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Week 220, Day 2 - 0800

Two years ago today seemed like an actual dream to Miles. He held his dog tag, the same that his father gave him, tightly in his hands. The shelling was loud, and its impact shocking. Hollowed out bullet cases rolled back and forth with every heavy ordnance hitting the ground. Their plastic bottles of water, the furniture of previous occupants rattled and vibrated, and the paintings on the wall fell and broke on the tiles beneath. Blown up dirt rained against the window, the succeeding impact broke it and more pittered inside dirtying them. Naturally, he closed his eyes and hoped that he and his team were still intact in the next several minutes. Though he wouldn't hear them call out with the ringing in his ears, while earth and used up gunpowder wafted the room.

Miles pressed down on his helmet with the other hand. He tried to yell something out, any frantic word of advice to calm his team, but the simultaneous whines and booms of hostile artillery drowned it out. That cold shiver, an anticipation of death, numbed his senses. Though as long as he felt himself thinking, he could be alive.

He got smacked across his white furred cheek. His eyes shot open to see Adrian, a German Shepherd, tilting his helmet upward to see him better. The GerShep's mouth moved with a murmured sound, and Miles tapped his own ear denoting the deafness to which he gave him a thumbs up instead.

Miles let out a sigh of relief, gesturing it back too; he was alright save for the waning ring in his ear. His head shook itself for a moment now that he put more thought into it, trying to blink it away helped ease him. And he looked up, Adrian battle-stanced with a trigger finger bordering on agitation.

"Anything out there?" Miles asked, separating himself from the marksman rifle he clutched to. He knelt down just before the window as Adrian got out of its sight, eyes and weapon back on the door.

"Negative, barrage just stopped."

Miles could finally hear him checking the chamber of his weapon as he himself peered his gun over, and peeked through its scope. Taking into account what the GerShep said, "Shit, do you think we're hit?"

"Yeah, north side," he answered.

Miles assessed the battlefield first if it was safe to move at all. Who knew when the next salvo would be, but it's a display he'd rather see from afar. The eastern road of Carmichael Street was cratered from the earlier bombardment. To his dismay, there were bodies, some far worse to be described than the others, some civilians unfortunately. The buildings on both sides had been struck too yet maintained stability. Who knew when their shelter would last too.

"They got our civs, and a few of our guys," Miles adjusted the magnification of his scope that extended towards the park and past it. There was no time for pessimism however, scoping beyond the Grand Parade park. And further down George Street was a river extending to Bedford Basin north of it, the other half of Halifax city just beyond. His eye caught possible hostile action; civilian vessels traversing the water towards the pier from the stonewall coast.

Without breaking sight, Miles told Adrian, "Tell the Major: amphibious assault approaching the main Halifax waterfront from Woodside Park." There were several, with waves from behind the buildings. And he noticed movement on the coast itself, groups of threes operating a possible mortar or launcher emplacement. "Supported by mortar. We have to go to the lower floor."

"Copy," Adrian pressed on his radio, "Break, break, this is Ghost-Two-Two to Ghost-Actual: amphibious assault along the Bedford river, with supporting mortar fire, how copy?"

Miles further observed that those were definitely mortar emplacements, men hunched down in threes, with a person behind the two. "Definitely mortars, let's go down." He hefted his gun over his shoulder, taking his bottle of water with him.

Adrian followed suit, repeating the message, "Amphibious assault opposite of Bedford river supported by mortar fire, over."

The vibrations must've unlocked the hatch, and dropped the ladder. Or what's left of it. Half the ladder was covered in dust, while the other was scattered along the debris, broken furniture and glass. Miles passed his weapon to Adrian who crouched down as he descended slowly. The drop onto the blasted plywood was unbalanced but manageable. And he caught a glimpse of the large gape on the side of the bell tower, with the once-grassy fields now craters.

"Give me a moment," as Miles cleared the still warm debris. His gloves were enough, but the glass he slid away with his boots. And he gestured at Adrian to pass them their guns. The GerShep passed him his suppressed C14 Sniper Rifle, and his friend's C20 DMR. Both these weapons were painted in a shade of gray camo, given the urban environment they were in. He set them down by the clearing and helped Adrian down by the waist.

"Thanks for that," Adrian picked up his rifle, and Miles', passing to him afterwards.

Their ears perked as the softer whistle of the next barrage arrived. Both men hurried into the next room, which was a reception area for the building. They both hid under the welcoming desk, arms over their head, and rifles hugged to them once again. The load was far lighter than the initial steel rain but it was aimed at their structure no less. Bits of the ceiling fell onto them, and the clang of the bell as it was struck rang out.

Adrian nudged him, and he looked at a smiling canine with relief painted on his face. "Good call on that one, eh Miles?"

Miles laughed at the somewhat proverbial nuance. It wasn't really prophetic or anything, it was just plain old common sense. He could've been dead, again, but this felt much more staggering because he did prevent it this time. And he laughed more, as his ear piece sounded off.

"2nd Lieutenant Fennix, are you alright?" A gruffed old voice sounded through his personal communication on his right ear. Without a doubt that would be his father, and best not to keep him anxious.

He took a deep breath, and coughed out a bit of dust. "This is 2nd Lieutenant Fennix, alive and well,"

His father sighed in relief before continuing, "Affirmative on that." Back to business, "Your new orders are to provide sniper cover and link up with Dragon-Four, anti-tank, on top of the Halifax Con Centre on Argyle Street. Two streets ahead, and one right. Counter artillery will commence in t-minus three minutes. Switch to secure channel Whiskey-Oscar for the coastline defense with Fifth Rifle Group."

"Affirmative, how about reinforcements?"

"Reinforcements from Greenwood are 70 clicks out, t-minus thirty minutes."

"Affirmative, Ghost-Two-Two out."

The light barrage still went on, but the explosions were drawing away towards the road down east. Barbarians, they already left corpses there, and they would desecrate it further. Miles nudged Adrian who had been peeking upward slowly for the all-clear sign and to him after.

"What's the next move?" He asked, already crouched up and his tail brushing the area he sat on earlier.

Miles gestured his arm to where east would be, "We'll use the con center as our crow's nest. Gonna help some tank busters, call sign Dragon-Four. Two blocks down, one right. We leave in three minutes when the counter arty hits. Switch to sec channel Whiskey-Oscar and we'll coordinate with Fifth Rifles."

"Copy that," Adrian inputted the new channel on his walkie talkie.

Miles did so, hearing a new set of voices reporting on the approaching assault. Add to the fact that the explosions had stopped for now. He caught wind of the Fifth Rifles already engaging the approaching boats with some success. Some clamored about needing anti-tank ordnance, while others reported another wave of vessels were leaving the coast.

"Check your gear, it should be t-minus two until counter arty." Miles immediately drank what remained of his water, before discarding the bottle in the trash can beside him. A minute had passed, and now he was triple checking his combat readiness. Chamber was loaded, its connecting mag was full. He still had several in reserve, all of them ten-rounders.

Adrian was more thorough, making sure his pockets were zipped tight, and that none of the velcro was loose. Miles took note and double-checked himself. And they both made sure the helmet was strapped to their chin, and around their pointed canine ears.

And another minute passed, Miles made sure the suppressor on his gun was properly screwed. Adrian checked the chamber of his weapon, and already stood its bipod.

Loud artillery fire thundered from the west; the sound of Canada's Royal Artillery.

Miles stood up with Adrian following too. He rushed to the west-facing doorway as the first round of their shells struck the mortars on the coastline. The uphill greeneries was now torn apart by the craters within craters of earth. He turned around to the building that they initially used as their observation post, its top now an open crater. The bell torn open, its metal still smoldering from the explosion earlier.

Miles stared in awe because that could've been them, but Adrian nudged him, reminding of the task at hand.

"C'mon, we got work to do." He gestured to the corner of the building that hadn't been aggressively dismantled.

They went around through the decline, towards the gap where a retaining wall had been. There were still parked cars on both sides of the streets, but the ones on their side had been blown up, some still burning too. Miles and Adrian were both on the street, heading down one block east.

And before long the firefights had begun towards the northeast. They had to be quick, while trying to jump over rubble, burnt out bicycles, fallen light posts, and around a handful of shells that hadn't detonated. While their own continued sounding off and hitting their marks with another salvo.

Adrian changed his channel for the report, requesting as they turned the block. They took cover by a shattered hotel entrance, "Ghost-Actual, this is Ghost-Two-Two... we have dud ordinances in Prince and Market Street, by their intersection, and the one towards Carmichael Street, over." He looked around to visually confirm them, while they slowly approached the convention center.

Miles could already see the rear entrance of the building. There was another squad already moving in, donning a similar outfit of dark gray fatigues, and one of them hauled an anti-tank missile system around their shoulder.

Miles spoke through his radio, "Dragon-Four, this is Ghost-Two-One, over."

One of the soldiers, a bear, by the entrance had checked their radio, "This is Dragon-Four-Two, we hear ya."

"We have visual on you, we are to your eleven o-clock, over."

The soldier replied, "I see you, glad you're not late to the party, over."

"Over and out," Miles turned to Adrian who also finished reporting to command. "Dragon-Four is already in the building, let's go." And they ran towards the building, Dragon-Four-Two standing guard outside, aiming in the direction they ran. Another soldier, a cougar, peeked from the corner with his gun pointing down, and back at chest level as they went past him. Both were armed with modified C7 assault rifles, painted dark gray too.

Their entry point was the service entrance. It had a lot of unfinished decorations, some of the large letters and numbers were still being assembled that leaned against the wall. They spelled out: 'Job Expo' in wireframes, and some were not painted yet. Adding to the disgust that Miles felt towards these scummy terrorists.

They regrouped with, presumably, the squad leader of Dragon-Four; a crocodile captain whose initials were 'S. V. Alexei'. Miles, having the lower rank, saluted him, "Ghost-Two reporting, sir." Adrian stood beside him, saluting the captain too.

The taller, hardier species looked at his tag, saluting back, "Dragon-Four, glad to be working with Ghost-Actual's prodigies." He winked at Adrian too, "Enough pleasantries, stair's this way men." Alexei walked towards the fire exit staircase left open. The other two followed beside him. Another set of their artillery explosions echoed around the building.

"The honor is all mine, captain." Miles turned to Adrian, tapping his own radio.

Adrian immediately accessed his comms, "This is Ghost-Two, we have rendezvoused with Dragon-Four, moving up to the rooftop."

"I sent McClark ahead to clear out the stairs," And the crocodile turned to the other two guarding the service entrance. "Horrace, on me."

"Yes sir," the cougar replied as he turned around fist bumping the bear as he followed behind the two canines.

Alexei followed up, "Kirks, stay at the bottom of the stairwell."

The bear walked slowly backwards, gun still aimed towards the doorway, "Yessir."

"Secure the perimeter, and report all movement to me." He stepped in, followed by the wolf, the Gershep, then the cougar as they jogged upstairs.

"Affirmative," Kirks stationed himself by the doorway, crouched as he slightly closed the door with only his muzzle brake sticking out.

On the way up, Miles listened in on the progress of the repelling. The army's shelling was effective, precisely destroying the mortar emplacements on the coast by the Woodside Regional Park. It halted the third wave of amphibious assaults, leaving the first two unsupported. The second wave was already past halfway, while the initial one only landed less than half of their force without making it past the docks either.

"This is Ghost-3," one of the squads reported, a female soldier, "we have an issue: The terrorists are using civilians as shields at the Woodside Ferry." She tried so hard not to sound frustrated, but her seething was more apparent. "They bound them around the ship's windows, and the captain is held at gunpoint. I count ten terrorists on the upper deck, and unknown on the lower."

"This is Ghost-5," another male soldier followed, "They are using civilian shields at the Alderney Ferry too. I count five, no, seven on the upper deck. Repeat, seven on the upper deck. Lower deck unconfirmed, over."

This predicament made their squads rush faster upstairs, Miles much more frustrated now. He couldn't wait to blow their heads off, the cowards. So pathetic that they would use unarmed civilians as shields. And these angry thoughts made his blood boil. Adrian, tensed too, shared his sentiment. The members of Dragon squad felt it, but were helpless given their explosive ordnance.

Miles felt the adrenaline kicking in. It was like the shooting range back in his cadet days, but ten times more intense, and with a very noble purpose. His fangs showed, nearly frothing around the mouth, but Adrian cleared his throat to keep him relaxed. Still, this felt like a massive responsibility, his massive responsibility to these civilian lives. He cleaned up the foam with a wipe, and cleared his throat to remain focused as they stepped onto the rooftop.

It had several vent exhausts and a few large solar panels covering a chunk of the rooftop. By the edge, overlooking the river, a blue dragon in dressed in their fatigues had her binoculars out, and her wings folded in to minimize her profile. Beside her was a guided missile launcher, an NLAW. In the background was the sound of small-arms fire from varying distances. Mostly on their side.

They were all crouched down as they approached her, Alexei close to her, while Miles and Adrian on the opposite side but would still hear them.

"McClark, anything?" Alexei gestured to borrow her large binoculars, which she passed to him. He looked through them.

Miles used his scope while listening in to the dragon's report:

"Sir, the enemy's mortars have been eliminated, and the third wave were repositioning towards the ferry ports. The first wave have landed but sustained total casualties, the second are still approaching and have sustained heavy casualties."

The canines verified their report. Only craters were left at the opposite coast where Miles had seen those emplacements and personnel earlier. He saw silhouettes scrambling in the background, bringing small boats hauled by trucks, and dinghies towards the nearby ferry terminal.

And lastly, he looked over their side's docks. He didn't even need to scope in because his canine eyes saw the vessels covered with holes, while a few others drifted away albeit not afloat. And those close behind were about to capsize themselves, while the unfortunate few abandoning ship were still being shot at.

"This reminds me about my duck hunting with dad before," Miles remarked, adjusting his scope to magnify on the Woodside ferry terminal. Movement was plenty; frantically parking behind the terminal. All of them in that one spot would've been great for an artillery strike but they had hostages.

"Well," Alexei said before Adrian could reply, "you gotta shoot among the geese in that case. Need someone with a keen eye and cool nerves to pull this off, second lieutenant." They all looked at him, but McClark immediately returned to monitoring the battlefield with the returned binoculars.

"Yes," Miles exhaled, calming himself down. Or at the very least start trying to. "I'm your wolf." He had to tell himself this now so he wouldn't make any mistakes later.

Alexei seemed to test him, "These are civilian lives on the line, Miles. I know you can do it, but I really need you to be sure."

Adrian swayed his tail against the wolf, nodding at the crocodile. Miles said, "I'm very sure." Sure as he had that smirk on his face, both canines moved around Alexei and towards McClark's other side, giving them some space.

"Go for it marksman," Alexei checked on his radio on the whereabouts of their guy downstairs. McClark had her launcher resting on the wall, seeing a possible target for it. Horrace was hunched beside her with spares, trying to give trivia about the area across only to be reprimanded by her as it was not the time.

"You got this Milesman," Adrian said, resting his gun and tilted its barrel down towards the terminal.

"Thanks for that." Miles was still flattered that nickname hadn't died for the last two years. Recalling how the better he got at being a marksman, the more people in his unit called him as such. His father would almost acknowledge him as such.

Adrian added, "There's about fifteen people on the upper deck, ten of them are armed hostiles. No visual on the bridge nor the captain yet."

Miles positioned his gun in the same manner, and saw that the boat hadn't left port yet. It was still docked in its own little structure, but there were people, blindfolded and gagged, around the upper deck. He could see a few in the lower deck's windows but there were shifty shadows inside that he'd best not risk it at all.

He cleared his throat and told Adrian, "Ad, have someone close to the arrival port prepare to raid the ship when it docks. I can take out any terrorists on the upper deck and bridge, but the lower deck is another story. I'll snipe them when they're close enough so that they won't have enough time to turn back." And by that, he looked at him, and eyeballed the crocodile talking over the radio.

"Copy," Adrian turned to Alexei, "Sir," Alexei walked over to them, "do you have any fireteams to spare who could seize the vessel when it's close to the piers? Miles will make sure that the captain could safely dock the ship and clear out the upper deck, but not the lower deck."

"Good call," the captain spoke through his radio. "This is Dragon-Four to Dragon Actual. Do we have any assets near the West Halifax docks that could raid the incoming ferries?"

There was a pause. However, Miles saw the ship swim its way out, revealing an extra few more hostiles positioning themselves on the upper deck. And after a moment, he clearly saw the bridge with two terrorists holding the captain and two more crew members hostage; forced to operate on the ship.

"I got visual on the ship's bridge," Miles stated, "captain and two crew are being held hostage by three armed terrorists. I can make the shot when they're close enough."

He knew he could do it. Adrian whispered, "You got this Miles. First kill." And his world stopped this time. The sound of gunfire died out, Alexei was mid sentence requesting another Dragon-fireteam to stand by two possible docking spots, and even the scope on Adrian's rifle, ticking to the right magnification.

First kill. His heart thumped as a second passed. He had never taken a life yet. The thought of it chilled his hands, almost numbed in this still time. And it was much more complicated: he had to kill someone he would never get to see up close, or worse. In the off chance he could fuck up, he could kill someone innocent. And that's when his entire body chilled. Another heartbeat, another second went by. Miles did not like to think about that. He could do it, he had to do it.

'I have to do it, I need to do it', he told himself. He had to kill them, because he needed to save innocent lives. And he will not fuck it up, he could not afford to fuck it up. It was his career on the line. It was his unit's reputation on the line. It was his father's legacy on the line. But he had to stamp it even further, there were innocent lives on the line. That was the most important.

Like how his life could've ended earlier, he wished to be able to laugh about it. But he couldn't. What he told his fellow platoon during their training days echoed in his mind 'It's not just some toy, nor like a video game'. And it was juxtaposed by the fact that he adhered to the rules of operating a firearm, and observing its safety so that he could kill someone.

'Nonetheless, we use it as a means to protect our country,' his younger self used to say. Miles remembered what his platoon leader said on agreeing with his sentiments. Though he imagined how she would've sounded today. Probably a stern but compassionate voice, 'He's right. In proper hands, it will protect us. And harm those who fight us.'

But he couldn't help but wonder how his father could do it so easily. All those stories he told him, and having to explain to him the necessity of taking a life. He remembered it just weeks from becoming a cadet. A clear voice and serious voice echoed, 'I take no joy in killing people, son. But if it protects others, especially you, then I have to do what my country asks of me.'

It was what his country asked him to do. He urged himself that he had to do it. It was what those people down there needed him to do. He got this.

And his heart kept beating fast, cold tingles throughout his body as the world around him resumed. The boat had steamed out of its port, and his peripheral caught groups of four positioning themselves behind buildings near the port, predicting where the ferry would arrive. Speaking of, his eye tracked the bridge, and the upper deck. There were multiple armed targets, ten of them, taking positions around the upper deck. They stood beside their hostages, about five of them, with about two assailants beside them rotating around the floor.

"Fifteen people on the upper deck, five civilians, ten terrorists." Adrian verified, "Five in the bridge, three civilians including the captain, two terrorists. You're up Milesman."

"Thanks Adrian," Miles let the boat past the halfway point. The hostiles preemptively cheered that they weren't being shot at, unaware of the boarders waiting on their arrival, or himself.

"This is Ghost-3," one of their snipers said, "we are taking suppressed sniper fire. Repeat: taking suppressed sniper fire."

Dragon-Four crouched down behind the wall. Alexei let the others know, "This is Dragon-Four to all Dragon elements, we have a hostile sniper. Take cover."

"Adrian, go locate them, I'll keep an eye on the ferry." Miles told him.

"Copy," Adrian moved around where he stood, scanning the buildings across the water for any glint, or silhouette standing in the same way they were. For the next minute, nothing. The boat only got closer, and until they could eliminate the threat, it may make it difficult for Miles too.

"They're not on the boat, that's for sure." Miles said. With the terminal not too far from his view, there were no signs of the enemy sniper there either, however, "This is Ghost-Two-One to Ghost-Actual, reporting enemy assembly in the Woodside Terminal, they are preparing another assault from the same building. However, there are civilians in the area, over."

"This is Ghost-Actual, we copy, over." It was his father who answered, and he nearly referred to him in that manner. Especially at the thought that his father hyped him up regarding his sniping prowess to the officers.

'You got this, son,' his voice echoed in Miles' subconscious. It was gentle and fatherly. Unlike hearing him say it in the academy during exercises, or during specialist training just a year ago. This one gave him warmth and comfort, calming him down as the captured ship was nearing its port. The window to act was now open, but it won't remain for long.

"This is Ghost-Two-Two to Ghost-Three, I have visual on the enemy sniper: emergencies platform near the terminal. Hiding behind the striped crane." Adrian announced.

"Copy, provide suppressing fire and we'll execute, over." They heard over their radios.

"Go for it Ad," Miles told him. The upper deck didn't have ample cover so these fuckers can't do anything when the firing starts. There was only one spot, which was behind the bridge tower from his angle but given its position, Ghost-Three could mop them up either way. With such an assessment, he was up for it.

"Thanks," after a few more adjustments with the magnification, "spotted." And the Gershep took a deep breath, exhaling moments after. Miles thought he would've fired, but he took another deep breath. This was it. Adrian exhaled, "Firing."

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Miles' targets took cover as he had anticipated. They hid behind thin metal sheets of the ship's upper deck hull. And another behind the tower. Even those on the bridge resorted to using the captain and his crew to be human shields. There was one on the upper deck, using a hostage at the front part of the deck. He could see her eyes, the wolf, just like him. Tears flowed down her cheeks, keeping herself still while the terrorist's gun rested on her shoulders.

It was a feline holding her closely, trying to keep her still despite the rocking ship. Miles copied Adrian's method, which he copied from him years ago; breathing in deep and exhaling. He remembered his training, the target that was several feet away from him. The specialist exercises, one was hitting a target way out in the forest under low visibility scenarios. Now, a terrorist hiding behind a hostage on a moving boat. It seemed easy. He would do it.

"This is Ghost-Two-One," Miles said into his radio. He felt Dragon-Four watching him, his father anticipating the outcome even though it was over their comms. Even Adrian glanced at him for a moment before resuming his suppressing fire. Luckily for them, there wasn't another sniper team that retaliated. "I'm taking the shot, over."

Miles took a deep breath, calming his nerves. His hands were warm, but the nerves underneath were cool. Frustration and doubt had been tamed, disciplined by immense stoicism. He needed it now, with his finger rested against the trigger of his sniper rifle.

"Firing," with a bang distinct from Adrian's rifle and the other fast-firing weapons from his side. It was not as loud as an artillery cannon, but he knew it was far more precise and delicate. That shot sent a more powerful shockwave across his body. Part of it was the recoil, easily mitigated by his stance, but the impact to his psyche was harder. There was that pause again, that sudden doubt and worry that he may have signed the hostage's death warrant.

He waited, and waited, but it was his worry that had prolonged itself. And Miles had to blink as the vehement glare had stung his eye. He gota last good look of the wolf in green; she stood frozen to his shot. Followed by a momentary darkness with a strong sense of hope that she would still be alive. He finally saw the green once more, stained heavily with dark red. His heart sank for a moment, on the verge of tears. To his relief, an odd way of interpreting it was seeing the blood fountain behind her.

It was grisly, "Kill confirmed." He said coldly while pulling the bolt. The empty bullet case was ejected, and another got into the chamber. The mechanisms of his gun worked, as did its user. Miles already trained his sights on another target, shock staring at the collapsing body and the bloodstained hostage curling for her safety.

Another bang, and another body felled. It was limp on the upper deck with a large chunk of his torso taken out, blood pooling beneath him. That stoic leash within him was loosened, feeling the power to enact fury upon these miserable scum. He let another empty casing out, and another in the chamber.

Bang! And another body went limp on the upper deck. The rest of the hostages in it stayed down as he set his sights on the bridge. The captain and his crew stood still, while the terrorists hiding among them were trying to stay from the front windows. But he saw them from the side, and waited for them to line up.

His radio buzzed as their heads were millimeters from being parallel. "Ghost-Three-One confirms sniper kill. Moving to assist Ghost-Two-One, thanks for the support Ghost-Two-Two."

And it was at that point Miles felt Adrian watching him too, "Good shooting Ghost-Three-One, pleasure to be of service. Ghost-Two-One is about to engage, hold your fire until given the all clear."

"Copy Ghost-Two-One, holding fire."

"Thanks," Miles fired another shot. He saw the moment the bridge's window was shattered just before seeing two armed hostiles fall on the floor. And he was certain one of them had amputated their shoulder. The captain and his crew hid under the controls. But he could see the captain reach for the radio just above the helm, and pull it down to himself.

Miles used his radio as he unchambered another empty case. "This is Ghost-Two-One, to Ghost-Three-One: fire at will, but do not engage anyone in the lower deck, over."

"Copy, Ghost-Two-One. Ghost-Three-One, opening fire." It was followed by a similar bang, and Miles saw one of the terrorists get pushed overboard.

His mind gnawed at him, begging him to do better than that. This wasn't a game though. He just killed a person, and saved more in the process. It wasn't the time to argue about its semantics or draw comparison. Miles took a deep breath as he lined up his shit. Firing another shot as he exhaled. Another body trying to hide behind the sheet metal died, and the remaining survivors fell into the lower deck.

"This is Dragon-Three to nearby Ghost teams. I have communicated with the captain and is now on his way to dock at the Maritime Museum, over."

"We copy," Miles answered.

"The captain would also like to extend his thanks to the guy who shot at the bridge. You scared him for a moment there, but you saved them."

"That's me, Ghost-Two-One, over."

"Good shot Ghost-Two-One."

"Alright, enough chatter teams." Alexei intervened on their comms, "We still have hostages in the lower deck. Hornet-Five, do you have eyes on the Woodside Ferry?" Followed by a pause. "Alright, good."

"This is Ghost-One," Miles' radio sounded off, "The Alderney Ferry has not left port, over."

'Could it be because of what I pulled off?' Miles thought. He looked at Adrian who shot back a relieved expression back at him.

"You're insane, Milesman." Adrian complimented, patting his shoulder as his tail swayed left and right. "This was like training all over again."

Before Miles could think about it, his radio sounded off again. "This is Ghost-Actual to Ghost-Two, and Ghost-Three: you are to support Hornet-Five on extraction of the hostages from the ferry. All other Ghost elements are to remain vigilant. Terrorist activity has shifted towards the Mic Mac Mall, engaging the Third Mechanized Group."

He reloaded his weapon as Ghost-Actual went on, "Hold the area until further notice, and report any movement from the enemy. Ghost-Actual, out."

Miles answered, "This is Ghost-Two, copy that."

And the wolf was back to aiming his rifle down the building, and onto the slowing boat. He could see elements of Hornet-Five hiding behind the building, and another squad from the nearby road approaching them too.

The hostages on the ferry's upper deck still laid low as the boat collided with the pier. His radio buzzed, "This is Ghost-Three to Ghost-Two, Hornet-Five, Hornet-Seven: frantic movement in the lower deck. I could see some of the hostages being repositioned, over."

"This is Ghost-Two, copy that." Miles zoomed in on the boat. The bridge tower had a little staircase that connected both decks to the bridge itself, and there was movement at the bottom of the stairwell going up. One of the terrorists held a weapon on his left hand, and there was white cloth tied to it. He let the others know, "This is Ghost-Two to Ghost-Three, and other Hornet elements: I see a surrender flag on a terrorist approaching the upper deck, over. Please verify."

"I see it," Adrian answered.

"Verified," McClark answered, still watching with her binoculars.

"Ghost-Three to Ghost-Two, we see it," they said over the radio as the terrorist, a capybara, raced out with an unloaded gun. He raised and waved it about, with his mouth speaking that he couldn't hear.

"This is Hornet-Five to Ghost elements, I hear him surrendering. Will respond. Keep us covered, over."

"Affirmative," Miles and Ghost-Three answered back.

Several more terrorists stepped out onto the upper deck unarmed and with their hands up. They paused upon seeing the bodies, taking a good long look at their dead. One of them nearly fainted, and another held him up. Hornet-Five walked on the pier, still armed and cautious. Miles had his scopes trained on the guy with the white flag, seeing he had a weapon but unsure if it was unchambered.

Hornet-Five's leader, a tiger, could be seen speaking with them, with her back-up's arms halfway raised. He barked the unarmed bunch to let them on. Without delay, the closest on the latched-on staircase unfolded the boarding mechanism, connecting it to the pier. They promptly boarded and restrained the terrorists with their own zipcuffs, and even those used to restrain the hostages. While Hornet-Five yanked the weapon away and tossed it down the stairs, the other members of Hornet also got a good look at the dead bodies. Miles saw their nervousness, yanking on their collar as they saw the decapitated target.

Miles shook his head and focused on the mission. "This is Ghost-Two to Hornet-Five," he had his sights set on the staircase. "There's no one coming from the lower deck, over."

"This is Ghost-Three, there is movement in the lower deck. Hostages on windows, and an unknown moving in the middle of the ship, over."

It didn't seem to go for the staircase, but he saw the captain and his crew descend from the bridge. They were covered in blood, courtesy of yours truly, with a relieved expression. One of them walked over to the terrorists and visibly spat on them. None of the soldiers bothered stopping him as their eyes were on the staircase.

Hornet-Five positioned themselves by the tower, with the tiger squad lead talking with the captain. Hornet-Seven went up to warden over the terrorists. Though two of the squad members were to help escort the captain, his crew, and the freed civilians to the nearest building.

"Adrian, keep a close eye on the escorts." Miles told him.

He replied, "Copy."

Miles saw their advanced training in motion. Hand signs were performed as the tiger and one other descended. The other two kept their eyes trained on both staircases. He couldn't tell what had happened but since there hadn't been any gunshots so far, it seemed to have gone well. Further reinforced by one of Hornet-Five's members descending with a relaxed demeanor.

"This is Hornet-Five to Ghost-Two and Ghost-Three," and there he was. "The unknown was a stow-away civilian. Ship is all clear, repeat, ship is all clear."

Relief washed over Miles as he took off his helmet. When the wind blew between his ears, he realized how hot headed he had been this whole time. Sweat dribbling down his fur, and his muscles aching from the pressure.

"Hey Miles," Adrian motioned him. He offered a closed up fist without having his eye away from the scope.

Miles bumped it, while Alexei approached him with an outstretched hand.

"Good job, marksman," he said, impressed. "I'll make mention of your squad's efforts today."

Miles gladly shook it, nodding, "And your leadership was impeccable, sir."

"Thank you." And he turned towards the landscape, smoke still plumed farther than the bombarded coastline as a spray of heavy gunfire emerged from where the mall would be. "Alright, stand fast and wait for further orders, work's not over."

And it was far from it. Miles put back his helmet on and scoped in again. He glossed over the boat he had liberated. All the civilians were escorted to an apartment complex a street further from the docks. While the terrorist were marched in fives and were told to lay down on the street behind what looked like a restaurant with a fireteam watching over them.

He focused back across the river, with terrorist movement less than moments earlier. No more boats hauled by trucks, nobody running from building to building. Though the Woodside Ferry terminal still had civilians standing on top of the pier, shaking as if he was about to be kicked into the waters below. He couldn't make out what was going on inside, but he could see bodies blocking the interior lights at such a fast pace.

Adrian seemed to pick up on it, asking, "Do you think you could make the shot there?"

To which Miles said, "No, low visibility." But he recalled what Adrian said earlier, "You mentioned that 'this was like training' earlier, right?"

"Yeah, because you just went into 'the zone' like you did in our shooting exercises. Still remembered how you got a ten out of ten on your first try as a cadet."

"Well, it's different." Miles explained it, "Back then I felt like a sense of purpose has overtaken me. 'I had to hit all these shots', and 'I had to get high marks'." He took a pause, similar to what he felt earlier. It was guilt instead of worry, "Now, my entire head was telling me 'I had to save their lives.' Because they were in danger, and I was about to kill someone; take their life and that they won't come back. It... it wasn't like training."

"Ah.." Adrian didn't say anything further. Dragon-Four was silent too.

Alexei walked over to Miles, "You're right." He turned to Adrian, and his own squadmates just past him. "He's right. Killing's, well, not an easy thing to swallow." He continued, "But we don't do it for our enjoyment. We do it to protect the ones we love. Isn't that why we're soldiers?"

Miles felt reassured again as McClark, and Horrace agreed to those sentiments. But he pondered as to why it was hard for him to swallow those facts. His father already said it to him all those yaers ago. Or was it only now did he really understand what he meant? Deep down killing was horrible, wishing he never had to do it. But if he had to kill to save more lives, so be it. He was a soldier, and there was no going back.

"You're right," Miles said. "Dad told me about it too, before I joined the army. I finally got what he meant."

"Good, alright folks keep your eyes peeled." Alexei checked on his radio as he walked away, asking about the situation down stairs.

"Sorry for that, Milesman," Adrian sighed. "I didn't mean to upset ya." Given how he hadn't taken another life, his curiosity was understandable.

"Ad, it's fine." Though Miles warned him, "But don't hesitate if there were more hostiles alright?"

"Copy." Adrian replied.

The lack of action nearly disturbed Miles as his adrenaline wore off. Hearing those gunshots further north tingled his senses, begging to take part in the fight. Especially because the terrorists hadn't tried anything at all. The other side of Halifax was a standstill; no movement on the streets, nor in the terminal either.

McClark and Horrace would chat casually about the last time Halifax was not a warzone, even Adrian pointing out a few tourist traps in their side of the river. That building on the pier where the Woodside Ferry docked turned out to be a museum with a few bars surrounding it.

Miles needed verification, "Ghost-Two to Ghost-Three, do you see any movement from your end? Over."

"Ghost-Three to Ghost-Two, affirmative; terrorist cells are withdrawing from the coastline. Already told Ghost-Actual, over."

"Copy that." He turned to the others. "Hostiles are retreating from this front." McClark let out a thumbs up while Horrace pumped his fist in cheer. Alexei relayed the information to other Dragon squads, and reminded them to stay vigilant nonetheless.

Miles' radio buzzed, it was his father again, "Ghost-Actual to Ghosts Two and Three, you are to rendezvous at the Juno Hotel top floor, overlooking Angus Bridge, how copy?"

"Copy, Ghost Actual."

"C'mon Ad, let's go," Miles held his weapon in both hands as he crouched up.

"On your tail," Adrian did the same.

Alexei opened the door for him, "Good luck out there, and keep your head cool alright?"

Miles saluted as he passed him, "Yes sir, thanks for the encouragement." Adrian saluted after. And they both descended down the stairwell, while Alexei let Kirks know. They saw Kirks opening the door as they got closer to the ground, saluting him as they stepped out.

"Good job, marksman." Kirks complimented as they went back into the streets. Miles shot him back a nod, and they went on their way.

The streets were the same as they left it, though with more shadows left by the almost setting sun. Some of the apartments, and stores where people sought refuge, had open windows with civilians' heads peeking out.

"Good afternoon, please remain indoors." Adrian shouted to them, "The Canadian Army will provide you with rations when everything is all clear."

And Miles noticed one in particular, a jaguar, pointing his phone at them, "Please do not record and share any movements conducted by the Canadian armed forces. You will jeopardize your safety and theirs." He said with enough ferocity that it stopped him from filming, and for the applause to die down as they ran forth.

After the bustling parts of downtown, they passed through a suburban area. It was different from Mile's home in Langford, opposite of where they were. Houses here looked more like brick apartments of varying sizes. And a few, in between blocks, looked like mansions or could they themselves be apartments too. A very nice neighborhood but it wasn't his style. He'd rather be closer to nature where it'd be easier to hunt wild duck and fish. At least the people here kept to themselves. When he wasn't admiring the architecture, it felt like a ghost town, which was for the better.

"I think that's Juno Hotel." Miles said as they got closer to the main road. There was a tall structure that was nearly obscured by the streetside trees. There was an antenna on top of the building, and military tents surrounding it.

He looked to his right as he crossed the street and saw the road lead towards a large bridge connecting to the other side of Halifax. Abandoned cars were pulled to the side of the road, and APCs and a small outpost guarded their side of the bridge.

They hurriedly crossed the mainroad and found themselves at the entrance where rank-and-file soldiers were stacking sandbags by the gates. Those standing guard saluted them, and those assembling the cover stopped. Miles saluted quickly.

"C'mon guys, at ease," they put down their arms and assembled the barricade much faster. Miles asked the soldier, a meerkat, standing guard, "Private, how do I get into that building?" He pointed at the tallest structure in front of two adjacent structures.

"Sir," he pointed at the entrance of the right building just down the road. "Just go over to that doorway and talk to the person in charge." The doorway he mentioned was surrounded by sandbags and guarded by more of their men. They were past a checkpoint in the middle of the road. Though Miles couldn't help notice a large overhead connector to a white structure on the far right which had the flag of the red cross hanging from it.

"Private," Miles asked him before he could respond, "what's that white building with the bridge?"

"Sir," he answered, "that is the Stadacona Medical Center, sir."

"Alright, carry on." He nodded at him and the private eased up. Miles turned to Adrian who he caught staring at the red cross. "He might be there, y'know. C'mon." Miles patted his shoulder, nudging his head towards the entrance.

"Do you think you could give me five minutes to just say hi to him?" Adrian asked, putting his weapon on safe. They walked past four soldiers saluting them, and into what used to be a receptionist area of the hotel.

"Alright, go for it." Miles gestured a thumbs up, smiling at him. "Give Joel my hello but don't tell him about what happened yet, alright?"

Adrian's face lit up with glee, smiling ear to ear. Stepping back towards the entrance, "Sure Milesman, and thanks." And he stepped out, being saluted again by those guarding outside.

The receptionist desk still served its purpose but for a forward operating base instead. Miles approached the gazelle who had been shuffling through papers that upon closer inspection looked like transcripts. It wasn't his business.

The gazelle, upon noticing Miles, stood up and saluted. "Private Ramirez, sir."

"Second Lieutenant Fennix," Miles saluted, and Ramirez sat back down and went on with his duty while anticipating a query. "Private," Miles asked, "How do I get to the hotel proper?"

The gazelle gestured to his right, pointing at the slight staircase with a lot of military crates stacked around the doorway. "Go through that hallway, then take the first left into another hallway then walk straight. Elevators should be in the middle of the hotel, sir."

"Thank you private," Miles went on his way. There were soldiers- fireteams assembling their rifles in the lobby area. He envied them given they did it inside a cool hotel as opposed to a firing range. One of the wolves among them noticed and he murmured to his buddy of who he was: the son of a famous sniper.

Miles nodded at them as he went through the doorway. The next hallway had a lot of art on the walls, and rows of desks with several communications officers. A lot of military jargon floated around the room, and he was impressed that it was far more organized than it seemed. He took a left into a much narrow hallway, past another pair of saluting bodyguards.

There was an assortment of bars and cuisine restaurants here that had been converted to mess halls. He wasn't hungry yet, and still had leftover MRE trail mix for him to snack on. The soldiers that stepped out, sidestepped as he passed as proper decorum, to which he nodded at them in response. He smiled knowing that it was still calm enough to observe formalities.

At the end of the hallway was the connection to Juno Tower, which itself had been converted to a recovery center. There were plenty of red-cross armband officers organizing surgery equipment, aprons, wheelchairs, and cold crates of essential fluids.

The nearest guard, a pomeranian, saluted. He pointed into the hallway aware of Mile's purpose there. "Thank you, private," Miles said to him as he walked further down. There were plenty of utility rooms here, followed by a cafe, an empty daycare center, and a clinic with a few lined up civilians too. The elevator was located around the center, with another guard stationed nearby.

This guard, a hyena, saluted him then called the elevator. There was a printout that was taped below the floor letter 'G'. It read: This elevator is to be utilized by the emergency and military services for the time being. Soldiers may only access them when going to the top. Sorry for the inconvenience.

After reading there was a commotion from where he came from; a bearded dragon had been carrying a wheelchair over his shoulder.

"Hold the elevator, please," he asked as the elevator door opened.

Miles stepped in and held on to the door gap as the bearded dragon, followed by a red jay holding a cold box, stepped in. They both wore nursing aprons and had the red cross armband on their upper limb.

As the door closed, Miles asked, "Hey Joel, how're ya holding on?" He pressed the button for the highest floor, tenth.

Joel set down the wheelchair, panting, "Miles? The Milesman?" He said in amazement. Standing himself up properly, he bumped elbows with him. He pressed for the second floor, ideally to use the connecting bridge.

"Yep," he bumped him back. "Adrian's looking for you." Miles let him know before he was about to ask. Quite timely given the door opened to the second floor.

Joel heaved the wheelchair over his shoulder again, "Thanks, let's catch up later okay?" And rushed out, with the red jay following him too.

"Sure, good luck." And the door closed itself off. He activated his radio, "Ghost-Two-One to Ghost-Two-Two, he'll be at the bridge but he's preoccupied. The bridge leads to the hotel elevator, but it is restricted from here. Leg it to the top when you can, over."

"Copy, thanks." Adrian answered back.

Save for the elevator noise, this was the most quiet he had had all day. Miles let out a deep sigh and stretched his muscles around. It was enough peace for his mind to wonder about his father's reaction to his first kills. Would he be proud? Probably. Maybe he'd give him another sermon about why they did it as soldiers.

This little pondering was cut short by the elevator's ding, followed by the door sliding open. Miles stepped into a large and tall party room with stacking windows on all sides except the elevator side. There were more radio operators here but at the center was a large array of monitors which were also stacked on top of each other thrice. It was connected to several wires leading to the outside balcony that had a satellite and a generator for both of them.

Miles walked towards the monitors, maybe that was where his father wanted him to be. He moved between the communication officers, more military jargon but to fireteams he was familiar with, like Hornet and Dragon. Some were about Iron Horse, which on the array of monitors showed to be the armored convoy currently engaging the enemy. A much cooler name than 'Third Mechanized Company'.

An officer approached him, a fox in fatigues without any combat equipment. "Second Lieutentant Fennix," he spoke to him, "Major Fennix is waiting at the overlook, a few steps down behind the monitors."

Miles saluted him first, "Yes sir," and he saluted back. Time to confront his father. Though he couldn't help but look at the information displayed on the monitors; something favorable it seemed but not perfect. One of them displayed an overhead perspective of two disabled vehicles with an active strobe. But he didn't want to think about it.

Following what the fox had said, he took a few steps down where his father was overlooking the bridge that led to the otherside of Halifax. There were a few plumes where a large flat structure was, which would be the mall.

There he was, his old man. A taller, and buffer version of himself, and that was without the combat gear. The wolf he passed earlier was well aware of Dexter's stellar combat record. 'The New Moon Sniper', they said, because of his black fur. But it wasn't just that; during his time in the Middle East, he overlooked an entire terrorist camp resting under a cliff. His fur was so dark, and his body was large enough to block the moon from that angle. Dexter killed them all without missing a shot, nor was his firing position. The enemy speculated it was from a mountain one kilometer away and that he got 'lucky'.

Miles wondered if his actions today would warrant him a nickname, or if Milesman would suffice. But his fantasies should rest for the time being. He stood properly and drew up a stiff salute to his old man, "2nd Lieutenant Fennix, reporting in, sir!"

Dexter turned around with his arms crossed. He expected his son, but not the absence of his spotter, "Where's 2nd Lieutenant Ollson?"

"He wanted to meet with his fiance, sir." Miles said, letting his arm down after Dexter gave him a quick salute too.

"Fiance already?" Dexter chuckled, "Alright I'll let him off the hook this time. But you told him to make it quick, right?"

"Yes sir, told him he had five minutes." Miles chuckled along.

There were footsteps behind him, "Is that Miles I see?" It was Chase, Dexter's best friend. He put his arm around the white wolf's shoulder and pointed at him. "Dex, did you know that he single handedly saved that ferry down there?" The panther shook him, proud of his investment in Miles' training.

Dexter nodded and fanned his paw urging Chase to let go of his son. "C'mon, active conflict zone, Chase."

"Sorry," he chuckled and patted Miles' back before joining his father's side. Both Majors.

"To clarify, sir," Miles looked at Dexter's proud stare, "Ghost-Three helped with the guys who were hiding behind the tower."

Dex nudged Chase, "Ever the humble guy, unlike someone I know." He glanced at him wryly.

"Hey now," Chase jested back, "the nickname stuck to me alright?" He was known as the 'Prowler of the Desert'.

In the same tour where his father earned his nickname, Chase tried to one up him by tailing the enemy logistics back to a munitions factory near the border of Iran. It was an exaggeration that he crawled during the day, though Chase did move quickly enough to catch up with a moving car. Without conventional explosives however, he lurked around the factory and placed improvised explosives in the area. Detonated it after the civilians had left, hampering their overall performance for the rest of the tour.

Their attention turned back to Miles, Chase asking, "Where's your spotter?"

Dexter answered, "Said hi to his fiance, and he has four minutes to get back here."

"I see, congrats to them. How about Ghost-Three?" Chase looked to Dexter who looked at Miles, and Chase looked at him too.

"I just happened to get here first," Miles told them.

Dexter looked over his shoulder, and back to him. His expression shifted to stern, with worried eyes. Chase noticed and followed suit, looking away as to not distract him. The older wolf asked him, "What's it like to kill, Miles?"

Miles saw his urge to not call him son there, and he tried not to call him dad either, "Well uh, sir, it was.." Miles looked down as if he broke a vase in his childhood home. He felt guilty about it, which was true. Killing those terrorist was, one would say, a necessary evil. He admitted, "It was intense, sir."

Dexter sighed out, and Miles looked up about to explain himself. Their eyes met, and he nodded at the younger wolf, "It's alright. I was like that too."

Miles whimpered, and strengthened his resolve upon hearing his father's empathy. "Thank you, sir." He whispered. Both of them urged themselves to not embrace each other.

Chase sighed out in relief, "Don't worry, I was like that too. But your father handled it much better than I could."

"Yeah, but enough of that." Dexter's eyes darted behind Miles' shoulder again. "Alright, Ghost-Three is with us it seems."

Miles heard their running approach over the room chatter. It was about time too. He was joined by Ghost-Three's sniper, an eagle, and her spotter, a duck. He only knew them by their rank, and tag; the eagle was First Lieutenant Roley, and the duck was Second Lieutenant Alcos.

"Where's Ollson?" Alcos asked, he looked behind them to see if he was late.

Dexter answered. "Had to check on his fiance, but now's not the time to ponder on that. I'll brief you on your next objectives, clear?"

"Sir." They were on guard. Miles felt the adrenaline again. Being here, overlooking the bridge, meant they had something to do with it. It was an ideal spot: ten floors high with a good view of both ends. He hypothesized that this was the direction the convoy would be taking.

"Alright, you'll be joining Major Quicksilver and I on the Tribute Tower just north of here." Dexter pointed at the column of windows to his right. There was the medical center, and ahead of it was a field surrounded by other lower-lying buildings. Beyond them was a structure almost as tall as the one they were in.

Miles wondered why not this place, and Dexter was about to explain it, "Reason why is because this place was also converted to a recovery center, taking in patients from the next door hospital. I wouldn't want to draw any more attention than I need to." He nodded at the comms center and equipment on the top floor, and Miles also knew of the one below too. And he went on, "We will be providing covering fire for Iron Horse as they vacate through the Angus Macdonald bridge. The one up north," He pointed at a similar looking bridge in the distance. "Has a lot of terrorist activity at the other end. As mentioned earlier, air support is still unavailable given the seizure of the Shearwater air base."

Miles recalled it as the airfield further southeast of East Halifax. He hoped to be able to reach it by the end of the day, which was the optimism talking. Due to the terrorist's use of guerilla tactics, and civilian body shielding, this operation was stretched out longer than anticipated. These extensions were normal as it had happened during training years. The underhanded tactics of their foe were not, and that's what pissed him off.

Dexter continued, "And as you've learned earlier, the enemy won't hesitate to use civilians as buffers. This means that any more artillery support would be unavailable." At first it seemed hopeless. "However, due to your impeccable performance at that ferry earlier, you have proven the precise and deadly training of a Canadian soldier." He and Chase clapped their hands. "Thank you, soldiers. Which is why I ask your squads in particular to aid us in this task to see the VIPs escorted through. Any questions?"

Miles had a question in mind, about to ask it, when all their radios buzzed simultaneously. "This is Ollson, need help at the hospital, second floor. Infiltrators." And it was cut short. Major Fennix already made his move with Chase following too. The younger wolf's blood boiled with ferocity. He let out a low growl with bared fangs as he followed his father.

The same fox officer that approached Miles earlier informed them, "Sir, infiltrators in the medical facility." And Majors Fennix and Quicksilver already moved past him. The snipers followed them right after. Miles' reaction intimidated the fox who moved out of their way.

"Ghosts, leave your rifles here. Even yours Lieutenant Alcos." They all put their primaries on safety, and left them leaning by the staircase. "We're going into a tight facility, last thing I need is someone losing their rifle. That clear?"

"Yes sir!" They followed close behind him.

Major Fennix stressed, "And do not engage unless engaged, and never turn your back against anyone unless it's your squadmate, is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

Major Fennix turned to the fox, "Thanks Carlyle, watch over their weapons will you?" He started issuing orders, "Everyone listen up!" The communication officers continued with their callouts, but all eyes were on him. He and his squad were all walking towards the exit. "Disable the elevators, and I want one fireteam guarding each floor. Tell all emergency responders that all medical treatment is to be relocated to the Halifax Infirmary by the Citadel." He grabbed his radio strapped onto his belt, and spoke into it, "This is Ghost Actual to all nearby elements. FOB Bravo has been infiltrated. Nobody leaves or enters this place until I say so. Redirect all ambulances to the Halifax Infirmary."

Major Quicksilver added, "Issue a warning to all civilians. They are to not leave their shelters unless for crucial medical emergencies only." And the room was full of 'yes sirs', everyone got into the thick of it.

Major Fennix and his group stepped out. He motioned the two guards beside the door to follow him towards the fire exit, guarded by another guard with his weapon drawn and opening the door for them. He turned and pointed at the two guards, "You two ensure the safety of that satellite dish and the generator, and watch the perimeter around the building with this."

"Yes, sir." They answered in unison as Major Fennix untied the binoculars around his neck and passed it to one of them.

"Report if you see anyone not wearing our uniforms." Major Fennix turned to the third guard by the staircase, "No one comes up here unless it's me, or unless I say so. Is that clear?" There was an audible growl to his tone.

"Yessir," the guard immediately answered. The others following him, especially Miles, were surprised to hear this from The New Moon Sniper.

Major Fennix, followed by his spotter, son, and Ghost-Three, descended into the empty stairwell. He unholstered his gun and cocked it, "Chase, you're with me in subduing the infiltrators." The lower ranking ones he ordered next, "Ghost-Three, you are to support Fennix and find Ollson, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," the Ghost squads answered, simultaneously Chase responded with, 'Affirmative'.

Miles snarled in anger, worried that Adrian and Joel were hurt. Chased tapped his shoulder, shaking his head in an urge for the young wolf to relax. This was like the sniping earlier; he had to keep himself calm. A hot exhale out of his muzzle, and a cock of his own handgun while he slung his rifle tight to him. The other sniper team had done it too.

All of their handguns were the standard issue 9mm Browning. Miles found it impressive that a gun that was almost a hundred years old was still very reliable to this day. He half expected the Majors to have theirs kitted out but it wasn't the case. And it was time for action as they entered the second floor.

"You're late," Major Fennix asserted the already present fireteam. He barked out, "Make sure no one crosses that bridge, and keep the folks inside safe." They were walking past hotel rooms repurposed for recovery. Miles felt that urgency again to keep these people safe, even as one of them peeked.

Miles told him, "Sir, please stay indoors. There's a-" the patient, a stallion, rushed out with a scalpel aimed at his cheek. Miles immediately fired two shots aiming for his legs, which struck the infiltrator's shin and abdomen after.

"Fuck..." he groaned out. Yelling as his wounded shin felt the weight of a larger, angrier wolf stepping down on it.

"I'll have fun with you later," Major Fennix coldly warned, adding more weight to his step. The horse let out a guttural noise, already pleading for dear life. He stepped away, smearing his boot on the gown. "Restrain and confine him," he made sure the fireteam leader saw the contempt in his eyes when he said them.

"Yes sir!" the fireteam leader answered, thinking he would be punished severely if done otherwise.

Miles kicked away the assailant's knife, and a member of the fireteam was already zip-tying his hands behind him, and applying tourniquets afterwards.

Roley patted Miles back, startling him out of peak adrenaline, "You alright? He didn't hit you?" She asked, nudging him towards the bridge where Majors Fennix and Quicksilver were about to cross.

They caught up, Miles telling her, "Yeah, I'm fine." Double checking by patting his body armor, and anywhere that felt like a burning sensation but turned out to be muscle exertion. He reacted fast, impressed with himself.

His father interrupted his train of thought by issuing another order, "I want two fireteams going through Hotel Juno to inspect and restrain any individuals hiding sharp objects within their body. Confiscate any sharp or weaponized objects from their rooms too."

The bridge between the buildings turned out to be shorter when he walked across it. There were soldiers underneath patrolling about. The compound's entrance was on high alert, seeing the meerkat swiveling his head in both ways of the road to the bridge. The barricade was done, and now manned by soldiers just as agitated. Those guarding the doorway kept their eyes on the window, one of them staring at the bridge, and somewhere else afterwards when he saw the uniforms.

Miles was amazed at the level of authority his father had. He never thought of commanding this many people. Could be something he would pick up on eventually. Even the doctors and nurses they encountered at the building's side of the bridge calmed themselves.

This side of the building had a hallway leading to a series of operating rooms indicated by the overhead signs, and on the right was a stairwell going both ways and an elevator large enough for hospital beds. There were two doctors and a nurse, keeping themselves down, while one guard watched the stairwell. There would've been two more guarding this side of the bridge, they could be downstairs dealing with the threat.

Major Fennix gestured to his group to hold position with a raised clumped fist. Miles and Roley took position to the side, hiding behind anywhere they could. Miles behind a large potted plant, and Roley by a hospital bed laying in wait, both watching down the hallway. Major Quicksilver joined the guard, watching the stairwell leading downwards, while Alcos watched the opposite.

"Doctors," Major Fennix called out, "where is the security office?"

"Officer," one of them, a rhino, said, "it's down there but we don't know if they'll attack us too. I have the keycard."

"Alright, we will escort you." He snapped to Miles, "Fennix, you're on me." Then he snapped to Roley while pointing at Major Quicksilver, "Roley, you, Alcos, and Quicksilver are to help clear the ground floor. Find Ollson if you can." He eyed the guard, a parrot, "And you, private."

The parrot turned, she acknowledged, "Sir."

He saw her last name, "Private Diaz, ensure that no one loiters in these halls." "Yes sir."

"Let's go." Major Fennix went into the hallway with Miles following close by, and the doctors and nurse several steps behind. Major Quicksilver, Roley, and Alcos all went downstairs.

This floor was well lit, with several doors on the right side, and an intersection further down on the left, with a few more doors towards the dead end window. There were different signs on most of the right doors, indicating different kinds of operating rooms. Some of them were opened with no one inside; this must be where they started their assault. And for some odd reason, it smelled uncharacteristically pleasant, like artificial lime. It was stronger the closer they got to the intersection.

"Is it down this hallway?" Dexter asked, peeking into it. Miles shut every door left open after peeking in himself and saw nobody inside. It wasn't standard procedure unfortunately, given that they were escorting them. After doing so, he and his father will do it properly. He'd rather not take any chances and would love to not repeat what just happened.

"Yes, door at the very end." The rhino said. The other was a shark, and the nurse behind him was a chipmunk. Miles noticed that they were all cautious rather than terrified. Something was up.

Miles took the initiative, drawing his weapon, "I'll stay behind you, in case they try to corner us." He gestured to them to walk ahead, and they were hesitant at first. It didn't sit well with him, fur standing and all.

"Come on, do you want to get there safely or not?" Major Fennix growled, assuring their cooperation. He turned into the corner, as did the staff and Miles after.

The rooms here were all shut, except for the office. Miles wondered why it was open in the first place. And why was it abandoned? Where was the doctor in charge? Where was the guard? This little march stretched on, his theories only piled up.

He took the initiative again, "Where's the doctor in charge of this place?" Miles whispered.

"That would be me, Doctor Virago." The rhino raised his hand. His voice was deep and authoritative.

"Doctor Virago is it?" Major Fennix whispered, "I recommend you keep your voice down."

"Sorry," he hushed himself. "But yes, I'm the person in charge."

"Why were you outside the office when they attacked?" They were getting closer to the room.

Miles worried that an ambush was about to occur, even the shark and the chipmunk were feeling it too. He kept an eye on all of them, especially the rhino. Doctor Virago's horn looks well maintained; sharp and shiny as if it was recently cleaned.

He explained, "I was going for a coffee break and the vending machine was downstairs. And there was a sudden commotion, someone shouting terrorists so I turned back upstairs urging people to stay inside their rooms. The two guards by the bridge moved in, while that Private Diaz by the stairwell was told to hold it."

"And what of the shark and the chipmunk?" Major Fennix asked.

"They were the ones shouting it. Even the guard by the office overheard it and went down with the others." Doctor Virago added.

"I see," he answered. Miles thought something was amiss. His father must've known it too. This all felt too convenient. The two predator-based doctors could theoretically overpower a parrot through their medical knowhow. The chipmunk could be an accomplice too. The guards by the bridge could easily have gone down, but the one by the security wouldn't have heard it. Maybe he was informed through the radio, but the door was left open. It could be possible that the doctor attacked him first, then urged the other guards to go down. The other side of the bridge couldn't even see the stairwell where Diaz was guarding.

"Sir, permission to speak," Miles wanted to make sure he and his father were thinking the same thing.

"Granted," Major Fennix humored him, seeming to be onboard too.

"This place smells horrible, sir." Miles fake coughed.

"I agree. It almost made me puke." Major Fennix covered his nose.

The shark and chipmunk suppressed their snickers, clearing their throats to feign it off.

Doctor Virago wasn't humored at all. He sighed out, "What do you have against lime?"

"Thought so," Major Fennix stepped forward and raised his gun as he turned around. "Stand-" the rhino rushed at him as he did, head ducked down. The major saw the sharpness of his horn, breaking his gun's barrel just a few inches from his hand. He immediately countered with a right hook that knocked him down to the side.

The shark lunged at him with a left uppercut, but Miles had to deal with the chipmunk about to slash his neck with a scalpel. He stepped back quick enough that the blade only cut his fur, and reacted by raising his gun at him. But the chipmunk was quicker, and stronger, he held the barrel of his gun and pointed it away, going for another swipe at his throat.

Miles had to fire his gun, throwing off the chipmunk's slash and breaking his other hand. Doctor Virago kept his head down in worry of ricochet, and the shark was in a losing fight against Major Quicksilver who was blocking each of his blows, and countered with precise swings against his nose. The chipmunk stood still, making sure his posture was parallel to his father. Quite smart he'll admit.

The shark distanced himself after receiving a strong blow against his bleeding nose. He pulled out a scalpel while Major Fennix stanced up with both arms in front. The older wolf taunted him, gesturing his fingers to come over. Doctor Virago had gotten up immediately, but a loud bang and a bullet wound to his shoulder prevented him from engaging his father. The rhino turned to Miles, deciding to take him on instead.

Miles took a few steps back, panicked at first but he heard Diaz running towards their hallway. The chipmunk noticed this and stepped back too, waving his broken hand at Doctor Virago to stand down.

The other doctor lunged forward with a stab, but Major Fennix saw ahead of his move with a sidestep dodge. He grabbed his wrist and raised it over his head, yanking the shark's body upward, followed by a strong fisted blow to the gut. Blood overflowed from his nose, yet was still willing to fight. Stepping back to catch a breather, but he was already back to back with the chipmunk and beside the rhino.

The chipmunk told him, Miles overheard, "That private's gonna come here. We'll take the officer together." And they exchanged quick nods.

"They'll take you hostage." Miles told Major Fennix who pulled out a combat knife from the side of his boot.

"That's very optimistic of them," Major Fennix raised his arms again, knife forward. His words carried weight. Miles saw the determination and focus in his father's eyes. They dotted around the room, analyzing the wounds they've afflicted on them.

Miles reloaded his gun as these infiltrators were slowly making their move towards Dexter. These three moved in a column, minimizing their profile to risk friendly fire.

Private Diaz turned the corner, arms raised. "Hands where I can see 'em!" She stood besides Miles. It was a risky shot for her to try, lowering her aim to cripple them instead. Miles patted her shoulder, and gestured an open palm to hold her fire.

Miles crouched down and got a knife from his boot, while holstering his handgun. He approached the chipmunk, both hands raised trying to copy his father's stance. God only knew how well he could emulate his father. Same principle but different technique.

He inched closer as the infiltrators did to the Major who stared them down in anticipation. The shark and rhino were running out of room, decided to rush and gather a bit of momentum to lunge at Dexter. Miles and the chipmunk rushed at each other while Private Diaz kept her weapon trailed down at them.

Major Fennix parried the shark's scalpel lunge and pushed it towards the rhino's rising horn attack, throwing the latter off balance. He followed with a strong knee against the shark causing him to drop the scalpel, and finishing with a powerful chop on his gills knocking him out. And he tossed the unconscious shark at the rhino, giving him time to help Miles.

Miles played it defensively, dodging and pushing away the chipmunk's arm with each swing. Their fight was cut short when the Major grappled him from behind, causing him to frantically sway his arm around in panic as wolf hands held his temple and chin. A light crack followed, and the chipmunk laid breathless and limp on the floor.

Neither Major nor Lieutenant Fennix looked at each other as the former went back for the rhino who had backed himself into the office about to close the door. Major Fennix kicked it open, shoving the rhino against the desk. He didn't relent as he grabbed the doctor's horn and pulled him down into the doorway.

Miles witnessed the Major slamming the door shut against the rhino's head, knocking him out. He walked towards the office, stepping over the dead chipmunk, and walking past the battered and bleeding shark by the corner who had been holding onto his neck. Only then did he learn they could bleed out of their gills.

"Private Diaz," Major Fennix called out from inside the office. She rushed over as Miles stepped inside. "Cuff the shark and rhino, please. I will call reinforcements for their escort."

"Yes sir!" Private Diaz answered.

The security office served the main office of this medical facility. The first room was the typical administration getup; desk in the middle with shelves of books behind. Plant pots on these shelves. The next room had several tvs mounted on walls overlooking various corridors, even the one they were in earlier. From what Miles could tell they had regained control, seeing soldiers detain and line up men and women in hospital gowns against the wall. And another were several nurses and a few doctors where Chase and Ghost-Three were present.

"Lieutenant," Major Fennix had been observing the footage himself.

"Yes, sir?" Miles answered. The exhaustion slowly set in on him, but it wasn't too bad to say the least. Though his worry for

"Get the keycard from our sleepy rhino friend."

"Yes, sir." He got right to it.

Private Diaz just finished restraining the rhino when Miles crouched beside her. He was going through his waist coat, though despite being knocked out and restrained, he still had to do it slowly. She wasn't, asking, "That Major is a terrifying badass. The way he just snapped the chipmunk's neck." She emulated his motions earlier. He was shocked upon seeing it so close, and how easy his father took a life with just his hands.

"Yeah, you'd think that a sniper like him could be so lethal in close quarters too." Miles commented. While the prospect of being as skillful is not far off, could he do that in the future? Maybe, actually. That'd be more training he'd ask from him though. Oh, and there it was, the keycard belonging to one Doctor Virago.

"Found it." He showed it to Private Diaz who nodded back.

"Nice," but she lamented on melee combat, "oh yeah, the Major's a sniper? Wait, wolf-sniper-major, he's the New Moon Sniper?!" She said it out loud, with Miles shaking his head. She whispered, "He's the New Moon Sniper?"

"Mhm," Miles got up and patted her shoulder, "Just keep an eye out, private, fight's not over yet."

"Yes, sir."

Miles went back to Major Fennix who was relaying the recent developments, "All the major hallways have been cleared of infiltrator movement. Conduct room clearing but refrain from using weapons. This is still a medical facility. And keep me posted about a missing spotter, 2nd Lieutenant Ollson. How copy?"

And his little radio buzzed. He answered back, "Alright. Send three men to the admin office, we've got prisoners I will personally see to later."

Miles listened to all that, hoping that Adrian would come out unscathe. He stretched out the keycard to Major Fennix, "Sir, Doctor's keycard."

Major Fennix accepted it, nodded at him, then turned to the nearby computer terminal by the surveillance equipment. He motioned Miles to join him. "Hopefully our good doctor has information on terrorist movement." Though there was a sense of disappointment, "I didn't expect he'd be helping the enemy though. I thought they were thorough with the background checks."

Miles stood beside him, and knowing more what Major Fennix was capable of, he felt extremely safe around him. He watched him scan the card on a reader device, revealing classified information. Medical records, accounting information, some personal stuff even. These were stuff they ignored. The emails however were of a concerning matter.

A lot of them were about the political climate leading to the attack in the first place. Arguments, points, and rhetoric that hampered civil order. There were names from the email addresses, mentions of an important person, which Miles thought would be the VIP being escorted out. Even Major Fennix's name appeared, and Chase's too. Plans to lead them in this direction, and have them transferred to this medical facility where they could kill him and the family too.

Major Fennix pulled a USB out from his back pocket and installed it into the computer. He copied the emails into it. While waiting, he turned to Miles and held his shoulder.

"How're you feeling, son?" He asked him in a juxtaposing manner; much calmer and warmer than what he was a few minutes ago.

It felt like his father again. Miles told him, "Just shaken up, but I'm fine. Thanks for saving my life, sir." Of course integrity still had to be observed. It didn't stop Miles recalling his younger self imagining his father as a hero be demonstrated during his contemporary years.

"Still able to fight though? Worried about Lieutenant Ollson?" he rested his paw on Miles' shoulder. Shaking it for a moment, followed with a gentle pat.

"Yes, sir. And yeah, I am," Miles answered respectively, brushing his tail against his father's.

"Well, I trained both of you to be mean sons of bitches, I'm sure he'll be fine." Dexter brushed back, "And isn't his fiance a nurse?"

"Yeah, he is." Miles commented, waiting for his radio to buzz.

"Then he'll be well taken care of, and Canada's finest are finding him already."

Miles' eyes went over to the cameras as soldiers were reclusive about their weapons. Knocking first and then entering, if it looked like they were denied, a nurse would take charge and were accompanied by a soldier. Still, no sign of Adrian.

"Just keep an eye out, I'll talk to command, okay son?"

"Yes sir," Miles answered back as his father went back to the main desk overlooking the two captured individuals. He brought all of this up to Chase, what had happened, the traitorous doctor, and their names appearing as high value targets of sorts.

Miles decided to turn on his radio and initiated contact with Adrian's "Ghost-Two-One to Ghost-Two-Two, do you copy, over?"

No response. He repeated it again.

For a moment after, it was quiet. He eyed the monitors as the infiltrators were being moved away by armed guards. Chase and Ghost-Three were walking together, most likely going upstairs.

Miles called out again, "Ghost-Two-One to Two-Two, respond."

"Miles?" It was Joel, "We're in the second floor X-Ray room. Adrian's fine but he's unconscious."

That was enough, "I'm on my way." Miles told him. He jolted to the door, his father surprised.

"They answered?" Major Fennix queried, about to join him too.

"Second floor X-Ray room." He stepped over the unconscious rhino and ran down the hall. Major Fennix followed close behind, instructing Private Diaz to keep watch and to not let anybody other than a higher ranking soldier take their captives away.

The rooms in their hallway were storage spaces and psychological facilities that were yet to be checked. Still, he'd rather find Adrian first. The closest facility at the intersection was a dentist's office. There were more doors leading towards the dead-end window, and some where they came from earlier but he didn't recall seeing the x-ray facility there.

"I think they're here," Miles pointed towards the window.

"I'll stay here, I don't want to lose sight of those two fuckheads." Major Fennix gestured at the office, "But let me know if it's serious alright?"

"Yes, sir." Miles went down the hall, gun drawn. There were double doors on each side, both operating rooms, and another further down to the left. It had to be it. Upon closer inspection, it was the radiology room near the windows. He caught a glimpse of the outside, seeing the infiltrators policed into military humvees and driven away.

He stood in front of the door, gun pointing ahead. There was a better way to go about it though. Miles used his radio, "Joel, I'll knock three times, copy?"

"Copy," Joel said with a relieved tone. He could hear him walking towards the door. Miles gave it three knocks, and the door was opened to Joel with blood smeared on his uniform, and across his cheek. The bearded dragon's eyes matched his tone, and Miles put his gun away as he got yanked into the room.

It wasn't his first time being in a radiology room. There was the receiving desk where the doctor would confirm the patient. Behind it were two dead bodies, spiking Miles' worry for a moment but they were a nurse and a woman in hospital gowns, both foxes. Joel walked towards the dark room, where they processed all the x-ray film. He followed, covering his nose as he passed, and noticed the trail of blood coming from the room.

"What happened?" Miles wondered, as Joel entered. He peeked inside to see Joel approach a topless, unconscious, and bandaged Adrian sitting under the red light. There were dark red spots around his torso, and one on his shoulder. The sink in front of him, meant for processing film, had his vest and fatigue on. Rags hung from the metallic edge as did the film, and there were dark red spots on the cloth.

"Do you have bandages with you?" Joel was crouched beside Adrian's side wound, arm stretched out.

"One sec," Miles unclamped the small bag clamped to his belt, procuring the only bandage he had. He stepped in and handed it to Joel. This was the first time he was in the dark room, and looked around at the plentiful rolls of film they had with apparatuses he assumed were used to process them. That sink earlier wasn't for washing hands or anything, instead to clear up the film.

"Thanks," Joel undid the bandage around it, blood dribbled down from the side. He immediately wrapped it again, and tied the metal clamp together. "Alright," he turned to Miles and explained. "Adri came by to say hi. We chatted up for a moment when we overheard a discussion in the room. The head Doctor, Virago, a rhino..."

"Yeah, Doctor Virago," Miles interjected.

"Yeah, he was talking about killing a VIP." Joel stared at Miles' eyes. "Did you come across a rhino?" His eyes shifted to the doorway, worried.

"Detained," Miles tilted his head outwards, "Major Fennix kicked his ass, they were with a shark and a chipmunk or squirrel."

"Okay, Doctor Virago was with a shark earlier, and they were talking about it with two foxes, one a doctor and the other a patient. Adrian warned you guys but the chipmunk, another nurse, interrupted us and we were immediately brought in here."

Miles looked around again, asking, "What happened to his weapons?" He answered half his question, seeing the handgun in its holster just below his seat. But his rifle was nowhere to be found.

"Well, we got his handgun under the chair," Joel picked it up and set it beside his jacket.

Then Miles remembered to let the Major know, "Wait one." He activated his radio. "Ghost Actual, this is Ghost-Two-One."

"Ghost-Two-One, what's Ghost-Two-Two's status?" The Major said, which Miles could hear just outside the doorway.

"Unconscious, and light bleeding. Two dead infiltrators by the door, and combat medic Alvarez has stabilized him, over."

"Copy, we'll have someone retrieve him. However, the mission is still a go despite the setbacks. Copy?"

"Yes sir," Miles answered back.

"Good. Once the medics have secured Ghost-Two-Two, you are to rendezvous at the tower and retrieve your rifles. Make your way to the vantage point afterwards."

"Yes sir," Miles looked back to Joel after shutting off the radio. "How about his rifle?"

"I put it aside back here," Joel crouched over the corner of the room, pulling out the DMR from the corner of the room. The camo blended well with the shadows, which was impressive itself. He gave the gun to Miles.

Miles held it in both hands, barrel pointing downward. The chamber was filled. He detached the magazine and emptied the chamber, leaning the gun at the front door and returning the bullet inside its metallic container. Afterwards he slipped it back in the discarded vest.

"Thanks, and thanks for keeping my spotter alive."

"Thanks for clearing out the building and stopping the doctor."

"Yeah," Miles recalled how his father kicked their ass, and snapped the chipmunk's neck. He then stared at the dead bodies right outside the door, and back at Adrian with Joel checking the recent bandage. He caught on with Miles' stare.

"Something wrong?"

"No, but who killed them?" Miles pointed at the dead foxes. "Actually, you never told me how you freed yourselves."

"We were able to untie ourselves from the bandages, and when they checked up on us, Adrian used the darkness of the room to ambush the guy. He tried to wrestle the handgun away from him but he did his best to at least push him against the other fox holding the rifle."

Miles glossed over their bodies again, the patient laying on top of the nurse.

Joel went on, "One of the foxes dropped the rifle, and I snatched it away immediately, but the other fox aimed his handgun at me and he blocked the shots with his armor, but some went through because he got hit in the same place. Then another below his shoulder where his vest didn't covered." Joel touched the area of his upper left chest where it would meet his shoulder. Then I shot both of them."

Miles approached the bearded dragon who was on the verge of tears, but Joel resided to a sigh.

"I didn't have time to process what I did though because I had to save Adrian." And he sighed deeper, a disdainful tone spoke, "Looking back man, I can't believe I just killed two foxes. And they looked alike. What if they were brothers, y'know?"

The wolf hugged him, who hugged back weaker. Miles whispered to him, "You did what you had to do for the country."

"But I murdered two guys," Joel answered just as softly.

He shook his head, patting his back, "And if you haven't, your fiance would've died. You would've died too." Miles felt Joel look up to him.

And he looked into those bearded dragon's eyes leaking tears. Joel spoke softer, "Can I ever live with myself?"

"Yes, you will." Miles sighed out, "I killed people today too, and I did it to save lives. My dad understood that, and he and Chase felt the same way too." He held Joel's cheeks, caressing him in assurance, "You did it to save lives. Who knows how many people these two would've killed if it weren't for your actions."

"Thanks," Joel wiped his face with his sleeve, crying to himself for a moment before shaking his head. "Thanks," he patted Miles' shoulder.

"We'll talk about this when this is over, alright?" Miles nudged back.

"Sure." And Joel asked, "Did Adrian kill anyone so far?"

"Not directly," Miles shook his head. "He helped suppress an enemy sniper so another team could kill him."

"Thanks, I'm still trying to process all this."

"Well, you have to process it faster, we're not yet done." Miles could hear the approach of two people, the military nurses that Dexter sent for. He hung the damaged chest rig over his shoulder, and strapped the rifle about him. "I'll keep these safe with me, alright?"

"Got it, good luck out there Milesman." Joel checked those bandages again. A slight darkened spot where the new bandage was; Adrian needed medical attention ASAP.

He nodded and stepped out, making way for two military nurses with a stretcher before exiting the radiology room. Majors Fennix and Quicksilver were just down the hall, and Ghost-Three were approaching him as he walked towards them.

"Is your spotter alright?" Roley asked, peeking over his shoulder.

Miles nodded and passed them, gesturing to them to follow. "Bleeding, even with a new bandage but not too intense."

"That's good to hear. What happened anyways?"

Miles decided it would be best to say another time, "After debriefing, I'll tell ya."

Major Fennix turned from Major Quicksilver to them, "Alright Ghost-Two, Three, get your sniping gear. And Lieutenant Fennix, you can leave Lieutenant Ollson's weapons upstairs."

"Yes, sir." They answered in unison and headed for the bridge. Major Quicksilver followed.

"I'll meet you at the Tribute Tower. Will just ensure this place is safe again. And better hurry up." Major Fennix said. "Convoy's already on the move, ETA twenty."

"Yes sir," even Major Quicksilver joined. They were quick, moreso going upstairs. The Major with them had to inform the guards upstairs of their arrival which was aptly acknowledged.

HQ was still tense, and Miles could definitely tell the increased amount of guards patrolling the area. The elevator was non-functioning, and there were two men stationed by it this time. Their guns were where they left them, now with a laid out tarp beside that had extra ammunition, and two more guns.

Miles, Roley, and Alcos were staring at two semi-automatic anti-materiel rifles that stood on its bipods. There were two columns of five magazines with massive bullets inside them. They looked like they held ten per magazine.

"Come on, gear up. We got seventeen minutes left." Major Quicksilver said.

Miles thought he referred to them as he swapped Adrian's rifle for his, but it was to First Lieutenant Carlyle with two large briefcases and helmets slung around his arm. He left them beside the rifles, shot the panther a salute, and went on his way. The already-geared snipers and spotter made sure each of their magazines were full, swapping expended ones from those on the tarp. Major Quicksilver, as his name implies, was quick to put on his gear.

Miles watched Major Quicksilver load the two anti-materiel rifles afterward, and placed their magazines in a specialized holder on their rig. It explained the need for the suitcases. And Lieutenant Carlyle returned with one more who donned armor and vest too. The case was bulkier and had the seal of the Canadian Riflemen in the middle.

"Sir, permission to speak," Miles tapped his helmet, and each of his magazines, ensuring that they were all in place.

"What is it?" His response was blunt.

"What's inside those containers, sir?"

"Rangefinders for these bad boys," Major Quicksilver heaved one gun on his shoulder, then held the other. "Bring Major Fennix's briefcase with you." His eyes met the other briefcase that presumably had the other Major's uniform.

"Yes sir," Miles slung the rifle around him and picked it up, the helmet after.

"On me," Major Quicksilver led them through the upper comms center, outside, and through the fire exit. The way down was faster, even if they were heavier. Major Quicksilver's presence attracted a lot of eyes, though granted swifter movement through the building as they made way for him.

They were saluted by the lower ranks, and the few combat medics that noticed them applauded their rescue earlier. Now they were running through the jogging track in the middle of the compound. Since it was already affiliated with the military, Miles reminisced about his training days and the far more arduous training regimen his father put him through.

Miles, a soldier, rushed through it at the same speed he once did, despite carrying heavier gear with him. Further emphasized how far he had gone at being a soldier. Only difference today, however, was the lineup of military trucks and humvees in the middle. Some broken and being repaired, others being prepped to head out. He joked in his head about asking for a lift, who knows though. Maybe he would.

Tribute tower was the third block down to the track's right exit. Shorter than Juno Hotel but much wider, supporting more rooms.

Miles wondered as they walked down the street, a block away, "Major Quicksilver, sir, what else is this place used for?"

"Extra observation post and equipment storage." Major Quicksilver answered back. There were additional guards stationed here, with defenses mounted up at the entrance on the side of the building. They were on high alert, yet expressed relief when the Major and his support teams passed by, saluting in the process.

Equipment storage was the right way to say it, seeing ammo dumps across certain rooms. Soldiers in aprons, which looked somewhat out of place, were moving cartons of provisions. Soldiers on guard inside the building, posted between each room, saluted them. The stairwell straight to the rooftop was located at the opposite side of the building.

They made their way through the stairs with a few minutes to spare. There were other communique officers going down the other side of the stairwell, observing proper decorum as they did. The closer they got to the rooftop, Miles heard another barrage of artillery fire from their side of Halifax, with explosions occurring moments after. When they were there, they were presented with an observation post similar to the one in Juno Tower, but much more compact. And the building's vents and exhausts were more plentiful here. The little shed built into the structure had a camo netting tent strewn up onto it, serving as a lounge for their provisions.

Something caught the duck's attention "Is that a." Alcos pointed at a post with a three-missile pylon, "...sam site?"

It caught the attention of the other Ghost members, and it definitely was. Behind the camo netting, pointing upwards and its swing towards the enemy. Miles didn't think he would see one, knowing who they were going against.

Major Quicksilver explained, "Yep, it'd scare those fuckers from even trying." And he reminded them, "C'mon, we gotta post up by the southeastern corner, three minutes."

This side of the building was clear, except for discarded cigarettes and beer bottles swept aside. The panther rested the bipod of his gun on the edge of the building, the other Ghost members doing the same to theirs at five meter intervals. Miles was the closest to Major Quicksilver who instructed him to place the anti-material rifle instead of his.

"Miles," the panther said to him, "with your spotter unavailable, you'll do the spotting for Major Fennix and I, is that clear?"

"The honor is mine, sir," Miles said. He was confident that he could pull it off, especially to assist both Majors. Perhaps there was a lesson to all this too, one that he hadn't seen yet. Nonetheless, he double checked his rifle, adjusted the magnification accordingly for a decent view of the bridge.

The patrols had extended halfway through the bridge, placing checkpoints and using their humvees as cover too. There were two APCs supporting the guard as well, occupying two of the three lanes on the bridge. There was an opening in the middle with a checkpoint and its gate. These concepts were similar to the images he had seen during briefing, not the gore nor the kills he made that day. He had seen the carnage of prior conflicts; the mutilations, blood trails, weeping people, and none of it was pleasant. Miles set down his gun and stood up, understanding that the bridge, and the ferry from earlier, would become a part of the albums to come.

"This is not like the slideshow at all," he commented. Lieutenant Roley picked up on it and stood beside him.

She said, "Yep, I heard this from a psychologist actually."

Miles raised a brow, wondering, "Oh yeah? Do tell."

Lieutenant Roley explained while forming her fingers in a box, like it were the lens of a camera, "When you take the picture of a dead person through a camera, it wouldn't faze you. You were not in the environment where it happened, nor can you hear the other sounds of death, or smell the rot." It was one way to put it, but Miles thought she was right.

"Good point. I guess it's the same thing for video games." Miles added.

"Exactly. As well as the safety of respawning. You can't respawn in real life, unless it's reincarnation."

Miles laughed, which was something he needed. Proper, not forced as if he was about to die, like earlier. It legit was a good joke, as morbid as it seemed, better than nothing. Roley smiled, sighing in relief. Alcos wondered why and she told him the same joke. It made him chuckle.

Major Quicksilver patted his shoulder, easing the wolf down. "Settle down, Lieutenant. Major Fennix will be here soon." He turned to Ghost-Three, "Roley, Alcos, I want you two watching the coastline. See if they're going to do anything under the bridge."

"Yes sir," the two avian members saluted and went to their weapons. They crouched down, heads as short as the low barrier of the rooftop. Miles went back to his gun, eyeing their entrance if Major Fennix were to join them. It was at that moment he guessed that being in charge would lead to more responsibilities than he could bargain for. Again, it was something he'd learn to do in time, but realizing it all, and not to mention the overall experience he's had thus far, it was surprising he hadn't caved in emotionally.

The fact he pondered this much, without the sound of gunfire unsettled Miles. It was just as bizarre the artillery had only fired one salvo. He turned to Ghost-Three, "Guys, keep your eyes on the foot of the bridge." He told them, "they might try something." Looking through his scope again, he eyed those passersby he saw earlier. They were all shifty, hanging around, smoking under a bridge as if a war wasn't going on. There were nearby structures resembling a warehouse or a train depot along the railway that traveled under the bridge. Those structures could be used as makeshift buildings or hideouts, rather believing the former for the time being.

Roley and Alcos surely saw what he saw, the latter asking, "How about we scare them off with a shot in the water?"

But Roley nudged his side harshly, and smacked the back of his helmet. "Hey dinggus, that's a fucking warcrime."

"And I would like it if nobody tarnished our company." Major Quicksilver interjected, standing over Lieutenant Alcos. He stared him down, the duck staying still, fearful of the wrath he invoked. Even Roley glared at him, while Miles kept observing the civilians.

Only his lips moved, "Sorry sir, won't happen again sir."

Major Quicksilver warned, "First and last warning. Any reckless shit from you and your ass will be court martialed."

"Yes, sir." Lieutenant Alcos answered and gulped down any form of remarks he would make.

Roley went back into her scope, still displeased. "Just be a spotter, alright? Don't shoot unless shot at by guns."

"Yes ma'am." He quivered, nothing more to be said.

"Guys, movement far left." Miles told them.

They collectively saw a handcar being operated by two felines going right. On the little railway vehicle were several baskets. None of them could tell the contents, but the hoodlums under the bridge reacted as if they got something they've been needing. One of them held it up as if it were a prize, and they moved that object to their head; food. And the others put down the rest of the baskets near the pillar of the bridge where the road inclined. It did not sit well with Miles, especially after Alcos' suggestion. Scaring them off would at least ease his doubts, and maybe prevent any further activity in the area. But it would harm Major Fennix's reputation and his own too.

"Sir," Miles said, "where does the coastside railway lead?"

Major Quicksilver had been observing through his binoculars too, not enjoying the presumptions either. "Leads to Wright's Cove."

None of them liked that, and Alcos was itching on vindication but Lieutenant Roley kept her eye on him. The railways led to a highly occupied insurgent area just at the coast further north. It also happened to be at the opposite end of the major northwestern bridge connecting both sides of Halifax too. Lots of hostiles as well as hostages were being kept there.

"The wreckage further down cuts them off from the rest of the island it seems," Roley pointed out the railway would split into three different lanes before converging on one point again. Each lane had burnt-out train cars, prohibiting movement at least. Though she had a counterpoint, "But it seems pointless when they still have access to those highways."

Major Quicksilver agreed, "And doing so would only make them easy targets. Keep an eye out for those hooligans, and only engage when they have explosives on them."

"Yes sir," Ghost-Three answered together.

Miles scanned the other side of the bridge this time. There were a handful of these terrorists guarding towards the end, directly above the bridge structure itself. They even had a pick-up truck with a mounted NATO weapon in the rear, parked to the side yet facing the road it led to.

Major Fennix joined them, catching an anxious Alcos by surprise and acting nonchalantly. Roley shook her head and kept watching the same individuals. Miles turned around, nodding at him who nodded at him back before keeping tabs on that vehicle.

"Good news," Major Fennix announced, "Convoy's moving this way as planned." He walked up to the briefcase Miles brought over and put on his gear.

It piqued Miles' interest though, turning to see his father in full combat equipment. Sleeker, more modern, and less-brown compared to his war-time photos more than a decade ago. The helmets weren't as bulky, yet could stop higher calibers; the armored vest blended better with his military fatigues, plus the chest rig surrounding it had peculiar apparatus strapped to it; and those massive magazine pouches held .50 BMG, and were sewn in a manner that would prevent harm to the operator should the bullet prematurely detonate. The wonders of technology at its finest. He blushed at how more impressive it looked up close. The Major's uniform further amplified his charisma; the muscles, the steadiness in his composure, despite leading the infantry sector of this region. Maybe the last one was an exaggeration, but it's what it felt like in Mile's mind. And he would gladly die for him, even if he wouldn't allow him to do it.

He continued, "And they have secured the VIP too. We have also been tasked with escorting them personally when they reach our side, courtesy of the few people I'm with right now."

Their eyes met, and Miles instinctively nodded before Major Fennix looked over to the other two. Roley was brimming with confidence, and Alcos feigned it given the shame he felt. No one wanted to discuss it again though, and the wolf Major wasn't one to pry at the moment.

"Alright, what am I looking at, Milesman?" Major Fennix crouched down by his rifle, next to Miles, and Major Quicksilver joined beside him. He looked at the same end Miles was looking, aware there was something behind the structure.

Miles was flattered by the name, especially when his father said it. No offense to Adrian though. He told him, "Sir, enemy technical and a few foot mobiles." They kept to their post, "Standing guard by their side." And he told them about those hoodlums below the bridge, "Multiple unknowns below the bridge. Unsure if they are cooperating with the enemy but they have received a package of food from a hand-wagon operating the rails. Roley is keeping an eye on them, sir."

"Hmmmm," Major Fennix lifted his gun to look through its scope. He verified Miles' initial report on the hostiles above the bridge which were not enough to encounter the inbound convoy at least. Those below, he scoped in on them, were a coin flip. But he had an idea. "Roley, you and Alcos, maintain visual of those individuals below the bridge. Alcos, start rangefinding for the base of the bridge." And for Miles, "And Miles, range those targets at the technical on top. Major Quicksilver and I will go hunting."

"Yes, sir," each member of the Ghosts answered together. Miles pulled out his rangefinder, a small rectangular device with two lenses on its front, and one on the back where he looked through. On the side was a digital screen presenting numbers that changed depending on the distance measured by the lower front lens. Through Miles' eyes, the information was compacted through the main lens while zoomed in. The bridge's structure was approximately one thousand meters away, and he lifted the faint laser to match with the road. Taking height into consideration, the guards and the technical was about eleven-hundred meters away.

"Sir," Miles said, "the technical is eleven hundred meters away. Height adjustment into consideration." And he double checked it again, tracking the range through his little device, and the values were only different by a few decimals. It wasn't going to change anything.

Major Quicksilver had gotten something from the briefcase; the rangefinder he had brought up earlier. Miles thought what he did was redundant, but these specific devices, smaller and with a singular small lens, were slotted to the side of their rifles. It too had a display, which indicated distance. Major Fennix scrolled its side, the displayed number going from null to '1100m'. The dials on the scope rotated itself.

Miles would want one himself, "Would that work on my gun, sir?" It would save a lot of time if he had it.

"These aren't standard issue yet. We're giving it a spin." Major Fennix told him. "We call them 'ARF's, or 'automated range finding' devices." The automation was on its scope, and given Miles had to find the range in the first place meant these were indeed prototypes.

Miles scoffed at the acronym. Did he make it? "Did you make it, sir?"

"Negative. This is a combined research effort with the Americans." He looked through the adjusted scope, meaning he was done talking. "Chase, I'm getting calibrated sights, how about you?"

Chase answered, "Same here, calibrated properly."

"Good," Major Fennix breathed in and out. Miles understood that they were about to engage, and lifted his rifle to scope through it too. Unlike the Majors, however, he had to manually zero in his scope.

"Roley," Major Fennix called out, "we're going loud in half a minute. I want you to keep a close eye on those hoodlums below. If they try something or get behind the bridge, scare them away."

Lieutenant Alcos was getting antsy, but he let out a deep exhale. Miles rolled his eyes realizing he would have to put up with that when this was all over. The clock was ticking though, twenty seconds left. Both Majors chambered their guns, their breathing in-sync. Miles looked at the bridge, the technical and the surrounding guards were oblivious for the next ten seconds.

"Going loud," Major Fennix said under his breath. Contrasting the loud explosion from his gun. It was far more distinct than Miles' sniper rifle or Adrian's DMR. The shot was followed by a crack one normally heard when they were on the receiving end. His rifle barrel retracted into the handguard for a moment, similar to when the emptied bullet was ejected. And it was put forward in half a second.

And another shot followed immediately after, while Miles saw the impact of the first shot. Much more gruesome than his kills earlier as entire torsos were ripped in half, and that was after the metal fencing on the side of the bridge. All that remained of them there was the blood mist where their bodies were. The succeeding shots followed, sounding more like a machine gun as the two Majors fired in succession. The technical got torn to shreds; the rooftop separated from the chassis, all its windows were broken, and the body of the car had a lot of holes poking through it he could see someone trying to hide behind.

Miles turned to both Majors, emotionless and silent as they reloaded their rifles. He glimpsed away to see Roley and Alcos still focused, but the smaller comms center at the other side of the rooftop were staring in awe. That was when he noticed the smoke, and the smell of gunpowder that Americans would describe as 'freedom' or some other democratic jargon. He turned back again to them as they fired more rounds, and seeing how such a big gun, that fired big rounds, had little recoil at all.

Though this time around, they've expended half their magazines, Major Fennix reporting in, "This is Ghost-Actual to Knight elements, stand guard. Hostiles might try to cut off the bridge." He turned to Rowley, "Lieutenant, status on those personnel?"

"Sir," she answered sharply. "Targets flee the area, traveling along the railroad northwest, basket in tow. No foreign objects left at the site, sir."

"Good." Major Fennix passed it on. "This is Ghost-Actual to Knight-Actual, you may move your troops up front to cover the retreat of Iron Cavalry, over." His radio buzzed back. And on cue, they heard the engines of the APCs slowly advance.

Miles kept an eye on the terrorist's side of the bridge. No movement and no retaliation. They totalled that technical, and nothing further down the road as far as he could see. He couldn't look past beyond its road's decline, but those moving forward will take charge.

Five minutes passed, with their blockade already at the end of the bridge. The Iron Cavalry could be heard driving down those roads. Moments later their lead vehicle, a humvee with a mounted Canadian flag, drove past the Knight unit. Cheers erupted from the bridge, which spread to the outpost behind them.

Major Quicksilver stood and pumped his fist, and Major Fennix chuckled, urging him to stand down. Miles howled real quick that he went quiet Major Fennix turned to him. Lieutenant Roley chuckled, but her eyes shifted immediately to the left. Gunfire could be heard from the bridge too.

Roley reported, "Sir, movement on the railway." She started firing her rifle, and Alcos started putting out shots too.

Miles got his rangefinder and scope through it. He saw multiple individuals bearing arms and shoulder-mounted rocket launchers. "Sir, RPGs." And the distance had finished calculating soon after, "Thirteen-hundred meters, sir." He told them.

Majors Fennix and Quicksilver adjusted the information on their rangefinder. The sound of clicks automating the zeroing calculation for the scopes. The former told those on the bridge, "Ghost-Actual to Knight Actual, we have confirmed reports of RPGs located on the-

Unguided munitions struck the various structures of the bridge, but have not done major damage. But another salvo quickly followed, striking the leftmost APC on the bridge. The vehicle's turret popped off in an explosion followed by a fiery fountain emerging from its hull. Panic on their side, emitted through Major Fennix's radio.

Miles didn't have time to adjust his scope, but 1300 meters was close enough. Already peeking through, compensating the bullet drop over an extra two hundred meters, the horizontal dash below his crosshair already tracked a masked head, and fired.

Whoever that bastard was, his head popped in a red mist. Major Fennix fired beside him, snarling under his breath this time. And his shot caused an explosion, toppling down a few trees that disrupted their formation. More hostiles stepped out of the treeline which were free pickings for the other Ghost-Elements.

"You're a fucking madlad," Major Quicksilver commented, firing multiple shots, and one of his hits caused an explosion too, toppling more trees.

Miles didn't have the time to wonder as he pulled the bolt action, chambered another in, and fired. And it amputated one's leg this time. Alcos was suppressing them but even a few struck them on the arm or on the leg, and Roley would finish them off.

"I read you, Knight-Actual, what is it?" Major Fennix fired the rest of his magazine out, ejected, and quickly reloaded. "Copy, heard you loud and clear."

One of the insurgents shot a rocket at the bridge's structure, exposing its steel frames beneath. Miles immediately found the person responsible, by the buildings near a dock just northwest of the bridge. There was a faint light, almost like a glint. And there he saw it, a figure prone on the dock, with a scoped rifle peering back at him followed by a muzzle flash.

"Hostile sniper!" Miles yelled out. A *dink* sound to his left, and he instinctively laid down. Roley hit the ground, rolling side to side, with her helmet torn around its left. "Roley's hit!"

And everyone on the rooftop ducked down too. Major Fennix immediately pinned Miles down on his shoulder. Even the communication elements got on the floor, some hiding behind knocked down tables.

"Roley!" Alcos crawled to her side, helping her lay still while Miles yanked his father's arm away to assess the damage. "How's it looking Miles?"

"Sir," it looked bad. There was blood coming from the tear of her helmet, but nothing more than that as it turned out. It looked like the bullet bounced off, but the pressure pushed it in causing it to scratch her head. Her expression was pained, some tears flowing from her eyes, but teeth gritted under her beak. She had a strong resolve, those groans had turned to harsh breathing. But she panicked, Miles tapped her shoulder giving her a thumbs up to help calm her down. And she slowly did, while he could get a bandage for her wo- right. He gave his to Joel. "Alcos, bandage please."

"Copy," Alcos immediately put his arm behind him, the tear of velcro heard and a roll of gauze in his hands being offered to Miles in a moment's notice.

Miles took and unwrapped it, only knowing to make sure the gauze covers her wound to stop the bleeding. It wasn't profuse, her breathing normalizing, but she was definitely dazed. A few swears under her breath, followed by a chuckle on how she was still alive. She had calmed down where dressing her wound was easy enough. Still hands were able to insert the wound in between the torn polymer, and he could already see it soaking blood.

"Can you hear me?" He said and signed it to her.

She nodded in response, still blinking from the daze.

"She's stable, but needs attention, sir."

Alcos sighed in relief, while Major Fennix operated his radio, stating, "This is Ghost-Actual, we need a medic waiting for us down there. Ghost member, shot in the head, stabilized. Helmet saved her ass."

Major Quicksilver asked Miles, "Where was the sniper last spotted, Miles?"

"Sir," Miles answered, "further northwest, I think it was before the road crossing."

"This is Ghost-Actual to Warhammer, we need a salvo of smoke rounds on the docks northwest of the Angus Bridge, over."

Miles heard the buzzing response.

"Alcos, I want you on Roley's legs. Miles, on her shoulders and keep her head elevated. Chase and I will cover you until you both reach the door. Wait for our signal."

"Yes, sir!" They both answered simultaneously, Alcos answered louder. This close encounter with death had given them the invigoration to hopefully be able to pull it off. Miles trusted the Majors, their precision, and that of Warhammer.

The young wolf fought the urge to peek over and see the targets getting smoked literally. Even Major Fennix held his shoulder occasionally to keep his head down. At the very least he could hear the shell-fall, a whistle over their heads as it arched lower past the river. And he saw the bright gray plume rise.

"Go!" Major Fennix yelled out.

And both Alcos and Miles made a run for the stairwell, while the other soldiers by the command outpost next to it had begun descending. They all brought with them military equipment, and another who had nothing else helped with Miles' side of bringing in Roley.

Majors Fennix and Quicksilver started another shooting spree, and Miles caught a glimpse of who they were shooting at. Across the river he saw a few silhouettes step out into the smoke, only for the anti-materiel rifle to turn them into red mists moments after.

"Jesus," he commented. Stunned by what he had seen, thankfully the gecko helping beside him eased the load because he would've dropped her otherwise. They reached the door safely, and they slowly brought her inside. Miles kept an eye on her bandage, and it was looking good to say the least. Blood stopped soaking midway through.

Miles asked the gecko, eyeing his rank before addressing him. "Sergeant, is there bleeding on her left side?" They both checked their respective sides, and her right looked clean. It was better to be safe than sorry after all.

"No, lieutenant." He answered, easing them down.

Alcos, holding her legs and trying to maintain balance to himself as he walked back and descended. "She looks alright for now at least." He sounded calmer this time, and Miles eased up.

The way down felt longer than when they ascended earlier. Medics were already awaiting them with a stretcher, and they helped move Roley over it. They tucked her arms over her body, and she was breathing well. One of them checked over her helmet, and glanced at the trio.

"She'll be alright." One of them said, the Saint Bernard. He was large compared to his partner, a pangolin. Miles nodded, and Alcos embraced him tightly, thanking him. He embraced him back relieved too, patting his back. They went on their way through the guarded hallways, and a few of the passing soldiers made room for them. Though some couldn't help stare at her helmet having saved her life.

He activated his radio, requesting, "Sir, Lieutenant Alcos should accompany his sniper in case of any incursions."

Lieutenant Alcos, all teary-eyed, hugged him tighter, whispering thanks over and over to his side.

Miles chuckled, smiling. Major Fennix granted the request and Lieutenant Alcos released him at once to join the medics, staying by her side.

He turned to the gecko, and shook his hand, thanking him. But the sergeant received order of his own and went back into the stairwell. Miles pondered, about to go on the radio as he already made his way through the doorway.

But Major Fennix buzzed through, "Miles, wait for us downstairs. The convoy's already past the bridge and are making their way to the hotel. We'll be there shortly."

"Yes, sir." He answered him, hearing both Majors run down from upstairs.

Miles could hear them talk out loud about their impressions on the rangefinder. He still wanted one for himself. After that, his father would brag about him to Major Quicksilver, how he spotted that sniper. How he could become a true leader. And how, to which Chase himself wouldn't believe it, he admitted that he could become a better sniper than him.

The young wolf chuckled to himself, waiting by the door. He thought about fetching their weapons but he knew the Majors would do it, or had someone do it for them. The prospect of that would be very convenient, but with his father on the last flight, he'd best think of the mission then.

Major Fennix, Quicksilver, and a third soldier had brought down their weapons as Miles had thought.

"Good job, Lieutenant," Major Fennex commended him. "I heard that she is stable."

"Yes sir, she is." He answered. The third soldier with the Majors, a sergeant tiger, passed him his rifle. But it was Roley's, pointing the slight blood on her scope lens. The other one was his, and he strapped it around him again.

Major Quicksilver, holding Alcos' rifle, passed it to the tiger who he instructed, "Alright, go find Lieutenants Roley and Alcos in the hospital wing and give it back to them, alright sergeant?"

"Yes sir," he answered. Strapping one gun to himself, and holding the other, he went on his way.

"Alright, on me Ghosts," Major Fennix led them out the other way, the same that they entered earlier.

Miles jogged with them, keeping pace yet despite his superior's heavy gear, they moved faster. The distant noise of APCs, humvees, and other military vehicles were apparent in the track field now. As they turned the corner into it, there was a huge line of vehicles being unloaded with wounded soldiers and civilians. One of the APCs in particular was surrounded by a crowd of press members, as indicated by their vests and helmet bearing the title, and the blockade of their soldiers blocking them. He didn't like it for the time being, knowing that one of them might familiarize him for his actions. There will be questions about his actions that he had a hard time contemplating earlier, and answering to people he barely knew. His actions were impressive, he'd call it that, but he was a killer nonetheless. And that nuance about just being a soldier simply wasn't there, because these people weren't.

He hid himself behind the larger figure of his father and tilted his helmet down. God he wished he was a ghost right there, or blend well enough with the other soldiers that he could get into the vehicle without having to say a thing. Having survived a barrage, a knife fight with the enemy, and almost getting shot in the face, the most difficult so far was answering the public. His mind crossed when he and Adrian told the civilians to keep their cameras off of them and how it's on the internet at this point. Anxiety built up, worried about all those hateful comments going into his head. But his other side argued otherwise; he saved civilians. He saved lives in a high stake hostage situation. Getting into the APC was all he wanted.

Major Fennix certainly felt his tension, and Major Quicksilver saw it. They knew it wasn't like the interviews they had, nor when they were confronted by the press in the Middle East. Far fewer nosy people halfway across the world and, thankfully, no tabloid journalism there that would speak English. Here he could already tell which ones of them were, asking the loudest and dumbest questions. Who even allowed them to enter, and wear the press equipment would have to be punished later.

Major Fennix turned to Miles and whispered, "Listen son, Chase and I will draw their attention. You go around alright?"

"Yes, sir," Miles replied to his father. "Thank you." He told him before going off on the side, trying to blend with a squad on patrol, following only a few feet behind.

Both the Majors nodded him off, turning to the crowd afterwards. Major Fennix had gotten their attention, and every press member circled around them. Miles tried to listen in like he did to the stairwell earlier, and only to points that would matter.

From what he could tell thus far, they initially referred to him by his nickname, and even Chase as well who wasn't too fond of his. Their questions were about the ferry rescue earlier, and how it was a sniper under his command who had saved their lives mere inches away from the grasp of a terrorist. They asked for any comments, but his father simply told them that it was training that had helped their men. And how it would re-establish control of the entire Halifax. And then another, asking the loudest, wanted to clarify a rumor if this skillful sniper was in any way related to him.

It had gotten the rumor mongering, and he side-stepped from the patrol and towards two vehicles behind the main APC, keeping his rifle on his left arm so they wouldn't easily distinguish him. Major Fennix made a joke out of that question, claiming the idea of skill being transferred through genetics as preposterous. Major Quicksilver had a laugh out of it too which got the crowd chuckling more. And the rest followed up with questions pertaining to their expectations on when the conflict would end. Miles hoped this conflict would end sooner to say the least, but his father's answer was not too optimistic unfortunately. He stated that speculation would only lead to an indefinite answer. Their resolve was unbroken however because they had the upper hand.

It was the person within the APC that Miles approached. There were peculiar soldiers guarding it that Miles raised his helmet to get a good view of them. His eyes widened at the sight of a British SAS operator serving alongside Canadian JTF 2's. He normally praised his father as a hero but these guys were legends. Proficiency across multiple weapons, anti-terrorism, covert operations, and squad tactics. They were the real deal and he couldn't help but feel like a private once more, standing before these wolf-men who were far more experienced. He approached them, hugging his weapon tight to him now, trying to focus on the door as he stood in front of them.

Their eyes scanned him quickly, and their straight faces turned to a smirk. The one on the right side of the door, a JTF operator, kept an eye on the crowd, already aware of his little conundrum.

The SAS operator chuckled and spoke, "Well well," he was amused. Extending his left hand over, "Put 'er there 'Halifax Reaper'.

His mind blacked out for a moment but his tail wagged. Not only were they aware of who he was, but they appointed him a nickname that sounded far cooler than Chase, and maybe his father too. 'Halifax Reaper' had a nice ring to it. And back to reality, he had left the officer hanging for a while before he quickly grabbed and shook his hand. "Thanks, sir." He held back a lot of follow up questions, especially pertaining to how he had gotten that name. He even shook his hand too long, and nodded at him when he let go to at least seem cool about it.

The same operator chuckled, "It's chill man, we're soldiers. Sure we're higher rank than you, but we're still people." And he gestured towards the vehicle's door, tapping it. "Your ward is waiting for you. Keep them safe, will you?"

"Yes, sir." And it clicked in his head. Maybe it was the VIP who coined the name.

As the door opened, his father followed with closing remarks. He advised the press to avoid these gatherings in the future, hinting at the recent infiltration in the hospital earlier. Even threatening the terrorist leaders for such an inhumane act. He also advised that anyone caught interviewing any soldiers or recording their movement are to be detained and their equipment destroyed without compensation. Several of them gasped, and one tried to argue with them only to fall silent under Major Fennix's glare. After that, Major Quicksilver summoned a patrol to escort them back to the designated press area wherever that may be.

Inside was a Canadian Goose dressed in torn black and white formalwear. And huddled between his knees, cowering, was a younger and terrified version of himself. And on the other side was his supposed bodyguard, a chimpanzee, but with a bloodied undershirt. This goose was the successor to the current Prime Minister, his name was Zachary Adleston, and with him was his son Zachary the second. He and Miles exchanged looks, a smile on the former's face.

"Sir," he shot him a salute before boarding, staying on the side of his bodyguard.

"Ah, the Reaper of Halifax," Zachary applauded him, and patted the seat beside him while looking down to his son. "Zach, it's him!"

The youngster turned to him, looking exactly like his father, with sparkling eyes as he saw his. "It's the reaper!" Which would be an odd thing for a child to shout about.

He chuckled, smiling but couldn't feel at odds with himself. A child of all people, applauding him for killing people. Miles put his gun aside, made sure its safety was on, which it was. He offered his paw to shake the son's hand, but he jumped over and hugged into him. His father nodded, smiling appreciatively while he closed his arms around his son.

"Heh," Miles tried finding the words to say. A lot in his mind. There was one thing he wanted to ask, "Were you the one who gave me that awesome nickname?"

The energetic kid leaned back, and pushed himself away as he sat beside his father, chuckling and apologizing for his behavior. "Nope, dad did," he pointed to his father.

Zachary the first chuckled, rubbing his son's head, "I was trying to think up names to call the savior of Halifax." He pointed to Miles, "One of my PR suggested Halifax Reaper and my son," gesturing to the youngster, "picked up on that and started running around yelling your name."

"Well, I like it honestly." He told him.

The other Zachary cheered, "I want to be like you!"

Miles felt validated then and there. The little tyke's comments made his father and even the bodyguard chuckle. That guilt had been eased for now, knowing that what he did was portrayed as right and just. But, again, his voice tried not to glorify it, reminding himself one more time that he did it to save people. And now the youngster mirrored him of his younger days, when he too wanted to be like his father. Maybe the kid thought he was a hero the same way he saw Lieutenant Fennix all those years ago. He couldn't help but smile, "Thanks, I do what I can to protect our country and her interests."

"That's right, son," his father hugged him. "If you eat your vegetables, exercise, and stay in school then you will definitely be like him." He looked at him, "You know what I mean, right?"

"Yes, sir." Miles took off his helmet to let his head breathe. "Eating vegetables, sticking to schoolwork, exercising everyday, and you could be like me too." Something along those lines were what his father told him years ago too. Some time around his age, maybe during one of those picnics he had where he initially refused to eat vegetables.

The youngster groaned, "But I don't want to eat vegetables." He looked at the wolf with puppy eyes of his own, "Do I really have to?"

Miles humored him, laughing for a bit. He winked at him, "You have to, sonny. Vegetables can taste good too."

"Aw," he sounded defeated. "Fine," the youngster crossed his arms and pouted.

"Kids, am I right mister..." The Prime Minister-to-be scanned his uniform. But he answered him immediately. "Fennix, Miles Fennix, sir." And he shared, "I used to be like him when I was his age."

"Are you related to Major Fennix, by any chance?" He was in disbelief, "Surely one of our best snipers couldn't have possibly had a son be the hero of Halifax." And saying so made his son smile again.

He definitely felt the enthusiasm the kid had, but perhaps not the passion. He was the son of a very important and extremely controversial politician. Regardless of his politics though, he would serve to protect him nonetheless. Same for his son and the appreciation for his kind words.

The doors opened to Major Fennix smiling and getting himself inside, while Major Quicksilver exchanged informal pleasantries with the special operators before entering himself. His father sat beside him, which Miles placed his gun on his lap. Chase sat beside the VIP's son but kept his distance.

The young goose looked up to the latter, "You're the Prowler of the Desert!" And he pointed his finger to Major Fennix, "And you're the New Moon Sniper!"

Miles and his father laughed, while Chase tried to ignore him. It was clear to them that it wasn't the panther's first time babysitting him. Still, he thought, his godfather had friends in high places. Perhaps this was his first step to having one too.

"Major Fennix, sir, are you two related?" Zachary the first slowly pieced it together. They were both wolves, both built similarly, and snipers of the same squad. Their distinction was from their contrasting fur color.

"Yes we are," Major Fennix took off his helmet and reached his arm over and around him. "You know what they say, 'like father, like son.' And like soldiers at this rate." He chuckled.

Miles nodded in agreement, leaning closer to his father, smiling. "Sorry for not answering earlier."

Zachary the first put aside his remark, intrigued by their kinship. "Amazing. I'm trying not to be the press here but how did this all start?"

Their eyes were on Major who told them, "How about I let my son do the storytelling? How about it, Miles?"

And all eyes were on him then as the APC started moving. It was a long story but so was the drive. Maybe this would pass the time, and perhaps give the youngster some ideas. Well, removing details about the kills he made earlier because he was too young for it. He could start at his young age, when he proclaimed he wanted to be like his father during a picnic. That wouldn't mean he was a soldier yet though. Perhaps highlight all the training he did prior to- oh. He knew the start of this story. Several years ago, a day before he was picked up from his modest home in Western Canada. At the time, he'd call it the biggest day of his life.

"I remember back in the office, when I signed the recruitment papers."

Two years later...

Two years ago marked the first kill Miles had done. And looking back at it now, he was surprised a lot of it happened in one go. Nearly got mashed by artillery, blew a guy's head off, nearly got shanked, nearly got shanked again moments after, blew another guy's head off, nearly had his own blown off, and spoke with the now Prime Minister Zachary Adleston the First. A fair share of the real soldier experience on day one. And most of it was under the guidance of his father, which he often joked was the most bizarre father-son experience of his life.

Still, it was enlightening in a way. Looking back at it now, after having killed several people that day and a few more the following weeks, he didn't flinch at the thought anymore. The initial press interview a month after was awkward to say the least. But several months after, a proper interview with 'the Halifax Reaper', and he was able to express what he truly thought about killing: It wasn't pleasant but necessary to protect Canada. And he reluctantly agreed to have that as the slogan of the Canadian Army.

Now, he was in a humvee with people he loved the most. Riding shotgun, he stuck his head out to catch the refreshing Langford air as they drove North, into dense forestation. Never has victory ever felt this good, warm breeze blowing through his face.

"Don't stick your head out too much son, you might swallow a fly." his father chuckled as he drove behind the wheel. His old man, Dexter Fennix, was promoted to Colonel for his excellent performance, conduct, and info-gathering during the overall campaign of the Halifax territory. He tapped the panther's legs hanging from the turret behind him and Miles. "Same goes for you Chase."

"I've eaten flies back in the desert, y'know." Chase cheered afterwards, both arms raised with a bottle of beer on one hand. Chase Quicksilver, the Prowler of the Desert, was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel for his steadfast push into hostile territory. It was during Operation: Red Flare, where he remained in the shadows as he dispatched dozens of hostiles, allowing for an easier push on the day of the counter attack itself.

"That's kinda gross, honestly." Adrian recoiled from the turret. His best friend, Adrian Ollson, had been promoted to First Lieutenant for assisting the Halifax Reaper, and participating in the last days of the conflict. He didn't think that his spotter's first kill would not be related to sniping at all. Instead it was another infiltrator who tried to kill Joel two days after the initial attack on the hospital. A pistol bullet between the bull's eyes. But that wasn't even the highlight of it. It was the proposal to Joel Ezekiel moments after.

Joel Ollson shook his head, simply enjoying the view from the inside of the humvee. Promoted to Sergeant Major for saving the life of countless soldiers, even identifying infiltrators among his patients. His optimism back during the training days, amplified by his partner's promise to a happy life together had contributed to an increase in morale.

And back to Miles himself, sighing happily as they drove towards their destination. Now a Captain for his actions as the Halifax Reaper, and for quick thinking decisions. The most memorable was saving Roley who too was promoted to Captain.

Half an hour later, they arrived at this little grass opening littered with expended cases. The treeline was peppered with bullet holes, and Miles felt proud having added to them.

"What's this place again dear?" Joel stepped out, while putting his shades on.

"This is 'Sniper Alley'." Adrian told him as he got out as well. Shirtless to Joel's surprise. And so were both Fennixes, and Quicksilver.

Dexter stepped out, letting his shirt hang on the door. "We have a rule here. You gotta snipe without your shirt on. Sniper Alley standard rules."

"Interesting," Joel removed his own shirt too. Clearly unfazed with a gingerly smile.

"Maybe we should bring the other guys here next time." Chase joked.

"We should," Adrian went around the back, opening the hummer. Miles beside him as they set up the table, and laid out various sniper rifles on it. One of them equipped with the rangefinder on a C14 that Miles could finally try for himself. But he had more to say, "Maybe we could find someone who could understand your food."

"Hah!" Dexter laughed the loudest, while the others chuckled. Chase went over and gave him a friendly smack on the back. "Who'd fall in love with a war criminal."

And they, except for Chase, all went 'ooooh'. And had another bout of laughing. It was all in good fun though as all the topless men went over their weapons. Miles took a moment to look at his reflection through the humvee's window. There was a bullet scar on his side that cut through his fur, a little souvenir during the last day of the campaign. But he had increased in muscle mass ever since. His arms were larger, flexing them. Those guns bounced at his command, and it stood out from his white fur whenever he curled them.

His father joined beside him, comparing themselves. Dexter had remained the same throughout, but where he cannot physically gain more in his physique, he instead earned in wisdom and experience. There were a few scars on his sides, and one on his back that even Miles hadn't seen before. Or perhaps this was the first time he noticed since he always saw his father from the front.

"Y'know," Dexter said, "you look stronger than I did when I was your age." He smiled, proud of how far his son had come as a soldier. Already exceeding his initial expectations.

Miles smiled at that, hugging his father, "It's all thanks to you, dad."

He hugged him back, stroking his back fur. "All I did was encourage you. The rest you did it yourself too. Don't forget to give yourself some credit, sonny."

Miles often forgot to do so that all this was out of his own passion of becoming just like his old man. He became the man his younger selves would look up to, and ultimately the man that his father was proud of.

"Sorry," his father apologized to the younger wolf's confusion. "I meant Captain Fennix, the Halifax Reaper."

"You don't have to, Colonel Fennix." Miles brushed away the tears sneaking out of his eyelids. Chase, Adrian, and Joel were awe'd, watching their little bonding.

"It's either that or Milesman," his father stuck his tongue out. Miles stuck his back, miffed of having to hear that silly nickname again. He stared at Adrian and pointed at him, "You're going to owe me big time, Ad."

"Nope, you can't choose what nicknames get stuck and don't," Chase interjected.

He sighed out happily, and they all went over back to their weapons. Miles tried out the rangefinder, having an automatic detection and input since its last iteration. Dexter and Chase were running back and forth from humvee to the peppered trees placing target sheets and bottles in peculiar spots, and Adrian was teaching Joel about the different sniper-based weaponry.

Miles looked to his father, laughing as he went back and forth. He noticed him staring back, another wolf in similar shoes. They exchanged another smile, the only differences were their ranks and pelt. Other than that it was like father, like son, like soldiers.