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It was the witching hour, nothing so crude as midnight of course. Anyone can be a witch at midnight under a full moon. It was past 3 am and he had been awoken by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him urgently. His eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling and the usual questions of "Who am I?" "Where am I?" "Am I wearing clothes?" filled his head and were promptly banished. A finger pressed against his lips and words were whispered into his ear barely above the threshold of hearing, the voice one of a distant memory his sleep addled brain could not yet recollect.

"I want to tell you a secret."

Her voice was soft and calm, silky smooth and melodic. Nothing short of angelic, her voice lifted him from his drowsy state, yet caused his vision to darken and his senses to dull. The touch of her hand on his shoulder warmed him through layers of cloth and armour, and the finger pressed against his lips felt like she had placed a delicate kiss on them...

He shifted his head to one side, forcing his eyes open very slowly. In his blurred vision he saw his helmet and blade lay by his side. The visor was shattered, his blade stained with blackened blood and broken down the middle. His blood, deep crimson seeped across the ground, touching the hilt of the blade as if his fighting spirit still wanted to get up and destroy his enemy.

But for him, the fighting was done. The Gods had not favoured him today... the Spartan was lost.

---***---

Several hours earlier...

"Two! Get up! Get up now!" The squad leader's voice was crude and gravelly, and it hit him like hot coals forced down his gullet.

His eyes jerked open. Unlike the usual process when he woke up, this time he was not swamped with questions of identity in a semi-drowsy state. There was too much happening for that.

Through the splits and cracks in his visor, the Spartan stared at the clear dark purple sky. The fiery, twin suns cast a bloody glow over the jagged horizon, and stars twinkled in the darker streaks sky. But the suns did little to light this day compared to the hell raging across the ground. Streaks of yellow light flashed across his vision. Flames burned brightly in the carcasses of charred vehicles and buildings. The ground shook as explosions plumed outward, tossing charred debris and fire into the sky. The symphony of gunfire rumbled almost deafeningly in his ears.

He forced himself into action, sitting up and rolling to his feet as he looked down at himself, doing a quick pat down of his gear. His form was clad entirely in symmetrical, sleek fitting gunmetal-grey armour highlighted with blue-grey trims on his hips, knees, elbows, shoulders and the top of his helmet. Stencilled onto his chest plate were white letters, spelling out Rho-Private-2. His squad, rank and identification number. Strapped to his left hip was a short bladed, double edged sword ending in a point. Around his waist were a selection of knives and pouches for a variety of things he needed in the field, and strapped to his right hip was a pistol, a simple snub-nosed-slide-operated sidearm. By his feet was a long, sleek spear... shorn clean in two, rendered useless because it was not much longer than a sword anymore.

Leaning on one knee and hand, Two looked up across the street at the building opposite to where he was knocked down. Muzzle flares flashed through the air. Tracers scythed over the Spartan's armour. A stray round hit him in the sleek pauldron, nearly flattening the young man again. In response he flicked his left wrist, and a large round shield made out of gold light appeared. The energy shield hovered a few millimetres from his gauntlet, and he held the shield up between him and the fire.

Silently forcing himself up again, the Spartan backed away with a light limp to where the rest of his squad were taking cover behind a line of burned out civilian transports. Another round thudding into the shield forced the Spartan to move faster. With a powerful bound, the man leapt backwards through the flames spitting from a vehicle's bonnet and landed heavily in cover beside his fellows from rho and five other squads grouped together in the skirmish. Lowering his head, Two disabled his shield.

There were a hundred of them, at the very least. Spartans, all clad in their species' signature power-armour, faces hidden behind mirrored silver T-shaped visors. All of them had subtle changes in their equipment, long swords on their backs, some carried spears, others enabled the energy shields mounted on their wrists. Some threw javelins, others fired semi-automatic rifles or pistols. Some were clad in armour painted red, or blue. But only one of them stood out significantly from the rest.

Their leader, their king and their lord, King Leonidas was clad from head to toe in black. He stood tall and proud while his underlings took cover. His left wrist was raised, shielding his upper body behind the flaring energy shield which sparked as every round that made impact flattened harmlessly and bounced away. In his right hand was his sword, a curved blade ending in a vicious point. And draped over his shoulders, billowing in the cold wind that swept through the urban battlefield was his crimson cloak, frayed and tattered at the edges.

"Spartans!" Leonidas bellowed over the sounds of battle that nearly deafened his men. His voice was commanding and in impossible volume, like that of a God. It did not surprise any of his men. In their eyes, the king was a descendant of the Gods. "Prepare to charge!"

Two ducked down as a round sheared through the air above his helmet. Reaching down he grabbed the handle of his sword and pulled the blade free, holding it loosely, but not sloppily in reverse grip. Glancing over his shoulder he saw his squad leader lift his head. The heavier build Spartan in comparison to Two who was shorter and leaner, was obviously smiling behind his faceplate.

"Are you ready, Two?" Rho-One asked with some glee.

Two merely nodded. His body language and visor were expressionless. Two didn't even make a whimper. He never spoke, but not because he could not. He only spoke when he couldn't express himself any other way. To him something simple like speech was sacred. He cherished it, and like something special, he didn't want to spoil its magic by doing it too often. Many thought it a strange habit, but that was just the way Two was.

"Then let's do this!" Rho-One barked enthusiastically. Rho-One was as young as the rest of rho. This was their first mission, the first time they got to put their years of training into practice. In the eyes of a seasoned Spartan, they were still children. But that only meant they were itching to prove themselves.

Across the road the gunfire halted. The last tracer flashed over Two's head and he raised it, looking at the dark buildings ahead. Slowly the enemy who had jumped the Spartans revealed itself. The creatures were bipedal, more monster than man however. Draconic in nature, their bodies were clad in dark brown scales. Their fingers ended in talons and they were clad in very little armour. Their heads sported a single eye on the forehead and their jaws were wide and long, filled with curved, pointed teeth. With feral roars they unleashed their battle cries... and faltered as the Spartans retaliated with theirs.

"Spartans!" Leonidas addressed to his men who stood to look their foe dead in the eye.

"HA-OOH!" over a hundred Spartan voices barked as one, causing the ground to rumble and the stars to shift. The monsters before them took a step back, not regaining their composure in the face of the fearless Spartans they faced.

"Charge!" Leonidas bellowed. But even as he announced the order, he'd already leapt over the barricades and ran at his enemy.

Two leapt through the flames again and landed heavily, his free hand slapping the ground before he sprinted forward across the street without missing a beat. He kept his right hand in front of him, his head low and his left hand clutching the sword hidden behind his back. The monsters directly ahead of him charged out to meet him... and met the sharp end of his blade.

Two span past the first, slashing clean through the first beast's throat. Its head came clean off, spurting black blood from the stub of its neck. As the first body fell to the ground, Two followed through, forcing the point of his sword in the gut of the next monster. It screamed and doubled over, changing direction and falling flat on its back. As it fell, Two released his blade and swung his left hand around. His fist met the face of his third target, throwing the beast sideways, a long string of blood connecting to its mouth. Two grabbed his sword with his right and pulled it free, slashing from high to low with his next step forward. The edge clashed with the face of his final foe, cleaving the head in two.

As his final foe fell, Two straightened up and looked left to right at his fellow Spartans. They had been outnumbered four to one... and each Spartan had killed his four enemies in just a few swift cuts. As Two sheathed his sword again, he watched some of the others double check the beasts, jabbing their knives, swords or spears into the monsters.

"Cowards!" Rho-One barked loudly, kicking one of the creatures onto its back and forced his blade into its head. "First they declare war on us and our allies. Then they have the nerve to ambush us on every world with projectile weapons instead of meeting us in open battle. Instead of fighting us the honourable way."

Two pulled his pistol from its holster and held it up as Rho-One moved his helmet, tucking it under one arm. The young man was no older than eighteen Spartan years, with pale skin regardless of Sparta's triplet native suns and dark brown hair. Rho-One looked at Two's pistol with a smile.

"That's different, friend." He chuckled. "Where it not for the crudeness of our enemy, we wouldn't have to adopt such crude weaponry for ourselves."

Two shrugged. He didn't mind projectile weapons. He quite liked his pistol. It was compact and had enough stopping power to end his enemy with a single well placed shot. And because the weapon was light it did not slow him down, plus he could use it in conjunction with a blade in his free hand.

Locking the weapon back onto his hip, Two looked up just in time to see Leonidas move closer, stepping over bloodied corpses as he went. His helmet was tucked under one arm like Rho-One's, and their king was smiling. An expression they only saw on their king's face when he was surveying a post carnage report from a battle in Spartan favour.

"Rho!" he halted beside the squad leader and nodded a greeting to Two, slapping them both on the shoulder. "You boys fought well today. I hope you have many more surprises in store for me."

"We do, my liege." Rho-One assured with a nod.

"Good!" Leonidas laughed. "You will have the honour of leading us into the next ambush then. Sparta has initiated Midnight Contingency. While she is safe, the worlds of our allies burn at the hands of these Perunians." He spat the name they had for their enemy with venom and malice. "Our mission is no longer the extermination of the Perunian occupation. We are to find the Trovian royal family hidden in the palace bunker several hours march to our west." The king pointed to a tower visible on the horizon above the rooftops of the crumbling city. "We are to find them and rescue them before the royal guard falls under Perunian assault. Drop ships will extract us once we have secured the package."

"What if we cannot secure them?" Rho-One asked with a frown looking at Two.

Two looked from his king at his squad leader, then gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head. "Then the ships don't come." He said. His voice was calm and steely. And since Two hardly ever spoke, it was the only tone anyone ever heard come out of his mouth.

Two knew that if they could not secure the Trovians the drop ships would not come. That was their way. Either complete success, or total failure. For a Spartan there was no in-between.

Leonidas laughed, slapping Two on the back. "This private knows the score. No in-betweens for Spartans. Get your men ready and lead us in one hour."

"My Spartans are ready now, my liege." Rho-One said confidently, jamming his helmet on his head. "Two, you're my eyes and ears."

"Sir." Two nodded. He knew the score as he ran off ahead of the rest. Thought he did not speak as often as he should, he was not compromised as a Spartan. In fact, his vow of silence made him better. Silent but deadly, as the term went.

---***---

"Rho-One to Alpha-Actual. It is getting crowded up here, my liege." The Spartan whispered peering through his visor. "We conducted a thermal scan of the palace, which indicates standing room only. We are outnumbered at least a hundred to one. I would suggest a Thermopylae Manoeuvre, but there is not enough time. One group should infiltrate and secure the package while another initiates a torch and burn to distract the main force."

"Affermative, Rho-One." The voice of King Leonidas came back over the radio. "I will take the rest of the group and distract the main force. Rho, have your best infiltrate as quietly as possible, but direct intervention may be necessary. Have the rest of Rho provide support to our weakest flank. Leonidas out."

Rho-One chuckled, looking down at the palace gates from his elevated position with the rest of the squad, then looked down at the shadowy street across from where he lay prone. There somewhere in the darkness, hidden along the perimeter wall protecting the Trovian palace was Two... somewhere.

"When Leonidas conducts an operation, direct intervention is always necessary." Rho-One's voice crackled lightly in Two's helmet as he rose from his position and blended into the shadows. "You heard the king. Get in there, Two. Quietly."

"Affirmative." Came Two's response.

The cold, damp evening air blew across his armour, like the grass beneath his boots now dappled with dew. On the far horizon, through the crumbling city he spotted the suns shrinking behind tall, jagged mountains. An ominous orange glow crept over the horizon, setting the skyline ablaze. It was like the jagged bone yard of crumbling masonry and exposed steel girders was on fire.

Two turned his visor from the panoramic scene to the combat directly to his flank. Perunian soldiers were crashing into the palace gates, engaged in a brutal melee with Trovian palace guard. The odd snap of gunfire rang out over the clash of blade and talon on armour as screams and war-cries filled the air.

By the king's orders, Two had to avoid conflict. He felt sorry for the Trovian palace guards. They were on their own for a while until the rest of the Spartans arrived. He hoped it wouldn't be too late by then.

With a powerful bound, Two scaled the perimeter walls and grabbed the top, pulling himself up and over the five metre high wall without the slightest hint of exertion. Before he pulled himself over, the Spartan did a quick visual check, then vaulted over, landing with a light thud in the bushes on the other side. Crouched low in some roses, the warrior looked up along the sleek spire like structure, scanning various windows and balconies. Above he could see Perunian occupation from whatever aliens had slipped by the main gate. Snipers were taking up positions on balconies, and foot-soldiers were moving around inside, pillaging whatever - and whoever - they could find.

Fixing his eyes on the nearest threat, a sniper taking aim at the clash outside the gate, Two reached back and grabbed the javelin locked to his back. Rho-Five had let him have it, in light of Two's loss of spear. Pulling the long weapon loose, he turned it over in one hand before straightening up and stepping back. Ready and aiming, Two threw the javelin straight up before ducking back down. The javelin soared straight up, then turned and came down, the alloy tip thudding heavily into the creature's neck.

Gripping the appendage sticking out of its body, the Perunian gagged and squeaked before flopping over and dying silently. The moment he saw the alien drop away, Two rose to his feet and dashed from his position. He ran silent as a shadows across the dim courtyard, aiming for the respective windows ahead of him.

Once in range, Two dropped to the ground and slide into the wall underneath the window. His shoulder crashed lightly against the cover, and keeping his head low, one hand guiding his way along the side of the palace, the Spartan crept around the building. As he moved out of view from the skirmish at the main gates, Two snatched up his pistol, holding the weapon next to his visor.

Two ducked into the shadows twice to let a patrol of Perunians pass him. It would have been so easy to just kill them, but his orders were to stay low and keep this as quiet as possible.

Eventually he reached a gaping hold in the ground. It looked as if a bomb had been dropped just short of the palace. Splash damage had toppled trees and shattered windows, but left the palace walls intact. The bomb had dropped through into a tunnel below before detonating, ripping up a hole several metres in diameter. The edges were framed with ragged earth, crumbling concrete and layers of twisted steel mesh of some sort. Severed electrical cables sparked, flickering in the dim light, illuminating the ominous shadows below.

A soft whine of energy filled Two's ears as he activated his low light vision. Everything was bathed in a green glow, lighting up the shadows for his eyes to see. Below was clear, so the Spartan held his weapon ready and jumped into the hole. He fell at least ten feet before hitting the ground, falling to one knee to absorb the shock of the impact. As he landed he did a quick glance around to ensure he was clear. Rising slowly, Two looked left to the hall taking him to the foundations of the Trovian palace. He then looked right, his eyes following the downward slope to a vaulted door at the very end.

Slowly rising to his feet, the Spartan slotted his pistol back into the holster and walked downhill towards the vault. It took him a few minutes, but when he reached the vault doors, his heart leapt up into his throat.

The vault doors looked like they had been forced open. The right hand sliding door was still shut, but the left was askew and half open, forming a narrow passage into the royal vault. Two quietly slipped inside and felt his eyes widen. Eight Perunians were standing in the centre of the vault's lobby. The ground was slick with blood and littered with the corpses of Trovian royal guards. Anthropomorphic canines had been mauled and gored by the Perunian claws.

The aliens had their back to the Spartan. They were watching their leader, and as was Two... with so much disgust he wished he had some grenades so he could kill all of these monsters in one swift strike.

The leader of this Perunian squad was bigger than the others, with rippling muscles revealed thanks to the little armour it wore. The creature wore a crown of some sort that covered the whole head and gave the illusion of horns and tusks. It had an aqua cape draped over its shoulders, hiding most of its form... but even so, Two could see her legs nonchalantly spread by the alien's claws, and its hips rocking vigorously forward and backwards. And then he heard her screams.

The female Trovian screamed in agony, her sobs and cries for help echoing through the empty space as the alien raped her.

Two growled and glared. This would not stand. They would burn in hell for what they were doing here... and Two would send them there.

He drew his sword into his right hand, flicking his left to activate his shield. The crash of energy as the shield exploded into existence caught the aliens' attention. They turned and hissed at the lone Spartan standing between them and the exit. The leader merely glanced over its shoulder, lazily hissing an order.

The seven combat ready Perunians moved closer and filled with rage, the Spartan dashed them.

The Perunian general took no heed to the clash going on behind him. Seven of his finest warriors could easily kill a single Spartan. In the general's view they were weak, pathetic fleshy beings. Instead of worrying about the Spartan, he turned his attention to the Trovian queen. Queen Fourys was a grey furred wolf with short black hair. For a female of her age she was excessively satisfying. Despite her struggling, she was wet inside, and her soft folds hugged the alien's member tightly. Each thrust caused a wet squelch as he buried his head deeper and deeper into her every time. Each time he met a wall he forced through, causing the queen more pain, but the Perunian more pleasure.

The Trovian woman had her eyes squeezed shut, screaming at the top of her lungs, thrashing her legs and arms in vain. The general had a hold of her wrists and held her still. And the more she struggled, the more it fed into the Perunian's pleasure.

The crash of claws on steel ended and the general lifted his head, hissing for a status update... none came. Impatiently the general turned his head and barked for an update louder now. None of his men replied, because all of his warriors were dead. Standing among their bodies, splattered with black blood, blade in one hand, shield mounted on the other gauntlet stood the Spartan.

De-activating his shield, he reached up and pulled off his helmet, the blood splatters and shattered visor impairing his vision. Tossing the head gear aside, the Spartan's cold grey eyes met the general's single eye.

With a frustrated cry, the general grabbed Queen Fourys' throat and squeezed with his claws. She screamed and gagged until the Perunian ripped her throat out, tossing aside a clod of fur and flesh. He roughly pulled out of her with a wet pop, then redressed himself. Not even covering up the dying Trovian woman, the general lazily turned to his foe... only to have his eye widen.

The Spartan had dashed already, quickly and quietly. He was on top of the general before the Perunian could react. Two stabbed forward and buried his blade in the general's chest, piercing armour and flesh with an audible crack.

Two twisted the blade and broke it off in the alien's body. The Perunian screamed and stumbled back a pace, but the Spartan caught him, holding the alien fast as he tossed the broken sword aside. The general cried out, lashing forward with one gauntlet. Two was two slow to react to the blow and could only watch as an energy blade materialised, fixed to the Perunian's gauntlet.

The Spartan gasped as bitter pain spread from his side. The blade hissed, cutting through armour and skin with ease, spitting up foul smelling black smoke. Gritting his teeth, Two glared back at the general. His hand was a blur of motion as he snatched up his pistol and pressed the muzzle against the Perunian's face.

Two's finger worked the trigger quickly, snapping off a dozen shots before the weapon ran out of ammunition. Every round tore through the general's head, turning his face to mush and splattering a mixture of brain and skull fragments to the ground at their feet.

Dead, the general's body fell back, pulling the energy blade free from Two's gut. Gasping for air, the Spartan dropped everything and gripped his armour where the blade had pierced. Blood flowed freely from the crevasse cut in his armour, seeping between his fingers. The world was spinning. Everything swayed. His head was light and his sense of up and down disappeared.

Two fell backwards and hit the ground. Everything went black, but his mind remained attentive. Time passed as he listened to noises around him. Explosions rumbled the ground. Outside he could hear gunfire... steel and bone clashing... the wet noise of alien blood spilled...

Seconds... minutes... hours... it all blended together as Two swam in darkness. He shivered. His whole world turned icy cold... until she touched him, and the ice melted. Then his life played out before his eyes.

He was standing in a sunny meadow on Sparta, reaping the grain with his father...

His mother weeping and screaming for her son as the soldiers came to take him away to training...

He was hidden in the shadows, holding the first girl he ever kissed, her naked breasts pressing against his chest as she held him tightly...

King Leonidas himself presenting Two with his squad, rank and title. The king handed a helmet to the boy, and he bowed gracefully...

And then darkness. Everything went black again, but he remained comforted as the angel rested her hands on him, her warmth piercing armour and cloth.

It was the witching hour, nothing so crude as midnight of course. Anyone can be a witch at midnight under a full moon. It was past 3 am and he had been awoken by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him urgently. His eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling and the usual questions of "Who am I?" "Where am I?" "Am I wearing clothes?" filled his head and were promptly banished. A finger pressed against his lips and words were whispered into his ear barely above the threshold of hearing, the voice one of a distant memory his sleep addled brain could not yet recollect.

"I want to tell you a secret."

Her voice was soft and calm, silky smooth and melodic. Nothing short of angelic, her voice lifted him from his drowsy state, yet caused his vision to darken and his senses to dull. The touch of her hand on his shoulder warmed him through layers of cloth and armour, and the finger pressed against his lips felt like she had placed a delicate kiss on them...

He shifted his head to one side, forcing his eyes open very slowly. In his blurred vision he saw his helmet and blade lay by his side. The visor was shattered, his blade stained with blackened blood and broken down the middle. His blood, deep crimson seeped across the ground, touching the hilt of the blade.

Slowly he angled his gaze up to her and saw a magnificent wolf. She had black fur, perfectly groomed and wavy black hair cascading down over her shoulders like a silken scarf. She was dressed in a silver dress that ended just under her hips, revealing her long slender legs, and was cut short on the arms revealing her bare arms. The way the light played around her, glinting from her shiny fur, Two thought she was the angel to take him into the afterlife.

"A secret?" the Spartan asked softly, his voice sounding rough and crude compared to hers.

The wolf smiled, stroking her hand across the side of his face. "Spartans never die." She suddenly turned her head to someone standing out of Two's field of vision. "Fetch a gurney and a field surgeon. We must get him to the drop ships!" she ordered.

"Yes, milady." A voice replied before Two heard a figure running away.

Slowly his eyes drooped shut again and he let unconsciousness take him.

---***---

Cold air brushed Two's face. The ground was moving, swaying and tilting. Slowly the Spartan managed to open his eyes to see the wolfess sitting in a seat not far away. Beside her was a male Trovian clad in golden combat armour, somewhat sleeker to the Spartan armour, but it seemed to be more aesthetic than something that would protect his body. The anthropomorphic canine turned his head away from the Spartan, and Two followed his gaze.

That was when he realised he was in a ship of some sort, his gurney strapped to the floor of a drop ship. The side door was open and the Trovian palace guard was looking down at the ground below them as the drop ship circled. Two could clearly see the palace spires outside, indicating they hadn't left the area quite yet.

"It was lucky the Spartans showed up. We would have been lost otherwise." The palace guard stated before looking back at Two. "He is the last one?"

The angelic wolf nodded. "He was sent to retrieve my sisters and I." her ears drooped, pinning to the back of her head as she sighed sadly. "He was unable to save my mother though."

Two craned his neck slightly to observe the scene below. Down below in the streets outside the palace, past several other drop ships hovering in his view he saw a mess of bodies and blood. Dead Spartans lay among dead Perunians, strewn all across the concrete. Surviving Perunians picked through the corpses, retrieving armour and weapons from the dead Spartans. Among the tangle of bodies he saw a crimson cloak billow up in the wind before setting again. Even King Leonidas had fallen.

"They all died to save us!" the Trovian guard in armour called to the Spartan, noticing him observe the scene below. "Were it not for them we would have been dead meat! You're lucky you survived!"

Two rested his head back down, blinking away tears. He was the last one. He had lived while his fellow Spartans had fallen. Did that make him lucky?

Only time would tell...

***[(READ THROUGH THIS VERY CAREFULLY. I KNOW THE YIFF SCENE IS MERELY A SHORT RAPING, AND IT IS FLEETING, BUT THIS IS AN INTRODUCTION TO THE 'FURRY' CHARACTERS. AGAIN, THE APPEARANCE IS FLEETING, BUT THAT'S WHY THEY CALL IT FORESHADOWING.)]***

I hope that clarifies things. I don't mind Fearless and Rage being taken down, I'll fix it to appease folks, but THIS one stays... unaltered. End of conversation.