-The Gate-

Falmart Calendar, 1291

Captain John Mitchell

Osean/Erusian Base at the Gate

Mitchell and the rest of Basilisk just arrived back at base about an hour ago after an Patrol around the Perimeter. They had some encounters with stragglers or some lonely soles trying to salvage the bodies of the dead Vassal soldiers for anything eatable.

Walking with his Sergeant through the tent areas he noticed that they took a lot of Casualties. Most of them where arrow wounds or minor sword slashes but there also where fatally wounded soldiers. They where covered by a white blanket, after that some other guys would throw them into a bodybag and them sent them through the Gate back to their families.

"Damn... we lost a lot of guys yesterday", sighed Mitchell. Mike nodded before voicing his thoughts, "We took a heavy hit, but we're still standing, something these other assholes can't say. We pushed them back".

"Yes we did, but we also almost got pushed back. Can you even imagine what would have happened if these bastards managed to break through our last line of defense? Tyler Island still hadn't recovered from their last strike and above all, all our generals and what not are over there. This would have been a massacre and it most likely would have lead to our nation using Nuclear weapons for retaliation... good lord, poor soles never would have known what hit them". They walked in silence again.

Suddenly two Paramedics walked passed them, "Watchout!", yelled one of them as Nanz and Mitchell dodged them. On the stretcher laid one of the enemy soldiers. Though he didn't wear the armor he was used to while fighting this guys. He could remember shooting one of these bastards wearing some fancy armor but this was it. That nobel he shot had silver armor with Green markings, this guy here had Purple markings and an eyepatch.

"We should have been more prepared", Said Nanz, breaking the silence once again.

"More prepared?", asked Mitchell irritated. In his mind this was a successful operation. One where they where heavily outnumbered.

"Yeah man, i mean look, these fuckers use Bows and Arrows and we have M1 Tanks. How the fuck did we lose this many guys damnit". Nanz kicked a stone as they kept walking in silence again.

Mitchell sighed, "A bow and a Arrow can still kill you just like an M9 or MK-18. And you seem to forget, we where outnumbered like 10 to 1 or more. These guys had over 100'000 bodies and we currently have only 7000 fighting capable men and Women. And we only won this because three strikes saved our asses again".

Nanz was silent throughout the rest of the walk. On their way to their destination they passed the hastily constructed Runway, it was really just a flattened piece of land. But it was allegedly enough for an A-10 since mechanics where reassembling one.

Nanz swung his head to the fence. "Damn these engineers are working fast. They pulled up this fence in less than a day all around the Base". Mitchell nodded in silent agreement as he also looked at it. It was just a normal fence with barbed wire on top and on the bottom.

"Shouldn't we already be at the HQ?", asked Nanz out of nowhere. Mitchell looked up in horror. "You're right. Shit, they ain't going to be happy".

After an while of walking through the slowly growing base they reached the HQ. It was only a hastily constructed building. At the front door was a little sign which simply read, "McKinsey. Mitchell made the first move as he entered the building. The AC unit hummed as it pumped out cool air. Inside the little office heard screaming, McKinsey was angry.

"Sir?", Mitchell asked consciously as he poked his head through the doorway. He was greeted by an angry stare from McKinsey, he was at the phone.

"I don't give a single fuck about your orders. I have my own and I need these damned planes for fucks sake!". McKinsey stopped mid rant as he listened to the other guy at the phone. Suddenly McKinsey's face grew even redder from anger.

"You incompetent fuck! If I don't see these god for saken planes tomorrow on my Tarmac I'll have your head". With that he slammed the Phone into its main unit and them rested his face in his palms. A long sigh escaped him and he looked up again. In front of him standing where the two leaders of Basilisk Team.

"What in the name of everything that's holy do you two dorks want here?".

Mitchell resisted the urge to shoot this guy right then and there and rather resorted to words, "You called for us, Sir."McKinsey raised an eyebrow. "I did?", he asked in confusion. "Oh yes, i indeed did. Let me apologize for my bluntness, to much stuff's been going on".

Now it was Mitchell's turn to be confused. Did this guy just apologize? Either something was completely wrong or he really changed.

McKinsey picked up a piece of paper under an stack of more paper and read it out loud. "Oders from Tyler Island. Basilisk Team, an OIA agent, Sentinel team, Iron Horse-1 and a Erusian Detachment of their Royal armed forces will conduct a Reconnaissance mission in the general area. Main focus lays in bringing the Count Colt Formal safely to Itallica, rules of engagement are, kill anything trying to kill the count. Spare, i mean Thunder squadron will be on standby if CAS is needed. You will operate under the call sign, Gate Recon-6 except for Iron Horse-1. Questions?".

Mitchell took the Paper out of McKinsey's hands and read it for himself again. Then Nanz took it and read it also again for himself. "Sir, with all do respect, couldn't they just take the next Marine Battalion and escort that Count guy to his City?", McKinsey shook his head. "Sorry son, I ain't getting payed enough to ask these kinds of questions". Mitchell nodded in understanding. "When do we roll out?"

"Mission briefing is tomorrow at 09:00. Although, we still have no idea if the time progresses here the same as home". Mitchell saluted and left the tent, tailed closely by Nanz. He didn't show it but he was fuming.

-The Gate-

Falmart Calendar, 1291

Nickolas Preston, Trigger

Makeshift airfield

Hellhound, Taco and me sat on some crates, talking about our stories in the Osean federation. I learned that Taco was a Navy Pilot. At first he flew an SH-60 SeaHawk before the Drone strikes in May. After that, the Navy had a shortage of Pilots, so they took everything they got and that's how he ended up as an F-35 Pilot on a Osean Carrier.

Helmhound was an older man, he was at least in his 40s and had fought in the Circum-pacific War along side the Legendary Razgriz Squadron.

Then the two Erusians approached us. We all looked over to them and either waved or sent them a warm smile. "Mornin", greeted Hellhound in his distinct accent.

"Good morning gentlemen", Angel greeted back. He was generally a happy person, something one couldn't say about Dagger. She sent me a glare before sitting next to Angel.

Everyone was silent for a moment before Angel broke it and began talking over the worst subject he could talk about. Princess Rosa, "So... Trigger, please tell me, why do you have a Picture of our Princess with you all the time?". A knowing smirk crept over his face. The others either looked curious or suspicious at me.

"W... well f... first of all... umm... yeah it's a long story". I tried my best to deviate to another subject, but these guys kept pushing.

"Ah for fucks sake", i muttered under my breath. "Fine! Fine, i'll tell you. But you have to promise to not laugh, or kill me". I added the last part very fast and silent but William still heard it and shot me a concerned glare.

"So... as you know, I was in the 124th Tactical fighter wing, also known as the LRSSG. But I wasn't always there, in fact at, at the start of this war i was stationed at Fort Grays Island with the 508th tactical Fighter squadron, Mage", I explained everything, also the loss of Brownie, this was the part where i got a little emotional. "Well then there was this mission, I can't tell you everything but an Erusian Aircraft was spoofing our IFF signal and shot down Ex-President Harling, effectively killing him. I was blamed for it since I was the closest to his craft", the Pilots listened intently as i told my Life story, "And then I landed in the 444th Squadron. It was a Peenal unit. Only there to distract Erusian forces from the real Osean Forces. And it worked. Erusian Bombers relentlessly bombed the hell out of our base, well technically it was a prison made up to look like an Air base. We had everything from Fuel trucks which in the end where only balloons, fake aircraft and even some wooden bombers".

"How did you end up at the LRSSG?", asked Taco impatiently. "I'm getting there. So, thanks for the interruption by the way", i sent a glare towards Taco and the latte just smiled sheepishly, "We had working planes there, the base Commander, Colonel D. McKinsey sent us up into the air to make the Base look more real". After the name McKinsey dropped, the jaws of the Pilots did too. I told them about Avril and how she kept the planes we flew in a peek condition and how McKinsey would throw us into tiny cells for breaking the simplest of rules, or for doing our jobs right, or just for the heck of it.

"Then there was a Belkan guy, they called him Tabloid, so it stuck with him and i also called him that. We were cell partners and in the Air, he was my Wingman. He always had this cheesy sentence, stick with Trigger and you'll make it. I didn't like it at all but i guess he did so he kept repeating it in every sortie we did. When we where back in our cells we would bitch about the other pilots or read magazines we bought". I was dosing off as i repeated the memories with Tabloid in a cell. I missed this guy... i really did. Dagger's Question shook me out of it.

She asked consciously , "What kind of magazines?". The four male pilots had huge grins on their faces. I blushed a deep shade of red. "What?! NOOO. Not these things", the Pilots minus Dagger broke out in laughter, Dagger had just a faint smile on her face, barely noticeable but it was there.

"We read these shitty magazines with the celebrity lifestyle and shit. These thing where the only way to find out what the fuck was happening outside. And there was also the time where Tabloid found that Picture of Princess D'Elise. We both where kinda crushing on her, the guards listened to their speeches and they'd always turn up the volume so we could also listen. Then Tabloid had this "awesome" idea of cutting the picture out and handing it to me, as a lucky charm. And the rest is history".

Hellhound whistled in amazement. "Something's still bothering me though", he said and pointed his gaze at Angel. "How the bloody hell did ya find that picture of his when he had it on his persona all the time?". Angel chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, i may or may not have gone through your flight gear".

I stared in disbelief before laughing out loud. "Oh you cheeky bastard", all the other Pilots also broke out laughing.

-The Gate-

Falmart Calendar, 1291

Emperor Molt Sol Augustus

Falmart, Sadera

Molt was a Busy man. Ordering his subordinates, signing letters, making laws and all the other shenanigans. Of course he had the senate, they'd take a huge bulk of his work but these guys all where rich nobles taken into the senate because they either had ungodly amounts of riches or they where close with Molt.

This particular day started out pretty normal. A bath after waking up, eating breakfast, listening to the complains of the Saderans, meetings with nobles and Vassal kingdoms. Then his day made a complete 180 when Herm Fuel Mayo burst into the royal throne room. Molt was startled when the door was thrown open. "Mi Lord!". Herm was panting heavily, he looked like he ran the whole distance from the Gate to Sadera.

"Herm... shouldn't you be, i don't know... at the Gate?". Asked Molt. His day maybe will get exciting after all. "Your majesty... please forgive me... we failed the conquest...". Herm gulped as he breathed loudly.

Molt of course knew of the crippling defeat but decided to play along, just for fun. He wanted to see where this leads "No, this cannot be. The Saderan Forces are unmatched!", Molt responded, dramatically standing from his throne. In an attempt to please his Emperor and save his own skin, Herm blamed Colt.

"I know your majesty. It wasn't that we weren't good enough. It was Count Colt Formal. He betrayed us". Molt perked up at this. He knew Colt, they where friends and he never would have thought that Colt would betray him and he kept to this believe. Just as he wanted to yell at Herm, the heavy doors opened for second time.

"Father!". The booming voice could be heard through the whole palace. A red headed young woman in her early 20s entered the throne room. She had a full set of Knight armor on and marched furiously towards Molt.

"Aahh, Princess Piña". Molt said with a Smile. She kneeled in front of him. "Father, I heard about the situation at the Gate. I want to help", she stated defiantly.

Herm looked at her in disbelief. "Princess, you can't be-", he was cut off by a harsh slap to the face. The clapping sound rang out throughout the whole chamber. Guards faltered in their stature. "Was i talking to you?!", Piña asked furiously. Herm held the spot where Piña's hand made contact with his cheek. He looked down ashamed and angered. "No.", he muttered under his breath. Molt had an impressed look as he continuously nodded.

"I will grant your wish daughter. Take your Rose order and go to Itallica and provide security for the local population". Piña had a saddened face expression. "But father... wait, did you say...".

"Yes daughter, or is that Rose Order of yours just another game to pass time?". Piña shook her head furiously.

"N... No no, of course not. I'll do it. We will go right now".

A/N:

I try and answer all Reviews in my Authors notes.

Reviews:

Guest- I'm really enjoying writing this so no I won't abandon this (I hope)

Guest- yeah Unfortunately it got discontinued

CyberHawk- Thanks mate. I've seen only one fic which used this concept but it sadly got Discontinued