December 27'th, 2022
Downtown Auckland
First day of the Civil War.
Isla sprinted through the chaos, their ears ringing from the cacophony of shouts, screams, and gunshots surrounding them. Their life had crumbled, and now, it seemed, their country was following suit. The city was a cacophony of gunfire and grinding metal as vehicles collided in a frantic attempt to flee the newly formed warzone.
With their breath in ragged gasps and their heart pounding, Isla ducked into an alleyway as the sound of tank treads on paving stones reached their ears. Careful not to be seen, they surveyed their surroundings. A lifeless militiaman lay nearby, his head crushed by a rogue piece of stone—likely debris from an explosion. An RPG lay close to the corpse, its green warhead glinting ominously.
Isla hesitated, their mind racing with choices. With trembling hands, they approached the RPG and picked it up. They couldn't stand by and let the mayhem continue. Stealthily, they emerged from the alley, the massive tank looming to their right.
Taking a moment to steady their breath, Isla gripped the RPG tightly, their knuckles white from the effort. They had never used a weapon like this before but knew they couldn't let fear hold them back. They aimed at the tank, their heart pounding in their ears, and pulled the trigger.
3rd June 2023
Central Auckland
The bullet found its mark, tearing through the air and striking the soldier with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from the wound. Isla stared at the gruesome scene through their scope, their expression empty, before pulling the bolt back to chamber the next round. The Mosin barked again, its flash illuminating another target in Isla's scope as they fell.
As the sounds of battle faded, Isla lifted their gaze from the scope. Carnage littered the street below; fresh corpses lay alongside the remains of those who had fallen long ago. Isla's once warm and vibrant green eyes had dulled to a lifeless gray, the endless fighting and fatigue taking its toll. Their eyes darted from side to side, surveying the gruesome aftermath. Slowly, they moved away from their vantage point, legs trembling as they sat down. Their hands shook uncontrollably, a symptom that had become all too familiar after each battle. Six months of relentless, near-continuous conflict had worn them down, grinding away at their very being. Isla couldn't help but wonder if they were even human anymore.
In those quiet moments, as the adrenaline subsided and the reality of their actions settled in, Isla felt the weight of the war pressing down on them. Each life taken was a burden they would carry forever, a reminder of the horrors they had witnessed and the person they had become.
After taking a moment to repress these memories and feelings, Isla felt their hands stop shaking with their mask of calm and unfeeling emotions reapplied; they climbed down from the building and towards the office building they called home.
As they entered the building, the two guards at the door acknowledged them with a nod. One of them spoke up, "Hey Isla, Jack wanted to talk to you about something. Seemed important."
Isla nodded in response before proceeding further into the office building. People were scattered throughout the space, engaged in various activities: chatting, checking their limited ammunition, and eating. Most were too absorbed in their tasks to notice Isla passing by, but those who did offer a nod of recognition. Isla continued to Jack's office, which had once belonged to someone named James Maseth, but now was occupied by Ret. Colonel Jack Reindheart, a former member of the United States Marine Corps.
Upon opening the door, Isla found Jack gazing out at the dilapidated cityscape.
"Hey Jack, what's up?" Isla asked as they closed the door behind them.
Jack turned to face them. "I received a message from HQ. Chloe died in the raid. The Central Committee wants you to be the next leader."
Isla sat down, the gravity of Jack's words settling heavily on their shoulders. Chloe had been a remarkable leader, uniting the fragmented partisan forces and remnants of the police into a cohesive fighting force. Together, they had managed to hold onto the remnants of the crumbling city.
"But, why not you? You have a long military background, and you're more suited for this role than I am," Isla said, burying their face in their hands.
Jack shook his head. "They offered it to me, but I turned it down. I disagree with communism, and having a former US military member leading a communist partisan group wouldn't end well. You're better suited for this kind of leadership. Besides, I can help you strategize without the burden of leadership on my shoulders."
A faint smile appeared on Isla's face. "You always know how to inspire people. Alright then, if you believe in me, I'll do it. Tell the messenger I accept."
To Isla's astonishment, the older man immediately snapped to attention and saluted them with flawless precision. Isla quickly stood up and returned the salute, the two maintaining the position briefly. Jack then relaxed and fetched a bottle of brandy from his desk, along with two shot glasses.
"I was saving this for when we won, but that may be a while yet. Let's toast to your promotion, shall we?"
Isla smiled and accepted the glass before saying, "Mo te Kotahitanga Hou."
Jack echoed the slogan before they both downed their glasses, Isla wincing slightly at the taste.
Their celebration was interrupted by an urgent knocking at the office door. A breathless runner burst in, exclaiming, "Comrade Isla, Colonel Jack, we've found something you need to see."
"What is it? Another enemy position? Another delivery?" Isla inquired, scanning the room for their rifle.
"No, nothing like that. I can't explain it without showing it to you," the runner insisted, urging them to follow. Both Isla and Jack shrugged before retrieving their weapons and starting to walk.
"Is this some kind of belated April Fool's joke?" Jack questioned, rubbing his eyes and wondering if the brandy had been spiked. They had just started to ascend the hill to the Domain when they spotted a colossal gate that had mysteriously appeared. Intricate hieroglyphics adorned the imposing structure, with various symbols sparkling and glowing in the evening sun. Confused murmurs rose from behind them as more of their guards also noticed the gate, questioning its origin and purpose. Their astonishment only grew as they crested the hill and found themselves directly in front of the gate. Beyond it lay an entirely different world.
Lush, rolling hills stretched into the distance, a vibrant tapestry of emerald greens and golden yellows. The evening light cast a mesmerizing dance of colors, bathing them simultaneously in the glow of two suns.
However, their awe and amazement were shattered by two alarming observations. The first was the multitude of tire tracks left by various vehicles, leading into the unknown. The second and most distressing was the sight of a massive plume of smoke to the left of the gate and the distant, unmistakable sound of gunfire.
"Damn it; the raid was a diversion! They've escaped to this other world!" Isla shouted, their voice filled with anger and concern for the inhabitants of this new realm. Isla turned to the column behind them and yelled, "Get everyone! I don't care what they're doing, but our enemy won't be attacking us much longer. We're moving in to finish them. They've already destroyed one city, and we won't let them ruin another!"
As the Partisan forces rushed around, gathering arms and people for the fight, Several soldiers watched from a building. They could see what everyone was running around for, and It Piqued their interest.
"Yellowbelly, This is Straitjacket-2. We found what they're all fussing over. Im sending a few photos over satcomm. This is unlike anything anyone's seen before, and frankly, I'm stumped."
Jean Gunnhildr, acting grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius, Guardian of Mondstadt, and the Dandelion Knight, fought bravely as barbarians armed with advanced, unfamiliar weapons and speaking an unknown language laid waste to her city. Blades clashed with bayonets as the knights engaged their assailants in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Arrows and bullets whizzed through the air as marksmen tried to eliminate their opponents on both sides. Visions flickered as their users harnessed the elements, a power the invaders lacked.
Jean raced through the streets of Mondstadt, having received reports of another wave of attackers approaching the front gate. She refused to stand idly by while yet another horde of barbarians breached her city. Sticking to the shadows, she evaded the invaders patrolling the streets with their rifles at the ready. As she slipped into an alleyway, she was surprised to encounter a young man blocking her path, aiming one of their strange weapons at her. The man's face registered surprise before hardening into determination.
"Please, put down your weapon. I don't want to hurt you," Jean implored, knowing he couldn't understand her words but trying anyway. Her plea was met with a loud crack and a flash of excruciating pain as she was shot in an unarmored part of her midriff. She fell to one knee, her world spinning as she struggled to rise. The man readied his rifle, preparing to deliver the fatal blow, but suddenly shuddered and dropped his weapon. He collapsed to the ground, revealing another figure behind him, their bayonet stained red with blood.
Behind the newcomer, Jean saw several other people running, firing, and attacking the barbarians.
Isla stared at the Germanic-looking woman as she tried to staunch the bleeding from her gunshot wound. Knowing she wouldn't understand them, Isla slowly retrieved some gauze and bandages and showed them to her. The woman tilted her head, then nodded, removing her hand from the wound. Isla knelt down and carefully bandaged the wound as the sounds of battle raged around them. Once finished, Jean offered a weak smile and said, "Danke, Mitkämpfer" (Thank you, fellow warrior).
Isla froze for a split second, recognizing the language. Jack had German ancestry and had taught Isla some German and a German language class they took just before the civil war; Isla could converse well.
"Mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut, aber ich verstehe genug, um dich zu verstehen. Wir sind hier, um zu helfen," Isla replied (My German is not that good, but I understand enough to understand you. We are here to help).
Jean smiled slightly at their words, then winced from the pain of the gunshot wound. Suddenly, she felt someone behind her. Isla's gun snapped up as their face morphed into an expression of sadness and hesitation.
Isla stared at the cousin they had known since birth. His face mirrored Isla's, both of their fingers trembling on the triggers of their guns, hesitating to strike down someone they still loved.
"Please, don't make me do this, Bro. I don't want to lose you. I've already lost everyone else."
"I'm sorry, Is. I have a job to do. So do you. Just tell my parents that I don't hate you for what you had to do. They tried to kill you. I'm sorry—" His shaking, mournful speech was cut off by a crack as Isla's rifle fired into his head, killing him instantly. Isla's hands fumbled with the bolt as their eyes filled with tears. With watery eyes, they scanned the alleyway. Isla's mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but Isla slowly pushed them to one side. Isla shouldered their rifle and helped Jean to her feet, supporting her as she walked.
"Lass uns dich an einen sichereren Ort bringen. Hättest du etwas dagegen, uns zu zeigen, wo deine Kräfte sind?" (Let's get you to a safer area. Mind leading me to where your forces are?)
With Isla supporting her, she nods and walks toward the Knights of Favonius HQ. Isla looked around, watching the brief destruction their enemies caused; and their forces doing their best to stop the destruction. While others shot, Partisans weaved to and fro, carrying wounded civilians away from the mayhem. Still, many corpses lay around the deserted streets, something that Isla knew all too well. The Air felt heavy, As what can only be described as someone throwing a Metal Beam around could be heard in front of them. Several people ran from the right, most of them without their weapons. Some of them saw Isla and attempted to rush toward them in some attempt to attack them, but it was no use. Someone ran out of the right, this time armed with a Massive metal blade, gleaming red with blood. With a few swipes of this giant blade, the people were quickly dispatched. Isla's footsteps stopped, with their eyes focused on this new threat. She stared back, her multicolored eyes shining a strange color into Isla's soul. Before Isla could do anything, She had already begun to rush towards Isla but stopped when Jean moved in front of Isla. A rapid conversation in German followed, too fast for Isla to comprehend. After a few seconds, The Unnamed Knight turned back, walking back to where she came from.
"Mach dir keine Sorge. Sie ist eine meiner Ritterinnen. Sie müssen zugeben, dass Sie und Ihre Feinde sich sehr ähnlich sehen, abgesehen von der roten Armbinde, die Sie und Ihre Truppen tragen"(Don't worry. She's one of my Knights. You have to admit, you and your enemies look very alike, besides the red armband you and your forces wear),Jean says, turning her head to face Isla, before resuming her position beside Isla, as they both begin to follow the Knight.
3 Hours Later
Mondstat Military District
Isla stands on the steps of the Knights of Favonius HQ, idly watching the events unfolding. A Makeshift Triage center had been set up outside the HQ, and medics from both worlds worked together, thankful that Wounds don't require a language to comprehend. Beyond the Triage center, off-duty Militamen and Knights shared public spaces, with the few who understood German acting as Mediators. All across the City, Knights, and Militia members swept the City one last time, confidant in the fact they had fled the city. The Doors behind Isla opened, revealing Jack, who quickly walked down the steps to Isla's side.
"How was the meeting?" Isla says, turning to face Jack.
"It went well, as much as it could go well. They've agreed to allow you to set your Headquarters here and to keep a garrison here to help find those bloody right-wing Crackpots that fled the city."
Isla nodded at that and responded with, "That's good. I met with what members the Central Committee could spare, and so far, there's been no reports of any contact in Auckland. I've given orders to start setting up the Soviets, and we're already taking stock of what's left in the City. It will take decades to recover, but We've already taken the first step."
"As soon as word of this gate breaks out, Isla, all hell's gonna break loose. The US, China, Russia, and even the bloody French will want this. We need to protect this place because we both know nobody will," Jack responds, shaking his head slowly.
"Don't worry, Jack, I have just the Idea," Isla responds, staring up at the slowly oranging sky.
Hello Everyone!
I Did not die, contrary to some Messages that I have received.
This chapter has been on the back burner since I began the rewrite, and Hopefully, the future chapters will be much more grounded than my previous iterations.
As usual, I hope you know where the review and DM buttons are if you have anything to say.
