Hunter's Moon: First Conflict
#9 of Hunter's Moon
Author's Notes: The battle for the airbase will commence in this chapter. Sorry if I can't update regularly. I have lots of things to take care of. Also, there is some reference to the cartoon series Extreme Ghostbusters™, the games Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 and HAWX, and the movie Goldeneye.
Disclaimer: Contains scenes not suitable for innocent minds, please leave now if you are under the age of 18. If you are still here, you are one of three things.
1.) You are of suitable age to view this site and its contents.
2.) You just don't give a damn.
3.) You are a disturbed person.
This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real people and places is purely coincidental. The author reserves the right to expel predators without prior notice.
Hunter's Moon: First Conflict
13.30 CST
August 2nd 2016
35,000 feet above the Nevada desert
E-3 Sentry
Callsign: Overseer
"All aircraft, this is Overseer. Standby for new mission directives"
"This is Lightning 3-1, standing by at 20,000 feet" an F-35 pilot spoke from his vantage point.
"Gunslinger 1, standing by at navpoint Echo" the squadron commander for the AH-64 Longbow Apaches called in.
"Darkstar 1-1, coming in for a strafing run. 60 mikes to target" the leader of the A-10 Thunderbolts radioed in.
"QRF 1 & 2 heading for Cherokee for refit and refuel. Stand by Overseer" the QRF aircraft transmitted.
On his scope, the operator saw three aircraft approach the outer marker for the airbase. They had the transponder readings: OF 667 and AN 741. The third aircraft was unidentified.
Quickly bringing up one of the monitors, he verified that OF 667 was a civilian sight-seeing plane that skirted the outer marker on its way to the beautiful Nevada Game Range. In like manner, AN 741 was an FBI Learjet ferrying executives to, and from, the office in Las Vegas towards any of the scattered field offices across the state.
The unidentified craft was suspiciously testing the marker's limits, weaving in and out of the electronic barrier. It behaved very much like a smuggler's plane. The operator itched to send one of the Lightnings and spook the pilot to land. He sought advice from the sector controller.
"Sir, I got a suspicious blip on the radar. Suggest that Lightning 3-2 go down and check it out" the operator asked his superior.
"What kind of threat is it?" the superior asked, looking over the airman's shoulder.
"Suspect it's a smuggler's craft, sir. Send one of the birds for an intercept?"
The controller took a few moments to reach his decision. Finally, he told the airman "Send Jester 2 to check it out".
"Aye sir" the radar operator replied. Speaking into his microphone, he directed one of the escorting F-16s to go down and take a look.
"Jester, I got a bogey meandering around Schneider. Fancy going down for a look-see?"
"Copy that, Overseer. Jester 2, heading now" one of the pilots from the escorting F-16s responded, banking away from the AWACS and dropping to match the altitude of the target aircraft.
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5,000 feet
Unidentified Aircraft
Twin- engine Piper Beechcraft out of San Diego, California
Destination: Northern Nevada
Rodrigo Zulueta's thoughts
Colombian Drug Cartel
This terrain is making me uneasy. It is mostly desert and I do not know if we managed to escape detection. The pilot said we had to turn off the TCAS so we won't be spotted. I don't even know what that means!
Suddenly, almost as if I was dreaming, tracers flitted by my window! I turned in my seat and saw a military F-16 come alongside. The pilot panicked and turned us almost on our heads. The coffee cup I had in my hand spilled its contents onto the ceiling.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I was supposed to meet my client at a desert town in northern Nevada. I had bribed, cajoled and killed just to get my plane into the air with its cargo of coke. The Mexican airspace was easy enough to cross. The corrupt general Alejandro Gregorio Rollando, allowed me through with the promise of a cut of the profits I would make. Entering American airspace was another matter; I had been detained at one of the Customs offices just inside the American border because of the nature of my cargo. There I met an impressionable Mexican who agreed to set me free. He sprung me in the middle of the night and shepherded me back onto my plane with the coke still intact. It was unfortunate that we were detected just as I had boarded the aircraft.
I was not sad to see him gunned down by his fellow agents, he had served his purpose. It was a miracle that we had managed to escape without getting shot down by one of the chasing drones they sent after us.
Now, it will be all for naught if we can't shake this American off our tail!
Maria, I love you...
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"Jester 2, confirm target" Overseer asked the pilot of the chasing F-16.
"Target is of Colombian registry, Hotel Kilo 6 8 9 X-Ray. Going alongside the cockpit for a visual check" the pilot replied.
"Overseer, aircraft is not responding to hails over GUARD. Request permission to fire tracers?"
"Affirmative, fire warning shots. Make him land"
Jester 2 depressed the button on his flight stick and fired a burst of his 20mm cannons. Coming alongside, he motioned for the pilot to follow him. He could not see into the cockpit but the aircraft's right wing was close enough to nearly smack into his jet as the civilian twin tried to make a run for it.
"Overseer, aircraft just tried to flip me. I have tone. Permission to engage?" Jester 2 asked.
"Cleared to engage. Drop him"
"Copy all, fox two" Jester responded, letting loose with an AIM-9 Sidewinder. The moment the missile detached from its wingtip pylon, the propellants ignited and thrust the missile towards the doomed aircraft.
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On board the Sentry, the operator watched as a small blip came from the jet and streaked towards the twin-engine passenger plane. The moment the small blip made contact with the large blip, both vanished from the radar.
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The war had claimed its first victim and it wasn't a Lycan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Simultaneously with the shoot-down of the airplane...
QRF 1 & 2 touched down at Fort Cherokee for refueling before they would take off once more for Schneider just to the southwest.
Hammer 01 and the marines disembarked from their aircraft as the ground crew refueled both Hercules aircraft. Both assault teams were ushered into a lounge as they waited.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Captain Dalton? Captain Dalton?" an army NCO called out.
"Yeah, what is it sergeant?" Dalton replied, getting up from his comfortable position on the floor.
"Sir" the sergeant saluted, "Colonel Kettering wishes to see you in the armory, sir"
"Wonder what crawled up his ass?" Dalton muttered under his breath, making his way out of the double doors.
"I don't know sir" the sergeant whispered back.
Inwardly, the captain was wondering if he would be given another experimental weapon. The last one, a portable rail-gun, failed miserably during field trials. Initially, the weapon came in two parts. A power unit to be strapped to the soldier's back and an emitter for engaging enemy technology. It resembled an oversized powerpack from the Extreme Ghostbusters™ cartoon series.
The test went awry somewhere and the hapless mannequin, none of the soldiers present wanted to even touch the pack, blew up. Upon later investigation, it was noted that a power coupling had come loose thus causing a discharge of uncontrolled energy. Army conservatives denounced the new fangled device as "a madman's idea to lose an army"
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Captain Dalton, Hammer 01, stated as he saluted his superior at the Cherokee's armory.
"Captain, assemble your team and the marines here. I have a present for the Lycans at Schneider. Here, have a look for yourself" the colonel said in response, placing a heavy-looking crate of ammunition on the table in front of the stunned captain.
"Silver? What for?" AA cid asked.
"It appears that the much-vaunted task force is susceptible to wounds inflicted by silver weaponry. I received this shipment three weeks ago from Warlord" whispering the last two words, as if in silent resignation.
"Very well, sir. My team will load up. Any word from Team 6?" he asked, referring to the premier SEAL unit.
"The Alexander had already left port and is on her way to Pearl. They are out, as far as this operation is concerned" Colonel Kettering said, perking up considerably.
"I'll get my troops and the marine commander down here right away!" Dalton nodded to his superior.
"See to it, I'll be having a bottle of cognac ready when you get back" Kettering responded, before leaving his subordinate to distribute the ammunition among the soldiers.
"Hammer team, get Captain Wesson and proceed to the armory. We got a nice gift from the commander. Double-time it!" Dalton radioed to his squad, on his portable.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
13.45 hours
Fort Cherokee
Alpha Company
Captain Hollister "Holly" Wesson, formerly of Task Force Lycan
2nd Lieutenant Leonard "Leo" Vasquez, formerly of Task Force Lycan
I had handed over my resignation to General Sawyer when he informed me that my "transformation" was irreversible. After the attack on Alert, I was presented the Congressional Medal of Honor by President Daniels and the Joint Chiefs. With me on that auspicious moment was my superior, and mate, Captain Hollister Wesson of the USMC's Force Reconnaissance.
I rebuffed any attempt to win me back and signed up instead for OCS. I was sped somewhat through the school and wound up once more under Captain Wesson. Happily, he made me the Executive Officer of the company. I had thought that our paths with the task force would no longer cross.
So, it came as a great shocker that our company would support a Tier One unit in assaulting a Lycan base. We had just been assigned to the 522nd Marine Recruitment Center in Goblin, Arizona when we got the call to mobilize.
True to our calling, both the captain and I answered the summons and were on the next flight to Tecumseh airbase to reunite with our old unit. There, we learned that we would be flown towards Las Vegas, then to Fort Cherokee, before paradropping onto Schneider...
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"XO, get the men sorted out. We're heading to the armory" Captain Wesson informed his XO, startling him from his thoughts.
"Sir, yes sir!" the lieutenant snapped to attention. What for Holly?
Captain Dalton is issuing us with silver ammunition. Try not to shoot yourself in the foot, ok?
Okay.
"You heard the captain. Get your butts moving towards the armory!" Lieutenant Vasquez ordered Alpha Company.
"Sir!" the rest of the company snapped up from their relaxed pose. Like a well-oiled machine, squad leaders took charge and led their men out of the waiting lounge. As the squads filed out one at a time out the door, Vasquez felt a hand placed on his shoulder.
"Look, Leo. You don't have to go through with this. I understand if you want to be left behind..." Holly started.
"No, both of us need closure. We have to see this one through. Even if it means betraying the Lycans" Leo answered in reply, cutting off Captain Wesson's line of thought.
"I know how you feel. But, we already made our stand when we left. What counts is the follow-up. I'd be happy if you were the one watching my back" the captain said softly as he extended his hand towards his mate and XO.
Taking his mate's hand, Leo stood straight and proud as he affirmed the sentiment.
"Then let's go kick some furry ass!" they both hollered in unison, rushing out the swinging double doors.
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14.15 hours (15 minutes to the strafing run by the A-10 Thunderbolts)
Fort Cherokee
QRF 1
Captain Adolf Alexander Charles I. Dalton, Hammer 01 commander
"Pilot, we're ready for take-off. Get this bird off the deck and drop us on top of the base"
QRF 2
Captain Hollister Wesson, Alpha Company commander
"Pilot, A Company is present and accounted for. Commence take-off procedures"
"Copy that, we're rolling" the pilots of both transports announced.
"Overseer, this is QRF 1. We are proceeding with take-off, runway 02"
"Overseer, this is QRF 2. Am in number two position and awaiting clearance"
"Copy that QRF 1 and 2. We have you on our scope. Skies are clear" the operator onboard Overseer broadcast back.
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14.20 hours
Schneider AFB
Tactical Operations Center
Individual Friend or Foe Transceiver
The alarm warning of an impending air attack squawked to high heaven. The operator currently sitting at the position saw nothing out of the ordinary and silenced the alert. All he saw was a four-vic formation of A-10s drop from 2,000 feet and make their way towards the air base.
It was not atypical for the 3rd Strike Wing's Comet Squadron, Darkstar flight, to make a mock strafing run towards Schneider when the squadron commander wanted an adrenaline rush. The multiple surface-to-air missile batteries tracked the squadron's planes as they always streaked overhead without firing a shot.
Today was no different. The batteries would sound the SAM alarm inside the cockpits of the planes informing the pilots that they were pinged. The usual response was to waggle their wings and climb back into the troposphere.
The operator expected the same response from the squadron on this day. So he just sat back and relaxed as the Warthogs made their assault. He would not realize his mistake until it was too late.
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14.30 hours
Darkstar 1-1
550 feet
55 seconds to target
"Okay gang, just like we practiced over the past few months" the squadron commander informed his pilots.
"This time, we nail those suckers to the wall?"
"Cool it, Talon. We focus on the anti-aircraft batteries and the anti-armor emplacements. After that, it's weapons-free on all available targets"
"That's affirmative, flight leader. How many passes before we let the F-35's in on the fun?" Talon replied sullenly.
"Until we run out of ordnance or the missiles start locking onto us. Ready your fingers on the countermeasures. They have a mix of radar-guided and heatseekers, packing HE-Frag warheads. Probably have some hand-held missile launchers too" the flight leader informed his team.
30 seconds to target...
The outline of the missile boxes came into view on the HUD of every pilot. They each picked two targets that they would outright flatten.
15 seconds...
"Launch Mavericks on my go" the flight leader spoke into his radio.
"Copy that, Hunter. Waiting for your go" Talon responded laconically.
"Launch!" Hunter spoke as he pressed the missile release button.
The very instant that he did, an electrical current made its way from the battery and passed into the electric firing plug on the wing pylons. Half a second later, the missile dropped from the wing. Another second later, the rocket propellants ignited and sent the projectile on its designated course. This exploded on the missile battery, rendering one site off-line. It also alerted the base to the intrusion as the second missile from the lead Thunderbolt struck home onto a TOW launcher.
The other three aircraft followed suit and left six more defense systems in ruins. What missile systems left standing started sweeping their attack radars to acquire a lock on the combat aircraft.
Box 10 on Talon's HUD let loose two missiles before he destroyed the launcher with a burst from his GAU-8 cannon. Both missiles streaked towards him as he fought to break lock. Pulling negative g, he managed to shake both guided weapons. It helped that he had rolled over onto the aircraft's back when he decided to pull g; a positive_g_ would have slammed him into the ground.
Three more automated launchers opened fire on the strafing aircraft.
"Break formation! Incoming missiles!" Hunter called out, popping flares to distract the heat-seeking missiles.
"Copy, breaking away!" his wingman called out, banking sharply to the right and popping flares as well.
"Overseer, detach your Lightnings. Encountering slight resistance from anti-air emplacements, and we're running low on flares" Hunter called out to the circling AWACS.
"Overseer copies your last. Sending the F-35s now. Hold position"
"They better get here. Whoa, that was close" Talon exclaimed into his radio as a missile almost clipped his port wing.
"Watch those rockets, Talon. You might get your wings clipped" another pilot cut in.
"Shut up, Mantis. You're not helping" Talon interjected as he dodged tracers from static AA positions.
"It's a fact that..." Mantis started speaking, before he was cut off by Hunter.
"SHIT! Overseer, enemy birds taking off! Moving to engage" he said, banking sharply to execute a tight turn.
"Darkstar 1-1, those are F-15Cs. Destroy them on the tarmac or your job will get a whole lot harder!" Overseer broadcast to the A-10s.
All four pilots gritted their collective teeth and brought their aircraft to face off against the fast taxiing interceptors. If even one made it into the air, they would be hard-pressed to take out any more ground targets.
Talon had barely acquired a lock on the lead fighter plane when it exploded. Stunned, he scanned the sky from his canopy and saw the Lightnings scream in with cannon blazing. One of them had to have nailed the fighter with either their missiles or cannon.
"Heard you needed the help 1-1. This is Lightning 3-1, rolling in with a full payload of JDAMS" the baritone voice of Commander Nicholas "Little Boy" Mercado on the radio announcing his entry into the skirmish.
"Scratch one bandit" Mantis muttered into his headset, his center-mounted cannon obliterating another jet on the runway. Out of the corner of his eye, Mantis saw a missile streak towards Talon's aircraft.
"Talon, on your right! LOOK OUT!" Mantis called out in warning as a missile smashed into the cockpit of the Thunderbolt, destroying it and eradicating the fuselage.
"That...was...AWESOME!" Talon called out, floating to earth in his white parachute. He had pulled the lever on his ejection seat and was blasted clear of the A-10 before the missile had made contact. The wind carried him clear of the base and set him down on some large dunes.
He would sit this one out.
"Are you some kind of adrenaline junkie? You almost got yourself killed!" Mantis berated Talon over the radio.
"Hey, save the lover's chatter for later. Right now, we have to soften up the DZ for our airborne troops" Hunter responded, silencing both comics.
"Thanks for the help, Little Boy. Darkstar is now bingo fuel. Returning to base" Hunter informed the F-35 Lightning squadron leader.
"We'll fly CAS in your absence. Gunslinger 1 through 6, how is your fuel?" Little Boy answered, switching frequencies to contact the brace of Apache ground attack helicopters.
"We're good to go. Our airdrop is approaching the halfway point now. Wanna trade places?" Gunslinger 4 answered for the brace.
"Nah, you can't dodge these missiles. That reminds me" Little Boy replied, before contacting the circling E-3 Sentry. "Overseer, how many targets destroyed?"
"Lightning 3-1, scope shows the automated defenses are all off-line. Those Hogs sure know how to wreck a place" Overseer replied, ignoring the fact that the F-35 fighter-bombers had done similar damage.
"GET 'EM OFF ME!" a high-pitched scream came over the radio. The radio operator homed in on the source of the transmission and began cross-referencing the voice with the stored version. The computer spat back the coordinates:
13 degrees south-east magnetic; Lieutenant Samuel "Razor" Park; Gunslinger 3
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15.00 hours
3 miles inside Schneider airspace
1st Armored Attack Wing, US Army
Gunslinger 3
"They're everywhere. Weapons free!" Lieutenant Park cried out.
"Where did they come from? We had nothing on radar" his gunner spoke up, panic evident in her voice as she tried to get the Bushmaster chain gun working.
"I'm trying to shake them. Where's Gunslinger 4?" Lieutenant Park asked, looking through his armored panes for his commanding officer. Everywhere he turned, he met the glares of angry winged wolves. Gunslinger 1 was already on the ground, a smoking wreck. Gunslinger 2 had high-tailed it out of the combat zone. Gunslinger 5 and 6 were firing blindly at the mass of fur, claws and wings. A massive explosion soon followed which sent both helicopters earthward.
"I don't know. They got swarmed by those things. They're not on radar. Hold on" his gunner replied, depressing the gun button on her joystick. The 25mm Bushmaster was soon cutting down winged wolves within a 180-degree arc.
"There's the stronghold. How many Hydra rockets left in the pods? Those beasts dismantled our Hellfire missiles" Park observed as the burning Lycan base came into view.
"30 rockets left. Might want to make them count sir"
"Overseer, we got blind-sided. I'm the only one left. I need coordinates for their transmission tower" Park breathlessly informed the AWACS.
"Are you sure?" Overseer asked.
"Positive. I saw Gunslinger 1 go down and 2 high-tail it out of the airspace" Park replied.
"Razor, get out of your bird! We're picking up an IR signature headed for you right now" Overseer said in response.
"What the...?" Park exclaimed as something detonated off his tail rotor, riddling the helicopter with shrapnel and completely destroying the rear rotor blades. The helicopter was rendered uncontrollable and spun around in circles.
Immediately, Park used the emergency ejection switches on his console and blasted both himself and his gunner away from the doomed rotor-wing. Explosive bolts went off around the armored cockpit and a rocket motor engaged. The thrust was enough to propel the cockpit skyward and shatter the carbon-fiber main rotor blades. A parachute deployed at the right altitude and slowly set the two pilots on a sand dune ten meters from the gates.
Shucking off their flight harnesses, Park and his gunner each pulled out a loaded H&K MP5 sub-machine gun from a secret compartment underneath the main console (A/N: From the movie Stealth). They each had two extra 30-round magazines and their 9mm Beretta side-arms.
"Okay, just like training. Mail, stay on my ass and cover my six. Anything tries to sneak up on us, blast it" Park instructed the less-experienced soldier.
"Yes, sir" Mail replied timidly.
"Overseer, this is Razor. We are on the ground. Bruised but alive. How long till the QRF gets here?" Razor informed the AWACS.
"Razor, stay put. They're ten mikes out" Overseer replied.
"Begging your pardon sir, but we are exposed out here" Razor informed the watching Sentry. Slowly, he was making his way towards more appropriate cover. Mail followed behind him, keeping her head on a swivel.
On his infrared scope, one of the operators onboard Overseer noticed something odd. While the crash site and pilots shone white-hot on his scope, the desert where Razor went down was pitch-black. It was as if someone had placed a giant refrigeration unit underneath the sands.
"Warlord, this is Overseer. We may have found their laboratory. I have a massive black patch on my IR scanners. Warlord, do you copy?"
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15.05 hours
Captain A.A.C.I. Dalton
Hammer 01 Commanding Officer
"This is a hot LZ. The pilot will drop us as low as he can before he pulls out of the area" he informed his squad. As a precaution, both vehicles from Vegas were loaded in reverse. They were facing the cargo door. The moment the doors opened, both Humvees would surge out and prepare a perimeter for the marines.
He preferred to blitz the compound where the general was purported to be. Get in fast, get out faster.
It was only because of listening to the radio that he changed his strategy. He had learned of the close shave that the Warthogs had undergone and the loss of their anti-ground support. The Lightnings would provide CAS for as long as possible. They had providentially been fitted with drop-tanks. They could actually keep up the pressure on the defenders for the next hour or so. He just had to work as quickly as possible.
There was little room for error.
"Green light!" the jumpmaster called out as the C-130 came close enough to the ground to taxi. The rear cargo doors opened and the cargo master gave the thumbs-up. Immediately, both Humvees roared to life. The first one floored the accelerator and was out instantly. When it was out of the doors, the transport vehicle bounced twice and skidded to a stop. The first squad came spilling out, covering all possible angles.
The second Humvee followed the first one out. Inside, Dalton was belted in. He had noticed the shock that the first vehicle went through. It was better if he was able to get out of the vehicle instantly. Just like the first, the 4x4 bounced when it hit the ground. The driver yanked the handbrake and drifted the Humvee into a slot.
In the chaos, Pfc. O'Reilly still managed to make a perfect parallel parking. In a space reserved for an AH-64 Apache attack helicopter.
The gray aircraft lifted off as quickly as it had touched down. With its mission over, the plane banked sharply to get out of the kill-zone. Within minutes, it was lost in the smoke.
"Hammer 01, this is Warlord. Leave one squad at the runway. You have to grab the HVI before the Lycans turn him into hamburger" Warlord informed Captain Dalton, the last word garbled in transmission.
"Warlord, this is Hammer 01. Repeat your last" the captain asked.
"Hammer 01, take up defensive positions. We're bringing you General Sawyer now" a new voice came on the frequency.
"Who is this?!" Overseer demanded.
"Identify" Captain Cid asked.
"This is Anvil team. Sage is secure. We're under heavy assault from the Lycans stationed here. We already lost our Exo. We need ..." the transmission was abruptly cut off.
"Triangulate that transmission. We need to know where they are" Dalton barked at his radio officer. The radioman started looking through his HF set for the frequency that Anvil team was using.
"All available units, this is Razor. Mail and I are making our way towards the extraction point on gridpoint Charlie"
"Where the hell is that?" Sam asked, taking out her GPS receiver. She blanched when she found the area.
It was where the V-22s would meet them.
It was also on the other side of the base. Both pilots might not make it in time.
Suddenly, three of the unit went down. They had just been shot through their helmets.
Evaluating the situation in an instant, Dalton gave his troops the order to move out. They would proceed as a convoy towards the last known location of Anvil. Warlord's orders be damned.
"Overseer, this is Hammer 02. We're taking sniper fire from multiple contacts. Request bomb run from our Lightning support" Sam informed the area commander.
"That's danger close 02. Can you take the heat?" Overseer responded.
"Affirmative" she replied confidently.
"Get small Hammer, its coming down right on top of you!" Lightning 1-1 radioed.
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15.15 hours
Schneider Eastern Guard Tower
Razor and Mail
Both pilots made their way into the guardhouse positioned at the eastern gate. Despite the pounding that the base was receiving, the lights were still on. The power had to come from an auxiliary source. If there was power, then maybe they could take cover in here until the strike teams arrived.
Razor knocked on the door with the butt of his sub-machinegun. When there was no response, he kicked it in. The steel door yielded to his kick and was opened inwards. Inside, he noticed that the walls were covered in a strange, white substance. As he approached an unconscious sentry, a noxious scent almost knocked him over.
It was particularly musty in odor and was very familiar. Razor froze when the realization hit him.
It was the smell of semen, though it was a lot stronger...
And the sentry must have been fucked senseless by the monsters inside the base, he thought to himself.
A clattering noise made Razor whip around and take aim. Mail had knocked over a snack tray with sweets and utensils. Relaxing slightly, the Korean-American berated his subordinate. "Mail, watch where you're going. We don't want to wake up Sleeping Beauty over here"
"I'm sorry, but something grabbed my leg" Mail whispered, as her eyebrows twitched.
Razor noticed a hulking figure tower over Mail. Immediately, he raised his weapon to eye-level and let loose with a short three-round burst. The figure staggered, but did not go down. Instead, the figure bared ivory teeth.
"Run, Mail. RUN!" he grabbed Mail's hand and dashed further into the structure. Taking the first turn, both pilots arrived at another security checkpoint. This one needed a card to enter. Behind them, he could hear the ragged breath of whatever he shot. If they needed to go through the door, they would need a card. With the sounds of breathing getting closer, backtracking was not an option. So how would they get in?
It was at this moment that Mail tugged on her superior's arm. Pointing upwards, she motioned towards the ventilation system above. The air duct would fit both of them. The creature's clicking nails got closer as Razor mulled how to get up.
He was saved from answering when Mail climbed onto his shoulders and reached for the vent. The diminutive army pilot just barely got a hold on the latch when Razor was swept out from under her. The action left her hanging for dear life onto the vent cover. Quickly scrambling up, she unslung her SMG and covered her boss. However, without a clear shot, she dared not 'pray and spray'.
All she could see from her vantage point was the helmet he was wearing.
Razor was preoccupied with boosting his subordinate and had his back turned when he was tackled. The impact knocked the wind out of him. When he regained consciousness, there was a clawed hand in his face. He followed the outline of the hand and made out a furred outline. He grabbed the hand and was pulled up off the floor. Coming face to muzzle with his "rescuer", the army pilot gave off a whistle unintentionally.
Standing before him was a bipedal wolf which, he estimated, to be at seven feet or taller. If the barrel chest was any indication, this one worked out a lot. The wolf was panting from either exhaustion or the gunshot wound to the chest. The wound was no longer bleeding, so it had either healed or the round did not penetrate. The wolf opened his muzzle to speak, but closed it once more.
It was at this junction that Razor looked down. In the wolf's right hand, or paw, was a keycard. With a whine, the wolf handed over the card and disappeared back into the shadowy corridor.
Perplexed at such strange behavior, Razor stretched his back. Oddly, he could feel some vertebrae shift into place. Placing a hand on his back, he pushed his spine back into alignment. Quickly, he motioned for Mail to drop down. No telling when the wolf might change his mind and make them both his fucktoys.
"Mail, drop down. I'll catch you" he told his subordinate, his voice a lot rougher than usual. Scratching his head, he gave out a yelp. Bringing his hand to his face, he could see the appearance of sharp claws replace his fingernails.
"Mail, drop down. I'm giving you a direct order" he spoke once more, his voice gaining a feral edge to it.
"Okay, just don't drop me" he heard Mail answer in nary but a whisper. Growling softly, he waited under the vent opening.
Wait, when did he ever growl? Also, he could not hear anything softer than the click of a lock before. Something was not right here.
Mail swung her legs out from the vent and dropped down into Razor's arms. Placing her arms around his neck, she gasped at the sensation of fine hairs prickling her hands. She dared to look up and saw amber eyes look back at her. Blinking quickly to clear her vision, she gazed at him for a while longer. Her superior returned her look and gently put her down.
"What's the matter? You look like you saw a monster" Razor asked teasingly. With his left hand, he swiped the card in the holder. The red light blinked green and the armored door swung open. Inside, they saw a well-lit area. (A/N: Think of the clean room in Resident Evil) The bright, starkly clean environment was a sharp contrast to the murky corridor they had escaped.
"Well, what else could possibly go wrong?" Razor muttered to himself as he stepped inside. Mail followed her not-quite human superior into the room and heard the door seal shut behind her.
Razor was most definitely not feeling like himself. He was itching all over and his clothes felt rather tight. Scratching harder at his itching skin, he tore right through his flight suit. Actually, the more he scratched, the better he felt.
Mail could only stare at her colleague in horror. Before her very eyes, she was witnessing a transformation.
Razor felt his jaws begin to push out from his face, bringing his nose with them. He ripped off his earpiece and interrupted the radio traffic to his ears. His ears seemed to reform and migrate to the top of his head. Gritting his teeth as pain flooded his body, Razor held back the scream he wanted to shout to the world.
A ripping noise reached the ears of both the of the room's occupants. Peeking out of the sturdy combat boots were clawed toes. Slowly, the lieutenant's feet expanded to the point that the leather gave way. With his feet exposed, Mail could see the way that the transformation took hold. The middle portion of the foot lengthened as the heel was raised high.
Razor was now sprawled out on the cold, marble floor. Stretching his furry legs, he could hear the clicking sounds they made. He whimpered as both of his big toes were reabsorbed into his body, becoming little more than dewclaws. He parted his lips and felt the rapidly sharpening teeth with his tongue.
Razor let out a whine as a tail pushed out from the base of his spine, tearing through what remained of his flight suit's lower half. Still not quite looking like the wolf from earlier, he gasped as his muscles expanded five-fold.
While Lieutenant Park was not flabby by nature, he was also not that much of a body-builder. So, it was with great surprise that he felt his body expand like a balloon. When the growth spurt had subsided, Park's throat was raw from screaming. The echoes bouncing off the walls were murder on his hearing.
Mail summoned up all her courage to approach her superior. She was still terrified of the winged wolves from a while ago. She approached the tan and cream colored man-wolf with her weapon drawn.
Every step she took echoed off the walls of the chamber. As she neared, she did what no sane person would ever do when confronted with a monster.
She returned her weapon to her shoulder and scratched behind Razor's furry ears. Her ex-commander panted with joy, letting his tongue hang out the left side of his mouth. His tail was beating against the floor in a joyous rhythm. Scratching him some more, she watched as Razor closed his eyes and pushed back against her hand.
Razor was relieved that someone was scratching the itchy spot between his ears. He could not reach it without harming himself. Or so he thought.
"Razor, how are we going to reach the exfiltration point? I don't know where to go and you're not quite human to lead me there" Mail spoke timidly, breaking the silence.
"You're right. I have to pull myself together. Come on, my dear. We still have some way to go before we reach the exfil point" Razor answered, his voice two octaves lower. He got up unsteadily as he sought to keep balance on his digitigrade feet.
Mail acquiesced. "Here, use my GPS tracker" she said as she handed over her wrist-mounted GPS unit. Razor's unit lay in pieces on the floor. The newborn had stepped on it during his transformation, cracking the tough plastic molding and shattering the LCD screen.
"Razor, this is Hammer 01. We are at Hangar Bay 4. Make your way towards us if you can" Dalton's voice sounded from the discarded radio.
Razor looked at Mail with his amber eyes, warmth shining through. "You need to reach them if you are to tell the world. I will safeguard you until we do" Razor said, his intentions made clear.
"No. We either go together or we die together. I am not leaving you again!" Mail spoke each word with rising intensity.
"Fine, we cross that bridge when we get there" Razor stated, shifting his shoulders. "Now, hop on my back. I'll get us topside"
Mail got onto the Lycan's back and held onto his furred neck. "Don't drop me" she whispered into his ears.
"Keep a steady grip. And we'll make it through this gauntlet" Razor informed Mail. He could already see telepathically that the hallways on the other side of the chamber were chock full of Lycans and their human thralls. The only way out was through them. Their entrance had no key card access on this side, making exit from there impossible.
"On three. One, two, three..." Razor counted down. He then ran full tilt at the double glazed glass panes that served as the entrance to the bunker.
#####################################################################################
15.50 hours
Hangar 4
Schneider AFB
Hammer 01
"Shore up those defenses. Make them pay for every inch!" Dalton cried out.
The Special Forces unit had suffered heavy casualties. They were down to just one squad of six men, not counting Sam. One of the Humvees had suffered a direct hit from a hidden ATGW, killing almost the entire contingent riding inside. Sam had been thrown free of the vehicle when it had been blown apart. She had multiple contusions and a concussion, but was still very much alive.
Their close air support had halted the sniper fire temporarily, giving them time to escape towards the hangar. When they reached the hardened structure, complete with reinforced structural concrete and thick hangar doors, they found what remained of Anvil team.
The survivors informed the captain that Sage was still alive. He was propped up against one of the storage pallets in the hangar. Fortuitously, the pallets contained MRE's and extra ammunition. After Hammer and Anvil teams restocked their weapons, the pallets became a makeshift barricade to the hangar's entrance. To prevent the Lycans from entering through a side door, they wired it with C4 and Claymore anti-personnel mines.
"Sir, where are those marines? Shouldn't they have been here by now?" one of Anvil team's surviving soldiers remarked.
"I don't know. I think they're still circling. I can't be sure without a radio" Captain Dalton replied, unsurely. The radio was destroyed when a Lycan had tossed an EMP grenade (A/N: Battlefield 2142) towards their radioman. When the projectile had detonated, all electronic equipment within a five meter radius was rendered nonfunctional. The radioman had been severely burned from the pack short-circuiting. He succumbed to his injuries after 15 minutes, a slash found across his chest. It appeared that he had been clawed either before the grenade went off or directly after.
"We could try sending a runner. There are humans who refused to side with Anubis" the soldier volunteered.
"What good will that do? The Lycans will either kill him or pump him for information" Aacid replied, his situation getting grimmer and grimmer. There had to be a way out, there just had to be!
"Heard you boys needed some help. Where do you want the extra troops?" a familiar voice sounded through the chaotic battle.
"Thank God Holly. What took you?" Dalton responded, turning to face one of his staunchest friends since SF training. When he had done a 180, his jaw dropped.
Standing before him was not his 6 foot 5 inch friend from Milwaukee. In his place was a seven or even eight foot tall, anthropomorphic rough collie.
"Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" it inquired in Holly's voice.
################################################################################
15.25 hours
20,000 feet and circling
QRF 2
Captain Holly Wesson
"Overseer, what is the status of Hammer 01?"
"Captain, we lost contact with them. Their HF set is not squawking. And because of all the burning structures, the IR strobes are obscured" Overseer replied.
"Any chance we can still parachute in?" Holly asked.
"Not a chance. The drop zone is too hot. You may lose the entire company" Overseer tried to discourage the captain.
"Overseer, I'll be damned if I abandon Alex. I'm going in whether you want me to or not. Wesson, out" Holly ended the transmission.
"What do we do now?" Leo asked.
Growling softly, Holly was lost in thought. A moment later, an idea occurred and the former TF Lycan officer smirked.
All units, shift into your Lycan personas. We are going to teleport to Aacid and get his wounded out. If you are unwilling, I won't force you and I won't hold it against you.
We are with you, alpha. Just say the word.
Holly smiled at the mental responses he got from the majority of his company. Of the 32-man strong company, just 4 were human. The Lycans outnumbered the humans by a ratio of 4:1. The humans were not the squad leaders, so communication was not a problem.
Growling louder now, Holly shifted his balance forward as his tail tore through the seat of his pants. With sharp claws replacing his nails, the captain tore through his uniform to expose bulging muscles. Despite his skin itching horribly as minute hairs covered every surface, he resisted the urge to rip his old skin off. He allowed instead the transformation to proceed at a pace rapid enough to make the skin split yet slow enough to show the humans his dominance.
After five minutes, he was done. Gone was the smartly attired marine captain, in his place stood an 8-foot tall rough collie bristling with muscles. Beside him, Leo finished his transformation into an Irish wolfhound.
Both officers stood together proudly as they watched the transformations of their packmates. The human members were in shock as they discovered that their friends were not at all human. It was only as the transformations slowed to a crawl did a more astute member of the human contingent raise his rifle.
The weapon was chambered with 5.56 mm NATO silver. One round would mortally harm a Lycan.
A furred claw clamped down on the rifle and forced the barrel downward. The human looked up into the emerald eyes of Lieutenant Vasquez and relented. The warmth from before was still there, the human members would not come to harm.
"Alpha Company, hold hands. We will perform a mass teleport into Schneider. I don't want to leave anyone behind. Got me?" Captain Wesson ordered, infusing power into his voice.
"YES SIR!" the company shouted back. Quickly, they got their gear from the floor of the aircraft and strapped on Tac-vests. The humans were wearing the Type IV Kevlar associated with front-line units.
The Lycans used Type III or II. With enhanced regenerative abilities, heavier armor was excess baggage. They could appropriate the weight to increased amounts of ammunition or medication for their human comrades.
The Lycan soldiers pulled out specially manufactured helmets. They slipped these on over their heads and their furry ears poked through the holes. Adjusting radios and other equipment took ten more minutes.
"Comms check. Test, test" Pfc. Richard Leahy spoke into his hand-held. The private was a last-minute addition to the Force Recon Company. The original member, Cpl. Richard "Dick" Reinhardt, was down due to appendicitis.
"I read you five by five private. Don't shout" S/Sgt. Mikhail "Mig" al-Assad replied. The half-Russian was once a Spetsnaz operative until he was compromised on his last mission. He had defected to the United States in '06 and remained ever since. Outside of Wesson's pack, the Siberian was distrusted by everyone else. Only with Wesson did the Russian feel that he belonged.
"Okay, comm systems are good to go" the private gave a thumbs-up to Holly. The collie nodded his furred head and spoke into his own set.
Captain Wesson nodded his head at the jumpmaster. The astonished human had finally picked his jaw up off the floor and informed the pilot that the marines would be jumping.
In response, the plane stopped circling and headed for the drop zone.
"THIRTY SECONDS!" the jumpmaster yelled.
"TEN SECONDS!"
"GO GO GO!"
Captain Wesson concentrated on the small patch of earth where he wanted to bring the company. When the mental picture was clearly seen, he squeezed the hand of the soldier on his left. The squeeze passed around the circle that had formed until Leo squeezed back on Holly's right.
Gathering power from all assembled units, the Lycan alpha willed that they be transported to the DZ. In a flash of bright light, they were soon gone. The only one left in the cargo bay was the jumpmaster; who was very much in shock at what had just transpired.
15.35 hours
DZ Pluto
Control Tower Base
Near Runway 4 Right
Schneider AFB
Alpha Company, USMC
Fan out. Three meter spread. Eliminate any and all snipers and non-pack members.
_Yes, Alpha._answered the 27-Lycan strong team. They deployed around the human members, shielding them from enemy bullets.
The Lycans moved in a well-rehearsed sweep. Any infantry hunkered down in the ruins surrounding the drop zone were neutralized. No exceptions were made for the Lycan brethren they encountered.
"Any station, any station; this is ODA Juliet. We are pinned down at the mess hall. Requesting immediate evacuation over" a voice crackled over the airwaves.
"This is Razor, I'm making my way towards the primary exfiltration point. Am encountering heavy resistance from rebel units and I'm low on ammo" Razor broadcast.
"All callsigns, stand fast. We have a Force Recon quick response force on the ground. They will be reinforcing strongpoint Neptune. If you can, make your way there as fast as you can" Overseer radioed, further cluttering the radio traffic.
"Sir, with your permission, I'll take Bravo squad and rescue ODA Juliet from the mess hall" Staff Sergeant Brian "Con" Ramsay spoke up.
Don't get killed Con. I need you by my side later. Understood?
Yes, sir. This won't take long. Con answered.
Staff Sergeant Con then turned towards his squad and started barking out orders.
"Bravo team, get sorted out. We move for the mess hall in three minutes!" he yelled out.
"Copy that sir. Jesus Christ,..." one of the squad answered, muttering the last phrase out of the corner of his mouth.
"What was that, private?" Con replied, over three meters away.
"Nothing, sir. Just getting my head in the game" answered the soldier.
And with that out of the way, Bravo squad vanished into the billowing clouds of smoke from the burning wrecks of military vehicles and buildings.
####################################################################################
Earlier...
14.30 hours
Schneider Mess Hall
ODA Juliet
US Army Delta Force, Eagle Company
Major Conrad J. J. Parker, Commanding Officer
We had just settled down to a refreshing afternoon break. The men and I were enjoying the ice cream provided by the kitchen staff. It was a spiced apple cider flavor, my favorite.
Looking around, I noticed that we were the only occupants of the mess. It was understandable, given that lunch had finished a little over an hour ago. Barring the kitchen staff, we had the entire place to ourselves.
I should have been more alert, but the ice-cream was delicious.
I heard a jet engine scream overhead. My reaction was quite expected of an officer who had just had his break interrupted. I wanted to get whoever it was piloting that craft to answer to an inquiry. No plane should be allowed to do that and inconvenience people enjoying a break!
Only seconds later, I heard the base alarms blare out and a voice come over the P.A. system informing everyone that we were under attack!
By God, I got rid of my frozen dessert and reached for my weapon on the bench beside me. I had just opened my mouth to make the company do the same when tremors shook the mess.
I thought, 'My God, we're being bombed by the Chinese!'
Out of the corner of my left eye, I saw that the staff had closed off the kitchen and activated steel retaining doors. Those bastardized versions of naval bulkheads would only yield to a 90mm shell. Some of my men pounded on the doors, begging the staff to let them in.
I shouted to them, "Let them go. We have to defend the base!" Whereupon, we got our equipment and tried to stay on our feet. The amount of ordnance being dropped kept knocking us to the ground. I led my team out of the hall and down, I assumed, was the proper corridor.
We got no farther than twenty meters when something big grabbed Private Fletcher and dragged him down another corridor. I saw the look of fear in the private's eyes and I lifted my rifle up. Time seemed to slow as I drew a bead on his forehead. Saying a quick prayer, I put a bullet between his eyes. Once the private dropped dead, the thing released him and either howled or roared with vengeance.
I snapped my rifle up and fired a burst at it. The bastard went down, but got up again. I loaded a 20mm rifle grenade into the M203 and lobbed it at him. The creature's upper half was blown apart by the shell, coating the walls with blood. The lower half sank to the floor and pitched forward. Whatever IT was, there was no chance it was getting back up. Ever.
"Follow me" I cried out to my men. I led them back down the corridor to the mess. I glanced at my watch and noticed that it was just 14.40. That would mean that only ten minutes had transpired since the bombardment began. I had thought that an hour or so had already gone by after I took the shots that killed the private and the beast.
When we reached the intersection of three corridors, I did a quick headcount. I found that ten of the men were already missing. I had no time to look for them. I had to get what remained of my company back to the mess and fortify it.
I noticed a couple of stragglers and rushed to help them. Little did I know that it would be my undoing. I placed my arm underneath the armpit of the first straggler and we hobbled towards the company remnants. We were almost about to catch up with them when the floor gave out beneath us.
We fell for around a couple of feet, I don't know. I blacked out when my head struck something unyielding. When I regained consciousness, both of the stragglers were nowhere to be seen. Judging though, by the scraps of cloth that marked the collapsed corridor, I came to the conclusion that they were buried under rubble.
As I struggled to get to my feet, I kept blacking out. Instinctively placing a hand to my face, I pulled it away just enough to notice the amount of blood I could have lost. Crawling on the ground, I made better progress.
I did not make it farther than ten feet, due to a large chunk of reinforced concrete blocking the way between me and certain safety. The rubble groaned all around me as I forced myself into a sitting position. My breathing got shallower and made a whistling sound in my chest. I knew that I did not have long to live, my injuries seemed to be too grievous for a normal man to survive. As my vision faded, something out of mythology leaped down into the pit. It sniffed at me and gave a whine.
I whispered to the creature, 'Kill me and be done with it.' It obliged and closed its jaws around my windpipe.
The major closed his eyes for the last time as the Lycan cut off the human's air supply. Starved for oxygen, the body asphyxiated. The digital watch still attached to the human's wrist read 13:00 and marked his time of death.
###############################################################################
1600 hours
Schneider Mess Hall
ODA Juliet
Sergeant First Class James Ryan, Acting Commanding Officer
"This is ODA Juliet. We are under heavy enemy assault. Requesting immediate evacuation over?" he broadcast once more, his voice bordering on panic.
"ODA Juliet, hold your ground just a little bit longer. I have a squad on its way to your location, over" the voice over the radio informed the almost distraught sergeant.
"Sarge, what in all that is holy, are those things?" one of the soldiers spoke up.
"Yeah, we just lost Willie and Tommie. They got all fucked up" another seconded, voice tinged with sarcasm.
"I don't know guys. We just have to hold the room until we can get rescued" the weary sergeant replied.
"Oh, come now. We're part of a new breed. Don't you humans want to join in?" the beast that was once Willie spoke from its position on the floor.
"Yeah, all it takes is a little consent" the one on the opposite end of the mess spoke in Tommie's voice.
Both of the Lycans were hog-tied and placed far from each other to prevent one or the other escaping.
"Shut up. When the rescue mission gets here, the both of you will be given the chair!" Lance Corporal Emil Aaron Ramos shot back, clutching his chest wound.
Both Lycans simply smirked back at the humans. Their identical visages were confusing the soldiers still alive and defending the mess. If that was not infuriating enough, both were also sporting enormous erections that were just begging to be stroked. To make matters worse, the drops of pre from the tips were distracting the minds of the nearest personnel from focusing on the task at hand.
"Well brothers, it took you long enough to get here" the one that was Tommie spoke to a batch of newly arrived Lycans.
All the sergeant could think of was, Fuck!
The Lycan that appeared to be in charge vanished from sight and appeared behind one of the twins; he plunged his clawed hand into Willie's chest and pulled out the beating heart. The look of surprise on the captive Lycan's face was matched by the cold-blooded determination on the attacker's.
"ODA Juliet, get what wounded you have. We are pulling out of here. My team and I will escort you to strongpoint Neptune. Is that clear?" the Lycan commander informed the stunned sergeant.
"Why?" the sergeant asked, without thinking.
"Excuse me?" the Lycan officer replied briefly, licking his bloodied hand.
"Why did you just kill one of your own?" L/Cpl. Ramos finished his sergeant's question.
"YOU TRAITOR! WHY KILL ONE OF YOUR OWN! THE HUMANS ARE BETTER PREY" bellowed Tommie. The bound Lycan struggled to free himself from his bonds and strike the interloper. His struggles were cut short when his head was sliced off by another Lycan.
"That got annoying" the Lycan matter-of-factly commented, wiping the blood of his blade before replacing it into its scabbard.
"Sergeant, we're out of time. Get your men and follow me" the original Lycan, looking like a very distressed Doberman pinscher, ordered in a voice that brooked no argument.
"Yes, sir" the sergeant led the remnants of Eagle company to fall in behind the almost-Lycan squad. The remaining members of the Delta unit numbered 12. Less than half their original strength of 30 armed personnel.
"Overseer, this is Sergeant Ramsay, Juliet is secure. How fares the resistance?" the Lycan, now identified as Sgt. Ramsay, inquired from the Sentry on overwatch.
"There's a lull right now. You just have to haul ass to get there, sergeant" the operator onboard the Sentry responded laconically.
"Grab our hands, guys. We'll have to blink to get there before the rebels decide to regroup" Ramsay informed the Deltas.
"Link up. Do as he says" Sergeant Ryan ordered his men. Grudgingly, the Deltas accepted the open arms of the "friendly" Lycans and held on tight.
A flash of white light and both the Lycans and humans were gone. In their wake, they left behind their dead colleagues and the two rebellious Lycans. One was decapitated and the other was missing a heart.