Eleven: The Sequel of AlterMyth

Ride of the Valkyries

Prologue

July 1969, Sunrise

Da Nang Airbase, South Vietnam

MACV HQ Mess Hall

Not long after the reveille bugle played at Da Nang Airbase, the morning broadcast of Army Forces Vietnam (AFVN) radio played over the speakers of the MACV HQ mess hall. Two sergeants were sitting face to face at a table near the heart of the, busy mess hall. The two men halfheartedly poked at their trays of dodgily cooked scrambled eggs and unevenly burnt toast and begrudgingly sipped on their cups of watered down 'Coffee, Instant Type II'.

Six analog clocks hung from the walls of the mess hall, displaying the local times in Saigon, Manila, Tokyo, San Francisco, New York and London, but the two men didn't bother to watch the time. One of the two, an air force sergeant wearing the khaki fatigues of the Air Force tagged 'ANDERSON', buried his face in his hands and vented to his seatmate.

"I'm telling you, Gibbs. Lt. Ouro is a freaking madlass." The airman spoke with a southern Alabaman drawl, "We've done been flying sorties almost every other day since Jan'ry in the Valkyrie squadron. I dunno what's gonna break first - our choppers or our bodies!"

"I hear you, man." The airman's companion, an army sergeant wearing the olive green fatigues tagged 'PAUL', answered with the breezy, laid-back tone of a Californian surfer, "Lt. Nanashi doesn't give us any slack either, my dude. The 110th's always on the march 'cause of her. Anytime MACV has to go to the Light Green, she volunteers the 110th. Like, all the time!"

"They ain't called the Madwomen of Da Nang for nothing, huh?" Anderson grumbled, considering whether or not he should have another bite of the questionable scrambled eggs. He eventually relented and pointed his fork at Paul, "You know how both of them are vets - and yet they still signed up to get deployed to Nam'?"

"No way, man. That's crazy! Like, three-eyed monkey crazy!" Paul reacted, dropping his jaw with awe, " But it sorta makes sense too."

"Really?" Anderson asked.

Paul nodded.

"Uh-huh." He folded his arms and looked Anderson in the eye, "The boys in my unit say that Lt. Nanashi has a fixation with berries because their juice looks like blood. But even in combat, she's just - like - poker faced, man. Like she's used to the stuff."

"Lt. Ouro's like that too, brother." Anderson mused, "Thunderstorms, explosions or commies don't scare her none. She just flies through the battlefield like them Valkyries from those old kraut books."

"It's not just that either, my dude." Paul insisted, slamming his hands on the table, shifting their trays loudly, "I heard some dudes talking - saying that Lt. Nanashi and Lt. Ouro know folks from the Tenth Council!"

Before Paul could elaborate his gnarly theory, the busy mess hall fell silent and brisk, firm footsteps filled the void. Those footsteps stopped by their table and chills started to run up Paul's and Anderson's spines.

"Sergeant Paul! Sergeant Endy!" The voices of Kronii Ouro and Mumei Nanashi rang in perfect unison.

Sergeants Paul and Anderson rose up from their seats and saluted their commanding officers, cold sweat forming on their brows and the remnants of their unfinished breakfast and coffee still on their lips. Sergeant Anderson was tempted to correct his superior and remind her that his nickname was 'Andy' and not 'Endy', but the glare from Kronii's sharp blue eyes made him rethink that decision - and the rest of his life's choices thus far.

The rest of the soldiers in the mess hall, meanwhile looked on as if the two sergeants were walking corpses.

Once they had the attention of the two sergeants and the rest of the soldiers in the MACV mess hall, Kronii cleared her throat and took charge of the situation.