GATE: Thus Democracy was Called [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 1: Baptism by Fire

United States
New York City, Times Square
August 7th 2066

Scott Mason walked through the heart of Times Square, a place where the pulse of New York City was most palpable. The air was thick with the sounds of bustling crowds, the neon glow of advertisements, and the ever-present hum of the city. Billboards towered above, flashing with the latest trends and news. Scott, dressed in casual attire, blended seamlessly into the crowd, his military bearing softened by the leisure of a day off.

As he moved through the throng, his eyes were drawn to an anomaly amidst the modern landscape. There, standing incongruously, was a structure that seemed ripped from the pages of a history book – a classical edifice reminiscent of Roman or Greek architecture, its marble columns standing stark against the steel and glass of its surroundings. Curiosity piqued, Scott edged closer, along with a growing number of onlookers who circled the structure with a mix of awe and disbelief.

Without warning, a gust of wind, fierce and sudden, swept through the square, knocking bystanders off their feet and whipping up a cloud of dust and debris. As the air cleared, a surreal scene unfolded before Scott's eyes. Emerging from the structure were figures that belonged more in ancient history or fantasy – horsemen and infantry clad in steel breastplates and armor, their appearance strikingly Roman. Among them were creatures of legend: towering minotaurs, their muscles rippling under coarse fur, and goblins, their malicious faces twisted in glee.

The surreal procession was heralded by the piercing sound of a horn. In a fluid, practiced motion, a line of soldiers raised their bows, unleashing a volley of arrows into the unsuspecting crowd. Screams pierced the air as chaos erupted, people scattering in a frantic bid to escape the unexpected assault.

The police, caught off guard by this anachronistic attack, struggled to respond. Scott, his instincts honed by years of military service, sprang into action. Rather than fleeing, he moved towards the danger, positioning himself between the advancing soldiers and the beleaguered officers.

"Get back! Get to safety!" he shouted to the civilians nearby, his voice a commanding presence amidst the pandemonium.

As he helped a young woman to her feet, an arrow whizzed past, narrowly missing them. Scott's gaze hardened. He spotted a fallen police baton and snatched it up, weighing it in his hand like a familiar tool.

The Roman soldiers advanced, their faces set in grim determination. Scott braced himself as the first attacker lunged at him, a short sword glinting in the neon light. With a swift, practiced move, he parried the blade with the baton and countered with a precise strike to the soldier's head, sending him crumpling to the ground.

"Behind you!" a voice cried. Scott turned just in time to see a minotaur charging, its massive form barreling towards him. He ducked to the side, feeling the rush of air as the creature's axe swung overhead. He jabbed the baton into the minotaur's side, but it was like striking stone. The creature roared in anger, its eyes blazing with a primal fury.

Scott was no stranger to combat, but this was unlike any battlefield he had known. It was a surreal clash of eras and realities, each moment a struggle for survival.

More police officers joined the fray, their gunfire echoing through the square. Bullets seemed to do little against the armored invaders, but they provided a distraction, allowing Scott and others to pull injured civilians to safety.

The ground trembled as the minotaur charged again, its axe arcing with deadly intent. Scott rolled away, feeling the heat of the blade as it sliced through the air. He scrambled to his feet, searching desperately for a way to bring down the behemoth.

Spotting a discarded spear, he seized it and, with a grunt of effort, drove it into the minotaur's thigh. The creature bellowed in pain, its attention now fully on Scott. It swung its axe in a wide arc, aiming to cleave him in two. Scott dove to the ground, feeling the whoosh of the blade above him.

He sprang up, closing the distance between them. The minotaur, now limping, swung wildly, but Scott, fueled by adrenaline, dodged each blow. He thrust the spear forward, finding a gap in the creature's armor, and with all his might, he pushed the weapon deep into its chest.

The minotaur let out a final, pained roar before collapsing to the ground, its massive body shaking the earth.

Breathing heavily, Scott looked around. The square was a scene of devastation: civilians lay injured, the air was thick with the smell of blood, and the sounds of battle raged on. The police, now better organized, were holding their own against the invaders, but the outcome was far from certain.

Scott, catching his breath amidst the chaos, noticed the crowd's frantic migration towards Queensboro Bridge. The once vibrant Times Square was now a ghostly shell, littered with debris and the echoes of battle.

As he surveyed the scene, his attention was drawn to two figures standing apart from the fray. They were clad in more ornate armor, clearly of higher rank in this strange invading force. One wore the insignia of a Colonel, the other, a Colonel in Chief. They stood atop a small mound of rubble, their eyes wide as they gazed upon the city's skyline.

The Colonel, his face etched with both awe and confusion, turned to his superior. "What place is this, sir? These towering structures, they reach towards the heavens!"

The Colonel in Chief, his expression equally bewildered, replied, "I know not, Valerius. This world is unlike anything in our scrolls or tales. Look at those lights, brighter than any torch and yet contained in glass!"

Valerius, the Colonel, pointed at an abandoned car, its blinkers still flashing. "And what manner of chariot is that? It moves without horses and makes a thunderous noise!"

The Colonel in Chief squinted at the vehicle. "It's like nothing from our world. Perhaps it's a beast of burden, made of metal and strange sorcery."

They watched in silence as a helicopter flew overhead, its blades slicing through the air. Valerius's mouth opened in disbelief. "A flying machine! Not even Daedalus could have dreamt of such a thing."

The Colonel in Chief nodded slowly. "This world is full of marvels and monstrosities. We have much to learn, but first, we must conquer it. Remember, our emperor seeks new lands and resources. We must not be distracted by these... sorceries."

Valerius nodded, though his eyes still roamed the cityscape with a mixture of fear and fascination.

The Colonel in Chief turned his gaze back to the battlefield. "For now, we fight. We conquer. Let the scholars and sages ponder over these mysteries. Our duty is to the empire."

As the exodus from Manhattan intensified, a tide of people surged towards the Queensboro Bridge. The scene was one of desperation and urgency: abandoned cars clogged the roads, and a sea of humanity flowed around them, each person driven by the primal instinct to survive.

Scott Mason, his mind still reeling from the surreal combat, joined the throng moving towards the bridge. He could see a line of police officers ahead, their figures bolstered with additional armor, assault rifles, and riot shields. They formed a makeshift barricade at the entrance to Manhattan, a last line of defense against the advancing hostiles.

Approaching the bridge, Scott spotted three officers coordinating with the National Guard. He made his way to them, his military instincts kicking in. "When's the National Guard expected to arrive?" he asked, his voice carrying the authority of someone who had seen too much war.

One of the officers, a man with a stern face and eyes that had witnessed the chaos, glanced at Scott. "They're on their way. Should be here any minute. We just need to hold the line until then."

Another officer, who had seen Scott's bravery in the square, chimed in. "Hey, weren't you the one back there... taking on those... things? What's your occupation?"

Scott nodded, acknowledging the memory of the fight. "I'm a Second Lieutenant in the USMC," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

The officer's eyes widened with a mix of respect and curiosity. "USMC, huh? We could use more like you right now. This is some crazy shit we're dealing with."

Then the sound of approaching helicopters and the distant rumble of military vehicles offered a sliver of hope. Reinforcements were coming, but the battle for Manhattan was far from over.