1. Chapter 1(2)

But what would that change about the argument?

Instead, he spoke slowly, uncaring if his thoughts hurt the man or not.

"Mister Jones, I haven't seen any real combat yet. Some of the guys coming from Nam have, sure, random skirmishes last I heard, but we're pulling out of there for the most part. Got a couple of vets in the regiment, Korea, heard there's still some vets from World War 2 in the Army somewhere… I don't know. Haven't met 'em, but… none of them… talk like you." he said, finishing with a tired sigh.

Now Mister Jones said nothing, the obviously fake look of confusion managed to rile up some degree of fury from the 18-year-old.

Dennis very simply said "My pa didn't die so that I could turn tail between my legs when I get told that it's my turn to pick up a gun and go pursue our enemies."

He wanted to say so much more, let the anger out and point out that they had been attacked without provocation, they had been the one to lose whole families to teeth and blades not of this earth, they had been the ones wronged, not the other way around!

And who the hell was this coward telling him what combat was like when the old man hadn't seen any combat?!

What the hell did he know?!

He didn't say any of that, simply pushing the anger down with all his grief.

"Your pa died so that you wouldn't have to go out and follow in his place! Son, your pa paid the ultimate price, you don't have to go and do the same!" the man replied, a hint of anger in the voice… only a hint.

Dennis went quiet.

There really wasn't much he could say.

His mind was made up, and that was that.

"The job isn't done… I hope my kids don't have to do this, but if the need arises, I hope they pick up the gun same as me… I'm not abandoning the guys in the 75th." He sighed once more.

A part of him genuinely hoped the old man understood, that there could be some solidarity between them as he left to fight.

Instead, the man quickly said "Oh, but you abandoned your mother just fine."

The poison behind the words actually struck the young man harder than a slap to the face or the insults of a drill sergeant.

"What the hell did you say?"

"You heard me, boy. I don't know why you're turning your back on everyone, I won't pretend to understand, but you put your country over your own mother and look what happened! Just trust me when I tell you that you will only lose more even if we win. You ever wake up in the middle of the night screaming, with the same feeling you get when you're about to die? Out here you don't hear them, sure… but go and stay in a hotel in Atlanta or Savannah and you'll hear them. Night terrors, Japs, krouts, or Reds coming to get you in the night… the boys that went out and their bodies came back but they didn't… not truly… their minds stay there and yours will too!"

Dennis clenched his teeth and in a low tone said "A cowardly little communist like you probably would know a lot about that wouldn't he?"

Whether the man was actually a communist or not was irrelevant to the recently graduated US Army Ranger. Those were not pro-American talking points, and if they were anything to go by, they were extremely similar to what a certain politburo liked to spout.

"Telling you, son… you'll lose it all and gain nothing, and out here… no one will hear you screaming for help. Is that what you want to do with all your parents did for you? Is this how you repay them?!"

He wanted to argue.

He wanted to sock the guy in the neck and let him suffocate on his own throat.

He wanted to scream every obscenity he had heard the guys spout and direct them at the old man who had turned as vicious as his sergeant in such a short time.

Instead he swallowed the anger, sidestepped around him, and quietly said "Good day, Mister Jones."

He didn't bother to look back as he walked to the bus stop.

March 22nd, 1964

Dallas, Texas, United States of America

7:00 AM

Invasion Day

The American city was gleaming with excitement, much more than what had been just five months earlier.

It almost felt like a throwback to the previous decade, as news crews filmed the jubilant crowds, as salesmen made a killing on soda and coffee… no alcohol was being sold that day.

Mixing intoxicating drinks with the millions in taxpayers money worth of destructive weapons wasn't a recipe for anything other than disaster, much to the dismay of several Marines that would be going along with the mostly Army contingent.

Dennis looked on with a look of melancholy.

The small mural painted for the victims of the attack, the restructuring of the nearby area to secure the Dealey Plaza and connect the main roads so that a third one entered directly into the sealed up structure, the contrast of the happy crowds of civilians and soldiers and the dangerous weapons of war all neatly lined up to enter the fight and get first blood in what would, by all accounts, be the very first interplanetary war.

Perhaps even inter-universal if some theories held any truth.

But in spite of all that, the Ranger didn't feel much of anything.

His brothers in arm were behind him, at least one of them was getting filmed by a cameraman, an older reporter he didn't recognize asking questions he could just faintly overhear.

"Do you feel confident you can beat back whatever force awaits you?"

"Aw, shucks! I got my M14 just for that! And even if there's something this baby can't handle; the Patton tanks have ninety-millimeter cannons for a main gun! Know anything that can stand up to that?"

"Russian armor?" another voice cut in.

"Not a chance, chief! Hey, get outta here, traitor! You're stealing my minute of fame!"

Dennis glanced at the men for a second, well… kids, more like it. They were joking around, taking cigarettes, drinks, and whatever the girls were offering. He saw one guy get kissed on the cheek by three different girls who looked suspiciously alike to the point that he began wondering if they were identical triplets. He saw another guy, older than him, just walk up and kiss a random girl full on the lips before running off, leaving what was clearly a schoolgirl in a very flustered and perhaps disturbed state of mind as she pointed at the soldier who was running off before several other girls, similar in age began to laugh with her.

A random girl gave him the brightest smile he had ever gotten from anyone not his mother and he waved back, although not really smiling.

An older man, walking with a cooler and several liters of cola walked by him, handing him a nice and cold bottle of soda.

He took it, forcing a smile.

"Godspeed, soldier! Teach 'em how we southerners treat ruffians like them!" the man said.

Dennis' smile became slightly more genuine.

Strangely enough, he felt that the support he was seeing from the crowds was proving his doubts to be false.

And yet…

The order to attention suddenly began ringing through several speakers set up in the area.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the sky…"

Dennis began to sip on the still cold bottle of soda as he turned to the sound of the approaching helicopter.

Huh… Marine One…

The Sikorsky H 34 landed in an area almost in the center of the plaza, right next to the structure shrouded in mystery.

As its doors opened, the youngest president in United States history stepped out, his wife and several secret service agents following. The crowd cheering as he set foot on the Texan soil once more.

He waved to the crowd with a warm smile that Dennis wished he could replicate despite his mostly indifferent attitude towards the politician.

The man quickly walked up the steps to a podium, his attention never changing from the cheering crowds, while the soldiers began to properly get into formation.

The cameras began to roll.

The crowd settled down.

The soldiers remained at a strict attention.

His smile never fading, the American leader began his speech.

"Good morning, fellow citizens… Five months ago to the day, our country was attacked by forces not of this earth. Instead of large war machines that overwhelmed everything we threw at them, we were faced by spears, swords, bows, and other archaic weapons of war that do not compare to the destruction wrought by modern weapons. A weapon, however, is still a weapon, and three hundred and twenty-three Americans were killed with these archaic arms in the opening hours of this attack on our wonderful city. Over three hundred Men, women- fathers and mothers like many here… and at least twenty-three of the youngest sons and daughters in our nation were snuffed out with the swing of the blade. Our armed forces, with help from the Dallas Police Department and armed citizens bravely pushed back the enemy through the structure they came through and eradicated all resistance that could not escape in time."

The president turned around briefly to point at the cement and steel dome surrounding the Gate, still sealed up.

"Now, for the past five months we have been preparing, hoping that perhaps the gross attack on our citizens was a mistake, praying that the forces that ruled this… other world… decided to open talks or negotiations. That has not happened."

At that statement, Dennis felt rage begin to bubble up.

If nothing else, he could begin to think that slaughtering the child killing enemy would at the very least be palatable even to his late mother.

"And so… with support from both parties, our allies, and with great efforts from our diplomats, we begin this endeavor, not just to avenge those we lost and gain new lands, but to hopefully connect two worlds through the greatest ideals this world has ever known. We will teach the enemy the American way, the value of individual rights, individual God given rights, the importance of guaranteeing them, and as evidence, our powerful armies will show them how it is these ideals, these values… that have made us not only the most powerful, most rich, most influential nation in the history of the world… but the greatest nation to ever be conceived on this world."

Cheers erupted and the president paused for a moment before continuing to speak, only much louder.

"We choose… and many of you may find this phrase familiar… we choose to continue our fight for liberty and justice for all. We choose to continue our ongoing struggle against communism. We choose to push forward into the unknown. We choose this fight, not because it is easy, not even because it is our duty or moral obligation, but because it is hard… and we know that we are the only ones who can actually accomplish this task. And. We. Will!"

More cheers.

Dennis and his brothers in arms remained at a strict attention, although some remained with a mix between a confident smirk and nervous smile on their young faces.

He rolled his eyes.

Reelection campaign... bet this'll push his numbers through the roof. Whatever...

NCOs began reviewing the final orders.

No expenses had been spared.

No quarter was to be given.

Victory was to be achieved at any cost.

Amongst the men, Dennis overheard at least one officer, perhaps a lieutenant say "Fill your heart with hate. These people met us with that much, let's return the favor."

He checked his M16; glancing as another Ranger inserted a fresh magazine into his M14.

A part of him wondered if the M14 would prove better, but he set that aside. He had grown fond of his M16 in training, even if it was much lighter than anyone could expect.

As he followed the men into the M113 troop transports, the door began to be pulled open.

The M48 Patton tanks stood at the still sealed entranced to the Gate, ready.

Dennis only saw their engines roar to life as he ducked into the M113 and took a deep breath.

A part of him was nervous.

Another part of him was excited as hell.

The order to advance came over the radio, and after a moment he felt the APC begin to move forward.

One of the men said "You think they got witches and stuff over there? Think they'll turn us into frogs?"

Another Ranger, a black man, Dennis could tell by the voice, simply said "Not much good it'll do against the amount of lead we're packing. Honestly, I'm more curious about the gals we might meet on the other end."

Dennis huffed at that despite some of the guys began to chuckle excitedly.

"What's-a-matter, silent Dan? I think we're all looking forward to the gals we might meet on the other end. Personally, I'm quite curious about this strange race of Amazonian beauties I heard may exist over there."

"Miscegenation cases, the lot of you!" He barked back over the engines, finally unable to contain the grin.

This… this felt genuine.

"Actually, I'm from Indiana. Law about it got repealed a decade ago."

"You heard him! Whatever girl we find, we move to Indiana to cohabitate!" Dennis called as the M113 began to enter the Gate.

"Yeah! Let's give a cheer for Indiana!" the black Ranger called.

The men gave a childish but wholehearted whoop as the sun disappeared and the darkness of the Gate overtook the interior of the vehicle.

They had exited their world and began to enter another.

Holy Hill of Alnus

Dawn

Atilla couldn't sleep despite his exhaustion.

The sense of impending disaster was striking at his nerves now more than ever.

Soon… the attack will come soon.

They had added more barricades to the other side of the gate, placing massive wooden poles to try to keep the doors from opening.

His men had also begun digging the foundations for a large wall they planned to finally begin constructing.

He had thousands, four thousand almost finished with the foundations, he had ten thousand other men surrounding the Gate with hundreds of orcs and goblins guarding the very entrance of it. Not too far behind was the large contingency of cavalry and artillery forces, and behind them were the hundred thousand men in reserve to relieve the army should they be overwhelmed.

It was more than any competent general could do, but he knew that they were arguably at their most vulnerable still.

As long as they could stop their main forces in that entrance, the enemy would be unable to bring the flying machines that cut his dragon riders down like nothing. His own dragon fighters were preparing for their daily fly-by from the nearby mountains even as he considered this. They would attack enemy infantry if his own was unable to reach them.

A sound strategy…

Surely without the flying machines the enemy could not touch the fliers. Their thick scaly skin was immune to most sword strikes, and only carefully targeted piercing stabs under their iron like scales would hurt them, let alone land a killing blow.

Surely, their magic wasn't enough.

He scoffed at his own confidence, a sad attempt at keeping himself from thinking there was nothing he could actually do. Even with the help of a few wizards, a part of him knew they were woefully outmatched, even with the eventual arrival of more troops from the allied armies. More numbers meant little if their weapons couldn't strike down their enemy.

The large iron chariots that could not be pierced by mere sword or lance… those were another problem on their own! Perhaps the catapults could do some damage if concentrated well enough. Perhaps the pair of tar pits they had dug in front of the entrance that could be set alight upon his command would do some damage? They weren't that deep, the foundations around the gate being far deeper, but to fill them with flammable liquid wasn't an option yet.

He was pondering this and wondering if what countermeasures he had come up with would be enough when loud, awful cracks were heard across the camp.

The horn sounded then.

A call to action, the orcs placed as guards at the entrance would sound off only if they heard the massive beams holding the door back fall away, and Atilla had heard it himself there and then.

As the orcs began to pull back to a less dangerous position, Atilla immediately picked up his helmet, the purple crest ensuring he would be easy to identify as a general had been removed, preferring to keep his small purple cape instead as it was smaller, but easier for his own men to identify.

No need to give the enemy a target.

"To the lines! The enemy is on its way! Ready the catapults!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, his officers responding gallantly as they ran to their posts, legionnaires began to position themselves to halt any advancing force, human or otherwise.

Ballistae were loaded with the heaviest spears they could carry, and the heaviest rocks his catapults could launch were set and ready, with others on standby to reload as best they could.

The archers on the nearby hills he could see were in place.

"The cavalry is in place?" he questioned.

An officer from the allied armies simply said in an accent that was somewhat difficult to understand "Aye."

"Excellent. Messenger!"

The man was already running to his horse, the scroll with the letter he had written since he returned in his hand. It was supposed to be the main warning to the emperor. Depending on the course of the battle, a second messenger would be dispatched.

He rode off at top speeds and Atilla turned his attention to the cursed gate.

The wooden barricades, supported by iron rods began to bend and give way, something slowly becoming visible in the darkness behind it.

It was slow, and it appeared that the barricade might actually hold it in place long enough for some of the goblins and their fire sorcery to begin attacking.

It was sudden.

The barricade snapped, and the beast came in full view, crushing everything under it.

A large… green… iron… elephant…

Two of them!

Fire emitted from their trunks and he saw hellfire swallow a group of orcs huddling in one of the nearby ditches he had ordered they dig.

"Now! Light the flames!"

The archers fired several fire arrows; enhanced by magic to last and burn hotter than anything they could muster, keeping the flames burning as they flew to their targets.

They glided neatly in the air, quickly approaching, not the war elephants, but the pits next to them.

They hit.

Fire engulfed the entire area around the gate, the iron beasts seemingly pausing in place before simply pushing through, as if the fire had briefly stunned them. They perched up on the very edge of the hill, slowing down as they did.

"The enemy is slowing down its advance!" the allied officer exclaimed.

"Excellent! Let the catapults loose, now!"

The rope holding the wooden weapons back was cut, releasing their deadly payload, the large stones being launched were the artillery of old, heavy and deadly, victor of countless battles.

Some landed around the war elephants that had advanced through the flames like nothing, the speed and weight adding in the devastation, lifting stone and rock, shattering as they did so.

The Iron elephants were seemingly to not care as they inched forward.

One of them angled itself near a ridge.

The orcs hiding only feet ahead already knew their role and charged forward.

Atilla noted that behind the war elephants were more, slowly pushing forward.

An orc jumped onto the war elephant, attempting to stab its trunk, the blade causing sparks to emit from the ironed beast.

The orc was cut down immediately by the death being spit by the other elephants.

There were six of them now, and he could see more on the way.

They each lined up one at a time and began firing death down the hill.

Heavy rocks fell around them, some directly slamming into them.

If the beasts were damaged or not appeared pointless as their fiery breath and deadly weapons were still operational, keeping his forces pinned, unable to charge or push forward.

Atilla froze.

More still came forward.

This really is the nightmare I expected…

The fire burning around the gate had created a neat little moat… but it was too small.

Combined with the unceasing strikes from the capitals, any human army would be stopped, certainly, but these creatures, these war elephants were taking the hits with vigor unseen anywhere in the land.

The orcs attempting to pierce their way into the tanks were being slaughtered, both by the enemy weapons as well as the boulders being dropped from the catapult strikes.

He could tell they were getting desperate, unable to even dent the frontal armor, they had abandoned cover and attempted to climb on the elephants to look for a weakness.

Atilla saw one of the war elephants seemingly lift an… ear? On the top of its head?

No, a hatch!

A man appeared and with impressive magic, blew the orc away with a wand, the poor creature landing dead on the ground.

The man cowardly retreated back into the elephant, sealing the hatch.

Damned war machines…

Their fire hadn't ceased, and the enemy was only holding a ridge, and despite the ranged artillery landed and occasionally scoring direct hits, they were still killing form a distance with such ease it disturbed Atilla.

The general saw men that hadn't even moved to charge get blown to bits by the constant attacks, as the war machines ran out of targets that were out in the open and began firing at anything that moved.

Then a catapult erupted into flames and smoke.

Damn! They saw the-

A second one exploded, the men around it simply scattering away… those that could, anyway.

No, the horrifying truth was that those not untouched were torn to shreds still alive.

A horrifying death, albeit a quick one.

Death continued to spread through the field like a wildfire, the men pinned in the ditches unable to charge, those that tried were cut down and those that remained were blown to ashes as the war elephants continued firing.

H-how easy can these men murder? What sort of monsters did we declare war on?

Across the field, he saw more iron chariots, albeit not the iron elephants… these were smaller, albeit similar.

They hid behind the elephants, which now numbered sixteen in number.

He then realized what they were.

Troop transports!

"ARCHERS!" he shouted again over the sound of another explosion.

Waves upon waves of arches fired into the air, briefly blocking out the rising sun.

…

"God damn it! Shoot back!" someone shouted and the entire company of M113 troop carriers began lighting up the hills in the distance with gunfire from their M2HB .50 caliber machine guns.

Dennis wasn't sure at what until he heard the arrowheads slam into the transport.

The gunner had ducked inside, a piece of wooden fire bumped the edge and fell into the vehicle.

A soldier stomped the fire out quickly.

"Tanks are taking the brunt of it. We have two Pattons disabled by the rocks they threw at us… Going to press forward and knock 'em out!" The radio crackled.

"Copy, infantry will follow behind. Let's clear this rock!"

Dennis yelled "Hoo-ah!" along with the men.

He verified the fresh magazine before placing it back onto his M16 and took another shaky breath, adjusting his helmet, noticing several others do the same.

Despite the adrenaline he still felt the fear over the excitement.

More arrows could be heard above, but then an explosion sounded off and the arrows simply stopped falling.

"Go!" the driver yelled.

"Let's go, Rangers!" his officer shouted as the door fell open and the Americans piled out into the smoke field battlefield, the M113s releasing whole platoons onto the ground, the smoke from the flame filled hill behind them obscuring their movements slightly as the sons of the men who won the Second World War began forming a main line of defense as eight of the M48s charged forward into the line of bodies trying to stop them, crossing over the large pit with ease, the other eight tanks firing their .50 caliber machine guns at further targets.

The flame arrows met the glowing tracers for only a second as the tanks obliterated the grouping of archers on a nearby hill that were trying to aim for the infantry.

They ducked behind the pre-dug pit the Romans had seemingly done in a desperate attempt of slowing them down.

As soon as they did, they could see hostiles piling out of their little ditches, the M48 Patton tanks rolling over some and forcing others out into the open.

"Get that M60 over here now!"

Dennis ran past the guy carrying the multipurpose machine gun and ducked behind several rocks, M16 aimed forward, looking for a target, half expecting the enemy army to be charging at the now exposed American infantry.

Instead of simply running, though, some of the Romans actually tried cutting into the tanks, their swords hitting the powerful armor to little effect; desperate attempts at holding the ground under their feet were met with the uncaring unstoppable force of the tanks, meaning that they were ignoring the infantry behind such beasts of war.

Did they not see us unload?

"The hell we waiting for? Shoot those suckers!" someone yelled.

And they did.

5.56, 7.62, and 12.5-millimeter rounds flew down the hill, the bullets bouncing harmlessly when they hit a tank, but slaughtering everything else.

Dennis tried aiming for some of the monster looking soldiers, not seeing many he targeted a seemingly brave Roman that chose to charge at the American line instead of duck and cover.

He fell easily enough.

As did the next… and the next… and Dennis began to get nervous.

These men were falling by the dozens by the second.

Why the hell weren't they retreating?

Clearly several were smart enough to pull back or run away, he could see them despite the smoke from the tanks and guns.

"Oh Jesus Christ! Incoming!"

Dennis glanced up in time to see the 40 millimeter twin cannons on the M42 "Duster" open up, smoke and fire erupting into the air while the .50 caliber machine guns stuck on the nearby M113 shifted their aim to the sky, sending glowing tracers in the direction of several dozen winged dragons. He saw one of the creatures get cut in two, its rider either ceasing to exist or torn to the point his body was indistinguishable from the gore of the slain beast.

He couldn't help but grimace at the carnage that began to rain down into the battlefield. It wasn't anywhere near as close as the brass had feared!

The dragons, while certainly fast on their own, had no chance of sustaining concentrated fire of machine guns and AA guns.

Finally, one of the dragons landed between the main line and the infantry, its rider missing, and the beast bleeding out of its side; dying as the smaller rounds either uselessly slammed into it, or flew over it to reach the enemies in the distance. Dennis stared at it, stopping to reload his M16.

A real dragon…

He had seen them on TV and in pictures… but this? In person?

Another M113 opened up with its own improvised AA gun, less an automatic canon, more four high powered browning put together and firing at once.

To say they were being "chewed up" would be an understatement.

Some of the more intelligent riders saw the pattern of their dying comrades and attempted to evade, only for the 40-millimeter twin canons to lead it into the maws of browning .50 caliber machine guns. The same was occurring in reverse, with a few of the heavy machine guns utilizing their tracer rounds to lead the riders into the sights of 40 Millimeter guns.

It gave the infantry some distraction; sure, if they intended to retreat now was the time, the smoke of the burning field around the gate beginning to obscure vision.

The Romans had other plans, however.

…

Atilla couldn't believe the slaughter happening.

He had seen much, and even after telling himself he could not be ready for the attacking enemy from beyond the gate, never in his dreams had he seen army simply be mowed down like this.

As the fire continued to burn and the sun finally rose high into the sky, the wind briefly changed, and the smoke began to cover the enemy and his men.

He grit his teeth and whirled around, grabbing a quill and a piece of parchment.

He wrote a message down and grabbed the nearest pair of officers who were looking on in frozen horror as their men were cut down before they could even reach their enemy.

"You two! Take this to the capital! Emperor Molt must learn of this and we must plan accordingly if the empire is to survive! Ride!" he shouted.

The officers only nodded an affirmative before running to their horses.

Atilla grabbed his blade and marched to his own horse.

The officer of the Allied Kingdoms and asked "Is the cavalry still in place?!"

The man said nothing, simply nodded.

"Fine. Retreat if you wish. Only my men will die today. Make them pay dearly for our blood!"

The explosive sounds of the war elephants and the constant cracking of the wands intensified but General Atilla mounted his horse.

He patted the loyal beast gently, a reassurance they would ride to death together.

He waved to a soldier with a horn.

The man only nodded and sounded the call to charge.

They are but men! Not gods… certainly not gods…

The iron elephants were doing the same thing he was, but unlike his nimbler horses, his men would charge and strike at the weak spot, and hopefully score some kills.

"CHARGE!" he shouted.

…

"Jesus Christ…" the disbelieving breath came from nearby.

They had run past the first line of tanks at top speed, taking advantage of the smoke and not even bothering to attack the Pattons. Instead, the hundreds of horsemen were charging directly at their lines.

The second line of Pattons fired in unison, decimating the charging cavalry.

"Aim at the horses! Fire at the horses!" someone yelled.

Dennis heard his commander add "Affix Bayonets and assume kneeling position!"

Dennis shuddered but complied quickly, the action only taking a second.

"Bunch up! Bunch up! Stick close together!"

They had already been fairly close in the makeshift trench, but the men began to almost kneel shoulder to shoulder.

Almost as one, the variety of M14 battle rifles, M60 machine guns, and M16 assault rifles erupted as they hurled heated death down the battlefield towards the charging enemy.

The added fire from the Patton tanks and M113 troop carriers, the hastily placed heavy machine gun nests, and the fire and smoke raging behind them around the gate was too much for the horses.

Many fell immediately, the explosions, bullets, and simple impact of hitting the ground too hard after falling killing them immediately.

Others attempted to scatter to no avail, only making themselves a smaller target meant nothing when every inch of the reachable area was being riddled with bullets.

The few that began getting closer to the trench couldn't go further, the horses seeing the edges of the bayonets, realizing they were running towards a painful fate, they turned away at full gallop.

Not in retreat, simply another direction to try and find a way to whatever destination its rider wished to get to.

Attempting to correct the horse was a mistake and more Romans fell.

Not attempting to correct the horse was a mistake and more Romans fell.

The roar of gunfire became a screaming whirlwind of death as the men hit the floor after hearing it, their bodies sometimes left almost intact, and others simply ripped into unrecognizable pieces of human flesh.

Dennis didn't wince or pause at this.

He was facing an army of poorly armed killers, certainly, but killers, nonetheless.

They got within stabbing range and he would be dead same as any other man.

Dennis did wince, however, as some of the horses screamed, the rounds impacting them failing to kill them right away, leaving the poor creatures to suffer. He saw one of the Rangers, the guy from Indiana, turn his M16 on a fallen horse that was actively kicking at the air, screaming in pain, firing off several rounds and silencing it instantly.

The scene in front of him made him hesitate to keep firing for just a second, and then he winced when the order to cease fire was given before he could pull the trigger again.

And he winced when the smoke began to clear and the only living things in the battlefield were the American tanks and their crews, the men peering out at the remains of the routed army.

Even the grass beneath the bodies appeared to be drowning in blood.

Among the dead, a single purple cape, the red blood reflecting the rays of the newly risen sun.

Imperial Capital

Princess Pina awoke to the sound of the busy streets sounding far more chaotic than usual.

Moving quickly out of her bed, she walked to her balcony and froze, seeing many gathering near the entrance walls, the people appearing almost as ants from her position high above all of them.

Still, she could sense something was wrong, very wrong.

"Hamilton!"

Her loyal guard entered the room quickly.

"Yes, princess?" the young chestnut-haired girl asked.

"Have you heard anything about the commotion in the city?" she asked.

"No, your majesty, I'm afraid I haven't heard anything." the young knight said.

The girl was likely one of the younger member of the order of the Rose Knights, but already her skill had impressed one of her officers, an older man by the name of Gray and one of the few men in the mostly female ranks.

"Help me get dressed. Something has happened."

Instead of her ceremonial toga, or any royal line of clothes, she wore her "combat dress", which entailed a breastplate and a sword as well as steel boots and leg guards.

Princess Pina considered herself a soldier no different than the legions, even if her order was more of a security force than an actual army.

Still, they were soldiers, well trained, and something was telling her that something somewhere was very, very wrong, likely requiring her help sooner rather than later.

Hamilton followed her down the royal halls when they stumbled onto the sight of a General of the northern armies.

"General Tiberius! What is the word?" Pina asked.

The old man simply said "That's what I would like to know. My presence was requested and I arrived today to witness a defeated army, none willing to speak of what transpired!"

She winced at the statement.

Was he talking about…?

"The Imperial Army was defeated then. Are you going to speak to my father?"

"That is my intention and I believed he called me here for just that."

Several other officers walked past them, whispering amongst themselves.

"Something terrible has happened, that much I can tell you." The general said.

Pina stiffened slightly, but kept herself otherwise brave face as calm as possible.

They followed behind the officers, entering the main chamber when they were met by the grisly sight.

Two messengers stood before the emperor.

One was missing an arm, a bloody rag tied to keep him from bleeding out as several men tried tending to the wound.

"General Tiberius, good. Take them away, see to their wounds." Emperor Molt sighed in a tired, dispassionate tone.

At first Pina wondered what wounds the other messenger had, as he appeared unharmed; but as soon as the man turned, she saw his burnt skin and exposed teeth and bones.

Hamilton covered her mouth in shock and Pina attempted not to look intimidated by the sight of blood, but… truth be told, aside from a few mild accidents in training, she hadn't actually seen much blood, let alone wounds of that nature.

Both men were led away by several soldiers and trained healers, General Tiberius patted them on the shoulder as they left.

"Good men… Now, Emperor Molt, what is the situation?"

The man glanced at the other officers, then at his daughter… and finally at his son. Pina had not noticed Zorzal in the nearby corner, arms crossed, appearing to be in quiet reflection.

"The Empire is at war with the enemy from beyond the Gate. We do not know how many are arriving daily since this message was written, nor how powerful all their weapons are. The combined Army stationed in Alnus actively awaiting them was forced to retreat not long after the messengers were dispatched."

"Wait- General Atilla sent wounded men to deliver-?"

"According to them, no. He sent the burned one when the battle began with the simple message that the enemy had crossed the gate… the second messenger was sent only an hour later. I believe Atilla hoped to last a little longer than that. One says he had stopped at the rear guard to guard when a bolt of some kind landed not too far from him as the battle was getting started. The other tells a similar story."

"An hour? They were beaten back in an hour?" Pina asked.

The Emperor only nodded.

Zorzal said nothing, nor did he seem to care much for the situation.

The officers began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Are negotiations on the table?" General Tiberius asked bluntly.

The Emperor let out a tired sigh.

Zorzal spoke then.

"Are you insane?! Surrender now means death for the Empire and all of its people!"

"So, it isn't an option… then we need to get creative with our methods of resistance. Perhaps-"

"Father, we must at least try to negotiate! Maybe I'm not a masterful tactician, but that Gate is a chokepoint, and if I understood General Atilla, it was well defended! If the enemy beat them back so easily then perhaps, we should regroup our forces and try to see if we can communicate with them!"

All eyes turned to the princess.

The young girl seemed to shrink ever so slightly, less out of her admirable attempts at keeping her head high, more because all the officers in the room towered over her by at least a foot.

"I believe she has made quite the case, your grace. We can guess our enemy's reason for attacking, but we don't actually know. We don't even know their name, their origin, their reason for-"

The emperor simply sighed once again, silencing the man.

His daughter on the other hand…

"Father, my Rose Knights are battle ready and can be sent out to the field at a moment's notice! If negotiations are not on the table, at least allow us to assist!"

There was silence for a moment then; both Zorzal and the Emperor eyeing the girl studiously.

The man then said "Then take your Rose Knights and try to find out what the enemy wants. I recommend you avoid them at all cost, unless it is unavoidable. Reconnaissance only, do you understand, Pina? Information is vital, and we should be at least somewhat open to negotiations."

The young princess actually winced in surprise.

That easy?

"Y-yes, your majesty! I shall go at once!"

"Do." The emperor said.

With a badly hidden sense of excitement, the young princess quickly exited the room, Hamilton flustered by the sudden shift in tension, awkwardly following after her.

Finally, with a mission other than training and trying to manage funding for her order!

The second the door closed behind her and Hamilton Emperor Molt turned to Tiberius.

"General, you are wiser than most, so I likely don't need to tell you exactly how dire our situation is."

"I take it the soldiers that greeted me outside the entrance are all that is left of the imperial army sent to Alnus?" the old general asked with a sigh.

Molt actually crushed the parchments in his hands.

"Worse. Those are all that are still loyal…"

The old general felt his eyes widen with shock.

"You mean that many deserted?"

"Yes. At least two legions deserted if the reports from the men are correct… it could always be more." came the dry reply.

An enemy so powerful it made the men up and quit after a single battle?

Before the old general could consider this, the Emperor spoke again.

"To make matters worse, I can't help but believe that their desertion will ultimately help us."

"How so?"

Emperor Molt simply tossed the crushed parchments towards the older man.

He picked them up and read them.

One was indeed the warning of the arrival of the enemy, but the other… the other simply read:

Enemy breaking through all defenses.

Catapult and ballista strike ineffective.

First Legion and most of the Second Legion have been completely destroyed.

Survivors are retreating and I have ordered the remaining Third, Fourth, and Fifth Legions to retreat.

I will use the remaining cavalry from the Second to delay the enemy as long as possible and take as many of them as I can with me.

Emperor, this enemy cannot be defeated through standard means.

If you still wish to fight, you must prepare to destroy the empire and deny the enemy the supplies to continue.

The implication was clear.

"Scorched earth… we are not to allow the enemy to begin establishing itself on our lands…"

The old general nodded solemnly.

"That is the purpose of the deserters… we will arm them and give them free reign to destroy anything and everything between us and the Gate. At least that will slow down their advance as no army can survive without a steady amount of supplies."

"But then… the villages, the cities…"

"Italica will fall sooner or later, it was already going to fall to regular brigands given the small war between the surviving family members of the lord… we may even have to abandon the capital, focus our efforts only on damaging the enemy when possible, force them to eventually retreat as keeping the land is not worth the cost… then rebuild."

"Is that the only option, your majesty?"

"It is… I will dispatch messengers to the allied kingdoms; maybe they can slow down the enemy while we prepare for these measures. Perhaps my daughter can find some weakness in their doctrine that we can exploit, but until then… we must prepare."

"Father, we will be victorious." Zorzal said in a tone that suggested bravado, but everyone could sense the slightest hint of fear and worry.

"We shall surely try, my son."

…

The dungeon below was almost empty and almost silent.

Tyuule could only giggle quietly so as to not draw unwanted attention to herself.

"Say it again, please?" she asked in pure ecstasy.

The disgusting creature under her bed repeated what he had heard.

"The Imperial Army was scattered to the winds, most of them deserted and barely enough returned to garrison the capital."

She actually had to completely cover her mouth to keep the sound of her cackles from escaping her mouth.

So much abuse, so much torture, so much cruelty… and now her abusers were getting their due!

Their due torture! Their due abuse! Their due cruelty!

And she was alive to see it all!

"Should you not be more concerned? They might kill you too, you know? The destructive power needed to defeat an army as large as the Empire's may be enough to destroy the world."

She simply sighed in and turned to face the wall, not replying.

"They say they pursued the retreating army, killing many as they tried to run… this new force sounds just as if not worse than the empire."

"They did the same to my people. I don't care if they kill me."

A cruel smile warped after the ungodly amounts of torture she was forced to endure before, during, and after the war with the empire, slowly manifested on her lips.

"I just hope I live long enough to see this empire burn."

A/N: So, not 100% sure why I chose to write this fic.

I would like to credit the "'Murica" chapter from "Thus They Conquered" by The Blue Dragoner and "The Boys of '85" by Karaya2 for some inspiration as they both bring up the idea of the Gate opening up in the 1960s, but I personally never really toyed with the idea until recently due to some personal interest in the Cold War, specifically Vietnam. "Thus They Conquered" did have a couple of chapters dedicated to this idea, but other than that I haven't seen any other fic actually do a "Vietnam Era" Gate story with the U.S in focus, and figured "hey, why not?" and since studying history is pretty much my job, I just went with it and… well… this here is the result!

That said…

I kind of want to primarily focus on only a pair of things with this fic, though. It will be relatively short, likely focusing more on the characters.

See, I'm trying my hand at character development and would love some advice on it as the story continues, so I would appreciate any opinions about it on this fic. Reviews and criticism is greatly appreciated!

That said, thanks for reading, reviews and suggestions are always appreciated, and let me know if you want to see more of this little idea I had.

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Gate.