The Stratospheric Guard HQ was on full alert. Kevlar-clad soldiers in the UN’s blue stood shoulder-to-shoulder with US Army sentries at the gate, as ultras filtered in. Glances were thrown my way as I walked through. The main heroes were there already - Lady Lumina, Viking, Soundwave. The Flying Storm hovered above us all. His cape billowed in the wind as he floated down in front of me. “Belessar.” I acknowledged the hero with a nod of the head. “Flying Storm.” “This is your first alien defense?” “Yes.” “We’re not sure what your capabilities are, but I suggest you stay out of the line of fire - unless you think you can handle it, in which case any action at the front is welcome. Also, be aware that feuds and disputes are to be left outside the Stratospheric Guard compound. Any enmity you have with the gangs has to be buried for the duration of the conflict. Understood?” I nodded. “Just don’t put me next to the Grunters.” “We don’t intend to. New York is Dr. Magnetic’s city, and he’s planning the defense personally. Once you get there, you’ll be assigned a group - I suggest you stick to them and avoid teaming up with anyone you don’t already know. Of course, since it’s a battle things could go haywire any second.” “I understand. Are we ready to go?” “We’re waiting on some more participants.” What participants? I wondered. The answer became clear as three well-recognized ultrahumans stepped through the gate. The first was a hulking, massive creature that looked like a miniature version of King Kong. Standing eleven feet tall, Ultragorilla towered over the heroes. Behind him came a man with the head of a cobra, covered in green scales. Except that no cobra should have a jaw that large, or filled with so many venomous fangs. Serpentor’s fangs weren’t the only dangerous part of him, though. As he raised his hands, I could see glistening beads running down his claws. Poison. The last to step through was the most dangerous of the three. Tigerstrike looked a little comical, a man wearing a black bodysuit topped by a tiger mask. However, the leader of the Blackhats was anything but funny. I’d seen a few videos of him fight. His razor-sharp claws could extend to a length of almost a foot, and had eviscerated many an unwary victim. This was a very dangerous man. And he probably knew about my attempt at the Damini to deflect blame on him. Crap. I consoled myself with the fact that alien attacks were times of truce - he wouldn’t attack me while we were facing the aliens. Afterwards might be a different matter. “Good morning, Tigerstrike,” said the Flying Storm. “We’re just taking a minute to go over the basics before the Travelers arrive.” Tigerstrike yawned audibly. “No need.” “A few first-timers here.” “Ah. By all means, please entertain them.” The Flying Storm turned back to me. “You’ll have a camera drone assigned to you at all times. No attacking any other human combatants during - or after - the battle. You focus on attacking the aliens only. Any attempt to settle scores will be frowned upon, and the Stratospheric Guard takes a dim view of those who use alien attacks as an opportunity for profit. No looting, and you will be paid based on the camera drone footage and the Stratospheric Guard’s assessment of time spent in various roles.” I nodded. “Where’s the army boys?” asked Tigerstrike suddenly. The Flying Storm looked annoyed. “They’re not coming.” Puzzled, I pointed out, “Surely the local troops will meet us in New York.” Serpentor snorted. The heroes gave me annoyed looks. Ultragorilla growled in confusion. I could sympathize. Tigerstrike cocked his head and looked at me. “Cute, aren’t you? I meant the army of big, beefy men in big, beefy suits with their big, beefy lasers.” Oh. “Grumman has been in contact,” replied Lady Lumina. “He has cited an inability to deploy enough combat power to make a substantial difference.” “I think he gave a reason, too?” drawled Tigerstrike. “What was it? Ah, yes, ‘unwarranted interference with his engineering operations.’” The supervillain turned to me. “So, the number nine ultrahuman in the world is sitting this battle out, and we have you instead. I wonder, are you worth the difference?” “Maybe you should ask his victims that,” I snapped back. “Enough,” rumbled The Flying Storm. “Save it for the aliens. The Traveler’s here.” The Traveler was a short, round man wearing a white-and-grey costume. “I am known as Driver Seventeen,” he explained, “and I will be generating a portal with a capacity of eighty tons. Please assemble in the circle indicated.” He pointed to a large red circle marked on the concrete floor. : what’s with the name - driver seventeen? : most travelers work for the guard - they get issued numbers, not names As we walked into the circle, a Stratospheric Guard soldier cried out “Four tons!” The Traveler hesitated. “There was more last time I was here.” “Fewer ultrahumans have reported for this battle, Driver Seventeen,” replied The Flying Storm. “We are good to go.” The Traveler nodded, taking position in the centre of the circle. “Activating now.” A tear opened in space above us. Purplish black light glowed eerily, covering us like a cloud. The portal expanded, covering the entirety of the circle, and then falling downwards to encapsulate us. One moment, we were in Tanisport, and the next we were somewhere else. “Out of the circle, please!” yelled the Traveler. “Stay clear of the edges!” I rapidly walked out of the circle, trying to get my bearings. : Belessar! The nanobots aren’t working! : what happened? : i don’t know - they were working fine till you went through the portal and then they stopped : maybe the portal disrupted the communications you have with them : oh : now you need to be really careful - i can’t see around corners for you : don’t worry - i’ll be fine : stay safe and come home So, I wouldn’t have Nanocloud’s all-pervasive awareness of the battlefield this time. No matter. I could manage. U.S. Army soldiers approached us, camera drones floating in their wake. One came up to me. “Mr. Belessar?” “... yes?” “Specialist Nash. I have your camera drone, sir. Can you look at it directly please?” The drone floated up to me. It seemed to have some sort of hover technology - not bad. “Drone is calibrated, sir. We can now take you to the support team’s tent.” “No… I’m a fighter, Specialist. I would prefer an opportunity to close with the enemy.” “You can do that, sir, once you’ve reported in at the support tent. They’ll place you in a group of frontliners.” The support tent was more of a complex. It swarmed with dozens of ultrahumans, soldiers, medics and technicians, all moving around with frantic energy. The soldier led me to a U.S. Army officer who was barking orders on a radio. “Sir? This ultra requests a frontline assignment.” The officer turned to me. “Name?” “Belessar.” “Mr. Belessar, what are your powers?” “... I have combat armor and a laser rifle.” “Would you be willing to work with Army fireteams in pinpointing and destroying enemy positions?” “Gladly.” The officer frowned. “You’ll follow the orders of the officer in the field? I can’t have you going off in a different direction mid-battle.” “Of course. This is my first battle - I’d prefer to work with someone who knows what they’re doing.” The officer showed the hint of a smile. “An attitude I wish more ultras had. You can go with First Platoon, Beta Company. Specialist, take this man to Lieutenant Doyle.” The soldier saluted, then rapidly marched away with me following. Lieutenant Doyle turned out to be a tall African-American soldier who beckoned me to the side. “Any military background, Mr. Belessar?” I shook my head. “Fought the aliens before?” “I fought a Sarnak once.” “What’s a Sarnak?” “.... I’ll point one out to you if I see it.” The lieutenant nodded. “For now, I request you stick with the platoon. I’m assigning Private Tucker to guide you. What can you do?” I produced my Battlehammer. The lieutenant stepped back, startled. “That’s a big hammer.” “I use it to bash things. It should be good for killing a few aliens.” “If you say so. Stick with Tucker, he’s an old hand. We may ask your help to take out specific enemy positions.” “Right.” The lieutenant turned back to checking on his men. Another soldier approached me. “Private Tucker,” he introduced himself. “You’re Belessar?” “Yes.” “Stick with me and please follow the L-T’s orders.” “Naturally,” I agreed. “What’s the situation with the aliens?” “They hit the city half an hour ago. Heavy fighting around the entire stretch from Fort George to Times Square. We’re at Fort Lee now, and we’re going to cross the New Jersey turnpike and march in force down Washington Heights.” In truth, I had no idea where those locations were, so sticking with the troops made sense. “We’re just marching down the street?” “Tanks will be leading the way. Our job is to go building by building, evacuate civilians, seek out the aliens and repulse them. Tanks can’t get into buildings.” In minutes, the platoon was marching out. Private Tucker turned out to be correct - the soldiers crossing the bridge were, indeed, preceded by tanks. Three heavily armored vehicles rumbled across the bridge, and we marched after them. Well, the troops marched. What I did was really more of a brisk walk. I turned to Tucker. “Can you stash something for me if I need?” He gave me a suspicious look. “What?” “I have a backup set of armor. It’s a bit heavy to carry, though. If I need to ask you to hold on to it….” “We carry our own gear,” replied Tucker stiffly. Ah well. I’d better hope for the best. Worst case scenario, I’d simply stash the extra set of combat armor in a phone booth or something, and fall back to retrieve it. We were past the bridge and marching into Washington Heights when the road exploded. Green fire blasted the lead tank apart. The troops reacted swiftly, taking cover behind the nearest walls. Another blast hit the next tank, blasting it to bits. Where was the fire coming from? Tucker was yelling something at me. It took a second to penetrate. “.... take cover, you idiot!” Logical choice - but cover wouldn’t help. I darted forward. Another blast. All of our tanks were burning, and now the infantry was the target. From an enemy we couldn’t see yet. There was only one thing I could do. I smashed the compartment of the tank open with the Battlehammer. The soldier I pulled out was screaming in pain. Burns covered his body. SPECIALIST HORTON FACTION: U.S. ARMY CLASS: TANK DRIVER HP 9/120 I hit him with Heal. Once. Twice. Thrice. He stared at me. “How?” “Help me with your crewmates, fast.” The specialist pressed a button. The compartment swung open. The inside was an inferno. One man was dead, the other was screaming as he burned. I hit him with another Heal. SERGEANT BANNER FACTION: U.S. ARMY CLASS: TANK GUNNER HP: 36/130 CONDITION: BURNING, -20 HP/SEC First Aid cleared up the Burning condition, and two more Heals had him in almost intact condition. “Out!” I barked. The man complied, as I jumped out of the burning tank. My armor had taken about 20 points of damage from the tank fires. I crouched behind the burning tank body as the two soldiers sprinted for cover. The source of the fire was not letting up…. There. A lizardlike creature was crouching in a window. Almost four hundred yards away, and with a massive barrel-like gun which shot out green blasts of plasma from a distance. RAPTOR HEAVY SNIPER LEVEL 12 HP 300/300 WEAPON EQUIPPED: HEAVY PLASMA PROJECTOR RIFLE, +800 DAMAGE (NORMAL), +12,000 DAMAGE (ARMOR PIERCING MODE). Well. This was a new type of enemy, all right. I grabbed a Fullersteel Pilum and hurled. The Pilum soared through the air, went through the window, and smashed through the Raptor’s head. JAVELIN STRIKE! RAPTOR HEAVY SNIPER -320 HP! RAPTOR HEAVY SNIPER IS DEFEATED! + 500 XP. The blasts stopped. +2 ETHICS FOR SAVING THE LIVES OF 2 HUMAN SOLDIERS. RELATIONSHIP INCREASED: U.S. ARMY IS NOW SYMPATHETIC (+1). “Holy crap,” came Tucker’s voice behind me. I turned. Tucker was there. So was the Lieutenant. “You can heal?” asked Doyle. I nodded. “Only actual combat wounds though.” “And you can throw, too. What exactly are your powers, Mr. Belessar?” “Various things. I can throw spears with some significant force - the one I threw is a special design to maximize damage. I have laser rifles that I can use on specific targets - though they’re less effective than a hammer. And I carry bombs.” The Lieutenant nodded. “Generally healers don’t risk themselves in the field.” “I’d say that’s where they’d be needed most.” “Banner and Horton would agree with you, I think. Do you also see the enemy at a distance?” “Only as good as the next man.” “Mr. Belessar, most people would be hard-pressed to pick out an enemy at that range under fire, much less hit him accurately. We could see him through binoculars - unless you have vision enhancements built into that helmet?” “No.” It was a good idea, though - I filed it away for future use. “All right. We’ll keep moving forward - Tucker, give Mr. Belessar whatever support he needs, understood?” “Yes, sir.” “Belessar, can you take point?” “Take point?” “Lead from the front. It’s a highly dangerous role….” “I’m in.” “.... Tucker, you follow immediately after him and signal if he spots anything.”