Grimoires and Gunsmoke

The once clear and peaceful skies of Cambridge, Ohio, were now etched with the contrails of every type of aircraft imaginable as sharp roars of engines and the thundering thumps of helicopter blades provided a near-constant backdrop to the daily hustle of the base.

DuPont had seen the transformation unfold firsthand. Long gone were the Hesco barriers acting as a stop-gap measure for a hastily constructed forward operating base. In its stead, a sea of reinforced concrete stretched throughout the entire region for as far the eye could see. The sandbags and makeshift bunkers had been replaced by layered defenses, rows of concertina wire in front of thick blast walls as guard towers kept a vigilant eye for any sign of activity.

But the superhuman feats of the engineer corps weren’t the only new addition to the Ohio landscape as the streets of Fort Sentinel hummed with the symphony of military might. The earth vibrated beneath DuPont's boots with each passing of the Canadian LAV III Armored Personnel Carriers rolled down the road with purpose. Closely behind the Canadian convoy were Dutch CV90s with a full complement of troops, moving in the direction of the gate to start their patrol.

While waiting for the armored vehicles to rumble by, DuPont became lost in his thoughts as they turned to how all of this came to be. The patrols were much more than just a show of force; they had become a necessity. Monsters and other forms of wildlife that seemed to have been ripped straight out of a video game, had been regularly meandering through the rift and were starting to become a real big goddamn problem.

After fighting back what is now known as the Seraphic ‘Empire’, reports from the surrounding states started to flood in. All across the eastern seaboard, cities were experiencing the same incidents: strange creatures only found from the anomalous zone in Ohio had started popping up and began attacking the civilian population. The incidents were sporadic but as time passed, the attacks started to increase in frequency, and with each report, the pressure on the base to plug the gap became heavier.

However, in response to the savage and unprecedented aggression, a global alliance had rapidly formed. The invocation of NATO's Article 5 had been a clarion call, one that resounded beyond the usual confines of the treaty. Nations from every corner of the world had come to answer the call, presenting a unified front against the otherworldly invaders. It was a coalition forged not merely in the spirit of mutual defense but in the defense of Earth as a whole.

As DuPont moved through the base, he couldn't help but reflect on the sheer magnitude of the mobilization. The build-up of personnel and equipment around him was staggering. Every open space had been converted to accommodate the influx of military assets. Vast motor pools were lined with armored vehicles of every type, airfields were crowded with a range of combat and transport aircraft, and barracks that once housed a few Battalions now teemed with international Brigades.

The daily life of the soldiers had been transformed as well. Training exercises were no longer routine affairs but high-tempo operations simulating encounters with the alien threats. Language barriers were overcome out of necessity, as everything from Corps and Army Groups composed of multiple nationalities drilled side by side. The urgency of their mission was a language understood by all.

At this point, the military build-up became an open secret that spoke volumes about the expectations of the high command. The discussions were no longer about 'if' but 'when' a counter-offensive was coming. The soldiers joked about it, the officers planned for it, and the very atmosphere of the multitude of military bases surrounding the rift was nearly bursting at the seams in anticipation.

DuPont spotted his chance as the last armored vehicle in the Dutch and Canadian convoy rolled past, and bolted across the road just before an even longer column rumbled by. Behind him, the ground trembled anew as the mechanical growl of engines of Type 89 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, escorted by the imposing presence of Type 90 Main Battle Tanks from Japan, commanded the road.

“God damn… Every-fucking-body is here.” DuPont murmured under his breath as he turned and continued his trek to his barracks.

The Japanese were not the only Far Eastern allies making their presence known on the base. No, throughout the months, DuPont had noticed that even the Korean, Australian, and New Zealand military personnel and their distinctive equipment were present in the multinational coalition.

Korean K2 Black Panther tanks rumbled alongside Australian Bushmasters, their robust frames a familiar sight on the training fields. New Zealand's forces, though smaller in number, were no less significant as they joined in the field exercises in their LAV III variants called the New Zealand Light Armored Vehicles (NZLAV).

But with a shake of his head, DuPont turned around as his mind was still trying to process the sheer magnitude of firepower concentrated in such a small area. As he made his way back to his barracks, the bustle and hum of the base surrounded him creating a vibrant mosaic of uniforms and languages.

Every NATO member state was represented, each contributing its unique strengths to the joint effort. DuPont passed by a group of German soldiers conversing with their British counterparts while Polish soldiers hurried past.

Even the Swedes were moseying around, staring curiously at their corn dogs they’d bought from a food truck not too far away. The two blonde women gave each other a disturbed yet interested look before tentatively taking a bite. Initially, their expressions were a mix of skepticism and regret, but soon their faces softened into pleasant surprise. The initial hesitation gave way to genuine enjoyment as they took another bite, clearly finding the American snack more palatable than they had anticipated.

As DuPont approached, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the sight. “You two make it look like you’re eating a stick of shit.” He abruptly said, causing the two to jolt in surprise.

Surprised, the two women looked up and noticed DuPont's incredulous expression as they continued to chew.

"H-hey DuPont," one of them said, her accent tinged with a Nordic lilt. "We just thought of trying a quintessential American, uh… delicacy," she added after finishing her latest bite.

The woman speaking was Astrid, her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail that swayed gently as she spoke. Her companion, Elsa, a dirty blonde, had her hair styled in a pragmatic bun, giving her a more stern appearance.

DuPont couldn't help but chuckle at their choice of words. "Delicacy, huh? I guess that's one way to describe a corn dog."

Elsa finished her own bite and smiled, "We've already tried the tacos here. They were quite good, actually. We've decided to try and eat our way through as much American cuisine as we can, while we can."

Astrid nodded in agreement, her expression serious yet with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Who knows when we'll get the chance again? At any moment we could be thrust into the heart of battle!"

DuPont raised an eyebrow, "Uh huh, right. Just be careful with some of the stuff they serve here. Not everything's as good as it looks."

The two women let out an easy going laugh. "We'll take our chances," Astrid replied with a grin. "We survived the deep fried ice cream and the chocolate covered bacon, so what's the worst that could happen?"

Taken aback by the admission, DuPont’s widened and blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend what would compel someone to put any of that garbage near their mouths. As a matter of fact, if it were up to him, DuPont would have its creator and those propagating such blasphemous abominations, hanged for crimes against humanity. Who in their right mind would think of heresy?

"Deep fried ice cream and chocolate-covered bacon? Seriously?" Pinching the bridge of his nose, DuPont chuffed in a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Just... try not to put yourselves in the hospital, okay?”

The two girls laughed as they gave each other a knowing look. "We'll try our best!"

“Anyways, I've got to head out. My superiors are summoning me," DuPont said, rolling his eyes in a good-natured manner. "Duty before deep-fried horrors, I guess."

Elsa playfully saluted. "Good luck with the brass!"

Astrid waved him off. "Take care! Don't let them bully you too much!"

As DuPont turned to leave, he caught the tail end of their conversation about their next culinary adventure. "What about Buckeye Balls? I heard they're a big thing here in Ohio," Elsa mused, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Astrid's curiosity piqued. "Buckeye Balls? That sounds... interesting. What are they?"

"They're like peanut butter fudge balls, partially dipped in chocolate-”

The conversation faded into the background as DuPont continued on his way, shaking his head. Looking around at the rest of the soldiers enjoying their food or engrossed in their own conversations, he couldn't help but think about Astrid’s words.

She was right, at any moment they could be in full battle rattle rolling across the fields and through that rift. And if DuPont was honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than that.

Heaving a sigh, DuPont made his way through the makeshift food court, he noticed the area was a melting pot of cultures. Groups of soldiers from various countries were gathered around the food stands, enjoying their meals as they enjoyed a brief respite from the near constant exercises and drills. The lively chatter of multiple languages blended together, creating a harmonious cacophony that resonated with what DuPont could only assume was what they’d find on the other side of that strange tear in reality.

Just as he left the bustling area, DuPont noticed a group of Japanese soldiers had their eyes wide with both amazement and slight apprehension as they inspected the massive American-sized burgers in their hands. Their expressions shifted between awe and uncertainty, eliciting a chuckle from DuPont as the man spotted his destination in the distance.

The building was a long, rectangular structure with a more functional, no-nonsense design that was stereotypical of an American barracks. Its beige walls and green roof made one nearly puke at how bland it was. The structure was almost suffocating with its utilitarian nature, a stark contrast to the lively and vibrant atmosphere of the food court he had just left.

However, as DuPont approached the barracks, he noticed a few unusual details that set today apart from the usual routine. There were Military Police (MP) stationed outside, standing ready and alert with their rifles hanging from their slings.

Additionally, the Lieutenant spotted a couple of black sedans parked just outside the entrance. Their sleek and polished exteriors looked distinctly out of place against the utilitarian and military backdrop and suggested DuPont was in for much higher ranking personnel or officials or than he anticipated.

Slowing his stride, DuPont came to a stop as he took in the scene.

A mixture of apprehension and curiosity flowed through DuPont as he made eye contact with one of the MP’s and in return, they watched the Lieutenant Carefully.

As DuPont continued his approach, one of the MPs stepped forward, blocking his path. "Halt, sir.” They said, after spotting his rank on his uniform. ”This area is currently restricted. May I see your identification and orders?"

Slightly taken aback by the fact his barracks had become ‘restricted’, the Lieutenant reached for his ID, feeling a twinge of nervousness mixed with irritation before presenting it.

The MP's eyes flicked up from the ID to DuPont's face, then back down as he kept cross-referencing the information. "Lieutenant DuPont, is it?" the MP asked, his tone slightly softening but still maintaining professionalism. "We have orders to only allow personnel with specific clearance due to the high-ranking officials present.."

A twitch of frustration flickered across DuPont’s face as he furrowed his brow. " This is MY barracks and my superiors have literally told me to come here at this specific time. Can you check with someone inside?”

Narrowing his eyes, the MP still holding DuPont's identification glanced at his colleague with a hint of uncertainty. There was a brief, silent exchange between the two before one of them reached for their radio, pressing the push-to-talk button.

"We have a Lieutenant DuPont here requesting access to the barracks. Claims he's been summoned by his superiors," he relayed into the radio, his voice steady but slightly questioning.

There was a pause as the MP listened intently to the response with an unreadable expression while DuPont stood there, a mix of impatience and anticipation building within him. The seconds stretched out, feeling longer than they actually were until the MP finally spoke up again.

"Yes, sir. Understood, sir.” The MP responded as he moved to the side.

With a much more relaxed demeanor the other MP handed DuPonts ID back and stepped aside as well. "Apologies for the hold-up, Lieutenant. You're cleared to enter. Please head straight to the briefing room on the second floor; they're expecting you."

A strange look flashed across the lieutenant's face as he quickly retrieved his ID before offering the two men a curt nod. “Thank you…?” He said almost questioningly as he made his way inside unsure what to make of what was happening.

When he stepped inside, the usual clamor and activity that came with the daily life of a barracks were conspicuously absent. The halls were eerily quiet, with only the faint echo of his own footsteps accompanying him and the atmosphere seemed somewhat surreal.

The interior was typical of what one might expect of military accommodations and was designed more for efficiency than comfort. But still the soldiers of Bravo company had managed to give the off-white nondescript walls some life while still straddling the line of regulation.

While DuPont walked down the halls lit by Fluorescent lights, he noticed everything was left slightly ajar. Everywhere he looked were various personal items like half eaten food, drinks and other various trinkets were either left out or hastily stowed away. It was as if the occupants had been interrupted mid-task and told to promptly fuck off.

To the side, in the common area, he also noticed that the massive flat screen TV was left on, showing a lone, unmoving figure consistently being beaten by a monster. Scattered about were signs of hasty departure: a half-played card game, a phone with a video playing, a coffee mug still steaming slightly…

As DuPont continued his ascent up the stairs, the signs of a hasty departure became even more apparent. The stairwell typically echoed with the sound of banter and boots, but this time he was greeted with only silence.

However, when he reached the second floor, DuPont's sense of unease deepened. The corridor leading to the briefing room had a group of soldiers who didn't bear the typical Military Police designation. As a matter of fact these men didn’t bear any insignia at all and stood in a more casual and relaxed manner. Yet, there was an air of confidence and professionalism about them that suggested they were used to high-stakes situations and they seemed significantly more dangerous than some MPs.

Even the equipment they carried wasn't standard issue. DuPont noted the advanced communication devices that were worth more than his car, their sleek, compact weapons, and the state-of-the-art plate carriers. These were not ordinary troops; they were clearly part of some spook unit that demanded him to keep his questions to himself.

Approaching the briefing room, the soldiers outside the briefing room glanced at DuPont with unreadable expressions as they sized him up. One of the operators, a tall figure man with a stern yet composed demeanor, stepped forward slightly.

"Lieutenant DuPont?" the operator asked in a voice that managed to be both authoritative and inquiring.

With his stomach tightening in knots, DuPont nodded, trying to mask his own apprehension. "Yes, that's me. I was told to come here for a briefing?"

“ID?” The tall man requested, extending his hand

DuPont quickly produced his identification, handing it over to the operator. The man inspected it closely, his eyes scanning every detail before handing it back with a nod of confirmation.

"Mike, check him.” The operator said, turning his head back to one of his comrades.

The man named Mike, someone managed to be simultaneously stocky and a giant of a man as he stepped forward. He let his short-barreled rifle hang from its sling and began to pat DuPont down.

It wasn’t his height that made DuPont comply so fast, it was the fact that he was buit like a brick shithouse. He felt like this undoubtedly season operator could lift him up with one arm and veritably toss him out of the window if he chose to do so. So DuPont decided that raising his arms in complete compliance would dramatically decrease the odds of them deciding to use violence.

As the stocky giant conducted his check, DuPont’s mind raced with possibilities and worries. He wondered if this had anything to do with his men – had one of them crossed a line they shouldn't have? The presence of those rabbit girl things on base had been a constant source of distraction, and DuPont couldn't help but worry if one of his soldiers had gotten in trouble.

Did one of them force themselves on one? Did someone get seduced and turn coat? Did someone give something they shouldn’t have away because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants? The possibilities were endless and all of them were blasting through DuPont’s mind like a firehouse.

The thought of one of his men being seduced and potentially compromising them all to treason was enough to almost give him a heart attack.

"He’s clear," Mike finally said, stepping back and giving a brief nod.

DuPont lowered his arms, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering tension. The tall operator, now identified by his name tag as Lieutenant Commander Smith, gestured towards the door with a tilt of his head.

With a brief nod towards the door, the tall operator stepped to the side "Alright, they're waiting for you inside, Lieutenant," he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement after witnessing the multitude of panicked expressions flash across DuPont’s face.

Giving the men a curt and somewhat robotic nod in response, DuPont basically threw himself through the door. Once inside, he found that his mind still swirled with thoughts as he looked around inside the briefing room. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable sense of gravity as high-ranking military officers in their crisp uniforms and several officials in sharp suits turned around to look at him.

But what really caught DuPont's attention was the presence of a rather striking figure - a petite woman with long, flowing silver hair that cascaded down her back. Her skin was almost translucently white, giving her an otherworldly appearance. But what was most unusual were her ears.

Both of them stretched almost as long and wide as her forearms.

As the woman turned around, she took in the sigh of the Lieutenant, showing him her ethereal beauty and brilliantly bright eyes as they stared at him expectantly.

The room was silent for a moment and the air thick with anticipation. All eyes were on DuPont as he stood there, momentarily taken aback by the surreal scene before he finally came to his senses.

“Wait… Aren’t you…?” DuPont’s voice trailed off as he started to recall that unmistakable face all those months ago.