What even was this horse shit. The boat rolled and flopped through the choppy waves, sea-salt flooding my nose worse than a stoner's failed science experiment. I lost my lunch all over the floor of this big metal sardine can. Ugh. "Are you fucking serious right now?" Oh, right. My eyes rolled over to the Pterodactyl standing opposite me. She(-they-whatever-who cares) grimaced, cradling some old ass machine gun or something that looked like it was stolen straight out of an old Mafia or Al Cubone flick. I stared blankly back at her. "Oh Raptor Jesus you're retarded, aren't you?" "Hey, fuck you too." I replied, wiping the sick-up off my mouth. Gross... It was about this point I noted that we were both wearing basically the same set of clothes - and definitely not what I'd finished the school day in. Dull olive gray. Similarly puke olive pants. Heavy-ass ruck bag. Boots. A metal helmet. A gun. Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore. "Oh good, the caveman, he speaks." She bitched again, looking green around the snout herself. "Suck a cock." I retorted, cleverly, bringing a toothy scowl to her face. "Uh, Sergeants, no offense but don't we have other-" "Oh, fuck off!" The angry Pterosaur shot, glaring that carnivore's stare at the...private?... nearby, who just immediately piped down. Sweet Raptor Jesus this was already stupid as shit. The sardine can lurched and groaned to a halt, and about a second or so later a ramp at the front - Oh look, right next to myself and the meteor dodger, slammed down into the sandbar to our front. "Nice going beaky, way to piss and shit yourself in front of the masses." "Oh go chuck spears baldy, you sack of-" A sound like rippling paper interrupted our "discussion" and everything just... went white for a minute. What the fuck. === I sicked up on her boots again. This was to be a running theme, I see. "Fucking really ?!" "Look, fuck you, I don't have control of the literal ocean ." "That's disgusting too but no, you fuckin' moron. We're in the boat." "No shit, feathers." "No, Ugga-Bugga," she began, exasperatedly, "We. Are. In. The. Boat." Oh. Oh. "What the fuck." "No shit, Sherlock." "One, fuck you." I retorted, jabbing a finger in her general direction and ignoring the myriad of ofter olive-drab hucksters crammed into the sardine can. "Two, how the fuck?" "Three," She added, "where the fuck?" "No, dumb of ass," I snorted, derisively as the metor bait deserved. "That much is pretty easy." "Oh really, ice age?" "Hey uh, Sergeants, are you two okay?" Private what's-his-nuts inquired again. We ignored him. "Olive drab. Pot helmet. Gangster gat. Welcome to World War Two." I stopped, looking around consideringly. "At least, I think so. Lot less dinosaurs, aside from you." "Sarge, what the fuck?" I just gestured to the pterodactyl girl across from me and gave the private a look like he was a fucking moron. Private what's his nuts just looked even more lost. Fucking whatever. I should say fucking less, what is this, a crappy war flick with Tom Hanks? Cringe. "Oh-kay." The Ptero girl finally says, squinting. "But like... why?" "You're asking me?!" I replied incredulously, throwing my hands wide and accidentally backhanding what's-his-nuts the private of privates across his dumb face. Whoops. "No, I'm asking the other fucktard caveman." "Oh good, I'll just ignore you then and let you speak to Michael McDoesn't exist." "Eat shit." “I’m good, thanks .” The ship lurched again. The ramp fell, again. “You suck at the whole ignoring me thing.” “And you suck at not having the last word.” I retorted, deliberately working to get under the pompous meteor bait’s scales at this point. “Oh go off and blow m-” Oh look, there's that ripping paper noise again. I'm pretty sure that's some sort of big and scary machine gun. Uh. Oops? We… probably should have paid closer attention to the whole rippling paper shooty gun things up on top of the beach. Balls. === Another white flash, another up-chucking onto pterodactyl combat boots. Eugh. “Disgusting.” “Yeah, no shit.” I grunted, rolling my eyes. “Let’s get off this fuckin’ boat.” “First intelligent thing you’ve said all morning.” She snarked, as I flipped her the bird in response. “Kiss my ass.” I replied, as the ramp fell a third time. We both jumped into action, rather than continuing to waste our time autistically screeching at each other like a pair of banshees again. We slid into cover behind a big, metal hedgehog - at least, I think they’re called hedgehogs - as machine gun fire rattled like pissed-off hornets all around the two of us. “Holy shit.” the pterodactyl girl breathed out, grip tightening on her gangster gat - a…Thompson, I think the name was? Something to that effect. Whatever. It goes bang, and bullets come out. “Yeah. A bit crazy.” I shrugged idly. I was also kind of pissing my own pants in terror at the present time, so the shrug came out more jittery and obnoxious than cool or collected. Understandably so, honestly. “That’s the understatement of the year.” She shook her head, still steel-gripping her Thompson. “So, uh, you… seem to know what’s going on?” She followed up, eyes flicking back and forth in what I assume was - and sympathized with - abject terror. “Nah. I’ve uh, honestly got no clue.” I admitted. “Like, I’m not really much of a history dude. Science and stuff was more my competency since that’s all just following instructions and I’m pretty okay at that. Best that I can guess is that we’re in the middle of the Second World War, though I can’t confirm that until we get a good look at who’s shooting back at us.” I paused, scratching my chin with a hand. “Also that like, we’ve died twice already? Because we’re idiots?” Yeah I noticed that.” She grouched. “Kinda blows.” “Pretty much, I-” We both stopped, as a shrill, high-pitched noise followed by a metal object slammed into the sand between the two of us. “Oh, that’s a bom-” It was, in fact, a bomb. Of the mortar variety, I think? Ow. === Boat. Barf. Ramp. Beach Obstacle. “Okay. New Plan. Let’s not just sit here all day?” “Yeah sure, sounds good.” Ptero lady nodded, frowning deeply. “Which means dodging machine guns.” “Psht, we’ll be fine.” I prepared myself, stood up and - === Boat. Barf. Ramp. Obstacle. “Well. That sucked.” “Smooth moves, Caveman.” “Oh sure, you go ahead and try it then.” I gestured out at the beach, then yanked my hand back to avoid it getting blown off by rapid machine gun fire. “Fine then, watch me.” I did. To her credit, she made it exactly one beach obstacle further than I did. === We sat at the beach obstacle again, pondering our lives. “Dude this is so fucking stupid.” “Yeah.” I agreed readily, tapping my fingers across my own rifle - a grand? Garand? Something like that; a full size rifle and not like the dinosaur chick’s tommy gun. “Okay, so, there might be some sort of pattern, if I’m watching this right. They sweep from right to left, then back left to right in.. four or uh, five? Yeah let’s say five seconds.” I decided, decisively. “A whole second is a lot of wiggle room for a machine gun.” “Just don’t run further than four seconds at a time then, duh.” I sighed. “Easy as cake.” “Yeah, sure.” She drawled, with a grunt. “You first then, mister 'easy as cake'.” “Uggh.” I groaned, listening and watching intently for the machine gun’s sweep across - there! I stood and pumped my legs until I felt like my lungs were on fire, sliding into cover a few yards up the beach from where I’d started. Only a few dozen more yards to get to something vaguely resembling safety. I turned back to wave the ptero girl over… …only to watch what appeared to be that fucking mortar shell again completely evaporate her position. Shit. === She finally slid into position next to me at the second beach obstacle, a few white flash wipes later. Raptor Jesus I was getting sick of this beach. “Smooth moves.” I snarked, as she gave me the stink eye and picked herself up off the sandy ground. “Eat a bundle of dicks.” She spat, both of us flinching as the machine gun tore past our crappy beach obstacle protection. “Yeah sure, I’ll get right on that just as soon as you finish pulling the stick out of your ass. Go.” I cut off her reply, as we both leapt up and booked it to the next set of obstacles. Then the next, and so on, until we reached the relative safety of the small berm covered in barbed wire. The two of us dived into said berm as other soldiers in similar uniforms lurched in next to us from across the beach, including a ranking officer - a Captain by the looks of things. “Captain Mckay,” one of the other troopers - a radioman apparently, judging by the big metal radio set slung across his back, “The engineers are ready with the bangalores over on Dog Red!” I had no idea what any of that meant, but apparently Captain Mckay did, since he just nodded and began handing out orders. “Alright, good!” He began, speaking about as loudly as Principal Spears could regularly manage - probably because those machine guns were pretty loud. “Sergeant Mous, Sergeant Aaron, get some rifle squads shifted off right to Dog Red! Corporal Rhodes, radio back, engineers are clear to blow the wire!” By the way the pterosaur and I looked at each other, we pretty quickly figured out that the Captain meant us when he was calling for his two sergeants. Okay. So her last name is Aaron then. Neat. “Alright, you-uh- heard the Captain, let’s get moving to the right!” She barked - a bit awkwardly but ultimately decisively. It’s not like I did any better to be honest, as I did the same and we began pushing off to the right, crawling along the berm for cover from angry hornet machine guns. A jarring explosion along the berm momentarily brought us to a halt, though the infantry behind us did get us moving again pretty quickly. We found the blown section of the berm a few more yards down the line, and hit the dirt again as we came under immediate machine gun fire from… yep, those were, in fact, Nazis. Definitely World War Two. Great. Ptero-girl slung her tommy gun out as the German machine gun stopped to change their belt, and sprayed with some visible panic on her face into the sandbags that were protecting the gun crew whilst our fellow infantry returned fire themselves upon the other German infantry accompanying the machine gun. The concrete bunker shooting down at the beach we couldn’t do much about - yet - though as we slowly cleared up the Dog Right Draw, we eventually worked our way uphill to the heights overlooking the beach. Myself and the pterosaur stood on either side of the offending beach bunker, checking ourselves and our magazines as Captain Mckay and a couple other privates not currently fighting Germans stacked up alongside us. “Anon. Fang.” Mckay greeted with a curt nod, hefting his own Thompson, ignoring the less than usual names we'd been saddled with by obviously adoring and caring parents. “Uh. Sir.” I greeted. Fang Aaron. Okay, then. “Yo.” She greeted, no less awkwardly. Mckay just shook his head, as I resisted the urge to cringe in my boots. “Breach and clear.” He ordered. So, we did. My garand echoed out as Fang’s Thompson shredded the room, until dead silence filled the bunker. The two of us exited it, saying nothing to each other as we re-entered the overcast morning outside. Mckay, meanwhile, had his binoculars out and was observing what looked like big flak guns, further up the beach. He lowered his binoculars. “Okay, two tasks still to do.” He started, gesturing around with the binoculars in his hands. “One, we need to finish clearing the draw so that we can get off this damned beach. That means clearing left draw, Dog White. Second, those flak guns are doing a number on any aircraft, and they’ll go straight through a Sherman like shit through a goose, so they have to go before we can bring the armor ashore.” “Psh. I’ll take the guns. Caveman here can go get the stragglers.” Fang began, pretty cocksure of herself, which suited me just fine. The less time I had to spend next to the overgrown drama queen, the better. Mckay’s flat glare, however, stopped her in her tracks. “You’ll both clear the draw first, then work back up to the guns. Work together; we are Able Company in this fine First Infantry Division, not some shitty yee-haw Texas cowboys.” Yeah, right. Mckay gave me the death glare(™) next, and so after a tense moment, I gave him a curt nod in return. Ugh. Guess I was stuck with beaky for a while. “Good.” He frowned again, looking at the both of us. “Take whatever you can scrounge up from the first platoon, and get it done.” And so off we went, waving down nine other members of the olive drab legion. Crossing by the other heights bunkers on our section of beach, we cleared them out in a manner similar to the first. Then, it was pushing across the top of the rocky draw and cleaning up the other German troops and machine guns, to finish opening the draw for reinforcements. And so we did - thankfully, with no more whiteouts. “Alright, that’s the draw open. Cool. Great. Let’s go take care of those stupid cannons and get the hell out of here.” “Sounds like a plan. The sooner we can get out of this mutual fever dream, the better.” “Mutual what, Sarge?” “No one fuckin’ asked you.” Fang snapped at the somehow still alive Private what’s-his-nuts, which involuntarily drew a snicker from my mouth. “Canons. Boom. Let’s make it happen.” === The fight towards the big guns was about as difficult as the fight we’d undergone getting up the draw, and about as slow and methodical. We’d shift up and clear one trench, going great lengths to dig out any Germans within, only for new machine guns from the next trench over to start opening up on us. It was a pain in the ass. Watching the engineers blow up the stupid flak guns as we sat around the cleared beach cheering, though? Perfection. Fang flopped down beside me as we sat on the edge of one of the trenches, drawing a side eye from myself. She didn’t say anything, though, and so we both just… sort of sat for a moment. Processing. Mckay was off handing out orders to other platoons within the company, so for now, all we were to do was just sit with the guns, and cool off for a few minutes. Neither myself nor Fang had expected any of this. I’d studied my ass off at Volcano High and ignored literally everything and everyone else to avoid this exact situation, after all. ‘After this year, it’s college or the Service, Anon. I don’t care which one.’ And now here I am. Straight in the middle of the damned Second World War. Hell. “Yo, Caveman, you okay?” “Fuck no.” I snapped, then stopped myself as I watched Fang flinch. That was probably uncalled for, and I shook my head as a sort of apology. “Nowhere near okay. Sorry.” “Yeah.” She began, then let herself trail off. “Why the shit are we even here anyways?” “ Because,” A new voice began, startling the both of us onto our feet. “ I brought you - and others - to this place.” “What the fuck?! Why?!” Fang screamed in shock, echoing my own sentiments as my mouth just locked up in a clammy, sweaty mess. Holy shit. I couldn’t blame her. To my surprise though, none of the other soldiers around us were reacting to… any of this. As if for the time being, we didn’t exist. Great. “ Because,” The newcomer began again, their ethereal and otherworldly voice coming across as strange and… other, “ It was recommended to me, by one above me.” The newcomer chuckled, as if stating a joke rather than a bombshell. “ And as befitting my work, I followed such recommendations.” “So what, something or someone just said, ‘hey, go fuck their lives up’, and you did?” I replied, properly looking at the person. They were definitely not from around here. For one, they were wearing modern clothes. Blue jeans. Leather Jacket. White Tee-Shirt. Sporty Oakley shades and fingerless gloves. Tacky alligator leather biker boots. For another, they sort of glowed, as if the person just wasn’t wholly there. Weird shit. “Quite the opposite, actually.” The person replied, calmly. “Not to hinder your lives, but to help them. In ways that you will discover I’m sure, in time.” “Psh. And what if I’m happy the way I am?” Fang crossed her arms, still thoroughly pissed off. “ Oh Child,” The Person chuckled softly, which put an ill feeling in my gut - and a nervous glance on Fang’s face. “ You still have much to learn about yourself. The learning, in truth, goes on for-ever. Whether or not you take root in the lessons you will learn is up to you, but that's besides the point. You will be here in this land for some time: from the beginning of this tale until its end.” “And if we don’t play along? If we just say, go fuck yourself, we’re staying here until you send us home?” The Person just shrugged. “ The story will continue with or without you until its end. You’ve already seen what failure does, with your debacle in the landing craft, and then the amusement with the beach obstacles. The rest is, of course, up to you. There is one way forward, and one way only: reaching the end. And, as your Benefactor , I have a vested interest in you reaching it. Eventually.” Fang and I just shared another look, as the… "benefactor" began to fade away from view, and the other soldiers around us began acting more normally. We were stuck here, it seemed, until we finished… whatever the hell this was going to end up being. Well. Shit.