25KM SOUTH OF FULDA CITY, WEST GERMANY
SERGEANT FIRST CLASS ANDREW REDDOWS
They've done it. Dear god, they've done it.
The risk was always there, of course. In the back of his mind, he knew that this was always a possibility. But he never actually thought this would happen. Even the goddamn Russians wouldn't be this crazy... right?
The Bradley was quiet. The jokes that usually accompanied the vehicle during training missions were absent. Every man sat in solemn silence, either in prayer or panic. The four newly-delivered IFVs of the First Platoon rolled North, along the road from Wurzburg towards the town of Fulda, as the distant booms of artillery fire sounded overhead.
Sergeant First Class Andrew Reddows tried to clear his mind to no avail. He was the Platoon's second-in-command, but right now he sure as hell didn't feel like it. All of his usual bravado was washed away the moment that Operating Order was issued. Here he was, with one Platoon and a goddamn dream, moving to clear the wall of Soviet armor that he was sure he would meet- the fact that the Bradleys had ATGMs didn't ease his mind too much. Just 30 minutes ago he wasn't doing much, and here, he was certain that he was driving towards guaranteed death.
Sergeant?
The LT. He responded, trying to sound brave but utterly shitting the bed.
"Y-yeah? Lieutenant Barklem?"
"...We're going in first."
There was a long and very noticeable pause.
Reddows decided to press. "And...?"
The Lieutenant replied- "We're to enter the southern portion of the city and make sure it's clear. Second platoon and other elements of the 2nd ABCT aren't far behind us... The Germans are also coming in from the North..." He sighed. "If we're lucky, the Russians haven't gotten to the south of the city yet, and we should be able to hold it until backup arrives... Then... we try to defend the city as best we can.
Reddows winced at the thought of urban combat. Though he wasn't sure if staying in the open fields would be better.
"We'll handle it."
It was as much of a lie to himself as it was to the lieutenant. He sighed deeply, before inquiring- "Any idea how they breached the Gap so quickly... sir?"
The reply was quick- "Not a goddamn clue".
Once more, the Bradley descended into silence. His gunner, Wilson, looked at him in inquiry.
"Same plan as before, man. We're going into Fulda."
Wilson was normally a hard man to read, but the apprehension in his eyes was evident. Still- they had a job, and they sure as hell weren't going to chicken out and run... as much as Reddow's instincts screamed at him to do so. He looked through his periscope, watching the Bradley to his front and the two behind him. He hoped he wasn't the only one here shitting his pants.
"How long do you think until a T-72 turns us into paste?"
"Oh, not fucking funny, man."
Kaplan. His smartass driver
"I'm just saying-"
Wilson joined in on the fun. "Kaplan, everytime you are "just saying" something, you make us all feel like shit."
"Hey- if we're gonna die, I'm not gonna die worried"
You know, he might be onto something...
"Alright, you two. Can it... we've got a job to do."
It didn't take long for the silence to be interrupted by the Lieutenant
"Killjoy 1-6 here! We've got eyes on Fulda! 12 O' Clock, 700 meters out!"
Reddows didn't waste time. "1-7 acknowledged! BFVs 1-BRAVO and 1-DELTA halt!"
Two Bradleys halted.
"This is 1-6, 1-ALPHA and 1-CHARLIE halt!"
The other two halted.
Reddows looked through his periscope, and yelled, adrenaline searing through his body-
"GUNNER! MISSILE! T-...
...
What the fuck?!"
He was dumbfounded as to what he was seeing. Dust and smoke shot up into the air as a large man- no, a large creature smashed through a house. It's dark skin was guarded by heavy ornamental armor, it's head shielded by a horned golden helmet. The creature charged up a kick, caving in yet another home, before it roared into the sky .
His eyes had to be playing tricks on him... it was probably the stress from...
"1-Delta! We've got eyes on some... giant fucking thing! What the hell is that?"
Shit
He turned left towards Wilson, who was staring, open-mouthed at his scope.
"Will! Fuck's sakes man, shoot that son of a bitch!"
Wilson snapped out of his daze and responded, as his instincts took over- "ATGM Indexed! Target Identified! ON THE WAY!". The Bradley was filled with a whining sound as the BGM-71B missile's gyro started spinning. A second later, the Bradley shook as the ATGM flew out of it's tube and started screaming towards the beast, trailing a pair of wires behind it.
"Tracking... Tracking... HIT!"
Reddows watched missile slam into the... monstrosity's abdomen. The beast lurched, grasping at the hole in it's stomach, stumbling back. Was it... still standing...?
"What the hell is that thing...?"
Just then, Killjoy 1-ALPHA opened up with the Bushmaster. Multiple rounds of 25mm HE-FRAG impacted the creature, and it fell over backwards.
Every single soul in the platoon was silent as the rhythm of Bushmaster fire died out.
FULDA CITY
Coriolanus moved through the marvelous city. It was a very strange mix of both the familiar and unfamiliar... The architecture looked like a more modern and more refined version of the houses that littered Saderan towns. They looked quite... homely, if he was being honest. Though he reeled in disgust at the grey, blocky buildings that occasionally polluted the skyline. Walking through one, he took note of it's comfort, though he was far more interested in the several strange devices littered over the place. Namely, a weird box that had sticks protruding from the top. Unfortunately, it was too heavy to carry along, though he did loot some of the smaller appliances in the home. The main thing that caught his eye was the large white container that seemed to house food in some sort of frozen state- again, too large to haul.
Most of these things are too damned large to carry with me
He exited the architectural abomination, walking through the streets. Distant explosions filled his ears.
Those mages are pulling through today, huh?
As he looked for things to loot, he found a young woman with golden hair, lying on the street. She was covered in blood, her hands clutching at her throat as she gasped for air.
Not long for this world. Shame, we could've taken her back...
He kicked her dying form, causing her to writhe. As she struggled, he stepped over her and continued on, his annoyance getting stronger. He was sure his friends were gathering as much loot and women as they could... and here he was, with some shitty ornaments in his pockets. He turned the corner, and went still.
The blood in his veins chilled as soon as he registered the four beasts occupying the street. Their shiny skin was a revolting mix of green and brown, their bodies grotesquely large compared to their small heads, which themselves had disgustingly long noses. One of them seemed to have a single blocky ear with two holes in it. The beasts stirred, facing Coriolanus. And behind them... was that... a dead ogre...?
What in the name of the gods...?
That was the last thought that went through his head before he was obliterated by autocannon fire.
"Got em! Gunner, cease fire!"
Wilson released the trigger as Reddow's command came through.
"This is Killjoy 1-6: All infantry squads: Dismount!"
Reddows peered down and behind him, into the Bradley's troop compartment- watching as Killjoy 1-2 dismounted. Their squad leader, a young Sergeant named Michael, let out an audible "Holy fuck" as soon as he left the Bradley.
Ah, yeah... they couldn't see that crazy-ass creature from in there
He did a quick scan around, careful not to look at the dead giant behind him on the road, lest it break his brain.
"Killjoy 1-6, dismounting! 1-7, you have authority on ALL BFVs, that's Killjoys 1-Alpha through Delta. Killjoys 1-1 through 1-4 will clear this street!
Reddows watched as 1-6 dismounted the lead Bradley and lead the platoon's four infantry squads. Reddows ordered the four Bradleys to watch and protect them as they breached the buildings, entering and clearing them one by one.
SUHL CITY, EAST GERMANY
SENIOR LIEUTENANT VIKTOR KISELEV
Senior Lieutenant Kiselev had seen a lot of things in his service with the Soviet Air Force. He was a veteran of the USSR's 5 year long tenure in Afghanistan. He had fought the Mujahedeen and survived the vaunted American Stinger missiles. But his mind could not make sense of whatever the hell was going on down below. Peering out of the armored cabin of his Mi-24P, he laid witness to slaughter, as hordes of... barbarians tore their way through the city of Suhl.
091, come in.
Kiselev banked right, taking another good look at the carnage below. These giant lumbering beasts... the knights in armor... what the hell?
091, come in damnit!
"Shit." He muttered under his breath.
"This is 091, we read you, who is this?"
"This is GCI Station "Amethyst", we're reading you as the closest combat aircraft to Suhl right now, 091."
Of course.
"Understood, Amethyst. Orders?"
"Rooks" and "27s" are being scrambled and are on their way. You are to engage any hostile forces at the city. You are authorized to use any weapons against these forces as long as they are outside the city limits- If they are inside, limit yourself exclusively to autocannon fire. No additional orders at this time".
"Understood, Amethyst. 091 is working. It's just... do we know who we're fighting?"
Amethyst took a while to respond: "No idea, 091. But we know these are not NATO forces. Our border guards haven't reported any incursions. And no- before you ask, I don't know where they came from. Just... support our ground forces as best you can."
"091, understood."
He banked the Hind, mind awash with questions.
"What the hell do you think this is all about?" came the voice of Lieutenant Ilya Vasilyev, his gunner. The two were good friends, having worked as a duo for years operating Mi-24s in Afghanistan.
"I'm as clueless as you. Let's just focus on what we can do, okay?"
Vasilyev's eyes drifted over the war-ravaged town below him. "There- eastern side of the city, group of infantry on... fucking horseback. They're outside the city limits."
The Senior Lieutenant pulled the Hind into another bank, lining up with the infantry down below.
"091- Working. Launching rockets."
He held the trigger down for a second, unleashing a small volley of 80mm anti-personnel rockets. The cavalry below were decimated, and he peeled off.
"Targets destroyed. Good shooting" Ilya said with a slight smirk. As fucked up as it sounded, this was beginning to feel like old times...
"Amethyst to 091, Amethyst to 091. Aerial contact bearing 2-7-1, four kilometers, turn left for intercept on vector 3-0-5. It's flying very low and very slow, heading North-East, 190 km/h, at 200 meters of height"
Aerial contact?
"091 copies, Aerial contact, turning to intercept."
"Holy shit! Look at that!" Vasilyev's voice was uncharacteristically... enthusiastic, and Kiselev could very much see why. His gaze shifted to a massive flying beast, it's wings cutting through the air with every flap. And on it was...
"What the fuck kind of world are we living in..." Kiselev muttered, mostly to himself.
"091 to Amethyst, visual on aerial contact. It's a man riding a... flying creature."
Amethyst took a while to respond, but sounded unsurprised. Kiselev couldn't tell if that was a bad or good thing.
"Understood. Eliminate the target."
The creature rider tried to throw off the helicopter, but was unable to. Kiselev had seen what evading with desperation looked like over the skies of Kandahar. He expertly maneuvered the Mi-24 behind the enemy rider.
"091, working."
Autocannon fire turned the creature and it's rider into nothing more than pink mist.
"091, target destroyed".
FULDA CITY CENTER
Legate Decimus loitered around the plaza, his body wracked with anticipation as his staff set up a field tent. His excursion into the gate was going fantastically- his legions were carving their way through the city without resistance. And by the gods, what a city it was! His Wyvern Riders estimated that it was just barely smaller than Sadera City itself. And his troops were conquering it without hassle! What sort of degenerate society would leave what was likely to be their capital city completely unguarded?
His eyes scanned the line of captives being hoarded back through the Gate. Their perfect skin, their clean clothes... this was a society of cowards and weaklings, too used to peace- and as such completely unprepared for war. Oh, the Empire would teach them a lesson they dearly needed.
The sound of footsteps and panting derailed his thoughts.
"Sir!"
He spun around, facing a terrified young man.
"Speak your message, Legionary."
The messenger took a second to compose himself- "Sir, Centurion Arcturus is dead! We face an attack from the south... these... our enemies use immortal beasts that spit fire from entire streets away! Our forces are no match..."
Our forces are no match?
"What is this nonsense you speak? These scum haven't so much as lifted a finger at us!"
The messenger shrieked as he responded, "I saw it with my own eyes, sir! What's left of the Centuries are falling back, we can't-"
His pleas were cut off by a tremendous explosion. Decimus ducked and covered his head as the sky split open into the sound of roaring thunder.
What... What was...?
He looked up to see his Wyverns circling around in confusion, as a bird of steel raced around high above them. It's tail glowed a bright, fiery orange, as it danced high above the city, at speeds that he could not comprehend.
What the hell is that thing?
Another one of those creatures dashed in, flying much lower, speeding past the dazed Wyverns. It's form was enveloped by smoking mist, as thunder struck yet again.
"You see, sir? These people have-"
"Silence! Whatever those creatures do up there is no matter to us! Run back down South and order the new Centurion to hold his ground!
"But-"
"You question me, Legionary?"
"N-no, but..."
"Move Southwards now, that is an order. If you disobey..."
The implication was more than clear.
"Y-yes, sir..."
As the Legionary moved away, Decimus stared up at the sky. The duo of birds now danced around the air together, making a mockery of his Wyverns. His eyes drifted higher, as he saw a dozen more of those birds flying impossibly high, leaving a white trail behind them. This world may not be as meek as it had initially seemed...
FULDA CITY
SERGEANT FIRST CLASS ANDREW REDDOWS
The Bradley once again shook as it's 25mm autocannon fired in anger. The forces occupying the street were slowly chipped away as the rounds shred them into chunks of meat.
"Gunner, cease fire."
Wilson released the trigger, seeing nothing through his sight.
"Killjoy 1-1, move up."
Lieutenant Barklem led the first squad up the road, with 1-2 and 1-3 close behind. The four Bradley IFVs of 1-ALPHA through 1-DELTA rolled up slowly behind them, with 1-4 bringing up the rear. Together, First Platoon cleared the street, occasionally seeing the terrified face of a German civilian peeking up through a window. Distant gunfire sounded around them as more US and West German forces poured into the city, grinding the enemy back... whatever the hell the "enemy" was.
Killjoy 1-1 reached the end of the road, rounding a corner. "Hey, we've got more hostiles down the street, around a couple dozen, they're in formation..."
"1-6 copies, 1-ALPHA and 1-BRAVO- Move up and get a field of fire on those hostiles!"
"1-1 and 1-2, set up!"
Kaplan rolled the Bradley forward, turning the street alongside 1-ALPHA, as the first two infantry squads laid down, setting up their rifles and LMGs. Ahead, the lead combatants in the formation froze, readying their spears and swords,
"Open fire."
Combined 5.56mm and 25mm fire tore through the archaic formation. Some of the soldiers tried to throw down their weapons and run. Others held up shields in a vain effort to stop the slaughter. Most were obliterated without reaction. Wilson traced the autocannon through the street, aiming exactly down the middle, leaving the troops near the buildings for the infantry to clean up. The two Bradley's combined fire tore the Century into shreds, as the few survivors threw themselves at the locked doors of nearby houses in a desperate attempt at salvation, before they too were cut down hail of automatic gunfire.
"Gunner, cease fire."
And again, the street lay empty, as again, first platoon rolled down the street. If this whole shitshow wasn't so goddamn confusing, Reddows might've fallen asleep.
SUHL
PRIVATE IVAN FILIPOV
His trembling hands removed the drained magazine and tossed it away. Deep breaths, deep breaths now...His fingers found another one inside his vest, and his instincts kicked in, slotting it into the AK-74 and racking the charging handle. The enemy soldier laid there on the ground, wheezing on a pool of his own blood, eyes wide at the gun that was now once more pointed at him. The whimpers of the terrified German children, huddling in the corner with their mother, grew louder as one of them glanced towards the dying man.
Filipov stared daggers into the fallen warrior, ready to fire if he dared to make even the slightest move. His comrades lay cold and dead beside him, their blood already painting the carpets a deep shade of crimson. With a final rasp, the man passed on, his strength dying out.
"Ivan, Ivan! for fuck's sakes!"
He snapped out of his stupor.
"Y-yeah, I'm here, Volya! What-"
"Stop staring and follow me! There's still two upstairs!"
He let out a shaky breath, following Vladislav Sayudev up the stairs. The two comrades slowly moved up, Vladislav peering over the final step, before raising his gun and letting out a burst. Filipov heard a scream of pain- "Fucker went inside that door! I don't know where the second one is..." Ivan gestured Vladislav to the side, taking lead. The duo stacked up on either side of the door, a trail of blood staining the floor leading into it. With a nod, Ivan open the door, and stepped inside the bedroom.
A flash of silver greeted his eyes, just before he saw the enemy soldier dash and swing his sword downward- only to miss and hit the floor. He backed up against the wall, bringing his rifle to point and shooting a burst into the man, who collapsed to the ground wordlessly.
Holy shit
"You good, man?"
"Y-yeah, I'm fine... he.. he missed."
Would he have missed if Volya hadn't hit him earlier?
He shook these thoughts out of his head as heavy footsteps sounded from another room. A man's voice sounded through the halls, his voice breaking, yelling in... some language. He considered himself far, far better at English that most of his compatriots, and he could very easily tell that this was not English, and it didn't sound anything like what the East Germans spoke. He locked eyes with Vladislav, the duo slowly inching out of the room into the hallway. The unknown voice cried out again, followed by the creak of a door.
Poking his head out the door would prove to be the last mistake that the man ever made, as Vladislav fired a single shot, striking him in the face. His form crumpled, as blood leaked out onto the floor.
"Clear!"
"091 to Amethyst".
"Proceed".
Kiselev peered down onto Suhl's large, yellow chapel. The building he'd been seeing on flights for the past few days was now surrounded by tents and hoards of armed soldiers. "We have visual on what appears to be a staging area- I see a few tents, and a lot of patrols around. There could be a lot of enemy officers there... but uhh... there's lines of guys in a row down there. I think-... I think they're taking prisoners."
...
Amethyst replied after a moment of noticeable silence- "091, understood. We'll send it down the line. Avoid firing on that area. Maintain altitude and continue with previous engagement parameters."
"Understood".
Gazing down onto Suhl's battered streets below, he tracked the progress of Soviet ground forces. They were getting closer and closer to the yellow church, seemingly the origin point of the enemy attack. BTRs and BMPs advanced down the streets, flanked by infantry. If there was anything good that could be said about this situation, it was that the hostile forces were severely outmatched against modern weaponry, their only reprieve being the difficulty of urban combat itself. Any scouting forces that rushed out of the city into the open were immediately slaughtered by either the Hind, or by the approaching hordes of Soviet armor. At this point, Kiselev could do nothing but watch the battle below, not wanting to risk hitting friendly forces below, even with just the autocannon, as even these primitives had the brains to stop leaving the city after the 3rd group was obliterated.
"V-Viktor?"
"Ilya? What is it?"
"Look at the church... something's off... is it not?"
Kiselev trained his eyes down onto the church, eyeing the familiar building.
"You mean the hordes of armed knights, tents and prisoners?"
"No! I mean- that building, there, in the middle of the street."
What Kiselev thought was just an exceptionally large tent compared to the rest was not a tent at all- on closer inspection, it was some sort of marble archway, the sun gleaming off it's triangular roof.
"That wasn't there before..."
Ilya Vasilyev scoffed- "Of course not! We've been over this city a dozen times over the past week..."
Kiselev didn't utter a word, his blue eyes locked onto the structure.
"What the hell took you two so long?"
Filipov panted, sweat drenching his telnyashka. Him and Vladislav ducked into the alleyway where the rest of his squad were waiting. "There- there were five of them..."
Sergeant Andrushov's eyes narrowed- "And?"
"They're dead. The Germans weren't harmed..."
Andrushov sighed, his face showing sympathy, "Okay, listen. Command has finally got their shit organized, There's an entire Motor-Rifle division fighting through the city right now, so watch-"
He unfolded a map of the surrounding area, his finger tracing it's way to the center of the city.
"There's a chapel here. Apparently, our air forces reported that right next to it rests a command post and staging area. We'll reach it, get a view on the area, and report what we find- is that understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, Sergeant!" went through the 4 subordinate members of Recon Squad Anna, as they moved in the shadows, alley to alley, drawing ever closer to the heart of the invasion.
FULDA CITY CENTER
SERGEANT FIRST CLASS ANDREW REDDOWS
The narrow street bloomed open into Fulda's central city square, as the quartet of Bradleys rolled along, covered by four squads of infantry. In synchrony, the IFVs halted, their sights set upon the rows of demoralized enemy soldiers and tents.
"Is that... ALL BFVs HOLD FIRE!" Reddows scream into the radio. His periscope trained on a line of civilians being herded through...
What the fuck?
His eyes registered the distorted gate, before he pushed it into the back of his mind. He had more important issues right now...
"Multiple civilians! I say again- CIVILIANS! Watch your fire- all BFVs restrict yourself to using the coax!"
The drumbeat of rifle fire increased in intensity, as the infantry started firing, followed by the Bradleys, taking careful shots at every armored target they could see.
"We were massacred. Massacred, I tell you!"
"I can bloody well see that! What I'm asking is- how?"
"The natives have tamed beasts that cannot be killed! The earth shatters under their feet- the sky rumbles with their strength! I-"
"Spare me the fucking poetry!" General Voridus barked. "Where's the Legate?"
"He- He's dead..."
Voridus seethed in rage, his eyes boring holes into the young man, who was now sputtering and whimpering. He sighed, trying his damned best to calm down.
"Just... get yourself to a medical tent. You'll be waiting for a while, though... the healers have their hands full, currently..."
The young man's eyes widened. "Th-thank you... sir..."
As the legionary walked off, Voridus' gaze locked onto the Gate, as a few troops slowly shut it's doors. How many did we leave behind back there?
He turned around, facing his aide- "Contact the Wyvern Riders, tell them to inform the Emperor of this disaster. We've run into setbacks before... but... this..." He gave a long sigh. "I can only hope that the Legions up north at Knappnai face a weaker foe than these troops did..."
With a curt nod, the aide rushed off, leaving Voridus alone in his thoughts.
"Sarge... I think we're in the clear."
Reddows unbuttoned his hatch. All around him, US and West German troops poured into the square, moving past the smoldering tents and limp, broken bodies. A slaughter was the only word apt enough for what happened. The only reason that some of these bastards had even survived to go back through the... structure... was that First Platoon had to worry about potential collateral damage to both civilians and the buildings.
It didn't get any better for the invaders when Second Platoon, along with elements of Alpha company joined in aswell.
"Andy, if it helps- I find it easier to not think about any of this at all." Kaplan remarked.
"Heh, go fuck yourself, man." Reddow's voice was free from any contempt, the statement made in jest.
The 3-man crew of the Bradley sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, it was Wilson that broke it.
"So... what now?"
"Are there more of these... entrances anywhere, Andy?" Kaplan inquired.
"Not as far as I know. But I know very little right now. Whole country could be swarming with these little shits..."
"Hey, we're the 3rd ID, we've protected the area we're supposed to protect. I'm sure they can get some other deadbeat shitheads to clear out the rest..."
Reddows sighed at that. For such a dumbass, he makes a strange amount of sense sometimes...
SUHL CITY
SENIOR LIEUTENANT VIKTOR KISELEV
"Fuck me dead... looks like a slaughter down there..."
"Our guys seem to have come out on top, atleast..."
Kiselev and Vasilyev circled around, getting a good view of streets below, as the crimson banner of the motherland flew tall and proud from the golden church.
"Was that ever out of the question?"
"After Afghanistan, would you be surprised, Ilya?"
Vasilyev went quiet at that.
"And flying the Soviet flag from the church... as if our Fraternal Socialist Allies need any more of a reason to distrust us!"
Vasilyev scoffed. "They might think all of this was just a plot by the KGB to give us an excuse to annex East Germany..."
"And again, after Afghanistan, would you even blame them?"
Vasilyev went silent yet again.