The mermaid lay motionless on the shore, sick and pallid. I approached her carefully; she was handing me something, a small yellow egg in her cupped hands.

“Take it,” she rasped. “Raise her well.”

I shook my head. “I can get you back in the water, now.”

The beached mermaid shook her head. “Too… late… take my… daughter.” She spoke like every word was an effort, which it probably was. My heart went out for her as I gently took the egg from her hands, smoothing her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

“Okay,” I crooned, letting my hand fall to my side. She stirred, whimpered. I sat with her, brushing back her hair, letting her hold my hand. She whimpered once more, shuddering, then went completely still.

I pulled back gently, cupping the tiny egg with care. It quivered in my grasp, as slowly I saw small limbs begin to form, to push out, until I was holding a baby in my arms.

The mermaid’s baby, who I would now raise.

"Baby stop running, please, look, it's alright I promise". Her sweet voice calmed me down, perhaps there's nothing to worry about. I looked into her eyes and could see the purple symbols see wanted me to see. They were miniscule, and looked like slim lightning bolts. "It happened this morning, after an accident at work, ever since then, I can do what you saw". I started hyperventilating. It was freaky as fuck, and her eyes made my back hair stand up. I accepted her explanation irregardless of my initial shock, after all our daughter would come back from school soon, I didn't want her to feel like something was wrong, We mutually agreed not to tell her anything for the time being.

Lying in bed we agreed on the abundance of possibilities opening up with these new found telekinetic powers. House chores could happen automatically and in minutes. Heck, even superheroing around the neighborhood was on the table.

The next couple of days were a joy, the house was cleaning itself, food preparing itself, and the trash ready to be collected right next to the door on its own (we actually had to take it out manually, a trash bag flying around the neighborhood wouldn't be of any help to us keeping this a secret. It was still a chore for me, but still, it was nothing in comparison to all the other things that we were getting for it. We had a lot of extra free time to enjoy ourselves and our family.

On the third day, as I was taking out the trash and heading for the car Mr. Constance, the neighboor next door, shouted for me. I got in to his porch and I could see the lock of his door being broken. "Somebody got in last night, house is a mess, me and Ginny stayed at her brother's place after going to the concert across town, too drunk to drive. Did you hear anything last night?". I legitimately hadn't, so I let him know. "What about these cameras you have over your garage, could it perhaps have caught something", there was hope in his expression and I didn't wanna ruin it by telling him they've probably been off for a while now. Although it was worth a shot, it was recording his porch on the upper left corner of the picture frame, so if it was working I had to check it and give it to the cops. "I'll check it and let you know Mr. Constance. Say hi to Ginny for me". "Thank you, my boy".
I headed back to the house, kissing my wife as she was leaving for the lab. "What was that about?" she asked after seeing my chat with Mr. Constance. "Oh nothing, just those trash cans again, and the spacing, ridiculous every time." For some reason I didn't feel the need to tell her. I entered back at the house. I was all alone, and headed for my office. We had two cameras one in our front porch and one overlooking our side garage door, it was that one that could have any evidence on the break-in. The cameras were feeding to one an online platform, there's no chance I could actually remember the passwords. Started looking at drawers and old folders from my library, felt stupid when I just retried the usual password and it was that one. Our daughter's birthday.

Found last night's log. And yes the perpetrator's visible. But to be honest it is kinda worthless. Black clothes, black full-face mask. Not much to go on, but I'll show it to Constance. Then right there in the corner of my eye I caught that online storage was about to refresh, it did so every 12 days. Checked yesterday's in the hopes of witnessing my wife's composure after she came home from work yesterday. Nothing. Simple and calm as usual. That's weird.
Shouldn't she be different, I mean she has something strange and extraordinary happening to her right now, is that the way she's handling it? I started browsing day by day going back for anything suspicious looking. 12 days back, the oldest file, front porch view, I can see it clear as day, as she walks out her phone drops and instead of hitting the floor it stop right before impact, and gracefully flying back to her arm. It's not a surprise to her clearly, she's done this before, there's something she's hiding. It's obvious she lied about the timing of the power's origins. Why would she lie, and how should I handle this?

I don't have to answer the question for myself. No need to formulate a gameplan.

As I open the door to my office, she's standing right outside, eyes full of purple glow this time, face full of rage and annoyance.

She lifts her palm aiming at me.

"You had to look."

And then... And then uhhhhh, what was I saying?

Thank you!! Had fun writing it :)

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"I tried to tell you I tried and tried and triiiieeedd to warn you.I begged and pleded but nnooOOoo I was crazy I was a fool. There was no way that that such things could happen that the cheese wheel was perfect safe. Now half the town is crushed and the other half is flooded a story high with fondue and you all want my help dealing with I'm but you know what solve your own problem I'm going to take my raft made out of baguettes that YuuUOoo mocked me for and I'm sailing to Paintsville. I'm making beer cheese."

Whispered "I sure hope they listened to my warning about beer geysers from their underground storage"

[removed]

My blood turned cold when I heard the news, the cup I was holding fell and shattered on the floor. The other villains in the room turned toward me with confusion in their face. It took someone shaking my shoulder to wake me from my shocked silence. I immediately ran as fast as I can to the Inner Circle. I need to do something fast before it's too late!

Curse my last assignment forcing me off world and only returning today, or I could've prevented this event. My nemesis, the superhero Mister Sunshine was charged with misuse of powers and imprisoned on The Rock, the most secure prison made specifically for Meta Humans on the planet. Having been an occupant there myself, I know the place is very well defended and be next to impossible to break into, but we have to try and rescue Mister Sunshine at all cost.

I barge into the Grand Meeting Room of the Inner Circle, interrupting a meeting between several dozen of the most powerful and dangerous villains out there, the ruling cadre of the House of Sins, the villain international organization. They were furious at me for the sudden interruption which is a total breach of one the House primary rules, an act punishable with Death. Not a second later I felt the Red Lady cold Katana at my neck and Ghozmull the Ghost King's spirit claw around my heart, ready to kill me.

I shouted "Opus Absolotum", a secret code known only to those of the Higher Ranks in the House of Sins. Acknowledging it, the Red Lady and Ghozmull pull back and returned to their seat. The Opus Absolotum, absolute need, is a privilege given to a villain by the House of Sins. It's a one in a lifetime Favor that the villain can use for getting helps from the other higher ranking villains without any question asked. Since you can only used it once, it is understandable of it's urgency when someone invoked it.

I told everyone in the room of my urgent plan; to attack The Rock and spring my Nemesis Mister Sunshine out as soon as possible. Some gave me weird look and even angry that I would use my special Favor just to help liberate a goofy hero out of prison. However, they all understand the significance of the Opus Absolotum, and will commit to the prison break plan. In half an hour, we have readied an attack force of almost two thousand individuals and collective powers to destroy a continent. As we made our way to the Prison, I kept thinking about him...

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Reminders:

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That is a complement of the highest order Sir/Madam.

Sir Terry Pratchett vibes here. Soooo good <3

oh.

you know that feeling when you read the minecraft ending? you’ve come pretty close to that.

oh this sounds interesting!!

well written and a good read!

Or could be reverse they are all gods compared

Title: If I Could Turn Back Time

It wasn’t as if Larkspur had never taken hostages before. It wasn’t even the first time he’d taken hostages to force heroes to listen to his demands. But Megan wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it this time. Larkspur’s henchmen, the Deadly Nightshades were going around making sure the civilians were tied up properly. “Not too tight, is it ma’am?”

Megan blinked and shook her head. “Uh, no. It’s fine, thank you.”

The elderly man next to her scoffed.“Back in *my* day it wouldn’t have mattered if us normies were comfortable.” The henchman shrugged.

“I prefer things under the Union. Means I’m not going to get killed for some stupid reason.”

Megan nodded in agreement as he finished making sure the zip ties weren’t cutting off her circulation. “Thanks to the Union and the Council, civilian casualties have dropped to almost nothing, and even the Supers aren’t injured nearly as often.”

“Bah, it just means anyone can get into the fighting now. When I was young the Supers had *drive*, ambition! They weren’t just messing around in some glorified what’sit, chess game.”

Megan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. There were always some people who missed the so called ‘glory days’ of Super Fights; the destruction of billions of dollars worth of property, countless bystanders reduced to numbers on a casualty list, blood feuds between heroes and villains that rivaled the death toll of the Hatfields and McCoys.

She cleared her throat and turned to the Henchman. “Sorry to bother you but, what exactly is his goal this time?”

“Oh, he’s demanding Terra Firma reveal her secret identity.”

Her heart dropped to her ankles and she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.“What, why?!” She swallowed and cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s against Council regulations, even the Union frowns on that kind of thing, he has so much to lose here…”

The Nightshade shrugged again.“He doesn’t tell us those kinds of things ma’am. I need to get back to work, if you need water or the restroom you can call one of us over.” The large black clad man walked back over to where the other Nightshades were making sure their communications were synched as Larkspur paced along the carpeted aisle.

The old man next to her snorted. “Idiot. You don’t ask, you act like you already know, lure them out and then bam! De-mask ‘em in one on one combat.” Megan looked at him, frowning slightly.

“De-masking an opponent is considered almost tantamount to a crippling injury, considering that means they need to go into hiding.” From the Super who’d revealed their identity, other Supers who might take advantage, the civilian media, vigilantes with ideas of revenge. For some older Supers it was practically forced retirement.

“Well you don’t do it in front of other people.” The man glared at her, dark blue eyes sharp in the wizened face. “It’s not a public victory, it’s a private one. You know your opponent now, can know them inside and out. It’s more intimate than sex.” He grunted and stretched out his leg, bound hands rubbing at where a prosthetic was attached. “You know ‘em in a way no one else does. Not even their sidekick, or closest normie friend.”

That…was not a way she’d thought about it before. Terra Firma and Larkspur had clashed hundreds of times over the few years they’d been in the same city. Earth powers and Plant control. There had been a few…interesting encounters. Dangling from vines with her costume torn from the battle, Larkspur bound in stone manacles, armor broken to reveal the column of his throat and the top of his chest. Tense moments where they were bare inches apart…Megan shook her head rapidly to dispel the thoughts hoping no one nearby was a telepath.

The old man ignored her and continued. “That’s why he’s an idiot. He’s practically admitting he’s too scared to do it himself. Giving them both an out by using hostages.” He turned to the side, looking like he might spit, then stopped himself and settled for clicking his tongue. “Supers these days.”

She realized it was true. If Terra Firma refused, then Larkspur could cite Union regulations and release the hostages, with only a bit of humiliation. Terra Firma could cite Council mandates and point to the use of hostages as foul play to avoid censure for failing to comply to save them. Megan’s frown deepened. What would she have done, if she wasn’t one of the hostages?

Larkspur’s silken voice, demanding her identity, the camera panning over the hostages, and the henchmen waiting for orders. She would have…come to beat the shit out of him.

“Oh my god, he *is* an idiot…”

The elderly man barked a laugh. “Just now figuring that out, are you?”

“I didn’t think Super Villains *could* be.” She raised her bound hands, and her voice. “Excuse me? I need to use the toilet.” One of the henchmen broke away from the group to come escort her.

“Of course they can. No one’s a genius when it comes to love.” The old man’s sudden shift in tone brought her attention back to him, but he was staring out the window, and the Nightshade was next to her, undoing the ties on her feet so she could walk.

<lb>

Henry used the reflection to watch the love of his life follow the Shade out to the hall. He’d never seen her in the delivery uniform before, it was cute. Absolutely hideous as all food service uniforms were, but she looked good in anything. He looked at his younger self, and since his darling wasn’t here to scold him, spat on the floor. He’d been such a damn moron. No wonder it had taken her so long to realize he was ass over teakettle for her.

<lb>

Megan braced herself on the kitchen counter as new memories bloomed behind her eyelids. Fighting Larkspur at the hotel, instead of calling him out to the park nearby. Memories of more fights, kisses, and dates flashed by. There were rattles and thumps, clinks and chiming as things in the house changed. She glared at the wedding ring on her wrinkled hand and turned off the stove. “That stupid old goat!”

She shuffled to the entryway and pulled on her housecoat, sliding into her outdoor slippers. The door to the garage was ajar and she couldn’t help sighing.

“Letting the cold air in again.” hopefully the cat hadn’t got out, or Henry was going to complain about having fur all over his tools. Never mind that he’d retired twenty years back, same as she had. The low hum of electricity confirmed her suspicions and there was a flash of violet and green light as she padded into the garage, careful not to knock against her husband’s work bench.

He was sitting in a half capsule shaped machine, covered in… “Is that cement dust?” She watched him jerk slightly, looking at her like a guilty boy caught coming home after curfew.

“Nothing serious dearheart-”

“Don’t you dearheart me! You said you were working on an anniversary gift.” She wanted to be angry, but the emotions roiling in her chest were too warm, and fond. “Going back in time to order a pizza delivered-” She huffed and went to help him up, noticing him rubbing at his prosthetic.

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her down onto his lap for a kiss, dark blue eyes twinkling at her.“I think it’s a perfect gift. I got ten extra years of you in my arms, my bed, my life.” He stroked her silver streaked hair. “And I got to watch you kick the shit out of me.”

Megan pouted and poked his chest. “And am I supposed to be pleased you’ve been meddling with the time stream?” She slid her arms around him, holding him tight. “You could’ve unmade yourself, or been killed.”

He scoffed and kissed her cheek.“You think a sprig like Larkspur could’ve killed me? With the brave and beautiful Terra Firma sitting right next to me?”

Megan blushed and tweaked his ear. “It was still dangerous.” She couldn’t help the flutter in her chest as her husband’s expression turned serious, his hold on her tightening in turn.

“It was, but to give you more…more of my time, my love…anything. That was worth all the risk.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You realized that, about forty odd years ago now.”

“And yet I married you anyway.”

Humans are foolish and ignorant of the dangers of the world. They think they are invincible. They take life for granted. They take and hurt and expect kindness in return.

I believed in humans. I did. When the coven head came home with a malnourished, terrified, dirty, and hurt human boy, couldn't be more than eight, I knew the small town would face the wrath of my coven. I was furious too, humans are so cruel, they leave their own fledlings to die... Yet I still went and warned them.

They laughed, called me a freak, child of the night, a monster.

They thought I was joking. Ungratefull little ants, destined to suffer the wrath of my coven. They begged to me, when my people came seeking death, amusement, a meal. They promised me the stars, they cried and whined and screamed.

After the sun came up, the last of the coven retreated to tend to their duties. The coven head and his family gained a new fledling. There was a lot to do.

They called me, but I wanted to look for survivors.

This is what the ignorance of these fools led to. This is their karma, the Goddess' punishment for those who had hurt their own. Their blood painted the ground. It was a messy feast. My stomach was full too, I got a couple of men who tried to flee. They tried to sacrifice the weak, the children.

A lot of new fledlings had to be taken care of, now that I think about it.

Now that the root of the infection was killed, new flowers could bloom, healty, and beautiful. And it was my duty to rid the world of the dead weed, so it can never blossom again. The flames of my fury and spite slowly died down as I sent my children, souls who couldn't find peace, to look for new siblings, children souls, lost in the massacre of the feast.

Humans are foolish and ignorant.

Vampires are not.

I told them. I told them that winter would bring the Dead, but did they listen? No. They relied too much on magic and conmen to listen to a farmer whose family lived through this shit before.

When my grandda was seven, I told them, the Dead walked. The blizzard of 358 decimated the land, killed a lot of livestock, and killed everyone who was caught out of the bonfire circle. And then, those what died came back to slaughter their old friends, whose bodies rose and killed yet more people!

'Loony old man,' they called me. 'Lost his mind years ago and doesn't know what he's talking about.'

When the Dead walked again, last night on the Winter Solstice, I was home safe in my circle of fire, with my daughter and her baby. We kept the fires burning all night, and when dawn came, we watched the Dead die again.

You should have listened to me. A few did, and they emerged from the flames with us, seeing the world changed this night. But the rest of you?

An entire town, rotting and bloating in the cool winter sun. We can't bury all of you, and to be frank, I don't want to bury any of you.

We still have the fires burning, just in case. If the Dead stay down again tonight, we'll burn your bodies tomorrow.

It's the funeral you fools deserve.

Crack.

The battlefield shivered with the sound of wooden staves colliding together. The enemy general Bordrick looked up sharply, a deep foreboding filling his heart.

Yes. Straining over the slowly diminishing sounds of men fighting and dying ... yes ... yes that was the sound of tinkling bells. "Oh gods."

Crack. Again the sound of iron-shod oak colliding with iron-shod oak. "Caaaalllll the RETREEEEET." Bordrick shouted, panic straining his vocal cords. "Caaaallll RETREEEEETTT."

Taking a deep breath just as he sees a splash of colour at the edge of the battle, the general desperately seeks to warn his men of the impending doom. "THEY'VE UNLEASHED THE BLOODY MORRIS DANCERS! REEETRREEEEETTTTT."

Many a Hey-Nonny was Nonnied that day, children, many a Hey-Nonny.

--- CONTINUED ---

"Lieutenant Cardinal," Elevander responded. Considered an average woman by her kind, Elevander was a fair beauty that would've been swamped with beauty companies that vied for someone like her. Long locks of sleek black hair, milky white skin that didn't make her look like a Twilight vampire, and blue eyes that could pierce plate with ease. What detracked from her natural beauty, however, was her taste in clothing which could be summarized as "Gandalf but black and ostentatious gold leaf gliding." Not that Barry or Jay cared much, but it spoke well of Elevander's character.

"What brings you here to this neck of the woods?"

"The king wants you to be ready in a week, and no more." Silence reigned for a few seconds before Barry responded.

"I'm sorry but what?"

"The king cannot afford to spare any more time and wants you and your men to be ready within a week." Elevander, to her credit, looked apologetic as she spoke again. "I objected, of course, and so did the others but... the situation has gotten dire at the front."

Barry reigned in his emotions, but it was clear by his gritted teeth and crossed arms he just about to throw hands. He quietly digested the news he was given.

A week.

Seven days to accelerate the already abridged crash course in tanking for the girls, before they would be deployed to fight the demon king's army. It had been two weeks since their arrival, but they had started the training at the fifth day. Progress had been admirably (and amazingly) made, but Emiya and Aya weren't DJ and Enrique. They haven't developed the physique, muscle memory, or instincts to play the role of loader and gunner. And they now given seven days to get them ready for combat.

"How bad is it?" Barry sighed as he leaned against the stable stage.

"Bad enough that messenger arrived bloodied and in a state of mania." Elevander joined Barry with a sigh. "Seven days are not enough, is it?"

"Frankly, no. As much as those girls are making good progress, they're not ready for combat. Too slow, not coordinated enough, Aya still needs to develop the muscles to load the gun adequately, and Emiya still consult her notes every few minutes."

"I'm afraid that even if you explain it to the king, he will not budge. As much as I disagree with this, I cannot blame him. It is important the front is maintained at Heavenly Pass, otherwise the kingdom will be flooded by a tide of demons."

The current situation with the war was that the Royal Army and the Demon Army were at an en passe at the valley to the north, the Heavenly Pass. It was the only clear path through the mountain range that separated the kingdom from the frigid north, and thus imperative at the Demon Army be tied down at the pass. It was more manageable to stem the flow when funneled through a pipe than a river, as a wyvern rider had explained to Barry.

"Fuck." was all the man could muster before he walked back into the stable, Elevander in tow.

It is 1:08 AM EST as of writing what I consider to be a deluge of words from my mind. Not sure if this flows right but frankly I'm just happy I submitted something, even if I'm late to the party. Also, technically my first post on this subreddit, so yay.

Before I sign off, here's a joke title if this ever becomes a LN or something like that:

Whisked Away to Another World With My Friend, But For Reason So Did Two Schoolgirls and A Tank.

Fucking, Mark!

What a knobgobbler!

What. Did. I. Say. What did I say! That's not a friggin question, Mark, so put you idiot hand down. And don't you dare stop me, Amy. I earned this monologue. It's the last joy I get in this life. No, we aren't going to make it through this. Friendship can't fight friggin demons. Neither can you mall katana. Nor your redneck improvised shotgun. I will slap you, Mark. I with slap you so hard if that hand goes up one more time. This is not audience participation time. If I want to sing the frigging pokerap in ancient sumerian, you will sit quietly while I work out the translation, and be ready to clap when I finish. Now, let's go back to the begin, and see if you all can sit through my recap and keep track of how many types listening to me would have prevented all this. Mark found a friggin necronomicon type book on a reject Wish clone, and I said, "Don't waste your money." There's one. But no, he had to buy it. Then it came, and I said, "Don't bother me with this crap." Okay, we'd probably still be in this mess, but I at least would have enjoyed that Saturday, so I'm still going to—

SLAP

WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE HAND! Anyway, that's two. Then Mark couldn't read it, so I said, "Don't bother, it's just a stupid prop." So we have three. But he called Brian for help. Only Brian's car was in the shop. "That's a sign," I said for four. But then Amy volunteered to drive us to Brian's place. "Only reason for that is to enjoy watching thing on his projector." Five. No, don't you start, I said I get to monologue. Then Brian took the book and I said, "Don't encourage Mark in his idiocy." What is that, six or seven? THAT WAS TEST!

slap

Well, the door is breaking so let's speed things up. "Don't read anything that says it can summon demons." "Do hurt an innocent animal for this." "Don't set that on fire." and "Don't touch my lunch." brings us up to ten. "Don't go out there alone, Brian." That would have kept him alive to hear my rant. "Mr. Henderson has a shotgun." Might be good against demons, but now we'll never know. I'll count it as just half, but combined with, "Don't make out with her just because the world is ending." will make it an even twelve. Oh, there goes Amy's spine. Surprised she had one.

Mark, if your hand is raised, I swear.

So much for a vacation in Japan.

If Barry was told that he would be a victim of those dime a dozen isekai plots, he'd laugh at whoever said that and move on. If he was told that one of his friends, two unlucky Japanese schoolgirls, and an Abram main battle tank would be isekai'd alongside him, then he'd question if whoever said that was on drugs and get the hell out of dodge. Unfortunately, and he'd never really expected it, life took the Corps's big green weenie and fucked him over with exactly those circumstances.

"Excuse me, ladies," Barry sidestepped past a pair of honest-to-God maids dressed up in stereotypical French maid dresses. They spared him a glance but otherwise left him alone as he strode away.

While he knew that they were maids, it still boggled Barry that the maids weren't dressed up as a gimmick or to get a kick out of it. That they were legitimate uniforms and they were contracted to clean, cook, and deliver around an actual medieval-fantasy castle.

Or that the castle was an actual medieval-fantasy castle made out of wood and stone, guarded by soldiers decked in real medieval gear and magical defenses.

And wasn't that a hoot? Honest-to-God - and Barry had invoked the Big G aplenty the past few days - magic, complete with all the glowy bits, incomprehensible crusty tomes, wooden staffs and wands, pointy hats and baggy robes. Magic was, after all, how he and others arrived to this world - whisked away by magic circles while on a hike in Japan's forests because that's apparently how the spell meant to find heroes from other worlds worked.

Barry clenched his fists and held back a punch to the wall. It was supposed to a month of relaxation and chill, time spent with his buddies from the Marines and with their families. Instead, he and his buddy Ray - who was father of three kids, wasn't that a lovely fact - were kidnapped alongside two unfortunate schoolgirls and forced to be heroic saviors of a kingdom whose opponent was a demon king with massive demon army behind his back.

"Goddamnit, you'd had worst days," Barry's voice quietly echoed in the hallway he was in, as he made his way through the castle's living quarters. "It's not like an army of literal demons is any worse than the fucking Taliban or the big green weenie or limpdick politicans."

His boots thumped against the fancy purple and gold-trimmed carpet of the hallway, a sign that he had arrived at the more fancier accommodations in the castle. Meant for foreign dignitaries and the like, the two schoolgirls were given a room together no thanks to the ladies in the Royal Family. Meanwhile, Barry and Ray were given their own private quarters - that were admittedly just as nice as the ones here - at the castle's barracks, on part of them being veteran warriors.

Once he found the door that was the girls' room, he rapped his knuckles loudly against the wood. A muffled shout of Japanese was heard and the door swung open. A 15-year old teen greeted Barry, her auburn hair disheveled and her leafy green eyes lidded with early morning fatigue. Before she could say anything, she yawned loudly and stretched her limbs.

"Got a good night's sleep, Emiya?" Barry asked. "And how's Aya?"

"Y-Yes, sensei," the girl, Emiya, answered as she looked behind her. "I had a good night's sleep. Aya is asleep, though."

Barry hummed and angled his head so he could see past Emiya. The room was a spacious affair complete with a (closed) window balcony, cabinets as tall as the room, and a large roughly king-sized bed with purple and red silk sheets. On the bed laid the other 15-year old school girl, hair red as an apple, limbs splayed out like an octopus, and very deep in sleep.

"Alright then. Uh, get cleaned up and kit up. Another day, another training session." Barry tapped his plate carrier for emphasis.

A crisp, "Hai, sensei," and Emiya closed the door. Barry leaned against the wall next to the door, closed his eyes, sighed as he waited for the girls to come out.

Christ those girls shouldn't be here. While he was upset that he and Jay were abducted away from their home and families, he was even more upset over the fact that these two girls were dragged into this mess too. It was typical for an isekai plot to have a young main character, but Barry rather preferred that those girls were doing girl stuff and not have to go fight, and possibly die in a painful way, against an army of demons.

"Can't believe we're still doing this shit, B-man," Barry swiveled his head to see Jay, kitted up with a shotgun slung over his shoulder, approach. While the Marylander was what people saw when they thought of a big burly black man, he was in fact the Barry's driver back when they were in the Marine Corps - back when they were crammed in a hot metal box with two other guys, shoved into the Suck that was the Afghanistan.

Barry pursed his lips as he glanced back at the girls' room. "Shit man, I know it's unbelievable and I'd rather not do all of this... but-"

"But you'd trust them and not anyone else in this whack-ass world, I know that man," Jay crossed his arms, "I'm just not sure if they'll be able to do it, y'know. We can train 'em but sure as hell we ain't the DIs back in Parris. Fuck man, they're only fifthteen."

"Not like we got any better choice, Jay. Can't really operate the tank with two people and if I'm being honest, better those girls be with us in the box and not outside it. Tracking?"

"Trackin', B-man." Jay glanced at the door. "... just wishing we weren't in this shitty situation."

The girls' door opened and the two men were greeted with the sight of Emiya and Aya clad in the same kit issued to Marine tankers, complete with M4s on slings. When they had recovered from the abduction and settled down, the Abrams - the same one that Barry commanded in Afghanistan - had its bustle racks loaded with bags; all of which were filled with clothing and equipment. And for some reason, there was gear suspiciously fitted to the exact measurements of Emiya and Aya.

"Good morning, Barry-sensei and Jay-sensei!" Emiya chorused. Aya, still groggy and very much unhappy at being awake, mumbled an approximation of Emiya's greeting.

"Yo. You girls ready?" Jay asked, a bit of genuine concern leaked. A family man and a father of three children, Barry wasn't surprised he would be tad more gentle with the teens. Hell, Barry had a kid himself and he'd be damned if any harm came to the unfortunate teens stuck with them.

"No worries, Jay-sensei," Emiya was adamandment on the honorifics despite Barry's or Jay's objections, "we are ready for the day!"

Aya mumbled something in Japanese and threw a thumbs up. Barry sighed and started to lead the assembled crew out of the castle.

When they had been summoned, the ritual had been carried out deep inside the castle for the sake of security and secrecy. A sound idea and would've been fine had the magic brought forth a person, but circumstances meant that the Royal Family had to employ several high-level mages and hundreds of workers to allow an M1A1 Abrams to drive out of the castle's depths.

To preserve what little secrecy there was left, the tank was to be kept squared away among the stables used to house the wyverns of the elite royal cavlarly. Because of course the fantasy world had a cavernous stable meant to housed large flying lizards that could breathe fire and whatnot.

Mercifully, when the crew arrived to the stables it was devoid of the wyverns and their riders - the war with the Demon Army required the full deployment of the Royal Army, including its elite riders. It also meant that Barry and Jay wouldn't have to butt heads with the frankly arrogant and pompous riders, who thought of them and their tank as nothing more than a one-trick novelty.

The quartet approached where the tank was kept, inside a spare wyvern stable. While the stable gate was large - as they were meant to keep creatures large as a Chinook helicopter contained - it wasn't much for Barry and Jay to push open together. And inside was the large tan steel beast that was the tank isekai'd alongside them, the name Hot Pocket stenciled on the bore evacuator. The very same tank that Barry commanded alongside Jay, DJ, and Enrique when they were deployed to Middle East.

And now we're back to it, again. This time only just me, Jay, and two girls who shouldn't be here.

Barry looked at Emiya and Aya. "Alright girls, same as last time. Clear your rifles, stow 'em, and get into your positions. We'll start the training in a few."

A pair of "Hai" was chorused and the girls admirably followed Barry's commands. Marines they were not, but they at least had a sense of diligence he wished other Marines had. Jay wordlessly went to the driver's station and Barry made to follow suit. But before he could take another step, he heard the telltale clacks of heels on stone.

"Too early for her to be coming down," Jay commented, the man halfway through the driver's hatch. The teens peeked their heads through the turret hatches, but Barry gestured them to go back inside.

"Just practice what you learned last session." Barry ordered and he turned around to meet the arrival.

The "her" Jay mentioned was the court mage of the Royal Family, Elevander, an Elven woman with a taste in fancy gilded robes, pointy hats, and heels. In the initial days there had been some animosity between the Elven lady and the veterans, as she was the one who enacted the ritual that led to the four of them being isekai'd. But when it was explained that the ritual was never meant to do... any of what had happened, and that the court mage had spent days in the libraries in search of answers, said animosity mellowed out.

"Ma'am," Barry didn't salute her but gave a nod to the Elf in front of him.

--- SEE REPLY FOR NEXT PAGE ---

"You mean I have to do all that again?"

'...Yes?'

"God, no!"

You're not wrong. That was a twist I was thinking of adding, but the story would've gotten too long for the idea I wanted to put out there. Other than the coincidence of going to write the same thing in the windmill book, it's just as likely to be some random stranger that had the same idea, but I figured it wouldn't really matter if the lesson he takes away came from his actual previous self or not. If he can't remember a single thing about his past life, and has no knowledge of what his future self will be like, then the reincarnation would be indistinguishable from a stranger anyways.

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