Hells Bells

Silver Bells

Originally Written in 2022

December 21st, 2025. Base Aquila. Innerworld.

Wyte walks through the bustling hanger. The base's engineers walk around busily working on the many aircraft lined in rows. A weird sight lies near the cafeteria entrance catches his attention.

A Bradley with an abnormally long main gun sits there on display with engineers ogling over it. Wyte spots the only gunsmith nearby and draws him closer.

WYTE: Sergeant Hazard, what in god's guiding light is this?

He motions towards the Bradley. The soldier responds in a meek voice.

HAZARD: A 105mm chain gun Bradley, commander Blechin.

This response sends the commander onto a confused rant.

WYTE: Why the hell does this thing exist?

HAZARD: Congress wanted to see if they could give the Bradley more firepower, to help support the infantry better.

He gives the smith a deranged look.

WYTE: You and I both know, that is fucking stupid. The Bradley is an Infantry Fighting Vehicle, meant to ferry troops to the frontline and give fire support if possible. It is not a tank and it's stupid to make it a tank. Also does that 105 chain gun actually work?

HAZARD: Yes the gun actually works, surprisingly well. Also Odin had the same thoughts that's why only 3 were outfitted.

WYTE: Most likely because of the Laser AA Bradleys. I bet 5 grand that they only discontinued this because of that.

The Soldier roles his eyes at the comment.

HAZARD: Can I go now, I have guns to fix.

WYTE: You can leave some of the work to your peers for once.

HAZARD: I'm the only gunsmith here, the rest were transferred months ago.

This revelation stumps the commander.

WYTE: Sergeant did you put a request in for more?

HAZARD: yes, General Mayfield denied my order saying "there's no need for more than one gunsmith in a peaceful dimension". Also it's specialist Hazard, sir.

Wyte rubs his temple.

WYTE: You're the only armorer here, because the MG is... mentally deficient?

HAZARD: I wouldn't say it that way, but yes.

WYTE: And you're still a specialist, why? You should've been promoted sergeant as soon as you transferred here.

Hazard has a frustrated look on his face.

HAZARD: They said they have enough sergeants for the time being, so they raised the promotion standards to the max. So if I ever want to be a sergeant or higher, I would have to do 4 years of college, which I don't have time for.

Wyte stands there slacked jawed.

WYTE: Only people stationed in Non contact dimensions or stateside have promotion points. In the field, command decides who to promote. So if Mayfield is cucking you just contact Odin and they'll do it in a heartbeat.

HAZARD: That's absurd.

WYTE: not really, they just gave me the command position of the 101st because I was the only officer not arrested for corruption. Weirder still is I was just promoted to 2nd lieutenant as well, when It happened.

The armorer just stares in disbelief at Wyte's statement. The two talk about things far away from the original discussion for a few more minutes, until Hazard is dragged away by some PFC yelling for him. Wyte observes the Bradley for another minute, then goes back to his office after grabbing what he came for. 

Before opening the door, a 6 pointed star appears in front of him emitting a dim glow, before quickly dying out. He mutters under his breath, being a bit hesitant to open the door. Upon opening his office door, he quickly notices a long wooden crate on his desk with a little bow tied to it. He closes the door and sets down the papers in his hands next to it. Slowly looking over it with curiosity. Opening the box reveals a Arragonian Kosslér Nävir bolt action rifle. Engraved with a golden trim of leaves and an Arragonian eagle engraved on the stock. A small note attached to it goes as follows. An early gift - Litzain. After salivating over the rifle for a few minutes, he puts it aside in its crate. To get onto his main objective. Unfolding the many papers shows a familiar scene, a girl split in two with one side the internals and the other the externals. In the corner of the papers a name in white letters gives an uneasy feeling. Project: Icarus unto Atlas.

December 25th, 2025. National Cemetery For Abnormalities. Christians Dimension.

A cold front pushes its way across the state of New York, freezing the ground and plunging the state into a constant blizzard. Through this snow storm a lone figure stands in the center of the cemetery, unfazed by the ongoing storm. They stand there trying to light a cigarette to no avail. Another figure emerges through the fog blanketing the city. They themselves pull out a lighter, helping the unknown man light their cigarette. After standing around for a few more minutes the conversation starts.

IMELLIA: You're not the usual person aren't you?

The man takes a drag before speaking. Blowing the smoke into the woman's face.

MAC: He's busy, where is the usual agent?

IMELLIA: She was transferred.

Mac just mutters under his breath.

MAC: Well, as long as you have the package it doesn't matter.

Imellia pulls out a wooden box from her coat, handing it off to Mac. he opens it to check its contents before stuffing it in his coat. The two idle around for a few minutes making the agent confused over the other worlders movements.

MAC: So, how is your mother coping with Christians death?

This question confuses the young agent, who has to be calmed down by the superior agents on her ear piece. Mac just snubs his cigarette with a sigh.

MAC: It appears she hasn't told you.

He points to the grave next to him. The name embroidered upon it is Christian E. Herald, with the accompanying awards given to abnormalities in the Agency of Rogue Abnormalities. Including some awards from his original world.

MAC: your mother married him after he deserted from the 101st. He did the deed and out came you. Then he died from an unknown cause a year after your birth. It makes no sense however, but your mother's abnormality is advanced development, which she gave to you hence why you grew up in less then a year. How you don't know your father is another mystery.

Mac draws his portal gun out of his coat. Opening a portal to a room filled with electronics and soldiers. Before leaving the girl to her thoughts, he says a piece of advice.

MAC: A word of advice, hide your agents better, they couldn't keep themselves from being spotted around the graveyard.

The portal closes and the last official contact with the other worlders has ended.