Messages had been sent around the world. Either keep doing what they were doing, or NOD would pay attention to them in such a way that they would very much prefer that NOD not do. Life was cheap to NOD, as was technology and apparently everything else NOD had, the way they spent their resources indicating that they had limitless supplies of both. Something that was deeply disconcerting for the leaders of the world.
After all, if the enemy could simply just throw large numbers of highly trained and deadly assassins and saboteurs at a problem, what was stopping them from simply going out and wiping out all who opposed to them? It was a problem and a concern, those that were not killed by NOD understanding that they were somehow following NOD's plan, something that was very disconcerting for the leadership itself. After all, following NOD's plan meant that they were complicit in handing over the control of their country to an outside power.
Yet at the same time what could they do? Alerting the general public would do nothing but cause panic, something that could not be afforded, especially given how the various power blocs were all at war with each other. The tension was high and despite the fact that those in charge understood that it was a charade, a means to keep their militaries properly ready if they understood NOD's intentions correctly, the people themselves did not know that. They saw a war that had simmered down, but was still very much a threat.
As a result, the public was not a happy one, no they were distinctly unhappy and very willing to do whatever was necessary to end the war and crush the other side. The leaders of the various factions could do nothing but sit back and hope that there was no change to the current system, that the house of cards they had built due to the directives of NOD would not collapse in on them.
There was simply no other option, to do otherwise was to invite death, to curse themselves and their people to damnation. It was into the jaws of suffering that NOD had guided them, something that was distinctly unpleasant for the leadership of the world to consider.
A means to remove this influence was sorely needed, but doing so might invite the ire of NOD, they after all, were not sure who was a plant and who wasn't. The actions of NOD so far had been through what was known as the Hydra cell, most of them dying while accomplishing their missions. The Hydra cell had been instrumental in the ignition of many of the conflicts around the world, a feat that made them infamous to those in the know. Even then it was clear that Hydra was merely the overt arm of NOD, the other cells being the ones that ran things behind the scenes. But for Hydra, that overtness was something the entire world would know about if the governments weren't so good at keeping it quiet.
The destruction of the satellites that prevented the European Union from detecting the African ships as they crossed the Mediterranean, the destruction of the Anti-Ship systems in place to prevent a naval landing, the launching of the Minuteman missile at the Soviet Union, the disabling of the USSR's missile detection umbrella. The assassination of peace delegates between the US and the South American Federation, the raids launched on both sides to rile up the public, the silencing of dissenters to the various wars.
Without NOD's interference, there would be no global conflict, there would be no wars, there would be no advances in technology and power. Without NOD the governments of the world would be scrabbling in their little backwaters, weak and blind.
It was here that NOD revealed their dastardly genius. Do they reject NOD and what they had planned, and in doing so reject what had already been gifted to them in the form of technology and social policies? Or do they accept NOD and accept the bargain with the devil that was one where the lives of their people would be sold in order to gain the power they needed.
All of them squabbled amongst one another whilst NOD looked on overhead, no doubt just as they had planned it. It was sick, it was twisted, it was genius. The world leaders knew that, and likely so did NOD.
If one state was to gain power in the form of new technology, then it was a sure thing that they too would be getting a leg up to regain the even ground. NOD regularly sacrificed its soldiers and its technology in such a fashion that they advanced in incremental bursts, no state ever gaining an overwhelming advantage in technology and power. A way to keep the world equal, but also a way to make sure it was sharp.
Sharp for what they did not know, but since it was NOD, very likely it involved a war of some kind. And so the politicians, the scientists, the military leaders all accepted their fate, that they had damned themselves in accepting NOD's bargain implicitly, as a means to gain power, technology, wealth, while at the very same time feeding their own innocent people to the jaws that NOD had engineered for them.
But, as they would reason at a later date, when the wars had been over, when the peace had finally arrived, that it was necessary.
"So what does this make?"
"8th Senator this year."
"Well, fuck. Clearly, someone isn't getting the fucking message. What was the Senator's stance."
"Can't you guess?"
"Anti-war?"
"Bingo."
"Fucking idiots. NOD wants us to keep going down this route, why the fuck is it so hard to understand. Don't fucking fuck with NOD, you get to live, fuck with NOD and you die. Jesus man, it's like I'm dealing with idiots here."
"Well, you sort of are, they're politicians, think that they are untouchable, that they're better than everyone else. It works out when everyone is following the rules and making sure the law is upheld. Doesn't work that way when you have a knife to your back and the one holding it very likely forced the guy before you to write those laws."
"Good point, sometimes makes you wonder why NOD just doesn't take over directly. They have the people to do it."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it. A guy decides that he's gonna out NOD to the world? Dead in 12 hours. Guy wants to go too pro-war and call for an invasion? Dead as he leaves the house. Guy calls up to say that he's anti-war to his wife? Dead within the hour. They had people everywhere. It's kind of very fucking worrying if you ask me, if they have this much control over our shit, why the hell haven't they just fucking taken control?"
"Simple Joe, they need the politicians to unite the people against a common enemy."
"Dammit Joe, that's too easy an answer that can't be it."
"Makes perfect sense Joe, they need us at war with each other for some reason. Why? Don't ask me. All I know is that they want us stabbing each other, but they don't us stabbing too deep or stabbing too shallow. Just stabbing the right depth, all the time, every time. Anyone who thinks they're a bit smarter gets a stab in the brain, play along and it's all in the padding. It's to keep us sharp Joe, to make sure we don't get soft or whatever it is NOD is scared of."
"Well in that case, Joe, what the hell is it that NOD is so fucking scared of that it needs to make sure the entire world is at war with itself? That seems kind of fucking ridiculous there Joe."
"Could be a bunch of things, my bet is on demons though Joe, can't beat a good old demon invasion."
"What the fuck Joe? A demon invasion? Then where the hell is my holy water? Fuck that Joe, my bet is aliens. Notice a theme lately? Every year we get new weapons, new shit, new guns, new tech. New new new. Common theme? Everything is more powerful that the shit before it. They're upgunning us Joe, whoever we're goin' up against probably has some fuck-ass huge armour and guns."
"Yea but if it's aliens, Joe, then how the hell did they know it was coming? They've been fucking around with us bozos here on Earth, if they were aliens then what the hell is the point?"
"Well if it's aliens Joe and they're aliens, it makes total sense. They get destroyed or whatever the fuck it is, they come here and build us up to kill the aliens chasing after them."
"Sounds fucking ridiculous Joe. It might just be true given the way everything's turned out so far."
"Oh? Know something that I don't Joe?
"Yeah Joe, the big-wigs up in command are getting a little antsy, something about a portal or some shit. Told you, Joe, it's fucking aliens."
"Hold up Joe, a portal. Like as in a doorway between 2 realities kind of portal? Or the kind that lets you just go a bit further than usual?"
"Full on 2 realities portal Joe, and get this. The world on the other side of the portal is a fucking hellhole Joe. Everything's on fucking fire. Heard from my little spider Joe that it's like somebody went and just fucked up everything Joe. We got teams in there now just making sure that there ain't nothing left. No hope though Joe, way too much damage."
"Well fuck Joe, what make's you think it's demons? Lots of things can make fire."
"Well when I said the entire fucking thing is on fire, I meant the whole fucking thing is one fire, Joe. Like giant geysers of fire that are too hot for even our tanks to get close too without buttoning up in NBC kit levels of fire Joe. That just ain't natural. Gottta, be demons."
"Why not aliens? Aliens can just come along and use their super lasers or whatever the fuck aliens have to set it all on fire Joe."
"If the aliens come then wouldn't there be shit in the sky? Aliens got ships, Joe, our boys said there's nothing in the sky over there."
"Well, that's fucked, Joe. If it ain't aliens then it's gotta be demons? Joe come on, there's gotta be another answer."
"Well if you got an answer, Joe, I'd like to hear it. Demons are the most plausible answer to it I say, makes total sense."
"Yeah but you gotta consider Joe it there're demons around, then that means we're goin' to hell Joe. I don't want to go to hell just yet. If I'm an atheist at least I won't be burning in eternal damnation."
"Well fuck Joe, why didn't you say something sooner? If there are demons that means we're fucked. I don't want to be fucked, Joe. I got a lot riding on the fact that there ain't no hell."
"Well, what other answers are there if it ain't demons?"
"I don't know Joe, I really don't fucking know Joe."
"How about parallel dimensions Joe? Like a trip to a universe where NOD hasn't been fucking us in the ass and feeding us candy."
"That's fucking disgusting Joe. That explains your search history at least."
"Not relevant there Joe, back to the point."
"Well yeah Joe, if it's a parallel universe then we're fine. That candy NOD's been feeding us has all sorts of wicked shit that we need. If the other universe is one where NOD never interfered they're gonna get the shit kicked out of them really quickly Joe. That makes me feel better at least about all the Senators dying."
The President of the South American Federation put down his puppet hands and sighed. He was stuck in this position, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and it had. A portal had been discovered in the Middle East and it had led to an alternate reality, one where they weren't sure what the "rules" were yet.
Everyone was on edge and the President had been cooped up in his safety bunker for a while now. His companions being his puppet hands and his bodyguards, who he was sure were NOD. He didn't have any proof… but it was probably true… probably.
He was in safe hands, as long as he played by the rules.
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
The first move in the First Parallel War was unsurprisingly made by Catherine, or rather the NT-NOD faction. Somehow transporting what appeared to be several teams of NOD Operatives, they infiltrated deep into where they struck out against the NOD forces in Europe.
Notably Estonia. There was a Tiberium Refinery that would prove to be very useful if they captured it for study, however, they would be doing so in a race against the clock as the GDI was sending their own forces as well. Or rather, their forces were already there and were mere hours away from the refinery itself.
Securing the refinery was vital for the long term plans of NT-NOD as it would allow for them to better prepare for the Scrin now, rather than in 20-30 years time when the first Tiberium enriched meteorite would make an impact on the planet. With samples of processed Tiberium, the method to refine it from its natural product, as well as the data on NOD computers, NT-NOD would be taking the first step in securing the future of the NT-World from the Scrin.
Assuming of course, they could get inside, take what they wanted and leave. There would be no "sandbagging" as it was called here, these people were not of their universe and did not deserve the help that the NT-World had received. They would be facing the full wrath of NT-NOD and it would be devastating. The world would know just which NOD was the real one by the time that they were done.
It would be very interesting of course to see if T-NOD would be able to withstand them, to see just how capable this "Kane" character was. For the majority of NOD, the non-brainwashed ones, at any rate, they didn't care too much when it came to Tiberium NOD, they knew which was the real one. As eccentric as Catherine was, she had demonstrated her immortality multiple times, and her entourage of Hannah, Katrin and the "Trio", had demonstrated exactly how capable they were when it came down to it. Unlike Tiberium NOD where all they had was some bald guy with a bad moustache telling them he was immortal.
That and NT-NOD was so far ahead in terms of technology that it was rather sad actually that the Tiberium NOD was trying to compete. Their most advanced unit was a Stealth Tank that had to decloak when firing, which was laughably primitive compared to what the research teams at NT-NOD had been able to produce 15 years previously. While it had not seen widespread usage as the world had not been ready for it, there was no concern of that in the Tiberium Universe. For the first time, NT-NOD would be unleashing their full arsenal for both worlds to see.
As to how their arsenal upgraded itself on a constant basis? Always at the top of the world, always trumping anything that anyone else could offer? Well that had to do with their unique recruitment methods, the way that they used special little quizzes, multiple choice questions, surveys and more to map out the population of the world mentally, to find those that were just waiting to be delivered to their destined field, to get the most out of the people available to them. There would be no wasting of potential for the humans of the NT-Universe, not if NOD could stop it.
Maisie Farmer was from England, a country girl who had no prospects besides maybe join the military or get married. There wasn't much that a country girl could do that involved advancement without having a trade behind you.
Maisie had not found what it was that called to her until the middle of the night when a recruiter had come to her front door as she indulged in some warm milk and a couch before a crackling fire. It had been a figure wearing entirely black clothing with what looked like a red eye piece over where each eye was supposed to be.
The man had barged in, leaving Maisie to follow after him, getting ready to press the alarm button that each home had installed as part of the anti-commando measures to counter the raids coming in from Northern Africa.
What happened next left her in shock.
"Maisie Farmer, we have a job proposal for you. Should you choose to accept it, we will immediately transport you to the location." He said, his voice sounding like it came from Eastern Europe in the way it missed out certain words in favour of others. A little foreign to be sure, but when the entirety of Europe was engaged in war and people were flowing from one state to the next as needed, even Maisie out here in the countryside of England had met more than a few of the Eastern Europeans.
"What is this job exactly? Why do you know who I am? Why are you offering this job to me?" She replied in turn. She was a country girl to be sure, that didn't mean that she was stupid. One simply did not accept job offers from strangers in the middle of the night, especially ones that wore all black and had glowing red glasses. That was just a recipe for disaster. Maisie backed away from him to the drawer that had her emergency button, ready to press it at a moment's notice.
"You have shown up as extremely capable during our preliminary surveys of the population, the job offer is based upon this fact alone." He said. Again, he left out so much, what exactly was this survey? She hadn't filled any surveys out, what is this about capable? What exactly was capable about her? She was short, barely five and a half feet, her body was soft, she had gotten average grades in school. She just didn't see what it was about her that this man was saying made her suitable.
Maybe it was just a con, it would explain the weird get-up at least.
"You are repressed inside and seek to create and design. We will allow for you to create and design as you wish." He said, not moving.
Create and design? Since when? She was just a dull country girl, no creating or designing for her, no sir.
"Should you require a demonstration, please, hold my hand." He stretched out his hand, palm up.
Maisie had decided that maybe she should see where this was going, he was talking about her like she was worth something, and maybe… just maybe… she wanted to see if it was true. A chance at seeing what she was truly worth, or perhaps being stuck in this life forever. It wasn't exactly the hardest decision she had ever made. Even if this one had the potential to kill her or worse. Maybe she should grab the taser in case he was planning on doing something with her once she had her hand in his.
Maybe there would be a mind melding or something. That would certainly be fun, wouldn't it?
Maisie took the taser out of her drawer, and walked over the man, placing her hand in his.
What happened next was certainly enough to surprise her. Instead of maybe showing her something, or even a mind meld, what she was seeing looked to be somewhere that was definitely not her cottage.
This was certainly new.
It was a vast cavern-like concrete structure, lots of black, lots of purple, lots of… people. What must have been hundreds if not thousands of people were scurrying back and forth, heads down, all with a purpose. Maisie looked around, seeing someone suddenly pop out of nowhere to her left, above a small circular pad. Which as she looked down matched her own. Teleportation? How strange and exciting.
The man pulled her off the pad and she trailed along behind him. Each step showing her more and more of this massive place. It was amazing, so many people, so many rooms, so much space. Occasionally what looked like an enormous walking tractor walked past, carrying what she assumed were very important things. Maybe not fragile, though, likely not fragile.
Still, she walked more, she walked further and was shown what looked to be a rather… small room. Compared to all the others, she had assumed the room that she was going to be sent to was going to be better in some way. Way to make her feel special random guy that was dragging her around the place.
As the hexagonal door opened, Maisie was drawn inside and saw her first ever Gauss Cannon, the man on the other side explaining to her what it was, even a little demonstration just for her. The rest, as they say, is history.
Taser dropping to the floor, Maisie walked over to the device and laid her hands reverently on it. She didn't know how, but she did know that this was what she would be spending the rest of her life perfecting. It called to her on a level that nothing else in her life did. Would she choose to be a boring little country mouse, or would she allow herself to do what her soul was calling for her to do?
She decided to follow her soul and accepted the job offer on the spot. It had taken a long time for her to learn all the mathematics that was necessary for her position as a designer on the Gauss program, but she had persevered. She did whatever was necessary and more. There would be no failing, not here.
Now?
Now she was seeing the first of her babies being sent off to battle. It was a bittersweet moment, they were weapons, they were meant to be carried out to battle, to kill all those who were stupid enough to stand in the way of their projectiles… but, they were still her babies. Sure she didn't make each and every one of them, but she had designed them and loved them as much as her own children.
Which she had. She wasn't sure when, but she had children at some point.
It was interesting… and worrying. Being too absorbed in your work had consequences that she was unprepared for. They were certainly cute and Katrin had volunteered to look after them as well as all the other children in Atlantis, the mother-hen enjoying her job as the child-carer.
As for Maisie, she was crying softly as the assault teams left Atlantis in their little submarines. Each of them carrying one of her refined automatic Gauss rifles, capable of 500 rounds per minute, each shot capable of going through 2 inches of steel at full power. The miniaturised batteries from the team down the corridor had proven instrumental in making her babies portable. Without those batteries, each would have needed to lug around a massive power pack.
She sighed as she considered her weapons again. She didn't want to see more of her babies being sent out, but it looked like it was going to happen regardless of what she wanted. Every soldier was being outfitted with a rifle of some kind (some of hers included) for a big push in the other universe. Maisie didn't really care, they were going to be using her design and they were probably going to be losing a large number of them as well.
Each rifle was installed with a small fusion bomb, a way to make sure that none of those NOD imposters could get their hands on the children. It was something Maisie was divided over, to purposefully destroy her babies, or to allow some heathens to take them apart with their grubby little paws? Destruction was preferable, she was sure her babies would have preferred that.
Maisie looked away from the window and walked back to her laboratory, or rather her team's laboratories. The Gauss Assault Rifle was merely just a part of what they were working on. What was more important and pressing was the anti-orbital cannons that NOD leadership wanted them to design.
Why? Maisie had no idea, their current weapons were more than enough to shoot down the satellites over the planet. Why they needed something that could go through 1 meter of solid steel she wasn't sure, but that was ok. She was going to be playing with a Gauss Cannon and that made everything ok.
Walking into her lab, Maisie forgot about her children being sent out to die, her mind already engrossed on the mechanics of designed a Gauss weapon powerful enough to punch through steel, but compact enough to mount on a ship.
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
The Trio were heading out they were going to be leading the assault on the Refinery base in Estonia. While the Minds already had all the information that they wanted, it was a matter of doing it so that there was justification for NT-NOD to be developing Tiberium technology and to have researched it in time for when the Scrin arrived. A long term goal wrapped up in the short term goal of crushing the T-NOD forces in the area and demonstrating to both worlds just how powerful NT-NOD was.
To their NT-World, they would be demonstrating a level of expertise and technological advancement that would confirm that NT-NOD had indeed been holding back the entire time. Just how they would react to the information would be certainly amusing, just what they were planning to do in response would be amusing for the Minds, less so for those of them who were already on the ground.
The plan had been proceeding rather well, all according to schedule and everything was just how it should have been. Instead, they were given what looked to be pain and suffering on a silver platter. A complete re-organization of their goals, a complete change in their technological focus, recruitment, and the expansion of Atlantis itself. So many things that were now up in the air because Voice was annoyed.
It wasn't their fault! Why didn't She go bother the Commander?
It was like a lover's spat that included the children. Not that the idea of facing up against the Tiberium universe was scary, it was just the amount of work they were going to need to do had just increased and that was never ok.
Still, they had a job to do, and they were going to need to do it… yay.
Edwin sighed. A very big, a very heavy, a very dense sigh. One that if it was up in a mountain somewhere, it no doubt would have resulted in a billow of smoke that looked like an avalanche. Or maybe not smoke, condensation? Whatever. Who cared.
Edwin didn't want to be here, he just wanted to be back at Atlantis, just lying there, and like maybe cuddling Uta. But nooooo. He had to go out here, in the wet, in the cold, and in the dirt. The damned Estonians had to have to have a country that was cold and wet. Why didn't they just warm it up like civilised people? It would only need a few hundred nuclear generators, it wasn't like he was asking for much, just a little civilisation.
"Hush, don't be such a child," Uta said in his head. "Once we're done here, you can go and take your nap in peace, nobody will disturb you ok?" She asked, mentally caressing his head. He sighed, yes yes. I'll behave.
It was strange how Uta had become the one that was taking care of him rather than it being the other way around. She certainly felt more mature these days. Maybe it was something in the food? He would need to check that later… when he felt up for it. Edwin had remained largely unchanged in the thousand years since his activation, he was still as lazy as ever, still as apathetic as ever (with the exception of Uta of course), and just a little bit sociopathic. Then again all the HeMUs were, it was what happened when things like morality did not exist on a fundamental level for them.
Their organic bodies helped that of course, gave them a little biological compass to work out whether or not they should be nice or not in this situation, based on the chemicals their bodies were producing, but other than that, things as complicated as morality were still beyond them. It all amounted to "do this because society says so" in their eyes, and for beings that had visited so many different worlds and universes, and had seen so many different kinds of "morality", well things all looked the same from their point of view.
Still, enough thinking, it looked like it was time to get started.
"Michael? Neil? How are we doing?" He mumbled, the sub-vocal microphone picking up his words and transmitting them clearly for him.
"In position big E." Called out Neil, a running gag with him ever since they had picked up the Emperor of Mankind, whose nickname was Big E. It wasn't as bad as it could have been when it came to nicknames, which Neil thanked whatever it is he should have been thanking for that.
"Just a few pests here Edwin, they're gone now, though." Michael came through.
Well, that made things easier at least.
"Ok, we're going to be moving in after I check with the other teams. Hang tight." They were communicating over the radio to make sure it seemed that they were human, immortal humans, but still human. Doing the whole telepathic thing would invite questions as to what exactly they were that none of them needed to answer for fear of damaging NOD's long term viability.
"Sitrep." He called over the Beta channel. Alpha was team only, Beta was squad commander level, Charlie being platoon, and so forth. A simple toggle of the controls at his throat was all that was needed to switch between channels.
"Alpha Green."
"Bravo Green."
"... Green."
"Fox Green."
"Ok, Assault launches in 5 minutes. Mark."
"Mark!" A chorus of voices reached him as they all synced their times. They didn't want one team to attack and be left out on their own, that just would see them killed. Maybe. Probably not. But the idea was still the same, don't poke your head out alone or it was a prime target. The T-NOD forces here were probably not worth very much, but it was good practice at the very least.
These weren't Hydra's operatives that were with him, but rather the Black Hand, a direct copy of the idea behind Kane's own. In this case, they were made up less of the fanatical, and more of the criminally professional, each being many times the worth of a copy in another army. Each had the best equipment, the best training, the most resolute of minds. The perfect soldiers, all held together with a healthy dose of brainwashing of course.
"Now," Edwin said over the Alpha channel, rising to his feet, getting line of sight with the refinery. The little or not so little log that kept him hidden previously now a nuisance. To his enhanced vision, aided by the scope on the Gauss rifle, the individual guards, the patrols, the sentries, the workers, all of them were visible to him from his vantage point to the East of the refinery.
The 3 HeMUs had the entire base covered in a triangular formation, each able to see all the targets on the walls and partially inside the base from their vantage points on the hills surrounding the base. The 3 HeMUs would be providing the suppressing fire, picking off the guards and the like for the assault teams to breach and get the data that had been requested by Atlantis.
Eye to the scope, Edwin pulled the trigger once. The supersonic round, as large as his thumb exited the barrel, covering the distance between him and the target in less than a second, the electromagnetically sped bullet smashing into the poor man's head. At the speed it was going, the head was pulped as the body simply collapsed on the ground. The bullet having torn off the head so fast that the body had not had time to be affected by the momentum of the round.
It was a bit much actually, Edwin dialled the power down a little bit. He didn't want to damage anything before they got what they wanted after all. At the speed the rounds were going, it was likely he would put a hole through the refinery walls and into some rather important equipment if he wasn't careful.
A second squeeze of the trigger, another head pulped, but in a slightly less dramatic fashion, less blood spraying everywhere, more of a regular bullet hitting someone's head at supersonic speeds level of gore.
A third, a fourth, and a tenth. The guards were being eliminated one by one, those around them barely noticing as the bodies crumpled in on themselves out of sight of anyone else. There was the loud cracking as the sound barrier shattered around them, indicating that there was someone shooting bullets in the area, but compared to the speed at which Edwin was shooting? Well, they would be lucky to react before they died.
It wouldn't last, somebody was bound to find a body eventually and it was going to be rather annoying when they did. Hopefully, the assault teams would be inside before that point, Edwin didn't want to have to shoot down helicopters or whatever it was on standby to protect this base. It wouldn't be much of an issue with their weapons, but it would certainly be annoying, helicopters were loud and represented the fact that more reinforcements were on their way.
He wouldn't be napping as soon as he wanted if the reinforcements had to be killed off before he could proceed.
"Don't be such a baby Edwin. It's just a few humans, it's not like it's very difficult."
You're a human as well aren't you Uta?
"I haven't thought of myself as a human for a long time now Edwin, being in your head makes it harder to express myself through arms and legs you know."
You have a body that you use constantly, though.
"But I'm still in your head when I'm in the body, I do both at the same time and it makes me feel much less than human I can tell you that now."
Oh right. Why are you doing both? Why not just stick with one?
While Edwin was conversing with Uta, he was still picking off the guards, cheating a little with his ability to see souls and shooting them through the walls. The sooner they all died, then the sooner he could get back to their rendezvous point and he could take a nap.
"Because I don't want to worry about part of myself being lost if I do a full transition, I'm not sure how a full information body transfer affects the information itself."
Complicated.
"Yes, which is why I'm staying in your head at all times just to be safe." She finished.
There could be worse things. I do enjoy having you around all the time, however.
"Yes, there could, very good there Edwin. You are learning." Uta praised him and Edwin felt the chemical release of endorphins at the words. He was being trained which was worrying, but it was Uta so he worried a little less.
So what is so worrying that you are sticking in my head all the time for? He asked, a little worried at the thought that there might be something going on with his hitchhiker.
"Nothing to worry yourself over, not yet at any rate. I'll tell you when this is all over." She said, not assuaging his fears one bit. She really had trained him properly, he was all worried when she didn't want to share everything which was her plan all along most likely.
"Ah, it looks like your soldiers are inside. How efficient. They are a good batch aren't they?" She asked, an impression of a smile flitting through Edwin's mind.
Well I did train them didn't I? I should hope I did it well, thousands of years of experience isn't cheap you know.
"Thousands? Barely even one thousand years worth of it, maybe centuries if you are feeling generous."
I have a thousand and a bit, always round upwards.
"That is more than rounding upwards Edwin, that's making up numbers now."
I thought you were meant to be on my side.
"I am on your side, it's not your fault that you can't count. Which for an AI is very worrying."
The two of them bickered while Michael and Neil listened in. The two of them were very much in the old couple territory at this point, which was good. They had all of eternity to be together, it was nice they still wanted to be around each other, even if it was only a thousand years into it.
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
12#821 was a very happy trooper. He had been chosen to join the Trio on their attack on the imposters in the Tiberium Universe. The target was a mere refinery, but it was not a matter that truly mattered to #821, he was merely glad that he could be of use to NOD. The true NOD, not the weak imposters that used things as primitive as armies to accomplish their goals. Worthless, where was their sabotage? Their infiltration of the world? Exposing themselves and waging an open war was foolish to the extreme and #821 was glad that he had been given the opportunity to punish them for their failure.
They were traitors, weak, foolish. He would bring them to the light, to show them what it was that they were so willingly throwing themselves away for. Disgusting.
Their destruction would be another footnote in the glorious history of NOD, NOD which was uplifting the entire human race for it to better stand up high as the pre-eminent species. What were the imposters doing? Nothing but disgusting war, destroying humanity for their own selfish and disgusting goals. They did not deserve mercy, they did not deserve peace. Catherine had seen, Catherine had despaired. She had said that they needed to be destroyed, to show the world the power of NOD. #821 agreed, #821 was happy to carry out her edicts. They would be destroyed and he would lead the charge.
He may die, the chances of which were rather minute in all honesty, but it was possible. The enemy was weak, their weapons were weak and they had nothing. They were nothing. #821 would enjoy bringing death unto them, to demonstrate exactly why it was that they were failures and NOD was strong.
"Advance." The order had been given. #821 would gladly obey. On his feet, running, he placed his trust in the Trio, the enforcers of Catherine's will, each of them immortal, powerful, beyond human imagination. Each of them stood so far above all others that it was difficult to consider the idea that they could fall at all. It had happened multiple times in the past, but they had re-emerged every time to resume their duties as if nothing had happened at all. It was rather uplifting really, to know that their leaders could not die, that they would always be there for them.
Legs pumping, exoskeleton lightening the load, the system allowing him to run as fast as a horse, or a motorbike, the mask protecting his face as he breached the 60 kilometer an hour barrier, the predictive algorithms inside his mask allowing him to leap over the logs and pitfalls in the way, the helmet's ability to see in the dark meaning that he would never fall unless he truly wanted to.
In his hands he held the Gauss rifle, its weight being supported by the braces on his arms, part of the exoskeleton. While it allowed him to run faster, it also allowed for him to carry more weight, to protect him in the case of external damage, to secure his body in the event that he died, vaporising him to prevent any technology being gifted to the disgusting imposters. Further, it contained various modules that allowed for him to do such things as fire grappling hooks, to deploy grenades, to simply leap out of aircraft without a parachute. All these things and more.
Yet another reason that they were superior to the disgusting infidels that were the Imposters. What did they have? Men that could shoot ground up Tiberium out of tanks? Was that all? Their stealth technology was so pitiful that it had to uncloak before it fired, even the South Americans had better Stealth technology than they did. Were they trying to kill everyone off with laughter?
Weak. it was weak.
#821 vaulted over a particularly large log, he had another kilometer to go, a few minutes at the most. His enhanced vision told him that the Trio were doing what they had said they would, the guards, the sentries, all those on the walls dropping to the ground, their heads simply disappearing. Accurate, powerful, deadly. The Trio were again demonstrating why it was that they led the armies of NOD. While Hannah might be the scalpel, they were the hammer and the anvil.
He was near the walls how, raising his right arm, #821 activated the grappling hook with a mental command and shot up, up the wall, over the wall, dropping on the other side. His left hand was holding the Gauss Rifle, his right was once again holding the grip, and it was up to his face. Targets sighted. Targets to be destroyed.
For NOD!
Pulling the trigger, the Gauss Rifle that was set on the lowest setting possible spat out bullets, each tearing a hole through the guards on the other side. There was a lack of a bang as the rifle fired, the weapons themselves didn't use gunpowder. The only sound being the crack as the bullets smashed apart the sound barrier, just as they smashed apart the bodies of the soldiers in front of them.
There would be no mercy. Not now. Not today.
The imposters would die, how dare they reject Catherine? She had offered them death and they had refused? Were they not aware of the depth of the insult? Of the gall demonstrated by their refusal? Did they care at all about what they were doing?
Disgusting. Truly disgusting.
Weapons at his shoulder, #821 pushed down into facility, the underground chambers where the information regarding the refinery was being kept. His orders were to secure the facility, to retrieve the data, then to destroy it to deny it to both the GDI and to NOD. While they were nominally fighting alongside one another, hostilities would still continue until their negotiations completed. As for #821, the orders were simply. Destroy all valuable data, all valuable equipment, to do damage to both factions. Regardless of which faction it belonged to, all destruction would aid the war effort.
Not that they really did need to try, the enemy was weak. But it was a message he supposed, to destroy what it was that they needed desperately, what was in the heart of their territory an insult of tremendous proportions. It was both a slap in the face of NOD, a slap in the face of the imposters, a slap in the face of the GDI, a complete loss of face for all those who stood by impotently as the refinery was snatched out from beneath their noses.
#821 grinned. There would be nothing but destruction and death, there would be ruins in the end, there would be nothing left for the disgusting imposters, for the GDI that could not even destroy them properly. Both of them like blind hamsters fighting in different cages, thinking they were destroying their enemies, in reality, smashing their faces against the plastic box that was their cage. Watched from the outside like the disgusting little rodents that they were.
Pitiful. Weak. He would be doing them a favour by destroying them.
They who were bound by flesh, weak of spirit and mind, they did not deserve to be named NOD. Or to even pretend to claim the name.
The assault was furious, the speed and ferocity of the NOD operatives belying the fact that this was the first time they had ever been in active combat. #821 was just going through the motions, his every action mimicking the thousands of hours he had spent inside the simulations. Every trigger pull, every shift of his muscles, every single footstep, all ingrained into his muscle memory. He was in simple terms, a killing machine designed specifically to end the enemies of NOD, every single time he ended the life of an imposter, he let out a brief prayer towards Catherine. Every time he reloaded, he offered a moment of thanks.
Every breath he took was on the sufferance of Catherine and he was glad. When he died he would join his brethren in heaven where he would look upon those he left behind, safe in the knowledge he had done his part.
But that time was not now, no he had a mission to do. The imposters tried to stop him, throwing their bodies before him as if it would slow him down. It would not.
They would die, their bodies left to burn in the fiery hellstorm that was NOD's rage. How dare they pretend to be NOD? Pathetic.
#821 led his brothers and sisters deeper into the facility, killing and destroying anything in their way. At one point it looked as if they might be stopped but no, the enemy was weak, their vehicles were weak, their spirits were weak.
Full power with the Gauss Rifle and the rounds penetrated straight through, killing the crew, detonating the poorly managed ammunition. Why they had vehicles underneath the base was unknown, but it was very likely to be related to their lack of intelligence. Why else would they impersonate NOD? Only the damned and the stupid would try to do that, and these were not the damned, their names were not on the list.
He would know, he used to be the one that executed the damned for their failures, for their weakness, for their daring to turn against NOD. They who rejected the beauty of Catherine were purged with the full might at his disposal, there would be no forgiveness, there had been no forgiveness. He had done so gladly, he would do so gladly.
For NOD! If they were not the damned then there was but one label left for them.
As such they were stupid, a regrettable label, it was one that could not be removed no matter how hard they tried to scrub it off. #821 felt a little regret for them but it mattered not, they were imposters, they were to die and be consigned to hell for opposing Catherine. May they burn in eternal agony for their stupidity.
Ambush.
Three of them came from above, Tiberium troopers. Fired a slurry of Tiberium from the canisters on their backs, like flamethrowers but shorter ranged, capable of eating at armour. Foolish.
Did they think that he would be afraid? That he would quaver before them? No. He was NOD, he was the Black Hand. There would be no escape. Not for them.
A guttural snarl and #821 locked the Gauss Rifle to his back, diving forward as he did so, left hand reaching into his rig, knife handle grasped firmly in his hand.
It was as if the world was moving in slow motion as #821 pushed himself forward, body jumping onto the right wall, propelling himself at the three of them from above.
Slowly. It was so slow. Right hand free, it reached out, grasping at where the first one's head would be in a few more moments, ready to grip and prepare the sacrifice. His left hand was coming out of the rig, the knife held down low, ready to do its duty and end they who would insult the gift of Catherine.
Slowly.
The barrels of the sprayers were brought up, slowly they tried to bring them to meet #821, too slow. Hand on the rightmost one's head, knife going into the throat, a slice and the knife cut through the spine and the throat. There would be no coming back for the imposter. First one was dead.
Body down low, momentum of the leap from the wall. Knife out of the neck, into the knees of the second. Twist inward. Body falls down along with the twist, like a key in a lock. Hand to the head, pull back the head. Left hand free, grab the throat. Squeeze. Crush.
Last one. Foolish. Trying to engage. Laugh. Fear. Terrified. More.
Nozzle nearly corrected. Chop left arm, numb. Hand off the barrel. Right hand still holding handle. Not enough. Grab barrel, lift to face. Left hand on trigger. Squeeze. Listen to screams. Yes. Dead by his own hand, how poetic.
Targets dead, grab knife, clean on second, not dead yet. Wriggling like fish. Laugh. Assault rifle back in hands, move forward, there are more targets to be hunted.
The Imposters will die, their creations destroyed, their hopes, their dreams, their very beings shattered.
Mercy was for the worthy, they were not.
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
"All systems are green."
"All vehicles are ready."
"Hail NOD!"
Word had reached those in the Tiberium Universe as to what NOD had done, deep striking at the government and destroying one of their refineries. It was not perhaps the most important of objectives, but the data that the operatives had brought back had been shared with the world and now attempts at creating countermeasures to deal with the Tiberium could begin. Without needing to bring back actual Tiberium to their side of the portal, the scientists could begin designing containment vessels for proper study on the other side of the portal.
They were at war, no need to worry about petty things like land rights and all the annoying things that one usually needed when building an extremely dangerous testing facility on foreign soil. Who cared? Or rather, all those that did care could do nothing to stop them.
The technological inferiority of those that they were facing against meant that to mount an attack would be nothing but suicide. The only reason that the NT-Universe's forces had not been able to secure total dominance was the fact that the Tiberium itself was an unknown entity and attempting to drive over it would result in extremely damaged and destroyed vehicles. Their aircraft vulnerable to the spores in the air, their people dying to infections that looked and sounded horrifying if their screams were any indication.
In short, the Tiberium universe was a hostile area that was denied to them, their little foothold only being able to stay as it was due to the way that the captured harvester vehicles allowed them to stockpile Tiberium safely. There were already problems facing them of storage space shortage when the data had come through, Catherine delivering the information personally to those in the UN base at the Portal itself.
Swift construction of modules, of walls, of vats, all of it being turned into a facility that they could use to keep themselves safe. The NT-Forces could now expand outward, out from the tiny plot of land that they had been confined to previously.
Construction and design of their own Harvesters was accelerated without the need to reverse engineer the technology itself. It was nearly done as it was, the various laboratories around the world having gotten very good at reverse engineering technology, NOD had provided them with plenty of experience.
What to do regarding the Tiberium Universe itself had been considered. The fact that there was a Kane who was by all signs insane had them worried. What exactly would be his response to the fact that they were destroying his armies? Preliminary reports told of him using chemical weapons without a concern for civilians, possibly possessing nuclear weapons, as well as weaponizing the Tiberium itself.
Further, there was the UN in the Tiberium Universe that had an army under its control by the name of the GDI, yet the nations of the world had no army of their own. It was a strange occurrence that had many of those back in the NT-Universe scratching their heads. What exactly was going on in the Tiberium Universe? They operated on what felt like a completely different method of thinking. One that allowed for the rise of NOD in the first place, one that saw them conquering Africa without a response from the rest of the world.
Or rather there had been a response but it was weak and small one focused on Europe and Asia instead of Africa where it should have belonged. Did they not realise just what Kane was aiming for? What of the rest of their armies? What of everything that was not such a small team that they were only able to respond to single threats? Were they so truly… weak? The people of this universe were worrying, perhaps it was in the water.
It was worrying a world so easily gathered into super-entities was one that was at risk of becoming radicalised. If they went in to engage and destroy both the Tiberium NOD and GDI, what would happen to the rest of the world? It was a concern that had to be addressed, crush their weak and puny armies only for the people to rise up against them? Or perhaps they would proceed to occupy the cities of the Tiberium Universe, and in doing so provide large targets for civilian guerrillas to attack.
They who were in charge of civilian and military strategies were not enamoured with their situation at all. Either they remain on the defensive and face constant attacks which would do nothing but turn the public against them when it was revealed to the world that they were being passive in this situation. Or they could attack and push out, of the cordon. Only to expose themselves while doing so to attacks of sabotage and guerrilla activity. To counter them would require significant civilian casualties which would provoke a large public outcry as to their methods.
None of the options were particularly palatable both being negative in their own ways. An alternative had to be discovered, they could not afford to be passive, nor could they be too aggressive. Exactly what it was that they could do was frustratingly out of reach. They could advance and strike at the enemy, but in doing so they broke the stalemate and that in turn meant they were not committed to a full-scale war.
As it as, both sides were building up their forces, the Tiberium Universe's NOD and their GDI forming what looked like a temporary alliance against they of the NT-Universe. Surrounding the portal with overwhelming numbers and what looked to be numerous WMDs pointed directly at it. For they of the NT-Universe the proliferation of Tiberium crystals saw them locked into their rather tiny initial zone. While they could use the South American Federation's stealth technology to deliver small teams around the combat zones, it was impractical for a full scale battle. The permanent force was by necessity small, something that could be partially rectified by the data delivered by Catherine, expanding outward and evening the situation partially. They could now defend themselves and not be forced out due to the superior numbers of their opponents. A full scale war looked unlikely at the moment, both sides just watching and waiting.
That was until reports began to emerge from those stationed on the front-line. There had been sounds of gunfire of artillery, of things that were not quite what they were meant to be hearing. The soldiers were worried. The officers were worried. Everyone was worried.
If the war was being started by a gung-ho unit then they could have possibly doomed the rest of the expeditionary force. At the same time, if the NT-Universe forces had decided that enough was enough and pushed on through, they would at war regardless.
Radio-checks had come in, all units were accounted for. There was nothing out of place, there were no patrols that had been lost, all sentries still alive. Whatever it was that was out there, was not related to them. Or rather whatever was out there was not directly linked to them, but was something else entirely. Something that was very possibly dangerous and set against them. Or maybe it was something… different.
The word NOD continuously popped up in their imaginations, even when they tried to think otherwise. For the average grunt, they were aware that there was something that was picking fights with the universe that they were in. The broadcast had after all affected all electronic devices that had a receiver of some kind. The entire world, theirs and that of the NT-Universe had seen the ramblings of Catherine, the same Catherine that had if rumour was correct, delivered details on how to refine and deal with Tiberium herself.
The woman had just walked into their base, delivered the data, and then literally vanished. It was rather disturbing and considering the fact that there had been reports of increased mobilisation of the NTU armies following the deliverance of the data, she had very clearly not been polite when the data had been retrieved.
On one hand, the commanders were happy that someone was picking a fight with the enemy, it gave them some breathing room, on the other and much bigger hand, they were very worried that this would escalate the conflict.
Their higher ups obviously agreed and mobilisation on their side of the portal had been sped up. They would be moving through in case the other side retaliated thinking it was they who had attacked.
Someone wanted them to be fighting and the name NOD kept coming up in response.
It was worrying.
The next day was one where they of the NTU Forces were able to see exactly what had happened the night before. The sounds of fighting had died down or rather had moved beyond their hearing range just before dawn and it had occurred beyond the range that their own optics were able to see. The ceasefire zone having been unofficially agreed at 100 kilometers. Given they didn't have their own satellites giving coverage from above… well, things were a problem for they who could not see.
The aircraft had been launched, the American F-35 hanging far above to keep an eye down on the ground as well as on the air, a multi-purpose attack craft that would allow they who were more lightly armed to travel in security. As for the actual reconnaissance, that was being carried out by the new South American Bz-98s, stealth planes that carried no armament but were able to move faster than any other aircraft in service, and to drop into subsonic stealth as necessary.
Instead of weapons, each aircraft had a large ball in the belly, one that carried a high magnification camera, high-tech sensor suites and more. Each of them able to recon a position to such a degree that even the individual grains of sand could be seen, that those who had possible plastic surgery, they who may have skin problems, all of it bared before the all seeing eye of SINAA. No matter how small it may be, no matter how insignificant, SINAA would see, and SINAA would judge.
As for they who were weak and unknowing, they would not know that they had been seen, that they were being watched.
Not that they could know at all actually. As the Bz-98s flew overhead, SINAA spinning about to capture everything below the aircraft, they had no idea that it was there at all, no sound, no shockwaves, nothing.
So far as far as it could see there was death. Entire armoured divisions had been wiped out. Tens of thousands of men killed in an attack that was shocking in its ferocity and in speed.
From the intelligence reports that the NTU had, they knew what vehicles were on the side of the Tiberium forces, their tanks, armoured vehicles and their basic cars. What was surprising then was the proliferation of armoured vehicles that were very clearly not Tiberium, vehicles that were not NTU based either. Vehicles that showed a different design aesthetic and any other faction in the NTU universe. Thousands of them, the bodies wearing uniforms unfamiliar to them.
Something that was extremely worrying and potentially dangerous in the minds of the commanders. It was clear that NOD had once again decided to intervene, only this time they demonstrated to the world their might in concrete terms. Not in their ability to infiltrate and sabotage, but in their ability to wage war. Even the commanders of the NTU forces were unsure as to whether or not those under their command could have achieved the same results as they of the NOD forces.
Worrying, very worrying.
At least NOD was on their side… for now. For how long this would be applicable was unknown but at the very least they were willing to cooperate. Or not.
They had in their attack drawn the NTU into full scale war, there would be no escaping that fact now. Not after NOD had caused such devastation of the Tiberium military, they would not take it lying down. If they were lucky the Tiberium forces would refrain from using their weapons of mass destruction, if they were not… well, they of the NTU were not pushovers either.
Nuclear weapons were so very much last century.
If they wanted to escalate, NTU would be willing to meet them every step of the way.
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
"For NOD!"
The call went out. They who were from the real NOD, the true warriors of the ascension were gathered as one. In Atlantis, they stood, backs straight, eyes forward. Thousands upon thousands of them. All the Cadres, the units, the armies. Every single one of them united by their love of Catherine, their indoctrination to NOD and their desire to end the enemies for the ascension.
They who were weak, had been made strong.
They who were strong, had been made powerful.
They who had nothing, were given everything.
They owed it all to NOD, and even without the brainwashing they would have been willing to give their lives. For most of them, that had not been the case, until very recently that is. Now. Now Nod had been summoned, now they would strike out against the infidels, the imposters, the weak, the foolish, the stupid.
They who dared to appropriate the name of NOD, would feel the wrath of NOD. For daring to impersonate Catherine, Kane would suffer. There would be no mercy, no forgiveness. If they had chosen to kill themselves then all would have been forgiven, yet they had not. Yet they acted as if they were in the right and that the world was theirs for the taking.
Vengeance. They would have vengeance and it would be glorious.
And so it was that they were gathered here today. To listen to Catherine speak. To know that they were doing the work of their living God.
Should they die, then they were not lost, for they would find their homes and be welcomed into the eternity that was theirs.
Brotherhood, Unity, Peace. Promises that were given, promises that would be kept.
For NOD.
"The enemy is before us. They seek to destroy us. To enslave us. They who have stolen our name, they who have offered themselves as superior, even now fight to enslave the rest of humanity in their pitiful attempts at power.
"They who pretend and are weak, they who cannot uplift humanity, and so have settled for uplifting themselves. They who are selfish and callous. We will crush them. We will demonstrate unto them the power of NOD, of the true NOD. They will beg for mercy, for forgiveness yet they will find none within our ranks and our arms. There will be no mercy my brothers, my sisters.
"We will crush them, and it shall be glorious.
"For BROTHERHOOD! For UNITY! For PEACE! We do what we must so shall it be!
"Now go! Go and carry out the work of NOD. I shall see you on the other side of the curtain!"
Catherine's speech rang out, rang true. It resonated with their souls, their minds, their spirits.
Each roared in approval, right fish smashing into their breastplates. Each chanting, "NOD. NOD. NOD."
On the podium upon the stage that was lifted up on high, Catherine waved and turned to walk away. The soldiers, the army of NOD, the Black Hand were ready. As if orchestrated beforehand, each turned to the left, to the right, to the rear, wherever their staging points were located.
Then they marched. Each step in unison, a crashing roar of sound filling the main hall as they stomped outward. To their aircraft, to their pods, to their landing craft.
The target was the portal, and on the other side, they would find their enemies, their targets. The question was how would they get there? How would they breach into the next universe? The portal itself was small, large enough for a tank to enter and disassembled aircraft but that was it.
It was then that the ingenuity of the NOD scientists once again proved itself. With their superior intellect, their advanced knowledge of the universe and what was inside or around it, they were able to penetrate deep into the realm below, and using the coordinates of the Tiberium universe, create their own portal. This one was high above that of the first, the entry point being in the first staging area of Atlantis, the largest of the staging areas, the one where the might of NOD's army were marching.
Massive aircraft, each wide enough to allow for 2 tanks to enter side by side were assembled underneath. The vehicles that were being used were all expendable, they would not have any advanced technology inside of them to refuse the Tiberium forces the advantages of technology. They were not so merciful as to give the Imposters any advantages. They who were weak and pitiful, selfish and callous were forbidden from gaining the slightest bit of advantage from the efforts of NOD.
They would enter the fight, and then land and join the NTU forces when their missions were accomplished. They would lend their might to that of the conventional armies, to share their might, their power. They would assist, they would crush. The world would fall apart before them and they would be destroyed. There would be no mercy for they who dared to pretend to be NOD, mercy was an alien concept to them.
The aircraft were loaded, the tanks, the vehicles, the divisions were marching on board, each of them ready and willing to die.
Soon. Soon the aircraft would be catapulted through the portal, engaging their engines once through and dropping down. Designed so that they could begin engine ignition while in a descent, each was designed to be dropped through a portal. An entirely new way to wage war, one that was being tested as it were. The possibility of catastrophic failure was entirely possible and the scientists had not been able to reduce the risk below 30%.
The secondary means to deliver units through the other side was with pods, fired out of compressed air cannons. Each of them carrying infantry only, light infantry at that. Each would land deep in enemy lines, delivering their payload at strategic targets identified by the first wave of reconnaissance aircraft.
While they lacked the sustained support of a mechanized force or of aircraft, they had more than enough explosive potential to cripple their targets before being wiped out. Hangars, airfields, fuel depots, Tiberium depots, anything that might assist in the sustained defence of the region were to be destroyed.
Following this was a rocket system that was being devised. It would launch a satellite into the upper atmosphere, all the more to provide a cohesive communications network while also providing information to the NOD forces on the ground. They would be able to see what their enemies were doing in real time, able to mould their forces to best counter them, to better crush them.
All of this was ready, waiting. Just waiting for the order.
The hour was nigh and soon, soon NOD would push forward. The Imposters would fall before them, their puny allies as well.
76#0129 was ready. Number 0129 of Battalion 76, a light infantry battalion that had been developed in such a way that their modus operandi was to drop deep in enemy territory, secure inhospitable terrain and crush the enemies before them. What this mean in practice was that they were to seize an area that was covered with Tiberium crystals, the refinery and gathering station being vital to the production capabilities of the GDI in the area. Without the Tiberium, they would be forced after all to use… nothing. They had no other options and to destroy their refineries and their harvesting operations would cripple them.
Each of them had been trained to move through the Tiberium, to ensure that they did not inhale any of the particles, that the Tiberium never found entry through an open wound. Tiberium would cause catastrophic damage to their vehicles if the armour touched the Tiberium, while at the same time it could wreck havoc on infantry that moved through it without paying attention. The razor sharp crystals being able to cut through flesh and armour easily, infecting the individual, turning them into walking corpses that would die as the Tiberium morphed their bodies into mutant monstrosities.
As for 0129, she was ready. There was no Gauss weapons today, should they be wiped out, then the Imposters would get no information or technology from her weapons. They did not deserve them, they who were weak, who were selfish and callous did not deserve uplift.
As for 0129, she was ready, weeks of time in the simulations, years of subjective time. Every single part of her was ready for this mission. Upon landing she would immediately strike out, moving through the Tiberium field, destroying any Harvesters on the way, before making her way to the refinery and destroying it. There would be no more resources to assist in the Imposter's production. Not after they were done with them.
0129 sat still, her rifle latched to the side of her small pod. Her perfectly packed backpack slotted into the back of her upright rack. It clamped down on her legs, her arms, her chest, her head, keeping her locked in. The pod itself was an individual one, itself slotted into a pod that contained 10 other smaller individual ones. It looked like a revolver's drum if one needed a visual analogy.
All of her equipment was ready. Her brothers and sisters were ready. Everything was ready.
All that awaited her now was to be launched out through the portal. It was then that her mission would begin. The larger pod upon descent would break apart, each individual pod then dropping down into a tight cluster, guided by the original, larger pod.
There would be 5 other pods joining them for this mission, the high priority of the target allocating more of her brothers and sisters to this mission.
0129 smiled lightly. She was not as fanatical as her brethren, why this was she was not sure. It meant that she was able to think… critically of the entire endeavour and she found herself questioning as to exactly why they were attacking. She understood on some level, the Imposters were pathetic, dangerous, a threat to the humans of their world. But that was the problem, it was their world.
Why were they getting involved at all? Merely lock the portal down and prevent further contact if they were so worried. It made so very little sense, but she could understand it from an altruistic point of view. They would be saving the world from itself, crushing the Imposters would have an effect of preventing the people of the world from doing something as simple as submitting themselves to a foolish ideology that worshipped a man with no hair on his head.
The other reason that she was a little bit worried about the entire endeavour was that they were being called Imposters, but they had existed concurrently with the real NOD. It was not their fault that they had chosen the name of NOD. It was a conundrum but 0129 did not care at a fundamental level. She was still brainwashed enough to accept what had been ordered and to carry our her directives with speed and fervour.
The shuddering of the pod knocked her out of her thoughts. They were ready. Soon. Soon she would be launched out and into the unknown, onwards to her target, ready to hunt. To kill.
There would be no mercy, she would carry out her orders with a single minded fanaticism that would be terrifying in all who glimpsed her. She was NOD and she was relentless.
For the sake of the world that she was leaving behind her as she entered the portal, she would be the greatest enemy that they of the Tiberium universe had ever known. For the ascension of humanity, for Catherine, for a world that had seen peace, a world that was unified, 0129 was ready.
Fists clenched, teeth clenched around the big in front of her, 0129 braced herself. The shudder that ran through her body, shaking her, the way her vision narrowed down to a mere pinprick in the darkness. She had been launched. She was on the way.
For Brotherhood. For Unity. For Peace.
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
76#0129 felt the deceleration of her pod. They were going to be landing very soon. Soon enough that she was preparing to disembark. Or at least mentally disembarking, it was not as if she could do anything while she was locked to the pod like she was.
Ok. Soon.
The light in front of her blinked green. 5 seconds.
Closing her eyes, 0129 took a deep breath. Her eyes were being pressed shut as hard as she could do it. A way to massage her eyes and to ensure they had as thick a coating of mucus on them as possible. It would not do for her to get blinded by the dust and the like, wasting valuable seconds as she waited for her vision to come back. That was singularly inefficient and it would get her killed. Something that she was not very happy about since it would mean that she wasn't going to be accomplishing her objective.
She had a mission and dammit, she was going to accomplish it. Fuck all this noise. Fuck them all. The Imposters were going to die and she was going to ensure that they felt the wrath of NOD. Each and every bullet in her rifle had a name of whoever it was on the other side that needed to die. Each and every single one of them was dead, they just did not know it yet.
Soon. Soon.
Now.
She grinned, now. The light flashed red. Time for them to go, time for them to demonstrate why it was that they were the Black Hand, the loyal, the hard, the first.
They who had the trust of Catherine, they who were able to operate and root out the corruption, the failures, they who were the right hand, the left hand, the feet. It was the Black Hand that NOD turned to crush its enemies, it was the Black Hand that struck first, it was the Black Hand that struck last.
Mercy was for the weak and they were anything but weak.
The hatch to the pod ejected with a hiss of air and she was out. The latches that kept her locked in an upright position unlocking and tumbling open. As for 0129 herself, she grabbed her rifle from its position in the small recess after pulling open the latch that kept it locked. Her left hand pulled her out of the pod, ready to engage any… enemies. Huh.
There was nothing waiting for them.
This… this was unexpected.
Perhaps they did not receive information that they were about to be attacked? Did they not have sub-quantum radar arrays? Were they so laughably primitive that they could not detect inbound pods that were travelling faster than the speed of sound?
True it would be difficult if they tried, but it was radar even radar should have worked. 0129 groaned and scratched at her head, this… this was not what she was expecting, what any of them were expecting.
Well, it looked like they were going to take the fight to the enemy.
"0129 clear." She subvocalized."
"0128 clear."
"0130 clear."
The voices came in, it looked like her entire squad had made it. That was an added bonus, the more of them there were, the higher the chances that the mission would be completed. As the acknowledgements that they were all present, the squad leader then checked in with the other squads. It would be best if they were to coordinate, or else they might find themselves shooting at each other if things went catastrophically wrong.
0129 made her way out of the Tiberium field, carefully pushing through, making sure that she wasn't going to be cutting herself on anything. It would be singularly embarrassing if she was killed by the Tiberium before she ever fired a round at the Imposters.
It was something that required a little bit more finesse than moving through an ordinary rock formation. As long as she didn't touch the sharp edges, keeping to the flat surfaces, she would be fine. The difficult part came when she had to do it with her entire body, nothing could get caught on a sharp edge or she was going to be infected. The only solution around it being exorcising the flesh, something that she didn't have the equipment for in the field. Cutting out the flesh could only create an open vector in which the Tiberium spores could enter her body, something that had to avoided at all costs.
It took her and the rest of the squad around half an hour, but they made it out without a single casualty. Force marching their way through 3 kilometers of Tiberium to reach the objective. The first staging point was to the south of the facility, a mere 2 kilometers of space, of distance.
They would be meeting 2 other squads before the first assault, making their way over to strike at the Harvesting station. The prime targets would be the harvesters themselves as well as the infrastructure. Even if they came back, they would need to replace everything, something that would cost time, money, and effort. Things they might not be willing to spend if the main forces were pressing them hard enough that they had to conserve resources.
0129 checked her weapon for the last time. They were heading in now.
Keeping themselves low, 0125 had a sniper rifle, ready to pick off any sentries or guards that were coming too close. The rest of them had bastardized AKs, the same kind of weapons that the Imposters were using, there was no pressing desire to give them anything, they did not deserve it. The Imposters deserved nothing and were owed nothing.
They would get nothing.
The Harvester Depot was a rather… open aired facility actually. Very little cover as they tried to cross the inbound road. The problem being of course that they had a very large U of hangars in which to move through, the Imposters clearly not having designed the base to an adequate level. It was rather… sad actually.
They were going to be destroyed and it wasn't even their fault, not really.
As 0129 crawled through the facility, she was doing her job as was tasked. Plastic explosives were placed in key locations on the harvesters themselves. Underneath to destroy the gearbox and the transmission, in the cab, in the harvesting module, in the back. Each explosion was not going to be destroying the Harvester, not really. The point of it being to cause enough damage that they needed to be scrapped, repairs being far too expensive compared to actually replacing them.
The locations had been provided by the blueprints… liberated by NOD just the day before.
There were guards throughout the facility, not an issue really. Each one just needed a liberal dose of knife to their vital points and they died easily enough. The trail of bodies that 0129 left behind as she moved was enough of an indication of that.
She crouched down as she placed the last of the explosives inside the maw of the Harvester Module, it would be particularly bad if she were to… get caught as it started up. Thankfully there were 2 others with her to make sure that didn't happen.
"Jake! Where are you, man. We need to get out of here for the shift change." The voice was coming from the side door. A problem. He needed to be dealt with, but if there was a shift change… they were going to be able to find the bodies. None of them had been policed, there was little need for it when the enemy would be finding a distinct lack of friendlies where there should be.
It was a problem, but it was not an insurmountable one. They were planning to kill the garrison as it was anyway. There were only 2 more Harvesters for their little group to deal with before they were one. Everything was on a timed fuse which gave them 10 minutes, not the most difficult of missions but one that required them to be on time if they wanted to get out alive.
Which they certainly did, the mission had not been completed as of yet. The driveways and the infrastructure needed to be destroyed before they were allowed to die.
0129 rushed out, sprinting forward to meet the man.
"Hey! What are you... " With a final splutter he died, a knife embedded in his throat.
They needed to hurry, the enemy wasn't going to wait forever.
The alarm had been tripped, inevitable. Thankfully it had waited until 0129 had planted all of her explosives, her quota had been filled and that was 4 less Harvesters for the Imposters to use. Following that it had been a fight to break through the enemy forces and make their way over to the transfer station where the Tiberium was transported over to the Refinery.
The enemy had correctly judged that they were targeting the building, unfortunately for them, it was not helping very much.
0129 knelt down, shouldering her rifle as she aimed down the sights. The enemy was being suppressed, foolish. They were more concerned with keeping themselves alive than accomplishing their mission. Pathetic.
0129 fired off 3 rounds before pushing forward, her legs carrying her onward as she ran low enough to try and avoid any return fire, while also allowing those behind her to fire over her at the enemy.
Pulling the pin on a grenade from her vest, 0129 lobbed it gently at the wall of the building, bouncing it into the defenders that were kneeling behind a series of makeshift walls, made of Harvester tires, certainly resilient enough to count as walls if one squinted hard enough.
The shouts as the Imposters tried to avoid the grenade brought a smile to her lips, the ones stupid enough to get on their feet and run, brought a wide grin. If they wanted to die so badly, then who was she to deny them the opportunity?
The trigger was pulled and 2 Imposters dropped down, their heads perforated by the 5.56mm bullets.
Pushing forward, 0129 dived over the tire, rolling down into the defensive line on the other side. Rising to her knees, 0129 aimed her rifle down the line, pulling the trigger on burst setting. Their screams as bullets ripped through flesh like music to her ears. The Imposters were dying and it was as it should be. To her rear was more gunfire, her squad mates had joined her on the other side and were engaging, bringing their rifles to bear, tearing through the Imposters as they knelt down, dying one by one. Their fear of being shot, had seen them kneel down and hide, unable to see, unable to defend against the attack that had been launched.
For anyone else it would have been suicide, indeed it would have been suicide had they been facing anyone besides the Imposters. Fear made one weak, death was inevitable.
0129 stood up, the last of them were dead, the station had been the last line of defence, with it broken there was nothing but the wounded and the afraid left.
Walking over to those that were wounded, those that were cowering away, hands to hide their heads, 0129 ended their misery. They should have chosen to serve a more intelligent and powerful God. A single bullet into each of their heads, and 0129 was done. Walking down, she policed the bodies. There would be no survivors, nothing to try and stab them in the back as they set the charges to destroy the facility.
That done, 0129 stared up at the sky, breathing in gently, absorbing the essence of the night sky. In the distance, she could see the tracer fire that indicated her brothers and sisters in the other units were making life hell for the Imposters and their allies. The main assault had begun and part of her wished that she was there with them.
But she understood her part, she was to destroy the facility, deny the Imposters technology and resources and then leave. Once she was extracted, their next targets would very likely not even be on this continent, heading out to strike at targets deep behind enemy lines.
They were the Black Hand after all, their place was where they would cause the most damage in the most vulnerable of places.
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
General Bradley frowned at the reports on his desk. They were now at war, the forces of NOD had pushed through and made it so that they would be fighting the combined forces of Tiberium NOD and the Tiberium GDI. Both of them unifying to fight against Bradley and the other members of the NT Universe. It didn't matter of course that they were all dancing to the tune of NOD, that they were all pawns on this particular chessboard.
Both of their enemies obviously felt that NOD couldn't be that devious, that NOD would be like the dumb pieces of shit that the NOD in this universe were. Picking a fight with the world because that was clearly the best way to go about whatever their goals were. Unless said goals were "pick a fight with the world" then the NOD of this universe had failed miserably and they were going to be falling apart very soon.
Bradley considered the idea that maybe insane and deranged Catherine… was better than a bald guy that was cunning and evil. Maybe that was why evil organisations never worked, their leaders just weren't insane enough to make it work.
Unless someone like NT-NOD had arrived and decided to give them the little rope that they needed to avoid destruction, grabbing onto the rope and leveraging it into an alliance with the GDI, gaining funding and power as they did so. It was intelligent, the most intelligent move they made since picking a fight with the world. Bradley applauded them for that, even though it meant that when it came to waging war, he would now be facing 2 enemies instead of 1. More of his tanks were going to be destroyed, more of his crews were going to die.
With NOD's offensive the night before, one that was now confirmed by their own messenger standing in front of him, Bradley felt like rubbing his face and breathing out the kind of sigh that would have him put in a zoo.
Dammitall.
He wanted to prove his worth, yes, that was true. To do it on the backs of a thousand corpses was not what he wanted at all. He closed his eyes, orders had come in from above. They would be entering this war, the enemy was both NOD and the GDI, their own NOD offering them no choice in the matter. The attacks had very clearly come from their side of the portal, and even though Bradley and the others had no idea what had actually happened, the fact that it had happened was enough to implicate them.
Like a little fish being brought into a net. That was what it felt like being him right now. He had thought that maybe it would be different, that maybe they could have peace for the first time in what must have been 25 years. Only it had come tumbling around him, just like his hopes and dreams. Contrary to popular opinion he did not crave war, he just accepted that it was a matter of course and had joined as his father, and his father's father before him. There would always be a Bradley in the army and he was no exception. That he had a daughter in the Marines was a point of contention however. The brat always did like to pull his goat.
Bradley shook his head, now was not the time for this. He had orders, they would be going to war. His divisions were to roll straight out and secure the area around the portal. Area being the several hundred kilometers that had been taken by NOD the night before, or at least crushed to the point where resistance was low enough that it was almost as if there was no resistance at all.
If he advanced his men now they would be clearing up pockets of resistance, clearing paths through what would probably be massive killing fields, dead bodies everywhere and anywhere. If the NOD army fought like the NOD operatives, well he was going to have to tell the cleaning crews to eat a light breakfast.
Looking up at the messenger he grimaced before speaking. "Tell your Commanders that we will be joining them for this attack."
Turning to General Cutting he raised his eyebrow. No doubt the Brit was reading the same orders as he was, or the general idea of the orders at any rate.
"Yes. We will too." Said Cutting, prompting Bradley to grin. If they were going to war, at least he had Cutting with him, the man knew how to work wonders with his artillery.
Striding out of the tent Bradley gave a sharp whistle, it carrying through his portion of the camp. He had always been a hands-on commander and the boys certainly knew that, each of his upper officers standing before him in a matter of minutes.
"Boys. I don't want to make this seem rushed, but we are at war. Get your boys on the move, we hit out with plan Delta. The Brits will be rolling backup with the arty so get coordinated, we want all the guns we can bring to bear on the buggers got it?"
At the chorus of affirmatives, Bradley let out a sigh as he turned to walk back into his tent. His time for commanding tanks was long gone, he would be commanding the men that commanded the tanks now.
It certainly wasn't the greatest feeling in the world, he so wished that he could be sitting in the cockpit of his Crusader again, but this wasn't so bad either. At least the air conditioning worked all the time in his tent.
Lieutenant Gerard E. Marbury of the 89th Armoured Cavalry Division was on the way forward, his tank chugging along at speeds that belied its massive frame. At 60 tonnes, it shouldn't be able to go 40km/h on rough terrain, but the Crusader certainly was not any ordinary tank. It was the backbone of the American armoured divisions. If anyone had a problem with America, they would be facing the mailed fist of the Crusader tanks.
Gerard grinned a little, he had thought this posting would be it, that he would be spending the rest of his days in peace, that he would never be able to prove himself in the arena of war. A feeling that had him feeling a little depressed actually, he had grown up in war, had known nothing but war in his country, felt the overwhelming desire to prove himself, to put himself in the line of fire and to protect his country.
A feeling that had taken an abrupt hit just before his first deployment when peace had been declared. Everything that he had grown up dreaming about, everything that he had spent the last 3 years of his life studying and training towards, all of it being declared useless.
Then came his posting here under the highest orders of secrecy and that had been ok, maybe a secret war? But no. Just desert. Just constant never ending, fuck me in the ass with sand desert.
He had felt betrayed, a little helpless, a little betrayed. That was until last night when the order to mount up and remain on standby had been given. Following that this morning came the order to advance, to push out of the LZ and secure the area around it. Gerard had grinned. Oh yes, this was what he wanted to do with his life.
As the momentum of his gargantuan mass of steel and death lurched forward, Gerard grinned. Oh yes, this was the time when he could finally make his mark on history. It would be a small mark, but when he had children and grandchildren, he would be able to say to them "this here is where I was when the war of 1999 broke out."
Head facing forward, Gerard grinned, his entire body tensed with anticipation… this was it.
Gerard slumped forward a little, his face pressed into the periscope that was his link to the outside world. He would be outside, propped above the cupola scanning the horizon for enemies, but there was nothing there. Or rather there was plenty there but none of it was relevant to his situation.
Dozens upon dozens of destroyed tanks, vehicles, dead bodies by the hundreds, all of it littering the dozens of kilometers that they had travelled so far. There were no live targets, nothing for him to order his gunner to shoot at, nothing that one might consider a proper use of his time. The mangled wrecks of the vehicles around him being yet more evidence that high command didn't know what they were doing. Why did they have him come out here like this if there was this much damage and destruction? Why? What would be the point? They could have conserved the fuel, made it easier for them to service the tanks later, now going at full speed, there was going to be sand and dust everywhere, little bits and bobs caught in delicate machinery, and they were likely going to need to check the track as well.
Dammit.
A waste. This entire advance as a waste.
Dammit.
"Sir! We've got new orders!" Shouted his loader, also his radio operator.
"What is it?"
"There's a refinery about 50 clicks to the North, we're to head up there and assist an advanced recon team."
"Ok, send back an affirmative, Driver, set course North!"
"Roger."
"Roger."
Gerard felt his grin return to his face, maybe… just maybe here would be something there that was worth his time.
Gerard was grinning widely. The enemy had brought their tanks, Abrams from the looks of them. He grinned even more widely, he had spent far too many hours in the simulators against Abrams to not know where to hit them the hardest, the bits that made them go boom.
Why it was they had Abrams was above his pay grade, all he knew was that they were targets and they needed to be destroyed.
"Gunner! Target 11 O'Clock, Abrams! Load AP!" He called out through his microphone, the tank was just too loud to have them shout at each other."
"Target confirmed."
"Fire at will!"
"Firing!"
"Loading AP!"
"Up!"
"Firing!"
"Loading AP!"
"New Target, 2 O'Clock, Abrams white stripe on frontal hull. Fire at will!"
"Up!"
"Firing!"
It was like being in the most glorious orchestra in the world, only their drum was the sound of the cannon firing. Every single time it did sending shocks running through their bodies, shaking them. The sheer awesome power giving them a brief moment where they felt like gods.
As for Gerard, he was outside of his tank, sitting out of the Cupola he was guiding his crew from a position where he was able to actually see the enemy. Being locked inside looking out of a periscope was a good way to give himself tunnel vision. They weren't shooting at him… yet. He would duck down when the first bullets zinged overhead.
As it was, he was directing his men with enough precision that his sector was being cleared out, the enemy's vehicles being destroyed at such a rate that he felt a little sorry for them. It wasn't their fault that they were using inferior vehicles, 30 years of development had turned the Crusader into one of the most devastating and powerful vehicles in the world. There would be no comparison to a tank from 30 years ago, one that was inferior to other offerings when it had arrived.
If this was what they considered to be the pinnacle of design… well, he felt bad for them. Really bad.
It didn't stop him giving orders to kill more of them, he just felt bad for them in the way a bystander might feel bad for a pigeon that got hit by a car. A momentary sadness if nothing else.
It did not impinge on the greatness of the moment at all. He grinned as he appreciated the feeling, the awesomeness that was tank on tank combat. This… this was the life.
Gerard stared that the men and women who were all wearing black, their faces covered by masks with red optics on them.
These were the ones they had been sent to reinforce?
Just what exactly were they and why did they warrant an entire Tank Company?
Maybe some kind of special forces unit?
"I am 0129, I am grateful for you support. Thank you."
What?
After Activation 1167 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1128 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 140-32M - 40k Universe
AD 1999 - C Red Alert/Generals - Rise of the Reds Universe
Hammond M. Smith was what one might call a… jockey. He loved his speed, he loved the feeling of great power between his legs, of being the boy with the biggest toy on the block.
Which was why when he was conscripted he had elected to go straight into the Air Force, he wanted that feeling of being in a fighter jet, being over the world, looking down on the puny little mortals as they struggled beneath him. A feeling of being superior, being awesome. In other words, the greatest feeling in the world.
He had spent 5 years in training, making sure that he would be the best pilot possible, making sure that he wasn't going to be doing something like destroying his craft because he crashed it into a mountain or something similar. At the same time, he had been learning the mathematics that came with flying the F35 Multi-Role Aircraft, it could drop bombs, it could fire missiles, it could drop bombs while firing missiles, and if it realllywanted to, shoot its cannon.
It really wanted to fire its cannon. It was a thing of beauty it was, 35mm of pure and utter death that would shred its way through light vehicles, through aircraft, through anything that needed a pure stream of white hot death laid through it.
In short, it was the aircraft that you wanted when you needed air superiority, ground dominance and everything in between at the same time. Also to look sexy because goddamn was it a sexy little beast.
And so it was that he was here now, sitting in the cockpit of his fighter, the joystick in between his legs, his left-hand flicking switches that even now after 5 years of training, he occasionally forgot which did what. There were a damned high number of them and flick them wrong… well, that was what the eject was for.
It wasn't enough to slow him down however, he was still the commander of this rinky dinky little craft after all.
Grinning widely Hammond thumbed his mic, "Yellow this is Orca, you've got tail over." He called out. The enemy was using F-22 Raptors, only they were significantly less useful than the Raptors he was used to, these ones appeared to have a fraction of the ECM systems, tracking systems, even propulsion systems.
The only thing that they had in common was the fact that they were in the general shape as that of a Raptor, not the most glowing endorsement when you were fighting the aircraft that had been designed to replace the damned things.
Hammond grinned even wider as he ticked off the AAM systems, the little AIM missiles rotating into place on the inner carousel that housed the F-35's payload. It was internal in order to minimise the profile of the craft while also making sure that it could hold the maximum amount of ordnance possible to make use of all the space available to it.
His helmet was integrated into the fire control systems. Just look at the fuckers and he would get a lock, the little camera balls swivelling to see where he saw. A wink and a lock, a wink and a lock. 2 of them locked, 2 of them just waiting to die.
"2 out." He called, thumbing the little switch that would send the missiles off, the small shudders as each was ejected from the craft and sped towards the two distant tails trying to chase after Yellow. Their fiery yellow engines allowing him to tell that they had been launched properly.
Oh?
What was that? Someone wanted to play?
From the cameras facing behind him, Hammond saw the little bugger that was getting too friendly that was coming up from behind.
Hammond grinned, he wasn't ranked the third best pilot in the US Air Force for no reason. A bonafide ace that had 23 confirmed aircraft kills in his lifetime. Flicking the switch that would put his craft into VTOL mode, he flicked the cap that prevented the cannons from being accidently fired. Pressing forward the acceleration, Hammon gritted his teeth as his vision partially blacked out in response to the blood leaving his eyeballs. A slight turn, an angle and a look back.
Yes, the idiot was following.
Pressing down the activation for the VTOL, a change to the engine, a switch of the flaps, and another moment of blackout, this time as the blood rushed toward his eyeballs as the F-35 decelerated and Hammond was ready. The other pilot kept going, straight past Hammond's craft. He could see the pilot inside, craning his head to look at Hammond's now horizontally sliding F-35, or rather he was.
Pressing down on the cannon trigger, Hammond ended the poor fool, the 35mm cannon ripping into the cockpit, punching holes through the craft all the way to the engines before it spun too far out of the way for Hammond to follow it.
Another flick of the VTOL switch and Hammond was rocketing forward again, the time he had spent "slow" being less than 5 seconds. It was undoubtedly a pain on his craft, but that was why he was paid the big bucks, he could do the crazy manoeuvres and he could make them work. He was just that good.
The mechanics hated him but who cared about what they thought.
Grinning widely Hammon accelerated forward, his eyes scanning for more targets.
They had been tasked with protecting a convoy of tanks that were pushing out from the portal. Several squadrons of Eurofighters, Harrier Mk8s, F-22 Raptors, and F-35 Fighters were all in the protection screen. The Harriers and Eurofighters were down the lowest at 10,000 feet. They would be the last line of defence being closest to the ground. The enemy would likely approach at 20,000 feet which meant that F-22 Raptors were going to be first contact. When the enemy came in close enough the Raptors would engage, the F-35s assist if needed from their perch at 35,000 feet and the Eurofighters/Harriers would hang over the convoy and engage any that broke past.
The plan had gone off as expected, the enemy employing a similar playbook to their own, if a little outdated. Pushing straight into the 20,000 barrier of Raptors, they employed their own Raptors to try and engage, only it hadn't worked out so well the first time, the first wave of 10 being shot down by the superior range of the American AIM missiles. Using Phoenix missiles with 150 miles of range? Bah, nothing compared to the Phoenix Mk2, 200 miles of range and also having the ability to juke up as well. It wasn't only useful against heavy bombers and slow as shit fighters anymore, an all round ass kicking long range missile, especially when employed against these slow ass craft. If they wanted to play they should have brought the big toys like the ones Hammon had in his trunk, biggest toys on the block.
It made one almost nostalgic over facing actual comparative enemies, like those fucking pieces of shit that the South Americans used. The Bz-324 a stealth aircraft that could turn invisible in the middle of a dogfight? Fuck that shit, fuck it with a 10 foot barbed dildo.
It was why their own forces had developed a shotgun to use in the air, shred the air in the general area in front of them. Hit the 324 and it would flicker, a proper eye would be able to see it and calibrate the second shot. The Airhammer had been lifesaving really, without it, so many more Americans would have been killed considering that the 324 could also fucking drop bombs, because of course it fucking could.
That level of bullshit technology was just something that ruined the everything. Hammond was actually glad they weren't fighting those anymore. He liked to keep his paranoia this side inside of his head.
As for the enemy, well he had been told this was like a low tech version of their own universe, something that he could get behind. They were certainly… very low tech. Almost pathetically low tech actually.
Shaking his head, Hammond refocused.
"Shark 1 on your tail. Missile. Juke!" He called out as he spotted a shot from one of the enemy F-22s.
"Got it boss. Going going goin goooing." Hammond could hear the man's breathing get shorter and shorter as he pulled the aircraft into a deep upward curve, the g-forces pushing down on his chest, making it harder and harder for him to breathe.
"Gone. Made it." Hammon called as he watched it from the corner of his eye, the rest of his attention being directed forward.
"Fuckin'. Thanks, Boss." Shark called out, Hammond smiled as he did so.
Seeing that there was very little if any aircraft still in the area that wasn't theirs, Hammond gave the call to return to formation.
"Ok boys, finish up and let's get back in formation." He called out over the mic. No point in them being in a mothball like this when they didn't need to.
Pulling the stick up, Hammond pushed his F-35 to rise, to resume its position in the 35,000 feet layer. The superior radar capabilities of the F-35 would help keep an eye out. A necessity that had to be developed when they were fighting the fucking invisibility specialists of the world. The Euro craft on the other hand, were much more focused on ground attack roles, their dominance of the air meaning they hadn't developed as much anti-air doctrine or capability as the Americans.
Hammond listened in to the radio, it was likely they were going to be up here for a while before the next attack, unless the enemy was more stupid than he thought. It was a means of him washing away part of his boredom while also being a way for him to check if he could hear the Soviets.
He had never gone up against the Soviets but the boys on the West Coast had said that it was the height of bullshit. As in trying to go up against the Soviets was like playing a game of Russian Roulette.
The Soviets had developed some kind of long range fighter craft that was basically a giant fucking engine with wings that had a few missiles slung under its wings. It would get in close, use its powerful forward facing radar to spot the enemy, fire off the missiles and then either self-destruct or kamikaze into buildings or something. The entire thing running off a basic pre-programmed routine, no pilots at all. The problem being was that it was supersonic, the entire thing being fired from launchers that dialled in the target for them.
If you were in the air, it was likely you would be shot down before friendly radar even noticed that something was coming if it was launched from a submarine. For the ones on land, the Air Force had learnt to just land all their aircraft and wait for the fucking things to pass. No point trying to shoot them down, they would just crash somewhere in the middle of nowhere as they always did.
Then came their actual fighter craft, the things were the opposite of stealthy. The general idea that Hammon could pick up being that they stuffed as many missiles as possible on the thing, as much firepower as they could, then gave it the biggest engines that they could. The entire thing being about half again as big as the F-35 and carrying about 3x the payload at the cost of speed and manoeuvrability.
Then again when you could fire off that many missiles, the chances of there being something that could survive and try to fight you was… slim. Fucking ridiculous it was, especially given how good the USSR's missile tech was.
Their SAM tech was already incredibly bullshit, if you flew over Alaska then being shot out of the air was a given. There was no way for you to survive when a supersonic missile fired from fucking Vladivostok or whatever it was slammed into you before you even knew there had been a missile fired.
The one good thing about this peace was that they were all on the same side now. How long this would last was unknown, but the longer it did… well, maybe they could start mixing tech. That many missiles on a stealth plane? Yes please, he had never been the kind of guy to play fair anyway.
His radar pinged contacts, it looked like these were the slower ones. The radar giving the silhouettes as F-18s and A-10 Warthogs… what? They were using those things? They were like… even older than the Raptors. Holy shit, they were using Warthogs.
Oh wow.
That was a tank column under there, what the hell did they think that a Warthog was going to be able to do?
Oh wow.
This… this he had to see.
#241 walked down the corridors of the presidential palace, pace measured and each step taking her closer to her target. There was a certain Senator that was opposing the idea of spending more money on the military in the South American union. Even when the portal existed and NOD was in the open, Hydra still operated. Peace was something that had to be prevented at all costs, not if humanity was going to survive what was coming soon.
#241 wasn't privy to what this world changing event was, only that she needed to complete her mission to ensure a bright and blue future for humanity. While she wouldn't be there to enjoy it, her being dead and all, it was very likely after all, but she would do her part regardless. For those that could not act, she would act for them, for those that could not kill, she would kill for them.
They who threatened the world would die, she and her brothers and sisters would see to that. It was an unglamorous job, one that would see no recognition or thanks for her actions, but it was one she did willingly, brainwashing or not.
And so here she was, Hydra's network had set it up for her to enter under the identity of Castille Rogers. A descendant of an immigrant from the 1930s, hence the name. Not very original, but since she wasn't going to be surviving this mission it didn't matter very much.
"Miss Rogers? Please. Follow me." Said the man in front of her. An aide for the Senator it looked like. A Manuel Pablo. He was going to be defended by what looked to be a very determined Senatorial Guard, security systems, booby traps, and who knew what else. She had received the blueprints of course and was on her way to the first staging point. Her identity was not a matter of concern from this point forward, she would be nothing but a ghost.
First was the aide, he needed to go, and then she needed to head in the opposite direction. The pretence she had entered on being that she needed to go and submit a report to the budgetary committee regarding the spending of the Coast Guard, a lie of course, but one that was going to prove irritating unless she managed to get away.
There weren't any cameras in this section of the corridor. Good.
A quick punch to the back of the neck and the man crumpled to the ground. Hoisting him on her shoulders, #241 pulled herself up into the crawl space, hiding the body inside. She hadn't killed him, no need for collateral damage in the mission briefing. He would wake up in roughly half an hour which gave her a hard time limit.
Recalling the blueprints from memory, #241 considered just exactly what it was she was trying to do here. Either go through the crawl space directly to the target, or would she just walk backwards down the corridor? One way was likely full of booby traps and alarm triggers, making it slower to traverse, but likely with less risk of detection, what with her pieces of kit hidden away in her glasses. The other was faster… only with a higher chance of detection and less room to manoeuvre if they brought out the weapons.
Decisions… decisions…
Quiet. It was what she had to do if she wanted to hide her presence. Orders were orders and the target would not be moving anytime soon. His mistress was over and she would keep him for another 20 minutes, plenty of time if she moved quickly.
Path decided, #241 moved, stripping off her dress, the little suit that went with it and her heels, all of them going into the back that had been inflated from the vacuum roll it had been in previously. If she wanted to get out, being covered in dirt was a very sure sign that there was something wrong and she needed to be questioned, something that was rather unwanted since she had been ordered to return alive.
A complication that had to be avoided, hence the bag and her alibi. The aide that was meant to be guiding her was unconscious, she would claim that she had simply gotten lost, that the aide had not arrived to assist and guide her as was his duty. A simple matter, one that was made even easier since there had been nobody there to see her accept the aide's guidance, her body hidden away in a blindspot with the camera.
Further, she was able to get away with anything short of murder the surgeons had assured her, the fact that she was physically attractive enough to give her a free pass in most situations. It was not exactly the most professional thing to do, but it still worked when regarding most males and females, a strange situation really. One would think that in a situation where the lives of their charges could depend on them doing their job properly, that they would allow free entry and exit to those that filled physical criteria regardless of their credentials.
No matter, if the enemy was weak, she would take advantage of that weakness. It was why she was here in the first place, the forging of her papers being a simple matter for those back in Atlantis given how poor their security protocols were. A matter that would need to be rectified, part of the reason for her visit. The principal headquarters of the producers of some of the most advanced technology in the world could not be allowed to walked in and out of like a cheap brothel.
#241 crawled through the gap between the actual ceiling and the plaster panelling that made up the "ceiling" as seen from below. Her feet and hands always on the metal railings that held the plaster in place. Spread out her weight enough and she would be able to move quickly and undetected by those below.
The security measures in place to stop this very action were annoying certainly, but not something that would stop her permanently. She was too good for that. The simple ones like motion alarms could be tricked by simply moving slowly enough and only with certain body parts at a time, that it looked as if there were rodents up above as opposed to an entire person. The laser systems could be simple avoided by crawling up and over them, one part that the movies got right at least. It required a certain level of athleticism, but that was what she was here for in the first place, her body was very limber, a requirement to do her duty after all. As for the rest of the security… well, that was slightly more difficult. Some areas had wires that covered the entirety of certain entrances and areas, either somebody being lazy or a particularly devious designer. No matter, the end result was the same, areas that were simply an irritant to get through.
Requiring precious seconds as she used her small blade to either cut or shift them enough that she was able to squeeze, through. Some had to be circumvented entirely, #241 judging them to be simply far too much effort to bother trying. It was difficult, it was not impossible. She was Hydra, she would complete her mission.
Body slithering, squeezing, moving, all the while getting closer and closer to her target. There would be no escape, not for the target, no, he was going to die and #241 was going to be the one that slid in the blade.
A blade that had gotten rather dusty actually, she was going to need to clean it off, it would be an insult to stab someone with a dirty blade. She was Hydra and Hydra had standards, clean blades were one of them.
Sliding further through the crawl space, #241 stopped herself as she was over the target. He was down below, he was going to be hammering away at his mistress for the next… 10 minutes. He ran like clockwork, every move dictated by some kind of invisible timer that meant that he followed the same routine day in and day out. One would think that with such a personality, he would be more open to the idea of the military, they certainly fit in with the way he ran his life. Such a waste really, if he had been more willing to accept that he was a military man through and through, he would not be dead in approximately 15 minutes.
Oh well, time to get on with it. The mistress was a collateral target, she was to be spared, but for the man himself? Well, he needed to die and soon to appease Hydra.
The matter of how was a concern, dropping anaesthetic on the woman would knock her out, but chances were that if she used too much, the woman was going to die. Anaesthetic after all, was a tool used to keep people unconscious and had to be regulated by a professional in real-time, to do it by eye was dangerous indeed. Too little and she wouldn't be knocked under, too much and she died. The line between the two being far too narrow for her to try and guess.
Another method had to be found and #241 was finding herself lacking any methods besides dropping down and punching her in the face. Which again, violated the order that she had received to ensure that there would be no collateral damage. Why it was so she didn't quite know, but it was not her place to question the motives of Hydra, therein lay the path to damnation. But she could perhaps guess? Perhaps it was that they were now united in a manner of speaking so vast rampages of death and gore were no longer appropriate? Or perhaps that was just the bait, maybe other operatives would be going for the kill everything and burn down the world approach. Or perhaps doing it in a high profile area was the taboo, they didn't want NOD in the spotlight for being assassins after all, a single death was easily cleaned up, a building's worth… not so much.
#241 decided that she might as well wait. It was not as if the man's schedule did not mean he was going to be having intercourse with his mistress forever. Just another 5 minutes, after which she would leave, the man would clean himself up, then he too would leave. A brief 2 minute gap in which she could strike.
It was going to have to be that 2 minutes, there were no other avenues of approach from what #241 could see. At the same time, she had less than 5 minutes to get far away enough that she would not get caught, the mistress coming in to check in on him when he didn't join her soon enough.
So many little things that had to be taken care of, so many big things. It was an annoyance to be sure that she could not simply just kill all of them. What was so important about this mission that she needed to leave him alive? But. Orders were orders and she was bound to obey.
#241 waited. The mistress was leaving. Good.
Moving the vent cover out of the way, #241 dropped in behind the man (after verifying that it was indeed him of course,) and stabbed him through the back. Or rather she placed her knife just behind him, between the ribs and pointed at the heart before pulling him onto the knife. It was sharp enough that it went through the man's clothing, flesh and deep into his heart before he even realised something had happened.
By then he was a dead man, #241's left hand was over his mouth, he wouldn't be calling for help, his death rattle muffled by the rag that had been stuffed into his mouth. That it was the rag that he had been cleaning himself with was of no concern… sort of. #241 was feeling vindictive and it was the man's fault that she had been forced to wait so long. It was annoying listening to the monotonous moaning that the woman was carrying on with. As if she didn't care that everyone knew she was faking it.
If one were to be a whore, at least be a proper one. Doing one's job with care and dedication was just as important regardless of what the job