Location: Unknown
#9 of Operation: Liberation
"We're setting up here for the night," Commander Dani Firebird spoke aloud, "Bluefrost and Whirlwind, stay near the entrance with me."
The sun was beginning to set as we all proceeded further into the cave, Sergeant Nighthawk and I leading the wounded and a few SEALs inside the cave. We've been walking for hours after extracting the DEVGRU operatives out of Maryville via a sewer system, rescuing most of the SEALs. There were twelve of us total, three being wounded from the DEVGRU team. Originally, from what the Commander told me, there were twelve SEALs under her; however, three died before we even got to them, and one died while we were evading the enemy.
"It's clear," the New Yorker later announced once we reached the end of the short, dark cave, "set yourselves down right here. Endrico, leave your helmet here and follow me." The male wolf started to walk off. I quickly set my helmet down, which had the flashlight still on from when we entered the cave, and followed Sergeant Nighthawk, passing by the SEALs . What does he want with me? And did he just call me by my first name?
We walked back towards the entrance of the cave, where the female tiger was standing with Petty Officer Bluefrost and Airthro Whirlwind. To be honest, the Commander looked like she's in her early twenties; but then again, tigers tended to age slower than most felines, with the exception of developing grey whiskers by the age of forty-five, which the female had grey whiskers.
"Here you go girls," the Commander pulled out her bag and handed Bluefrost a good amount claymores and gave Whirlwind a few detonators, "someone will be covering you both while you set up the defensive perimeter."
Once both the females walked off, Sergeant Nighthawk walked forward, his HK416 in his paws, "you mind if I take someone with me to scout out the surrounding area? We can scavenge for supplies and look for transportation."
"we're already spread thin as it is, Rapier," the female tiger turned to us, her assault rife slung over her shoulder with a sling, "the most we could send is just you and someone else."
"I volunteer Endrico here to come with," the New Yorker said, "I was in the Marine Corps as a scout and he knows the type of medicines that we need, just in case we run into some." Was I just voluntold?
"That's a decent idea," Commander Firebird nodded her head, swatting at something in front of her face, "are any of you guy's subdermals working?" Subdermal implants? Like from Splinter Cell?
"Endrico doesn't have his implants yet, and all of ours were damaged in the last few skirmishes we were in," Sergeant Nighthawk replied to the female, "if we aren't back by 06:00, don't send anyone looking for us and try to move out towards the coast. There will most likely be allied forces there."
"You'll both make it back safe," the Commander smiled at us, "this isn't the first time you told me something like this. Good luck and Godspeed." The female patted the wolf as she walked past us, going to the back of the shallow cave where the wounded were, "Petty Officer James! You and Seathro Madison watch the front and cover those two troopers setting the perimeter!"
In a few minutes, we were at least eight hundred meters away from camp and deep in the woods. The sun had already went down, making it completely dark out here. Luckily, I had great night-sight to the point where I never had to use NVGs. Sergeant Nighthawk looked like he had great night-vision as well by the way he was walking through the thick brush with ease.
"I've been tracking your progress since your AIT and assignment to Australia," the Northerner spoke. The statement took me by surprise, which almost made me trip over a root sticking out the ground by a nearby tree.
"Seriously, Sergeant?" I questioned, keeping my voice low as I quickly regained my composure. Has this dude really tracked me since then?
"Lose the 'Sergeant' at the end of your sentences, for starters," Sergeant Nighthawk told me with slight annoyance in his voice, both his ears moving around like a radar dish, "it isn't too necessary to end your sentences with the rank. You're allowed to address me by Nighthawk or Rapier like the others. But as I said, myself and this unit has been monitoring your progress since your Advanced Individual Training."
"Why? And what unit is this I'm now a part of?" I felt taken aback by this news, and questions needed to be answered, "why me out of all anthros? There were others that had more advanced skills and better training than I did." I kept my ears and eyes open, not wanting to trip as I rotated my ears outwards like Sergeant Nighthawk's.
"Slow down, son," the wolf chuckled as we approached a trail, "all that will be explained in due time. Trust me, I'll be doing all the paperwork when this war is over. You just stay alive and remember yo......." The New Yorker abruptly stopped talking and got down into the prone position, being covered by the tall, wild grass.
I immediately did the same and stayed silent, my heart pounding and my adrenaline starting to pump. I stayed deathly still as I strained my ears, trying to pick up on what the Sergeant heard. A few seconds of silence passed by, the only sounds being insects flying around and owls hooting. I then heard it.
"Desmond, are you sure you aren't going crazy?" one voice, a female voice, whispered from nearby, "are you sure you heard Americans?" From her accent, I could tell right away that she wasn't Russian; however, she sounded a bit British.
"I'm sure, Arrow," another voice, a male one, spoke, "I'm pretty sure there's nothing wrong with my hearing, Ma'am." This one didn't sound Russian either, but he had a recognizable French accent, although it wasn't thick. Since Sergeant Nighthawk and I were only a few feet away from the wide trail, the anthros both walked right past our noses. Literally.
From here, I could automatically tell that these weren't Russian soldiers. Their weapons looked American-made, the shorter one carrying what looked like an M16 rifle and the other, a battle rifle. Their speech pattern was consistent like they were taught English at a very young age, and their gear didn't look like Russian gear, their camouflage pattern being very similar to Sergeant Nighthawk's. Are they friendly?
To my nine and only a few feet away, Sergeant Nighthawk slowly rose to his feet, his assault rifle aimed at the unknowns. I stayed in my spot until he motioned me to follow him, both of us getting on the dirt path of the trail and tailing behind both the anthros, our weapons at the low ready. The unknowns were only a few feet ahead of us as we crept up on them.
"Why would Americans be hiding out here?" the female, the anthro on the right, asked, "we pushed through Maryville only to find a dead squad of U.S. Navy Seals at the college building. Unless we run into Seals out here, then there were more than we thought. Until then, I believe you're being paranoid and hearing voices. "Did these anthros hear the transmission on their radio as well? Where did these guys come from? I trailed the female on the left, while Sergeant Nighthawk took the male on the right.
Once the anthros appeared to have stopped talking, Sergeant Nighthawk growled, "Don't move a muscle. Can I borrow a lighter?" He had the muzzle of his HK416 to the back of the male canine and I did the same, my weapon trained on his partner.
"I don't smoke, maybe you would like a drink instead?" the female responded to the code phrase, which I swear came from a movie or video game. The British-accented female was calm when she answered, both her and her partner frozen with their weapons pointed down to the ground.
Sergeant Nighthawk appeared to have relax after she responded, lowering his weapon, "oh lucky my, it seems that I have found my lighter after all. You both turn around. Slowly." I lowered my M4A1 to the low ready as they turned around, the both of them facing us.
"Sergeant Rapier Nighthawk, United States Special Forces," the wolf gave a fake smile, "this here is Private First Class Endrico Warwing, also Special Forces."
"I'm Warrant Officer Arrow Washington and this right here is Corporal Desmond Zaen," the female canine in front of me returned a smile, "Canadian Special Forces. Pleased to meet the both of you, though I wish we didn't meet like this."
"Right, sorry, Ma'am. We have the rest of the Seal team with us," Sergeant Nighthawk spoke, "there are three wounded and we don't have any transportation to transport them. My team is on a set timeline and a place we need to get to."
"No need to apologize, Sergeant," Warrant Washington said, "we're in a warzone and you're in the right. You said you had wounded? I have a few medics under me and vehicles for transportation. Where are you guys headed?"
"D.C.," the New Yorker answered, "you guys?"
"The same place. Our Prime Minister gave us new orders after we landed in Knoxville with the British 32nd Light Infantry regiment," the canine answered, then looked over at Corporal Zaen, "go get the rest of the team and make sure they bring the vehicles and Sergeant, you go with him. Private, show me where the rest of your team is at, so I can speak to the Seal team's commander."