Heroes of Last Resort (The Other Guys Book 1)
Page 1
JK Galioto & CT Knospe
Heroes of Last Resort
Book 1 of The Other Guys
First published by Flaming Fist Publishing 2021
Copyright © 2021 by JK Galioto & CT Knospe
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
First edition
Editing by Courtney Rae Andersson
Cover art by J Caleb
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
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“Find something you love to do so much, you can’t wait for the sun to rise to do it all over again.”
–Chris Gardner
Contents
Acknowledgement
Map of Events of Heroes of Last Resort
Prelude
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Interlude: Ravanan Empire
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Interlude: Ravanan Empire - Cornado Continent
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Interlude: Ravanan Empire – Lyran Continent
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Epilogue: Ravanan Empire
Acknowledgement
There are many people that helped bring this small kernel of an idea to literary reality.
To our families: Thank you for encouraging us to follow our passion and giving us the gift of time to do so. Thank you for putting up with robot narrators, thousands of bounced ideas, and random spouting of dialogue when you knew for a fact we were alone. We love you, always!
To Chad, Mike, Joe, Becky, Thomas, and especially Nathan: We are grateful for your early draft readings of the book and your valuable feedback. We appreciate your patience as you slogged through the roughest of drafts. Your gift of time, thoughtfulness, and advice made this a much-improved final product.
To Courtney, our amazing copy and developmental editor. You took the beginnings of a something good and made it into something better.
To our readers: The passion of the LitRPG community has fueled this book and our own passion. Thank you for taking a chance on a first-time book from first-time authors, and we look forward to serving you up more in the future.
—JK & CT
Map of Events of Heroes of Last Resort
Prelude
Major Chad Jensen had experienced a lot of messed up things in his long and tenured army career. While combating insurgents in Afghanistan, he witnessed people do unspeakable things to their fellow human beings. Things that had etched their way onto his soul. Undercover with the CIA in Colombia, he saw greed turn brother against brother in deadly guerilla combat. After twenty-two years of service, he felt like there was nothing more that could surprise him. That is, until the door appeared—that damn door.
“Major Jensen, we read your report, but would like to hear the summary directly from you,” General Guenther stated, rolling a pen calmly between his aged, spotted fingers. Chad looked at the general and his team, each of whom stared intently at him, their eyes boring into his with unbridled interest. After coming a long way, they expected answers. They deserved answers. Where to begin?
Chad ran his fingers through his short-cropped, brown-turning-to-grey hair, and began, “Yes sir. As you know, six months ago a local hunter, Galen James, found something unusual. While checking his traps, he came upon a normally empty clearing that had what appeared to be an elaborate doorframe erected near the center. Thinking that someone had pranked him, he approached the door to take a picture of it with his smartphone. He took a few shots from the edge of the clearing. Please note Exhibit A in your folders.” Chad gave them a moment to review the photos before continuing.
“As he got closer to the doorframe, his phone seemed to malfunction and ultimately shut down. Believing his battery had simply died, he thought nothing of it. That’s when he noticed his solar charging watch stop working as well. Moving closer still, he reported a humming noise, a strange vibration originating from the frame, and he started getting a queasy feeling in his stomach. Not taking any more chances, he left the clearing and returned home.
“After a call to the police and their cursory examination of the object, local law enforcement made the decision to escalate the situation to the feds. The FBI investigated, and not long after that, word of the unusual artifact reached the secretary’s desk. Subsequently, my team and I received orders to secure the artifact site and get some answers.” Chad glanced around to see the army leaders still staring intently at him. “The object looked like nothing more than a large doorframe, with symbols and pictographs running around its entire length. Our scientists felt out of their depth and specialists were called in from the private sector to assist, but the artifact and the inscriptions were unlike anything any of them had ever seen. Six weeks after the discovery, everything changed.” Chad leaned forward, lines creasing his forty-six-year-old face as he whispered hoarsely, “It changed.”
“The glyphs began to glow and a strange wind emanated from within, carrying with it a nearly tangible sense of dread. I ordered everyone back immediately, initiated mitigation protocols, suited up, and moved in for a closer look. That’s when I saw . . . it. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, a small creature that appeared more Ewok than man, with large, intelligent eyes.” Chad began to sweat as he relived the memory.
“As I approached with extreme caution, I noticed blood seeping out of a large gash on its chest and multiple smaller cuts across its legs and arms. I called for a medic and continued walking closer to the m
ini-Chewbacca. As I did, it moved its head slightly in my direction. It was clearly in a great deal of pain.” As Chad said this last part, his eyes took on a vacant expression and for a moment, he was elsewhere. As he recounted the meeting, he relived it.
* * *
“Doomed,” the creature sputtered in broken, heavily accented English.
“My name is Major Chad Jensen of the United States Army. Who or what are you? Where are you from? What is your mission?” Chad rapid-fired his questions, unable to control himself at the sight of the strange creature and letting his training go on autopilot. Finally getting hold of himself, he softened his tone and said, “I sent for help for your injuries.” As he finished that sentence, the medic arrived.
The hairy little creature looked up at Chad with big, black eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. “Need help. Must fight . . . must stop them . . . . Your world . . . in danger,” the diminutive creature continued, breathing in shallow gasps.
It weakly shrugged off the medic and grabbed at the major’s uniform by the chest. “You need to . . . send help . . . or both . . . worlds are—” At that point, its breathing stopped. The medic pushed the major aside and started CPR, to no avail.
* * *
Major Chad pulled himself back to the present and stared at the generals in front of him. “If you read my report, you know what happened after that. I sent a platoon of twenty men into the portal—the toughest, meanest, angriest bunch of soldiers that I ever had the honor to serve with. Of those twenty, only one came back, and he returned an incoherent, unintelligible mess. None of the equipment sent with him came back. Instead, he wore clothing that resembled a squire’s outfit at Medieval Times, complete with a one-size-fits-all tunic and furs for pants. Over many long debriefing sessions with the man, we pieced together bits of what happened to my soldiers.
“Apparently, you lose your clothes and equipment on the other side, most notably any modern tech. If we believe the poor soul that came back to us, they were set upon by mythical creatures—goblins, orcs; heck, he even mentioned a minotaur—some real Greek mythology stuff. He said that when on the other side, he had a ‘character sheet’ where his characteristics, skills, and other items presented themselves within a translucent interface, and a strange voice spoke directly into his mind.
“I wasn’t sure how much of this I believed; this guy seemed nuttier than an eight-armed squirrel getting ready for winter. We redoubled our efforts and sent another force into the portal, this time arming them with as much knowledge as possible, focusing on soldiers with proven survival skills. As you know, again only one returned, more than a week later, babbling much like the other soldier. Goblins, faeries, double rainbows; you name it, he said it,” Major Chad said, exasperated. “Since then, dozens more soldiers have attempted the portal crossing, and none have returned.”
“Major, this all sounds too fantastical to believe,” General Guenther stated, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before giving Major Chad a hard look. “But I’ve spoken to the two men in question and if anything, you understate the level of insanity I saw in their eyes.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” Chad whispered glumly. The general and his team leaned in closer. “The portal grows in power every day, and it’s radiating a magnetic field similar to a permanent EMP burst. The world’s best scientists are researching the situation and as near as we can tell, the EMP field is growing at an accelerated rate. The scientists estimate that if we can’t figure out a way to slow it down, in six months it will cover the state of Alaska. In a year it will cover most of the United States, and after two years, most of the world.” The atmosphere in the room was so quiet and tense that Chad wished one of the old bastards would fart, just to ease the tension.
“To make matters worse, on the portal frame, a set of symbols changed each time we sent a soldier through. Our scientists now believe that this portion of the symbols constitutes a countdown mechanism. Based on their research and limited understanding of the symbols, we may only have a few more attempts left to enter before the opportunity to pass through is lost.” There was a long pause after Chad finished, during which the general continued to stare at him.
“You’ve made your point, Major. We are in a shitstorm without an umbrella,” General Guenther finally snapped, breaking the awkward silence and leaning back in his chair. “You asked us to come here because you had an idea about how to get us out of this mess, so out with it,” he finished, any semblance of politeness gone from his voice. “And this better be good.”
For the first time since entering the room, Chad’s confidence waned. Well, here goes nothing. “Sir, what if the soldiers we send in can’t survive because their minds aren’t flexible enough to deal with the unreality of the fantastical world on the other side? Our best soldiers’ minds cannot adapt, as they are heavily conditioned to follow orders first and ask questions never. What if we instead send people who are used to living in fantasy? People that see gray where we see black and white—no, strike that, people that see full-spectrum rainbows where we see black and white.
“We researched the lives of the two soldiers that survived the process,” Chad continued. “They had a couple of things in common: they both belonged to role-playing groups online and played video games occasionally, according to their Google calendars. Of all the soldiers, only these two were into science fiction and fantasy. Maybe a highly malleable mind with a bent toward the otherworldly is the secret? If we find someone who exhibits these traits to the extreme, that person might have a higher chance of surviving.
“I have given this much thought, and I think I know someone that fits this bill, and who, given our time constraints, is a viable option.” Chad pointedly looked away from the general in quiet regret, holding back a sigh. “My brother. He still lives in the small town in Wisconsin where we grew up and has been playing various role-playing games since he was a kid. Dungeons & Dragons, Shadowrun, Pathfinder, MechWarrior, Star Wars—you name it, he plays it. Beyond that, he’s probably held over a hundred jobs in the twenty years since high school; you won’t find a more adaptable, curious, if a bit immature, mind out there. I love my kid brother and would never willingly put him in danger, but he may be our last hope. I can also vouch for him as someone we can trust to keep this operation secret and out of the mind of the public.” There was a long, pregnant pause before Chad finished, “My recommendation is to recruit my brother Jack and send him through the portal. And may God have mercy on our souls if I am wrong.”
Chapter 1
Jack finished wiping off the display cases in the large, open gaming area of the store he owned, clearing them of the dozens of smudges little hands had made as they gawked at the treasures inside: uncommon Pokémon cards, first edition comics, and other rare finds. Yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he walked back into the entry room of the shop and sat on his large, black chair, tucking the half-empty bottle of Windex into a drawer along with his cleaning rag.
Turning to his ancient desktop computer, Jack logged into his M&I Bank account, hoping against hope that this time would be different. After an arduous process of entering his username, password, clicking on the “Forgot your password” link, checking his email, clicking the “Reset password” link, resetting his password, resetting his password again with the requisite upper and lower and special characters, verifying his account picture, five attempts at finding the fire hydrants, then requesting and receiving a code via text, he finally logged into the site. Clicking on the checking account icon brought him to the account page: “Account Balance: $143.13.”
Shoulder’s slumping, Jack let out a long, disappointed breath. He wasn’t great at math, but even he knew that when more money went out than in, it wasn’t a good sign. He sighed in defeat. Time to find a second job, although his choices were limited in the not-quite-ten-thousand-person town of Merrill, Wisconsin. At forty-one, he had done nearly every job, big and small, the town offered. He d
idn’t know why he couldn’t hold down a job for more than a few months, but he was a creature of habit. He took on a new job with excitement, but after he mastered it, he lost interest and eventually quit or was fired.
When he turned eighteen, he’d received a small inheritance set aside in a trust from the proceeds of his parents’ life insurance. They had died in a car accident when he was young, and he grew up with the help of his older brother and grandfather. Unlike his big brother Chad, who used the money to attend the University of Wisconsin before pursuing a career in the military, Jack had decided to purchase an old Pamida, a local department store that had closed its doors a few years prior. He purchased the space for pennies on the dollar and used most of his inheritance to transform the old, run-down store into an awesome gaming shop, a place for local kids and adults to come and read comics and play games.
Managing the shop was the one job he genuinely enjoyed; he loved to see kids’ eyes light up when they saw a new comic or made a heroic play in Dungeons & Dragons. Working side jobs had become a necessity, however, since the shop barely made enough money to keep the lights on and pay for some of the older kids to work the front desk.
His other regular gig was playing at local taverns in his band The Flaming Fists. Truth be told, most of the band’s profits went into “serving” The Flaming Fists with alcohol. His father had taught Jack the guitar before he died, and playing it always reminded Jack of his parents. Maybe that’s why the band was another constant in his life; he’d fronted and played guitar in it since high school.
The bell on the door dinged, startling Jack. It was Billy, one of the neighborhood kids that came into the store almost daily. Like most of the kids, he usually browsed the comics and played role-playing games with his friends. Also like most of the kids, his ratio of time spent in the store to money spent was not good for cash flow. But Jack wouldn’t have it any other way. Watching those kids play games reminded him of delving into those same games during his childhood. When he thought of Bo, Geoe, Gooch, Gritz, T, and Topher, a sudden longing hit him, like a starving man hungering for a Snickers bar. It had been far too long since he saw his friends, who had all moved on to bigger and better things.