March 19th, 2017 of the Gregorian calendar
Johnson and the rest of the platoon was resting behind the lines, all enjoying the calm before the storm that would be combat. The private's squad was playing poker when Cork when all in and lost to Zhao. "Ah fucking shit!" He cursed as the latter snickered while the grenadier's pay was lost. "Imma get that back one way or another." He said as he rubbed his temples, "Cope and seethe bitch, cope and seethe..." the Asian man was really rubbing it in, understandable considering the person most targeted by Cork's occasional antics was Zhao.
"Let's not get feisty." Says Collins as he takes a drag, "I don't want to deal with MPs on my ass." After a long day and a night of near constant fighting, the seasoned G.I had bags underneath his eyes which themselves were bloodshot. His once clean face has begun to accumulate stubs while the skin on his hands was cracked and covered in dirt. "Sarge, I'll think they'll shit on you more if you looked like a zombie." Johnson commented as he loaded 5.56 rounds into a magazine for later use.
He knew that the amount of ammunition used in this war was utterly insane. The massed frontal charges and beasts used by Sadera along with supply lines being stretched caused short ammunition scares among the troops but every time a scare would occur, only to have truckloads of crates packed to the brim with bullets arrive to soften their worries. He when he was in high school learned that the United States produced around forty-one billion rounds of small arms ammunition during world war two so the troops could be equipped, it was just a matter of bringing it over the gate.
Skipping that mental recap, his attention moved the screeching noise coming just above them. It amazed him that aircraft that supported his grandfather during the Vietnam war were still flying now dropping propaganda leaflets, and created quiet the mess as well. "You'd think they'd stop wasting paper by now." Said Cork as Johnson turned to him. "What makes you say that?" "The fucks are putting every man, woman, and child against us." He explained, "Those prideful cunts would rather see Sadera burn then to raise the white flag. Well I say let them fight, they all deserve to rot in hell anyway."
He nodded but secretly was deeply concerned for his friend. While he as usual joked around, it had become less and less frequent while he spoke about the Saderans more like pests then people. "I wouldn't say that." Added Collins who continued to smoke his cigarette. "The higher ups I can understand, but I doubt many of those Imperial soldiers liked being used as meat shields." Corks opened his mouth to protest but said nothing as he stood up and announced he was going to the porta-john before leaving the abandoned house they had set up in. But little did they know, a certain apostle was getting ready to unleash her righteous fury.
Mars 19th, 688 of the Imperial calendar
She hid on the rooftop as a group of about three dozen men behind a horseless carriage made their way down the street, oblivious of her presence. Giselle waited patiently for them to pass. The apostle held no hatred or bloodlust, nor did she feel fear at the sight of men who were apart of a seemingly unstoppable army for these were simply human men underneath strange armor. But the apostle needed to be quick as to get out of sigh before the Americans dropped everything they had on her. With one last breath she gracefully descended down thanks to her wings and cracked her neck as they turned around to see the personification of death.
A man on her left lifted his weapon at her and shouted something in his language, only to have his head going flying as Giselle's scythe decapitated it from his shoulders. The soldiers began to fire their weapons in a frenzy but she was simple too fast, sure some did land their mark, but these were measly grazes. With a downward swing she split one straight down the middle while blood spewed out like a waterfall. She was killing them with ease yet dodging their fire was becoming difficult. 'Damn! At this rate, they'll pepper me until I fall apart if they keep this up. Especially with that war carriage.' She thought as she swerved past their fire, the carriage spitting out a hail of projectiles at an alarming rate which forced her to find cover behind a shop
Then she decided to give them a taste of their own medicine and hopped out of cover while spinning her scythe so fast that it seemed only to be a blur, centuries of practice was sure as hell dandy. Projectiles that were once headed her way were smacked in other directions with some bring flung back at the attackers, most notably the man in the war carriage who lifelessly slumped over his weapon. The men were shouting frantically in their black boxes, presumably for reinforcements. In a blink of an eye she twirled at an astonishing speed while a group of men were chopped up like lambs, those not dead or incapacitated were running away for their lives but she couldn't let that happen. "Oh no you down!" She threw here scythe and sliced the five or so men that escaped her grasp before flying back into the hand of it's master.
"This maybe a shitshow, but It seems I've forgotten how excited combat is." She said out loud as with her powerful wings, shot upwards onto another rooftop to continue her mission. Giselle knew reinforcements were coming and soon she'd finally have a challenge on her hands. Faster then most humans she jumped from building to building scanning for anymore to kill, which didn't take very long. On another rooftop was seven Americans scanning the perimeter when they both spotted each other. The apostle chuckled to herself as she flung herself even higher into the air, so high that it'd be useless to shoot at her. Hovering over her targets she yelled, "Other-worlders! Your playtime is over, for I am Giselle, the mistress of death!" Before swooping down like a Hawk while laughing maniacally. She shot by just above their heads but not before impaler two on her weapon, shaking them off as if they were nothing.
The female dragonian came down for another pass and claimed another four with one left, firing hopelessly at the apostle. In one final attack she grabbed the soldier and soared high above the city. He kicked and squirmed as her grip around his throat tightened. "I hold no grudge against you mortal." She told him, "But it is the will of Hardy for you to die." And with that, she let ho and watched him screamed as he plummeted down to earth, only to abruptly go silent as he smacked into the ground like an egg.
But another sound could be heard, with the sound of a heartbeat going much too fast for any being to survive coming from behind. 'Dammit! Its a iron pegasus.' She quickly dove down to evade the stream of lead flying past. Judging by the size of the craters left by the projectiles, it was not in her interest to be hit. By the skin of her teeth she dove into the ruins of an insula just as multiple explosions rocked the building. Wasting no time Giselle moved through trashed room after trashed room to where she found the cellar, cramped areas put her at a disadvantage but the iron pegasus with reinforcements would tear her to shreds with ease so she had inadvertently put herself between a rock and a hard place.
Suddenly, she heard a faint noise coming from the wall on the opposite of the cellar. Hastily she silently tip toed to it and pressed her ear against it as it became more clearer as to what it was. Identifying the sound she with a great deal of force smashed the stone wall with the end of her scythe, creating a man-sized hole just big enough for her to fit. There were gasps as the group of Imperial troops stared at Giselle as she entered the second cellar of the adjacent insula, the band of men without hesitation getting on their knees and lowering their headed as costumes of old commanded. Giselle continued forward without speaking to them, after all, how would you tell a bunch if mortals they were going to die very soon?
Using her superior hearing, she calculated that the machine was northwest of her position and was scanning in the building of her presence. Carefully she stayed in the shadows but found that her path was blocked by debris from the floor above her, forcing her to move into the hallway where she was sure that she'd be spotted. Her decision was further backed up with the deafening sounds of fire that came from the cellar. With a deep breath Giselle as fast as she could practically jumped through the doorway and sped as fast as her feet would allow her as a tornado of lead came spewing just behind her.
On the fly she created a daring plan, which relied on chance to work or else she could be captured. Just as she was about to reach a dead end she with her weapon smashed downwards, causing the floor to collapse into the lower level. 'With all this dust, my movements shou-' Her thought was interrupted as an explosion threw her back through a door and into the wall of a room occupied by a terrified catman family that failed to evacuate out of the war zone. Giselle groaned in pain as blood gushed out of the stumps where her legs had been while her wings were crushed, not to mention the dozens of pieces of metal embedded in her body at the moment.
She turned to the two parents who were soothing their daughter as she wailed to no end. "H-hey!" The man and the women turned their attention to the apostle and were at a lose of words. "Miss Gis-" "There's no time for formalities mortal..." She interrupted the words of the mother, having enough of people stopping what they were doing just to grovel the ground she walked upon. "This place isn't safe. Take your girl as far away as possible from her if you wish to live to see grandchildren." The couple looked to each other before they turned back to Giselle and the man nodded. Without hast the family got on their feet and scurried off, just as the pounding of boots filled the air. It was useless to fight back as she would be able to regenerate in time.
Soon enough a dozen or so men in black uniforms with masks covering their faces entered the room pointing their weapons at her. With a roll of her eyes she raised her hands up and said, "I, Giselle, give up." The lead soldier looked to one of his comrades and nodded, stepping back as the other soldier walked up to her and kneeled to her to level. Before she could remark about anything she felt a sharp pain in her gut. "What the?.." She looked down to see a orange object jabbed in, a feeling of drowsiness consuming her. She fought to stay awake but the struggle was in vain as her conscience faded and fell into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile inside the Imperial palace
The soon to be couple looked at each other intently as the priest began the marriage ritual, even wars couldn't stop people from marrying. "Emperor Zorzal El Caesar, do you pledge to stay with Tyuule through health and blight? To never stray off from your eternal vows as husband, to treat her with love and care, to protect her with all your being?" Asked the priest as Zorzal, in his red toga with a purple cap and civic crown made of the bronze. "I swear." He turned to Tyuule who in turn wore a traditional Saderan wedding dress made of silk.
"Then it is settled, please, give me your right hand." The two placed their hands forward as the priest pulled out a sacred knife which had a beautiful blue diamond in the handle. He took Zorzal's hand first and with one methodical motion, the shallow cut began to ooze blood though it was in a very small quantity. Tyuule winced ever so slightly as her hand was also cut, before their hands connected with the other. "Now the bond is sealed, until the day you both reach the gates of eternal paradise, I pronounce you husband and wife." Zorzal looked deep into her soul, before closing the gap and kissing the bride on the lips.
The room erupted into applauses and cheers from the crowd of nobles as the deal had been set into stone, now Tyuule the former queen of the Warrior-rabbits was now queen of the Saderan empire and its vast territories. Anyone else would've though it was a dream come true but not her, it was the embodiment of hell. For years she was beaten, starved, degraded, and humiliated by the man that stood before her. Her thoughts went wild with the aspect of ripping the knife from the hands of the priest and thrusting it with all her might into the emperor's throat but she restrained herself. 'The time is almost near.' She told herself, 'Just a little more time...'
Soon the ball room was alive with music and laughter as people danced, forgetting the horrible reality outside the palace walls and focused on their collective dream of a era long since dead. Tyuule even after all this time was surprised on how delusional they could be. She wondered if the world would be better had the humans instead had become the livestock of society, perhaps the elves or even the cat-people would've ran things better.
The trail of thought was interrupted by the voice of the human she hated the most. "Tyuule, isn't this wonderful? It's like a dream of ours." He looked genuinely happy and looked completely different from the boasting general that had all but eradicated her people. Aside from the rants he'd spew out to his generals, his behavior had drastically mellowed down, perhaps the prospect of defeat had caused something to snap inside that little brain of his.
She nodded, "Of course my love." Tyuule replied. "I feel like a little girl again." She then pressed her head against his chest plate as they silently danced the night away, in a trance that averted their attention away from the faint explosion coming from outside as the Americans closed in, slowly but surely wiping out the last resistance before victory.
March 20th, 2017 of the Gregorian calendar
Unfortunately for the general his deepest fears had been realized. Despite special forces capturing Giselle, American lives had been lost and had to fight bitterly to keep the word of her presence in the city hidden. The Saderans had amassed a untrained and under equipped but large force within the city and the surrounding countryside in a last stand against his troops who all didn't want to die when victory was close. Every man, women, and even child was called to arms wielding anything from improvised spears to muskets and some crossbows in the face of tanks.
The tight and narrow streets made any advance with anything larger then a HUMVEE extremely difficult and body-traps caused his momentum to waiver. The streets were littered with corpses and the stench caused many to become physically ill while some finally cracked from witnessing the slaughter. Kowalski's attempts to lessen the chances of reprisals had already failed as rumors and even a handful of photos leaks of whole groups of Saderan combatants no matter if they were militia, regular army, or Oprichnina were gunned down without mercy.
The war had become a festering pot of hatred as both sides fought bitterly for over house and every block in bloody skirmishes that left at least a handful of American wounded while Saderan corpses would literally form piles from where they once stood. There were so many corpses that they couldn't even bury them in mass graves anymore, they'd just be put in one giant pile in some field before being soaked with gasoline and burned but the crows still came in the thousands. It was genuine mystery as to why they continued to fight, any army would've collapsed a long time ago but they kept going, no matter the suffering being afflicted upon them.
Then suddenly, his phone rang. "Hello?" "Hello sir, I've gotten word that the Saderans are proposing a ceasefire." Kowalski couldn't believe his ears, how could he trust them after the first time? "This sounds like a trap." He replied, "I understand, they claim they wish for the civilians remaining in the city to evacuate first before fight continues." He stayed silent for a moment before making the call. "Tell them they have twenty-four hours starting tomorrow at midnight to get them out before we pound them into the dust. Understand?" "Yes sir." He had a bad feeling about it but at least it'd give his men some time to rest.
Sorry for this late update and shorter chapter.