Well, I caught Covid… for the 4th time, and since I can't leave my room in the barracks for the next five days, I figure I might as well try to knock this next chapter out. Anyway, I figure this will probably need to be stated to clear some confusion; MGE was never really meant to have a retcon, and much of what the Western audience saw at the beginning were things lost in translation. Kenkou Cross attempted to portray a Gurren Lagann-Esq scenario with love being the central theme rather than determination/willpower. The Fallen Maidens' story was meant to portray people, as Kenkou stated in an interview, "…Who couldn't be redeemed without quitting being a human." Now I'm here to make an interesting story, and I'm pretty certain I can't channel the pure testosterone Hiroyuki Imaishi did with his writing. Not to mention I can't write smut like Kenkou Cross can. So I will take my experience dealing with the occasional politician and write something more in line with Metal Gear and Log Horizon. So, to alleviate my boredom and distract me from the pain this shit is causing, I present my next chapter.
Same Shit Different World
No Plan Survives First Contact
"Myer, I feel this is going to be a love-hate relationship." Having already gotten set up in a room and thoroughly secured my gear after catching some individuals attempting to 'tactically acquire' other people's shit, I found myself in one of the larger conference rooms, which, despite having enough space to move without much trouble, was still reasonably cramped. About 75 people stood in the room, giving me the impression that Karina was sending me on a mission with a great deal of weight. Although that wasn't what bothered me, I was used to seeing people showing up shit-faced in the morning or even to some briefings, but at least to the briefings, they were somewhat coherent. No one in this room took this seriously despite what was obviously about to go down. Of course, I could always explain essential details to a team later, but it wasn't very pleasant being hounded by my current company.
"Come on, just a little snippet. I gotta know where you got that weapon." This is my current problem, a 5' 8" woman with sky-blue hair and silver eyes. She was tan and had a decent figure, I had to admit, but the choice of 'armor' was a bit risqué. It was a hardened leather crop top dyed white with red highlights, matching booty shorts, knee-length high-heeled boots, and fingerless gloves running up to her biceps. Certainly, easy on the eyes, but having been on the receiving end of multiple attempted murders via seduction, I don't get aroused too easily, besides…
"Alice…" Ugh, not now I can't be distracted by that.
"Irina, I think you're making the guy uncomfortable." Luckily a newcomer stepped in, grabbing the now-named Irina by the shoulder. He was a man that appeared to be in his 20s. About 5' 11", I'd say, he wore a pure white cloak with an orange and silver clasp keeping it on his collar. Underneath was a faded black sweatshirt. Over the shirt were leather suspenders holding a relatively large brown bag and his dark green pants tucked into a pair of light brown boots. His face seemed trustworthy, a pair of round specs overtop his stormy gray eyes, and, to top it off, unkempt black hair that only slightly covered his ears.
"Sorry about my friend; Irina happens to be fascinated by weapons, and if there is something new that she sees… well." His hand motioned to the woman drooling at the sight of my M4. He began to chuckle nervously as he scratched the back of his head. I let out a sigh and turned to him, seeing as this briefing wasn't starting at the time it should have.
"You're fine." Clearly, I wasn't getting out of this conversation, given that his hand barely restrained the woman.
"For now, I'll say it will be easier to show my equipment in action than to explain it." I waved my hand as Irina proceeded to pout.
"Besides, I'm new to this area, so whom to trust is still up in the air. After all, information is valuable." I glanced at the man, who gave a knowing smile. Considering I needed a network to get myself in a position to start making real decisions, I had to throw out the fishing line when what appeared to be a decent-sized fish was in the area. In response, the man readjusted his glasses before speaking.
"Hmm, you're an interesting guy, just to say that flat-out. Ok, I'll bite; my name's Kai Carpenter. I used to be a researcher at the College of Sorcery, so if info is what you need, I can certainly answer a few questions." That smirk on his face told me that he already knew my game; I must have lost my edge since my move to Delta. Oh well, I always found it easier to shoot at my problems than run around them in circles. Although, one thing he mentioned certainly makes me wonder…
"How the hell does a researcher end up with this group of misfits?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. Kai lets out a decent laugh as his companion pouts and looks away. After a few seconds, Kai stifles his amusement and begins to take on an almost melancholy expression.
"I guess I should have expected that to be your first question. Well… it's a long story that is quite personal to Irina and me, but to spare you the little details, the Order simply decided they didn't have much use for me as some younger blood started filling positions." My eyes narrowed.
"Younger blood? He doesn't even look a day over 25."
"However, that's a story for a different time. After I had been dropped from the College, I struggled to find work on the streets. I was quite lucky when I got picked up by Irina's late husband, Markus…" I turned my eyes toward Irina and then back to Kai; both held sad smiles on their faces.
"*sigh* Markus picked me up since he needed someone to translate runes on an old excavation site that the Guild wanted to be mapped out. Long story short, I hit it off with him and Irina, and well, I've tried to do my best to pay them back ever since." Irina walked up behind him with a very bright smile in contrast to earlier.
"Kai, you've already done a lot for not only us but the whole guild. You've nothing to pay back; I'm blessed to be able to call you a friend." Irina decided to ignore her male companion's personal space and slung her arm around his shoulder as he blushed, turned his head, and scratched his cheek.
Despite his lawyer-like composer, I at least get the feeling he and his friend are decent enough people (as far as first impressions go). Time will tell what to really make of them, but the small sob story he gave would make it rude to attempt any further questions. However, this is an opportunity to get my foot in the door, at the very least. With that in mind, I turn my head towards Irina.
"I'm sorry for your loss, but I can say from experience that the duty of the living is to honor our cherished dead." Ironically enough, she let out a small laugh. Only now did I notice that despite the personal topic that probably brought a whole lot of heartbreak to her, she hadn't really stopped smiling.
"He'll forever be in my heart, so I like to think he never really left. Besides, his goal of leaving this world a better place will always live on through me." Well, now I can officially say I have found a face as bright as the sun. The way her expression beamed was almost unreal; it warmed my weary soul.
"Helluva goal, but with that kind of charisma, I'd be damned if I didn't help them out." Unfortunately, before I could continue the conversation, the doors opened to reveal two individuals, the first being a taller woman dressed in revealing armor underneath a green jacket. There were a number of scars along her callused-ridden skin and strikingly ended with a bandana over her right eye that rested over the silver neck-length hair that was styled upwards in the rear. Her one eye remaining reminded me of the guys from Ranger Bat. That dark green eye held back a wildness refined through experience. One look at her was enough to tell me that this woman would love nothing more than to be out in the field kicking in doors.
Her companion, on the other hand, was dressed similarly to the guards around the city, with the only noticeable exception being a green cord wrapped around his right soldier. The most prominent feature of him is his bright red hair, and not the orange of a redhead, actually red, which was only complemented by his sky-blue eyes. If this man wasn't wearing the uniform, I would have guessed him to be a regular joe off the streets with the way he held himself. He was almost timid, bearing his body slightly towards the woman whom he had arrived with. His eyes screamed of the inexperienced youth behind them. From what I could see, his muscles weren't pronounced much, but he held little to no fat on his body.
"He's trained that much, I can tell, but I doubt he's put it into practice much, if any at all." Opinions aside, it became quite evident that the woman's presence had caused everyone's back to straighten and shut up. The woman's eyes surveyed everyone in the room, stopping for only a few seconds on certain individuals, including me. I happened to hold her gaze the longest as she narrowed her expression. I returned the stare in kind, causing her to snort and then look away. She let out a long sigh and then began to speak.
"I don't have time for small talk right now since time is not on our side at the moment. So, keep your mouths shut and listen up!" Judging by the fact that immediately the room's atmosphere shifted, it was safe to say that there was quite a situation unfolding. She pulled out a map from one of her inner jacket pockets and handed a stack of papers to her assistant, to whom she gestured her hand toward the room's crowd. With a swift nod, he began passing around the sheets.
"As you know, we've been handing out missions to the guild regarding defending Halmark against a previously unknown hostile force. While we have finally received intelligence of whom we are fighting, it pains me to admit that the town has capitulated. Even worse, our opposition is the organized crime ring, Red Dawn." The immediate scowls and whispers among the others did not paint this group as pushovers. Even Irina's expression turned serious at the mere mention. As the adventures talk subsided, the assistant handed me one of the briefing sheets. With a brief glance at it, I noticed a list of names, profiles, and bounties tied to each; there was other information near the bottom regarding ROE and a list of MIA individuals.
I wasn't even going to pretend to know anything about anyone listed, so I just turned my head back toward the woman at the front. She gave a quick look at the room, presumably checking for everyone's attention, before she spoke again.
"Unfortunately, due to the post of the Lescatie Knights, our garrison is not to leave the city walls until the situation becomes 'dire' in the infinite wisdom of the nobility and The Order." She didn't even attempt to hide the roll of her eyes. Her sarcasm was met by the sneers of a good many in the room. Even so, she continued and pointed to a road on the map she laid out.
"The opinions of nobles aside, the road on the far side of Halmark is the main supply route to Sumeral, which is currently engaged in multiple skirmishes along its border with Mamono forces. While the Ice Flower forces stationed there are no slouches in combat; they will only survive as long as their rations let them. As such, this emergency request comes straight from Priest Noscrim. All of you are to liberate Halmark and lead a supply caravan safely through to Sumeral. Any questions?" As much as I would like to drag as much information out as possible, I could tell from her tone that it was rhetorical. I'll just have to acquire the specifics through other channels.
To be honest with myself, mission prep is always where my anxiety is at its highest (with a rare few exceptions). There are always so many unknowns, even with the best intelligence. The question always comes down to whether or not it's worth the extra weight in equipment usually. Fortunately enough, I don't have any trade-offs I need to make here since I know for a fact that my shit will be purchased with a five-finger discount should I leave any of it. Rather my main concern is weapon and equipment maintenance. Though it is rather mind-numbing to wipe down the upper receiver and star chamber over and over again, it allows me time to think.
For the moment, I could honestly care less about the mission itself; I can't lie and say that there is any emotional weight for people I know nothing of. I don't doubt that I'll grow attached to something given enough time, but it still pains me to do so. There is just so much I left behind. Grinch, Truck, and Frost… my brothers in all but name; they kept me going after everything. Even before the war, they're the reason I didn't take a 9mm nap after Alice died and the Surge was over. Of course, the damage it did to me mentally was evident to everyone; I couldn't leave the Army. I had nothing else; I knew nothing else. It was the main reason I was never promoted beyond E-8. I knew that despite everything, I would need to make myself indispensable to the Army from that point forward. I was already hitting the 20-year mark; they had every reason to boot me out then and there. So I worked my ass off, throwing myself at every mission possible till, eventually, Grinch gave me a much-needed reality check.
My face stung, and my tailbone particularly hurt from the fall, but above all, I felt shocked. Grinch retracted his hand from where he backhanded me. He stared at me with a pity-filled glare.
"Boss, you need to wake the fuck up. You can barely stand, and all of us are exhausted out of our minds. We know how much she meant to you, but she's gone, and we still have a job to do. It's high time you man the fuck up and stop having a pity party, else imma whop your ass back to Texas."
At the time, I hated to admit it, but had he not stepped in, my poor decisions would have landed at least one of us six feet under. Still, no matter how much I thought that I had put the past behind me, I was always back at the retention office asking for another year. I could hear those three always pushing me to ETS since, in the end, all I was doing was hiding from the real world. Alice was the one who had me ready to leave the Army, the one girl I had found in my life that I truly loved. Three years of marriage, and I couldn't ever see us just breaking apart. Delta had strained how much time I could spend with her, hell there were points when I thought I would find a Dear John letter or, worse, Jody in my house, but she stuck with me, and the day that she flew out to pick me up for my ETS leave was the day her flight got hijacked. 9/11 was when my world shattered, and I knew anger beyond what I ever thought possible. Although once everything was said and done, I had my share of revenge, there was still a wound that never healed. For the longest time, I didn't speak with my parents or siblings. I couldn't face talking to anyone that I really loved. Ironically, Frost was the one who got me out of the funk and into counseling. The man who had probably seen more shit than the rest of us was the one telling me to get help. I even told him, and all he did was wave his flask of whiskey in front of me before taking a swig and walking away.
Eventually, I inspected the disassembled carbine one last time before reassembling it and performing the functions check. Satisfied with its state, I did one last check of my supplies before throwing back on my combat top and walking out of the door of my current living area, making sure to lock up all of my SI. Descending to the ground floor of the guild was rather sobering. A place that had been so rowdy when I first walked in had turned very quiet, with whispers of intermingling between cliques being about the only constant background noise.
Interestingly enough, the only person at the bar inside the guild was the woman giving the briefing. I noticed her nursing the drink and occasionally staring at it in silence. I sighed; it would be an awkward conversation, but seeing her made me feel an obligation to say something.
"You know a drink only takes the edge off temporarily; I doubt the answer to your problems is at the bottom of the glass." She turned her head toward me, scoffed, then looked back at the liquor. I sat down, leaving one bar seat of space between us. The bartender, a man in his 30s from his look, scars, and dotted grey hairs in a mess of brown, turned to me and raised an eyebrow. I pulled out a flask of my own personal sauce and showed him before he turned his back and proceeded to make himself busy in his workspace.
"Brave of you to attempt to flirt with someone of my station." She finally said with some snark clearly present in her tone. I mentally rolled my eyes; this wasn't the first time I had to work through this kind of conversation.
"I don't flirt with strangers, but I do try and pick someone up that's been kicked down, especially when I have to work with or for them." She raised an eyebrow at the statement, then shrugged her shoulders.
"I knew you were from out of town by the clothes, but I'm surprised the rumor mill hasn't gotten to you yet. Regardless I'm Captain Mersé Dascaros of the Lescatie Knight Order." This time her head fully turned towards me with an inspecting gaze, specifically looking at the faded flag and SF deployment patch on my right shoulder. Imagining it wouldn't mean too much, I decided to let loose a little information.
"Jack Gifford, Combat Applications Group." It got a quizzical look from her, but it didn't draw questions since the information was true despite being a small part of the story. She took another swig of her beverage the rested her head on her fist.
"I swear, with you adventurers, I never hear the same group name twice, but it's rare that a group is strictly focused on combat roles. You see much action?" She's attempting to change the subject, but I think I can turn it back around. I take a quick sip out of my flask and reply.
"I've seen enough shit, had my fair share of moments, and put up with enough BS to last a lifetime. In that regard, I also know when someone needs to get something off their chest." Mersé twitched her eye at me and then groaned.
"Persistent, huh? All right, I'm pissed off that we're being held back from the action. Those fuckers are twiddling their thumbs while good friends of mine are off struggling to stay alive. No offense, but I hate having to rely on you people to do what should be our job." She took a gulp from the glass and then slammed it. I didn't speak since I wanted to see where she would take this.
"The nobles want us around town doing whatever they want on a whim instead of letting us do our job. We wouldn't be here if Noscrim hadn't pushed his restrictions on the King through the senate. Despite the fact that I know a whole hell of a lot more about the security of this country and its military, they won't give me the time of day actually to make decisions or changes." Her face twisted more with anger at every word that came out of her mouth. As much as I would like to take a decent drink out of my flask after that small rant, I knew I needed a clear head to speak here.
"Unfortunately, you won't get far through the established system if you're trying to accomplish something." I could feel her eyes narrowing. My next words would either sow something for the future or land me in a cell. I took a deep breath and found my words.
"The nobles will always ignore others in pursuit of accomplishing their visions for the country. There are only two things that could force them to make a decision that doesn't completely align with their goals. A compromise for their objective or people that can take their power away from them." She looked skeptical.
"Right, and who would have that kind of authority?"
"The citizens." She took her head off her hand and gave me a very dangerous look.
"What are you implying!?" She spoke with a harsh whisper.
"In the end, the people that live in the country always have a choice to either silently accept their situation or to attempt to make their voices heard." She leaned back in her chair and placed a hand behind her back to grab what I could only assume was a weapon. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the bartender giving a sharp look in my direction while he reached for something.
"Just who are you exactly?" Her tone spoke of the severity of the situation. I simply smirked and then spoke.
"I'm just a man looking to help." They were almost flabbergasted at the response and made no moves against me as I walked away, taking one last swig out of my flask. It was a risky play and not one I thought I would have the ability to make so soon, but I imagine that whether I woke up behind bars or still in my room would determine where I would take this.
Despite being in Delta, I still adhere to the principles of SF. De Oppresso Liber.
I'm going to be honest, I had a lot of directions I wanted to take this chapter, and I wasn't sure how long I wanted to make it. I had considered just going straight into the mission arc straight from the brief, but I wanted more of a mood setter for events that would take place inside the city versus straight action. I felt that if I just went on from there, I would have taken away from the point. I also wanted to get across the more subtle ways Priest Noscrim had control of the city, but honestly, I'm not sure if I conveyed the impact the way I should have or just beat yall over the head with it. Anyway next chapter, I'm going to try and get into some action and combat; just keep in mind that I have never trained with or participated in operations with guys in SOCOM. I only know my unit's SOP and the Army's SOP, both of which are basically public information, that being said I'll try to set up the situation in a way that I feel it would play out. Anyways, whether you like or hate my dumpster fire of a writing attempt, please try and leave some constructive criticism cause flames don't tell me what specifically I'm doing wrong or how to fix it.