Since I’ve been playing far more metal gear than I should be playing and rereading the GATE manga for the new chapter I guess I’ll begin writing what I want to. Story begins with a mysterious wormhole swallowing a PF’s FOB in international waters. ~~~ ”Arclight 2, this is CP. We may have an intruder. Stay alert for any enemy presence.” >”CP, this is Arclight. We copy. Assuming search pattern.” The Blackfoot’s quadruple engines whined in response to the sudden change in controls. The gun-mounted light of the Blackfoot swiveled across the sprawling decks of FOB Arrowhead, searching for the enemy operative. The door gunner of the Blackfoot watched the guards search every crevice from his elevated position inside the cabin, constantly buffeted by the powerful rotorwash. This was not an uncommon drill for the men of FOB Arrowhead. Located in the waters of the frigid Northwest Pacific Ocean, they held onto a valuable source of unrefined fuel and precious metals. As such, they were a priority target for rival PFs looking to improve their resource intake. Luckily for them, they had an untarnished reputation for being the foremost in security technology, with a capture rate of 100%. >”CP, this is Arclight. No sign of the enemy. How should we proceed?” ”This is CP. Return to your posts.” While Arclight began her return to her home helipad, a nondescript radar operator in the CP war room noticed a blip on his monitor. Confusion contorted his face as he struggled to identify the mysterious object on his screen. A bird? No. It was moving far too fast to be a bird. A hostile aircraft? Too small to be one. Something didn’t add up. >”Alert! Enemy missile detected! It’s a surface skimmer!” The radar operator shouted, “Bearing 2-4-0, time to impact, 30 seconds!” ”What the hell? Where’d it come from?!” ”Who fired?” ”Goddamnit, it’s too close!” ”Alert Central!” ”Deploy the countermeasures!” >”Shut up! Get point defense up! Shoot down that missile!” cried the commander. >”Sir! The M41s can’t depress low enough! The missile’s only a foot above sea level!” >”BRACE FOR IMPACT!” … The first thing that died was the instruments. >”Jesus fuck! We’re flying blind now!” Then the flight stick. >”Christ! Locke! My stick’s dead! Left! Left!” Then the rotors gave out. >”Jackson! Brace for impact!” Arclight 2 slammed into her helipad, the impact rupturing the left-side hydraulic fluid line, and snapping her undercarriage. The rotors twisted and bent as they scraped the green paint from the helipad, filling the air with ear-piercing screeching. Shattered glass and broken metal littered the crash site as Arclight laid with a broken leg. >“Jackson! Status report!” ”G-Green! I’m okay!” Jackson stuttered. ”I-I can’t see! Fuck! I can’t see!” Locke shouted. “Graham! I can’t fucking see!” >”Turn around! Look at me!” Graham ordered. “Look at me damnit!” Locke’s flight visor had a visibly large crack through it, and his face was covered in purple liquid. >”You’ve got hydralic fluid all over your fucking face!” Graham shouted, reaching for his water canteen. “Take off your helmet!” ”I can’t see, man! I can’t see!” >”I know, shut up! Take your helmet off! Stay still!” Graham said, emptying the contents of his canteen into Locke’s eyes. >”Undo your straps! I’ll come around to walk you out!” Graham said, undoing his harness. ”Jackson! You out yet!?” ”H-Hey C-Chief? I’m not feeling too good.” Stepping out onto the helipad, Graham turned to Jackson. >“Christ kid, you’re not fucking okay!” Graham said, climbing into the cabin. A four-inch piece of shrapnel protruded conspicuously from his abdomen while his flight suit was stained red from his left arm down. ”Chief? I-I can’t move my arm. It’s not listening.” >”Can you feel your legs?” ”Y-Yeah.” >”Okay. This might hurt a bit.” Graham said, looping his arms around Jackson. “On the count of three.” ”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Pulling Jackson out of the cabin left a bloody trail from the gunner’s seat. ”Chief… I can see my bicep. I don’t think it’s supposed to do that.” Jackson’s bicep flopped flaccidly around his limp arm, exposing the pulverised bone beneath. >”It’s okay. The docs will fix you up right and good. I’ve seen worse.” Graham lied, pushing the morphine auto-injector into Jackson’s right arm. “Locke! You out yet?” The heavy footfalls of boots on metal was relief to Graham. >”Hey! Medic! I need a medic over here! Get a stretcher!” … [In the Command Post] >”Status report! What’s the damage?!” >”Decks 4 through 7 report major structural damage!” >”One of the R&D platforms has collapsed!” >”The Medical Platforms are severely damaged! They’re operating at half-capacity now!” The white whiskers of the Colonel’s five o’ clock shadow twisted as his face went from calm, cool collectedness to hardened steel in a microsecond. ”Casualty report.” He said gruffly. >”Arclight Two went down hard in the Hanger Bay! Support platform got some injuries from falling containers!” ”Get the wounded to the Medical Platform. I want the rest of Arclight Flight in the air. Issue a base-wide alert, I want everyone prepared for combat. Defensive posture.” the Colonel barked. >”Sir! All platforms are reporting we’ve run aground!” ”As of when?” >”As of now, sir! Look!” said a young ensign, pointing towards a monitor displaying CCTV footage. “Mother of God Almighty. We’re not in Kansas anymore.” ...One week later… [In the cafeteria] Two soldiers lean against the wall, holding wrappers of assorted desserts. One takes a bite of his cinnamon roll as the other accentuates every other word with the flick of a half-eaten chocolate bar. >“Hey, did you hear? Colonel Pewitt’s authorizing expedition parties.” ”The CP himself said that? Or is it just another one of your tall tales?” >”No, for real this time! I heard Delta and Zulu Platoon are slated to go out tomorrow!” ”Zulu? Aren’t they B-ranked? Why do they get to go?” >”I heard it’s just resource gathering and reconnaissance.” ”Then why’s Delta going? They’re S-ranked for combat! Just send out one of the Intel units with their GPS beacons!” >”Uh-uh. Word around the base is all the comms are knocked out. I heard one of the CP staff say we got hit with an EMP.” ”Isn’t our stuff EMP shielded?” >”That’s what R&D said.” ”And you know this how?” >”I overheard it.” ”Then how come you don’t believe it?” >”’Cause I heard the eggheads saying we were hit with a Wormhole missile.” ”Huh?” >”Yeah. They think we’re been transported into Europe.” ”Just cause it’s wooded doesn’t mean it’s Europe, you know.” >”Hey, I just heard what the R&D guys said.” ”So how come we don’t just send out Arc- SIR!” ”At ease.” said the Colonel, returning the salute. “The reason we aren’t sending Arclight out is because we don’t know if there’s any AA, especially after what was flying around yesterday. Delta and Zulu Platoons are going to find out for us. Once we’ve established what’s going on, things will return to normal. Now, carry on. Dismissed.” >”Thank you, sir!” the pair replied in unison. ... >”CP. This is Zulu 1. I’ve got something worth checking out, over.” ”This is CP. Understood. Investigate with caution. Out.” >”How deep do you think that ravine is?” >”Can’t be less than 100 meters.” >”Oh, so tighter than Abigail then, huh?” >“Fuck you.” ”Three, Eight, shut it unless you see something.” said 1. >”Yeah, yeah.” Three replied dismissively with a wave of his gloved hand. He looked down into the sprawling crevice. Like someone had gouged out the earth with a jagged axe, the ravine reflected the stony organs of the earth. A sparkling river, like a blue vein, snaked along the bottom, as large as a man was wide. Bits of dull shades of orange marked raw ore in the sheer rock face. >”Hey Cap, ain’t that what R&D are looking for?” Three said, pointing towards the exposed ore. ‘Cap’ edged as close as he dared to the ravine. Pulling out his iDroid, he connected it to his UBGL, taking aim at the exposed ore vein. His UBGL fired; like a miniature TOW missile, the projectile kicked itself from the tube before firing it’s twin rocket motors, dragging a nearly-invisible data wire as it flew through the air. Having reached its destination, the tiny warhead detonated, punching a neat hole into the rock face, allowing the sensitive second-stage probe to insert neatly inside. ‘Cap’ stared incredulously at the holographic readouts. Without so much as a word, he ejected the spent cartridge with a flick of his finger and unplugged his iDroid. >”CP, this is Zulu 1. We’ve got something that R&D might want. Request permission to return to base. Over.” >”This is CP. Permission granted, return to base.” >”Pack up. We’re RTB!” Cap shouted to his men, twirling his finger in the air, signalling the order to rally up. The cautious trek back to FOB Arrowhead would be less than 15 minutes, but due to the circumstances, ‘Cap’ didn’t want to take any chances. The twenty-five strong platoon marched with a purpose through the chest-high fields of wildgrass, occasionally tripping over a well-hidden stone as they picked the grass clean of anything edible. What appeared to be ripe, yellow corn grew like dandelions on the stalks of the grass. They waded through the waist-deep water of a stream, weapons held high over their heads as they crossed, filling their boots and trousers with water. A few of the men scooped up freshwater clams that lay at the bottom of the rock bed, slipping them into their dump pouches. Soon they stepped into the thick forests surrounding FOB Arrowhead; greeted by the enormous trees that stood like massive wooden golems eternally at rest. Undoubtedly they were the largest trees the men of FOB Arrowhead had ever seen, standing over sixty stories tall, with bases so wide you could drive a pair of MBTs through them with room to spare. The underbrush and foliage were similarly sized; massive ferns and bushes the size of houses littered the forest floor. Unbeknownst to them, the massive forest also hid within it a terrible foe, as Zulu Platoon was soon to find out. It was just a rustle at first, bits of leaves moving against the wind here and there. While gathering wild berries and herbs, quite a few of the men remarked about how they felt they were being watched. Zulu paid it no mind until the ambience of the forest quietly died down. Left with only the heavy breathing of the men through their balaclavas, Zulu 1 ordered a halt. >”CP, this is Zulu 1. Heard a strange noise. How should I-” The crossbow bolt struck him square in the chest, staggering him. Immediately, his two comrades hosed the surrounding flora with automatic weapons fire as more arrows and bolts flew from behind branches and leaves. Snarls and screams of howling pain filled the air as their attackers retreated back into the forest. Hand grenade detonations followed them as they made their escape. >”What’s wrong?! Zulu 1, come in! Come in, Zulu 1! All units on alert! We’re dispatching reinforcements to your location now!” >”Get the stretcher! Cap’s been hit!” >”On it!” ... As the fighting died down for Zulu, Delta lay in wait to ambush their would-be ambushers. Directional mines placed and primed, machine guns set up in overlapping fields of fire. The unsuccessful ambushers ran straight into a massacre. The mines made mincemeat of anything in their killzone, pulverizing flesh and bone alike. The light machine guns of Delta went full cyclic, barrels emitting a dull red glow as they heated up. The occasional explosion from a hand grenade or UBGL sent limbs flying into the air, filling the air with the sickly stench of burnt flesh and gunsmoke. When the belts of ammunition ran empty, and the spent cases littered the forest floor, the ambush ceded. Their foe lie dead before them, some with neat entry wounds, most missing limbs, and far too many to number were simply unrecognizable hunks of flesh. >”No survivors.” came the order. “Masks on.” Four men stood from their concealed positions, drawing their pistols from their holsters. Long and sleek, the suppressed pistols were trained squarely on the corpses of the dead. Upon further inspection of their foe, they noticed they were scaled, like lizards. Rough, chitinous skin colored a deep crimson blended in excellently with their own blood. One lizard who had survived the ambush lay in wait for a counter-ambush. It would surprise the looters of his nest-mate’s corpses. It jumped in the air, ready to pounce upon its prey, driven by it’s primal instincts. A pair of 230 grain hollow-point slugs decided otherwise. >”One down.” said the man, punctuating his sentence with a third slug. With practiced precision, the men made quick work of enemy corpses with hollow-point slugs or with the edges of their blades. Before long, their respirators and gloves were stained red with the blood of the enemy. >”Bring a corpse back for R&D.” A simple nod said all that was needed. … [Inside the R&D platform] A bright, impeccably clean laboratory full of microscopes and holographic readouts is full of bustling movement as researchers scurry to and from station to station. A pair of senior researchers chat while looking through their microscopes. >”Kruger, can you confirm that I’m seeing traces of Titanium in this ore sample?” “Ja. I see it. Ultrasonic readings indicate a large vein there. Good potential for a mine there.” >”And are you seeing the rest of the ultrasonic readings from Zulu too?” “Indeed. I think that ravine is sat atop of a massive ore deposit. That should be a priority for us.” >”I concur. I’ll have Avery send it up to CP.” “And vhat do you think of Delta’s cadaver, Jorgenson?” >“Accent slip again, Kruger. It’s interesting, to say the least.” Jorgenson says as he switches microscopes. “Chitin plating. Definitely lizard-like. Shows signs of intelligence, capable of ambush and tool-working. Appear to be Kobolds.” Kruger pops his jaw with yawn. “Yes, highly dangerous. But also opportunity for us. New armor pattern for troops, lighter weight than Battle Dress. If enough research, Chitin Plate is possibly stronger than Ceramic.” >”Indeed. Receiving funds from CP will be bothersome though. Add it to the priority list.” >”Something to note- Kobolds internals appear to house gasoline, or similar substance in dietary tract. Perhaps it is a food source. Probable fuel source in the woods. Add that to the report, Avery.”