"...And in 1945, MacArthur was as isolated as one could be, with neither public nor peer support. But, stubborn as always, MacArthur continued to speak out against the peace and the post war strategies. The OFN was too soft, and did nothing for the Free French or the still struggling remnants of the Asian allies. Handing the initiative to the fascist powers. It was slow going at first, but eventually the memories of war's pain faded, while the reminders of shame and weakness did not. Though many were horrified by the "reckless and bloodthirsty" proposals he made, others began to pay attention, and to agree…"
A stranger in a strange land.
I don't remember where that phrase comes from. Its origin lost in the back of my mind like a dusty book in an old shelf, but wherever it came from, that's how I felt.
I had been mostly sticking to back roads in whatever city this was. I could guess it was West Coast, but I wasn't sold on if it was California yet. Everything was too foreign. The architecture was alien and strange, the people even more so. So many colors and lights and smells and sounds that were new to me, and some that weren't. I could remember the familiar things like good food, the lack of gunfire, and a facsimile of peace and quiet. An element that my life lacked.
God, John. Have you been fighting for so long that you've forgotten?
My thoughts and reflections were interrupted by a passing shadow. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bastard again, still in the form he introduced himself in. Me in the MacArthur getup, smoking the corncob pipe he was so famed for. Leaning against the faded brick wall of the alleyway I had been peeking out from, and a thin smile gracing his (my?) face as he puffed.
"...Great. Thanks for leaving me hanging back there. Just dropped me on a beach with no instructions or guidance.", I started, pointing a finger.
"I know, Charlie. I know. I have no intentions in leaving you hanging out to dry like a slab of wet meat. The beating you gave that Grade A asshole wasn't my intention. For it, I am sorry. But we have bigger things to move onto."
"You've got that right, pal. I want you to be straight with me. I made the deal. You agreed to do one of the things I asked, and I 'entered your service'. What I wanna know, straight and clear, what did you do? And what do I have to do for you?"
"Plain and simple? There is evil in this world, Charlie. There are things that go bump in the night and stalk your people out of the dark corners of the earth."
I moved to interrupt, about to call bullshit on him, before being stopped in turn.
"Let me ask you a question, young Charlie. On those nights you were left home alone as a kid, doing chores, reading. Waiting for your parents to get home while watching your sister, did you ever feel as if you were being watched? That unease that comes when you walked outside to throw out the trash and were met with an empty street and flickering lights? You probably dismissed it as paranoia, and maybe it was. But let me tell you now, out here? Your paranoia will be very, very useful. Because things lurk in the dark here. Things people like Lovecraft would have described as 'What Man Was Not Meant to Know'. That is what we are here to face."
I was silent during his small rant, processing. Was he really fucking with me? The bastard had said it with legitimate conviction, and I wasn't quite able to suss out if he was telling the truth or not. I didn't know what to say or think, with different answers and perspectives floating about my head, telling me different things and clashing with each other.
Before I had the chance to put together a response, I felt a tingling at the back of my neck. A subtle, prickling warning bell flashed in my head, but louder still were the beating drums inside my brain. Pounding and screaming into my ears, too deafening to tell whether they were the crisp and orderly drums of an old Union infantry advance or the heavy pounding of the ancient war drums of civilizations gone by. Thumping and ticking at my skull as I nearly doubled over from the suddenness of it all.
"A sign.", War sighed simply, "The first of many we will face here is hunting us. We must leave now if we are to have hope to survive."
"We? Aren't you immortal or some fucking bullshit like that?", I groaned out in pain as I shouldered my rifle.
"Save it for later. We must go now. Out of the city. The San Gabriel Mountains should offer temporary refuge, for a little while.", he ordered quickly, my body already compelled to lurch and jog forwards down another dirty, bricked alleyway.
The San Gabriel Mountains. So we were in Los Angeles after all…wait…
"San Gabriel? That's fifty fucking miles!", I protested incredulously, yet still straining myself forwards with all my might, not caring to see who could be following at these painful moments.
"Then simply make it as far as you can. We have to make tracks out of this urban hellscape while we can. Our hunters have all-seeing eyes here, and I would not care to be caught so soon."
50 fucking miles. You're joking.
…
Sitting in a large van, the squad of Alpha-9 members assigned to contain the new humanoid had been briefing.
And here was Commander Thompson, sitting in the back, holding her carbine length 416 and attempting to get her head into the game. Not usually an issue, but this whole op didn't sit right with her. The intel was…enough to be actionable. It's not like they were blind, but other than the whole time displacement theory, they didn't know if he was some sort of reality bender or anything like that. Again, unknown other than that. No matches for identity on Foundation databases, either. A complete unknown, new. And as far as they could tell, no particular anomalous abilities.
The only thing that the Foundation tails and drones had been able to pick up on was an apparent schizophrenia diagnosis. Audio and video of him talking or mumbling to himself, though they could have been legitimately talking to someone else through some ability. But knowing this job, there was a chance whatever personalities this skip had were real beings.
Iris found herself thinking back to his photo that had been put into the briefing, captured by some unknown agent or operative of the Foundation without his knowing. A sense of familiarity stayed in the back of her mind, yet she couldn't place it. It was an unfamiliar feeling to her. And usually, when something started changing, it wasn't for the better. Not counting Last Hope and its…somewhat positive effects on her life.
She still had trouble admitting that interacting with all the other humanoids and her fellow operatives had helped her recover some of her old self, still wanting to put up that wall of stubborn bitterness. But slowly, after growing pains in Last Hope began subsiding and enough ops with Jackie, Adams, and the rest…
Yeah, maybe things had gotten better for Iris.
Turning her mind away from inner turmoil and debates, she turned to observe the other members of the small squad that had been assigned. Lieutenant Samantha Lee cradled her QBZ-95 in her small frame, paying no mind that the bumps in the road significantly jostled her and her weapon around, her large glasses askew on her face. Probably was used to her tiny build by now, same as Iris.
Seated next to Sammy (Iris was still unsure if that was her nickname in lieu of a native Chinese one or her actual legal name) was an American. A Hispanic, Jim Asher. Jim was kind of like (according to Victor, Paul, and others) like the stereotypical Call of Duty protagonist, occasionally calling him by ""RAMIREZ"", though it wasn't like Iris had ever played a Call of Duty. A former Army Ranger inducted into the Mobile Task Force after some incident, like they all usually were. She didn't actually know what that incident was, only hearing the stupid jokes that Vic or Paul made, like saying Jim had fought the Giant of Kandahar or killed a skinwalker. But again, knowing this job, one or both could be true.
Fitting with his status as "John Soldier", he wore typical US gear. The helmet, the plate carrier, the boots and gloves. He had a few patches here and there, too. Covered himself with all sorts of patriotic imagery. Though Jim probably had spent time in the sandbox, all of them had dressed for a more urban/forest environment. All of this wasn't too out of character for an MTF Operator, much less Alpha-9, and very much less a member of the appropriately named Misfits.
What was particularly different to what Iris was used to, however, were the rumors. Yes, rumors in the Foundation were super common. This guy is a cultist, this girl is a traitor selling secrets to the Chinese government, this guy is being possessed by Yevegny Prigozhin, etc.
What made these particular rumors very strange and alien to Iris was the fact that the rumor was that Jim had the teeniest crush on Miss Samantha Lee, sitting right next to Iris at this very moment. And so was he.
Iris had a boyfriend once, yes. She didn't like remembering what happened to him, and it had happened so long ago to her very first boyfriend that much of anything to do with that romantic stuff outside of movies and the occasional book left a bit of a sour taste in her mouth. So needless to say, hearing anything like this was a little jarring.
Nothing was confirmed, of course. Jim kept his cards close to his chest, only really confiding in his fellow Misfits Paul and Vic, seeing as the three were best friends. Not that Iris had really given a reason for them to open up to anything that personal. It wasn't until relatively recently that she would have particularly cared about or tolerated these rumors. Slowly and surely, Alpha-9 was becoming just a little tighter among its operatives.
It's just that it was so alien to the so-called Commander Thompson. The 6 foot Mexican-American having a little schoolyard crush on the tiny Chinese girl was funny, but the total starvation of true relationships since…Anthony had done a number on Iris. For her own protection, she preferred to ignore thinking about these rumors.
Then again, Jim seemed pretty fidgety sitting so close to Sammy. Not that she seemed to either care or notice.
And there were other tales like them she had been hearing about, particularly between Vic and Ves….
…Oh, forget it, Iris. You've got bigger fish to fry than thinking about this. Save the sappy stuff for after the anomaly is secure. That's your job, Commander Thompson. That's who you are, 105. Act like it.
There were more people in the van, including Vic and Paul, but she turned to address Sammy first.
"Lee, what's the status on the anomaly? Has his location changed at all?", Iris ordered, shaking off her previous mental conversations.
"Our man's been hoofing it like crazy. It's like he just randomly became aware of the fact he was being watched when he was doubling over in an alley. We pulled the physical tails back, and now we're drones only. But he's still running like a madman towards the San Gabriel Mountains. Around 49 miles away from his initial location, but its not far now.", Sammy responded in her accented voice, glasses still rolling and shifting on the bridge of her nose.
"His anomaly could have something to do with perception? Though that footage of him talking to himself might mean he has schizophrenia and he's just being schizo.", Jim offered to both Sam and everyone else present.
Making a 'maybe' gesture, Paul responded, "Could be. But this is the Foundation. The schizophrenia could also be a genuine part of the anomaly. A separate personality also controlling him? Or speaking to him, perhaps? Like a guide or warning bell."
Everyone seemed to consider it, comparing it to their own mental theories about what this skip will end up being.
Of course, Paul being Paul, continued with, "Or he is a schizophrenic bum in a uniform with guns. I'd be more surprised if that's all he was."
Vic smirked, clapping Paul on the back, and saying, "Thank you for the masterful hypothesis, Researcher Nemleth. You are truly the greatest mind of our generation."
In response, Paul only let his mouth move a tiny bit, curving ever so slightly into a smile. Classic Nemleth.
"Whatever he is, we'll have to watch out for any tricks he has up that bloody uniform of his. Other Agents have made assumptions and theories, and they were killed when they were wrong.", Sammy made sure to state it loud and clear. She looked down the sight of her QBZ-95, making sure it was clear. She wasn't taking any chances.
On cue, the others did the same. Vic checked over his Romanian PKM, Paul checked the magazine on his CZ BREN 2, and Jim did the same with his XM5. Iris too began doing final checks on her 416 Carbine, pushing away distracting thoughts.
As the van continued its way to the mountains, Sammy watched the drone footage of the man trying to flee their grasp. It had been a few hours, and he had ran like Hell trying to make it away to San Gabriel. Being away from the dense city would make it easier for everyone involved.
Though hoping for a swift containment, Iris was ready for whatever came next.
…
When I finally reaches the relative safety of the forested San Gabriel Mountains, the first thing I did was double over and vomit.
Disgusting, embarrassing, and I hated it. But after running about 50 fucking miles nonstop (or what felt like it) had done a number on my body. I felt delirious, and it felt like my lungs were on fire.
After walking up the first path I found, I greedily drank from my M1910 canteen, gulping down water like a madman. At that moment, kneeling in the dark and only focusing on my base instincts of needing water to live to the next day, I felt relaxed for just a moment. At that moment, I didn't think about whoever was tailing me, I didn't think about the deal I had made, I didn't give a sliver of a thought about the war, or anything. At that moment, I just listened to the chirping of crickets and owls, and stared at the sky.
What I found wasn't the stars. Not without squinting, at least. It was just black, with clouds and aircraft. It felt so alien to me. Even in the hellholes that I had once fought in, like in Iran, or the Philippines, or even China, the one common thing I took comfort in was the sight of bright stars shining down. Here, in the supposed USA that bastard had me sent to, I didn't even have that.
Fucking hell, John. What have you gotten yourself into?
"I am sorry, truly, that our partnership had to begin like this. I am, but we made a deal, and so now we are stuck together for the foreseeable future. But now, we can talk. I have no intention of leaving you like a blind child in the dark."
"A child? Really?", I grunted out, taking small steps up the path with my burning legs while I conversed with the voice in my head, "Is that what I am to you?"
"All men who have walked the corpse-strewn battlefields is a child of mine, Son of America. All soldiers, all the militiamen, all the warriors, even the ancient ones who used spear and sword. Even you.", War stated with an oddly warm, comforting tone.
I didn't want to address that so soon in my almost delirious state, so instead, I asked, "Son of America? At least you didn't call me 'Charlie' again."
"And both of them are what you are. The Last Son of America. Its last soldier holding up his flag with his own corpse, dying in its defense. Bayonet snapped, rifle cracking and smoking, and covered in the blood of the enemy you cursed and raged against until your last breath. Such acts are a reason I took interest in you.", War replied, not teasing or exaggerating. Saying these things like they were a simple fact everyone should know.
His words shut me up quick. Stunned me into silence with the sincerity of how he said it. In what crazy world am I living in when the fucking Horseman of War is more sincere in complimenting my ass than anyone I had really known.
"You don't need to reply, John. I know how you feel. I know this is all such a terrifying scenario. All your life, you had thirsted for revenge and to serve and protect what you loved most, and expected to die for it. And when I plucked you from your own death, you left everything you had truly ever known."
"...my…my home. What did you do with it? What happened to my family? My country?", I asked with a tone I could hardly recognize. Struggling to comprehend everything after my run.
"That, I cannot reveal to you quite yet. But I promise you, I did not leave things in the horrible state they were. Your family lives, albeit without their son. I hope you understand."
I felt my gut fill itself with lead, and I suppressed tears. No. You will not cry ever again, John. Never.
"...I…I understand. I do. But if I'm not dead, and I'm not at home…I want more intel. I need it if I'm going to fight 'what lies in the dark'. You're the Horseman of War, I know that. I don't wanna bother even asking what Christian group was correct, but I have to know. Is…is He real?", I asked, struggling to get the words out as my pace slowed.
"That I will not say. I have never intruded on the beliefs of my Hosts before, and you are free to believe what you are. I did not choose you for your faith. All I will say is that you will find that this world is home to things that could challenge what you believe in, and you must overcome them."
I stopped completely.
"...Is the Devil real, too?"
…
Silence. Nothing.
"...War?"
"What did you think would be one of the things that we would need to oppose?"
"….Holy mother of Go-"
"Hands on your head.", a voice interrupted from behind me.
…Fuck.
My mind shifted away from the existential thoughts and kicked into overdrive. Combat mode. Immediately, it gave me details like a well-oiled machine. Voice. Lightly accented. Vaguely Asian sounding. A light shining from behind.
"You have him?", another voice asked, though it sounded different. Must have been over a radio. Was this some sort of military, maybe?
With a gun aimed at my back, there wasn't much I could do. Raise the M16, dead. Reach for my sidearm, dead. Nor could I grab the Ithaca across my back.
Think. Think. Think, John, goddamn it.
"I've found him. Send everyone up, just in case. I'm just up the path.", the female voice ordered, sounding a little on edge.
Silence, and she addressed me again, "Hey, I said hands. Let me see hands, GI."
I slowly did as ordered, raising my hands to my helmet, slowly turning around to face my newest opponent.
Asian. Maybe Chinese or Japanese. Wide glasses, small frame. Strange rifle. Not much I could do, but the small frame might let me overpower her and either run for it or shoot her.
These thoughts were screwed as soon as I heard her friends turn up. Her flashlight was too bright to properly make them out, but there were at least around three more backing her up.
"Lee, good job. You got him. Where's Nemleth?", an accented voice asked. European. Maybe Eastern.
"I didn't catch him, but he's probably on his way. Lee, grab him, zip tie his wrists, and we exfil."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Time to get drastic.
"Copy.", the Asian, apparently a Lee, stated in a neutral tone. I saw her approach, rifle aimed at my chest. She had zip ties on her waist, in a bag. She was ready.
"Check him for ID or anything, too.", one of her companions called out.
"Check them yourself.", she snapped, briefly flicking her eyes to the side in their direction.
And in this brief moment, I struck.
While "Lee's" eyes had briefly looked away, I swatted her rifle out of her hands and pounced upon her, wrapping my arm around her throat as I turned her to face her companions. My hyperfocused brain ignored their sudden yelling as I put light pressure on her neck, hearing the drums in my head once more.
I must have looked like a madman at that moment. Bloody, bruised, sweating as I held their companion hostage. But all I cared about was getting out of this alive.
"Put her the fuck down! You're outnumbered!", one of them shouted.
I didn't say anything as I backed up with her in my grasp, her feet not touching the ground due to our height difference. Had to find a way out. Get to the treeline and run.
You could hear a pin drop if it wasn't for the crickets and the sounds of my hostage struggling.
When I had finally backed up far enough, I stopped, with all their eyes on me as I prepared to make my move.
So many eyes, guns trained on us. Gotta move fast.
Moving as quickly as I humanely could, I released Lee from my hold, and tossed her light body towards her friends. It wasn't easy due to the exhaustion and my mental state, but I tossed that tiny Chink with all my might.
Not even bothering to look whether or not if she made impact, I turned and ran into the forest.
At least, I started to before I saw a rifle stock barrel towards my face and saw stars, then darkness.
…
Darkness. Darkness and muffled noise. Light. Electric lights.
My bruised eyelids struggled to open. I saw white. So much white. A hospital, maybe? No discernible features to tell where.
My eyes hurt. My brain hurt. Hurt to think.
My ears worked. I heard beeps. Beeps, quiet conversation, and…music.
"We passed along the stair, we spoke of was and where…"
More noises. Things started to get clearer. Struggled to start moving my fingers and toes.
"Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend…which came as some surprise…"
A ceiling fan over my head. Cool air. Air conditioning?
"I spoke into his eyes….'I thought you died alone, a long long time ago…"
Things were becoming easier to hear, but the pain went away. My thoughts still brought pain.
"Oh no, not me….We never lost control…"
And that's when my hearing finally cleared up, and I heard the first words I'd ever heard at this damned Foundation.
"J has come to."
"You're face to face, with the Man Who Sold the World."
AN: Welcome to the start of the story, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, blatant MGSV reference, but come on, it's the title of the story! I had to! But in any case, I am so goddamn excited to start this multi-arc fic after all this time. Thank you for reading, stay tuned.