A Sniper and a Musketeer

The dense forest was an ideal hiding place for all types of predators, both human and animal. For me, a spec ops soldier, this wilderness was my office. As night fell, my stomach rumbled, a stark reminder that it had been six hours since my last meal.

After finding a defensible position beneath a large tree, I opened a Field Deployment Ration, or FDR. Chicken Yakiniku. Military rations had a reputation for being tasteless, earning them the derisive nickname ‘Food, Detested by Everyone.’ A cruel but fitting joke. Still, it was fuel, and better than wasting a round on a hunt. I washed it down with a long pull of water from the CamelBak hose slung over my shoulder. As I settled in for the night, I entered a state I called "combat dreaming." My body would surface automatically every five to ten minutes, my senses scanning the perimeter before allowing me to drift back into sleep. The snap of a twig would bring me to full, instant wakefulness.

It was the sound of footsteps that finally did it. My thumb flicked the safety off my assault rifle as I snatched it up. Peering around the tree, I counted eight men, clad in a mismatched assortment of armor and brandishing swords and crossbows. They moved like mercenaries, or more accurately, thugs; their lack of discipline was obvious. Humans inhabited this world, but their technology was centuries behind ours.

Silently, I raised my digital camera and took a few pictures. My camouflage rendered me practically invisible, especially to men who had likely never even conceived of thermal vision.

They passed my hiding spot without a glance. My curiosity got the better of me, and I began a slow, silent crawl through the underbrush, shadowing them. A short distance later, they halted. I heard the clatter of an approaching horse-drawn carriage on a dirt road. Peering through the leaves, I saw the driver was a teenage girl with—was that pink hair? For some reason, she seemed achingly familiar. Wasn't that the girl from my near-death experience?

"Okay boys, that's our prey," one of the bandits whispered, and I pushed the thought aside. "Let's go get her."

A flashback hit me like a physical blow. Another girl, years ago, captured by bandits. Her screams for help echoing as I remained hidden, unable to intervene without compromising my mission. The ghosts of the past stirred. And now, it was happening again.

Not this time. This time, I couldn't just be a spectator. I settled into a firing position at the edge of the road, my sniper rifle ready.

When the bandits ambushed the carriage, the girl refused to be a victim. Through my scope, I watched her lunge, driving a fixed bayonet into one of the men. A bolt-action Springwell Rifle? An antique, a World War II relic. How in the world did she get her hands on one of those?

I continued to observe. She wore a light pink sleeveless shirt, a steel breastplate, elbow-length white gloves, and a short white skirt. She looked like a fantasy musketeer. That thin breastplate wouldn't stop a rifle bullet, let alone a .45 ACP round.

Now she was facing them one-on-one. She fought valiantly, but she was outmatched.

Time to even the odds. Centering the crosshairs on the leader's temple, I squeezed the trigger. The unsuppressed crack of the Romulus M25A3 echoed through the forest. Working the bolt, I ejected the spent casing and acquired my next target, putting a round through the second-in-command's chest. It was a classic tactic: cut off the head of the snake, and the body dies.

Just as my training with the Yamato Special Operations Group in Senka had taught me, their command structure collapsed. The remaining bandits were confused, panicking. I knew the girl couldn't see me, but she stared in my direction anyway. I spotted the nearest crossbowman and shot him in the neck. He collapsed, gurgling, and would bleed out in under two minutes. The others loosed their own bolts wildly into the trees, their shots a mile wide.

The girl seized the opportunity, smashing the butt of her rifle into the back of another bandit's head. As the remaining two turned on her, I put a bullet through the temple of the one closest to her. My second headshot of the day.

The last bandit froze, his face a mask of pure terror. Then he bolted, running for his life into the woods. I slung the sniper rifle, brought my Type 91 to bear, and gave chase. The thick forest that slowed him was like a second home to me. Getting a clear sight picture through my EOTech, I fired a three-round burst that shredded his legs. He fell, trying to crawl away.

I approached him, my stride unhurried, and cocked my sidearm. He looked back, his eyes wide with terror. "P-p-please, have mercy!"

His pleas were still hanging in the air when I shot him in the face.

After confirming the kill, I walked back to the girl. She regarded me with remarkable composure. "Where is he?"

"He's dead," I said flatly. Her jaw dropped.

"What?" she demanded, her voice laced with anger. "Why did you kill him?"

"If I let him go, he would have continued to rob and kill other travelers. I prevented that," I stated, my logic unassailable. As a special operator, my actions were dictated by the mission, not by conventional law. We did what was necessary.

"You could have wounded him and let me take him into custody! I am here to arrest them," she retorted. Well, damn. Had I known that, I wouldn't have wasted the ammunition. She sighed, then offered a small, disarming smile. Despite my usual stoicism, I felt a faint heat rise in my neck. "I apologize. I forgot my manners. I am Brielle Vance, Captain of the Musketeers of the Order of the Knights of the Azure Cross. And you are, Mister Stranger?"

She wouldn't have known, I supposed. A twenty-first-century soldier taking down a pack of medieval thugs was hardly a common sight. "The name's Arc."

A giggle escaped her before she covered her mouth, clearing her throat. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister… Arc?"

A small smile touched my own lips. "A strange name, I know. And please, just Arc. I'm 25."

She grinned again. "You have my gratitude for 'saving my life.' Would you care to accompany me to Darrow Town?" This complicated things. I just wanted to get to the rendezvous point.

"The town to the west?"

"Yes."

"Thanks, but I can make it on my own."

"Oh, come now. Don't be like that. I'm trying to repay you."

I sighed. "Fine, I'll go with you." Just then, one of the bandits I'd shot began to stir. I nonchalantly kicked him in the face, and he slumped back into unconsciousness. Brielle produced a length of rope. "Mind if I?"

"Be my guest," she said, and began to secure the prisoner.

With Brielle as my reluctant guide, we secured the captive bandit and set off for Darrow Town. As we rode, I began cleaning my Type 91. She watched me with fascination.

"So, this Darrow Town is in the Kingdom of Valoria, and the Knights of the Azure Cross are an elite order within the Valorian Army, correct?" I asked, confirming the details I'd pieced together.

Brielle flicked the reins, urging the donkey to a quicker pace. "Yes," she said, giving me a sharp look. "But how could you not know that? The Azure Cross is one of the most famous knightly orders in the world." She paused, her expression serious. "Don't tell me you're not from this world."

I sighed. "To be honest, I'm not. My home is very far away. My country dispatched me to find an aerial vehicle that crashed about a year ago." I kept the details vague, sticking to my cover story. Contact with locals was authorized, but the WMD on board was strictly need-to-know.

"An aerial vehicle? You mean the Great Dragon?" Her eyes widened. "The chieftain of Rovik village told me about it! It passed low over their village about a year ago, heading north. Is that what you mean?" How they mistook a 300-ton piece of flying metal for a mythical reptile was beyond me.

"Yes, that's the one." I decided to lean into the fantasy trope. "That 'dragon' contains a powerful and malevolent energy, enough to destroy an entire continent, maybe even the world. My country sent me to find it and, if possible, bring it back." I wasn't technically lying, just explaining nuclear physics in terms they might understand.

She looked horrified. "If it's that dangerous, why would you bring it back? Wouldn't it be better to destroy it?"

"I don't know. I'm a soldier, I follow orders. But I trust my superiors know what's best." The last thing I wanted to do was try to explain global politics. I'd rather walk through a minefield.

She nodded, then glanced at the Romulus M25A3 resting between us. "That firearm. Is it enchanted? I have never seen one with such incredible range and power."

"Oh, this?" I picked it up. "This is a Romulus M25A3 Sniper Weapon System. Standard issue for marksmen where I come from. And it’s a rifle, not a musket. Big difference." I then gestured to her weapon. "And where did you find that rifle? In my country, it was decommissioned a very long time ago."

"This is a Springbright. It was modeled after my great-grandfather's weapon. He said he belonged to a legion called 'The Howling Hawks.'"

'The Howling Hawks'? The 101st Airborne. "Wait, Brielle… does that mean your great-grandfather was from my world?"

She shook her head. "No, he was from another world. His world was at war with mine then. It was called the Second Great War, the bloodiest conflict in history. Over sixty million people died."

She looked at me, stunned. "That's horrible. That's more than double the deaths of the Aethel Continental War."

"That's why they sent me to find that 'dragon.' We want to make sure a war like that never happens here," I said. "By the way, what was the Aethel Continental War?"

A shadow crossed her face as she sighed. "I… I don't want to talk about it." Seeing the pain in her expression, I dropped the subject. She had been a victim of it, somehow.

A few minutes later, we arrived. "Welcome to Darrow Town, Arc," Brielle said with a smile. The town looked like it was pulled straight from an RPG. The sky was darkening, and all the buildings, made of wood and stone, were lit by lanterns and candlelight. I was taken aback by the sight of people with pointed ears and others with horns on their heads. I even saw what looked like a bipedal lizard-man and a girl with serpentine hair. Brielle grinned at my obvious surprise.

Heads turned as we entered the main street. My digital camouflage must have looked like I’d lost a fight with a paintbrush. "Hey Brielle, are those people Elves and Ogres?" I asked, gesturing to a group sitting outside an inn.

"Yes, they are," she confirmed. "Why? Are there no Elves and Ogres where you're from?"

"No. In my world, they only exist in fairy tales." I took out my camera and started taking pictures, Brielle watching me with amused curiosity.

We soon arrived at our destination, a cozy-looking inn. Two knights in gleaming plate armor stood guard outside, the light blue cross of her order emblazoned on their chests. Brielle dismounted, and after she instructed the knights to take the carriage back to the capital, they bowed. They shot me a suspicious look before they left, clearly concerned for their captain's safety.

The moment we stepped inside the inn, every eye was on me. I returned their curious stares with a cold look of my own, and they quickly looked away.

Brielle led me to a room on the second floor. "I've rented this room for two nights," she said. "It was the only one left. All rooms have two beds." Wait. What did that mean?

"Brielle, are you saying I'm sleeping in the same room as you?" I asked, my tone flat. My mind didn't go there—I’m a professional. Still.

"Of course. You don't have the coin for a room, do you?" She had a point. My OSA dollars and Yamato yen were worthless here. But was she really comfortable sharing a room with a man she'd just met?

I pushed the thought aside and began shucking my gear, removing my combat boots and armor. I laid everything out neatly beside my bed until I was down to my trousers and undershirt. When I glanced over, her pink hair was down, and she had already changed into a simple white nightgown.

"Get some sleep, Arc. You need to recover your strength," she said, pulling the blanket up. "Good night." Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

I lay in my own bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I felt a familiar prickle of anticipation. It was a sixth sense for impending danger, a common trait among snipers. You didn't last long without it.

Just before I drifted off, my radio chirped. I slowly fitted the earpiece into my ear. "This is G.A.I.A. 2, come in, over."

"G.A.I.A. 2, this is G.A.I.A. 1." It was Cutter. "Give me a SITREP, over."

"I'm in a local settlement. It's populated by humans and other humanoid species. They appear non-hostile."

"Clarify 'humanoid species,' G.A.I.A. 2."

I murmured, "The humanoids are Elves, Ogres, Beastmen… creatures right out of fairy tales." He was probably having a hard time believing it.

"Copy that, G.A.I.A. 2," he replied, his voice surprisingly level. Cutter must have seen some strange things out in the woods himself. "Anything else, LT?"

"Made contact with a local." I glanced at Brielle, who was mumbling something in her sleep. "In fact, she owes me her life." I had to admit, she was kind of cute.

I heard Cutter chuckle on the other end. "Managed to charm a local on your first day, Arc? You Yamato boys have all the luck."

A smile touched my lips. "Fuck you, sir."

He laughed. "Alright, knock it off. I need you at the town square, 0800 tomorrow. Out." The line went dead. Clipping the headset back onto my CRAS vest, I finally allowed myself to sleep.