A/N: Heavy stuff... least how I felt when I wrote it. Soundtrack you should play in the background for the Diet scene should be MGSV's pair of "Beautiful Mirage" pieces. Anyway, review responses:
RipTidez - Thanks for the Diet questions, used or addressed most of them sans the last one. I'll bring that one back up at a further date. Your reviews are often great in affecting this story thusfar, and I expect some comments with this coming chapter, for better or worse with how flawed some of the responses are from Itami and others.
RearMirrors - Yes, I am fully aware I was using derogatory terms with Masterson for the Japanese. This is intentional. There is a certain degree of political correctness that is often thrown out the window when it comes to the life of a soldier, either because it is a delight to take part in it, you need to do it to stay sane, or a thousand other reasons that include a slip of a tongue, but I like to emulate this, perhaps to an exaggerated extent, in this story, going off of, as usual, Generation Kill. I mean, no complaint was brought up when a Marine in this story referred to the roughly helpless Italica raiders as "Hadji", or when I used November, the NATO phonetic alphabet, to refer to the extent of the haul initially coming from the dragon scales.
Hadji, in particular, is a very good example of otherizing people. As was Jap, Nip, or Tojo. It made the enemy easier to kill.
Gendou - Yes. I know what Lelei can do, however the main reason why the spooks are interested in her at present is because she is very versatile and intelligent, all things considered, especially since she made this ambiguous concoction of a chemical weapon on short notice just on word alone.
In general - Regarding the upcoming firefight in about two chapters, I've made my mind up and have it be a hoedown between criminals instead who want a literal piece of the refugees. I'll keep it ambiguous their ambitions, who or why they went for them, but I am dead set on keeping the resort firefight, and will tone down Rory's curbstomp to an extent.
In regards to the other Gate stories, which I might've accidently eclipsed, I do hope someone joins me in writing on my scale: as in, introducing entire countries and militaries to the Gate and follow the original plotline to a point before breaking due to the individual characteristics of those new factors. Hell, what if, and this is courtesy to my MGSV binge recently, Diamond Dogs or Big Boss's army finds this world, or something. Or perhaps have the Gate open up in the middle of good ole Texas and have the first civilians responders beat them back just by the glorious right of the 2nd Amendment alone, the US Military unable to respond fast enough that several militia parties go through the Gate first.
Food for thought.
Section 1-8
"God Bless America." had been Emerson's involuntary words as the squad had come back to the noodle shop just after Itami had ordered for the JSDF and the guests. They had just pillaged/bought loads from a McDonalds down the street.
That had gone to the tune of thirty eight Big Mac meals, enough fries to make the Irishman that had been one of the Rangers feel proud of his heritage, and enough sodas to make teeth rot within the day.
It wasn't exactly a good example of an American burger, such as Five Guys or the Mom and Pop stands back home, but it was as American as anything.
Yanagida had given Itami a slip before he had left Arnus: essentially some back pay and a little something something to take the entire group out for some retail therapy for the next three days, as was the plan.
Andrade had done the same, and given the fact that every Ranger was still being paid, they had a considerable money pool.
Live hard, play hard, die hard.
Bannon had started opening one of the Big Mac boxes as the Rangers had forcefully conjoined several tables to sit the platoon sized force, the staff looking on in disdain. Not even the manners to buy something from them. "You know," she said. "One of my friends used to work on an oil rig. He used to do shit like this."
Masterson had already squared away one Big Mac and was going at the fries, giving a rather fanciful thumbs up to those horrified a man could eat a burger that fast. "Like what?" he asked.
"Go off the mainland for several weeks, come back and spend all of the money he made on hookers and blow, and then go back out." she shrugged as she started eating.
"I do miss me American greenbacks, admittedly." one of the Rangers had said, also enjoying his Americana.
So did Bannon. She used to work in real estate, selling parcels of lands out in Montana with her family. Though Masterson's family name had been a bit bigger, her name had its own reputation, at least in regards to net worth in Montana. Reputation enough to draw certain, lying suitors who didn't exactly appreciate who she was as a person.
Long story short because of her now ex-husband, her business went belly up, her life destroyed, and her body made hard by the menial work she had to do to compensate.
Two sides of the same coin, Bannon and Masterson were, in Emerson's eyes.
Products of an American dream lived, fulfilled, but lost, taken away.
Yet here they all were, still fighting for it.
American dreamers in the land of the Rising Sun.
What the hell were they really fighting for on behalf of America on the other side of the Gate? If they wanted revenge for Tracey, it had already come in spades, just shy of half a million people dead in retribution.
But that's how it always starts: an objective, a meaning, a purpose that can be fulfilled, but can leave the people who carry it out in an odd place in the world, for better or worse (often worse).
For Hitman, it was one man they were acting before: For Japan, it was for hundreds.
It was not on their mind as they ate.
The man on the other side of the counter had wisely given the large mass of visitors privacy in the shop, the entrance being signaled as closed as they ate. He looked at Itami with a raised eyebrow.
He pointed at the Americans. "Tourists."
He pointed at the otherworlders. "Cosplayers."
He pointed at himself and his two soldiers. "Off duty."
Chef didn't argue, it was good money either way, leaving the three JSDF soldiers to eat on the counter.
Tomita's face had soured at the rather cheap food. First trip back to Tokyo and he expected something a bit more… fulfilling. He was a big guy, after all.
Itami saw it as he reluctantly broke the egg over his bowl. "Don't complain, Tomita, even a summon by the Diet is seen as a simple business trip, so our budget for one meal is five hundred yen… God knows coffee in Ginza goes for more than that."
"Eh, no sweat off my back." he said.
Before Itami had gotten into his meal, he had looked back at the otherworlders. Heh ad seen their faces of awe and unbelieving as they saw Tokyo once again, even ignoring the American and JSDF who had manned the guard posts around the Gate.
What they had seen in those giant buildings that went to the sky was that some were see through, and some of the men in tan had looked down upon them through those giant structures that defied known resources and building techniques. Just what they saw alone could've made the Imperial Capital shame in its efficient use of space.
"It can't be… " the Princess's breath had chilled as she froze at the sight. "People live in them?"
She wordlessly referred to the buildings as more and more military personnel looked at the new arrivals.
Logic dictated that such efficiency meant that space was short. "Itami's country must be small then."
Lelei had looked up and down the streets which the Alpha Point had intersected, seeing the telltale signs of more and more people: "Or maybe it is very populated."
And yet how small they had felt was shared all around, unknowing how to move before these glass monsters in the cold air. Tomita was right, things were bigger, and these people had lived a very different life than they had.
"To think we may have no choice but to go war with these people…"
Not that the high calorie, rather rich noodles had done anything to make the princes believe that the JSDF and the US Marines were gods of death.
Not when the meat was soft and the broth was golden.
Food tended to do that to people: stay opinions.
"You figure we would've brought them out somewhere nice. Sushi, perhaps." Itami had said as hit bit back the first few strands of noodles, the Americans relishing in the benefits of one of America's dearest franchises.
Shino had already half finished with her bowl as she answered lightly. "We don't really recognize her as royalty here. I doubt the Americans do."
"I may be half blind as of present, hun, but I'm not deaf." Bannon, and indeed most of the Americans, had heard the Japanese, even above their ransacking of boxes and boxes of hamburgers and fries. She had been nibbling on some fries herself, her eyepatch cupped over her left eye by three strings that wrapped around the front and back of her head.
She had sat down next to Shino as the JSDF soldiers nodded in greeting.
"Nice to see you okay, Sergeant Bannon." Itami said, chopsticks forking a piece of pork into his mouth from the broth.
"Likewise, lieutenant." she nodded as a lightly accusing finger poked at Shino's shoulder. "And I heard you can't quite believe Itami here is both special forces and ranger."
She blew air into her cheeks, eyes again, frustrated.
"I don't get it! He's nothing like you!" she argued, Itami fruitfully shrugging, having gotten used to Shino's disbelief in him.
Bannon had shook her head as she put her beret on the counter, tapping it with her fist. She smiled as best she could, but the doctors had injected something into the left side of her face that left it hard of feeling.
"Rangers, special ops, us men and women of action, we came in many shapes, sizes, and forms. Itami here in battle is no less a Ranger than me, Lieutenant Emerson, or even our retard team two leader."
"Rangers don't like manga!" was Shino's excuse.
Bannon had thumbed over to everyone's favorite blonde cowboy. "His bunk in Yokota is stashed with doujinshi and old OVAs from the 90s."
"…But isn't Lieutenant Emerson the better-"
Shino often forgot to watch her volume, as such, the Rangers were cordially invited to join in the conversation.
"Masterson is a better soldier than me in a lot of regards. The only thing I got on my boy Cam is rank outright." Emerson had defended his sergeant, now five burgers in and a soda guzzling down his throat. "Shino," his voice got serious as he laid back in the kiosk, not exactly caring about the otherworlders right now. "It doesn't matter who we are as long as we are Rangers first. We are soldiers, trained, indoctrinated, formed to the highest pedigree, regardless of anything we are as people. Your lieutenant is a damn fine soldier, and you should be wanting to go to his level, because he's a very good example of it."
"But-" she tried to speak up.
Masterson had spoken up before Emerson could, standing up, his drink pointed at her. "Look here, Whopper Deluxe, you want to be more like me?!" Bannon had used her hands to wave off the staff into the kitchen. "You got it all wrong, sweetheart! I WANT TO BE MORE LIKE YOU!"
Powered on by the powers of Ronald McDonald, the Rangers, perhaps a little out of line, had started pounding to a chant on the table.
"Burger King! Burger King! Burger King! Burger King!"'
The Japanese did not know what the Americans meant as they chanted, Emerson and his two sergeants staring at Shino knowingly, unkindly. Of course this behavior wasn't at all fit, but neither was invading another medieval territory and looking forward to slaughtering people there.
The otherworlders had looked on, mystified, their meals finished in the commotion. It was then that the Princess and Lelei had seen, that the Americans and Japanese were different as much as they were allied.
"Cut it out!" Itami yelled out, and the Rangers had stopped.
"They mean you are a born killer, Shino." Lelei's words had cut through the silence that Itami had waved out at. Itami looked at Emerson for confirmation.
"Burger King. BK. Born Killer…and you", Emerson pointed at the girl with her staff, Rory's own weapon wrapped up under black fabric. "You've been hanging out with the Marines too much."
She nodded.
After Cameron had downed his last burger, he had simply sat back down, a man whose point was made. A point shared across Rangers.
The rest of lunch went uneventful.
We had waited outside the suit boutique as Shino had some alone time with Chuka, whom was the only one who needed clothes. This had left us with Princess Lada, Bozes, the remaining JSDF, and Mitch, the other girls browsing inside the store.
Pina and Bozes had been gaping at the markets that had been all around us, normal, everyday people going in and out with little distinction.
Such wealth, such capacity, such inventory of many things that had yet to be seen in the empire: clothes, food, electronics, mystical machines and knick knacks that went beyond all reasoning. All of them, there in Tokyo.
I doubted Lada or Bozes had ever starved or been hungry, but I knew the feeling very intimately, they still obsessed with how busy it was on this sidewalk we were on.
Mitch had simply clacked his heels together as waited in the cold.
"So," I started. "CIA?"
"Probably." he answered.
We all looked at him funny, even the Princess and Bozes.
"I've had a very quiet life these last few years, Emerson, now the Chinese are starting up their old schemes again and suddenly I'm getting a little grey behind the ears to remember who is who and what I have to do." Mitch had said, tucking back his ID into his shirt, his pale complexion full of wrinkles.
He was at heart an old man.
"The situation past the Gate is easy enough for me to handle."
"In regards to….?" I led on.
"Don't worry yourself, Emerson, Itami. The thing about wetwork is that we've always had some sort of leak, mole, or whatever on the otherside. For once in our god damned agency's life, we have nothing to work with."
"…and when you do get something to work with?" Itami asked.
"We don't know what we'll do… Christ. I miss the Cold War."
"I'm not sure I entirely believe you, sir." Itami had been quick enough to remember that this man belonged to the world's most infamous intelligence agency.
"Always the case." Mitch had relented. "How are you taking Tokyo, Princess Co Lada?" he asked on the opposite side of the line we made. She struggled to find a coherent though to answer with.
The Princess had seemed startled by the fact Mitch had responded in perfect, albeit basic, common language. We hadn't even given it a name yet.
"How do you people know our language already?" she asked, concerned.
"Lingua Franca." Bannon had said, trying to get her own throat straight and clear. "You cannot win hearts and minds without a common language. It is a lesson we have learned the hard way."
Perhaps, in that way, words can kill.
"…I'm-…" she tried to start as an ambulance out in the distance wailed and died down.
Mitch had smiled as the Princess had stepped a bit closer to her lieutenant. "You should see our homeland, princess. America."
The Japanese had all looked at Mitch wearily, but we had simply stood as stone. I had enough of urban paradises, personally. The Bronx never really set me up to have a good opinion of cities, even with Manhattan down under my ass, New York City, as much as I owed to that place, was not somewhere I would've liked to raise a family.
Talked to Itami once, about why a guy his age hadn't found a family yet in Japan, as brash as that was. We were drunk, but it was still a question. He knew it was cold when he said it would've gotten in the way of his hobby, but the guy was married. Emphasis on was.
Which was entirely odd to me given that him and Risa-chan still looked affectionate… or at least, she did… when he was delivering her food/the alimony.
Their relationship as of present had seemed good enough, at least to my pleasure in getting them to hang out together more…
Little things, Emerson, little things.
The Japanese spook had still been besides us as we waited for the women. "One unofficial visit at a time, Agent Beckett."
"That your last name Mitch?" I prodded.
"Damn, and I was doing so well."
Itami had shuffled as he saw the women leave out of the corner of his eye: Chuka now adorned in a suit. Didn't look half bad at all, being an elf and all.
Shino had passed Itami the receipt silently.
"Glories of capitalism, princess." Masterson had talked up again, unphased by Itami's two glaring eyes and Bannon's one.
"What?" she asked regarding that word: capitalism.
"Free market, mass production, free trade, the right to sell and buy and to make an enterprise out of it. Come on, Princess Co Lada, tell me at least you Imperials have that."
"In those terms yes, but I do not see why you want to point thi-"
"Enough. Sergeant Masterson." I cut them both off as the bus had started up again. More than I in the Ranger group had noticed the men on the roofs above us, leaning on railings, trying not to totally look like the plain clothed Secret Service.
"Eleven, two, and one o'clock high. American or Japanese Mitch? Komakado?" Doc had asked.
"Japanese SOGs." the Japanese spook answered. "Your old buds, Itami."
"If they weren't 3rd Platoon, then probably not." he bluntly said.
Shino had broken her silence as she ferried the women back from their browsing of the fantastical clothes of the modern era, even Rory having picked out something that was just shy of a mourning dress. Up until then we had, to her displeasure, put her up in Wilbur's jacket and some purposefully washed and shrunken skinnies. Rory had tossed Wilbur's jacket my way now that she had clothes that she had deemed "proper" for an apostle.
"You were Mountain Warfare specialized?"
"Eh." he shrugged, all of us getting back onto that, only now we all realizing it, very vulnerable bus.
"I don't suppose we'll be going back in the same way we came out?" Loke had asked as she pressed her face up against the black shaded windows. "Secret will be out once we get to the Diet."
Komakado had turned around in his seat in the front to her. "No, Ranger, we have a plan we'll fill Lieutenant Emerson and Lieutenant Itami into when the time is right, and when that happens we'll have to split this group a bit. Some of you get escort duty, the rest of you have your leave time. You'll have a reconvene time set for the Gate crossover and go from there if it all goes to plan."
"Harris, Loke, Doc, Bannon, Masterson, you're with me on escort duty." I had said with perhaps a bit of a cold voice.
Mitch had looked at me in surprise. "So fast to assume, lieutenant?"
"Chuka." I called into the back for the elf.
"Yes Emerson?" she said sweetly, still getting used to the fabric of her new suit.
"Would you feel comfortable with Ramirez escorting you during the rest of your time here?"
Her ears twitched. "Who?"
The man in question had made some fake "Awwww" sound, he, and most the other people in the bus, had gotten the point.
Perhaps not me, but the women had some fair amount of amiable interaction with Itami, he having taken the "hearts and minds" tactic to heart… given if it wasn't natural to him with his anime and manga backing up his dealings with this fantasy.
That being said, I had just been around them enough for my company to be preferable to anything, along with Itami and his co.
Wouldn't want anyone else to ferry around these folks for however long we were supposed to be here. My butt had felt like it had wanted to be back over on the other side anyway, weirdly. The edginess to get off these comforting linens and be back out in the dirt.
It was a declaration by a dying Vladimir Putin, during his last few months on earth in his autobiography, that "America was fated to stay in the Middle East" forever.
It was an easy feeling to understand seeing as how much I wanted to get back out there for no good reason at all.
However, there was a clause to Putin's statement, one evil thing that no nation had wanted: the mantle of America. The force that propelled an entire nation's soul to sacrifice in the name of moral and ethical values acted upon for a people that was not its own.
I had to think, political man as I planned to be, what our old friend Vladimir would've said nowadays.
The Japanese had been expanding in the Special Region much faster than anticipated, the Marines having only occupied one town: the Japanese, during our departure from the Special Region, actually bringing in more and more supplies meant to establish FOBs.
We knew better.
As for the Japanese… How deceptive was the fact that they had claimed the entirety of the Special Region as their own land: as an extension of Japan. There was no technical invasion, in that sense, but that was the wolf in sheep's clothing.
Cam had taken me aside earlier, after his rant yesterday about who we were, and he told me about what he thought of the Japanese, and one by one the American servicemen in earshot had joined us and agreed:
"What Japan is doing, establishing more bases outside of civilian population centers, establishing itself as the new dominant power even when the status quo is still alive, being the god damned foreign force in general… Afghanistan was a large place, sir. This place is an entire world, for all intents and purposes."
"You know we're complicit in this too, sergeant." I responded.
"We always are."
We had clutched our own reports and notes: me and my squad leads, regarding Italica.
A lot more civilian casualties had been performed by the JSDF when they rolled in than we had ever imagined: Mistaken for combatants, those of the civilians we had rounded up before the breach of the walls that had tried to run away in the madness had been shot in the back by the JSDF who had reaffirmed the wall mounting positions.
On top of that reports that several of the RCTs hadn't been as diligent as us and RCT3 had been.
It spoke of callousness, inexperience, and things that were conveniently left out of our knowledge when we were there, but now had to confront on our own.
The bus started moving.
"Are you sure we don't have anyone talking for us when we get to the diet Mitch?" I asked, very scared in all pretenses. Didn't want the first time I stood before a government proceeding to be a political interrogation.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Emerson, but this was on very short notice, and even the JSDF is scrambling. Besides, they asked specifically for faces the public recognized: you and Itami's…. and who else knows about the Special Region better?"
"We're just soldiers, Mitch, we don't have agendas to push or an image to control. If you let us talk…" What was left unsaid by me as Itami had been very much intently listening was if any of us had a slip of a tongue.
The way Itami had proclaimed that one right, even if it was a mistake in the heat of the moment, that Japan alone could occupy the Special Region, had been disturbing.
Mitch turned around in his seat, addressing us all: "I'm sure you all will do fine."
The Princess had given the Sergeant Masterson a knowing stink eye: they had such thing as a free market too, so it was a tactless display by him to note that out. But that feeling that had written in his cold blue gaze was something that, up until now, was totally and unbearably true: superiority.
As a princess and a knight herself, she had not felt that feeling over her in a long time, and for that to have happened would've required a force greater than royal blood: something greater than an empire.
This was that something. This city alone was a greater threat than any of those soldiers, any of these foreign armies, she realized.
This was something that might've laid in her empire's future, but that was stolen in a storm of hellfire from these soldiers from another world.
"Lelei." she had said quietly. They knew her lingua franca, and that phrase had entirely been understood by her, it was of her language. The nomad had looked over from her visual study of the buildings around, so desperately wondering how so much glass could've been tempered for these buildings, wondering why they all seemed impossibly tall.
"Yes?"
"What manner of magic is this all?"
She had shook her head in response. "I do not feel the presence of any magical force here." she had shied away for a second as she looked at her palms. Perhaps it was the weather, but she felt numb. "It is…cold."
Rory had simply laid her head on the cold window, still enjoying her new dress, her breath painting the window with haze. "This entire world has had its senses numbed, this isn't what I expected from a world where these soldiers have been bred from."
"What do you mean, apostle?" Bozes had asked, head tilted and eyes a concerned.
"Killing is an act to be fully considered, fully reveled in, but yet…" she had gazed out into that blue sky above and saw a metal beast fly. Past the shock of this world's general largeness, it was a cold world that calmed the senses she had, but not those of her compatriots by fate. "To these people, killing is no more an act than eating, breathing."
"A warrior culture?" the princess asked.
"No." Chuka had said as the bus passed several armed military vehicles, falling in line as the Diet had come into sight. "They have killed so many people, it doesn't matter to them anymore."
Rory raised an eyebrow at the elf. "Killing is supposed to matter."
"And yet, to these people, they have no more barriers left to break."
Lelei had found her staff in her grasp once again from the floor, and held it close. "No matter what these people try to say to you, Princess Pina Co Lada, remember that they naturally came from we did. They once walked as we did, and they have committed worse atrocities than your empire."
She sucked in breath as the escort vehicles started seriously building up. "They're only human."
Rory had looked back at Lelei, a wondering look in her eye. "How do you know they've committed worse?"
"It is the logical conclusion that the weapons which I used during Italica were something not allowed to be used in this world, therefore, these weapons have been used by them once before, to the extent of a calamity."
"Then remember, Lelei La Lalena, you will answer to your usage of those weapons too." Mitch had said from the front, well aware of the conversation they were having.
Silence.
Japan – The National Diet Building - Tokyo
Even as all but two of my Rangers had gotten off the bus in front of Japan's highest government building, it didn't do much considering the military personnel present had far and away dwarfed what I brought to the table:
Japanese SOF, security, the rest of the US Army Rangers in Japan in full kit, choppers flying overhead.
Bannon and Masterson had barred off the two royals from following the rest of the passenger off. Tomita and Shino had stayed on as well.
"You're not officially supposed to be here. If anyone that doesn't need to know knows you're here, great danger might come." As said the sergeant.
"But I need to stop-!" she had said irrelevantly.
I spoke up. "I don't intend to make this situation worse, Princess Lada, you are our ally, as far as I am concerned, right Lieutenant Itami?"
Itami nodded. "Right, Lieutenant Emerson."
"We'll take care of them." Bannon had said simply, Masterson nodding with a rare, actual affirmative.
Itami looked to his two sergeants: "Kuribayashi. Tomita?"
"We've got it. Sir."
And the bus went on, leaving me and my eighteen Rangers with Itami and the refugees, the Japanese spook having gone with the bus, Mitch coming along with us.
He had drawn from underneath his winter coat a KAC PDW, getting behind us and ushering us forward.
"Quite a lot of people are still not happy we're over there. Religious extremists, anti-imperialists, civilian and military contractors that we've denied access, things of that nature." he said as we were rushed before the marble walls of the Diet. "Got wind of a few plots. Folks from Langley had to bust out the old workbooks and the Japanese had to ask for some of our notes in return. Been a long time since they've had to deal with terrorism."
Itami had given a glare at Mitch. It was a reaffirmation of the role Japan had been taking on.
America had been dealing with that ugly state of war that had cursed it ever since 2001.
This was a fact I had to take on in great sorrow as an American born in the year I was: I had not seen a world before September 11th, 2001. I was born into an America that was always in the Middle East.
I had not seen America's soul change, for it always was as it was.
Masterson, Bannon, my elders of at least three years, they all tried to talk of the world before 9/11 if they could remember it, but they couldn't.
Itami had far and away realized, that there would be a coming generation where Japan had not existed without them inhabiting the Special Region.
Media had still been onsite, my Rangers having created a protective circle around the refugees as we were ushered past the front door of the imposing Diet building.
"Deliberations start in two hours. Make your way into the chambers and just do you, Ranger."
And Mitch had left us as if we were just bystanders, nothing to say that the fact we were the main attraction today.
Inside those highest halls, it seemed like another day.
"Follow me." Itami had said, and we had followed.
It was just by habit, as Itami had opened a set of large brown doors, we had flinched as we thought we saw gunfire.
No. It was only the flashes from the media stands above.
Loke had raised her hand as Harris took it all in stride. He had been used to this, at least as a collegeball player. A good two rows of seats had been cordoned off for us to our left in the chamber of politicians and advisors.
"You going to be alright?" Itami had asked of Chuka.
As we all slowly made our ways to our seats, the cameras getting full shots of us for the world, she had simply straightened out her suit's jacket.
"I will be."
The bus, having been found out it had been the transport the entire day, had been a bit of a boogeyman by the media as it turned out, but seeing as, supposedly, the VIPs had all gotten off at the Diet, the bus was left alone to go a few blocks down into a parking garage.
Masterson had been watching a stream of FOX News from his phone as they had waited in civilian and military traffic, the topic of hour having been the hearings about to take place.
That's when Hitman, Itami and the refugees had walked in to the note of the reporter's alert: the refugees had been behind Itami.
"What did you think about being a Hero of Ginza anyway, Cam?" Bannon had asked as she leaned in to look on. He was the third of the three, the soldiers who came to duty just by chance.
He had scrunched up in his seat. "Nothing much really. Hero don't feel right anyway."
"Well, you do have a medal to your name."
"Like a medal ever made things better. Way I see it, a hero's only as good as the people calling them a hero." He had been well aware that the Japanese spook had been looking right at him, even as he told Bannon. "Shame you weren't there too, Lisa."
"I think I've taken my pound of flesh from the Imperials. Same with the Marines. Saw it in their eyes. They got to kill and now they just want to leave."
To take a life was nothing more than a souvenir in that world. The amount is one thing, to say that you did was another. "My first kill was at Ginza, you know." he said thoughtfully. "Seeing them roll over the streets and kill innocents, it was very easy to gun them down in turn. Didn't see them as human… but then you get these refugees and suddenly I'm thinking about what the fuck we do to these people after we-… you know what, just a thing every soldier asks eventually."
"You Americans had the answer though." the Japanese spook had said.
They did.
"Yeah, well, make sure you find that answer yourself, sir." Bannon had said as the bus had crawled into the underground.
All the while, Masterson's phone had been going on and on.
"…rumors from sources in the Pentagon conflict in this: One batch of rumors state that the US is ready to ramp up further military involvement in the Japan's Special Region after this massive engagement. The other is to the contrary: America should pull out before the Japanese drag this country again into another unconventional war."
Four Months since the Ginza Incident
3:15 JST
Japan – The National Diet Building - Tokyo
President Dirrel's statements regarding the "Tragedy at Italica" had actually come off as something scathing toward the Japanese. Half of it was condemning the Japanese for perpetuating the conditions for such an event to take place, the other half was regarding not heeding the advice that I hadn't heard myself given to the Japanese from Pierce and several of the remaining Second Iraq War officers.
Hazama either never got that advice or brushed it off to the side. I had whispered quietly to Itami in our seats what the hell that was about and he simply shrugged.
"This isn't the Middle East. I see no need to follow the new American doctrine here." Itami quoted to my horror.
The media was having a field day with us, as if we were celebrities, the camera flashes toward our refugees unkind to their unconditioned eyes. It had felt rather sensational, if that had been the appropriate word.
They went on silently after the chairman had done the formalities introducing himself and the speakers from the Japanese government today: humanitarians, military advisors, people who disapproved of us in general.
How civil they were for such an uncivil subject.
"May those called for this hearing please rise and identify yourselves starting from the right most seat in the first row and continuing from there from left to right sans the refugees."
I blinked. This wasn't usually how these hearings went.
Itami had gone first then. There was a little determination in his step that had been so unlike him, seriosity: purpose that kept his two feet grounded in his uniform. I had told what the male speaker had meant to the refugees as the lieutenant had gone up, they were to stay seated. No need to create the shitstorm of a century just yet.
"I am First Lieutenant Itami Youji. Currently assigned to the Special Task Force investigating and pacifying the Special Region. Leader of the Third Recon Team as established by General Hazama."
"Witness Itami, please sit."
As said the booming voice from the speakers. The refugees had got on edge as that voice echoed, Itami had put on a kind face and simply told them all was right as he had sit back down.
Next was me, walking up to that desk, four microphones just barely at my chest level. I had simply tucked my hands behind my back and talked.
"My name is Kristian Ridgway Emerson. Second lieutenant in the United State's military service. 75th Ranger Regiment, Special Forces, currently assigned command of "Hitman" in the US deployment as adjunct to the JSDF, a US Ranger liaison force with the 7TH MEU."
"Witness Emerson, please sit."
And so I did to little sweat on my forehead.
Harris had went up as Itami had whispered again to me. "One day they're giving us medals and another they're about to blame us for 20,000 dead."
"How do you know they're here to blame? We are, officially, just here for questioning."
"Just the looks in these people's eyes…"
Harris had went on, his imposing form not exactly playing well with the microphones. He spoke anyway. "Private Brian Harris. Assigned under Hitman's First Squad. Is all."
He gave me a light look as he sat down. He having decided that they did not need anything more.
"Corporal Talia Loke. First Squad."
"Je suis Decker Lamareux. Caporal. Second Squad. Combat medic."
"My name is Donald Nutt. Corporal. First Squad."
"Private Jameson Black. First Squad. Marksman."
"George Ramirez. Sergeant Ramirez. Second Squad."
"Corporal Aaron Peters. Second Squad."
And so on and so forth for the rest of the almost twenty Rangers.
With that, the discernable witnesses had rattled off their names and the hearing had started in earnest. So began the greatest national diet broadcast the world had ever seen. The eyes of the world had been on us, and I sunk into my seat. Thankfully the attention directed toward me had been instead directed toward the refugees, Rory's hidden halberd very much under wraps and on the floor.
Hers was not the only weapon that was being concealed, I having pulled my thigh holster a bit higher.
The speaker for the house had adjusted his microphone as he had pulled us all in: "We will now begin testimonies from the witnesses concerning incidents inside the Special Region. This hearing was called for, for the record, regarding events that included the deaths of refugees, and we will start with that topic, however it is in the interest of this hearing that we not dwell on that and instead approach, eventually, the "Battle of Italica"… I yield to Diet Member Kouhara Mizuki for the first round of questions."
A woman had come from the opposite side of the room. Older woman, but there was something of a fire in her eyes as she brought a cardboard display up.
I had a certain respect for politicians who had gotten emotional, had been human above it all. I was an aspiring one above it all. Itami, not so much, but I had my civilities about me regarding the public servants. That being said I kinda wish we did kill that giant fire dragon and drag its carcass back through the Gate just to say we did our best given this woman's point that she wanted to make, written out in black and white on that board.
478+ Civilian Casualties
150 from the Koda Village Evacuation
38 from misc. evacuations from other JSDF Recon Teams
290 from the Battle of Italica – Friendly Fire
"This is a question to all of the military personnel here. In a world where we have gone to great measures to cut down on civilian casualties, even in unconventional and guerilla warfare, how can half a thousand people be cut down in the span of a few days under the watch of the Special Task Force? 290 being from our own weapons?" she said, calmly. This answer was deserved. It really was. During the last half of the 2010s America had to give these answers regarding its drone program, not to its own people, but to the world.
During the Second Battle of Fallujah of the Iraq War, civilian casualties were, officially, chalked up to around 800 civilians killed during that particular engagement. For one battle, 290 and counting supposedly, we did okay. It didn't make me feel any less dark thinking about it.
Itami had looked to the speaker, sharing eye contact as he nodded. "Witness Itami." he had called, and he stood to address her.
She had been a noted humanitarian, a bit heavy on pushing for those budget cuts to the JSDF that came back to bite them in the ass regarding Japan's current force build up in the Special Region.
He breathed tiredly before talking: "Unfortunately, civilian casualties are an inevitability of any war, especially in such a conflict where the opposing force is of a lesser culture than us and are, in our view, terrorists. In regards to the evacuation of Koda Village, I feel deep regret for the loss of so many, however I, along with my Recon Team and Lieutenant Emerson, who was with me during that evacuation, are very glad that we were able to save those that did not perish."
"And do you feel that RCT3 could've taken better action; the JSDF as a whole as well, in order to secure the safety of these evacuees?"
Itami had been quick to answer. In hindsight a thousand different choices are always apparent: better or worse paths. Yet here they were because they went down one path.
"During the evacuation period, the main JSDF force and the Marine contingent were occupied with securing Arnus Hill, the area around the Gate on the otherside of the one in Ginza, as well as conservatively establishing itself in solitude in the region. If, perhaps, the main force was available, and able to be called in order to assist all of the Recon Teams regarding evacuations, yes, this would've been the best possible course of action. However I, as commander of RC3, had made the decision to deal with the resources we had. My dissertation regarding the evacuation should be made public soon, following this hearing." he bowed and simply awaited for the speaker to allow him to sit, which he did.
"Lieutenant Emerson, is what Lieutenant Itami saying true? In what do you have to say in regards to his statement just now?" the Diet member had asked. I looked to the speaker and he gave me the address for me to stand up.
"Respectfully, Miss Kouhara, Lieutenant Itami's analysis of the situation, both in hindsight and in the present as it was, would've been the same decision I would've made. Our main force was not capable of assisting us at that time, and it was our duty to ferry non-combatants to safety given that a D-Specimen, or an A-Class animal, was destroying the surrounding towns."
"And you and Lieutenant Itami's team had dealt with this A-Class?"
"To the best of our abilities, yes. Unfortunately we were unable to deter or preemptively deal with the threat before it had taken the lives of these refugees."
She had not been mad at all, but rather, observant, looking for any deceit or lies in my words: any source of complacent PR bullshit. But there was none. She nodded.
"My compatriot, Suzuhara-kun, will pursue the engagement with the A-Class, as a note."
"Thank you for noting, Miss Kouhara."
"Moving along with the current subject however, it has been stated that Recon Team Three engaged in combat with several refugees?" she asked. I knew too well.
"That is correct. While the JSDF portion of RCT3 was attending to the logistics issues of the evacuation: helping cargo and person being moved out of their homes, me and my two team leaders: Staff Sergeant Cameron Masterson and Staff Sergeant Lisa Holmes Bannon, were preforming non-lethal peacekeeping activities."
"In what situations called for such activities?"
"Refugees stirring up civil disputes regarding property and the distribution of several public materials. Rest assured, ma'am, no permanent damage was observed by any of us."
"Then how do you explain the casualties from the Battle of Italica? Was this same restraint observed then?"
Itami had grunted once to get my attention. "I cede the floor to Lieutenant Itami."
The speaker had given Itami permission to replace me. "The enemy force composition was composed of both Imperial regulars and plain clothed raiders, thus, when some of our restrained civilians tried to vacate from the battle site, we had judged at the time they were hostiles. We deeply regret any innocent lives taken, however the death of civilians, though tragic, is unfortunately an inevitable consequence of the type of warfare the enemy demonstrates: a reckless, indiscriminate one."
"We find it disturbing, however, that the JSDF is the only ones recorded to have gunned down civilians based on poor intelligence. There are multiple grounds to bring war crime charges up, and thus further investigation into this operation."
"The Americans have taken oversight the rule of law in war and have the Geneva Convention always in mind, as is vice versa. We check and balance each other. Any civilian casualties, in true form, rest on the shoulders of the opposing force for forcing such circumstances upon Italica, and indeed, even the evacuations and the noted scorched earth tactics we have been observing."
"So you cede all blame from the JSDF then simply because of circumstance? The justification of killing civilians is that of confusion?"
"It's not a justification. It's just the explanation." Itami said, coldly, fast. "I never intended to hurt anybody."
Isoroku Suzuhara had been a JSDF veteran, his left leg lost, not in combat, but in during an aid relief mission in country that left his leg buried underneath the rubble of a fishing port along Japan's south.
It was because of that missing limb that he had proudly displayed with a limp and a metallic clunk to his step, that people assumed he had lost it in combat.
He didn't, but he lost it doing something a bit more noble.
Kouhara had finished her questioning after a military advisor, a man from the JSDF's higher echelons, had echoed Itami's analysis of the treatment of the refugees.
They did their best, and that was what she wanted to hear, even after she had gone on a mini-rant that it was ultimately up to Japan to take care of its people, even those in a land such as the Special Region.
Of course it didn't end without much criticism regarding the fact, for the first time, Japan had notably killed civilians, no matter the case. It was the first occasion ever since the Second World War.
The advisor had said simply it was indeed an aspect of war that the Japanese needed to accept.
My Rangers had shifted uncomfortably as they heard that rhetoric.
"I know in war that much of the decisions we make on the battlefield are circumstantial, based on the here and now, but what set of circumstances led you to believe it was correct for you to use your JSDF compatriots as bait, Lieutenant Emerson?" he said, his voice gravelly and his hair thinning out.
"Their position was appropriate for the request, and the circumstances simply being we needed our target to be distracted otherwise."
"So you were willing to sacrifice these men and women for the sake of lining up a good shot?"
"We all were willing to put our lives on the line in order to save these refugees, Major." I addressed him by his retired rank. "If I was in Itami's place, and he was in mine during that engagement, I would've followed those orders to a T."
"Under the circumstances that you were informed of what you were doing, which Lieutenant Itami had no indication of which."
"The heat of the moment dictated what details I had let out. I have since apologized to RCT3 regarding the nature of the incident."
"Yet why did you not alert them to your strategy as you had disembarked their vehicles? Perhaps to claim some glory again, Lieutenant Emerson?"
The side of my mouth twitched and my eyes furrowed. "I didn't join my service for glory, Major."
"As says the man who went charging into Ginza."
"As says the man who went charging into Ginza for a comrade. Everything I do is for the greater good. This baseless accusation is based only on the fact that I am an American."
His own eyes twitched. He had gone through the same line of questions with Itami before me, and he had said he had acted in the moment, as I had, and he understood what I was doing on some level.
"You Americans have no right to be policing on Japanese soil."
"As party to the Mutual Defense Treaty that Japan and American maintains, we do. Even if the Special Region has been claimed by Japan, it has not been recognized by the international community as such." In my mind I had wanted to add in one more thing: an example, but if I said that this hearing would collapse. I wanted to say "-much like Manchuria during World War Two and the period before it."
I held my tongue in though.
China had been bringing enough old wounds up.
The military advisors hadn't been playing sides, and he had taken to his own microphone for a second, for the record. "Let it be known that, despite current deliberations at the United Nations, the Special Region is currently unrecognized as being held by Japan…" he had said that with much more grit than I had appreciated, but it got the point across. No more than Israel owned Palestine, and vice versa.
"America does not hide behind pretenses anymore, Major." The history I would bring up would be the wounds we had inflicted on ourselves. "This world does not have WMDs. This world is not under the threat of communism. This world poses no actual threat to us militarily. Operation Odyssey Ultimatum is simply, and only, the broad term for the American adjunct deployment with the JSDF into the Special Region in order to only bring to justice those responsible for those innocent dead during the Ginza Incident. That is our objective, out in the open, and if there is any glory attached to that, it is only incidental, not our aim."
A flurry of pictures had been taken as I bowed out of that topic, both of us knowing that any further comments would end very aggressively. Major Higaki, during the delivery of one of my reports on the RCTs, had asked if any of them had identified that if the Empire had been a democracy.
As if that mattered.
"America then claims to only be adjunct, supportive, of the JSDF?"
"Correct, Major."
"Then why was it the Marines that have so far led every combat action seen on the other side of the Gate? The question of Glory, comes up again, especially regarding the use of Richard Wagner's musical piece, most often associated with the grandeur of the Vietnam War. Who is really leading this operation? America or Japan?"
"To my knowledge, it is simply coincidence that the Marines have been in the best position to respond to most, if not all of the combat engagements thus far, given that their duties do not extend toward upkeep and fortifying of Camp Omega, or Arnus as the JSDF refers to it still… plus, this does not mean that the JSDF has not engaged in combat alongside the Marines, Italica still very much in my mind, the JSDF's Fourth Combat Team securing the city's perimeter swiftly and effectively."
"Still, eighty men compared to nearly 550 Marines and a platoon of American M1A1 main battle tanks certainly speaks another story. The fact that the MEU has seen fit to deploy the aging Harrier attack aircraft also speaks towards the urgency that America seems to want to deploy military power over there."
"The force composition of the 7th MEU is available publically and on request, Major, and if there any additional components to America's forces there, which is now far and away outnumbered by the JSDF despite the aforementioned agreed on terms, I cannot speak for them as I have no knowledge."
He glared at me. "What is America's interest in the Special Region, now that one of its military units has seen it first hand?"
I raised my hand. "I cannot speak for America's interest in the Special Region, if there is any at all. We are there on an objective. Not a special interest. If there are any at all, it is, I believe, conjecture that has no bearing on our mission." I had sworn an oath not to lie, but I could not confirm my own suspicions regarding the four tanker crews and their work history. "Furthermore, Japan designates the movements in the end of the Special Task Force. It is for this reason the 7th MEU, despite its capability as a fast moving attack force, has not proceeded to lay siege to the Imperial Capital."
The Marines, after all, had taken Baghdad twenty one days after Iraqi Freedom started. In the Special Region, maybe it would take one week.
"Major Suzuhara, Colonel Andrade of the United States Forces Japan has the floor."
All of my Rangers had flung their head up as Godfather made an impromptu appearance.
He was there in his dress uniform, same as all of us, and as the Major had been forced to sit back down he had taken to the stand as the cameras went off.
"This is a question for First Lieutenant Itami." he said in English. Itami's translator bug in his ear had started working. "What is Japan's interest in the Special Region, seeing as, regardless of UN recognition, a claimed part of the territory of the State of Japan?"
manifest destiny
"I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man."
-Thomas Jefferson, regarding the XYZ Affair.
Itami had replaced me at the stand. It had been a back and forth game between me and him, my Rangers and the refugees left quiet and staring into the lights of the Diet.
"As a part of the territory of Japan….uhm," I had given a grave look at Itami. "We will intend to treat the people fairly, as citizens of Japan, however regarding the resources that the Special Region has we will negotiate with owne-"
"So you intend to use the Special Region as a new source of materials and resources for Japan."
"I cannot speak for Japan's interest in the same way that- well… I rescind my statements."
The damage was done by Itami, and the cameras had been going off.
The Special Region – Italica – Camp Kilgore
"And that is why you don't give a soldier a politician's job." Sevson had said as he sipped at coffee, the reconstruction of Italica still in full swing, blood still very much on the streets as bodies were continuing to pile up on that giant funeral pyre that Myui had greenlit under supervision with the Rose Order.
Freeman had shrugged, he was more focused on the other reports coming in as opposed to the internet radio connected to the other side of the Gate.
"Japan has located two more FOB sites and are starting to set up shop. One on the site of that burned down forest, the other a few clicks north east from here by Roche Hill. We gonna do anything about it?"
Sevson had shook his head as he sat on that balcony, looking as the funeral pyre, metaphorically meant for the entire Empire, go up into the sky as the smell of burnt flesh perpetuated. "Let the JSDF dig their graves."
Serves them right for not listening to us, he thought.
He remembered the arguments Hazama had with Overlord. The heated dispositions with the refugees regarding what heart and minds really entailed and how you were supposed to carry out such a doctrine.
The JSDF had sent over several medical stations in Italica and started the usual aid work, shooting up the locals with inoculations and medicines that were a thousand years above these people's times. The Marines never asked for such assistance, but it came anyway to the town of their caretaking now.
They didn't complain, but hearts and minds did not come from simply shooting dead viruses into the bloodstreams of people who had bigger problems to come, both from the Empire, and, perhaps, the JSDF themselves.
Japan - ? - Tokyo
And so despite everything, the princess could not make this simple meeting between two officials a peace conference. No matter how hard she had wanted peace, no war, she was told it was not the time or place, and as she had grasped that notebook of six thousand POWs, names that she recognized written on its paper, her words held no wait, as much as Bozes tried to say otherwise.
"They must've listened to you princess! You're their only link to the Empire!"
"They don't need one… the only reason they're having these talks at all is because they think themselves a better people than us. Their high horse is what is saving us."
To her, there was so little actually stopping these people from doing the absolute worst with the most righteous reasons: neither word, nor wall, could stop them.
So as the princess had looked out to the skyscrapers through the floor she was on in that building, waiting for the Japanese to finish up their business and allow them out, the two Americans who had followed them out kept them at a distance.
Bannon had grabbed the cigar out of Masterson's hand before he lit it.
"Manners… and I don't want you to ruin your voice." she said with her own raspy one.
Masterson had given a half, understanding nod as the two looked at the backs of the two diplomats, they having just seen the Diet roar to life on Masterson's phone as Itami's tongue slipped again on the implication that Japan was going to use this Special Region's resources for their own intent. It wasn't protest over the fact that they were going to do it, it was the fact that it was said outright, that it was a brash statement by Itami that overstepped all the "necessary steps" meant to fully "integrate" the Special Region into the world.
The two Japanese sergeants had walked out of the room behind them, the Americans now being in the middle between the pairs.
Looking back and forth, the Americans had only looked at each other, not as soldiers, but simply as Americans. "What have we gotten into?" Bannon asked.
Masterson brushed his fingers gently against Bannon's before turning away toward the elevators. "History, as we know it." he answered.
Japan – The National Diet Building - Tokyo
"Lelei la Lalena, according to the reports of a Sergeant Kurokawa of RCT3, my equal in the field in RCT3, is perfectly human as she had said earlier. Now regarding her use of magic…" Doc had rattled on in the heat of the moment.
The shitshow had continued from Itami's redacted statement earlier, forever emblazoned on live TV. That had been with the introduction of the refugees:
My name is Lelei la Lalena, I am a nomad from, as you know it, the Special Region. I have always resided in Imperial territory and are currently under the tutelage of a wizard by the name of Cato El Altestan.
Yes. I am trained in magic.
Yes, I do understand Japanese proficiently.
No. The JSDF nor the Americans have abused my abilities.
I am fifteen, yes.
I was not coerced by them into combat during the Battle of Italica. I, as a nomad, are expected to fend for myself if the situation calls for it.
On behalf of all the refugees, I report that yes, the JSDF and the American treatment of us has been without exception and "humane". All of our needs were met: clothing, food, a place to live, spiritual needs satisfied, and leisure and pleasure when appropriate. There is no reason to complain.
Neither American or Japanese, I believe, are at complicit fault for any casualties.
I am Chuka Luna Marceau, daughter of Hodor Marceau, elf from the Marceau clan.
Yes, these ears are real. Would you like to touch them?
I am also 165 years old.
Yes, these men and women acted appropriately during the Battle of Italica… however I cannot say in regards to the dragon attack on the refugees.
I… was unconscious. The JSDF, Itami… they came to my village and tried to save any survivors from this flame dragon. I fear that- I…. I… me and my f-father survived.
I am Rory Mercury, apostle for Emroy, and I live and die for my faith.
Emroy is the God of death, and in order to appease my god, I live, I breath, I eat, and I kill for them. I am the conduit in which the dead of war find peace in, in the end.
No. I do not feel the deaths here, for some reason. This world is…
No. I am not in mourning, and this I carry is a religious artifact. It would be disrespectful of you to confiscate this.
As 961 years old, I agree with the mass of this senate that the JSDF has done no wrong in the actions they have carried out so far. I have seen such a question asked and answered-
…
Yes, I am 961 years old. My appearance is merely the state of which I was when I was selected as Emroy's apostle.
My parents died a long time ago, and any loss of life to me is… inconsequential, personally. I do say, perhaps it is my opinion that would be most valued in this hearing.
I felt bad for Doc having to explain the concept of magic, sweating bullets up there.
"-and I do remind you, this is merely conjecture, but what Lelei, and those who are able to wield as such, refer to magic is what we believe to be the direct manipulation of natural forces: fire, electricity, wind, and the like. Those able to manipulate these forces rely on the understanding of alchemical elements which are not present here on Earth, but, to all intents and purposes, Lelei, Rory, and Chuka all have trace examples on them that allow them to use magic if necessary. As to the specific identification of these elements, we're still trying to find out on our own, however, in time as the local population becomes more used to us, we will find out more from magic users like Lelei."
The Canadian had sit down with a large breath, Lelei having looked into the crowd and nodded at the combat medic's assumption. She was very much willing to teach the sacred arts… but not without equal knowledge.
"Witness Lalena." the speaker had called her to the stand, which she stood up again to.
Again, Miss Kouhara had been the top dog of the hearings, her questions thoughtful, but nonetheless grating against us.
"So, in order to have the use of magic, one must, in laymen's terms, be of a certain intellectual pedigree to fully appreciate it, yes?"
"Do you mean to say that I am smart?"
"Of course, dear."
"I've trained in the arts of magic ever since I was a younger child."
"Magic is not the only extent of your abilities, Miss Lalena."
"How so?"
A picture of corpses was brought up on a cardboard: the very first photo publically released from the other side of the Gate had been the bodies from Italica. Bodies burned, melting, spotted with red, scabby flesh, their tongues exploded, eyeballs leaking, skins a thousand different colors but natural. The only thing shared between all those bodies were that they were dead.
Loke brought her hand up to her mouth reflexively as all but the most hardened of us Rangers looked away, Chuka looking to the floor and avoiding the sight entirely.
"Post-battle reports amounts of hydrogen cyanide, Soman, and mustard agents on nearly all corpses that display these injuries, and according to the dissertation provided by First Lieutenant Itami and 2nd Lieutenant Emerson, you were responsible for the deployment of, and I quote from Emerson's report, "highly volatile bottle bombs meant to deny the enemy passage and create chokepoints."
Of all the things to be the first picture released…
This was a game they were playing. They needed an excuse. This was their WMD.
"Is the production of such a weapon you used during the Battle of Italica common knowledge in the Empire?"
I gripped the arm rests in my seat hard. Not again.
Please God.
Lelei's face was still that same neutral, that same unknowing, but all too knowing.
"The Empire has knowledge of chemical warfare in its rudimentary form, and, although it is commonly known as a fanciful idea that has been buried underneath current Imperial tactics and development… they are capable."
Miss Kouhara had leaned in on her microphone.
"So the Empire is capable of-"
Lelei, in her all too eagerness to answer, had given an old one:
"Yes. In some form, the Empire would be able to replicate the chemical weapons of which we have seen during the Battle of Italica from me."
manifest destiny
"If we had to do it over again we would do exactly the same thing."
"Exactly the same thing?"
"Yes, Sir."
Dick Cheney, in regards to the invasion of Iraq, 2004.
As the uproar in the Diet had started, Lelei had tried to say something that she had gotten the method by observing the JSDF brew napalm, and the Marines talk about chemical weapons, but that wasn't as clear as that simple fact that had sprung America to war so long ago:
The opposing force is capable of making a form of WMDs.
I thought, at worst, they would blame Lelei for using these weapons, but the fact that she did make them by herself, more or less, with magic…
It sprung the Diet to action with more aggressive questions.
How easy was it for you to do this?
It took me less than a few hours.
Why did you make this?
I wanted to explore the capabilities of the combat theories the JSDF and the Marines have in practice.
Will you continue to do this?
As long as I am permitted, for the health of the coming relationship between your world and ours.
The world fell apart for us, as we saw it repeat again before our eyes, the deliberations, the hushed conversations, the need, the reasonings, the excuse. The same words, but in a different language, by a different people. These people had their 9/11, now they had their WMDs.
In my horrifying inner thoughts of what was to come, Loke had stood up and gone to the post with a question, the Diet's tension at the seams.
"20,000 people killed in a span of one day is certainly up to scrutiny of whether or not it was a crime against the laws of war."
"Whether or not these people are classified as terrorists, or regular military, we have proceeded to engage them simply as regular combatants all the same and have afforded them the rights that such conflicting sides are afforded in accordance to the Geneva Convention. Of the 20,000 killed, the quarter million in total counting the original counter attacks against Arnus Hill, we have claimed around 10,000 additional prisoners on top of the 6,000 already housed here in Japan and any investigation into their conditions would yield that we are treating them fairly in the same respects as the three refugees here." Loke had her time up on the stand, many of the Diet members wanting to run the same questions more or less through our subordinates to see if something cracked, but it was not so.
"These people are very willing to kill their own." she continued. "The battle of Italica was, without our intervention, an Imperial vs Imperial case."
"So, the JSDF stood in the Battle of Italica as peacemakers?" the questioner forgot about the Marines.
"As it was. Yes."
"So the JSDF has done everything right so far to the best of its abilities?"
Loke had looked back at me, licking her lips, not sure of what to say. I looked away, if only to avert my gaze. We were both thinking the same thing. Every American who was there thought the same thing. Me. Her. Colonel Andrade. My chalk.
The Japanese were not used to fight war like this at all, and they imitated an old version of us. A very easy form to imitate. A nation, warriors, of sound and fury, whose past had crept with us in a petty pace from day to day; all of our yesterdays would've followed us to the last recorded syllable of recorded time, across worlds and people.
Just as we once were Romans, we were once the Japanese, and we would've done the exact damn same in the name of Pax Americana.
This world was a world of American Peace, if only because of our failures, our punishments. We had our silhouette of time, for all time, on the world. We mourned our dead alone.
Thankfully, the Japanese Diet did not know of how their own treated the Rose Order yet, and, perhaps for worse, we had assumed we never saw them dragged through the streets, naked, dishonored.
"Yes. The JSDF has acted… commendably."
The international community and the press will soon be able to make their way through the Gate, meanwhile, material regarding information on the world on the other side of the Gate is being prepared and organized from both JSDF accounts and American accounts; official and supplementary from soldier taken photos and records. No timetable is set.
The perpetrator of the Ginza Incident has been outright stated as being the Emperor of the Empire, and not the Empire itself or its people. These people will, in time, be fully considered Japanese civilians after the right processes have taken place.
Preparations are being made to bring him to justice diplomatically, without further violence, by establishing full diplomatic relations once several more JSDF installations and facility are put in place just in case of a full blown conflict. He will stand trial.
America's forces have been capped indefinitely, but the the JSDF's troop count is expected to rise and territory controlled allowed to expand.
Within reason, modern-era equipment deployment will continue to be limited or prohibited within the Special Region, however, eventually the JSDF plans to arm local, JSDF aligned militias and regular militaries: a force for the people, by the people, under the supervision of the JSDF.
On top of that, several of the higher ranked POWs will be leading these forces due to "good conduct and indoctrination to the Japanese objectives."
We thank you, the refugees, for joining us here today and showing the world what kind of people live on the other side of the Gate, and we hope you will aid us in bringing a new age to your world of peace, prosperity, and democracy.
That was the gist of what the Japanese Diet had said to us invited, Itami and I not knowing exactly what the hell had just happened, what the hell we just gave them, and what the hell we were going toward.
"I messed up…I messed up!" Itami had held his head in his hands as he waited for us, forehead against Cold War era concrete.
"What do you mean father?" We didn't notice what Chuka had called Itami, and largely, we had ignored what Itami said. It would've driven us insane, and we could not afford it.
Harris, Doc, Loke, and I had changed into civilian clothes in a secret tunnel underneath the Diet leading to a subway as Itami corralled the dazed refugees. They needed him.
We made sure we were still concealed carrying by the time our jackets were put on, and as we moved down that concrete tunnel alone with instructions for our minds only, I had pulled out my phone and dialed a number as I passed Youji.
I pressed on his shoulder hard as I got him moving, staring into eyes that never were supposed to see what he had seen, a soul who had believed he had just sold a world, his entire world. He pressed his hand down back on mine desperately before we ran down, giving me a handhold on my phone as the other end picked up.
"Hey, Mom… How'd I look on TV?"