Chapter 15

Omake.

Pyongyang.

Democratic Peoples Republic of North Gregureyo.

"Comrade General. They are waiting." The pretty dark-haired aide gestured her hand in the direction of the ornate door.

The man nodded curtly, face completely showing no emotion. The poker face kept his wider emotion hidden. Nobody even noticed the barely there beads of sweat. He merely straightened his medal-festooned uniform and began to walk through the double doors as they were opened by guards posted on either side.

Major General Park Kim Choi strode into his seat in the large meeting room where similarly dressed and medal-chested generals and officers sat. He was much younger than them, having ascended to command the 105th Guards Seoul Ryu Kyong-Su Armored Division via "Battlefield Promotion" after the untimely death of his superior. At the head of it all, sat the Supreme Leader. A literal monarch in all but name, Kim Jong Il held court over this gathering of the Hermit Kingdom's Military leaders. All under the gaze of the Party's massive Sigil mounted behind him.

"What are the latest updates from the front? Have we pushed back the aliens?" the Supreme Leader asked in a bored drawl, as if he wanted to be anywhere else, but here.

An older General started to speak, tentatively. "Supreme Leader, I regret to inform you...that they've pushed us back. Rapidly."

Kim's eyes narrowed deeply behind the lenses of his glasses. The unfortunate man gulped, stricken by fear and trembling. Choi inhaled sharply, waiting for the explosion. The young man was glad his seat was the farthest away from Kim, he hadn't noticed him, and the Leader probably didn't even know that General Ho was dead, as were most of the other officers, leaving him, a young captain, to be promoted to Major General by being the sole surviving commissioned officer alive.

"Pushed back you say?" the Supreme Leader said in a snake-like hiss. His voice was deceptively soft but radiated malice from every syllable and enunciation. "Well, I am surprised. Our Glorious GPA is being fucking pushed back by what? Mindless Spacemen!" the Leader's voice rose to a fever pitch.

"We are supposed to be doing the fucking pushing Comrade Cho! WE!" the supreme leader brayed, fat flecks of spittle flying from his mouth. "I'm astounded. Absolutely fucking astounded."

The wretched general whitened, mumbling incoherently. The whole room had gone deathly silent, watching the doomed man in frozen terror. Nobody dared move a muscle as the Leader ranted on and on, slowly losing energy and his rage subsidizing.

"Great Leader, the men say these aliens are giants eight feet tall." A general spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm and collected despite facing off against the most dangerous animal that existed in the Hermit Kingdom. "Their armor cannot be pierced by our weapons, and theirs in turn, reduce our soldiers to piles of blood and bone."

"So you're saying that our weapons aren't capable enough eh?"

The general of infantry, for that is what he was, winced a little before replying. "O-Of course not Great Leader. I was merely trying to make a statement on the possibility of a fighting retreat."

"So you're a fucking rat huh?" the Supreme Leader's fat index finger shot out to point at him. "No matter, you are dismissed. Indefinitely."

4 uniformed personnel strode over to haul the general away at the Leader's failed command. Two were from the MoSS and Supreme Guard command respectively. The 4 men frog-marched him through the double doors, oblivious to his cries of protest. The rest of the attending officers watched in silence as the doors closed and silence was restored once more.

"Well, now that we have that, interruption out of the way, does anyone have any good, reports?" the Supreme Leader asked casually, as if the events of the past minute were yet another, of his so-called "blockbusters" "Anyone? Anything?" When no one dared answer, the leader gave a melodramatic, long-suffering sigh, as if he were the tired father of a litter of wayward kids.

"Very well then. I shall issue you your orders. Col. Chin, mobilize the Pyongyang Defense Command as well as the attached corps, you will turn the Capital into a fortress. Gentlemen, Admirals, I want all sailors from the People's Navy to get off those boats and arm themselves as elite infantry! No use for them being on those leaky floating cabins, they'll do much better at slowing the enemy down that way. The exception to this rule will be certain submarines and their crews, you shall find them all in these dossiers." He slid a few beige-colored folders towards the men in naval dress, looking slightly confused.

"As for the members of our glorious GPAAF and Ground forces, your orders are simple. Stop those armored alien fucks from overwhelming the Capital, and the Revolution completely! I trust you all enough, to know that you will ensure the task is done to the best of results."

Although they didn't show it, the officers assembled, Choi included, were all internally staring, slack-jawed. Had they heard the orders correctly? Did the leader not realize the gravity of the situation at the frontline? Did he not realize that his commands were impossible in every sense of the word?

Instead, there were no objections, no one told him that they didn't have any of the resources and manpower. Instead, a chorus of "Yes Supreme Leader!" rang out from the officers, chanting in unison. The leader dismissed them all with a lazy flick of his wrist. The double doors were opened. And the men on whose shoulders this foolish burden was placed dispersed out.

Choi sighed as he walked towards one of the balconies for a much-needed smoke. He realized how filthy he was. His face had been cleaned quickly when the communique arrived, summoning him to the capital.

The Major-General's dress jacket he wore was singed slightly; he'd taken it off his dead CO as well as the man's shoulder boards. Underneath, he still wore the black Vostokvakian-style tank crew uniform, with his tanker helmet of the same design stuffed unceremoniously in one of the pockets.

He took a Zippo lighter out of his pocket with quivering hands. It creaked open with the flame lighting instantly. Now he just needed to steady his hand, so that he could light it.

A delicate hand soon wrapped itself around his, allowing him to light the nicotine stick, taking a good long drag, he looked up to see the pretty, heart-shaped, doll-like face of his wife.

"How are you doing, Major General?" Lee Sun-hae sweetly smiled. He snorted. His wife was one of the ADCs here. And she was a real brainless, fanaticized doll, even serving in the Supreme Leader's pleasure squad before her marriage to him. She didn't even know that the rest of the world existed, besides their communist comrades and Big Brother States.

"I'm doing just fine dear." He replied casually. "It was a battlefield promotion, I was the only officer left. That's the only reason I was promoted by the remaining tank officers."

Lee Sun-hae sighed knowingly before reaching into her shoulder bag. "I took the liberty of taking your orders just now." She handed him two cream-colored dossiers. "Your father is going to be proud, as well as my parents."

He gave an imperceptible snort. She would never dare to say anything bad about the Supreme Leader. She even made it sound as if he were her lawful husband instead of him. And she always chided him on his "Bad thoughts" as if free will were something taboo.

"The jacket and shoulder boards look good on you." she smiled in her cool, calm voice. "You've been assigned the defense North Hwanghae region."

"Oh, Joy." Choi sarcastically muttered. "My unit's going to meet the tip of the spear. Just wonderful."

"I'll have the cook whip up a marvelous dinner. With plenty of Soju and Vodka, my friend in the embassy sector got straight from Moskvingrad."

Choi sighed. This is my life. he thought bitterly. Married to a brainless fanatic of a doll with no free will and only a name and a pretty face.

He sighed, she was beautiful, but aside from the fact that she was the daughter of a key Central Committee member, there were no other qualities.

"Please give me some good news." he groaned, cradling his head in his hands. he was too young for this shit, only 21! He wasn't expecting himself to be put in charge of the only decently armed Guards unit in the whole fucked up GPA Ground Force!

Sighing in frustration, he took the offered arm. And they walked down to the lifts to begin their journey home.

Outside, the Capital already looked different. Pyongyang, the capital, was one of the few cities in North Gregureyo developed with polymer technologies from the Vostokvakians. The Defense Corps and Military District were already mobilized. Barrage balloons and searchlights were already in the air as dawn's early light began to shine over the city.

Meanwhile, the defenses were shored up in a hurried frenzy. It was hoped that by the time the rest of the armed forces were sacrificed in blunting the alien advance, the Capital would be an impenetrable fortress.

Choi knew that was nonsense. At the rate the alien forces were advancing, they could be on the Capital within hours, or even days at best. With the state of their troops being so undermanned and motivated, the war for them would be over extremely soon. Considering he'd heard that the rest of the world, including the Concordians themselves were under attack from these aliens.

As they walked home, the air raid sirens started blaring. Their high-pitched whines soon echoed all over the capital. An enemy air raid was coming! With a new beat in his step, he dragged Lee Sun-hae by the hand and began to head to one of the nearby air-raid shelters. Already, people were jostling and pushing themselves inwards. Others were running to the Metro.

Stepping down the already crowded steps, they found a place only due to people seeing the shoulder boards on him, thus giving him a wide berth. They sat themselves down on one of the benches.

The air within the shelter was hot, and electric with tension. Children cried, and the adults were faring no better, whispering fiercely among themselves. Neither did the décor help calm things either. Slogans and posters featuring the Supreme Leader and the GPA were plastered along the walls. A blonde Concordian getting hit by a buttstock was also a common image.

The AA fire started soon enough. Old ZPU flak cannons interspaced by Shilka SPAAs and SAM systems. It sounded like an entire orchestra of thunder. Older citizens covered their ears to protect them. And so did the younger adults cover the fragile ears of the kids present.

However, soon a new chorus overpowered that of the AA. The whistling scream of bombs and the dull drone of jet engines. Soon, shockwaves rumbled the shelter, as the lights flickered fom the impacts. A few civilians began to scream.

"Silence!" a MoSS officer bellowed, Type 64 Pistol in hand. Some of the crowd grumbled, others looked terrified, and stated where they were. A few of the secret policeman's buddies also materialized their own sidearms in their hands as well.

The crowd instantly, but sullenly quietened. Satisfied with their handiwork, the secret policemen holstered their pistols and soon headed back into the shadows.

Choi inhaled sharply. The bombs were increasing in intensity. The explosions rocked even harder. The shelter shook heavily as an earthquake began and chunks of the ceiling began to fall down, kicking up dust and causing a pandemic of coughing to erupt among the sheltered populace.

Outside, things weren't looking much better.

The bombers dropped their payloads with pinpoint accuracy. Kim il Sung Square was obliterated, the alien ordinance turning the parade ground into a scorched pile of rubble. The gold statue of the Supreme Leader's father, the Eternal President disappeared in a ball of flame.

It soon became clear that the planned layout of the city built to Socialist standards made it easy for the alien bombers. Great flames began to rise as the shoddily built apartment blocks soon became kindling for the fire. The aliens were using incendiary bombs filled with an unknown compound that was unknown to Earth.

Within mere minutes, the bonfire soon spread as the wind blew the flames further to the intact parts of the city. Apartment blocks soon collapsed, trapping their tenants underneath to die a slow death via suffocation.

The GPAAF, already understaffed, and underequipped with few modern interceptors and most craft being models from the 50s and 60s, scrambled the few MiG-29s in its inventory as fast as it could.

The nimble fighters raced into the early morning sky at full speed at full afterburner. The pilots behind the cockpits were "the best of the best" according to the State TV Service. Armed with hardware in desperate need of overhauling, the pilots of the 55th Guards Aviation Regiment planned to fight the formations with skill and willpower alone.

However the enemy bombers shrugged off the damage dealt to them by the MiG's cannons.

Outnumbered five-to-one, the Fulcrum's were the only modern aircraft in the GPAAF. The Su-25s took second place.

However, the bombers soon sent the MiGs packing, with nearly all of them nearly destroyed. Nothing stood in their way of blasting a rebel city back to the Stone Ages. Almost nothing that is.

Below the sea of fire that was Pyongyang, darts of light lanced upwards.

Before the pilot lead bomber in the formation barely had a chance to register what was happening, one of the beams speared through the fuselage, reducing the bomber into a fireball.

Within seconds, more and more beams began to hit and take out great chunks of the formation.

The airwaves were soon filled with the cries of bomber crews as they desperately tried to evade. But their bombers were too unwieldy and not the most maneuverable craft. Soon bombers began to fall down like wounded birds, drifting to the ground as their crews bailed out just as their craft erupted into flaming scrap metal.

However, the system was also a danger to friendly pilots as well. Maj Ahn Yo Kwan, one of the surviving MiG Pilots had cheered when the strange new wonder weapon began tearing through the bomber formation, pumping her fist in the air. But alerts soon began to blare on her own aircraft.

"Major! Watch out! Wat-" her radio squawked as ground control tried to warn her.

"What is that Ground Control?" Ahn responded, "Ground control are you receiving? There's a lot of interference on your end."

Ahn had no time to answer before a shot from her own country's wonder weapon sliced into her cockpit. The last thing the major saw was an orange wall of fire which turned into a blinding white light before everything went back. Her Fulcrum broke into pieces, her cockpit section separating itself from the body.

At last, as the sun rose in the sky, The bombers turned back and escaped to the safety of some base.

All clear sirens were soon heard in the air raid shelters. The denizens stepped outside to find themselves as if they were on another planet entirely, it seemed. The city looked like a great god had come down to the earth and used it as target practice before leaving, not bothering to clean up the mess.

On Mansu Hill, an old man wept at the sight of the Eternal Leader's statue in pieces. A vast wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see. Where once proud towers stood, only jagged stumps remained amidst the ashes. Bodies littered the broken streets, some mere bones, others tangled claws clutching vainly at the smoke-filled sky.

Choi was indifferent to the sights he was looking at. He'd already seen the worst bits of fighting the aliens 24 hours ago. The rubble didn't faze him any more than it did when he first went into combat. And it just showed him how unprepared they were.

Lee and the MoSS men, on the other hand, wept. The secret policemen, strong-willed as they were, wept uncontrollably at the unthinkable horror that had beset their beloved homeland. Years of training and experience in the face of combatting capitalist reactionaries could not have prepared them to witness something so heinous and unspeakably obscene. Choi snorted at the sight of them.

Look at them, weeping as if they've lost their fucking parents. He thought. Are human lives so insignificant to them than this fucking concrete dystopia of a capital that's a real Airstrip one from 1984? And what exactly is Lee's job? I see her working at the Palace, as an aide but I think it's more than that. She worked in the infamous "pleasure squad" an all-female group that would come out and do shows and concerts for foreign dignitaries, showing the world that we are just as well developed as other nations, by wearing revealing style costumes and the works. Like a girl group. And it's no secret that Lee also probably shares the Leader's bed.

But she's also well-trained and menacing. An MoSS assassin perhaps?

Choi was brought out of his thoughts by a Vostokvakian-supplied UAZ-469 jeep in GPA colors came to an abrupt halt, screeching as the driver slammed on the brakes and quickly exited the vehicle by jumping out entirely, ignoring the door.

"Comrade Major General!" Captain Park Honghe jogged over to Choi and saluted.

"Comrade Captain." Choi returned the salute. The teen heaved as he took a minute to catch his breath.

"Comrade Major General, I've been sent to fetch you and take you to DHQ in North Hwanghae."

"Very well." Choi turned and said quick goodbyes to Lee, who was still weeping. Then, he silently extricated himself from the situation and followed Honghe to the UAZ.

"Thanks for rescuing me, comrade," Choi said once they were off.

"Don't mention it comrade choi." The captain replied smiling. "I'm guessing you were uncomfortable with those KGB wannabes anyway."

Choi shot him a glance. "Am I that easy to read, Cap?"

"You're 21 and just got the boards due to every other officer kicking the bucket." Honghe retorted with a grin. "I'm a teenage med student turned conscript turned captain after you promoted me. You are easy enough to read."

Choi snorted derisively. "Focus on the driving captain."

"Hey at least the MOSS men were good for target practice," Honghe snickered. "Bet their faces made a nice bullseye for the invaders!"

Choi rolled his eyes, fighting a smirk. "Focus on driving, comrade captain. Get me to HQ in one piece and you might survive another day in this nightmare."

Honghe swerved to miss a flaming rubble pile, earning a clutch of curses from his passenger. "No promises sir! And what's the hurry anyway, you trying to dodge your mind-control sex doll at home?"

"I'm trying to prevent my division from collapsing you little shit," Choi growled. "Unlike you and your teenage fantasies, I have a war to run."

"Harsh! And here I thought we bonded over dead MOSS goons." Honghe pouted dramatically. "What's the latest from HQ anyway?"

Choi grimaced. "Your guess is as good as mine. Last I heard we're staging for a counterattack. But I don't like our odds against giant aliens with starships."

Honghe whistled. "Well, it was nice knowing you sir. I'll be sure to put a proper eulogy at your funeral."

Choi smacked his cap. "Less talking, more driving private. And you haven't seen the last of me yet."

A few good hours earlier.

"Gunner, fire the damn gun!"

"On the way!"

Captain Park Kim Choi, 105th Guards cursed loudly as his head nearly slammed into the ceiling. Damn Vostokvakian Tank Design and it's horrible ergonomics! He vented internally.

The T-90S was one of the most uncomfortable tanks he'd ever commanded, and he'd been on Cho'nma's! The only good thing about it was that it was one of the few third-generation tanks in the GPAGF arsenal.

"Target spotted!" Choi bellowed. One of the slow, disproportionate, archaic-looking alien MBTs trundled by the right side. Ki Soo, the gunner ended its short journey quickly enough as the smoothbore gun pierced one of the sponson mounted side guns.

The tank ground to a halt, fire, and smoke billowing from the pierced sides. Before the ammo and engine set alight, the tank was engulfed in a ball of flame, panels flying out.

A crewman's uniform caught alight. Through the sights, Ki Soo watched the poor sod flail and silently scream as he rolled onto the ground in an attempt to extinguish the flames. Taking pity, Ki Soo squeezed the trigger of the coaxial machine gun. The burst slammed the enemy crewman, killing him instantly.

Choi grunted as the tank shook hard. He shook his head to steady himself. The 4-tank platoon was currently a few miles away from the 38th parallel. The alien attack had come without warning. The 105th had been on maneuvers when panicked reports began to flood the radio, describing eight-foot-tall armored giants with weapons that could outclass the best of the GPA's forces stationed on the border.

The commanders had dismissed the panicked calls for help as the work of drunk soldiers on duty or Western capitalist spies. Then the artillery fire had been seen and heard. And the officers sobered up quickly. The artillery shells were bigger than any known types in the west, and the night sky went up in a spectacular shade of oranges and reds, illuminating the inky blackness for minutes. If the commanders had been half-awake before, they were wide awake now. An attack was underway!

Within minutes, orders began to crackle and squawk through the radios of the assembled T-90S, T-72Ms, T-62Ds, Cho'nma's, T-55s, and Type 59s. The entire division rolled out towards the border. Behind them, the infantry riding IFVs and APCs (the 105th was the only all-mechanized outfit of the GPA) the unit readied itself for contact with the enemy. Political officers attached to the infantry squads or in their own separate tanks in every platoon gave speeches, extolling the soldiers to defend every inch of the Glorious People's Democratic Republic with their lives and blood. Most of these speeches fell on deaf ears. The personnel of the Guards Division were a bit less prone to traitorous thoughts of running south than their regular army counterparts and as a result, the speeches were seen as an unfortunate nuisance to bear than something that raised morale.

Inside Tank 366, the tank commanded by Captain Park Kim Choi, the commander of the 2nd Tank platoon in one of the T-90 tank battalions, Sargent Kyong Ki Soo cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck side to side, taking satisfaction in the cracks as the tank headed off to its first actual battle. An old NCO veteran of the GPA, this was actually his first time in battle. As he continued his usual routine of relaxing his tense muscles, he heard the driver, a younger boy, a corporal called Taejon snicker under his breath. Forcing Ki Soo to turn his head to give the whippersnapper an annoyed glance.

"What's so funny?" he probed annoyedly as Taejon continued to snicker as he drove the tank.

"Nothing!" Taejon snappily replied, before snickering again loudly. Ki Soo's broad hand soon crashed itself into the back of his helmeted head, the Soviet Style helmet not absorbing the impact, causing him to yelp. "Yeow! What's the matter with you Old Man?" he grumbled, rubbing his head where the impact had stung.

Choi was above them in the turret, ignoring them deliberately to focus on the night vision sights allocated to him. "Get fucking professional PFC!" Ki Soo growled. "Unlike the fucking conscripts from the regular army who're farm boys still picking shit from their toes, we of the 105th Guards Seoul Ryu Kyong-Su Armored Division are supposed to be fucking examples to them!" Ki Soo eyed the younger boy angrily.

"Well excuse me, old man!" Taejon derisively waved down Ki Soo's passionate lecture. "It'll be an hour at least before we enter combat.

"Will both of you shut the fuck up?" Choi asked from the commander's station. "I'm tempted to kick you both right now. And it's very easy from up here."

"Yes Sir!" Both Taejon and Ki Soo shouted in unison. Choi gave a grunt before turning to the NVS"

"All things working. Well, that's a first." The two heard him mumble.

"Comrade Captain, will we survive?"

Choi turned to look back down at Taejon. "Of course, we will Comrade." He answered with a small smile.

"Sir, be frank, please. Will we survive?" Taejon probed. Ki Soo was about to slap the boy again for his insolence when he was surprised to hear Choi's voice respond.

"I don't know Taejon." Choi's voice was thoughtful. Taejon ended the conversation there. He instead put his foot down on the accelerator and sped up the tank. It shot forwards, the rest of the tanks in the platoon following. Better end this quickly, so they could all survive, were the thoughts running through PFC Taejon Young's youthful head.

While the 3rd gen MBTs trundled towards the combat zone. Forward units made up of Cho'nma's and T-62Ds were already in contact with the enemy. And were slowly being pushed back. The infantrymen, a mixture of Guards troops armed with western and Warsaw pact style body armor and web gear and GPAGF conscripts in their basic brown tunics and Kalashnikovs were trying their best to survive the hail of gunfire in the remains of their trenches. All around them, the area was lit by burning wrecks of T-55s and APCs that had been lost in the early minutes of combat. A conscript screamed as her leg disappeared in a cloud of red mist. She went down, howling a good deal before a comrade dragged her to safety. She was one of the lucky ones, most of the alien weapons reduced anyone hit in the torso to literally pop like a balloon, their entrails flinging over everything, be they earthwork, tank wreck or comrade.

"Where in the name of the Fatherly Leader are our damn reinforcements?" A junior officer roared to his radio operator to make himself heard over the dreadful thunder of the battlefield.

"I don't know sir!" the radio operator replied. "The last transmission said they were coming in an hour."

"We won't be here in an hour dammit!" the officer snarled in anger.

Before the radio officer could respond, the sound and scream of jet engines were heard. Peering out, the two men saw to their utter horror and disbelief, two GPAAF Su-25s barrel down, weapons blazing. While it didn't do the large vehicles, damage of any sort, it nevertheless did seem to infuriate and anger whoever crewed the vehicle. Within minutes, the sky was filled with thousands of glowing tracers that flew toward the two fighter bombers like arrows of old. The Frogfoots began to immediately jink and shake wildly to evade the wall of AA fire, the lead plane pulling up just in time. The other plane's pilot, whether inexperienced, having lost their nerves or just having decided to go out in a blaze of glory, continued the Frogfoot's doomed flight path, becoming a man-guided missile. The captain watched in awe as the jet cut through the wall of tracers like a knife. Almost immediately the craft began to fall apart, panels and pieces tearing themselves off like molten droplets. The pilot, however, must have been either very skilled or desperate, because they plowed their plane into a massive light olive-green APC, causing both of them to vanish in the resulting explosion.

For a minute, both captain and radio operator stared in disbelief at the site. Both were watching, slack-jawed at the sheer fantasticalness of what they had just witnessed. Their brains definitely were still processing. Finally, the radio operator turned to the captain. "Sir, I think we just lost one of our only modern CAS aircraft." He deadpanned.

Before the captain could open his mouth to reply, a new voice rang panickily out across the defenses.

"Fall back! Fall back! Retreat!" the panicked shout screamed. This brought the captain back to his senses, and his features morphed into an angry snarl. "Who said that!" the captain thundered, stomping out. "I'll have you all shot!"

He soon found that the conscripts were falling back, as were the Guards troops, but at the same time, some of them were bunched around together like lemmings, looking confused. An Alien tank materialized over the edge of the trench. The sponson mounted armaments activated, sending waves of fire onto the frozen troops.

The captain stumbled backward as the screams started. He gagged at the smell of burning flesh and the sound it made, like a combination of crackling, sizzling, and sometimes screaming as both uniform and flesh were set alight. He saw as an eight-foot-tall, armored giant stomped over, the footfalls shaking the ground a little. Two glowing red eyes stared balefully at him, promising him a world of pain. Crying out in fear, the captain stumbled, falling back before beginning to crawl backward, desperately searching for an escape route as panic tightened its grip on his mind. The giant merely jumped down into the trench, kicking up mud. Standing in a straight posture after rising, the monster aimed his massive gun at the immobilized and whimpering officer. The captain closed his eyes as the giant began to pull his trigger finger. Just as he heard the bang, the officer screamed as he was pulled back.

Opening his eyes, he found the radio operator. Wordlessly, the man helped him up, then he dragged him through the tunnels and dugouts. The captain heard the giant dumping his massive weapon's magazine into the walls and everywhere the monster could see. He could hear the massive casings chiming like bells as they clattered to the ground. He prayed a quick prayer of thanks to the Leader for saving his hide by allowing the radio operator to survive. The two men were now running as fast away from the slaughter and carnage.

The tanks finally got their contact with the enemy. Those that had survived that is. Just as they reached a few meters from the border, an alien artillery strike decimated most vehicles.

The platoon circuit soon became filled with screams and desperate callouts. Ki Soo Found that Taejon, for all his youthfulness, was a damn good driver. The boy was weaving and moving the MBT with the skill of a professional race driver.

Worse, they couldn't turn back, the enemy had found them. A mixture of slow, regular-sized 1stGW style tanks intermixed with larger, faster APCs resembling a Capitalist M113 and the same old GW-era tank with either a turret or no turret raced down an incline. They were followed by some of the largest turretless tanks Choi had ever seen. And the battle only escalated from there.

The smaller tanks were easy to deal with, their slow mechanics making them easy targets for the smoothbore guns of the T-90s and T-72s. Thad didn't mean they were legitimate threats. 3 T-62s were put out of action instantly, their turrets popping off like bottlecaps and flying off a few meters.

Choi peered through the NV sights mounted on the commander's station in the turret of the T-90. The world was bathed in green as he scanned the area. Over the incline, one of those massive turretless tanks trundled forward, its under-armored hull into the gunsight.

"Gunner. Open fire!"

"On the way!" Ki Soo exclaimed, pulling the trigger.

The tank rocked backward as the HEAT shell flew from the smoothbore. It slammed into the weakly armored lower hull with ease. There was an internal explosion before the tank tumbled downwards and slid down the hill. The crew must have died in the internal explosion because it didn't stop. The stricken tank careened down the hill uncontrollably, tracks still churning like an out-of-control bulldozer. As it picked up speed, the massive vehicle collided with trees and bounced off rocks, tearing up earth and vegetation in its path.

When it struck the first intact tank at the bottom, the impact caved in armor like tin foil. But still, it didn't stop, driving the wreck underneath it and crushing it utterly.

Another tank swerved to avoid the sliding monstrosity and collided with a third. They both exploded violently, adding their burning hulks to the chaotic blockade. Finally, with a bone-rattling crash, the runaway slammed broadside into another tank of the same type, this one heavily armed with missile launchers and a laser cannon. The force of impact was too great for even its armored plating. Metal warped and split, engulfing the interior in an inferno.

As flames consumed the killing machine, others nearby scrambled in a panic. None could get clear before a secondary explosion flung burning shards in all directions. The raging fireball consumed three more vehicles.

Slowly, the wreck at the heart settled with a groan. As smoke poured from its ruined carcass, an eerie silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the crackle of spreading fires. Inside his T-90 Park Kim Choi gave a triumphant yell. The platoon circuit came alive as surviving tankers cheered raggedly.

But the enemy wasn't done yet. The ground began to shake as the footfalls were felt. Eight-foot-tall, armored giants carrying massive guns, eyes glowing red in the orange glow of the fires advanced in great strides. They covered the distance between the tanks and the hill with superhuman strides, opening fire once they reached suitable firing positions, their weapons making deep, booming blasts followed by sharp cracks as the explosive rocket-powered bullets impacted their targets.

Choi watched tanks explode brightly as the giants pushed the assault. And they would have won too, had it not been for the Soviet Backfires of the 444th Order of Kutuzov 3rd degree and Alexander Nevsky Heavy Bomber Aviation Regiment, part of the 326th Heavy Bomber Aviation Division, 37th Air Army stationed at Vozdvizhenka Air Base in Primarkizhnevovsk. The bombers swooped in low, flying on afterburner, and dropping their payloads. Also with it were slightly Larger Tu-26M Kirov's. The bombers had ground the enemy's advance to a halt for just enough time for the 105th 's tanks to retreat to safety.

But that didn't mean it was over.

On the other side. Space Marines from the Locusts Chapter (3 companies attached to battlefleet Scolaris) loaded up Thunderfire cannons and their Whirlwind Artillery Vehicles. Inside a command vehicle, an Astarte sat at the Vox Station. The transhuman giant listened as Scolaris's ships performed a sweep of the area, followed by an Imperial Navy recon craft. He called out the coordinates through the circuit, the Whirlwinds and Thunderfires elevating slowly. The scans had found the rebel Headquarters in the area. The green light had been given for the rocket barrage to give these rebels the Emperor's Peace. The batteries were just being given final checks by the tech-adepts of Mars and the Techmarines before they could begin the bombardment.

A short burst order crackled through suddenly, there was only a mere minute's hesitation Before the salvo began. All across them, Whirlwind vehicles and Thunderfire cannons launched their projectiles towards the enemy, joined by Hydra cannons of the supporting Imperial Guard. The site was flashing rapidly as rockets shot out from their launchers while the Thunderfire cannons kept up the barrage.

Marines stared through their binoculars, watching the lances of light disappear over the hills. Then the bombardment abruptly stopped, the only sound being the hissing and sizzling of spent casings.

The resulting clouds and glow rising to the sky told the marines enough. The artillery mission was successful, and they could now advance in a thrust forward to the enemy capital, and compliance. All around them, Tech-Adepts oversaw servitors rapidly reloading weapons as orders for the task came through. Followed by a single word their more martial battle-brothers were waiting for.

"Advance. Advance. Advance.

105th Guards Seoul Ryu Kyong-Su Armored Division forward HQ.

The rapidly escalating situation wasn't looking too good for Major General Kyong Ki Ryu. What was supposed to be the usual Saber-rattling maneuvers on the border to show the puppet government in Seoul and their Concordian overlords that they meant business, had turned into a messy defense as reports began to flood about aliens and giants from the stars attacking.

They'd already lost contact with most of III Corps though. General Chin, the commander of that formation was still alive and communicating with them from his own HQ a few miles away from here. Ryu had sent his best tanks out to meet the enemy and for the past few hours, had heard nothing from them as of yet.

"Have the tanks pushed the enemy back or not?" Ryu wiped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief as he stared at both his operations officer and Chief communications officer respectively.

"Nothing on the airwaves yet comrade." The chief communications officer reported, headset slung around his neck. The pot-bellied man had spent so much time at his terminal, that he rarely went outside in the sun, giving him not only pale skin but a wispy-haired, balding cranium. His counterpart, the operations officer nodded in affirmation, hands clasped over a dossier.

"By this time, comrade general." The operations officer spoke with a prominent lisp, pointing to the map on the screen before them. "Most of our MBTs should be in combat with hostiles."

"Why haven't they reported back yet?"

The Operations officer shrugged plaintively. "I don't know sir."

The Major General poked the man roughly. "Well, your entire job isn't it?"

"Well, if you put it that way…"

"What's that light?"

Both men turned to find the Comm chief and the rest of the Headquarters Staff staring out the window at a couple of bright lights streaking down towards the HQ. The Major General hesitated only for a minute before he realized what the lights were.

"You fools. Get away from the windows!" He warned in vain as the lights streaked closer.

The first missile struck the windows, entering the center itself and exploding. The Communications and the Operations officer were killed instantly, their clothes and skin burning to a crisp along with the rest of the control room staff. The Major General was vaulted several feet in the air as he was hurled backward into the wall with a sickening crack. He gave a moan of pain as he slid down, blood and spinal fluid leaking out.

The enemy artillery was accurate and murderous. Not a single wing of the large building was spared, not even the hospital, which although empty had still been on full readiness, wiping out most of their trained medical staff. A rocket slammed into the armory and magazine, leaving no survivors as both the weapons and spare ammunition, and any soldier unlucky enough to have been on duty were reduced to ash and charred bits of meat. The survivors took their lives later.

The spare tanks, the only other T-90S' were destroyed when their depot collapsed, burying several unlucky mechanics and underneath several tonnes of flaming steel.

The enemy's accurate fire mission continued on for a few minutes, pounding the headquarters methodically and quickly wiping out the division's command and control, as well as support structure. To top it all off, some of the alien's ships joined in, taking out several other units in the area with similar strategies.

When the dust cleared, the survivors picked themselves up dazedly, in an already catatonic state. The Headquarters was a flaming, ruined skeleton. Tanks lay burning, while fuel dumps went up with huge explosions, but nobody gave a damn anymore.

An every-man-for-himself attitude had enraptured the survivors.

Shocking, that such a thing could even exist in a fanatical police state like North Gregureyo. Nobody helped anybody, except for the few close friends they had. Many had picked themselves up and slunk away once they realized that all the higher-ups and political officers were KIA. They disappeared into the wilderness, many returning and hiding at their shoddily built homes in the countryside. Those of a more urban upbringing would steal uniforms off the corpse of a dead officer and replace the photograph of the dead person with their own. Nobody would question it, after all, who in their right mind would commit identity theft in the godforsaken Hermit Kingdom of all places?]

Park Kim Choi's vehicle trundled right up to the smoldering, ruined archway of the HQ. Giving Ki Soo and Taejon orders to stay put. The young tank troops captain hurried past ruined corridors and up the stairs. There was not a soul in sight that seemed unharmed in the place. Everyone that Choi had seen looked like they'd been in a siege instead of an artillery bombardment, wounded personnel leaning against the wall, blood splattered all over like a gruesome painting of rouge.

The operations room, if the mess in front of him even had been considered that once, was dimly lit. Wires crackled and sparked, lighting up the room like strobes in brief flashes like a sanitorium patient's idea of strobes. Pieces of people were littered around like garbage. Choi gagged at the sight of a literal arm hanging haphazardly across a chair like a person would in a laid-back fashion.

He found Major General Ryu's corpse flung against the wall, blood trails highlighting his body's sliding descent to the floor. Looking up, he found a lowly sergeant, standing in the doorway, noticing him for the first time. "Hey you! Sergeant. Who's the officer in charge now?" Choi barked out to the teen, who immediately looked surprised.

"Well, aren't you?" the sergeant said simply. When he saw Choi didn't understand, the boy immediately became sheepish—taking off his cap and looking very sorrily at his feet. "I apologize, Captain, it's just that, with everyone well, dead. You're the officer in charge unless your battalion commander survived.

Choi stared at the teen, aghast. "Are you telling me? The entire divisional command is dead?"

The boy merely nodded apologetically at Choi, as if it was his fault. "yes sir."

One of the telephones on the desks began to ring (it had miraculously survived the strike) the boy leaped to get it despite Choi's protests. "I'll get it, sir, you stay there."

Picking and putting the receiver to his ear, the boy spoke rapidly to whoever was on the phone. Choi watched the boy turn his gaze towards him various times, before quipping back to the speaker. Finally, after sighing in defeat, the young sergeant placed the receiver back.

"What is it? Who made the call?" Choi probed.

"Sir, that was the GPAGF chief of staff." The sergeant confided, "They're ordering the unit's commander back to the capital for a meeting. Since you were the only one, I told them, they've ordered you back. Shall I clean up that Major General's jacket?

Choi dumbly handed over Ryu's dress jacket complete with shoulder boards, which the other took gladly off to clean. He began lighting a cigarette while his hands shook before he stood up amidst the dark ruins of the Ops room. A single thought ruminated in his head.

God Help us All!

I am not dead. I will finish this story in one way or another. This chapter was a pain to write. The first thing I want to address is that many people in the reviews section think this story takes place on Earth. Well, here is an abridged recap of the setting.

The story takes place in my world-building universe called Ataria. It's the place where I will be having crossovers with other franchises and whatever else my brain cooks up.

The planet is called Firma, which is the 3rd planet of its own solar system. Firma is two times the size of Earth, and despite having seven continents like our own, it still has massive oceans, from which the nations harvest minerals and energy sources. It's a lot more technologically advanced with almost Strangereal-esque levels of tech, the POD being a second Industrial Revolution in 1955. Cassette Futurism, as well as a few more aesthetiques, are popular here.

On a second note, I would like to ask you guys something.

I know that this story, despite my best efforts and attempts, has come off as unrealistic, and illogical by many of the die-hard fans of 40K here. If you were expecting a curbstomp battle, I apologize, because I won't do that.

However, for the past few days, I've been thinking of changing the setting of this story from the late 1990s to the late 1970s to the early 80s.

The reason for this is that my drama class in school assigned me and a group of others to create a production of Apocalypse Now, and it has reignited my passion for Nam-related media and the Cold War in this period as a whole. The Idea of Concordian CIA spooks infiltrating deep into Imperial occupied territory and causing trouble, or the Vostokvakian KGB arming dissident elements within Battlefleet Scolaris and Catachan Jungle Fighters having to deal with not only North Tonkin guerillas but also the weather, the South Tonkinese and drugs and psy-ops is kinda more exciting.

However, I would like your opinions on this. You can say it in the reviews or PM me. I would love to finish this story, but the idea of two stories set in the same fictional world but different time periods just isn't sitting right with me.

I'm still writing chapter 16 so to speak and will release it soon. Nut I'd like to hear your thoughts. PM me or write it in the reviews. And maybe, just maybe, I might do an overhaul. Because while I love the 1990s, I feel like the 70s to early 80s has more promise for action.