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Fardel watched as the last of the damaged vehicles were unloaded from the C-5 Galaxy. He took his first step into the cold morning light of Washington, D.C. He paused to look around. He was supposed to meet someone here who would take him straight to the Pentagon for debriefing. He saw a golf cart pull up next to him with someone who looked like his ride.

"So, uh, you Furdel?" He asked. Fardel just shook his head and hopped in.

"Well, I guess my name is now that. Since no one bothers, might as well change it. So, who are you?"

"The names Sergeant First Class Griffon. Marshal sent me here to get ya. I can see why now."

"You do a lot of work for Marshal?" Furdel asked.

"Yeah, I'm a platoon sergeant. Typically work straight for him though. It ain't that bad." Furdel gave him a sideways look and shook his head. "What?" he asked.

"You're Marshals bitch man. You run his errands for him. Never met someone who was happy about it." Griffon didn't respond. They pulled up to the gate and Griffon picked up a pair of keys. They walked outside towards the new parking deck. D.C. had become a bustling hub of people. A hummer was parked on the bottom floor, one Furdel recognized.

"Motherfucker stole my car!" Furdel exclaimed.

"Nah, man, you left him it in your will. When we thought you was dead, he took it. Only just learned you were alive." Furdel just hopped in the vehicle and sat silently as they drove towards the Pentagon. Must be busy today. So many cars out, thousands of people walking around. This place is nothing like the last time I visited. Hell, they built a parking deck just for Andrews. Guess in this time of war people want to visit... Furdel looked up as they pulled into a reserved parking spot. They hopped out and walked to the door. The two Marines there snapped to attention and saluted. Furdel returned the salute and walked through. As he did, he noticed something. They didn't even glance or appear surprised by his change. He paused just before the door. He turned his head slightly down and back to look at them.

"You men are exemplary Marines. You are the first to not give me some sideways look or comment. You acted very professional. I'll make sure your CO knows of your excellent performance." With that he went inside. He headed up towards the war room, motioning for Griffon to stay outside the room. He took a deep breath then thrust open the doors. Everyone looked up at him and he took in the scene. The head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Anderson, was at the opposite side of the war table, with a holographic battlefield popped up. Brigadier General Chester, Air Force, head of Joint base Andrews, was nearby. Major General Brian Marshal, Army, Special tactics division, was leaning against the wall to Furdel's left, drinking a cup of coffee. Major General Stephenson, Marine Corps, was also looking at the table. General John Nicholson, Marine Corps Commandant, was to Furdel's right, looking through some files. Two SEAL representatives were in the room, and nodded to Furdel to come in. He stepped in and closed the doors behind him. When the doors closed he noticed something he missed. Two men in black tuxedos were standing to his left and right. Studying their composure from the corners of his eyes, he figured they were CIA. He walked right up to the table, across from Anderson, and looked at the plans. Then it hit him. He was looking at a plan to invade Iran. He looked back up. Suddenly the Admiral spoke.

"Fardel, we're here to debrief you, as well as talk about some things that have, ah, happened, regarding your mission and the political game. First, what happened on your end?" Furdel quickly explained how his mission went awry and what happened to him in the following month. He detailed his escape, and put emphasis on describing the operatives who took down his team. When he finished they all sat there silently. The first to break the silence was Marshal, who was still leaning on the wall drinking coffee.

"Looks like al Quds got a hold of you. The Ayatollah was taking no chances with someone getting out. What your describing is something that one of my special teams has been tracking with assistance from Mossad, CIA, and several, ah, foreign assets. It is part of what appears to be a test going on with what we call GAP, Gene Augmentation Program. The Persians used you as a testing ground since you were the perfect candidate. We could give you more detail but.." He paused and looked at the Admiral. The Admiral nodded and Marshal resumed "But the President fucked us over to say the least." He paused and took a sip of coffee before continuing. "As you may well remember, twenty years ago President Obama got a deal with Iran to curb their nuclear program. Which was great except for one small thing: If a new ruler comes to power and doesn't like the plan, the deal has no power over him. So our current President brokered a deal to which the Ayatollah agreed, one that stopped their nuclear program. The Commandant here found it out during some research of a missing Mar-soc force, who went mising a few weeks after you started your mission. We thought nothing of the deal until your whole entire team missed the fallback deadline. We commissioned a probe into the deal and..." He paused and looked around the room for approval. The others gave their approval, and he took another sip of the coffee before continuing. "As a part of the deal, the president gave all operating CIA and Special forces operations in Iran to the leadership. Have you ever seen clear and present danger?" Furdel responded affirmatively, and Marshal took another sip of coffee before continuing. "What happened to those special forces teams is what happened to your team. When the Commandant found out he burst into the Presidents office and broke his jaw with a punch. Later, when he told us, the Admiral Stephenson, who lost his Marines because of this, punched him as well. Since I lost my most valuable asset in tracking, he may have gotten kneed in the balls. So don't go beat him up. We've done it for you. Gentlemen." He took another drink of coffee after he finished.

"OK, I know this is serious and all, but how much coffee is in there?!" Furdel exclaimed. Marshal chuckled.

"I was wondering when someone would catch on. I've actually been finished. Took my last sip as you walked in. Anyways, do you two have something to say?" He said to the CIA agents as he set his coffee mug on a nearby stool. The agents stepped forwards into the light on the table. One pulled out a tablet and hooked it into the Holographic display screen, while the other began talking.

"Here is where the Hezbollah operative you tracked went." The 3d map of Iran zoomed in on a small outpost in the middle of the desert. "It is believed that the operative was carrying something stolen from a group of Israeli scientists. A terrorist group that opposes Hezbollah, and has ties to the old Islamic State and al Qaeda was trying to steal that. That was your real mission protect that, not the operative. Unfortunately, our boys at the compound were compromised when the president betrayed us. When you missed your pickup deadline... we created that plan you saw, to invade Iran and recover you and the Israeli item. Fortunately, he was carrying something that assisted in the GAP, and well, you happened. Unfortunately, Iran still has the science and information gained from testing on you and are holding it somewhere. We are currently putting together a team to gather the intel on where it is. You will be leading the effort. Any comments?" The CIA agent unplugged the pad from the table.

"Yeah, just one." Furdel said. "Will I get to plan the mission and choose my team, or no?"

"No, we already have the team you will use. They are our best guys and you shouldn't have a problem with them."

"Then I want out. That's my one condition. Unless you let me take control, I won't help. I busted out of the middle of Iran, I think I'm more than qualified to lead and choose my own teams." The generals in the room murmured in agreement. The CIA agents looked around the gave a big sigh.

"What do you need?" They asked.

"First off, I will need to be examined to figure out what exactly the Iranians did to me. Second, I will need new tailored clothes to fit my, ah, new appendage." He swished his tail for effect. "Third, I will need six months. I will train my own candidates and we will get what you need. And lastly, bullshit to congress to work in, oh, I don't know, a few hundred billion for my team?"

"Wait, no, we can't get you that much." The Agents responded. Marshal stepped in.

"I can. I can file it under something for me, a completely different 'idea' and get it passed. I have an enormous amount of influence in congress. And Admiral, you and the Commandant can bullshit something together separately for additional funds, correct?" The Admiral looked at the Commandant, who shrugged in approval. The Admiral turned back and gave affirmative. "Well then gentlemen, go whip up your funds. Shoo, shoo." With that the agents left the room. When the doors were closed, Furdel turned back to the others.

"Alright, my plan is to grab 100 people. Two from each state, but they have to be willing. After our scientists figure out what the hell happened to me, we will tailor the GAP to suit our needs for each of them." Marshal interrupted, giggling.

"The Furry Fighters, lol. But how are we going to keep this wrapped up?"

"ahh, yes, the stupid sarcasm returns. But I know how. We don't. We send them through basic, then Special Operations training. Those who pass then are assessed on their skills. Based on those, we transform them. Then, we get Drill Sergeants who are the best, and we use them to train them in the art of, well, being what they are. Then we send them back, spaced out and such, through BUDs or Mar-soc training. Or something. When the press gets a hold of it, we make some bullshit story of how we are doing augmentations to build better soldiers. And how it is voluntary. That's how we keep public support. Then we claim it fell through and kinda drained too many resources to continue, so we dropped it, and then bury it. We go from there. Any input?" The officers all looked at each other then shook their heads, surprised by the quick plan he came up with. He Volunteered his Texas ranch as a training ground for specialization, and then they all worked out the plans. Afterwards, they disbanded. Marshal went to round up support for his side, the Admiral and Commandant for theirs, and Furdel went to his hotel room to work out his qualification.

To be continued...?