The world is at war. Terrorist attacks on US soil have led them to take definitive action against states that sponsor and harbor terrorists. The year is 202X and the United States Military has successfully invaded Iran. It is similar to the war in Iraq; however, they are dealing with an insurgency that inhibits nation-building. The war is very much active. In this world, some women are born different, it would be accurate to describe them as an entirely different species. A species of giant humans. Their bones are thousands of times stronger than human bone, their muscles can produce far more power, and they average a height of 30 feet. Yet they are a very, very small minority. Most of these giantesses are born in North America. After the failed attempt to integrate human women into combat arms these women were even less likely to do so. They made for extremely large targets and, due to their added height and weight, the many environments the US military operated in proved...difficult for them. Most joined the corps of engineers with their added strength and size allowing construction projects to be completed incredibly quickly. However, the military recognized the potential amount of firepower one of these giantesses could bring to the battlefield, and for a coveted few they could join a special unit of JSOC and become: Heavy Fire Gunners (HFG)'s Nike "Aren't you scared?" "Of fighting and stuff?" "Yes, after that massacre in Iraq I can’t believe you still joined. It’s just too dangerous, you should’ve gone as one of the engineers worked for your fathe-“ "Mom it's too late anyway, I've passed. They put me through two years of training. I owe them now. In any case this is what I want. I know the risks." "...okay sweetie, just know that your father and I love you......please come home safe to us, promise?" "I promise." The giant woman hung up, staring at her own face in the reflection of a smartphone the size of a large television, and panned around the various apps before sighing. Her family had been against it since day one, she had nearly been disowned by her father and only been kept as a family member out of pity of the social stigma and the worry of her mother. Two weeks later she found herself in Iraq’s Balad Air Base. Troops were coming and going constantly over the border to Iraq. She made her way to a bunker on the edge of the giantess portion of the camp. Nike stepped out of the call center and squinted as she put on her cap. The Iraq sun was high in the sky. She winced slightly as her ears were then greeted by the roar of jets taking off and landing. Ever since the US declared war on the insurgency, they brought all the weapons in the military arsenal to bear. Her heart quickened slightly, she was nervous at the prospect of meeting her new team and wanted to make a good impression. She'd been told that she was assigned to AFSOC Airmen of the 320th STS out of Fairchild AFB. She'd only briefly worked with Air Force Special Ops while in training, all of whom had been JTACs. She hopped over a short guard fence (for humans) and ducked into a hole in the ground. This was the best way military brass figured to integrate giantesses into existing bunkers: by adding basement layers. She opened the door and looked around. Humans walked around on balconies near her head and there were a few walking on the floor near her feet. She maneuvered around them and headed towards the back of the bunker to a door with a giant (normal sized to Nike) Air Force Special Tactics logo on it. Nike swept through a door and entered a small room with a desk, a large monitor and a chair for her, with a balcony with several chairs and a large table, where several men sat around a TV. They wore multicam pants, t-shirts and baseball caps, many wearing combat boots, with some wearing sneakers. Two men were playing FIFA intensely while another was typing furiously on a laptop. One of the men gets up from the table and goes to the edge of the balcony. "Corporal Nike?" The man asks "Yes, sir, reporting as ordered!" Nike responds, snapping to attention. "As you were Corporal, I'm Lieutenant Seth, and this is the team," the man said as he motioned behind him. "Tall guy with the baby face is Johnson, that guy playing FIFA and sucking wang is Harris, the guy kicking ass at FIFA is Fuentes, and the guy typing away like a maniac is Baldwin." They each offered greetings as they were mentioned, briefly waving at her before returning to their activities. Nike relaxed; this unit seemed easygoing. She briefly studied each of the team members before taking a seat. "Alright, now that we've met, let me bring you up to speed" Lt. Seth said. "Now that Ramadan's over the fighting season's begun, hadjis have been attacking en masse and are launching a successful offensive. They launched a successful attack and pushed out an Air Force unit from Kerman Airport. Now I realize, as Army, this may anger you to hear those bastards succeeding in fucking anything. But as a First Lieutenant in the Air Force, this fucking pisses me off" the LT said with venom in his voice. "Basically, our mission is to retake it, and fortunately most of the guys at the airfield were able to make it out. Seeing as it had only recently been captured, we don't have any valuable assets there." "So, what you're saying, sir,” Nike began, with the traces of a smile creeping onto her face, “is that you want me to fuck shit up?" "Ex-fucking-actly," confirmed the LT, smiling as well. This response earned him a few chortles from the other men, also smiling with glee. "Now before we go and kick some ass, we wanna put you through your paces, see how you work with us, and vice versa. Go kit up and meet me at the heavy range in half an hour," Seth ended. "Yes, Sir!" Nike said with enthusiasm, leaping to her feet. She exited the room with a smile on her face and her heart racing. She ran out, thinking that this was it, everything she fought for, trained for, and this was the moment she was going to prove herself. PICK UP EDITING HERE Lt. Seth The men watched as her massive frame quickly got up, exiting the room with a lot of pep in her step. "What do you think, Sir?" Says Johnson. "She's as green as the rest of us, but she seems motivated and eager. It's too early to tell, we'll have to wait for her range performance," the LT said as he moved towards the door leading into a locker room filled with their equipment. "I still have no clue why they’d put her with us," Harris said, pausing the game. "A lot of us just graduated the pipeline. This is our first deployment all together, and they typically stick the HFG's with experienced units with better cohesion.” "I don't get it either," muses Baldwin, "working with her our first time down range could seriously fuck us up. We normally deploy with Rangers or 820th, why's she coming with us?" "Because the rangers got hit really fucking hard," the Lt answered, his brow furrowing. "I heard it from an old friend in the unit. They were the ones in control of the airfield when it got hit, not to mention any other suitable units are already spread thin and working on other objectives. This offensive we're facing is going very, very badly for us, gentlemen." With that, he donned his plate carrier. "All the experienced units are working on the tougher nuts to crack, and Kerman is the least fucking defended, which is why we're going." "Still..." "Enough, Johnson," Seth cut him off. "I realize that this may seem like a lot to digest, gents, and this is certainly out of the ordinary. Not to mention working with an HFG can be…interesting." "Yeah, those chicks make one hell of a huge fucking impression,” scoffed Baldwin, readying his Mk17. “I worked with them before, they’re really something.” "I've seen them in action, they're good when they're good," the LT admitted. "But when they're bad…" Johnson started. "Look at it this way, you're probably not the one being shot at," Seth replied, matter-of-factly chamber-checking his rifle. "Still, it's fucked," Harris continued. "Command knows the high casualty rates amongst HFG's. Why would they send a green one to a green unit who can't teach her shit?" "Because they figured that her chances of survival would be higher with a green unit taking an easier objective than an experienced unit in the suck. Two HFG's with CAG were killed a few months ago, that's what prompted command's decision" “Fucking Christ,” Fuentes whispered in a hushed reply. "In any case, keep your heads up. Maybe our big friend will show us something good." "For all of our sakes I hope she does" Baldwin muttered, clicking the chinstrap on his helmet. "Yup. Now, let's do it to it.” The LT replied, his Block II at the high ready. Nike The major disadvantage of being 30 feet tall was the fact that you presented such a large target. Granted, assault rifle rounds and even full-powered rifle rounds were considered pea-shooters to a giantess. However, if you get shot enough, anyone can go down. Nike strapped on her plate carrier. The carrier itself weighed close to a quarter-ton. Each plate weighed 800 pounds and consisted of SHS and HHS triple-hardened steel backed by ceramic layering. They protected her from rounds up to 20mm, however they still left her vulnerable to RPG's. Her helmet was made from titanium, styled after the PASGT, and had comms integrated into the helmet itself. It didn’t suffer the lack of modularity of its human counterpart. Its wide extensions covered her neck and included a visor of ballistic plastic that could stop shrapnel and rifle rounds. The crème de la crème of her kit, her pride and joy, lay waiting for her. A 37mm belt-fed autocannon. She hooked an ammo box of several thousand rounds to the side, placed the belt in the feed tray, and closed it with a satisfying thunk. A wide smile crept on her face as she started walking to the heavy weapons range. This was her time to shine. Nike headed to the range and met with the team where she found them all kitted up. There was a mix of SOPMOD M4's and SCAR-H's and light machine guns, all with the latest sights and lasers. On their hips they had handguns of their choice. The Lieutenant had a M79 grenade launcher on his back. As impressive as this vast arsenal might be standing next to her, they were as impressive as plastic Army Men compared to her. "Ready to show us what you got?" Seth asked. "Yes sir!" Nike barked, cocking her autocannon for emphasis. "Alright, your goal is to take out the various threats headed your way, then to storm the MOUT town with us. You'll lay down suppressive fire then provide security as we clear a target building at the center of the town. On my mark you run to the first stage marked by that pole over there,” he pointed out with a flat hand. “Are you ready?" Nike gripped her cannon, and lowered her visor "Yes sir!" She shouted, getting in a runner's pose. "MARK" Nike bolted to the first stage. Several remotely controlled vehicles had already begun speeding her way before she made it to her destination. She took a knee, shouldered her weapon, and pulled the trigger. Her cannon let loose an almighty roar as the 37mm HE rounds came screaming out of it. The burst found its mark, blowing up the vehicle in a fantastic explosion. "Again," she thought to herself. "Controlled bursts, three to five rounds" She popped the last vehicle and sprinted to the next stage to find the airmen running aside her, weapons ready. "Hit the dirt!" the LT yelled. "CONTACT FRONT! LAY IT INTO ‘EM!” "Five to ten round bursts, now," she thought to herself. Her cannon roared with each burst, with large cannon shells being spit out to the ground. "MOVING" the LT yelled, charging forward 20 meters, then dropping into a tire path for defilade. "GO!" he yelled, glancing back as he pumped rounds into the cinderblock city with his M4. One by one, each of the team members went under the cover of her gun. The ground shook as she fired, kicking massive plumes of dust like God himself was lobbing rounds into the city. Nike adjusted her aim and calmly laid into the town, her gun destroying buildings and mockups of anti-tank guns with an earth-shattering roar. The team advanced into the MOUT town. They moved, bounding from cover to cover, to the target building. Nike was careful enough to not completely demolish the buildings and leave large sections of them for her cover and concealment, though to the passer-by it would be a comical sight to see a giant woman attempt to hide behind the blown-out wall of a building shorter than half her height. Nevertheless, she follows procedure. The less of her exposed, the better; these walls could take the brunt of an RPG blast and increase her survivability, even while conversely providing cover for the enemy. The team worked meticulously, clearing every corner, searching every scrap of rubble for an enemy gunner who would spell her doom with a point blank shot. The team itself had no problem finding cover; it was in abundance for them, with large chunks of rubble strewn about that forced them to clamber over obstacles. Then they reached a particularly large part of a house that they couldn't mount. "Nike! Would you-" The LT couldn't say more, as Nike's fist punched a path through the concrete for them to clamber through. This came as a surprise to Harris and Fuentes, who jumped back and swore. Undeterred, the team moved forward, soon arriving at the target building. The team stacked up on the target building, kicked open the door, and tossed in a flashbang. The men cleared the room while Nike, as per protocol, scanned for threats outside. The team finally exited, carrying a rubber dummy out. They then moved to their exfil from the town. With each movement Nike followed behind, covering their six. Lt. Seth They exited the city, moving quickly in open terrain. The LT popped a smoke grenade and declared the exercise to be over. "Let's meet back up in the TOC, we'll go over the specifics there." Around half an hour later they all sat back in the building where they'd first met. The men were wearing casual clothes, gym shorts, sneakers, and civilian shirts. Nike was the only one who remained in her fatigues. "Overall, I'd say that went pretty well. First stage was handled excellently, second stage was also good. However, there are a few things I'd like to address," Seth began. “Fuentes, excellent use of cover while moving. The windows and doorways are designed to make things difficult, so don’t worry so much about slicing every pie. You can rely on your team for those once you work out a system, just give it time.” “I’ll work on it.” “Harris, your speed is amazing in a straight line. However, when you pull up to a corner it also helps to slow down in advance, that way you don’t almost fall over with your head sticking out.” Everyone chuckled as they remember the tumble that made him look like an overturned turtle. “Your speed and intensity when entering rooms is exactly what we need again, so don’t lose that.” “Roger that, sir.” “Johnson, perfect execution of room clearing from a stairwell. You may be at home in a building, but there’s a lot more space outside of them than in them. Use that third-dimension knowledge on the street and we won’t need to worry about Johnny Jihadi on the roof next time.” “Understood.” “Baldwin, I love how dedicated you are to taking out the enemy as quickly as possible. Frags are certainly effective, but you won’t be carrying more than three on any given mission unless something goes very wrong. Next time I want you to exercise a little restraint on your frag use, Got it?” Baldwin simply nodded in response. "Nike, I know it’s difficult to move quickly and still stay in cover with your size, but you threaded that needle without a hiccup. However, regarding that hole you punched in a wall, just give us a heads-up before doing that again. You were able to get us through, but it did come as a bit of a surprise to some of us. I’d suggest you reign it in or give us a more adequate warning next time.” "Sir, may I ask a question?" "Go ahead." "If there's an immediate threat to one of you, would you rather I reign it in and inform you first, or address it?" The Lieutenant pondered his words before speaking. "Well, I'd say communication is definitely important. The easiest way to fuck up and shoot your own team is by not communicating. However, I wouldn't stop any of the team from doing something to save me or anyone else, as long as their actions don't put themselves or others in danger. Basically, just talk to us more. You were a great help in taking the town, but don't try and be Rambo." "Of course, sir." "Alright, that's all I got. Nike, you're dismissed. Unless you want to watch Fuentes kick Harris's ass in FIFA." "Sir, please have some faith in me for once!" Harris mumbled beleaguered "Maybe when you actually win a game Harris." The team chuckled, Fuentes and Harris went to the TV and started up the videogame, and Nike took her leave. "Okay guys, did that exercise address all of your concerns? I think it's safe to say she's good at what she does." "True," Baldwin said, grabbing his computer again, “but I'm still worried about her doing something crazy that could get us killed." "Baldwin, let me ask you something," Seth began. "If a grenade landed in between us and my dumb ass was still standing out in the open, what would you do." "The same thing I did during TACP training, sir," Baldwin answered with a smirk. "Yeah, yanking me by neck was a little excessive, and I was coming over the wall anyway. My point is that we'd do anything to make sure we all come home safe. I think she wants to do the same. Granted, while you may take pleasure in pulling people by their neck, she could tear down a building with her bare hands if she wished. Still, I don't think she'll do anything stupid drastic." "Even if she does do that, there's a pretty big chance she's gonna bite the bullet for it." Johnson offered. "While yes, we could easily die, in all probability her making a wrong move ends up with her catching an RPG to the face, and there ain't shit we can do to treat her." "Yeah," Harris said, putting down the game controller. "I don't think there's much of anything we can do to help her if she's wounded." "You'd be right, they're to provide self-aid and wait for MEDEVAC," Seth answered. "It's part of the reason why their combat deaths are so high. We haven't fully integrated them in yet, and at the moment there's only two HFG medics in-country." "What's their response time?" Fuentes asked. "Depends on the location, but the average is around 45 minutes for response." "So much for a fucking Golden Hour." Fuentes scoffed "They're working on getting more in-country, but you know how it is." the LT said. "A positive...I guess now that she's one of two HFG's in our SOC Command, we’ll finally have the on-site fire support we need.” Nike Nike walked out of the TOC. Thinking hard about what feedback she'd received. "So long as your actions don’t put you or anyone else in danger.” She understood the LT’s words but still felt mildly frustrated, both at herself and at that bit of feedback. She was acting upon his orders when she made a path, though in hindsight she realized a warning probably would have made sense. What irked her most was the fact that the LT was overly concerned for her wellbeing and making sure she didn’t die. He hadn’t said anything to her face, yet she could tell that he was holding back on her in comparison to the rest of the team. “My job’s to protect you guys, genius,” she muttered. She realized the high casualty rates faced by those in her profession, yet she didn’t view that as an excuse for failing to do her job. Her largest concern was losing her teammates, if that happened she doubted she’d be able to forgive herself. “I won’t fuck you guys over, I promise you. So please, just trust me,” Nike said to her empty room.