"Complaining to me about it constantly won't do you any good. The ball is in the Japanese's court, and right now they aren't keen on letting us put any more players in the game."

"Only because we're letting them set the rules." W countered, not bothering to hide the irritation that had been building inside her for weeks now. "Because from where I'm sitting, we've had no trouble pressuring other governments into doing what we want pretty much whenever we feel it. But now that an actual world-shaking event happens, we've decided to go back to using soft power? It seems pretty ass backwards."

Were this conversation with anyone else higher placed than her within the Agency, W would at least have attempted to be more "diplomatic" in her choice of words. But she had known Assistant Director Wright for over a decade now, the more experienced G-man had scouted her out almost since she had been a freshman at University and had been a mentor to her even well into her tenure as an agent. They had made an effective team over the years, with W preferring to be out in the field getting her hands dirty while Wright had been adept at keeping the pencil pushers back home happy and keeping her out of the endless power struggles within the CIA. It was thanks to him in no small part that W had been able to keep the lead position on the so-called "Special Region" case thus far, even if that didn't amount to much at this point.

"This isn't the same as charging into some isolated village in the Middle East." Wright said, sipping from his mug of coffee on the table in front of him. He was well acquainted with W's more blunt way of saying what was on her mind by this point and didn't seem offended by it in the least. "Japan is one of our closest allies, and they have a well-established armed force that they believe can handle their issues the way they want them handled. Without any sort of outside interference."

"They've already let a battalion of our troops through the Gate as it is." She pointed out. "I'm not asking to bring an army through, just a small team of less than ten people. What's the harm in that?"

"You already know the answer to that. A few hundred jarheads in a Forward Operating Base typically fill a quite different role than a squad from the Special Operations Group. The Japanese Government is well aware of that distinction, and they don't see any benefit to letting us play around in their shiny new fantasy world."

W sat back in her chair and scowled. It was that same refusal that was the reason she and her task force were still stuck on earth, and she was having to have this meeting in a secure study of all places. She never enjoyed any of the time she was forced to return to Langley and would have been much happier staying back with the rest of her team at Edwards Air Force Base, or hell shipping back out to Japan for that matter. But there were times that it paid to come back to headquarters to plead her case in person and figuratively knock some heads until she got what she wanted. Along with Wright, W did have other friends and contacts who were willing to help her throw some weight around, but outside that small group she hated having to deal with pretty much anyone else in the agency and whatever agenda they wanted to use her to forward whatever agenda they had on their minds at the moment. She would almost rather be in a gunfight then any duel of words with other agents, at least anyone shooting at her was honest in their intentions.

"And so, what? We just sit back and let the JSDF take their sweet time in dealing with all this while we just sit quietly and nod our heads? You've read the same reports I have; they have the strength of a full combat division on the other side by this point, but all they've done is taken a single hill and dug in. It's been weeks since then and they haven't accomplished anything else, no intelligence on local peoples or governance, barely any scouting work to map geography, and to top it all off they've barely begun looking into the non-human races that were among the enemy troops. I don't know about you but I'm not happy with just twiddling our thumbs and waiting for those troops to get around to doing literally anything."

"And you'd prefer that we take over things and show them how it's really done?" Wright asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If it were ultimately up to me, yes." W said. "We'd reinforce the Marines, probably send in the Rangers for good measure along with a liberal dosage of Special Forces and get some damn answers about what's going on. It took us, what, two weeks to knock down the Taliban in Afghanistan and gain control? I don't see why that'd be any different against an enemy that's about a thousand years behind us when it comes to technology."

"Yes, because after we won that victory in Afghanistan, we were all able to go home and celebrate the fact that we'd never have to worry about that country again." Wright's tone cooled significantly. "It's attitudes like yours that's exactly why the JSDF doesn't want more of us on the other side right now. They're playing it as carefully as they are exactly because they saw what we did in the Middle East, and the clusterfuck we're now because of it over a decade later. Japan knows it's population would never accept a conflict like that, and neither is it's military overly fond of the idea themselves. They are taking it slow, that's true, but they aren't worried about pleasing us. They're worried about getting themselves in a quagmire on some world that absolutely none of us understand at the moment."

"They could at least let us send them more reinforcements, or even just some specialists. It's not like the President wouldn't authorize it. One understrength Marine Battalion won't be able to accomplish much on it's own."

"To be frank, we're lucky that the Japanese even let that much join them." Wright answered, standing up and going over to refill his mug at a nearby coffee machine. "From the chatter coming across my desk, the Government felt they had to let at least some Americans come along with them because of the Mutual Security Treaty, and the small but visible roll we had in the defense of Tokyo. They're worried that the more of us they bring through the Gate, the more we may try to take charge of things, and I can't exactly say those thoughts are unjustified."

"I guess." W conceded, already knowing where this line of logic was leading to. "So, we're not trying to force our way in and thus alienate our allies, we're waiting for them to invite us in so we can play the part of good buddies the whole time?"

"Essentially." The Assistant Director nodded. "And they will invite us to take a more active role, that much I'm certain. The Diet is doing things cautiously at the moment, but they can't do this sort of thing alone in the long term. Their own military just isn't big enough for a large scale campaign in this new world while also defending the Home Islands, especially now that there's growing whispers that the Russians and the Chinese are getting very curious about the potential resources beyond the Gate. They will need a trustworthy ally to help them against both problems, and the United States will be in the perfect position to fill such a need, especially since we made no demands of them and were nothing but supportive since this whole thing began. And as an icing on the cake, the President can make it look like he's ushering in a new age where the United States takes on a supporting role of strong and capable allies instead of having to be in the lead every time a new problem appears in the world."

She grunted at that. A large segment of US Foreign Policy was now having to juggle a duel image of a country that was trying to get past it "World Police" accusations that had been established in the world since the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, but also making it clear that the Americans were more than willing to step in and change things up a bit whenever it saw fit. It was a clearly paradoxical way of approaching things, but there was little choice given how the Superpower had both Security Agreements and concerns that spanned the globe and simply could not be ignored. For better or worse, that was the reality that both overt and covert Agents like W had to contend with.

"Let me guess, that's probably the same reason why we asked the Germans to tag along with one of our units. Just so some idiot can add an extra flag to a Wikipedia article and claim that this was an international effort?"

"See? You are learning?" Wright smiled. "When it comes to this sort of situation, it matters less what we're actually doing and more on what the world THINKS we're doing. And right now, we're considered a footnote when it comes to this gate, which means any failures that may happen aren't directed at us, and having more than two nations makes even better since we can claim a secondary role in a coalition."

"You know, this whole thing is a lot easier when you just have a specific target to deal with." W groaned in a mock fashion. "This is probably the discovery of a whole new world, after all. We should put our differences aside to see what wonderful unique things we can come together to destroy over there."

"I'll be sure to pass that opinion up the chain." Her superior chuckled as he sat back down. "Now then, you mentioned having new candidates to bring into your team?"

"Right, just filling up a few gaps that I'd like to be filled by specialists." She said, reaching into her side pouch and tossing the dossiers onto the table. "All of them are currently stateside, so it shouldn't be too much trouble pulling them into the fold."

Wright looked over each of them individually, running a finger down the papers as he did so. They were only basic overviews of service histories, but W herself had done far more extensive background checks of each before giving them the green light to propose to the Assistant Director.

"...I suppose I should be thankful for you not shopping exclusively from SOCCOM this time." Wright finally said, giving W a rueful smile.

"Thank Maze, he's the one who made the selection this time."

"Really? I'm surprised you trusted him enough to allow that, no offense I've known you to be more of a micromanager when it comes to things like this."

"Our little Captain America has proven himself capable enough in things like this." W shrugged. "I'm willing to let him get first choice on who he wants following him into the field. Besides, I made sure they were all capable with some research of my own."

"Now that sounds more like you." Wright nodded. "Alright, I'll get to work on having them all transferred over to you as quickly as I can. Is there anything else?"

"I'm having an equipment list sent over to you. Assuming that the Marines are still on the other side whenever we're finally allowed through, it's everything we might need but wouldn't be readily available with the current forces."

"Someone is thinking way into the future, it seems."

"Of course." She smiled. "Victory through thorough preparation. And superior firepower."

~oOo~

For the fifth time in less than an hour, the screen froze right in the middle of a sentence that was being typed out, and Mitchell had to fight the urge to slam the "Toughbook" rugged laptop on the ground and let the Germans run over it.

"Military grade equipment, ladies and gentlemen…" He muttered to himself, waiting for it to sync back up with itself yet again. "Manufactured by the lowest bidder."

It was starting to feel like someone in supply was playing a cruel joke on him, like they had heard his complaints about the reliability of a lot of their gear on his last deployment and made sure they were issues the exact same items here. He'd hoped that the fact they were technically in close proximity to Tokyo that it would mean better turnaround times for requisitions and replacements, but the chain continued to move at the pace of a speeding snail, with shrugs often being the answer whenever he asked for an ETA on new equipment.

Though he supposed that he should be grateful that most of what they had was more or less modern, at least modern in the twisted sense of the American Military machine. He had seen a lot of the JSDF issued with older kit, everything from battle rifles to tanks, everything on this side of the Gate looked like they had been replaced at least a decade before. Of course, the Germans seemed to be turning their noses up at everyone with their shiny new equipment that seemed to work simply better enough then everyone else's that it was almost like a form of mockery.

Mitchell leaned back in his chair, finally able to type once again as he finished the memorandum he was sending to the Colonel. His current workspace was inside a large tent that had been set up as Company Headquarters for the time being, the Marines having been warned ahead if time that the JSDF would be given priority in new building construction, at least until demand on instillation facilities on their side of the base slowed down a little. Some of the others grumbled about that, but he figured it was probably how British or other allied forces often felt when stationed at US FOBs, and now they were just getting a taste of what it was like on the other side of things.

At least it was decently temperate here, not being oppressively hot like most places in the Middle East nor freezing cold like it got in places within Afghanistan. A much bigger concern at the moment was dealing with boredom, since there was no chance of getting a phone signal or any Wi-Fi here, not until they figured out how to set up a connection between here and earth anyway. For some that just meant having to put down their phones and finding some other way to pass the downtime, since they had a lot more of it here then they would have had on other deployments where patrols were pretty much a daily thing and their bases were under threat from unseen mortars or rockets. But it had a harder effect on those Marines who had families back home, wives and kids that they currently had no way to communicate with save for the most basic of post offices. In an age where some form of communication was usually viable, going weeks without talking to loved ones could take a toll, and the Chaplains had brought it up more than once during Staff Meetings.

It also had a smaller though no less noticeable effect on day to day operations, since they didn't have emails or the usual benefits of the world wide web, they had to use actual paper again for things that needed to be recorded. Plus, the only current way to keep in contact with higher command past the gate was to actually send messengers back and forth, leaving the commanders here to just use their best judgment whenever situations came up. It was nice to not have higher Headquarters constantly breathing down his neck, but Mitchell wasn't sure the added pressures of operating in a largely alien world was more desirable in the long run.

He was about to stand up and hook his Toughbook into the nearby printer when a voice squawked from the radio sitting on the corner of his makeshift desk.

"Archer Actual, this is Command Post."

"Archer Actual." He said, picking up the only wireless device that seemed to work around these parts. "Send it."

"There seems to be a developing situation over at Victor Two, personnel are requesting the assistance of higher authority."

"Victor Two?" Mitchell frowned. That was one of the FOB vehicle gates that was manned by both JSDF and USMC guards. "Is it an attack?"

"Negative, that's not what they're describing." The controller answered, sounding a bit confused herself. "There's apparently a disagreement going on is all, and they'd like someone to help set things straight."

"Copy that, I'll head over now." He said, hooking the radio to his belt and making sure his sidearm was still secure in its holster.

He was able to hitch a ride with one of the internal patrols and reach the Gate within a few minutes, a small gap in the large wall and barricades with an that separated the Alnus Hill Encampment from the outside world. It had a mobile barrier system that was connected to the guard post, which was currently activated, making a sort of reverse ramp that was currently blocking the way for three JSDF vehicles from entering into the base while what looked and sounded like a shouting match went on between one of them and a Marine was going on behind it. Another Japanese soldier remained at the Gate as he scanned the perimeter, either doing a diligent job at keeping a watchful eye or otherwise just not wanting to get involved in the argument that was going on.

"Trooper, I am a superior officer, and I am ORDERING you to lower blockade and let us through!" One of the JSDF soldiers was yelling, but the trooper was standing his ground.

"I will not do a damn thing until I get confirmation from my ACTUAL superiors about breaking with these kinds of protocols." He countered.

"Alright, everyone just take a breath and calm down a second." Mitchell said as he walked up to the confrontation. The last thing he needed was for this thing to come to blows and have to explain to Colonel Jackson about why the worst kind of incident had managed to happen under his watch. "What's going on, Corporal?"

"Captain? Thank God." The guard said, facing his superior. "The Third Recon is just arriving back, but they have brought back about a dozen local nationals. He's trying to bring them onto the base, sir, and I haven't heard any kind of authorization for this."

"...This true Lieutenant?" He asked, looking at the other man. He had worked with First Lieutenant Itami several times during their training back in Japan before coming through the Gate, the other being one of the Japanese Officers who was fully fluent in English and had thus been tasked to work closely alongside the Americans in the early exercises.

"They are refugees." Itami answered. "Driven from their homes, I've classified them as such which allows us to render aid to them as needed."

"Did you radio ahead to get permission for that?"

"Well...no." Itami shrugged. "But what does that matter? This is a JSDF concern, nothing you have to worry about."

"As I've been trying to tell you, sir." The Marine guard sounded exasperated. "That's not how this works."

"Corporal, return to your post. I'll handle this." Mitchell said, rubbing his temple with thumb and forefinger. "Lieutenant, a word please?"

The trooper gave a grateful nod before heading back to the small shack next to the gate, Mitchell walking with Itami over to where the vehicles were still sitting idle.

"So, which one was it, Itami?"

"Excuse me?"

"Which ravine did you fall down and hit your head so hard that made you think that this sort of thing was a good idea?" The Captain growled. "Because last I heard, you were supposed to be conducting recon, not inviting the locals over for dinner."

"Respectfully sir, my orders were to create friendly relations with the local populations, and that's exactly what I've been doing." Itami answered. "Things just got more...dicey then we anticipated, and we had to play a few things by ear. We ended up with a number of refugees in need of assistance is all."

"Itami, this is a military base in the middle of what is still considered an active combat zone, not a UN humanitarian camp. You can't just unilaterally decide to bring outside nationals here on your own authority."

"We had a breakdown of communications since the event, and I had nowhere else I could go with them except here. Would you rather I just abandon them?"

"I would rather you have gone through the proper channels for this sort of thing."

"Captain, we have orphans who have lost their families and elderly who have no one to take care of them." The JSDF Officer said. "This isn't like our world, there isn't any kind of shelter or government programs who can help them. If we had left them out there, they would have died, and I don't think either one of us wants that kind of thing on our conscious."

"Our own wants aren't a factor in these kinds of things." Mitchell sighed as he started walking along the trio of vehicles.

He had been forced to make those exact kinds of decisions before, too many good men and women had, and there was almost never a good answer for it. No one ever wanted to leave behind innocents, but it was simply all too easy for enemy combatants to slip their way into posing as refugees and causing death and destruction later. Even children and the elderly weren't immune from being extremists bent on killing Coalition Forces who were often trying to help locals. Maybe that's why he was so twisted in this regard, having seen and heard too much to have the kind of heroic spirit that Itami was showing at the moment. Looking through the windows of the first transport, he could indeed see that they had brought several children back with them, none seemed older than ten. Obviously, the Lieutenant wanted to help them, what decent human being wouldn't want to? That didn't make what he did right in the eyes of protocol.

He was about to tell him exactly that, when his eyes caught noticeable black burn marks on all three of the recon transports.

"What the hell is that?" He asked, pointing. "Were you driving through a forest fire or something?"

"Huh?" Itami looked where indicated. "Oh right, that's from the fire breath of a dragon."

"A… Dragon?" Mitchell blinked. "We've already faced dozens of those things, and none of them breathed fire."

"Those weren't real dragons, they're wyverns." Itami corrected him. "A REAL dragon is way more huge, like the size of a building. With scales as hard as steel and a throat that can really belch out those flames. It's like a flying tank really. We had to use an RPG to drive it off in the end."

"Right. Of Course." He knew that given everything he'd seen so far this really shouldn't have come as a revelation to him, but he couldn't help but be nearly dumbstruck at the description. This shit was weird. "And how exactly did you find yourself facing off against this...dragon?"

"Well, we were assisting in the evacuation of a small village to the north when the damn thing swooped down from the sky and started eating and burning everyone it could find. It's the reason why we have all these refugees in the first place."

"Alright I'll grant you that there's nothing in the regs that go over how to deal with the aftermath of a fairy tale creature's attack." Mitchell conceded as he went over to look in the next vehicle. This one didn't have any children inside, but a number of adults. Half of them did look to be elderly, but the other three definitely looked like young adults, or at least older teenagers. "I spy a trio here who don't quite match your description of kids or old people."

"They still fall under the same refugee status." Itami explained. "No family or anyone else to take care of them after the dragon attack."

"Now you're stretching things." Mitchell said, trying not to scowl as he knew the 'visitors' were looking at him from inside. All three of the younger ones looked to be female, with the smallest of them having blue hair and a green colored dress. The one next to her had nearly the exact opposite color scheme, long flowing black hair and an almost comically large bow sitting atop her head. Her crimson red eyes seemed to study the Marine in a way that he didn't much care for, especially with the eerie smile he could see playing across her lips. He shivered, quickly looking over to the last one in the car who had the appearance of- "Jesus Christ, is that an elf?!"

There was no mistaking it. The last girl had long pointed ears that protruded out of her blonde hair, looking exactly like a character pulled from Lord of the Rings, save for the more modern looking shorts and jeans she was currently wearing.

"Yep, a living breathing elf." Itami confirmed. The elf girl didn't seem to like Mitchell studying her with a dumbstruck look, subconsciously moving further away from the window. "She's the last survivor of her village that was destroyed by the flame dragon, had to fish her from a well when she was totally out cold. She has no one left, Captain."

Mitchell forced himself to tear his gaze away from the collection of strange that the Recon Team had somehow collected, and swore under his breath. How in the hell had this landed on his lap? All he'd wanted to do is run the clock out on his commission and end his military career quietly and without hassle. Now he was somehow in a fantasy world arguing with a Japanese Officer on how to properly classify an elven war refugee after her village was destroyed by a fucking dragon?

This. Shit. Was. Weird.

He looked up to the sky, the one that looked so much like the one back home. He didn't want this to be his problem, he desperately wanted it to be someone else's issue. But like so many other things in his life, it seemed he didn't get a say in the matter.

"...Alright Lieutenant." Mitchell said as he turned back towards Itami. "Here's what we're going to do. I'll get to work on getting information on your refugees so we can get them at least temporary passes onto the base under armed guard. YOU are going to contact your superior right now and tell them what's going on, because unless I hear otherwise from Colonel Jackson himself, these refugees are the JSDF's problem. Meaning you house and take care of them, not us. And for Christ sake, next time radio ahead when you're going to pull this kind of bullshit. Got it?"

"Yes sir." Itami smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet, you don't know how much work it really is setting up a humanitarian mission." Mitchell returned the gesture with a slightly sinister edge as he pulled the radio from his belt. "Archer One-One, Archer Actual."

"Go for One-One." The voice of Private Hamilton responded.

"Tell the others to kit up and head over to Victor Two. We've got some in processing to do."

"I don't think I heard that right. Did you say, 'in processing'?"

"That I did. It'll be easier to explain once you get here, just get everyone moving."

"Wilco."

Mitchell placed the device back on his belt and started back for the guard post. Even now, he could somehow still feel the gaze of the dark-haired girl, as the thought of her expression sent a cold chill down his spine.