Chapter: 4 System

{Greetings, I am your new P.A.}

'You're my what?'

{P.A.? Personnel Assistant? Man, I thought you would be a bit more in your head!}

Helen's eyes twitched, 

'Get to the point, please.'

{Ah, the magic words! Fine, here's your gift.}

The holographic screen flickered and changed a bit,

| NAME | HELEN BACCHUS |

| AGE | 28 |

| GENDER | FEMALE |

| Military Designations | 1st Lieutenant, 167th Field Hospital, 117th Sanitary Train, 42nd (Rainbow) Division |

| TIER-1 |

| Melee: S |

| Marksmanship: B |

| Driving: A |

| Magic: E |

| Air-Combat: D |

| Water-Combat: B |

| Medic: C |

| Mechanics: C |

| CBRN Warfare: A |

| Description: Helen Bacchus, the daughter of Johnathan Bacchus and Helen Bacchus. Heir to the third-largest weapon producer and the largest alcohol business in all of America. |

"What?"

{That's your new identity, Helen Bacchus, an ordinary... err... a soldier, let's just go with that. Your old man's a famous businessman, just like your old universe's dad... he was a businessman too right?}

'More like a merchant, but yeah.'

{Potato-potato. Anyway, your pops had a bit of a drink and... well... donated a considerable sum to the war effort, which wouldn't have been much of a problem except he declared that his daughter would be joining the frontlines so...}

'What?'

{Quit it!}

'My bad.'

{So, the army got a boatload of free weapons and a two-meter-tall woman with medical practice they could use as a poster woman for recruiting new soldiers... both male and female mind you. Voila, now you're a military officer.}

'I'm sorry, did you say I'm the heir to a weapon and alcohol business?'

{Yup, that's right. Oh, and yer dad's fifth on the Forbes' 1917's ranking.}

Helen rubbed her temples or at least tried to, trying to make sense of it all. She was a military officer again, in a world at war again, with connections to a wealthy family based on guns and booze... again, and it was a bit too much to take in.

'What's the purpose of this new identity?'

{Well, it's a way for you to blend in, gain influence, and maybe even change the course of history. You're in a position of power now, Helen, and it's up to you how you use it.}

'Great, so I'm supposed to play pretend while being stuck in this mess.'

{Hey, look on the bright side. At least you're not alone in this shit hole. You've got me to help you out... mostly.}

Helen sighed again, feeling a bit too overwhelmed by what was happening. She let out a dry chuckle, finding the absurdity of the situation almost comical.

'And what's with the Tier-1 stuff?'

{Oh, that's just a way of categorizing a lifeform's skills and abilities. The higher the tier number the stronger they are, physically and mentally. It's like this, a tier-0 would be a little over a baby, and tier-5 would basically be a god... for you, that is... capable of literally destroying the earth.}

Helen raised an eyebrow, still trying to process everything.

'So, I'm a Tier-1 human being... with magical abilities, lovely.'

{Nah, the stat's say 'E' which basically means nonExistent. But you catch on quickly! And you've got some impressive skills there. An A for driving? That's a fun one. An S for melee? Ohh, you can bash someone's head in with a punch... must be some sort of genetic mutation.}

Helen sighed, her body aching from the ordeal.

'So, what's the catch?'

{Catch? Oh, nothing much. You're just stuck in a different reality with a different past. And you got to live here with your new identity.}

Helen let out another groan before looking around for anything that might help her stand but sadly there was nothing much there. World War I had taken its toll on the resources mustered by both sides, and there was not much left.

She took a glance at the medicine trickling into her veins and realized it read 'Saline Solution,' it was just that... something was scribbled on it with some sort of a marker, 'Diluted: 1/8th.' 

Meh, diluted to the very extreme so it could meet the needs of all the patients in the field hospitals. She had done the same many times but with medicines for biological and chemical weapons, just to keep them alive long enough for professional doctors to take over.

'Now that I think about it, what the hell am I wearing?'

The shock had been a bit... extreme, causing her to not bother about it.

She was wearing a semi-hospital gown kinda thingy, an olive uniform, or at least what remained of it. Her chest was bare save for half a tank top-like thing and bandages wrapped around her abdomen. 

Slowly but surely, all that fatigue from world hopping, having her stomach shredded, and having some sort of voice in her head made it almost impossible for her to stay awake. She lowered herself into the cramped bed, trying to keep awake but failed to do so... miserably.

As Helen drifted off to sleep, the war ragged on just like it had done for years. There were people injured in the trenches as well, missing limbs, organs perhaps, blood, but they weren't given a personal tent. 

The field hospital was full of green ramadas, marked with red crosses signifying their status as non-combatants in case the Imperial German Air Force somehow managed to bypass a couple of bombers through the Allied airspace. If they at least had the decency to not attack non-combatants but at this stage of The Great War, it was extremely unlikely.

About six hours later, Rita burst into the tent, carrying multiple cans of rations that she had somehow procured. She saw Helen having some shut eyes and did what any good nurse would do, she shook her awake,

"Mornin', Ma'am. High time you woke up! Y'all need some grub in that belly or you won't last the day, bless your heart. Can't have our brand new First Lieutenant croakin' right after gettin' promoted, now can we?"

She had a southern drawl to her accent, something Helen hadn't noticed earlier... in fact, this very accent was absent when the nurse greeted the Colonel. Something was not right, but Helen was too busy being sore and hungry to care.

Helen brushed aside the doubts and sat up, causing the pain to flare, and only then did she notice the stitches. They were a mess, and some clusterfuck gave her a lightning bolt running down her disfigured navel.

'Ah, this is gonna leave a scar.'

She looked up at the cheerful nurse and smiled,

"What have you got for me to eat? I'm starvin'!"

Rita beamed like a child,

"Well now, reckon I got a can of M-Rations. Likely beef, but hey, maybe you'll get lucky and it'll be mutton! Got four cans of B-rations as well, some bread, crackers, and even cookies! All sorts of grub, y'hear?"

Helen smiled at the nurse's antics, she was quite funny... and cute, like a child. But there was always that nagging sense of suspicion about her. Nonetheless, she gestured toward her bandaged stomach with a raised eyebrow,

"My stomach's feelin' like a beehive stirred up by a hornet's nest. You reckon somethin' like that would sit alright?"

"Oh,"

Rita paused before a smirk appeared on her small face,

"Don't ya fret none, the doctor said the bullets barely grazed yer innards. Said the bullet's path changed because of your muscles, you giant of a woman! Bless your heart."

She meant the last words as a compliment... probably... maybe?

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