SCP-4902 The Gate (Scp Foundation Mythos x Gate - Jietai Kare no Chi nite, Kaku)

"To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day…" Followed by a choir and the melodic tune of a soft-spoken flute handled by a gentle musician, the beginning of a song is clear and everyone is in on it. "Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn't have too much to say" The same choir ensued and the flute continued, the vocalist in this little orchestra is Josh, sitting in the back of the humvee while Tuka played the flute in the integrated trailer attached to the rear of the vehicle. "No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip"

From over the radio, the rest of the platoon sang along with reserved joy and smiles on their faces. "For the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip" One more time. "Big iron on his hip"

A euphoric howl then came from Josh as the song's first verse was sung, excited and filled with joy the young Corporal slapped his knee and laughed. The addictive laugh spread to the rest of the convoy and a series of laughter and whistling came through the radio. The Falmartian, Tuka, Lelei, Master Kato, and Rory all shared a smile, Tuka and Rory giggling to one another upon witnessing the otherworld's behavior, Lelei a small smirk, Kato sighing. "The joy of young people, you should do it more often too, Lelei." While they may not understand what the meaning of the lyrics is, what's important is that they're all having fun.

The platoon soon resumed their musical session, while Richard sat on the front next to driver Roomy, he sat with a smile while looking down at his small personal notebook. Written on the pages are the names, rank, and basic information of his new Platoon members. Being assigned to a platoon is no easy task, 19 men and women, 3 vehicles one being an upgraded variant of the M3 Bradley, he had split them up into two fireteams each consisting of 9 men. A member of the fireteam will be assigned as fireteam leader, and they answer to him, platoon leader Lieutenant First-Class Richard Vulcan, man what a time to be alive.

3 days after San Fransisco

Dark clouds filled the sky, the sound of thunder echoed in the distance as Terry walked down the sidewalk. He looked on down the road to make sure he does not bump into anyone and invite unnecessary trouble and continued. Moments later drops of water begin to strike his cap hat, and then his shoulders, soon after the rain came pouring down onto the street. He looked up at the neon signs of New York City, shining brightly in the night and through the heavy rainfall.

He pulled down his baseball cap and returned his focus onto the path. He can see the front of the bar he's supposed to go into, closing in the distance before stopping dead in his tracks to fully admire the bright shining sign on the storefront, it says Cheers And Beers. He pushed open the front door and the sound of the bell rang, stepping into the bar as an eruption of laughter filled the room. He stood still as the door closes behind him to scan the drinking floor, eight men, four on a table in a tight group and the ones that are roaring in laughter, two others in an isolated corner, while the other is sitting up at the bar and the last one is the bartender behind the counter.

Terry turned and began to take off his soaked coat and hung it up on the hanger beside the door. Below the hanger is a barrel, filled with umbrellas. He flicked his hands to get rid of the rainwater and turned back around then walking up to the bar. There he would take a seat one stool over to the man's right, he's hunched over and upon closer inspection appears to be asleep, probably knocked out from all of the drinks he had tonight.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he instinctively reached for his holstered pistol when a loud thud sounded near him, he turned to face the source of the noise only to be faced by the bartender. "Welcome lad is always nice to see a brand new face 'round 'ere." The bartender spoke with a noticeable Irish accent, looking at Terry with a friendly grin across his face. "So! Hwat 'cha havin? Whiskey, beer? None of that fancy wine though." After assessing the man Terry sees no danger and slowly took his hand away from the gun, and placed it on the table with his other hand. "Lookin' a bit chilled, I understand ye need somethin' to warm ye up, maybe something to calm yer nerves too? No need to be reachin' for guns in here."