Earlier
The Special Region – Italica
The Marines, they had tackled this Rose Order of knights, subdued them, but it was the JSDF that had broken them down further.
"Who are they?" I asked to Princess Lada. Though I wanted to ask another question, some form of disappointment written on my face. Why are these brave knights crying? Aren't they soldiers? The warrior culture I had become a part of, that made my fists clench unkindly, had made me expect more of anyone who dared pick up a weapon to fight.
"They are my comrades. Children of Imperial Royals like myself who took up arms for an order of Roses."
I realized something then. "This is your first combat experience, isn't it?"
No way royals would send their own blood to war… things must've been getting bad at the home front.
The only JSDF personnel left in Italica as the Marines and the volunteering civilians had started to take buckets and get the blood off the streets were those assigned to guard duty over the most resilient prisoners, the Rose Order included.
RCT3 had gone back to Arnus, finally, they needed the rest and the quiet to bide their minds.
In order to keep them disoriented, keep them unknowing of what was happening, the Huey that had mounted the psy op speakers had been landed right next to the prisoner zone and blaring, at high volume, the strange sound of an electric guitar that grated against these people's ears.
Now Playing:
Jimi Hendrix - All Along The Watchtower
Thankfully me and the princess were observing them from far away enough the volume of the music hadn't been too much of a hamper to our conversation.
She nodded to my question. It wasn't even combat, so I heard. It was a denial of all their training, all their purpose, when confronted with an enemy that did not play by their rules.
Perhaps, on that level, I understood why they sobbed.
So much to prove, yet why did god put them versus us?
"There must be some kind of way out of here,"
Said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief."
There wasn't really an answer, but one could say it was because of their parents sending so many men to kill us.
"Princess, I'm going to be brief then." She looked at me as a Black Hawk had landed for the rest of Hitman on the far side of the palace grounds. We really were due back home sooner, than later. "We're going back to our world to speak to our government's representatives regarding what has happened here today. What they tell me to do afterwards might end up in that war you seem to be looking for. Do you understand?"
I had dropped the mag in my M16 and let the rifle fall limp at my side, she watching as I put the aluminum case in one of my pockets.
"If… If I want to avoid war with between our people-"
"No." I had stopped her. "It won't be a war. It'll be a slaughter." he motioned to the thousands of bodies in the street being dragged to outside the wall for counting and proper rights.
"If I want to stop this slaughter…" I nodded at her, seeing her train of thought as she held a hand over her heart. "I will have to speak on behalf of the Empire our wishes."
"No." Again, I stopped her. "You will speak your wishes, you alone know what we bring."
She nodded, agreeing, unsure, but wanting.
"Take one of your lieutenants. The rest will be treated fairly under our conventions of war, and eventually we'll have them take care of Myui and this… transitional government here in Italica. After that, meet me by that machine with the proper diplomatic attire."
Seeing as she was royalty, I saluted her off, squaring my back away and disappearing to her inside our new field headquarters.
I bypassed Major Sevson, still ass sat down by the radio as he was shouting orders left and right. He looked up at me and shook his head. He simply didn't know what to do with all the bodies.
"Get the approval of Myui to burn them if you need to." I said, leaving him with that suggestion as the remainder of Hitman had called in a few Little Birds to take the trip in one go.
Masterson, being the only squad leader left, had taken over Bannon's men and women with little trouble, nodding at me as I came over.
"Princess is coming." I told him simply, my vocabulary draining with each hour I stayed awake.
He nodded thoughtfully before yelling out loud. "Present Arms!"
And so we waited there, at arms, for ten minutes or so, before the princess reappeared efore the aisle we made for them. With her: a blonde haired one with circlets. They had walked all the way down in clothes befit of travelling royals, and stopped just short of the beasts that were the helicopters, not knowing what to do.
"Imitation is a form of flattery, your highness, so after me." Masterson had said as he lowered his arms and ducked his head into the chopper. "These things," he knocked his fist against the metal inside. "They're called helicopters. Trust me, you ain't lived till you been in one while it's flying."
The two women had looked at me, the blonde having hidden a blackened eye underneath some form of makeup. I nodded, it was safe.
Didn't exactly help the fact that they were screaming all the way back to Arnus, gripping the seats for all dear life.
The Special Region – Arnus
Chuka and Lelei, in their familiarity with the Marines thus far, had asked for a Little Bird to ferry them back to Arnus after finding out Itami had gone back.
Rory, according to Wilbur, who had taken off after the battle of Italica was over, had shown up at the gates of Arnus with his jacket and her Halberd.
She had still continued to wear it, seeing as her priestess outfit was ruined.
Still, that wasn't the thing that concerned me most as me and Doc, after having that piece of wood ripped out of his leg and stitched to hell and back, looked at the arm Shino had supposedly shot off.
"Why am I not surprised, miss?" Doc had pretty much thrown his medical training out the window seeing as this was an apostle that could regenerate limbs.
Certainly gave proof to our own Jesus Christ coming alive again.
"I don't know, perhaps one day you will all have these traits, as befit the apostles of Emroy."
Again, with her alluding to our greater service.
I shook my head as Itami had looked on in the background with Chuka, the young woman, impossibly, becoming more amiable after that great carnage. He had asked her, on behalf of the Japanese government with Lelei, to make the journey over to Japan for the hearings.
"I serve my country first, Rory, not a God."
She giggled at me.
"I have lived long enough to know which outlives the other, 2nd Lieutenant Emerson. Consider this a smarter investment, for all of your men, and those like you… perhaps there are other on the other side of the Gate, more willing."
She had already explained to Itami, after eavesdropping on his conversation with Chuka, that she was going. Yet again, we couldn't exactly say no.
Paperwork might've said otherwise.
Doc shriveled his nose as he limped along with me, away from Rory as she concerned herself around the base. No one had really given her permission, but no one had wanted to be the person who said no to the girl with the giant blade who couldn't be killed.
She wasn't disruptive at all really.
"Got word from Godfather, Colonel Chigurh."
"Oh yeah?" I asked.
"Bannon's still fit for service, rushed her for some odd eye surgery that'll keep that left eye of hers under wraps for the meanwhile. Will be an odd thing to see her with an eyepatch, really." Doc was assigned under Masterson, and given his twitchy self he had felt little things toward the other Hitman squad leader. Main thing had been intimidation.
"She was the worse, right?"
"In regards to injury?"
"Yeah."
"Affirmative sir. Loke's got a cast on, Black will be issued some ear aids as his ruptured drums heal up, Ramirez, after some bed rest, stopped going insane, and me…. Well, the chemotherapy was still worse."
Doc was a good man, as good as his head was shiny at the ripe age of thirty five. This was all courtesy of cancer, of course, and still made it through Ranger school after recovering. Respected the man for that.
We walked to the dome of the Gate, that grey morning the day after the Battle of Italica. Same dome had been set up here as it had been in Ginza, on the other side.
"You know how extraordinary, this really is, militarily?" I asked Doc as he hobbled along with his crutch. Really needed to get him a wheelchair.
"Depends what you mean, sir." he said back.
"We have killed somewhere upwards of three hundred thousand people, and, asides from, in the big picture of things, some scratches and black eyes, we have not lost one person in turn."
He made something of an affirmative noise as he nodded. "Miracle… I think."
"More like a massacre."
"Well, same could have been said for the Mujahedeen and the Taliban some decades ago, and they still beat us out at the end more or less."
"At least the Muj' had guns, something that could hit us out from a hundred feet out, or something. These people… they have to look at our faces if they want to kill us."
Doc had grumbled. "Make it sound like you want one person to die on our side."
"Well, if one person dies, that'll be an escalation beyond words. If one of the Japanese dies, they'll mobilize modern armored elements… if one of us or the Marines die… Don't know. Might see a few of the other MEUs come up to plate."
The JSDF had already mobilized another invasion force during the Battle of Italica, more tanks and helicopters than I had even seen before in JSDF service.
All from the reserves, of course, didn't see one active duty unit here yet.
There was good reason to that, China having gotten a bit edgy ever since the Gate opened up and only Japan and America allowed inside. Nothing more than the reemergence of old issues: issues meant to warn the world of the wonders of Japanese expansion:
Manchuria. Nanking. Bataan.
The way the JSDF personnel had torn apart the Order of Roses… those old historical points had been in my mind recently, and no doubt, Itami's.
Itami was a decidedly average man, he had self explained, but average meant a lot of things in the fact he had gone to an average college and came out with an average history degree that allowed him to remember, more than others, invasions done by superpowers in the years before.
Personally I went to Syracuse and came out with an American history degree. Everything I had ever done for myself was to make sure I had set myself as a tried and true American to get myself into politics, that I had not a piece of shame on my record.
Didn't think that becoming a Ranger would have me killing more men than entire divisions had been capable of.
I was still astounded by the loss of life. It was an impossibly high number, and I knew, sure as shit, that someone from the UN would come knocking, soon enough, but the UN had no access to past the Gate yet, as much as the rest of the world clamored to be let in for a thousand official and unofficial purposes.
Even the god damned Palestinians wanted in to have a new homeland… as did the Israelis, or, at least, the most outspoken of them
End of it all though, this land was none of ours, not America's, not Japan's. Regardless of blood spilled on it.
This is how America gained its south west, after all: American blood spilled on foreign land, this becoming an excuse to invade.
"I'm looking forward to some R&R… you know, sir?"
"We only been here for just short of two weeks, Corporal Lamareux, doesn't really feel fair."
The man had shook his head before hobbling away, he still had his own reports to file, as did I. "Well, going home to us only means walking through that gate, that just isn't fair at all. To any soldier who ever lived."
I shrugged, going the opposite way to my denoted paper filing desk and building. "War isn't fair in general, I suppose."
"The fuck am I supposed to do with this, Ranger?" The Marine Armorer had yelled at me, he was packing his stuff up to go to Italica, as was the order for most of the Marines on this side of the Gate, only people remaining were Overlord and his own platoon at Arnus, just for the sake of always being there with the actual main force: the JSDF.
The JSDF had said something of the like, last I heard, that RCT3 would the same liaison force at Italica, but that was for after we came back from Japan.
The Armorer had been looking at disdain at the boxes of twenty shredded and abused muscle suits from our engagement, even as I handed in each weapon stripped and cleaned all over.
"I don't expect you to know how to fix these things, but at least put in a request to Yokota and have them circle back from there."
The limp synthetics had fallen from the armorer's hand. "Swear to god man, you Army folks are into some sci-fi shit."
"It's 2028 baby. Future is now. Future is black."
The armorer shook his head as I got rid of my squad's weapons and gave him the forms. "Yeah, I played Black Ops 2, too. Get outta here, Ranger."
Watch cap had bene back on my head again, even if it was in the middle of the stinking day.
Tomorrow morning we were due to dust back off, and my men that remained were resting their heads and cleaning house back at the barracks. God knew I needed the same rest.
So I walked in to quiet acknowledgements, everyone having taken a well-deserved showered and down to their skinnies. I followed shortly after before I rested my head on my bunk, head lazily turned to where Bannon and Loke's projector and laptop combination had been throwing up footage from the battle.
"Turn that shit off, Hitman." I said, quietly, half groaning, half tired.
The troops had agreed after a slight reluctance, turning back to the internet we now had.
Asides from the laptop, Masterson had put together Bannon's stuff and packed them well enough under lock and key. When we were away, our stuff was supposed to be shifted to Italica, and, courtesy of Lelei, the new Italica secretary/advisor to Myui, we were going to be bedding with the rest of the refugees in the palace.
It was very thoughtful of her, I thought, to give them a new home. Certainly put a load off our heads, especially considering we had six thousand prisoners of war still back on the other side.
Hitman had all gotten the notice we were due back at the Japanese senate tomorrow, and such their dress uniforms had been sorted out on their beds for easy putting on tomorrow, all of our ribbons, my own Japanese appointed medal, the gold and bronze that denoted us as great soldiers supposedly.
Surprisingly, to some, I had still carried the .45 and the high holster, that laying atop my own uniform.
Masterson had shared my bunk and looked at it wearily as he was also laying down. "You forgot to turn in a piece, Kay."
A few of the squad looked my way and at the tan 1911 derivative.
"Orders from Overlord and Godfather. Says all of us are going to be carrying side arms with Rory around. You'll get 'em tomorrow. Japanese government says it's okay, but make sure Itami doesn't seem 'em."
Masterson had gotten out of his bed and stood, now eye level with me. "You really think a bunch of dingy .45s gonna do shit against her?"
I shook my head. "No, but it'll make them feel better about bringing her over."
How the hell Itami got the permission for her was one thing, but one of the other Japanese officers had been handling the request by Pina regarding her own visit over with one of her knights.
God was one thing; royalty, another.
Lelei coming over was agiven, her translation skills had been making the folks at the language section of PR cry. Chuka on the other hand… well, every political hearing needs a sob story, and she seemed… different ever since she got back, I noticed.
As if she let off some steam, or she just forgot what kind of murderous attitude she had earlier.
Wasn't exactly an answer that sit well with me, but it was the case, and it let her be safe enough for her to travel with us.
But, in any case, crudely, fuck them, how about my people?
My hands had still been jittering, shaking, as if I was still in battle, and I had only gotten back from Italica a mere seven hours or so ago. All of my soldiers were still in battle mode, the way their eyes jittered, their lips curled and their teeth chattered a bit. How desperate they were, to suck in fresh air and live: the high of battle unable to leave them.
To me, I saw two different kind of highs that day: that of war, and that of killing.
Some people go to war, never kill, never fire off a shot in hatred, yet they still experience war and see things that no one should see.
Some people, however, craved something else that was really only justifiable, barely, in war: Killing.
Some people are born to kill, some people are naturals. Either way, they are the second type of people: the people who crave to kill.
An ugly thing, that perhaps is a part of us all, ingrained, but only some are able to bring out. No wonder where all that determination came from in Shino.
But then again, close to 20,000 were killed just a few hours ago, and, generally, strict number crunching told me that we each killed round 320 men, counting both the 7th MEU's combat element and the Fourth Combat Team.
That had been straight numbers, the Abrams probably killing a few thousands by tread alone, but still, it was a maddening prospect to say, if asked, "Yes, I did kill several thousand men today."
I didn't think too much about it.
At least in conventional war one wouldn't feel too bad on account of the fact a regular enemy had a fighting chance, and would spare you no pleasantries.
Here, we were knowingly curb stomping a people unable to do anything but die.
Nutt's pencil had been a noise above the low drum of the A/C.
I looked over. "What the hell are you writing, anyway, Nutt?"
"When I finally become a teacher and this is put in the history books, I want to have my notes of what actually happened down." he said, his back propped up against the pillow of his bunk. "If history will remember us, I want it to be as it were: truthfully."
I closed my eyes tiredly. "History remembering us?" I asked, in disbelief.
Nutt nodded with snap, pointing to me and Masterson. "You two both got Wikipedia pages, trust me, I checked, just a matter a time before Hitman gets it all."
Masterson had made some excited noise and got his own phone up, looking up his own name:
"Oh my god! They do!... and… oh god they linked my parents."
Masterson's parents had Wikipedia pages already… if only because they were lawyers who fought on some landmark case that brought back oil fields back to farmers and agriculture in "refurbished" states. Oil had long run dry in Texas, and as reluctant as the oil companies had been to let go of the land, they had done so at court order.
This, naturally, made Mastersons, the legal firm, a well-respected name in the south to the descendants of what had been the last frontiersmen.
In other words: rich.
And the only son of the Mastersons, Cameron, had a bit of a falling out at the ripe age of ten and sent into the world poor, hungry, and angry.
Naturally after a few years of stomping around Texas back country on odd jobs, he had hardened and not only turned into a man, but a Ranger.
Loved the man, really did, but he is not the man that the world needed on this side of the Gate… nor was he the man I needed to talk to the Emperor to get his palace to open up during Ginza, but hell, he did it.
Masterson had looked up my own page first, before I had. "Well, shit Ell-Tee, didn't know you used to work at Yankee Stadium."
I shrugged as best I could while laying down, looking up at that unfamiliar ceiling, my days throwing peanuts at people a long time gone. "I wasn't even a Yankees fan…"
"Go fuck yourself…. Sir." Harris had shot across the room.
"Later." I gave the man a thumbs up. "Mets baby!"
A few thumb scrolls later, and Masterson had details on me which he had long known.
Family went all the way back to the slaves in regards to America, and there was a little odd unprovable fact that I had some of Thomas Jefferson's blood in me, mother telling me "that was the only time white's ever gotten in our blood". That left a bad taste in my mouth, but the Wikipedia article didn't go that far in: just enough to say where I grew up, where I went to school, how I grew up, and my military service… along with all my physical data and what not.
That was odd. But Wikipedia was Wikipedia, and if the public had dug up the fact I had gotten into a scuffle at Syracuse that left me with a free tuition, I was okay with that. Saved me the time over the Wikipedia dilemma when I went into the halls of office… didn't exactly want to explain how a professor beat the shit out of me one day after he ran me over with his car.
I told Masterson and Bannon this story, a few weeks after we were first introduced to each other:
Family came from nothing, down on our luck in the Bronx, studied my god damn way to Syracuse, and I did not want to fight back against an irate Chinese professor because I did not want to risk losing my place there at the university. It was an illogical thought on my part at the time, but I was scared, not for my life, but for my education and future.
So I let him beat me with a club, almost to death, after he had hit my with his car on a crosswalk. Middle of broad day light.
Eventually a few of the other students pulled him off of me, but by that time I had already been bloodied, and the case was already set that I was due something for the blood I had lost and the body that was beaten.
"Being almost beat to death was the best thing to ever happen to me." so I explained as I got my degree with a paid for tuition by that lawsuit. But being so close to death changed me, and that anger I never put out at the man was still there, perhaps not toward him, but broadly.
That is, perhaps, part of what led me to the military, and not straight to politics.
"You know, this is sorta what I was wishing for, when I joined." Nutt had said. I didn't look at him, but I pressed him to explain. "Well, Ell-Tee, to go to a foreign land that cannot do jack shit to my home, and do what is generally right…"
Masterson scoffed as he combed over his Wikipedia page still. "Nutt, you believe the shit coming out of your mouth?"
"I dunno."
"There ain't no right or wrong in war, there's only who's right, who's left, and who doesn't care at all." I sunk my head back into my pillow as I prepped for one of Masterson's speeches, he having gotten up and walking between bunks to get the point across. "Just think about it, Nutt, imagine, just for a second, that we are blood thirsty, My Lai preforming, raping, war hawk crazy Marines. Compare that to your educated, well informed, ass and then bring that all down to here: This place is what both types of people hope for, my man. Take a fucking step back and we realize we're at fucking war with a Disney spin off, or maybe some part of Miyazaki's brain that was just too dangerous for a movie, god bless his soul. The whimsical man and the man who does nothing but kill for a living, can find a home here, and if that is not confusing, scary, and or speaks a testament to this world's worth to not only them, but for all types of people, then I don't know why the fuck I'm here, because clearly I don't belong here then."
Being a son of two lawyers tended to make him do this.
"What kind of person, are you again, Cam?" I asked, just to make him finish this thing he did to settle his ego.
He had spread out his arm and spun around, put on display for all the men and women to see.
"You mean, who we are, Lieutenant Emerson? For, we all did go through the Ranger indoctrination, right?"
"Sure."
"Well, Lieutenant Emerson, we are red, white, and blue, patriotic, US Army Rangers, born and raised to believe in freedom and liberty for all who do not dare stand in front of our guns. We are noble, crazy, and maybe a little romantic, but at the end of the day we are death dealing warriors in a world gone cold with almost no conflict, who wake up every day in the hopes that some communist dick suck dictator or a genocidal maniac gives us an excuse to go to their homeland and desecrate all that they know and will know in the name of fairness and equality and justice. Though we fight for peace, we hope diplomacy fails, for at the end of the day peace is not made by pen and word that usually just delays the finality of all mankind… No, the answer to the conundrum that is human suffering and tribulations is not peace, but war. And we are the ones who give that answer. Hoorah!"
Sarcastic applause for a brief second as Masterson collapsed on his bunk.
I would hire him to make my speeches later on… probably.
I talked to the ceiling, but Masterson caught my words. "So you don't think we should be using Princess Lada to start the diplomatic process?"
"As much as Princess Peach seems like she fully understands and appreciates the fact we cab downright murder every single one of her subjects with a flick of a finger, her father must hate her, or something, to send her out to these killing fields." Masterson had said. "What good can an unfavored child can do?"
I twinged at his Texas accented words. He was talking from experience. "She said she made that order on her own volition." I answered.
Again, Masterson scoffed as he muffled his voice with a pillow. "Well, fuck, some order that can't take on god damn JSDF Grunts. It's almost like they deserved to get stripped on the street. God knows I saw a few pictures being snapped by the Nips."
"Ain't no one deserves to be shamed like that, Cam… but still, don't know the Japanese did that."
Masterson kicked my bunk from the bottom. "Motherfucker, you're the one with the history degree. You trying to tell me that the Japanese ain't gonna pull a Nanking here eventually?"
"Well, I hope they don't."
"Yeah, and I hope we don't repeat the same mistakes of Vietnam in Iraq- whoops. Never mind."
I saw Harris shake his head in the background as we drew the shades and shut off the lights. "You guys are too good." he commentated.
We all knew where this was going though. Masterson was a piece of work, but he was always right.
Four Months since the Ginza Incident
D-Day + 11
Arnus Hill – The Gate
With little thought to it, Emerson had shaved his head bald the morning of departure, leaving only his scruffy goatee and a trim beard to it that outlined his jaw. The tan beret of the Ranger dress uniform wouldn't cooperate otherwise.
It came down from USFJ that those deploying to the other side of the Gate could forgo grooming regulations, if only because it was something of a curious tactic that was supposedly something that let foreign troops integrate with the local population better.
Masterson had been doing everything with a blonde handlebar moustache for the last three months because of it, beards, moustaches, and generally long hair formed into pony tails and buns otherwise.
To Emerson, it was somewhat refreshing to see everyone grow out their hair, it gave them personality.
Not that Pina and her lieutenant would see the Rangers as anything other than the helmeted, same faced death dealing machines. She thought the Japanese were more approachable, and that had been after the incident with her Rose Order.
RCT3 had come out in only a portion, Itami, Sergeant Tomita, and Shino having showed up to come over.
All of the Rangers that were still on the other side were there, Bannon going to meet them on the other side, she up and walking after a very, very urgent round of a surgical operation. A call to Masterson's phone in the middle of the night had confirmed she was going to be good enough for service after a month, given the fact that most of Hitman was given leave time, inexplicably, as these hearings went on.
Masterson had been more than happy she was okay.
Perhaps why, as Emerson had observed, he had a goofy smile on today.
Sergeant Tomita had given Emerson's right hand man an odd look. Tomita was a big man, reminded most of the Americans of a Japanese Schwarzenegger really, but he was a quiet one in particular. That had made him ideal for ferrying around Princess Lada and Bozes Co Palesti, another Imperial Royal, to all indications.
She had suffered a blackened eye, courtesy of the Japanese, but that was covered up with the miracles of modern makeup that some of the female troops had loaned.
To all intents and purposes, she was a fine soldier, and loyal to Pina over everything, but still, much like the 320,000 or so dead Imperials, that meant nothing under the scrutiny of automatic fire and people who did not fight with honor.
The two royals had been behind RCT3 as Emerson approached them, the twenty of Hitman all squared away and cleaned up despite the ultraviolence of the day before. Bannon had been the only one shipped back over.
Emerson patted Itami's arm after regarding his two subordinates. "Sleep alright?"
He shrugged. "Having another person help me with paperwork ain't too bad, admittedly." Emerson nodded. About six hours into his nap he had remembered Itami was probably inundated with paperwork. Good man as he was he came down to help.
Rory, Chuka, and Lelei had also been in the procession behind them. Emerson smiled at Lelei with a nod. He had watched Itami take her back to camp after, supposedly, a long day of translating that left the girl a bit sore in the throat and light in the head.
She had been host to not only Princess Lada, Bozes, and the JSDF Brass, but also to Overlord.
What they had talked about was something Overlord had smirked at when Emerson pressed before dawn. Colonel Pierce had taken his call sign very well, and he had been introduced as Colonel Overlord in the meeting. He had corrected, after a time, that his name was actually Adrian Pierce, but Overlord had stuck in the royals' heads already. Colonel Pierce was a man who had seen a war more maddening than the massacre at Ginza, or of the Battle of Italica.
He had been there during Kim Jung Un's death as Korean Reunification happened: millions and millions of North Koreans thrown against the wall that was the USFK and South Korea with such reverence for their dead god it was mutually agreed upon that the Second Korean War stopped conflict. Only because of the fact it was such a costly war, a one sided war, that it made nearly 3/4ths of the US forces in Korea at the time come down with forms of PTSD. Nothing to say of South Korea, or rather, Korea itself with its surviving people.
He had been the muscle of the initial meeting between the JSDF and the Imperials, the Americans technically having no part but as a supplementary force to the JSDF in the end, but the Marines and Hitman had done so much work, it was mutually agreed upon for Overlord to attend the meeting.
His eyes, for the lack of better words, pierced through the Princess. Even as her father had been able to do so, it did not have that fatherly sentiment she associated that gaze with. The gaze of the American, and Americans in general, as she had observed the two types of people there, had been one of great tragedy, and great weariness.
It scared her.
"They're terrified." Hazama had mentioned to one of his officers, the rather political one, and to Pierce.
"Good." had been Overlord's response.
Hitman had rendered attention, respectfully, to the two royals as Emerson did the same in front of them.
"Your highness."
Itami shook his head. "You Americans are too formal."
Emerson stuck out his hand to, once again, no catch. He shrugged as he waved at the three girls behind him, Chuka pleasantly in a good mood with her new clothes: a heavy sweater that would've provided warmth against an unfamiliar land in winter.
His gaze drew to Rory's weapon again. It had been torn out with a piece of Warlord 1-3's grill, and, though there was nothing anyone could do about it, she said she would give it up if she was allowed to wield one of the M2 Brownings that the Abrams had mounted.
Naturally the brass let her have the halberd instead.
"We got them all approval, you know, even the princess." Itami said, Tomita had nodded to confirm. "Yanagida seemed to streamline the process with the royals though."
"Really? Wilbur told me about him. Seems to be an odd man, him. A spy, maybe?"
Itami shrugged. It was too early.
Shino had been herself ever since Italica, not one bit said about her killing, her all too eager killing, during the battle. There was nothing anyone could do, technically, she did what everyone was doing: killing, and she was doing it very willingly.
Needless to say it gave Itami some seed of doubt about her mental state.
He was moreso concerned about the M45 pistols in the holsters hidden by the Ranger uniforms.
"You're carrying?" Itami had answered.
Emerson had blew out some air, pulling up the flap of his dress coat that was supposed to hide the gun for all to see, and looked straight into his counterpart's eyes. "No."
Itami had simply shook his head. "Americans."
Emerson shrugged again. Man was very observant, as usual.
Itami had taken out a cigarette and lit it though, his own shrug having come and gone as he motioned to the princess and her lieutenant, unnveringly eyeing up the bus that was going to carry the Rangers, RCT3, and the other worlders over.
Masterson had stepped forward from the two lines that the Rangers made, notcing the two royals' nervousness toward the bus.
"Don't worry, not everything we have is capable of killing… less that thing falls on you… or something."
The blonde one, Bozes, had spoken up. "….It looks like it might tip over. It's… too big."
Tomita had chimed up, reassuringly. "Things are gonna be a lot bigger over there in general."
Masterson had stifled a laugh before he had went back in line.
The bus was there, waiting, idle, a JSDF truck driver turned bus driver waiting patiently.
"Sorry for making you guys wait." Itami said. "Yanagida kept me busy, said something to the sound of "Don't let the Americans talk to them.""
Emerson nodded thoughtfully, Itami's annoyed scowl coming and going. "Shouldn't be a problem."
Lelei, in all her understanding, had shrugged too.
"Last chance to bow out of not going," Itami had motioned to the group. Not one eye had been lacking in determination. They were going, hell of high water.
And so they all, very slowly, boarded that bus.
Emerson looked at his watch before they got on, looking up at the morning sun and sky.
They watches were short an hour every day, or so. Daylight in general seemed a bit chopped off in terms of the regular twenty four hour schedule.
"Lelei says there are three hundred and eighty days in a year, compared to our own calendar." As said Itami, he having forgone watches entirely, disappearing into the bus.
Days should've been shorter, as was the logic, in Emerson's mind. But no matter the case, it would be late afternoon over there, and the time they ran off of was the time of their home earth.
Boarding the bus, it was time to visit home for a while.
Half an hour. That's what the time to transfer over from one world to the next was usually gauged at. Enough time for Pina to creep up on the seats carefully after viewing the exploits of RCT3 and Hitman through our cameras.
Cameras had been safely tucked away in some of our underwear back at Arnus, waiting to be shipped over to Italica's "Camp Kilgore" as the Marines were calling their new operations camp there.
She had sat a row behind us, as she asked us a question we should've told her.
"Are we going to Japan, or the United States of America?"
I adjusted my cap as we both turned around in the dark. "Japan."
"Why are you Americans here then?"
"Because, Japan is allied with America very closely, and Imperials killed some of our civilians too."
She shuffled uncomfortably still. "Have you always been allies?"
I shook my head immediately. "Of course not. Eighty years ago we were horrible enemies."
"How horrible?" I knew her gauging, she wanted to know if there was a chance to strike for peace between her empire and the outside world. Gave her an answer still.
"2.9 million."
"2.9 million what? In damages?"
"2.9 million killed. That is what Japan suffered in their war against us." Itami had kept his head forward as I repeated basic military history. "Over a course of around five years."
"And yet you are allies today?!"
History was an old wound. It always is: scarred over with time and politics and stories from those who lived it.
Faded as they are, they remain for all time.
"Princess, what you see on the other side of this Gate might surprise you, but I advise you to keep a clear head, and if you want to open up talks with us, I advise you to take me and Itami privately, we'll teach you our history. It's only right."
"But… aren't you soldiers? Not teachers?"
"We have degrees, certifications in history."
She only blinked at us, unable to bring up anything else. With that, she nodded and went back to Bozes.
And so the bus ride went on in the quiet of limbo, this place between worlds.
US Marine Engineers however had set up a long ass equivalent of an Ethernet line, all the way from one world to another, along with several other wire based utilities. There were talks of even inhabiting the limbo, but it was one step at a time.
The Italian architectural researchers, and any proud, red blooded Italians with a great sense of their history, had noticed to the upmost degree something that even an uncultured person could assume:
The Gate was Roman in every mortal sense, as for its properties, that was another matter, but it was decided that yes, these people were Roman, Italian, in the modern sense. Mediterranean, hailing from their equivalent of that place.
Whether this was a coincidence, or had signified that the last time this Gate had opened up was in Rome, was of rather pressing issue to those who knew of this information. But it was all theories and hypotheses and subjects we really couldn't follow up on, as long as there was an Empire meaning to invade us out there.
Besides, the history of this world had been a well-kept secret by those who knew, and most of the POWs simply didn't grasp history at all.
Light at the end of the tunnel blasted the windshield.
"Only twelve days… what a shame." Peters had said in the back.
The girls had been all in awe as the world came alive once again around them, and again, we heard the noise and bustle hum through the glass of the bus as the familiar world returned to us, around us.
I looked back into the dark of the Gate. "Oh, don't worry Peters, we'll be going back there soon enough."
The bus had came to a creaky stop in the intersection where the Gate appeared so many months ago and the windows cleared up.
"Hey, Itami!" Cam had shouted in the back, securing away Bannon's personal items as she had stood expectantly outside with Colonel Andrade and a combined guard force of JSDF and US Marines. The Gate had been guarded with a dome, a garrison, and more gates and fences than the North Korean border had once held.
Youji turned around as the Rangers got their bags. "What Cameron?"
"Mind if you take me to the Winter Exhibition later?" Itami had given an affirmative grunt with a thumb up, elbow ribbing me.
"Least someone has good taste in Japanese culture."
"…Fucking weabs."
Itami had the papers for the transfer from the Special Region to Tokyo, so he went off to the kiosk, Emerson easing everyone out of the bus, First Squad happy to see their squad lead again.
She had an eyepatch over her left eye, but otherwise, she had looked the same, dressed the same as anyone else, albeit with a standard issue M9A3 as opposed the borrowed .45s from the Marines.
"You look nice." As was Masterson's words to her.
She tilted her head expectantly. "And…?"
"No, you really do. Just that. Please, don't push me."
Emerson had yelled across the street as Colonel Andrade took him aside. "You miss your fucking girlfriend Cam?!"
"Like hell I did!"
Andrade, being as old as he was, had knocked his head a few times as the loudness of Emerson's shouts were right next to him, eventually the man leading him to where Itami was handing in the papers at the checkpoint.
"Nice to see you're doing well, Lieutenant Emerson."
"Sorry sir, and yes, we're fully operational, more or less." he said, some grumble from the bottom of his throat coming up as he had stood with his own papers, sliding it to the JSDF personnel who was manning this post at the moment after Itami stepped asides: behind them all, three men from Japanese Intel Headquarters and a very familiar looking MP.
"What's up Itami, Kay."
"Hey, Mitch."
"Friends from the JSDF, go ahead Komakado."
Older man in a tan coat, Itami having noticed that, asides from his dignification, he looked like a seventy year old Spike Spiegel.
The man stepped forward, his two bodyguards, or agents, staying behind. "My name is Komakado, from the Intel HQ. I've been ordered to escort you." his voice was a rather devious one, or maybe it was one that came with the work he did.
Itami furrowed his eyebrows at him. "Public safety?"
Komakado chuckled. "You can tell? That's a hero's six sense for ya."
Itami kept his mouth shut as he looked to Colonel Andrade. The man shrugged, Mitch having silently taken a card out from underneath his shirt on a lanyard: Central Intelligence Agency it had read.
Emerson looked back the Japanese spook, not noticing, even in hindsight, that Mitch was CIA. "Didn't work for me."
Komakado had pulled out a little notebook and thumbed through it, intently staring at the American. "Oh, what a shame, you and Itami are basically equals."
Emerson saw Shino out of the corner of her eyes, having donated her own coat to Chuka as she blushed at the movement, those from another world wide eye'd.
"There a thousand cities like this with a million people each, your highness." Itami said to the princess and her lieutenant, head up and mouth wide at the buildings that seemed to touch the sky.
"You're lying." The princess accused as she took off her royal cap and held it tightly against her chest.
Lelei, the ever observant one, had noticed the uniformity, the patterns of the buildings within eyesight, and simply shook her head at her. They were not lying, and, although she hid it in her face, it was an incredible sight.
"You had the second lowest grades in your class during officer training, and only avoided last place because another trainee was injured. After graduation and assignment, you rated "just passing." Your CO got pissed at you and threw you in Ranger Officer School, which you survived."
Itami had told Emerson why that was, months earlier: He had tripped the man purposefully, but subtly. No one ever suspected a thing during that PT run.
Itami had ignored the man's words after that, simply glossing over the information he had well and fully known as he closed that notebook.
"You've done your homework." he said simply.
"Slacker. Otaku. Your reputation on post is horrible…. And yet….You are an S."
Emerson twitched his head at Shino, if only to see her reaction. Not many people had known who Itami was in terms of credentials.
The Special Forces of Japan were modeled after the American Green Berets and Delta Force, on top of being a Ranger, Itami had also been an S as Shino stuffed a scream into her mouth and beat back an embarrassing break down. How the hell did he be these things? It was as much as a question to Emerson as it had been to Shino in all her gaping and unknowing.
He was a tough man though, despite his quirks, and that could be said for all of them there.
"You really did your homework… if a colony of ants…" Emerson had barred his arm across Itami's chest.
"Free rider theory, we use it in politics all the time. Trust me, I'm sure these guys know."
Mitch and Komakado had both put their hands on their hips and nodded. The world needed lazy men like Itami, at least, ideally. Long as he was still fit when it came to crunch time, he was a tolerable addition to society.
Still, being told he was one made his face scowl.
Emerson squeezed his counterpart's shoulder hard for a second, hisF scowl disappearing.
"As for you, Lieutenant Emerson, you are his equal in rank and position alone, but yet you are his opposite in how you attained that."
Emerson shook his head. "The right man…"
Mitch had continued. "In the wrong place, at the wrong time."
"And yet, you are both worthy of salute." And so the spooks had saluted.
Colonel Andrade had been the ranking officer there, his Japanese flawless despite the accent. "Glad to see you boys back okay, but unfortunately you're due at the Diet immediately after lunch. I've heard of the matter regarding the Imperial VIPs and Mitch, Bannon, and Masterson will accompany them while the rest of Hitman goes with you."
Emerson had blinked at this, Itami grating his jaw. "Only three from RCT3 and seventeen from Hitman?"
"Unfortunately the Japanese government seem to have an extra bone to pick with Hitman as a whole, as opposed to Itami's heading of the evacuation of Coda Village… also, given the circumstances, the Battle of Italica will come up."
Itami had sucked in some air and nodded, Emerson shaking his head. "That why the rest of RCT3 back at Arnus, Youji?"
He nodded.
The scrutiny of the world would be on them, and he did not want that. If anyone was to blame, for everything, it was him.
He was the Japanese Hero of Ginza, the monument to every sin committed over there, and worthy he was of judgement that the JSDF needed over there.
As for the Americans… they'd been down this road before.
"Nothing from the USFJ has been spent dictating our responses." Emerson had said to his Colonel.
"There's not one we can make up in time, just tell the truth, you've been trained on this."
"Suppose."
"Bannon's telling the rest of Hitman the same. You'll be briefed on exfiltration by Mitch and Komakoda later. It's gonna give you some time to clear your heads before you head back in, the JSDF and the Marines will start some territory consolidation over there in the meanwhile."
Andrade had looked wearily at Lelei who, though perhaps not entirely initiated with Bannon, had seemed happy to see her okay, albeit with an awkward question of seeing what was left under the eye patch.
"The nomad will have to answer for using that chemical weapons, but… Don't know if we can do anything about that."
Itami pursed his lips as the entire group started shifting back to the bus, two black cars now leading and trailing the idle bus. "She's a very smart girl."
"Which is why I've ordered the Marines to limit her access to the library if she ever finds out we got one over there."
"Why, Colonel?" Emerson asked. The Marines, with the rest of their supplies meant for self- sustenance, had ferried over a library, both physical and digital. Within its documents had laid one thing only a handful of people underneath Overlord's watch had known about: The handling and processing of uranium ores for various uses.
The Japanese, as per its constitution, denied the use of nuclear power in any offensive or defensive capacity.
America, on the other hand, had still hid its nukes in Okinawa, to no one's suspicion.
"Knowledge is the only way this Empire has a chance to beat us, and Lelei, as sweet as she is, is a liability."
"She's a pacifist, colonel." Itami said, almost through his teeth.
"Be that as it may, all of them are dangerous."
"I know, this is rude, Kay, but, let me ask you a question." Itami had been getting into a progressively and progressively worse mood. To think he used to be such a simple man…
"What, Youji?" I asked, Bannon and Masterson on the seats on the opposite of the aisle, also leaning in for a listen.
"What do you think would've happened if only the JSDF went in?"
I slumped back into my seat, the cushions a nice change as Tokyo went by our windows, the otherworlders engrossed in how many people were on the other side and how this seemed normal to us. To their favor, it was the holiday season, but still…
I looked for an answer so desperately in history, but I found nothing.
"If only the JSDF fought there…"
Maybe Italica wouldn't have had 20,000 raid it and be occupied by its saviors. Maybe that Fire Dragon would've killed them all. Maybe the JSDF would already be sustaining casualties.
Maybe…
In another world, in another universe…. Guess it really didn't matter what I thought as we pulled up to this noodle shop.
In another world, First Lieutenant Itami Youji would've been the main man on the other side of the Gate, the lone Hero of Ginza.
In another world, Tracey wouldn't have lost his family, as we wouldn't have been there at the beginning of it all.
But there were a thousand paths history could've taken, and this was the one we had.
"It's strange, coming back from that place, to here." Bannon had quietly said, even with her destroyed voice. "This place doesn't feel like a home I deserve anymore."