not like we get any reception."
Itami grumbled. "Tell me about it."
"Missing out on your shows, Youji?" I asked, a dead body with rolling over distance of my foot, which had happened as I turned over the man. Roman armor, but draped in different fabrics. Probably a soldier of another lord or something. The bullet from the M2 didn't seem to care, given the giant hole in his chest.
Surprisingly Loke had taken out a video camera, a small little block of a 4k recording piece of technology, and attached it to her woodland helmet.
"The hell?" Masterson said.
"Me and the squad were talking before Zero Hour and we bought a box of these: there's one for each of us, you know."
"Why?" I asked, having reached the ground on my knees, and putting my finger tips on the cold metal, a vulture having broken from the pack and come my way, ignoring me as I saw the man's helmet tossed aside and his body dragged away by the large bird.
"Well, sir, seeing as there are no reporters with us, or anyone speaking for us boots on the ground, we figured it'd be a good idea to have something able to speak for us in the future… you know, just in case." she said, quietly, tossing two camera our way.
Itami and Kurata nodded in approval with her unsaid reasoning.
Masterson had attached his to one of his chest straps, thumbing down the perpetual recording switch, I doing the same on my shoulder like a parrot.
"Powered by solar, heat, and any motions you guys make. Should last us easily an entire year… plus, it's streaming the recordings back to Bannon's laptop."
"Overlord know about this?" I asked.
"Don't think he needs to be alerted." she said, unphased. I agreed in an audible 'yep'.
The Marines out on defense positions these last few nights, in between all the further counter attacks, they'd been a little too happy to be on their positions. After the first night I had my own reservations coming up regarding the 7th MEU and their persistence of calling these people "Hadjis".
The world had been a peaceful place, but perhaps, only, because America's presence in the Middle East had been so outright. A decade ago America did what it needed to be done, and the Marines had been that instrument in the Middle East for us all.
Perhaps that was the reason I chose the Army Rangers versus the Force Recon.
Itami had gazed out at the carnage again, and our gazes, our recordings had followed. The flock of vulture like creatures, the end of life. Wherever we went, we damned this Earth to black and scorch.
"120,000." he said again, motioning to his sergeant. "What kind of nation are we fighting that can afford to send that many people to death in less than a week?"
"One with the people to spare." Loke had said, and I had nodded in agreement. According to the JSDF scouts they had seen some runners, so at least whoever this was, this Empire, as we had been slowly discovering, would have to had known about us at the very least. Whoever was the military command equivalent had done this willingly.
The prisoners we had been slowly seizing, and indeed, one of my Ranger fireteam's had picked up a few living, were useful to us. Given our modern treatment of them, as outlined by the Geneva convention, they had been more than happy usually to spill the beans regarding their language, their people, their world.
No one had minded that we were using the old sites of Japanese, World War Two era prison camps, but it was bounds better than what these literal peasants had been used to. Of course there were, somehow, below the expectations of the more aristocratic, the rulers and politicians that were supposed to come with invasion forces. Wasn't enough though, no better than how we initially studied the Middle East in the first decade of the twenty first century.
The fact we were taking on an Empire, both in name and in makeup, was a bit deafening. The population of the Roman Empire had been shy of sixty million in our history, and if the same number was to be believed here…
Needless to say that it wouldn't have been a problem if I was Chinese.
"To think… what if the Chinese had gotten their way and we had to turn over the Gate and this Special Task Force to the international community?" Masterson had wondered regarding the international situation outside.
"Well if the Chinese went in, I'm sure we'd be seeing Willie Pete used during this… I don't know." I just muttered.
"Willie Pete?" Kurata was unfamiliar with most of the American terms that Masterson had been throwing around as well as the NATO monikers. He was a young man, maybe a bit unknowing, given the situation.
"White Phosphorus." I said.
"Like in the grenades?" Smoke grenades, Kurata had assumed.
"Like in the burning Vietnamese in 1968." Masterson had corrected. He couldn't really blame the man though. Japan didn't even have such weapons in inventory.
We did.
UN had been making sure any of the tactical weapons from Okinawa or back in the States hadn't moved one bit though.
Not that I was wishing for them. Conventional firepower worked for now. Hell, it was more than "just working".
Radio buzzed and I took it, holding two fingers to the receiver in my ear. "Hitman-Actual. Go ahead."
"This is Hitman 1-1. We've cleared the perimeter and Force Recon is making their way back now. 5th Division wants to talk with us, including Itami. Over."
Itami heard his name over the radio, switching onto my frequency to listen in.
"Hitman-Actual. Interrogative: What for Bannon?"
"Don't know. Over."
"…Alright. Tell them me and Itami are ten mikes out."
Wordlessly we had all nodded with each other. There was nothing more to do out here but to blow at the breeze.
"RTB. Cam, you're with me. Itami, lead the way." Itami had been fully aware that he had now outranked me, but he saw me as the senior, even if he had years and rank on me. I was more of a soldier, in his eyes.
He had shrugged though, starting his way back to the FOB.
"I don't know how you do it, Kay, but I don't enjoy having command."
I cupped the bottom of my face as I store up into that too blue sky, giving him a contemplated answer. "Having command is not about yourself, Itami. It's about the men and women you lead and making sure they're okay at the end of the day. They become your motivation, and you become their guiding light."
"Nice snake oil talk." Cam had tease, Loke giggling.
I had only taken out my E-Cigar, and put it between my lips, taking one drag as I blew out a response and smoke. "Well, either way you learn."
Emerson had turned off one of his few vices before he had gotten inside the JSDF's Fifth Division many operational tents in the FOB, the JSDF force that had come over through the Gate having been from the Fifth Division, obviously.
"Didn't know you smoked, Kay." Itami had commentated, arms behind his back as they waited for the officer in charge. Emerson's squad leads had been on either side of them, vigilant and waiting to take on the same orders as their lieutenant. Rest of the men were having breakfast and testing out those new cameras that Loke had set them up with. Hitman had been hiding them underneath a magazine cover at the moment. If there was any flak taken for it Emerson would've taken responsibility with no problem, but the prolonging of their recording adventure in this world was something he made a note of, us having all decided to keep it on the down low.
Vanilla nicotine liquid and the cigar itself, a brown paper lookalike of an actual Cuban, was in where Emerson kept his pens on his kit.
"Started three months ago."
Itami knew why then, Masterson and Bannon at attention, their faces equal in seriousness. As iffy as Masterson was as a person, given his circumstances growing up, the man had been a soldier equal to the more serious Bannon. Two sides of the same coin of how people dealt with war.
Assuming that this was a war, of course.
This was only an operation officially, and this Empire, nor the governments of Earth, had declared war at all.
Both sides fought like it had been though.
The major on duty had made his way to his desk from one corner of the busy tent, the fastest way to send communications from here back to Tokyo had been Morse code; the tent being lousy with tapping.
The soldiers rendered salute as the tired man sat down, ignoring the Americans entirely.
"Listen up Itami!" Drama, Emerson had immediately recognized, glad he had gotten a hit of nicotine into his system. "For such an irresponsible guy to have been praised by the Minister of Defense for his actions during the Battle of Ginza and given a promotion…!
Itami dazed out as the major gave the man shit, going on about how this man had been an S and a Ranger despite everything.
"So I have decided to get you off your lazy ass and send you out on a survey!"
Itami had sprung into his usual ass kissing mode, as he had so described to Emerson during the nights he and him had gone out on the town. They were friends now, if not anything else.
"A survey? Major Higaki, well I think that's a nice idea."
"Oh no, Itami, you're not weaseling your way out of this one. You're going! As for you!" The major had put the same tone behind his voice as his finger came to the Americans.
Emerson had tightened his jaw, his two sergeants having their faces twitch in contempt for a brief second, making the major rethink his tone.
They weren't his soldiers.
"I mean… 2nd lieutenant."
"Yes, major?"
"I'm hesitant to ask the same of the Marines on base. Thus, I'm coming to you, and giving you the same orders alone."
Emerson tilted his head. "Excuse me, sir?"
"You're neither Marines or JSDF, and even though you've been told to answer to Colonel Pierce specifically, I've been told, and you have understood, that Hitman Squad has a certain degree of freedom that no other unit has here. Given the fact you have no Army commander to report to, you may act on your own accord in some instances."
Godfather, Colonel Andrade, had outlined the very specific conditions that Hitman had been placed under during their tenure past the Gate, and odd it was indeed. It harkened back to the days of the old Colonial Rangers that explored the New England wilderness dealing with Native Americans and collecting actionable intel.
It was a new way of operation for Emerson, but it was, fundamentally, an old one he could fulfill.
The major returned his gaze to the two lieutenants.
"Given the fact our prisoner interrogations have stagnated in terms of useful data, we're sending out six teams for deep recon and intelligence gathering. These teams will be three vehicles deep, and for each of them," the major turned to Emerson. "I request that there be at least two Army Rangers per Recon Team. Itami, you have the reigns over Recon Team Three."
Itami frowned as Bannon got that look in her fiery eyes and Masterson had grinned.
Emerson only furrowed his eyebrows.
"Whenever possible you should try to cooperate and form friendly relationships with any local residents you come across during your recon. Is this understood?"
"Yes sir." the Americans answered.
"Hai." Itami had been less than enthusiastic.
"You'll be deploying after lunch. I'll clear the details with Overlord when you guys are off."
"What're the Marines going to be doing in the meanwhile?" Emerson asked with concern.
"We'll be assigning them with the JSDF to fortify this base and to expand our usable territory. They've been feisty to get out, but that's what I'm afraid of. Is that all, 2nd lieutenant?"
"Yes sir."
The four soldiers had left, Masterson putting an arm over both Itami and Bannon, Bannon reflexively leaning her head into her compatriot in Squad 2.
"Come on Itami, it's going to be fun." The cowboy had urged.
Itami growled as we had split off to go to our tents. "I guess it'll be a learning experience."
Even after Itami had left and Hitman's giant shared tent was entered, the place searing from the lack of any real open air flowing through, Masterson had kept his arm over Bannon.
She didn't protest, Emerson had noticed, even all the way down to a couch a friend of one of Hitman's elements had somehow smuggled through on one of the logistics trucks in the supplementary waves from Tokyo.
Fraternization was still officially frowned upon, and still pretty discouraged, but Masterson had been a rather electric man in terms to his personal relationships through Hitman. That and apparently he and Bannon had known each other prior to signing up. They stayed and mulled over the decision to join the military in the same motel for a week.
They had that bond of taking that decision together, as much as Masterson had tried to remind her every time he had gotten on her nerves.
"I'm taking you two out. You know that, right?" Emerson had said as he had called the attention of all twenty Hitmen, just in front of the tent's entrance. The room that each man and woman was afforded in there hadn't been much different than the size of a coffin and then some, but it had only served to remind them they had been deployed. For many, the first time in their lives.
The two of them had silently nodded as they got back up and separated, going on either side of Emerson again like chess pieces.
Apparently the elements of Hitmen had been busy trying to jury rig an entertainment system in the back via a projector on a phone, the tent wall, Bannon's laptop, and the footage that they had been collecting ever since the first seconds of deployment. How Emerson had been kept out of the loop he had wondered, but he still kept his rolling anyway.
"Hitman!" Emerson had finally addressed his squad, no less bothered by the expedition than a short job. He held up two fingers. "Two things. One: Is that what you're calling the footage?"
Private Black had been a noted stenciler and an artist, and so Emerson recognized his handiwork as the footage had been stopped on the "title screen". It had read this:
GATE: We Fought There
By: Hitman Squad
the self-filmed documentary of the sexiest special forces unit across two worlds
"Hey sir, Sergeant Bannon said we could use the video editing software on her computer. We all sat down and said: "Hey, let's make a documentary of how we invaded the Empire."" Harris had said. Given the man's near six foot eight form his footage had been the clearest, given his height and where he had put his camera: on his helmet like a good bit of Hitman.
Emerson shook his head, not exactly disagreeing. "You guys better sell that shit to HBO or something when we get out. And you better give us all a cut."
"It's what we're planning." Nutt shrugged, the man having kept a rough outline of what footage we had collected in his notes. Man wanted to be a teacher. How he came out a Ranger no one was quite sure. Still, he always seemed to somehow find school supplies in his living space.
"Change the subtitles too to something that's- Well, whatever. Second thing I have to say: We're being deployed out into the field for a recon mission. So if you want to capture more footage, I think this would be an opportunity."
A quick round of whooping had gone through the camp, the time to finally get feet wet was here.
"All of us together?" Peters had asked, his voice always catching everyone off guard.
"Good catch, corporal. No."
Bannon had taken the reigns of the announcement, it didn't seem to bother the men we were going out together for now. "The JSDF is organizing six recon teams to head out forward of the front and gather intelligence on the indigenous people and, possibly, the Empire. We've been asked to disperse and go among them all now as the US Military's liaison during any possible first contact. Hearts and minds. Any problems with that?"
"No ma'am."
"Good." Emerson followed up. "Me, Masterson, and Bannon will probably head out together with a team, the rest of you should group up based on how comfortable you all are with the Japanese language. Weak with the strong, and thus. Get some cases ready for formal contact and special operations and carry it with you in the provided vehicles. We should be out of here by noon. Any questions?"
"We need to check up with you or the squad leads, sir?" Black had asked.
"You guys are big kids now and we're in a special position in terms of how we're operating here. Call us if you have to, and do what you see fit. Anything else? Nope. Good." Masterson answered back. With that, Hitman had scrambled about the tent closing up any affairs and locking their stuff secure.
"Get my laptop on a charge, Black, and you guys haven't- oh shit." she had palmed her face as she forgot that her laptop was her personal one.
"Don't worry ma'am, the only thing we know more about you now is that your ex-husband is yelling about why you're falling behind on your alimony." Black had said as he connected her laptop to one of the few power outlets provided, away from sight. Bannon twitched toward him, Black ran. "Just being honest ma'aaaaam!"
If it hadn't been for Masterson holding her back Black would've received a slap. She had calmed herself in a breath though, even as she rolled up her sleeves.
Emerson had looked at Bannon expectantly though. It was widely circulated from the brass down that all affairs should've been settled before the deployment.
"You alright, sergeant?"
She had puffed a laugh, almost a bit cruelly. "You know, when I heard that we were going on the other side of this thing: into a new world, I thought it was a blessing from God: that I could get away from my bastard ex. Even now, he still finds away to bug me."
"It's not like we can stay, Lisa." Masterson had said, a sound of genuine care in his voice that purred with his accent.
She grumbled. "It was an old email anyway… and, Hell, they're selling high rise apartments in Baghdad now to Americans. I think this place has something for me after this."
Emerson had, surprisingly, agreed, nodded. "That is if we don't fuck this place up first."
The Gate – Omega Point – US Marines CP
"How fast can you work once we have eyes on the desert? The scouts we sent in two months ago observed it and sent back some tests before they went dark. One of the last thing they ever got to us."
"Oi. Well, depends on what support I get and how fast our tanks can get out there. If you want me to drill for the second I detect it, just for sampling take, that ain't possible. It's all or nothin' in the business. You read me mate? You hit a deposit with the gear and we can't plug it up. That and it's at least a thousand klicks out. Then we gotta contend with the fact we ain't got no infrastructure out there to base it off of presumably. You see, Bush was an oilman and understood-"
"Irrelevant. But can you at least confirm the presence of it if we get you over there with the proper support and tools?"
"Bet your Yank ass I could."
The Gate – Omega Point – Vehicle Staging Area
Bannon and Masterson had gotten the rather large footlocker into the back of the lead vehicle, where we were riding with the Third Recon Team.
Unlike most of our gear, the stuff inside of that steel case had been our action gear and our dress blues, if the need arrived for both.
The action gear had been more of the likes a Ranger was supposed to use in the year 2028, as opposed to M16s, armor, and fatigue that Marines had worn during the year I was born. Hadn't been practical to wear those things 24/7 here, the gear to maintain it wasn't allowed past the Gate yet. With that being said the special ops gear had needed special gear to fix unto itself: Night vision goggles, muscle suits, our MCR rifles, armor, and other special weapons… still, the nostalgic in me had me appreciate the merits of Cold War developed gear and its clunkiness.
"You guys high maintenance?!" Kurata had yelled as he banged on the driver side door, urging us to hurry up.
We had climbed into the back easily enough, the other teams having already shuffled out with little to no trouble.
A Komatsu LAV with armor strong enough to deflect battle rifle rounds, a Type 73 SUV, and a Japanese Humvee copy in that order. That was what had been the chariots that each of the Recon Teams had been given.
As for the actual makeup of RCT3: twelve JSDF grunts.
That would mean a fifteen strong group with me and my two sergeants attached for some good ole quality time.
Itami had been introduced to his team same time we had introduced ourselves to them, Kurata being there to both of their chagrin. He was the lead victor's driver.
One young woman in particular, a particularly Idolmaster, gifted one, had beamed as she learned that she was riding with the other Heroes of Ginza who were principally special forces.
"Sergeant First Class Kuribayashi Shino!" she saluted me and my sergeants with more pomp than she had offered Itami's nervous introduction. Her handshake had been rather rough and nervous itself. Like a fangirl, really.
"Settle down, hun, we're nothing special." Bannon had patted her hand during the shake. Of course she was lying, but for the sake of getting the admiration to stop it was needed, not that Sergeant Kuribayashi would believe it.
"Please, you need to tell me how you guys did it!"
"Did what, sergeant?" Masterson had asked, taking the time to eye the woman up. Bannon had been rather displeased based on the ear pull with that, Kuribayashi didn't notice though.
"Become Army Rangers!"
"I'm sure they'll tell you later, sergeant, to your vehicle." Sergeant Major Kuwahara Soichiro had gotten her away from us long enough for the squad to buckle up and us to get into the lead car.
"I heard a few of them call you Pops, sergeant major. Tolerate it?" Masterson had asked.
"It's who I am, sergeant. I don't mind." The older man had answered. Oldest man in this RCT I believe. Cam had been a ripe 29, as much as he tried to father me around.
"Whatever you say, Pops." he answered, getting in with a cut down 870 shotgun where a pistol should be, an M95 on the floor of the car in front of him as he brought it in.
Bannon had taken a seat next to him, she cradling a bundle of three M72 launchers.
The four JSDF personnel in the lead car, Itami, Pops, Kurata, and the RCT's medic, a woman with an odd hair color by the name of Kurokawa, had gaped as we brought our loads in, the 240Bravo I had sat right next to me like a person being the last of it.
"Good god. You guys got enough?" Kurata had looked in astonishment.
"You see, next time we face an army on our own, we want to be prepared." Masterson had answered. "It fits back here anyway."
It did.
"Sounds a bit like compensation." Kurokawa had raised an eyebrow, a rather motherly look if I had any say, having sat across from the three with Pops and my LMG.
"I don't got to prove nothing." Masterson pouted.
"Enough, Cam." Itami had said, tiredly.
"Yes sir, first lieutenant."
"Shut up, Masterson."
"Yes sir, second lieutenant."
"Go fuck yourself, Cam."
"Not in front of the nice people from the JSDF, Htiman 1-1."
Kurokawa had shot me a look across the aisle as Masterson had been a complete show and put on a cowboy hat he had somehow hidden in his pack.
"You know, Commander Hazawa told us to keep an open mind with all of you Americans, Lieutenant Emerson... I'm finding it hard to do so." She said, her tone all so sweet and deceiving as the cars had started up.
I licked my lips as I put my aviators on, apologizing with a shrug. "I'm sorry, my mentally deficient squad leader here is with me only because me and Sergeant Bannon need to babysit him… that and he's the best shotgunner this side of paradise. I apologize in advance for my token nutcase."
She sighed. "Understood, lieutenant. Just to let you know if he gets hurt and I need to operate, I won't use any of the morphine."
"Please." Bannon agreed.
"Ahah! I like this group." Kurata had barely brought a smile to Itami as the car pulled out, the other vehicles in tow.
Looking left, right, and out the back window. Asides from the fact we only had one MG…
"Yeah. Me too."
Asides from seeing a Stonehenge looking structure on the way out, Recon Team 3's first trek outside of the bounds of the base had been uneventful, having gone directly forward as far as any other of the teams.
Emerson had been quiet, but Kurata and Masterson had gone together in conversation like bread and butter. The idle silence being filled with the absolute crazy stories of a man let loose when he was ten years old in Texas and a person who had spent the last ten years among the crowds of Otakus.
The rest of the squad digging deep in their Runes to English or Japanese guidebooks distributed in the last few hours before anyone was deployed, courtesy of the more coherent prisoners.
It wasn't at all complete, but it was something.
The recon team had been so engrossed that they hadn't noticed when the entire procession had stopped at the gates of what looked like a Medieval village, the sound of a few surprise yelps picking their heads up.
The entire team had looked at surprise at the driver: Kurata.
"I figured this would be a good place to… how do you Americans say it? Win hearts and minds?"
Emerson and Bannon leaned their heads to look through the front windshield at the village of wood and board and saw the retreating villagers.
"And did you have to drive right up to the town?" Emerson seemed less than pleased as Itami handled the radio.
"Disembark, but keep your rifles here. These people seemed more scared of us than…. Well, they're scared of us."
"Sorry, Jay Kay." Kurata shrugged.
The sound of RCT3 disembarking had caused those poking out their doors and windows shutting closed and sealing themselves away so that the bad men from another world who had killed the population of an entire city with less than a sweat given would go away.
"Uhrm…" Itami grumbled as the fresh air was on them as they got out. It was a tad hotter than the men and women from Earth had expected, given their bodies had been used to a November that it was supposed to be to them. "Alright, the least intimidating people stack up on the walls… everyone else… hide in the bushes, I guess."
Bannon had dragged Masterson into a bush with most of the squad over thirty, Bannon herself going up with Kurokawa, Emerson, Kurata, and Kuwahara.
Masterson had wanted to say something, but given the fact he was a Texan and currently wearing his cowboy hat, it would've been bad in his mind.
Kurokawa had leaned to peer inside the village from this gate: the translation saying "Coda Village".
The bow in her hair had been the cutest thing within the entire squadron to necessitate her leaning in, she spotting a young girl about the age of her niece, the fear in her eye compounded by the fact that that girl's mother had been about to drag herself into the house before she caught a look at who was waving to her child.
A woman, the mother had discovered, wearing combat armor. It was weird to the mother, but the hostility was somewhat alleviated as she smiled and went into the open, showing no trouble.
That was immediately ruined when Emerson tried the same with a smile.
Emerson had been sore enough that the man was sulking, arms crossed in his seat after they made friendly relations with a village to a rather positive effect after Emerson took off his helmet to reveal his normal ears.
Kurokawa had been as much as a mother that anyone had been, which had especially helped in her MOS as a medic, but she couldn't have really understood what grated against the man as he huffed within himself.
He had belly ached in English, only Masterson and Bannon able to fully understand him in word.
"Can't believe it. First thing people from this world say about me is about the color of my skin."
Masterson had gave a few knuckle taps against his lieutenant's knee. "Hey, Kris, don't worry about it. They were scared of you because they thought you were a Dark Elf, not because you're black."
"Still hurts though, really."
By tone alone Itami had been able to find out that Emerson hadn't been happy. He had compensated, ignoring what it was, but dragging the man out.
"Sky sure is blue." The three Americans and the rest of the JSDF troops had looked out the window as Itami noticed.
"That's what the lack of industrialized society will do to this place, sir, lack of pollution stinking up the Earth."
"Is that so Sergeant Masterson?"
"You bet your ass." the man had switched back to Japanese after he saw he had somewhat alleviated the tension in his lieutenant's eyes. "See the problem with the white man is that not only do we want to rule the world, but the magnificent progress we make in technology and the heights of our wisdom, it don't go toward treating that world right. Oh no. Not only does the white man rule the world. The white man ruins it."
"So you think the reason why this world is so clean because there's a lack of white people?" Itami had fired back almost immediately. There were definitely whites back in the village. Hell, they looked like Italians, Romans, Anglo-Saxons.
"Just give 'em time, Lieutenant Itami. Hell, just give us time… It's our definite fate, compadre."
For the first time without being prompted, the sergeant major with us had spoken up. "Don't you worry, we'll try to save the people here if the fates fail you."
"Well, that's the thing with death and destruction. No one ever intends to hurt anyone."
Masterson had known the cycle, and it was the warning he had given. Beware, perhaps, not the Americans, us. But beware those who acted upon the principles of Americans in a land where they had no right to do so. He was wise beyond his years, not that his sarcastic and wisecracking mouth had lead anyone to believe that.
An empire can only be as big as its borders. Anything more and the risk of downfall sinks into that society.
Masterson had ended the conversation on that note.
Kurata had picked it back up with stride. "It sure is a different world." Lands of wide green plains, hills, trees and untouched purity. "Reminds me of the parks in Hokkaido… but with, I don't know…"
RCT3 bumped over a bridge, thankfully wide enough to support the vehicles over a stream.
"Like what, pray tell, Kurata?" Emerson asked.
"I imagined dragons and faeries flying around… Everyone we've run into so far had been human, except for maybe you."
Emerson flinched at the mayor's comment retold by Kurata.
"What a bummer." the younger Otaku of the bunch relented into his seat.
They were heading toward a forest said mayor had informed RCT3 to check out, another note on the map that had been generated on the limited range UAVs.
"You really wanted to see some cat-eared girls, huh?" Itami had chided.
"A cat girl, a voluptuous sorcerer, whatever." Kurata shrugged. "What about you commander… and you, Lieutenant Emerson?"
"Huh?" Emerson had grunted as Bannon and Masterson shared a chuckle.
"Me?" Itami had been ready. "Magical girls, I guess."
Kurata had took his eyes off the road to his commander. "Really? And you, Emerson?"
"I keep telling you sergeant, I ain't a part of your crowd."
"Alright, fine, what kind of women you into then?" Kurata had asked as he inadvertently put the man into a vice between the medic and Bannon. They looked at him expectantly.
"Please don't make me answer that, Youji." Emerson begged.
"Sergeant." he had kept Emerson safe by scolding his driver. "… and, I love Emyu from Mei Com."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. I'll kill you if you badmouth my waifu."
Bannon had almost laughed her silence off in a puff, she having jumped in her seat.
"Oh but, I… and Jay Kay, can sing the Mei Com opening."
"What?!"
"Jesus Christ Youji!"
As the sunset of this world had come over, we had been wondering why the Japanese didn't spring for the Leopard 2 copies to bring over here just so the Japanese had an equal for the M1A1s, and also why the personnel gear had been old issue when they weren't being compared to our Iraq War kits.
The answer, from Itami's educated guess, was that they couldn't afford to operate the Type-10s here.
As for the Type-64 rifles, he had reckoned they were disposable in case of a retreat.
I disagreed. "If we have to leave anything behind, I'd rather destroy it. If this Empire even gets a copy of any sort of any firearm…" What was left unsaid was that it'd be a Vietnam, an Afghanistan, all over.
And America had lost those wars.
"We understand, lieutenant." Itami reassured me.
Pops had guided Kurata with the map we had been slowly marking up and developing, leading us to a stream that he had recommended to follow. We would want to take camp in front of this forest for the night instead of rolling through.
"If we go into the forest now, it'll be dark soon. Don't want to risk going in without knowing what's in there… or running over any locals. That's not what the Defense Force does. It'd be counter intuitive from our task now as a recon team." Itami had said against the questioning Kurata.
I would've said something, but I peered out to the sky that was getting to red for a sunset ahead, and I saw what Kurata did, shutting his usually talkative mouth.
"What the?" Pops had moved forward in the aisle, leaning between Itami and the driver.
"What's going on?" Bannon had waken up from her daze against Masterson's shoulder.
I had answered. "Fire."
Masterson had gotten Bannon off of him, reaching for his M95 as the vehicles had stopped before the ridge in front of the forest, the infantry disembarking fast, I taking the 240Bravo and shouldering it.
Us Rangers had been the first on the ridge as the JSDF got their weapons in order, the gun on the LAV's turret being locked back.
I had held down Masterson's shoulder as he took in a breath and stared down range with the M95.
"Contact direct due west… D-specimen."
Bannon had shouted the report back to Itami as the squad scrambled for their binos, looking out across the great blaze.
"You know what, Masterson," Itami had declared as we saw what we all saw. "If the white man brings destruction, then the Japanese bring giant monsters. We're destined to fight them, after all."