Operation Black Dawn

Intermezzi I - The United Front

October 1995/December 1096

End of the Reunion Uprising in Lungmen

"Indeed, Allah is the most Forgiving, the Merciful!"

- Epitaph from the Quran engraved on an Iranian resistance monument, 1982.

Private Second Class Ebrahim Gholem-Hossein [Islamic Revolutionary Treaty Pact - Persian Artesh] - Lungmen Slums - Dated December, 1096.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I fired my G3 at incoming Reunion forces coming in front of our RV zone. Alongside me were one Artesh rifleman and a machine gunner all firing our weapons at the Reunion forces. To recap after I was told we were to regroup with other squads; One of the Apaches had been forced to pull out, and the rest were searching and destroying Reunion cells, we were busy trying to regroup with the rest of the forces at a designated spot, and as for our armor?

Turns out, our fucking armored support that was promised? Yeah, they can't airlift them in. So it's up to us to instead get the hell out of the city after regrouping with the rest of the forces. The only problem we had is that Reunion was swarming us like ants. And that meant that I - sitting near some rubble waiting for the Black Hand and the other Infantry Squad - was tasked with holding off Reunion.

Yeah, it sucked.

Thankfully they were forced to go through a chokepoint rather than advancing on a wide field, which is why two riflemen and one machine gunner defending this side was easier. The side behind me, on the other hand, had a wider area to cover, so the rest of our squad was there.

"Get some! Get some! Hurrah!" I heard an Artesh machine gunner say, MG3 cutting down Reunion like swiss cheese. Though surprisingly, it turned out they were more durable than the last time we fought them. These Reunion soldiers sport a darker uniform and a red mask. And a lot denser armor, apparently. A basic swordsman now took three rounds to down.

I mean, this is 7.62x51mm anyway, so...

"Why the fuck do they have red masks?" I hear the machine gunner utter. "That makes them easier to hit when they wear a dark uniform!" He interrupted himself to fire five rounds rapidly. "Idiots!"

The other rifleman answered him. "Sentiment?" Five rounds rapid. "Shock value?" Five more rounds rapid. "Makes them look cool?" Another five more rounds rapid.

"Maybe," the Machine gunner suppressed them. "But that doesn't mean they should wear them all the damn time."

"I'd get you," I idly noted, checking my magazine to see if I still had twenty more rounds. "But we're wearing bright-ass gray in this Hong Kong-looking slum too."

The machine gunner and rifleman shook their head.

Well, there goes my facts and logic.

Back to five rounds rapid.

"Goddamnit-" I ducked down as an arrow nearly pelted my helmet. "Crossbows!" I alerted, pressing the trigger longer. "They got fucking crossbows!" Another bout of rapid-fire towards the chokepoint nailed one of the crossbowmen. Great shot, me.

"So they're learning to fight at range now?!" The machine gunner exasperatedly commented. "Great! More bodies!"

"Just keep suppressing them!"

I looked back at the radio on my vest and cursed as I remembered that it was destroyed in the fighting. I could no longer contact command and was relegated to waiting for the Radioman.

Who accompanied the squad leader.

And who was looking for the Black Hand and Midnight Unit.

Yeah.

I needed someone to cover the chokepoint and flush Reunion out of that damned chokepoint. And who else but the flame trooper? She was with the rest of our squad, but she was covering a wide area just behind her. Unlucky. A chokepoint like the one we dealt with was basically a free promotion for her.

So, I had to call her to back us up.

"HEY, HEY!" I turn my head and yell at the soldiers defending our rear. "FLAME TROOPER! I NEED YOUR HELP RIGHT NOW!"

A Kazakh woman's voice answers me. "Hold on! I'm busy here!" I smell the flamethrower crisp just after she said that. Looks like she really was busy after all. I wonder if she's going to get a promotion. "What is it?!"

"Could you get over here to reinforce our side?!"

"Sure, sure! I'll be there!" She responded. "Give me a minute though!" After I hear that, I smell a long stream of Napalm. The smell's so distinct to me because GDI threw it when I fought in the Pakistani border, and our Flame Troopers in Nod always use it to burn either targets for grunts or 'heathens' for the Black Hand. Well, some of the Black Hand.

"Minute given!"

I turn my head back and continued firing. Reunion seemed to get the memo and stopped sending swordsmen, but instead began pelting us with crossbows.

"Keep shooting," I noted to myself. "They still have crossbows..." After some more rapid downrange firing, my gun finally clicked dry. I shouted to the two others. "Reloading, cover me!"

I put my head farther down and had my back against the wall so I could reload. Pulling out the magazine, inserting another one, and pulling back the charging handle was how you reloaded. When I put my head back up, I expected another bout of crossbow shots.

The pelting stopped however after I reloaded, which caused me to look at the machine gunner and the other rifleman in exasperation.

"Did we get them all?" I asked, peeking my head out of the wall cover to look at Reunion's lines. The aftermath of our shots put down at least thirteen soldiers who managed to make it past the chokepoint and many others who died behind the chokepoint.

"I think we did."

The sound of heavy footsteps and equipment clinking behind me told me the Flame Trooper had arrived. I turned my head and found myself looking at her. Cracked gas mask showing sharp green eyes around a battered helmet, with an M2 Flamethrower wrapping around her back as if it clung for her life. She looked battered but breathing. Best described Nod forces in general.

"Good to see you, but, err..." I pointed my thumb out of cover and into the chokepoint which had been our firing line. "Seems like they've retreated from the chokepoint."

"Aww," She complained, M2 flamethrower in hand. "Nothing left for me?"

"No ma'am." I turned my head back to face the chokepoint, rifle off-hand and binoculars in hand.

She scoffed and crouched down.

"See anything yet?" The machine gunner asked.

"No."

"Good," he responded, "because my machine gun barrel's heated."

"So is my rifle," the other rifleman noted. "Cover me while I cool it off."

"Cool."

In the next ten minutes though, nothing happened as we stood our guard at the chokepoint. The fighting died down behind us as the Artesh defenders over there managed to successfully fend off Reunion. In a way, this felt like the Battle of Shanghai Warehouse* to me. Thankfully this was supposed to take only a few hours before we could evacuate, unlike the actual Shanghai Warehouse battle.

And unlike the NRA Forces, we in the Artesh had more than enough stocks of ammunition. That being said, the pain was the only thing I felt during the fighting. Thank fuck that's subsiding as I can actually take a moment to breathe now.

I look over at the chokepoint and stop for a moment to examine my own G3 just after the other rifleman and machine gunner finished checking their weapon. The rifle was functioning yes, but god it looked so battered. The handguard had a crack running through, and the stock was dented in and out everywhere. This rifle's been through hell, and it's called Lungmen. Thankfully we get out of there in a while.

My fellow soldiers also looked battered. Aside from the Kazakh, I swear the machine gunner's steel helmet had dents in like four areas, and his uniform had all the grime and dust coating it, giving his pristine urban uniform the appearance of a fucking dusty washbin. The rifleman, on the other hand, looked to be the in-between of dirty. His helmet was not battered, but it was coated in soot from fighting Reunion's Molotov cocktails. His uniform was in the limbo of being dust-coated and not dust-coated. The guy himself looked like he just saw at least ten children fight for their lives.

And I looked like I was in the prime of my life. Not my rifle though.

"Think we'll get medals for this shit?"

"Maybe?"

"I dunno about that boys," the flamethrower soldier said. "You'll probably get like one medal at most."

"Knowing the Artesh," I muttered, pulling the charging handle on my rifle. "Maybe."

"I mean, hey, at least I get to show off my machine gun kills after I tally them."

"And then give up after counting up to ten?"

"Maybe."

"Sure, we'll see, buddy."

I peeked my head out one more time out of cover and then turned my head. "I'll be greeting the captain. Give me a minute." I grabbed my rifle and left my binoculars on top of cover.

The people behind the cover nodded. If the captain comes back, Inshallah, then that's my ticket home.

I got up from cover and went to cover the doorway the Captain went out through. Approaching the doorway, I had my gun trained to the floor, ready to use in case something jumped me. Turning left, I swear I heard footsteps from the doorway. Fearing as though Reunion had gotten sneakier, I hid behind the doorway and had my gun at the ready.

With each passing second, the footsteps grew louder and louder. When they were just barely loud enough to be heard behind the wall, I turned to face the threat, G3 in hand.

"Freeze!" I shout to catch them off guard to identify the target.

But as I turn the corner, I instinctively lower my gun at the sight of the gray uniform of the Brotherhood of Nod. It was the officer. He finally came back from his squad run. Much faster than an American father going for a milk run. And behind him were the Black Hand operators and Midnight Unit.

"I assume you were defending the extraction point?" The officer deadpans, arms crossed and with an unamused yet questioning expression.

"Yes, sir." I saluted. "Reunion has given up their assault on the extraction point. And I presume we won't be bothered for quite some time."

The officer nodded and put his arms down. "Good. That's one less problem." He turned around to face the soldiers. "Midnight Unit, get to cover."

"Aye, sir."

He turned to face the Black Hand officer. "Major. What about you?"

"I'll be waiting with my team," the officer responded, shaking her head and letting out a massive wheeze of relief. "We just spent our time fighting through Reunion safehouses. It was hell."

"I presume that's why you have an arrow in your arm then, Major?"

The Major nodded. "Yes."

"Alright. Just sit tight. I'll be calling for extraction."

I turned back around to head to my friends in cover. When they finally saw me I waved my hands as I smiled.

"Officer's back."

"Awesome."

"Well, boys, guess we get to go home."

"I'll need a medal charm for my G3 later."

"Same here," I noted. "And repairs too."

The three of them laughed at my expense the moment they realized just how poorly maintained and battered my rifle was. Due to fighting in Lungmen, it became basically a cracked stick.

"I hate you guys so much." I let out a snicker as I said that.

"You too," The machine gunner noted before he realized something. "Hey, wait - I didn't get all of your names."

I swear everyone in my corner felt like dying upon hearing that.

"Alright, I'll start," I coughed, then began. "Private Second Class Ebrahim Gholem-Hossein. Just call me Ebrahim."

The others looked at each other, then decided to go introduce themselves.

"Private Darius. IRGC. Insha'allah, I'll get this machine cleaned before extraction." The machine gunner noted, packing up his MG3 as we prepared to leave.

"Private Bijan. Artesh." The other rifleman said, picking up his rifle. "I... someday hope to complete my Hajj before I die. Whether it be here or on earth."

"Insha'allah." I solemnly nodded in agreement.

"Insha'allah, indeed."

The Kazakh got up and saluted me, before relaxing her stance.

"Private Aisha. Kazakh Republican Army." The flame trooper introduced herself. "I presume you have a higher rank than me, Ebrahim?"

I nodded. "Second-class is above Private in Iran, yes."

"Damn." She chuckled. "Do I have to get on a desk?"

"No." I shot back, shaking my head. "I'd rather not get shot in the head by the IRGC." I heard Darius laugh as I said that. Fucking Quds Force, man.

She shrugged in response. "Your loss, PSC." She chuckled. I smirked in response. Some people are always forward, especially just after combat. But, subhanallah, I'm not that person. Besides, I'm not even married.

I hear the officer calling for extraction on the radio and firing a flare gun to mark the location for the helicopter. Now that we're pretty much guaranteed to get out of here silently, I huddle with my small clique from Long Unit as the Black Hand takes a rest and Midnight Unit recuperates. Darius sits down on the floor, machine gun out of ammunition. Bijan's getting a cigarette out, and Aisha's helping light Bijan's cigarette.

I sit down, thinking of the Q'uran. It was only after I actually put thought into our situation did I realize how screwed we were. We were warned in our briefing that this wasn't Earth. That's fine. But then I actually stopped to remember the words of the GDI soldiers who came back from the operation in the village. And we didn't hear from command if we could come back at all.

I always thought that they'd find a way, but they never actually disclosed any efforts to fix or repair our current situation. Especially with us being forced to fight in brutal urban combat in a city not too dissimilar to Hong Kong, but at the same time too different of a city to be exactly Hong Kong. I wish I could put this into proper words given that I'm running out of thoughts, but...

"Hey, Bijan," I opened up, rocking myself in the crawled-up position. "What do we Muslims do when we don't know where the Ka'ba is?" I asked. Sadness crept up on me as I realized just what we were in for.

"We face Mecca's direction," He replied, sadness in his tone as he realized why I asked the question. "But if not, just Earth generally," he smoked for a minute, then continued. "...But if we can't see Earth..."

"...We pray wherever." Darius responded, a big groan of sadness escaping his mouth as he realized exactly where Bijan was going.

"Can we ever go back to Earth? To see the Mecca?" Bijan asked.

"...Fuck, I never thought of our situation," Aisha noted, taking off her gas mask to reveal her grimy-yet-amazing face. "I..."

We all sat there in silence, thinking about what to do.

"I... I promised my family that I'd go on a Hajj to Mecca at least once in my life," Bijan put his half-finished cigarette down and stomped it. "But... where is the Mecca now?"

"Can we make it back home?" Darius asked.

"I..." Aisha interjected again but then shook her head. "There's a way home, right? Right?!" She asked, nearly despairing as all of us belatedly realized - there was no way back home for all of us.

I shook my head. "I... don't think so." I solemnly noted. "Our officers didn't give us..." I swear their eyes widened. "They didn't disclose any efforts on restoring our line back to Earth."

"Are you serious?!"

I sadly nodded. Darius and Bijan sat there, motionless for about thirty seconds. They then looked at each other. And it was only there I realized that they both had tears in their eyes. Aisha just sat, with her flamethrower, realizing that like us - she could never get back home.

"O, Allah..."

The sobbing I heard from my fellow soldiers pretty much confirmed it. We were all screwed. I simply cradled my rifle, hoping that the evacuation could get on with it already.

After five minutes of sobbing, the sound of helicopter blades took the fact that we were stranded on Earth off our minds. I got up, and so did my clique. The moment it hit its loudest, a ladder dropped into the center of the rendezvous point. The officer walked up to it first.

"Evac's here. Let's go! Three at a time!"

Lines of soldiers climbed up the ladder to escape Lungmen. Our suppression attempt was a partial success, but it leaned personally more to failure. We didn't stop them. We only destroyed the city we were supposed to protect. A quick glance at the chokepoint I defended earlier told me that. Behind it was a horizon coated in dead Reunion, and a city coated in dust, ash, rubble, and bullet casings. The smell of gunpowder never left my nostrils thinking about the battle.

Even when it was my turn to climb, I couldn't help but glance to the side as I climbed up to the Chinook's ramp. The city was burning. Smoke plumes coated the horizon as the aftermath of both Reunion and Nod's rampage was made clear to me. I swear I even saw the aftermath of a skyscraper's collapse on the street. What didn't help was the apparent presence of first responders, given that I saw moving flashing lights in colors of blue, red, and some white. Even from the top of the ladder.

When I finally got in through, I sat down and stared at the city longingly.

This was partially our fault, and we had just arrived here two days ago. Unlike earth, there was no turning back. No PR maneuvers. No UNSC. We couldn't cover this up nor legally justify it. We intervened in a conflict we shouldn't have, and the aftermath is uglier than the initial situation.

An uncertain future awaited me as the Chinook pulled out of Lungmen and headed back to Camp Tiber after loading the troops in. The Apaches followed them, also returning to base.

I fear we may have left a paper trail too distinct to hide.

One Day Later

Brigadier-General Jean Fitzgerald [Allied Nations - Allied Nations Overcommand] - Camp Tiber - Dated December 1096.

"Yang." I put my fist on the table as I just avoided wreaking havoc on a table with both my coffee and my only other fellow General here. Yang's eyes betrayed his theoretically always-aware state. The eyebags and zoning off suggested to me that he spent too much time commanding the forces of Nod. Now, I would have natch of a problem with this. And I did have no problems. Until I woke up from sleeping for like four hours, and suddenly the Communication Center's scrambling as officers are yelling at everybody.

"What the hell happened, Yang?"

Yang shook his head and stared at the plate of toast and chocolate on the table. "It..." He stopped himself. "The..." Again. "Errr..." And yet again, he stopped himself. I tapped my foot in anger as I tried to understand what the fuck Yang was high on.

"Our... suppression operation ended in a partial success." He finally admitted. I slammed my hands on the office chair on my side of the table and sat down to yell at Yang.

"Partial success?! Partial?!" I pointed towards the door that led to the communication center's communications area. "I go out there and I'm hearing your officers shouting about overkill and collateral damage, for Christ's sake!" I got up and walked around the chair in a blind rage. "I heard this, too; 'Civilian death toll from Nod rocket strikes estimated to be 179'. One-hundred and seventy-nine, Yang! Not to mention - I hear from your officers, yes, your officers - that we have a missing man!"

I sat back down and put my coffee cup down. Even as part of the Allied Nations Overcommand representing the UNGDI contingent of Camp Tiber, I had to deal with incompetence. But the Initiative Armed Forces' incompetence clearly can't match Nod's, goddamnit! How in the hell was I even supposed to match the intellect of an average Noddie?!

"We managed to silence Reunion in Lungmen, as was our original objective," Yang muttered, leaning back into his chair. I was about to respond to that with all my fury, but he continued. "However, our operation was hindered by..." He took a moment to let out his pent-up rage through a deep breath and a shaking of the head. "Two unforeseen factors in the midst of tracking Reunion safehouses. And lack of extra Black Hand support on my part."

"Well, there you go!" I raised my hands in frustration, leaning back and spinning my office chair in sheer frustration. "Elaborate for me please," I pushed my office chair back to face Yang and grab my cup of coffee. "What the fuck threw the wrench into your plans? As far as I can tell, the Black Hand was damn perfect at its operations!" I groaned, coming up with a conspiracy theory. "Don't tell me the ISA was lying again."

Yang grabbed the toast and began munching on it. I had just woken up, but Yang was probably busy trying to salvage his godawful operation, which is why he looks like he came out of a garbage bin.

"Black Hand forces were forced to divert from the original route I set on via waypoint," He said, munching on his sandwich. "Ambushed by local police and forced out of the alleyway due to police response just a little earlier." He took a second bite, with some of the chocolate spilling on the plate.

I took out my coffee spoon and stirred my coffee. It was already stirred, but I wanted to alleviate the tension by spinning something. "Go on." I responded, hoping Yang had a good answer.

"After the Black Hand evacuated out of the alleyway," He stopped to swallow another time, before taking another bite and finishing the thing entirely. "They encountered a Reunion soldier after stumbling on a dead police officer from the local government. The Reunion soldier turned back and was going to warn the rest, but the Black Hand responded..."

"...And how does that lead to the total catastrophe that is this entire operation?"

"The Black Hand operators missed their target, and they managed to warn every Reunion safehouse in the vicinity," He leaned back and his eyes didn't focus, drifting away for a bit before he shook his head and continued on. Seems like Yang really isn't there in the head after all. "And the safehouses were warned before Black Hand forces could do any damage, sparking the uprising early."

"Alright, continue. I want to know how the hell it led to 'not being able to send tanks' and 'one-seventy-nine deaths' from Rocket Strikes. How the hell could you go wrong with the Black Hand?! And you're telling me that they missed?! What kind of Noddies are you if your Black Hand can't shoot for shit?"

"The Black Hand all reported no problems, be they mental or physical," He sighed, "Yet they all missed when shooting the assailant. We're assuming that he was excellent at avoiding shots."

"Alright. Go on."

"Our armored airdrop operation was sabotaged when the pilots found that the Bradleys had been stripped of their ammo and fuel," Yang murmured, anger boiling in his low voice as he prepared to hammer his fist onto the table. "And the Chinooks we were supposed to obtain had their engines sabotaged." Yang was uncharacteristically angry this time.

"The rocket strikes were aimed towards crippling Reunion Operations, however, several helicopters aimed off-center and hit key infrastructure," He brought up a clipboard with paper on them.

"Đavo 1 aimed for destroying a skyscraper barely hanging on to wedge a gap between Midnight Unit and the Lungmen Police to ensure a delay in pursuing," He listed off. "However the collapse of the skyscraper ended up killing twenty civilians..." He paused. "Both in the skyscraper itself and in another building collapsed by it. And that's our lowest estimate, as the estimated toll of 179 may not be accurate."

"Đavo 2 put down Reunion resistance harassing a Lungmen Police blockade," He noted off "Through... what seems to be massed barrages of Hellfire missiles and Hydra rockets. Unfortunately, among Reunion's line of fire were hostages..." He winced. "Ten hostages were killed, with more Reunion dead. They sought to cover themselves in hostages just to give the Lungmen Police a bad dilemma." He groaned. "Only we smashed the problem in the worst way possible."

"Đavo 3 used their autocannon to put down a swathe of Reunion harassing Long Unit when they were regrouping with Long Unit," Yang continued. "No civilian casualties from the autocannons directly. This puts them at the lowest in terms of civilian deaths - because they make a combined total of 0 new additions to the counting of dead bodies."

He took one last breath and read the last one. "Đavo 4, supporting the Black Hand, launched a barrage of rockets at a building holding Reunion. Only problem was that it also contained at least a hundred-fifty people. Hostages." I winced and felt myself cringe at that. One-fifty? The fuck? "The last nine people died from crossfire between Reunion and Black Hand."

He put the list down and looked at me. "And remember - 179 is our middle estimate. There may have been more caught in the crossfire that we didn't record on gun cameras or from eyewitness testimonies." He spun his chair around and put his hands over his head, leaning back. "The point is - this operation's a massive clusterfuck, and we've got to brief the men about this entire thing. Officers too."

"And what do we tell them?" I asked. "That we killed a hundred civilians because of our carelessness despite being the organization meant to stop that?" I put my hands on the table and raised my voice. "That we've got at least one man missing from this operation despite our collective promise to never leave anyone behind?" Technically that was GDI's promise, but I did hear Yang tried to adopt it after hearing that. Wonder where that sentiment went?

Yang stood up and put the chair back, turning his head and taking a huge breath, not once, not twice, but rather thrice. Yang was in the same situation I was. "Goddamnit, how are we going to address this? I didn't even find out we couldn't go home until... after hearing about it from the Chronosphere staff." He angrily let out, nearly smashing a wall in.

"The Chronosphere staff said that?" I asked, genuine surprise painting my face as I never heard them say anything. "They didn't tell me about that!"

"You were asleep, Jean."

"So we can't fucking go home?" I asked, realizing just a little too late that we were fucked. And I went ahead and authorized Nod to throw themselves in Lungmen's internal politics. Whoop-de-fucking-doo. I even went ahead and got my soldiers exposed to fucking NCID. I always heard Noddies complain that GDI was gung-ho, especially now that we were 'temporary' allies in the face of the event that brought us here.

Speaking of - I need to recount what got us here in the first place.

"Maaaaybe-" Yang turned around, an irritated look on his face. "We should've asked that question before we threw ourselves at the locals. No?" He asked, arms behind his back as he looked the most irritated a Noddie could ever be.

"Godfucking damn it..."

"Yeah," Yang nodded. "I get the sentiment. But we're all fucked here."

"Alright... so, how do we address this to the troops? What's on our bucket list again?" I asked, trying to get attention away from our recent fuckups and into something more calming. Like the briefing. Then again - that tied with our recent fuckups. Shit.

"Informing the troops that we're stuck here, first on the list." Yang grabbed a notepad and started scribbling away at the speed of light. "Ramping up military production by placing order for reserve tanks, second on the list. I'm projecting at least fifteen extra Bradley light tanks, and not the TOW-using versions." He wrote down.

"Examine our communication servers, third on the list." I added. "I suspect that we may suffer a massive communication downtime at night, as I heard that your Nod officers had a hard time reaching the units." Well, that and apparently one Nod minigunner from the Iranian Army had his radio broken. The MIA man's radio was broken too.

"Hey, don't our soldiers also have GPS trackers with, uh, RFID chips that ping their location?" I brought up, remembering the MIA soldier.

"Yeah?"

"Our missing man's RFID chip's out."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" Yang bemoaned. "I haven't taken a look at the dossier of the MIA man, goddamnit. I'll do this after we get the bucket list."

"Uh-huh, back to the bucket list." I noted, writing more ideas down.

"Root out spies, fourth on the list." I wrote another one down. "We've got no idea who in sam hill sabotaged the Chinooks and Bradleys we were supposed to send. So we've got to root out these spies before they do anything more to harm."

"Oh, and for fifth on the list," Yang interrupted. "Declare a formal alliance between the base's remnants of GDI, Nod, and our assorted civilian staff."

"Do we call the IDAP Coordinator then?"

"Yeah, we'll need him to sign on... a sheet of paper or something."

"Got it. Though, aren't we united anyway?" I raised my hands in confusion. Yang nodded, but continued. "Yes, but only because of our main 'government' signing the Poznan Treaty*. We have yet to formally proclaim either an emergency regency in Nod's case or a provisional government."

"So we haven't signed a formal treaty? At all?" I wrote down the fifth item on the list.

"Yep. Hand me the list, Jean."

I turned over the list and handed it to him. He read through the list and nodded. "Hey, hold on. You forgot a sixth part." He points out. "Check the base's maintenance status. And by that I mean we need to examine the buildings." He wrote that down. "Got that down. That's all we need for now."

We both nodded and slumped back into our chairs, forgetting that we were dealing with the aftermath of a disaster. I got over my anger with Yang. We had bigger problems. Still, I can't help but feel angry at myself for choosing to smooth over the 179 civilian deaths and one missing Noddie. But since we're stuck here - and I only realized that too late just two days after authorizing a military operation that got my troops infected - I had more concerns to put my brainpower to.

"God, and to think they picked me for Camp Tiber duty..." I sighed. "The base's GDI Contingent didn't have a representative, and I assumed they'd be picking a more competent officer, but they picked me."

"Why? Something wrong with you mentally?"

"Yeah!" I raised my hands, slightly irritated. "I have bad memory issues, which leads me to forget my units. Combine that with my easily irritable behavior, coffee addiction, and just straight-up having no strategy! And yet, they picked me for this!"

"How'd you remain a Commander, then?" Yang asked. "In Nod, we sack incompetent officers because they serve no use to the Brotherhood and Kane. I had to be on my feet most of the time."

"How come you're soft and casual then?"

"I have my manners, good sir. Hong Kong, born and raised. I prefer to hide underneath a cover of silk than pretend I'm made of steel." He put on a faux-British accent, before returning to his Chinese accent. Honestly, I'm surprised that Yang doesn't use his British accent more. "But how did you retain the commanding position? Especially of a place like this?"

"I..."

"You know, Jean," He interrupted. "How did you become Commander? You've attended Officer Candidate School, right?"

"I... Yes, but... I was an underperforming or at least mediocre student at OCS, truth be told."

"Eligibility for graduation?"

"At best? I'd say normally 50%," I scratched my head. Bringing back memories of OCS was giving me the shivers. "But I graduated anyway. Managed to scoot me a good seat at command, too. Apparently, it was an 'expedited graduation' or something."

"Wonder if your peers accused you of being part of nepotism. That phrasing makes me suspicious that you'd be part of like, some sketchy McOCS."

"Well, you joke, but," I took something out of my pocket to show it to Yang. A Family ID Card. "I had this. Usually, these belonged to rich kids who were born into old money. Sort of a family thing, to show money and prestige off to everyone else. Kind of embarrassing, really." I added sheepishly. Yes, I was a rich kid. Even my old friends were surprised when I actually bothered to talk about it. I barely flunked OCS yet I found myself the commander of GDI forces in the Tiber River. God, I'd be disappointing any socialist on GDI.

"...Your actual last name's von Fitzgerald?" He was surprised. "The same Fitzgerald family* that controls a shitload of properties?"

"Yep. I'm from that family. The same one that's been lambasted by Stalinists for funding wars."

Yang burst out into laughter. Guess he didn't know. "Holy shit, you're a fucking rich kid! No wonder you barely passed! You've fucking lobbied your way past school!"

"Surprised you didn't know I was a von Fitzgerald sooner."

"To be fair, I thought you were just some guy unlucky enough to be named Fitzgerald."

"Ha! Blame my mother for that! She married into the family, and they opted to drop the 'von' when referring to me, except in ID cards."

"That reminds me - why is it called 'von Fitzgerald' - isn't the root of that last name Irish?"

"Gaelic-German family. The family opted to standardize it to just 'Fitzgerald' as in the Irish spelling."

"I see, I see. Still, this is completely fascinating. You're a rich fuck who's commanding the troops. Wonder why'd they dump you here?"

"Maybe..." I had this theory for a while. Best time for me to use it. "Maybe they wanted to shift me somewhere I could do less harm, given that most exercises were... well, let's say my name became associated with 'pyrrhic victory'."

"Shiiit, sucks to be you then. Guessing that GDI saw you as the rich spoiled kid with too much firepower."

"Yeah, the only reason I'm still here is that my family lobbied to have me graduate under 'expedience' or something. I never was the favorite kid, yet they bothered to treat me as an equal, even if I was French-descendant rather than pure Gaelic-German."

"You'd be lynched if they found out."

"God I wish I had my unlimited wealth right now." I chuckled. Yang then burst into a little giggle. "I imagine you just throwing money at them and they suddenly stop turning hostile. Like, just casually bribing a Mammoth tank crew to not lynch you."

"Ha, if only."

The chuckling quieted down, and we were staring at each other again. I got out of my chair as I prepared to write a speech, and Yang got up as well. We both met at the doorway, with me about to pull the door open. I looked back at the door handle and then back to Yang, who didn't prompt himself to talk about his life story. I had to rectify that. Someday.

"When're you going to tell me your life story, man?"

"After we finish up our bucket list of briefings."

"Right then. Have a good day, General Yang."

"Farewell, General Jean."

I opened the door and headed outside, turning to the exit. The only thing I had in my mind was addressing the troops after this.

God, I wish I had my money. Maybe I'd be able to bribe them into listening to me.

But hey, so starts the story of Jean von Fitzgerald.

I truly was the pinnacle of a rich kid whose family bought him out. Wonder if my name will forever be associated with nepotism someday, when I'm dead and gone.

As I walked further away, those thoughts drifted.

After all - this might be our new home.

Even if I didn't learn that for two days now.

Dumbass.

Notes from Jean:

Shanghai Warehouse - Battle between the Republic of China National Revolutionary Army (RoC - NRA) and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) Red Army during the Long March from 1947-51. NRA Forces held against the Red Army for two days, culminating in the first confirmed destruction of a Mammoth Tank during the Second Great War. NRA Forces then evacuated quietly to join their comrades in the Long March

Fitzgerald Family - Gaelic-German noble family with a history of financially backing the Allies in both the First and Second Great Wars. Usually the scapegoat of Stalinists seeking to blame someone for the fall of the USSR. GDI Forces in Tiber (GDIFT) Commander Jean (von) Fitzgerald is a confirmed member of the family.

Author's Notes:

It took me so long to actually write an intermission chapter. I really should do this more. With this fic being extremely slowburn, don't expect rapid action just yet. There's still briefings of Reunion, Rhodes Island, and maybe the Lungmen Guard Department I have to finish. But overall I'm somewhat satisfied, even if over the course of this fic I forget some plot points I originally wanted to write.

I consider this painfully rushed as I wanted to squeeze in a speech and a riot with GDI and Nod Forces having the reaction you'd have expected. But alas I have to cut that and relegate it into the first chapter of the Children of Ursus arc. So, yeah. Pain. On the brighter side though, expect GDI and Nod to make gains, now that they've committed themselves to making Terra a better place.

In hindsight, GDI forces reacting to them being stuck in Terra should've been a plot point multiple chapters ago. But I guess I didn't know how to picture them panicking without thinking "nah, too emotional". Fuck me.

Also, GDI and Nod will be using Child Soldiers. Just saying this now.

Right, see you all next chapter. Hopefully I don't get bogged down and resort to rushing.

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