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Dexter and Miles: Wild Force! The Long-Awaited Sequel

"You guys already have your costumes?" Miles said in surprise even though he shouldn't be.

"Mhm," Adrian replied. "Milesman here, suffering from success." Followed by a chuckle from behind the phone.

"Even I didn't have that much publicity," Chase added from his side of the phone too. "But that's probably because it wasn't in the homeland."

Chase had a point. It had been some years after the attack on Halifax happened and people, despite having access to social media, still wanted to know more about the great Captain Miles 'The Halifax Reaper' Fennix. The initial interviews were fine compared to the crap that he had to do today.

"Yeah," Adrian laughed, recalling the same thing he would tease Miles repeatedly with, "Aw man, I still remember all that coffee commercial you had to do." Quoting one of those corporate lines, "'Roast N' Rye, for when you need to RnR after a hard day's work.' Or something dumb."

"But I get free stuff from any RnR cafe," Miles retorted. "So who's the real winner here?" He chuckled, glancing at his takeout bag with the RnR brand on his window-side table. They had excellent breakfast burgers.

Chase quipped, "Not your dignity, that's for sure." And they all shared a laugh.

Adrian wasn't mean spirited though, "Are you sure your schedule's clear today? I can rush to the costume shop and buy it for you. Medium size, wolf ranger, right?"

"Yep," he smirked, "but I got this man, thanks. No interviews today, no commercials, no fundraisers." And he checked his phone's calendar app. The next three days were free for him, contrasting the last two weeks of having two different things to do apart from his soldier duties. The Army cut him some slack because it was essentially free publicity for them, the amount of recruits having doubled thanks to the Halifax attack.

"And remember, Miles, use your army discount." Chase mused, "Saved me some thousand CAD over two years."

"Yeah, I know I know," Miles said, thinking about his card. He rarely used it at all, still accustomed to paying like a normal citizen. One's rank had benefits, and should be used to its fullest extent. Though he couldn't help feeling guilty that even using it once felt like an abuse of power. There were limits in place anyway to prevent that, like one discount each day.

"Your father's not the type of guy to use it either and he still forgets to this day." Chase said, muttering a comment they didn't understand. "Like father, like son."

"Like soldiers too," Adrian commented. "Nonetheless, we shouldn't hold back our star-studded soldier here."

"True true," Chase agreed.

Miles rolled his eyes, getting off his bed. "Guys-"

"We're going to make him late for the party, oh no." Adrian exaggerated it.

"True, we wouldn't want to disappoint his father. He's hosting it after all."

"Oh yeah, hah!" Adrian reacted, "'Super hero theme on behalf of our skilled Marksman'," he mimicked his voice poorly, which was humorous.

Miles got a light giggle out of it but his spotter would be in so much trouble if his father found out. "Keep it down now or the Major's gonna make you host the Christmas party."

"Alright, I kid I kid. Take care Milesman!" Adrian left the call followed by a long beep.

"Likewise kiddo, I'll see you at the party later." Chase left.

Miles disconnected after, already seeing the following messages in their group chat; images of what each member would bring. Dexter, his father, had a box full of taco shells that were in the mess hall kitchen, with several large kitchen trays in the back full of ground beef, chopped tomatoes, onions, and shredded cheese.

"What's this?" Miles narrowed on the caption which stated: 'miles, burrito wraps where'. He totally did not forget to buy the burrito wraps too. Adrian commented underneath, 'Lmao hes busy being interviewd for the 69th time'.

His husband, Joel, replied underneath with 'lol nice'. The couple would be bringing alcoholic beverages and plastic cups. And it made him wonder what Joel would go as since he was a bearded dragon. There was one popular series about ninjas, but he can't seem to recall. Their photos were from a nearby liquor store showing their process of entering, selecting, and purchasing about a bar's worth of beer. Half the store had been bought from the looks of it.

Chase was on the process of buying his share, soda and fruit juices, bringing out his pick-up truck for the job, already on the road with their barracks in the background. 'Off to buy soda, anything else?'

'burrito wrps nd cady corn' Dexter wrote.

Miles immediately replied, 'i got it, am free today at least'

'alrght, thx son' His father answered, following it up with a ':)'

Miles smiled and sent one back at him. He pocketed his phone and went over to the closet inside his bathroom. There were hoodies from a different range of universities throughout the country he collected over two years. It helped dissuade people from approaching him whenever he wore his military fatigues. Putting one on, he glanced at the mirror, staring at the white fur that made him so distinct. He took the brush on the sink and combed his fur down to be presentable. Standards and all that after all.

Cold winds awaited him, so the hoodie was an added comfort. Miles grabbed his wallet, taking a peek at his soldier ID for the discounts Chase kept reminding him of. The card's photo had his confident smirk, the white fur almost blending against the backdrop of the same color. He shouldn't dawdle anymore, making his way out and grabbing the keys from the wooden bowl of coins near the door.

Miles still relished in the fact that he resided in the officer's residence. Not too loud, had more privacy, floors were carpeted, and closer to the mess hall. It was the building beside, and he made his way left towards the stairwell. His father frequented its kitchen for the last three days organizing the events. Apart from the dinner would be a few games, a howling, and raffles. Grand prize being a car, but God forbid you'd find a parking spot for it.

There were a lot of people who resided in the base that Adrian and Joel moving out to a nearby residence was a service to the army. Speaking of residences, he didn't have to hide who he was, or be worried about getting an interview from the other officers. Aside from knowing him prior, his father's position intimidated most of them from trying, and those that do were very concise with their questions. And even respected his just-as-concise answers.

He made the way down, the time was about ten in the morning. A lot of time to do some last-minute groceries, and costume shopping. Especially the last part since he already knew what he wanted. The mess hall and the barracks were connected by a roofed pathway, the soldiers below his rank stepping aside and saluting.

"At ease," Miles saluted back to them as he stepped into the mess hall proper. A very long room with multiple rectangular cafeteria tables with their connected chairs. Several water fountains lined up on the walls, and paralleled the gaps of the dining area. Only a few soldiers were catching up on last minute breakfasts, some were preoccupied with setting up decorations. Miles walked on the main hall on the left side, watching a few soldiers put up cobwebs, Halloween banners, realistic bats, and some even tossing fake blood on the walls.

"Someone's cleaning those up tomorrow," Miles commented, feeling sorry for the poor drunk schmuck who'd be assigned it. He walked towards the serving area that connected itself in the kitchen. The army's soldiers there were already phasing out the breakfast trays, cleaning it up before lunchtime. And they were beneath his rank, saluting him as he passed by.

Miles saluted and smiled, "You guys are doing a great job, I'll just talk to my dad." He pointed at the kitchen door before entering.

The kitchen was about a quarter the size of the eating hall but compact with a lot of equipment that could provide quality foods for the entire base. He could see his father, the tall black wolf, with an apron, towering over some of the shorter army chefs at their spot in the back. Miles marched his way there, approaching someone above his rank.

Dexter was tasting the ground beef for tonight, smacking his lips to articulate its flavors. "Soft and easy to chew, which is good." He said to the coyote, "And I can taste the spices but it needs some sweetness to it and that's all you need. And make a few batches that we can put in the fridge so we can reheat it later tonight, okay?"

"Yes sir," the coyote responded, and went in Miles' way to fetch the sugar. Dexter saw his son, who saluted at him.

"Sir!" Miles stomped his left foot and stood at attention.

"At ease, Captain." Dexter gave him an informal salute and gestured him over. "Chefs," he referred to the pig, beaver, and aardvark with him, "this is our logistics runner." He smirked at him, "Why don't one of you tell him what we need."

The three army chefs looked at each other before two looked at the beaver together. It seemed to them that she would be their spokesperson. Turning to Miles, saluting, "Sir, we need about two hundred burrito wraps, ten blocks of cheddar, and two packs of candy corn."

The last one had Dexter sniggering, prompting Miles to ask him but not before thanking the private. "Thank you, Private. Sir, why do we need candy corns?"

Dexter suppressed his laughter, the other chefs snorting around seemingly in the joke that confused Miles more. "Son, we'll hide them in half the tacos and burritos tonight. Poor bastard that gets it will be responsible for cleaning duty until Christmas."

"Officers not excluded, sir?" Miles snorted too, nodding to this scheme.

"Nope, so good luck 'Halifax Reaper'," He winked at him.

The army chefs were out of their militaristic element, staring wide-eyed at the Halifax Reaper. Both the pig and aardvark whispered about his exploits, and the beaver pulled out her phone, asking, "Can I take a selfie with you, sir?"

Miles smirked, tolerating this instance, "Alright, get over here, Private." He crossed his arms, sharpening his stare as she walked closer, phone raised with its screen facing them. They both looked at the camera, the former winking at it as she took several photos. Then the pig and aardvark joined them, making sure that Miles was at the center. He even pointed a finger gun at the camera.

Dexter said, "Alright, give me some moments with my son. Have Sergeant Knightly tell you how to prepare the ground beef and start chopping vegetables after. Lieutenant Marlon would have the vegetables here at eleven-hundred." He moved past them and stood beside Miles. Keeping track of the time, they all looked at the clock, except for the beaver who looked at her phone; it was ten until h-hour. "Get to it."

"Yes sir!" They answered in sync.

The older wolf motioned his muzzle towards the parking lot exit, and Miles followed by his side. Even passing by the coyote, holding a bag of sugar, and sidestepped past them.

Once they were in the parking space, a lot of cars and a few army trucks full of food had its contents being hauled by privates and cadets into the larger kitchen entrance. Both father and son walked over to the officer's parking space, with Dexter patting Miles' back. "How're you holding up son?"

"I'm alright, dad," Miles smiled. Their red eyes met, and he patted his older man's back too. "Am free today until Monday at least."

"I could get you a secretary who could do your errands for you, y'know." Dexter took off his apron and hung it over his shoulder as they approached their car. Ever the caring father. Always challenged when needed to yet knows when to stop.

Miles noted the light scent of seasoned beef, tail wagging, "No need. I'd rather do things by myself. Wouldn't want to disappoint you."

Dexter laughed, smacking his back in a fatherly manner. "Of course you're my son, wouldn't have it any other way." They were by their cars, and he hugged him with his free arm, "But if it's too much for you. It's okay."

"I get it," Miles smiled and hugged him tightly, "Thanks for the concern pops." And they held it for a moment. Afterwards, Miles went over to his side of his red sedan as Dexter inspected his olive green hummer first. "So a lot of burrito wraps, candy corn, and a costume right?" He unlocked his car with a beep, pressed from his hand buried in the pants pocket.

"And the cheese," Dexter peeked over. "Ten blocks of it."

That, two hundred burrito wraps, and two packs of candy corn. Miles laughed, "I sound like a math problem." And went inside, starting it up and honking.

Dexter tapped his roof, "No rush, but do be here by seventeen-hundred, alright?"

"Yes, sir!" Miles shut his door with his father stepping aside. He used his door-side switch to lower the other front door's window to salute at his father as he reversed.

Dexter saluted back, and his son made his way out of the lot and into the driveway.

Miles went around the base, passing by cadets in training, and the academy proper. Fond memories of thunderous evenings when they trained, chock full of mud on their uniforms, and nostrils in some cases. The forecast was far kinder with the newer recruits; a bit of wind in the autumn. They'll mostly be stuck raking up leaves as a chore, far better than doing manual laundry for muddy clothing. A few more turns and he was in the roundabout with the centerpiece slab of the Canadian Army's logo; A roundel where at its center was a roped anchor, layered over by two clashing swords, and a three-branched twig with maple leaves on each end. Surrounded by an etching of Canada's maple leaves, and the King's crown on top. All of it from marble, and colored expertly to retain its smooth surface. Another newer part of the base, and a symbol he would proudly get behind.

He greeted the MP at the gates, saluting at them as he made the turn out and onto the long stretch of road that went through a forest. The same road Chase went through earlier. Not wanting to keep them out of a loop, Miles took a photo of the road ahead of him. Nothing but rows of trees and orange leaves, street lamps underneath on concrete sidewalks. He sent it to their group, Adrian already having a joke for it.

'why'd you send your search results here' Adrian said.

Dexter and Chase answered with laughing emojis.

Miles took it in pride though, knowing that his photo would be something that popped up on a search browser. He followed it up by sending a quick selfie with his blep sticking out at the camera, hand on the other wheel as he drove along the clear road.

'This ain't a dating app, Miles' Joel commented.

'hah nice one hun.' Adrian followed up. 'but in all seriousness milesman, have a safe trip and don't forget those burrito wraps!'

'And the costume too." Joel said. 'I'm going as Mikey.'

It left Miles confused. Mikey from where? He couldn't text the question as he was driving after all. It was much easier to send a photograph than type out a sentence, and he'd rather not stop in the middle of the road for it. He'll know what Joel would go as later anyways.

The road led to an intersection, turning right that went towards the mall. There were a lot of residential buildings here; low-lying suburban households reminiscent of his childhood. Especially one of his trick or treat where he howled for the first time too. A fond memory of his old home, much more than when he left at dawn to join the army. It didn't happen here here though, somewhere much further down the road in the other direction. On that note, it wasn't where Adrian nor Joel lived either, their home was in that opposite direction too.

Ten minutes later, past the suburbs was already the mall proper, and he had already found a parking space despite it being lunch hour on a Friday. His spot was around the front, thus he saw the far more professionally laid out Halloween decorations. There was a pumpkin head knight on the main stairwell, with a lot of pumpkins on the massive inclining concrete staircase. Murder tape plastered and fake blood stained the floors, and there was a monstrous creature of sorts watching from the roof cover of the ground floor balcony. Miles walked along the footpath that led him through it all. These decorations had built-in speakers too, playing eerie sounds of ghosts or distant shrieks. Scared some of the kids going to the mall too

"This would've scared me as a kid," he said to himself, walking into the buffer area where security guards manned a metal detector. Not like Miles had anything on him, because all the guns he needed are on his shoulders. Though there were no mirrors nor was it the place to show them off. In fact, he should be discreet.

The mall felt pretty much the same. Looks the same, sounds the same, maybe with a fresh coat of paint and organic plant life instead of synthetic ones. There were Halloween decors all around, with the theme being more around pumpkins than skeletons, and the restaurants closest to the entrances have discounts pertaining to said vegetable. It was only eleven hundred, those poor chefs would be chopping onions by the hundreds. He decided to walk around and see the new restaurants, and if there were new shops of interest too.

Since he went right with his car earlier, he decided to take a left. Though he kept his head low, shifting his shoulders so his jacket would appear larger around his neck. A lot of people here, and his title was befitting of the event. Rather not get attention. And when he put it that way, he changed his mind and went back to where he started as there were directories nearby.

A lot of touchpad directories with a few people using them. He lined up behind a family of five lions and lionesses, and an owl who was irritated at his phone. His eyes caught that the family was looking for an all you can eat buffet, which there were multiple in the vicinity. The excited mother, rather than perusing through the selection, held her closest child's arm and started making their way to the closest restaurant. The father and other two children followed close, chuckling at the rush of it. The owl moved forward, Miles moved and maintained his distance. He caught sight that the frustrated avian looked for a tech store, and immediately rushed in the direction as soon as he found one. His phone didn't need fixing yet, even taking it out to make sure.

"My turn," he said as he stood in front of the directory, with no one behind him. He cleared the search result for a phone store and was barraged by a screen of multiple ads. For a moment he darted from one colorful product placement to another, wondering if his RnR advert was still there. Sure enough it was but he dared not press on it because it was very obvious. His finger tapped on the empty search bar, changing the contents to a digital keyboard with the ads scrolling on the underside instead.

'COSTUME STORE' he inputted. Pressing enter played a little animation that mapped out the route while indicating its distance and what time the shop would close. The way was forward with an escalator going up, then it was a right from there. The store's name was called 'Booutique'. And he was off.

Booutique was a cute name for it. Very Halloween oriented, but would it have his signature Power Ranger costume though? The franchise had moved on, with their latest show focusing on dinosaurs again. 'Power Rangers Dino Fury', not to be confused with Dino Thunder nor Dino Charged. Neither of them had wolves, or space wolves which sounded even cooler. He had gone up the escalator, eyes darting around and relieved that no one knew who he was. Miles then took a right and went forward, already aware where Booutique was.

It had a very long line. A line that would have him be there for half an hour, approximately. The same amount of time he would spend hoping not to be identified, putting up his hood as he joined the latest person on the line. It stretched from folding itself within the store, to a long line that stretched across four businesses. From afar he could see the typical Halloween motif, similar to the entrance earlier where there were a lot of pumpkins, cobwebs, and child-friendly vampiric bats. The kind with big cartoonish eyes. Surprisingly enough there were more adults than children here.

"Right, I gotta update the guys," Miles got his phone out and raised it over his head, taking a photo of the long queue and sending it to their chat. He scrolled down, going through unread messages. Mostly updates on Chase acquiring all the unhealthy beverages, and Dexter's selfie with four army chefs going through five boxes worth of vegetables each.

'no rush' Dexter replied. 'much longer than the last time i was there.'

'lmao' Adrian put it simply.

'Miles, can you buy me some nunchucks there?' Joel requested. Miles knew at that moment that he'd go as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Funny because he could imagine a bearded dragon being inside a turtle shell. A bearded turtle perhaps? A turtle dragon?

'sure' Miles replied back. Joel answered with a thumbs up.

Chase posted an image of himself in his car, parked besides the green hummer, captioned, 'lemme borrow your parking spot miles. plenty of soda'

Miles gave him a thumbs up. His peripheral saw the line move at about seven people at a time, certain he would be here for the next half hour. Ten more people already lined up behind too.

He spent the next twenty five minutes on his phone, moving as the line did. He browsed the online store for his costume, which was available in the stocks of five. And nunchucks, which they were abundant of. Honestly, not as bad as Halifax but having a secretary do this would be far better. And since he was doing something for Joel, it made him his secretary.

Now and then he'd hear the exclamations of the other customers in line. A couple discussing how they would go as a bottle of rosemary and turmeric, lamenting how salt and pepper were a thing of the past. Some others were nostalgic, wanting to go as 80s comic book heroes. Miles secretly hoped that someone would go as a Power Ranger. Doesn't even have to be the Silver Wolf. The Red Ranger was always a popular choice, being the leader of the group and all.

But before he could forget, he had to remind himself to buy his costume, nunchucks, blocks of cheese, a lot of burrito wraps, and two packs of candy corn. Even listed it down on his phone's notepad.

After the next batch had gone out, hauling with them sizable paper bags of various costumes, his segment of the line finally entered the store. It certainly fit the modern aesthetic of the mall; black tiles with 'scary' pumpkin embossings, red and white light fixtures, more cobwebs with the fancy detail that it had fake spiders on them too. To the untrained eye, it would've seemed real, its texture indicated otherwise.

Of course, there were shelves upon shelves with enough space in between for people to line up and move in between. Uniformed employees in either gothic witch outfits, or werewolf uniforms walked about assisting customers. Their authenticity on the decline because their exhaustion showed, fair given under Halloween's vibe.

Miles noticed that the shelves were fully stocked, and that the aforementioned employees were the ones fetching from the storage. It was apparent they spoke with each customer about their order, and spoke with another set of employees wearing the typical store uniform going back and forth into the back. He softly clapped under his waist, impressed with the military-like logistics they had going. And he awaited his turn to be approached, hoping that whoever does wouldn't identify him.

To his luck, a tiger in a werewolf's outfit approached him with a magazine in hand. The costumes were well made, almost like a fursuit, but he could tell how hot it was since the tiger's fur was somewhat drenched. "Good morning sir, welcome to Booutique!" He said 'boo' like a cartoon ghost would. "What are you looking for?" Presented the magazine to him.

Miles found the pronunciation cute, and his service very impeccable, but he lowered the magazine and said, "Power Rangers Wild Force, Silver Wolf costume. Adult medium size, please."

The tiger thought about his response, perusing the magazine. He flipped through a lot of pages with a lot of crosses marked on certain items. "Let's see here..."

Miles worried if they were out, then he recalled, "Oh, and a pair of nunchucks too."

He glanced back up, smiling, "We have a lot of those sir, even offering a buy-one-take one too!"

"That's great, my friend's gonna like it."

He kept checking on the magazine, this time he was in the superheroes catalog. "Is he gonna be a ninja?"

"Yeah," Miles glanced around to see any more special discounts; some childrens costumes were half off. And there were pairing discounts where buying one fork costume gets you a free spoon costume. "A Ninja Turtle to be exact."

"Wow sir," the tiger chuckled, stopping on the pages that had two rows of Power Rangers outfits. "That's nostalgia. Though I watched more of Superman in my youth." He showed Miles the kind of outfit he'd be buying.

It was the same except that an adult was in it instead. Came free with the sash, the helmet especially, and a sword too. He said, "Yep, that's the one. Medium sized, adult."

"You're in luck, sir, you got the last one." The tiger closed his magazine. "Literally the only one of its size left. We're getting more Power Ranger costumes from the new series, Dino something."

Miles had a slight frown to his slip, his inner child crying. "Aw, I loved Wild Force so much. Went one as a kid, and now my job's hosting a Halloween party, no harm in going as one again."

"Yeah," the tiger scanned him up and down. "You definitely fit the Power Rangers vibe too. Are you a soldier?"

He was relieved, answering, "Yeah. You guys offer discounts?"

"Yes sir we do," he extended his arm towards the cashier's direction, but his line still had to bend around a few more aisles. "Just present your soldier ID and you'll get ten percent off." He pulled out his notepad and jotted it down, "I will be right back with your orders, thank you."

"And thank you," he waved him off. The tiger went to the employees' storage entrance and gave the person by the door his order. He attended to another customer afterwards. The line between the aisles moved, and he went from a selection of job-related outfits to that of princesses. Superheroes followed, and the Power Rangers he saw were from the latest series indeed.

"Dang, those are some good costumes," he admitted. It was the normal spandex uniform, but it was underneath an upper body armor plate that resembled each Power Ranger's dinosaur. The red ranger probably had a pterodactyl, while the blue ranger had an aquatic dinosaur. And they all came with matching swords, except for the yellow ranger who had a gun. He should give it a watch because it looked intriguing.

And the tiger did return with his costume pack and pair of nunchucks. The former being quite hefty since it had the helmet and sword too. These didn't look cheaply made either, the helmet didn't feel like cheap plastic, and the sword wasn't made of the same material with a metallic paint over it. "Wow, impressive."

"Of course, sir, thank you for shopping at Booutique!" This time he added the overarching ghost-haunting gesture as he walked back.

Miles waved him off, giggling. And the line continued into the next aisle right before the cashier. These shelves were full of fake mustaches, pseudo-scars, make-up stuff, and other kinds of peripherals that add color to the costume. His eyes widened when he saw the fake mustache's price of 50 CAD.

"That's expensive," and he looked at the stuff he was buying, realizing he never looked at the price. Then again, he was a soldier of rank so he could afford it no sweat. Plus a discount too. The costume was about 80 CAD, explains a lot of things, and the nunchucks were about 6 CAD for both. Still, 50 CAD for a strip of facial hair, the beards costing twice as much. He shook his head and continued on as the line moved.

Before his turn, he saw three cashiers each wearing a creepy doll-like costume, make up and all, attending to various customers. It was creepy enough that a jackal child hid behind his paying father, silently weeping. The father assured his son, patting his back with his tail, while the cashier tried his best to sound as friendly as possible.

Miles recalled being terrified of a witch back in his youth. There was one on that Halloween Eve when he first howled, he hid behind his father because the lady looked terrifying. Enough to the point that she would've cursed him for life. Growing up made him realize that such things were non-existent, and a hefty chuckle when he was in his teen years.

After the father and son had left, Miles took their spot and placed his order on the counter. The cashier was an owl with mascara on his feathers that matched the creepy aesthetic he went for. Whenever he blinked, the eyelids showed demonic eyeballs, understanding why the jackal child was terrified. "I can see why the kid's afraid," he commented, getting his wallet out as the cashier scanned his order.

"Hah, yeah, second time today too." He said, his voice soft and hooting after every sentence. The cash register beeped after the barcode on the plastic cover had been scanned, displaying its value on the digital display just above it. "Power Ranger eh? Another panther came by last week buying one from the Ninja Steel series."

That would've been Chase, "I know him, actually," he laughed. Miles fetched a 100 CAD paper bill, enough to pay for his purchases even without discount. And his panther friend's voice nagged his subconscious that he prepared his military ID too, eyes darting around if anyone was giving him curious looks.

"A soldier too," his eyes glimmered in the light, smiling where his beak met his cheek. "That's really cool." He scanned the first nunchuck and paired it with the second one. He crouched down underneath and fetched a much larger paper bag, letting air into it to ease the bundled costume in, with the nunchucks on top. "Your ID please for our bootiful 10-percent discount, sir." He presented his talons.

Miles handed him the money and card, his head on a swivel as the owl read his credentials. The wolf's heart beat faster as the owl finished, hoping he wouldn't say his name out loud.

Under his breath the owl muttered his name, narrowing it down to double check. His eyes widened, glancing at Miles whose facial reaction was of utter horror, while nodding slightly. He applied the discount, "That'll be seventy-seven point four, change will be twenty two point six, sir." Taking a paper bill and a few coins, and ripping the receipt off afterwards. He presented it along with his cart.

"Thank you," Miles whispered to him, calming down as he took the change, receipt, and his id back, stuffing them down his wallet.

"No, thank you, sir." He passed him the paper bag. "You inspired my sister to join the airforce, and she's found her purpose."

Miles nodded, grabbing the paper handles and letting it rest by his side. "I'm glad. Sounds like a great pilot."

"In a few years."

"Nice," and with that, Miles was off. Tail wagging as he stepped out. He took out his phone and posted an update of his bag with goodies. The time was ten before noon, and he still had to fetch the groceries.

Joel was the first to react, 'I only asked for one but thanks!'

He replied, 'two-for-one discount, also you're going as a tmnt, nice'

'That's pretty dope, thanks again Milesman!'

'still got the groceries left, son' Dexter typed 'update too, get gummy worms instead of candy corn, easier to hide'

'what does that mean' Chase wondered.

'you'll find out later :)' Dexter answered.

'yes sir, wilco' Miles answered as he made his way back to the car. Figured it'd be cumbersome lugging his costume around.

A quick out and back in, he returned to the directory, this time inputting 'grocery' onto it. The location was an immediate right turn from where the directory was. He faced that direction and saw the massive sign that said 'Maller's Market, chuckling that he hadn't seen it earlier.

Miles went in with a grumbling stomach, and rather than torture himself by going through aisles of food, he got himself a quick plate of poutine from one of the stalls just outside the grocery proper. It was hot, savory, and salty with the gravy and curds. To himself, all poutine was good poutine. Regardless if it was from an MRE, homemade, or french fries with gravy and cheese. And he enjoyed every bite of it, his favorite still the microwaveable he had with his father at a picnic during his youth. After washing it down with iced tea, and properly disposing of the trash, he was back on logistics.

He took a shopping cart with him, because he had a lot on his list. Two hundred burrito wraps that were only available in packs of ten. Ten blocks of cheese, and two packs of cand- no, gummy worms. First were the gummy worms, its aisle swarmed by a lot of children and adults alike.

It took a bit of military training to slinky through in between the distracted crowd. His body curved in similar manners that he did in acrobatic exercises, while keeping an eye on potential objectives. All of the chocolate was gone, and nobody had touched the candy corn. Of course. The hard candy was almost out, about five bags left, and five different hands having taken them too. At the corner of his eye he spotted an opened box of lollipop containers, being distributed by a grocer. Half the marshmallows remained, packs of gum by the dozens, and a crushed box of jelly beans being trampled on the aisle.

The gummy worms were towards the other side. Several boxes were shelved by another grocer, with one or two passing by to swipe one away. Miles squeezed through, and grabbed two of them from the box itself, which the gorilla grocer allowed. He placed them at the front of his cart and looked back to the kangaroo aisle and saw more people filling it up.

Next was the burrito wraps. He passed through ailes tetra packs of juices, biscuits, powdered coffee, bread, and lastly the imports. A lot of the products here ranged far, from Asian instant ramen, to European dried sausages. He tried some of the former, usually a hit or miss. There were some foreign flavors of cookies, this one brand of cookie had 'ube' flavor from the Philippines, purple cream instead of milk white. Not his type though. Burrito wraps were closer to the end, between fondue cheese from Switzerland, and Brazilian pecan nuts. There were about thirty ten-packs, and he stacked twenty of them in fives in his cart.

"You hosting a party, sir?" A grocer behind him asked.

Miles turned to see a turtle with a mop and bucket, heading from the direction he came from. He said to him, "Mhm, gonna be having a lot of burritos."

"I see, enjoy," and the turtle grocer went on his way. So did the wolf towards the dairy section. There was an assortment of cheese, milk, yogurt, and even tofu. And the cheese itself had a huge range too; gouda, mozzarella, cheddar, white, parmesan, and a few more he didn't bother pronouncing. He got on his phone and dm'd his dad, 'what kind of cheese, there's about ten different kinds here. cheddar maybe?'

'ten blocks of cheddar, son' his father answered back.

'got it, already have the wraps and candy too'

'atta boy, did you eat lunch btw'

'yep, poutine and iced tea' Miles reminisced about the picnic again.

'of course of course' Dexter added a laughing emoji. 'see you back at base before seventeen hundred'

'see ya dad' he pocketed his phone and got ten blocks of cheddar. Relatively cheap at about 2.49 CAD each. The wraps were 2 CAD per pack as well, and the gummy worms were 4.99 CAD each. He'll card all of it. With nothing else needed, he went to the frozen section and got himself more microwaveable poutins.

Miles snickered, putting about five cartons of his frozen delight next to the cheese. Now he had everything, strolling his way towards the cashier counters. Quite the long line too, with a lot of carts ahead of him full of candy, soda, and chips. He thought the amount of what they were buying was silly, but he had two hundred burrito wraps in his cart right now.

And he sent the group another update, Dexter only replying with a thumbs up. Everyone else must be having lunch since it's 1220. Plus, no one else seemed to have identified him.

"Captain Fennix," a firm but soft voice behind him spoke. Whoever did wasn't loud enough for others to hear.

It still shocked Miles, the fur within his jacket standing firm as his tail was. This was more startling than being shot at, calming down faster than when he would be. Turning around, he saw a fox with a graying muzzle. The once-orange fur had a tint of light gray, and he wore a bright red polo shirt that fit the dark blue pants. He took a while to wonder about the familiar face, having seen it in his father's office before. Nonetheless, Miles saluted the obvious superior.

"Stand down soldier," the fox said, half-saluting back. "I'm impressed you're aware of a retired Major. Good 'ol Dex truly raised a diligent son."

His body relaxed, "I'll let him know." He rolled his fingers around, "With all due respect, sir, I've only ever seen your portrait in his office once."

"That's alright, sonny, the name's Carmichael." He extended a paw.

Miles shook it, firm and the endeavors of an NCO. "Major Carmichael, I've heard you were in Kuwait during the Gulf War. Very articulate with your spotting."

"Mhm, Carmichael's Caravan was what they called it." It made the fox chuckle, and Miles too. The incident where he spotted Iraqi troops advancing on American positions down to the details on the hostile tank's turret, resulting in seven consecutive kills from their joint British Armored Division. These seven kills were in a straight line thus the name. However, the retired Major was also aware of the younger wolf's skill, "And you, the Halifax Reaper." He said in a hushed tone again.

"Thanks for keeping it down," Miles replied. They pushed their carts as the customer in front moved. He returned his attention to the fox, "I guess you've gone through the fame too?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't much compared to yours." He said, "I didn't have to put on a stuffy jacket because people moved on some months after the war. In your case, I'd give it another half a year as long as you don't do any publicity stunts."

Miles ought to start saying no on those requests now that he thought about it. He nodded, "Yes sir." He smiled, then narrowed his expression wondering, "Are you going to come to the Halloween Party later, sir?"

"I've had my fill. Hosted it back when you were still younger." He looked over Miles' cart. "Hah, the good 'ol burrito business. One of my old tricks before was my subordinates dressed as a clown and whoever gets hit by the pie has to eat all of it, otherwise they do clean-up till Christmas."

They laughed, Miles retorting, "For my father's case, it's finding gummy worms in your burrito."

"That'll do it," He reached over and patted the wolf's shoulder, "Hope you don't get caught. Afterparty's a bitch to clean, especially with all the drinking."

"Is there a way out of me eating burritos?" Miles glanced at his frozen poutines.

"Nope. Gotta take the responsibility." Carmichael shook his head. "It's fun and games after all, or have you not cleaned a latrine once?"

"I get it sir," Miles humored, pushing his cart to align with the cashier's counter. He helped the elephant cashier by putting his items on it, starting with the poutine. "How're you going to be celebrating Halloween?"

"Spending time with my family, maybe a fancy dinner out on the town later." Carmichael smiled, "That's a quality I don't see with enough of the youngsters nowadays; they don't cherish the bond they have with their parents. I'm glad you do."

Miles nodded, unsure how to answer that. He felt disgusted thinking about it, but he didn't linger. "Yeah," was all he could muster. His attention had been caught by the cashier, having to pay 76 CAD all in all, and he had to use his card for it. He passed it to the cashier who inputted the information into the registrar, and returned it back to Miles alongside a receipt and an invoice of his transaction.

"You're a great man, sonny." He said, "You'll make a great Major, y'know?"

Miles chuckled, "When I've earned it, sir." He thought about the position from time to time, especially when his father would be like retired Major Carmichael. The responsibility, and the command of every soldier under him. His idea of being a leader had changed from bootcamp, given he could take care of Adrian, and maybe a squad of two more. A hundred men? Maybe, in due time. That was far in the future too, feeling the subtle existentialism.

"That's the spirit," Carmichael applauded.

The clapping put him out of his trance at least, and his grocery was ready for pick-up. Frozen poutine was double wrapped- no, triple wrapped in paper bags. The cheese and burrito wraps were stacked neatly in the same bag, wraps at the bottom, and topped off with those gummy worms. He scooped them both in his arms and nodded to Carmichael, "Thank you sir, for the advice." And he moved the cart out of their way, lining it up amongst the compressed ones behind the cashier.

"I enjoyed this. If you need anything, son, give me a call. Your dad would know." The fox moved his cart forward and helped the cashier with placing his groceries.

"Yes sir, I will," Miles turned towards the exit, wagging his tail as a form of goodbye.

He couldn't help but think, as he went past the poutine stall, about becoming Major. There already was a Major Fennix and he knew how it would sound. Feeling it was something else, watching over his men, and ensuring their best and receiving nothing short of the best too. That was the optimistic side of things though, stepping out of the mall. He looked over the decorations that resembled dead bodies. What if these were the same men?

There was a real horror to it, recalling Halifax. Bodies scattered about on the roads, in the buildings. Responsible for death. He froze for a moment there, oblivious as he tried to assure himself to no avail at all. His father went through this. The retired Carmichael had gone through this too. Would he ever?

Miles had stowed his groceries in the car and took a photo of his progress but immediately put his phone away. He sat down in his car, ignited it, and drove out. His mind was still preoccupied with such a fact, far different than killing somebody. He had seen his own die right in front of him, not pleasant either, but he didn't feel responsible for it. Heat of the battle was his excuse.

But he shook his head as he left the town's premises, turning up the radio to some shitty pop band to keep him distracted. The drive felt more sensitive this time around; the engines rumbled, transmission went and stopped around the intersections, and he felt the brakes quiver under his seat too. He felt his breathing quick, with his tail limped against his seat. The repetitive songs sung with autotune didn't help either, reaching over to turn it off instead. More of a headache in hindsight.

He made the turn back into the long road towards the academy. The autumn forest helped clear his mind of a future that hadn't been guaranteed. Miles sighed out, realizing he had cried for people underneath he hadn't failed. Slowing the car to a stop, only one other passing by going the opposite way. He took off his jacket and let the cool artificial breeze ease him, continuing his way back to base.

It was thirteen hundred when he got back. The cadets who were exercising earlier had been relegated to raking duty around the entrance grounds. One of the officers shouting at three pigs doing push-ups; how do you fuck up raking? No traffic here, three minutes later and he was back at his parking spot, next to his father's hummer. He got on his phone first and checked for messages. After his image, it was his father and Chase wishing him a safe trip home. Joel said he would claim those nunchucks later before the party, paying for them tomorrow.

'no need, my treat' Miles typed. Both Adrian and Joel replied with a heart.

'Thanks!' the latter replied.

'back at base, son' his father presumably asked.

'affirmative,' Miles replied

'alright, sending back-up' his father answered. Miles responded with a thumbs up. He chuckled to himself with the military lingo they used in their chats. He turned off his car and stepped out.

The coyote from earlier had been sent to help him, standing by the rear of his car. Saluting, and stomped the ground as he stood firm, "Sir, Ramirez."

"At ease," Miles went to the trunk. Ramirez stepped back to give him some room as the wolf opened it. The larger bag he lifted out, and passed it onto the anticipating coyote. "Here you go, chef."

"Thank you, sir," he answered and proceeded to the mess hall. Miles closed the trunk and went over to open the door for him.

"Here you go," Miles exchanged looks with him, smirking at each other as the coyote passed by. He returned to his car, fetched his poutine and costume, then locked it as he went into the mess hall to get to his barracks. The decorations were nearly completed but there was a soldier in harnesses on the ceiling, planting bats on the exposed steel beams.

"Hey Milesman!" the familiar voice came from the direction of the dorms. It was Adrian, lifting a cooler on both sides. Felt heavy from the looks of it, Miles set his stuff down on the table nearest to him and rushed over to help the German Shepherd place the cooler on the one closest to the door. There were other pairs of soldiers moving through the door, carrying larger boxes. "Put it in the kitchen, store it in the fridge."

"That's a lot of beer." Miles eyed about five boxes passing them, and at the cooler that Adrian rested his arm on, patting it.

"Not just any beer, Miles. Fuckin' rum." He gave it a singular pat before opening it, revealing sixteen bottles of Pirates-brand rum. "I know you're a lightweight but you gotta appreciate your dad for getting us all of this."

Miles shook his head. In disbelief that this was the quietest cadet back at bootcamp, or that his father would encourage drinking at all. It hit him, chuckling and applauding where Adrian shot him a curious look. He whispered to him, "Gonna get those guys drunk so they wouldn't know about the burritos."

"That's genius," Adrian chuckled. "I got something to show you," he gestured his thumb towards the door. But he immediately turned in the direction of the kitchen, gesturing at the first soldier who stepped out, "Hey, please bring this to the kitchen too." Pointing at the cooler, "Gonna help the old man here with his groceries." He smacked Miles in the back.

"Yes sir!" One of them, a chipmunk, answered and rushed over.

Miles laughed, "I'm not that old Adrian." He passed him the frozen poutine, and went with him towards the door. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

"Something funny," Adrian opened the door with one hand, letting him step out first.

Miles heard the sound of another battalion jogging through the driving roads of the base. The drill instructor was in uniform but the cadets were in their costumes. He tried not to laugh out loud. "Glad-," he composed himself, " glad we never had that.

"I'd rather that than jog in the rain though, honestly." Adrian reminisced.

These cadets were dressed in various titular heroes and heroines. Some were comic book characters. One of them, a pigeon, cosplayed as a dragon complete with synthetic wings, unsure from which franchise. There was a turtle among them, jogging as a character from TMNT. Not Michaelangelo though. To his disappointment, no Power Rangers.

Miles commented, "Nah, this is better."

"Why, just because you want to go as your actual childhood hero?" Adrian nudged.

"Hah," Miles elbowed him back. "C'mon, let's get my stuff back to the dorm. Party is in four hours." And he felt his phone vibrate, the Canadian national anthem playing from his pocket. It was his father, and he picked it up, "Yes dad?" He said as they went into the stairwell.

"Hey Miles, can you go to the mall and get some extra taco shells? One of the chefs brought ones where you have to make it yourself and we don't have the time nor resources to do it." Dexter said, a bit annoyed.

"Yes sir," Miles answered back.

"Alright, see you later." He hung up. Miles too.

"What was that about?" Adrian walked onto their floor, both canines heading to their room.

"Gonna go back to the mall to buy some taco shells. One of the army guys ended up buying a taco-making pack." Miles walked ahead of him and unlocked his door. "You wanna tag along real quick?"

"Sure but I know a better place to buy them." Adrian remarked. "You're gonna love it."

Several hours later...

And so Miles did. There was a local store in Adrian's neighborhood that sold specialized Mexican foodstuffs, including seasoned taco shells. All homemade too, and enough to have been made in bulk real quick. He took another bite, the mix of paprika and pepper, followed by the savory-sweet taste of beef, and complemented by the tanginess of tomato and onion put his taste buds on a satisfactory food trip.

A lot of the soldiers in the party seemed to be enjoying it too, the taco line having the longest queue of costumed soldiers lining up for seconds, thirds even. Miles hung back, tray in one hand with his Silver Wolf prop helmet clung around his elbow, and an almost-finished taco on his other un-gloved hand. His current helping were two servings of tacos, a burrito that the coyote had assured did not have gummy worms inside, and a cocktail of coke and rum, if one drop of rum was enough to constitute it as such.

He had seen his father move about and around the mess hall. Going between the kitchen and the dining area. Also a Silver Wolf like he was, but the opposite fur color he had easily distinguished them. Adrian and Joel were on the dance floor, dancing to a song of jazz. A bit odd seeing a yellow Power Ranger dancing with Michaelangelo from TMNT. And Chase was chatting with the other officers close towards the kitchen and away from the DJ. He was a red Power Ranger, that he and Adrian were from the Ninja Steel series where their helmets had cross-shaped visors. They lugged around flimsy toy swords, and wore sashes that had the insignia of ninja stars based on their color. Joel's was quite adorable but very intuitive; despite the turtle shell, he seemed very flexible in his movements as Adrian spun him around. Though the bandana mask he wore seemed to loosen with each of his moves.

"Only four power rangers tonight," Miles took a sip of his drink. He glanced around, seeing more of those comic book heroes he couldn't name. Some of them dressed as knights in plastic armor, others were anime characters he couldn't identify either. Some of them looked edgy, or very red and demonic that they didn't look like they were heroes at all.

Miles indulged in his burrito. Not as good as the tacos but its contents make up for it. The army chefs did their job well, and they were nice. Nice enough to assure him he didn't have to face clean-up duty. As disciplined as soldiers were in the battlefield, they behave like school children when they're outside of danger. His eyes glanced around the tables with a few spilled drinks, and shreds of broken props on the floor. He sipped his drink in smug relief that he wouldn't be cleaning all this.

"For fuck's sake!" One of them exclaimed, drawing his attention and the laughter of others. It was a rhino in a silver and blue spandex suit, but its texture appeared to be out of aluminum. Its had a soda brand's logo on his muscular bod; essentially a superhero costume of a carbonated beverage? He held a burrito with a massive chunk bit off, but he could see the protruding half of a gummy worm buried in the meat and veg. The rhino finished it all down in one more bite and grumbled, looking around at all the mess he would clean up.

"Hah," Miles felt the temptation to spill his drink on the walls. Ruining the decor would be sad but imagining someone cleaning it tomorrow was funnier. Moreso if he could get it on the ceiling but that would take a miracle.

The jazz song finished, now turning to something more of EDM, making his hips sway to the beat. It also meant that Adrian and Joel were done with their routine, joining him with trays of food; Adrian with chicken teriyaki, sushi, and his mandatory burrito, with a side of a quart of rum. Joel with tacos, a burger, a mandatory burrito, and a glass of soda.

"Hey Miles, how's the burrito," Adrian joined him on the left, and Joel on the right.

Miles smirked, "Lucky." He reached over and grabbed a piece of sushi from Adrian's tray. Not authentic, but it tasted alright. Could use some soy sauce. Adrian should've got some.

"Rude," he chuckled and took a big bite of his burrito. Chewing it very delicately, trying to find any hint of candy or sugar inside. He was visibly concerned, whereas Joel ate his normally.

"Joel's alright so far," Miles commented, looking sideways into the foodstuff that Joel showed to him. Almost finished too with no sign of gummies.

"I'm fine too," Adrian sighed and burped in relief, downing it with a quick sip of rum. He indulged in sushi next.

Joel took a bite out of his burger, spoke while chewing, "Thanks for the nunchucks again, Milesman. You sure you don't want me to pay for it?"

"Dude, it's like six bucks," Miles finished all his rum coke. "They're not forged from Japan."

"Aw, how about I let you keep one then?"

"Alright, after the party." He turned to Adrian, "You guys wanna stop by my room?"

"Sure," Adrian smirked, "I'll bring the drinks."

"Sounds like a good idea," Joel said. "Wanna invite Chase and your father too?"

Miles turned to Joel, "Chase maybe. Dad's busy with hosting the party and all." And at the corner of his eye, he spotted him going up the stage. With their matching uniforms, he gauged how it would look in years when he had to speak at a future Halloween party. "Guys, ten o'clock, stage." They all turned to the meerkat soldier dj and passed the microphone to Dexter.

The music died down as Dexter tapped on the microphone, "Mic check, one-two." The speakers whined for a moment before it adjusted itself down, he continued, "Welcome one and all to the CAD's 40th Halloween Party." A lot of the soldiers erupted in cheer, raising cups of alcohol to him.

Miles and his group raised theirs, even if his own was empty. His father told them to settle down and went on.

"Show of hands who've received their special surprise," his eyes scanned around as twenty out of about two hundred people raised their hands. After going back and forth throughout the dining hall, he said, "Congratulations, you get to clean this shit up after it's over."

These twenty people groaned, and Miles saw Chase being one of them. He leaned to Adrian, "Yeah, he's not coming with us tonight." And they chuckled. Joel asked about the commotion, Miles told him, and snickered as well.

"Aw, sorry Chase." He pointed at the panther, "Sucks to suck." And he continued, "In a few hours, we'll be having a few games for you all, as well as a raffle. Grand prize is a new car!" And almost everyone cheered. Dexter told them to settle down, "Alright, and of course everybody gets a mandatory day off tomorrow, unless you have clean-up duty. That number can still increase by the way, and anyone not having a burrito will volunteer by default."

That last one scared a few soldiers into lining up by the burritos as well. The few had turned to a dozen, and twice moments after.

"Nice try folks, no one's exempted." The wolf cleared his throat, "but first, a speech and a toast. And a howl for our fellow canines." He turned to the team of eight army chefs by the kitchen, "Chefs, why don't you give everyone in this room something to drink."

Miles turned to Joel, "You think you can give me some of your coke?"

Joel about to pour it in, "Doesn't have rum though."

"Perfect," Miles said, gets poured about a quarter and waits for the toast. The soldiers in aprons and fatigues went around pouring rum to anyone who didn't have any. Miles and Joel declined, showing theirs, and Adrian requested more up to a half on his. Dexter, in his rank and form, was given a wine glass with red wine in it. Some of the soldiers, particularly those who raised their hands, immediately downed one and asked for a refill. After everyone had gotten their drinks, Dexter started his speech.

"Thanks to each and everyone in this base right now, we've had a lot more aspiring cadets making through the ranks." He looked around for the officers, Chase, and Miles as his referrals, "Providing them with real life experience that ensures Canada's safety within its own borders, and mutual interests beyond them. We are the reason why the incursion in Halifax will never happen again!" Dexter raised his glass and everyone in the room erupted in a cheer. But his speech was not over, "I am proud to have served with all of you. I would not have it any other way." And he raised his glass slowly, to a toast. "A toast, to the brave men and women of our great nation. O' Canada!"

"O' Canada!" Everyone said after. Dexter sipped his wine while most others downed their rum. Miles took a sip of his soda, swapping places with Adrian so they would clink cups together and took a sip.

Dexter set down his wine glass, "Alright everyone, please step outside real quick. At ease as well." He passed the mic back to the DJ and stepped down from the stage. The other officers under his rank moved aside to give him space, he assured them that it was alright and encouraged them to relax. Everyone only left their drays on the tables, bringing drinks with them as they stepped out.

Miles, Adrian, and Joel followed at the end of the crowd stepping outside, Chase being several personnel ahead of them laughing at his punishment. The white wolf giggled at it more. Adrian and Joel held hands as they were outside. Tonight was cold and windy, and the skies were clear.

"A full moon," Miles said, hypnotized by its white glow. His fur lit up, reflected from the moonlight. And he tried to search for his father, but in the sea of heads he only found Chase, a shade brighter than the shadows. Much further were floating red eyes that reviewed them, hovering over the Silver Wolf uniform. It was his father whose red eyes he'd met with his own, the tree's shade alone enough to conceal him even under this lunar cycle. Truly the 'New Moon Sniper'.

When everyone was outside, their chatter died down. Not a whisper between those who didn't even take part in the instinctive ritual. Miles kept sight of his father, felt that tense body from him as he assumed position for the howl. Soldiers, particularly canines, wearing costumes that had headwear were taken off, poised themselves in the same manner of the alpha wolf. Miles and Adrian followed suit. The crowd's energy changed, everyone quieted down knowing what was to follow..

And so a long and deep howl started, solely from Dexter first. Loud enough for it to echo from the distant mountain ranges back to him. When the second chorus of the howl followed, the Captains and Lieutenants followed. That included Miles and Adrian, howling loud enough to be second of their father. And on the third chorus the sergeants followed. And the privates and chefs after, and the cadets in their distant barracks. Wolves beyond the base picked up on their song and had joined in too.

And a few of the non canine's howled too. Joel looked up to the moon with closed eyes, howling distinctively as a reptile. Even a few of the horse soldiers who joined whined instead, but the principle was still the same.

After Dexter had stopped, he waited for everyone to stop in the same order they started. Because what followed was a simultaneous howl of everyone at the base. They unleashed a ferocious yet harmonious cry into the night sky. Almost everyone in the base took part, including those who did evening maintenance, and the sentries that patrolled the perimeter. Everyone softened up minutes after. Some taking a drink from their cups, others stepping back inside to line up by the water fountains.

"Thank you all, and have a good evening!" Dexter shouted. "Games will start in a few, and I look forward to all of you participating." Most of the soldiers stepped back inside, a hand few remained discussing the semantics of the howl while gazing at the full moon.

Adrian and Joel shared a kiss before they went back in, the former turning to Miles to ask if he wanted to come along. Except the white wolf was busy gazing at the sky, and they left him to it.

Miles adored its beauty, his body shaking with excitement; a warm and fulfilled feeling. Someone had crept up behind him, large and obviously way over his rank. It was his father, embracing him, chin over his head as they both looked up to the evening sky.

"Love you, dad."

****