Kyoto burned. The light of multiple fires reflected off of thick clouds of smoke made it seem like the very air itself was ablaze. Not that it was any worse, with the BETA slowly but surely rampaging through the city.
Within the city, two foreign tactical surface fighters soared dangerously close to the Kyoto skyline, forced to nearly scrape roofs due to the heavy presence of “Lux” BETA. The shattered and broken remnants of defeated Imperial Japanese forces littered the ground, the only reminder of the fallen.
One of the fighter’s pilots watched as he passed a mostly intact Shiranui TSF. Other than the completely blasted-out chest, the mech seemed to be resting against an abandoned hotel. “A lot of people are off dying in a losing war...”
His wingman replied, “That’s the nature of conflict. You should have realized this by now.”
“Were this a war between nations, I would understand. Against alien forces... such thinking is difficult to apply. There remains much meaningless loss...”
“I watched a whole squad of TSFs get completely bulldozed by Destroyers. Why not rush away, reposition, then re-engage? They just screamed to their deaths.”
“What waste...”
“Too right.”
Kyoto was a lost cause. The defensive lines, however stout, could not hold against the seemingly endless tide of BETA. Now the Japanese were scrambling to escape the horde. UN-hired private military company forces were deployed throughout the theatre, tasked with virtually every job possible, leaving actual military forces to deal with evacuation. A messy and noisy affair, but all that mattered was getting as many people as possible out alive. As much as the Imperial Japanese forces disliked their presence, the PMCs proved repeatedly to be highly useful.
As such, two men of PMC squadron “Stray Dogs” were scrambled to recover a lost member of the Imperial Royal Guard: a young woman named Takamura Yui, vassal of the Shogunate. She and her squad were merely cadets, only freshly blooded from the fighting in Kyoto, and lost somewhere in the city. With her last known position and a transponder signal, the two men had scoured the city for nearly an hour. After an indeterminate amount of time, something pinged on their sensors. Less than kilometers away, an automatic distress signal blipped on the scanners. It matched the one they were given.
“Positive on the signal,” the element lead announced. “We’re moving in.”
“At your five, Coach.”
Five kilometers was nothing for the F15s to cover. Barely a minute passed before they were right over the signal source. Despite the current area being clear, things could change for the worse in an instant.
“Takao Base, this is Stray Dog oh-one. Sitrep. Over.”
There was no reply.
“Takao? Stray Dog oh-one. Please respond. Over.”
Nothing.
“Really now. Bloody Japanese can’t hold a line for shit,” Coach muttered as he took position on a roof. So far, coast was mostly clear. Mostly. That could change at any time. “I’d rather not stick around too long. The damage on those buildings doesn’t look like it came from a Destroyer. At least no Lasers are around.”
His wingmate landed nearby. “It has been some time since the order was given. Our objective may have perished in the meantime.”
“We’d still need confirmation of her TSF to get paid. Bringing her back alive just nets us a bonus.”
“That is true.” If it could, the machine would shrug as its pilot did. Instead, it seemed to stare down at the building intently. “Thermal scans cannot penetrate the building effectively--no, wait. Significant number of Tank-type BETA detected, as well as a Zuikaku tactical surface fighter. There’s a human...”
===
Yui screamed. She screamed with all her soul as she squeezed her pistol’s trigger. Again. Again. Bullets pinged off armor plate or buried itself uselessly into dark red flesh, not even distracting the spider-like Tank-class BETA from tearing into her friend’s craft. She was still screaming even as the slide locked back and the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. Yamashiro gazed helplessly back her friend, her eyes dull and empty. So this is how she would die. Not in honorable battle or in a blaze of glory, but ripped apart and eaten by monsters...
Then the roof caved in.
More accurately, the glass roof shattered as a multi-ton machine smashed through, landing on top of a Tank and squashing it flat. Its arm snapped out, a knife glimmering for a moment before impaling the BETA closest to her friend. Stab. Stab. The blade sliced through the small horde with surprising grace, like a surgeon excising cancers around a precious organ.
Yui could only stare in shock and awe. A small part of her mind identified the machine as an F-15 model, but not any color she could remember; a gunmetal grey with a dark red streak on the right arm. Was it American...?
No. Not American. The shoulder lacked the star and stripes of the American military. Rather, it had the insignia of a collarless dog.
A second TSF broke through another section of the roof, landing just behind the Eagle. A second Eagle, bearing a familiar melee halberd in one hand and assault cannon in the other. Its blade flashed, cutting down swaths of reddish Tank BETA while its gun chattered away.
The first F-15 slew the final beast surrounding the fallen Zuikaku, resheathing the knife before retrieving an assault cannon of its own and adding its fire to the battle.
“Cadet Takamura! Wake up and get to your squadmate!” A distinctly male voice speaking accented Japanese snapped Yui back to reality, her attention focusing on the foreign craft towering over her. “We are here to get you out. Inspect your squadmate for injuries then prepare for evac. Go!”
Yui broke into a sprint at that last word, scrambling up her friend’s TSF. Hovering nervously over the bloodied body of Yamashiro, she could only vaguely remember the steps she was supposed to take.
“Are... are you okay?” she gingerly touched her friend’s shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. “Kazusa? I’m right here.”
Yamashiro seemed outright catatonic, her empty gaze slowly sliding over to face Yui. Her suit was slick with her blood still leaking from her head.
“Can she be moved?” the man asked, still calm in spite of the battle.
“I don’t know! There’s just so much blood...!” Yui shouted back, terror threatening to completely crush her.
“Cadet,” the stranger’s chillingly calm voice was like ice water down her spine. “I need you to calm down and assess her injuries, but also do it quickly. Talk to her, ask her questions. We can hold, but not for long.”
An empty magazine clattered noisily as a fresh one replaced it, as if punctuating the man’s previous words. Fear gripped Yui’s heart and crushed her lungs, but she forced the air out.
“Kazusa! Are you hurt at all? Can you get out?”
“Yui?” Yamashiro murmured weakly, her voice nearly drowned out in gunfire. “I’m not dead...?”
Yui smiled, relief washing away the worry. Her friend seemed so frail now, a far cry from the proud and noble girl she had trained with. “I’m right here. You won’t be hurt anymore by those BETA, you hear me? We just need to get you out of here.”
“O-okay... Everything’s so blurry...”
“Can you move?”
“I... I think I can--Ahh!” she tried to move an arm and gasped in pain. “My arms... my leg! Oooh, everything hurts so much!”
“Please hurry. My ammunition will not last too long,” a new voice, young yet eerily calm, came from the other TSF. The first Eagle broke off from shooting to face the girls.
“Status?” he asked.
“I think she has a concussion and possible fractures. Maybe other problems too. I don’t think she can be moved easily!”
“Tsk. No choice then,” the voice growled, dropping the machine into a crouch and bringing a hand up as a bridge. The cockpit slid open with a messy hiss, a glop of BETA falling off the armor plate. Yui watched as a man in an unusual pilot suit climb out and jump over. It was a dark blue suit, like the UN forces’ colors, but that was where the similarities ended. It was closer to a suit of armor than the typical reinforced suit that pilots wore. Armor plates covered the chest, shoulders, arms, and legs, while a web-like harness of pouches was strapped around his waist and thighs. Even stranger was the presence of a full helmet, looking much like a futuristic knight’s helm with parallel horizontal optics that had a reddish glow to them. To her amazement, the helmet deconstructed itself in segmented pieces as it retracted to reveal his face: an older, stern-looking man with slate-blue eyes.
A foreigner?
“Help me patch her up,” he said without preamble, cracking open a medical kit. “I’ve no room in the cockpit for both of you. You will have to ride in my hands, at least until we get out of this danger zone.”
As many questions as she had, Yui pushed herself to reply, “I understand. Will she be okay?”
He spared the injured girl a glance, but he shook his head, “I don't know; I’m no medic. But, if we get her out of here and to real medical attention, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Where’s the rest of your squad?”
Yui froze, nearly dropping a package of bandages. She couldn’t say.
“I see. Let’s make sure you don’t end up the same.”
Emergency splints and bandages were hurriedly applied, Yamashiro crying out as a syrette of morphine pierced her thigh. By the time Yui finished fastening a neck brace, the man was already moving to pick Yamashiro up. He gently lifted her. “Hold her head steady.”
Yui quickly complied, brushing errant strands of hair out of her friend’s face as she followed them back to the F-15.
“Yui? What’s going on? What’s happening?!” the other girl moaned, thrashing weakly about in the man’s arms.
Yui placed a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder, moving to stay in her field of vision. “Kazusa, it’s okay! They’re here to rescue us! I’ll be right here with you!”
The F-15’s hand was surprisingly small, with just enough room for the two girls. Yui would hold onto her friend, braced against her body as they would rush back to base. Once the pilot had the two girls situated, he rushed back to the cockpit. The machine came alive again as it turned its head to face its newest passengers.
“Keep your friend still. I’ll try to keep this ride as smooth as possible.”
She nodded, ducking as the fingers slowly closed in around her. The other hand cupped over her, giving her a secure, if somewhat cramped space. There were likely other, safer options than this, but time was something they severely lacked. Suddenly, the whole thing lurched, and she felt her entire body pressed into the steel palm as air suddenly whipped all around her. Yui shivered in the chilly night air.
===
No sooner did the F-15 clear the building, the second TSF followed, leaving behind a still-growing horde of Tank-types. The interlude took only a few minutes, far shorter than how it felt like. The mercenaries could breath no sigh of relief, however, as moments after they left did a great beast come crashing through the building they just were in.
Over sixty meters tall, an ugly off-white and purple color with ten spear-like legs stomped through the former civic center like it was fragile sand castle. It was as grotesque as its brethren, it appeared like some tortured man impaled on something nasty and his body bent into unnatural positions. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like it wanted them. Yet.
“What the hell, a Fort-type is still here?!” Coach hissed, moving his fighter into a wide arc to avoid the beast. Higher speeds were forbidden, considering his cargo. “Pinocchio! We’re bugging out!”
“Acknowledged.”
Some part of him hoped that the creature would turn away and make a ruckus in another part of the city. To his luck, however, Coach juked to the side to avoid the monster’s stinger. Grimly, he noted just how easily it crushed reinforced concrete and steel.
“It is following.”
“You don’t say,” Coach growled, setting his mount pylons to aim his guns back. Twin 120mm cannons belched, each bullet capable of splattering the typical BETA. The Fort-type, however, was the largest known strain and not so easily put down.
“The girls can’t handle fancy maneuvers or too much speed. Take this thing down!”
“Acknowledged. Targeting limbs with one-twenty millimeter munitions.”
Pinocchio’s assault cannon barked thrice, ripping ugly and messy holes in the giant monster’s joints. The beast shuddered and stumbled, but it did not fall. Instead, it aimed its stinger-like weapon forward. A stinger stronger than diamond shot towards the fleeing machine like some grotesque harpoon.
“Coach, incoming!”
Coach dropped his TSF to street level, feet scraping the asphalt as the stinger tore through his machine’s shoulder. “Damn!”
“Are you harmed?”
He could feel the F-15 shudder from the damage, but he did not seem too badly affected. “I’m fine. Minor damage to shoulder, and acid’s gonna eat my missile rack.” With a click, he switched frequencies to his passengers. “You two alright in there?”
“We’re fine, but are you okay?”
“Just fine. We’ll be out of danger shortly.”
“Please be careful!”
Easier said than done, he wanted to growl. The Fort was still behind him, too.
“Why is that not dead yet?!”
“It is proving to be a hardy one. I am reloading.”
“Nevermind. I’m hitting it with Sidewinders,” Coach growled, toggling the frequency switch again. “Heads up. Missiles active.”
Yui’s reply brought a smirk to his face. “S-show it hell!”
“Brace yourselves.”
Without slowing its vector, the F-15 spun around and faced its monstrous pursuer. Coach grinned viciously as his HUD beeped with lock-ons.
“Cheerio, bitch.”
A salvo of missiles tore from their cradle, screaming through the air and slamming into the large creature in a bloom of fire, shrapnel, and gore. Just the same, Pinocchio added his share with barrage of his assault cannon. The Fort-type was nearly consumed entirely in the inferno, groaning as its flesh finally collapsed in on itself. Its death throes crushed another building as it fell, but it made no further movements. For a moment, Pinocchio’s TSF hovered over it.
“It is dead,” he announced before rejoining his wingmate.
“That was far more trouble than its worth. Let’s get out of here.”
---
Asuka Base, like Takao Base before it, was one of several temporary bases established to facilitate Imperial and allied forces in the defense of Japan. Located near the evacuation lines, it had a field hospital for both civilian and military medevacs, making it a prime location for evacuees. It was a glimmer of hope for those escaping, and only a brief respite for those still fighting.
With its precious cargo still cupped in its hands, a certain F-15 and wingman approached the base.
“Asuka Base Tower, this is Stray Dog oh-one. Requesting clearance to land. Mission-critical objectives in hand. Over.”
“T-Tower. Err--Roger, Stray Dog one. Oh-seventeen being cleared for you. Over.”
“Be advised: I have injured personnel in need of medical attention. Multiple fractures. Concussion. Possible spinal damage. Over”
“Roger. Medics have been alerted, Stray Dog one. Over.”
“Thank you. Coming in now. Out.”
By the landing strip, he could see the lights of medical vehicles waiting. Nice and easy then, low and slow. Coach brought the F-15 in gently, coming to a stop near the gathered vehicles. With a gentleness not normally observed in tactical surface fighters, he opened his hands to reveal two girls, both appearing thoroughly exhausted, but none for the worse. Just as the medics secured the girls and gave him the clear signal, his communicator squawked.
A tiny part of him hoped it would be something nice for once, rather than more work.
“Stray Dog one, Asuka Tower. New orders. Over.”
God dammit. “Stray Dog oh-one. Send. Over.”
“Refuel and rearm, then deploy to grid sierra-three-alpha-four. Assist friendlies in evac. Over.”
No rest for the bloody wicked. “Stray Dog oh-one, confirm: deploy to grid sierra-three-alpha-four and assist friendlies. Over.”
“Affirmative. Sixth S-A-D personnel in hanger four. They are ready to receive you. Over”
“Stray Dog oh-one, roger, wilco. Out.”
---
Extra Info
6th Special Activities Division
Established primarily as an UN division for mercenaries and freelance pilots in the East Asian theatre, it is a pocket of a secret shame and grudging respect for the Imperial Japanese military, as they (the Japanese) must call upon not only the UN, but foreign ronin to protect Japan. Members from the 6th SAD come from all over the world, responding to the cry for help---or perhaps, the promise of good pay---and take part in dangerous missions that the Japanese military cannot take part in. The Division consists of active pilots, their support teams, transports, and logistics.
16th Special Operations Group - “Stray Dogs” Squadron
A loosely knit group of mercenaries in it for the money and the girls. At least, that’s what most of them say. Enough money will have them do anything, from patrols to direct action against the BETA, or even human targets. They are derogatorily called the “Sad Soggies.”
The 16th SOG, or Stray Dogs, are an unusual bunch. They have operated in Europe, the Middle East, China, Russia, and now Japan. Curious is their use of American-made TSFs, despite having operated in European, African, and Asian theatres exclusively.