FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It's said the desert can hold many things. Like the long, black stretch of highway, the parched, broken ground, the legions of cacti, all trappings of the desert. What wasn't expected was the line of vehicles, tan against the black pavement. There were large transport trucks, four wheeled, four in total. They were tan, with the only symbol being a black paw with laurels on both sides. On either side of the trucks were two APCs, armoured personnel carriers. These were lightly armed, each APC had one machine gun apiece, these were both .50 calibres. The APCs also bore the same paw symbol as the trucks did. The crowning piece of the group of vehicles was heavier than the APCs, but it was not a tank. It was bulkier, and had six wheels. It also bore the same symbol as the trucks. The vehicle was an infantry fighting vehicle, or IFV for short. The IFV was built to counter infantry units in the field. As such, it was not equipped to deal with heavy armour, its best weapon being a 25mm cannon. There was a name stenciled in white paint on its side, "Laurie". The convoy moved slowly, as the trucks could only move so fast.

There was a designated point at which the soldiers were to stop for a mid-day rest, and it was just up the road. Upon seeing their rest stop, the driver of the IFV sent out a radio message to the convoy:

"All units, this is Sabre Actual. Time for a mid-day break. We've gotten far today."

"Sabre One, order received. It's about damn time we get a break, sir."

"Sabre Two, acknowledged."

"Sabre Three, loud and clear. Stopping now."

"Sabre Four, on standby."

The four trucks took a formation around the IFV, in the middle of the fork. The two APCs took position near the IFV, on either side. The radio system crackled again, "This is Shield One and Shield Two. Stopping at designated position." The radio stopped crackling, and fell silent. The first to get out from their vehicles were Sabres One through Four, the truck drivers. They all wore the same basic uniform, tan desert camo top, with matching pants. There were shoulder patches, each with the self-same paw emblem as the vehicles. The four drivers are all feline furries, and belong to the same army, the Army of the Furry Republic. Sabre One is a short, slightly portly housecat, a tabby, male. As a means of identification, each uniform had a name badge, on the right side of the chest. Sabre One's read M. PATTERSON, and his rank insignia, present on all the uniforms of the Army, is that of a Private, First Class. Also on his shoulder patch was the symbol of his division, Sabre Division. It is a pair of sabres, crossed. Along with that was his squad symbol, a sabre surrounded by three stars.

Sabre Two is dressed the same as Patterson, Sabre One, but is different from him. Sabre Two was female, the uniform didn't do a good job of hiding her figure. She was an unusual cat, being a hybrid of a jaguar and leopard. Among other things, her badge read J. KARVER, and was a Corporal in the army. Her shoulder patch was the same as Patterson's, but also included a wrench over a gear, indicating her position as a Machinist. As a Machinist, it was Karver's duty to see all vehicles at her disposal were at least working condition. As such, she was never seen without her toolkit, currently in the front seat of her truck. She looked for Sabres Three and Four, the last two drivers. They were brothers, or at least, they acted like it. Sabre Three was a tiger, medium sized. Three's tag had him as A. MORRIS, and that he was also a Corporal. Morris took a swig from a canteen, a standard issue piece of equipment that all soldiers were issued for desert engagements.

"Should we let the HVIs out, Captain?" Morris asked. The captain being under the callsign "Sabre Actual". He had a more distinguished uniform than the others. It had the same basic design, but there was something more... superiour about it. Like all members of Sabre Division, he had his badge and patches. Sabre Actual was, ironically, a sabretooth tiger. Scars covered his face, a particular one went around his muzzle, giving him a permanent smile. His fur colour was a mottled brown, with hints of silver. His badge said that he was D. GORDON. His rank patch was that of a Captain, and in addition to his other patches, there was one other. This patch was unique to him, and was a paw with red tipped claws, flanked by two white wings. None of his squad knew what it meant, although some had their suspicions. Nobody really knew what their Captain did before being transferred to Sabre Division.

"Go ahead, Corporal." Gordon lifts his head and indicates Karver's truck. "Be careful with them, now. There's a reason they're called HVIs." HVIs, or High Value Individuals, was a designation used by the Republic military to designate targets that were to be protected, usually non combatants such as diplomats and the like. Morris saluted, and with a curt "Sir", went to retrieve their cargo.

Karver looked over at Sabre Four, "What's your opinion on all of this?" Sabre Four was a puma, largely built. Like the others, he had the same uniform, and his badge read R. EASTON. He had deep brown fur, light black, almost silver markings, and cream white fur on his face and chest. His rank was that of a Specialist, engineer. He had a thing of being the grim one of the squad, always a pessimist. He almost always predicted doom, but every time he was proven right, the team were always prepared for it. Other times, they got out by the scruff of their necks.

"Hopefully, we don't get ambushed. Like I said when we left, this isn't going to end well."

"So what would you suggest, Specialist Easton? A full armoured detachment, air support?" Captain Gordon glared at him.

"Captain, I meant no disrespect, Sir. I meant, at least we should have a medic just in case, even the cargo can get hurt."

Gordon's reply was stern, "And you know why we don't need a medic. Command said this mission was low risk."

"Considering the welcome that we received at the last town we stopped in, I'd say this mission is as low risk as it can be, Captain." Karver interjected.

"Considering, Corporal, that the civilians had flags, a banner, and gave us flowers, what kind of welcome is that? And may I remind you, Specialist, that those civilians are those that we, as soldiers, are sworn to protect over our own lives?" Gordon looked again at Easton, and then turned to Karver.

A voice interrupted them, "Sir, I've got the cargo. They seem to be pretty hungry."

It was Morris, and with him were the reasons that they had been sent out on this mission in the first place. There were two figures behind Morris. They moved with a weird grace, and they stayed quite close together. The team is thrown for a loop, everyone except for Captain Gordon. They are dressed in long white smocks, with tall white boots. The first thing they noticed were their faces. They didn't look like any fur that they've seen before. A small nose, thin face, with hair instead of fur on their head. Then there was their lack of fur on their bodies. They had cat's eyes, and had cat mannerisms, as one of them was watching Karver's tail with interest. One had blonde ears and tail, with a white interior, with blue eyes. The other had brown ears and tail, with a pink interior, and sea green eyes. They were, according to the briefing, one male and one female, a breeding pair. Their gender was not easy to ascertain, at least without removing their smocks. The one not looking at Karver's tail was staring at the supplies that the soldiers brought out for the break. These were a small, foldable table, a set of ready to eat meals, and a few chairs.

"Are you hungry? All we've got are MRE's." This was from Gordon. The two nodded their heads. It was said that their kind didn't talk, although they had been briefed that the only syllable that they knew was the word "Nya". The MRE, or meal-ready to eat, was a staple of a military diet, while on extended missions. It was said to be tasteless, but filling nonetheless.

"So, we stopped to eat. What's next?"

"Ah, Shields One and Two. I believe that we haven't met yet." Shields One and Two were volunteers, from Longsword Division. Once again, they were felines. It was not that they were rare or that there was discrimination among the species of the Army, but it was the decision of Command. They felt that the beings in question would be more familiar with other cats. A canine from one of the Axe divisions, or any of the other furs from the Lance divisions would not have been feasible. Shield One was a tall, lean ocelot, her build spoke of light and fast. Her fur was an atypical grey and white, with dark black markings. Her eyes, which were said to be her best feature, are a green that most would call a 'jungle' green. Her camo top and pants had a different pattern than that of Sabre Division. This was a traditional green camo scheme. Upon hearing Captain Gordon, she stood at attention and saluted. "Sergeant Kylie Windloss, reporting, sir!"

"At ease, Sergeant." Windloss stood down, "Shield Two? Report in, that's an order." Shield Two was, as the rest of the soldiers, a feline. He was a leopard, and he had what had been once called a 'royal bearing'. His fur was a bright, golden yellow, and his markings were an unusual light silver. Another thing was his eye colour, as this was a bright red. No one knew why his eyes were like that, no one dared ask him. He seemed cheery about the entire matter. Like Windloss, he had the same 'forest' camo pattern, and his badge identified him as L. STRENNER. He saluted and said, "Private Strenner, reporting, sir! Is there anything I can help with, sir?"

"Well, Private, you can start by helping set up this table here. I need someone to watch the road up ahead."

Easton looked up at Captain Gordon, "I'll volunteer, sir."

"Good, Specialist. Here, take these." Reaching into a pocket of his vest, Gordon pulled out a pair of black binoculars. Easton took a position near the front of the formation, and looked around. While he was doing this, the rest of the team were talking about what to do. They were gathered around the table that Strenner set up. The two HVIs were now seated, next to Captain Gordon. They were picking through the MREs that Windloss gave them.

"What's our meal this time, sir?" Karver asked.

"Canned spaghetti and meatballs, and bread rolls. I miss the fish meals they used to have." Gordon looked wistfully at the food spread out before him. Each seated, on simple folding chairs, at the hastily set up folding table were eating out of cans with spoons. Each of these cans had a generic label, marked with the words, "Property of the FR Army." The two HVI's were given a can apiece, and were sharing the cold, pre cooked spaghetti and meatballs with each other. They also had matching spoons. Karver held her can aside while she poured over a map. Morris, Strenner, and Windloss were talking in hushed tones with each other.

"So besides 'the cargo', do our friends here have any other name?"

"No, Corporal. All we've got are these long serial numbers, one's designation A-903..."

"That's enough, Private. What's the other?"

"It's B-115, uh... 7 something or the other..." Private Strenner looked flustered.

"Enough. So, all we have are serial numbers. Any suggestions, Sergeant?"

"Well, we could give them unofficial names. The briefing didn't mention any names, just those serial numbers, right?"

"Agreed, Sergeant. What do you have in mind?"

Sergeant Windloss paused, lost in thought. Hmm... What names to give them? We don't know their gender for sure... This is quite puzzling... She was confused, her training had never prepared her for this. She'd been trained for combat, yes, but not dealing with strange beings that had been in her midst. She had heard of stranger missions, yes, but this one... Her tail flicked in annoyance, and her ears folded back.

"Ugh, I can't think! Why did this have to be so difficult?"

Captain Gordon noticed the commotion of the three and walked up to them, his paws silent on the asphalt. "What's going on here, Sergeant?" No change in tone, almost no concern at all for the situation.

"Captain! We, ah, were discussing what names we were going to give to the cargo, sir. I mean, the only means of identification that we have are those long serial numbers."

"And," Gordon said to Sergeant Windloss, "what does that have to do with all this commotion?"

Windloss bowed her head, a sign of deference. She didn't meet her Captain's eyes. It was considered a sign of the ancient tradition of many cat species, and was a time honoured sign of respect. "It's so that... we can have an easier time by identifying them, sir. We don't know what to call them, sir, it's difficult."

Gordon looked undaunted at Windloss, "It's just a simple task of having two easily recognizable names, Sergeant. What's so difficult about that? Females..." It was well known that the Captain was an old soldier, and his disdain for females in uniform led to some trouble with Command, but it had been smoothed over by the time she joined the Army. Windloss was not a career soldier by any means, she only wanted to make her mark on her homeland.

"What about... Tristan, for that one, and the other can be... Isolde? Those are old names, sir." Tristan was the blonde, while Isolde was the brown haired one. Private Strenner looked up at his Captain. He was done his MRE, and was getting ready to head out on his orders. All soldiers on assignment were given a standard sidearm, the Cage 9mm handgun. This standard handgun was a favourite of the military. Strenner was checking his weapon, unloaded, seeing if it would work. The only other who was doing anything with a weapon was Morris, and he had the Patten MK 49, a standard, rugged rifle that was produced in both A and C variants, assault and carbine, respectively. The rifle fired both 5.56 and 7.62 calibre bullets, and came with a wealth of attachments. Currently, Morris' weapon had a scope attached to it, as well as a customizable sight. Given the different species in the Army, there would have to be substitutions. Weapons sights, for all types, could be customizable at any base, to any colour or shape that the soldier desired. Morris' was a dot and X configuration, coloured blue, and his scope lens was orange. He was testing the sight, putting the rifle up to his face when Easton gave a shout.

"Sir! You might want to see this!"

Gordon got up from where he was sitting, and went over to the puma. "What is it, Specialist? You see something, hostiles?"

Easton wordlessly gave the binoculars over to his Captain. What Gordon saw made him grit his teeth in a snarl. Before them, the road to their objective was blocked. Several junk cars were piled in the middle of the road, and the trucks were not off road. Captain Gordon thought of a solution, and he found it. Turning to Karver, he said, "Corporal, you have any tow line in those trucks?"

Karver heard him and nodded, "Sir, what are you planning to do with that line?"

"We're going to use that line to get those cars out of the way, we're going to need at least... Two trucks. So, who's going to volunteer?" Gordon looked at the rest of his team. He saw Morris and Karver nod their heads.

"Alright, let's get that junk out of the way. Morris, Karver, you're up." The two saluted, and went to get the tow line from Karver's truck. The rest of the group had dissembled the table, and were putting away their things, the chairs and such. When everyone was done, Gordon said one last thing;

"Let's finish this."

At which the soldiers of Sabre and Longsword saluted, "Yes, sir!" Tristan and Isolde were loaded into the APC, Strenner's, and the convoy began to move again.

* * *

The convoy was moving again, the only sounds that echoed through the desert were the growl of engines and the snarl of tires on pavement. The convoy had the trucks in the middle of the road, two by two. The APCs and IFV took point, watching for any dangers. Thoughts raced through their heads, going faster than their vehicles. Who dragged the cars out there, and why? Was it a setup? Could it be a trap? That was one question that no one dared answer. Morris and Karver acted quickly, driving their trucks within range. The three armoured vehicles took up positions near the two trucks, forming two columns that they could use to move the junk. The other two stayed back, and stopped. Gordon turned on the radio, and sent out the following:

"This is Actual. Sabres Two and Three, get it done. We need this junk out of the way, ASAP. Got it? Shields One and Two, keep those heads on a swivel, we don't know what's out there."

"It's some ambush, I've got a feeling, a bad one."

"Easton!"

"Sorry, sir."

"This is Shield One, eyes up, nothing here."

"This is Shield Two, nothing here but us kittens."

The APCs' machinegun emplacements moved to and fro, and the IFV's cannon moved, all three vehicles out for any threats. Morris and Karver got out of their trucks, the tow line was on a winch, attached to the front of the vehicles. Morris went in first, tying his to a solid position on the junk car, and Karver did the same.

"Think it'll work?" Morris asked.

"These trucks have good strength and speed, 380 horsepower, they'll do." Karver finished tying her line down. The plan was for them to move the four junk cars out of the way, so that would take time. The others would watch, while Gordon, Strenner, and WIndloss kept eyes on, making sure that nothing got in their way. Morris started his first, his truck's engine growling and starting as it was pushed. The junk car, having no tires, made sparks on the road as it was dragged. Morris got his to the designated point, and got out to disconnect the line. The junk was to be pulled off the road, and as soon as the pile was gone, the convoy would move out. The only hard thing was time. Their mission would end at nightfall, or so they had been briefed. Once they took the trucks and their living cargo to the jungle, a detachment from the Science and Research Department would take over, and that would be that. Next up was Karver, and she did hers as fast as Morris did. Hers made a terrible screeching noise, sparks flying from the rusted metal. Karver's truck snarled, the engine being pushed hard, the line shuddering from the weight of the junk car.

"There's two down, two to go? Shields, you got anything?" Gordon broadcast another message, keeping an eye on a ridge to their right.

"Shield One here, nothing. This place is dead."

"Shield Two, here, looks like..." Strenner squinted, his eyes narrowed. He could have sworn that he'd seen... a glint. Like something off a metal thing, or a scope.

"I see a light, but it has to be a trick. Left sector, maybe five clicks away."

"Actual here, good work Shield Two." Gordon looked to the direction that Strenner told him, and that made him uneasy. Technically, it was supposed to a round trip mission, go there, drop off, and get back. This wasn't going as expected, but Karver's preparedness had saved them some headaches. Good for the hybrid to pack tow line, a good thing. Without it, Gordon wouldn't know where to begin. He'd have to write her a commendation when he got back...

"Actual, this is Two, going in, over."

"Same, Actual. This is Three."

The trucks moved in again, and again Karver and Morris went to attach their lines. Strenner kept his eyes peeled, and again he saw that glinting. He didn't like it, and the glinting was now bigger, almost as if... it was moving.

"Sir, I think we've got movement on that ridge."

"Copy that, Shield Two, One, keep your eyes on that ridge. Morris, Karver, hurry." The two heard the radio conversation, and double timed it. Just as Morris was setting up his tow line, a beam of light whizzed by his head, hitting the pavement. The beam of light left a burn mark on the tiger's head. Immediately after, Karver and Morris scrambled into their trucks, the line forgotten.

"Sniper! Some sort of energy weapon! Forget the other junkers, just drive!" The trucks soon revved to life, and the weapons burned hot, eager to face this new enemy. The IFV, Laurie, let off its' gun, the 25mm cannon making short, loud, ftoom ftoom noises, and the clink of the spent shells hitting the pavement. Followed by the familiar sound of machine gun fire. Bullets and shells pounded the ridge, and dirt and rock were kicked up by the storm of steel. The shells did their work, and hit their targets, but not with the sounds of fur or flesh impacted. It was the sound of metal hitting metal, almost as if what the team faced were... not organic.

With only two junkers out of the way, the team is forced to improvise. The armoured vehicles went in first, as to save the trucks. Besides the sound of weapon fire, the sound of grinding metal shook the desert. The junkers were tough, but not tough enough. The radio was broadcasting the team's chatter:

"This is Actual. Forget the tow line, we need to punch through, we're too exposed here!"

"This is Shield One, what's shooting at us?"

"Shield Two here, I don't know! Keep me covered."

"All units, push through! Make a path so the trucks can get through."

And so, Laurie and the APCs attempted to smash through the junk barricade. At first, the junk didn't give, and the team thought that everything was lost. But the engines revved, and with a shriek of metal, the other junkers gave way. The three armoured vehicles kept on firing, bullet and shell casings showering the road with debris. And still that disturbing sound thrummed in the air, metal hitting metal.

"What are these things?!"

But they would find out soon enough. Gordon was the first to spot them, three in number. They were... skinny, thin, but made of a sort of silver metal. Some unknown alloy, Gordon suspected. They had fox like heads, although the team wasn't sure if there were others. They stood on two legs, but that was were the similarities ended. They looked like furries, but they were not. Their eye sockets glowed with a electric blue light, and they didn't blink. The three before the onrushing vehicles looked like they were armed with submachine guns... but these were energy weapons, based on the shots that started this mess. But could they hold up being crushed by an armoured vehicle? That was soon put to the test.

With a nasty sound of grinding metal, the three metal foxes were rendered into crushed scrap. Their heads were smashed, their bodies pounded into pavement by rolling steel and wheels,

"All units, just keep moving!"

"Shield Two here, roger that, sir!" But behind him there could be heard two frightened voices saying, "Nya, nya!", fearfully.

"Strenner, keep them calmed down! We don't want the scientists to get spooked when we get there!"

Strenner could then be heard over the radio, shushing and speaking in a low, soft tone,

"Shhh, it'll be alright. They can't get you, you're safe here, with us." And so the convoy drove on, beams of energy whizzing about. It took the drivers great skill to avoid these shots, they were everywhere. The radio crackled, and then there was a high buzzing noise that made everyone cover their ears.

"Do not resist. Return A-90374860 and B-11572361 at once. The Collective demands it. Resistance will not be tolerated."

Gordon cursed, snarling. If these things were advanced enough to jack their comm lines... Then they were a severe threat. He would have to inform Command, if they got out of this in one piece.

"How about... no!" With that, Gordon revved his engine and pushed forward, the rest of the convoy doing the same. The trucks stayed together, while the armoured vehicles took the lead. Unfortunately for them...

Not even 10 feet ahead were another group of the things. These were bigger, and looked like they had heavy weapons, machine gun types. If Gordon were to guess, based on the few seconds he saw them, he would say that they looked like tigers, large, over muscled tigers. Metal, strong tigers with electric blue eyes. And then..

The barrels of their weapons started to glow, and Gordon knew what would happen next.

"Keep moving! They're aiming right for us!"

And so, the convoy rolled on. But not before the armoured vehicles were shellacked by energy weapons. Beams of light bounced off their hulls, none of the attackers were aiming for the wheels, surprisingly enough. The shots made some dents, but the vehicles plowed on. Gordon, Strenner, and Windloss all braced for impact. With a sickening crunch, the metal tiger things were run down. With the heavy metal tigers out of the way, the road looked clear enough. No more blockades, but they were still under fire, from their sides. The team thought that they were in the clear, until their com systems buzzed again. Line's jacked again, Gordon thought.

"If you do not comply, you will be eliminated."

Gordon snarled, again. Frustrated at the enemy's cleverness, he broadcast another message.

"All units, switch to another line, this one's compromised." Gordon flipped several switches, these were to change the communications channel. He assumed that the team was dong the same, considering that they were under fire. The radio stopped making that high buzzing, at least, crackling with static until:

"This is Sabre Three. New channel is line 5. Repeat, new channel is line 5!"

"Actual recognizes. All units, remain on channel 5 until we reach our destination." When the team switched channels, they kept on the move. But now the trucks were in range of more threats. The only driver to spot them was Karver, and she reacted by taking her truck to the side of the road, almost putting the truck in the ditch.

"This is Karver! We've got hostiles approaching from the sides!"

At which point the convoy, the trucks at least began to weave around, desperate to avoid the fire coming from both sides. They were being shot at by more metal things, these were armed with what they could see were rifles. The other drivers heard Karver, and attempted to drive around, trying to avoid the beam fire that was coming from their sides. Morris was careful, and he looked around nervously. The tiger's handpaws gripped the wheel in a death grip, and his face had a snarl etched onto it. The beams from the rilfes flitted and flew among and between the trucks, until Morris' was hit. The engine went, and the vehicle was stopped in its' tracks, dead on the road. Morris spat and snarled, and broadcast the following:

"This is Sabre Three, my truck's dead! Exiting and moving to Strenner's vehicle, acknowledge!"

"Strenner here. Acknowledged, Corporal. But hurry!" And so Morris ran, his tiger's endurance serving him well. He had his rifle strapped to his shoulder, and his pistol was on his hip. He kept on running, the sun beating down on him, making his fur damp with sweat. His muscles moved under his top, and his legs moved as fast as they could. He could almost touch the door of the APC when... Pain! He felt a stinging, a burning in his left leg, and down he went. He hissed and snarled, and he unslung his rifle, crawling on the ground. He was so close...

Strenner was looking out of the corner of his eye, keeping an eye on the road, when he saw Morris go down. He had the cargo, and Tristan and Isolde were calmed down... but he had to help Morris. He reversed his APC, and began to back it up slowly. Morris was still crawling towards the vehicle, a hole clearly visible, burned black through his pants. Morris could see the APC backing up, and he finally managed to reach the door. He saw the door open and he heard Strenner yell, "Get in, Corporal!" And then he heard, "Nya! Nya! Nya!" He looked up to see Tristan and Isolde, urging him onward, up into the vehicle. He climbed in, just in time, as a barrage of beam fire pelted the area around them. He unslung his rifle, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see that the two cat beings had his weapons, Tristan his rifle, and Isolde his pistol. They'd taken kneeling stances, aiming down the sights with eerie similarity to how he usually did it. Which was fortunate, as one of the metal things, a feline one, rushed in. The thing had come in on them unawares, but Tristan and Isolde worked quickly.

Tristan shot first, setting the rifle to fire in three shot bursts. The cat being's shots were well placed, hitting and sparking off the metal. It was hit in the chest, striking some sort of core, Morris couldn't tell. And then Isolde stepped in and shot the thing's neck, severing the head. Isolde then kicked the headless thing out, and kept the head, a smile on their face. Isolde then threw the head at Morris' footpaws, and went to find something for the tiger soldier to lean against. What a turn of events, the tiger thought, despite his pain. And so, the convoy rolled on, missing a truck, but all were alive.

* * *

Sure as sure could be, Sabre Division's convoy pulled into the jungle research station. The convoy was intact, save for Morris' truck, but that was better than the alternative. Several of the scientists were on hand to pick up their cargo, and the team was debriefed.

"What do you mean, you were attacked by metal 'things'? The officer on site was a wolf, brown fur colour, a lieutenant.

"No disrespect, sir, but something wanted our cargo. Something called 'The Collective', whatever that means. And something else, too." Gordon paused. As leader of this mission, it was his duty to summarize to Command the exact details of the mission.

"And what would that be, Captain?" He looked on at the old soldier with disbelief.

"The cargo... they can fight. That's how we got this..." Gordon picked up the head of the thing that Isolde and Tristan killed and put it down on the desk. The officer's eyes lit up, curious. He then rearranged himself.

"Of course, I'll inform Command of this right away, Captain. Oh, by the way... what happened to King Crimson?" The lieutenant pointed at Gordon's special patch.

Gordon sighed. "King Crimson is no more, the war's over, Lieutenant."

"Oh, really? I thought King Crimson were heroes, Command says they're thinking of reviving it..."

Gordon looked past him, seeing things that only he saw. "No, King Crimson did its' job, the people are safe. No more. The Special Forces divisions were all called in, rearranged. And you know why."

"Was it because you were all trained to be-"

"Forgive me for saying this sir, but no more! King Crimson is dead! And that's that." And with that, Captain Daniel Gordon, soldier of Sabre Division, and former leader of the feared Special Forces squad King Crimson, went outside to check in with his team. His true family, his team, his soldiers, his hope. The convoy had finished its' job, and Tristan and Isolde were safe. The team made sure to pay visits to the two, just to see how they were doing.

Later, before lights out at the station, Strenner and Windloss talked amongst themselves.

"I heard that the lieutenant on base was acting excited, after Captain debriefed. Heard it was about something called King Crimson. You know about it, Sergeant?"

Sergeant Windloss shook her head. "No, Private. Rumours, and that's it. Now, let's sleep, we've had a long day." And with that, the soldiers went to sleep, after such a long and arduous day.