1. Chapter 1(1)

Gate: The Fight We Chose

Chapter 1

Not Because it is Easy

November 22, 1963

Dallas, Texas, United States of America

12:00 PM

The M91/38 Carcano rifle didn't feel any lighter as the sharpshooter gave it a final examination, glancing out the sixth-floor window of a certain book depository in a certain city of the Lone Star State.

It was a good gun, well built… a good purchase for the task at hand.

He had once been a United States Marine, and he knew better than anyone the harm a modern firearm could do to the human body, even if he hadn't actually seen any real combat throughout his service. Still, he was capable of achieving the same deal of destruction any United States Marine could with a similar weapon.

Hell, he could kill the most powerful man on the face of the earth with that gun.

It really didn't matter how much the American people over glorified him or believed him to be a great man; his target was only human at the end of the day.

He'll go down the same way anyone else would…

He continued looking out the window, waiting patiently as any good sharpshooter would.

The crowd below was certainly large, but he had seen larger. Odds were the largest crowds were further back in the target's route or perhaps further down, waiting for the man to drive by and maybe blow kisses at them or something.

He pitied them, the poor American people blindly cheering for their oppressors; victims to the fascists that ruled the state, the country… this would be a wakeup call at the very least.

The crowd began to stir, the ex-Marine noting the change in behavior.

Several were pointing down the street, and for a moment, the Sharpshooter wondered if his target was closer than anticipated.

He took a deep breath and lifted the rifle, looking out the window, preparing to aim only to stop as he did so.

Wait… what the hell?

The crowd wasn't pointing at a presidential limo or anything remotely recognizable.

There was a… structure of some sort materializing in the middle of the road like a special effect in a science fiction show!

The sharpshooter rubbed his eyes with his free hand before looking down the scope of his rifle to get a closer look.

It was ethereal, but slowly becoming more and more visible, as if it were clawing its way into the material plain little by little, until… It looked like something from Greco-Roman architecture. Large marble columns. A roof filled with emeralds and precious stones.

It was a fancy little box.

The sharpshooter would've chuckled at the ridiculousness of what he was seeing.

Really now, what the hell was this?

Perhaps the military was testing some kind of cloaking technology? Who knew how much scientific progress had advanced since he returned to the US after defecting?

But he didn't chuckle.

The structure, now visible to everyone was getting a small crowd of curious civilians.

Several police officers quickly ran towards it, ordering people to back away.

Internally, the sharpshooter nodded. It could be radioactive for all they knew, and the fact it had simply appeared was worrisome on its own, scheduled or not. Still, would this unexpected anomaly change things for him? Surely his target would still drive down the street, or perhaps…

He wondered if he could get another shot by switching positions and moving to another window or another floor, not caring for the mysterious… thing that had materialized a few yards away.

He gripped his M91 and was about to move away from the window, hoping to at least find a better spot, when something caught his attention.

There was a pair of police officers peering into the structure.

The sharpshooter could not see what they were seeing, but something in their movements made him hesitate to move from his position.

He narrowed his eyes before looking down the scope again.

He could somewhat see their faces clearly as they looked at each other, confused and… frightened?

What the hell is-?

His answer arrived before he could even finish the question in his mind.

A massive winged monster flew from the entrance of the structure, almost immediately followed by two others identical to the first.

The police officers dropped to the ground, the crowd below staring in a mixture of awe and fear at the winged beasts with human riders directing them up to the sky.

The sharpshooter was stunned.

These were dragons!

Dragons from fairy tales, with men riding them like horses!

A fourth one exited the structure, but didn't fly high into the sky, instead landing in front of the recovering police officers.

Before either of the men could react, the monster lunged forward; its large, snakelike mouth chomped one of the men in two, devouring the upper half of his torso, leaving an armless, headless body to fall uselessly to the floor.

The second officer fared no better, too stunned by the carnage to react as the rider revealed that he wasn't utilizing both hands to pilot his mount, a large javelin on his free hand. He stabbed the second officer in the chest just as the other three dragons descended on the crowd.

Up until that moment, nobody had reacted.

The crowd had been in an odd state of shock, some even cheering, thinking the dragons were part of an elaborate show… until the first officer fell.

The sharpshooter saw one of the large beasts as it flew into the middle of the crowd before landing, crushing some under its clawed legs, devouring some with its toothy maw, and its rider simply murdering others with his javelin.

Panic set in, and the crowd began to run in all directions, just as a loud trumpet sounded.

The sharpshooter glanced up and his mouth fell agape as he looked towards the structure.

Four or five of those dragons hiding in there he could buy, maybe even six or seven… but an entire cavalry battalion was charging out of it, men in iron clad armor with red capes and swords running on horseback as they began chasing and cutting down the crowd of civilians.

The officers that remained attempted to fight back, the sharpshooter saw, at least one of them grabbing his service revolver and letting off a single shot, missing the horseman who cut him down with ease.

A second officer, an older one, he could tell, didn't even bother with the gun given the range, dodging one of the blades and tackling a rider to the ground, a second rider stabbing him in the back as he tried to get back up.

Screams filled the air, along with some sporadic gunfire, likely from civilians, as more forces emerged from the structure.

Massive, ugly things from the darkest depths of European folklore appeared.

Some looked like a deformed ogres, wielding a massive club and black armor or a jagged blade of some kind, others appeared to be some kind of creatures that were half man, half pig, and others still looked very similar to hairless monkeys, wielding large, rusty looking swords that would easily kill a person not through blood loss but subsequent infection.

He saw one jump high in the air with a tiny blade, stabbing an officer who had just gotten his hands on a shotgun.

The sharpshooter began to grit his teeth in a rage.

This was the day he was going to make history, stabbing right into the heart of the fascist empire that his beloved country had become!

And now THIS was replacing it?!

He saw a young girl, frozen in fear as two large men in armor rushed her.

The sharpshooter pulled back the bolt on his M91, just to be certain it still had a round in the chamber.

He had checked it already a hundred times, but he wanted to be extra sure.

There was a round indeed.

Without a second thought, he lifted the rifle up, steadied his aim slightly, and squeezed the trigger ever so softly.

A perfect headshot marked the death of one of the creatures, and the young girl managed to run away as the second one attempted to stab her.

He smiled slightly, less at the fact he had saved someone, more at the fact that the shot would likely have impressed even his idiotic superiors in the Marine Corps!

He pulled back the bolt, chambered another round, and looked for another target.

Georgia, United States of America

"…help…me…"

Dennis Orville opened his eyes, startled at the dream he had just woken up from and just as quickly forgotten.

He rubbed his eyes and got up from the couch he was resting on, noticing the time as he did so.

Lunch time…

He stood up, stretching before grabbing the apron that identified him as an employee even if everyone would recognize him as one.

His mother had a small restaurant on the main floor of their home, just a little locale for the relatively small rural town and its workers to enjoy a late lunch before heading back to work in the nearby mines.

Theirs was a very small town in the country, quaint and peaceful away from the hubbub of the city, so he knew that at most there would be five or six guys there, all ready to flirt with his debatably still young mother.

He pursed his lips, already hearing some of the men joking and laughing a few feet below the wooden floorboards.

He knew they were good men... mostly… but there was a part of him that worried for the woman downstairs.

He glanced at the United States Army uniform hanging by his closet door and did his best to force his worry and sadness back down.

He winced, genuinely surprised to see the sheets on the pillow he used were moist.

He thought back to the intense dream he had only moments ago woken up from, but his mind couldn't really grasp any of the details.

Only that it was sad. Enough to make him cry?

No, it was probably drool.

He shook his head and got up, walking past his still unused Army uniform and moving towards the clothes on a wooden chair by his window.

He walked down the steps in his kitchen uniform, ready to help where help was needed.

"Ah, sweetheart, could you get Mister Jones some Cola?"

"Sure thing, ma." he said, forcing a smile before grabbing a glass bottle with the soft drink from the fridge and handing it to the man sitting on the counter.

He gave him a coin, saying "So… little Dennis is heading out of town soon?"

Dennis glanced at the older man, a tired look in his eye.

There were three others, all awkwardly glancing at the young man.

"Yes, sir. Hope to do some good serving Uncle Sam." he said, somewhat excited for his future, somewhat worried about leaving his mother behind.

He glanced behind him, noting that the woman was still in the kitchen, and he quickly turned to Mister Jones and asked "Sir, what's it really like? The Army life, I mean."

The man sipped his drink, rubbed some dirt from his eyebrow and said "Boring mostly… pain in the ass… annoying… not really satisfying. If I were you, I would stay here. Not as glamorous as some of them Hollywood types like to say. At least here you can care for your ma and get decent enough pay."

The young man replied with "Yeah, but… pa used to tell me that if a country is good enough to live in, then it's good enough to fight for… I think that holds true."

One of the younger miners said "We aren't really fighting anyone right now, and if last year's Cuban Crisis taught us anything, I think we would all be dead before we got to fire any shots. War just isn't what it used to be."

Dennis once again, pursed his lips, doing his best to suppress a disapproving frown.

Every man in the room was, technically, a veteran.

Mister Jones had been in the Army right as the Korean War began a cease fire that… technically… was still going on.

All the other men had been in the military at some point, be it Navy or Army, and they were all relatively well-rounded men who worked in the mine and went home to their wives and dogs.

As far as Dennis knew, none had seen combat, so what did they really know?

"Alright, Mister Carlson, I have your steak sandwich right here!"

His mother cheerfully exited the kitchen with the warm lunch.

"Aw, shucks, Miss Orville, your food makes the heart of this old man happy!"

"Anything for the workers of-" his mother cheerfully began before the pleasant music abruptly cut off into a brief static that caught the attention if everyone in the small family owned diner.

There was the briefest moment of silent confusion as the small group wondered if the power had gotten cut off, noticing nothing else had been shut down.

Then a voice urgently came over the airwaves.

"We interrupt our regularly scheduled program for a breaking story: From WFAA: Dallas Texas, attacks on the city have and are currently being reported. The enemy is as of this moment, unknown, but eyewitnesses can attest to it not being a Soviet or Cuban attack. We would like to repeat, the attackers are as of this moment unidentified, but eyewitnesses have denied them being Soviet or Cuban. Hundreds are injured and are being moved to hospitals away from the city, president…"

Dennis froze in place, hand about to grab a plate.

"Hold on, Dallas- the president was heading there today, right?" Mister Jones asked.

"Y-yeah, yesterday's paper said so… who on earth is attacking us if it isn't the commies?" Mister Carlson asked.

Worse… who is doing so much damage that hundreds were injured?

Miss Orville walked over to the radio and turned the volume up slightly.

A reporter was now speaking with an eyewitness.

"…are describing men in roman like armor, and… and fairy tale creatures?"

Everyone winced from the statement.

Fairy tale creatures?

A man that sounded shaky began to answer.

"Yes sir, I was… I was with my wife, planning on seeing the president, and… and they just came barreling down the road, you know? Cavalry- I mean men on men on horseback with swords, stabbing anyone they saw, I- I… I managed to get Linda- my wife, into a little shop, try to hide because… I didn't have my gun… we managed to sneak away, but sir, I saw… saw these large… things, that I can only describe as fat ugly men ten feet tall and these… these weird… pig… human… monsters- I don't know what else to call 'em! They were just… cutting people down! Like a person took the creatures from fantasy books and just… brought them to life and sent them after us or something!"

A pause.

"And this was a coordinated effort?" the reporter asked.

Another pause.

"Sure, looked like one to me! There was this cavalry charging down the street, then behind them were the large creatures… there were some flying in the air too, and in the air force we usually do reconnaissance with aircraft, so maybe that's what they were for… makes no sense… where did they come from? What do they want?! They killed so many people and I have no idea why."

Yet another pause.

"As you can see, folks, it seems that the United States of America has been attacked once again, and thus far, there is no word or demand from the attacking forces; all that is known is that they are hostile and seemingly fantastic in origin. We will now return you to our studio, where we will continue to monitor the situation live."

Miss Orville turned slowly to look at her son, same as the men in the small diner.

Dennis now seemed to be fixed on staring out the window, eyeing the green trees in the afternoon sun.

It was Mister Jones who said "Don't know what they were thinking invading Texas with swords. Guns beat sword nine times out of ten."

"Nine?" the youngest of the miners asked, eyebrow cocked.

It was older Carlson who said "Misfires, reload… had a cousin who fought in Okinawa, said the Japs would rush you with their swords and if you weren't quick enough you would be… uh… cut down… still, there's a reason we mowed them down when they tried it."

The last part seemed to be added to ease the discomfort from the young woman in the room, her features shifting slightly as she tried to hide the inner turmoil any parent feels for their boys in the Army.

It was deathly silent, the radio report coming in on the scientific opinion on the actual situation being the only sound in the home.

"Err… we should be getting back… Chris, you need any change?"

"I-I got it… thank you for the meal, Miss Orville."

"Yeah, thank you… See you around, Dennis, Miss Orville."

The woman simply waved as the men left.

The men shuffled out of the home, leaving the mother and son on their own.

She spoke first.

"You don't have go… I know some of the men-"

"I want to, ma. I… I can't sit by and just watch, I want to be somewhere I can do something… something other than… than listen to reporters talk about it over the waves!" he said, sounding a bit more forceful than he meant to.

He noticed and glanced away from the older woman, partly ashamed, partly because he knew she was coming from a good place.

But there were no more words on the matter that hadn't already been said, and it was long decided by the letter that had arrived in the mail of so many American families but hadn't arrived to this one just yet.

Dennis Orville could not afford college.

Dennis Orville did have the grades for college.

But ultimately, Dennis Orville had no interest in college.

Dennis Orville, the son of working class Americans, had no qualms about joining the United States Armed Forces.

Even at age 17.

Miss Orville had reluctantly agreed to let him go even if it meant she would be alone for quite some time.

She had agreed knowing full well the likelihood her son wouldn't come back.

The black and white photograph of a smiling young man in the older United States Army uniform that hung on the wall was an eternal reminder of that.

She simply nodded silently, turning to pick up the empty plates and glasses that remained, saying "Give me a hand with the dishes, please."

He nodded, grabbed some of the other plates and followed her into the kitchen.

Dallas, Texas, United States of America

1:22 Pm

Out of ammunition for his rifle, the Sharpshooter had remained hidden in the building, the early chaos of the crowd dispersing and the strange army attacking them kept him well hidden from the enemy forces… whatever they were.

He noticed most of them had pushed further into the city, many others staying behind to set up some kind of command center.

If you could call it that.

A very colorful tent was set up on the grass, several men placed a table, and several other men stood around it, seemingly arguing as several other men in heavier armor under very colorful capes kept guard.

They really had no concept of modern war, any rifleman for miles would have seen the colorful clothes, open tent, and guards and thought "hey, that guys probably important… better shoot him!"

Unfortunately, the sharpshooter was out of bullets for his rifle, and his handgun, while fully loaded, probably wouldn't do much against some of the larger… things… marching around with clubs and giant swords on their shoulders.

He had waited for about an hour after running out of ammunition, and was considering his options, when something caught his eye.

Several of the roman looking soldiers appeared, dragging behind them several civilians.

One of them, a colored woman, was visibly shaking more as they carried her and a little colored girl forward.

The sharpshooter then noticed the men under the tent had stopped arguing and were beginning to approach the apprehended civilians.

They got closer and began to surround the woman and child.

The bizarro-romans seemed almost incredulous at the sight.

One of them grabbed the woman's sleeve, apparently not out of perversion and more out of serious curiosity.

One of the captured men yelled something as he pointed at the romans before the guar holding him gave him a swift kick, the man crumbling to the floor in visible pain.

The other men laughed loudly as another one grabbed the little colored girl, ripping her from the woman's arms.

The Sharpshooter heard the girl scream "Mama!"

The woman lunged forward, uselessly so, but never stopping to struggle.

Angry, the sharpshooter stood from the window, and ran down the steps. Quickly making sure his .38 revolver was loaded; again, less out of need and more to ease his own mind.

He unlocked the entrance to the building and gunned it outside, brandishing his weapon.

"Let 'em go, you sorry- imperialist scum!" he shouted as loudly as he could, which wasn't very much, but it was certainly enough to get their attention.

The Roman officer was seemingly inspecting the sobbing child, ignoring the man as his potential subordinates drew their blades with some detectible degree of caution.

"I mean it! You probably know what these things do by now!"

It was likely the only reason they hadn't charged him.

His officers seemed to know that his weapon worked and killed better than any sword in their army.

The Roman stood up, eyeing the man before shoving the little girl into the arms of another soldier.

The Roman spoke.

The Sharpshooter understood none of it.

The Roman spoke again.

"I don't know what you're saying! J-just let these people go! Right now!" he ordered, pointing between him and the civilians, trying to get his point across.

The Roman frowned, saying something else the sharpshooter didn't understand, only in a louder tone that invoked hostility more than anything.

"Alright… alright… You know what?"

The Sharpshooter squeezed the trigger, the .38 caliber round going through the neck of the Roman.

He immediately turned the gun on the six guards holding the civilians and unloaded onto the crowd, carefully aiming to hit everyone not capable of speaking English.

Mostly trying to score hits on the Romans in order to get rid of the captors and give the captives a chance to escape.

All his bullets found their mark, but if they were fatal or not was yet to be decided.

What mattered was that the captives suddenly turned on their guards and began to run away, the young man actually shoving the guard holding him back and then turning and attacking the wounded one while the woman quickly scooped up the little girl and ran off.

The sharpshooter grinned.

Somehow, this was better than just killing the president or any other politician.

His service in the Marines hadn't allowed him to see much action, at least real action, and he had never been the heroic American GI that he had wanted to be, his stay and defection to the USSR wasn't at all what he had imagined… but this… oh, this was special.

Somehow this was doing exactly what he had always wanted to do!

Free the enslaved, rescue the oppressed…

To his surprise, the Roman officer whose neck he had practically shot in two was still alive, weakly eyeing him as lifeblood spilt from his wound.

The hate in those eyes was much more than anything he could have seen in anyone.

"I warned you! I-" he began, half laughing.

He barely turned in time to see the foot soldier run towards him and stab a blade through his chest, killing him before he hit the ground.

Somewhere over Texas, Air Force One

3:23 PM

The young American president impatiently paced form left to right behind his desk.

Obviously, the day wasn't supposed to go this way at all.

He had intended to meet with the more conservative members of the Democratic Party in an attempt at soothing things over, if only a little, as there were some very serious tensions between members of the party. The country was changing, and whether the change would be positive or negative was yet to be seen as divisions were very clearly showing within his own party as certain issues in the United States were being pushed to the forefront of debates.

For starters, the issue of Civil Rights…

Now, all of that was out the window due to some incomprehensible structure out in the middle of Dallas spewing soldiers out of a storybook.

The president jerked around slightly, continuing his constant pacing back and forth.

"John, please try to calm down." his much older Vice President said in a tired voice.

"Not until I get word from our forces. Is this phenomenon happening anywhere else? Any other cities attacked? For God's sake, we are more in the dark right now than back in-!"

"And worrying about it won't solve anything!"

Wanting to argue, but knowing his older colleague was technically correct, he simply sat back on his chair and rubbed the back of his head.

The only sound for a short while was the low hum of the aircraft flying through the clouds, the ever-present pair of F-105 Thunderchief fighters visible from the window.

The door to the office popped open then and a man walked in.

The president looked up expectantly at the aide.

"The 49th Armored has made contact with enemy forces and the Air Force has begun its gun runs. We rule the skies, sir."

Dallas, Texas

3:30 PM

The young commander, now acting general, calmly assessed the situation as his now dead predecessor was carried back through the gate by his young advisor, now acting commander.

"And you let the slaves get away?" he demanded of the surviving soldiers.

"The assailant was a threat, General! These… mages and their wands are far deadlier than any of the wizards back in Sadera. They couldn't have gone too far, so I believed that prioritizing the security of the general was-"

"First of all, that mission failed! Second of all… Look around you, legionnaire! These… these humans are rich and spoiled! They have built massive cities with no protective walls in sight, they cut and ran the second they saw us… even the warrior bunnies put up more of a fight when faced with fierce surprise attacks… find those civilians and bring them to me immediately! Their ebony skin is a rarity back home, and-"

A crash cut him off.

The commander glanced up at the sky and winced as he saw a dragon rider, his mount torn in two as it plummeted to the ground.

It landed a small distance away, its rider somehow surviving the fall as he staggered away from his dead beast, seemingly unhurt as he attempted to pick up his lance.

"Soldier! What attacked you?" the commander yelled.

"I… do not know, sir! My beast and my partner simply… simply burst into bloody bits!"

A terrible screeching drew their attention upwards, seeing large birds move faster than any dragon they had ever seen before speed past them.

W-what sort of magic is-?

Footsteps approached him then.

"Commander! We are being driven back! The enemy, they have impenetrable chariots that cannot be stopped! They crush our orcs like ants, sire!"

It took a second for the information to sink in.

The enemy can crush our forces so easily? Is this a joke? No… legionnaires don't joke… we must act!

"Send messages to regroup around the Gate! We need to establish proper defenses if the enemy is counter attacking with such efficiency! Rush to cent-"

Screams in the distance got his attention before he could finish the order.

He whirled around, staring down the strangely paved road.

It was, of course, a simple road, but instead of stone it was an oddly smooth material that he had actually grown curious of.

That said…

His eyes widened as the beast emerged from under the strange bridge.

The Orc was missing its right arm as it awkwardly limped towards them; its left leg barely attached given the chunk of flesh that had been clearly ripped away by some form of projectile.

It managed a pitiful moan and was then torn to bloody bits by the lightning quick fireflies that were spat from a barking snake in the distance.

Furious screams of men in green with dark staffs actually rose over the sudden number of explosions that filled the air around him, one louder than the others, and even without understanding their language he understood perfectly well its meaning.

"Kill those sons of bitches!"

The strange language that was shouted all over the place got his attention and he whirled around, seeing more men appear from the rear, hiding behind large… chariots?

He never got to think about it as a 7.62 millimeter round pierced his skull and killed him as his lifeless body remained standing for a brief second after he died.

It crumbled to the ground as his forces began to scatter and the American armor took control of the area surrounding the mysterious structure.

Imperial Capital of Sadera

The dungeon was missing the usual noise she was now accustomed to hearing.

It made the darkness slightly more bearable, which she wouldn't have believed a year prior to her capture, but that mattered very little now. The darkness had its dread, of course, after all the torture her ears weren't what they had been even a month before, but they still functioned better than most, so she could at least hear incoming danger in the stone steps and ready herself.

Some of the other "spoils of war" didn't have that advantage and she had grown used to their grieving cries in the night; silent sobs as they remained helpless to do anything about their situation. Usually it was that or them desperately asking questions, often in a language she couldn't really understand given how far the empire stretched.

But tonight they were silent.

She preferred to not really talk to anyone right now, but it was a little strange that there wasn't even a peep coming from the other girls.

Come to think of it… I haven't heard anything for the last several hours…

She didn't consider risking and reaching out to see if anyone else was there a good idea, but she was getting worried.

Very quietly she whispered "Bouro."

The slimy voice came from under her bed as the presence made itself slightly more known.

"Yes, your highness?"

Internally she shuddered, but she was used to dealing with the deformed… thing that gave her information when her captors were bored of her.

"Is something happening outside?"

The creature under her bed chuckled dryly, saying "Emperor Molt announced that the Gate opened up and today he sent the Imperial Legions to conquer land beyond it."

"Ah, so the poor girls got dragged along with their masters?"

She knew many of them belonged to military generals, some crueler than others, some kinder… or so she had gathered.

"Seems like it. Zorzal of course-"

"I know, I know… just let me know if you hear anything about the invasion." she muttered back, quietly, but very much irritated. She preferred not to have to interact with the creature circumstance had made her rely on.

"Of course, your highness." the thing said, and slowly she felt his presence leave her cell.

Tired, she decided to go back to sleep. Soon more "spoils" would arrive through that door, joining her in the desperate bid to survive under their captors. Really, it would only cause more problems for her if one of the new girls got too popular with a certain someone… not like there was much about that she could do, though.

If anything, it seemed that the only reason that person used her more than anyone else was because he had, by all accounts, "conquered" her.

Her jaw clenched, she wondered if she would ever find a way to get her revenge.

With no real hope of achieving her vengeance, she shut her eyes and tried to get some sleep, nightmares and painful memories be damned.

She was too tired to think about it.

Washington D.C

November 28, 1963 8:22 AM

"We actually had a hard time clearing them in the surrounding buildings, some of the little devils were tough for our boys to hit. That said, the area has been effectively cleared out with minimal casualties and we are rebuilding." the American secretary of defense said.

The president rubbed his eyes as he looked out the window at the extra security patrolling the White House grounds.

He turned away and sat on his desk, eyeing the black and white photographs taken of the… object standing in the middle of the road in the city of Dallas.

He turned to the well-dressed men in the room with him and spoke as calmly as he could.

"That damn… thing… any idea what it is?" he asked, rubbing his tired face.

"Well, the object is beyond our current scientific understanding, mister president. You can tell from the pictures it… it appears to just be a temple like structure similar to what we would see in ancient Greece or Rome… however, photos from the rear show a clear wall instead of a simple exit similar to its front, and the amount of room within it is staggering. We shined all sorts of lights from tanks and trucks, and it just goes on for at least a mile. To our understanding that is simply not possible." a scientist said.

"Instruments seem to work properly around it, too, so whatever it is, it isn't messing with our electronics." another man spoke.

The president sighed.

"Feels like the world is hell-bent on ending during my first term… can we destroy it?"

"Possibly. We chipped away some pieces of marble and they came off just fine. That said, simply destroying it could cause many problems on its own."

"One of which could be it opening up elsewhere, or worse, in another country." the secretary of defense stated.

The young president sucked in a breath.

He let it out.

"Sir, we don't know how this object works. It-"

"I know, I know… it's our problem, we have to deal with it. What do we know about our attackers?"

All eyes turned to an anthropologist who simply said "Sir, to put it bluntly… they're human. They speak some form of Latin and it seems many of our old translations are fairly spot on. They come from a land beyond the object- they call it The Gate, and an Empire called the Sadera Empire sent them to conquer us for slaves and resources."

"Oh, slaves and resources? Just that, huh?"

"We do have some survivor accounts noting that at least one group of these… romans… was seen carrying men and women towards the object. One of them says an armed man rescued them, though, and while numbers aren't exact yet, we don't seem to have any citizens missing from the carnage."

"Well, that's some good news… but the idea that our citizens would be taken as slaves is just… let's move on. Sadera… did they send anyone to communicate since we repelled their invasion force?"

"No one has come out of the object, and since we haven't tried sending anyone in… well, we just don't know, sir."

"Yeah, well we better find out, cause Ivan is getting itchy and I-"

The president paused, glancing at his wristwatch before shaking his head.

"…and I have to be chatting with him in a few minutes. Gentlemen, we will discuss this issue further at a later date."

With that the president walked out of the room, trailed by his secret service agents and a somewhat nervous aide.

"They get you that report, Tom?"

The young man simply said "Yes sir, from what the CIA tells us they haven't found any objects anywhere else, our allies are still on the lookout for any of these appearing, though. Many states are also relaxing their readiness level, though remaining on alert."

The president nodded, approaching the room that was connected to the Pentagon.

"Well, that's good to know. Thank you, Tom." he said, entering the room, leaving the aide behind.

Inside a secure connection was established to a phone somewhere else in the world.

Said phone that was somewhere else in the world was then connected to another line that would eventually lead to another place in the world.

The President took a heavy breath as the Premier of the Soviet Union answered.

Pleasantries were exchanged and gotten out of the way quickly.

The Russian brought it up first.

"…in regards to the other world that this… doorway has given you access to… what is your nation's plan for it?"

"Well, we are looking at a variety of plans, some involve destroying it, risky as that could be…"

"Ah, but not all plans involve destroying it?"

"No."

There was a pause.

"You would realize how a new era of imperialism would look for your country, yes?"

The president felt his nails dig into the palm of his hands at the hint of accusation in the words of the Russian.

"I want to come to a consensus here, Nikita."

"Don't we all?"

"Well I actually mean it."

Silence.

"Look, the situation in Vietnam and what was once French Indo-China is clearly not turning in our favor…" the president admitted in a defeated tone, both changing the subject and bringing up what he wanted to discuss.

If he was standing in Moscow, he would have seen the premier actually stiffen in surprise at the statement.

Instead, the president had to contend with a seemingly unimpressed "Oh?"

"It is very clear that we have supporters in the country… countries involved- don't get me wrong… that said my… informants have made it very clear that many more wish to be free of… free of our presence."

"Your country did cancel their elections."

"In retrospect, that was a mistake, yes…"

One I supported even if I wasn't in office…

There was another pause as the Soviet Premier took in what he was being told.

"So… you will support free elections in Vietnam for reunification, and if they choose… for your people to leave…"

"Then we will leave… but Nikita…"

"Yes?"

"Assuming they choose to have us go, I don't want them turning into an authoritarian hellhole… if they have American sympathizers, they must be allowed to exist and free travel. I don't want another Berlin Wall popping up around all of Indochina."

"That is something you should discuss with-"

"I want your support on it."

Another pause.

"Why?" the Russian asked after a moment.

"Because despite the open support, their relationship to the Chinese isn't exactly the best right now and both of us know it."

Another pause, which the young president took advantage of to press his point.

"You and the Chinese aren't exactly on the same terms as you were even five years ago, and Vietnam is your new little investment ready to hop in on the scene and pick a side. Trust me, my sources tell me the Chinese don't want Vietnam as an ally, so much as a territory. I would be willing to bet Minh knows that much even now."

Another pause.

"As for the Gate… we plan to see what happens, see if more show up, maybe… maybe send some scouting parties assuming it stays where it is. We have prisoners and we're working on deciphering their language… it's a weird latin gibberish… they are cooperative and are giving us some details of what exists beyond it, but keep in mind, we have no control over where it appeared or how."

"That much I believe."

Damned Russian spies…

"If it stays up… well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

The Russian chuckled.

"So… you want to give Vietnam its rightfully due liberty to choose its destiny, our support in them making that choice… all so that we leave you alone while you go ahead and conquer an entire other planet that is sitting pretty on your backyard?"

"We don't know if it will stay there, but let's assume that's the case."

"…Ah… we can work with that."

"You're going to have your representatives cry about it at the UN, aren't you?"

"Most likely. Have a nice day, mister president."

Imperial Capital

Tyuule waited silently in the darkness as the footsteps got ever louder, little by little.

Knowing what was coming was probably preferable to not knowing, at least in her mind. It allowed her to dread and prepare for the inevitable, even if it wasn't exactly easier. The glow of the approaching torch made her stiffen slightly.

"Ah, there she is! How is my little bunny tonight?"

She bowed courtly and solemnly, saying "Rejoiced to see you, your majesty."

The door was pushed open by a guard with an indifferent look in his eyes.

"Right then. Come on."

He grabbed her wrist and half led her, half dragged her out of the dungeon and up its steps.

"Today is a special occasion, Tyuule. Did you know?" he said, a level of self-pride the disgraced queen had grown to hate with a passion.

"Special?" she asked, trying to feign ignorance.

"The Gate opened in the holy hill of Alnus this week! Soon my father's empire will spread along a whole other world."

"That is incredible news, your majesty!" she said, trying to ignore how he gripped her wrist to the point that it hurt her.

"Yes, indeed it is. Now we can-"

"Sire!"

They turned and saw a young soldier arrive and kneel.

"What is it? Can't you see I am about to commence the celebration of our expansion?"

"Sire, my deepest apologies, but the emperor has called for an emergency meeting, and your attendance is requested!" the soldier said, pressing his forehead deeper into the marble floor.

The prince frowned, still gripping her wrist… tightly… before spitting on the ground.

"Fine. Come along, Tyuule. This better not take long."

She didn't object, not that she could, but she was curious to hear the meeting.

The royal hall was mostly empty except for the royal family, several generals, and a disgruntled lieutenant with a tattered uniform.

The only ones with a worried look across their faces were the generals… and the red headed young princess that Tyuule heard liked to play soldier in her off time.

Disgusting wench…

Emperor Molt glanced at his son, then at her, a brief look of disgust on his face that vanished instantly as he turned back to the officer kneeling on the floor.

"Repeat the message for those who have not heard, Atilla."

"Yes, your majesty. Our invasion force was obliterated to the man. I was overseeing the transfer of the body of General Titus, when the ground behind me erupted as if a volcano had come to life."

"Perhaps the gate opened near an active volcano then. Father, if this is a matter of-" the young and overly confident prince began before his father cut him off.

"Let him finish, please." Emperor Molt stated calmly.

Zorzal promptly fell silent.

"I turned back, seeing men, your majesty… men with… with weapons that spat fire and death, destroying anyone and everyone in their line of sight. We had seen a few of these wands among the soldiers that were protecting the gate, but the ones that I saw then were wholly different! No mage that I have seen can accomplish that level of death in such a short amount of time! I barely escaped across in time to warn the second wave to hold the line!"

"And that is why you are here while they continue to wait for the enemy?"

"The enemy hasn't followed us through, your majesty! I ordered the men to begin barricading that cursed gate as soon as I got there and took command! I also managed to begin setting up defenses to block the magic of the mages, but I don't think it would ever be enough, sire! I requested this meeting to discuss this very matter!"

The emperor remained without a reaction, though the generals appeared to be more pensive than anything.

Zorzal spoke immediately "Bah, just send more men. Clearly these are just mages that work in numbers. Send in more troops and overwhelm them with numbers of our own!"

"Sire, several survivors managed to escape after me during the first night, and they have said that it is not just witchcraft that we deal with. They have war machines that surpass anything we have, flying monstrosities that leave our dragon riders struggling for breath before cruelly cutting them down from a distance. It is like they can fire lances from leagues away without consequence and with impeccable accuracy!"

It was princess Pina who spoke then.

"Could we attack them with ranged weapons of our own? Perhaps a line of ballista from maximum range?" she asked, clearly trying to help.

"I set up a few lines of those near the gate, but we need to effectively seal that entrance, Emperor!"

Emperor Molt finally spoke.

"Work to do exactly that. This gate will remain open until the end of time if what my prophets tell me is true… I was hoping it would lead to more… positive results. No more invasions shall be attempted. We consolidate our forces, and establish defensive lines around that gate. Anyone else coming through it shall be killed on site. Understood?"

"Yes, Emperor!" the soldiers shouted.

Zorzal shook his head, mumbling "You brought me here for that? So pointless."

Tyuule on the other hand was almost entranced.

An army that completely destroyed the imperial invasion force?

Anyone with a touch of experience against Saderan forces knew that their first wave was a hammer of destruction, with mostly non-human soldiers that were capable of grandiose brute strength and immense bloodlust being sent up front to slaughter any defense established. The second wave was mostly skilled human fighters, their legions of well-armed and equipped men could cut what enemies remained down and occupy territory with ease.

She remembered how her own warriors had stood against them at great cost.

She remembered how she had been promised their survival if she just gave herself up and ordered her people to stand down.

Now their screams haunted her every night.

But now another army from another world had broken that hammer with some degree of ease?

Was there hope beyond that cursed gate?

She pondered this when the grip on her wrist tightened to the point that it actually hurt her.

"Come now, Tyuule… my patience for this meeting is fleeting." the prince said, grinning as he dragged her towards his room.

Knowing what was in store did not make it easier.

Georgia, USA

United States Army Reserve

December 2nd, 1963, 0833

Dennis found the task at hand annoying if not tedious.

"Now why in the name of the good lord do they use some weird Latin- Spanish… what the hell even is this stuff? Have we actually asked what the hell this language even is?" he asked the dark skinned man sitting across from him in the library.

"Italian." the soldier replied courtly, the name "Shaun" written on his uniform.

Dennis huffed and tossed the booklet down before rubbing his eyes.

"Don't get all finicky, man, Italy has some great food."

"Benvenuta- benvenuto, masculine abbreviation, feminine abbreviation… these Romans aren't even talking Italian it's some… sin against the natural order of written language. Helpful references or not, it doesn't make it any prettier." the small town young man said.

"How so?" the dark skinned soldier asked.

"Cause it ain't my language! Really hope Kennedy force feeds English to these barbarians." He mumbled, glancing at the newspaper sitting across from the two.

Scientists Determine Otherworldly Doorway Here to Stay!

"You know, Barbarian was just a term for anyone who wasn't a roman."

"So?"

"Assuming these Romans are the same as our Romans, technically, us invading them makes us the barbarians."

"…don't you people have low IQ or something?"

"Wouldn't that say more about you than about me?"

"I'm just asking. Ain't no blacks back home." he muttered the last part.

"See, if you were Roman that would make me a barbarian."

Dennis only sighed.

A sergeant walked into the library and calmly approached the two young men, asking "How is the reading, ladies?"

"Excellent, sergeant!" both men instinctively declared.

It turned out that the problem with being invaded by a foreign enemy, or invading a foreign country was that, more often than not, neither side could communicate by speaking.

Translators were a valuable asset to have in such circumstances, but the recent events presented a problem.

Neither side had ever heard the language being spoken by its enemy.

The American government had brought in linguistics experts to try and create books to translate basic phrases from the bizarre language spoken by the invading Romans from another world, which was certainly very similar to ecclesiastical Latin, although not entirely. Researchers noted some slight differences in punctuation and word order as the prisoners captured during the attack on Dallas had begun to actually communicate.

The result of the research was the books being read by Dennis and Shaun.

"At ease, boys. Orville! I have some good news for you."

Instead of simply saying what the news was, the sergeant handed the young reservist a letter.

Dennis opened it up, his eyes widening.

"The 75th- I- this is real right, sergeant? Not some kind of joke?"

The sergeant seemed to sneer ever so slightly at the teenager's excitement, and Dennis immediately straightened up.

"No, it's not a joke, kid. Pack your bags." the sergeant said, turning around.

Dennis grinned, staring at the paper in his hands.

"Man, why'd you want to sign up for the Special Forces? It's mostly dirty work." Shaun asked, yawning.

Dennis, with a never fading grin, said "Pa wanted to be a ranger after hearing about the landings at Omaha."

Shaun seemed to frown at the statement, even though his face seemed mostly stoic.

"What?" Dennis asked, confused.

"Nothing really but… shouldn't you be a bit older? You kind of look like-"

"Hey! I meet the requirements, I get to go!"

"Yeah, but… you'll get to go anyway, Ranger or not. Army needs translators going through, and as much as you hate the language, you have it down pat."

"Cause anybody can learn this rubbish, dummy! For someone supposedly smart, you sure can be dim."

"Eh, to be honest I just want to see how things are in this other world. Wonder if I can find me a nice girl over there who don't have no qualms about marrying a black man."

Dennis actually appeared offended by the statement.

"Find yourself a woman? You Negroes have no sense of duty to your country, huh?"

"Well, you crackers didn't exactly make this country with us in mind, did you?"

"Didn't force your kind to stick around once we freed you either." he shot back immediately.

"Yeah, but someone needed to tend the farms."

"All I see you people tending is the pavement and dirt. It's rare to see you anywhere close to a farm if anything."

"Yeah, someone has to do the hard work while you people keep trying to shoot for the moon."

"You make it sound like all blacks are good for is being a step behind us whites."

"Hey, we're the ones that make things work, always have, always will."

Dennis grin widened then.

"My town has no blacks, and things worked out great."

"Given that they produced you, the validity of that statement is in serious question."

"Come visit, mom makes better food, being white and all, the people make the best tools, being white and all, they- oh, no joke, my ma's cooking is the best."

"Oh, so she mixes rat poison to strengthen your immunity or something?"

Silence.

"I'm going to go pack my bags." Dennis said.

"Good, I can finish memorizing this rubbish language that anyone can learn. I'll be wooing all the ladies when we get sent to colonize Rome. Hai dei bellissimi occhi."

"Oh yeah, beautiful singular eye given all the weird monster-women living there. I get elves, but… cat people? Cow people? Rome or not, it's Alien, man…"

"Gotta live in the future, son, we're integrating for a reason!"

Dennis felt his eye twitch slightly at the image of a fat ork carrying an M2 Browning like a carbine, drool and snot ruining the weapon instead of gradual use and mismanagement.

"I'll tell the XO that integration was a mistake once I reach a high rank. Stop it right in its tracks."

"Oh well, I guess you don't like Ike after all."

"Truman integrated the Army, not Ike."

"Ike was for it."

Dennis stared at Shaun, eyes squinting in an attempt at detecting falsehood.

"What? Out of quips already?"

"Trying to figure out if you're overcompensating or not… ah, doesn't matter. See you around, Shaun."

"See you round, Dennis."

Fort Benning, Georgia, USA

January 12, 1964

0745

"Move faster, you sorry…" the voice began drowning out as he continued running.

Dennis struggled with the terrain briefly as he continued the jog up the muddy ridge in full gear.

The steel M1 helmet, the fourteen plus ammo packs, the recent addition of the very brand new, very well-liked by the Air Force and Army Forces, and very experimental M16 "assault rifle" (felt more like a toy), his canteen, still full of water of course, and the fact that his clothes were now soaked and muddy made it so that the young man was carrying over a hundred pounds of gear.

That wasn't really the issue, though.

He had qualified, in spite of his age, and was now part of the 75th Army Rangers, lugging said gear around for miles was the easy part.

No, the issue was quickly becoming the annoyingly steep uphill climb in the muddy, rocky, God forsaken training ground that actively seemed to want him to crawl on all fours in order to get up the hill.

He didn't complain, his mind forcing itself to focus on the issue of keeping up and not lagging behind.

Still, his somewhat heavy pants as they approached the top made it clear that he was nearing whatever limit he had.

Just a little further…

He felt the ground give way under him suddenly, and before he knew it, he was falling head first into the ground.

He awkwardly managed to prevent his head from hitting the floor and quickly righting himself by placing the knee on the ground and pushing himself up with his other leg, the sergeant screaming obscenities that would make the miners from back home blush in spite of their ashen faces.

He righted himself barely on time.

Damn it…

He was sure he wasn't the only one struggling at this point, but still…

His drive didn't allow much for mistakes, and if Ranger school embodied anything, it was excellence.

He forced himself not to feel some sense of relief when another man ahead of him fell to the floor, far worse than he had, almost dropping his M16 as his face hit the muddy gravel.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HASTINGS?! LIVE UP TO YOUR GOD DAMN NAME!" the sergeant ahead began screeching into the man's ear, even as the man got up.

Stopping to help wasn't exactly encouraged.

Exactly how it would be in a combat situation.

Don't stop to help the guy on the ground, not before you're safe at least. It would put you and everyone else at risk and instead of one mournful family having to suffer the loss of a son or a father, two or more would be delivered the stars and stripes folded up and be made to grieve in the same way.

Really not like the Hollywood types like to sell it… damn it all.

…

He winced in his sleep, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

He was in a misty field or room? It was hard to tell given how dark it was. He wasn't sure where the light letting him see ahead of him was coming from, but he began probing around in the mist.

"Hello?" he called.

No reply.

Great…

He shoved a hand in his pocket, noting that he did in fact have pockets, albeit empty ones, and walked onward.

Looking around he began to notice structures around him.

They looked old, but familiar.

He kept walking on, feeling the ground beneath him was a mess of gravel.

He noticed then that they were shattered columns of some form, along shattered tombstones.

He noticed the pattern they were set on implied many bodies had been buried here, to the point that it reminded him of the World War 2 memorial in Normandy.

He slowed his steps and approached a tombstone, kneeling down to try and read its inscription.

He winced.

It was in that awful language the other worldly Romans used.

The name made no sense to him, but it clearly said "warrior" on it.

He stood up, now feeling genuinely concerned.

Then he heard the strangest and perhaps most frightening sound he had ever heard.

Off in the distance, a half laughing, half crying cackle was ringing through the ancient cemetery.

"Who's there?!" He demanded.

The maybe laughter maybe crying continued in the distance.

He didn't move, suddenly remembering.

Oh… right… this again.

He stayed in place, waiting for the dream to end.

The crying and laughing seemed to be combined into an almost indistinguishable cacophony that made it painful to listen to, but he knew he wouldn't find any answers no matter how much he searched.

He wasn't sure how long he remained there, waiting.

Certainly longer than a minute.

Then-

"Help... me…"

Dennis felt his eyes shoot open, the voice still in his mind.

The first signs of the early morning sun were beginning to reveal themselves, which undoubtedly meant that…

"On your feet!" the below from the sergeant woke him and all the men in the bunk with a start.

Another day...

Mess Hall

1747

"Had fun last night?"

Dennis turned his attention from picking at his noodles to one of the men that had come up to accompany him on the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Heard you rustling all over the bunk."

The 18 year old huffed in mild frustration.

"Had a bad dream…" he said flatly in a tone that essentially put the matter to rest.

"Oh… sorry, Den. What was it?"

"Ah, nothing really- always happens to be me, alone, in a cemetery, someone laughing and crying kinda like... how a clown does, you know? Circus ones?"

The blonde haired Ranger raised an eyebrow.

"You scared of clowns?"

Dennis shook his head.

"Nah, man, I just don't get why I keep having the same damn dream every now and again."

The other ranger huffed.

"Could mean something. My pa was always talking about dreams having meanings."

"He a shrink?"

"Naw, fortune teller. Ma made him promise not to bring that stuff up when I was a kid, not that he listened to her."

Dennis only frowned.

"Not that it matters. Maybe the training is getting to you. You're one of the smallest guys here."

The smallest guy there didn't mean to glance around at the other guys in the mess hall when the other man finished speaking, but he couldn't help it. He looked like a kid while everyone else there looked like they had hit their growth spurt sometime five years prior, even if they were mostly around the same age.

"I qualified." Dennis huffed the ever effective mantra that silenced what doubters there were.

"Barely. Come on, you look fifteen, it's kind of sad seeing you lug around all that gear every day. Makes me think of my kid brother back in-"

"Yeah, well… Army don't make mistakes… and you all need a translator once we go through that damned structure." He said, stuffing the very soggy Army noodles into his mouth to chew.

"That's true… wonder what it's like over there…"

"I wonder why Kennedy hasn't up and sent any scouting parties."

"Eh, something about waiting. Not like we have any hostages over there to rescue."

"Still, even if that guy accidentally rescued-"

"Oswald."

"Man, I don't care if his name was Pied Piper or Amelia Earhart, he was a commie that got martyred same as all the other Texans that day. And thanks to him we don't have an excuse to just barge in right away! The Army was an hour away at best, we could've rescued them, set up a secure perimeter and waited, instead we're going to face… what, barricades, catapults, wizards… whatever monster women those aliens have…"

"What do you think of them monster gals? I hear some are quite attractive."

A pause.

"Hastings, you some kind of pervert?" Dennis asked, eyes narrowing.

"Hey, I'm just repeating what I heard. Can't blame me for being a bit curious." The young man said, raising his hands in an "I surrender" fashion.

Dennis huffed, saying "Yeah, well, all you should be curious about is what resistance we might have to stomp out."

Then, as if receiving an epiphany, Dennis mumbled "Huh… maybe that's why I keep having the same…"

Hastings said "Actually, I wanted to ask just how different the other world is from what you've read."

"I think we both read the same newspapers."

"Yeah, but you have actual translations to study. Anything you can hint at?"

"Depends, what do you want to know?"

"Well, I'm curious about how many monster women exist over there."

Dennis stood up and gruffly replied "Stick to the newspapers."

List is way too long to discuss over chow even if I wanted to… God damned aliens…

Holy Hill of Alnus

Atilla observed the barricades with a look of weariness.

Nothing had even peered through in the last few months, and the men appeared bored, the orks, ogres, goblins and other demi-human warriors faring no better in spite of the harsh punishment for anyone lazing about.

They had prepared many catapults and ballistae, all trained on the gate, but nothing had appeared in for them to fire on.

Although Atilla wondered if it would work at all.

He turned to glance at his architects.

"So it cannot be done?" he asked them.

"We can enhance some of the cement needed to reinforce it, but what you are asking for would take years to accomplish.

The blueprints on the table in the command center showed a large coliseum that would have no exits or entrances, only spots for archers to attack the invaders from on high and little room for the invaders to move about.

Atilla wanted to take away any and all advantage from the enemy.

He already had the number's advantage, and the fact the Gate was the only way for the enemy to arrive meant that they could only come through a few at a time.

A perfect chokepoint to focus all attacks on.

How much better would it be to fight them from the high ground?

"Better get to it. At least completely seal that entrance…"

"Yes, but… General, given the lack of attacks-"

"Did the emperor not send more supplies?"

"He has, but he is considering relocating-"

Atilla slammed a fist on the table.

He sent my architects to tell me this?! He couldn't even write an order?!

"He did send a scroll with instructions."

"Thank you… Get to work." He ordered taking the piece of parchment.

He read it over.

"Relocate two of your legions south to protect our borders… sending request to the Allied Kingdoms to supplement and reinforce your legions…" he read aloud.

He would lack 12,000 men, but if the Allied Kingdoms came in force…

His force, already 100,000 strong, could jump to 300,000 with great ease.

He looked around at the fields surrounding the holy hill before turning to continue reading the parchment.

"Before the force arrives send… what?!"

He re-read the order.

He looked at the Gate and back at the parchment, worry lining his still young features.

"Legionnaire Aaron!"

An older man walked into the tent.

"I need to know who are your worst two men."

The man paused, but before he could ask another question, Atilla added "I am talking about the kind of men who you would not miss if they died on a suicide mission."

"Ah… well, general… they would be…"

…

Mudra and Kurasta were, by all definitions, not the men for a mission like this one.

Oh certainly, they were not children of nobles, and of course, they lacked all sorts of discipline, even for junior officers!

But as the pair marched, torches in hand, down the oppressive darkness that lay within the Gate, the only other source of light being the entrance already far behind them, they couldn't help but mutter that odds were, their commander wanted them dead.

One hand on their torch, one hand on their blade, they advanced little by little.

"They said it would be night time on the other side, yes?" Kurasta asked as quietly as he could.

"That's what they said…"

It was night back in the opposite direction, but there was a bright half-moon lighting the world, and they worried this nightmare world on the other end could be the same.

Step by step, as quietly as possible, they advanced.

It was a strange place, the interior of the Gate, absolutely no light, absolutely no sense of direction except back and forth.

To the sides there was nothing, nothing at all but eternal darkness.

"What if we run in the other direction? Maybe it will lead us to a safer world…" Mudra mumbled.

Kurasta quickly said "Or it would lead us somewhere mountain sized giants rule the world. Let's just… go in and out…"

They were almost to the other side when both soldiers paused.

They seemed to blink in confusion for a moment before continuing to make their way forward.

They reached the exit and stared at it.

It was locked.

Mudra touched the wall in front of them while Kurasta illuminated it.

"Iron… cold, too… this has been here a while."

Kurasta pushed on it.

"It's solidly put in place…"

The two men glanced at each other.

After a moment they both began to laugh, almost maniacally. Yes, partly because they couldn't go out and do the mission, but because in their minds, the sealed up structure was clear evidence of a now undisputable fact.

"They're afraid!"

Fort Benning, Georgia

January 22nd, 1964

Running had not really become any easier than when he first started and now… at least, not any less annoying.

Up and down the hills and dales, through the creeks and mud, bent joints, dirty ground, screaming sergeant; same misery, different week.

Granted, this was week 8 of 8, meaning pretty soon he would have the very desirable title of "United States Army Ranger".

Amongst the grunts as the group continued down the same trial, only slightly shorter than the rest, he felt that he was doing… well.

The back of his mind was still on those damned nightmares he kept having.

It wasn't every night, sure, but still.

The thought almost made him miss a step and trip over a particularly loose section of trail.

He corrected himself, his only slightly shorter size made it so that the sergeant didn't notice some of his easily correctible screw ups amongst plenty of proud men who were larger in width… at least that's what he thought.

The run ended, the men began to unwind and put away the gear they had carried most of the day.

Dennis froze as he began placing his rifle away, an Army officer staring directly at him.

He quickly began to straighten up, but before he could do anything the man walked over and said "At ease, son…"

He nodded, keeping his breathing under control.

"Son, there's no easy way to say this, but the miner's kept writing and… well, some of them know the right people. Your mother is sick, son."

He winced at the statement.

"H-how sick, sir?" he asked feeling an odd sense of numbness, as if the weight of the statement hadn't quite hit him yet.

"Found her collapsed in her room last week, she refused to go to the doctor, but she's been very weak if the last call was any indication and when she did go-"

"Wait, she's-?"

"It's too late is what I'm saying. Doctor friend of theirs, gave her a few days at most, she has an inoperable tumor that had been growing for months. Now look, you've completed essentially all the tasks necessary to finish the Ranger course, we could make an exception and let you go and… if you're lucky, spend some final hours with her."

He glanced at the men now eyeing him from a distance, none making eye contact, none saying anything.

"That wouldn't be fair…" Dennis muttered.

"No, it wouldn't, we consider your knowledge of the local tongue valuable enough to let this go, however. We need people like you in the 75th, and right now they are in short supply. You being guilt ridden by not visiting your dying mother isn't going to help us."

The 18-year-old sagged ever so slightly.

"Get that gear taken care of and pack your bags. Maybe she'll still be alive when you get there."

Dennis only nodded.

He felt a few pats on the back as he moved to put away his gear.

And yet, to the confusion on his mind, despite feeling them, he somehow didn't feel them. Nor did he hear the words spoken by his fellow soldiers, trying to give him some consolation.

He felt suddenly farther away from people than ever before.

Technically he had finished ranger training… technically… he hadn't faltered where others had, certainly, but…

We need people like you in the 75th, and right now they are in short supply.

As he placed his M16 rifle in its rack, he could only think about how alone he truly was all of a sudden.

Imperial Capital

Atilla grit his teeth as silently as he could while the two men who were supposed to be dead happily told the emperor what they had seen.

It had been well over a week since they had quickly returned from their short "expedition" with the gleeful message that the enemy from beyond the gate was… "Afraid". Atilla had over seen the quick construction of several reinforced beams to add to the iron door that sealed the exit to the strange land of deadly mages.

But the time to report to the emperor had inevitably come, and now…

And now, the two men he had hoped were turned into mush in their attempt at reconnaissance were happily telling his majesty how "afraid" the enemy was.

Afraid! They likely only sealed the entrance to prevent us from managing reconnisance!

"And this door… it is… sealed?"

"Yes, emperor, we tried bashing it down with our blades. Whatever they constructed it with is thick and sturdy. I would estimate an arm's length worth of thick iron at the least. We also sealed it from our end just in case the cowards get any ideas, they'll find the door just as sealed!"

With wooden beams, you buffoon!

The Emperor glanced at Atilla.

"So… the enemy did your job for you and sealed the Gate themselves… why would that be?"

Before Atilla could answer, a more than happy prince Zorzal declared "Clearly they are afraid! Perhaps they fought off the first wave, but given how desperate they seemed to be to keep our valiant armies out, I think all you have succeeded in doing, general, is allowing the enemy to deprive us of our well-deserved land!

The Emperor lifted a hand and Zorzal seemed to take a step back.

"Bluntness of the statement aside… The point has some merit, does it not?"

Atilla quickly said "That may be, but they were able to seal the gate with ease while we are still struggling to create as effective a barricade. I see no reason to believe they may not try and attack us sooner or later."

The red headed princess spoke then.

"Perhaps we should take this opportunity to try and negotiate. We did our damage, they did theirs… the Gate is not going anywhere, so why not try and converse? Perhaps they are indeed afraid and could be assured we did not intend their destruction."

Speak for yourself, princess… we specifically targeted civilians because the destruction WAS intentional!

The Emperor simply said "We need the legions elsewhere, Atilla… there have been some uprisings in the south due to the news of our retreat several months ago. I understand the allied Kingdoms have arrived with their armies?"

"Ten thousand men, sir, they claim more are on the way to reinforce my legions."

"General, say we take five of your legions, leave you enough men to keep the demi-humans under control, and leave you with full command of the allied auxiliary force as well as their future reinforcements… could you defend the Holy Hill with it? I am of course willing to lob some heads and have the allied kingdoms bring you half of their standing armies each."

Atilla calculated the number in his head.

Even if he takes all but one of my legions, it would still leave me with over 300,000 men… much more than what I have now… granted, it would take time to move them and the materials there but…

"It would be possible, and with that many men I daresay that we could even build the wall around it before the end of the year."

The Emperor nodded slowly, satisfied with the response.

"Good. Then we shall redirect our forces, play the allied armies assisting us as a show of solidarity… and hopefully the enemy will not choose to strike back in the time being."

"I will do all I can to make sure of that."

Washington D.C, United States of America

February 1st, 1964

"Rob, this isn't a retreat." the president of the United States sighed.

"Sure as hell feels like one, mister president, I don't plan on lying about it." The secretary of defense said in a sort of silent fury that characterized so many military men who disagreed with their superiors.

"And we appreciate you for it, but is now really the time?" the vice president added.

"I've said my peace. That is all." the older man said.

"Good… that's good… so let's begin! We can leave the election stuff for later, the main deal right now, gentlemen, is that thing in Dallas!"

"It's not going away..." the vice president said.

"And destroying it isn't an option…" the secretary of state said.

"Mayor and governor said they were on board with whatever plan we came up with. We could just bomb it to oblivion."

"And then what? Let the Russians have a go at it should it show up in the middle of Siberia? What if it appears in some NKVD controlled part of-?"

"Rob, we aren't going to destroy it… and let's not bring up Nam right now, alright… I don't like giving the communists the possibility of having the country, but you read the same reports I did, if we want to contain it then we should focus on making sure it doesn't get out of Indo-China, so fighting a war in Vietnam would only work against us."

The Secretary of Defense simply nodded once more, even if he hated the idea that the entire region of Indo-China was to fall to communism.

"So… Bobby… you said Congress was…"

The Attorney General closed the portfolio he was reading and simply said "Midterms gave us several supporters in congress, across party lines even… we have been focusing on easing relations with the reds, bringing our boys home, but not so much giving up ground on the current fight against communism…"

The president nodded.

"…that said, invading the land beyond the Gate may prove unpopular. It's been almost four months, and we've been too busy with other issues to keep the public riled up. Sure, a reminder of the attack would work, the… Saderan Empire has failed to actually communicate and is technically in a state of war with the United States… we have given them ample time to communicate, but aside from an incident earlier this week where a guard allegedly heard banging on the door, no attempt at communication has been made and… fair enough, we haven't sent anyone beyond a few people to check the other end, which… well… is fortified and barricaded by wooden fences and a few iron bars."

The president looked at his cabinet members.

"Britain and France were at war with Germany for many months before actual fighting started in World War 2… I say we've waited long enough. This enemy appeared on our doorstep, killed our people, tried to enslave some of them… by God, if not for Mister Oswald saving them we would have had to send in an invasion force immediately to rescue our people! It would be a disorganized mess!"

"Speaking of…"

All eyes turned to the Secretary of State.

The man laid back on his seat before reading from the paper.

"Our allies back us… for the most part. Vested interest in the land beyond this gate aside, the British and French don't have the money for another war, Australia and South Korea on the other hand have been very open about sending troops to assist us."

"South Korea?" someone, the president wasn't sure who, asked.

"Oh, they wish to help us in protecting capitalist interest in South Vietnam… they certainly have their interests as well, and with us already pulling some troops out of there…"

"Huh… they could help strengthen our forces that remain in case the South chooses to…"

The president smiled slightly.

"So congress backs us, our allies are backing us, our enemies are appeased for the moment but not victorious… all that is left is the plan to destroy Sadera."

"We have several battalions of M48 Patton tanks ready as of today, and several of our boys have been learning the language and trained to act as translators. Our prisoners have helped us draw up a map which…"

An assistant of the secretary of defense placed a small map on the table.

The president and his cabinet stared at it.

"The Gate opens up on a hill surrounded by other hills… if our enemy is smart, they would have this whole area heavily fortified and defended. It's a chokepoint, no getting around that, so all we can do is send in armored battalions and break their lines immediately… then flood in men and materiel in order to quickly establish a base of operations."

"Aerial supremacy has to be established immediately, those dragons can't spit fire but they ate some of our people without a second thought." The president muttered.

"We have many options for anti-air defenses. We can attach them to the M113s, our boys will likely not even have to step out of their tanks until the enemy is dealt with, but if they do, and more dragons show up, there are heavier guns we could already pack up and send in."

"Could they get swarmed?" the president suggested.

"Given NATO doctrine? Unlikely, but in that case, all they need to do is radio for reinforcements and stay buttoned up. Swords or not, you can't just claw your way into a tank. Even the old Pershing tanks were essentially bunkers on caterpillar tracks."

The president only responded with an affirmative nod.

"Once the main FOB is established, we will begin pushing onward, specifically to this target, right here."

The secretary pointed to a drawing of a square in the map.

"The Trading City of Italica?" the president asked.

"It is exactly what the title suggests: a trading hub, almost the center of commerce for the empire, rivaled by, perhaps, the capital itself. We take that, we have the jumping off point to the main show…"

The capital was symbolized by a larger circle, red ink marking small X shaped crosses on a few key areas within the large circle.

The president asked "Bombing campaign?"

"Preferably limited. Preferably they surrender once we go through. Preferably they don't make us kill them all. Preferably they use their mumbo jumbo knowledge of the dark arts to go back in time and never attack us to begin with."

"Preferably…" the president half chuckled.

"It is worth mentioning that the urban combat we saw in Dallas demonstrated that the enemy is formidable. Our boys had to resort to room to room fighting on more than one occasion. It would be best to avoid that quagmire and just bomb them into submission once we get the air wings through."

"Maybe… or maybe we can get some actual supporters along the way."

"Well, this plan assumes they are all hostile and out to fight to the death, similar to Hirohito, only more archaic and sloppy. Presumably, some would side with us, which is why Special Forces are going to become vital to main push."

"How are the interpreters working out?" the president asked.

The Secretary of Defense pursed his lips before simply saying "Our guys are picking up their language pretty well… we have one or two captured soldiers that are speaking English to a… acceptable degree. That said, we're probably going to have to be doing most of the interpreting."

The president frowned.

"I don't want any dead civilians because one of our boys thought they were threatening him…"

"That's why we are planning on sending long ranged Special Forces out first. Even with this map, we have very little idea of what awaits us in the lands between Italica and the capital… hell, even the details on the land between the hill and Italica aren't very clear… a lot of the men mentioned there was an… elven village somewhere in this area…" he said, waving an arm around a forested zone simply labeled "undeveloped".

"But other than that, there are only a few small villages that the soldiers know of, and some aren't even sure of the exact area they are located in, so we'll have to slog our way through and try to reach this Italica as soon as possible."

The president nodded.

"How soon can we ship out?"

March 16th, 1964

Georgia, United States of America

Dennis stared at himself in the mirror.

The house was empty now.

There were no plates left to clean.

There were no customers to serve.

No mouths to feed.

No parents to return to.

He exited walked down the stairs, making sure all the lights were off as he did.

Once downstairs, he grabbed the keys to the front door.

He had already double-checked the backdoors and windows.

Locked, at least… locked until he came back.

If I come back…

He took one last glance at the only family picture in the home, his father in his Army uniform, his mother holding him as a baby and waving to the camera… he walked past it and towards the door.

Dennis stepped outside and turned to lock the door when footsteps behind him caught his attention.

"Dennis." The voice he recognized belonged to Mister Jones.

"Mister Jones, can I help you?" he asked, locking the door and turning around to face the man.

The old miner furrowed his brow, before saying "She was a good woman, I'm sure she wanted you to be happy, but…"

Dennis said nothing.

He knew what was coming.

He was too tired to really fight it.

"Look… our boys are heading out, too… looks like… looks like it's you kids' turn to fight a war… same as us, same as your grandparents…"

Dennis did not reply, taking note of the resentful tone in the man's voice.

"I…uh… I tried to convince them to stay… we could hide them in the basement, claim we didn't see them… wait for the draft to end… don't suppose I could convince you to talk to them?"

Dennis knew he didn't have to answer a question so obvious, more concerned with the tone the man was taking with him. The words were apparently that of a concerned parent, and yet…

"Listen… Dennis… when my cousin signed up at 16 to fight the Nazis he was actually fighting for his country, but this… this is just Korea all over again! Son, we are no longer fighting for our country, we are fighting for the interests of politicians! Do you really think your mother would want you to-?"

"You actually believe that, Mister Jones?" Dennis breathed, too tired to really argue.

"I only believe it 'cause it's true!"

Dennis stepped off the porch and walked over to the older man who spoke again, now the "concerned parent" look vanished and he seemed to be genuinely, desperately, trying to convince the young Ranger of something.

"Look… This ain't World War 2. You're just… fighting a bunch of people for their land and resources. No different than what they tried to do to us!"

The young man had no real answers to give.