"Shake it up is all that we know,

Using the bodies, up as we go.

I'm waking up to fantasy,

The shades all around aren't the colors we used to see.

Broken ice still melts in the sun,

And times that are broken can often be one again.

We're soul alone, And soul really matters to me.

Take a look around…"

 

"You're out of touch! I'm out of time! But I'm out of my head when you're not around!" Lafayette was at the wheel of the JLTV, and -like Hezekiah - he too had an affinity for music. So much so that he began to sing along to words.

"Great, now there's two of them..." Flint muttered.

"What? It's Hall and Oates! It's a good song."

"No. No, the song is good. Neither of you are good at singing, that's what the fucking problem is."

"Kiss my ass, fuckin'... hater."

The truck was assigned to Unity squad after they arrived in Fort Lauderdale. They were staged to move, ready to go at the minute's notice. They were flown in from Afghanistan, transferred to Germany, and moved to Florida. All in a day and a night. The radio of the truck was playing a local station that kept the men at least somewhat content with music.

"You're out of touch, I'm out of time.

But I'm out of my head when you're not around."

 

"Experimental Battleground?" Brian asked from his spot in the back of the truck, "What is that anyway?"

 

"I think it's like a VR kinda thing, y'know. Like, a simulation of a battlefield," Flint answered.

 

"Oooh, that makes sense! Now that is like - totally - cool!"

 

Hezekiah wondered himself, though his brain was too tired to really think about anything. The soldiers had been sleep-deprived for the period they were in transport. He couldn't make too many complex ideas on his own. He frankly didn't care either. It wasn't the meatgrinder. And in the end, that's all that mattered. Besides, they were in the US, home territory. There were no IEDs here, no bad guys with weapons, no patrolling long-ass stretches of absolutely nothing. It was home.

He sat with his legs up on the dashboard, looking up at a Palm Tree that towered over him through the window. The warm sunlight beamed through the window warming his skin. He thought it was alright, a nice relaxation spot. If only he could get some more sleep now… he could just slip away for a second.

 

"You're out of touch, I'm out of time.

But I'm out of my head when you're not around…"

 

When his eyelids drifted together, the image of a seed appeared in his mind. It was wrapped with a hand, a white-gloved hand. Upon seeing it, his eyes shot open again. That dream…

 

"…It is done. But you aren't. You are just beginning on your marvelous journey," That reptilian voice hissed in his mind yet again. That dream of his from a few nights ago re-emerged from his subconscious almost frightening him.

 

He found Flint shaking him awake as his eyes once again opened, Lafayette was driving the JLTV following behind another truck in the convoy, as they proceeded forward down a hastily built dirt road.

 

"Shit, you were out for a good 15 minutes," Flint told him.

 

Hezekiah looked at him confused, "15 Minutes? I was only out for a second…"

 

"Out like a light, man. I can't blame you though, I haven't gotten a good rest since Afghanistan," Brian said.

 

Hezekiah was confused, what the hell was wrong with him? Was he an insomniac? Is that what insomnia was? 'No insomnia prevents people from sleeping… right?' Hezekiah thought to himself as he reasoned within his mind. He shook his head, unwrapping a towelette from a package to wipe his face in a desperate attempt to freshen himself up.

 

[Echo 1] "We are advancing towards the target area, just follow the road into the tunnel and we'll rendezvous once we are on the other side."

 

"Where do you think we're going?" Flint asked Hezekiah.

 

Hezekiah shrugged, "No clue. Don't care either."

 

"Why not? It's important!"

 

"Sure it is, but it ain't Korea. Don't know about you, but to me, anywhere is better than there," Hezekiah told him. Flint nodded in acceptance.

 

"Korea… yeah, I heard a thing or two about that place. The war started a year ago, right? Heard it was a nightmare."

 

"I know a guy who was there when the war broke out," Quinn said, smoothing back his hair with a loose hand, "A rocket attack on their camp a few miles away from Seoul. After the Northern rockets, the two sides threw chemical bombs across that border of theirs - I think they call it the DMZ or something. He says that he still has nightmares of the things he saw in Seoul… victims of the gas attacks. They were shoveling bodies for a straight week before they started handing out masks to everyone."

 

Flint tutted, "Yeah, shit like that could give anyone nightmares. Imagine what it was like to be the people…"

 

"Point is, we aren't going there, fellas. We've got it lucky," Hezekiah changed the topic as quickly as he could. Not being sent to fight in the Meat Grinder was perhaps the luckiest break for them this whole year. Though, the 'experimental battleground' terminology was still confusingly vague.

 

Hezekiah watched as Lafayette followed the truck ahead of them, pulling into a tunnel going underground. Red rear lights from the trucks ahead seemed to stretch on for miles. The tunnel seemed rather new in construction. Construction lamps lined the walls of the tunnel that stretched about thirty feet across and towered twenty feet tall. The sickly yellow glow of the lamps gave an ominous feel to the tunnel as if they were nearing an inescapable doom that had been purposely sealed off. It was as if Hezekiah was reading a warning sign that had deliberate commands to stay away from the risk and dangers posed to the men… and yet, they pressed on.

 

Hezekiah could feel a nervous sweat break through the pores of his skin as the truck descended into darkness, only to re-emerge into the yellowish light as they passed by each lamp. A gnawing feeling was telling him that there was something more to all of this. And yet, he pushed it down. Only shifting uncomfortably in his seat to perhaps relieve himself of the pressure. Though nothing he did could ever hope to quell it entirely. He closed his eyes once again…

 

"What the fuck?" Lafayette whispered to himself. The words caused Hezekiah's eyes to shoot open, as he tried to figure out the cause of Lafayette's distress. Though all he could see was a spare tire hanging on the rear end of another truck up ahead.

 

"Is something the matter?" Hezekiah asked him. The Corporal shrugged.

 

"Yeah, we're stopping…" he felt the slowing down of the truck as Lafayette carefully applied the breaks to avoid a collision with the ones in front. The wheels whined until all motion stopped. The construction lamps that donned the walls of the tunnel had faded into a black void of infinity up ahead. Nothing to be seen at the front of the convoy. The convoy oddly enough, sat there, waiting for something that Hezekiah couldn't make out. His eyes drifted to the mirror sticking out on his side, and he saw that other vehicles far behind were only just now stopping. Way at the back, closer to the entrance of the tunnel behind them, there was a mechanical whir. Not similar at all to the sounds that the truck's engines made. Instead, it was more an electric buzz, with metal scraping against metal. A slow grumble could be heard as well…

 

The outside light of the Florida sun was becoming smaller. Hezekiah's brow raised in a confused stare until he realized that the sound was being made by two large blast doors that were closing behind them. Large enough to completely trap the convoy inside of the tunnel. Hezekiah wondered briefly why they were there until his eyes were once again drawn to the front of the line. Another light was growing. But it wasn't the sun. It was a whirlpool of colors. All light. Combining and swirling, this way and that. It looked like something from out of a dream.

 

"What… The…" Hezekiah gawked at the sight. It looked almost magical. It looked like a portal. Sucking in light, bending and refracting the sickly yellow glow of the lamps into a wonderfully vibrant glow that ebbed with a near-fantastical feeling around it. It didn't look real at all…

 

"That's the Experimental Battleground…" Brian muttered, his eyes were staring right at it from behind his glasses…

 

"Hell of an experiment…" Said Flint.

 

"Sweet mother of Jesus," Quinn gasped, "I've never seen anything like that!"

 

"Hez, you know what that is?" Lafayette asked the Staff Sergeant, but Hezekiah furiously shook his head.

 

"Nope. You're asking the wrong guy."

 

Hezekiah's ears picked the monotone grumble of engines up ahead. The trucks were going to drive straight into it… His eyes widened as one truck disappeared into the light, almost being sucked inside. One after the next, after the next. Until the one in front of them was sucked in. Hezekiah's heart sunk, giving him one final warning of danger until they too were sucked inside of the light…

 

Fargo

 

Population: 2.5 Million (Mostly Demi-Humans)

 

Type: Capital City

 

Allegiance: Iscariot Empire

 

Winter. The mountains of the Planinia Highlands were bombarded with cold air that assaulted their snowy slopes. Gusts and flurries of winter snow blasted the trees, forming dangles of ice from the leafless branches. Winter in the Northern Heartlands was brutally cold.

 

Wendover watched his breath condense into a cloud as it caught the air. He was standing on the outskirts of the city in a damp bog that contained little more than a few windmills and farms that managed to somehow grow something of value. Though, nothing was growing now, as all the fields lie empty and bare. Farragut Village. Few traveled here. Fewer still lived here. Some family farms lie amongst the dirt roads that paved their way through to other towns. And of course, the highway that snaked its way down to the great city of Fargo, the capital of the Empire. The Planinia Highlands were miles away on the horizon, standing like great stony triangles that stood like immovable towers of ancient construction. Though, their normally pristine white snowy peaks were hidden by a thick blanket of clouds today.

 

He was leaning forward on a wooden fence that surrounded one of the farms in the area. His ears uttered irritation at the squeaking sounds that a windmill just behind him made. He looked up at it, observing the sails. The wooden tower seemed old and quite rundown. At least in comparison to the other one of brick construction, which looked much newer and was inaudible. The sails on the wooden tower hardly moved despite the wind. It seemed stuck…

 

"Looking up at ole' Dana, eh?" A voice came from beyond. Wendover's eyes quickly dashed to the sight of a pudgy fellow, Emmett. His brother. Emmett's gait was highlighted by a limp in one foot that caused him to lean backward as he threw his weight from one foot to another. He was hauling a potato sack over his shoulder with his eyes on the windmill, "Yeah, she's a noisy one. Don't work half-a-damn either. I'm thinking of getting some guys over to chop 'er down."

 

"You named the windmill 'Dana'?" Wendover asked. Wendover's voice was studded with the refined tone of one who lived in the High Society life of Fargo. In complete contrast to his brother's tone of voice, who sounded less-so.

 

"The company that built 'er was led by some twat named Donner. Little Margie took the name and called the windmill Dana…"

 

"I see," Wendover mused with a dry chuckle, "Funny that."

 

Emmett dropped the sack down by Wendover's boots, and he opened it briefly to show Wendover the goods inside, "This here's my thanks to you. Couldn't show m'heart enough for all the medicine you've brought over. Heavens knows Sofia needs it."

 

Wendover peered inside to see that it was insect meat. A lot of it. In Imperial society, insect meat was a staple food alongside the fatty meat of dragons. Wendover grabbed the bag, feeling that it weighed at the very least ten pounds, "Oh, this is too much! You really shouldn't have!"

 

"It's no worry! I got it from a Hunstman that was about to croak any second now. Figured I might as well take it out of its bloody misery, its middle feet were all twisted… got snagged in a creek for an hour or so…anyways, it's my thanks for the medicine."

 

"Trust me, it was the least I could do for Sofia's pneumonia," Wendover told him, assuaging Emmett. Though the demi-human shrugged.

 

"This medicine 'ere is magical! Must've cost a pretty penny!"

 

"I'm a general for the King, that sort of stuff doesn't really matter anymore…"

 

"Yeah… I s'pose it don't…" Emmett's voice trailed off. The wind was blowing his grey fur, for Emmett and Wendover were both demi-human. A mix between an animal and a human, and they were the main force in the Iscariot Empire. The brothers were wolves, belonging to the Ferguson family of wolves that lived on this very farm for generations. Wendover managed to make it into the upper crust of Imperial Society, while Emmett remained a farmer on his family property, "Why don't you come on inside for a cuppa tea? Everyone would love to see ya face. You don't stop by very often."

 

"I really should get going, I have a court meeting tomorrow that I've got to get ready for, you know."

 

"It's really too cold out to be travellin'. You ought to stay where it's warm. Don't want you catchin' sick too. Besides, the family would be heartbroken if you left and didn't say hi. They love you… a lot."

 

Wendover flashed an exasperated smile. He wanted to get back to the city. Wendover had hated the farmlands and country life that his other half declared as being their own. He had left for a good reason. Though, Emmett was of course right. His family hadn't seen him in close to a year now, "Sure."

 

Emmett flashed him a great smile, before gesturing for Wendover to follow. They walked down a dirt path to a rather humble single-floor farmhouse. Brown wooden planks made up the majority of the building with large windows covered by curtains inside. Wendover's childhood home. With the fields surrounding it, a wave of nostalgia briefly washed over, bringing Wendover back to when he was just a pup. But he quickly regained himself. Those years were long escaped him now…

 

Wendover was smacked in the face with warm air that barreled from the coal fireplace inside. The warmth was refreshing to Wendover, who shook his clothing and fur free of any loose snow as he stepped inside, "Emmett? Is that you?" asked the voice of an elderly woman from just in the other room, "Did you get any water from the- Oh! Wendover!"

 

Wendover couldn't help but smile when he saw the small figure of his mother. Mrs. Ferguson was frail with age. Her fur was almost completely white with age. The younger her two children, Emmett, was approaching the age of forty. Wendover was two years past. Mrs. Ferguson was a sweet soul to everyone, especially her to her son who she only got to see every now and then whenever he stopped by. Instantly, Wendover lowered himself to get a hug in, as her back was too crooked for her to stand up straight, "Mother!" Wendover said as the two embraced for a slight while.

 

"It's so good to see yer face! Wendover, if I'd known you were coming, I'd have made us dinner-"

 

"Oh, mother, it's- it's fine. Really."

 

"He'll be in for a cuppa tea, and when the snow dies down, it's off to the capital with 'im," Emmett informed as he hung his coat and work boots up on a rack inside of a closet. The home was just as modest on the inside as it was on the outside. Built almost completely by their great-great-grandfather all by himself. Maintained by hand through the ages. The wooden boards in the halls creaked with every step, the walls were damn near thin enough to see through. The walkways were narrow, and the rooms often had a cramped feeling to them. But, it was home.

 

"Uncle Wendover is here? Lemme see! Lemme see!" Said a much younger voice. The voice of a little girl. He heard the sound of rushed little footsteps rapidly approaching, and from a room unseen, a pup burst out. Brown fur, big eyes, and an adorably-happy smile that stretched from ear to ear. Little Margie absolutely melted Wendover's heart. The two opened their arms and reached in an embrace with Wendover managing to sweep the little girl off of her feet and haul her in the air, tight in his paws. Something which she burst into a fit of laughter in response to, "Is that my favorite trouble maker? Little Margie? Eh?" Wendover giggled in an over-the-top exaggerated voice that kids absolutely loved. And Little Margie was no different. She was practically having a fit of laughter, as Wendover set her back on her two little paws. A much slower pace of footsteps came from the depths in the room, and another grey pup reared his head. This one - a boy - was much older. And he too walked with a cane. He didn't say anything at first, only staring at Wendover with a smile. It took Wendover to strike something up with him.

 

"Daniel! Great to see you, bud! What's up?" Wendover placed an extremely gentle paw on his shoulder for fear of hurting the crippled boy. The family wasn't entirely sure what was the matter with him. A very well-reputed healing mage in Fargo had tried for hours to figure out what was wrong until she eventually diagnosed the issue as being Palsy of some form. Even the most experienced of mages would attempt to heal a brain issue. Less so one that didn't seem to be too life-ruining. Daniel despite his illness, was able to function normally. Given it wasn't anything athletic, and given enough time, of course.

 

"U-uncl-Uncle Wend-dover!" Daniel stuttered, "I-I didn't know tha-that you were coming!" at the end of every line, he seemed to almost laugh to himself. Perhaps it was just some air leaving his lungs and him cycling for another breath, but Daniel gave Wendover the impression that it was his way of remaining positive despite his Palsy.

 

"It seems nobody did! Came just as soon as I heard that your mother had pneumonia. Speaking of which… if I may-"

 

"I'll take you to her… though I think she's sleepin' right now, and she needs her rest," Emmett said, politely taking Wendover's coat and hanging it up, "We've been givin' her mostly soup, tea, honey, and tender love n' care. Though this medicine you've brought over, again, will really help bring her out of it. Thanks again."

 

"No problem at all! Come on, let's go see her…"

 

The brothers watched Marie from the bedroom door. Only her head was visible, as the rest of her was tucked under at least three blankets to try and ward off the cold. She had brown fur that seemed a sickly yellow with her illness. Wendover could hear her struggle to breathe. Mucus-filled breaths of air in and out showed the true extent of her suffering. Just as Emmett had said, she was out like a light. Asleep. Lost away in the land of unconsciousness. And neither of the two wished to interrupt her.

 

"Haven't slept in my own bed for a week now! I've gotta make myself a mattress out of the kitchen floor!"

 

"Heh, yeah… she certainly sounds bad…" Wendover whispered. Though something was still bothering him. He turned to his brother with a serious expression painted over his face, "You really should move to the city with me."

 

"What?" Emmett nearly yelled.

 

"Emmett, this happens damn near every year! Somebody gets ill, or someone breaks their back. Poor mother's got her back the shape of a carriage wheel! This farm is no place for our family-"

 

"Wendover, it's a family farm! I have to stay and take care of it! This is our home! And it's your home too, y'know?"

 

"I get that, Emmett. Really, but look, at the very least let me buy you a house closer to Fargo! I mean, I made it! I'm wealthy. We are wealthy! You don't have to live off of farming and raising bugs to pay for meals! I’m paid more than enough to feed this entire family off of my own. You don't have to break your back out here! It's bloody brutal out in Farragut…"

 

"Wendover, it's not always about the money. Good- honest- work is what made our family a family. Everyone loves it here. We aren't just going to up and leave. You found your happiness, and that's fine. But us, we're happy here! Besides, it's not like moving to Fargo is going to stop us from getting sick. Little Margie left our bedroom window open a crack, that's what gave Marie pneumonia!"

 

"I get that, Emmett. But you have two wonderful kids and a wife. I'm just worried for you is all…"

 

"Wendover, you need not worry for me. I'm not your little brother anymore, I'm grown for heaven's sake! I've got everything I need to take care of myself and me-family!"

 

Wendover sighed, knowing his attempts would be futile, "Right…"

 

"Coming through with the tea, boys!" The two men stood aside as Mrs. Ferguson carried a smoking-hot kettle into the room. Carefully, she pulled out a few cups from cabinets along the wall and poured out hot water into each of them. Inserting tea leaves in once the water had settled in, "Y'know, Emmett. Since you have a second person to help, you can go and see what's causing Donna to stop movin'! You'd be free to help with the windmill, won't you Wendover?" Asked his mother. Wendover shuddered at the thought of going up that creaky old thing that looked ready to collapse at any moment. But, out of good manners, he couldn't deny it.

 

" As long as Emmett helps out, I'm sure we can get it done."

 

"That's a good boy," said his mother, sweet as molasses, "Your father would be so proud of the both of you! Anyway, tell me about your work over in Fargo, Wendover. It's not often that I hear about that."

 

Wendover chuckled a bit, "Nah… it's mostly boring stuff, you wouldn't want to know about all of that."

 

"Oh, I do! I do! Especially since I have a - well a demand or two that I'd like to send to Fredrick me ownself!"

 

That gave Wendover a laugh, "I don't make demands of the King. But… maybe I could put in a word or two for you? Anyways, it's mostly just… Emmett? Are you okay?" Before Wendover was about to tell the stories from his work, his eyes caught the relatively distant look of his brother's eyes. They were staring outside of the door, and he held a blank look. It was a thought he had whenever he was deep in thought, something that Emmett oftentimes was. Though, Emmett snapped out of it upon hearing his name called.

 

He looked from out the door to Wendover, and he forced a smile, "I'm fine… I'm fine, yeah. I just realized that I've forgotten to put the firewood inside the shed… I'll be back in a second…" Wendover knew that Emmett was lying. For some reason or another. Though, Mrs. Ferguson seemed to believe it wholeheartedly. She pardoned her younger son and turned back to Wendover to hear more of his story. Though Wendover's mind was anywhere but there. His mind was still on the strange behavior of his brother…

 

"Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!"

 

Wendover's winter boots sunk nearly knee-deep into the snow that managed to pile itself up. He huddled more in his coat to try and extract as much warmth as possible out of the expensive piece of cloth. After straightening his red scarf with as much delicacy as he could muster, he found Emmett. Standing outside in the field, staring up at the windmill. He didn't move and he didn't speak. He was just standing there, wearing a hat that Falkland working humans wore, and became popular in the Empire.

 

"Emmett!" Wendover called out to him.

 

Emmett's gaze lingered on Donna for a few seconds longer, until he peeled away and looked at Wendover. His face was uncharacteristically somber, though Emmett forced a different one on that was less-so, "Are you alright?" Wendover asked him, as he walked up and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

 

"Yeah… right as the stars…" Emmett sighed. He looked back up at the windmill. The rackety thing was hardly even moving at all. The sails were now just standing there, making a terrible groan and creak as the wind tried to budge the sails.

 

"She'll need to be torn down, definitely," Wendover advised.

 

"Mhm," Said Emmett.

 

He was awfully quiet. Wendover again looked down at Emmett with concerned eyes, "Are you sure you're alright?"

 

Emmett considered his words. Looking down at his boots and the field around them. Going through something in his head, he looked back up at his elder brother, "I'm fine… come on, les' go and fix 'er."

 

The two wolves walked inside of the base of the windmill. They looked up, trying to find the source of the disturbance through the spires of wooden beams, wooden gears, and a few metal parts. A spiral staircase rose to a wooden platform that served as the second floor, "It might be ice," Wendover warned as he placed a boot onto the first of many steps that spiraled up to the floors above.

 

"Maybe… either that or those bloody Phoenixes."

 

"Perhaps," Both Emmett and Wendover carefully went up the shakily-built wooden staircase right up to the upper floor. Before their heads peaked up over the floor, they could hear the sounds of tiny little chirps coming from upstairs, "Yep, definitely a bird."

 

"Damned beasts always nest around here during the Frost season. When the rains come about, they light everything on fire!"

 

"You've got a bucket of water?"

 

"I'll run down and bring one up. Jus' go get a stick up there, yeah? There should be one that you can use to poke 'em. They won't ignite with a stick. Get the parents out, and throw the nest out."

 

"Aye," Wendover said as he watched Emmett descend back down the stairs. There was something in his voice, a peculiar change in tone, that threw Wendover off about his brother. It was as if his brother was hiding something… though it didn't seem anything malicious. More as if he had something heavy on his mind. It had been a very long while since Wendover had seen Emmett. He only visited the family farm a few times, and this visit came after an especially long drought of his presence. Perhaps things had changed?

 

He brushed the thought off as he walked up the stairs. The wooden second floor was creaky, though steady enough. He had to duck down to avoid hitting his head over the gears and workings of the windmill. His eyes scanned the rafters, and his ears tried to locate the source of the small chirps and peeps that occasionally peppered the air. His eyes landed on a peculiar grouping of branches tied together under a large gear that was vital for the sails to function. He looked inside and saw at least six pinkish-purple creatures that were huddled together in a mass of baby birds. Sitting over them was a large red-feathered bird with orange accents. It had a black beak, a fiery tail that stretched out behind it, and two great wings with a span nearly as long as Wendover's own. The bird was sleeping now as she sat over the little chicks that endlessly chirped and tweeted. Wendover sighed as he looked up at it. He always liked Phoenixes and thought they'd make an outstanding pet - so long as their fire-causing properties were limited. The birds burst into flames whenever agitated, throwing fire onto their assailant. As such, pet trainers normally refused to accept the birds. Only dragon tamers would, though - of course - dragons and phoenixes were very different creatures.

 

Wendover, despite the problems, still imagined himself with just one of those baby birds. Tucked away in his coat. Protecting it and caring for it until it grew into a strong and healthy adult. Wendover never had anything to care for. His family was being watched over by Emmett, and the wolf had children of his own making him too old for Wendover to treat like a baby. No, what Wendover wanted was fatherhood. Though - he feared - that those days were long behind him.

 

"Gloria…" Wendover allowed the name of his long-lost wife to escape from his maw. Wendover wasn't always a lonely soul. Back when he was younger, he had was married to a Wolf named Gloria. The love of his life, and he never loved another soul just as much. Now… he was a widow. After her death, he refused to re-marry. Choosing to only keep her name in his heart.

 

Even his little brother Emmett had children. Two of them. He had Marie. He had this home. He had his own family. Perhaps that's why Wendover hated this place so much? Not because of how far away it was from Fargo… not because of how brutally cold it got during the winter or the back-breaking labor in the field. But because it reminded him that he wasn't whole. Missing another piece of himself almost. Despite his wealth, he had nobody to spend it with. And the things he had to do to achieve that wealth of his… regret wasn't powerful enough a word. Ever since the Falkish Wars devastated the continent, nothing seemed powerful enough to describe how he felt. And to think that he was the one at the forefront of it all…

 

His eyes drifted from the nest in the rafters, down to the long stick that Emmett had spoken of. Slowly he waltzed over, reaching down to grab it, and eyeing the nest above him. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. At the sound of rustling below her, the mother bird had opened an eye that was trained right on him. Watching his movements carefully from high above, "I don't want to hurt you, girl. But they need this old busted windmill to run…" Wendover talked to the creature, "You have an awfully nice home for a lower creature. Lovely children too. I hate to do this… but it's my family's property. I hope you understand."

 

The lower creature - nonintelligent beasts that lived among the intelligent humans, demi-humans, elves, lizardmen, and all- simply stared down at him. Not understanding his words. He sighed as he raised the broomstick and hovered it closer to the phoenix. It let out a warning squawk, the noise of their mother made the little chicks chirp even more. Wendover ignored it though and gently moved the broomstick closer until it was just about to nudge the creature.

 

"Wendover! What's the trouble up there? You see the problem yet?" Wendover heard the echo of Emmett's voice from down below.

 

"Aye, you were right! A mother phoenix is up here with her chicks!"

 

"Alright, I'm coming up with the water!"

 

Wendover turned back again to the bird. She was getting agitated and was standing up over the nest with her wings ready to fly. Wendover - as carefully as possible - nudged her once. Though she didn't move. Instead, she slapped the stick away with a flap of her wing. Annoyed, Wendover tried to get her to fly off a second time. Nothing. Though on the third time, Wendover pushed too hard.

 

The stick slammed into the bird, and just as one would expect, it ignited…

 

The bird exploded into a ball of fire. Now a coal-black, it flew out of the window to beat a hasty escape. The bird would be fine. Though Wendover wouldn't. The fireball was large, and immediately the rafters caught on fire. The wood began to burn and Wendover could do nothing to stop it. Panicking, he went to the top of the stairs, "Emmett! Hurry with the water! It blew up!"

 

"Coming!" Emmett's voice rang again. He heard the quick footsteps of his brother struggling up the stairs until his grey head eventually poked up. Without sparing another second, Emmett handed Wendover the bucket of water, which he took into his paws. Wendover turned to throw the water over the fire, but he gasped as the fire had doubled in size.

 

Everything had caught on fire, set ablaze by glowing orange light. The heat of the fire forced Wendover to retreat a few steps. Amidst the sound of the flames whipping back and forth, Wendover heard the cries of the baby chicks for their mother… The chicks were unaffected by fire just like the adults were. But now that everything was bound to burn down, it was unlikely their mother would return. That is if the windmill even stood against the fire. Regaining focus, Wendover threw the bucket of water against the flames… but they did nothing…

 

"Damn it!" Wendover spat, "We have to get out of here! Come on!"

 

"No…" Emmett's eyes were trained on the fire. There was a peculiar glitter in his eyes that resembled tears, "No…" he repeated, faintly.

 

"What do you mean? Come on! We have to go! Now!" Wendover yelled at him. Emmett shakily turned back and retreated down the steps after a moment's hesitation, leaving Wendover behind. He turned to look at the flames one last time - the heat almost becoming unbearable. His eyes landed on one chick that had been thrown to the floor. It couldn't have been more than a week old. Defenseless, utterly clueless, and blind. Like a worm, it wriggled on the floor. Crying. Looking for the safety of its mother. Wendover did a double-take and grimaced. He turned his back on the baby birds, knowing that he couldn't help them…

 

The family had gathered outside to gawk at the Windmill as it burned. Red flames penetrated the wood outside, and black smoke rose into the air. Wendover had burned the windmill down. He stood there, staring at it, not saying a word. Emmett didn't say anything either. Wendover looked into his eyes… and the wolf was crying. Tears escaped his eyes and rushed down his face until they dropped onto the ground. Wendover didn't know why he was so heartbroken about it's collapse. He thought that they planned to demolish it anyway. The rest of the family certainly seemed that way. They were right behind both Wendover and Emmett, watching the windmill burn, with Emmett carrying Little Margie in his arms.

 

"That ole' rickety thing was bound to collapse in a strong wind anyways," Said Mrs. Ferguson as she looked on at the destructive beauty of the fire. She spat on the ground, covering it up with dirt.

 

"D-d-dad! Why are you crying?" Daniel asked, limping over to Emmett. He too noticed the tears in the wolf's eyes, "I tho-thought that you wan-t-t-ed to destroy it?"

 

"No son… you don't understand…" Emmett whispered, with his heart and mind so far away, it would be impossible to tell what he was thinking…

 

They could hear the wood snapping and crackling until the entire structure leaned to one side and collapsed in on itself into a brew of dirt, ash, wooden chips, and flames. The windmill in the blink of an eye was gone, nothing but a memory of it remained…

---

"You know… that story I told you about how Donna got 'er name… there was no company that came 'n built the heap of wood… no, not at all," Emmett told Wendover a few hours later after the rubble had been cleared and the fire extinguished for good.

 

"So who built it?"

 

"Me ownself. That right there was supposed to be my fine achievement…" Emmett sighed, "She doesn't even work half-a-damn!"

 

"Wow… I didn't know… why'd you lie about it though?"

 

Emmett closed his eyes and raised his head. Probably walking himself through what he wanted to say next, "I wanted to make you proud 'o me. That I had it in me to build something of my own paws. I built that thing for a year and a half by myself! And all anyone ever said was that it was rubbish! My crowning achievement - heh - rubbish. That's what they said."

 

When Emmett uttered his sentence, it had blown through Wendover like a sword cutting through fabric. He never heard it from Emmett himself until now. But Emmett wanted Wendover's approval? Emmett looked up to him?

 

"Don't worry Emmett, I'm proud of you too. Do you understand? You don't need me-"

 

"Bullshite Wendover!" Emmett angrily threw Wendover's paw off of his shoulder. He took a furious step towards him that caused Wendover to retreat a step, "You certainly don't act like you're proud of us. You stop by just to say hi only four times a year! Mom is worried sick of you, and you never return any of our letters! If you were proud of us, you don't bloody act like it!"

 

"W-well I'm sorry, Emmett! I didn't know… look you want me to stop by more often? Sure, I will-"

 

Emmett rolled his eyes, and began to walk away, leaving Wendover's words to hang in the air, "Wait! Emmett! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

 

"What's wrong with me? I feel cheated! That's what's wrong with me!"

 

"What? Cheated- Emmett, wait…"

 

Wendover managed to catch up to Emmett. The previously jolly wolf was now shooting daggers at Wendover from his eyes, "Talk to me! I didn't know about… any of this… This is the first time I'm hearing this from you!"

 

"That's because you act like you're fifty levels above me, Wendover!" Emmett yelled at him, "You're always the elder, always the one mom and dad loved most! The one who was supposed to go out and do great things! Me, I've always been nuthin' past a farmer! They love you, because they never expected nothin' from me!"

 

Wendover had no clue that Emmett felt this way. Never before had he said anything like this, though it must've been something on his mind for a long while. And here it was, all spilling out like water through a broken dam, "I thought you liked being a farmer… isn't this what you wanted?" Wendover asked, "If you ever needed anything, I told you… I have you covered! I live in Chelsea for heaven's sake, I can take care of you! I can get you a home in Chelsea, in Hartlepool - hell - Whitechapel if you so wish!"

 

"I don't want you to take care of me! I want to be my own damn man! Not your fekkin' shadow! You think I want to live in Farragut? Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, and I damn sure love my chil'ren! But you don't think I wanted more? I wanted to go to school in Fargo too, ya know! I wanted to be in the Royal Court, right with you! I wanted to become a surgeon, and open up me own clinic in Whitechapel…" Emmett's voice trailed off with nothing but pain and regret accenting his words. He was hurting. Bad. And it was true… Wendover had never noticed, despite him being the cause, "But instead, Dad spent every single hard-earned penny that he had saved for years, on you. Instead of splitting it even, they invested everything into you going to Officer's School in Fargo. Me, I jus' stayed a farmer! I can't have dreams, simply because me mother shat me out a few years later on!"

 

Wendover watched as his brother lashed out at him. The wolf was pissed off, that was more than clear. But Wendover felt as if there was nothing he could say to calm his down. Though, it probably wasn't best to try. He had to fix the problem, not try to shut Emmett up. That was the right thing after all, but Wendover was clueless on how. So instead, he just listened…

 

"Of course you are bloody successful, you had the whole damn family backing you since day one! Meanwhile, all I ever got were hand-downs and feck-all leftovers. You can't even show your face around here more than- what? - three, maybe four times a year? You're too busy livin' the bloody high life in Fargo. So when you do come over, don't try and be the man of me own house, alright? At least, at the very least, let me be the man of the family! You don't have to worry about me. I'm doin' fine. Thank you for the medicine, Wendover, thanks for burning Dana to the ground, and thanks again for paying us one of your gracious visits that only come around once in a blue-fekkin-moon! I hope you have a safe trip back to the Capital!" Emmett spat. With a huff, the fat wolf slunk away back towards the inside of the farm house, leaving Wendover behind. Absolutely stunned.

 

Without saying goodbye to the rest of the family, Wendover left. Walking along the dirt road that was just out of the house. The snow had stopped falling, and the skies cleared to reveal a crisp blue that blanketed the air over him. The sun was to set just behind Wendover. He could see the Planinia Highlands, home of Queen Nora, just to his left. Empty fields and farmhouses were made up most of the land between him and the brown fortress' called mountains. Beyond the fields were the forest, before the land rose up into hills, and then into the jagged peaks of rock. The very tips of the mountains were clear to Wendover, and from miles away, he could see their snowy caps. The few puffy clouds in the sky cast shadows over the land. Wendover wouldn't deny that it was an absolutely gorgeous sight.

 

His walk took him down Farragut Lane. As he walked about a mile down towards the village of Farragut. Through the mile, Wendover was left alone to look at the miles of empty fields around him. Not a single other soul seemed to stir. It was just him in the cold. His mind was still stuck over what Emmett had said to him… he had to make it up to him. Somehow, but everything his mind tried to come up with seemed as if it wouldn't work. Perhaps it was just best to leave him alone? Or so Wendover reasoned.

 

He walked until he could see the large white-washed walls of the Farragut village chapel. A rather large building with orange roofed tiles. It stood high above everything else nearby. Scattered around it was of course, the village. A few bungalows, townhouses, and shops made up what was the tiny downtown of Farragut. The walls of the buildings rose up, scattered around the open fields, becoming denser as Wendover walked further and further down Farragut Lane. Eventually, the dirt path passed by a large-brick grind mill, who's sails nearly generated a passing wind of their own as they blew past. It was right in front of the Grindmill, where Farragut Lane was finally paved over with stone as it led into the town. Buildings replaced the fields, and Wendover found himself standing at the corner of Farragut Lane and Broad Street. Broad Street was a large paved road that cut through Farragut and made a beeline straight to the Imperial Capital of Fargo. Though, it was about fifteen miles out and would take hours for Wendover to get there. Luckily he had arranged a ride, which pulled around the corner at the right time and picked Wendover up. A wingless dragon- a drake - pulling a carriage scurried its way over right to where Wendover was standing, "Sir Wendover, right?" asked the rider who sat in the front seat of the stage-coach.

 

"Aye. To Fargo."

 

"Right..."

 

Wendover entered the stage-coach, climbing a few steps, before settling down in a rather plush chair. As the carriage began to move forward, Wendover pressed his head against a window, taking a look outside as they left the behind the village homes, empty fields, and marshlands of Farragut behind. His mind still lingered on what Emmett had told him just moments ago. Harsh words from somebody he considered his kin… though, he may have been right…

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Fargo

Type: Capital City

Population 2.5 Million (Demi-Humans)

The Crystal Palace

 

The Crystal Palace was the home of the Iscariot Royal Family. It was the seat of the Imperial government. The offices of the top ministers, chiefs, sheriffs, and generals of all the land. It was a massive building, seated atop of even larger parkland. The crown jewel of the Empire, the Crystal Palace was the heart of everything.

 

The name of the Palace came from the glittery surfaces that made up the façade of the architecture. Two domes sat on either end of the palace, with one large dome right in the middle. The dome was constructed out of jewels, glass, and steel that could've only been made by the hands of skilled magicians. As the sun shined over the Palace, the dome - quite literally - sparkled. Like a diamond. Like a star. Like it's namesake - a crystal. It was an awe-inspiring building, quite fitting for the Empire of which it assisted the rulership of.

 

Wendover was standing just outside of the Palace, absolutely dwarfed by the size of the structure. To get inside, one would have to traverse the two flights of stone steps that led up to the large doors that seemed permanently open - though securely watched by Royal Guards that stood like statues with their swords and iron armor on full display. Demi-Humans of all shapes, sizes, and colors streamed in and out of the building. Wolves, Badgers, Leopards. Badgers, Eagles, Mountain Lions. Falcolns, Deer, and Mice. That being only a small sample of the hundreds of different species labelled under the umbrella moniker of "Demi-Human". Nobody knew where the term "Demi-Human" came from. Many theorized that it was a label granted centuries prior, when the Humans and Elves from the Falkish Empire used to coinhabit the same lands that the Iscariots do. Some believe it was a slur created during the Falkish Wars, crafted by Commonwealth Soldiers to lodge against the Imperials. Nobody knew for sure. Though despite what the name suggested, Demi-Humans were anything but Human. The only similarities between the two were the fact that they both walked on two legs. Besides that, nothing else remained the same.

 

Wendover puffed as he pushed himself through the growing crowd of people streaming up the stairs into the giant doors of the Crystal Palace. As Wendover walked through the doors of the Palace, he entered into the central lobby. A large and cavernous room, flanked on all sides by jewel-decorated stairwells and mausoleums that led into hallways, officers, and other smaller rooms a plenty. This was the pride of the building, and it was clear that the Imperials wished to show it off. The Imperial flag hung from bannisters, Royal Guards decorated in bright red patrolled the grounds. There was enough jewels embedded into the walls, floors, ceiling, and general decoration, that it could put even the wealthiest of merchants to shame. A silver statue of the old King Rupert, whose body was laid in state in the mausoleum. Tall and proud, riding valiantly upon a dragon, sword bared. That was the image he wanted to convey, of strength, violence, and power. Though Wendover knew Rupert as a dictatorial madman. Unfortunately, his son Fredrick seemed much the same, however Wendover had accepted his role as one who carried out the whims of the Royal Crown without question. It wasn't like he had any other choice…

 

His legs brought him through the crystal studded halls and walkways of the Palace, and into the Royal Throneroom where the Court was to be called into session. The Higher Mantles of Iscariot society were all beginning to congregate there. Aristocrats, Knights, Lords and Ladies, Local Governors, the Sherriff, and of course: the Generals. Wendover was one of the three main Generals for the Iscariot Army. The other two were Sir Perceval, and Lady Igraine. Perceval was the head of the trio, and the "Supreme Commander" of Imperial forces. Wendover and Igraine ranked just under him, though the differences were more symbolic than carrying any actual authority. Together the three maintained control of the military on behalf of the King. Wendover hadn't been informed of why a court session was being called today, but all he knew was that Perceval was the one who had called it. A request of some form, though Wendover had no clue what.

 

The Throne Room, much like the central lobby, could be described in one word as grand. All the way at the front of the Court were two seats that lay on a elevated surface that required a few steps to get ontop of. The throne for both King Fredrick and Queen Nora. Surrounding the thrones were rows long marble tables with benches just behind them. Already in the benches, a crowd had gathered. The animals were whispering among each other, spreading rumors. Some true, some not. Though Wendover couldn't tell which was which…

 

"It might be the Commonwealth…"

 

"The Falkish? Nonesense, we beat them in a war, they wouldn't dare."

 

"It's been twenty years. Anything is possible."

 

"The Falkish are trying to establish a colony on the Albya River Bay. That's valuable land."

 

"They must be getting help from those savage Warrior Elves! I'll bet…"

 

"Damned humans… vile creatures…"

 

Wendover partially tuned into the whispers as he took his assigned seat at the front of the rows. Right next to him was Sir Perceval himself, a great brown grizzly bear wearing a plain olive-green jacket made of a dense woven fiber. Much like his jacket, his pants were plain as well, a black-material that tucked themselves neatly into his winter boots. From a glance, one wouldn't recognize Perceval as one of the chief members of the Iscariot Empire. He looked more like one of the bourgeoise, the city-dwellers of Iscariot society. Higher than the slaves, serfs, and peasants that worked in the farms, mines, and as domestic servants. Yet lower than even the nobles. In a room full of people wearing luxury apparel and distinguishing attire, badges of honor and ranks, Perceval looked like a fish out of water.

 

On the table in front of Perceval, a folder nearly bursting with documents had been compiled which Perceval slowly sorted through. He was slow and methodical in his movements which complimented his behavior. Perceval took all the time that he needed in order to do a good job. That's why he had gotten the position as head of the three generals.

 

Sitting next to Perceval was Lady Igraine. Wendover's rival. She was a rabbit, snow-white, and half his size. Wendover only thought to describe Igraine as one word: Evil. She was cold and calculating. Despite her size, she was perhaps the most ferocious of the three generals. Lives mattered little more than numbers that stood in the way of victory. That's how she saw almost everything, and that's why she was such a good leader. Almost every time she got an order, she completed it. It would be bloody, it would be almost barbaric, but she was efficient. Of course, she made it into the trio of generals. She wore a obsidian black coat. The inseams of which were detailed with an Iscariot-red fiber that contrasted too well against the blackness of the coat. Her pants were much the same. On her shoulder was stitched her rank in gold, Deputy-Commander. Wendover was the Lieutenant-Commander. Perceval was the Supreme-Commander.

 

Her face seemed rather uninterested in what was going on, she didn't speak a word yet. Only sitting there, waiting for the show to start…

 

"What's going on?" Wendover asked as he took his seat next to Perceval. The bear looked up from his documents and eyed Wendover as he sat to confirm his presence, "I'm hearing all this talk about the Falkish… is there a conflict or… what?"

 

"I don't know, Wendover. That's the issue," Perceval's voice - much like his style - hovered in the accent of Fargo petty-bourgeoise. It was gruff, but not drawn like the rural Farragut accent that Wendover's brother Emmett had adopted. Nor was it elegant and refined sounding like the accent of aristocracy that Wendover had claimed as his own. The voice was simple and straightforward, a splitting mirror of the bear that held it, "Information is scarce. The only thing that I know are from friendly villages down by the Albya. They claim that they've seen humans."

 

"The Falklands?"

 

"We don't know that yet."

 

"Well then who?"

 

"I just said… we don’t know. All we know is that there is a settlement out of the blue, and the settlement was made by humans. That's it!" Perceval exclaimed, he returned back to sifting through the documents, "That's why I requested a court session, I want to get approval to send a scouting party down south."

 

Wendover nodded, accepting that as the answer, relaxing into his seat.

 

Slowly, one-by-one, the court started to fill in as people arrived to tune into the court meeting. Wendover wasn't surprised. The Albya River Bay had been a strategic zone of importance for a while now, however, it lay firmly in the area of "No Mans Land". For decades, both the Falklands and Imperial army have been circling the area of the Southern Continent, vying for power to see who could establish a colony there first. Everytime the Imperials tried, the Commonwealth Fleet arrived and burned it to the ground. Everytime the Commonwealth tried, the Imperial army torched it until there was nothing left. And to make matters worst, the area was hostile to both the Falklands and the Iscariots. The legendary Kiote Warrior Elves lived in the area, and while their zone of control was small and quite weak outside of their own borders, they were ferocious warriors. Often, entire Imperial armies could be wiped out by a single Kiote war band. If there were any prisoners, they never made it back alive to the Empire. One could only guess that they treated the Falklands the same way, though nobody was quite sure. Either way, the point was made that as valuable as the location was, it was difficult to defend and supply.

 

As such, any matter that sprung up on the River Bay made headlines in Iscariot high society. Merchants looking to establish trading ports on the Bay wanted to ensure that the area was potentially viable to open for trade, Governors from Minerva- the closest Imperial city- arrived to ensure that their borders were still well defended, aristocrats needed to make sure that the wealth of their resources were still flowing sure as ever. It mattered a lot. Perceval's decision to call a court discussion was a wise one.

 

"Attention! The King and Queen have arrived!" a guard shouted from the front of the room. The guards stood at attention as the patrons took their seats. A hush came about everyone, and the rumblings of the court quieted down. The doors flung open, and out came the Royalty. The heads of the Iscariot nation. The living embodiement of the Empire.

 

On the left was King Fredrick Jorgan the First. An orange fox clothed in crimson red royal clothing with a matching cape flowing just behind him. Red and orange were of course the symbols of the Iscariot Empire. Wendover was well-read on the history of the nation, mostly from tedious studies from his enrollment in Officer's School, and remembered that red was the symbol for blood and power. The strength of the Empire. He wore a golden crown laced with bold red gemstones that sparkled in the magical light of the court.

 

He walked in line with his Queen, Nora Jorgan the First. An arctic fox with snow white fur, she wore an icy blue dress with white seams. A small black tiara lay on her head, embedded with both red and black obsidian gems. The icy blue-white-black combination were symbols of the old Planinia Highland Kingdom, to which Nora used to be princess of until she married Fredrick and the two nations unified. Icy and frozen, just like the lands of the Highlands which lay high above, tucked in almost year round ice-blasts from the Great Northern Shield.

 

Both walked with power and prestige. The people feared Fredrick and loved Nora, for as much as they looked different, they behaved differently. Fredrick was quick to anger, quite egotistical, and definitely had a knack for violence. Nora was by far the smarter of the duo, and she had gained the reputation of being far more compassionate than her King. Unfortunately for the nation, Fredrick was the ruler. Nora, was not. Many had hoped that the death of the old King Rupert would make way for a new ruler who was kinder. Afterall, Rupert was the one who re-enslaved the Human, Elf, and Reptillians of the land in the moments before the Falkish wars broke out. But Fredrick seemed just as bad. Quickly, the hope that Fredrick would reverse his father's legacy died away into nothingness. When news came that Fredrick's brother had been killed by a human bayonet during the Falkish Wars, it was all but confirmed that nothing would change once Fredrick became the ruler…

 

"Sir Perceval! I presume you have an explanation as to your demands for a court meeting?" Fredrick asked once he and Nora had taken their seats on the throne.

 

Perceval nodded and stood up, bowing once he was all the way as a sign of respect - customary for the Iscariot people, "Of course, my King."

 

"Let's get on with it then," Fredrick bellowed, "It had better be important, now."

 

"I assure you that it is… in fact, what I'm about to tell you could hold the potential to change the course of our relationship with our rivals in the commonwealth…"

 

Both Fredrick and Nora gave Perceval a questioning look. The Queen was the first of the two to respond, "And what do you mean by that?"

 

"Well, nothing is confirmed for sure. My office has recently gotten reports from a few allied kingdoms on the southern continent that a settlement has sprung up on the tip of the Albya River peninsula. All the way facing Fish Island."

 

"And you believe that this is the work of the Falklands?" Nora asked again.

 

Perceval shook his head as he spoke, all eyes still on him, "We don't know for sure, but what we do know for certain is that they are human. Falkish or not, that we don't know. This could very well be some other faction that's sprung out of the bushes!"

 

"Send an army down there then to send a firm warning to the Commonwealth bastards! The Empire won't tolerate Falkish expansion into our territory-"

 

"Fredrick, please… let's not rush into this, now," Nora warned him, casting a glare over at Fredrick that forced him to reconsider.

 

He huffed, rolling his eyes as he considered what Nora had said to him. Finally he got back with an answer, "A scouting party. Find out who they are, and why they are here. I want you to ensure that if they do not belong to the Commonwealth, they will sign their allegiance over to us. Try not to get caught by the Warrior Elves… is that agreeable?" He asked turning to Nora.

 

She shurgged, "It is. Perceval? Can you do that?"

 

"I'll look for a general to lead, right away."

 

"Good…"

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That's why I'm asking you to be in charge of the scouting party," Perceval said, later that evening. The two were inside of a teashop in Chelsea, overlooking the waterfront of the Albya River with the brick towers of West-Fargo in the background. Wendover was helping himself to a hot cup of tea, while Perceval had nothing.

 

"Scouting party… you mean an army?" Wendover clarified as he wiped off some loose beads of tea from around his mouth with a wipe of the sleeve.

 

"No. I mean a scouting party."

 

"Perceval, Fredrick's words were very clear. He said that if they don't belong to the Commonwealth, get them to sign their allegiance over to us! Clear as air, he means war over this!"

 

"Sure he does, but that doesn't change the fact that I want you to send a scouting party-"

 

"And if they are Commonwealth afterall? What the hell is my 'scouting party' supposed to do, then?"

 

"Wendover-"

 

"King Fredrick means war, if I go out there I'm sending a bloody army!"

 

"Wendover… you can't," Perceval sighed, "An army is too big. It's not the Falkish."

 

"I thought you said that you weren't sure?"

 

"I'm not. But I've got the feeling that it isn't the Falkish. You know diplomacy, Wendover, use it. You don't have to fight every battle with weapons. Some can be won with words."

 

Wendover sighed, "Fine. I'll go…"

 

---

---

Cold. Bitter cold. That was the first thing that Hezekiah realized when he and the rest of Unity stepped outside of their trucks. The Florida sun, the tropical Palm trees, flat marsh for miles and the damp sweat-inducing heat were replaced completely. An overcast sky, snow-dusted evergreens, hills and mountains, and a dry cold replaced it. One thing was for certain to the squad as they took initial looks around the new environment that they had been placed in. Wherever they were, it wasn't Florida.

 

"What… the… fuck?" Flint whispered. His glasses reflected the surface of the region, "I still don't understand...Where on Earth are we?"

 

They had been here for a little less than an hour now. As soon as the convoy had arrived, all of the soldiers had started to loudly ask the exact same questions as Flint. Even after the hour passed, the shock value still hadn't gone away even a little. It seemed impossible. Unreal. Quite literally...

 

"It looks like… It looks like the Catskills," Hezekiah said to him, joining him as he leaned against the JLTV.

 

"New York?"

 

"Yeah. Yeah like, snow covered mountains, forests, lakes… that kinda thing."

 

"How? We were in that tunnel for like… what? A minute - if even!" Flint argued, "We gotta ask Lieutenant Buffy," Flint said, "He'll know. Right?"

 

"Can't," Hezekiah said leaning against the cold metal of the Buffalo, "Remember when we spoke to him last? He was replaced with that new guy."

 

"Aint he a Major?" Flint asked.

 

Hezekiah shrugged, "Major or not, he's calling the shots in the Company. I think his name was Jebediah? Or… Jenkins… something with a 'J'."

 

"How about Jefferson?" Another voiced materialized from behind them. It was older, and had more of an experienced sound to it. The two turned to find a man who was senior to them in both age and rank. He had a greying buzz-cut, slight wrinkles in his peace face. The tag "Major Jefferson" sat on his chest.

 

The duo stood at a salute to Jefferson, who smiled and nodded, "At ease gentlemen."

 

"Major Jefferson! I wanted to talk to you!" Hezekiah exclaimed quickly, he had to know what the hell was going on.

 

"About what Sergeant Brooks?" Jefferson asked.

 

"Well," He pointed at the mountain range behind them and hinted at the terrain around them, "Where are we? This Terrain looks like Upstate New York. We were in a tunnel for about thirty minutes. How on Earth did we get here so fast?"

 

Jefferson chortled, looking down at the dirt momentarily and then back up into Hezekiah's eyes, "We're holding a debrief for the entire Battalion in exactly one hour. I was on the way to inform your Company leader just now."

 

Hezekiah hated how he didn't answer the question, "Can't you tell me now-"

 

"All be revealed in due time, Staff Sergeant. Patience, have a bit will ya?" He said with a grin as he turned on his heels, and walked off.

 

Hezekiah fought the urge to follow after him, forcing his boots to remain on the hardy grass they stepped in, "Well shit," Flint muttered, "Guess we'll just have to wait and see...

Hezekiah pushed off of the truck as he walked towards the passenger side of the truck. Lafayette had fallen asleep at the wheel, his head nodded backward as a rogue splinter of saliva fell out of his open jaw. Hezekiah sighed as he pulled the door open, and sat next to him.

 

"-Not even a phone signal here, my God," Brian said, burying his head into the wall as he held his smartphone up.

"Quit complaining," Quinn said, sitting on the turret.

 

"I'm not complaining! I'm stating a fact!"

 

"I don't care, smartass. Potato-Potahtoe."

 

"That isn't relevant to the conversation-"

 

"I'll make my foot relevant to your ass, if you don't shut the fuck up!" Quinn snapped at him.

 

Brian squirmed a bit uncomfortably, pushing his glasses up, "Fine," he said huddling into the corner, still staring at his phone with no service.

 

"Q, what's wrong with you? What's gotten you mad at Brian?" Hezekiah asked, not terribly interested, but asking took his mind off of the fact that he had no clue what was going on.

 

"Nothing sir, just tired, confused, and lost," Quinn sighed. He sounded drained of energy like the life had been sucked out of him.

 

Hezekiah could relate, "Yeah, ain't we all… But tell Brian you're sorry-"

 

"Come on man, what is this? Daycare?" Quinn whined.

 

"Quinn," Hezekiah warned, "Squad cohesion, remember."

 

Quinn sighed, "Hey, B-man. Sorry for yelling atcha. Could ya ever forgive a fella like me?" A hint of sarcasm permeated through his voice.

 

Brian shrugged, "It's alright, I'm sorry for being annoying."

 

"Yeah..." Quinn forced a laugh to make his sarcastic point known.

 

"You know where we are?" Brian asked, turning to Hezekiah.

 

Hezekiah shook his head, "No, sorry."

 

"Oh, man…"

 

"Look, it's alright. The Major is giving us a status update in about an hour. It just… it doesn't make any sense," Hezekiah said, again going down his rabbit-hole train of thought about how they ended up where they were. He knew he didn't black out again, he somehow managed to stay awake the whole time. Even if he did fall asleep, everybody else knew something was wrong. It just didn't make any sense…

 

"In an hour? I can't wait. Finally some answers!" Brian exclaimed, "I gotta tell my Dad about this, I haven't spoken to him since Afghanistan."

 

Hezekiah took a quick glance at Brian sitting behind him, and then looked back at his notes, "You got a family at home?"

 

"Yeah, over with my Dad in Seattle," He said, "I wish I coulda talked to him before I left, man. I wish…"

 

Hezekiah stopped writing as he listened to Brian.

 

"He must be worrying himself to death, you know. Man, I just wished I coulda told him I'm alright."

 

Hezekiah thought about his own "family" if he could even really call it that. He had a mother at home, obviously, he called her every now and then to let her know he was alright. And as long as he did, she was happy. And then there was his Uncle who called him rarely. But all of his other family members were far away, haven not talked to them since he was a kid. Did any of them care? Would they show up to his funeral if he had an unfortunate passing here? Would his Mother and Uncle be the only ones sitting in the pews, mourning over a dead relative?

 

He could tell Brian was worried about the same thing, "Anybody else other than your Dad?"

 

"Yeah, there's my two sisters. But they all got lives of their own now. Sarah, the youngest, oughtta be graduating University," Brian said, "The oldest, Lynn, is a fucking phycologist."

 

Both Hezekiah and Brian let out a joking chuckle, lightheartedly.

 

"Ah, I see," Hezekiah responded to try and keep the conversation going along.

 

"My Dad is the guy I look up to the most, you know."

 

"Sounds like a great guy."

 

"Yeah… he is," Something changed in Brian's posture as if a sudden realization came upon him, "I'm sorry for this mushy dialogue and all. You know, I just start talking and I cant-"

 

"You're all good," Hezekiah smiled, "Trust me. I miss my folks too. It's natural stuff."

 

Brian nodded, "Mhm."

 

"Me, I'm from Albany. Well, I was born in Philadelphia but moved to Albany when I was a teenager. I have a pretty unremarkable family, I got people I look out for, you know what I mean?"

 

"Yeah, I getcha."

 

"Being homesick is normal, part of being human... you're free to be human around here. Alright?"

 

"Yeah... sure..."

It was then that Hezekiah heard the crackle of his wireless.

 

[Eagle Six] "To all of 1st Battalion. This is Major Jefferson, Eagle Six. I'm ordering all units to gather around the mobile command center, we will be holding a debrief on the situation."

 

"Finally!" Quinn exclaimed.

 

Hezekiah patted Lafayette on the shoulder, shaking the sleeping man.

 

"Hey, Laf. Wake up, man! Come on!"

 

A door opening and then immediately closing signaled that Flint had entered into the truck as well.

Lafayette's breathing became abnormal, his muscles clenched a bit, and his head jerked up. Immediately he wiped away the raging river of spittle running away from his mouth. And looked at Hezekiah.

 

"Yyy-yesss… sssir?" Lafayette, his speech slurred as he barely rose from his sleeping state. Hezekiah took note of the hilarity of seeing Lafayette, a rather professional and to some-- uptight-- person, in a state of complete chaos like this.

 

"Take us over to the Command truck, will you," Hezekiah asked.

 

Lafayette strapped his helmet on, still slightly recovering from waking up, "Why? What's going on."

 

"Battalion leader is telling us where on Earth we are. I hope," Hezekiah told him, his eyes looked off at the hills over in the distance. Wondering. He couldn't help but think that maybe… just maybe…

 

"They were in another world?"

 

Hezekiah didn't think it possible, it was impossible, in fact. Only a handful of Humans had the experience of going to space. Fewer still could say that they walked on the surface of another planet. Besides, space launches were billion-dollar operations involving rockets and rocket fuel and countdowns…

 

They simply drove through a tunnel.

 

Lafayette lifted off the brakes and pressed down on the gas, sending the truck forward, as Lafayette slowly maneuvered the black rubber-coated wheel driving the truck over the dirt.

 

They joined the other trucks that pulled up right behind a single larger one. Mobile Command. It resembled a giant fatigue-colored oil tanker. With one truck pulling a large trailer behind it in tow.

 

In front of the command center was Major Jefferson, as well as the Captains and Lieutenants that led the Companies and Platoons of 1st Battalion. They stood at attention, talking amongst themselves, but some were silent. They wore expressions of confusion mostly, but even more shocking was the face of fear…

 

"I gotta baaad feelin' about this one, Boss," Quinn told the crew from his turret position.

 

"I'm with you on that one," Hezekiah told him.

 

The truck stopped right in front of Mobile Command. After a few minutes, after all the other trucks had gathered around, and their occupants stood outside next to them, Jefferson bellowed to begin his deliberation.

 

"Thank you 1st Battalion. I'm sure a lot of you have… questions on your minds. In fact, I know that all of you do. And you all probably have one question in common…" Jefferson said. His voice was stern, direct, and unwavering. He must've been in this business for a while, and even then, he seemed to have more experience than most.

 

"…I assure you. When I first learned the answer to your question, I was equally as shocked as you will be."

 

'No… it can't be' Hezekiah thought to himself. The Men and Women that made up 1st Battalion moved uneasily in their boots. Trying hard to understand where Jefferson was going with this.

 

"So I'll put it bluntly. We are in another world."

 

"What?"

 

"What did he say?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"Where?"

 

Hezekiah felt his heart sink to his stomach, his face twisted in sheer confusion, his knees wobbled. He needs to sit down. He needed rest. He needed something, what on Earth was happening?

 

His throwaway idea, a brief line of thought, had come true? They were in another world? Surely, Jefferson wouldn't lie. Maybe he slurred his speech a little and the crowd had misheard? If that was the case, then why wasn't anyone correcting him?

 

Jefferson held out his hands to calm the crowd, "I know it is strange! You heard me right! All of you did. Here's the 101: A Portal has opened on our country's soil! We don't know who opened it, or why. That's our job to find out. This world… dimension…planet- whatever you want to call it- is completely new and foreign to us. We don't know where we are, the only thing we do know is that this portal," Jefferson pointed to the large tunnel entrance they surrounded, the very same one they traveled through, "Serves as some sort of inter-dimensional tunnel. And it is the only way known to travel between our world and a world unseen."

 

The crowd began murmuring again, but Jefferson was quick to silence them, "This is a secret. The Department of Homeland Security has thought it imperative that both our operations here and the knowledge of the portal itself be kept under tight lips. You are not allowed to tell anyone who isn't authorized about this. Besides, you wont have the chance to."

 

Hezekiah looked back at his squad in a desperate attempt to find comfort in the emotions of his squad, but the boys looked as scared as he did. Brian especially. He looked… heartbroken. In fact, Brian turned to look at him.

 

Hezekiah quickly corrected his posture, Brian couldn't see him scared. He was a leader, Brian had to take comfort in him. Not the other way around. Right?

 

Hezekiah suppressed his emotions, and instead gave a nod to Brian before turning to face Jefferson again. He had no idea what the nod was supposed to mean, nor did he know if it worked at all. But, it was something for Brian to hold on to.

 

"Dear God…" Hezekiah heard Quinn whisper, "It's the end."

 

"The government will eventually release this information when the time is appropriate. However, you are all expected to remain silent about this. Do you understand?"

 

Nothing…

 

"I said. Do you understand?" Jefferson's voice grew far more sinister, something told Hezekiah that he wasn't one to mess with...

 

"Yes Sir!" The crowd chanted back at him, getting that he was serious this time around.

Jefferson wasn't impressed, at all, he surveyed the crowd with a rather stern look, "Let me remind you of why you are even in the Marine Corps, to begin with. You all swore an oath of loyalty to your country. An oath of duty. America expects that you do the bare minimum, and honor the oath that you have made. Otherwise, I will be forced to reprimand you… and my consequences will go even further beyond. Have I made myself clear?"

 

"Yes Sir!" The Marines, when reminded about the potential dangers of non-cooperation, instantly chanted back in unison.

 

"Good," Jefferson relaxed, "We do not know what this world has in store for us. But what we can say, is to be vigilant. Everything you do and say will have an impact so unimaginably large, since we are the first to ever cross-dimensions. If there is life here, you must be respectful of it. Respect nature, as you would a human being, Another of your comrades. And always obey orders. That is your duty, your job, your call. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes sir!"

 

"Perfect. Before dismissal, I request that Echo and Foxtrot Companies stay behind. Your work is cut out for you today. Your Captains will inform you of your tasks. That'll be all," Jefferson said dismissing the Marines.

 

Many of them began mumbling amongst themselves. Hezekiah picked up on an arrangement of tones from excitement and amusement, to fear and anxiety. Many still were incredibly confused, and who could blame them? But many embraced their new situation, odd as it may be, and thought of the future.

 

Hezekiah watched as two of the Captains, Bannon from Company E and Newman from Hezekiah's own Company F, stood at the front of them all. Bannon was a big-boned guy with short sandy hair around his head and a thick mustache on his upper lip. His deeply sunken eyes and big cheeks resembled a misshapen ball of dough more than a man.

 

Newman on the other hand was his opposite. She had black skin, completely clean face, and her hair was neatly pulled back into a bun. Newman looked older in appearance to Bannon, though Hezekiah knew any age difference couldn't be too major due to their equivalent rank.

 

"You know these two?" Flint asked Hezekiah, who in turn just shook his head.

 

"Never seen them in my life."

"Hmm."

 

"Echo Company!" Bannon's voice was nasally and brash and had a thick northeastern tone to it that reminded Hezekiah of Quinn's own Italian-American accent, "I want alla-ya engineers ready and waitin'. Battalion's just given us orders to start construction on a permanent base-facility 'round this hill," He told them.

 

"A permanent base?" Flint nudged Hezekiah in asking.

 

Hezekiah shrugged, "I guess High Command plans to stay."

 

"Yeah…"

 

"I want dirt walls, sandbags, and machine-gun nests all over the perimeter. You'll be constructing a motor pool, and settin' up command tents. Got it?"

 

"Yes, Sir!" Said Echo in unison.

 

"Alright ladies, step to it!" Bannon said as he walked off to his own squad to assist. Before doing so, he looked over at Newman and nodded, letting her instruct Company F.

 

"Thank you, Captain Bannon," She said in acknowledgment, "Foxtrot. Your work today will be a little different," Newman spoke in a calmer and more direct tone than Bannon before her.

 

"High Command wants you to survey the areas surrounding this point. Each squad will move out into separate areas to explore this area and see what you can find. We do not require you to find anything, we only need you to see what is there. Got it?"

 

"Yes Ma'am!" Hezekiah's own lips said in unison with the rest of Foxtrot.

 

"Your Platoon Sergeants will be handing out planned routes to each squad, we advise but do not require, that you stick to them."

 

Hezekiah was given a white paper from Staff Sergeant Gates, as he walked to each of the squad leaders.

 

"I trust each squad leader to leave when they desire to. I also trust that I'll hear good news from each squad. That is all," Newman walked off.

 

"Incredibly, absolutely incredible!" Lafayette exclaimed, he was shaking with pure excitement, a stupid smile on his face stretched from ear to ear, "I cannot believe we are doing this!"

 

"You seem happy, Laf," Hezekiah said to him.

 

"I am! I feel like I've died and gone to heaven!" Lafayette responded, "Exploring a new world! This is a once-in-a-lifetime- no- once in a million lifetimes opportunity! We're like…" Lafayette struggled for a name, but snapped when he got it, "Roald Amundsen! You know him?"

 

"Yeah, that Norwegian guy, Antarctic explorer."

 

"Exactly! We're like him! We're going to explore a whole new world, unseen to human eyes!"

 

"Didn't Amundsen freeze to death in Antarctica?" Hezekiah asked. That made Lafayette pause for a quick second as he thought it over.

 

"Ah…well, they never found his remains so maybe. Bad example anyway. How about, Neil Armstrong!"

 

"I could see that…" Flint chimed in, "'One small step for man'" He imitated the line, raising his boot high in the air as if he were walking on the surface of the moon.

 

"When you put it like that, I could see the appeal," said Hezekiah. Immediately after saying that, he realized two people weren't with them in the rather optimistic conversation about the new world. In fact, they even looked as if something terrible had happened. Quinn and Brian. While Lafayette and Flint talked about the possibilities, Hezekiah went over to the silent two to talk to them.

 

"We're leaving in a bit," Hezekiah said to Quinn first. Brian had seated himself inside the truck, with the door open just in earshot.

 

"Yeah, I know." Said Quinn, who sighed leaning against the JLTV.

 

Hezekiah patted his friend on the shoulder, "What's wrong?"

 

Quinn shrugged a little, brushing back the peach fuzz-like sideburns on his face with a rogue hand. He scanned the sky as if looking for an answer, and when he found none he looked at Hezekiah, "It's just - y'know… this uh… this whole thing about us being another world, you know?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Quinn chortled, "I can't be in another world, man! The fuck? I have a wife at home, the fuck am I doing here?" The man said, "Shit!" His face was red in what looked like both anger and humiliation.

 

Hezekiah listened as he leaned on the truck next to him, hearing his old friend out.

 

"I ain't trying to leave my Wife like that, y'know? She's worried about me, and how the fuck am I supposed to lie and tell her that I'm still in Afghanistan? It's fucked, I tell you." Quinn shook his head as he looked down at the grass underneath his boots.

 

"She means a lot to you?" Hezekiah thought it was a stupid question to ask, of course, Quinn's wife meant a lot. But He needed something to keep the conversation going.

 

"Yeah, the center of my universe, y'know. Love of my life…" He held out a photo of himself and a woman wrapped in his arms. They looked like they were at a hotel or restaurant, both he and the woman had huge smiles, living in the moment, "She's worried sick, she has been since I was sent to Afghanistan a few weeks ago. I only found out she was pregnant five days ago."

 

Hezekiah nodded, "You're homesick?"

 

"Good lord," Quinn mumbled with an exasperated smile on his face, "What's with the stupid questions today?"

 

"Conversation fuel, you know how it is."

 

"Yeah, heh," Quinn chortled, "Imma keep it a buck-fifty with you, I wish I had never come here all those years ago. Know what I mean?"

 

"Preaching to the choir man."

 

"God, if only I could just… get through that tunnel. And get the hell out of here." Quinn whispered. Hezekiah looked at him in the eye.

 

"Q, look. We've got basically our entire deployment ahead of us, that's only a few months, right? Hang in there. After a while, you'll just start to forget about everything that was making you worried in the first place."

 

Quinn shook his head, "I don't wanna forget about it, sir. I want it all up here," He pointed to his head, "It's the Marines shit that I wanna forget about..."

 

Hezekiah turned to Lafayette and Flint who were still talking, "Hey, you two! Come on, we gotta get moving!"

 

They nodded walking up towards him, as Hezekiah took a seat in the driver's side.

 

"Where are we headed, sir?" Asked Lafayette, turning on the engine and grabbing the wheel.

 

Hezekiah read the note he was given by Gates, "Headed up north, We're traveling parallel to that big river over there. Got it?"

 

"Roger roger."

"Let's fucking do this boys! New world, here we fucking come!" Lafayette shouted as the truck pulled off into the land around them...