Operation Black Dawn
Mission 2 - Italy
September 29, 1995.
Two months before the First Tiberium War
"Move towards more ideas that can... uh... bring this thing to an end."
- Anon. Commentator
PFC. Alvin S. Payne [Organization of American States - United States Army] - Camp Tiber - Dated September 29, 1995.
Sixty minutes before mass Disappearances of GDI and Nod Forces in Italy
I walked past some more NCID victims, helmet still pushed down to half-blind me. What I could hear around me caused my heart to tighten. Tightening the strap on my helmet and continuing to push it down until I could barely see, I tried my best not to look at the evils of the world. After all, what you can't see can't hurt you.
Even if what you can't see is NCID victims.
Back during my first days in the camp, NCID wasn't a thing or a concern, at least, from my perspective. Though more and more cases have begun to pile up and claim more lives in the process. And that was before it even started striking the camp proper.
First, it came for villages, then it came for the rivers, which is what got us involved. The detente following the Meteor strike got us united, if only just so we could prevent the meteor from totally destroying our environment.
Christ, what more problems can a single fucking meteor give to the combined forces of the United Nations and the Brotherhood? Too many to count?
I took a sneak peek my lifting my helmet for a moment, only to shove it back down, flinching at the sight of some of the victims.
Me and the Noddie were voluntold by our squad's captain to be assistants to a Red Cross Doctor who was good at this kind of stuff. Unfortunately, our captain couldn't have picked two people worse at this job than us. We had just gotten our lunchbreak after being lectured on NCID. Hell, we weren't prepared to see this kind of shit.
I swear I heard the Noddie gag, but I didn't want to lift my helmet to see it. After all - see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil.
The ER was filled with multinational staff. Multiorganizational staff too.
Most of the ER staff, humanitarian workers and doctors, were affiliated with the Red Cross or Red Crescent, some were from 'Doctors without Borders', an international medical NGO, some were from the Dutch-turned-worldwide International Development Aid Project, or IDAP. And others were from the Chinese Shanghai Humanitarian Relief Force, or SHRF.
All of them wore gas masks, probably to protect from NCID.
Lifting our helmets up to see where we were going, I and the Noddie glanced at one of the first patients we saw. They appeared to be a GDI soldier, given the uniform, the markings, and the fact that their rifle was nearby, presumably unloaded. Said gun was an M3 Eliminator* assault rifle. GDI-standard issue rifle.
I walked by an active surgery as I and the Nod soldier continued trying to find Dr. Lars. From what I could gather from glancing at them, the scene was something out of a science-fiction horror film.
I worked with other patients in the camp's E.R., and frankly it disturbed me. Whenever we had to amputate someone, I saw what NCID could do to their internal organs. Bits of flesh, bone, and nerve had green crystals jutting out of them. I got an X-Ray of one patient, and found out that a particularly bad crystal had been lodged in his bone and was piercing his nerves and skin.
It reminded me of this old 1950s movie I watched. The Stuff it was called, featuring an alien substance that replaced the internals of those afflicted by it. I saw it as a funny movie when I was younger, but now...
It's just in poor taste.
The Noddie accompanying me was doing his best to stop himself from vomiting in the middle of the ER, which was a goddamn high-effort task if he was to be completely honest. Any sane person would just spill their lunch at the sight of this.
From their actual intestines, by the way, not the crystal thing which replaces it.
The Noddie and I eventually take a left turn into a crowded part of the ER. Normally, it wouldn't be this crowded, but if I had to guess, it was all hands on deck for some severe infections. No problem. I could weave around the Doctors and their equipment. Even if it would take me some time and would slow me to a crawl.
I swerve around a medical tray and find myself face-to-face with a doctor and his assistants treating an NCID-infected OAS* Riot Control officer.
"No use, the Crystal's completely covered his arm." I hear from one of the Doctors, shaking his head.
"No shit," Another one says, "The problem is - his arm was crystallized rapidly," He mutters. "Too rapid for us to even try to amputate the original infection point."
I wanted to point out that that'd disable him, but at the same time, to be fair on him, NCID was a very volatile disease. One infection, and you've pretty much doomed yourself and the soil underneath you to a slow, painful demise via crystallization.
"Damnit..." Another staff assistant interjected, hands covering his face in disappointment. He looked at the Doctor, who nodded. "Alright. Get ready for amputation," He barked hesitantly, the other assistants nodding.
I sighed, finally ending my weaving and got around the equipment. The Noddie did the same, but I could see his disgust as he weaved past them. We both glanced at each other then continued heading on..
The both of us approached Doctor Lars' room in ER, and opened the door. Greeting us was Dr. Lars in a thinking pose as he stood over a patient. He grabbed the both of us because the ER was running out of free staff, and there wouldn't be more doctors or nurses shifted in, so they had to fill in with soldiers. Hence, both I and the Noddie.
"Hey, Doc," I greeted, giving him a V-for-victory sign. "Whaddo we have today?" I asked, glancing at the patient. They appeared to be a Belgrade Treaty Organization* CBRN responder, albeit one heavily afflicted by NCID. Their right leg had a hole in it, and they looked to be constantly short on breath.
"BTO Medic. Suit got punctured when she crouched down to retrieve some important data and got a crystal lodged in her leg," Lars said, putting gloves on his hands, before affixing the gas mask onto his face. He pointed at two gas masks on his medical equipment tray, then back at the two of us. "You two. Put on your masks. I don't want to risk NCID infection to my only nurses."
"Roger," I nod, grabbing a mask, taking off my helmet to affix it to my face. The Noddie did so as well. The mask felt very stuffy, but given that it had two filters to extensively filter out contamination, it was understandable. When I glanced at the BTO CBRN responder, she looked to be in massive pain, with short breaths and her clutching her leg. Doctor Lars cut open the part of the suit that got punctured, revealing a patch of skin that was crystallized. It had been inflamed, giving it a bright red color. And pus was oozing out of her pores.
I felt sick looking at it.
Lars pinched it, and reeled back when the BTO Medic thrashed out because of the pain. From what I could hear, she started swearing in Yugoslav. I winced, but Doctor Lars continued. He took out a scalpel and started cutting through the part of the leg that was oozing pus out. The Medic thrashed and tried to roll around, but the Doctor continued.
"No good, the anesthesia's diluted," He mumbled, before turning to me. "Fetch me the anesthesia, will you? They're the syringes in the gray box." Lars said, glancing at the BTO Medic. I nodded and turned back, looking at the medical equipment tray. A gray box lied there, opened. I opened it and took a syringe out of the box and gave it to the doctor. The doctor injected it into the leg, as the Medic continued to panic and hyperventilate.
If I had to guess, the Crystal was putting pressure on her leg, causing immense pain - and the virus itself caused the immune system to respond violently. I grimaced. One could survive a bullet to the head, and one could survive falling down the stairs with a broken neck. Yet, when faced with an alien infection like this, the pain is too much.
Having survived a bullet to the brain more than once in Panama, I can attest to the irony being valid.
As the Medic calmed down and stopped hyperventilating, Lars looked at her. "Close your eyes and count sheep. Trust me, it'll keep your sanity in check," He says, before turning back to operating on the leg. "Alright. Begin operation."
He began cutting deeper through the leg, revealing that the epidermis and the other layers of skin had been infected and inflamed. "Retractor," He stated. Passing him a clamp, I looked back at the Noddie. He was holding down the infected leg, ensuring that no sudden movements would tear off something important. The Doctor glanced back at me. "Suction tool," he continued, sucking up the abscess fluid inside. "Forceps," He requested, with me handing him the forceps. "Alright. Now give me a minute. I'll ask for tools when I need them."
I nodded and took a minute to step back as the doctor continued to operate, only needing my assistance when absolutely necessary. While taking a moment to breathe, I glanced at the Noddie, who was still holding the leg down. Despite working together for at least two surgeries, I never bothered to learn his name. It was time to ask the million-dollar question, I supposed. Gathering the strength, I inhaled.
"So, mister Noddie..." I say, getting ready to ask the million-dollar question that I forgot to ask every single time I work with him. "What's your name?" That question must've made him think for a bit, as he turned his head down without doing anything. Though, he turned his head back up.
Looks like he was going to answer my question.
Pvt. Andrus J. Harma [Belgrade Treaty Organization - Estonian Armed Forces] - Camp Tiber - Dated September 29, 1995
Sixty minutes before the mass Disappearances of GDI and Nod Forces in Italy.
Hesitantly, I answered the man's question about my name.
"Andrus Harma. Estonian Army." I answered the American, who was surprisingly friendly with a soldier like me.
If I were to be honest, I would've just answered with the following facts: My name is Andrus Joosep Harma, I am 21 years old, currently living in Estonia, serving in the Estonian Army, but I wouldn't.
For one, that just felt like I was referencing something stupidly over-the-top, and the other, I just didn't like revealing much about my personal life.
He nodded, and extended his hand out for a handshake. Bemused, I took it. Even if I was slightly confused and somewhat miffed.
Weren't GDI imperialists who sought to subjugate my Baltic homeland?
Well, surprisingly, no. But I knew that already. They were people, like me, and good people at that.
"Ah, the Baltics, having fun working under Nod?" The American says, almost as if he wanted to irritate me with that statement. A part of me said it was harmless - yet another part of me took that personally. Our nation just recovered from Jugashvilli's genocidal policies, mind.
"You're going to have to try a better insult to my nationality, American. I'm used to this job." I respond, almost as if I wanted to strike back with that American sarcasm fitted right into it. To my surprise, he shook his head and looked a little offended, even under the gas mask.
"No, that was a genuine question, how's it actually like over there in Estonia?" The American asked me. "Sorry if I poked a hole, I just haven't actually interacted with someone from Nod before this camp and our short-staffing of medical personnel." He conceded. I felt a little embarrassed. Interpreting a genuine question as a sarcastic quip was not something I wanted to do.
I sheepishly replied. "Well," I scratch the back of my helmet with my other arm. "I've just had my fair share of ire. Mostly for being a part of Nod, as Estonia's with the BTO."
So, yeah, the American knows why I don't like talking about my nationality.
The Baltics have always been the subject of debates that have been considered too hot for most people to comprehend. Primarily due to Nod's hold there. In the long-term game of geopolitics, it's a little understandable, but still - I don't deserve the Estophobia.
We Eastern Europeans just barely made it out of Jugashvilli's insanity.
"Well, buddy, just know that I don't actually give a fuck," He states, patting me by the shoulder with his right hand and passing a surgical tool to the doctor with his left hand. "You're the first Noddie I've ever spoken to. I don't mean any harm in that. It's just that... well, you're Nod, after all." He says, extending his right hand towards me.
"I've actually been interested in seeing what Nod was like, aside from the stereotypical cultist shit," He notes, before I grab his extended right hand and shook it. "By the way, the name's Payne. Alvin Payne." Well, that's a thawing start. I noticed that ever since the camp had been opened, internal relations between the soldiers - and some officers, mind you - between GDI and Nod thawed, causing a sort of 'Second Christmas Truce' in spirit.
GDI and Nod soldiers playing sports, chatting, and expressing shared experiences was still common. Not that it stopped the most fanatical though, as there were GDI-aligned paramilitaries in the camp that had brawls with similarly fanatical Nod-aligned paramilitaries. In some cases, some particularly religious Nod officers clashed with GDI officers.
It was a quick thaw, but it didn't thaw everything completely yet.
"You know, if there's one thing I enjoy doing, it's studying the perspective of people that I mostly egg on." Hah. I know the spirit behind that statement. That's an interesting way of saying 'I like psychoanalyzing people', you know.
The Doctor asked for a forceps, interrupting our conversation a little. He also ordered me to hold onto the leg tighter, which I obliged. The good Doctor managed to take something out, much to my surprise. It was the bloodied crystal that had penetrated the poor Medic's leg. Immediately after grabbing it with forceps, he tossed it into the bin.
"Stimulant, they're in the blue box." He asked. Payne opened the blue box on the medical equipment tray, and got out a syringe. Nodding, the Doctor then asked for a stapler. Immediately Payne grabbed the stapler and handed it to the doctor. Lars pressed the staple against the medic's leg, stapling the crystal puncture wound and the incisions he made to purge the infected pus. Then after it was stapled shut, he injected the syringe into the leg. Immediately, the stapled wounds began to heal, and soon the wound was covered.
"Alright," Lars sighed in relief. "You're free to go." He addressed the Medic, who gratefully nodded and stood up, before discarding her broken hazmat suit by unzipping it and throwing it off. Underneath that was a fair-looking medical officer with slick, black hair dressed in the Yugoslav People's Army uniform. On her right shoulder, I could see the Yugoslav tricolor with red-white-blue, with a red star in the middle. As for PPE, she wore a medical helmet with the Red Cross on it, and a gas mask.
"Thank you, GDI," she said. "The Yugoslav nation salutes you."
"No problem," Doctor Lars replied, bowing. "You take care now."
Nodding, she turned and left. Turning to the Doctor, I was a little flushed, but decided to ask something. "Hey, Doc? Who was that?"
"Oh, the leader of the BTO's CBRN and Medical division sent here, and kind of a global phenomenon. She was part of the original expedition that discovered Tiberium after the incident at the Riverbed. Became a sensation on TV after she visited a TV show after GDI and Nod signed the treaty of non-aggression, alongside Doctor Ignatio Mobius."
"Huh," I noted. Never heard of her before, but that was alright. "What's her name?"
"Doctor Radivojević. Yugoslav People's Army."
"She single, or?" I asked.
"Single indeed. Try to hit on her if you dare, but I won't help you if you're dissected," Lars deadpanned. "But anyway, you're both free to go. But keep your gas masks with you, please. I might need you two if I get another patient. Alright?"
"Got it, Doc." Payne said.
"Mhm. Roger that." I responded.
"Now, go." Lars said, waving us off.
Turning around, I marched outside the door to Lars' room and weaved through the rest of the ER. I had to admit, Lars being the most experienced IDAP doctor in the camp made him powerful enough to have his own room for surgery, while the ER was a cramped military hospital. Though weaving through the equipment and patients again did not feel comfortable.
As soon as we made it out of the ER and back into the cafeteria, we turned left to look at vending machines, as I was basically starving. Time to buy snacks. I took out a credit strip and pressed it against the scanner on the vending machine. It registered the amount of money I had, which was a whooping seventy credits. Usually, my salary was ten, but working with Lars added a bonus. For each surgery, I got twenty. And having done three, I got sixty out of it.
Smiling, I picked four bags of beef jerky, two bags of chips, and a pack of biscuits. All of which cost me four credits and sixty cents. Payne smiled. "We're eatin' good today," he mumbled. "Let's go sit down."
After we sat down, I tore into a beef jerky bag first, taking off my gas mask and helmet to enjoy my meal. The savory and salty, dry beef jerky taste was a calming relief to watching NCID whittle away at our troops. Food manufacturing was pretty simple around these parts, where a Mobile Construction Vehicle would simply plop down an industrial farm, either make crops or manufacture meat, and then process it. With an overabundance of food, world hunger became a slow non-issue as everyone adopted this method.
Though while it made the importance of crops and cattle go down, it made the importance of raw materials go up. Skirmishes over ore were once the norm during the Ore Crisis* of the 1960s and 1970s, where GDI and Nod battled for total control of the Middle East and its raw materials. Specifically, Ore, Oil, and Gems. When Nod won out the Ore Crisis, it seemed like they were going to have a stranglehold on trade.
At least until India and Pakistan joined forces to shut down Arabian oil trade, turning the Persian Gulf into a death zone for traders. Then Egypt - having survived an invasion by its Muslim neighbors - shut down the Red Sea, halting Arabian oil trade for good. Though the Ore trade was not halted, but what mattered more was stopping oil from being delivered.
When I finished the last beef strip from the jerky bag, I looked at Payne who looked pretty content. We still had a lot more snacks to burn through, but nevertheless, it was time to do something else. Probably eat snacks along the way too.
"So, what do you want to do now?" I ask, bored. Not going to lie, but I just wanted to help connect to my co-worker slash new friend, I suppose.
We were just two men with nothing better to do in life.
"Well, do you want to talk about military equipment?" Oh, of course the American asks if I want to go see military equipment being produced and manufactured.
I've never been a fan of America's continual monopoly in the arms industry, making most of the profits from it. If memory serves me correct, America made up to 2 billion a year selling weapons. On one hand, they were greedy. But on the other hand, they gave GDI its STANAG, which ensured smoother supply - to some extent. Unlike Nod which was a sparse mess of logistics, only helped by the fact that we could produce ammunition en masse.
Eh, screw it, not much better to do anyway. I'll take Payne up on his offer.
"Sure, go ahead." I shrugged as soon as those words were uttered.
The American stood up first, grabbing some of the snacks that he could carry and walked out of the door towards the production arm of the factory. I followed him, walking briskly, the M16A2s* with us providing enough conversation fuel.
"So, any gripes with the M16A2?" I asked. Hearing that, Payne shrugged in response.
"Not really severe, but," He noted. "My primary concern is the magazine size. The M3 Eliminator has a hundred rounds in each cylinder magazine. 5.56mm. The M16A2, on the other hand, has a meager thirty. Not exactly good if I want to sustain fire, but I digress," He mutters. "I do have one positive though. The M16A2 can fit a bayonet on it. The M3? Not so much."
I nodded. The M16A2 was indeed an aging gun, and this showed it best.
When we found somewhere to sit down, I watched Payne jump there and immediately sit down, only to yelp in surprise. "There's grass in my ass!" he shouted, patting his rear end. When he finally recovered, he crossed his legs and sat with binoculars in his hands, ready to sightsee military equipment.
I followed him, slowly lowering myself, with my legs facing forward, and my upper body leaning forward. We were positioned at a flat, small area facing the 'Industrial Sector' of the camp, where rifles, vehicles, aircraft, and such would be manufactured.
When we were there, we didn't exactly find any equipment to talk about yet, much to my own surprise. So, Payne's just there, sitting down with his binoculars and rifle, looking at the industrial sector. Eventually, he glances at me and speaks.
"So, Harma. Tell me more about yourself. You got any interesting stories to tell?" Payne asked me. Thinking about it, I was rapidly looking through my memories to find something of worth. Well, actually, I do have a lot of things to talk about, so...
"Well, did I ever tell you the story of how someone tried to blow up my old school back in Estonia?" I began, before continuing on about this hilariously absurd experience.
"So, back when I was about 14 or so, there was an incident revolving around someone getting fed up with my school and attempting to blow it up."
Oh, looks like Payne was already getting excited about hearing this.
"Go on." was all he said before I continued again.
"So during that time period, there was a severe decrease in quality of food," I swallowed, awaiting my breath. "And instead of lodging a complaint or feedback form, he threatened to blow it up."
Payne looked at me as if I said something dumb. "What?"
I shrugged and shook my head. "Yeah."
"What the fuck?" Payne muttered. Shrugging, I continued.
"So, this guy, instead of complaining about it like any normal person would do, decided to plot a terrorist attack and all that. He had plans, blueprints, targets, and even wrote an essay on why he'd be bombing the cafeteria specifically, his plan was something born out of spite and hatred for simple things such as food quality, though that's not the worst part." I continued, laughing a little.
"Nonono, the worst part - which is actually the funniest - is how his plan catastrophically failed. It crumbled down because... some teacher happened to stumble upon him recording his motives, you know, explanations and threats, all that stuff." I snorted at that, with Payne looking at me dumbfounded.
"He was immediately detained by the school and sent to the authorities, and the school found that he had gotten himself a bit of fertilizer, you know, for IEDs and such." I finished relaying this absurd story to Payne, who simply smiled and shook his head.
"Man, what the hell happens over there in Estonia?" He asks, laughing. Sure, this would've been a hard subject to touch had it succeeded, but the fact that all it took was a teacher to uncover a plot to bomb the school all because of food? Come on, really?
"Well, a lot of shit. For example, my Dad's an ultranationalist and a hardline one at that. But he's also the reason I enjoy video games, as he lent me a copy of his favorite video game, I think it was 'Division of Courage', a WW2 strategy game."
Payne took a moment to relay his surprised expression to me. "DoC? I actually love that game. Dude, do you know how fun it is playing Allies and spamming nothing but Rifle Infantry? The M16s absolutely shred anything that gets too close to them, Christ."
Oh, looks like Payne was a rifle infantry spammer too, fun.
I got a chuckle knowing that I wasn't alone in the field of spamming infantry like there's no tomorrow.
"Could you tell me more? I'm actually pretty interested." Payne asked.
I was about to answer 'yes', but then I saw something that caught my eye. Over down in the industrial section, the War Factories were being fired up, as there was a reflection of yellow-colored light from the windows.
"Payne, look," I said, pointing it out. "There's a vehicle being produced at the War Factory!" And the moment I said those words, Payne pulled up his binoculars and took a good look.
"Mammoth tank, most likely. I can see a big turret being fit into something."
"Ah... A Mammoth..." I sheepishly answered. He looked surprised, but then his face twisted into horror as he realized what that meant. Yeah. That may have just brought back some uncomfortable feelings about the Second World War. But it wasn't Payne's fault, so I couldn't really... you know, blame him.
As I said that, I hear the whirr of several helicopters. I turn my attention away from the War Factory to take a look at where the whirr came from, and upon seeing it, I widened my eyes with the glee of a child.
The source was something that brought me national pride, or, in other words, it was an AH-64D Longbow squad.
Long-since outdated by 1995 standards, but damn me if I said that it wasn't effective. They were flying back into the base, and all of them were equipped with the standard Apache loadout.
A 20mm Autocannon on the bottom of the nose, scanning the area.
Accompanying those were the Apache's signature AGM-114 Hellfire Missiles. On the wingtips, were AIM-9X Sidewinders, short-range missiles that were effective en masse. On the top was its iconic radar, which distinguished it from the older AH-64C Crossbow in service during the Japanese-American War.*
And as soon as the Apaches disappear from my sight, what replaces it is also another fantastic display.
Though it's not from Nod, or the Estonian military, it does deserve to be noted down.
The sight in front of me after the Apaches had long left was the sight of American F-35 Orca* fighters. The F-35 was a program that, while costly, was worth it for the American Air Force. It entered service with the GDI some time ago and proved to be America's top product.
The F-35 is equipped with a 30mm autocannon that's iconic for the sound it makes, which sounds a lot like 'brrt' or something along those lines.
It's also equipped with MPM-71 TOWs, capable of targeting both ground and air targets, and has enough speed to take on fighter jets. It also came with the option to ditch its wires and turn it into a regular radar-guided multipurpose missile.
And, after I finish looking at the aircraft, Payne grabs my arm and yanks it, sending me flying a little as he turned me around.
"It's here!" He says as the door of the War Factory slowly opens, revealing that, indeed, it was a Mammoth tank—a lumbering beast of superior firepower and Soviet engineering. I've never really been a fan of the Mammoth but I definitely understand its appeal, even if I think its use by the Soviets just solidifies how much I dislike it.
The Mammoth was equipped with two 150mm cannons, a step-up from the original Soviet 140mm cannons. Like all tanks, they were loaded with APDS or HE rounds. HE for taking out buildings, and APDS for taking out tanks. It was also equipped with two missile pods containing heat-seeking missiles. And up top in the commander's section was an automated machine gun.
It had a crew of six. Two loaders for each main gun and missile pod, one gunner who controlled each gun, a mechanic as a fail-safe repair system a commander, and the driver. As for engines, it operated using a hybrid engine, like most GDI vehicles. Except rather than being regular fuel and electricity, it operated off a small nuclear reactor with electricity as a backup.
It also came with an automated repair system. But if that fails, the mechanic is there to ensure the tank remains operational.
After witnessing those military vehicles, I and Payne snapped back to reality. Glancing at each other, we went back to sharing stories about our lives. But while talking, we heard a PA address us directly by name, requesting our presence with Doctor Lars Alexanders in the ER. Sighing, I shook my head and continued to stare at the War Factory, waiting for Payne to say something.
And say something he did. "Well, crap." Payne said.
I couldn't help but agree. Rolling my eyes and pointing my thumb at the Cafeteria, I spoke. "Let's go. They'll be angry if we're late, so just shut up and go." I said. Payne stood up, and without hesitating or even contemplating, simply nodded, an unspoken 'yeah' transmitted between both of us.
I stood up, extending my hand towards Payne, who returned the favor, and shook it. "Well, glad we got to talk, mister Alvin Payne." I said, emphasizing the mister part.
"Same here, sir Andrus Harma." he returned the favor, emphasizing the sir part. We both looked at the cafeteria again.
"Let's get to work."
I mean, come on, it's not like our work was going to be that difficult. Right?
Thirty Minutes Later
PFC. Alvin S. Payne [Organization of American States - United States Army] - Camp Tiber - Dated September 29, 1995
Thirty Minutes before mass Disappearances of GDI and Nod Forces in Italy
"How many minutes does he have left, Doc?!" I asked, trying my best to keep an NCID patient alive. We got called in for a patient who got infected with NCID after a freak lightning storm took out their helicopter doing supply runs. The patient was an OAS Chinook pilot, and he had fallen out of his helicopter after lightning struck it.
When he fell, his arm landed directly on an NCID spike. He spent the next 36 hours infected until he was recovered by GDI and Nod Military Police. And unfortunately, by then NCID had metastasized into his bones, causing a nearly lethal infection that included the bone and bone marrow.
"Only a few if we aren't fast enough!" Doctor Lars responded, quickly injecting the patient with another batch of Anesthesia as he screamed in agony. Off to my right, Harma was helping by fiddling through medical supplies trying to find Morphine and a bonesaw.
"Bonesaw!" Doctor Lars shouted, with Harma handing him said bonesaw. Almost instantly he opened the metastasized lower arm, revealing that the inner marrow, the veins, and the muscle were beginning to crystallize. Almost like a twisted form of cancer, it began attacking the flesh aggressively and causing massive internal bleeding. Immediately, he hacked it off with the bonesaw, stopping the crystallization from reaching his upper arm. Immediately, the patient screamed in intense agony. The anesthesia was wearing off.
Lars glanced back at Harma. "Hand me the morphine!" He shouted, taking a morphine autoinjector from Harma and jabbing it into his back. Immediately the patient returned to normal - but labored - breathing. "Bandages!" He shouted, as Harma passed Lars a roll of bandages. Wrapping the upper arm in it, he then looked back at Harma one more time. "Stapler!"
He stapled the bandages together, sighing in relief. He turned to look back at Harma one more time. "Alright. He'll live. Now, hand me a Stimmy." He ordered, nodding as Harma handed him a stimulant autoinjector, and injected the patient with one.
Once injected, they would stimulate and accelerate human regeneration and flesh growth, almost like a reverse-cancer. That being said, there were costlier variants with higher regeneration retention. Or, basically, the more expensive the regenerative stimulator, the longer it lasts. There's one exclusively developed for soldiers that guarantees one-year regeneration.
Not surprisingly, both GDI and Nod use them.
Lars looked at the patient. "Alright. You're free to go," He said. "You're saved from death, not sure about your arm, but... still, you can file a requesition form for a robotic arm."
"Thank you," the Patient mumbled, shaky but alive. "I'll... God, I'll be sure to wear better armor next time." He got up from the bed and hobbled out of Doctor Lars' room.
As soon as he got out, Lars shook his head. "We saved him from death, but I can't say the same about his arm," Lars said, glancing towards the infected arm. "Get the Chem team in," Lars ordered. "I want that arm disposed of in the pile."
"Roger that," I said, pulling up my radio. "HQ, this is Private First Class Alvin Payne, requesting a Chemical Treatment Team at Doctor Lars' office in the Emergency Room. I repeat, I am requesting a Chemical Treatment Team at Doctor Lars' office. Confirm, over?"
"Confirmed. Chemical Team dispatched, expect them in a minute, Private. Out."
Putting my radio down, I looked at the infected arm. It was pretty horrible to see the crystals prodding and poking out of it. It must have hurt like a bitch with all the sharp edges. Now, at least there were robotic arms in case NCID patients lost their arms. Originally those were made for Soviet Cyborgs, but after the UN internal ban on Cyborgs - with the Russkies exempted - the cyborg arms found new life in treating amputees and allowing them to recover their old life.
Amazingly, they're produced at camp. As Lars said, you could file a requisition form for one. Though unlike things such as toilet paper - which didn't need a requisition form - you'd need to send the form to HQ, just so people don't get robo-arms willy nilly.
I snapped my head to the door as it opened. And immediately coming in were the CBRN Team. With Chemical Specialists coming in either yellow hazmat suits or gray hazmat suits. Those in yellow belonged to the United Nations, or more accurately its supranational extragovernmental paramilitary, the Global Defense Initiative. While those in gray belonged to the Brotherhood of Nod, and its de facto military arm, the Acolytes of Kane.
I sighed, knowing that this was going to be tiring.
In the two days that had followed, I and Harma becoming pretty good friends and experienced nurses. But at the same time, NCID infections had spiked.
Hard.
We had received ten infections out of the remaining 10,000 personnel this week, military and humanitarian, stationed at Camp Tiber. Out of those ten infections, four did not make it alive, and had to be disposed in a mass grave dug for these people, aptly known as 'The Pile'.
It was located a kilometer away from the camp, for ease of transportation. That being said, there were worries of NCID spreading to the soil, so we were scheduled to remove the bodies and burn them in a week.
Looking at the infected arm, I wondered if we really did have a week left before NCID would spread like wildfire. Tiberium was suspected to be the vector, but nobody - not even Nod - could find the proper vector for it. Not yet at least.
Glancing at Lars, I shook my head in frustration. "Christ, that the last case, Doc?" I asked Lars, who nodded his head, and while he couldn't see it, based on his tone he definitely had a pensive expression on his face.
"Yes, and fortunately, one of the ones with more chances of surviving." Lars took a deep breath and sighed. "I don't understand what the purpose of 'The Pile' is, if NCID is capable of crystallizing materials, what's not to say it can crystallize the soil, and put us in danger?" Lars asked, putting away the bloody bonesaw. He glanced back at the arm. "Hell, I don't even want this thing in my office."
I looked back at it and glanced my eyes back to Doctor Lars.
Questioning, I raised my hand. "Doc, where did NCID come from anyway?" I ask, it'd normally sound dumb for me to ask stuff like this, but now that I'm with an actual doctor who was involved with NCID research, then maybe I might have some knowledge. I could also ask the Serb doctor who was here earlier.
Sighing, Lars rubbed his head and spoke. "NCID as a disease originated from Ground Zero," He explained. "In the Tiber River a while after Tiberium was discovered. Supposedly, a large batch of crystal samples being transported out of the riverbed by Nod suddenly exploded. Apparently, they were carrying a lot of liquid samples, which was reportedly volatile," He took a moment to breathe in and out. "It then spread through Europe, and primarily affected areas with poor venting and air quality. And hence, our current problem. It just occurred concurrent with the Centralization Riots too, so that's just our luck."
After the explanation, I just sat there, contemplating my life decisions. If we were going to meet our end, it'd be because Aliens wanted to fuck us in the middle of our worst riots yet.
"Fucking hell..." I said, just as the CBRN team finished up their work. Zip-tying the infected arm into a body bag, they nodded toward Doctor Lars before quickly making their way out. Glancing at them, I noticed that the Nod ones had rifles with them while the GDI ones just had body armor and helmets. Glancing at Harma, I nudged his shoulder.
"Harma, ever wonder why the Noddie NBCs always have their M16s outside of the suit?" I ask out of nowhere to break the silence.
"No idea, all I know is that most of the CBRN units come from either Latvia or Yugoslavia, that's literally it. The ones we had were Yugo and Latvian." Harma replies, packing up and sterilizing the medical supplies for Doctor Lars. Once they were sterilized and packed back up, Doctor Lars nods and takes the cart with them.
"You're all free to go. Shift's ending right now." He says, before I nod and walk away from his room with Harma. Weaving through the emptier ER, I sighed in relief as less people got infected. Though that might have something to do with the camp being put on Operational Threat Level two, compared to the previous OTL 1, which was a less intense readiness protocol.
As I get out of the ER, I take off my gas mask, allowing me to breathe yet again. Breathing in deeply, I exhaled just as deeply, smiling as I recovered. "Fresh air-" I say, before I cough. Sometimes your throat itches at the worst time possible, and this is one of the moments where it's the worst possible time to have an itchy throat.
"Auhg, sorry." I say to myself, coughing and hacking a bit more before it finally stopped. Embarassed, I glanced at Harma, who more or less seemed to just be bemused. Re-focusing on the day, I looked at Harma. "Wanna sit down and talk about things?" I asked, before Harma replied with a nod. Nearby, I found a chair and sat down, observing the sky.
The sky was my best friend sometimes, well, besides Harma.
Staring up, I reflected back on my deployment. Becoming ersatz nurses despite not actually graduating from medical school and opting to a Medic was something I wouldn't picture myself doing, yet I did it. And meeting someone from Nod and successfully befriending them? Alien under normal circumstances, but because of NCID, we had something in common.
While staring though, I squinted as I realized that the weather was suddenly becoming less bright. I would have just chalked it up to the weather, only for the clouds to rapidly darken. I frowned, positioning myself normally and glanced back to Harma. "You see this shit?" I asked, with Harma staring back at the sky.
"Yeah. I didn't know that the skies could do that in Italy," Harma quipped. "Where the hell is the rain though?" He asked. Just as soon as he said that however, the sky shifted and rain poured down on Harma. Grouchily, he stared at me and shook his head. "Nevermind."
Standing up, I looked to the right and saw an F-35 touching down on a helipad, before the Helipad retracted the vehicle down to the storage area underground. Seems like the aircraft were getting grounded for fear of lightning strikes. They called this an, ah, Ion Storm? Where Tiberium concentration would cause massive sudden storms to appear. Though this time it seemed to be more rain. I took off my helmet, put the gas mask back on, and put the helmet back on.
Better safe from the Ion Storms than sorry.
Preparing to get up, I glance at Harma, about to speak-
Two GDI Engineers ran to my side, with one tripping and falling into the mud. I help him up, only for him to push me off. Snapping his head to me, he spoke in a panicked tone. "Goddamnit, run! It's going to blow!" He shouted, before turning back to run.
"What's going to blow?" I ask, before turning my head to the left, where they ran from.
I didn't see anything when I snapped there. Shrugging, I turned around. I suppose they were concerned about noth-
A second later, I watched as a swirl in space-time occurred, that had swallowed the Chronosphere in the camp whole. Widening my eyes, I stumbled back as the vortex expanded and began to engulf the surrounding buildings. The Power Plants neatly placed next to the Chronosphere were soon swallowed whole by the vortex, and following that was the Repair Station.
"RUN!" I heard, as Harma turned around and bolted.
Immediately I got back up and immediately turned around, never looking back.
Infantry of all types soon began to run away from the ever-expanding Chronovortex. Minigunners, Rocketeers, Engineers, Tank Crew, all alike in running away from the vortex.
Some infantry peeked out of their corners to watch as we ran away. "DON'T STAND THERE YOU FOOLS!" I shouted, sprinting even as my legs began to weaken from the muscle strain. "RUN!"
My hubris struck me down though, as I tripped on a rock and immediately slammed my head on the ground. The mud had covered my gas mask, rendering me blind to a point. The immense feeling of pain and the fear of the vortex had gripped my heart, but I thought of running away first and foremost. Even if I didn't know where I'd go.
The survival instinct one has is always in effect out of combat.
Hearing the Vortex literally just behind me, I tried my best to crawl away from it, only to meet a dead end as my hand touched a metal gate. Panicking, I used my other hand to clear up the mud on my gas mask. I squealed in terror when I realized that a gate had been built, ostensibly to block the Chrono vortex. But really, knowing standard procedure, it was just to ensure that nobody would be stupid enough to go back in, even if there was someone left behind.
And that someone was me.
Turning my body around, I positioned my back against the gate to look at the vortex. Staring into it hurt my eyes, but what I could see was a swirling, irrational mess of blue and black. Through it, my head ached badly and I was assaulted with images of... things.
"AAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHH-" I shouted as I closed my eyes. In my own thoughts, I could only see the image of a building with a burning X-like shape engraved on it, dead bodies strewn around. I tried to bang on my own head, only to despair when I was met with my own helmet. But at the same time, I couldn't open my eyes lest I get assaulted by a massive headache.
Panicking, I opened one of my eyes to see what the vortex was doing, only to panic as it soon reached my leg. I tried to get up and press myself against the wall, only for my leg to fall as I stood up, the Vortex swallowing it.
Immediately, I fell face-first into the void.
It was weightless. I could only feel myself floating around, yet panicked as I saw the power plants it had swallowed. There were several M1 Abrams medium tanks, a Nod Chinook, and a UN UH-1 Nighthawk* inside it, spinning and in flames.
Closing my eyes, I could only hope to God that this would end.
I don't want to die.
Elsewhere, in a Strange New World...
WO1 Pyeong Chong-woo [GEADS* - Republic of Korea Army] - ? - Dated ?
Thirty Minutes after the mass Disappearances of GDI and Nod Forces from Italy
The feeling of hard ground was the first thing I discovered waking up.
That, and the feeling of liquid dripping down my right arm.
I lifted myself up, pushing myself through my elbows, then eventually my legs. Mustering my strength, I rose up as much as I could, trying to find a surface to hold onto.
I found something to hold onto, and sighed a breath of relief as I tightened my grip on it to help me stand up. I felt a stabbing pain on my gloved hand, and immediately winced. Yet I couldn't stand up if I didn't have something to hold onto, so I bit my lip and worked my tired knees, standing up even as fatigue caught up to my muscles.
When I finally stood up, I let go of what I held onto, and tried to find out the source of the stabbing pain by taking off my gloves and looking at my hand. I shook my head as the culprit revealed itself to be glass shards, which had been embedded onto my palm as I tried to get up. I yanked them off, wincing as the bleeding continued.
I put my gloves back on after the last glass shard had been taken off, and tried to get the best out of my surroundings.
I saw my Type 64* rifle laying a few meters from where I stood.
Limping over to it, I lifted it up from the ground by grabbing its sling, before cradling it my hands. "Now... where the hell am I?" I took a minute to examine my surroundings and get my bearings before I could do anything.
My examination thus far revealed that I was in a city of a sort. There are cars strewn about everywhere, wreckage that ranged from cars to trains alike in destruction.
Internally, I wondered where the hell did I land in. This wasn't Camp Tiber. As I asked myself on what kind of hell I found myself stuck in, I turned around out of reflex and found where I came from.
My crashed United Nations UH-1 Nighthawk helicopter, with the cockpit windows being smashed open, most likely ejecting me into the ground. Realizing that I may have forgotten someone, I rushed to the Nighthawk with the intent of finding the copilot.
As I ran to the cockpit door, I struggled to open it, angrily flailing both of my hands, which were firmly grasped to the door handle, until the door happened. I had my expectations too high, as I expected to find the guy alive, what I got instead was a dead body, with GDI markings on him. GEADS and all that.
"Shit..." Was all I could say, I didn't know the copilot, but he sure as hell didn't deserve to die like that.
I turned my head around left and right, trying to make sure that nobody was there, and since nobody was there, I proceeded to disarm his corpse.
Specifically, to prevent anyone from retrieving the copilot's firearm and using it against anyone else.
I first grabbed his arm with one hand, then another, before dragging him out of the helicopter, searching his body, I found his M16A2, still attached to his back via the sling.
Yanking it off his corpse was the very first thing I did, before I searched his body for magazines. I found about three and counting, so I stuffed them in my vest, while I slung his M16, keeping mine around for good measure.
I walked through this wrecked city similar to someone walking through the shadow of death. It wasn't calming watching all of these wrecks and flames. just what happened? And where am I?
These questions would be lingering in my mind, but to be honest, questions like those would also linger in everyone's minds.
GDI, Nod, or IDAP alike.
I kept myself on high alert, waiting for anyone to make a move, or a sound, and at first, it seemed like my fears would be disproven, allowing me to finally relax for once. But...
As I turned around, I found myself facing off against a group of rather peculiar individuals.
If I were to describe them... one of them looked like a medic, with what looked like a medical armband, one of them appeared to have... long rabbit ears?
Either I'm hallucinating or something's happening here that I don't know about.
Another one seemed to have a massive shield of some sort, another appeared to have a whip, and... the last one appeared to be a hooded figure. Hell I'm not even certain that I can make out anything out of him at all. What in the fuck was going on?
I would have shouted and asked them to identify themselves, however... I had a bleeding arm, and couldn't raise my gun. So I just dropped my gun and tried to present myself as a non-threat.
"I don't mean any of you harm!" I shouted at them, raising my hands and keeping my trigger finger off the rifle I had in my hands. Hopefully, as a sign that I don't mean any harm. "I'm from the UN!" I shouted, hoping somebody would know what 'UN' meant.
I just kept at it for a few seconds, hoping a response would follow.
It could be worse... I suppose.
Notes from Payne:
M3 Eliminator - Standard issue rifle of the United Nations and the Global Defense Initiative, based off the Calico Submachine Gun
OAS - Organization of American States, a Pan-American supranational economic and military alliance within the United Nations and Global Defense Initiative
BTO - Belgrade Treaty Organization, an alliance of Eastern European nations aligned with Nod, comprising of Yugoslavia, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania
Ore Crisis - Global conflict between the nascent United Nations and Brotherhood of Nod for control of the Middle Eastern Ore and Oil deposits following the collapse of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics after the Second World War. It ended in a pyrrhic Nod victory, with Nod securing the Middle East's riches only to face a global embargo by the UN.
M16A2 - Standard issue rifle of the Brotherhood of Nod and its subsidiary nations and some elements of GDI, one of the most famous weapons on Earth
Japanese-American War - Started 1934, Ended 1936, American victory, started as a result of Japanese attacks on the US Naval Base in Pearl Harbor
F-35 Orca - The standard VTOL attack craft of the United States Air Force and parts of the Global Defense Initiative
UH-1 Nighthawk - WW2-era helicopter in service with the Allied Nations and the Global Defense Initiative
GEADS - Greater East Asian Defense Sphere, an inter-continental coalition of post-colonial nations led by Japan in defense of the Pacific
Type 64 - 5.56x45mm Assault Rifle in service with the Republic of Korea Army and the Imperial Japanese Army, and the successor to the Arasaka Type 32, an earlier Battle Rifle of the IJA.
Author's Notes:
Sorry if this felt a bit too sudden, I was rushing everything and I wanted to prove that I wasn't dead anymore, and I myself feel like it's a bit incomplete, but no turning back now. Here we fucking go, into the world of Arknights we go.
I know I said I was going to focus on humanitarian aid and missions by the UN and Nod to aid everyone they could, but I'll still link it to the main story, using the poor South Korean Pilot as a vessel for the interconnectivity.
Let me just say this here and there, Harma and Payne aren't going to be in a relationship. They're best friends, simple as. And I plan for their friendship to strengthen as GDI and Nod gradually abandon the old ideas they once possessed in favor of more 'adapted' ideas.
Oh, yeah, NCID is also going to interact with the AK world, and considering how painful Tiberium is already... God knows what happens if Originium mixes with Tiberium, even if it is TibDawn-era Tiberium and not TibWars.
Special thanks to semsas who encouraged me to write my own C&C/AK fic a long while back. Go read his other work, 'Tiberium', it's some pretty good shit.
See y'all later in the next chapter.