*CRASH*
"... What the hell?"
James Peterson groggily questioned as he awoke from a violent noise. He'd push himself to a sitting position at the edge of the bed before rubbing his eyes tiredly and glancing out the window, seeing the dark of the night outside.
"... What is it, baby?" His wife, Clara, asked sleepily after shifting on the bed.
"I just heard something loud outside. Imma check it out," He answered, getting up from the bed a moment later.
"Come back quick," Clara said.
James merely grunted a response before heading downstairs, bumping into another of the house's other occupants once in the living room.
"Tim, you awake too?" James addressed his brother. "Did you hear that noise? The fuck was that?"
"Dunno, could there be a storm?" He asked.
"Forecast didn't say anything though."
"Then it's probably an animal or the Wolfingham brothers are fucking with us again," Tim sighed. "I'll grab the shotgun."
James sighed tiredly as he watched his brother walk away before moving to retrieve his own piece. Life was peaceful and quiet in the farming settlement in the middle of nowhere he calls home. Mostly. What few neighbors they do have, some have made it their mission to make their lives uncomfortable. He and his people tried to ignore it, thinking they'd grow tired sooner or later, but clearly, that was not happening. So, more forceful methods of persuasion were needed.
The Milford Colony was a Hutterite community in the middle of Montana's amber plains. Well, the community being one giant farm. However, it's still a community of men, humans, so there's bound to be disagreement. This is one of them. After fishing his trusty Smith & Wesson .38 caliber revolver, he intended to make his point known. No, he wasn't going to kill anyone, even if it'd be an easy thing to do in the middle of nowhere in Montana, but he would try to look intimidating.
"Let's go," Tim said upon returning to the living room after his Franchi over/under double barrel shotgun.
James grunted an affirmative and they headed out. It was pitch black with thick clouds blocking the moon. Their only sources of light were the few lights kept on even late at night around the farm. But that wasn't too big of a problem as both James and Tim had brought flashlights with them.
"Where'd you think it came from?" Tim asked.
"I didn't hear it properly. Could you get the lights? I'll go check on the pigs," James said.
"Okay."
They parted ways after that with James heading straight for the pig barn. Indeed, he didn't hear the sound properly, but he thought that it came from this general direction so that's where he was going to check first. However, there was no way a pig could make a noise like that, not even a group of pigs.
"What could it have been—" He paused. "... What?"
Turning a corner of another building, he was met with an unusual sight. It was a tractor, but it had been flipped over. Actually, it looked like it had been flipped over multiple times like it was kicked by something.
"H-How?" He questioned in disbelief.
*CRASH*
Another loud crash broke him out of his musings, this time coming from the barn itself. He pushed away the onslaught of questions his mind was asking to push on and check their precious livestock. But he was instantly on high alert because he just confirmed that something was very wrong. Opening the side door into the barn, he walked right in and came face to face with a sight that would haunt him forever.
A smooth and sharp body of shiny silver steel, six identical legs, a pair of metal prongs on each side that looked like pods for guns, and a single glowing red eye at the center that was staring into his soul.
He had no idea what this was but two things did come to mind. The first was that he had pissed himself. The second was to RUN!
The middle-aged farmer immediately bolted out of the barn. He was a bit out of shape, but that didn't stop him from running for his life, the fear and adrenaline making him forget that fact. And after putting a couple of dozen yards of distance between him and the barn, the floodlights came on, showing a horrifying scene. There were at least a dozen more of whatever the fuck those things are roaming just outside the farm's perimeter. And to make it even more terrible, there was another loud crash as the first thing he saw burst through the barn's thin aluminum walls and ran. Right at him.
"What the fuck?!" James screeched as he willed himself to run faster.
In a split-second decision, he turned the corner, running in between a couple of shacks, and made a beeline toward the grain silos. A minute later, he heard a crash behind him, telling him that the thing had followed. And it continued to follow even as he went in between the silos. The silver monster crashed into the grain silos and then got stuck beneath them as they collapsed.
He didn't bother celebrating this little moment of triumph. There was no time. He immediately sprinted back home and headed upstairs, startling his wife when he burst through the door.
"James, what? What the hell?!" Clara stammered.
"Clara, call the cops right now!" He ordered. "I'll get the kids and start the car!"
"Huh?! James, what the hell is going on?!"
He couldn't answer they were both interrupted by automatic gunfire and explosions outside. Clara's eyes widened, confused and alarmed.
"Uh, okay. I-I'm calling the police," She said.
"No," James interrupted. "On second thought, forget them. Get the goddamned National Guard here. Now."
Clara shakily before grabbing her cell phone. James continued stuffing anything important in a small bag before heading out to wake up their kids. But before he did that, he looked outside at the chaos below and uttered a quiet prayer.
"Lord, have mercy on us…"
A phone rang and the attendant present picked it up and answered.
"Good morning, this is the Montana Army National Guard at Fort Harrison. Sergeant Samantha Allen speaking."
The young army sergeant had the misfortune of being assigned the night shift at Montana ARNG's HQ at Fort Harrison, Helena. She was only two weeks into her tour of duty and had not yet completely adjusted. That's why she was close to dozing off when the call came, and was a bit sluggish at doing so. However, her hearing and thought process were working just fine. So she was not mistaken at what she heard.
"I-I'm sorry, what? Could you please repeat that," She requested in confusion. The caller repeated their statement, though it did not help. "A shooter at your farm? Ma'am, this is not the number you should be calling. Please let me direct you to 911— What?"
The few other people in the room, including a 1st Lieutenant who was the duty officer at the time, turned his attention towards her.
"Giant robot spiders with guns? Ma'am, may I remind you that making false reports on government lines is a felony. Please stop this now—" She tried to say only to halt again.
"Something wrong?" 1st Lieutenant Johnathan Duran asked.
"Uh, sir, there's someone on the phone raving about giant robot spiders shooting up their farm. I'm trying to dismiss it, but," She paused for a moment to choose her words carefully. "But her tone of voice sounds too real. She doesn't sound like she's joking, but I don't know."
"Hmm."
Then there was another telephone ringing which was answered by a corporal. Duran peered in and heard a similar conversation as earlier.
"Sir, I'm getting a call about giant robot spiders from a civilian in Augusta. It's a town about 60 miles from here. And—" The corporal stopped. "Sir, I think I'm hearing gunshots in the background."
And then someone else burst into the room with a phone in his hands. It was a dark-skinned sergeant, and he looked on edge.
"Sir, I got highway patrol here. They're saying something really strange," He said.
"Let's hear it," Duran encouraged, but he thought he already knew what it was about.
"They're saying something about giant robot spiders, sir. They were immediately engaged and then fired back but their weapons had no effect. I don't know what to make of it, but they sounded serious," The corporal reported.
And then more phones rang in stations across the room, more than the present staff could handle. However, they all reported the same four words. Giant, silver, robot, and spiders. Lieutenant Duran also had no idea what to make of it. Giant robot spiders? What's more, they're confirmed to be hostile. Seriously? That's just absurd! But at this point, dozens of calls from different people were reporting the same thing. And also, this seemed way too elaborate for some prank. Something was not right here.
"Right, uh, compile these calls and stand by for more for now. Ask highway patrol for more information; look for something clearer. Find out that this is not a prank call, because I'm calling the Colonel," He ordered.
The room of people got to work, taking the calls and collecting information. Meanwhile, Duran rang up his department superior and made him aware of the situation. He got chewed out a bit at first but managed to explain the situation. The Colonel quickly understood and was on his way to the base but not before telling them to request some eyes from highway patrol.
It took another thirty minutes, but a single Bell 206 adorned with Montana Highway Patrol colors lifted off from Great Falls International Airport toward its assigned patrol. The pilots were woken up and given a strange order that they couldn't wrap their heads around. Little did they know, they would be the first official reconnaissance flight on this new enemy that popped on their country's doorstep.
"What do you mean when they said 'giant robot spiders'?" The co-pilot asked.
"I dunno, man," The pilot replied.
"I swear if this is some sort of weird exercise. I haven't even had coffee at all."
"Quit your yapping, Hall, you signed up for this. Besides, I got a bad feeling in my gut about this."
"Are you seriously buying into that shit, Smith?"
"Eyes on your instruments, pilot. It's dark out."
"Yes, sir."
The pilot's bad feeling did not waiver, only intensified. However, after about 45 minutes of flying, he finds out why.
"What the hell?" Hall whispered as he stared at the glowing orange plumings dotting the ground. Things were burning.
The pilot did not waste time, keying in his radio and reporting what they were seeing. "HQ this is Patrol 2-1, we've arrived at the assigned area and have noted multiple fires in the area. Looks like burning homes. Please alert local fire departments."
"Roger that, 2-1. Continue with objective. Search for more anomalies," HQ replied.
"Affirmative," Smith said. "Thermals on."
"On," Hall acknowledged.
Hall grasped the controls of the front thermal camera, turning it on and looking at the ground below. At first, he didn't notice anything, but upon taking a closer look, he could see something amiss.
"What the hell is that?" He whispered, zooming in to it. And then he gasped.
"What is it?" Smith asked.
Hall blinked a couple of times and reconfirmed what he was seeing. Then he did it again. And once more, making sure that he wasn't seeing things.
"Smith, are you seeing this, man?" He asked, turning the screen to his superior. "You're seeing it too, right?"
The pilot also did a double take, blinking and reconfirming a couple of times before nodding. "Yup."
Both pilots immediately tensed up considerably. Their fatigue was now completely gone, and their brains were at max output.
"HQ, 2-1. Uh, we're seeing multiple quadrupedal entities within the vicinity of Augusta," Smith reported.
"I'm counting 60 of them, at least the ones I can count. They all appear to be at least the size of a sedan and look to be mechanical in nature. They are moving eastward as well," Hall added as he scanned, seeing more just a second later. "Oh, I see more similar thermal signatures coming from the south."
"Roger that, 2-1. Maintain your position above the unknown entities and keep reporting what you see," HQ replied.
"Affirmative."
"What the fuck are those things?" Hall demanded.
"No clue, man. And going by the fucking burning town, it's safe to assume they're not friendly," Smith said. "I'm taking us higher, I don't wanna risk getting seen by these freaks."
Smith pulled the collective and the whine of the engine intensified as the helicopter lifted off higher. Then something caught his eye. Looking down, he saw multiple specks of light shooting up into the sky. Right at his helicopter. It didn't take long for him to realize what it was.
"Oh, fuck!" He spat as he yanked the stick, sending the helo turning. "HQ, 2-1, we're being engaged! They're fucking shooting at us!"
"Copy, 2-1, bug out immediately!"
Smith grunted some more as he performed maneuvers his helicopter was never meant to do just to dodge the incoming gunfire. He succeeded for the first couple of minutes until his luck ran out.
"Oh, shit!" He spat as warning sounds blared around them.
The tail of the helo was hit, shearing it completely off. The 206 was then sent into an uncontrollable spin towards the ground while the pilots did all they could to stay in the air.
"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! We're hit and we're going down! This is patrol 2-1, we are going down!"
"We're going down! Brace—"
"Patrol 2-1, do you copy, over? Patrol 2-1!"
The military personnel gathered in that room solemnly looked away. They knew that helo was down and that both pilots were likely dead. And unfortunately, as horrible as that already is, there were bigger problems. After arriving back at base, Colonel Davon Ward immediately went to oversee the recon op. Radio transmissions and a live feed from the chopper's thermal cam. He saw and heard everything. He had all the evidence he needed. And he came to only one conclusion.
This was no prank. This was an attack with boots on the ground against the United States of America on its mainland soil, an event that hasn't occurred since the War of 1812 over 210 years ago.
"Right then," Ward said and clapped his hands. "Okay, everybody, we've fucking got insects in the backyard. An infestation that only God knows what! None of us know how or why, only that they're here. So to that end, we are going to do two things. One thing is that we are going to wake up everyone from here all the way to fucking Washington DC! The other thing is that we are going to begin drafting operations plans! We need evacuation plans for people within the path of those things and defensive plans against them too. And we need to accomplish both of these things beyond what we humanly can because every second that passes, someone dies! Now get to it! GO!"
The base staff immediately got to work, pinging the cells of other base staff to get them here ASAP. Lines to government and military units across the state and beyond were also opened to let them know of the situation. Meanwhile, a section of base staff was tasked to monitor the situation as it unfolded, collecting every bit of information on it to relay to tactical commanders later.
"Colonel, I think you better look at this," Captain Glenn Marshall prompted, pointing at a map.
"What is it?"
"Uh, I took the liberty of pinpointing the locations of every report we've gotten so far on a map and using it as a reference to try and determine enemy movements. This is what I've got," He explained.
The map was a large chunk of the State of Montana with red markers dotting it. The markers branched off in two directions. One headed north but turned eastward while the other continued south. And the source seemed to be somewhere near Milford Colony. Ward quickly understood what he was looking at.
"The fuckers are headed straight for us and for Malmstrom," He concluded. "Get Malmstrom Air Force Base alerted of the impending threat! And get people here ready to defend this place as well!"
And so, the response begins.
Across the country, a man in a suit entered a bedroom without knocking. He rounded a bed, knelt right next to an old man fast asleep, and put a hand on his shoulder to give it a gentle shake.
"Mister President. Mister President!" He prompted then quickly changed to a more urgent tone. "Mister President, please wake up!"
And that he did. Despite the jokes of being a senile old man, the President of the United States of America was capable when the situation really called for it. And right now, he was capable of waking up before his preferred time.
"Mhmm, Ray? What's going on? What time is it?" He asked groggily.
"It's five minutes past 6 am, sir. We need to get you in the Situation Room, immediately," The Secret Service agent, Ray, replied. He had broken off to turn on the lights and get a robe for his boss.
"What for?" POTUS asked, now sitting at the edge of the bed.
"There's a situation developing in Montana, sir. Details are still sketchy right now, but an unknown force has basically appeared out of thin air over there. However, we do know that they are confirmed hostile as they have set a small community on fire and shot down a police helicopter."
That immediately caught POTUS's attention. An unknown hostile force on American soil? How the heck did that happen?! It's slower now due to his age, but the fatigue started to dissipate as he entered work mode.
"Alright, let's get to it," He said.
"Honey, what's wrong?" His wife asked from the other side of the bed, having woken up from the commotion.
"Something's going on in Montana, dear. I gotta go," He replied, putting on his robes and slippers.
"O-Oh, okay."
"I'll see you later, Jill."
POTUS did not even bother putting on more appropriate clothing due to the magnitude of the situation before him. He just needed to get to his post quickly and begin assessing the situation as soon as possible. It was time to go to work. And although he had virtually no knowledge of the situation at that moment, he had a feeling that whatever this was would change his nation forever. Possibly, even the whole world as they know it…
*RING RING RING*
A cell phone beeped incessantly on a nightstand in a darkened room for about thirty seconds before a lazy hand extended from the bed next to it and picked it up.
"Hello?" The man who had just awakened tiredly answered.
"Captain, please report to your unit as soon as possible," The voice on the other end ordered curtly.
"What's going on?"
"Unclear at the moment, sir, but we've gotten reports of a hostile element appearing in Montana."
"Excuse me, what?" He exclaimed. That got him almost jumping out of bed. "Could you please repeat that, Lieutenant?"
"Possible hostile forces are in Montana. That's all I can tell you now. The whole military is going into LERTCON 1. You need to report to your unit right now, Captain Mi-leez. We're likely going to need armor for this," The Lieutenant clarified.
"It's Milizé. Mi-li-zay. Get it right next time," He snapped. "Alright, I'll be there. Wake up the rest of the unit."
"I'm already getting to it. Sorry for the rude awakening, sir."
"No problem, Lieutenant Gomez. Keep up the good work."
And with that, he hung up the phone and crashed back into his bed, smacking both hands at his face. A hostile element in Montana? How in the flying fuck hell did that happen?! He groaned in frustration before pushing himself out of bed. He'll get the answers later.
"Time for work," He muttered as he headed for the bathroom.
He'll also realize this later, but there was a lot of work to be done in the next few days…
BREAKING NEWS FROM NBC MONTANA
"Good morning, everyone. My name is Linda Hamilton, and I am bringing you some urgent news. About two hours ago, reports came in that a mysterious force had just appeared in Lewis and Clark County 50 miles away from Helena. This force is confirmed to be hostile as it has fired upon civilians and has shot down a police helicopter. It's unclear how this force got here or why, but it's confirmed that they are extremely aggressive and hostile. Let's move to our reporter on the ground currently speaking from a defensive line set up by the National Guard. Jim, you're up."
The feed cut from a newsroom to a single guy standing beside a highway with a mish-mash of things happening behind him. There were frightened civilians on foot or in a vehicle moving the other way while police and military were directing them. The military was also organizing things in the background like sandbags and vehicles.
"Thank you, Linda. I'm currently at one of the defensive lines being set up by the National Guard here at Vaughn just outside of Great Falls. These men had come from Malmstrom Air Force Base and they were originally guards of it until they were deployed here. This is only a small detachment, however, as you can see the hastily built-in defenses behind me here."
"Would you say that the Guard troops are inadequate in their preparedness for this kind of threat?"
"It's more complicated than that, Linda. As you've mentioned, this threat just popped out of nowhere, so there wasn't anything done to prepare for it. The Guard was effectively caught off guard. This is all this small force can do at the moment until reinforcements arrive. In addition to protecting civilians, they also have to defend Malmstrom Air Force Base which is the headquarters of one of the few remaining wings that operate Minuteman missiles. So they've got quite a lot on their plate."
Linda opened her mouth to speak again when they were both cut off by a voice coming from Jim's end.
"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to vacate this area. Our scout drones have spotted the enemy approach. They're already very close—"
"CONTACT! OPEN FIRE!"
Jim, the soldier, and the cameraman all ducked upon hearing the loud pops of automatic gunfire. The camera stabilized a few moments later to see soldiers on the defensive line firing upon something beyond.
"Get out of here, now!" The soldier yelled at them before running away.
"T-The National Guard troops have just begun firing at something, I-I don't know what! Oh my God, we're too close. Joe, let's go! We need to get out of here!" Jim said.
The camera started moving but stopped as it focused on the road beyond the defensive line, focusing on something peculiar that was now being illuminated by the rising sun of the early morning. A silver monster with six legs and a single red eye.
"Dear God, what is that?" Jim whispered.
"Hey, get the hell away from here now!" Another soldier yelled.
"R-Right. I'm sorry, Linda, but we're gonna have to go off the air while trying to get away from this—"
"INCOMING!"
There was a loud explosion at one moment and the feed cut off on another. The news crew, including Linda, were so shocked at what happened that they all froze for a moment. But the lead anchor was able to regain her bearings and continue with the important news report.
"R-Right. As you have seen, this force is highly dangerous and hostile. Can someone bring up an image of it before the feed cut?" She requested and it was granted a moment later. "There it is, this is what has fired upon our people. I can't make it out very well but it looks like a giant insect with those legs and they look mechanical too, like robots. Anyway, stay away from these things. The governor has also just now declared a state of emergency and has approved the National Guard to do whatever means necessary to neutralize this threat. And on that note, I will now discuss the surrounding counties' evacuation plans. Please evacuate immediately and take only what you can carry by hand—"
"No effect on target! I repeat, no effect on target!" The Lieutenant yelled into his radio.
One of the first official National Guard responses against the sudden threat was a Humvee platoon from Fort Harrison intercepting the incoming enemy force. By this time, the Commander of MNG and the Governor had already been made aware of the situation, and both the guard and state government were working together to solve the problem. And this first official response was nothing more than a probe at the enemy to see what they could do. They got the memo that they were facing car-sized killer robots and tried to act accordingly. But things quickly fell apart when they encountered the enemy at Wolf Creek.
The platoon was shot on sight by the enemy with the driver of the lead Humvee panicking and driving into the divider by mistake while the rest of the unit had to halt. The enemy seemed to capitalize on this as the enemy gunfire intensified, causing the platoon to scatter with two other vehicles crashing into each other. Fortunately, the platoon lieutenant managed to salvage the situation and direct a counter-fire, but so far their shots weren't effective.
"7.62 and below have no effect on target!" Lieutenant Reuben Jones reported.
"Sir, .50 cal seems to be working!" A Sergeant reported.
"40 mike-mike's doing good too!" A Private reported.
The LT looked up from cover to see the enemy unit staggering and then falling after getting riddled with multiple .50 BMG and 40mm rounds. The red 'eye' of the horror blinked a few times before fading away. That was it.
".50 cal and 40 mils are effective!" He reported before an idea popped into his head. "240s and small arms, try aiming for the legs!"
Vehicle-mounted M240B 7.62x51mm machine guns and various 5.56 small arms like M4A1s were trained away from the enemy's center of mass but onto their legs instead. This turned out to be more effective because, while it did not kill it, it did cause it to stagger and lose its balance.
"That's it!" He exclaimed. "Low caliber munitions effective on legs! It doesn't kill them but it will slow them down!"
"Understood, Lieutenant. Mop up what you can and retreat immediately," HQ ordered.
"Yes, sir!" He sounded off. "Engage! Engage! Small arms on the legs and anything bigger on the body!"
The platoon continued firing for ten minutes, expending a ton of ammunition. But, they eventually came out on top when the enemy gunfire ceased. Once the calm settled in, the platoon advanced on the corpses of their enemy to examine and confirm their kill, approaching one of the dead units.
"All that for only five kills," A sergeant muttered.
"Well, at least we know a rocket launcher will work if the .50 cal could hit it," Another soldier added.
"But we should've used the AT4 we had anyway."
"We were tasked to probe the enemy and we did. Good job everyone," Jones reminded and keyed in his radio. "HQ, this Echo Actual, we've successfully neutralized the enemy units in our path. .50 caliber and above seem effective against the body while small arms are only good on legs and sensor suites. The enemy is also confirmed to be mechanical—"
"INCOMING!"
The Lieutenant looked up just in time to see multiple streaks of light in the sky heading for their position. He immediately recognized what they were, and after yelling a quick "GET DOWN!", the whole platoon hit the deck. The missiles struck all around their position with some hitting a couple of Humvees and flipping them over. Jones pushed himself up after a moment, disoriented and his ears ringing. He looked around to see his men running around frantically in different directions. Then, he turned to the ground to see one of his men, a young Private, on the ground with a piece of shrapnel in his stomach while his buddies tried to help him. Everything went quiet as he stared at the sight with a distant expression. That could've been him—
"LIEUTENANT!" A Staff Sergeant yelled while smacking him, bringing him out of his trance. "Your orders, sir?!"
Jones blinked at him before shaking his head. "U-Uh, load up any wounded on the surviving vics, and let's get the fuck out of here."
"Alright, sir," The E-6 responded before relaying the order to his men.
"Command, Echo Actual, w-we got hit by some sort of rocket-propelled explosives. Enemy has possible AT weapons. I've got wounded in need of immediate medical attention," Jones reported.
"Roger that, Echo Actual. Load up and return to base immediately. You've done your duty."
"Already on it," Jones replied before hopping into a Humvee. "RTB, let's go!"
Coincidentally, the Humvee he was in also had one of their wounded. A young Private Ashton Hopkins who had just joined the Guard was now wrapped tightly with a bandage in the stomach to control the bleeding caused by shrapnel. Jones looked away in shame as he couldn't bear it. That could've been him or anyone else. But it wasn't and he was still standing. He needed to do better.
"You'll be fine, Private. We'll fix you up when we get back," Jones assured.
"Thanks, El-tee," The Private said weakly.
This was not over.
"They should appear any minute now," The soldier said as he looked through his binoculars.
With the entire command staff, including the Major General, now awake, planning had been going much smoother. By this point, the entirety of the Montana Army National Guard was mobilized with reinforcements from other states and the federal government already on their way, but they still needed time to get there. Time they probably didn't have. Surveillance drones had been launched and were currently monitoring the enemy's advance. And there were a lot of them. So it fell to him and his unit.
Fort Harrison had eight M1A1 Abrams main battle tanks and ten M2A2 Bradley IFVs stored. All of which were immediately loaded up and deployed once the order was given. The designated defensive line was set just on the outskirts of Helena. Their job was to only stall the enemy long enough for support to arrive. The enemy numbers and mobility meant that this hastily put-together defense force was not going to push them back. These 18 vehicles were placed on top of hills overlooking the highway from the side, providing them a great defensive advantage over the enemy. Infantry with anti-tank weapons and heavy machine guns were also set up in various positions around them and 120mm mortars were on station for artillery support. But from what he was told, most of the punch was coming from the armor.
"All callsigns, drone footage show the enemy turning the bend. Get ready," HQ announced.
"Roger," Captain Ethan Riley acknowledged.
The whole world seemed to silence at that moment, even the high-pitched whine of his tank's gas turbine engine faded away. Everyone was now focused and waiting. Waiting for the time to strike. And then they saw them. Countless insectoid mechanicals the size of cars marching down the road. The hearts of every man present on the defensive line sank. This was the first time they saw the enemy and they were terrifying. Regardless, every man will do his best.
"Identified robot spider thingy, range 1000!" His gunner replied.
"Everybody, mark your targets," He ordered. "Load HEAT!"
"HEAT indexed!" His loader replied.
The Captain inhaled and then exhaled. "Fire!"
"On the way!"
Their surroundings were rocked by a thunderous boom as the tank's 120mm M256 smoothbore cannon let fly a single HEAT round. The M830A1 HEAT-MP-T shell sailed across the air, not even taking one second before slamming into the lead hostile unit. The hostile unit exploded in a fiery ball when its fuel and ammunition cooked off.
"Target destroyed!" His gunner reported.
More similar booms echoed across the defensive line as the other tanks also fired their main guns followed by similar explosions in the distance.
"Hell yeah!" Another tank commander yelled through the comms channel.
"Gun up!"
"Fire!"
"On the way!"
More shells went down range and more contacts were wiped off the earth. The enemy scattered, moving out of the highway and spreading out on the grassy plains, only making them easier for the defenders to pick out. 120mm shells wrecked them, 25mm rounds turned them into Swiss cheese, and TOW missiles blew them up. This continued for another thirty minutes with the enemy having no strategy other than trying to rush them. It looked like they could hold the line until support arrived. He hoped.
"The North Helena line is holding very well, sir. The enemy doesn't seem to have any other strategy aside from rushing us for now, it seems. But it's quite the opposite on the Great Falls line; they have no heavy equipment and minimal AT weapons," Ward reported.
"I see," Major General Jordan Reid said. "If they reach the outskirts, start blowing bridges. That should buy us some time, unless those fuckers can swim."
"Alright, sir."
After getting a personal wake-up call from Colonel Ward, the flag officer immediately drove down to HQ to get started on planning for a defense. It was understandably a mess because no one in their wildest dreams had ever imagined giant robot spiders appearing in the middle of fucking Montana. The standard operating procedure was not gonna cut it, they were gonna have to make something up with what they had which was honestly not a lot.
Units from other bases were already on their way to assist but the traveling coupled with traffic jams from panicking civilians meant that it's gonna take a while. Time that they did not have. The enemy was advancing too quickly and regular troops couldn't fight them effectively. At this point, he and General Reid, the commander of Montana ANG, had decided to evacuate Malmstrom AFB while sealing up tight or torching anything sensitive that they couldn't bring. The last thing they needed were these silver bastards getting ahold of a piece of the fucking country's nuclear arsenal.
Fortunately, support was expected by the hour. Air cover will pound the enemy while ground reinforcements make their way there. A-10s and F-15Es were coming in from Idaho, F-16s from South Dakota, Oklahoma, and Minnesota, and Air Force even told him that heavy bombers were also being prepared to fly in and provide support. Reid wasn't a big fan of the idea of carpet bombing his state, but he understood and couldn't complain. They've got an infestation there and only God knows what they can truly do. They've got to hit them hard and they've got to hit them now, or risk the problem ballooning into something they can no longer control.
However, the big dogs up top were still weighing on that decision so he maintained his focus on the ground. The defensive line outside Helena was holding but only just. They needed a constant stream of ammunition going to them and they were in no position to advance, but they held the line well enough. So far, they've confirmed that the enemy was indeed pretty dumb but kept their guard up in case they tried to pull a fast one on them. They just needed to hold the line a little bit longer.
"Hey, what the hell?!" Someone yelled.
Reid looked up to see that the yell was from their communications sections with a Specialist tweaking his radio. And it wasn't just him multiple other operators seemed to be having trouble with their own equipment as they appeared to fumble with it more than normal.
"What's going on?" Reid demanded.
"Sir, my radio's acting strangely. Transmissions are garbling up," A Specialist reported.
"Internet's gone too, sir," A Corporal added.
"We've lost all comms! I can't get anything outside!" Another added.
"What the fuck is going on?"
"Sir!" Colonel Ward called. "We've all lost all wireless communication and the internet is also down. Radios and phones are out. I think we're being jammed."
"Yeah, of course. It's never so easy," Reid grumbled. "Alright, keep trying to get a signal out. While you're at it, get wired comms set up for our forces, and try the landline if that shit still exists! Bring out whatever ECCM equipment we have and try 'em as well. We can't work if we can't talk to our boys! And oh, get some more coffee in here 'cuz we are fucking out!"
"Sir! You've got to see this!" A Lieutenant called. The junior officer ran up to the command staff and showed them his phone. "I just came from outside and took this picture right when the signal cut out."
The senior officers examined the photo he was showing thoroughly, their eyes widening moments after. There was a giant dark mass forming in the direction of where the enemy was coming from. At first glance, it looked like a storm cloud, but the forecast wasn't expecting any storms today and the cloud just looked off.
"How much you wanna bet that's what's jamming us?" Ward asked.
"Yeah, no way. I already know the answer to that," Reid replied.
"What are we gonna do?"
"There's nothing we can do against that shit. But, I'm sure the top can see this too. We'll just have to pray that they can deal with it quickly if they can in the first place."
With that, Reid dismissed them and allowed them to do other things they can do. What they can't do will have to be left to someone else. He just hopes it can be accomplished in time.
"My fellow Americans, I come before you right now to tell you of the issue that has come to our soil. Just earlier this morning, multiple insect-like mechanical beings appeared in Lewis and Clark County in Montana and have since rapidly advanced into the neighboring counties, destroying towns and gunning down our own. We do not know who they are, we do not know what they want, but we will do everything in our power to stop them and expel them from our territory. I am currently working with the entire government to stop this threat and prevent the death of any more American lives. That is all for now. Stay safe out there and may God bless you."
"Okay, what am I looking at?" POTUS asked.
The President of the United States of America remained stuck within the White House Situation Room for two whole hours trying to absorb the details of what the hell was going on in Montana. After that, the decision was made to address the nation to calm it down now that the news had already spread throughout its entirety and beyond. A quick shower, a change of clothes, and a shot of espresso later the man was ready for action. It turned out that his mind and body worked very well in a particularly distressing situation because he did not once stutter or falter in his address. He'd thank God, but they all still needed more help now, so he'd just thank Him later once the situation was resolved. But it wasn't looking good.
Then they viewed more drone footage since some of them were able to penetrate enemy lines towards their source. What they discovered absolutely floored them. Thermal imaging by the drone showed a faint spire of energy stuck into the ground and extending into the sky. An imaging satellite flying by also captured the anomaly and took precise measurements of it. The anomaly was 250 meters in diameter and stretched to about 40 thousand feet into the sky. And at its base, more of those things were pouring out. And with that came only one conclusion: there was a fucking PORTAL to another dimension in the middle of Montana.
To make matters worse, the number of enemy units gathering around it was already in the thousands. Last they heard, the enemy was pushing the Vaughn defensive line and if they got any closer they'd have to start blowing bridges, even if civilian evacuation wasn't complete yet. The President then greenlighted the decision to carpet bomb the place to kingdom come. He wasn't a big fan of the idea, both morally and politically, but something needed to be done now or they'll all pay for it. B-52s from Minot Air Force Base were fueling and arming up and will take to the skies within the hour.
And then communications suddenly went dark with drone feeds following shortly after. They were now effectively blind and deaf. His staff immediately scrambled to figure out what the hell just happened. They quickly pointed out that they were being jammed by something pretty intense but could not figure out what. In the meantime, air cover had to be delayed that, while necessary to prevent a possible needless loss of assets, frustrated them to no end. Anyway, POTUS decided to occupy himself with one among the mountain of things he had to do as president while his staff scrambled to resolve the problem. It took another 15 minutes, which likely translated to 15 years for the boys on the ground, but his staff finally came back to him.
"Comms and drone footage are out, sir. But we still have a signal from recon satellites. This is what it showed."
Two photos appeared on the screen, both showing the same thing, but one was in regular color while the other was in thermal imaging. It showed the area of the portal but there giant thick cloud of black surrounding it. Actually, looking at it closer, the cloud looked kinda off with how it was… shimmering?
"Just before we lost all signals, we detected a massive flying object come out of the portal and climb to about 65,000 feet. Then, enemy units started to act 'smarter' per se, like they just received new orders. And then these things followed shortly after," NORAD commander General Gregory May explained. "We think that the big that came in was some sort of AWACS unit. We'd shoot it down, but we lost it in the jamming. In addition to that, we think that this jamming cloud is actually a swarm of tiny drones that form the jamming network."
"Okay, how do we get rid of it?" POTUS asked the sole question they were concerned about. None of them really cared about the nature of the problem, only how to fix it.
"I think we have a solution to that, Mister President," DARPA director Stephanie Tompkins, said. "We've been developing and testing various non-nuclear EMP weapons through the years. There's one that's being developed to take out massive drone swarms in a single strike, but it's still in the testing and prototype stage."
"What can this weapon do?"
"If we detonate it at a high enough altitude, it should take out at least most of them, sir. But, as I've said, this weapon is still in the prototype phase so it's quite weak. However, if these really are just a bunch of small drones, then I'm sure they don't have much in the way of EMP protection. A weak pulse might just be enough."
"Might," POTUS parroted, not liking the implication that their weapon may not work. "What do the rest of you think?"
"It's dubious, sir, I know. But it's all we have. I say we go for it," Secretary of Defense Lucas Austin said.
"I agree as well, Mister President," Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Charles Spencer nodded.
"Me too, sir," Commander of USNORTHCOM General Gregory Gale agreed.
"Okay then. What will it take to get this weapon ready for deployment at the soonest possible time?"
"Frankly, Mister President? An act of God. But we will get it done, sir. I promise," She stated firmly.
"You better. American lives are being lost by the minute," POTUS said seriously. "Anyway, you may go. Get to your task immediately."
"Sir."
Tompkins' face disappeared from the screen, leaving only the rest of his command staff. The old man sighed and soldiered on.
"Should this weapon not be effective, what other options do we have?" He asked.
"Well, we can detonate a nuclear device at high altitude and it should work the same way. However, it's going to fry the whole state of Montana as well as parts of surrounding states and Canada. And I don't need to tell you about the fallout, sir," SecDef said.
"I see," The President said. "Prepare that as a contingency for if things get really out of control. In the meantime, tell ground reinforcements to move double time and inform the Canadians of our plans."
His staff sounded off across the board and the President allowed himself to sit back in his seat to relax even if just a bit. So much seemed to be happening and it wasn't even noon. He'd have never run for president if he knew this would happen.
"Damn, I really am getting too old for this."
"This is Skybolt, approaching launch coordinates."
Seeing the direction warfare has been taking since 2020, DARPA has begun developing various counters against prospective weapons systems. Drone technology has come quite far in recent years, so much so that the US has feared the use of small, cheap, drones equipped with explosives or SIGINT equipment against their forces and developed various countermeasures. One was the use of an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) on a swarm of small drones. This area was one of the more extreme options and required a lot of research, however, a prototype was already completed. The weapon was weak as it was only a prototype, but it was probably effective against small drone targets covering an area with a radius of 25 miles. It wasn't quite ready for the modern battlefield, but it might already be useful in this situation.
The weapon was quickly modified some more by sticking it on a rocket, giving it about 300 kilometers of range. A single B-1B Lancer from the flight test squadron in Edwards Air Force Base was selected to carry out the mission. The bomber flew from its home base to Area 51 where it picked up the weapon and some fuel before heading out to its standby position just outside Montana on the border over Idaho. All of this was monitored by the White House and the Pentagon. And then, the fateful order was given and the bomber was on the attack.
"We're in range. Pilot to weapons," The pilot said.
"Weapons, my ship," The Weapons Officer replied. "Weapon is armed, EMP active. Fuze set to airburst. Target coordinates locked. Bomb bay doors opened. And… missile away!"
The missile fell out of the aircraft bomb bay, falling for only a few moments, worrying the crew that the engine might not fire before the exhaust lit up and then climbed into the sky with a white trail of smoke behind it. The missile followed its plotted course for a few minutes, an arc over 250 kilometers long guided by the inertial navigation systems in its head, completely immune from electronic jamming. Then, a bright flash of bluish-white light above a dark black cloud. And finally, the cloud simply fell.
Hundreds of thousands of aluminum flies died the moment the EMP hit and were now falling harmlessly toward the earth. Highly concentrated electromagnetic waves overloaded their electronics and essentially cooked them from within. The electronics of the enemy on the ground, and the lone AWACS high up in the air, were also damaged, and while not outright destroying them, it did make them significantly weaker.
The AWACS unit immediately detected multiple radar pings and radio messages nearly instantaneously. And now that its ECM shield was gone, there was nothing it could do to protect itself. And at that moment, the enemy knew what the word FEAR meant.
"The weapon was effective, sir! Jamming is clearing up and we're hearing from Fort Harrison again!" May reported happily. "Recon is also showing some enemy ground units turning around and heading back in the direction of the portal. They're retreating, sir!"
Echoes of cheers reverberated in the Situation Room from the staff and through the monitors by the others. Meanwhile, the President merely hunched over and buried his tired face in his hands. That part was done and dealt with, and he was happy about that. However, he knew that the real battle had only just begun. He may be old and secretly admits he might actually be going senile, but it didn't take a genius to see what comes next. There was a lot of work to be done for him and the next president. Because this was an event that would change the course of history forever.
"Tell our pilots to begin their attack immediately! Let's not waste any more time!" POTUS ordered after a moment.
"Yes, sir! Rolling in strike packages!" May said.
"Delta Actual, this is Gofer 1-1, CAS is on station, over," The pilot reported.
"Gofer 1-1, Delta Actual, roger. Everything north of us is hostile," Captain Riley replied.
"Affirmative, Gofer Flight engaging."
A flight of four Fairchild Republic A-10C Thunderbolt IIs, nicknamed Warthogs, turned and descended from cruising altitude. Once below the cloud layer, they first made a couple of passes above the enemy concentrations to formulate an attack plan before striking. Each aircraft was carrying six AGM-65G Maverick air-to-ground missiles, two LAU-131 rocket pods containing seven 70mm APKWS each, two 2000 lb GBU-31 JDAMs, six 500 lb GBU-54 JDAMs, two AIM-9L IR air-to-air missiles, and a LITENING targeting pod. And of course, 1,500 30x173mm rounds for the 7-barreled GAU-8 Avenger rotary cannon at the front of the aircraft. The Hogs were packing heat and hungry to kill.
"Gofers, pick your sectors of operation and rain hell. Don't conserve ammo," The leader ordered and was obeyed.
The flight of four split into groups of two to cover more ground and began their operation. Volleys of Mavericks shot from the wings of the aircraft, sailing across the sky and slamming into multiple targets. They flew over, looped around, and were attacking again. This time, APKWS salvos destroyed multiple Ameise. Then they were back it again after looping around, this time arming up GBU-31s and dropping them on the heavier types that just appeared which also destroyed units that were close to it. GBU-54s were used similarly as well. Finally, they made strafing runs with their 30mm guns, destroying dozens with them alone. Once their ammunition was expended, at least a hundred enemy units had been destroyed.
"Delta Actual, Gofer 1-1, we have thinned out their population and are bingo ammo and fuel. We are RTB, stay safe down there," Gofer lead reported.
"Gofer, Delta, acknowledged. Thank God for you magnificent bastards!" Captain Riley replied.
Gofer 1-1 did a flyby of the Helena defensive line before climbing up and rejoining his squadron. They'd rendezvous with a KC-135 for a quick top up then return to Gowen Field ANGB where they'd refuel, rearm, and take a piss before getting back into the fight. But, they're not the only ones in the fight.
"Tiger flight, reporting in."
"Warhawks, on station."
More similar callsigns were heard across the net as the rest of the air support also arrived. F-15E Strike Eagles and F-16C Fighting Falcons (although almost always called Vipers) came dropped on them payloads of Paveways, JDAMs, and various CBU cluster munitions. They rained absolute hell on the helpless Legion that couldn't fight back despite finally getting C-RAM units on station. However, these strikes were concentrated on the edges of enemy-held territory, because the thicker meat closer to the source would be handled by a more specialized unit.
"This is Blackjack Flight, we are in the AO," The pilot reported.
"Roger, Blackjacks, proceed to drop location and proceed with the mission," The AWACS controller replied.
"Affirmative. Into attack, pickles hot."
All sixteen Boeing B-52H Stratofortress strategic bombers stationed in Minot Air Force Base were loaded up and scrambled for this operation. Other bombers from other bombers from other bases across the country were also on the ready but they were the closest so they got to hit the enemy first. The sixteen BUFFs split into groups of eight and approached from the southeast. And it took another few minutes, but they were now above their targets.
"We are here," The pilot said. "Weapons up."
"Roger," The Weapons Systems Officer replied. "Target area marked and locked, bomb doors open, and… bombs away!"
The sixteen bombers then dropped their full payload of 45 1000 lb GBU-32 JDAMs on each plane, for a total of 720 bombs. Each bomb would follow a designated point that covers dozens of square miles, effectively blanketing the whole surface. And that it did. Whatever was within the kill box simply ceased to be once it was over.
"Bombs away. Blackjack Flight, returning to base," The lead bomber pilot reported.
On the ground, what remaining enemy units there looked at the carnage around them and at the clear blue sky on top. They knew that the battle was over and that they had lost. And it was now time to RUN.
"Enemy forces are in full retreat, sir, and stragglers are being picked off by aircraft," Gale reported.
"I see."
"What are your orders, Mister President?" SecDef asked.
POTUS inhaled and exhaled then stared at the screen with a determined expression.
"Begin the next phase immediately. Full deployment of troops and assets. I want that portal secured and I want relief teams bringing aid to the people. And I want it done now," He ordered.
"Yes, sir!"
The President momentarily tuned out his staff's conversations to get some peace before returning to his work. The real war had just begun.
"Delta Actual, this is Base. Enemy forces are retreating. You are to advance and intercept them, and secure the area around the source."
"Base, Delta Actual, affirmative. Good to hear from you again!" Captain Riley replied and switched to the local net. "Enemy's running, this is our chance to drop the hammer on them! Get ready to advance!"
The Company sounded off and scrambled to prepare to move out. After another fifteen minutes, the vehicles were replenished and the troops were loaded up.
"Delta Company, advance! Let's teach these tin-can fuckers not to mess with Montana!" He ordered.
The whine of his Abrams' gas turbine engine rang loudly as it pushed out of the defensive position before moving down the hill and onto the road. The other tanks, Bradleys, and other vehicles loaded with troops and supplies followed closely behind. The noise of the aircraft above mixed with the convoys as they all pushed in to take back their territory.
This is when America fights back.
"Tophat, this is Redhawk Flight, we're seeing a massive radar signature about 40 miles on our nose, flying at high altitude," Major Liam Barnes reported.
"Redhawk, Tophat, yeah we see it too. That's our friend, please take him down," The AWACS controller replied.
"Wilco. Redhawk Flight engaging," Barnes said.
The flight of six McDonnell Douglas F-15C Eagles from the 123rd Fighter Squadron of the Oregon Air National Guard throttled up to full afterburner and began to climb. As they did, they never let the massive bogey out of sight of their radars. And once they were just underneath their service ceilings at 60,000 feet, they leveled out and stared.
"Tophat, we see it. Damn, it's one big bastard. 'Looks like a giant moth too," Barnes remarked. They were still quite a ways away, but the blotch of silver was already so large. "We're 20 miles out. Radar locked acquired. And… Fox 3!"
He and his wingmen all let fly a salvo of four AIM-120 AMRAAMs each for a total of 24 missiles in the air. The large number ensured they'd take it down. The missiles tracked perfectly at the scared and running enemy unit that tried to chaff and notch. But its efforts were in vain as all 24 missiles struck true, tearing holes in its hull, damaging components, and simply ripping it apart.
"Multiple hits on target. Fires all over. Big Boy's going down," Barnes reported.
"Roger that, Redhawk, well done. Continue with your patrol pattern," Tophat replied.
"Roger."
The flight of Eagles banked away, not bothering to spare a glance at their dying opponent that was now in a nosedive for the ground. The last thing the enemy AWACS unit transmitted to its allies was to run the fuck away because they had just seriously fucked up. This miscalculation cost them its life and the lives of their fellows. What's more, this might just turn the tide of war against them now that new players have joined the fray. What's more, the last thing that materialized in its CPU is: was it worth it? It will never know, as it crashed into a lake at terminal velocity.
"Jesus Christ," A soldier whispered.
It was a sentiment shared by everyone else gathered in the room currently watching the news on a wall-mounted TV. Officers and senior NCOs of this unit were all suddenly summoned for a briefing. Nobody knew what was happening especially since the flag officers were all so cryptic and absent up until now. And then they turned on the TV and all of it made sense. A hostile force had somehow appeared in the middle of Montana. What's more, was that they turned out to be armed robot spiders the size of pickup trucks. Understandably, the men had a ton of questions. Among them was how the fuck did they sneak into rural Montana without anyone noticing and who the fuck are they? Did the fucking Russians or Chinese develop these shitbags then dug a hole to America and deployed them here? Time will tell, they guessed because the silence meant that even their own COs were still trying to figure things out.
"Ever seen anything like this, man?" An officer with dark skin asked.
Silver eyes glared at the television screen, trying to determine some things, only for the owner to sigh and to run a pale hand through equally silver hair.
"Naw, bro, I'm just as lost as everyone here," Captain Milizé replied.
"This shit's unreal. It's like a goddamned movie plot," An officer with brown hair mumbled.
"It might as well be a fuckin movie, Hayes."
"Might as well be Skynet, man," Hayes laughed.
"It might be an anime, too," Another officer with black hair and glasses added.
"Yo, fuck off with that hentai shit, Holland," The black officer said with a smirk.
"Hey, do not fucking generalize anime as some horny shit, Gardner. Freakin horny asshole," Holland retorted to which his friend laughed.
They wanted to talk about it more but then someone knocked on the door and a female Corporal peaked in, telling them that the COs were done organizing their presentation and were ready to begin the briefing. The four officers would be joined by their XOs and some other NCOs along the way and then gathered in a briefing room with a podium and a projector. They took their seats but did not wait any longer as an exhausted middle-aged man and some others walked into the room.
"Room attention!" Milizé announced and everyone stood up straight.
"At ease. We'll make this quick, we've got a lot of work to do. So I want all of you to listen carefully," He ordered.
They sat back down and allowed the man to begin. The man in question was Colonel Matthew H. Casablanca, the current commander of the 4th Battalion, 70th Armor Regiment. The man quickly set his stuff up on the podium and began.
"I know all of you have a ton of questions right, and quite frankly, me too. Details are still kinda sketchy and the people upstairs can't get a bead on what the hell just popped up in our backyard. Normally, we'd joke about the issues upstairs, but not this time. From what I've heard, I can't blame them for being confused as fuck."
He pressed some keys on his laptop and the presentation began, first showing a map of Montana.
"Approximately 12 hours ago, a portal materialized in Lewis and Clark County in the middle of Montana. Yes, you heard that right, a real honest-to-God portal to another dimension is in Montana, and so far it hasn't gone away," He paused to let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "The portal is a thousand feet in diameter and about 40,000 feet tall according to estimations from recon. That same portal let out these things."
The slide switched to a blurry picture of one of the enemy units that attacked Montana. A sleek silver body, six legs, and a glowing red eye. The thing was unforgettable.
"There's no official name for these things aside from 'enemy', so just refer to them as that for the time being," Casablanca said. They're extremely hostile and quick, rapidly advancing from the portal, gunning down people, and torching every home and town in their path. Fortunately, the Montana Guard was able to pin them down just long enough for air support to arrive. But it was close, I heard they were almost out of ammunition when air support finally arrived.
"These things also come in different units. The most common of them all are only armed with two machine guns, but there's one with ATGMs and one that's basically a tank. However, they're pretty dumb, showing no real strategic planning aside from rushing us. That is until these things came into the picture."
The slide switched to a picture of a massive storm cloud that looked off somehow.
"That is not a storm cloud. That's a massive swarm of little drones and they absolutely fuck with comms and radar. They said that they couldn't see or hear jack shit when they arrived. Fortunately, Command was able to quickly figure out what they were and deploy an experimental EMP weapon to deal with it. We got lucky that time, though. We can't expect something like that again. And if you're caught under a swarm of that shit, you're on your own.
"Now, after a combination of brutal air attacks and losing their EW shield, the enemy has decided to retreat back to the portal. And this is the time we fight back."
The slide changed to one showing elements of their parent division, including theirs, with a few others. Milizé already knew what this meant.
"The entire 1st Armored Division is going to secure the area with 4-70 AR being at the tip of the spear. We have no idea what else is on the other side of that fucking portal so we're going to build a wall of guns, tanks, and bombs around it for the time being. Now, any questions?" Casablanca asked only to be met with silence. "In that case, get your units and get them ready to ship out. Dismissed."
With that, all the soldiers in the room stood from their seats, filed out of there, and immediately headed to work. They had worried looks etched on their faces as they walked. Even though they've seen it on the news and from their own commander, they couldn't believe it…
"Motherfucking killer robots on our soil. Fuckin crazy," Gardner whispered.
"I told you, Skynet, man," Hayes said.
"I heard you last time!"
"What's the probability that we'll go to the other side of that portal?" Holland asked.
"Not sure. People are undoubtedly pissed off, myself included. But we've already got a ton of shit to deal with here too," Hayes answered.
"It's a complete dice roll from the higher ups too," Gardner added. "What do you think, Milizé?"
He shrugged. "Anything is possible."
"Wardaddy out here chasing thrills!" Gardner laughed.
"Don't call me that, man," He said with a frown while rubbing his gloved left hand.
"Well, in any case, Old Ironsides is off to war again! To destiny, my friends!"
Gardner made a silly gesture causing them to laugh a bit as they headed to their units. The officer smiled, with worry and excitement in his chest. Who knows what this campaign will bring? And with that Captain Louis Renault Milizé, commander of Alpha Company of 4-70 AR, 1st Armored Division, United States Army, walked towards destiny.
"Yep. That's a portal alright."
From all the comic books, video games, movies, and TV shows Captain Riley had seen when he was younger, he could tell that it was in fact a portal. After driving for about an hour, passing by torched buildings, burnt husks of the enemy, and a ton of craters they finally arrived at their objective. The giant pillar was even more marvelous up close for the eyes to see, although he overlooked it from a hill a couple of hundred yards away. It was a glowing blur that shimmered. He couldn't make out anything through the opaque blur, but it looked like what was on the other side mirrored the time of day there. But whatever scientific hypotheses are to be made and tests will be done by designated eggheads. The job of him and his men was to secure the area, nothing else.
"Base, this is Delta Actual, we've arrived at the portal site. And goddamn… you should see this yourself," He reported.
"Got it, Delta Actual. Maintain your position, reinforcements are on the way," Base replied. "And I imagine it's very tempting, but please don't try anything funny."
"Noted," He said. "Alright, boys, you can relax a bit."
His troops hunkered down and allowed themselves to relax a bit despite the source of their worries being only a couple of hundred yards away. But with tanks, IFVs, and aircraft nearby, there wasn't a whole lot to fear, right?
"HEY! SOMETHING'S COMING OUT!" Someone yelled.
"What the—"
Something did jump out of the portal just a second later and all hell broke loose.
"HOLY SHIT!"
"THE FUCK IS THAT?!"
"OPEN FIRE!"
Hold on, he didn't give that order! "WAIT—"
It was too late. Guns of all calibers fired upon the thing that just appeared. It was just one thing and it wasn't fighting back, only hopping around and trying to dodge the shots. However, the volume of fire from Delta Company was simply too much for this little thing. A HEAT round slammed at the base of one of its legs. The force of the shockwave from the detonating shell sent it tumbling onto its side and doing a complete flip before slamming onto the ground. And then it went quiet.
"CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!" Riley yelled into his radio and the gunfire stopped a moment later. "GODDAMNIT! YOU DON'T FUCKING SHOOT UNLESS I TELL YOU TO!"
Apologies came through the net but he didn't even entertain the thought of acknowledging them. Instead, grabbing his binoculars and looking through them and at whatever they just shot. It wasn't moving and it looked dead. And upon further examination, the thing looked different from all the other units they had engaged. The color was off and it had a pole-like device mounted on the top, likely a main gun. He couldn't determine it probably, but something in his gut told him that this wasn't one of them.
"Base, Delta Actual, we've engaged an unknown unit that just hopped out of the portal. But something about it looks off. There are similarities to the enemy but with a number of key differences. Requesting permission to send a vehicle to investigate," He reported.
"Got it," Base replied and took a moment before responding. "Delta Actual, request granted. But make sure to pull them out quick in case it is hostile."
"Roger," He replied and switched back to the local net. "4th Platoon, please send a vehicle to check out what we just shot at."
"Got it, Captain. I'll send a Humvee from one of my squad," The LT of 4th Platoon replied.
Three minutes later, a single Humvee broke off from their lines and headed straight for the downed vehicle with five disgruntled soldiers inside. Two corporals, a specialist, and private first class, and a private. These guys were actually among the first to open fire causing all of them to let loose. Now, they had to investigate the mess caused by their itchy trigger fingers.
"If we fucking die here, I'm blaming you," PFC Oliver Mills told his comrade from his position in the turret.
"I can't see well down here! You're the one who shot the gun!" Specialist Caleb Bell retorted from the driver's seat.
"But you're the one who told him to fucking fire!" Private Marco Peck countered.
"Yeah, and last I checked, you're not high enough to order shit!" Corporal Kian Britt added.
"Shut the fuck up, all of you!" Corporal Derick Wiley ordered. "We all fucked up, that's final! I should've fucking shut you up but I didn't! Now let's just get this over with and go back! It scares the shit out of me too!"
The guys in the Humvee all shut up after that but they were still pissed. It took five minutes, but they eventually crossed the distance and were now only a dozen yards away from the unknown unit. Three guys exited the vehicle while Mills and Bell remained inside; the former manned the machine gun while the latter kept the truck ready to drive.
"Spread out a bit. And gunner, keep us covered," Wiley ordered, keeping his M4A1 up and pointing at the unknown.
"I heard 'ya," Mills replied, keeping his finger close to the trigger of the turret-mounted M240B machine gun. He heard that 7.62 wasn't very effective against them, but he had a full belt of M61'Black Tip' armor-piercing rounds. That added to the short range and sheer volume of firepower he can unleash, there's no way it won't be somewhat useful.
"Delta Actual, we're approaching the unknown contact now," Wiley reported and examined the thing from only a few yards away. "Uh, upon initial examination, I can see a number of key differences to what we've been dealing with recently."
"What kind of differences?"
"Uh, the shape of the body is off, sir. It's a bit smaller than the MG type and it's only got four legs. The color's off too; it's got a light tan color as opposed to reflective silver. And it looks like it's got two machine guns fixed to the hull and one medium caliber magazine-fed at the top," Wiley reported.
Well, that was interesting, the Captain thought. Every military has some form of uniformity in their ranks to tell them apart from others. Yes, most of the time they'd have equipment from different suppliers but how they paint and dress them up is also another form of uniformity. And it's interesting in this case because the only thing similar with this unknown entity and the guys they'd been shooting at all day was that it had legs. Different factions perhaps?
The Corporal on the ground thought the same thing as he further examined this thing. He's trained to recognize his foe from his friends. Whether it was from the kind of gun their using, the shape of their down to the color of their skin, and the way they speak. So with that in mind, he got a feeling this thing wasn't their enemy.
"What the?" He whispered upon noticing something off, prompting him to approach and examine. There was something on the side of the hill. It was a red circle with a drawing of a spear inside it and a text box at the bottom that spelled out the word 'NAGINATA'. His eyes widened before keying in his radio. "Delta Actual, I've identified markings inscribed on the chassis of the unknown! I can read it, it's in English!"
"What?! Say again, Corporal?!" Riley demanded in confusion.
The Corporal was about to repeat it when the thing suddenly shuddered. The three men on the ground backed up with weapons trained and safeties off. The Humvee moved closer for a quicker pickup with the turret gunner on high alert and his finger right at the trigger. All troops near and far were prepared for a fight. But none came. The unknown machine simply straightened out weakly and opened up, the main gun pointing up along with a piece of the chassis opening up a moment later. And it just stood there.
"Corporal, what in the flying fuck is happening?!" Riley demanded.
"N-Not sure, sir. The thing just opened up!" He replied.
"Yo, let's get the fuck outta here, man!" Mills yelled.
"Y-Yeah, okay—"
"… help…"
"What the fuck?" Wiley said. "You guys heard that?"
"Yeah," Kain said.
"Yep," Britt said.
"… Help!" A weak voice called out louder.
"Ayo, it's coming from the thing!" Kian pointed.
"Delta Actual, we just heard a voice coming from the unknown. We're investigating!" Wiley reported. "Kian, Britt, on me! Humvee, stay close!"
The three Guardsmen immediately closed the distance while keeping their weapons ready to fire. Wiley approached from its side and came around once close to enough… only to stop in his tracks when he was finally peering into the strange thing.
"Help me," A weak voice pleaded.
A woman was sitting on a seat within the legged thing. A HUMAN. At least she looked like a human from his point of view but that didn't matter. She had black hair tied into a ponytail while wearing a beige jumpsuit and a pair of boots. She also seemed to be armed with a rifle that's beside her and a pistol on her thigh. But what was most pressing of all was the blood on her head and abdomen.
"Please, help me," She pleaded.
"Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!" Wiley spat and turned around. "Kian! Britt! Need a hand here!"
The two other soldiers immediately came to assist with both of their faces also displaying the same amount of shock as Wiley just ten seconds ago.
"Holy fuck!" Britt spat.
"Oh my God!" Kian added.
"She's wounded, help me pull her out!" Wiley demanded.
The two didn't bother replying as they immediately got to help their comrade. They cut the straps of what appeared to be a seatbelt, freeing her, and gently pulling her out.
"Alright, easy, easy," Wiley said as they lifted her out of the damaged 'vehicle'.
"Please help me," She pleaded again, now under the morning sun.
"We'll get you to help, honey. Just calm down and relax. You're safe and you're fine," Britt said reassuringly.
"Thank you," She said weakly.
"Corporal, what in the fuck is going on?!" Riley demanded.
"Captain, we found a human female inside the wreck! I think she was piloting it! She's alive but hurt pretty bad. Requesting immediate MEDEVAC for her!" Wiley reported as they gently set the woman down on the ground.
"What?! Ah, never mind! I'm calling for a helo to pick her up now and I'll have medics to your location."
"Wilco!"
The three guys immediately rendered some battlefield first aid, applying some gauze on her wounds while waiting for a medic that arrived a couple of minutes later along with reinforcements. The lone Humvee was now joined by two other Humvees, an M113 APC, a Bradley IFV, and an Abrams MBT. All of this for one wounded person.
"She's right here!" Wiley waved and pointed at the girl who lying flat on the ground on a tarp.
The soldiers immediately made way for female a medic to come and do her work.
"Hi, hello! I'm Corporal Samantha West, Montana National Guard! What's your name?" West asked as she began her examination.
"… Ensign Kazumi Haga… Black Eagle Squadron… Eastern Front," She answered.
"Okay, Ensign Haga, I'll be doing some first aid on you then we'll prepare you for extraction. In the meantime, keep telling us about yourself. What's your unit like?"
"What's her status?" Lieutenant Enzo Jenkins, CO of 4th Platoon, asked.
"Shrapnel on her abdomen and a concussion, but I think she'll be fine. However, I think she should be airlifted to a hospital for a more proper examination," West answered.
"Bird's already inbound," Jenkins replied.
"Hey, hey! HEY!" Someone yelled.
In the next moment, seven other of the unknown vehicles jumped out of the portal and faced them. Every soldier and vehicle present instantly aimed at the new arrivals. Thankfully, no one fired this time, but both sides were locked in a tense standoff. Both sides sizing each other up and preparing to fight. Lieutenant Jenkins was undeniably scared but he didn't want a bloodbath. So he calmed down and analyzed the situation, immediately noting that the vehicles were similar to the wrecked one the girl was pulled out of. So, he grabbed a loudspeaker from a Humvee and stepped into the front.
"Delta Actual, I'm going to try to negotiate with them to prevent more trouble. Please standby," Jenkins reported.
"Got it. We'll be watching carefully," Riley replied.
"Attention! Good day!" He spoke. "This is the United States Army! We mean no harm! Please power down and slowly exit your vehicles!"
He worded his statement in a way that sounded friendly but firm while keeping it simple. But they didn't budge and remained on guard. He then remembered that they were probably looking for their friend and ordered his troops out of the way to provide a clear view of Ensign Haga clearly being treated by their medics.
"We have your friend here and she's hurt quite a bit. We're doing what we can but she'll be airlifted out of here to a hospital soon," He said. "Again, we mean no harm and this is probably just a massive misunderstanding! Please power down and slowly exit your vehicles! We won't hurt you!"
The lead vehicle turned ever so slightly, its 'eye' now looking right at Haga who weakly turned her head to the side. She smiled softly and raised a hand then waved. That did something.
"Alright! We're coming out! Please don't shoot us!" A voice through a loudspeaker said.
One by one the strange vehicles powered down, their guns pointing up at the sky and their hatches opening up. Then, a single individual slowly exited from each vehicle with both arms raised. 4th Platoon quickly closed in on them with weapons up and took them away. They checked each of them for any weapons and then placed them in handcuffs.
"None of you are being arrested, only being detained. But you all have questions to answer later," Jenkins told them sternly.
"Will our friend be okay?" The leader of the group, a young man with blonde hair, asked.
Jenkins looked behind to see Ensign Haga on a stretcher being loaded into a UH-60 Blackhawk that just arrived.
"You're friend will be just fine. You'll see her again soon," He said with a smile.
"Thank you," The blonde said before they were taken away.
Jenkins watched them go for a moment before heading into a Humvee and taking a seat. He grabbed a water bottle and chugged it all down in seconds then breathing heavily. Today's battle was over and it was now time to pick themselves back up. However, he knew that this was only a beginning. And by the revelation that there were humans on the other side of the portal that was only a dozen yards away, he knew that the situation was much more complicated than just a bunch of killer robots.
"Time for the real war to begin."
And so, the United States of America, and shortly the whole world, set down a path that changed them all forever.
Hello everyone!
I've recently gotten into 86 and became so fascinated with the story and lore that I decided to try writing my own fanfiction on it. I want to see how modern America (and perhaps NATO) will deal with the Legion, the 86, and San Magnolia from a political and militaristic perspective. However, as of now, this is only just a concept and I want to see how things go before committing. Maybe, I'll post a couple more chapters to see how things go before going in all the way.
Admittedly, I did go all out with this first chapter. And the events are all in the span of one day, lol. Sorry. And this is the rewrite too, I went even harder, lmfao. That last bit was never
So, this is the rub:
This is a Gate-esque story. San Magnolia and all the characters we love are on the other side of that portal. No, Lena hasn't been replaced by a middle-aged American tanker. No, I'm not pairing him with Lena (she's 16, bro, what the hell. Plus, Shin x Lena is eternity.)
It used to be like a 'RWBY Emergence' type story, but after getting some feedback and thinking about it myself, I decided to delete that and let characters learn the old-fashioned way.
I've initially thought of using US Marines here due to their attitude and aggression. They'd scare San Magnolians into getting their shit together, lol. But I decided not to for three reasons. The first was that Marine Tank Battalions have been gone since 2021, and I plan for this to be set at around 2022. Second reason, even if I make up a scenario where Marine tanks were reactivated for this campaign or where they never left in the first place, the Army is just better at armored warfare. And third reason, I don't want this to turn into a Here We Go Again ripoff more than it already is, lmfao.
Now, I'd like some opinions, please. What did you think of it so far? What can I improve? And above all, what would you like to see? These are questions I'm always asking in all of my stories. This one most of all since it's only in the concept phase. And yes, despite it being the second rewrite, it's still a concept. The future of the story will be determined here, so I wanna know some things before going forward.
Anyway, thank you very much to all those who've read this initial concept. Please leave a review, tell me what you think, or if you have any ideas. And I'll see you all in the next one! Peace out!