NOVEL NEXT Interlude: Cleanup Crew
"Easy does it corporal! The road's seen better days now."
A pair of vehicles crawled down a ruined road, the asphalt crumbling beneath the heavy wheels of the truck and the car that followed behind. A trio of motorcycles brought up the rear of the convoy. A small convoy of eight vehicles and squads in all.
The man at the wheel of the lead vehicle, the truck, looked back at his passengers and nodded. "You got it, Chief" he said, easing off the accelerator slightly, allowing for smoother progress through the debris strewn streets.
Dylan was a tall, well-built man with black hair and blue eyes. His short, neatly trimmed beard and the military crew cut on the sides of his head made him look every bit the professional he was.
The hazard pay he got certainly didn't hurt either.
"Thanks, buddy. We don't need you going off a cliff or anything. The Magical Girls are our only real safety net here."
Dylan nodded in agreement. The pair of Magical Girls riding atop the truck were a... well, he'd hesitate to use the word "comfort."
They weren't a "comfort." But it was good knowing they were there, and could respond to any threats far faster than anyone else in the convoy.
"We're lucky we have them," he said. "Even if one of them seems to be a little... loud," he added under his breath.
"You're telling me," the man beside him grumbled, "I've seen her kind before, she's a rookie, barely out of diapers."
Dylan chuckled, shaking his head. "You're one to talk," he said to his companion. "I seem to remember a young man who got into a lot of trouble back when we were recruits."
"That's different, and you know it."
The man Dylan had spoken to wore the same uniform as him: the gray and brown uniform of a US Army Engineer, the 411th Engineer Brigade, 2nd Battalion, A Company, 2nd platoon. He was Dominican-American, and the third of six kids, all boys. And he had another brother in Dylan.
They were two of a dozen survivors that remained after a massive Chaos Beast assault had cut their entire battalion down to just a handful of soldiers. It was a miracle any of them survived, and now, here they were, driving through the ruins of Yonkers, picking up scraps of Chaos Beasts left behind after the last stand by the Terran Defense Force over a decade ago.
"Twelve years to get back here, and it looks like we left a month ago," Dylan's companion murmured. "Just look at this place."
"I know, Mark, I know," Dylan said, looking out at the ruins of Yonkers, New York. The city looked like it'd been leveled just yesterday, not years ago. "Still, these things give me the creeps."
"You're telling me," Mark said.
The two men glanced at each other, before returning their gaze to the road ahead.
Chaos beast cleanup was a voluntary job - one that had to be undertaken by the militia and military for obvious reasons. They'd been working nonstop for months now to clean out the rest of New York's Chaos Beast nests.
The 411th, being Engineers, was one of the few battalions that could undertake the cleanup operation of a war-torn city.
They were used to dealing with rubble, and had plenty of equipment to make that happen. Not to mention their ability to handle explosives when needed. As creepy as chaos beast corpses were, they were virtually harmless when dead. And if they ever ran into a live one, that was what the MGs were for.
Dylan had seen plenty of action in the Chaos War, and so had his companion. The two of them had served together since boot camp, and stuck together through thick and thin.
Infantry tactics were frankly, out of style. With chaos corruption to worry about, you didn't want your people up close and personal with the creatures.
The way that you won battles in this new world was with armor and artillery. And a lot of it.
The 411th had gotten very good at using artillery. It was something they were proud of.
They'd used it to clear the way to Yonkers, laying waste to the Chaos Beast nests in their path that their Terran allies could sense. If there was one thing the muggle Earthborn did better than Terran mages, it was making big explosions.
Dylan had a new appreciation for artillery, and the engineers who worked with it. They were the best at their job, and he was proud of the men and women who worked under his command.
"Still though," Mark murmured, looking out at the ruins. "This place was home once. I'd never thought that it'd turn into... this."
Dylan glanced at his friend, and saw a tear in the man's eye.
"Never took you as an upstate kinda guy, Mark."
"I ain't. I grew up in the South Bronx," Mark said. "It's just, we lost so much, ya know? I didn't live here. But I knew a few folks that did. They're all dead now."
Dylan nodded, keeping his eyes on the radar display in front of him.
The pair drove in silence for a few moments, until Mark broke it.
"You ever think about what would've happened if the portal to the other side hadn't opened?"
A chill went down Dylan's spine, and his knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel of his vehicle. The memory of holing up in a bomb shelter in the dead of winter, of being so hungry he'd considered eating the dead grass in the dirt... He suppressed a shiver. That had been a bad time. One of the worst of his life. The world was on fire, the country had fallen as far as his platoon knew, and the monsters were everywhere. They were unstoppable. Indestructible.
It was only a pair's desperate cries to rally Terran Magical Girls to lend their aid in Earth's darkest hour that saved the world. And while it might've seemed callous and opportunistic to some to invade another planet to seize control of their technology and resources, there were a lot of people, like him and Mark, who wouldn't be here today without the help of their Terran brothers and sisters.
Radiant Rhiannon and Seraphina's impassioned call for unity had changed the fate of the world.
"I'd rather not, buddy. We came pretty close, but we're still here."
"Yeah... yeah," Mark muttered. "And thank God we still are."
"Amen to that."
"Hey! You guys okay down there? We're gonna take five, check out the area a bit and see if we find any uglies."
A voice called down to the two of them. They looked up, seeing two figures perched on top of their vehicle.
The first was a short, slender cloaked girl in her early teens with long, black hair and glowing orange eyes wielding a pewter staff. The other was an equally tiny green-haired girl with brown skin and a green Chinese-style magical girl outfit wielding a matching sword. They were the Magical Girls attached to the volunteer force.
Mark waved to the girls, flashing a thumbs-up.
"Thanks for the heads up, ladies," he shouted. "Be careful."
"Yeah, yeah! Don't worry about us. I'll be back soon, just sit tight and keep your eyes peeled," the black-haired girl shouted down to him. The two girls jumped off the vehicle and dashed off, weapons ready and eyes alert.
"Damn, they're just so... young. It makes me feel skeevy, having to rely on them so much. Makes me feel useless, if I'm honest," Mark said.
"I hear you, buddy. I hear you," Dylan said with a shake of his head. The pair of Magical Girls had saved their bacon on more than one occasion in the last month. These missions weren't technically sanctioned by the National Guard that had jurisdiction. But, as far as the Reclamation Committee was concerned, that didn't matter. The cores were up for grabs for volunteers, and it was a Terran custom to give Magical Girl escorts a 15% share.
The Magical Girls had volunteered to be there. So had they, for that matter.
"Still though," Mark said. "We'd probably be dead without them."
"Yeah," Dylan said, thinking of the dozens of soldiers in the battalion they'd lost. "We'd probably be dead."
"Still, doesn't make it easier to accept. Or less weird."
"Yeah. But that's the world we live in now."
The convoy rolled to a stop, the vehicles forming a circle as the men and women piled out and took up defensive positions. A field of carcasses lay in front of them. Dozens of the creatures lay in various states of dismemberment, from whole, to nothing, to a single, twisted appendage that eerily disrupted the air around it.
"Damn, they really tore these bastards up, didn't they," Mark murmured, staring at a pile of wrecked Terran mechs in front of a line of sandbags and mounted turrets. The massive robots were mangled and broken. They had been ripped open like tin cans, the metal twisted in strange ways.
"Guess they weren't enough, huh?"
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Dylan shook his head, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"I'd pour a cold one on their graves if they weren't buried in Jersey, the poor bastards," Mark said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. "I got some bug juice for ya, buddy."
Dylan shook his head, and his gaze turned back towards the ruins of the city.
"I'm good, buddy."
"Suit yourself, more for me," Mark said, uncapping the bottle and taking a swig. He winced. "That's some strong shit," he said. "But it'll do."
The pair stepped out of the truck and walked over to one of the fallen beasts. Dylan and his men all carried specialized anti-materiel rifles, the bullets powerful enough to pierce even a low-level Chaos Beast's thick hide. They weren't as effective as magic, but it was the next best thing.
"Damn, they're big, aren't they," Mark said. The creature was almost three times taller than him. He shook his head and looked down at it with disgust. "Fucking monsters," he said, kicking it in the side.
It was an enormous, bipedal creature, with a long, powerful tail that ended in a scythe-like blade, a thick carapace covering its back. Its forearms and hands were like those of a primate, long and strong, with deadly claws on each finger. A pair of horns crowned the top of its head.
"You'd think the fucking thing would just disintegrate. Or at least, ya know, not look like this anymore," Mark said. "I mean, the fucking thing looks like it's still alive."
Dylan frowned.
"I know. I know," Mark said. "It's just weird. I've seen them disintegrate. Really fucking weird how it works like that."
Dylan stepped past the corpse, walking around the circle of vehicles, his gaze sweeping across the horizon.
The formation told a story. This was where they'd stopped the push.
A last stand by Terran pilots that had been holding this position so that civilians from a world that wasn't even their own could evacuate. He'd heard stories about them.
They'd held the line against countless monsters and Chaos Beasts, giving up their lives so that others could escape.
They'd paid the price for their heroism with their lives. Possibly worse - given the nature of chaos energy and its effect on living things. It was a fate he wouldn't wish on his worst enemies.
"They fought to the last man, didn't they?" Mark asked.
Dylan nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, they did." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ignore the feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. He checked his pocket for a snub-nose he kept chambered with a single bullet.
Just in case.
He'd only need one shot. If something happened, he could only hope he'd have enough of a chance to do it.
A shiver crawled up his spine at the thought, and he shoved the idea of that out of his head. It wouldn't do any good to worry about such things.
Instead, Dylan turned and walked away, looking around.
A pair of men and women in hazmat suits were using tools and spray cans to paint markings on the ground around the dead monsters. Another group were moving heavy machinery around. Yet another group of men were digging trenches, while others were filling them with sandbags.
"Hey Dylan, look at this."
The voice of his partner snapped Dylan's attention back to Mark.
Mark was staring down at something. At one of the monsters, he realized. It was an odd creature. Bigger than most, and it had been killed by something other than a bullet or an explosive.
"Damn, they must have had to go medieval on its ass. I mean, look at this thing!" Mark exclaimed, gesturing towards the corpse.
The monster had a massive, gaping wound on its torso.
Mark stepped closer, inspecting the injury. He frowned.
"Looks like someone went to town on it with a sword or something." He bent down and reached towards the wound. "I wonder what killed it?"
The ground rumbled slightly.
Dylan frowned, looking around. His hand slipped to the holster on his belt.
A few of his men looked at each other nervously.
"Maybe we should call those MGs back here?" one of them said.
"Y-Yeah," Dylan said. "Get on the comms. Call them in, and let them know something isn't right. Just in case."
"Got it!"
The rumbling intensified. It grew louder. Stronger. A deep, rhythmic pounding, like a heartbeat, echoed through the earth.
Dylan's gut clenched as a sense of dread washed over him. He glanced up at Mark. "I don't like this."
"I'm right there with ya, buddy," Mark muttered. "Something's off."
"Shit! Get down!"
Sparks erupted as a series of gunshots rang out. A few of his men shouted in surprise as the sound of motorcycles and men howling could be heard.
"Fuck! What the hell is that?"
The sounds grew closer. And then the gunfire started. One of the engineers screamed and fell.
"Fuck, they're everywhere!"
"Get down! Get behind something solid!" Mark yelled.
"What's happening?!" another engineer shouted. "Where the hell did they come from?"
"Fuck! I don't know!"
"They're not on the radar!"
A hail of gunfire erupted as a motorcycle gang swerved and circled around the Engineers, firing their guns wildly.
The men and women scattered, seeking shelter.
Dylan took cover behind one of the sandbags. The air was thick with smoke and gunpowder.
Mark scrambled for his radio next to him as Dylan dropped his 'Baronbuster' anti-chaos beast rifle and drew his sidearm, popping out of cover and firing at a couple of bikers that swerved towards him, the high-pitch 'crack!' of the bullets firing off in rapid succession. One of the men fell off his motorcycle.
"It's fucking Jormungandr!" one of his men shouted.
"Shit, those skinhead fuckers! Who the hell are these lunatics?" Mark shouted. "We're fucking outnumbered, what the hell do we do?!"
"Call the Magical Girls!" Dylan shouted.
"On it!" Mark replied. "I'm gonna try and get through to command too!"
Jormungandr had been a real pain in the ass for the Reclamation Team since they'd started. They were an extremist, cultish, neo-pagan gang of raiders and terrorists whose motives were unknown. The organization's leadership was made up of former NATO military members who'd seen action. They were heavily armed and highly trained.
They'd already caused trouble for the reclamation teams and their Magical Girl escorts, ambushing them, stealing supplies, killing and capturing dozens. It'd been chaos every time, with the MGs barely being able to respond before the bikers had scattered. It was bizarre how even superpowered girls barely seemed able to stop them or even detect their arrival.
Command and control's intel indicated they also had multiple Terran mages in their organization. They had magical seals on their tongues that would cause them to turn into IEDs upon death. Even when captured, the terrorists couldn't speak or communicate anything remotely close to intel without going into seizures or dying outright.
No matter how many times the Guard had been able to corner and fight off the terrorists, they had only ever been able to kill a few.
Dylan's mind raced as the men and women under his command were being shot and cut down.
How did the enemy get in so close?
Where the hell were the Magical Girls? They should have sensed these fuckers coming. Right?
Then again, he thought. Maybe they didn't sense anything because of their magic?
Regardless, it was too late for that.
"This is Alpha-two-six. We're under attack by Jormungandr! I repeat we are under attack by Jormungandr at our current position. Need immediate assistance, over!"
There was no reply on the other end as Mark paused, his breath frantic.
"Alpha-two-six to base, we are under attack! Please respond!"
Still nothing. The line went dead.
The gunfire continued unabated as the terrorists continued to fire indiscriminately. A bullet struck the concrete in front of them and ricocheted, striking a sandbag right next to Mark's head.
Mark cursed. "Motherfucker!"
He turned to see Dylan still firing back at the terrorists, who seemed to be moving faster now. One of the men fired his rifle at a motorcycle rider. His bullets were deflected by an invisible wall. The man on the bike laughed, and his partner turned his shotgun towards Mark.
"Fuck!"
Suddenly, the earth rumbled and the ground shook violently. Mark was knocked to the ground, as were Dylan and the rest of his men.
And then, the sky above them was lit up with a bright orange light. It looked like the sun was exploding, or the sun itself was crashing down on them.
Dylan's eyes widened as the light grew brighter. Then he saw it. It was an orb of light, and it was coming from a small girl in a fox-eared cloak. It blasted forth, a roaring stream of raw energy that tore up chaos beasts and pavement alike as it ripped through the motorcycle group, sending the bikers and their bikes flying.
The motorcycles exploded and crashed, their riders thrown off them.
Dylan and Mark were thrown backwards and landed heavily against the concrete wall of the bunker, their heads ringing and their ears filled with the sounds of the explosions.
The other members of their unit were in no better state.
The ground shook violently as the burning sun dissipated, leaving the air thick with dust.
When Dylan and Mark opened their eyes, they were greeted with the sight of a smouldering cone-shaped crater that stretched down the road towards the city. The bodies of groaning terrorists and motorcycles lay scattered about.
"Holy fuck..." Mark said, staring at the carnage in front of him. "Holy fuck, we're still alive!"
Dylan's vision blurred and he coughed up some dust.
"SHI-KO-ME! What did I say about controlling your output! Now you've gone and incinerated half the chaos beasts in the area!"
"I know! I'm sorry, Vortexia! I mean, you're the one who said my capacity was absurd I can't help that I have a hard time controlling my power! I've been working on it!"
Dylan turned, blinking through the smoke to see a green-haired girl with a sword on her back chastising the fox-eared hooded one who had just annihilated an entire gang in one blow. She was stomping her foot and whining like a child as the green one lectured her.
"...Well. You're not wrong, I guess," Vortexia said, scratching her chin. "You have an absurd mana capacity for someone of your experience. And you're not used to it, yet. But the outcome is still the same!"
"Yeah, so don't be surprised I accidentally do things like that when I try to go big!" Shikome said, sticking her tongue out.
Vortexia just groaned, burying her face in her palm.
"Hey, I'm not the one trying to raise money to send to her family across the portal! You are. This is a problem you're making for yourself, remember?"
Shikome winced. "...Sorry."
Dylan stared at the pair, stunned, before raising his hand to signal his men.
"Men! Get the cuffs on the bikers and get them piled up. Get the mana disruptors on them while we sort them out. I'll contact the FBI and have them come pick these assholes up. Mark, get on the radio and contact Command, let them know we've taken some casualties."
Mark nodded and turned to the other men.
Dylan watched the pair of Magical Girls bickering and shouting at one another, shaking his head.
"What the heck have they been feeding you?!" Vortexia shouted. "That wasn't a low-yield strike, Shikome! That was comparable to a B-Rank's finishing move!"
Shikome puffed out her cheeks and stamped her foot. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"It means that you need to take learning to control yourself much more seriously! What would have happened if that had been a civilian convoy?!"
Shikome crossed her arms over her chest. "Well... I mean, you're the one who told me l-lumina attacks don't hurt people unless I want to."
"THERE'S STILL CONCUSSIVE FORCE, SHIKOME! YOU WOULD STILL CREATED A MASSIVE VEHICLE PILEUP, YOU DUMMY!" the girl named Stellaris Vortexia shouted, shaking the other girl.
"I'm sorry!" Shikome whined.
The men all watched as the two Magical Girls continued to argue and fight, the green-haired one shouting at the other one while she tried to explain herself.
"Whatever! I'll make sure they give you a bigger cut of the haul, since it was technically my fault, I guess," she muttered. "Just... try not to do that next time, okay? I know I told you to go big but that was too big."
"I have no sense of what 'big' even means anymore, I swear," Shikome whined.
The other girl just shook her head. "Come on, we've got to finish clearing the area before we head back. Let's move. And please try not to accidentally vaporize the entire convoy."
"I'll do my best."
"And remember, your brother's depending on you, you dork," Vortexia said with a sigh.
"Ugh, don't remind me. But man, I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees steak and lobster for his trip home! He's going to cry like a little girl," Shikome said, grinning and pumping her fist. "And it'll be all because of me!"
"Just focus on the task at hand. Heavens forbid you accidentally blow us all up or something," the other girl said, rolling her eyes and leading Shikome towards the front of the formation.
The raven-haired girl was grumbling under her breath as they left, still sulking.
Dylan shook his head again, glancing over at Mark as the two men stared at each other in silence.
"Did we really just get saved by those two?"
"Yup."
Dylan sighed, leaning against the wall behind him and rubbing his forehead. "I need a vacation. We need a vacation. These girls are going to kill me."
Mark nodded in agreement. "At least they didn't actually kill us."
Dylan turned away, his mind wandering back to his home.
"You know buddy? Tonight I'm going home to my son, and then I'm going to give him the biggest hug he's ever had," Dylan whispered.
"Damn straight, man. Damn straight," Mark agreed.
The two of them paused for a few seconds, staring at the two bickering girls up the road.
"So... how about that drink?"