I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.

Attributed to Fleet Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, IJN Akagi December 7th 1941

Location: Camp of the Imperial Legio IX Invictus, and Imperial Legio V Axious, near Alnus Hill, Falmart, September 10th 2026 (T-12 hours to I-Day)

Sun had set upon the camp, as the bonfires roared to life. Throughout the camp the soldiers drank and made merry, talking amongst themselves about the fame and glory they were to win once the campaign began. The more drunk were inclined to believe that the Imperial Army wouldn't even have to fight, and the enemy would simply throw down their weapons at the mere sight of an Imperial Legion, and if not the legion then the sight of the greatest ship in the Imperial Navy, the Imperator Solarus, in off their coast would surely break their spirit, and force them to accept the Emperor's terms for peace.

Others felt the Auxiliaries would do all the fighting, leaving the pure blooded Imperials with little to do other than mop up. Still others felt it was overkill to have called up the Vth Legion as well, given that their whole role in the coming campaign would be to keep the Falmart Side of the GATE secured, but it had been concerns from the Senate regarding the potential of internal strife breaking out in the area around Alnus Hill that had led to the Vth's activation, even though the officers felt being reduced to mere border guards was unbecoming of an Imperial Legion, let alone members of the Imperial nobility.

In the tent of the generals, the mood was much the same as outside. Men confident of an overwhelming easy victory. They talked of the treasures and slaves they would take once the GATE opened, talking about who would receive what lands once they had conquered this new world. All save one, a middle aged man, with shoulder length grey hair, who wore his years of experience on his face. The one thing Count Colt Formal knew all too well was that war was often decided by chance as much as skill. When the Crown Prince led his army into the northwest, it had been chance that the Warrior Bunnies were caught off guard, chance that their queen had been in the capital when the Imperial Army besieged it. He knew that sooner or later chance would no longer favor the Empire, and the people would be the ones to pay the price for their leaders' arrogance.

Formal knew full well what the summons for this campaign had really been about. His increasing opposition to the Empire's wars to gain land and slaves, his growing hatred of slavery within the Empire in general, and his defiance of Prince Zorzal's attempt to reclaim slaves that had escaped his estate and had sought sanctury in Italica, this wasn't to win glory for the Empire or to fulfill his obligations as an Imperial Vassel, as the summons said. It was punishment, a death sentence that he was not expected to survive, because he was one of the few nobles who dared to put into words what many of the vassal states and conquered lands of the Empire felt.

Formal looked out the tent door at the lit camp, seeing the men of the legion celebrating, did one of them hold the dagger, or would one of them fire the arrow that was meant for him? They were young men, drawn from all walks of Imperial life, and like always the men and creatures from vassal states like Italica were expendable, they would be sent through the GATE first while the remainder stayed behind.

While the Vth was an older legion that had tasted battle against the Warrior Bunnies. The IXth was a fresh legion, barely a few months old when word came that Hardy planned to open a new gateway, and the youth of its general staff reflected it. Young men grown soft on life in the Imperial Capital and the cities deep within the Empire, who owed their positions more to their families' deep pockets and political influence than experience. Would it be one of them who betrayed him on the field? Yet the sight that filled the count with the most disgust was the sight of the young Bunny and Medusa women and children, clad in nothing but rags with metal collars wrapped around their throats, no doubt slaves to be taken to the New World beyond the GATE to make life more comfortable for the Imperials. Unlike most in the Empire Formal actually cared about the treatment of the Demi-Humans and other slaves, going so far as to outlaw the practice within Italicia, but even then the sting of the whip and the fear of reprisal against loved ones could make anyone do anything to alleviate the suffering. Maybe it was one of them who would be his end, But for now, all he could focus on were the insults the other officers hurled at them, and it made him sick.

"Enough you're all acting like a pack of rabid dogs," Formal said. The others simply laughed.

"You care too much Count Formal," one of the officers said, as he shoved one of the Bunny women to the ground, and kicked her in the stomach, "They're just slaves. Hardly even fit to shine the boots of their betters," the look on his face became far more serious, "I seem to recall hearing it was the way you talked to Prince Zorzal when he came to your estate to reclaim what by divine right was his that landed you here."

"No what I said to the Imperial Senate in my defense is what got me sent here," Formal replied, his hand resting on his sword hilt, "What I did to Prince Zorzal would've had me on the executioner's block had it not been for Hardy deciding to open yet another of her accursed GATEs."

"You always did forget your place Count," the officer replied, his hand resting on his own sword hilt. It was likely the two would've come to blows had not a large man, clad in an ornate suit of golden armor, with a large gold sword lashed to his hip, slammed his mug upon the table.

"You must forgive Count Formal, Viscount Maio," the general said, standing up, "he's had way too much to drink," he placed his hands on both their shoulders, "besides why fight amongst ourselves when we have better things to focus on."

"You speak wisley Legatus Crassus," Maio said bowing, Formal simply remained silent, as he turned away from his rival. He served with Legion Legatus Crassus col Gaius during the war against the Warrior Bunnies. He knew full well that he was a coward who'd only earned his promotion and place in the Imperial Senate because he managed to retreat back to the Imperial lines first and flatter Prince Zorzal with tales of heroism and stolen plunder.

"Indeed," Crassus said, signaling for one of the slaves to bring more meed, "Now let us put this infighting behind us. The Empire is on the march once more to a short victorious war." Formal simply looked at the mug, before bowing.

"My Lord if I may," Formal said, "I wish to inspect my men before the morrows campaign, and sire you may do well to consider that this coming campaign may be neither short nor victorious." The other officers in the tent burst out laughing, as the Count made his way out into the moon lit camp, gazing at the mug he still clenched in his hand, and at the troops gathered around the various bonfires, talking about the glory they intended to win in the coming campaign. He thought of his own children, of what was to come to Italica when he fell in this battle. His elder daughters and their husbands never learned humility, nor to see those beneath their social standings as anything more than pawns for their amusement. Their souls, that was the price one paid to live life among the Imperial nobility. They all knew of his intent to name young Muyi as his heir, and at best Italica faced civil war over the right to the regency, and direct occupation by the Imperial troops occupying it's land, at worst….he dared not think his own children would be capable of murdering their own blood but he never put it past them.

"Muyi forgive me," he mumbled under his breath, as he made his way towards the Itallican portion of the camp.

Location: The Domains of Hardy, Netherworld, Falmart (T-3 hours till I-Day).

The Goddess stretched, as she ordered the images on the crystal ball played back again. The images were of a small band of soldiers, in tan garb, clenching the weapons she had come to know as firearms from her time in Japan, ducking behind the crumbling ruins of buildings, as they came under fire from an unseen attacker, most Imperial Legionaries would've turned and fled at the sight of such an ambush, but these men stood and fought back, and fought back most impressively. The Second Battle of Fallujah she had heard the event she was witnessing was called in the six months she'd been studying the Americans.

She had come to find the history of the Americans fascinating. A military and economic superpower forged out of bands of native tribes, slaves, immigrants, and rebellious colonists, a nation that by all the understanding of the Empire should've been easily crushed the moment its' colonists rose up against their King, yet now stood stronger than any other nation in the other world, held together and aloft the love the people felt for their homeland, something Hardy began to see as greater than any oath of fealty. A nation that preached equality but struggled with itself to live up to those ideals, and endured internal strife that would've ripped any other nation apart trying to make those ideals a reality, and more often than not found itself humbled by its mistakes, yet somehow retained its pride.

It had indeed been a mistake to make her offer to Japan rather than the Americans. She had considered severing all ties she had made with Japan, yet decided against it, Japan still had a role to play, and the chance of playing the two old rivals against each other in Falmart was simply too good of an opportunity to pass up. All she had to do was to inform her apostoles not to tell the Imperials of the change of plans.

"My Lady," a blue skinned Draconian woman said, kneeling before Hardy, with an envelope in hand, "another letter from Mr. Sugawara wishing an audience with you." Hardy simply smiled, as she levitated the letter over to her and burned it. The Japanese Forigen Ministry had been trying to raise her since their last meeting, trying to get her to reconsider her decision. Hardy couldn't help but feel insulted, her last few trips to Japan to observe the so called US Marine Corps during its training exercises with the JSDF had resulted in her being confronted time and again by the Japanese intelligence service, if her contacts hadn't been aware of who she was, things would've quickly escalated. Still the Japanese would serve a purpose in the coming war, and she intended to keep her end of the bargain: Japan would be free to expand into Falmart, and those in power who knew of her plans would reape the greatest reward in exchange, for simply not telling the Americans about what was coming.

"My Lady, if I may inquire, why did you suddenly change the deal you made with the Japanese?" Hardy just smiled, and replied.

"These Americans are simply more fun."

Location: Destroyer USS Kidd, Enroute to New York City, September 11th 2026, H-Hour, I-Day

September 11th, the mention of that date still tore through the hearts and minds of the sailors and officers who manned the sleek, steel grey warship. The image of three raging infernos caused by the rash acts of a band of men whose minds had been poisoned by hate. The feelings of helplessness as two towers collapsed, the ramblings of those who saw opportunity in the tragedy of others.

Since that day, America had been at war with those responsible abroad, and at war with itself at home. Struggling with preserving its sacred creed vs. protecting its citizens, and all too often mistakes were made, and the innocent paid the price for the actions of the misguided who invoked America's name as justification for their hate. Still every year the memory of that dark day in 2001 faded more and more from America's mind, as December 7th had before it.

For the men and women of the destroyer making its way towards New York Harbor, September 11th marked the day in which they would finally return home after another tour of duty in the Gulf. For Capt. Robert McCray it was a bittersweet day, the aging captain had long since made peace with the loss of wife in Tower 1 on that dark day, but like so many the pain would never truly leave him. He largely remained silent as he thought about the text he'd received from his daughter that morning.

"Looking forward to seeing you Dad. Please be safe." His daughter, how long had it been since he'd last seen her? His thoughts turned to his crew, how long had it been since they too had seen America's shores, had spent time with their own families?

"ETA on New York another half hour sir," the navigator said, as he finished the latest calculations.

"Good keep her steady," McCray said, as he stood up from his chair in the center of the bridge and made his way to the windows. The sea was dead calm, the sky crystal clear much as it had been on that dark day over twenty years ago. Yet despite appearances something didn't feel right, normally there would've been much more traffic this far out from New York City. By now they should've come into contact with the tugboat that would take them into the harbor, yet nothing was seen. In his gut McCray was tempted to order the ship to general quarters, or at the very least stand by.

"Skipper, did the weather report say anything about fog?" a crewmember on the port bridge wing said, handing McCray the binoculars he was holding. Yet just as McCray was about to put the binoculars to his eyes, another crew member called him over to the phone connecting the bridge to the ship's command information center. An eerie silence fell over the bridge, when McCray looked up, his face had gone completely white all he could say was "sound general quarters." The boatswain simply saluted, and picked up the intercom, as alarms began blaring throughout the ship the order for the crew to man their action stations was flashed. As fast as their legs could carry them, every man and woman aboard the destroyer raced to man their assigned action station. On the bridge McCray asked for the intercom, once the confirmation that all stations were manned and ready was received, McCray spoke.

"This is the Captain. Attention all hands. We all know what today is, and it is my sad duty to report that once again the 11th of September has become a day that will live in infamy. At 0846 an unknown enemy penetrated New York City at Central Park, and attacked numerous civilian and local police vessels within American territorial waters. As of now we have no further information regarding who has carried out this assault, or why this attack has occurred. Our orders are to proceed into New York Harbor to cover the arrival of the Vinson's battlegroup, and provide support for arriving Army, and Marine units as they advance into the city. I know many of you, myself included, have friends and family in the city, the best way we can help them is to drive these sons of bitches from our shores as quickly as possible. Remember your training and together we'll make it through this. God bless all of you and God bless America." McCray lowered the intercom, and looked at the bridge crew, their faces white with fear and shock.

"Full ahead," McCray said, breaking the silence, " have CIC report all air, surface or subsurface contacts to the bridge ASAP."

"Sir," one of the lookouts said, "You might want to come and take a look at this." Peering through the binoculars McCray spotted a large structure, similar to a Roman era temple hovering near the water, between Staten Island's eastern shore and the mouth of Upper New York Bay. Before McCray had a chance to respond, a member of the bridge crew waved him over.

"What is it?" McCray inquired

"CIC reports a dozen air contacts heading right towards us at high speed," the officer replied, "Local NYPD, Port Authority and Coast Guard in New York Bay are reporting enemy surface ships off Staten Island and enemy ground troops advancing into Great Kills Park. . Unable to get close enough due to enemy aircover and presence of hostages. Reports indicate a Coast Guard Cutter and numerous NYPD Patrol Boats have been damaged or destroyed by enemy air attack."

"Put all AA defense on alert," McCray said, "anything gets within a mile of this ship I want it blown out of the sky," McCray turned to the helmsman, "Come about 180 and head for Staten Island," he then faced the ship's executive officer, "Put the Marine Contingent on alert and get both Seahawks fueled and ready. Once the skies are clear they're to launch immediately." The executive officer saluted, and immediately broadcast the message for the ships 10 man Marine Contingent to gather in the hangar, and for the two Seahawks to be made ready for take off.

"Sir," another officer said, "You might want to see this." Without hesitation McCray grabbed and peered through the binoculars, and what he saw left him speechless approaching the ship were at least a dozen blue scaled Dragons, with what looked like men clad in Roman style armor mounted on their backs, each armed with spears were quickly approaching the destroyer.

"Open fire once they're in range," McCray said

"With what sir?" the Weapons officer inquired

"Everything." was the reply.

Location: Just above the crippled USCG Turner, a few minutes later

The massive red and white ship erupted into a ball of flames as the fires that shot forth from the mouths of the dragons set off the magazine and fuel storage, turning the once proud ship into a flaming ruin, essentially knocking it out of the battle. The price she paid for daring to open fire on an Imperial warship. For the men who made up the Imperatoris Rubrum alis Wyvern Riders it had marked a great victory over the other world, combined they had destroyed numerous smaller patrol craft, and while still afloat the larger vessel was clearly out of the battle, as the crew raced about trying to get the flames caused by exploding ammunition and fuel under control.

Beneath them small boats launched from the Imperator Solarus, made their way to pick up any survivors from the water. More slaves to feed the Empire's warmachine, yet the look on the commander's face had become one of concern. The Imperatoris Rubrum alis had departed Falmart with over 90 members, and it had been the overwhelming numbers that had won them this victory, but the casualties they had taken were devastating: all but 12 riders and Wyverns were now dead, mission or so badly wounded they had to retreat back to the Imperator Solarus. In the mind of the commander these were casualties that should've been impossible to inflict on an Imperial Wyvern Rider force. Worse still one of the surviving scouts sent ahead earlier had returned covered in blood, saying that a larger enemy fleet, consisting of ships far larger than the small craft they had been engaged with, was approaching the harbor, and when they tried to attack all except him were quickly shot from the sky.

"So," the commander grumbled, "we've only been fighting the vassals of Japan." Then from the corner of his eye he spied the outline of a lone ship rapidly approaching the mouth of the harbor. Possibly a ship that had gotten separated from the larger fleet. The commander smiled, he knew the Japanese ships he'd fought were tough but not invincible if the riders could get in close enough to spray the ship with fire there was a chance they could detonate something explosive, at the very least leaving the vessel crippled, one less enemy for them to face.

"Prepare to attack," The commander said, drawing his sword, "FOR THE GLORY OF THE EMPEROR." The Wyverns charged forward, forming up into a triangle formation, their target the lone warship the scout had seen.

Out of the fog emerged a massive grey hulled ship, easily the size of the red and white ship they had crippled earlier. As they dove towards the destroyer the commander took notice of a stream of fire erupting from the bow. At first the Wyvern Riders looked on in shock, thinking the ship had suffered some kind of internal explosion or had been hit by one of the Wyverns. Yet the former seemed impossible yet this was a type of ship they hadn't encountered, though he'd been told by his superiors that their allies in Japan had promised their military wouldn't intervene for at least three hours. It didn't take long for the commander to realize his mistake as the first of two RAM-66 surface to air missiles found their mark, exploding amidst the Wyverns, killing all but five of them outright, while two others were knocked of their mounts by the blast and fell into the sea, and were quickly pulled under by the weight of their armor and the injuries they had sustained in the blast and the fall into the sea.

The commander couldn't comprehend what had just transpired. More than half of his remaining riders had disappeared in the blast, some of the surviving Wyverns had been badly wounded by shrapnel, plunging into the sea as their mauled bodies could no longer sustain flight. Was this an example of the magic Japan possessed? His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of the second RAM-66 echoing in his ears. After what he'd witnessed the first time he knew he had only seconds to react before whatever this magic projectile was, found its mark. He had only enough time to shout one order.

"SCATTER MEN," as that final word exited his mouth the second missile struck a Wyvern in the center of the formation as they began to try and escape the missile's wrath. The last thing the commander remembered was being blown off his Wyvern as the beast was consumed by fire and shrapnel. When he came too he found himself clinging to a piece of a civilian cabin cruiser, his body covered with shrapnel wounds, though his armor had provided a small degree of protection. When he regained consciousness the commander saw parts of Wyverns and their riders plunge into the sea around him, the few survivors scattering and falling back towards the Imperator Solarius. How could this have been possible? A proud Imperial Wyvern Rider Legion wiped out and driven from the field by a single ship? Was this the true power of Japan?

From out of the smoke the commander could make out the ship that had all but annihilated, it was solid grey in color with a bright white 100 painted on the bow, with a near featureless superstructure occupying the middle, and a single turret near the bow, atop the ship's mast, was a flag. The commander, like all officers involved in the invasion had been told the flag of Japan was white with a large red sun in the center, this flag though contained a series of stars upon a blue background in the far left corner, with thirteen large red and white stripes forming the remainder of the flag. It now dawned on him this was not Japan, nor was it a vassal state, but something else. For the first time in his life the commander felt the Empire had made a grievous error coming here.

From the sides of the grey ship a number of small black boats were being launched, while at the bow and stern a number of soldiers clad in blue lined up along the bow and stern, pointing their weapons out to sea.

One boat approached the commander at high speed, a large weapon mounted on the bow, and four soldiers, two of which were clad in green rather than blue pulling the few men who'd survived the onslaught from the sea, slowly the boat made its way over to him, almost immediately the soldiers in green turned their weapons on the commander, their eyes were full of nothing but rage, and were anything but friendly. Once had the commander been pulled from the water, he felt the sting of something striking him in the back and another in his leg, knocking him to the deck, as he felt his arms being pulled back until he was sure they would break, only to feel the tight pressure of a pair of plastic zip-ties wrap around his wrists, before being tossed into a heap with the other three Wyvern Riders who'd survived the attack of those magic arrows, the boat had picked up. Slowly a tall dark skinned soldier approached, and began stripping him of his family's prized swords. This was too much for the proud Wyvern Rider to bear, and he spat in the soldier's face.

"Vellem discere bene tibi faciam loco tuo Dark Elf," You'd do well to learn your place Dark Elf, the commander said, "Cum discit patrem huius, quod youll 'animadverto est ut sis felix, si tu rediit ad dominum tuum," When my father learns of this, he'll see to it you're returned to your master, if you're lucky. It was then that the soldier pulled out his combat knife and held it to the commander's throat. While the second soldier pointed his weapon towards the commander.

"I don't know if you can understand me, you pasty face maggot, but consider yourself lucky that Langley wants POWs," the soldier replied, lowering his weapon, and motioning for his comrade to do the same. The commander simply laughed.

"Tales infirmitatem Such weakness," the commander laughed, "Et facti sunt agros tuos pars Imperii et erit omnis voluntas mea fiet vobis ut ardeat. When your land becomes part of the Empire it'll be my pleasure to see you all burn." It was at that moment the other soldier pointed his rifle towards the commander.

"Shut up lard ass," the soldier said.

"Ne quis me scitis Don't you know who I am," the commander said, as a wave of fear overcame him, "Dracious Co Augustia me fili Senator Marcus Co Augustia I'm Dracious Co Augustia, son of Senator Marius Co Augustia." The soldier didn't say anything in response, keeping his weapon trained on the commander, looking towards his comrade as if expecting something. Slowly it dawned on Dracious that there would be no ransom, no exchange, the rage in the eyes of the man had been more than enough to convince him of that. At that moment a thought crossed his mind, from what he'd been told about Japan, was that some of their military and political leaders were expecting the shipment of slaves held on the Imperator Solorus. Maybe they could be a bargaining chip to save his life now.

"Exspecta, et munera nostra praetoriae navis est valuable Wait, our flagship has a valuable cargo of gifts," Dracious said, almost pleadingly, "Tràillean Demi-Daonna gun phrìs, ma leigeas tu leam falbh bheir mi m 'fhacal dhut air urram Taigh Augustia gum faod iad a bhith Demi-Human slaves, if you let me go I give you my word on the honor of House Augustia that they can be yours." Dracious saw the dark skinned soldier nod to his comrade, a smile came over his face, he was saved. The last thing he would ever see was the sight of his own blood as three objects punched through his armor, before he was enveloped in the darkness of the sea.

The two marines turned to face the pilot of their craft, whispering something the other three survivors couldn't make out, but they soon felt the boat turning as it sped back towards the Kidd, for them the war was over before it had really begun.

Location: Admiral's Bridge USS Carl Vinson, between Staten Island and Manhattan, New York Harbor, three hours after beginning of the invasion

Even before the massive carrier had arrived in New York Harbor, her planes were already in the air, striking Imperial positions within the city as part of efforts to contain the invasion to the areas around Central Park in Manhattan and Great Kills Park on Staten Island. While her airgroup struck Imperial positions on both Staten and Manhattan, a number of Marines from her Marine detachment had been sent to back up the NYPD, New York Army National Guard and the Air Force garrison from Ft. Hamilton in securing Liberty Island and the areas around Oakwood, where evacuation efforts were underway, with the civilians who chose to remain behind forming makeshift militias to back up the police and military in keeping the Imperials confined to Great Kills.

On the bridge the Admiral had spent the last hour coordinating the defense and airstrikes as best he could. The overall goal being containment while reinforcements from Ft. Drum, and New Jersey were mustered on Staten and Manhattan for a counter attack.

"Shipboard Marine detachments deployed to the front on both Staten and Manhattan. To reinforce Guard and Local Police. The 10th Mountain, 101st Airborne, a Marine Battalion say they'll arrive by nightfall," one of the officers of the Vinson said, as the sound of more jets taking off from the carrier roared through the island, "JSOC also reports SEAL Platoon and Green Beret Detachment also on stand by awaiting transport."

"Admiral Guard tank brigades are entering the city on Staten and the Bronx, heading towards the staging grounds. Guard reports JFK and Le Guardia secured." another officer added. "Air Force and Air National Guard planes have commenced supply landings. Elements of the 529th have reported the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge secure."

"Good," the Admiral said, "Get the tanks to the front on Staten ASAP, and inform those on the Verrazano that no one except civilians are to be let through. With any luck we might just be able to force the enemy forces to surrender." Right then another officer spoke up.

"Admiral CIC has a message for you from the Kidd," the officer said, holding out the receiver.

"What is it?" The Admiral inquired.

"Sir we've received intel from survivors, they're claiming that POWs, possibly American citizens,are being held on a warship off Staten, requesting Marines be deployed."

"Roger copy," the Admiral said, as he hung the phone up, "Do we have any intel on where that ship could be?"

"Sir, local intel reported an enemy surface ship was landing ground forces on Staten soon after the attacks began," one of the officers said. "Hawkeyes confirm hostile warship is currently three klicks off Staten Island."

"Any intel on enemy air and naval assets in the area?"

"Satellites confirm large enemy presence at Great Kill Park, no other enemy surface ships spotted," another officer replied, "ground intel near the front report enemy is made up largely of infantry and…" he paused for a moment, "As of now it seems the enemy has no long range weapons." The Admiral simply nodded, "Get Third Platoon loaded, in form Fourth Platoon to remain on alert. Vector some Hornets over Staten and hit the enemy as hard as possible."

Location: Marine Ready Room, USS Carl Vinson

For the tall, tanned skinned, black haired Marine Lieutenant, a chance to serve with the legendary 1st Marine Division had been a lifelong dream. Lt. Jack Hunter had come from a long line of Navy and Marines, with his family's service dating back to the time of the Civil War. Born and raised near the San Diego Naval base, due to his parents' stints in the Navy. Hunter had largely grown up around the military and had decided long ago to make it his career, rising through the ranks before being rewarded with his commission as a Lieutenant due to his actions in leading his platoon out of a Taliban ambush in Afghanistan six years prior. Despite his passion for the corps, his true passion lay with education and music

Standing next to Hunter was a large African American man, who stood a full foot taller than Hunter did. For Gunnery Sergeant Paul Taylor the battle raging around them was just as personal as 9/11 had been. He'd been born and raised in Harlem, coming from a family of musicians and activists, a career he pursued on leave working for an education charity in his old neighborhood. Then the Trade Center fell, the neighborhood had lost a lot that day, but Taylor took it even harder having lost both his wife and son in Tower II. Even now over twenty years later the sight of those burning towers still haunt his nightmares. He and Hunter were close friends, having served in Afghanistan and Syria, though Taylor could also count service in Iraq amongst the wars he'd fought in.

"Finally got the word Gunny," Hunter said, with a smile.

"Orders chief," Taylor replied.

"Rescue Op," Hunter replied, Taylor though couldn't help but sigh before Hunter cut him off, "I know what you're thinking Gunny, and yes I still remember Kandahar.."

"Any intel on what we're looking at?" Taylor inquired.

"Possible POWs being held on an enemy warship off Staten," Hunter replied. "Sounds like we're going in blind again." Taylor cracked a smile.

"Just another day in the Corps," Taylor said, to which Hunter replied with a smile of his own. Before changing the subject back to the mission.

"Are the others ready for departure?"

"All assembled and waiting for us," Hunter smilied in response as the two made their way to the flight deck.

Location: Cargo Hold of the Imperator Solarus, one hour later

If it was not for the rabbit ears emerging from their heads, or the presence of a rabbit like tail, the dozen prisoners chained up in the cell could've easily passed for humans. The looks on their faces were one of a people who had felt the sting of the whip countless times, a people stripped of their home land and dignity by an act of betrayal from within. Now they were a far cry from the fearless warriors who defied an Empire. All except one, a white eared Warrior Bunny whose brown eyes blazed with the desire for one thing: revenge on those who had stolen their home and subjected them to so much humiliation.

For Princess Tylynn the memories of her mother's betrayal, the shame she had brought on her people, and her clan, and worst of all the humiliation she had forced her own blood to endure being sold to Imperial nobility as nothing more than a pretty face who was expected to give her masters what they wanted, when they wanted it, were more then the Princess could endure. In her mind she had already chosen her fate, she would die a free woman, not property to be bought and sold.

"Majesty," one of her fellow prisoners whispered, "I know what you're thinking, and I beg you to reconsider."

"Tell me Aofel," Tylynn replied, to the gold eared woman, "what more can I lose? I've been violated so many times by our enemy. I've lost all honor and I'm hated just as much as my mother. Maybe by dying I can…." Aofel cut Tylynn off. She'd known the Princess for years, having served as both Tylynn's governess and Mistress of Arms in the days before the Empire came, the way the Princess was talking was not the Tylynn she'd come to know.

"You're Tyuule's heir not Tyuule herself," Aofel replied, "Our people are more than just robes and a title. As long as one of us draws breath we will retake our home and free our sisters." Tylynn didn't respond as her gaze became fixated on the Imperial soldiers who guarded them, for the first time she took note that the soldiers who for the entire voyage had been bragging too each other about the glory they would win in Japan, and the triumph that awaited their return to Sadera, now appeared far more shaken, even afraid, a feeling that only increased when the roar of approaching creatures broke the silence. Instantally the soldiers fell to their knees, spears pointing to the ceiling.

"It's those iron dragons," one of the soldiers said, shaking, "they're back." The roar soon began to fade, only to be replaced by the sounds of distant explosions. Soon a low thumping sound filled the air, a sound quickly replaced by screaming as those on deck were cut down by an unseen force, forcing the adult Warrior Bunnies to leap on the children. The same force which punched through the wooden deck, and the Imperials shields and armor as if both were made of paper, leaving only one Imperial still alive, and deathly afraid of what awaited him if he dared leave the hold. A few seconds later the sounds of heavy boots hitting the deck above. Followed by more small explosions.

"Parker, Gonzolies, Asher," a loud voice shouted, "secure the hold we'll keep this party going."

"Roger LT." slowly the hatchway opened, and the sound of something rolling down the stairs. From her vantage point Tylynn could make out a small canister near the bottom of the stairs. After that the top and bottom of the canister blew out, releasing a cloud of white smoke which filled the area in a matter of seconds, followed by the sound of heavy boot steps making their way down the stairs.

Blinded by the smoke the Imperial soldier could only swing his gladius in a blind fury hoping to hit something, anything at all, before falling to the deck, his body torn apart by rifle fire. As the smoke began to clear, Tylynn could make out the image of three figures, clad in green and brown uniforms, clutching black staff like objects.

"US MARINES," a female voice shouted.

"US MARINES," one of the other soldiers added, "Is anyone here?" Despite her feelings that these soldiers were little more than foolish pirates who'd attacked an Imperial ship, Tylynn knew this was their only chance at escaping their fates. With all her strength she shouted towards the Marines.

"An seo, tha sinn a-staigh an seo Here, we are here." The Marines turned to face the cells, surprised by what they were seeing. Before them were a dozen prisoners, four women and eight young children.

"Lieutenant, you might want to see this," the raven haired woman said.

"What do you have Parker," Hunter inquired.

"We've got a dozen prisoners down here," Parker responded, "as to whether or not they're human...you have to see it for yourself."

"I'll be right there," Hunter replied. A fourth soldier made his way down the stairs, into the hold.

"What have we…." Hunter turned to face the cell and was soon face to face with Tylynn. He was shocked by what he was seeing, beings that looked as if they were a perfect blend of human and rabbit.

"Leig sinn a-mach,let us out" Tylynn shouted, pointing to the lock, "Leig sinn a-mach." The soldiers looked at each other in confusion. Once more Tylynn pointed to the lock before repeating her previous statement.

"I think they want us to free them," Parker said, noting the urgency in Tylynn's voice.

"Permission to speak sir," Asher inquired, Hunter nodded in response, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"How so Doc," Gonzolies replied, overing hearing the conversation.

"It's just we don't know what they are or how they got here," Asher replied, "for all we know they could be enemy spies, or have a disease which we have no immunity to." Hunter paused as he gave some thought to what Asher had said, and he had to agree that Asher's objections were justified, but now wasn't the time to discuss it. Hunter slowly reached for the radio on his flack jacket.

"Alert I this is Striker I," Hunter said, "We've located prisoners. We need extraction."

"Roger copy," came the reply, "awaiting you near the stern." Hunter motioned for Asher to raise his rifle, and to aim it at the lock on the Warrior Bunnies slowly backed up, reading themselves to attack the Marines if they dared show any kind of treachery. Once again another shot rang out, shattering the lock and chain as if it were nothing. Once the lock was removed both Parker and Asher yanked the door open, motioning for the prisoners to make their way to the deck. As the last prisoner made their way towards the hatch, Tylynn suddenly stopped, her hands balling into fists.

"Chan eil no" Tylynn said, "Chan fhàg mi gus an dèan mi dìoghaltas air an fheadhainn a shàbhail mo dhaoine I will not leave until I take revenge on those who enslaved my people." She reached down to the closest Imperial body, grasping the ornate sword that was lashed to its belt quickly picking it up, as she drew the blade, a look of anger and sorrow came across her face. How many Warrior Bunnies did this blade claim during the war? How many of her people did it guard as they were sold off like cattle? Today she began her quest for revenge.

"Hey," Gonzoles said, getting Tylynn's attention, "You need to get up to the deck, the chopper's leaving."

"Tapadh leibh uile Thank you all," Tylynn said, "Ach chan urrainn dhomh falbh But I can not leave." Before any of the Marines could respond, Tylynn charged onto the deck, with the Marines not far behind.

Location: Admiral's Cabin, Imperator Solarus

This wasn't how his first campaign was supposed to end. He was supposed to return to Sadera in triumph, leading his soldiers and captives through the streets to cheering crowds. Yet now all of that was a forgone conclusion. From the shattered window on the port side, Crassus gazed at the island that had cost him so much. He'd been told by Hardy's apposoltes that the island known as Sarushima, the isle he was supposed to meet Japanese envoys on, was not at all what his maps had said about the island. Towers of iron and glass rising to meet the sky, the presence of a heavily armed enemy instead of the few security personnel he'd been told to expect, an enemy that had been able to hold back half of an Imperial Legion with few losses to their own.

Crassus collapsed into his chair, as he heard the sounds of more enemy troops boarding his ship echoed through his chambers. How could this have happened? For the first time, since their ancestors were defeated at Teutoburg, an entire Legion was in danger of falling to an enemy. Even if he could make it back to one of the GATEs his life was already forfeit, the Emperor would not tolerate a failure of this magnitude. Even if the Emperor forgave him, would anyone believe him about what they had encountered in the other world? No he couldn't bring himself to face such scorn from his fellow senators, let alone the Emperor. His thoughts were soon interrupted by the sounds of banging coming from his door.

"So this is how it ends," Crassus said to himself, as he picked up his sword, and slowly made his way through the door, his hands trembling in fear, as he grasped the latch and opened the door. Before he had a chance to react a sering pain shot through his abdomen as another sword pierced his body. As he collapsed to the deck he could make out the shouting of a Warrior Bunny, as a group of soldiers tackled her, and began rushing her out of his sight. The last thought that passed through his mind was what Count Formal had said the previous night at Alnus: "This campaign may be neither short nor victorious." In those last moments all Crassus could do was sob as the life left his body. The Imperial Army was defeated, the enemy had seized control of one of the GATEs.

"By the Goddess," Crassus said, "what have we done?"

Location: Central Park, Manhattan Island, New York City, I-Day, late evening

After the day-long assault, the amount of soldiers that had fallen at the hands of the enemy, Count Formal knew it was over. The last message he'd received was an order from VIscount Maio to counterattack and relieve his forces on Sarushima, an order Formal was all too willing to ignore, figuring by now Maio had surrendered to save his own skin. The Legion was all but destroyed, the enemy having wiped out the small gains they had made during the day along with nearly all their heavy forces, and while the Orcs had managed to knock out, or at the very least damage some of the enemy's iron war elephants and chariots, were small triumphs for the Imperial Army on a day of disaster.

Most of the officers of the IXth Legion in Central Park had fled the moment word reached them the enemy had broken through on all sides, and were surrounding the park, taking with them their men, and their ill gotten slaves and treasures, no doubt to present them to their Lords, the Senate and the Emperor as proof of their "Great victories," leaving Formal with bareilly two hundred men, mostly Italicans and Volralden mercenaries, to defend the GATE.

Formal's thoughts were interrupted by the cracking sound of a rifle, looking over he saw one of the Volralden fall, his chest torn apart by the bullet.

"Komm raus Geistersoldat, stelle dich uns wie Krieger Come out Ghost Soldier, face us like warriors" one of the wolf-like warriors shouted, as his comrades tried with all their might to restrain him. This wasn't new, since sundown the enemy advance had halted, yet still they were being harassed by what the Voralden had come to call "Geistersoldats, Ghost Soldiers" Any Imperial who dared tried to leave the park was picked off by hidden enemies. Formal knew if this kept up his troops would be wiped out before dawn. Yet he couldn't return to Italica, if word got out he was still alive it would be all the justification the Empire would need to fully occupy Italica and worse, but there was another way before him stood the one shot Falmart had of being free of the Empire, yet it would be a dangerous game to play. Removing his sword he presented it to a Voralden with a single order, "Return this to my daughter...but tell her I fell in battle defending Italica. After that return to the Mountain of Ice and Snow, in form your people of what has transpired here, tell them to seek out a nation flying a flag with red and white stripes and a blue field of white stars, offer them an alliance." With a final bow the sole Voralden became the last Imperial to escape the field.

With his hands raised Formal made his way out onto the street, and fell to his knees.

"Soldiers of the Land of the Eagle," Formal said, hoping they understood, "I commander of the IXth Legion Invictus, off you the surrender of myself and my surviving men. I only ask that my men be given food and medical attention. We are at your mercy." One by one the surviving Imperial Troops, and their wounded walked out of the park, throwing their weapons in a pile, and raising their hands as Formal had done. A few seconds later the road near the park was bathed in a bright light, as soldiers in green and tan slowly made their way forward, their weapons raised, as they surrounded the Count. Formal simply looked with a defiant look in his eye as he expected the worst.

"Get the medics up here, and see to it their wounded are taken to hospitals as soon as possible," one of the soldiers said, as he motioned for his men to lower their weapons. On that street outside of Central Park the Battle of New York came to an end, but the war started by the Empire had only just begun.

Stay tuned for Chapter II: Alnus Hill