12th June, 2026
09:00 Hours
Marszałkowska Street, Warsaw
People said that World War Three would turn the world into an irradiated hellscape. Even Einstein himself said, "I know not with what weapons World War 3 will be fought, but World War 4 will be fought with sticks and stones." Yet despite all this, World War III wasn't as people said it was. They were all wrong. Instead, what was thought to be a conflict that would last for years, or minutes, only lasted for two short years, with NATO forces eventually marching on Russia's capital. This ended the war, but not for Russia, as soon after V-R Day was announced, the entire nation fell apart into civil conflict.
Poland was one of the few lucky ones to exit the war unscathed. Some nations like Finland, Latvia, and Lithuania were hit pretty hard, and so Marszałkowska Street was filled with humanitarian personnel from time to time. It was here, that a few months ago, Polish and NATO troops marched in victory, celebrations were underway, and people were happier than they ever were. Although for one man, these celebrations were meaningless, as it cost him his father, three brothers, and a portion of his extended family.
Jaroslaw "Yarek" Fabian, a Lieutenant in the Polish Land Forces, was currently on well-deserved leave. After a Polish newspaper used the image of him and other soldiers raising the Polish flag above the Kremlin, it gave him enough points in Poland's equivalent to the Adjusted Service Rating Score to return home. The battle for Moscow was bloody, vicious, and particularly haunting for some, and due to this, most of the wartime soldiers in the 2ndMechanized Legions Brigade left the army after everything died down. Not Yarek, though, as to him, his country still needs the service of able-bodied men and women, and a few wounds and leave won't stop him. Since he just recently left the headquarters of the 2nd MLB, and headed to Warsaw to visit remaining family members, he still wore his dress uniform.
It was peaceful, really. Despite the fact that only nine months ago Russian paratroopers dropped on this very street, some buildings still bore the markings of battle, yet relatively unscathed. A few minutes after, the waitress brought him his coffee. He thanked her, and after drinking half of it, he set it down, just enjoying the peace and quiet. Looking outside, his eyes paused on some kind of shimmering out of the corner of the window. Curiosity got the better of him, so he got up and looked outside. He couldn't make it out just yet, but for a second, he thought he could hear a screech from its direction. He cautiously walked outside, the structure in full view now. It had an appearance like a mausoleum, and the gleam reminded him of something akin to gasoline in water.
Suddenly, as if someone was switching channels, the entire structure now took on a solid appearance. It was tall, and as he looked towards the center of it, his eyes got lost in the darkness. He walked back inside, finished the coffee, and walked outside, walking to the other side of the street, his eyes still glued to the building. For a split second, he swore he could hear a loud screech and roaring come from the depths of it, and silhouettes of people come from the deepest reaches of it. He wasn't the only one paying attention to it, as passerby also stopped and stared at it like deer in headlights.
Then, all hell broke loose. It started with a screech, which suddenly grew louder and louder, and soon, a dragon-like creature flew out of the darkness. It gained altitude and dove down on the crowd of civilians. The creature tore into the civilians, taking down multiple men and women, including two children. Due to the bloody display, multiple people were paralyzed in fear. Realizing what was going on, Yarek immediately ran towards the civilians that were closest to the bloody mess. Soon after, the sound of hooves on concrete echoed through the street, and columns of men and horses appeared. Behind them, stout, pig creatures walked out, and hordes of archers took position in front. The archers fired a hail of arrows, and some deadly projectiles soon found their targets. In this initial push, 13 civilians were killed, and 24 were seriously wounded.
Yarek ran like hell, and in moments, he reached a civilian with an arrow sticking out of their knee. "Are you alright, ma'am?" He said, looking out towards the incoming enemies, and back to the wounded lady. She looked up at him with a pained look on her face and nodded. "Don't pull that out. You'll only make it wors-" His words were cut short by a yell nearby, and he saw that an officer of the Policja was fighting an enemy clad in armour reminiscent of the Roman Empire. They were struggling, and even though the police officer had a shotgun on a sling, the enemy soldier seemed to have the upper hand, as his knife drew closer and closer to the man's neck as they struggled.
The police officer managed to kick the attacker off, but then he got up, and charged at the police officer, quicker than before. That's when Yarek jumped in, sidestepping and blocking the man's arm, swatting the knife away. The attacker recovered, and then he immediately dashed at Yarek. He threw punches, and Yarek answered with punches of his own, utilizing what he learned in Krav Maga courses to try to gain an upper hand. After a two-minute standoff, Yarek got the man in a chokehold, while the man grabbed at his arms, nails clawing in desperation. His grip was slipping, and since the attacker could break free at any moment, Yarek shifted his hands to grip the man's chin and the top of his head, and in one swift motion, a loud snap echoed through the small alleyway.
He got up, panting, and brushed his torn uniform off, spitting a bloody tooth out. He wiped his lips, looking around, and saw that the woman and the police officer were standing there, looking at him with a shocked expression. "Don't stand there. You literally have a gun. Get as many civilians as you can to safety, I'll deal with the rest." He paused and looked back towards the man. "Your partner. Is he alright?" Yarek asked, looking behind the officer. Another policeman was sprawled out on the pavement, a large pool of blood growing like a massive lake. "N-no sir, he caught a few stray arrows and one of those flying creatures slashed his side." Yarek nodded, walking up to the body. The policeman was young, most likely in his early twenties. His face reminded Yarek of his brother, whom had died during the Battle of Kursk prior to the cessation of hostilities.
He made the sign of the cross and closed the man's eyelids with one hand. "Do you mind if I take his firearm?" The other man nodded solemnly, and Yarek lifted the dead policeman's Mossberg 500 off of its sling, pumping the slide to chamber a round. He also took the man's bandolier with twenty 12-gauge shells, eight of which he crammed into the loading port. He put the shotgun on a sling and checked his own belt for a service pistol, a Walther P99 with one magazine of .40 S . He put it on safe for now, after mindlessly flicking the safety off, and thanked the police officer. Aside from this, he also grabbed a radio from the man's vest, and with that, he ran off towards the nearest group of wounded civilians.
Up above, multiple police and military helicopters were airborne. The radio was constantly squawking with reports of firefights between police, but so far, the military was nowhere to be seen. He ran the entire length of Marszałkowska, then turned the corner of Koszykowa and Marszałkowska Street, continuing his run, panting as he went. As he ran half of the street, his radio crackled to life, a panicked voice yelling above gunfire and the clashing of metal against metal and the sound of rotors going off in the background. "Any station! Any station! This is Gęś-4! I have 16 wounded, 7 dead at the LZ on top of the Infant Jesus Teaching Hospital! We have multiple X-rays all around us! We cannot take off, we are grounded! Is anyone there?! We need support now!"
Yarek's face whitened. The Infant Jesus Teaching Hospital is used to train doctors, surgeons, and nurses, but despite all that, it still had patients, which could be in danger at any given moment. He lifted the radio up to his lips, speaking into it in a calm tone. "This is Lieutenant Jaroslaw Fabian of the Polish Land Forces, off duty at the moment. I have acquired a firearm, and I am headed your way. State your name and affiliation for ease of communication, over." The radio went silent for a moment, the only thing audible was the static. It then crackled to life, the man on the other end speaking into it as calmly as possible. "Sir, this is Sub-Lieutenant Brzezinski of the Polish Air Force. As of right now, the only units that are responding in strength are the3rd Transport Aviation Wing and the 1st Armoured Brigade of the Land Forces." Yarek smiled for a split second, happy that the Army was responding this quickly.
"Is there a dedicated landing zone or evacuation staging area that the civilians are being taken to?" He asked Lieutenant Brzezinski, holding the button on the receiver to speak. The man responded almost immediately, trying to keep himself together. "Every civilian is being evacuated to the Botanical Garden of the Warsaw University. This building is currently the only hospital in Warsaw that's under assault. We're also getting the last patients out as quickly as we can."
"Copy. I'm almost there. Hang tight, Brzezinski." He said into the radio, running as fast as he could, the Mossberg dangling on his back. The streets were mostly deserted, but a few piles of rubble and trash still covered the ground as he continued running. Up above, a few news helicopters from Polish as well as German, American, and French companies were circling the streets, broadcasting the enemy being pushed back. One helicopter owned jointly by CNN andTVP3 Warszawa circled above Marszałkowska, the rotors echoing through the street. It stopped midair, hovering as two reporters inside were explaining the attacks to viewers glued to their screens.
"Hello, I am Marian Mazur withTVP3 Warszawa, here with my CNN colleague, Franklin Herschell. We are on the scene in Warsaw where a situation has been unfolding for the past hour. In unexplainable and bizarre reasons, multiple combatants have appeared at Marszałkowska street, soon followed by airborne creatures, both of which parties then attacked civilians and police personnel on patrol duty in the street. There are multiple civilian as well as law enforcement casualties, and as of right now, the Army is pushing back the invaders with tanks. We now take you live to nearby Marszałkowska Street, the source of the attack."
Motioning wordlessly for the pilot to pivot the helicopter, he obliged, pushing the collective right, bringing the snub-nose of the camera to view the entire length of the street. "We now go over to Mister Herschell, who will describe what we see." The cameraman inside the helicopter panned the camera to Herschell, and the TV view split between the reporter and the helicopter's camera. "As you can see, there are a few fires lining the street, and some buildings seem to be damaged. There are dead and dying people lining the street, with what appears to be arrows sticking out, and large, brutal gashes on others. That is the current situation here, and it's partially contained, thanks to the efforts of the 1st Armoured Brigade. We now go over to Koszykowa Street, the initial attack path that the invaders took."
Yarek, meanwhile, was doing his best to not faint from the amount of time he's been running, not to mention the summer heat was killing him. He halted for a second and ripped off a long strip a cloth from his dress uniform's pant leg. Seeing as how it was ruined from the start, it'd serve a better purpose, as well as giving him something that can absorb the sweat, since all he's done in the past 15 minutes was raise his hand, wipe his face with his sleeve, and continue running, which to say the least, is way too time consuming. Tying the cloth around his head like a bandana, he wiped his forehead a final time and let the headwrap rest on his forehead. He then resumed his run, shotgun in hand.
Back up in the helicopter, the American reporter was busy explaining the extent of the damage to viewers, when something caught the eye of the Polish reporter. He immediately nudged his American colleague, pointing out the door towards a man running through the deserted street. The camera moved to the street below and fixed itself on the man. "To all of you at home watching this, we have a current development on the situation. A low pass was made over the street below, and we were able to catch a man, possibly an attacker, running to god knows where." The camera zoomed in, and there Yarek was, running and running, intent on reaching the end of the street before it was too late.
The Polish reporter reviewed the footage, and his face turned into a surprised expression. "Upon further live examination of what we're all seeing, it's now established that we are watching what looks to be a soldier wearing dress attire, with a firearm in hand. Take a look." The reporters went quiet as the outside ambience replaced the helicopter's chatter. The camera displayed a crisp, stable footage of Yarek running, as he reached the corner of the street. "He appears to be on his way somewhere. Hold on, we might be able to patch into radio channels to see if there's anything nearby."
Yarek reached the corner of Williama Heerleina Lindleya Street, stopping and peeking around the corner. There were nine enemy soldiers attempting to break into the hospital, and two of them were those pig-faced creatures from before. After giving the area a quick once-over, he lifted the radio receiver up to talk to the pilot from before. "Brzezinski, here's the situation. There are ten on the ground floor. Have any already broken in?" The radio was silent for a few short seconds as he waited for a response. It crackled to life almost immediately, the voice becoming a bit calmer with Yarek's reassurance. "Sir, there are none. It's just those I think." Yarek chuckled, and peeked around the corner once more, getting to cover soon after. "Well, here's what's going to happen. The moment I tell you to, I want you to take off immediately. Don't look back, just fly like you've a fire underneath you, rozumieć?"
"Yes sir. I have the helicopter ready for takeoff. Just say the word." Yarek slid the safety switch, or rather the safety tab down, and pumped the slide once. Exhaling once, twice, three times, he ran out from behind the corner, and ran towards the soldiers, taking up a position to where the slugs were effective. Their response was sluggish and by the time they could respond, it was too late. In quick succession, Yarek fired two shots, one hitting the soldier closest to him square in the forehead, blowing open the top of his skull, sending a shower of bone, brain matter, and blood flying everywhere, peppering Yarek with a rain of blood and brain matter due to the close proximity. The second round was a little bit sloppy, yet it managed to kill an orc by completely shattering its jaw, leaving it stumbling around, blood pouring from the wound, it's arms reflexively trying to cover up the flow from the jawless area as it stumbled around, before collapsing to the ground, dead.
He pumped the slide again, and again, firing slug after slug downrange, switching firing positions, since the soldiers attempted to charge him again. One got too close for him to fire, so he flipped the shotgun sideways, gripping it like a club, and blocked the swing of the sword. The swordsman pushed closer, and closer, the edge of the blade just mere inches away from his face. Struggling to push him away, Yarek managed to wiggle his leg free, and proceeded to knee the other man right between his legs. The man staggered away, clutching the area like it might fall off, and it gave Yarek an opening to get up, pump the slide, and fire a slug through the crippled soldier's forehead.
Pumping the slide again, the shotgun clicked empty. Cursing himself for not counting his shots, he flipped the gun over so that the loading port was facing sideways. Taking cover behind a tree, he took two shells, and quickly slid them into the loading port, and again, grabbed two more, repeating the process twice more. He pumped the slide, waited for a few seconds, and ran out from behind the tree at the last one, a big, burly fellow with a sword and shield. The soldier bellowed, "I am Sextus Amatius Senilis! I am a Legionnaire of the Empire of Sadera! Bow before me, subhu-". He was cut off, as without hesitation, Yarek raised the shotgun to his shoulder and shot the man in the abdomen, and as the man started to collapse, he shot him again, this time to the head.
He stepped over the body as he walked up to the hospital, and without looking down, reached for his radio to contact the pilot. "Brzezinski, they're gone. You're good to go." He clicked off the radio and waited. Finally, the answer came. "Copy. Thanks for the help." Soon after, the sound of rotors came. The tempo rose and rose, and finally, he saw the shape of an S-70i lift off from the hospital's roof. He waved them off, made a quick prayer for them, and ran off back down the same street. It was mostly silent now, save for a few muffled booms from a distance, evidently Polish tanks pushing the invaders back
If his counts are correct, he now had about seven rounds remaining in the magazine, and since it was his second reload, around two extra rounds on the bandolier. Just to be safe, he crammed the last two rounds into the tube magazine, and pumped the slide, chambering a shell. With that out of the way, he continued running, and since the streets were mostly empty, he slowed down to a brisk jog, keeping his eye out for any other invader. Suddenly, he stopped. That's odd, he thought to himself. The ground was shaking, as if elephants were having a rave. Then, he saw them, or rather, they saw him first. A convoy of four K2PL Black Panthers turned from an arterial street and started making their way in his direction. They were soon after followed by Bradleys and BWP-3EM Armoured Personnell Carriers, which had infantry sitting on the outside, rifles poised.
He held his hands up and put the shotgun away. He stood with his hands in view as the APC's passed. One stopped, and a Sergeant got off, reviewing him with a curious eye. "Who are you?" The man asked, while looking left and right for any attackers. "I'm Lieutenant Jaroslaw Fabian of the Land Forces. What's the current situation?" The sergeant got back up onto the BWP and offered Yarek his hand. "Get on, sir. We're going to the safezone." Yarek grabbed the man's hand, and found a place on the top of the BWP to sit. He looked off into the distance as the convoy moved forwards. "Where are we going, Sergeant?" He asked the man after a moment of silence as the convoy moved towards Ujazdowskie Street. "We're taking the bulk of vulnerable civilians to Ogród Botaniczny Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego, sir. We've gotten aerial reconnaissance reports that the bastards in Roman armor are coming to that location, so the street is pretty much lined with tanks." Jaroslaw's eyebrows furrowed, as he contemplated this. "I assume they've replaced the sabot rounds with anti-personnel rounds, right?" The sergeant's face lit up in a wolfish grin as he pointed towards the four tanks in their convoy. "Yes sir. All of them are loaded to their maximum capacity with M1028 rounds."
Yarek nodded, keeping a professional and serious expression, but deep down, he was smiling and pumping his fist, since the enemy troops do not stand a chance against them now, even if they had the element of surprise in the beginning. The tanks crossed the expressway and started to position themselves in front of the University, barrels aimed towards any open space, such as alleys and streets. The bulk of the force was posted up on the overpass, awaiting fire orders. "This is Ironside Actual to all Ironside elements. Updating reconnaissance report, standby." As the tanks halted, overhead a formation of PZL-230R Reconnaissance aircraft flew in close formation, scanning the road below, as well as surrounding areas.
"Ironside Actual to Ironside elements. You have a substantial force headed your way. Ready your crews and prepare to fire." The overpass grew silent, as well as those tanks on the road near the University. Then, off in the distance, the sound of footfalls, hoofbeats, and grunting from the orcs grew louder and louder, and finally, they came into view. They drew closer, and closer, and then, the fire order came across all radio channels. "All crews, prepare to fire." Inside each tank turret, the loaders stood at position, holding an M1028 round in their hands. Further behind, six HIMARS MLRS vehicles were standing by, their launcher platforms raised and ready to fire. Each launcher had six specialized M30A2 rockets loaded, which were an iteration of the long-past M30A1 rocket. For comparison with other rockets carried by HIMARS MLRS vehicles, this one carries 180,000 tungsten balls, in order to prevent collateral damage.
"Rocket crews, listen up. By order of the DoD and the President, we are to maximize enemy damage and minimize collateral damage, that is why we will be using the M30A2. Now, get in, get your shit together, and run diagnostics." The rocket crews all affirmed this order and got to work. Within seconds, the box launchers were ready to go on command. "Ironside Actual to Pulaski Element, adjust fire, over." The launchers turned, and the CO of the Element responded to the fire mission. "Pulaski Actual to Ironside Actual, adjusting fire, out." The box launchers found their bearings and waited for more instructions. "Grid Hotel Whiskey 3234 5466. Direction adjust for0450, over." After confirming that everything was set, the CO responded, "Grid set." He then switched to his team's channel, and spoke to every crew's CO. "Pulaski Element, confirm set." After confirming that everything was in order, the first HIMARS responded "Set." Then, the second, "Set." Then the fourth, fifth, and sixth, until eventually, they were all ready to fire. "Ironside Actual, this is Pulaski Actual. Grid set." The CO of Ironside gave the horizon a quick once over, and spoke into his radio, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"Pulaski, all rounds, AP, in effect, over." After responding with the same confirmation, the CO of Pulaski Element contacted his crews, and the moment of truth came. "All Pulaski elements, FIRE!" The artillery grew silent for a second, and then in an instant, the launchers dispensed their payloads. "Shot, out." The rockets sped away, and as they reached their final arc, they split open, the hail of tungsten balls covering an area that conventional explosives couldn't cover if they tried. For a moment, the enemy soldiers looked up, wondering where the whistling was coming from. They stopped in their tracks, unaware of their impending doom. In a split second, the first wave of soldiers was reduced to a pile, or rather, a field of twisted wood, metal, blood and mushy flesh remains.
"Splash, splash. Effective on target. Artillery, cease fire." The CO of Ironside called out to the artillery team over radio, a small smile playing on his face. "Ironside Element, standby." The tankers waited for the go-ahead, each crewmember anticipating the carnage to come. Again, the recon aircraft flew over and made a few quick photographs of the area. "Ironside Element, this is Ironside Actual. Fire at will!" There was still quite a substantial amount of enemy troops active, so the tanks angled their barrels downwards and waited. "Ironside 1 through 6, ready." The CO of the lead tank looked through the gunsight, and barked out commands, and similar scenes played out in every tank.
"Gunner, Designate troops." The gunner looked through his gunsight and affirmed the same command from his CO. "Identifed troops, 12 o'clock, 450 meters." The gunner adjusted and waited for the go-ahead. "UP!" The loader yelled, signifying that he was done loading and is out of the way of the recoil of the gun. "Fire." The commander yelled, and the gunner looked through the gunsight again. "ON THE WAAAY!" First, the lead tank fired, the gun recoiling backwards as it sent the M1028 downrange. Then, the second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth tanks fired, sending another smaller yet lethal wall of tungsten balls. The legionnaires barely had any time to react, as in the next few seconds they were turned into another pile of mush and debris, and finally, the marching and advancing was no more. Further off, near the university, the same scenes played out, with enemy troops being annihilated in droves.
"HELL YEAH! WE'RE BEATING THEM!"
"EAT SHIT AND DIE!"
"GIVE THEM HELL!"
Those were the collective roars of joy and adrenaline as the Polish tanks and rocket artillery kept on putting more ordnance downrange. Meanwhile, Yarek was in the University's garden helping tend to wounded civilians. Before all that, he helped military and law enforcement fend off smaller attacks, all of which were quickly put down. With his ammunition depleted, he helped carry a woman whose left arm had bone sticking out. He gently lifted her onto a stretcher, and with the help of a medic, carried her away to the medical tents. Then, this continued, over and over again, with Yarek even assisting with a small field surgery, removing pieces of debris and disinfecting the wound on a patient. Finally, a few hours later, he walked out of the tents, looking around the evac area with a concerned look.
His phone rang. He pulled it out and saw that it was his sister calling. He picked it up, and immediately heard sobs on the other end. "Zofia, what's wrong? Are you alright?" He asked over the phone, wondering what could have happened to make her cry this hard. The crying continued, until finally Zofia managed to stutter out a few words. "I-I w-was out for a w-walk when it happened, oh god- I don't think I can get out-" She sobbed, and Yarek's face grew paler and paler. "Listen, where are you right now?" He said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm near the Vietnamese Pho restaurant near Marszałkowska- NO NO, STAY AWAY, PLE-" The connection cut out with a sharp hiss, as if someone on the receiving end crushed the phone.
He stood there, not believing what was going on. Something happened to his sister. His only sister. She was either kidnapped, or worse, dead. He dropped the phone and ran towards the entrance. Before he could reach it, however, he was grabbed by police, who pushed him back. "We're sorry, sir, but we aren't letting anyone out for now. Please stay in here." Yarek once again tried, and again, was pushed back. He was yelling, trying to break through, but finally, one of them pushed him back again, harder this time. At this point he was livid and was full on yelling at the police officers. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, MY SISTER'S OUT THERE! LET ME OUT!" He bellowed, but two of the police officers unhooked their batons and started to push him back. "Sir, either you stay here or we arrest you. Go have a seat on the bench over there." Dejected, he walked through the crowd, and sat down, taking deep breaths while trying not to break down into a fit of crying.
Two Weeks Later
Cleaning operations were underway, as the rotting corpses of many invading soldiers were starting to cause quite a stench. Since they were of unknown origin, and identification couldn't be found, they were all heaped into multiple mass graves and had an unmarked cross placed over the sites. On a presidential decree, soldiers were posted near what is now known as the "Marszałkowska Gate", guns poised into the darkness of the tunnel, and all were ready to shoot at the smallest movement. There were a few close calls, but other than that, a wobbly peace set in. Mourning went on for weeks. There were over 155 civilian casualties, and many more were wounded. Over the course of two weeks, the amount of graveyard headstones tripled in size, as did the resolve of the nation.
Yarek was in his apartment, smoking a cigarette while watching the news. After the incident, he was set on finding any way to get across the gate to find his sister, but to no avail. Request after request was turned down, and Yarek fell into depression. He switched channels, finding nothing to watch, until he stopped at a FOX News channel that was broadcasting the aftermath of the attack. He watched the footage of the carnage and destruction and the rocket attack that eventually quelled the invaders. Until his eyes locked on footage from a helicopter. From what he could understand from the the piss-poor video quality, it was footage of, surprise surprise, him running down the street, shotgun in hand. He facepalmed, groaning as he got to his feet. Media outlets just couldn't fuck off, and once they had the footage, they just regurgitated the same old shit and called it a "story". It was tiring, and most of all, annoying, as he couldn't catch a break.
He went to the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk. Pulling out a cup, he poured himself a glass and chugged it down. After placing the glass in the sink, he heard a knock on the door. Hard and heavy knocks, too. He turned around and walked up to the door, unlatched it, and opened it to see two officers, one of whom was holding a folded uniform and a brand new rogatywka."Good evening, gentlemen. Is there a problem?" He said, opening the door wider to invite them in. "No sir, we're here to get you ready," One of them said, placing the stack of clothes onto the counter. "Ready for what?" Yarek asked, visibly confused. "The president and prime minister have received a recommendation from General Staff to nominate you for the Polonia Restituta. You are to get dressed, get washed, and get in the car. We will be taking you to the Presidential Palace in an hour."
Yarek was confused and surprised. Hell, he was astounded. All he did was run around with a shotgun, shooting a few enemies, and carrying civilians. He couldn't decline, however, so he nodded, and turned around. "I'll be right out. Give me five minutes." Yarek grabbed the stack of clothes, walked to the bathroom, and started showering. He pondered for a moment, as to how he got himself into this predicament. Sure, leave was great, but now there was a bigger threat that would probably see him return to service. He smiled, washing the soap off, and after drying off, he started to put his uniform on as per regulations. He put on the undershirt, then the tie, and eventually he put on the coat, clipping his Distinguished Service fourragère to his shoulder.
He walked out of the bathroom, straightening the tie as he did so. "I'm ready to go, gentlemen." The men smiled, saluted, and opened the door for him. Fabian returned the salute and marched out the door. Turning back for a second, he locked it behind him, dropping the key into a hidden pant pocket on his uniform. The walk down the stairs was quiet, leaving Yarek to his thoughts."Damn," he thought to himself, "somewhere some damn time traveler kicked a chair over." They eventually arrived and got in the car, the shorter one getting behind the wheel and driving away at full speed towards the Presidential Palace.
Thirty minutes later...
The car pulled up to the Palace's gate, and he got out. He looked left and right, taking in the surroundings as if he's been here before, which he has. A few years before he signed up for military service at the age of 18, he went here with his class on what Americans would call a "field trip." They mostly toured the streets nearby, but the view of the grandiose building was amazing. Today, however, was different, as he would be going in, rather than watching it from afar. The gates opened, and Yarek was ushered through by the guards. The ceremony from the looks of it would be held outside, as there was a podium, multiple military officials, and the President standing nearby at the top of the stairs. Keeping his cool, he walked up the stairs, and after whispering a few words to a few officers from his unit, he sat down. The president, after waiting for everyone to sit down, walked up to the lectern, and began speaking into the microphone.
"My fellow Poles, first off, I want to welcome you to this ceremony. Three weeks ago, in circumstances unknown, an ancient structure appeared in Warsaw. While it remained dormant for a few minutes, it soon spat forth hordes of hostile soldiers, all of whom had the intent of killing anything that moved. Hundreds of civilians were killed, maimed, or wounded, along with multiple law enforcement personnel. This surprise attack stunned the nation, but in the face of an overwhelming enemy, one man stood out." His gaze turned to Yarek for a second, who was trying to keep his composure while the president went on. "During the attack on Warsaw on the 12th of June 2026, Captain Fabian distinguished himself by his exemplary bravery and leadership while off duty. When the city came under an unexpected enemy assault, he acted without hesitation to defend civilians and wounded bystanders. Despite being unarmed at the onset of the attack, he located a discarded firearm and, with remarkable initiative, immediately engaged the advancing enemy forces." A projector screen behind them showed multiple shots from a helicopter of him running, and the ensuing battle against the marauding enemies.
More images and videos appeared on screen, including a shaky video of him and another man carrying a stretcher, and more photos taken by passerby. "Demonstrating exceptional combat skills and courage under fire, Captain Fabian successfully repelled enemy troops in his vicinity, contributing to the defense of a safezone within the city. His swift actions under extreme duress prevented further enemy advances and provided valuable time for local military and law enforcement units to organize a coordinated defense. His tenacity, disregard for his own safety to protect others, bravery and commitment to duty, even while being on leave, reflect great credit upon himself, his unit, and the armed forces as a whole. For conspicuous gallantry and bravery, Captain Fabian is hereby awarded the Order of Polonia Restituta with Star."
Yarek got up, followed by the other military officials next to him. The president walked up to him and pinned the Star on his uniform. Then, Yarek turned around, and the Order itself was tied around his neck. Then, the president backed away, and Yarek turned towards the crowd, his hands at his sides. Raising his right arm, he rendered the standard two-fingered salute and turned towards the president at attention. The president walked up to Yarek, extending his hand. Yarek smiled, and stepped forward, shaking the president's hand. A cameraman in the crowd walked forward, snapping away picture after picture of the two.
The ceremony ended, and he was directed towards a seat. After the clapping died down, the president once again stood behind the lectern, ready to address the crowd. "With this ceremony coming to a close, I would like to address the nation, while everyone is awake. The attack cost the lives of many brave citizens, many enjoying their day, unaware that hell was about to break loose. Thanks to the combined efforts of our Army and Air Force, we successfully repelled the attack. The unknown attackers, now known to be from an empire known as 'Sadera', have done this before, and we certainly won't be the last." Taking a moment to look out into the crowd, he kept going. "Understand this. Throughout history, our nation has faced hardships, bloody struggles, and paid dearly with the lives of her sons and daughters. For history is measured by crosses, that is what we've learned."
Now with confidence running through his veins, he looked up, his voice louder this time. "We are not a collection of people temporarily residing on this territory. We are a nation that has lived here for more than 1050 years. So, I leave you with something to think must meet this threat with our courage, our valor, indeed with our very lives to ensure that this does not repeat again, and that our nation's spirit lives on! Jeszcze Polska nie zginęła! Niech żyje Polska!" The crowd, along with people watching the broadcast at home and abroad, cheered. Some cried tears of joy, knowing that whatever came their way, would certainly be defeated, no matter the cost.
Three months later...
After three months of reconnaissance, planning, and allocating personnel from reserves to active duty, the armed forces was ready. The task at hand, however, would be challenging for them to accomplish without knowing if there's someone waiting on the other side. So, with tanks up front covering the columns of Rosomaks, the soldiers stood at attention, awaiting orders. Finally, the commanding officer of the invasion force, Major General Jabłoński appeared, flanked by two junior officers standing guard. He took position behind the lectern and began. "Attention, men and women of the Land Forces. There's no secrecy about these orders. GHQ has discovered that the Saderans are making a big push in an hour's time. They've started minor advances already. You're to cover the engineer, sapper, and construction units that will be participating in establishing a temporary base, that's opposite the Saderan Northern Legion." Taking a moment to review the soldiers gathered in front of him, he went on.
"You'll take positions at a perimeter half a kilometer downhill from the Gate, followed by another defense perimeter covered by artillery behind you, which means that every man and woman will be rotating through the line today. As usual you got the dirty work to do, sniping their officers, machine gunning the bastards that attempt to get close enough, and any auxiliary troops that they try to bring up. You'll be fighting directly in front of their advance, so you better watch out. That's all." With that, the general snapped the troops a salute, and after the troops returned the same, he turned and marched off the podium, taking a seat with his general staff in a Rosomak at the rear of the convoy.
Yarek was with Company "V", part of the 1stDPLeg, overseeing the boarding of transport vehicles. Some boarded Rosomak armored personnel carriers, while some boarded Jelcz-662 transport trucks. Tank crews were "buttoning up", preparing for a firefight the moment they crossed the Gate. Gunners in the turrets of Rosomaks were preparing rounds of 30mm, moving the box magazines up, making sure that the mechanism wouldn't jam. Then, it was time. Simultaneously, the front row of the convoy began moving. Then again, and again, until the invasion force was moving along into the gate, leaving behind a small cloud of dust in their wake. After what seemed like eternity, a radio message was relayed to every company CO, including Yarek. "Command, this is Wojtek Actual. We are moving at full speed and will be nearing the Gate's other side any minute now. At this time, I highly recommend that all troops prepare for a firefight the moment you cross to the other side."
The soldiers immediately sat up straight, some brushing their thumbs against the safety switches on their Grot rifles. The SAW gunners were preparing their M240B GPMGs, and in sparsely occupied carriers, bigger machine guns like the M2HB were assembled and readied for transport. Then, the lead tank's gunsight lit up by a bright light. They have finally reached their destination, and immediately the entire task force sprang into action. Some tanks and armoured personnel carriers took position with the first defensive perimeter after disembarking their occupants, and the second defensive perimeter, armed with heavier weapons like 2B11 120mm mortars, were ready for what was about to come. A few minutes later, after preparing their positions according to plan, the task force fell silent. Gunners anxiously shifted in their seats; eyes glued to the sights in front of them. Troops were making quick prayers, safeties on their weapons off.
"Task Force White Eagle, ready up. Enemy force is inbound. I repeat, enemy force is inbound." Like clockwork, everyone got to work. Tanks angled their turrets, preparing a barrage of close-range M1028 rounds, and the mortars prepared to fire, awaiting orders to adjust position if the order came along. "All units, OPEN FIRE!" The hilltop was suddenly filled by a cacophony of gunfire. They saw what they were fighting, and god damn it did it make them cringe in disgust. Hordes of orcs and creatures that they only saw in movies and books were charging headlong, only to be cut down by a combined barrage of mortars, tank fire, and shots from individual weapons. After a 10-minute battle that could only be described as one sided, as the Saderan "cannon fodder" assault failed. None of them stood a chance. Then, off in the distance, a horn sounded. It came along with chanting off in the distance, growing louder and louder.
Yarek and Company "V" were located in the first defensive perimeter, getting ready for another battle. He lifted a pair of binoculars, scanning the advancing column. Zooming in a bit, he spotted something that made him smirk. The Saderans were sending their officers at the front of the file, and in all honesty, that was a stupid move. After recon patrols that came before them scouted the region and spied on Saderan trainings, troop movements, and organization, it was discovered that they were mostly officer centered, with no evidence of an NCO structure. Meaning that if their officers died, the entire force would be thrown into disarray. He turned to the trooper next to him, a sniper from his own company. Tapping her shoulder, he gave her the binoculars, pointing in the general direction of the column. Whispering, he planned what they were about to do. "See the gimp-looking fucker in the front file?" She looked through the binoculars again, understanding what he wanted her to do. "Good. Well, I don't want to. When I give the go-ahead, I want you to chamber up a Raufoss and put it right between his eyes."
She smiled, and pushed the stock of her WKW Wilk up against her shoulder. "Victor Actual to Wojtek Actual. Requesting permission to eliminate the enemy officer as a signal for the next barrage, over." The line went silent, and the commander of Wojtek Element responded. "Victor Actual, you have the green light. Fire when ready. Out." He put the radio down, and gave the sniper a thumbs up. "Ready... Easy does it..." The sniper lined up the officer's head in her sights, inhaling and exhaling deeply, adjusting the scope as if she were "walking" with the Saderan officer. Then, she fired. The .50 caliber bullet sped out of the barrel, kicking the stock back against her shoulder. On the other side, with the Saderans, their officer was about to order a charge, but he was immediately silenced by the projectile piercing through his skull, turning his head into a cloud of red mist. The Saderans were immediately thrown into disarray, and they all turned to run, but unfortunately for them, the Poles were waiting.
They opened fire at close range, sending round after round from every gun that was on the perimeter, both the first and second. Mortar crews kept sending rounds downrange, the detonations sending Saderans flying. Tanks and personnel carriers tore through files of Saderans, both those who turned and ran, and some of the poor bastards who actually charged. While that was in progress, the machine gun crews and riflemen picked off Saderans that got close, and snipers steadily racked up their kills on longer range targets. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The first and second Saderan assaults were defeated. Whomever was left of the attackers, were running away. The troops cheered, the gunners laughed in glee, and mortar crews whooped and hollered, glad to see their work paying off. So far, everything was going according to plan.
20 minutes later...
Thanks to the combined efforts of the troops involved, the temporary base was slowly under construction, and the placement of HESCO barriers was underway. Yarek, with dirt on his face but pride and joy in his heart, was writing up a report of the battle, both in his diary and the official report. His helmet was off, and his short, ginger hair was gently blowing in the warm wind of Falmart's sky. He looked up, writing a final message in a letter to his mother, keeping it short due to the censors blotting anything out that could give away sensitive information to spies:
"Dear mother, it's your son, writing to you from a new frontier. Today, our unit has achieved great victory at the site of our disembarking point. Tonight, the troops of this unit fought like lions, with honor and courage in their hearts, facing anything that was thrown at them. However, I know that you are aware that Zofia is missing. Rest assured, come heaven or hell, rain or shine, storm or calm, I will find her, and I will bring those responsible for her kidnapping, and the suffering of our nation. To this, I bid you adieu. There is much work to be done, and we will oblige. Sincerely, your Yarek."
He put the pen down, closing the diary, and placed it in his pocket. Pushing the tent flap aside, he walked out, ready to face whatever life would throw at him. He would find his sister, he would find the Poles that were kidnapped, and he would bring justice. For now, though, they had a job to do, so he headed out in the direction of his company's tents.
END OF CHAPTER 1