Chapter One: Search and Rescue…With a Bunch of Guns and Bombs
0932 Hours, GMT Standard, Ft. Bragg, N. Carolina
Nobody in the central command bunker in Ft. Bragg for the Dimensional Rift Reconnaissance's First Battalion knew exactly how old their lieutenant colonel was. That particular piece of intel was beyond the highest level of classification, and even the President of the United States, head of the country in which the group was formed, didn't even know. And for the most part, nobody really cared. After all, it wasn't every day you got to see a lieutenant colonel boss around four stars.
Currently, an armored figure was standing behind a pair of technicians, watching a holographic display that to the average person, soldier, and occasional aberration from the Forbidden Realms, made absolutely no sense at all. What it displayed, for those in the know, (and there were only a handful across an entire multiverse that knew) was simply the multiverse, where, as the lieutenant colonel was fond of saying, "If it could happen, then it sure as hell happened."
"So," spoke the armored figure, the electronic voice carrying a slight ring of bass, "What happened? Because normally, I don't get calls at two in the morning saying that you guys are throwing a wild party in DRIFT CENTCOM."
The technician to the figure's left spoke. "Sir, we had a very brief universal connection with H117-D5 and DI055-A2. The event lasted for no more than one point zero zero zero six five two seconds at 0640 event local time."
The figure sighed. "So, what went through?" This time, the tech to the right spoke.
"After chronometric displacement was calculated, we think it was a human, nowhere close to any stray tachyons from a transferring Digimon found sir."
The figure nodded. "Extraction needed?"
Right nodded. "Our liaison at the UNSC has stated that a Spartan V went missing about thirty-six hours ago from their end. Subject is Spartan 707, was still technically a candidate, even after the augs." The two technicians could almost see their commander's eyes roll around in annoyance.
"Great, a property retrieval case, just what we need. I still have to calculate our budget and renew our contract with Driftech, not to mention brief the USCMC on why we cannot help them against their xenomorph problem," he said, gesturing to his office a floor above them.
Left snorted. "Sir, we figured that this would be an easy assignment. Hell, we took the liberty of putting you and a small squad on duty to retrieve the Spartan." If looks could kill, then Left would be a smoking hole in the ground by now.
"Delta, of course," said Right as he typed away at his keyboard, looking at a much smaller and closer holoscreen. "You will be leaving on TACRIFT Pad three at 1500 sir, and extraction will be by DSC-189 Halo gunship. UNSC NAVSPECWAR has not stated how Spartan 707 be retrieved, except that he be alive and fit for duty." Right turned to look at the figure. "Any questions sir?"
The figure nodded. "Just one. Why is it that you, a technician ranked at specialist, is ordering me, a lieutenant colonel, to go on a mission?"
Left shook her head. "Standard procedure sir. All able officers must take part in a field mission once every two months. You're four months overdue." The figure slumped in defeat. He hated it when the rules he wrote were brought out, and it sometimes just sucked to have to follow them. But, he was the first .R, so he may as well act the part.
Tactical Rift Pad Three, 1457
The Lt. Colonel, call sign "Coyote," was actually happy that he could work with Delta squad again. By far the best team in the battalion, if not the best anywhere.
Staff Sergeant Nathaniel Ronin: Sniper, loner, and bookworm. He was an anthromorphic Artic Fox with a heavily modified Walther 2000 sniper rifle. Currently checking his stealth detection pack. Call sign: Ronin, of course. Carried an S&W .700 revolver.
Corporal Melanie McShane: One of the only people Coyote knew who actually liked having a bomb blow up in her face. Currently hauling enough rockets, grenades, and explosive charges to sink every military maritime vessel on Earth several times over. Former marine. Call sign: Mother, and not due to any maternal traits. M79 Blooper, Javelin Missile launcher, and XM8G assault rifle.
Medical Specialist Varakäs'aüldan: A silver dragon who was currently in elven form. Most people just called him Varak. Very calm most of the time, except when innocent civilians were killed in cold blood. That and demons. Armed with a Desert Eagle and an MAT 19 SMG.
Gym: a Driftech X105 Autonomous Assault Bot, his strength came from understanding what it was people needed. Also a good hacker. The machine's plasma cannon, 5.56 mm Gatling, and sheer punching power would come in handy. Couldn't talk, but was definitely a heavy gesturer.
Then there was Kat. She was…well, one of the most unpredictable privates in existence, bar none. She was a lethal weapon with anything and everything she could get her hands on. Currently armed with a spork.
As for Coyote, he had an M7S SMG, Driftech Beam Cannon, MA37 with a by four scope and 45 round clip, an M6D .5 semiautomatic with extended clip, PCW-R SMG (it was a railgun), two frag grenades, two plasmas, and a pair of throwing knives. Looking at the clock inside his helmet, Coyote waved his team onto the pad to await being sent across who knew how many universes to their mission.
Thankfully they only had to wait ten seconds on the pad before being sucked into a flash of blinding blue light.
This is a collaboration between myself, Dr1ft3r0I or Mechnut721, and XxReaperxX707 regarding an AU of his original story, "Against All Odds." Now, I do edit his story, but that is his story, and he does what he wants with it. This though will be introducing both our RP characters and the chaos that will soon follow. So, to recap: this is not XxReaperxX707's actual continuation of his story, this is just an AU/RP of what would happen if our characters actually met besides the chatroom.
Coyote: Can I have a brownie?
Coyote: Please? *Begs with puppy dog eyes*
Dr1ft3r0I: That won't work if I can't see your face. Besides, you're just a figment of my imagination.
Coyote: True, but then again, if I were just a figment of your imagination, then why would I be telling you to start drawing those [Censored] comics that you said you were going to draw two years ago?
Coyote: My point exactly. Now faithful readers, enjoy the rest of this fic and read and review!
Tom and Rena: That's my line!*shouts at the same time*