Warrior of Asgaard

"INCOMING ARTILLERY STRIKE! EVERYONE TAKE COVER!" one of my brothers in arms shouted as I woke up from my precious two hours of sleep. I rolled out of the makeshift bed made of empty ammo boxes and tent cloth and sprinted as fast as I could to the bunker.
"HURRY UP SARGE! COME ON!". Corporal Lothar, a giant of a man and my closest brother in arms shouted as I neared the bunker.  I ran as fast as I could and threw myself inside and Lothar slammed the door shut behind me. Just a few seconds afterwards, we could feel and hear the artillery hit our makeshift sleeping bay.
"Sound off brothers! Everyone here?" I said calmly to Lothar.
"Everyone is here, Sir. I took the initative to move all our equipment in the bunker and the tunnels here when you went to sleep." he told me. I nodded and went to the armory to equip myself with my gear once more. I had the crazy habit to sleep in my underwear at all times when in camp, no matter the risk of ambush. Anywhere else, at hotels, even at home, I slept with my clothes and gear on.
I nodded to the soldiers I walked by in the tunnel that lead to our armory and once there I went inside after talking to the soldier standing guard.
I heaved a deep sigh and looked at myself in the full body mirror inside. Staring back at me with blue green eyes was a 23 year old guy, with scars all over his face, one particular deep and noticable that went from his left side forehead over his left eye and diagonally over his lips and over his jaw, making him look terrifying in many mens eyes. Other scars covers his whole, muscled body as well as some tattoos. A tattoo on his upper right arm in the shape of a proud viking, wielding a sword in his left hand and an axe in his right, the words 'Victory or Valhalla' stands in runic letters beneath the tattoo. Another tattoo on his inner lower arm in the shape of runes, saying 'Blood is thicker than water', and on the outer lower right arm is another one in the shape of a hammer with runes on it. On his left arm is another tattoo that is in the shape of a serpent that slithers all the way down to his lower arm.
On his right shoulder he has a tattoo in the shape of a wolf, howling towards the full moon. The word 'Defender' stands beneath. On his left is a sword and axe crossed over each other with a shield over them, and beneath is the word 'Weaponmaster' written.
The rest of his back is dominated by runes, saying 'Fight with blood, fight with steel, die in honor, never yield!'.
I sigh again and starts to put on my equipment.
Ever since Russia attacked Finland a few years ago, the Scandinavian forces have been struggling to push them back. We called for help to the neighbouring countries, but got no help from them, even though we helped them out before! I slam shut a weapon locker in frustration and look at myself in the mirror again: I stand proudly at 1.85 cm height and 125 kg weigh with special forces armor on: Modified fingerless gloves for better grip in all weatherconditions, remade green/brown camouflage jacket with reinforced body armor and with elbow protection and even special made shoulder protection and ammo pockets and survival kit, special made camouflage pants with reinforced kneepads, special made combat boots wich should withstand heavy weather and cold, even comfortable at long marches and terrain. Beneath my equipment I had a black tank top, and safely tucked underneath it my dog tags and runic hammer. On my right wrist I carry a thick leather bracelet with a sword with runes etched into it.
My weapons of choice is, as my fellow brothers in arms tells me, very unique. The higher ups gave us the liberty to arm ourselves with whatever we felt comfortable with using and wearing. The only demand was our platoon badge had to be the same.
My personal weapons of choice is: A MP5 Navy with modified barrel for the .45 ACP rounds instead of the standard 9 mm rounds, enchanced iron sights so I can aim in darkness, a detachable silencer and standard 30 rounds mags taped together two and two for fast reloads, a Winchester Super X Pump Marine Defender with green/brown camouflauge, and I also have a old Colt 1911A1 modified with a slide/frame fit wich increases the accuracy slightly, it's also fitted with a match barrel wich increases the smoothness greatly and extended mags so I can fire up to 12 rounds before I have to reload.
For close quarter combat I got a 45 cm bowie tied to my back in a thick leather sheath with the grip pointin down to my right for easy access even when carrying my backpack, and I got a serrated combat knife with a skull chrush and knuckle duster at the grip strapped to my left calf in thick leather. I also got a tomahawk made of cold steel strapped tightly onto my backpack if I had to make firewood while camping.
I cracked my neck and tied my dark blonde semi-curled, shoulder length hair back in a tight low ponytail and put my black cowboy leatherhat on my head before picking up my backpack. In it, I had my black/grey leather longcoat and some spare clothes as well as ammunition to my guns, a sharpening stone for my knifes and tomahawk, a kit for making more ammunition if I get low on it and can't get more from our supply lines, some flint for firemaking, a medium sized military first aid kit, one bottle of water, some K-rations and a tube of water purification pills.

After making sure everything was in order, I left the armory and made my way back to my troops. On the way I met one of the lieutenants and he told me that we were about to attack the town the russians had occupied. "Good, my brothers are getting restless." I told him and turned towards another tunnel that would take me to our mortar and artillery teams. A few trembles was making the dust fall down as I went outside to their platform. The commanding officer was scouting the area with his binoculars with a low curse. I approached him with a low cough and he turned around.
"Sergeant! Just the man I wanted to see!" the commander said with a smile. His eyes were old and tired, and his hair was starting to get grey.
"I am? I thought I was the LAST man you wanted to see after our mead drinking contest the last time we were off duty, John." I said with a smile. John laughed heartenly at the memory. "I get you next time David, be sure of that. Anyway, I'm afraid we have some bad news for the higher  ups... We can't use artillery or mortar fire on the town." he said with a sad expression. I raised my eyebrow. "Why not? As far as I know, it's only russians in town.... Or did we get false information..?" I asked him. We were given false information sometimes regarding our enemies location and defenses, but nobody investigated the reason for it.. nobody except me. I found out one of the higher ups got paid by the russians for giving them information of our locations and defenses and give us false information of their own. I went to the Command center in Stockholm and gave them the evidence I gathered and demanded an explanation. What I got instead was 3 months in prison and a warning to never accuse the commanders for treason. When I got out, the front lines had been pushed back into Swedens borders. Finland was lost.. After that, I had a deep hatred for officers.
Now, for once the intel is pretty accurate when it comes to the russian defenses but what the reports DIDN'T say, was that thing John was staring at.
John gave me his binoculars and told me the direction I was supposed to look at, i couldn't believe my eyes, i was staring at a GIANT fucking portal right in the middle of the town.
"What the fuck is that thing?" I asked. "I have no idea, but one thing is for sure: The russians left in a damn hurry, and i just got the satellite photos I requested of the town... And I don't see any people.... It's like they disappeared in to thin air and left everything behind.... I don't like this David... Not one bit.."  
I was concerned. I don't want to risk my boys if this is a trap. But someone have to check this thing out.
I turned to John and said "Let me know if anything shows up from the portal, and let the higher ups know about this. I will not let my boys fall into something that screams 'I'm a trap! Spring me and die!' Got it?" John replied "affirmative" as I left the platform to inform my brothers what we were going to do I started thinking *Shit they won't like what I'm going to tell them and they will probably want to hang me for this....*.