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After Darren was done detailing his adventures of the previous night to Lars, the two sat quietly as their pickup sped down the road, the 2 trucks of Coyotes following about 500 yards behind.

"Pull over!" Darren said suddenly, breaking about 20 minutes of silence.

Lars asked "What is it?" but kept the truck on the road.

"I think I've got a plan." Lars pulled onto the shoulder, and when they caught up, the Coyotes followed suit.

The road was deserted except for them, but Darren and Lars were still reluctant to leave their vehicle, and summoned the 'yotes to the window, which Darren rolled down.

"We're about 10 miles out from Pilaco." Darren said to them. "Listen close, here's what I think we need to do."

"Hold up Darry, I don't know what you're talkin', and I don't know whether I'll agree with it." Lars interrupted.

"Just hear me out now." Darren said. "I need a volunteer. I want someone to go in ahead of us and try to raise trouble."

Garth Mayhew's hand sprang up immediately. "I'll do it!"

"Very good." Darren said with a nod, before Lars could raise any objections. "That's your truck, the grey one?"

"Yessir." He said, nodding at the vehicle.

"Lemme see your watch, Lars." Without waiting for permission, Darren rolled up Lars's sleeve. He also studied a map that Lars had in his glovebox. "Time now is 12:54. We'll attack the town at 2 o'clock."

"And synchronize your watches." Lars added.

Darren scanned the long, straight road; still nobody around. He got out of the truck and placed the map in the bed, waving his arm for everyone else to gather around.

"This is Pilaco, here." He said, pointing to a dot on the map. "As soon as we're done breifing, Garth is going to take his truck and drive to Pilaco, and try to start some shit."

"That I can do!" Garth said, grinning.

"S'cuse me, but how are we all gonna get there with only two trucks?" One of the other Coyotes asked.

"We'll just have to squeeze the rest of you into our truck and Drew's." Darren conceded.

"No 'yotes are gettin' in my truck." Lars said, spitting. Lars obsessed over his truck, and seldom let anyone else ride with him.

"Just this once, Lars, come on." Darren pleaded. "It's for the cause." Lars shook his head and muttered under his breath before spitting again. "Fine." He finally said.

Darren smiled, and returned his attention to the map. "Now, there's a service road leading into the woods, about 2 miles from here. Everyone except Mayhew's gonna drive into there. From there, we shoot what we can, and then move in to prepare an ambush for the gun convoy."

"How many did you say the garrison there was?" Lars asked.

"60 Wolves, with four APCs and plenty of guns." Darren said. "Then there's the Garrison at Fairview, 40 miles from here."

"Well, there's 18 of of us." Lars stated wryly. "You reckon we can all kill three?"

"We may not need to. I figure the Wolves are gonna take cover when the shooting starts, and if we can get the locals to keep 'em outside... or shank 'em when they're inside."

"And what if they call for backup and the convoy stops?" Lars challenged.

"We'll take out the radio aerial on the town hall roof, that's the only thing powerful enough to get a transmission over the hills." Darren replied. "And Garth, that's the main thing we're gonna need you to do."

"Yessir!" Garth Mayhew said eagerly.

"Everything clear?" Darren asked.

He was answered by a chorus of voices in the affirmative, though Lars said nothing.

Darren knew it wasn't a perfect plan. If it went wrong, there was a chance that the whole cell would be wiped out. But he didn't see anyone else coming forward with something better, and furthermore, he knew his cell had some of the best riflemen in the province.

"Okay everyone, move out!" Darren said at last. The fighters trotted to their vehicles, with Garth Mayhew's grey pickup leaving first, engine roaring as he peeled away. The rest, after some quarreling, managed to fit into the two remaining trucks.

"Hey Lars, can I drive?" Darren asked jokingly. If Lars was doing one new thing with his truck today, why not try two?

A flat "No" Was Lars's response.

* * *

Colonel Olen Hampton didn't like Pilaco. The dusty town was full of Coyotes, for one thing, and you could never trust those bastards. They had no sense of honor, no idea of a fair fight. The night before one of them had stabbed one of the soldiers under his command, which confirmed his perception of them; sneaky bastards - the soldier's throat had been cut, almost certainly while his back was turned, because he was armed and probably wouldn't have been killed otherwise.

The soldier probably had been sleeping on duty, too, which served to make Hampton even more angry. The 60 Wolves under his command weren't disciplined, probably because they never got to see any action, he thought. It was like his orders passed right through them, and they would slowly, drunkenly respond, as if the barked directions were a cloud of intoxicants. That was another thing he hated about his post in Pilaco.

But most of all, he hated the heat. He was a Black-furred wolf, which meant he was panting and sweating constantly through the days of the Altaman summer, even in the early morning and evenings.

His officer's cap was wilted and sweaty when he finally took it off, as he pondered why it was so hot on the Altama, anyhow. He tried to remember the things he had learned in school; something about the distance from the sea affecting the climate?

A greyish-furred wolf soldier trotted up to him, bringing him back to the present situation - he had ordered all the locals inside their houses while he tried to conduct an investigation. Hampton had also thought it wise to keep everyone in town, just in case the perpetrator was still around.

The wolf, a private, stopped in front and gave him a salute. "Sir, we've received a long-range radio transmission, they're requesting to speak to the Garrison commander, sir."

Col. Hampton returned the salute. "Lead the way." He said.

The Private led him to another private, this one had a portable radio, holding the reciever in one hand. Hampton noticed that the radio box had a long extension cord snaking behind it, leading into the town hall, presumably because it was hooked up to the tall radio antenna on the roof.

Hampton took the reciever from the private's hand. "Colonel Hampton Speaking." A few seconds later, there came a static-garlbed reply. "This is White Mace requesting status."

"What?" Was all Hampton could say.

"What is the status of the Pilaco Garrison?" The voice in the radio replied.

Hampton stared at the reciever for a few seconds, as if expecting the person on the other end to crawl out of it. "What do you mean 'status,' and who am I talking to, anyways?"

There was a few seconds delay. "This is White mace convoy, requesting to know whether the road through Pilaco is clear." The voice had a touch of annoyance to it now, barely distinguishable over the radio garble.

"I wasn't informed of any convoys passing through today!" Hampton exclaimed, concerned. "And no, the road is not clear, we had a bit of unrest last night."

"Then consider yourself informed." The voice sneered. "We're ahead of schedule, and will be passing your position in approximately 2 hours. Make sure the road is cleared by then."

"How dare you adress an officer like that!" Hampton scolded, but there was no reply. Then, there was the noise of an explosion, and the ground shook. The radio went dead. It had almost sounded like a prank call, Hampton thought.

"What the hell was that?" Colonel Hampton exclaimed, slamming the reciever down. Then, he looked up the street, and saw the radio aerial on top of the town hall begin to list, before it crashed down onto the back of the building, with a terrible noise of groaning, bending steel.

A few seconds later, while he was still gathering his wits, he heard distant rifle shots, and the whizzing noise of flying lead filled the air. Hampton turned and saw the Private holding the radio fall with a painful cry. Hampton dove for the radio, not realizing yet that it probably wasn't hooked up anymore.

He grabbed the reciever, and managed to shout into it "White mace abort, abort!" Before he felt a sharp, sudden pain in his side, and his senses betrayed him.

* * *

The anarchists drove without incident to the service road, and bumped down the overgrown frontage until Darren, who was studying the map, held up his hand and shouted "Stop!" He looked out the window on both sides before getting out, taking the map with him.

"I think we should be able to see Pilaco if we head west from here." He said.

"All right, get out and get ready!" Lars shouted to the Coyotes in their truck, and the one behind.

"Load up your guns."

"What time is it now?"

"1:12."

There were pine woods on both sides of the road, and it was built on a slope. Darren pointed in the downhill direction. "Let's move." He said, and the group, now laden with all their weapons and gear, set off on tiptoe through the woods. The Balfor occupation forces sent scouts into the woods sometimes, to try to find Rebel hideouts, and to lie in wait for guerillas who happened to pass by.

The would-be counter-guerillas were usually promptly found and dispatched, most often because they got lost and were forced to break radio silence. They were supposed to poach their own food, and remain in the woods for months at a time. The typical scout had a silenced sniper rifle, a few mags of ammo, and a compact (but powerful) radio. Also, they were most often Wolves, that was what Darren remembered.

They were the reason that Darren and the company of anarchists were cautious in the forest - there could be a Balfor scout hidden somewhere out there, just like a landmine, concealed... waiting... lethal.

But no such troubles had assailed the company by the time they reached a point where they had a line of sight on Pilaco. They were still on a slope, but the trees ended just in front of them. This gave the company a slight advantage of height. Darren studied the town with a pair of binoculars, seeing 2 APCs, one on each side of town, as well as plenty of Balfor troops in the streets. He was also surprised to see a Coyote crouching on the roof of the town hall.

"There's a 'yote on the town hall roof." Darren hissed. "Reckon it's Garth?" "Dunno who else it would be." Lars said, with a sour tone.

"The first thing that's gonna need to go are those APCs." Darren reasoned. "The aerial and the radios are gonna have to go pretty soon after, or just before."

"Well, we told Garth we're attacking at 2, didn't we?" Lars said.

"I sure as hell hope that's when he knocks it out." Darren said, shaking his head. He then checked his watch; 1:40.

"I don't think we have a good shot at the APC on the other side of town." Lars said, looking at it through his rifle scope. "Give me one of the bazookas, and I'll get on a flank to take it out."

One of the RPGs was slung around Darren's shoulder. "Who's got the other one?" Darren asked.

"I got it!" A Coyote named Hodges rushed to the Badgers, and relinquished the weapon, along with a few spare warheads.

"Why don't we just send a few of you on that flank?" Darren said. "Divide into squads, I mean."

"Everyone who came in Drew's truck, you're with me." Darren said.

"Then I guess everyone else is my squad." Lars muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. "We'll rendezvous at the city hall, once the shooting stops." He said, jogging off.

Without another word, Darren's squad took up positions, with a layer of trees between them and the clearing. Some of them were kneeling, some standing, most in a prone position, with their rifles aimed at the town, already tracking some target. Darren brought the RPG to his shoulder, and loaded a warhead. He breathed out, putting the closest APC in his sights. "Time?" He asked. "1:56, sir." Someone replied.

Bringing the RPG down, Darren looked to his right. If Lars's squad was in position yet, he didn't know, because they were not visible through the trees. Now it's just the wait. he thought, trying to relax a bit. For some reason, Darren was feeling very nervous, more than his usual combat demeanor. Just pull the trigger and take cover. It ain't that hard a shot. The truth was, it wouldn't be a necessarily easy shot either. If there was a crossbreeze, he had a good chance of missing, and there wasn't that many rockets for the RPG either.

In that state, Darren jumped when there was a loud boom from the direction of the town. Recovering his wits quickly and looking down the incline, he saw the tall radio aerial on top of the Town hall lean, and then begin to fall over like a tree cut through with a chainsaw.

"Damnit!" He hissed, looking at his watch; it was three minutes early. "Open fire!" He said at last, bringing the RPG back up. His comrades sent their bullets forth immediately, raining death onto everything they had a line of sight on.

Darren took a bit longer, however, but he pulled the trigger, and with a defeaning report and an explosion of smoke, the 90mm shaped-charge warhead flew out of the woods towards the APC, which had started up and was beginning to turn.

The instant after he fired, Darren dropped the launcher and ducked behind a tree, knowing the smoke created by the missile would alert any still-vigilant Balfor soldier to his location.

The rocket struck the APC squarely in the rear, and it exploded in a brilliant fireball immediately - the rocket had met with one of the vehicle's fuel tanks. Darren saw none of this however, his only knowledge of the hit coming from the noises that reached his ears as he took cover behind a cedar.

His companions continued firing, but after a few more minutes, the gunshots ebbed and stopped, leading Darren to assume that most of the Garrison had been shot, or had taken cover. He could still hear firing however, probably from Darren's squad and any unruly townsfolk.

"Let's move in, army crawl." Darren said, picking up the RPG, and loading it with an anti-personnel warhead - distinguished by its yellow band.

He dropped to the ground with the sharpshooters, and together they crawled quietly past the charred remains of the APC, and towards the town of Pilaco. The grass was tall enough to give them adequate concealment, but Darren was nervous about the rustling noise the dry fronds made.

At last, they arrived in the back of a trailer park, there they stood up out of the grass. Darren brought the heavy RPG to his shoulders, and motioned with his hands for his comrades to follow him as he ducked behind the nearest trailer.

"Before we do anything else, we need to figure out whether Lars knocked out the other APC." Darren hissed. "There's two more at the town hall, but they might not be able to get to 'em cause of the antenna falling."

The Coyote sharpshooters nodded in acknowledgement. "How do we do that?" One of them asked.

"Damnit, I don't know." Darren said, trying to think. "Let's just get onto main street, first." Darren pointed to one of the Coyotes. "You, Brooks! Run to the next row and give us the all-clear!"

Brooks, a small and skinny (even by 'yote standards) Coyote, rushed out and stole to the next row of trailers. When Darren leaned out, Brooks gave a thumbs up, Which led Darren and the other sharpshooters to leave their cover as a group.

When they'd reached him, Darren patted him on the back. "Next one Brooks, let's go." Repeating the proccess, they moved on to the next row. The trailer park was only 3 rows deep, so the next sprint would take them to the back of the main street buildings.

Darren could tell Brooks was becoming less composed with each row. Darren hadn't been the one to train him, but he knew that he was a fairly new recruit. "You're doing good buddy, just one more." Darren whispered.

Brooks sprinted to the back of a brick main street building. Darren cringed as he heard the footsteps echo on the walls - Brooks had neglected to remain stealthy this time. Darren took a deep breath, and counted to 10.

Finally, he leaned out slightly, and just as he saw and registered Brooks's thumbs up sign, There was a rattle of automatic-weapon fire, and bullets hit the gravel street inches from his head, sending up particles of dirt and splinters of rock. Darren jerked his head back almost instantly.

"Shit!" He hissed, and leaned back against the trailer's thin metal siding. "Someone's up there, sounds like they gotta M4!" Thinking quickly, Darren hatched an idea. "Give me a knife!" He hissed.

One of the sharpshooters passed a bayonet down, and Darren dropped to the ground, before he stabbed the trailer's thin siding with it. Then, realizing something, Darren got back up and asked his comrades for a hat. One of them tossed their mosh cap down, and Darren waved it into the street before pulling his arm back.

Sure enough, the rattling sound began, and more shots landed in the gravel. Darren examined the spots where the bullets landed, trying to deduce the assailant's location, though he hadn't gotten a clear look at any prospective places. He dropped the hat, and returned to the trailer, carving a hole in the siding of the crawlspace, below the trailer's floor. He looked in, seeing a grating on the other side - with spaces that would be large enough for a rifle's bullet to pass through.

"Jameson!" He hissed to the Coyote closest to him - Jameson was an older 'yote, in his thirties, but he was a real good shot with his rifle, and Darren had known him before. "Get in there, and see if you can shoot out that grate, ya see it?"

"I see it!" Jameson hissed, leaning over to look into the hole.

"You get in there and take a potshot or two at that sniper and distract him." Darren whispered, leaning over to the Coyote. "Just lay down some fire. I'll blow him to hell when I see where he is." Darren tapped the RPG as he finished.

Without another word, Jameson crawled under the trailer through the hole. Once Darren judged Jameson was in place, he waved the cap into the street, which brought another spatter of fire. Almost instantly, Jameson's rifle responded. Darren got to his feet instantly and eased himself around the corner, knowing he only had a second or two.

Quickly he saw the source of the gunfire: The silhouette of a Balfor soldier on the roof of a building across main street. Darren brought the RPG up, took quick aim, and fired before ducking back behind the trailer.

After the noises usually associated with the launching and explosion of an RPG projectile, there was a moment of silence, before Jameson hissed "I think we got him!"

Darren tossed the cap into the street; there was no response. "Let's move!" He said.

Darren and the sharpshooters hustled around the trailer, one of them yanking out the grating on the trailer, which allowed a filthy, but otherwise unharmed Jameson to exit. They moved to the back of the main street buildings, where they found Brooks pressed against a wall.

At the sight of them, Brooks broke down. "I'm sorry, that was my-"

"Hey, it's all okay... it's all right. We got him, and we're all fine, aren't we?" Darren cut the disconcerted Coyote off, trying to console him. "We're all fine, right?"

"If fine includes covered in shit." Jameson said, smiling thinly.

The group laughed uneasily, before Darren took charge again. "Let's get moving, we've still got a convoy to stop."

Darren set off down the avenue, nearly tripping on a dead Balfor soldier, shot through the ribs - probably the sharpshooters' handiwork.

"See if we can get into one of these buildings!" Darren ordered, and rushed to the back door of what looked like an office of some sort.

He was about to kick in the door when one of the sharpshooters tapped his shoulder and pointed down the street. In the upper window of a brick building, someone was waving a black flag. "Check it out, but stay sharp." Darren whispered. He grabbed another RPG warhead from the sack slung over his shoulder - this one had an orange band, signifying general purpose high-explosive. Good enough. He thought, and shoved it in.

When they reached the window, One of the sharpshooters hissed up to it "Black Hammer friend or foe?"

"Friend!" Was the muffled reply, as the flag was pulled in.

"Come out slowly, and let us see your hands!" Darren ordered. A Coyote's hands, and then a Coyote's head, came over the window sill. It wasn't just any Coyote though, It was Jasper Mayhew.

"Jas!" Darren exclaimed, jaw dropping.

"Darry, good to see you, man!" Jas leaned further out the window, a big grin on his face. "Let me come down and open up the door!" He leaned back inside, and a few seconds later the building's back door swung open, with Jas beckoning them inside.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Jas said, embracing Darren as soon as he was inside.

"I wouldn't be here, too." Darren said. "Listen, there's a convoy coming through here we need to ambush, and we had to take the town."

"It's 2:32 already." One of the sharpshooters said. "When's that convoy supposed to come through?"

"Fuck, I don't know, we need to find Lars." Darren said, raking his hand through the fur on his forehead.

"Some of the locals got guns and started shooting up the garrison, you know." Jas said, as they walked towards the front of the building.

"I know, that's what we hoped would happen." Darren said. "We got any spare weapons?" Darren asked the sharpshooters.

"Here's my sidearm." Jameson said, handing Darren a revolver.

"You take this, Jas." Darren said, handing the weapon to his companion. They stopped at the front door, and Darren peered through a window down the street, towards the town hall. "Did you find Bryan?"

Jas sighed. "No, they started locking the town down as soon as I snuck back in, so I couldn't look. I sure as hell hope he's okay."

"The street looks clear, let's move out." Darren tried to push the door open, but found it wouldn't budge. "What the hell?"

Darren backed up and gave the door a solid kick, knocking it off its hinges. The door rested against something on the sidewalk, which on examination turned out to be a Wolf's body. It was a Colonel, and it was not preposterous to assume he was the commanding officer of the garrison. Not far away from where he fell was a portable radio set. Darren gave this a kick, sending it across the street.

"I hope he didn't get to use that thing before he got shot." Darren said, spitting when he finished.

"Look, Darren!" Jas hissed, pointing down the street. Looking where he indicated,

Darren saw Lars emerging from an alley, followed by his squadmates. Darren waved, and gave a thumbs up.

Lars noticed him, and they trotted across the street to Darren. "You got in all right?" Lars asked.

"Just fine, how 'bout you? Did you get the APC?" Darren asked, as they crossed to the side of the street with the town hall.

"Oh, I got it all right Darry." Lars muttered, sighing. "Just not on the first shot."

Darren pondered this for a moment. "Did you lose anyone?"

Lars stopped walking, and sighed. "We lost two." He said in a low tone. "I take it all your squad is accounted for?"

"Yes, sir." Darren said, noting that Lars hadn't specified who the casualties were.

Just then, a Coyote emerged from a Doorway in front of them. The sharpshooters brought their weapons up, leading the unknown Coyote to raise his hands. "Black Hammers?" He asked in a whisper.

"That's right." Lars said, nodding. "And who the fuck are you?"

"Relax, we're on the same side, for chris'sake." He said, and rolled his eyes.

"I ain't too sure about that." Lars growled. "Who are you?"

"Watt's the name, I live here." The Coyote said.

"And just what do you want, 'Mr. Watt'?" Lars hissed.

"Just want to tell you there's only a few bruisers left, and they're all holed up in the Town hall." He pointed in the direction of the big, grey building. Then, Watt stamped the sidewalk twice, causing two more coyotes, to appear behind him in the doorway. One of them clutched a rifle with a scope, the other an AL7 submachine gun. They both had scowls on their faces.

Darren eyed them cautiously, before stepping forward. "We're sorry for any damages we might've caused to your town, but we've got a convoy to stop and we're a bit short on time. I think a truce is in order."

The Coyote with the submachinegun stepped forward. He was an older 'yote with grey fur. After some consideration, he asked Darren a question he was prepared for. "What do we get from it? We could kill you all right now."

"You don't want any retributions from the Army, do you?" Darren asked coyly.

"O'course not." The old coyote said.

"If you'll let us live, we'll take full responsibility for the attack." Darren offered. If the townsfolk overpowered them, and Darren suspected there were many more, they would have to either evacuate, or face the wratch of the Balfor army.

The grey Coyote extended his paw "We're allies until midnight tonight, then we run you out of town on a rail if you're still around."

"It's a deal." Darren said, shaking paws. "Now, we'd be much obliged if you'd help us clear out the town hall." He hefted his RPG up to his shoulder.

Mr. Watt winked, then made a low whistle, and a dozen other armed townsfolk appeared from other buildings, and gathered around the company of Anarchists, confirming the Badger's suspicions. "Mr. Doolin, if you will." Watt said.

The older coyote produced a black and white canister from his pocket, lit the fuse on it, and hurled it down the street onto the town hall steps. Mr. Watt waved his paw, and the armed civilians, joined by Darren and Lars, hustled into positions around the hall, under the cover of a thick, white, smoke cloud that the canister produced.

Darren and the sharpshooters now saw that the large radio antenna had falled backwards, away from main street, and that one of the APCs parked in front was missing its sprocket wheel - evidence of Garth Mayhew's activities. There was no sign of him yet though, which made Darren uneasy.

Some of the townsfolk were armed with molotov cocktails, and guns they had confiscated from the Balfor soliders, the bodies of whom were scattered in the street. They threw them at the windows of the Town hall, which was made of concrete and didn't catch fire easily. They fired their guns into it too, shattering the windows and the glass doors.

"Cease fire!" Someone yelled suddenly. "There's a white flag on the roof!" Darren looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a paw. There was indeed a white cloth on a pole, but it looked more like a bedsheet tied at the corners.

"We don't take prisoners." Lars said, aiming his RPG at the smashed-open doorway of the hall.

"Don't do it Lars." Darren said, not daring to place a paw on his colleague.

"We don't take prisoners." Lars repeated, and pulled the trigger. Darren noticed just as he fired that the warhead loaded into the weapon had a black band around it - a thermobaric round. He tried, too late, to warn the other combatants "Get down!"

The projectile flew into the doorway, and exploded somewhere inside. The thermobaric round was designed to create a more powerful blast and shockwave, and this was exactly what it did in the hall - the rigid concrete building was shook to its foundations, and the people standing outside were knocked to the ground. There was a tremendous crash as the floor of the building collapsed, and Darren swore he heard a cry of agony, probably some poor soul of a Wolf being crushed by debris. Lars stood up, staring in gleeful awe at the devastation.

Darren got up as well, and stared angrily at Lars. "If you get hung someday, don't say I never warned you."

Lars turned to Darren and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him close. "Darry, I don't think you and I are on the same page." He pushed Darren back, sending him crashing into the dust. Facing the civilians, he gave an order: "Make sure nobody comes out of that building!"

The townsfolk stared wide-eyed at Lars, before turning to the cracked and desolate building.

"Get someone on a rooftop to watch for the convoy, everyone else man the roadblocks and put out those damn fires!" Lars barked his orders to the remaining sharpshooters, who skittered off to their duties.

Darren stood up, and went to Mr. Watt. "Do you have a can of spray paint?" He asked.

Darren soon acquired a can of paint, and set to work placing a message upon the cracked concrete of the former town hall. When he was finished, it read

DEATH FROM ABOVE. FUCK THE CONFEDERACY. - BLACK HAMMERS

Not satisfied with it, he began to plaster the steps of the hall with anarchist symbols.

When he was finished, he returned the can, but was surprised by a short Balfor soldier aiming an AL7 SMG at him.

"Bang, Gotcha!" It was Jas, wearing a looted uniform.

"Nice try Jas. You don't make a very convincing Wolf, you know." Darren said, after having a good laugh.

"It won't matter when I'm standing in one of those wagons." He said, jerking a thumb behind him.

Darren turned to see the sole remaining APC rolling slowly down the street, Lars's striped head poking out of the driver's hatch.

"Besides, we've also got some grey dye, that ought to make me look more of the part." Jas proclaimed, proudly.

"Good luck then." Darren said, chuckling again. He trotted to the APC, and walked beside it to talk to Lars. "What's the plan?" He asked.

"Shut up, I'm tryin' to drive this thing!" Lars snapped back, over the engine noise. Darren followed patiently until Darren pulled the machine sideways, to reinforce the roadblock.

"So I take it we impersonate the soldiers to lure 'em in?" Darren said, once Lars had hopped out of the big machine.

"Yep." Lars said, walking back the way he'd come. "And you're going to help by getting up on that building and shooting the drivers." Lars had pointed at the nearest two-story building.

Darren took a deep breath, realizing that the battle was almost won now, and they would be able to rest. And with that, he set off to find a good rifle.