AN: Bruh. 6 months later...

The cacophony of wildlife immediately assaulted Captain Itami's ears as soon as the ramp of the LAV-25 cracked open and lowered to the ground. Although the light armor platoon had already formed a defensive coil a hundred meters from the edge of the forest, each vehicle scanning their sector with aged thermal sights, the Special Forces soldiers on his team all brought their weapons up and set up hasty defenses of their own. Meanwhile, the Japanese-descended officer made his way to the center of the position.

In the center were Lieutenant Davis and Sergeant Therough, the platoon leader and platoon sergeant respectively, were conversing with the dark elf with the aid of a translator.

"Ma'am," he said as he came in, startling the girl with his silent approach. The two Marines, used to operating in less-than-friendly areas, turned to address the soldier. "We're set up to move out," he said.

"I am grateful for your help," she replied, turning towards and bowing deeply. Itami answered with a slight bow of his own, and motioned towards his group of men, who had set up a formation facing the forest.

He turned back to the LAV crewmen. "Thanks for the lift. We'll be on five-four-four. Will you guys being staying on site?"

The lieutenant nodded in response. "Roger. We'll be a ways back towards Alnus. No more than 20 minutes."

"Thanks," Itami said.

The forest gnawed at him. His boots sank just too low, his NOD was just too out of focus, and every sound was just too quiet or just too loud to seem real. This wasn't like him. As a member of First Special Forces Group, Captain Itami was the one teaching Phillipine troops how to thrive in the jungle; he was the one ambushing Japanese special forces as opfor on their own turf.

Five meters ahead, Yao Ha Dushi glided through the flora like a fish in water. Her cloak was tied up and stuffed in her waist pack and revealed a lithe form wrapped in dyed canvas or naturally dark leather. The men behind him seemed to be having similar troubles, although they hid it well. They were not moving instinctively like in any other forest or jungle the team had ever been in, and Sergeant Atton had to take a glance down for every step, unable to rely on his peripheral vision from the slightest hints of moonlight as he would usually able to.

The local eventually stopped, and Itami crept up to meet her. Atton caught up, taking a quick sip from his hydration straw as he moved. "There shouldn't be a clearing up ahead," the elf said in a whisper.

"Are you sure we're in the right space?" Itami asked, his worry growing.

Yao nodded. "Of course, everything is familiar. But up ahead, the trees were burnt and grass is just now growing," she answered, motioning ahead.

As he crept up to the edge of the brush he realized what the clearing used to be. The stench of burnt bodies wasn't strong, but it stuck in his nostrils regardless. The moon broke through the canopy, revealing the smoky haze of smoldering huts; lines of embers traced up in shapes from the ground, fading and growing with a slight breeze and giving suggestions of their original shapes.

He thumbed the infrared illuminator on his rifle. It wasn't a small village. Hundreds of buildings were here, he realized, many family sized. Still forms were strewn across the grounds. Most were burnt beyond recognition, but a few were killed either by incomplete burns, smoke and heat, or other injuries.

"How many survivors?" Itami asked.

Yao sighed. "About half," she replied. "Many were children and escaped into the forest alone. I don't know what happened to them. Many more were families who wouldn't know how to survive with nothing on them anyway."

The soldier stayed silent for a moment. He really didn't want to ask the next question. "Was this your village?"

Yao shook her head. "No. But we and several others abandoned our villages soon after news of what happened here reached us. The dragon attacks us when it can we stay in small groups," she answered.

Itami didn't answer. He instead stood up and stepped into the clearing, motioning for the rest of his team to follow. He folded his NOD as he addressed his men.

"Alpha, roving security. Bravo, groups of two. Strict light discipline. IR only. No sound above normal talking. I need casualty estimates and methods of death so we can come up with a survivability plan."

The soldiers acknowledged their orders and began splitting up areas of responsibility. Yao and Captain Itami joined bravo team in inspecting the village. None of it sat well with the man. What the hell could destroy a village like this, and take a tank round head on and survive? More importantly, how was he supposed to kill it?

"Right, turn!" the line leader called. The Imperial soldiers executed their move, each individual pivoting cleanly in step with the man next to him. They moved as one, just as any other parade drill they had practiced.

"Ready!"

They rotated their weapons off of their shoulders, their right hand pivoting them so that they fell exactly onto their left at an eighth angle. Their right hands moved a foot up from the butt end of the stock, and the first rank of the formation dropped to a knee.

"Pre-sent!"

The first two ranks shouldered the weapons and aimed them towards the hay-stuffed archery targets. A dozen of the targets were laid out in line a hundred yards out.

"Loose!"

A term derived from archery, but it still worked. The two ranks activated the trigger mechanisms on their weapons and brilliant bolts of purple magical energy blasted from their muzzles. Rather than waiting for a command, they immediately began reloading. The second rank kneeled down as the third and final presented their weapons, but did not fire. Instead they stood still, ready to defend the men reloading their arms.

It took only seconds for the men to reload; it was a simple matter of pulling back the breech lever, which lowered the breech block and exposed the magic crystal. Fresh crystal ammunition was a bright, clear blue. Once fired, it turned black and smokey, and after several cycles of fire a fine ash-like substance forms inside the weapon itself.

The targets were mostly unharmed. The weapons were exceedingly accurate, the line leader thought, but perhaps too accurate. It was difficult for the men to quickly determine which target to aim towards. Arrows were simple: you determined the range, the line leader calculated the angle from the range and other environmental factors, and you loosed.

"How is it coming, Decanus?" a voice said, startling the man.

He turned and quickly rendered a salute, extending his arm out with his palm down, hailing his superior. The Centurion returned the salute by holding his right palm over his heart.

"The drilling is coming well, Centurion."

The officer nodded in reply. "I can see. I am impressed, but what about target effectiveness? Eight of the targets are still standing. Do we need to decrease the range?" he asked. The newly formed experimental Century was writing new doctrine as much as they were preparing to fight. New weapons required new ways of thinking.

"We might, sir, but I believe as large a standoff distance as possible is preferable. The problem is individual target overkill. We have been working on methods to distribute each shot across the targets."

"What have you tried?"

"We've been successful with just going one-to-one left to right but it doesn't work well with large groups on either side. We just tried not aiming, similar to bows, but that just results in misses, as you saw. The weapons are too accurate to trust in chance."

The Centurion nodded in thought, looking out towards the targets. "What about penetration?" he asked. "Even if two men hit the same target, does the energy go through and hit more enemies anyway?"

"No, sir," the Decanus answered, shaking his head. "The energy dissipates into the body. We've tried on death row inmates, and the energy required to hit a second man is impractical and inefficient."

The Centurion nodded again. "We are writing a new rulebook here. Don't be discouraged. Other Contubes will be looking at other ways."

The Centurion produced a small notepad, composed of small sheets of parchment sewn together. from a pocket on his belt. He wrote some information down and placed it back in the pocket.

"Report by the end of the day, Decanus."

"Of course, sir."

The princess shoved her face into her hands. What a disaster! she screamed in her mind.

Lady Bozes couldn't do much more than comfort her friend. She gave the princess a rub on the shoulder before speaking. "It's not like it was a catastrophe," she said in her native tongue. "I think we did as well as we could. That idiot did invade them, after all, there's only so much damage control you could do."

Princess Pina co Lada could only sigh in response. Their American bodyguard almost chuckled, but disguised it with a cough before turning his face out towards the window as Bozes gave him a harsh stare.

"No, no, you're right" the princess replied. "Baby st-"

She was interrupted as her bodyguard shouted something and busted open the door to the vehicle.

"Oh shit!" Pence shouted as he watched the collision. The lead vehicle was t-boned by a sedan that ran a red light. Something seemed off. The light was green for several seconds. And wasn't there supposed to be police escorts blocking traffic?

"Go time go time!" he heard over his ear piece.

He immediately opened the door, drawing out the stock of his Mk. 18 and shouldering it, but kept it low and below pedestrians as he exited the car and scanned. Nothing. Not that he expected there to be.

"Bravo team, secure the vics. Alpha, check on the lead vic," came the voice of Captain Wooding.

The five men of Pence's team rushed to the lead vehicle. Following directions from his Team Sergeant, Master Sergeant Jones, he checked out the offending vehicle while Borges began aiding the lead vehicle's personnel. The other three, Jones, Flynn, and Timney, pulled a tight circle of security around the crash site.

The driver was alive. He was white, and barely had a scratch on him. He must not have been traveling very fast, although death or injury were possible at any speed depending on a man's luck. Pence cut the seat belt with his knife and pulled the man out and laying him flat on the ground. He was well enough to complain about his injuries, at least.

First responders quickly came to the scene. As one of the medics began looking the driver over, Pence stepped back and let them work. He looked back over to the impacted vehicle. He at least knew the passenger would be alright. Rory Mercury, self-proclaimed Envoy of Death, looked no worse for wear, annoyed even. She kept trying to go towards the driver but Flynn kept stepping in front of her. The vehicles driver was holding gauze up to a minor head wound. The most grievous injury was Staff Sergeant Tang, who was the Bravo Team man inside the vehicle. His femur was exposed by an inch out of his skin.

"Pence, what's up," Chief Gonzalez asked, walking over to the soldiers dealing with the cars.

"He looks fine, was probably at 30 at time of impact. White, older than military age. If he's an agent, he's a local hire I think."

The Chief nodded. "We'll let the interrogators worry about that guy."

"Please stay," the bodyguard said in broken Imperial. The Pina and Bozes tried to exit the vehicle to see what was going on, but the Americans repeatedly blocked the two. Finally, they settled for watching through the windows. They could see several bigger, rectangular vehicles painted in a glossy red show up to the scene. She deduced that they were for medical purposes as injured personnel were loaded up.

Eventually another plain-clothed bodyguard walked up to their vehicle and poked his head in, She recognized him as Sergeant Yang. "Princess, we're changing plans. We're going straight back to the Gate."

"We are not here to kill it?!" the dark elf exclaimed. "That thing has killed a thousand of my people!"

"Ma'am, I understand," Itami tried to explain. "We just don't have the resources in place yet. It will take a lot more than foot soldiers to kill it."

"Every second we wait, more people die," she responded, crossing her arms. Her eyes were starting to wet.

I don't have time for this, the soldier thought. I told her we weren't here to kill the damn thing. "If we go now, we will all die, and the dragon will live anyway."

That seemed to settle her, it seemed. She dropped her eyes, looking depressed, but she turned around and left. Itami let out a silent sigh before turning to the rest of his ODA. They had snuck back to the original insertion point and were waiting for the LAV platoon to return. In the meantime, they had several dozen dark elf hunters who had volunteered to support them against the dragon.

Staff Sergeant Thompson was teaching a group of dark elves how to use M4's, in the off chance one of his men died and an elf secured his weapon. It would be worthless against a dragon, and without practice it would probably be worthless against a person, but it was something.

Staff Sergeant Reorge, meanwhile, was showing them how to use the Carl Gustav. It was, again, probably worthless against the dragon, but during the attack, groups of elves would actually be armed with the rocket launchers, as those were at least capable of hurting the massive beast.

Left alone, Itami started thinking. What would it actually take? From the report he read, the tank's sabot round went right through it, but he couldn't just haul a 120mm into the forest, and a tank would be ripped apart in the dragon's territory, especially if it learned from its past encounter. That left explosives. It took a direct hit from a HEAT and survived, albeit barely. It was extremely temperature resistant, so anything less powerful than a 120mm shaped charge wouldn't be dependably effective.

IED's? If they snuck in at the right time they could make bombs as big was they wanted. They would just need to wait on C4 and materials. How good was its sense of smell? Although that could be a lure, he thought. It wouldn't just abandon its lair and would probably creep in, giving the triggerman plenty of time to detonate the charges.

Satisfied with his solution, he walked over to his Chief and began to brainstorm.

AN: So yeah, months later here I am again. I don't know what it is, I just don't have the drive to write most of the time even though I constantly have ideas swimming in my head. But that aside, I'm gonna preempt two problems here: all the new characters in Musketeer team, and the hot springs arc.

1) Honestly they're brand new characters who should've been there the whole time. So until I re-write the previous chapters, please just bear with me here. In the US, Special Force OD-A teams (the actual tactical units, as opposed to OD-B and OD-C teams which are HQ elements) are 12 men, usually split in half. You've got the Captain and Warrant Officer (Chief) as the 1st and 2nd in charge, and two teams of five.

2) That shit was dumb as hell from every perspective, I'm not going to try to fix it except by avoiding it entirely.

So, Itami's back, but reborn as something realistic. Not an absolute undisciplined buffoon and embarrassment to the organization. Originally I didn't include him because Itami is Japanese, and these are Americans. Well he's a different character anyway, so maybe he just coincidentally shares the name.