Drakon
Requiem Raver
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Author’s Notes: Hey, y’all, I decided to try something new with Cornova's approval. Namely a technical manual/field guide to the vehicles and weapons of the Poké Wars world. Each entry will be capped off by a short story that showcases the subject of the entry.
Feel free to submit potential ideas for profiles! Feel free to submit as much information as you want but I need two things minimum:
Rate R for intense violence, gore and profanity.
Table of Contents
Cover
Chapter 1: M215 Grotle
Chapter 2: MGM-493 Arceus
Cover
DISTRIBUTION RESTRICTION: Distribution authorized only to Human-Legendary Coalition personnel with the appropriate clearances on a “need to know basis”. Requests for this document must be referred to Commandant, Human-Legendary Coalition Ordnance Development Division, 151 Pyrite Road, Suite 649, Fort Phenac, Orre 72063-1522 or higher authority.
DESTRUCTION NOTICE: Destroy by any method that will prevent disclosure of contents or reconstruction of the document.
Chapter 1: M215 Grotle
Statistics
Type: General purpose heavy cargo and troop transport
Weight: 18,144 kilograms empty; 27,216 kg maximum gross vehicle weight
Dimensions: 5.5 meters (length); 2.5 meters (width); 3 meters (height)
Powerplant/Drivetrain: 645 kilowatt DC permanent magnet motor driving six wheels equipped with run-flat tires.
Range: 300 km on full charge
Performance: 0-100 km/h in 20 seconds, top speed of approximately 100 km/h on good terrain, maximum water fording depth: 1 m; maximum frontal slope: 45 percent; maximum side slope: 13 percent; ground clearance: 0.51 m; maximum trench: 160 cm
Armament: None
Armor: Composite armor of concrete sandwiched between AR500 steel. Windows are 7.62 cm thick transparent corundum (proof against .50 caliber AP). Hull sides range from 30.48 cm to 10.16 cm in thickness. Top and bottom armor is 5.08 cm in thickness.
Countermeasures: Electrical shunt system that can absorb electric attacks or sap electricity straight from power lines via the two manipulator arms.
Crew: Two (driver and equipment operator) and sixteen soldiers or 3,990 kg of cargo
Notes by Doctor Kaminko
This vehicle is an anomaly among the HLC’s arsenal for it was actually developed prior to the formation of the Human-Legendary Coalition. According to interviews with the original drivers/mechanics, this vehicle was designed to service and repair power lines or other electrical infrastructure in areas that are difficult if not impossible to reach by normal ground vehicles.
The vehicle itself is built on the chassis of a Turtwig heavy electric cargo truck, chosen for its durability and ease of modification. The chassis itself was extended by 1.5 meters to accommodate a larger crew/equipment hold. The cab itself was removed and integrated with the crew/equipment hold. Armor plate composed of concrete sandwiched between AR500 steel was added to protect the drivetrain and cargo hold/cab against falling debris and pokémon attacks. Corundum windows replaced the original tempered glass windows for added protection. The original 261 kW motor was replaced by a 645 kW motor to compensate for the additional weight of the armor, enlarged cargo compartment and three extendable folding arms capable of extending to a length of 6.1 meters.
Two of the extendable arms are equipped with two-fingered metallic graspers. Each arm is actuated by “muscles” composed of an electroactive metal alloy. By mass, these muscles are about 10 times stronger than the muscles on a Machamp. As a result, these arms have a maximum lift capacity of approximately 2,358 kilograms. According to documents salvaged from Sunyshore Tower before its destruction, these arms were intended for use in construction, obviating the need for a crane. However, interviews with the crew revealed that these arms were primarily used in demolition.
The third arm is equipped with a 1 meter long saw composed of synthetic diamonds in a tool steel-carbide matrix. This saw is designed to cut a variety of materials, ranging from steel, concrete and other hard materials to softer materials like composites, wood and plastics. The cutting action is provided by means of an ultrasonic vibration generator, allowing the blade to vibrate at approximately 35 kHz.
While the vehicle is completely unarmed, its weight and size allow it to push aside or crush most obstacles and threats. In addition, vehicle crews often report using the arms to batter or rip apart attacking pokémon or using the vibrosaw to shred attackers.
Despite the vehicles being poorly suited for combat, they remain in production due to their relatively low cost — which is mostly due to the fact that its armor is composed of relatively inexpensive materials (concrete and steel). However, as a trade-off, the armor is quite heavy, which restricts the vehicle’s range and maneuverability. In addition, the armor is not acidproof except for the corundum windows.
“Fucking thing handles like a drunken Rhydon!” Sergeant Jade “Goldeen” Fyn, Company F, 2nd Battalion, 85th Sinnoh Armor Regiment, 21st Armored Division (Fort Twinleaf)
“Excellent off-road handling but you’re boned if you manage to get it stuck. Hey, Kaminko, next version of this thing, add a fucking winch!” Sergeant Cassidy “Candy Ass” Danche, Company A, 1st Battalion, 95th Kanto Armor Regiment, 1st Armored Division (Fort Pallet)
“Nearly impossible to destroy but its composite armor is a huge pain to repair. Especially when poison pokémon have gotten to it.” Joey “Youngster” Gleason, FOB Victory mechanic
“Dear Arceus, the range on this thing sucks dick!” Corporal Richard “Firebreather” del Fuego, Company A, 2st Battalion, 56th Kanto Infantry Regiment, 1st Armored Division (Fort Pallet)
“Put a fucking autocannon or some other weapon on this thing!” Specialist Marion “Iron Maiden” Stahl, Company A, 4th Support Battalion, 45th Hoenn Armor Regiment, 2nd Armored Brigade Combat Team, 31st Armored Division (Fort Evergrande)
“You nervous?”
That single sentence cut through the low rumble of the vehicle’s powerful motor inside the cargo compartment.
The target of the speech, a one Private Kevin Lauri, broke out of his reverie. Despite his racing heart, he forced his mouth to make the word: “No.” That fake bravado helped keep his face a calm mask, but it did nothing to loosen the death grip his hands had on the MOLLE straps of his S3TCG protective vest.
“Listen man, it’s okay to be a bit jittery.” The older infantryman placed a hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “Just remember”—he gestured to the other troopers inside the cramped metal compartment—“we’re a team. None of us will let you down.”
Private Lauri gulped. “Got it. I’ll be the best I can be.” His youthful face furrowed into the hard set visage of a trained soldier.
The veteran smiled. “That’s the ticket! Now let’s get out there and see if we can save those civvies in the greenhouse!”
The young trooper looked around. Inside the dimly lit cargo compartment were nine other soldiers. All of them were dressed in the HLC uniform of a S3TCG protective vest over fireproof digital camo uniforms and a durasilk combat helmet. All but four of them carried the primary weapon of a Human-Legendary Coalition infantryman: the BR-541 battle rifle — affectionately known as the “Glameow” for its small size and vicious “bite”. The sole exceptions were the two machine gunners, who carried the MG-417 light machine gun — aka the “Purugly” — and the two grenadiers, armed with the MGL-512 revolver-type grenade launcher — the “Dodrio”.
The soldier brought up the holographic map on his pokéglov. They were heading north along Route 1, going up from Pallet Town — better known as Fort Pallet.
The soldier let out a sigh as he shut down the map. Fort Pallet was one of the only two Human strongholds of the Kanto region. As a result, Ho-oh’s forces often laid siege to the base in an attempt to force the Humans to abandon Kanto. Private Lauri had been through two of those — and he was only a month out of basic training.
The other stronghold, Fort Moon — just positioned outside the ruins of Viridian City — had the dubious honor of being the base that was the most frequently attacked.
“All right men, move out!” their leader shouted. With a groaning shudder, the armored rear ramp began to slowly lower. PFC Lauri’s stomach tied itself into knots as the odor of burning vegetation and flesh slammed into his nostrils like a Giga Impact to the face. Nevertheless, he kept his composure, flipped the fire select switch on his rifle to burst and got ready to descend down the ramp like the other soldiers around him. He gulped; the previous battles were advantageous towards him, thanks to the mines scattered around Fort Pallet, its numerous stationary guns, the garrison of trained pokémon in the base as well as its large motor pool. Out here, Ho-oh’s forces had the advantage. Alas, there was only one way to tell if his training had been effective.
Enter the battlefield itself.
Nothing had prepared the young soldier for what he saw. Xanadu Nursery, home to some of his most cherished childhood memories, had transformed into a hellish battlefield. Every window of the stately greenhouse dome had been reduced to glittering fragments. Plumes of black, choking smoke rose into the red-orange skies. Corpses — pokémon and human alike — littered the battlefield. Screams of pain rose into the air like smoke.
The hot, coarse air sucked the air out of his lungs with each breath. Steeling himself, he marched down the ramp with his fellow soldiers. Then, his training took over.
Sweat poured down Potter’s face as he hastily pumped his garden sprayer. When the pump handle recoiled, he slung the device over his back and secured the straps. Noticing that the firebrand mounted at the end of the sprayer was out, he relit it from a small piece of burning debris.
And not a moment too soon, as a swarm of Spinarak and Furret began to close in on him. He squeezed the sprayer handle and swept side-to-side, just as if he were watering the plants in the nursery. With a deceptively gentle hiss, a stream of burning liquid coated the onrushing pokémon and ground. The charging pokémon, screeching in abject agony, soon scattered as they desperately tried to put out the flames. In their haste to extinguish the fire, they collided with and ignited various inanimate objects and their own comrades. Soon, roving specks of fire dotted the battlefield like morbid candles.
Those unlucky enough to be struck by the spray would die horribly as the flames ate away their skin and flesh, leaving behind black, carbonized skeletons with remnants of charred flesh clinging like banners. The pokémon attack of Flamethrower was a mercy in comparison; those unlucky enough to be exposed to the full-blast of a Flamethrower usually died instantly as the burning gases boiled and charred their lungs — or cremated them on the spot. Potter’s ad hoc weapon of the same name was fueled not by flammable gasses but by a cruel mixture of insecticidal oil, insecticidal soap and a hydrocarbon-based paint stripper. Not only did this mixture burn fiercely, it also stuck tenaciously to any surface — including flesh.
Of course, Potter was beyond caring what his weapon did to the enemy. The image of Florinda Showers valiantly fighting off a horde of Rattata, Sentret and Furret, only to be gravely wounded by an Air Cutter from a Hoothoot was burned in his memory. The last image he had of her was her screaming, pleading for Arceus, her mother — anyone — to save her as the horde began to slowly eat her alive. The enemy showed no mercy and so, they shall be shown no mercy.
The gardener ground his teeth as he depressed the sprayer handle one more time. More Rattata were soon turned to into frantically chirping, panicking torches. He smirked underneath the protective hood and mask.
But beneath that smirk of bravado and righteous anger, was another emotion. Resignation. Potter knew that despite the bravery and ferocity that his fellow gardeners and their pokémon fought with, they would not win — let alone survive — unless HLC reinforcements arrived soon. After all, garden tools, agricultural chemicals, toxic plant extracts and relatively untrained pokémon could only go so far.
Private Lauri dropped the empty magazine and slammed a full one into his battle rifle. His weapon barked as he sent four 7.62 x 51 mm hollow points towards a pair of Furret charging a Hyper Beam attack. Four red puffs of blood indicated four direct hits as the duo dropped dead. His eyes burned from the smoke that drifted through the battlefield.
The fire team leader saw a Gloom approaching a man sprawled out on the ground. His weapon, a large pruning knife, was inches away from his right hand. Instantly assuming that the pokémon was up to no good, she raised her rifle and fired a few shots at it. The Gloom panicked as soon as it saw the rifle and bolted.
“Lauri! We got one!” she shouted. Private Lauri loped over to the woman.
“What is it?” he shouted over the din of battle.
“Casualty!”
The woman approached the man. “Sir, are you okay?”
“I’d be better if you fuckers didn’t chase away that Gloom!” the man replied with a cough. The woman then mentally kicked herself. Gloom were not found in this area. Thus, the one that she saw was probably belonged to someone and was tame. On the other hand, there have been instances where trained pokémon attacked or even killed their trainers. Seeing as it was too late to dwell on what had already been done, she spoke.
“Sir, can you walk?”
“I could if you didn’t chase that Gloom away! I got dusted with stun stem powder!”
“Lauri! Keep watch!” the woman barked. She activated the diagnostic scan on her pokéglov and aimed the blue beam at the man. In a few seconds, the pokéglov beeped. The man had indeed been exposed to stun stem. A slot in the pokéglov slid back and a spray bottle the size of her finger was exposed. She took the bottle and spritzed the man with it.
Private Lauri kept his rifle at low ready as he scanned for threats. As he did so, he couldn’t help but notice the blood that covered the man’s clothing and hair. How much of it belonged to him and how much of it came from pokémon he had personally slain with his pruning knife was a question best left unanswered. Private Lauri was of course, no stranger to killing pokémon. But killing one at close range where he could taste its hot breath, feel the sheer power in those muscles and hear its cries of pain and rage was a foreign and terrifying experience. Nevertheless, he maintained his professional composure.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Furret make a leap at him, teeth bared and charged with coruscating energy of Super Fang. His heart stopped as time seemed to stretch into infinity. The din of the battlefield faded into indistinct white noise.
On autopilot, he raised his rifle, lined it up with the Furret — seemingly frozen in space — and fired a single two-round burst. Two puffs of blood and vaporized tissue blossomed out of the Furret as the bullets struck their mark.
The report of the rifle hung in Private Lauri’s ears like smoke in the air. The Furret froze in midair as rounds ripped through its body. Private Lauri watched as the mortally wounded pokémon slowly tumbled to the ground and the spent shell casings from his rifle pirouetted in the smoky air.
And then, life returned to normal speed. The Furret’s carcass and the two shell casings struck the ground. The metallic bite of blood lingered on the soldier’s tongue. He swallowed to suppress the bile that rose in his throat. His head swam and entire body shuddered as he tried to calm his racing heart. So that was what it was like to kill at contact range. It was terrifying…but yet, the adrenaline rush was like nothing else. Was this what the wild pokémon were feeling when they engaged in mass slaughter? A high unmatched by anything else?
The man who had been sprayed with the paralyz heal shook his torpid limbs as he pushed himself to his feet. He picked up his bloodied pruning knife. “I’m glad you’re here! We’ve been fighting these fuckers for the past five hours!”
The woman couldn’t help but marvel at how long this ragtag group had held out with nothing more than garden tools and other improvised weapons combined with sheer balls. Of course, the fact that the pokémon here weren’t very powerful probably evened the odds. Her headset radio beeped as the squad leader’s voice came over the headset.
“Fort Pallet’s picked up a huge group of flyers heading this way. Mostly Fearow and Pidgeot. ETA is about an hour. There’s no way we can hold that off. We’ll have to evac the civilians and anything of use! Danche out!”
“Roger that.” The woman turned to two soldiers who were near Private Lauri. “Private Broden and Private Claris! You’re coming with me to grab info from the greenhouse!” She then turned to Private Lauri. “Private Lauri, you escort the civilian to one of the transports!”
The man shook his head and picked up his pruning knife. “I know the greenhouse better than any of you. I’ll come.”
“That’s not an option. Despite your bravery, you are still an untrained civilian; it’s a liability.”
“I have the keys to the greenhouse and I know the contents of the library.”
The woman looked at the greenhouse door. Sure, the halligan tool in her backpack would let her get through most doors but simply opening the door was the fastest way. Especially a door that had such a massive deadbolt on it. And of course, the man's knowledge would tremendously speed up their information gathering. She sighed. “Fine. You come with us. Private Lauri, you too!”
The two men who were called fell in. At their leader’s command, they made their way to the door. Luckily, the nearby machine gunner kept the hostile pokémon at bay with a stream of green tracer fire.
Sergeant Cassidy Danche released the talk button on her radio handset as she put it back in its holder. She leaned back in her padded seat in the truck’s cab and sighed as she brushed a lock of reddish hair away from her face. The “gunner” next to her gulped as he placed his hands in the gauntlets that let him control the manipulator arms. The whirring of powerful electric motors was heard as the arms extended from behind armored ports in the front of the vehicle.
The woman saw one of the machine gunners duck behind a cart full of topsoil to provide covering fire for two infantrymen. Between the two soldiers were two hazmat suit clad figures equipped with spray dusters. Lines of green tracer fire stitched the reddish air.
She watched as the group headed for her truck via the rear-view camera. Immediately, she pressed the button to lower the rear boarding ramp. Almost immediately, the stink and din of the battlefield filled the vehicle as the four hustled aboard.
The two soldiers stood guard while the two armed civilians entered. The two soldiers then entered and the rear hatch closed with a solid thunk.
The two suited figures laid their dusters aside and removed their hoods and masks, revealing a man and a woman. Sweat glistened on their faces and hair. Both of them took deep breaths of the stale, yet cool air inside the truck. One of the soldiers retrieved two silvery packets of water from a compartment beneath the seats. He tossed them to the two refugees.
“Thank Arceus, I thought I was going to be broiled inside that thing!” The man ripped open the packet and gulped the cool, if slightly metallic water. When he was done, he carefully stepped out of his hazmat suit and wiped his sweaty brow with a slightly less sweaty hand.
The woman adjusted her glasses, brushed a lock of black hair away from her face and started drinking the water as well. She too, carefully removed her hazmat suit.
The first soldier looked askance at the duo’s clothing and dusters. “So what’s in those things?”
“Stun stem powder,” the woman replied. “Instantly paralyzes upon inhalation.”
The soldier carefully backed away from the two dusters. He smiled. Despite being completely untrained and woefully underequipped, the gardeners had managed to turn simple garden equipment and plants into rather effective weapons. “I don’t suppose you have any left?”
The gardener shook his head. “No. We grow all our own botanicals in the greenhouse.”
The man unlocked the greenhouse. Thanks to the fierce fighting outside having knocked out the generators, watery sunlight streaming in through the shattered windows was the only source of light within. Gunshots from the battlefield outside echoed inside the dome.
“Claris, take point!” the woman barked.
Private First Class Claris, a youth of just barely nineteen but with the world-weary expression of a hardened warrior stepped up. His battle rifle was held at low ready as he took the first step into the dimly lit hallway. He clicked on the tac light at the end of his rifle and swept it around the hallway. Aside from broken glass that covered the plants and pathways — and the bite of smoke in the air — the greenhouse wasn’t too badly damaged.
The gardener held his pruning knife at the ready. He was behind PFC Claris. He turned to the woman. “Hey, I never got your name,” he said.
The woman said nothing as she raised her rifle to illuminate an empty storage closet that had once held garden tools. She glanced at the man’s pruning knife and the protective jacket that was marred with tooth marks. Looks like the tools were taken to arm everyone here. “You don’t need to know that,” she said.
The gardener scowled; the team leader’s attitude was annoying at best and obnoxious at worst. Still, he couldn’t complain too much seeing as she was a member of the HLC force that provided the beleaguered greenhouse workers with badly needed firepower. He saw the team leader prepare to climb up a set of stairs that led to the elevated pathways that crisscrossed the greenhouse. “Wait!” he said. “That way leads to the observation deck! The library’s down here.”
The team leader stopped midway up the stairs and returned to ground level. “Show us.” The expression on her face was reminiscent of one eating an overripe rawst berry. The woman none too gently shoved the gardener aside as she consulted with Private Claris. The gardener scowled and when the woman wasn’t looking, flipped the middle finger at her.
Several seconds passed before the woman turned to the gardener. “Lead the way to the library.”
The gardener nodded. He took point as PFC Claris fell back. The gardener froze and held his pruning knife at the ready as the bushes rustled. The four soldiers turned and aimed their rifles at the bushes. A Gloom staggered out of the bushes. Seeing the four, it yelped and bolted back into the bushes.
The woman sighed. “Keep moving.”
The man nodded and wound his way through the brick paths. Soon, he arrived at a beautiful garden plaza. Several concrete benches surrounded it. A beautiful bronze bridge over a gently burbling stream led the way to the library. A sign over the entrance read “Gardenia Raine Botanical Library”.
Amazingly, despite the battle raging outside, the tile mosaic of a Bulbasaur on the plaza and the stone sculptures were unmarred — save for the numerous glass shards that covered the area.
The man unlocked the library and the team leader looked at him. She gestured to the vast bookshelves, all bulging with various books. Sunlight filtered in through the glass windows. Amazingly, these windows were intact. “All right, since we obviously can’t take all this shit onto the two trucks we have, what are the most important and valuable things here?”
The man sighed. Asking him to choose what books to rescue and what to abandon was a cruel choice; he had managed the library for years and it was one of the most complete botanical libraries in all of Kanto. To see it abandoned to the marauding pokémon was sacrilegious.
But then again, in wartime — especially against a foe as brutal and ruthless as the ones besieging Xanadu Nursery — hard choices had to be made. He sucked in a breath. “The most important books are the employee records and the biography of Florinda Showers,” he said. “However, we also have records of the contents of the greenhouse as well as seed samples. Furthermore, we have books on various herbal medications and poisons.”
The team leader nodded as she analyzed the data. “We’re taking the books on medicines, poisons, greenhouse records and seeds. Everything else gets left behind. Get to it!”
The men immediately dispersed, save for the gardener. He winced as one of the soldiers roughly shoved a large encyclopedia of herbal medicines into his rucksack.
“Hey! Give us a hand so we can un-ass this place before the Big Birds get here!” the team leader shouted.
The gardener, well aware that “Big Birds” was HLC slang for “fully evolved flying types”, immediately got to work. He placed his pruning knife back in his belt sheath and snatched a backpack from the library’s lost and found. Seeing as the backpack was full of loose papers and some bagged food, he unceremoniously dumped the contents on the floor and went into the stacks to help gather books.
The first thing he grabbed was an autobiography of Florinda Showers. He shivered as he saw the clock. It was stopped at 10 AM — the exact time the generators were knocked out. All he knew that it was at least 4 PM. The next item to go into his stolen backpack was a thin hardcover book titled Herbal Remedies for the Traveling Trainer. He then carefully routed around PFC Claris, who was attempting to cram The Pocket Guide to Wild Herbs into his rucksack and unlocked the seed storage room. Even through his jacket, he could feel the chill of the room — a testament to how heavily insulated the room was.
Taking care not to slip on the condensation-slick concrete, he entered and did a quick scan of the contents. A binder on the wall contained a listing of all the plants in the bank. He unceremoniously shoved the thick binder into his backpack. The gardener let out a sigh, causing a puff of vapor to hang in the air. Again, he had to make a choice: what to sacrifice and what to rescue.
The gardener made a beeline for the medicinal and toxic plants section. Opening his backpack, he yanked open the drawers and simply threw the sealed plastic vials into his backpack. Thankfully, all the vials had their contents written on their labels. Once he was done with one section, he moved onto the next and repeated the step.
He was partway through the section on food plants when gunfire got his attention. His heart leapt into his throat as he tossed the vials in his hand into his backpack. Hastily zipping it up, he threw the backpack over his shoulder and rushed for the exit to the seed bank.
Only to slip on a small puddle. He swore profusely as he landed on the hard concrete floor. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as a spike of pain shot through his bruised hip.
“Glad to see you’re still here!” the team leader shouted as she fired a burst from her rifle into the air. A Fearow squawked and flew upwards through the holed roof. “The Big Birds are real close.”
The gardener felt his buttocks involuntarily clench as he heard the distinct cry of a Fearow. Every Kantoian survivor knew that a flock of Fearow had razed the Oak Ranch and massacred the inhabitants of Pallet Town. As a result, they all hated and feared the Beak pokémon.
The team leader took point as she led the men through the winding pathways of the greenhouse. Glass shattered as additional Fearow let loose with concussive blasts of air and blades of wind as they attempted to attack the five. Luckily, the Fearow were squabbling over who got to kill them. Soon, the squabble degenerated into a brawl. Glass shards rained down as one of the Fearow slammed its opponent through one of the greenhouse panes.
“Shit.” The team leader looked over the battlefield.
Gunfire rent the air as the HLC machine gunners fired their weapons into horde of Fearow about 150 meters out from where the trucks were located. Despite the distance, the Fearow were rapidly closing in. The remaining infantry were ushering the rescued civilians and supplies aboard the two armored vehicles. The vehicles’ arms and vibrosaw were raised high like Arbok ready to strike. Unfortunately, the Fearow flew too high and fast for them to reach. Of course, the operators did get a few lucky strikes on the Fearow who had foolishly flown too low; those who did so were either reduced to bloody chunks by the saw or had their bodies broken with a single swift blow of the metallic arm.
“Corporal!” PFC Claris shouted over the din of battle. “Incoming!”
The team leader dove to the ground as a Fearow used Drill Run in an attempt to skewer the soldier. Swearing, she raised her rifle and fired a few rounds at the pokémon. Thanks to its speed, the rounds missed it as the Fearow wheeled around for another run. It was during that miniscule window of time where a pokémon using Drill Run would pause for a brief moment so it could turn that the woman aimed her rifle. Two swift cracks rent the air and two puffs of blood and vaporized tissue spurted from the gravely wounded pokémon. A dull thud was heard as it crashed into the ground. Its agonized squawks echoed through the area.
“Holy shit! Help me!” Private Lauri was huddled in a ball as two Fearow began pecking at him. His helmet and protective vest had absorbed most of the abuse. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his arms and legs. He had fallen behind the other soldiers and this had made him an attractive target to the Fearow.
Seeking to assist the soldiers in any way possible, the gardener dropped his backpack, unsheathed his pruning knife and charged towards Private Lauri. One of the soldiers also ran to assist his fallen comrade.
The gardener was the first to arrive. Swinging his knife with two hands, he aimed at the long sinuous neck of a Fearow. As it moved to peck some more at Private Lauri, he wasn’t able to get a clean decapitation. Instead, he lopped off one of the Fearow’s wings. Squawking angrily, the pokémon flapped its remaining wing as it tried to attack him. Blood droplets flew into the air as the Fearow charged him with its beak open wide and its eyes burning with rage.
Suddenly feeling warm liquid (that was most certainly not blood) running down his leg, the gardener gulped as he got his knife ready for a second blow. As the Fearow got in range, he swung his knife with two hands like a baseball player trying to hit a home run.
It was a direct hit. Flesh, bone and muscle provided no resistance to a honed steel blade designed to chop through thick branches with a single stroke. The Fearow’s head flew through the air as the headless corpse continued forward under its own momentum. The body collapsed onto the ground where it continued to twitch.
A small arc of blood spurted out from the body with each dying heartbeat, staining the gardener’s boots.
The thud of metal meeting flesh and bone indicated that the other soldier had clubbed the other Fearow to death with his battle rifle. The gardener turned to the stricken soldier.
He choked down the bile that began to climb in his throat and fought through a surge of dizziness that threatened to knock him down as he laid eyes on Private Lauri. The young soldier’s arms and legs were covered in deep gouges where the knife-edged beaks of the Fearow had peeled away his skin and muscle. The dull white of bone that peeked out from some of the gashes testified how vicious the attack was. If it weren’t for the helmet and protective vest, Private Lauri would have lost his eyes or worse. Even then, his arms and legs would be permanently scarred. The infantryman who had helped the gardener kill the two Fearow pulled out a yellow spray bottle from a pocket on his vest. The gardener recognized it as hyper potion bottle. Granted, hyper potion wasn’t the cure-all in humans as it was in pokémon. Nevertheless its ability to staunch bleeding, kill pathogens in the wound, provide a temporary barrier to infection and greatly reduce pain made it an invaluable part of any soldier’s kit. The soldier sprayed the solution over Private Lauri’s wounds, evoking a loud stream of profanities.
The team leader had seen the whole incident unfolding. She dared not shoot at the Fearow lest she hit her own men. Instead she spoke into her headset mike.
“Sergeant Harris, this is Corporal Lulalais! We need you to get closer! We’ve got a casualty who can’t walk! Corporal Lulalais out!”
In a few minutes, the massive armored vehicle rumbled up to Corporal Lulalais. The rear ramp descended and four soldiers bearing a stretcher between hustled down the ramp and headed for Private Lauri.
At the same time, the gardener had now retrieved his backpack and slowly plodded towards the vehicle. The exertion of battle, the sheer weight of the backpack and the fading adrenaline rush all conspired to make his limbs feel like they were made of lead.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Corporal Lulalais shouted as she periodically looked skywards for any sign of Fearow or Pidgeot.
“Cut me some Arceusdamned slack! I ain’t an infantryman!” the gardener snapped. He bent over to catch his breath. His chest heaved as he sucked in the smoky air. The distinct bite of Potter’s ad hoc flamethrower fuel and blood hung in the air.
After a minute of rest, he had gotten enough of his energy back to make it aboard the vehicle’s boarding ramp. There, he collapsed in a heap on the steel floor. Two soldiers helped pull him to his feet and helped him into a seat. The gardener dumped his backpack on the floor and turned to Potter, who was in the seat next to him. The man was statute-still, despite how uncomfortable the bench seat was.
“Hey Potter.” No response.
The gardener took a closer look at his fellow Xanadu Nursery employee. Potter’s formerly jovial expression was replaced by a distant and dead stare — as if he were staring through the vehicle’s concrete and steel hull. Indeed, it was as if he was unaware of his surroundings.
A few moments later, the four soldiers arrived with Private Lauri. They placed the stretcher on an empty bench as they began tending to his wounds. With the whirring of electric motors, the rear ramp slid shut.
The vehicle lurched slightly as it began to move.
The gardener breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he and the surviving employees can get away from this shithole. And in his case, change into some clean clothing.
Sergeant Harris radioed Sergeant Danche to let her know that everyone and that they were returning to Fort Pallet for debriefing.
He looked at the feed from the rearview camera and swore profusely. Behind them was a massive black cloud. The “Big Birds” had come after them. He spoke into his headset mike “Sergeant Danche! This is Sergeant Harris. The ‘Big Birds’ are coming after us! Over!”
He waited for a moment and then Sergeant Danche’s voice came over the headset radio. “We do not have the capabilities to engage. Evade! Danche out!”
Sergeant Harris pushed the accelerator down to the floor. The vehicle lurched and shuddered as he watched the speedometer climb past 70 km/h. A rough jolt indicated that he had driven over a crater.
The flock of Pidgeot and Fearow blotted out the sun as they chased the two vehicles across plains marked with craters and black scorch marks. Two long plumes of tan dust marked the paths of the two vehicles. Despite the head start of the HLC troops, the flock was rapidly gaining on them.
Furious squawks and trills filled the air as the birds jostled for position — each wanting to be the one to draw first blood. Eventually, the birds resorted to flinging shockwaves of compressed air, stellate energy bolts and other projectiles at the two vehicles. Luckily, the Fearow and Pidgeot were so focused on landing the first hit that they had forgotten to aim.
Sergeant Danche let loose a rather remarkable array of profanity as she wrestled with the steering levers as she attempted to avoid the craters that the attacks had gouged into the muddy ground as well as the attacks themselves. Air Cutter, Razor Wind, Sonic Boom and Air Slash could mostly be ignored as they lacked the power to pierce even the thin top armor.
She felt the vehicle shake as it took a direct hit from a Razor Wind attack. Luckily, her headset was able to cancel the otherwise deafening noise. She looked at the map on the console. Fort Pallet was only about forty kilometers away.
Another impact rocked the vehicle. She turned to the gunner/radioman as she struggled with the steering levers. “Get Fort Pallet on the horn and tell them that the ‘Big Birds’ are coming after us!”
The radioman nodded and grabbed the handset. “Fort Pallet! This is Foxtrot Actual! We have hostiles in pursuit. They are flying-types! Over!”
“Roger that. Defenses will be coming online. Fort Pallet out.”
“Thank Arceus!” Sergeant Danche said as she watched the radioman put the handset back. She watched as a glowing star ricocheted off of the vehicle’s glacis and into the sky. It was the Swift projectiles that she had to worry about; the energy bolts were capable of piercing personal and thin vehicle armor — such as the one that was atop the Grotle truck.
She shot a glance at the rearview camera feed; the black cloud was getting closer. She pushed the accelerator down to the floor and watched as the speedometer touched 100 km/h.
All she had to do was get within range of Fort Pallet’s guns.
Fort Pallet interior
Sirens ripped through the dusk air as soon as command had received word of Foxtrot Team’s predicament. Columns of white light soared into the sky as the soldiers prepared for the air raid.
M162 Remoraid 75 mm guns — controlled, loaded and fired by artillerymen safely within each tower’s armored base — slowly traversed as they aimed in the direction where the flock of “Big Birds” was anticipated to arrive.
The creaking of metal doors could be heard as autonomous M122 Kamex CIWS rose from behind their armored shutters. Their electric motors whirred as the guns were aimed at the sky. Unlike the Remoraids, these guns were completely autonomous — once hostiles were detected by radar they were be ripped to shreds by a hail of 20 mm HE/fragmentation shells. Owing to their role as point-defense weapons, their effective range was below 500 meters in contrast to the 13 kilometer effective range of the Remoraids.
Fort Pallet – Central Control Room
“Steady, steady,” the fire control officer said as he looked at the screen showing the position of the flock. A train of numbers flickered at the bottom of the screen as the “Big Birds” got closer. All around him were numerous other officers of Fort Pallet dealing with communications, troop movement and other important matters. The dim overhead lighting of Fort Pallet’s central control room contrasted with the white glare of the numerous monitors.
A few seconds later, the numbers on the radar screen flashed red. “Big Birds in range! Fire guns!” the fire control officer barked into the intercom.
The very air itself seemed to shudder as Fort Pallet’s Remoraid guns flung their deadly payloads into the sky. Thanks to a modified teleportation system derived from the PC poké ball transport system, the guns were fed from a central armory, giving them essentially unlimited ammunition. For obvious reasons, a double-feed of the explosive shells was not something the gunners wished to see. Unfortunately, this came at a price: the Fort Pallet guns were more maintenance intensive and their rate of fire was much lower.
12 km from Fort Pallet
The fecal stink of death permeated the passenger compartment of Sergeant Harris’s Grotle truck. Two stellate holes, their ragged edges still softly glowing red from the Swift attack, in the ceiling let in the chill night air. Corporal Lulalais, in an attempt to preserve Private Lauri’s dignity, had draped a tarp over the man’s mutilated body. A hole in his abdomen, through which charred coils of viscera poked through, heralded the cause of death — a Swift star that had pierced the Grotle truck’s thin top armor and his ballistic vest. Despite the application of hyper potion, his previous injuries had weakened him to the point that the Swift projectile would have killed him.
The corporal sighed. Sometime during this war, she was going to end up like Private Lauri. Dead in a pool of her own bodily wastes. She pushed the unpleasant thoughts from her head — and replaced them with an even more morbid thought: if the HLC lost the war, the Human race was fucked. Best-case scenario: Humanity was completely killed. Worse-case scenario: Humanity would become the slaves of the enemy Legendaries or worse, the playthings of the psychopathic mad scientist, Uxie. She shuddered; many an HLC recruit had suffered sleepless nights from the intel that Mesprit had divulged about her brother — tales of clones, vivisection, artificial pokémon and worse.
A loud explosion broke her from her reverie. She peered through the hole in the roof and saw a massive burst of fire. She smiled. They were almost home! A Swift projectile deflecting into her vehicle’s corundum windshield and leaving a molten puddle was a stark reminder that the key word was almost.
A cloud of steel rods tore into the flock of birds like a school of ravenous Carvanha. The steel rods would actually bend and wobble in flight, acting like miniature razors. Many of the “birds” blinked into nonexistence, the lethal shrapnel continuing as if nothing had happened. Those closest to the exploding shell were reduced to a puff of feathers and meat that drifted to the ground. Those further away had body parts ripped off or organs pulverized from the lethal combination of shockwave and shrapnel.
Pidgeot and Fearow with missing limbs or torn-open bodies plummeted from the sky along with feathers, blood and bits of meat.
Again and again, the flock tried to push forward in pursuit of the two vehicles but again and again, the hail of stinging flak drove them back.
Deciding to cut their losses, the now greatly reduced flock gave a few angry squawks and broke off the attack, heading back to the Viridian Forest.
Sergeant Danche let out a rather incongruous whoop as she watched the flock retreat through her vehicle’s rearview camera. Soon, she saw the gates of Fort Pallet lit up by her vehicle’s headlights. Her vision whited out as the twin spotlights shone down from the watchtowers flanking the gate.
The radio buzzed. “Foxtrot Actual, recite passphrase. Over.”
The woman racked her brain for a moment before she picked up the radio handset. “To understand the power inside,” she said. She then released the talk button and awaited a response.
“Acknowledged. Please proceed. Fort Pallet out.” The gates slid back with a groaning creak and the two battle-scarred vehicles trundled through.
The uninjured civilians were quickly hustled out of the vehicles and into the temporary quarters. Medics removed at least six wounded and two dead. Two mechanics entered the vehicle and drove them into the motor pool where their batteries would be charged and any damage sustained would be repaired.
Sergeant Danche dismounted her vehicle. She yawned. “Fucking damn it,” she muttered.
She looked at her watch: 2100 hours.
Chalk up another successful mission for the 95th Kanto Armor Regiment, she thought as she headed for the sleeping quarters.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Chapter 1: M215 Grotle
Chapter 2: MGM-493 Arceus
Cover
TOP SECRET
UNAUTHORIZED DISSEMINATION IS A VIOLATION OF THE HUMAN-LEGENDARY COALITION CODE OF MILITARY JUSTICE
RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT NOTES OF THE VEHICLES AND ORDNANCE OF THE HUMAN-LEGENDARY COALITION
HEAD SCIENTIST: DOCTOR KAMINKO
UNAUTHORIZED DISSEMINATION IS A VIOLATION OF THE HUMAN-LEGENDARY COALITION CODE OF MILITARY JUSTICE
RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT NOTES OF THE VEHICLES AND ORDNANCE OF THE HUMAN-LEGENDARY COALITION
HEAD SCIENTIST: DOCTOR KAMINKO
DISTRIBUTION RESTRICTION: Distribution authorized only to Human-Legendary Coalition personnel with the appropriate clearances on a “need to know basis”. Requests for this document must be referred to Commandant, Human-Legendary Coalition Ordnance Development Division, 151 Pyrite Road, Suite 649, Fort Phenac, Orre 72063-1522 or higher authority.
DESTRUCTION NOTICE: Destroy by any method that will prevent disclosure of contents or reconstruction of the document.
Chapter 1: M215 Grotle
M215 Grotle
Statistics
Type: General purpose heavy cargo and troop transport
Weight: 18,144 kilograms empty; 27,216 kg maximum gross vehicle weight
Dimensions: 5.5 meters (length); 2.5 meters (width); 3 meters (height)
Powerplant/Drivetrain: 645 kilowatt DC permanent magnet motor driving six wheels equipped with run-flat tires.
Range: 300 km on full charge
Performance: 0-100 km/h in 20 seconds, top speed of approximately 100 km/h on good terrain, maximum water fording depth: 1 m; maximum frontal slope: 45 percent; maximum side slope: 13 percent; ground clearance: 0.51 m; maximum trench: 160 cm
Armament: None
Armor: Composite armor of concrete sandwiched between AR500 steel. Windows are 7.62 cm thick transparent corundum (proof against .50 caliber AP). Hull sides range from 30.48 cm to 10.16 cm in thickness. Top and bottom armor is 5.08 cm in thickness.
Countermeasures: Electrical shunt system that can absorb electric attacks or sap electricity straight from power lines via the two manipulator arms.
Crew: Two (driver and equipment operator) and sixteen soldiers or 3,990 kg of cargo
Notes by Doctor Kaminko
This vehicle is an anomaly among the HLC’s arsenal for it was actually developed prior to the formation of the Human-Legendary Coalition. According to interviews with the original drivers/mechanics, this vehicle was designed to service and repair power lines or other electrical infrastructure in areas that are difficult if not impossible to reach by normal ground vehicles.
The vehicle itself is built on the chassis of a Turtwig heavy electric cargo truck, chosen for its durability and ease of modification. The chassis itself was extended by 1.5 meters to accommodate a larger crew/equipment hold. The cab itself was removed and integrated with the crew/equipment hold. Armor plate composed of concrete sandwiched between AR500 steel was added to protect the drivetrain and cargo hold/cab against falling debris and pokémon attacks. Corundum windows replaced the original tempered glass windows for added protection. The original 261 kW motor was replaced by a 645 kW motor to compensate for the additional weight of the armor, enlarged cargo compartment and three extendable folding arms capable of extending to a length of 6.1 meters.
Two of the extendable arms are equipped with two-fingered metallic graspers. Each arm is actuated by “muscles” composed of an electroactive metal alloy. By mass, these muscles are about 10 times stronger than the muscles on a Machamp. As a result, these arms have a maximum lift capacity of approximately 2,358 kilograms. According to documents salvaged from Sunyshore Tower before its destruction, these arms were intended for use in construction, obviating the need for a crane. However, interviews with the crew revealed that these arms were primarily used in demolition.
The third arm is equipped with a 1 meter long saw composed of synthetic diamonds in a tool steel-carbide matrix. This saw is designed to cut a variety of materials, ranging from steel, concrete and other hard materials to softer materials like composites, wood and plastics. The cutting action is provided by means of an ultrasonic vibration generator, allowing the blade to vibrate at approximately 35 kHz.
While the vehicle is completely unarmed, its weight and size allow it to push aside or crush most obstacles and threats. In addition, vehicle crews often report using the arms to batter or rip apart attacking pokémon or using the vibrosaw to shred attackers.
Despite the vehicles being poorly suited for combat, they remain in production due to their relatively low cost — which is mostly due to the fact that its armor is composed of relatively inexpensive materials (concrete and steel). However, as a trade-off, the armor is quite heavy, which restricts the vehicle’s range and maneuverability. In addition, the armor is not acidproof except for the corundum windows.
Selected Field Reports
“Fucking thing handles like a drunken Rhydon!” Sergeant Jade “Goldeen” Fyn, Company F, 2nd Battalion, 85th Sinnoh Armor Regiment, 21st Armored Division (Fort Twinleaf)
“Excellent off-road handling but you’re boned if you manage to get it stuck. Hey, Kaminko, next version of this thing, add a fucking winch!” Sergeant Cassidy “Candy Ass” Danche, Company A, 1st Battalion, 95th Kanto Armor Regiment, 1st Armored Division (Fort Pallet)
“Nearly impossible to destroy but its composite armor is a huge pain to repair. Especially when poison pokémon have gotten to it.” Joey “Youngster” Gleason, FOB Victory mechanic
“Dear Arceus, the range on this thing sucks dick!” Corporal Richard “Firebreather” del Fuego, Company A, 2st Battalion, 56th Kanto Infantry Regiment, 1st Armored Division (Fort Pallet)
“Put a fucking autocannon or some other weapon on this thing!” Specialist Marion “Iron Maiden” Stahl, Company A, 4th Support Battalion, 45th Hoenn Armor Regiment, 2nd Armored Brigade Combat Team, 31st Armored Division (Fort Evergrande)
Tales from the Front Lines
“You nervous?”
That single sentence cut through the low rumble of the vehicle’s powerful motor inside the cargo compartment.
The target of the speech, a one Private Kevin Lauri, broke out of his reverie. Despite his racing heart, he forced his mouth to make the word: “No.” That fake bravado helped keep his face a calm mask, but it did nothing to loosen the death grip his hands had on the MOLLE straps of his S3TCG protective vest.
“Listen man, it’s okay to be a bit jittery.” The older infantryman placed a hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “Just remember”—he gestured to the other troopers inside the cramped metal compartment—“we’re a team. None of us will let you down.”
Private Lauri gulped. “Got it. I’ll be the best I can be.” His youthful face furrowed into the hard set visage of a trained soldier.
The veteran smiled. “That’s the ticket! Now let’s get out there and see if we can save those civvies in the greenhouse!”
The young trooper looked around. Inside the dimly lit cargo compartment were nine other soldiers. All of them were dressed in the HLC uniform of a S3TCG protective vest over fireproof digital camo uniforms and a durasilk combat helmet. All but four of them carried the primary weapon of a Human-Legendary Coalition infantryman: the BR-541 battle rifle — affectionately known as the “Glameow” for its small size and vicious “bite”. The sole exceptions were the two machine gunners, who carried the MG-417 light machine gun — aka the “Purugly” — and the two grenadiers, armed with the MGL-512 revolver-type grenade launcher — the “Dodrio”.
The soldier brought up the holographic map on his pokéglov. They were heading north along Route 1, going up from Pallet Town — better known as Fort Pallet.
The soldier let out a sigh as he shut down the map. Fort Pallet was one of the only two Human strongholds of the Kanto region. As a result, Ho-oh’s forces often laid siege to the base in an attempt to force the Humans to abandon Kanto. Private Lauri had been through two of those — and he was only a month out of basic training.
The other stronghold, Fort Moon — just positioned outside the ruins of Viridian City — had the dubious honor of being the base that was the most frequently attacked.
“All right men, move out!” their leader shouted. With a groaning shudder, the armored rear ramp began to slowly lower. PFC Lauri’s stomach tied itself into knots as the odor of burning vegetation and flesh slammed into his nostrils like a Giga Impact to the face. Nevertheless, he kept his composure, flipped the fire select switch on his rifle to burst and got ready to descend down the ramp like the other soldiers around him. He gulped; the previous battles were advantageous towards him, thanks to the mines scattered around Fort Pallet, its numerous stationary guns, the garrison of trained pokémon in the base as well as its large motor pool. Out here, Ho-oh’s forces had the advantage. Alas, there was only one way to tell if his training had been effective.
Enter the battlefield itself.
***
Nothing had prepared the young soldier for what he saw. Xanadu Nursery, home to some of his most cherished childhood memories, had transformed into a hellish battlefield. Every window of the stately greenhouse dome had been reduced to glittering fragments. Plumes of black, choking smoke rose into the red-orange skies. Corpses — pokémon and human alike — littered the battlefield. Screams of pain rose into the air like smoke.
The hot, coarse air sucked the air out of his lungs with each breath. Steeling himself, he marched down the ramp with his fellow soldiers. Then, his training took over.
***
Sweat poured down Potter’s face as he hastily pumped his garden sprayer. When the pump handle recoiled, he slung the device over his back and secured the straps. Noticing that the firebrand mounted at the end of the sprayer was out, he relit it from a small piece of burning debris.
And not a moment too soon, as a swarm of Spinarak and Furret began to close in on him. He squeezed the sprayer handle and swept side-to-side, just as if he were watering the plants in the nursery. With a deceptively gentle hiss, a stream of burning liquid coated the onrushing pokémon and ground. The charging pokémon, screeching in abject agony, soon scattered as they desperately tried to put out the flames. In their haste to extinguish the fire, they collided with and ignited various inanimate objects and their own comrades. Soon, roving specks of fire dotted the battlefield like morbid candles.
Those unlucky enough to be struck by the spray would die horribly as the flames ate away their skin and flesh, leaving behind black, carbonized skeletons with remnants of charred flesh clinging like banners. The pokémon attack of Flamethrower was a mercy in comparison; those unlucky enough to be exposed to the full-blast of a Flamethrower usually died instantly as the burning gases boiled and charred their lungs — or cremated them on the spot. Potter’s ad hoc weapon of the same name was fueled not by flammable gasses but by a cruel mixture of insecticidal oil, insecticidal soap and a hydrocarbon-based paint stripper. Not only did this mixture burn fiercely, it also stuck tenaciously to any surface — including flesh.
Of course, Potter was beyond caring what his weapon did to the enemy. The image of Florinda Showers valiantly fighting off a horde of Rattata, Sentret and Furret, only to be gravely wounded by an Air Cutter from a Hoothoot was burned in his memory. The last image he had of her was her screaming, pleading for Arceus, her mother — anyone — to save her as the horde began to slowly eat her alive. The enemy showed no mercy and so, they shall be shown no mercy.
The gardener ground his teeth as he depressed the sprayer handle one more time. More Rattata were soon turned to into frantically chirping, panicking torches. He smirked underneath the protective hood and mask.
But beneath that smirk of bravado and righteous anger, was another emotion. Resignation. Potter knew that despite the bravery and ferocity that his fellow gardeners and their pokémon fought with, they would not win — let alone survive — unless HLC reinforcements arrived soon. After all, garden tools, agricultural chemicals, toxic plant extracts and relatively untrained pokémon could only go so far.
***
Private Lauri dropped the empty magazine and slammed a full one into his battle rifle. His weapon barked as he sent four 7.62 x 51 mm hollow points towards a pair of Furret charging a Hyper Beam attack. Four red puffs of blood indicated four direct hits as the duo dropped dead. His eyes burned from the smoke that drifted through the battlefield.
The fire team leader saw a Gloom approaching a man sprawled out on the ground. His weapon, a large pruning knife, was inches away from his right hand. Instantly assuming that the pokémon was up to no good, she raised her rifle and fired a few shots at it. The Gloom panicked as soon as it saw the rifle and bolted.
“Lauri! We got one!” she shouted. Private Lauri loped over to the woman.
“What is it?” he shouted over the din of battle.
“Casualty!”
The woman approached the man. “Sir, are you okay?”
“I’d be better if you fuckers didn’t chase away that Gloom!” the man replied with a cough. The woman then mentally kicked herself. Gloom were not found in this area. Thus, the one that she saw was probably belonged to someone and was tame. On the other hand, there have been instances where trained pokémon attacked or even killed their trainers. Seeing as it was too late to dwell on what had already been done, she spoke.
“Sir, can you walk?”
“I could if you didn’t chase that Gloom away! I got dusted with stun stem powder!”
“Lauri! Keep watch!” the woman barked. She activated the diagnostic scan on her pokéglov and aimed the blue beam at the man. In a few seconds, the pokéglov beeped. The man had indeed been exposed to stun stem. A slot in the pokéglov slid back and a spray bottle the size of her finger was exposed. She took the bottle and spritzed the man with it.
***
Private Lauri kept his rifle at low ready as he scanned for threats. As he did so, he couldn’t help but notice the blood that covered the man’s clothing and hair. How much of it belonged to him and how much of it came from pokémon he had personally slain with his pruning knife was a question best left unanswered. Private Lauri was of course, no stranger to killing pokémon. But killing one at close range where he could taste its hot breath, feel the sheer power in those muscles and hear its cries of pain and rage was a foreign and terrifying experience. Nevertheless, he maintained his professional composure.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Furret make a leap at him, teeth bared and charged with coruscating energy of Super Fang. His heart stopped as time seemed to stretch into infinity. The din of the battlefield faded into indistinct white noise.
On autopilot, he raised his rifle, lined it up with the Furret — seemingly frozen in space — and fired a single two-round burst. Two puffs of blood and vaporized tissue blossomed out of the Furret as the bullets struck their mark.
The report of the rifle hung in Private Lauri’s ears like smoke in the air. The Furret froze in midair as rounds ripped through its body. Private Lauri watched as the mortally wounded pokémon slowly tumbled to the ground and the spent shell casings from his rifle pirouetted in the smoky air.
And then, life returned to normal speed. The Furret’s carcass and the two shell casings struck the ground. The metallic bite of blood lingered on the soldier’s tongue. He swallowed to suppress the bile that rose in his throat. His head swam and entire body shuddered as he tried to calm his racing heart. So that was what it was like to kill at contact range. It was terrifying…but yet, the adrenaline rush was like nothing else. Was this what the wild pokémon were feeling when they engaged in mass slaughter? A high unmatched by anything else?
***
The man who had been sprayed with the paralyz heal shook his torpid limbs as he pushed himself to his feet. He picked up his bloodied pruning knife. “I’m glad you’re here! We’ve been fighting these fuckers for the past five hours!”
The woman couldn’t help but marvel at how long this ragtag group had held out with nothing more than garden tools and other improvised weapons combined with sheer balls. Of course, the fact that the pokémon here weren’t very powerful probably evened the odds. Her headset radio beeped as the squad leader’s voice came over the headset.
“Fort Pallet’s picked up a huge group of flyers heading this way. Mostly Fearow and Pidgeot. ETA is about an hour. There’s no way we can hold that off. We’ll have to evac the civilians and anything of use! Danche out!”
“Roger that.” The woman turned to two soldiers who were near Private Lauri. “Private Broden and Private Claris! You’re coming with me to grab info from the greenhouse!” She then turned to Private Lauri. “Private Lauri, you escort the civilian to one of the transports!”
The man shook his head and picked up his pruning knife. “I know the greenhouse better than any of you. I’ll come.”
“That’s not an option. Despite your bravery, you are still an untrained civilian; it’s a liability.”
“I have the keys to the greenhouse and I know the contents of the library.”
The woman looked at the greenhouse door. Sure, the halligan tool in her backpack would let her get through most doors but simply opening the door was the fastest way. Especially a door that had such a massive deadbolt on it. And of course, the man's knowledge would tremendously speed up their information gathering. She sighed. “Fine. You come with us. Private Lauri, you too!”
The two men who were called fell in. At their leader’s command, they made their way to the door. Luckily, the nearby machine gunner kept the hostile pokémon at bay with a stream of green tracer fire.
***
Sergeant Cassidy Danche released the talk button on her radio handset as she put it back in its holder. She leaned back in her padded seat in the truck’s cab and sighed as she brushed a lock of reddish hair away from her face. The “gunner” next to her gulped as he placed his hands in the gauntlets that let him control the manipulator arms. The whirring of powerful electric motors was heard as the arms extended from behind armored ports in the front of the vehicle.
The woman saw one of the machine gunners duck behind a cart full of topsoil to provide covering fire for two infantrymen. Between the two soldiers were two hazmat suit clad figures equipped with spray dusters. Lines of green tracer fire stitched the reddish air.
She watched as the group headed for her truck via the rear-view camera. Immediately, she pressed the button to lower the rear boarding ramp. Almost immediately, the stink and din of the battlefield filled the vehicle as the four hustled aboard.
***
The two soldiers stood guard while the two armed civilians entered. The two soldiers then entered and the rear hatch closed with a solid thunk.
The two suited figures laid their dusters aside and removed their hoods and masks, revealing a man and a woman. Sweat glistened on their faces and hair. Both of them took deep breaths of the stale, yet cool air inside the truck. One of the soldiers retrieved two silvery packets of water from a compartment beneath the seats. He tossed them to the two refugees.
“Thank Arceus, I thought I was going to be broiled inside that thing!” The man ripped open the packet and gulped the cool, if slightly metallic water. When he was done, he carefully stepped out of his hazmat suit and wiped his sweaty brow with a slightly less sweaty hand.
The woman adjusted her glasses, brushed a lock of black hair away from her face and started drinking the water as well. She too, carefully removed her hazmat suit.
The first soldier looked askance at the duo’s clothing and dusters. “So what’s in those things?”
“Stun stem powder,” the woman replied. “Instantly paralyzes upon inhalation.”
The soldier carefully backed away from the two dusters. He smiled. Despite being completely untrained and woefully underequipped, the gardeners had managed to turn simple garden equipment and plants into rather effective weapons. “I don’t suppose you have any left?”
The gardener shook his head. “No. We grow all our own botanicals in the greenhouse.”
***
The man unlocked the greenhouse. Thanks to the fierce fighting outside having knocked out the generators, watery sunlight streaming in through the shattered windows was the only source of light within. Gunshots from the battlefield outside echoed inside the dome.
“Claris, take point!” the woman barked.
Private First Class Claris, a youth of just barely nineteen but with the world-weary expression of a hardened warrior stepped up. His battle rifle was held at low ready as he took the first step into the dimly lit hallway. He clicked on the tac light at the end of his rifle and swept it around the hallway. Aside from broken glass that covered the plants and pathways — and the bite of smoke in the air — the greenhouse wasn’t too badly damaged.
The gardener held his pruning knife at the ready. He was behind PFC Claris. He turned to the woman. “Hey, I never got your name,” he said.
The woman said nothing as she raised her rifle to illuminate an empty storage closet that had once held garden tools. She glanced at the man’s pruning knife and the protective jacket that was marred with tooth marks. Looks like the tools were taken to arm everyone here. “You don’t need to know that,” she said.
The gardener scowled; the team leader’s attitude was annoying at best and obnoxious at worst. Still, he couldn’t complain too much seeing as she was a member of the HLC force that provided the beleaguered greenhouse workers with badly needed firepower. He saw the team leader prepare to climb up a set of stairs that led to the elevated pathways that crisscrossed the greenhouse. “Wait!” he said. “That way leads to the observation deck! The library’s down here.”
The team leader stopped midway up the stairs and returned to ground level. “Show us.” The expression on her face was reminiscent of one eating an overripe rawst berry. The woman none too gently shoved the gardener aside as she consulted with Private Claris. The gardener scowled and when the woman wasn’t looking, flipped the middle finger at her.
Several seconds passed before the woman turned to the gardener. “Lead the way to the library.”
The gardener nodded. He took point as PFC Claris fell back. The gardener froze and held his pruning knife at the ready as the bushes rustled. The four soldiers turned and aimed their rifles at the bushes. A Gloom staggered out of the bushes. Seeing the four, it yelped and bolted back into the bushes.
The woman sighed. “Keep moving.”
The man nodded and wound his way through the brick paths. Soon, he arrived at a beautiful garden plaza. Several concrete benches surrounded it. A beautiful bronze bridge over a gently burbling stream led the way to the library. A sign over the entrance read “Gardenia Raine Botanical Library”.
Amazingly, despite the battle raging outside, the tile mosaic of a Bulbasaur on the plaza and the stone sculptures were unmarred — save for the numerous glass shards that covered the area.
The man unlocked the library and the team leader looked at him. She gestured to the vast bookshelves, all bulging with various books. Sunlight filtered in through the glass windows. Amazingly, these windows were intact. “All right, since we obviously can’t take all this shit onto the two trucks we have, what are the most important and valuable things here?”
The man sighed. Asking him to choose what books to rescue and what to abandon was a cruel choice; he had managed the library for years and it was one of the most complete botanical libraries in all of Kanto. To see it abandoned to the marauding pokémon was sacrilegious.
But then again, in wartime — especially against a foe as brutal and ruthless as the ones besieging Xanadu Nursery — hard choices had to be made. He sucked in a breath. “The most important books are the employee records and the biography of Florinda Showers,” he said. “However, we also have records of the contents of the greenhouse as well as seed samples. Furthermore, we have books on various herbal medications and poisons.”
The team leader nodded as she analyzed the data. “We’re taking the books on medicines, poisons, greenhouse records and seeds. Everything else gets left behind. Get to it!”
The men immediately dispersed, save for the gardener. He winced as one of the soldiers roughly shoved a large encyclopedia of herbal medicines into his rucksack.
“Hey! Give us a hand so we can un-ass this place before the Big Birds get here!” the team leader shouted.
The gardener, well aware that “Big Birds” was HLC slang for “fully evolved flying types”, immediately got to work. He placed his pruning knife back in his belt sheath and snatched a backpack from the library’s lost and found. Seeing as the backpack was full of loose papers and some bagged food, he unceremoniously dumped the contents on the floor and went into the stacks to help gather books.
The first thing he grabbed was an autobiography of Florinda Showers. He shivered as he saw the clock. It was stopped at 10 AM — the exact time the generators were knocked out. All he knew that it was at least 4 PM. The next item to go into his stolen backpack was a thin hardcover book titled Herbal Remedies for the Traveling Trainer. He then carefully routed around PFC Claris, who was attempting to cram The Pocket Guide to Wild Herbs into his rucksack and unlocked the seed storage room. Even through his jacket, he could feel the chill of the room — a testament to how heavily insulated the room was.
Taking care not to slip on the condensation-slick concrete, he entered and did a quick scan of the contents. A binder on the wall contained a listing of all the plants in the bank. He unceremoniously shoved the thick binder into his backpack. The gardener let out a sigh, causing a puff of vapor to hang in the air. Again, he had to make a choice: what to sacrifice and what to rescue.
The gardener made a beeline for the medicinal and toxic plants section. Opening his backpack, he yanked open the drawers and simply threw the sealed plastic vials into his backpack. Thankfully, all the vials had their contents written on their labels. Once he was done with one section, he moved onto the next and repeated the step.
He was partway through the section on food plants when gunfire got his attention. His heart leapt into his throat as he tossed the vials in his hand into his backpack. Hastily zipping it up, he threw the backpack over his shoulder and rushed for the exit to the seed bank.
Only to slip on a small puddle. He swore profusely as he landed on the hard concrete floor. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as a spike of pain shot through his bruised hip.
“Glad to see you’re still here!” the team leader shouted as she fired a burst from her rifle into the air. A Fearow squawked and flew upwards through the holed roof. “The Big Birds are real close.”
The gardener felt his buttocks involuntarily clench as he heard the distinct cry of a Fearow. Every Kantoian survivor knew that a flock of Fearow had razed the Oak Ranch and massacred the inhabitants of Pallet Town. As a result, they all hated and feared the Beak pokémon.
The team leader took point as she led the men through the winding pathways of the greenhouse. Glass shattered as additional Fearow let loose with concussive blasts of air and blades of wind as they attempted to attack the five. Luckily, the Fearow were squabbling over who got to kill them. Soon, the squabble degenerated into a brawl. Glass shards rained down as one of the Fearow slammed its opponent through one of the greenhouse panes.
***
“Shit.” The team leader looked over the battlefield.
Gunfire rent the air as the HLC machine gunners fired their weapons into horde of Fearow about 150 meters out from where the trucks were located. Despite the distance, the Fearow were rapidly closing in. The remaining infantry were ushering the rescued civilians and supplies aboard the two armored vehicles. The vehicles’ arms and vibrosaw were raised high like Arbok ready to strike. Unfortunately, the Fearow flew too high and fast for them to reach. Of course, the operators did get a few lucky strikes on the Fearow who had foolishly flown too low; those who did so were either reduced to bloody chunks by the saw or had their bodies broken with a single swift blow of the metallic arm.
“Corporal!” PFC Claris shouted over the din of battle. “Incoming!”
The team leader dove to the ground as a Fearow used Drill Run in an attempt to skewer the soldier. Swearing, she raised her rifle and fired a few rounds at the pokémon. Thanks to its speed, the rounds missed it as the Fearow wheeled around for another run. It was during that miniscule window of time where a pokémon using Drill Run would pause for a brief moment so it could turn that the woman aimed her rifle. Two swift cracks rent the air and two puffs of blood and vaporized tissue spurted from the gravely wounded pokémon. A dull thud was heard as it crashed into the ground. Its agonized squawks echoed through the area.
***
“Holy shit! Help me!” Private Lauri was huddled in a ball as two Fearow began pecking at him. His helmet and protective vest had absorbed most of the abuse. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his arms and legs. He had fallen behind the other soldiers and this had made him an attractive target to the Fearow.
Seeking to assist the soldiers in any way possible, the gardener dropped his backpack, unsheathed his pruning knife and charged towards Private Lauri. One of the soldiers also ran to assist his fallen comrade.
The gardener was the first to arrive. Swinging his knife with two hands, he aimed at the long sinuous neck of a Fearow. As it moved to peck some more at Private Lauri, he wasn’t able to get a clean decapitation. Instead, he lopped off one of the Fearow’s wings. Squawking angrily, the pokémon flapped its remaining wing as it tried to attack him. Blood droplets flew into the air as the Fearow charged him with its beak open wide and its eyes burning with rage.
Suddenly feeling warm liquid (that was most certainly not blood) running down his leg, the gardener gulped as he got his knife ready for a second blow. As the Fearow got in range, he swung his knife with two hands like a baseball player trying to hit a home run.
It was a direct hit. Flesh, bone and muscle provided no resistance to a honed steel blade designed to chop through thick branches with a single stroke. The Fearow’s head flew through the air as the headless corpse continued forward under its own momentum. The body collapsed onto the ground where it continued to twitch.
A small arc of blood spurted out from the body with each dying heartbeat, staining the gardener’s boots.
The thud of metal meeting flesh and bone indicated that the other soldier had clubbed the other Fearow to death with his battle rifle. The gardener turned to the stricken soldier.
He choked down the bile that began to climb in his throat and fought through a surge of dizziness that threatened to knock him down as he laid eyes on Private Lauri. The young soldier’s arms and legs were covered in deep gouges where the knife-edged beaks of the Fearow had peeled away his skin and muscle. The dull white of bone that peeked out from some of the gashes testified how vicious the attack was. If it weren’t for the helmet and protective vest, Private Lauri would have lost his eyes or worse. Even then, his arms and legs would be permanently scarred. The infantryman who had helped the gardener kill the two Fearow pulled out a yellow spray bottle from a pocket on his vest. The gardener recognized it as hyper potion bottle. Granted, hyper potion wasn’t the cure-all in humans as it was in pokémon. Nevertheless its ability to staunch bleeding, kill pathogens in the wound, provide a temporary barrier to infection and greatly reduce pain made it an invaluable part of any soldier’s kit. The soldier sprayed the solution over Private Lauri’s wounds, evoking a loud stream of profanities.
***
The team leader had seen the whole incident unfolding. She dared not shoot at the Fearow lest she hit her own men. Instead she spoke into her headset mike.
“Sergeant Harris, this is Corporal Lulalais! We need you to get closer! We’ve got a casualty who can’t walk! Corporal Lulalais out!”
In a few minutes, the massive armored vehicle rumbled up to Corporal Lulalais. The rear ramp descended and four soldiers bearing a stretcher between hustled down the ramp and headed for Private Lauri.
At the same time, the gardener had now retrieved his backpack and slowly plodded towards the vehicle. The exertion of battle, the sheer weight of the backpack and the fading adrenaline rush all conspired to make his limbs feel like they were made of lead.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Corporal Lulalais shouted as she periodically looked skywards for any sign of Fearow or Pidgeot.
“Cut me some Arceusdamned slack! I ain’t an infantryman!” the gardener snapped. He bent over to catch his breath. His chest heaved as he sucked in the smoky air. The distinct bite of Potter’s ad hoc flamethrower fuel and blood hung in the air.
After a minute of rest, he had gotten enough of his energy back to make it aboard the vehicle’s boarding ramp. There, he collapsed in a heap on the steel floor. Two soldiers helped pull him to his feet and helped him into a seat. The gardener dumped his backpack on the floor and turned to Potter, who was in the seat next to him. The man was statute-still, despite how uncomfortable the bench seat was.
“Hey Potter.” No response.
The gardener took a closer look at his fellow Xanadu Nursery employee. Potter’s formerly jovial expression was replaced by a distant and dead stare — as if he were staring through the vehicle’s concrete and steel hull. Indeed, it was as if he was unaware of his surroundings.
A few moments later, the four soldiers arrived with Private Lauri. They placed the stretcher on an empty bench as they began tending to his wounds. With the whirring of electric motors, the rear ramp slid shut.
The vehicle lurched slightly as it began to move.
The gardener breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he and the surviving employees can get away from this shithole. And in his case, change into some clean clothing.
***
Sergeant Harris radioed Sergeant Danche to let her know that everyone and that they were returning to Fort Pallet for debriefing.
He looked at the feed from the rearview camera and swore profusely. Behind them was a massive black cloud. The “Big Birds” had come after them. He spoke into his headset mike “Sergeant Danche! This is Sergeant Harris. The ‘Big Birds’ are coming after us! Over!”
He waited for a moment and then Sergeant Danche’s voice came over the headset radio. “We do not have the capabilities to engage. Evade! Danche out!”
Sergeant Harris pushed the accelerator down to the floor. The vehicle lurched and shuddered as he watched the speedometer climb past 70 km/h. A rough jolt indicated that he had driven over a crater.
***
The flock of Pidgeot and Fearow blotted out the sun as they chased the two vehicles across plains marked with craters and black scorch marks. Two long plumes of tan dust marked the paths of the two vehicles. Despite the head start of the HLC troops, the flock was rapidly gaining on them.
Furious squawks and trills filled the air as the birds jostled for position — each wanting to be the one to draw first blood. Eventually, the birds resorted to flinging shockwaves of compressed air, stellate energy bolts and other projectiles at the two vehicles. Luckily, the Fearow and Pidgeot were so focused on landing the first hit that they had forgotten to aim.
***
Sergeant Danche let loose a rather remarkable array of profanity as she wrestled with the steering levers as she attempted to avoid the craters that the attacks had gouged into the muddy ground as well as the attacks themselves. Air Cutter, Razor Wind, Sonic Boom and Air Slash could mostly be ignored as they lacked the power to pierce even the thin top armor.
She felt the vehicle shake as it took a direct hit from a Razor Wind attack. Luckily, her headset was able to cancel the otherwise deafening noise. She looked at the map on the console. Fort Pallet was only about forty kilometers away.
Another impact rocked the vehicle. She turned to the gunner/radioman as she struggled with the steering levers. “Get Fort Pallet on the horn and tell them that the ‘Big Birds’ are coming after us!”
The radioman nodded and grabbed the handset. “Fort Pallet! This is Foxtrot Actual! We have hostiles in pursuit. They are flying-types! Over!”
“Roger that. Defenses will be coming online. Fort Pallet out.”
“Thank Arceus!” Sergeant Danche said as she watched the radioman put the handset back. She watched as a glowing star ricocheted off of the vehicle’s glacis and into the sky. It was the Swift projectiles that she had to worry about; the energy bolts were capable of piercing personal and thin vehicle armor — such as the one that was atop the Grotle truck.
She shot a glance at the rearview camera feed; the black cloud was getting closer. She pushed the accelerator down to the floor and watched as the speedometer touched 100 km/h.
All she had to do was get within range of Fort Pallet’s guns.
***
Fort Pallet interior
Sirens ripped through the dusk air as soon as command had received word of Foxtrot Team’s predicament. Columns of white light soared into the sky as the soldiers prepared for the air raid.
M162 Remoraid 75 mm guns — controlled, loaded and fired by artillerymen safely within each tower’s armored base — slowly traversed as they aimed in the direction where the flock of “Big Birds” was anticipated to arrive.
The creaking of metal doors could be heard as autonomous M122 Kamex CIWS rose from behind their armored shutters. Their electric motors whirred as the guns were aimed at the sky. Unlike the Remoraids, these guns were completely autonomous — once hostiles were detected by radar they were be ripped to shreds by a hail of 20 mm HE/fragmentation shells. Owing to their role as point-defense weapons, their effective range was below 500 meters in contrast to the 13 kilometer effective range of the Remoraids.
***
Fort Pallet – Central Control Room
“Steady, steady,” the fire control officer said as he looked at the screen showing the position of the flock. A train of numbers flickered at the bottom of the screen as the “Big Birds” got closer. All around him were numerous other officers of Fort Pallet dealing with communications, troop movement and other important matters. The dim overhead lighting of Fort Pallet’s central control room contrasted with the white glare of the numerous monitors.
A few seconds later, the numbers on the radar screen flashed red. “Big Birds in range! Fire guns!” the fire control officer barked into the intercom.
***
The very air itself seemed to shudder as Fort Pallet’s Remoraid guns flung their deadly payloads into the sky. Thanks to a modified teleportation system derived from the PC poké ball transport system, the guns were fed from a central armory, giving them essentially unlimited ammunition. For obvious reasons, a double-feed of the explosive shells was not something the gunners wished to see. Unfortunately, this came at a price: the Fort Pallet guns were more maintenance intensive and their rate of fire was much lower.
***
12 km from Fort Pallet
The fecal stink of death permeated the passenger compartment of Sergeant Harris’s Grotle truck. Two stellate holes, their ragged edges still softly glowing red from the Swift attack, in the ceiling let in the chill night air. Corporal Lulalais, in an attempt to preserve Private Lauri’s dignity, had draped a tarp over the man’s mutilated body. A hole in his abdomen, through which charred coils of viscera poked through, heralded the cause of death — a Swift star that had pierced the Grotle truck’s thin top armor and his ballistic vest. Despite the application of hyper potion, his previous injuries had weakened him to the point that the Swift projectile would have killed him.
The corporal sighed. Sometime during this war, she was going to end up like Private Lauri. Dead in a pool of her own bodily wastes. She pushed the unpleasant thoughts from her head — and replaced them with an even more morbid thought: if the HLC lost the war, the Human race was fucked. Best-case scenario: Humanity was completely killed. Worse-case scenario: Humanity would become the slaves of the enemy Legendaries or worse, the playthings of the psychopathic mad scientist, Uxie. She shuddered; many an HLC recruit had suffered sleepless nights from the intel that Mesprit had divulged about her brother — tales of clones, vivisection, artificial pokémon and worse.
A loud explosion broke her from her reverie. She peered through the hole in the roof and saw a massive burst of fire. She smiled. They were almost home! A Swift projectile deflecting into her vehicle’s corundum windshield and leaving a molten puddle was a stark reminder that the key word was almost.
***
A cloud of steel rods tore into the flock of birds like a school of ravenous Carvanha. The steel rods would actually bend and wobble in flight, acting like miniature razors. Many of the “birds” blinked into nonexistence, the lethal shrapnel continuing as if nothing had happened. Those closest to the exploding shell were reduced to a puff of feathers and meat that drifted to the ground. Those further away had body parts ripped off or organs pulverized from the lethal combination of shockwave and shrapnel.
Pidgeot and Fearow with missing limbs or torn-open bodies plummeted from the sky along with feathers, blood and bits of meat.
Again and again, the flock tried to push forward in pursuit of the two vehicles but again and again, the hail of stinging flak drove them back.
Deciding to cut their losses, the now greatly reduced flock gave a few angry squawks and broke off the attack, heading back to the Viridian Forest.
***
Sergeant Danche let out a rather incongruous whoop as she watched the flock retreat through her vehicle’s rearview camera. Soon, she saw the gates of Fort Pallet lit up by her vehicle’s headlights. Her vision whited out as the twin spotlights shone down from the watchtowers flanking the gate.
The radio buzzed. “Foxtrot Actual, recite passphrase. Over.”
The woman racked her brain for a moment before she picked up the radio handset. “To understand the power inside,” she said. She then released the talk button and awaited a response.
“Acknowledged. Please proceed. Fort Pallet out.” The gates slid back with a groaning creak and the two battle-scarred vehicles trundled through.
***
The uninjured civilians were quickly hustled out of the vehicles and into the temporary quarters. Medics removed at least six wounded and two dead. Two mechanics entered the vehicle and drove them into the motor pool where their batteries would be charged and any damage sustained would be repaired.
Sergeant Danche dismounted her vehicle. She yawned. “Fucking damn it,” she muttered.
She looked at her watch: 2100 hours.
Chalk up another successful mission for the 95th Kanto Armor Regiment, she thought as she headed for the sleeping quarters.
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