Chapter - 13 - The calm before the Storm
Forward Operating Base - "Station"
Strike Force
[Redacted] "Ice" [Redacted]
The Pave Hawk landed with a solid thud, the vibration of the impact resonating through the airframe as the rotors began their steady deceleration. With a hiss, the two side doors slid open, and the Strike Force moved out with practiced efficiency, weapons ready, eyes scanning the surroundings. Lira followed close behind, her gaze flitting from one member of the team to another, taking in their precision and focus.
As their boots hit the tarmac, the ground crew moved in swiftly, securing the aircraft with practiced hands, inspecting the rotors and performing quick maintenance to ensure it was ready for its next mission. The noise and motion around them made Lira feel a surge of adrenaline, the buzz of activity a sharp reminder of the world she was stepping into.
The team moved as one, heading directly toward the Command building where their commanding officer, [REDACTED] "Kaiser" [REDACTED, awaited them. The base layout was familiar to each of them, a standard MTF facility modeled after those used by NU-7, "Hammer Down." It was designed for efficiency and rapid deployment, every building and pathway carefully planned to minimize wasted movement—a necessity when seconds could mean the difference between containment and catastrophe.
Whiskey, having served with NU-7 in the past, before he switched to his current Unit, Epsilon-11, felt an added sense of familiarity as they walked. He knew every corner, every blind spot, and even recognized a few of the ground crew as they passed. To him, this wasn't just another base—it was almost like returning home, albeit one painted with the grays and shadows of his memories.
"Feels like I never left," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Ares glanced over. "Old habits die hard?"
Whiskey smirked. "More like old ghosts. You don't forget places like this."
As they approached the Command building, Ice led the way up the steps, the team close behind. The doors opened, and they were immediately greeted by the sterile smell of the command center—the crispness of air conditioning mixed with the faint hum of electronics. Screens covered the walls, displaying live feeds and data readouts from various sectors under the SCP's surveillance.
At the end of the room, standing with his back to them, hands clasped behind him, was Kaiser. His stance was rigid, exuding authority, and as he turned to face them, his sharp gaze swept over each member, sizing them up in a single look.
You guys are in one piece. Great!" Kaiser said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere as he approached the team, his usual stern expression softening just slightly.
Kaiser, along with nearly all other personnel on base, were members of MTF Nu-7, "Hammer Down." Though cross-unit collaboration wasn't unusual, the assignment of two Mobile Task Forces to establish a base in another world was rare, a sign of the mission's gravity.
As Kaiser's gaze swept over the team, his eyes landed on Lira. She shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny, instinctively pulling her cloak tighter around herself.
"And who is she?" he asked, his tone sharpening as he looked pointedly at Ice.
"She's a guest," Ice replied evenly, his voice unwavering. "Trustworthy. But she'll need gear—chest rig, pants, top. You know the drill."
Kaiser's brow lifted slightly, but he didn't argue. Instead, he nodded, gesturing to a nearby operative. "Get her suited up. And make sure it's properly fitted," he added, his voice carrying an edge of command.
As Lira was led away, she cast a quick, uncertain glance back at Ice, who gave her a reassuring nod. She took a steadying breath and followed the operative toward the gear room, her footsteps barely audible over the hum of activity in the command center.
Once she was out of earshot, Kaiser turned back to Ice, his expression unreadable. "You know what's at stake here. Bringing someone from this world along—are you sure about that?"
Ice met his gaze head-on. "Absolutely. She's seen the world through a different lens. Could be an asset with local knowledge. And she's already proven herself."
Kaiser considered this, then gave a reluctant nod. "Fine. But keep her on a short leash. We can't afford any loose ends here."
Just then, Pops stepped forward, breaking the tension. "So what's the plan, Kaiser? When do we move out?"
Kaiser's face hardened. "As soon as everyone's geared up, you'll have two JLTVs prepped for the Wave—or whatever the hell it's called. You make do with those two Victors. You won't be stationed here for at least a few weeks, so plan accordingly. Resupply will come via chopper, and we've got a QRF on standby if things go south. Oh… and until the gateway between our world and this one is reestablished, you're not getting any override tools Ice. I'm sorry."
Ice nodded, absorbing each point with a steady focus. The absence of override tools meant they would be entirely reliant on their field skills, making the mission more precarious. But his face remained impassive, showing none of the worry he might feel beneath.
"Understood," he replied, his voice calm. "We'll be ready."
Kaiser glanced back at the others, who were gearing up with the focus of operatives used to operating on limited supplies and high stakes. "Keep me updated on your movements. And Ice—watch each other's backs out there. We're working blind in this world, and you're going to see things that don't make sense. Don't let your guard down for a second."
Pops grinned, tightening the straps on his Plate Carrier. "You make it sound like this is our first rodeo, Kaiser."
Kaiser allowed a rare smirk. "This world doesn't play by the rules, Pops," he said, though a hint of worry creased his brow.
"None of 'em do, mate," Whiskey chimed in with a grin, his usual humor cutting through the tension.
Before Kaiser could reply, Lira stepped back into the room, now outfitted in full tactical gear. Her once-pristine cloak had been replaced by M81 camouflage G3 combat pants and a matching combat top. She looked almost transformed—a stark blend of her previous self and something entirely new.
Strapped across her chest was a rig lined with various pouches, while a leg holster sat securely on her right thigh. On her left leg, four throwing knives were tucked neatly into the M.O.L.L.E. webbing. A battle belt around her waist carried even more pouches, and strapped to her back was a heavy M-9 combat knife in its sheath. To complete the look, a beanie in M81 camo rested snugly on her head, adding to her newfound combat-ready appearance.
Ice gave her an approving nod. "Looking the part."
Lira straightened a bit, adjusting to the weight of the unfamiliar gear. "I… I think I'm ready."
Pops racked the charging handle of his MK-18 before hitting the forward assist, nodding in satisfaction as a round slid into battery. "Are we good?" he called out to the team.
Polak, who had just racked the charging handle on his Abakan, looked up with a smirk. "Born ready."
"Alright, people. Saddle up—we're Oscar Mike!" Ice ordered, and the team, now including Lira, boarded the two JLTVs
The squad split into two fire teams: Alpha and Bravo. Ice, Lira, and Polak took the first JLTV, designated as Alpha, while Pops, Ares, and Whiskey boarded the second JLTV with the call sign Bravo.
The vehicles surged forward, and Lira flinched, unaccustomed to the concept of a "carriage" moving without being towed by a Filolial or horse. The roar of the engine only added to her worry, and the speed was beyond anything she'd ever experienced.
In the helicopter, she hadn't been able to see the ground clearly, so she had no real sense of their velocity or altitude. But now, traveling on the ground at 80 kilometers per hour across the landscape of Melromarc, the sensation was unmistakable. The trees and fields blurred past, and Lira gripped her seat, her heart racing as she tried to adjust to this alien form of travel.
"Relax, Lira!" Ice called from the passenger seat. "You're one of us now," he added, nodding toward the patch on her shoulder.
Emblazoned on her arm was the iconic insignia of MTF Epsilon-11, the Nine-Tailed Fox. The design featured a stylized fox with nine sharp tails fanned out behind it, each one symbolizing agility and vigilance. The fox faced forward with narrowed eyes and a fierce, determined expression—a reflection of the unit's readiness and resilience in the face of any threat.
The drive was mostly uneventful. The chatter among the operatives was light, with jokes exchanged here and there—until the conversation veered toward the strange reality of this world.
"Alright, wait, wait. Again. You're telling me we're in a completely different world from where we should actually be?" Ice asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment.
"Well… not entirely," Polak replied, glancing down at the map on his wrist. "The people are mostly the same… although, these 'shadow' folks aren't in any of our records."
"I… I don't get it…" Ice said, scratching his head, clearly struggling to grasp the concept. Meanwhile, Lira sat quietly between the operatives, watching as Polak tried to explain the situation.
"Look," Polak began, pulling a folded map from one of his many pouches. He unfolded it and pointed to a hill in the distance. "See this hill here?"
"Yeah?" Ice replied, leaning forward.
"That hill shouldn't be there. Neither should that one, or that one over there. This land is supposed to be flat. Completely flat." He said as he pointed to the map, showing the flat region they should find themselves right now.
Ice nodded slowly, the pieces starting to fall into place. "And the artillery we called in? For some reason, the coordinates were a bullseye. How's that possible?" he asked, his tone skeptical.
Polak shrugged, his expression unreadable as he glanced at Ice. "Well… I have no idea. Happy coincidence… maybe," he said, though his voice carried an undercurrent of doubt.
Ice frowned, the gears in his mind turning. "Coincidences like that don't happen, not with this level of precision."
Polak chuckled dryly, gripping his rifle. "In this world, boss, I'd say the line between logic and luck is thinner than we're used to."
"And what about the people? You said they're the same?"
"Yes, mostly. Take her, for example," Polak gestured to Lira, who flinched slightly at the sudden attention.
"She shouldn't exist here. In any of the Foundation's other ventures, we've never seen any 'Shadows.' But Malty, Aultcray, and Queen Mirellia… we know everything about them—their politics, alliances, and even their closest contacts. Everything."
Ice nodded again, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he absorbed the information, his mind piecing together this unfamiliar reality.
Meanwhile, Lira leaned back, digesting the conversation and the unsettling information she'd just learned. She shouldn't exist… The words lingered in her mind, echoing with a strange sense of dissonance. Her whole life, she had been a part of the Shadow organization, her role defined and her world orderly, until these outsiders arrived and turned everything upside down.
These people—these operatives—had the ability to move between worlds, somehow bypassing the very system that governed all life in her realm. The system that dictated every rule, every breath, every boundary of existence. They could ignore it completely.
But who were these people? She still didn't fully understand. As they spoke casually about things beyond her comprehension, she felt like she was glimpsing a force beyond anything she'd imagined—powerful, enigmatic, and just as unpredictable as the world she once thought she knew.
"Lira, you okay back there?" Ice asked, snapping her out of her daze. She jumped slightly, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror.
"Uh… yeah… yeah, I'm fine," she replied, though her tone betrayed a lot less confidence than she'd intended.
"If you say so," Ice replied, eyes returning to the road. "If the ride's getting to you, just let me know. We've got time for a quick break if you need it."
"No, no. Really, I'm fine," Lira assured him gratefully, adjusting a strap on her chest rig. She took a steadying breath, then asked, "Where are we going anyway?"
"Just driving around until…" Ice glanced down at his mission pad, his eyes tracking the ticking countdown of the Waves of Calamity. His face went rigid. "The wave's about to hit. And that is in… what the hell?!"
Polak looked over, concern crossing his face. "What is it?"
Ignoring him, Ice pressed his PTT button. "Everyone brace! The wave is coming in less than 30 seconds!"
"Holy shit!" Polak muttered, racking his AN-94 Abakan rifle and chambering a round.
"I thought this shit wasn't supposed to start for a couple more days!" Ares called out over the cacophony of swirling particles and flashing light.
"Yeah, I thought so too!" Ice shouted back. "Now shut it and hold tight!"
Around the JLTVs, a faint glow of ethereal light began to pulse, casting an eerie shimmer over the landscape. In the second vehicle, Ares had already mounted the M240B machine gun, quickly pulling the charging handle and bracing himself for incoming hostiles. He had two extra boxes of .308 ammunition stashed within reach in the gunner's compartment, and the rest of the vehicle was loaded with an arsenal: AT-4 launchers, M72 LAWs, and a Milkor M32A1 grenade launcher equipped with a range of 40mm rounds. They had everything from standard HEDP warheads to flash, CS gas, high-velocity impact rounds, and even thermite rounds.
The vehicles were suddenly engulfed in a blinding light, and the MTF operatives felt the unmistakable sensation of leaving the ground. The seven-ton JLTVs were weightless for a moment, their wheels spinning uselessly as gravity seemed to abandon them.
Polak, gripping whatever he could for dear life, shouted in panic, "Kurva!" his voice rising over the hum of the ethereal light.
Then, with a deafening crash, the nearly seven-ton vehicle slammed back down, jolting everyone inside and throwing them violently forward.
"Oh… bloody hell…" Whiskey groaned, his face pressed against the reinforced windshield of the JLTV. His voice was muffled by the impact as he struggled to gather his bearings.
Pops, shaking himself free of his daze, reached over and grabbed Whiskey by the latch on his plate carrier, yanking him back into his seat. "Stay with me, mate," Pops muttered, patting Whiskey's shoulder to snap him out of it.
Whiskey blinked a few times, groaning again. "I think that bloody windshield's got it out for me."
"You're fine. Quit bitching," Pops replied, already checking his gear as his instincts kicked back in.
"Uhh… Guys!" Ares' voice crackled over the radio from the gunner compartment atop the second JLTV. There was an unusual edge to his normally composed tone. "Y'all should take a second and look at the sky," he added, his voice low and tense.
The operatives exchanged uneasy glances as Ice, still gripping the steering wheel tightly, pressed his PTT. "Ares, what are you seeing?"
There was a brief pause before Ares responded. "Just… trust me. You're gonna want to see this."
Polak, still rubbing his shoulder from the earlier impact, craned his neck to peer through the bullet proof side window, while Lira instinctively leaned closer to her own. Both froze, their expressions shifting to one of stunned disbelief.
Above them, the sky wasn't just different—it was wrong. The once-familiar blue was now an ominous swirl of dark purples and reds, streaked with jagged bolts of green lightning that seemed to arc aimlessly across the heavens. Ghostly, glowing figures floated within the stormy clouds, their forms shifting and indistinct, like shadows moving just beyond the edge of reality.
Ice, glancing through the driver's side window, was about to ask what Ares had seen when the words froze in his throat. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the sky—a swirling chaos of colors and shapes that defied reason.
"It has begun…" Lira said, her voice low and heavy with an unfamiliar tone that sent a chill through the cabin. The shift in her demeanor was striking, enough to make both Ice and Polak snap their heads toward her.
They exchanged a brief, questioning glance before nodding in unspoken agreement. Ice's voice was sharp and commanding as he pressed the PTT. "Everyone, dismount! We make our stand here!"
No, wait!" Whiskey chimed in from the driver's seat of the second JLTV, squinting as he leaned forward over the steering wheel. "I know that village there," he muttered, pointing toward a cluster of rooftops just visible over a distant hill.
Pops, already pulling out his binoculars, brought them to his eyes and scanned the horizon. After a moment, he nodded and keyed his comms. "Yeah, that's Riyute Village," he confirmed. "We should make our stand there, Boss. Would probably earn us some goodwill with the locals."
Ice frowned, glancing back at the swirling sky before locking eyes with Lira. "How far?" he asked over the comms.
"Not far. Three clicks max," Pops replied, already lowering his binoculars and preparing for a quick move.
Lira's expression hardened. "If the Wave hits while we're on the road, we'll be caught in the open."
Ares, hearing Lira's concern, smirked from his position in the gunner's compartment. "We've got the 240, Lira. This baby makes the fine line between cover and concealment even finer," he said, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he gave the mounted machine gun an affectionate tap.
"Bloody right!" Whiskey called from the driver's seat, his tone cocky and full of confidence. "Let 'em try their luck. We've got enough firepower to take over the whole damn Country."
Lira glanced between them, unsure whether to feel reassured or more uneasy. The sheer confidence of these operatives was something she wasn't used to, but it was hard to deny that their weapons and expertise offered a sense of security—however alien it might feel.
Alright. Whiskey, ten bucks on whoever's first!" Ice challenged over the comms, his voice carrying a playful edge despite the tension.
"Oh, you've got yerself a bet, mate!" Whiskey called back immediately, accepting the challenge without a second thought. His voice was cocky and filled with enthusiasm, a sharp contrast to the ominous glow still emanating from the sky. "Polak, make sure he has the money ready," Whiskey added with a chuckle.
"Remember, Whiskey, we drive on the right side of the road!" Ice taunted over the radio, his voice laced with amusement.
The team, minus Lira, erupted into laughter at the jab. Pops was practically doubled over in his seat, while Polak let out a snort that echoed through the cabin.
Polak rolled his eyes as he chambered another round in his rifle. "You two and your bets," he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed his amusement.
Lira, sitting quietly in the first JLTV, tilted her head in confusion. "Bet on what?" she asked cautiously.
Ice smirked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "First confirmed kill," he replied casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She blinked, her expression torn between bewilderment and disbelief. "How?! Ice would lose; he doesn't even—" Lira began, but Polak cut her off with a knowing grin.
"Not with weapons," he said, tilting his head toward Ice. "With the JLTV."
Lira's confusion deepened as she glanced at Ice, who gave a faint smirk without taking his eyes off the road. "Takes skill to aim a seven-ton vehicle, Lira," he said, his tone calm but teasing.
Polak chuckled, slapping his hand on the dashboard. "Don't worry, you'll get it soon enough. Just don't be surprised when we hear a crunch before a bang."
Lira leaned back, shaking her head in disbelief as she muttered, "You're all insane…"
Before she could say more, Whiskey's voice crackled over the radio. "Hold onto your knickers, boys!" With a cheer, he slammed the gas pedal to the floor, the JLTV roaring as it surged forward. Pops was shoved back into his seat with a startled grunt, while Ares, gripping the mounted M240 for dear life, shouted, "Watch it, you lunatic!" as he nearly got thrown from his position.
Not to be outdone, Ice gave a smirk and floored it as well. The sudden burst of speed threw Polak and Lira hard against their seats, both of them yelling in unison. Polak's voice rose in a stream of rapid-fire Polish curses, while Lira screamed, her terror echoing through the cabin.
"Goddammit, Ice!" Polak shouted, clutching at the grab handle with white-knuckled fingers. "This is not a bloody race!"
"Oh, yes it is!" Ice shot back, the grin on his face widening as the landscape blurred past the windshield.
Lira could only hold on for dear life, her wide eyes darting between Ice and the madness unfolding outside. These people really were insane.
Then the chaos began.
From the swirling, unnatural sky, insect-like monsters descended. Giant wasps, each as large as a cart, buzzed with an earsplitting drone that vibrated the air. Their grotesque stingers gleamed ominously, each pointed toward the village below with deadly intent.
From the earth, the ground itself began to churn and shift. Decayed, humanoid figures clawed their way to the surface, their rotting forms dragging dirt and roots as they emerged. No two were alike—some were skeletal and gaunt, while others were bloated and misshapen, their grotesque forms barely resembling the humans they once were.
The village, once peaceful and still, was now the epicenter of an unfolding nightmare.
"Insects?!" Pops asked, his voice dripping with disbelief as he stared at the massive, buzzing creatures descending from the sky.
"Hell yeah!" Ares shouted from his gunner's position, his grin wide as he slapped the M240B's charging handle into place. "We're going full Starship Troopers on these assholes!"
Pops groaned, shaking his head. "This isn't a damn movie, Ares!"
"Maybe not," Ares replied, lining up the nearest wasp in his sights. "But it's about to get real cinematic!" he chirped before squeezing the trigger.
A short burst of .308 rounds tore through the air, ripping into the wasp-like abomination. It disintegrated in an explosive cloud of green mist, the remnants scattering in all directions.
"WOAH! Haha!" Whiskey cheered over the comms, his excitement palpable. "That's what I'm talking about! Turn 'em to mush!"
Ares let out a triumphant laugh, bracing himself for another shot. "You see that? They don't stand a chance!"
Meanwhile, Ice had overtaken Whiskey and was the first to arrive in the village. Chaos engulfed the streets as townsfolk, alongside a hastily assembled militia and a handful of knights, desperately tried to fend off the hordes of undead and killer wasps. Their efforts were valiant, but their numbers were dwindling fast under the relentless assault.
Without hesitation, Ice floored the gas pedal, sending the JLTV roaring forward. The armored vehicle plowed into a cluster of undead, its sheer weight and momentum tearing through the horde. Limbs were sent flying, crushed under the heavy-duty tires as bones and skulls cracked and shattered beneath the vehicle's relentless advance.
"Clear the way!" Ice barked over the comms, his voice sharp and commanding. Polak steadied himself in the passenger seat, gripping his rifle tightly, while Lira held on with wide eyes, the shock of the vehicle's destructive power settling in.
The JLTV carved a bloody path through the chaos, a battering ram against the overwhelming tide.
Alright!" Ice shouted as the JLTV screeched to a halt. "Let's go Dying Light on these motherfuckers!" he declared, flinging open the door with adrenaline surging through his veins.
As he stepped out, one of the undead lunged at him, its rotting hand reaching for his leg. Ice reacted instantly, slamming his boot into its face with a resounding crunch. The creature staggered back, but Ice wasn't done—he followed up with a powerful shield bash that sent the undead sprawling.
But then it hit him. Unlike his comrades, Ice wasn't immune to the leveling system of this world. Not without the Weapons Override. As he stood there, he noticed something else—a faint, glowing life bar appeared above the zombie, shrinking slightly from his earlier attack. But it wasn't much. The creature almost seemed to sneer at his weakness before it lunged for another attack.
Before it could reach him, a blur of motion darted past. Lira had drawn the M-9 bayonet from her belt, gripping it tightly as she slashed with precision. In a single, fluid motion, she decapitated the creature, its head flying off and landing with a sickening thud before disintegrating into shimmering particles.
"Holy shit, Lira…" Ice exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of shock and awe as he stared at her. The cold intensity in her eyes as she stood over the corpse sent a shiver through him.
She wiped the blade clean on her pant leg and glanced at him, her expression calm but unwavering.
"You got fire in your eyes," Ice said with a smirk, shaking off his surprise. "I like that!"
Lira gave him a small nod, tucking the blade back into its sheath. "You might want to keep up, Ice," she said coolly, her tone almost teasing as she turned toward the next threat.
Then Whiskey's voice crackled through the radio, laced with humor. "Ha! Ice, what the hell was that shield punch, mate? My bloody grandmother could've hit that thing harder. And she's dead!"
"Hey! Shut it, you tea-slurping fuck!" Ice shot back, glaring at Whiskey's JLTV as it rolled to a halt nearby. A smirk tugged at his lips as he added, "And for the record, I won our bet!"
Whiskey fell silent for a beat, clearly caught off guard by the jab. Meanwhile, Ares, perched in the gunner's seat, adjusted the mounted M240B machine gun. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger, unleashing a relentless stream of automatic fire into a gathering crowd of monsters. The roar of the weapon echoed across the village as bodies fell in heaps, the abominations shredded by the onslaught.
Whiskey finally stepped off the JLTV, shaking his head with mock exasperation. "Bet or no bet, Ice, that was pitiful," he muttered, racking his rifle with a satisfying clack. He raised it to his shoulder and began methodically picking off the killer wasps buzzing over the battlefield, each shot precise and deliberate.
"Nice shot, grandma!" Ice called over the comms, grinning as he turned back to the fray.
The townsfolk had hastily set up a makeshift command post near the center of the village. Amid the chaos, a figure who appeared to be a general stood at the heart of the operation, directing scattered groups of knights with sharp, precise gestures. Nearby, magicians unleashed bursts of elemental magic into the sky, keeping the killer wasps at bay.
Ice took a quick look around, assessing the situation, and made a decision. "Polak, hold the perimeter. Lira, stay with him. I'm heading to the command post to coordinate," he said, already moving toward the group.
As Ice approached, the general's expression faltered, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto the shield strapped to Ice's arm. "Shield Demon… what in the name of His Majesty are you doing here?!" the general barked, his voice filled with both fear and disdain.
"Helping you, dipshit!" Ice shot back, his glare defiant as he squared up to the man.
The general muttered something under his breath, likely along the lines of "Curse you, Demon of the Shield," before reluctantly meeting Ice's gaze again. His eyes betrayed a mixture of frustration and begrudging acceptance.
"Alright," the general finally said, his tone resigned. "I suppose you're better than no hero at all." His gaze shifted to the operatives behind Ice, his confusion deepening as he took in their black tactical gear and advanced weaponry. "We're having trouble holding the northern perimeter. If you and your… companions…"—he paused, clearly struggling to find the right word for the strange figures accompanying the so-called Shield Demon—"could reinforce that sector, it would be a great help."
Ice gave a curt nod, his voice steady. "Consider it done. But if you try one of your dirty little tricks on me—trust me when I say, these monsters are going to he the least of your problems."
The general flinched at Ice's tone but quickly gestured toward the northern part of the village. "Go, then. The sooner, the better."
Ice turned back toward his team, motioning sharply for them to move. "Let's go, ladies. We've got a perimeter to secure," he barked as he climbed into the JLTV.
"Whiskey, you, Ares and Pops stay here and provide any support!" He ordered. Getting a "Wilco, boss!" From the British Operstor.
Polak and Lira followed without hesitation, taking their places as Ice started the engine.
The vehicle roared to life, surging forward. Behind them, the steady and lethal RATATATA of Ares' M240B machine gun filled the air, cutting down monsters with brutal efficiency as he continued to rain fire from the second JLTV.
"Listen up," Ice said, his voice cutting through the roar of the engine as he glanced at Lira in the rearview mirror. "Lira, since I've got no weapon, you'll be my weapon. I'll prepare them, and you finish them. Got it?"
Lira blinked, her focus snapping back to him. "Okay… yes!" she replied curtly, nodding with determination.
But as her words left her mouth, something dark began to cloud her vision, and unbidden memories flooded her mind. She remembered the first Wave. It had hit them out of no where, taken them completely by surprise. The chaos, the screams… and her parents. Her late mother and father, taken by these same undead abominations, their bodies torn apart in front of her eyes as they tried, along with other shadows to protect the Queen until the later could flee. The horror of that day was burned into her soul, leaving a mark so deep that it fueled her now—a burning need for vengeance against every single monster that had caused so much pain.
Her hands tightened around her knife as her jaw clenched. She would make them pay. Every last one of them.
As they reached their new position, a sight of pure horror unfolded before them. The northern perimeter was overrun—undead creatures clawed their way over the barricades, while the air buzzed with the monstrous hum of killer wasps descending upon the villagers. Blood and chaos painted the scene, the desperate screams of the townsfolk mingling with the grotesque growls of their attackers.
Ice didn't hesitate for a second. Throwing the JLTV into park, he jumped out and barked orders with sharp precision.
"Polak, right side! Right side! Lock it down!" he shouted, pointing toward a cluster of creatures advancing on the eastern flank.
"On it!" Polak replied, bolting to his position and raising his rifle.
"Lira, on me!" Ice commanded, his voice cutting through the cacophony as he motioned for her to follow.
Lira sprang into action, her grip tightening on her bayonet as she stayed close behind Ice, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The scene ahead was a nightmare, but she pushed the fear aside. There was no time to hesitate.
"Lira!" Ice shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The shadow glanced over, seeing Ice bracing against a mass of monsters with his shield, holding them at bay as they clawed and slammed against him.
"On it!" she called back, her voice firm. With superhuman speed, she surged forward, her blade gleaming as she closed the distance. Her movements were precise and deadly—she drove the knife forward, taking off the heads of the creatures in swift, fluid strikes. One after another, they fell, their bodies crumpling as Ice felt the pressure ease.
"Thanks!" Ice called, stepping back slightly to reset his position.
Lira gave a curt nod, her eyes sharp with focus. Without missing a beat, she spun and stabbed upward, impaling a wasp mid-air before yanking the blade free and letting the monstrous body hit the ground.
"Not bad!" Ice added, raising his shield to intercept another attacker as they prepared for the next wave.
Polak had positioned himself firmly in front of a group of terrified villagers, his AN-94 barking with each precise trigger pull. The rifle's unique two-round burst sent paired 5.45mm rounds tearing into undead creatures or the monstrous killer wasps descending from the sky. Each shot was methodical, calculated, and lethal, dropping monster after monster with deadly efficiency.
As the rifle's bolt locked back, signaling an empty magazine, Polak didn't hesitate. With practiced ease, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and drew his HK VP-9 pistol from its holster. The 9mm Parabellum rounds rang out sharply as he continued to engage the hordes, keeping the creatures at bay with quick, accurate shots.
The villagers behind him clung to each other, eyes wide with fear but also a flicker of hope as they watched the black-clad operative hold the line with unwavering resolve. Polak's movements were fluid, his focus absolute as he cleared the immediate threats, buying precious moments for the villagers to regroup or retreat.
"Kurva… Reloading! Cover me!" Polak barked, pressing the mag release on his pistol and letting the empty magazine clatter to the ground. In one swift motion, he pulled a fresh magazine from his belt and slammed it into place.
Before he could chamber the next round, Lira bolted past him in a blur, her knife flashing. She sliced clean through the neck of an undead creature that had been lunging for Polak, its body collapsing limply to the ground before disintegrating into glowing particles.
Polak gave her a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Thanks!" he muttered, wasting no time as he holstered his pistol and grabbed his AN-94. He discarded the empty banana magazine, letting it drop, before pulling a fresh one from his rig and snapping it into place. With a smooth, practiced motion, he racked the charging handle, sending a round into battery, and turned his focus back to the horde.
"Back in it!" he called, his rifle spitting another precise burst as he resumed holding the line.
In the background, past the sharp, methodical bursts of Polak's barking AN-94 Abakan, the deep roar of the M240 Bravo machine gun filled the air, shaking the battlefield with its overwhelming presence. Ares, perched atop the JLTV, briefly ceased his controlled bursts as his sharp eyes locked onto a grouping of undead shambling toward his position.
"Time to clean up," he muttered to himself, squeezing the trigger and holding it down. The heavy 7.62x51mm rounds spat out in a relentless stream, tearing through the decaying bodies like paper. Limbs were severed, torsos ripped apart, and what remained of the horde was reduced to little more than a pile of writhing scraps.
The relentless power of the M240 turned the tide in the immediate area, creating a wide swath of destruction in front of the JLTV. Ares allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he adjusted his aim, scanning for the next cluster of targets. "Keep 'em coming," he growled, his voice crackling over the comms.
Whiskey and Pops stood back-to-back, their movements synchronized in a lethal dance of death. Each covered the other with precise efficiency, their weapons barking in unison as they mowed down the oncoming hordes.
Whiskey's rifle cracked with sharp, controlled shots, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The Bolt of his secondary AR-Pistol locked back and he cursed under his breath. "Keep 'em off me, Pops!" he called over his shoulder, his tone more focused than panicked as he smacked a new Magazine into the magwell.
"On it!" Pops replied, his own weapon roaring as he cut through a cluster of undead trying to flank them. His eyes flicked between targets, the rhythm of his firing unrelenting. The two operatives moved fluidly, their training and trust in each other keeping them alive amid the chaos.
Whiskey hit the bolrelease, sending it forward before he looked up. Seeing a wasp from above diving down on them. It's stinger ready for action. "Don't get sloppy now!" He called before swatting the annoying beast out of the air with one fluid squeeze of the trigger.
"Sloppy? Please," Pops retorted, his voice steady even as he blasted another undead creature lunging for Whiskey. "You're the one they're aiming for!"
Ares ceased firing as the numbers of the monsters began dwindling rapidly. With fewer targets for the machine gun, he switched to his rifle, picking off stragglers with precise single shots. Each round found its mark, striking the beasts cleanly between the eyes or in the chest, dropping them instantly.
"I… I think we got them," Whiskey muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Either that, or they're scared shitless of us!" Pops replied with a smirk, his expression hidden beneath his balaclava but his tone unmistakably cocky.
Whiskey groaned as he stretched his back, his rifle hanging loosely in his grip. "How the bloody hell are you not tired?"
Pops let out a hearty chuckle, slapping his chest with one gloved hand. "After this? Please! They ain't wearing this forty-year-old soul out that easily!"
Bloody show-off," Whiskey grumbled, shaking his head, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Alright… let's go support Ice and the others," he muttered, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he started toward the JLTV.
Behind him, Ares gave a quick nod, already loading a fresh belt into the M240. The metallic clink of the ammunition sliding into place was followed by the sharp snap of the cover being slammed shut.
"Ready to bring the noise," Ares said with a grin, giving the machine gun a pat.
Whiskey climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine as Pops hopped into the passenger side with a cocky smirk. "Finally! I was worried you'd need a nap first, old man," Pops quipped, nudging Whiskey with his elbow.
Whiskey shot him a glare. "Old man? You're almost fifteen years older than me!"
"Yeah, but I'm not whining about my back like you are," Pops shot back with a chuckle, closing the heavy door shut as the JLTV roared forward toward Ice's position.
The battlefield was a chaotic mess of noise and movement, with undead creatures and killer wasps swarming from every direction. Ice stood at the center, his shield braced in front of him, as a horde of rotting abominations clawed their way toward him. His shield glinted in the strange light of the Wave, but no matter how much force he applied, each hit barely seemed to faze the creatures.
"Lira!" Ice barked, slamming his shield into an advancing zombie. The blow staggered it but didn't bring it down. "I need you to clean this up!"
"On it!" Lira shouted, her voice resolute. She bolted forward, her bayonet gleaming in her grip. A fluid motion sent the blade plunging into the chest of the staggering zombie, and with a swift flick of her wrist, she ripped it free. The creature dissolved into shimmering particles, its glowing health bar dropping to zero in an instant.
Ice turned, deflecting the claw of another undead with the edge of his shield. "Left flank!" he called.
Lira spun on her heel, already moving before Ice finished his command. She darted past him, her blade flashing in the dim light. In one smooth motion, she slashed through a pair of zombies lunging for Ice's side, their heads severed cleanly before their bodies hit the ground.
"Nice!" Ice shouted, stepping back and raising his shield to block an incoming wasp. The massive creature's stinger struck the shield with a deafening clang, but Ice held firm, his feet digging into the ground. "Finish it!"
Lira leapt, her movements unnaturally fast, and drove her blade into the wasp's thorax. It writhed, green ichor spraying everywhere, before it collapsed and disintegrated into glowing particles.
"They just keep coming!" Lira called, her breathing steady but sharp as she scanned the field for more threats.
"That's the job!" Ice replied, bashing another undead backward. "Don't let up!"
Another swarm surged forward, and Ice raised his shield to intercept them. The creatures clawed and battered at him, but he held the line, their attacks glancing off his shield. His eyes darted to Lira, who was already moving to intercept the next group. Her speed and precision were unmatched, each strike clean and devastating. It was as though her blade was an extension of herself, cutting through the horde with ruthless efficiency.
Don't get cocky!" Ice warned as a wasp swooped toward her, its massive stinger aimed directly at Lira. "First Shield!" he chanted, his voice firm and commanding.
A green, translucent shield materialized above Lira just as the wasp lunged. With a heavy clang, the creature slammed into the magical barrier, its stinger glancing off harmlessly. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the air, but the shield held firm.
Lira instinctively ducked, glancing up in awe as the glowing shield shimmered for a brief moment before fading into nothingness. Wasting no time, she sprang upward, her bayonet gripped tightly in her hand. She drove the blade upward in a swift, deadly strike, aiming directly for the creature's gaping mouth.
The wasp let out an unearthly screech as the bayonet pierced through its maw and into its head. The blade sank deep, and with a final, violent shudder, the creature crumpled to the ground before dissolving into shimmering particles.
Ice smirked, raising his shield as more enemies closed in. "Nice move. But keep your head in the game."
Lira gave him a sharp nod, her eyes blazing with determination. "I'm not done yet!" she declared, spinning on her heel to face the next threat.
Together, they continued their deadly dance—Ice deflecting and holding the creatures at bay, and Lira dispatching them with practiced precision. Despite the odds, they moved as a team, their synchronization keeping them alive in the chaos of the Wave.
Their numbers grew with every monster killed, the horde seemingly endless. Ice, Lira, and Polak found themselves steadily pushed back, retreating to their initial position at the JLTV.
Polak climbed onto the roof of the vehicle, his AN-94 barking with precise bursts of covering fire. "Go! Get up here!" he shouted over the chaos.
Ice didn't hesitate, tossing Lira up onto the roof before climbing up himself. The three of them huddled together, the JLTV becoming their last bastion as the horde closed in around them.
The situation seemed lost when a powerful, commanding voice suddenly boomed across the battlefield, cutting through the chaos like thunder. Ice froze, his eyes widening as he turned toward the source.
"Men of Melromarc!" the general roared, standing tall and resolute at the head of a gathered force of knights. His voice carried with an authority that shook even the undead. "This is where we make our stand! No more retreat! No more fear! Today, we fight not for survival, but for honor! For our homes! For our people!"
The knights roared in response, their weapons raised high as the general continued.
"Look around you! Look at your brothers! Your sisters! These monsters may outnumber us, but they will never match our courage! They will never break our spirit! Stand tall, hold the line, and push them back to the hell from which they came!"
With a mighty cry, he raised his sword, its blade gleaming in the eerie light. "TO GLORY AND TO VICTORY! CHARGE!"
The battalion surged forward with a deafening roar. Swords clashed, spears flew, and arrows rained from above as the knights slammed into the horde. The armored warriors tore through the undead with devastating force, their advance a testament to their discipline and bravery. Behind them, archers loosed arrows with deadly precision, striking down the killer wasps in midair.
Ice, still atop the JLTV, exchanged a glance with Lira and Polak. For the first time, a flicker of hope burned in his eyes. "Let's not let them take all the credit!" he barked, readying his shield as the three rejoined the fray, bolstered by the knights' defiant charge.
Meanwhile, Whiskey and the other two MTF operatives roared onto the battlefield in their JLTV. Ares wasted no time, unleashing a relentless barrage from the M240. The heavy machine gun thundered as it spat 7.62 rounds into the advancing horde, cutting down rows of undead and killer wasps alike.
In the back, Pops flung the rear door open and grabbed the Milkor M32 grenade launcher from its mount. He loaded six 40mm HEDP grenades into the revolving magazine with swift, practiced movements. With a sharp twist, he locked the launcher into place, its distinctive click signaling it was ready.
Pops stepped out of the vehicle, raising the M32 to his shoulder and taking aim. His eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on a dense cluster of monsters clawing at the gates of the village. "Time to clear the board," he muttered before squeezing the trigger.
Thump! The launcher barked, each shot resonating with a deep, guttural sound as the grenades flew in steady arcs toward their targets. The air erupted with deafening explosions, the RDX payloads detonating with brutal precision. Shockwaves rippled across the battlefield, and the horde was shredded by the concussive blasts. Limbs and torsos were torn apart, the undead disintegrating in a storm of fire and shrapnel.
"Hell yeah! That's how it's done!" Pops shouted, his voice filled with grim satisfaction as he twisted the launcher's cylinder to reload.
Whiskey, who just jumped off the driver's seat, smirked as he called over to Pops. "Save some for the rest of us, Pops."
"Not my fault they like clustering up!" Pops quipped, already lining up his next shot.
The horde's behavior shifted abruptly. The undead and wasps stopped their attacks and began retreating toward the forest, their movements eerie and synchronized. Confusion rippled through the MTFs and knights alike as the battlefield fell eerily silent.
"The bloody fuck is happening, mate?" Whiskey asked, stepping up to Ice, his rifle slung across his chest.
"No idea, brother," Ice replied, scanning the retreating horde before turning to the knights. He motioned toward the general. "You guys stay here and defend the village. Take this and call us if they come back."
Polak stepped forward, pressing a flare launcher into the general's hand. The older man accepted it, his expression resolute.
"I will, Honored Hero," the general replied, his tone filled with unexpected respect.
Ice froze for a moment, caught off guard. Usually, knights—especially generals—were openly hostile toward the Shield Hero. He quickly masked his surprise and nodded.
"Alright, guys! Rally up! We're following these bastards. Time to put an end to this bullshit!" Ice barked, motioning for his team to regroup.
What do you mean follow them? They're retreating, aren't they, mate?" Whiskey asked, his tone laced with bewilderment.
Ice glanced back at him with a steely glare. "These bastards came through the sky, Whiskey. If they're retreating into the forest, there's something in there they're running to. Something we need to see." He paused, his voice hardening. "Maybe it's the big boss of the Wave."
Whiskey let out a low sigh. "Well, that's bloody comforting."
Ice was about to pull open the heavy door of the JLTV when the general stopped him.
"Be advised, Shield Hero," the general said, his voice low but serious. "The other three Heroes are in that forest. That's what one of my scouts reported. A detachment of my knights has already moved into the area to aid the Heroes of the Bow, Spear, and Sword. However," the general hesitated, "the Spear Hero is not particularly fond of you after your last… confrontation."
Ice smirked slightly at the mention of the Spear Hero. "Appreciate the warning, General," he said with a nod before pulling the JLTV door open and climbing inside. The engine roared to life as he glanced back at his team.
"Let's move out!" he ordered, his tone resolute as they prepared to pursue the retreating horde into the dark, foreboding forest.
The undead creatures moved with surprising speed, their retreat gaining them a respectable distance from the pursuing JLTVs. Despite the horde's unnatural gait, they managed to slip through the dense terrain faster than expected.
In the second JLTV, Ares worked quickly to swap out the overheated barrel of the M240B with a fresh one. The searing heat from the old barrel had taken its toll, warping slightly under the prolonged bursts of fire. But the bumpy ride made his task nearly impossible as Whiskey's aggressive driving sent the vehicle jolting over uneven ground.
"Hold it steady, Whiskey! I can't swap the damn barrel if I'm airborne half the time!" Ares growled, gripping the machine gun as the vehicle jumped again.
"Steady driving's for old men, mate!" Whiskey called back with a grin, his focus locked on keeping pace with the lead JLTV.
Up ahead, Ice floored the gas pedal, the JLTV surging forward as the horde weaved through the shadowy forest. Polak sat in the passenger seat, calmly reloading a fresh magazine into his AN-94 with methodical precision, his eyes scanning for movement ahead.
In the back, Lira wiped the green blood of undead creatures and wasps from her blade with a piece of cloth she'd torn from her cloak. Her expression was calm, but her eyes burned with a quiet intensity. The memory of the battlefield behind them lingered, fueling her resolve.
The two JLTVs pressed forward, engines growling as they raced after the retreating horde. Whatever awaited them in the forest, Ice knew they had to stay on their guard. The unnatural behavior of the creatures wasn't just strange—it was a warning.
As they neared the edge of the forest, Polak's sharp eyes caught sight of an undead monster lagging behind the rest of the horde. It stumbled and struggled to keep up, its decayed limbs barely functioning. An idea sparked in his mind. He nudged Ice and gestured toward the creature.
Ice glanced at it, then nodded with a grin, adjusting the JLTV's course slightly. The vehicle veered toward the straggler, its heavy tires kicking up dirt as it closed the gap.
"Closer…" Polak muttered, his hand hovering near the door latch. The creature came into range, shambling just a few feet away.
With a swift motion, Polak flung the door open. The reinforced metal slammed into the monster's head with a sickening crunch. Its skull caved under the force, the rest of its body crumpling limply to the ground before dissolving into glowing particles. Polak nonchalantly pulled the door shut again, the whole maneuver executed with precision.
"Bloody fuck, Boss! That was brutal!" Whiskey called over comms, his voice cracking with both awe and laughter as he pulled his JLTV up beside Ice's.
"Brutal's good," Polak said dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
The two JLTVs rumbled into the forest, falling into a single file as Ice took point and Whiskey followed close behind. Ice kept his focus sharp, steering along the imagined path the retreating monsters had taken. The ground grew uneven, the dense forest floor rocking the vehicles as they caught up with the shambling horde.
"They're falling over like bowling pins!" Ares roared with delight from the gunner's position, watching the undead creatures get flattened or flung aside like rag dolls under the massive wheels of the vehicles.
But the thrill was short-lived. The forest suddenly opened into a wide clearing, and what they saw ahead was nothing short of breathtaking.
Towering in the center of the clearing was a cursed amalgamation of a Cerberus and a lion—a three-headed monstrosity standing as tall as the surrounding trees. Its claws were as long as a human body, and its glowing red eyes burned with feral rage. The ground around it was scorched and torn, evidence of an intense battle. Facing it were the three other legendary heroes, their respective weapons glowing with purpose. Their armor sets were battered and scuffed, and the half-depleted health bar hovering over the monster indicated they had already traded heavy blows.
Ares, who had suspected they'd encounter something massive, was ready. He nudged Pops to grab one of the three AT-4 launchers stashed in the JLTV. Whiskey, not missing a beat, turned sharply, drifting the vehicle into position and giving Ares a clear shot from the gunner's hatch. Pops flung open the door and started firing from inside, his rifle barking as he targeted smaller creatures trying to flank the Heroes.
Ares ran the bolt of the AT-4 forward, priming the weapon. His hands were steady, one gripping the tube firmly and the other bracing against the sling point, using it as a foregrip. He squinted through the sight, taking aim at the monster's exposed flank. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger.
Whoosh! The rocket flew at blistering speed, slamming into the beast's side. A thunderous explosion ripped through the air, the shaped charge digging deep into the monster's flesh and tearing a massive hole in its body. Blood and chunks of flesh sprayed across the clearing as the monster roared in agony, its three heads writhing in unison.
"Give me another one! Another one!" Ares yelled down as he discarded the spent launcher, letting the empty tube clatter to the ground.
Whiskey reached up, tossing another AT-4 into Ares' hands without hesitation. Ares quickly readied the launcher, priming and sighting it in one smooth motion. He fired again, the second rocket hitting the monster in nearly the same spot. The explosive ripped through its vital organs, blowing off chunks of its massive frame and sending the beast staggering.
The monstrous three-headed lion screeched in agony, its deafening roar shaking the clearing as the first rocket struck home. Its massive health bar flashed red, indicating it was nearing its end.
Then the second rocket slammed into its side and its health bar plummeted, flashing one last time before disappearing completely.
The creature let out an ear-piercing, otherworldly scream as it collapsed onto the ground. The tremor of its fall shook the earth beneath the vehicles.
Almost instantly, the undead creatures that had been swarming the battlefield began to dissolve into glowing particles, their forms fading into nothingness. The killer wasps followed, vanishing midair in shimmering bursts of light.
The boss let out one final, bone-chilling roar before its massive body crumbled into glowing fragments, disintegrating in a burst of ethereal light. The clearing fell silent, save for the faint hum of the JLTV engines and the labored breathing of those who had fought. Above them, the ominous swirling sky began to dissipate, returning to its usual clear and peaceful blue.
Ares lowered the now-empty AT-4 launcher, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Well, that's one way to end a Wave," he muttered, his tone smug but satisfied.
"That's the only bloody way!" Whiskey shouted, his voice carrying an edge of wild excitement. He leapt off the JLTV, pumping his fist into the air as he yelled, "Hell yeah, ye fuckin' cunts!"
While the MTFs cheered and chanted together, fist bumping esch other, the remaining three heroes went up to them and their JLTVs, they weren't to happy about the circumstances. Especially Motoyasu had a scowl on his face.
Hey! You stole our kill!" Motoyasu snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the operatives. His voice dripped with indignation, his stance puffed up in a futile attempt to seem imposing.
To absolutely no one's surprise, Malty was clinging to his spear arm, her usual smug demeanor in full effect. "Yes! You thieves stole Sir Motoyasu's kill! The glory should have been all his!" she added, her tone sharp and condescending. She finished her rant with an exaggerated huff, turning her nose up defiantly. "Hmpf!"
Whiskey didn't miss a beat. "Ah, get bent, ye fuckin' twat!" he shot back, flipping them off with a middle finger raised high. His grin was wide, unapologetic, and full of mockery.
Ice sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stepped forward. "Oh, for crying out loud… Can we not do this right now? Your 'kill'—" he added, gesturing air quotes, "—was about to wipe you all out. So, you're welcome. Fucking dumbasses!"
Polak chuckled quietly, muttering under his breath, "Good luck reasoning with that lot."
Eh, fuck this," Ice muttered, exhaling sharply as he swirled a finger in the air in a circular motion, signaling his team. "Let's leave these mouthbreathers to themselves. Get on your Victors. We're outta here!"
Whiskey snickered, throwing one last mocking look at Motoyasu and Malty before climbing back into the JLTV. "You heard the boss! Back to civilization, boys!"
Polak nodded, giving the fuming duo a sidelong glance before settling into his seat. Lira, silent but clearly irritated by the interaction, climbed into the back without a word, her knife already sheathed.
Ares opened the dustcover of his machine gun on the roof, checking if everything's still in tact and slamming it back down, before he took one last glance at Motoyasu, who was still mid-rant, and shook his head. "Enjoy your 'glory,' Spear Pendejo," he said with a smirk.
Before the JLTVs could roll out, the treeline rustled violently, and the knights the general had mentioned earlier burst through. Their armor was scuffed, and they were panting heavily, their exhaustion evident from the battle they had barely survived.
"Honored Heroes!" one of the knights called, his voice strained but urgent. "The King is requesting an audience with the Heroes!"
A/N:
What's up guys... ehm... yeah. Please don't flame me... I know it's been some time... a lot of time even but here I am! And with a extra long chapter nonetheless. I hope this will make it up for the wait I've put you through.
Before I go down to the reviews, I want to thank everyone who has waited so patiently and a special thanks to the boys and girls who have reviewed this story both good and bad reviews. I appreciate them all. See y'all next time lads and lasses!
Reviews:
RavenBlu—I'm glad you liked it my man! I hope to see you even after this wait. Again, sorry. The Ace Combat fic i'm workin on has taken a lot of my time and I kind of "forgot" bout this one.. hehe... yeah... soo to your questions.
I was about to include him inspecting his shield in the next chap, when things calmed down a little. I hope this is enough cuz I can't spoiler to much eh!
triscythe59—Probably not... maybe I don't know. The fic is still young and at the begining so things might change.
dariuscrawford482—oh they will learn a bunch o' stuff in here mate
rollynolly—Bow down? Pha! I know a bird that shoots 30mm Beer bottles at 70 rounds a second. Uranium tipped bear bottles. You tell me if they bow down.
Guest—After reading this I have to give you right. I worked the 1st chapter and reclassified it as Keter. I will work the first chapter over and explain everything deeper but first I need to make up for the long wait. Hope to see you again!