April 1, 2021, It's 0000 in the dead of night, few hundred miles south of Italica, a massive formation of tanks, AmTraks and Humvees of the 1st Marine Division, rolled down the muddy plains of Central Falmart. Their mission? To seize a vital highway at the crossroad between Italica and Duma Mountains.

At the tip of the spear is the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, although they're a Recon Unit, just like what their name implies, what they're doing right now, leading a massive troop formation of 20000 Marines from other units, is a far cry of their original purpose as the Marine Corps' finest Recon troop. Artillery shells lands and explodes, 10 miles in front of them, bombarding the Empire's defensive positions non-stop.

A gigantic armada of armored beasts moved through the plains of Empire, trampling over any Imperial position in its path, the noise of their diesel engine filling the air all around them while attack helicopters flew over, firing rockets and chain guns into the unprepared Imperial Troops, currently a sitting duck in the middle of the empty wilderness of the plains, untouched by modern civilizations, or at least, used to be. Fighter Jets flies high in the sky, carrying variety of payloads as they heads off to bomb anyone that dares to stand in their march to Sadera, their arrow-like body unseen in the darkness, only red and green lights can be spotted in the dark of night, followed by orange lights flashing in the darkness, another Imperial Legion bites the dust as a result of bombing runs by Japanese and American jets.

At the foremost of the Battalion's eighty vehicle convoy of tin-plated Humvees, MTVR trucks and tanks attached from 1st Tank Battalion, is Hitman-2, the callsign for Bravo Company's 2nd Platoon, led by the soft spoken, brown-haired First Lieutenant named Frederick Mistral. From the moment they stepped foot into the fantasy world named "Falmart" through a mysterious Gate that opened in Ginza and San Diego, both of them opening in Japan and US respectively, they've been tasked with mission they're not supposed to do, leading the 1st Marine Division's charge to Italica in tin-plated Humvees straight out of MTV's "Pimp My Ride".

The first vehicle in the Platoon is a Humvee commanded by the 23-years old Sergeant Simon Williams. Recently promoted to the position of Team Leader, he is eager to prove his skills in America's Newest War in an alien planet with fantasy creatures that wouldn't look out of place in a LOTR Film.

"Jesus fucking Christ man, I'm so lost right now, this map is unreliable as fuck. We are supposed to swing west toward 1st Tanks flanks 30 minutes ago so they can provide support for our mission to seize the highway near Italica. But now look at us, instead of a tank battalion supporting our movement, it's a tank platoon instead!" complained Simon, his Southern accent coming out extra hick.

"I told ya, the battalion didn't even bring enough of anything that matters, they don't even bring enough fucking maps and batteries for our night vision." His driver, Corporal Evan Carson, nodded in agreement with his Team Leader's complains

"All Hitman-2 Victors, quick halt! Hitman-3 has a vehicle down"

The voice of Lieutenant Mistral, their platoon commander, echoed throughout the battalion's comms, surprised by the sudden orders, Evan immediately stepped on the brake of his Humvee, almost crashing into a ditch.

"Sorry, didn't mean it, man" Evan apologizes for the sudden brake.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine, what happened anyway?" Simon asks, curious about what happened to their sister platoon behind them.

"Apparently, the retarded platoon commander of our sister platoon, who, by the name of Tom Richman, in his infinite stupidity, decided to drive on muddy fields instead of the Roman highways we are on right now, thought he was being tactical and shit, tried using shortcut and some other shit. Now his Humvee is stuck on a mud pool, because the fucking retard didn't even bother to check out of his fucking vehicle!" Evan ranted on their current situation, knowing this will delay their original mission of seizing the highway.

Based on what the company wide-comms told him, Evan deduces that Tom, the platoon commander of Bravo Company's 3rd Platoon, also known as Hitman-3, decided to move on a muddy trail, looking for shortcuts instead of following behind the rest of the Battalion.

Pulling up his AN/PVS-31 night vision googles, Evan takes a sip from a energy drink that he bought from Alnus PX before the operation, he hasn't slept in 36 hours, and are currently running solely on dark jokes, rants about the battalion's stupid actions and energy drinks, he then decides to continue his rant on the situation.

"Man, look at this shit, no matter what we do, someone always fucks it up, for fuck sakes we couldn't even have a mission going smoothly without someone fucking it up. I'm betting, that by the time Hitman-3 fixed their shit, some other unit will already take our objective."

"I mean, you're not wrong, some asshole officer in the Division's HQ will probably assign the mission to some other Marine unit after seeing our current situation." A voice comes out behind the driver's seat, it's the 21 years old platoon medical corpsman, the red-haired Hospital Corpsman 3rd Class Justin Clancy, giving his own input on the recent fuck-up.

"All callsigns this is Hitman-3! We are under attack, I say again, we are under enemy attack, possible footmobiles to our 11 o'clock, over!" The voice of Hitman-3's CO, Tom Richman is heard across Bravo Company, contrary to what Tom said, there's no enemy attacks.

"Did he just. . . . assume that the peasant and the sheeps near his position are actually enemy personnel?" Simon is amazed, by the sheer stupidity of what he's hearing right now. Tom is panicking, perhaps mistaking that the shepherds are actually enemy personnel.

Everyone in the Humvee starts laughing, while they're supposed to be professional, this kind of sheer stupidity is so amazing they can't help but laugh at it.

"Oh my god, is he crying?" Evan asks, listening closely on the Humvee's radio. Trying to hold his laughter on the current situation.

"No, he's not, he's just nervous." Simon immediately replied to his question.

"WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE IF THEY DON'T GET US OUT OF HERE, BREAK!"

"ENEMY FOOTMOBILES, TO OUR 8 O'CLOCK, HOW COPY?" Screamed Tom on the radio, sounding like he's on verge of tears, over false enemy contacts.

"Okay, scratch what I said earlier, he's fucking crying now." Simon finally acknowledges Evan's statement, laughing in the process.

"Uhh Sergeant, I wanna ask, are there any casualties in Hitman-3?" Doc Clancy asked in a worried tone, his vibrant blue eyes, behind the NVGs, darting across the empty muddy fields outside his Humvee's windows, looking for any signs of wounded troops because of the accident.

"Nah, they're fine, although it seems like the lead vehicle of Lt Richman's platoon is well, buried couple of feets under the mud." Simon immediately replied, causing Doc Clancy to breathe a sigh of relief.

Immediately after that, the night sky is suddenly illuminated by multiple strings of tracer rounds coming from behind the current position of Bravo Company, passing dangerously close, just 20 to 10 meters away from Hitman-2's position.

"What the fuck? Where the fuck did that come from? Kirito! Can you fucking see where the hell did the tracers came from!" Simon called his Mark-19 gunner, Corporal Kirigaya Manato, nicknamed Kirito for sharing the same first name with the protagonist of a certain anime.

"Uhmm, those are JSDF's 7th Recon! They're laying down FPF on those shepherds we saw earlier, they're shooting at fucking civilians thinking it was Saderan legionnaires!" Kirito screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping his Team Leader would hear it amid the heavy gunfire by JSDF 7th Recon.

"Evan, get those guys on the fucking radio!" Immediately receiving the orders, Evan tried radio-ing the Japanese, while he's the driver of the Humvee, he also happens to be the Radio Operator of the Team 2-1, aka Hitman 2-1, right now, he's basically multi-tasking as driver and radio operator.

"Doc, how are those civilians we saw earlier?" asking in a worried tone, Simon is trying to make sure the civilians are safe.

"Aw fuck! One of them got hit in the leg! It's all fucked up! His leg is gone!" Clancy screamed, realizing that 2 of 10 peasant shepherds who are guiding their sheeps back to their ranch is hit in the leg, and are heavily wounded.

"Don't go out there! You might get killed by the fires and Evan, did you manage to pass the message through the comms?" Immediately after hearing that, he orders Clancy to stay put and not go outside.

"All Hitman-2 Victors, this is Hitman-2 Actual, hold your fire, those are friendly! Over!"

"Fuck! It got passed down, we have no absolutely no fucking communications with JSDF 7th Recon, I don't know, maybe those fucking retards will ran out of ammo or something" Evan replied, unfortunately, the message wasn't passed through, and now they can't do anything to prevent the JSDF from continuing their fires at the peasants mistaken for Saderan troops, not even 2 weeks into the war, they already have civilian casualties caused by their side.

"This is gonna be a long night"

Note :

Hospital Corpsman - A US Navy medical position, they're not Marines, but the reason why they're attached to Marine units is because USMC lacked organic medical support, medical supports are provided by Navy's Hospital Corpsman. Which means that Clancy is a sailor that got attached to marine unit.

Victors - Vehicles, in NATO phonetic alphabet.

Footmobiles - Enemy on foot, duh.

LOTR - Lords of The Rings.