Feedback Responses —

To icedshadows: Heh, heh... I respect your appraisal for this story. Gat and the squad of Bravo 1 Charlie will obviously show their 'inconvenience' during combat missions and moments that doesn't involve 'intentional' shooting. It may depends on how quickly and imaginative I could type down while managing my competing hobbies and goals, however.

To Junior VB: I get it, the last chapter may need some rewrite and stuff. So in the near future, I will analyze repeatedly as necessary. Still... that small review is quite vague of where to specifically take a closer look, honestly.

The following franchises (that I took story components from for this chapter) are in possession of their rightful owners: Gate: Jieitai Kanochi nite, Kaku Tatakaeri; Call of Duty; Borderlands; Overwatch; Halo; Warhammer 40,000; Starcraft; Kill La Kill; Star Wars; Gears of War; Tom Clancy's; Firefly; and Destiny. Additionally, there's an 'expendable' character that has the same name as the one I'm borrowing from the GATE JSDF fanfiction "Manifest Destiny" by BlueWay; along with a couple more abstracted persons from "GATE: Thus the Van Doos fought there" story.

A number of days before the bigger battle between orkoids and Army of Allied Kingdoms...

A pair of eyes opened within a room made of brick and mortar, only two torches affixed to the walls staying lit as light sources for this enclosed space. Those visual organs belonged to a naked person with vivid pink hair in dark shades, brown skin, and... a feminine face reminiscent of a woman from the Far-Eastern regions of Asia (Like China, Korea, or Japan). In essence: a female human in the nude and inside a stone-made cage.

Yet she's not alone in that medieval cell; for there were three more women still sleeping within the Roman-like quarter (all of them were homo sapiens and captured from the other side of the Gate on Alnus Hill). One has darker skin than the rest and other ethnic characteristics of African-descent, although she was born in a nation called Canada. The second enslaved human spoke Japanese and a name in that same native tongue; plus the fair skin and black hair that were more related to Nippon. The last lass was a brunette with 'Caucasian' body features; but being well-versed in a language akin to a Middle-Eastern homeland (where its birth remains controversial — as a sad consequence of a premeditated extermination effort upon her people during a global war long ago). Practically every female hominin in this room were currently 'sex puppets' at the whims of a Legate Foulke, whenever his ravenous need for carnal pleasure emerges... regardless of the young ladies' consent against those transgressions. If there was an observable consolation for their predicament, then that would be the three female 'Terrans' living together in one space; rather than being isolated to separate rooms as usual for longer periods. In fact, the brownish 'East Asian' with pink hair was responsible for 'inducing' this senior officer to finalize the living arrangement as one group (while she supposedly accepted an assurance from him, in return, that she'd learn how their foreign languages work and reciprocally teaches them the dominant tongue and culture for the sake of making these woman more 'obedient'). Got to admit, however, that his reverie for pushful vices were not at the same hedonistic level as the selected successor to the continent-wide authority that he occasionally trained: Zolzar Em Caesar. Plus, his elitist head was a bit more clearer enough to not waste his 'erotic' possessions too quickly as his future leader has often done in this age of coerced labor scarcity; although there's little comfort to realize that the older commander had no ethical plan in granting the sex slaves their liberty — or even equal treatment as the fairer gender at anytime.

After a minute from her awakening, the magenta-haired belle took some breathing and then a once-over at her fellow captives from Earth. From the outside, the three 'war-prizes' had their skins covered in dirt and some scars and bruises over the violated physiques. Nevertheless, the status of the females' internal organs was rather uncertain without the need of investigative surgery. In any case, the pink-haired human gave another look at the exposed earthlings... by activating changes in her green lenses for greater analysis on their inner anatomy.

Once that optical ability was in full swing, the awoken slave could now scan the biological workings within the imprisoned women in great details (the conditions of their skeletal structures, the red color of muscle tissues, the completeness of several self-contained anatomical parts, and... the situation concerning the nano-machines that kept the rest of the organic compositions functional and recoverable from abuses made by the Imperial owner). By the 'explicit' look of it, her feminine associates remain alive and had no developing signs of pregnancy because of those very tiny medics — which were injected many months ago when the Saderan captors unknowingly passed through any one of the well-concealed positions filled with swarms of small insectoid robots.

After seeing the conclusive study, the rose-headed babe turned off her scrutinizing superpower in the eyes at will. Followed by having her eyelids fully covered the techno-organic spheres and her whole figure remain still in position for 'meditative' purposes... which involved linking this peculiar woman's mind to any active network of telepathic communication.

Probably a good thing for her hominid companions to not know that she's especially lab-grown and militarily disciplined for this uncomfortable environment. Same goes for her bio-engineered sisters that were distributed across the entire continent for their first operation: as espionage assets under the guise of 'vulnerable' gals. Considering the nonexistence of clothing for their facades, the female spies were successfully taken in by slave-trading brigands, Imperial captors, and other locals that were more interested in selling and owning very attractive property than having abnormal desires to kill their newly-required 'resources' (Then again, those impersonating femme fatales were deployed in favorable proximity to slave markets, Saderan military locations, and additional places with tremendous engrossment for acquiring beautiful thralls alive). As a consequence of being seized by the ethnocentric Empire of Falmaria/Falmarius without raising suspicions, the feminal agent had observed both the inner workings and steady decline of this Roman-like society for approximately seven years; in concert with her collared associates from the genetically-designed sisterhood for sharing info through augmented telepathy, naturally.

Even so... the enslaved undercover operatives consistently developed strong dislikes of those male owners whose dominant urges include having repeatable pleasures in sexual intercourse, being very aggressive to their subjugated servants, and/or expressing their selfish pride without any regards to the individuality inside each slave. Extraordinarily exceptions to the seedy 'norms' of egomania were certainly rare; as a few beauties of spy-craft found themselves living within a small fraction of family households that slowly begun to question the economic and moral validities of continuing slavery and racial discrimination — when forced labor shortages and retaliatory reactions from abused humanoids became serious issues within the large dominion under Man.

Speaking of rarity, only one of the alluring companions on the field didn't experienced the enslaved hardship object by any opportunistic nobles. The reason: an actual accident of falling into a flowing river from a bridge (while she was under bondage of a slave-hunting caravan that confiscated the green-haired belle for a few days since the assignments commenced) How? Well... one of those lustful trappers tried to get an invasive sampling on the dark emerald-head in the middle of this cross-way. When he just began to 'know' her and ignored the attractive victim's disapproval, a section of the connective structure that the two were leaning on suddenly broke apart — henceforth the plummeting aspect in authentic excuse. At that time though, the unanticipated escapee was unable to free herself from the fibrous bindings and the water current as she was still dictated by her military programming to be helpless... which resulted in a giant serpent gulping up her entire body. Whereas the hormone-driven violator panicked for having no skills in swimming and likely drown into the aquatic bottom.

On the topic of being swallowed alive however, the unlucky gal had her obedience control codes overruled once those stomach acids gradually dissolved small sections of the superhuman skin. Consequently, she forced her way out of that digestion process... by digging through the tissues of the elongated beast with her bare hands of genetic/synthetic manipulation. The aquatic organism presumably felt a sickening pain inside and thrashed around to stop that destructive act. It failed to halt the woman's survival commitment and the serpent unknowingly beached itself on a different edge of the river; where a covert fire-team coincidentally witness the large creature's self-stranding. A while later on land, she ultimately breached thru the outer membrane and came out of the now dead lifeform with several denatured injuries on her nude figure. In return, the undercover operatives took this femme fatale in and taught her additional skills as an 'independent' ranger ever since. That's what the sisterhood clairvoyantly understood from the survivor herself — whose outdoor criteria made the dark green-head unsuitable to receive a clandestine symbiosis with a finely-tuned... augmentation slime.

This type of power upgrade was covertly applied to most of the bombshell spooks; which happened after a week away from the beginning of the Saderan invasion through the Gate at Alnus Hill. The tiny fraction of her undercover sisters that didn't got such gooey enhancement (besides the autonomous lass exposed to the outside as an oddball) were 'unexpectedly' moved past the solidified gateway by both those medieval invaders and their camp followers. Of course, the biological adherence process was all hush-hush that nobody born/breathing on this stagnant landmass has ever had odd feelings towards the targeted beauties — they all seem like any other normal bond-servants for the masters'... hornier entertainment.

Back to the scene in accessing the web of extrasensory perceptions, the infiltration pink-head managed to link a psychic line with someone... in notable closeness to her imprisonment?

A male voice occurred inside her mind, "# Huh, never thought a Trojan mare like you would be this conscious after midnight. #"

"# I just woke up for reasons unknown. So what's your purpose for being within the internal areas of this walled city? #"

"# Yeah... about that. How much do remember about your human master 'til this night? #"

"# Hmph... Legion Legate Kamal Zu Foulke? Too well, for my personal taste. Why choose that tidpit? #"

"# Fair enough. I'd prepared a few tricks for this special occasion; which also taken into account my cooperation with a handful of... 'unusual' visitors for their own duties. #"

"# ...Can you further clarify the nature of your mission and theirs? #"

"# Classified for not ruining the surprise. Out. #" Very shortly, the psychic connection got cut off from further thought sharing.

She felt mystified by the closure for three more minutes; before the conscious agent abruptly heard some dim sounds and felt small vibrations all over the medieval cell. Not enough to jolt the three other ladies out of their unconscious rest, but sufficient to alert a few of the guards responsible for preventing any escape effort or revolt from this underground floor of chambers.

":What was that?:" One man pondered in his local language.

":I don't know, partner. But I doubt it's serious enough to join the guards above us.:"

": So it's not something related to those desecrating otherworlders that took over the holy hill of Alnus and the Gate, then?:"

":Eh... perhaps not. This city is far enough to allow many weeks for the invaders to get here. Also, it has been rather close to a year since we had yet to see those barbarians coming here.:"

":Hmm... I guess that our legions near Alnus Hill did a good job in halting our enemies' movement towards other provinces nearby. Even so, I do not feel relaxed on the thought that our reconquering army had suffered as greatly as the Imperial expedition to the other world.:"

":That is war, soldier. Losses were expected to occur, regardless of the severity stated by rumors. Let's hope those lads from the Army of Allied Kingdoms could finish up the otherworlders for us Saderans to restart the land grabs on the other side.:"

":Sure... whatever you say, man. I'm still going to look over the security colleagues above this basement, for recent talks anyways.:"

":Heh... suits yourself, boy.:"

As the eager one, the guard casually walked across the subterranean hallway of slave-filled rooms and eventually climbed up the stairs for the entryway — with some regards to the following noises and rumblings of similar nature at the minimum. Once he's at the door, the human guard unlocked it and then pushed the wooden panel outward without stress. Surprisingly, the opened blockage stopped halfway out of the blue. Couple of times later, he wondered why the door halted itself and started checking what was on the other side. That answer took in the form of some strangers in cloaked outfit, with mysterious 'green eyes', and behind the wood-built object. At the same time... the Saderan felt a hand or something covering his mouth with such firmness and an immediate slit to his throat. Blood flowed out of the unlucky man's horizontal slash on his neck, as he panicked and fruitlessly tried to make any noise through someone's grip upon his oral part. Whereas the discovered intruders carefully descended through the stairs and commenced a full sweep upon this underground complex; as pertaining to their current black-ops objectives.

The other guard being quite awake spotted the uninvited guests. ":What the... Halt! Who in Haldy's Unde-?:" His verbal command was cut short by a few bullets piercing thru the guard's cranium from a silencer-attached submachine gun. Same goes for the rest of the Imperial garrison (half-awake or otherwise) to get killed by noiseless head-shots... or gory slits to their throats.

After all the medieval wardens were permanently 'retired,' the unscathed invaders immediately retrieved the keys from the deceased adversaries and opened every door of each slave room (or just destroyed the locks by other 'non-collateral' means available). Additionally for the whole lot, flashlights attached to the firearms shined onto the captives and an oral statement of the operatives' affiliation being repeated per chamber — in the languages of the local tongue, English, and... Hebrew. "Israeli Special Forces are here to free all of you ladies."

The Falmarian women of different 'races' were hesitantly frightened of these unknown rescuers. Not so for the gals astonishingly glad by the presence of special operation soldiers using guns from Earth that were freeing them at last. Still... the magenta-haired beauty with her hidden identity felt quite confused by the appearance of these shadow warriors from Israel. Was it a question of getting liberated by these elites of a different Earth, instead of her synthetic associates? Or perhaps this rescue was part of a grand, clandestine operation that had to be adjusted for some unforeseen disturbances?

Such thoughts of espionage were not shared with one of the Israeli covert operators; who spotted her remaining still in a state of uncertainty... but no fear from the freed belle was being expressed. Nonetheless, the elite specialist moved closer to about a few feet away between him and the naked lady and subsequently offered a hand for her sake. ":It's going to alright, ma'am. We're getting all of you ladies out of this dreadful imprisonment.:"

A handful of minutes earlier...

Multiple loud sounds rudely woke up a human couple from their sleep on the bed. The husband of this pair had a name: Kamal Zu Foulke — a Legion Legate of Sadera's domination over the Falmarian continent. He got himself up from the sleeping furniture and walked for the open balcony in the nude. Once outside, the military official frankly observed a couple of large flames coming out of where the army barracks inside the city were in place. Those foreboding events were quickly superseded by dozens of noises occurring beyond the heavy outskirt walls of this large town...

Or rather the entire defense structures were beginning to be covered in smoke and fire — along with stone fragments being slowly chipped away by unknown 'fire balls'.

":What is happening out there, my darling?:" His female spouse wanted to know.

Based on his knowledge of previous military campaigns for the Saderan Empire, the fiery situation he's witnessing at that moment looks like... ":A barbaric siege upon this city, beloved. Must be the otherworlders' doing!:"

":Surely you jest? The enemy are not supposed to come here this quickly!:"

":Which leads only me in getting some answers from those foreign cowards — as war captives no less!:" Foulke soon goes back inside the room for his clothes, weapons, and armor for this unfolding state of war.

":Shall I prepare the necessary departure of this household in haste?:" The legate's wife proposed as she dress herself up.

":That suggestion will be on hold, until I can understand how severe the outsiders' attacks are.:"

Kamal frantically get himself dressed for battle, whereas the urban environment outside of the two-story mansion continued to be chaotic. Civilians hiding or get as much possessions out of their homes as possible for probable evacuations. Legionaries finding water or other solutions for their barracks being on fire. Defenders manning the stone-made perimeter of their large settlement; and dying or sheltering themselves from the onslaught of fatal beams of light from the besieging... 'barbarians.'

What kind of barbarians, someone would mentioned?

Were they a sizable tribe of humans or 'demi-humans' wearing disorganized battle dresses and displaying savage behaviors? Supernatural monsters ingrained with dark arts of magic? Or the rumored horde invading from the other side of the captured Gate on Alnus Hill?

At this point of visual darkness, the Imperial guardians had no understanding of who were bombarding their city. Then again, the human defenders would more likely be very perplexed if theoretically given night-vision abilities and witnessed the many appearances of... creatures covered in full armor. As well as the numerous 'fireball-launching staves' being used to assault the medieval fortifications. Plus the variety of body shapes that defined these intruders: centaur-like figures, giants with four legs comparable to spiders, bipedal beings having multiple 'rods' instead of arms, sizable square-looking objects with thick humanoid forearms and only single wheels for locomotion, spherical things slowly move for the guarded entrances within the thick walls, et cetera. In the event that sunlight does shines upon the external besiegers, the defending residents would perhaps recognize how unnatural created those attackers are — and plainly identify them as golems.

For several minds with advanced robotic or science fiction knowledge though, the encircling opponents would in actuality be recognized as combat units from the Omnic 5th Division. Omnics, collectively: Large spider-like mechas (Omnic Super-Pauk Walkers) bombarding the defensive walls with attached plasma cannons or rocket-unleashing racks; Mega-Eradicators discharging their multi-barreled beam cannons at their enemies' solid obstructions; OR-14D Idinas either providing suppressive fire with automatic energy guns fixed in both arms or on standby with towering 'gravity' hammers; Super-Wheeltraps also waiting outside the stone-made barriers, while the Omnic Detonators gradually hovered towards the main gates for their explosive finales; and so on. Thanks to the reduced visibility at this night-time, the Imperial 'protectors' did not discern the great numbers of battle droids arriving silently by parachutes from airborne transports at higher altitudes. Along with the unfair advantages of overwhelming firepower against the medieval arsenals that the city's legionaries all had. Anyway, the floating bombs finally reached their objectives as clusters in physical contact with each large door... which eventually led to massive explosions on all the important wall openings.

Speaking of blowing things up, who in the world ravaged the legion barracks within the urban areas — prior to the external barrage?

Well... why not ask the person in fully enclosed helmet and body suit that suddenly de-cloaked 'his' invisibility and jabbed two heated mono-edged Ripper blades (attached to the left forearm of this assassin) right through the victim's torso in the back. The consequential scream was that of a woman caught off-guard by the 'uncivilized' stab behind her.

Legion Legate Foulke snapped at the source of his wife's bloody cries; just as he about to open the interior door to his battle duties. The military officer felt very shocked at the surprise violation inside the bedroom. "Hazkolia!"

":Ah! Agh... my love! DO SOMETHING!:" [gunshot] An overly awful hole materialized within the lady's now-ruined brain-case by the assailant's energy pistol in 'his' other grip.

":You... dishonorable BARBARIAN!!:" angrily yelled the Saderan soldier while he hurriedly unsheathed his gladius-like sword. In no time, Kamal took a maneuver... for an escape thru the only interior door for the main lobby. Then again, he didn't expect an ambushing couple of spider-like objects to cling onto him (one attached to the man's face and the other latched upon his front waist) before the legate had that chance to even touch the doorknob. Instantaneously, Foulke struggled to get these things off of him. Thus, he was unable to see a door breach and a team of armed men with assault rifles and sub-machine guns coming through the entryway.

Once there, the covert specialists witnessed a Saderan Imperial 'contesting' with two arachnid-inspired bots... and their 'local guide' holding a fresh corpse of a woman by the twin blades. ":Both of you, stand down! Stand down!:" The leading operative commanded as every shooter aim at either the their objective... or their allied 'freelancer.'

":Err... Who are you to dare me to disgrace myself! Gah!:" The Imperial human retorted while trying to remove the mechanical spiders.

"Blizzard-1 Actuel, Je doute fort que cette cible de grande valeur soit une source de renseignements très coopérative." The face-obscured hitman commented.

"Et nous pensions que toutes les règles de la guerre étaient bien comprises pour cette opération conjointe, Damhsóir. Tuer un civil non armé n'est pas ce pour quoi nous sommes ici. Qu'est-ce qui vous a incité à exécuter sa vie?"

The expression-less killer answered, "Simple: donner plus de temps à mes bombes mobiles pour se saisir de cet homme de haut rang."

"... Attendez, des bombes mobiles? Comme dans les engins explosifs automatiques?!" In a snap, the two spider-esque droids begun to beep consistently in a gradual pace — from a slower rhythm to a faster frequency. Foulke had no clue of what those weird sounds supposed to mean, whereas the squad commander and his men identified the gist of what's to occur immediately. "Aww... Hell. Take cover!" Swiftly, these special warfare soldiers vacated the room thru the same breached opening and gone a bit further away from the perceived danger zone of the imminent explosions.

At the same time, the facially-unidentified assassin repositioned 'himself' on the balcony; while facing the bomb-trapped legate and methodically pulling out the feminine cadaver. Once 'freed' from the dual blades, her intact body was quickly thrown towards the struggling Roman-like officer: just in time for those target-seeking grenades to detonate themselves into sizable balls of fire and smoke. As a reaction to the man-made eruptions concurrently, 'he' back-flipped himself off of the open platform — and then landed on top of the mansion's brick-laden outer fence like a parkour expert/ highly-skilled acrobat. The mysterious hitman gives a quick look at 'his' handiwork and soon rotates 'himself' away for starting the silent getaway amongst the urban disorder.

In contrast, the Canadian agents of JTF2 cautiously returned to the newly-created crime scene inside the bedroom. The results of those explosions were absolutely not pretty to observe: multiple body parts of a man all over the indoor space and many metal fragments embedded across a woman's deceased anatomy.

"Dear God... " Captain Christian Richer muttered at the gruesome sight.

Shortly afterwards, he got a radio transmission from his Earth-born second-in-command. "You're alright, Blizzard-1 Actual? Blizzard-2 has heard a noise similar to a bomb going off."

"Blizzard-1 Actual here to Blizzard-2 Actual, my team and I are green. Should have been the same for our HVT and his wife, were it not for the Saderan couple ended up as killed in action by our Damhsóir 'friend' before leaving us a bloody mess behind."

"...How bloody, if I may ask for clarification, sir?"

"Well, our Foulke Tango is now in many chunks of meat spread across his bedroom — courtesy to those 'Seeker-bots' destroyed themselves through explosive means. The civilian wife of our victim had a dagger stab in her torso from the rear side by that enigmatic ally... who must've also put a bullet into the back of the lady's skull like an execution."

"Christ... can we expect our sneaky bloke to be subjected with repercussions for that unnecessary act?"

"If this Damhsóir guy will ever gets the appropriate punishments on this magical continent, LT. Now then, any news on your end?"

Far away from Blizzard Squad's positions inside the palace meanwhile, fifteen sizable Omnic cargo-bomber aircraft hovered around five yards above the already breached walls of the city. Coming down from the bellies of those airborne transports were uni-wheeled 6RUN-TPs, two-legged Null-Troopers, and E54-C Bastion Siege Automatons that numbered in the hundreds. The fresh robotic troops immediately landed on top of either the remaining roof floors of the battered stone barriers or the solid ground close by and at both sides of the defensive structure. After deployment, half of those weaponized constructs stayed at/on the medieval walls in defense and the rest joined with the front-line heavy synthetics that had stormed through the explosively compromised main gates earlier.

By the looks of many things, the Imperial garrisons in combat were experiencing a slaughter by golem-esque opponents impervious to basically the swords and arrows that the poor legionaries and other reactive defenders had at their disposal. Their handcrafted shields fared no better; when encountering the piercing power of both energy projectiles and plasma grenades. Maybe more pathetic for the native fighters who had some hand-sized objects firmly adhered to their mortal bodies.

Such as this unfortunate Imperial warrior who received something very sticky... to his face, for example. ":What the... why would it not be pulled out of my face?:" He never got the chance to know, at which the adhesive bomb shortly blew itself up and pulverized the human male's head.

"It BURNS, doesn't it?!" The responsible gruntrap taunted at its grenade kill.

While the military forces of the Saderan Empire suffered losses in both urban territories and lives, the Terran-instructed Omnics continued to move in relatively unopposed and receive additional reinforcement: as incoming swarms of airborne drones that included Bugs and their 'Badass' models.

One rather lucky person seeing this invasive overkill was the Canadian captain back inside the central manor; who had just finished communicating with his Israeli counterpart on the liberation situation. Regardless, the squad leader soon repeated the wireless transmission for his team's Earth-made ride from the sky. "Blizzard 1-Actual to Hammer 4-9. We got an ongoing situation in the city of Crety here. Do you read me?"

Within the besieged city of Italica (an hour after the total devastation upon the medieval vassal alliance)...

A human family of four are in a state of panic. They made haste throughout the Folmari urban areas, now a battle site due to the orc-like savages and their terrifying yet unknown 'magic.' Their immediate goal is to find a way out of the fortress town or a secured shelter to hide. As the family move from street to street, alley to alley, and building to building; they spot a century of legionaries in testudo formation on a paved road and facing a group of those green monsters. Unfortunately, one of the green 'beastmen' bring out a 'staff' connected to some strange trinkets on its back that soon spew streams of flame at the Italican soldiers. The burning substances engulf the garrison troops in a terrible inferno, within the eyes of the horrified family. The green 'orcs' laugh at the legionaries suffering greatly from the searing heat.

Nonetheless, the fleeing civilians soon change directions to go around the inflamed areas while evading the barbarians. Shortly thereafter, the family joins two sets of human families (one has two boys, while the other has three girls). As one group, they share the goal of reaching to safety while moving through more streets, buildings, and wreckage. At one interchange of paved roads however, the family with only boys unknowingly step upon an orkish landmine. Consequently, it explode violently in front of the fleeing remainder. The aftermath soon consists of a dead boy in gory pieces, a father screaming with maimed legs, the other son blinded by the blast, and the relatively intact mother trying to help in horror. In almost an instant though, several strange… stick things made landfall among the injured family and the other set with the girls. Seconds of curiosity later, those unexpected objects also exploded viciously at ground level. Hence the added death of two mothers, one boy, a father, and a daughter... plus two amputated girls and a father with light injuries. The more fortunate group are terrified again at the destructive powers of those trinkets. Additionally, a mob of those green-skinned barbarians made their appearances in front and behind the unscathed family — along with butchering the corpses and the father and his crippled daughters with bloody ease. An imminent sense of doom fills in the refugees' minds as the humans dread their apparent end; by the hands of these terrible 'orcs.'

Out of the blue however, a dark blur from the sky came down very fast and made a powerful landing impact onto the 'orcish' crowd in the medieval intersection. The results: a 'beastman' now absolutely crushed to meaty bits at ground zero, several green savages sent flying, and a big cloud of dust to appear. When the dirty mass dissipates, a blackish bipedal character is revealed in the center. The parents and their children felt nervous in seeing the 'monstrous' physiques of this armored humanoid with unknown allegiance: scaly 'skins or hides,' glowing violet 'eyes' with no irises, large spike-like 'hairs or horns' from the back of the individual's head, mouth-less face, and two dragon-like wings attached to… something.

For the Orks though, it's more of a surprise encounter with a familiar enemy. One stated, "Oy, iz dat da zergy-humie?"

Very soon, the 'draconian' figure start its attack with repeated energy shots from an advanced handheld shotgun that blast away the barbarian heads being too close to the human family.

"Get him! Get him!" Responsively, the greenskins launch their attacks onto the uninvited guest with their guns and melee weapons.

The zergish entity propelled itself in the opposite direction of the human group and slam a powerful, fast kick at an orkoid kommando. Immediately afterwards, the beast-like individual hovers to a higher altitude and concurrently discharge the firearm in auto-mode at the attacked mob it kicked in front of. Despite the countering shootout that follows, the floating character placidly puts away the gun and grabs out a long, thick… 'club' with a two-hand hilt for close combat. The airborne fighter then moves downwards onto the next group of orks, whom the 'demi-human' severely whacked to a 'barbaric' demise (with minuscule scratches made by the greenskins). The remaining green mob at present all rush towards that powerful being with their orkish blades and guns blazing, while ignoring the hapless humans. Once again, the dark-colored humanoid charges at the greenskins and repeatedly beat them up in the same gory methods (barbaric heads, limbs, and other body parts getting smashed to bits).

The surviving parents and children look at the carnage in awe and horror; as the armored 'demihuman' pulverized the last green-colored 'orc' with its melee weapon. They wonder if this darken 'savior' is somehow related to their God of War and Darkness.

At any rate, the demon-like character tuck away the 'big stick' and exchange for two identical shotguns used before. The beastly figure then turn its attention in the direction of the lucky family, but not on the humans themselves. The Italican residents rotate their faces and terribly saw more of those 'orcish' savages… now led by a bigger and nastier version of the greenskins.

"Squish dat zergy-git, ladz!" The attacking nob kommando roared.

The unarmed bystanders resume their flee, which they pass by the standing opponent of those orkoid menace.

Inside that Zerg-style suit of armor though, the chimeric female begin listening to a recorded song from Earth (thanks to her mind interacting with the advanced interior circuitry and data storage — and eavesdropping back at the Alnus military complex) called "Sabotage (1994)" by Beastie Boys. She twirls her dual weapons a couple of times before firmly aiming the firearms at the incoming greenskins.

The mechanical pair discharge simultaneous to the lyrics being just heard.

Elsewhere in the attacked fortress of trade...

An armored commando with a T-shaped visor for his helmet charges at a fortified jamming device, as he blasts away several specialized orkoids with two submachine guns that fires explosive rounds at them… on the open street. The fighting individual is not alone firing on the move, though. Four similar special operatives accompanied him as a fireteam; with the one carrying a shotgun as the primary leader. Behind the small squad are five airborne drones in a flock; designated as Bug Mark IIIs and armed with two energy guns, a short-range electrolaser, and dual plasma grenade launchers per machine. The present ork kommandos behind the barricades encircling the electronic jammer fire their deadly weapons at the assaulting warriors, which includes a heavy machine gun emplacement. The duel-wielding combatant in the advanced suit of armor ducks inside a vacant building to avoid the incoming barrage; and the same goes for the rest of the group taking cover within a few structures of 'adequate' protection (even though the clandestine fighters all have personal energy shields installed within their combat suits). Instantaneously, the small hovercrafts start attacking the green intruders with their fixed armaments. The orks being assaulted re-aim their firearms at the interrupting drones and shoot.

Nonetheless, the barbarian-made bullets hit the energy shields of the Bugs with no sign of obvious penetrations. Henceforth, the persistent suppression fire by the airborne machines for around thirty seconds. Enough time for the reassured fireteam to counterattack the distracted greenskins with deadly salvos of plasma bolts… and sometimes a few volatile warheads coming from the grenade launcher held by the squad's demolition expert. In short order, the 'Terran' commandos eliminate their orkish counterparts and secure the jamming site.

"Scorch, place a charge on this ECM contraption." The team leader commands.

The explosive specialist understood with a slight glee underneath the helmet. "Heh, heh… I'm glad you've asked, Boss."

While the warrior specialized in explosions initiates the setup for the destructive device, the rest of the military unit survey their surroundings for any attempts by orkish kommandos to get a jump at them. In this lull, one of the special forces member speaks towards the newest soldier carrying the submachine guns. "Take heed of this reminder for your fighting style again, Nat."

"Yes, Fixer?"

"Bullets from submachine guns don't have the piercing power to do effective damage at long range. So don't recklessly storm into a heavily defended position without cover or stealth in the open. You hear?"

"Sure… the logic is understandable. Though I could say the same line for the smaller pistols, shotguns, and close-quarter blades being useful in very exposed areas of combat."

The sniper commando suggested, "How about changing your preferences towards firearms with longer barrels to use at a safe distance, instead of limiting yourself to SMGs?"

Before the conversation drags on, the team leader interrupts his subordinates. "Delta, the chit chat can wait. There still more clever greenskins making a big mess of this place. Henceforth, continue to keep your eyes open. Copy?"

Scorch replied, "We copy, Delta Lead. Speaking of paying attention to details anyway, the charge is all set here."

Soon after hearing the update, the armored combatants move away from the makeshift jammer at a safer length. "Fire in the hole!" The commanding operative of Delta squad declared before igniting the detonator for the placed explosives. Within a few seconds, the Ork-made contraptions blew up to smithereens.

The demo specialist chuckles at the fiery scene, "That part never gets old."

Suddenly, a rocket whizz just above the special operatives until it bursted apart upon hitting a wall of a brick-made building. The fireteam react to the source of that close-call and noted a squad of 'black-ops' orkoids on the offensive towards the terrans' location. With guns blazing at them, of course.

"Incoming hostiles!"

Inside the Folmari mansion/manor/castle around the same time...

The ongoing battle cries from the green-skinned attackers have put the minds of the housemaids and guardsmen into a state of great unease within the house's hallways. Many act in fright for their own lives or fellow compatriots while they flee to safety. Others reacted in fight-mode to repel these barbaric intruders, especial for the female demihuman servants in enormous debt to the generosity of their late Count Folmari… and his 15-year-old breathing daughter as heiress to the tolerant province. Although these anthropomorphic maids were well-trained in the uses of hidden combat knives and daggers that complemented their distinct physiology, the humanoids' battle skills are unusually on par with the competence of these melee-oriented 'orcs.' That, and the technological advantages being brought by the greenskins are proven to be very difficult for the medieval defenders to outright fight back (taking into account the number of breaches that the ork kommandos' explosives had made on the fortified walls encompassing the house of Folmari nobility). Nonetheless, such foreign capabilities from the enemy will not deter the protective beast-women from fighting persistently for their current livelihoods.

":Go to Hardy's underworld, you foul creatures!:"

Among those determined maids in combat is Delilah, a 'bunny-warrior' who survived the Imperial invasion on her former homeland over seven years ago and was given a new lifestyle by the good-hearted Folmari Clan in the subsequent months. The rabbit-eared humanoid continues to kick, punch, slice, and stab her opponents with her weapons and gifted physiques from her species. Still, the 'orcish' trespassers have resilient musculature that requires multiple beatings and/or slashes at the right spots in order to 'neutralize' these beastly savages. Thus in such unsavory circumstances, Delilah had to do a bit more thinking than normal of how to deal with the fiendish 'orcs' and their deadly 'staves'… or else the beastwoman will die in gory fashion like her unlucky co-workers for underestimating the green adversaries. After all, she has yet to fulfill her personal vengeance upon her former queen who betrayed the Vieran tribes in the last war. But the idea of avenging her fallen sisters have to be put aside for the top priority to not let the orc-like invaders touch her countess of Italica, Miyu, with their filthy and cruel hands.

A mission that appears to fail, when some mobs of the specialized orkoids effectively arrive at the doors leading to the throne room without being noticeable to the preoccupied guardians (or by just being too good in killing them). Once there, the green-skinned kommandos shotgun away the door knobs and kick the wooden barriers wide open. The aristocratic chamber they storm into is… empty of enemies to chew on. Not much to look at, apart from the big painting portraying the departed Colt Folmari.

"Nodin' da see 'ere, boyz."

"'Ow 'bout dat humy lad on da portrait over dere?"

Likewise, some of the sneaky orks look at the artwork for a very… short, attention span. Before one kommando simply sprays lead toward the painted portrayal, desecrating the deceased's noble image. "Well at leezt diz git'z face 'az a new makeover, ladz!" The orkish special operatives laugh in unison, regarding the painting being all punctured up.

The sudden fall of a 'carved' ceiling chunk onto the royal floor immediately ends the barbaric laughter. The fallen debris was large enough for at least a human to stand on the former roof section. Speaking of which then, an interesting person in green 'elvish' robe and similarly related apparels happens to be standing on the descended rubbish. Despite the thick veil covering the individual's face, the specialized greenskins can tell that the clothed figure has a feminine shape.

In addition to seeing two green blades of 'light' to instantly come out of the 'sword hilts' within her hands.

"Slag da Force-uzin' freak, boyz!"

Inside the underground dungeon of the mansion concurrently...

A group of people has just reach the subterranean floor of the castle's prison level, with a sufficient number of candles already been lit before the unanticipated raids. The bodyguards and servants of this crowd are accompanying their young noblewoman to an escape route that was concealed within the dungeon's stone walls. From the working knowledge from Countess Miyu and her escorts, they're within several yards to the hidden backdoor location. Unfortunately, the supposedly secret exit-way abruptly burst apart into dusty cloud of pulverized rock. The loud noise from the sudden blast deafens the escapees' ears for some time. Once their power of hearing is adequately recovered, the group immediately catch a familiar battle cry from the now exposed route.

"WAAAAAAGH!" Although the barbaric sounds coming out of the tunnel seems to be more… high-pitched. Nonetheless, small green-skinned savages shortly made their appearance that looked similar to the goblins of this continent.

A handful of armed guards and combat-ready maids (like Persia and Mamina) waste no time in counteracting the newly arrived 'beastmen' that exit the compromised route. It soon becomes clear in this latest skirmish that the humanoid servants have an upper hand in melee-oriented skills over the small but numerable barbarians. The rest of the escorts redirect their adolescent heiress and themselves to a spot more defensible… while being stuck within the dungeon 'til the getaway underpass is fully secured; bearing in mind that the native inhabitants don't want the violent 'orcs' to catch wind of their subterranean basement.

So far, the Falmartian combatants using swords and daggers are gradually making headways in thinning out the 'goblin' mob. Those victories became short-lived nevertheless, as more 'goblins' appear out of the basement tunnel and immediately discharge volleys of 'lights' at high speed from weapons similar to the 'staffs' used by the bigger barbarians. Some demihuman maids were lucky enough to evade or not being in the multiple paths of the fast projectiles, including Persia and Mamina. The same cannot be said to the rest of the defenders, whose bodies are now pierced countless times by the swift bullets of the invading trespassers. The skirmish situation turns toward the shorter greenskins' favor on firepower. Despite that change of fortune, the remaining female servants maintain their commitment in the defense of the Folmari heiress. The felinoid and vieran survivors then stubbornly rush in the direction of those goblin-like bastards armed with bizarre 'crossbows', while dodging the shots of those 'magical' weapons. With the help of their humanoid abilities, the two beast-women are able to kill off a handful of the 'fire-launching goblins.' Alas, a few Gretchins succeeded in getting bullet impacts into the feminine fighters. The gunfire didn't outright terminate their lives, but the shootings did injure them to a great degree that the maids are effectively incapacitated for combat.

At this current point, the Grots are about to deliver the finishing blows with gun barrels. Only for a dark cloud/fog to unexpectedly rush out of the same exposed hole that the green-colored pygmies were using; and obscure a moderate section of the subsurface battlefield to the combatants' eyes.

"Uh… wat'z wif diz inky stuff 'ere?" One confused gretchin said about this black collection of 'smoke' that interrupted their coup de grace upon the injured maids. Unfortunately for that savage and a few of his bloodthirsty lads, they soon got their heads sliced in halves with one full swing…

By a green blade of energy that is not related to the mystical Force; and correlates much more on a wanderer belonging to a psionic species that originates from the 'same' universe as the Terrans.

At a different location in the medieval metropolis meanwhile...

A similar commando unit of five has shielded themselves behind accumulated debris of urban structures; as the greenskins occupying a three-storied insula continuously pour out high-speed projectiles at the foreign combatants… along with a number of bipedal soldiers apparently made of metal. These 'Reapers' are equipped with hexagonal energy shields on their left arms and integrated four-barreled, rotary guns that recently came out from hiding inside their other upper limbs. The plasma discharges coming out of the unveiled firearms have gained the attention of the orks defending one of several jamming equipment inside the commandeered structure.

While the robotic Reapers receive the incoming barrage from those Kommandos, the leading operative of Zeta-2 activates his small comms device installed on the sealed helmet to contact wirelessly with the 'Ghosts.' "This is Zeta-Two Actual to Ghost-4, do you copy?"

Without notice, a 'lightning' bolt went through a window on the second floor and impacted a kommando. Yet the electrified shot does not halt from there, as splitting arcs of lightning leap into nearby greenskins with deadly electrocutions. The cascade of destructive shocks continue on until there are no more orkish specialists… or anyone else being alive in close vicinity of the confined floor. Concurrently to that jolting end are a few grenades thrown into the first floor of distracted kommandos thru the open windows. Human-made, that is. The hand-held explosives detonate, follow by a volley of 6.8mm Remington SPC bullets from revamped MR-B rifles in the hands of cloaked operatives — from America. Two four-man teams storming the sides of the occupied building at ground level, as well as a 'foreign guide' attached to each unit. One is a covert-fitted robotic soldier designated as E34N or "Ethan", the other one similar to the former (albeit in black armor, different head design, and a female voice programming) and identified as IR-33N or "Ireen." Both equipped with energy-based firearms and were given orders to keep their special operation guests alive; which involves terminating enemies and covering gaps and blind-spots that the cunning orks can exploit. As for the aftermath of the minute-long rude awakening, it's zero casualties for the fortunate Ghost Recon group and 100 percent fatality for the kommandos on the first level.

"Ghost-4 Actual, here. My squad have now secured the area and proceeding to the upper levels."

"Negative, Ghost-4 Actual. Tell your men to stay put or pull out; and let Zeta-Two, my team, be the forefront toward our target. Do you co-?"

"Prophet, here. Spotted the orks doing… something with their indoor jamming contraption." Simultaneously, the cybernetic sniper on a nearby roof detects a source of whirly sounds and receives a barrage of bullets from a couple of grot-operating machine gun turrets attached to a descending transport helicopter. "And a greenskin heli conducting a landing on top of the structural insula. Overwatch disrupted at the moment. So I recommend extreme caution in pursuing the objective upstairs, sirs," warned the pin-downed shooter now stuck under cover to avoid ballistic damages.

"Understood, Prophet. Ghost-4, remain at your current position or leave the building discreetly. Fireteam Zeta-2 will storm inside and up front for any traps deployed by the kommandos."

Before long, multiple gizmos from the third floor plunge onto the paved ground that surrounded the occupied building. After making contact with the surface, those devices alter themselves into denial weapons… that spew out 'lightning bolts' within a limited area (about 6 yards in diameter per 'grenade'). Reaper automatons that just found themselves within the hazard zones soon experience prolonged seizures of dangerous electricity from the crafty contraptions, although the armored commando fireteam is lucky to evade such fate.

The American squad leader noticed the unexpected obstacles that apparently locked his clandestine unit inside the apartment's bottom level for the time being. "Zeta-2 Actual, it looks like our exfiltration routes for leaving this location are blocked for a while. Ghost-4 will clear out Tangos with great heed. Rorke, out!" The commander of this black ops group immediately signaled one of the Ghosts to deploy an unmanned surveillance vehicle in 'crawler-mode' on the floor, as Rorke disregard the Terran radio reply telling them to not put his fellow operatives at risk.

Once being operational, the quad-rotor/wheeled drone climbs up the stairs to the second story. Its camera shows the electrocuted remains of those orkoids to the human operator below. Since the corpses halt further movement on the surface, the drone then transitions to an aerial asset. The hovering vehicle instantly moves towards the windows and subsequently ascends outside for the third flooring. Through the unmanned equipment, the Ghost Recon soldiers spotted the remaining kommandos using rope ladders from the tandem-rotored whirlybird (which made a big mess of a touchdown on the rooftop)… to go inside the parked transport and retreat from the warzone. What's more, the ork-made electronic jammer was evidently improvised to hold many…

Explosives?

"Damn… there goes your 'glorious' charge idea, sir." The bipedal synthetic guide 'Ethan' commented the makeshift 'booby-trap.'

Captain Rorke uncomfortably uttered, "No shit." The human leader then gazes at those 'Tesla' deterrents, still electrocuting the unfortunate Reapers in their vicinities. "Any info on how long will it take for these area-denial devices to burn themselves out?" Seconds later, his answer came when all the shocking gizmos finally self-detonate into multiple blasts. Almost instantaneously however, a much bigger explosion has rocked the topmost flooring at the same spot as the retrofitted jamming device. The destructions caused by this violent eruption are the bygone roof, the spying drone from the Ghost Recon unit, and the unenforced stabilities to the structural supports of the medieval building (as evident of the uncomfortable screeches and cracking sounds that the human ear can hear from the weakened materials). "Aw… fuck. Everyone, we need to leave now!"

Just outside the interior side of a damaged stonework gate...

British SAS operatives 'Soap' and 'Roach' at last reached another ork-made ECM device that is fixed on the base level in front of the giant entryway (now tattered with cracks, holes, and gaps defining the destructive marks on the rock-made structure). Dead bodies of orkoids with serious bullet holes and missing body parts are scattered across the war-torn area; all thanks to the covering fire from their Bravo Six section, American counterparts, and fireteam of Alpha-19 (three of them currently escorting the two elite soldiers being given the task of destroying the orkish jammer with explosives). Additionally, several infiltration 'rangers' guard the rear of the 'Earthlings' assault by barricading within specific buildings as mini-forts against orks implementing 'underhanded' ideas. The two, brave specialists began their delicate act of destruction by placing the 'borrowed' bomb onto the disruptive transmitter.

In the meantime, the guarding trio have established a temporary perimeter surrounding the jamming target… with virtually no cover and being persistently harassed by greenskin attacks. They would have been dead already; were it not for their durable sets of armor underneath the cloaks (protective helmets included) and personal energy shields in overcharge mode.

With 'Dutch' unleashing suppressive fire from his explosive-fed machine gun at the Ork kommandos going through the exposed gateway. "You slime-bags better keep tabs on your return tickets. 'Cause otherwise, you're all going home in a psycho-ambulance!"

'Mickey' taking care of the right flank with his plasma shotgun. "It's the gift that keeps on giving, maggots!"

And of course… there's 1st Lieutenant Buck covering the other side of the perimeter; by the use of an energy assault rifle instead of his 'revolvers.' "Hey there, my Britannian guests with the demolition job! How soon are you done with setting up the boom-boom present?"

The somewhat irked Master Sergeant MacTavish answers, "My guess would be a minute or two at best. Considering that this explosive contraption recently gave me and Roach a very lengthy code of numbers and symbols on a holographic screen to simply arm the bloody demo-charge."

"Heh, eh, eh… sorry about that… rarity to tolerate. Nevertheless, you laddies better pick up the pace with a lot of urgencies today; on the account of my protective membrane having… uh, less than five minutes to nicely stay invulnerable before going back to standard power."

"Well, if you actually want more time to borrow, how about shoving your unrefined gags at the enemy's arseholes for a try?"

"Duh… that might be worth a shot." Kaydin soon switches for his two 'revolvers' and set a sight on some of the attacking kommandos… for taunting (with his armored headgear self-modifies for louder shouts). "Hey you! Waaagh-loving smartasses over there! How's your orky satisfaction within this primeval city?!"

As if on cue, a kommando takes on the challenge. "Eh… it'z quite a nice place for uz Orkz to rampage, terry. Probably not wordy enouf to give dem sum' slag grenades on der facez… Compare to ya killa humies n' eldar, anyway!" The responsive orkoid quickly throws out a portable slag bomb at the 'provocative ranger'... before receiving a devastating headshot from Romeo's railgun support.

Likewise, the gunslinging lieutenant easily intercepts the thrown bomb by discharging one of his prepared handguns. The fired 'bullet' made impact on the orkish device and disintegrated it into shattered bits… and purple fumes. Followed by a couple more grenades toss out from the greenskins; which Buck repeats the interception without difficulties. "You know, as a constant recipient of enemy fire, your grenade throws stink!" Very quickly though, he sniffs at the foul smell from the freed smoke of slag. "Agh, whoa… I might take that back; your grenades themselves really stink! What the hell did you greenskins put inside those things?!"

The two British guests softly growled at such nonchalant comedy, while they finish up the arming sequences for the demolition contraption. 'Soap' stated in his mind, 'I guess that any suggestion given to the chatty bloke must be reconsidered with greater care.' Thankfully, the SAS duo finalize the explosive setup for 'decommissioning' the orkoid ECM tech. "Demo-charge, ready! Moving to safer position!"

"Loud and clear, mateys!" Kaydin acknowledges the completion, while shooting back at the attacking Kommandos. "Dutch, Mickey! It's time to move away from the blast zone!" His subordinates reasonably comply with the order to fall back and start running for Team Metal's and Bravo Six's location in cover.

When they ultimately reach the protective area, the nearly impenetrable shields of Fireteam Alpha 19 ran out of energy and deactivate. Just in time for Sergeant Sanderson to press the button on the remote detonator; obviously leading the planted bomb to destroy the jamming contraption through explosion — and seriously harm or wipe out any intervening orks that were in close proximity to the makeshift jammer. However, the flammable success is shortly attended by the friendly fortified edifices in the back getting blown up suddenly (in due part to the orkish specialists' clever shenanigans — and the use of some… giant balls packed with interior explosives dropped by those audacious, ad hoc transport helicopters from the green-skinned enemy).

After that destructive compromise, a number of Kommando mobs from that direction then charge eagerly at the firearm-using defenders… either gun-blazing with their shootas or by getting up-close for the Orks' choppas. The Americans, British, and surviving Terrans (sometimes Eldar rangers) pour countless bullets and energy bolts at the orkish assaults in response; although the powder-based ammunition for ballistic guns is running low. "Lieutenant Buck! Can you call up your friendlies right now?! We definitely need bloody reinforcement against these hell-raising wankers!" Captain Price urgently said.

"That's exactly the urgent thing I'm thinking about!" Kaydin shouted while sending in plasma volleys from his automatic energy rifle. "Were it not for these greenskins' tenacity to gain my full attention away from such important task!"

Seconds later, a blackish-clad 'daemon' simultaneously descend to the battle zone from high above and made a downward slice upon an unlucky kommando — in half — at the rear with her unsheathed sword. The 'free-falling' action also created a deep, long mark on the medieval pavement and a loud clang for the allied defenders in front to hear and witness. A pause of fighting occurs as all combatants gaze at the darkish-colored character… for several seconds before the orkoids in near proximity resume their volleys of bullets straightaway in the direction of Ryona's position. Nevertheless, her two 'bat-wings' concurrently transform into near-impenetrable shields for deflecting/nullifying those dangerous projectiles aiming towards her back. Furthermore, a pair of zergish arms 'germinates' out of the chimeric woman's rear in an instant and soon grab her two auto-shotguns out of exoskeletal attachments; which clearly leads to the plasma rapid-fire upon the specialized orks from the energy weapons positioned on top of the bulletproof barriers.

Although not the backup that they expected, the Earth-born humans were cautiously astonished by this demon-like creature's killing power against the green-skinned barbarians. That uneasy feeling is shared across the visiting protectors of Italica as well, Alpha-19 included.

Lieutenant Buck was about to say a 'welcoming pun' for the human chimera to mitigate everyone's internal anxieties… when he inadvertently notices many cylindrical objects flying over the medieval city with beams of 'light' propelling them at rapid speed. Their final destinations: the greenskins' flock of cargo helicopters that soon experience severe hits on their hulls. Many of those heavily inflicted aircraft fall in downward spins toward the surface (whether it's open fields or unlucky housings), while other 'functioning' choppers retreat out of the flak-filled sky. 'Well, at least the electronic disruption is muted enough for the Eldar anti-air units to do their job,' Kaydin noted in his head about the friendly aerial salvos. Abruptly, he wonders on the kommandos not engaging the 'FMB' (specifically the armed savages oriented around the demolished ECM contraption). So without further ado, the ranger-like comedian turns around — and sees elvish Warp Spiders giving hell to the orkoid special forces with their Death Spinners firing out their infamously condensed masses of razor-sharp monofilament wires. '...And to allow their teleportation tactics to work properly.' The wisecracker looks around his personal flanks to notice anyone intuitively alerted by the sudden troop deployment. Several did apparently: including Captain Price and 'Sandman' of Team Metal. "So… I guess this means that you Earth-born guests are basically safe for today. Heh?"

The human leaders stare at the abnormally relaxed 'ranger' of Alpha-19, without showing facial cues of their bafflement on the 'otherworldly' military backup. In a flash, they're interrupted by thunderous noises occuring at the daemon-like entity's locality. The soldiers immediately redirect their attention towards the origin of those explosions and witness a sizable cloud in violet color (caused by Slag-filled warheads) that engulfs the 'monstrous' individual and its protective material pair in front. Microscopically, the Eridium slag particles permeate inside the tiny spaces that composed the two 'devilish' shields with greater concentrations. As the slaggy smog gradually dissipates itself, a number of Ork-made rockets head straight onto the seemingly-intact yet smelly barriers. When those projectiles did self-detonate on impact, the released energy reaches the substantial accumulations of E-slag and magnifies their signature property in separating the solid bonds essential for keeping the whole defensive structures together. Simply put: the zerg-human-chimera's bulletproof wings shatter into variable pieces… which allows a few more greenskin missiles to hit its/her exoskeletal back with fiery eruptions.

The resulting thick cloud obscures the unknown state of the inflicted character to everyone's view. First Lieutenant Kaydin suggests a hint… while he and others move backwards, "Oh, uh… why not we soberly take a nice, tactical withdrawal for the reclaimed gate behind us? Yes?"

"You just had to be a bloody muppet for making miscalculated assumptions on security, Buck." The SAS Captain grudgingly said. "Bravo-6 Actual to Bravo Team, fall back to the main gate! Fall back!" The American team leader exclaims the same idea for their men of Earth to retreat towards the Eldar-held entryway (soon accompanied by Eldar Vampire Raider transports unloading troops).

Meanwhile, the specialized Orks initiate an attacking maneuver that involves one group shooting and the other one to plow through the smoking mass 'stealthily.' As this renewed assault proceeds for some time, several stray bullets create an equal amount of 'thumps' by impact on the same location as the zergish 'daemon.' The greenskins weirdly recognize a discrepancy on the assumed 'death' of the zergy-humie, after their slag-rocket combo. So, they momentarily pause the counterattack for reassessing the situation.

Which is suddenly followed by the superhuman sprint of a Ryona K. Matoi in her relatively, intact armored suit… along with her sharp 'katana' blade that she immediately unleashes in the form of a wide horizontal slash against the first row of greenskins.

Back to the subterranean dungeon fifteen minutes later...

Silence is apparent for the interior area that the gretchins had stormed into… if anyone available could kindly ask the goblin-like carcasses for an explanation on why they ended up as dead as several of the humanoid maids and bodyguards being all fatally shot up. An interrogation that a pair of armor-suited infiltrators may or may not be in the mood to do as they came out of the same tunnel that the smaller greenskins used. Then again… those two black-ops soldiers with guns are taking a 'forensic' look at gory destruction that the late grots were subjected to.

"Hmm… high-degree burns along body gashes, dismembered segments, and within sizable stab cavities." The dull red-colored commando observed, "Exactly like the surreal trauma perpetrated on the specialized Orks at the other side of the escape route."

The other person in faded green armor comments, "Sure it does, Row. The little bastards here are as fucked up as their bigger hotshots lying dead on the other end. Still, it's weird that their deaths were relatively cleaner than to what has transpired for the poor native guards within our sights. Should have been the other way around, under my preference."

"Fortunately for them, the Folmari house-staff are not the enemies to earn wedgies from your shenanigans, Jay."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Although it would be quite funny to get a look at the maids' faces, if actually encouraged of course."

"Right… perhaps as funny as having a kick to the groin in response to that style of indecency."

"Ouch, man."

After a period of exploring the underground chambers, the armed duo eventually found the location of Countess Miyu and her entourages of the surviving escorts and their wounded… in which most of them were inside a secured cell behind bars. The able-bodied guards left available soon put themselves in defensive postures between the two unknowns and the young daughter of the late-Count Folmari. Practically everyone is in a standstill; motion-wise.

"Row, care to guess for 30 creds on who slaughtered the pygmy greenskins here?" The green-suited visitor bets while looking at his team member.

Reciprocally, the crimson-covered partner orients his helmet visor towards the wagering character. "Hmm… I assume you already had a hypothesis for that on this minor gamble. Yes?"

"Ohh… it might had to do with our ultra-powered 'highness' above us right now. How about yours, Rowlen?"

Row tilts his helmet-enclosed head in a perplexing manner. "...I'll take on the idea that an undisclosed alien from a different planet was responsible for this orkoid extermination. Is that sufficient, Jonah?"

"Heh, you're on."

With that bet in place, the red-armored specialist decides to raise some questions for the native survivors in the common language. ":Pardon us two warriors being here, everyone. Do any of you had a chance to identify the… victor over these dead 'goblins' here?:"

From the words of demihuman servants and human escorts that managed to witness the killing upon the gretchins (including the injured Persia and Mamina whose lives continues to breathe), this noble 'perpetrator' was said to wield a blade composed of 'light' in green color and seemingly fixed to the suspect's forearm. The victor's identity remains mysterious due to the inky fog surrounding this individual and dark garbs obscuring against absolute recognition. Once the 'indigenous' group finished up their reluctant testimonies, well… the gambling conjecture made by the green-colored soldier progressively held no weight in the truth.

Nonetheless, Jay resists the metaphoric white flag for this latest bet. "There's still the slight possibility of our Force-using royalty to be involved here, Row. Which may require her allegations to settle this tiny wager."

Rowlen was close to voicing out a disapproval at his team member for losing, when the friend-or-foe detection systems inside both helmets notifies the armed duo of an incoming friendly in their direction. It seems that the armored pair's ally is searching for the secretive stairs leading to this underground location. "J, explore for the passageway that leads to the floor above and greet our allied associate professionally. I'll keep my eyes on the VIPs here."

"Sure. As if you're some kind of saint during this assignment."

"I didn't said I was, Jay. Not that I would trust you with my kids, though."

The green-suited infiltrator oddly tilt his head at his colleague. "...You don't have kids."

"Hmph, then we got nothing to worry about tonight."

With that 'friendly' banter being agreed upon, Jonah strolls across the battle-scared dungeon for the stairs (his helmet visor being helpful in discerning the lightless and corpse-filled background). A modest period of time forward, he identifies the stairways that connected between the subterranean basement and upper level. Just as the viridescent-armored operator took a few ascending steps, the 'secretive' trap-door slides open out of the blue. It doesn't take long for the alerted Jay to see the revealed face of Tamari Magulee Thorayja, whose clothed physique covered with some persistent stains of blood and slag is right in front of the recent opening. "Uh… hi there, ma'am."

"Salutation to you also, operative." The female wanderer replies while showing a modest smile. "Any update on the young countess down there?"

"Not a single touch of greenskins on her, miss. Could've said the same for the brave ladies, notwithstanding."

"Along with the mystery of how the gretchins fail to utterly eliminate the noble pedigree, yes?"

The roughen emerald-suited warrior dumbfoundedly glances at her and look back at the bloody heap towards his rear side. "So… this slaughter behind me is not your doing?"

"Correct… which means that the winner on this funny bet of guessing goes to your colleague. Am I right?"

Jonah grumbles, "Aww… shit, there goes thirty credits for Roland. Anyhow, have the telepathic 'highness' already identified the responsible trespasser for these orkoid kills below?"

The dark-skinned facial expression returns to a bland outlook. "Classified as of these circumstances."

A hundred twenty seconds forward, inside the manor's battered throne room...

The female vieran Delilah has finally arrived through the broken primary doors. In front of the battle-maid's view is the aftermath of a presumably brutal fight: circular marks all over the once-pristine walls in different sizes; exquisite paintings now desecrated with stains of blood, blackened soot, and some unknown purple substance; a large hole with burnt edges in the middle of the ceiling; and… the decimated corpses of those orc-like intruders lying on the tainted floor — although there's a real lack of 'vital fluids' spilled in her observation. She uneasily saw the charcoaled gashes that were fatally imposed upon the green-skinned barbarians, without a clear idea of who or what done the violent deeds. Nevertheless, the warrior-bunny servant would like to give thanks upon this champion for taking out these savages for good.

"Holy skag-pile! Someone has certainly made a gory mess around here," said a voice at a high frequency in the Imperial language. The rabbit-eared woman turns around and then notices a yellow-colored… box-thing (with a weird glass-like eye and a wheel attached on the bottom) "Oh hey there, bunny lady! Claptrap here, who's basically myself, is just acting on my signature curiosity of this eye-catching environment. How surprising it is to see this palace survived the Kommando raids, albeit the regrettable vandalism upon these rather nice decorations." Soon, this 'golem' takes a closer look at the dead bodies. "Hang on… I don't see a lot of organic fluids coming out of the cauterized carcasses. Perhaps the term 'bloodless slaughter' sounds more appropriate, yes?"

The confused vieran simply stares at this… wheeled object. She finally states an inquiry, "Uh… what in the world a- ?"

Claptrap continues its inquisitive tendencies. "Gosh, maybe you orkoid brutes should've reworked your sneaky talents on discerning anyone that are not to mess with. Like that zerg-infested vault-hunter who I once saw her being all naked; or the deadpan-snarking lieutenant with his puzzled squad-mates; or that hyper-supernatural matron demonstrating her martial art aptitudes with her alien wea-... uh… hold on, am I talking about those semi-immortal disciples in service of the Falmarian… or Falmartian deities? Or was it the wanderlust warriors who insanely practiced a lot with being friends to the Force stuff or something?"

Delilah really wishes for this one-wheeled 'box' to ju-

"Eh, oh well! I'll leave that extensive pondering for some other time. Considering all the lovable artwork here that are in very bad shape because of the deployment of advanced killing machines that were way beyond the medieval arsenals on this landmass in homeostasis. For instance, that big painting of a guy wearing royal clothing or some kind… not sure of his defining facial features when bullet holes had ruin the realistic portrait. Which doesn't help jogging my memory processors to uh… recall his name. Unless there somebody right here to be willing to state the man's name, anyway."

The warrior-bunny changes her attention to the damaged image of the long-gone father of Countess Miyu; she felt quite sad at the violation of this particular painting.

"Uh... Yoo hoo! Miss rabbit maiden? Got an answer for that poor man unknown to me?" Claptrap asked.

The demi-human hears the inquiry and responsively gave an alerted look at the short character. Delilah nonetheless reveals her former lord's name. "Coltez Co Folmari... our departed master of this city and late father of our current heir to this beloved clan."

The yellowish 'golem' stare at her... in a confusing kind of way. "Ooookkaaayy... you got me lost at the words 'departed and late', sister. I mean, isn't this person still alive and gone somewhere for a peaceful field-trip or something?"

Delilah was mildly annoyed by how clueless this one-eyed thing was to the fate of her previous lord, even as she casually reveals the facts with some sadness. "Actually... Count Folmari caught a terrible illness over a year ago, while performing his duties for the people living on the Folmari Province: human and demihuman alike. He didn't survive the sickness, after less than a month of trying to live further. Our clan nonetheless were sort of glad that he missed the chance to cross over the Gate on Alnus Hill, in light of circulating whispers that the Imperial expedition to the other world was catastrophically defeated."

" ...So in other words, your prior master died because of a nasty disease he unluckily contracted, rather than being united with a military mob of glory-hogging assholes from the Sanderan Empire. Right?"

The perplexed vieran steadily answers, "Um... yes, Claptrap."

"Then hooray for him!"

What?

"How paradoxically merciful for your dead nobleman to not witness the most awful attacks happening this year! Starting with the absolute failure for the Imperial jackasses to halt the human coalition from the other side of your Holy Gate. Followed by sporadic rescue missions done by either parallel Earthlings or Terran forces, which slowly weakens the stagnant slave labor economy. Then came the Orkish landings from the sky and subsequent distribution of those savage hordes. After that follows the massive butchery of the Allied Kingdom Armies that occurred on this day; as well as the Orkoid Kommando raid upon your fortress city here that will definitely indicates a big invasion in upcoming days. Next will be... uh... I actually don't know what types of catastrophes will appear when those orkboys do get kicked into oblivion. Regardless, it ain't going to be very pretty for all of you inhabitants of this ignorant landmass to expose yourselves in the not-too-distant future."

To think that this 'golem' has the reckless gall to test Delilah's... comfort level. Not excluding the baffling revelations of the semi-decipherable shit-storms that are revealed to her. "I don't see anything glad about the horrors expected to be unleashed upon this land of ours, you... you..."

The mono-eyed robot notices the woman's difficulty in finding a description of itself. "A science-tinkered custodian bot that has its paranormal gifts locked up by this technological constraint on top of my chassis." The rabbit-warrior is quite lost with words for this unknown account from Claptrap. "Seriously... that same mystified face of yours again?" No answer for once. "Eh, whatever. At least this Coltez Folmari you speak of won't get branded as a vilified criminal for the many nasty actions like rape, murder, and desecration that did happen during that large-scale Saderan assault on the alternate world."

The female demihuman retorts, "Our previous head of the Folmari Clan would certainly refrain his own troops and himself from doing such... despicable deeds, even if the damned Emperor and those selfish generals from Sadera did call upon our lord to join that conquest."

" ...Does that mean that he's not a typical villain around this neighborhood?"

"Really... a villain? Count Coltez was a man who had shown great mercy to many people in needs, regardless of their racial identity! My warrior-sisters and I wouldn't be breathing here today if not for the generosity of his kindness. A noble soul in contrast to the dishonorable leaders and legionaries that rather exploit our bodies than to develop friendship with my race."

"Oh... I see. A really nice guy having better virtues than those ass-hats from the human-centric Empire humiliating themselves in marching through that magical tunnel of Alnus Hill, which was later superseded by the same foolish legions panicking out of that divine A-..." The modified CL4P-TP unit suddenly stop yammering and putting together its digital thoughts for a while. Soon enough, it began to audibly chuckle... regularly followed by a string of laughs coming out of the metal-derived construct.

"Uh... what in the Gods' presence is so comical about?"

"Hahaha, haha, hehe, heh... oh, it's the apparent connection between a certain word and a body part that I just recognized."

The rabbit-eared humanoid remains puzzled. "...What do you mean, uh... bot?"

Claptrap find that inquiry to be... annoyingly odd. "Sheesh... well, let's start with anytime that you need to use a bathroom."

"Bath - room? Like the public baths?"

"It's essentially an indoor equivalent to a latrine where you allow your fleshy body to expel filthy stuff; such as feces and urine."

She gradually understood... with some disgust. "I... am getting a clear picture of your descriptions."

"Great! I assume you got a moniker for that rear opening found in every person and animal whenever those solid waste matter are needed to come out. Right?"

Delilah decides to not answer the troublesome... thing.

The yellow animated object noted the silence, "...Wait, really? Is everyone's knowledge in medical terminology and profanity on this magic continent that severely retarded?!"

The unsure demi-human then asks, "How so... mouthy one?"

"Ugh... oh, forget it. I'll definitely say this revelation nonstop in disregard to how far you natives can comprehend. Okay, so that organic orifice between your buttocks in the middle? It's medically and scientifically called an anus. Why is that relevant, someone would say? Well... the laughing outcome that I have in mind is associated with a vulgar word and any despicable human cretins in the service of this medieval empire forged by the city of Sadera. Or was it supposed to be Sandera whatnot? Anywho, we all heard of the story that started with some Imperial men discovering the magical portal on top of the sacred hill. They gone through the Gate; came back with memories of seeing astonishing landscape from the other side; repeated that reconnaissance a number of times before their emperor and his allies in both the military leadership and overall nobility evidently convinced themselves that the mighty Empire's legions will easily gain total control over the foreign realm located beyond the extra-dimensional entryway; gathered their reputable warriors for said army of conquest; create a giant structure over that time-space entrance; and finally sent that huge military force via the supernatural portal for glory and spoils of war. Guess what?"

"Eh... what?" The vieran sort of parrots the question while also putting together the information with modest difficulties.

"What they brought back instead were the tattered remnants of the Saderans' once-glorious legions. How tattered they're said to be? Well... despite the lack of injuries presented on those returning legionaries, they apparently witnessed a power that had gotten them so incredibly petrified to simply shit themselves! Get it: shit themselves?! To imagine those human snot-bags tarnishing their own luxurious clothes with repulsive feces that came directly from... blahahah, their own rear ends! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

In some inner form of admission, the warrior-bunny thoughtfully smiles at the outlook of the Empire's armies being rewarded their just desserts. "Hmph, about time that their voracious desires finally led them to a very unfavorable quagmire."

"An extraordinary big quagmire indeed! Pretty glad for those human SOBs to be given a horrible spanking for infuriating some mighty factions through that magical gateway on Asshole Hill!"

Delilah suddenly look at Claptrap in a blanked manner. "...uh, the holy site is correctly named Alnus Hill, Claptrap."

"Of course I know the sacred reputation, bunny lady. Also, I know how to spell out the title of that tourist attraction — as opposed to the great stupid majority of fleshy inhabitants that exist and die on this landscape."

She squints her eyes at the stupid part. "That was... considerably rude for you to say."

"Sure... it may not be so correct if you can actually spell out the popular name. Do you, Miss rabbit-eared host?"

Delilah decided to challenge that 'dare.' "Aww... fine. Alnus: um... A, L, N, U, S. Am I correct?"

"...It is, indeed. Although I'm persistently confounded by how your native alphabets had similar coincidences with other writing systems from foreign languages beyond this world."

"Really?"

"Yep! And I got hundreds of different communication packages installed to my cyberspace circuitry! But let's go back to developing this humor that spelled A, N, U, S for that supposedly sacred estate."

The rabbit-eared humanoid gets rather mystified on how its 'declaration' made sense. "Um... shall I suggest bloodletting to clear your mind or something?"

"Why would you? I seriously doubt that a surgical knife or sharpened dagger could cut through my magic-tampered chassis. Plus, I don't have human blood circulating across my body. It's all run on a spark of life and electricity going around inside. Then again, I could have flowing motor oils or some type of nano-tech fluids that possibly kept me very resilient in one way or another. Even if I do get a dent for some reasons, my hypothetical wounds will just heal themselves like nothing ever happens. So what gave you the outdated idea of fix-... -ing... Ohhh, I realize now the misunderstanding there. You see, humor can have another meaning outside of its original purpose. Thus, when I stated the word 'humor' seconds ago, I'm actually trying to bring laughter out of my audiences through subverting expectations; which often includes playing on words from an updated English dictionary or thesaurus item."

"Then... what are you expecting me to 'laugh' at?"

"Glad you asked for getting things straight! My main point is me having fun with comparing the holy hill's title with someone's asshole. Get it? Sacred Alnus and a divine anus being together — and one in the same?"

The vieran maid wonders in disbelief. "...Are you demanding for your own punishment from the Gods of Falmart, Claptrap?"

"Huh? Would those from the slacking pantheon of divinity turn very cruel after listening in to this amusing banter?"

"Most likely on my soul. So don't even try it, golem." Delilah warns.

"Oh... I see. Then its too bad for them to miss out this wonderful joke about your supernatural Gate manifesting itself like a goddess's asshole!"

"W-Wh-Wha-ha-ah... why did you not he-?!"

"Wait, there's more to this comedy! When this magical door was eventually discovered by the Empire, the first adventurous legionaries went back and forth through the portal like some exposed dicks squeezing into a prostitute's asshole! Later, the Imperial leadership misguidedly became very grabby as human assholes and then directed their many legions to a certain foreign city via the paranormal entryway; kinda comparable to a stream of sperm cells by the tens of thousands being ejaculated into a bitch's anal canal. Unfortunately for the Empire's so-called expedition, they were totally devastated and escape out of the famous Gate as analogous as excrement expelling out of a scary Minotaur's asshole! Aside from the avenging military forces now occupying the landmark for good reasons, it seems that this legendary hill had a frequent tendency to convert lots of people into irresponsible assholes. Which led me to the conclusion that whoever this almighty deity thought up the interdimensional opening on Alnus must've been the most uncaring, selfish, and despicable a-aaaaAAAAHHHH!"

Claptrap's 'funny' finale is interrupted by three prehensile claws of carapace gripping together upon the box-shaped comedian from behind; immediately followed by the sudden pulling speed of... a tail connected to the grappling end in the direction going out of the hole within the top roof. Quite honestly, the bunny-warrior saw this tail-thing appearing at the droid's rear in the middle of its last 'humorous' exposition. Nonetheless, she didn't reacted in bewilderment while the boxy bot continued yammering a potential insult to the Gods and taken away swiftly afterwards. All that's left to look at are the green-skinned corpses and damaged state of this room.

"Quite something for Claptrap to give robotics a bad name, doesn't it?" An unknown male voice in the popularii language commented on the far side of Delilah's back. In an instant, the female humanoid turns around and switches to a combat stance facing towards this 'uninvited' visitor.

Didn't expect the said individual to looked more... metal than actual flesh, though. Along with a group of unidentified men in strange armor and clothes being just behind the... one blue-eyed golem/cyclops person?

"Take it easy, maiden. The Orkoid interlopers are kicked out of Italica for now," said the E34N unit with its left hand presenting a calming gesture that the vieran understood — but still retains her vigilance of these unrecognizable people.

On top of the major Folmari residence's roof around the same time...

"Uh... hi there, scaly traveler with Zergish characteristics. Do I know you somewhere?" The Hyperion-based automaton looks (or more likely being stared) at the demonically armor-clad entity that is Ryona Matoi, who currently holds it hanging in the air by her supernaturally summoned tail attached to the lady's mid-spine cord. "Yeah... the silent game being played here. Which I'm not really good at certain times, such as this monumental encounter tonight. Beginning with some questions like why your terrifying face-plate is black and has two violet eyes that are akin to a copyrighted franchise of giant mecha cartoons from Asian origins. Another is how much of your exoskeleton is biologically alive with hyper-evolving cells that are disturbingly associated with those highly ada-AAAAHHH!" The chimera's tail suddenly elevates Claptrap to higher heights above the rooftop. As usual, the yellowish droid gets freak out. "Hey, hey! Can you please not do that?! I have yet to solve my issue of having phobias that involves falling from astronomical elevations! Plus... um, I... oh dear, I frickin' forgot on this question of why the hostilities on me-aaaaAAAAAAHHHH!"

Abruptly, it experiences a very uncomfortable twirl caused by the flexible yet extensive appendage of the beastly maverick (similar to a cowboy lasso technique). After a minute or so, Ryona's tail then tosses the screaming robot somewhere down within the city's urban perimeter. What she does next relatively contrasts her expertise in killing; as the multi-species hybrid goes through her vast collection of downloaded music tracks inside her Zerg-tainted, techno-organic combat suit. Not long later, Matoi starts playing the song "Somebody to Love (1967)" by Jefferson Airplane.

By the way, the situation concerning the exact location of Claptrap's crash-site has... well...

"Duh... Boss. Shall we haul in our acquaintances nearby to take babysitting duties on this annoying bot here?" Scorch asks his fireteam commander while standing next to the recent impact on the ruined pavement.

Delta Lead replies, "We'll certainly do so at tomorrow's morning or otherwise, Delta Squad."

"Can't we just call them right away, sir?"

"Scorch... let's think of this as occupying his danger-prone exploration, instead of souring the diplomatic talks with the young countess of this large settlement."

The IT specialist adds, "Not to mention that this experimented Claptrap unit is extremely hard to kill and has no self-destruct protocols installed to silence it."

"Yeah... it's going to be a long night ahead, then." The demo expert said.

At the same time, the mono-wheeled construct stands itself up and views a familiar crew. "Why hello again, you badass commandos! Haven't seen you guys for many years since that broomstick extravaganza!"

"Scratch that, another day to turn 'worse' for us."

Ahem... you readers should know the usual feedback routine regarding reworking suggestions for me to take heed.