Nemesis
#1 of Nemesis
"Sniper!"
"Where did it come from?!"
"Where is he?!"
"Johnson is down!"
"Sergeant is down! Someone get eyes on that sniper!"
"Shit! He's got us pinned down! Someone call a mortar strike!"
"Jack is down! Where the fuck are our reinforcements?!"
NEMESIS
The year was 1941. Japan had decided to show their military might by attacking one of our naval bases, Pearl Harbor. Reports say casualties are ranging from two thousand to around three thousand, though officers and civilians tend to exaggerate the amount of damage sustained. The Arizona, the Oklahoma, the California, and some others had either been destroyed or nearly destroyed. Roosevelt would then later announce we were at war with Japan. December would soon arrive, though not shortly after, we were at war with Germany and Italy.
A German Shepherd sat on the tracks left by the husk of the burning Sherman, the cigarette burning away, his glazed eyes watching the ground that his feet rested upon. It had been a costly battle, but the advance into German occupied lands would continue as planned. Though the crew within the tank never made it out, at least the goals of the "Allies" would still be unhindered. Not like one tank crew meant anything to them. They were mass producing Shermans and any two bit patriot could be trained how to drive a tank.
He would shake his head before he stands up, his M1 Garand being held tight in one paw, his eyes looking over his squad. "Alright boys, we have to meet up with Baker and Able, someone send out a message to Charlie and Fox that we are moving out."
As he stood there, listening to the calls being sent, his ears flicking after each one, going back and forth between hearing the occasional gunshot in the distance to hearing the loud bang of what could either be a Kraut Panzer firing, something getting blown up, or a dreaded flak gun. "Probably a fuckin' eighty eight, sir," said a private, Johnson, to which the shepherd would turn to him before he says, "Well, I hope whoever it fired at had a quick death... or it missed and they are tearing it apart piece by piece."
"Sir... ," and Johnson would go quiet, as if unsure what to say. The shepherd would move past him before he says, "Get your gear Johnson... and for fuck's sake Smith, tie your fucking laces!" Smith would bite his lip, ears folded back as he quickly tried to tie his laces up, the burning glare of the sergeant burning into him. "S-sir yes s-sir!"
When Smith finally stood up, the sergeant simply glared at him before his lips curled into a snarl. "Keep your boots tied, the Germans won't wait around for you to tie your boots and I sure as hell won't either." With a quick turn, he would say, "Alright boys, let's regroup with the others at Cherbourg, and I better not hear any bitching."
_"Alex! This is amazing! Thank you!" The wolf would hug his wife, his tail wagging happily as he kissed her cheek. Their reunion was short lived though, when she would pull away, her illustrious blue eyes staring into his dull eyes. "Our anniversary is next month though... why are you giving this to me... oh no... Alex... you... you are going back, aren't you?"
"Hon, I was sixteen when I first deployed-"
"Yeah, that was our biggest loss, now wasn't it? Yet here you are, wanting to go back. Do you have a death wish Alex?"
"No love, I don't have a death wish... I'm simply wanting to protect you from-"
"From what? They didn't declare war on us, we declared war on them! You know what Alex... I'm not going to watch as foreigners march into our homes again."_
"Kristina, you were twelve when they-"
"When they won... and you're joining to fight them because our leader has ambitions!"
"Kristina, I'm sorry, but I have-"
"Stop saying you have to fight... you don't... please... don't..."
"I already joined."
"Then goodbye Alex... " and she would place the necklace he gave her in his paw. "If you make it home, maybe you'll find someone in the rubble..."
He simply sat in the abandoned building, rifle resting against the wall. Cherbourg was a cold place, especially being a port... plus those damn coastal guns constantly firing weren't very helpful to his sleep deprived mind. The Americans were coming, it was obvious. Multiple divisions had been sent out to either delay or stop them, but they all returned, tanks with blast marks on the side, injured soldiers, it was an absolute mess.
When asked about what happened, each one said the same thing...that it was the Americans who gained the upper hand. So everyone knew they were coming. If anyone thought otherwise, they were in denial. So here he was, watching the main road into Cherbourg, waiting for any armor columns or infantry divisions to move along the main road.
Truth be told, he was more worried about the infantry moving in then the tanks. Tanks were loud, he had yet to hear a quiet one, plus now they had these tanks that sprayed fire, but still, they were loud. Infantry were quiet, they knew how to sneak up on their target, but with how many kills he's gotten, he has yet to hear a quiet American soldier.
As he sat there, watching, he heard the loud, obnoxious voices of American soldiers drawing near. So, grabbing his rifle, he would rest it on the window sill, waiting, watching, enjoying how his prey drew near.
"Is that what you enjoy? Hurting people? Treating them like they are nothing but cattle being led to the slaughter?" The voice would ring out through his skull, causing him to hesitate, the American troops getting closer, to the point where he could practically hear what they were talking about. The first soldier would reach the abandoned house in front of the wolf... so, shaking his head, he would take aim... and that's when he pulled the trigger.
"Sniper!"