FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's Note: Second chapter for the series. Italics symbolize telepathic messages. Bold are orders.

Disclaimer: All the people in the story are fictional. Most places are works of fiction, and as such do not exist. Any similarities to places and people are purely coincidental. Jason Fern is JasonWerefox, Aaron Stevens/Aries belongs to WereFox on FA. Barney Zhou and Paul Schumann belong to me.

Colonel Stephen "Sage" Sawyer woke from his bout with unconsciousness. Groggily, he tried to remember what had transpired a few minutes (or was it hours?) before. All he remembered was gazing up at a nearly eight foot tall werewolf before passing out. Had anything happened in the time span that he was out cold?

Looking at his watch, he noticed that it read 7:00 am. When he left the office of General Woodridge, it was fifteen minutes to six in the evening. Fifteen minutes to six. The time was supposed to jog his memory as to what had transpired the night before. As he inhaled deeply, a strange aroma made him bolt upright. Sniffing the air around him, his attention was drawn to something white and crusted on the floor and on four of the beds.

"What the hell happened here? Did I just sleep through an orgy?" he blurted out softly. Come to think of it, why did he not hear any planes landing or taking off? Slowly, the human got off the bed and placed his boots on the ground. "At least, I still have my boots and..." he felt for his gun which he had on a side holster. "Where's my gun???!!"

He looked frantically around the ward for his weapon. To his befuddlement, it was carefully placed on the side table to the right of his bed together with four extra magazines beside it. "Gene must have snuck in here while I was out and removed my weapons. When I see him again, I'm going to personally hang him from the muzzle of an M60 and open up with the HEAT rounds" he said to the empty room.

When he removed the gun, there was a small note tucked underneath. Carefully opening the note, he tipped it to one side to check for white powder. Finding none, he brought it up to eye level and started reading.

The note read:

"Sage, I know we have had our differences in the past. If you are willing to put those aside, go to the outer room of the infirmary and open the middle drawer of the third desk from the door. Inside you will find a radio and GPS. My location is marked on the screen. However, if you aren't willing or able to accept, load your pistol with the second magazine"

Sage stopped reading long enough to look at the fifteen rounds inside the second magazine. Puzzlingly, the rounds were silvery in nature. So was the first magazine. He slid the catch of his pistol backwards and removed the brass round inside. He stood both bullets up on the side table and observed that they were the same height and type: .357 JHP for the Sig Sauer P227 he carried. The last two magazines made him catch his breath. These were high explosive rounds, meant to detonate on impact and destroy the target.

He had only told five people of the explosive round he had used to neutralize Shade. Four of them were the Joint Chiefs. The last one was Lieutenant Colonel Raymond "Gene" Foley, his best friend and confidant. 'No use wasting time thinking about the rounds' he thought as he slid the spare magazines into the pouches on his hips. 'Time to see what happened to everyone' as he placed the gun at eye-level and opened the inner door.

If the smell in the ward was bad enough, the one in the office was worse. Judging from the amount of white crusts on the floor and central desk, it must have been one hell of a party. The carpet was soaked with the stuff and the scent was making him light-headed. Taking a deep breath, it smelled vaguely of canine.

Canine? No, not again!, he thought as he opened the door to the corridor. Outside, there were bodies on the ground with blood splatters on the walls and ceiling. Totally forgetting about the radio and GPS sitting in the desk drawer specified in the note, he made a high speed dash towards the Operations Center.

On the way there, the looks of horror and shock frozen on the dead soldiers' faces almost made him lose the contents of his stomach. He was having flashbacks to the disaster on the Special Operations platform on the Barents Sea.

Shaking his head to clear it, he continued making his way over some hastily erected barricades and scattered shell casings. Turning a corner, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of non-human corpses.

Before him were the bodies of three anthropomorphic creatures. Approaching these slowly, he drew his pistol and kept it in the 'low-guard' position. Rolling one of these over, he noticed it was a male lion. Beside it were an Alsatian and a jackal by the looks of it. Crouching down, he felt for a pulse from all three casualties. Finding none, he said a short prayer and continued onwards to the Operations Center.

Dear God, he breathed out when he arrived. It looked like a war zone inside. Most of the overhead lights were destroyed. The glass screen where flights could be monitored was shattered. Numerous bullet holes dotted the walls and equipment. Spent casings and empty magazines littered the ground. There were human bodies strewn all across the room but no werecreatures. Glancing down, he saw the tell-tale paw prints of a cat, fox and wolf.

"Judging by the placement of the feet and the amount of blood splatter on the walls, I believe they charged in at high speed. The personnel inside never stood a chance" he muttered under his breath. Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched from the shadows by a pair of emerald-green eyes.

Most of the equipment had been ruined by either gun shots or claw strikes. The few operating computers had the screens blotted out by blood. Sage looked for one that was almost blood-free. Sitting down on a computer chair, he input his personal username and passcode. The monitor blinked twice before the code was accepted.

"System start-up commencing. Boot drive D:?" was flashed on the screen. Pressing one of the keys in acknowledgment, he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. Immediately dropping to a crouch, he kept his head on a swivel to look for the anomalous figure. Finding none, he unhooked a flashlight from one of the nearby downed soldiers and slowly focused the beam into the dark corners of the room. Out of his left eye, he saw movement once more. Turning around quickly, he let loose three rounds. Two of the rounds pinged off the metal walls, one hit flesh with a thud.

"Who's there? I'm armed, show yourself or be fired upon" he called out to the room, keeping a firm grip on both flashlight and pistol. When only silence met his reply, he drew a bead on what he assumed was the anomalous figure and opened fire. Four thuds could be heard as the brass rounds impacted flesh. The upright figure fell down with a crash as it smashed through a glass table.

As Sage drew closer, the pair of eyes watched his movement. It was fortuitous for the bearer of those eyes to be blessed with much pronounced speed. Had he been any slower, the bullets might have hit him on the first two passes.

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP" rang the console Sage was using earlier. He made his way back and sat down. His watcher also sat down and waited for the time to strike.

Sage clicked on the icon marked Base Security Recordings. Pulling up base security, he typed the date, time and place that he wanted to view: 09/13/15, 16:00-23:59, Infirmary Ward. What he saw would scar him for life.

He witnessed the transformations of Jason, Barney and five other unnamed soldiers. Jason's transformation was a given. He was one of the few enlisted lycanthropes. What caught him off-guard was the forced transformation of the other two "safe" individuals. Lucius was not tested on normal controls because it was rushed into service. Now, he bore witness to the greatest mistake of mankind since the invention of the atomic bomb.

Rewinding the footage, he turned up the audio to make sure that he had caught at least the call signs right. Goat, Makin, Bookie, Eagle, Canid. Five good men were turned into monsters that wanted sex and blood, all for the sake of creating the world's first breed of super-soldiers. Sage kept watching but felt a lump of lead appear in his stomach.

He had promised Dr. Zhou that nothing would happen to his son. Now, he would break the news that his son was dead. Or at least, dead as he used to be known. There would be no body for burial; Sage would say that there was an accident with a certain high explosive. Only a few pieces of meat would be all that was left.

It was with this thought that he stopped the playback and sobbed into his hands. He had never before broken a promise. This would be the first time in his career. Sage's sobs reached the ears of the watching lycanthrope.

Feeling a twinge of pity cross his heart, the lycan relented and made his way down towards the grieving human colonel. Taking a deep breath, the lycan crept forward until he was behind the Sage. Not knowing what else to do, he tapped the human on the shoulder.

Sage was shaken by what he felt to be taps on his shoulder. He would not allow anyone to see him cry, he did not need their pity. "Leave me alone. I'm grieving for a lost son"

"I know how you feel Sage. Let's go to my cabin on Lake Tahoe" Gene whispered to Sage.

"Gene, even you can't return him to his human state. It would be an exercise in futility. You know that as well as I" Sage said without thinking.

"That is true, old friend. I cannot. But he is happier now than he was then" Gene answered. "Is that not what you told me once?" he asked.

Sage got up from his chair and hugged his old friend of 22 years. "I know. However, I can't tell his family that Canid is no longer human. They'd think I'm covering up the fact that he died in combat. What do I do?" he said sadly as he sobbed into the lycan's furred chest.

Gene's fur is nice and soft, thought Sage. Just like one of my throw pillows from Finland.

Wait a minute. Fur? On Gene's chest?

He drew back from Gene's embrace as realization hit him like a runaway freight train at 200 miles per hour. Pushing the green-eyed lycanthrope away, he aimed his pistol dead center. "Stay away from me. I'm warning you!"

"Sage, please. I'm only trying to help you" Gene spoke as he advanced on his former colleague.

"You can help by STAYING THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" Sage yelled out as he kept his pistol pointed at his former friend. Rage had replaced his grief and Sage was highly unstable at this point. One wrong move on Gene's part and he could be eating lead or silver for breakfast. Lord help him, if Sage loaded the high explosive rounds.

"Calm down, I mean you no harm. Canid sent me to explain his situation to you. You must believe me" Gene said pleadingly.

Somehow what Gene was saying was ringing true within the colonel's mind and heart. Closing his eyes and taking three deep breaths, Sage slowly let his anger dissipate into the atmosphere around them. Opening his eyes once more, he stared into Gene's warm emerald orbs.

"Okay, but we talk outside. This place is just deadening me" Sage said as he returned the pistol to its holster. Gesturing to Gene to lead the way, Sage appeared to return to normal. Inwardly, however, his feelings and emotions were a mess. How long was I out? Three days?

Gene stared at Sage. He had known his friend for the better part of 22 years. This was the first time that Sage looked troubled. In all the years preceding this day, if Sage had a problem nobody knew about it unless they were informed. Granted, the last twelve hours were tumultuous. Sage was asleep for all of it and most likely felt guilt in not participating in the defense of the base.

"Come on Sage. Daylight's wasting" called Gene to his comrade-in-arms. Sage was startled from his trance and followed the massive lycanthrope through the door and out into the desert. A light breeze had picked up and was alleviating some of the heat the lycanthrope felt.

Sage looked at what his friend had become. There was no mistaking those eyes, only Jason had that color. Jason had turned Gene into one of his own. Unlike Jason though, the warmth in those eyes was more than skin-deep. Gazing at the eight-foot tall arctic fox, Sage posed the question that was eating at him ever since they left the ghastly ruins of the OpCenter.

"Did it hurt?"

"A little. After the pain was the most mind-blowing pleasure you could ever experience" Gene said smiling.

"Start from the beginning. After I lost consciousness" Sage asked.

"It's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?" Gene responded, scratching his furred head.

"I'd like to know so I can make my decision" Sage answered.

"All right. Here goes. After you were unconscious, Canid planted a kiss on you. He wanted to turn you then and there. But he did not. He wanted it to be your choice. The moment he left you in the infirmary, all hell suddenly broke loose..."

12 hours ago

September 13th 2015

Borzoi AFB

Corridor A - 35 meters from the infirmary

"So, I heard Navy's gonna squash Air Force at their game next month. Any bets on who scores the most touchdowns?" one of the pilots was asking his squadron mates as they made their way towards the recreation room three doors down from the infirmary.

"The hell should I know. I prefer the F1 circuit to football. Why ask me?" replied his buddy.

"Cut it out, you two. Any fights in the hallway and none of us go to Monte Carlo with Captain Zhou" replied the squadron leader.

"Hey Zeke, how come you like kissing ass to Zhou anyway? Thought you were more a ladies' man than a fag?" asked the original speaker.

"Because Jeffrey, only he can get seats beside Monaco's royalty. First class, all the way" hooted Commander Zachary "Zeke" Dragoyev.

"Aw, he never invites ME along. Why is that?" asked Lieutenant Commander Jeffrey "Sharkie" Adams of the Navy's 17th Strike Group.

"Perhaps because you keep making an ass of yourself when you drink too much. I thought you and he already had this conversation a couple months ago" a voice said behind them.

"And who are you sir to tell us off that way?" Jeffrey continued as he turned around. And stared at the muscled midsection of a seven-foot tall anthropomorphic Siberian tiger, not counting the thick sheath and heavy-set balls.

"How... a-b-ab-aad-s' stammered the stunned human pilot. Zeke knew the voice of the Siberian and smiled heartily.

"Bookie, you sure know how to make an appearance. Nice fursuit by the way. Looks too good to be true" Zeke said to the tiger as he inspected the 'suit' for any seams, zippers, straps and such.

"You wanna know a little secret?" asked Bookie.

"What's that? That this is the real deal? That you were somehow transformed into a magnificent specimen of feline pride by a scientific experiment gone wrong?" USMC Sergeant Nikolas "St. Nick" Svodberg butted in.

"Why that's almost spot on. Where'd you get that information?" purred Bookie as Zeke scratched his tail, still looking for any flaws so he could rip the suit off.

"Oh, a certain site from the Internet" winked the sergeant mischievously. "Besides, it looks good on you"

"You really think so?" the tiger grinned as he flexed his muscles.

The next people to walk down the corridor were the SEALS. After their ordeal with non-responsive aircraft, they were in no mood for humor. Their weapons were still on their person when they entered the living quarters. In keeping with protocol, none of these were "hot" weapons. Hot meaning, cocked, locked and ready to shoot.

As the SEALS were led by their driver, Pfc. Royce Winters, to the quarters they would be occupying for the next couple of days; they came upon Bookie while he was showing off his physique. Alarm bells went off in the head of the SEALS' CO. He took his primary weapon off safety and pointed it at the beastly figure in front of him.

There was good reason for him to be cautious. Not more than six months ago, his squad was attacked along the Meuse River in France. The creature responsible was said to be a loup-garou or werewolf. None of their regular rounds had functioned properly. It was only due to quick thinking by Private Kanagata that they made it out alive at all.

The moon was at its zenith on that night. They had been working in coordination with their NATO allies to track down a suspected terror cell that was supposedly along the Meuse. His squad had deployed with a three-meter spread between them. The orders from the top stated that they had to cover as much ground as possible before calling it a night. As they approached the location, one of the team went missing not more than twenty meters from the target site.

Halting their search for the hamlet, they focused instead on the last location of their missing member. Captain Schneider had heard from the local gendarmerie that these woods were home to a creature that no mortal man could kill. It was rumored that this creature could shrug off all but the most potent of metals. He found the last statement ludicrous. With an AC-130 known by its callsign, Warhammer, tagging along for a fire mission, no living thing could withstand either its 20mm or 40mm cannon shells at close range.

Still, he accepted the information from the officers and filed it away as usual. Patching through to the Spectre, he had asked on the location of Lieutenant Belarmina "Rose" Verdigris. The IR strobe she was wearing would give the location and if she was still alive. The news relayed back was grim. There was an IR beacon around one hundred meters to the southwest but it seemed to be blinking against a dark background.

"Baseplate, this is Hunter Lead. We have lost one of our own in the woods. Request permission to disengage from the mission and start our search, over" Captain Schneider said into his radio, breaking radio silence.

"Copy that Hunter Lead. We will insert another team by HALO. They'll pick up where you left off. Good luck Orca. Baseplate out" was the response from the command center.

"Roger that Baseplate and thanks. Hunter Lead out" said Orca Schneider. "All units form up on my position by the stone ruins" he whispered into his hand-held radio. When the team had formed up, he briefed them on the situation.

"Listen up, Rose just went dark. Warhammer was able to pinpoint her IR strobe. Its a hundred meters southwest of us. Here's the bad news, the beacon is just blinking without any other source of heat. It may have been removed or it's on a corpse. No one gets left behind" he said the last part with an air of finality.

"Sir, how do we know if she's still alive?" asked Private West with a hint of uncertainty.

"We don't. We just have to head on over and find out for ourselves what just happened" responded Orca. "Okay, safeties off. Whatever we meet our way down, deem it as hostile. Understood?" he added.

"Yes, sir. Understood sir" responded the squad. Sergeant Brian "Wolf" O'Connell merely nodded his assent.

"Move out. Stay close" Orca ordered the remaining SEALS.

Moving from their concealed location, they made good time arriving at the beacon within ten minutes. With their NVD's equipped, the forest was glowing green. It fell to three people to find their lost comrade. Lieutenant Roger Dukakis with his IR equipped FN SCAR, Corporal Francis Hooke with a heartbeat sensor attached to his M249 and the AC-130 Fire Control Officer circling above.

Sweeping the forest floor inch by inch, they eventually found her. Actually it was the FCO who got a bearing on the beacon. The SEALS were in the wrong direction when the FCO came online and directed them to go back by fifty meters.

Behind a bush and partially buried was the missing lieutenant. Her IR beacon was found buried with her. Taking a risk, one of the SEALS turned on his flashlight and illuminated the corpse. What they saw under the beam made a few of them gag. There was a bite mark on her neck where the beast had clamped down. It was peculiar in that the jugular and windpipe were crushed. Her chest was gouged out and the heart missing.

It was the eyes that captivated Wolf the most. The expression he saw was that of fear and dread. For him, the signs did not add up. A tiger or any other big cat would have jumped a human from behind. The bite mark suggested that the animal attacked from the front.

What could have caused such devastation to a highly-trained SEAL? They would soon find out.

The captain said a short prayer for the soul of Rose so that she may be at peace. When he finished, the cloud cover broke and an iridescent moon shone down on them. Under the moonlight, Wolf noticed what he supposed were animal tracks.

"Captain, over here" he called out, startling the officer. Gesturing quickly, he showed the captain the tracks in the snow.

"What the hell are we dealing with?" the captain breathed out in disbelief. The tracks appeared to show a bipedal canine with enormous strength. No way could a human have carried a fully laden SEAL one hundred twenty meters from her team without making a sound. Also no human in their right mind would sneak up on said SEAL, unless they had a death wish.

Orca whistled to grab the attention of his squad. As they all turned to face him, he saw movement directly behind Dukakis. Bringing his rifle up the captain let loose a staccato of gunshots. The bullets grazed Dukakis' right ear and slammed into the mysterious figure.

"Contact! Weapons free" he ordered his squad after he had let loose at least five rounds of ammunition. The squad moved fluidly and formed a defensive perimeter around him, with all weapons facing outward. It was at this point that Private Kanamata drew the katana he always strapped on and crouched.

"Warhammer, we need a visual on target. There is something here and its not GIGN. We could have a SNAFU on our hands very soon" the captain asked of the circling AC-130.

"Hang on, Hunter Lead. Resetting sweep angle, and bingo. We have him. Range three-zero meters, closing fast on your west flank!" the TV operator chimed in.

"Where?!" the captain did not have to ask a second time as one of the squad screamed.

"Flashbang out" one of the SEALS said as he tossed a flashbang behind the speared soldier. With a flash and a bang, the creature was briefly illuminated for a split second.

"Can't be" Wolf said, shock evident in his voice.

Standing behind the soldier was an eight-foot tall midnight black, bipedal wolf. The wolf looked at them and howled in defiance. It pulled its clawed hand out of the soldier's side and let him drop dead on the snow-covered ground.

"You monster!" Private West cried out as he charged with his W2000 12-gauge pump shotgun. "Take that and that and that!" he said as he pumped shell after shell into the werewolf. When the gun ran out of ammo, he switched to his pistol and continued advancing on the beast.

Amazingly, the beast just roared in defiance and charged at him as though the bullets and buckshot had no effect. One of the 9mm rounds stuck in the chamber as it was being ejected rendering a stove pipe jam. West tried his best to clear it, but was too late. The wolf was already on him and swiped him with its talons.

Private West tasted his own blood as the wolf had torn his face. He had mere moments to live. As a last-ditch measure, he pulled the pins from the fragmentation grenades he carried and hugged the creature. The ensuing blast killed him and mortally wounded the wolf.

The wolf was now in pain from the four grenades that had gone off as well as the shrapnel embedded in its flesh.

Seeing his chance, the gunner on the Spectre gunship opened up with the 20mm Vulcan cannon. It was danger close for the SEALS but deadly to the wolf, had he not moved. At the last moment, he dodged right and the short burst splashed harmlessly on the ground. The gunner could no longer fire another one as SEALS would be hit this time. All he could do was watch the unfolding situation. It was as the captain called it earlier, "SNAFU".

Dukakis died next. He had rushed the wolf as his rifle clicked on an empty magazine. As he tried to bring his pistol up, the wolf tore into him. His Kevlar vest, like those of his comrades, offered no protection. The wolf struck low and split the vest along the seams. Striking once more, Dukakis lost consciousness as his intestines were sheared off. Soon he would go into shock and die.

However, the wolf had now bitten off more than he could chew. While he was busy disemboweling the human, one of his claws stuck to the porcelain plate that offered additional protection to the wearer. As he tried to remove his stuck appendage, Private Ishigara Kanamata charged with the katana drawn.

"BANZAI!" yelled Kanamata as he charged at the wolf. When he was close enough for the sword to function effectively, he swung with all his might. The puzzled look on the wolf's face was noted by O'Connell. Seconds later, the head fell off. Blood gushed forth and sprayed the private.

Under the moonlight, it appeared that he was the monster and not the body on the ground. Unlike the stories that could be found in fictional books, the body did not revert to its human form. It remained lupine in character.

Brian made his way over to the courageous private and placed his hand on Kanamata's shoulder. "Stand down, Kanamata-san. The danger is past" he said.

"No, it's not. I bathed in his blood. Next month, it will be my turn as a monster" the private spoke softly.

"You can't be sure of that. There could be a cure" countered Brian.

"You don't understand. I have to take my own life so I can't harm anyone else on the next lunar cycle" Ishigara said in reply. "It has to be this way or I will hunger for human flesh as well. I can already feel the pull of the moon. The pull on my emotions will only get stronger as the days pass. It is not a question of if, but when" he added.

"Ishigara, I'm giving you a direct order. Do not kill yourself. You dare not disobey your commanding officer" Captain Schneider ordered the young Japanese-American.

"I have to. It is the curse of my ancestors. Once we come into contact with a kitsune or any of its secretions, we will assume its form the next time the moon is round and full. I can't take that chance" he said as he faced his sword towards himself in preparation for the strike. With a scream that sounded like a wolf's howl, he thrust the sword into his abdomen.

Instead of striking true, his sword missed him and sliced into the Kevlar vest. Again and again he brought the sword up to commit suicide, and the result was the same. His hands shook as he tried once more, to no avail.

He cried out to the moon in Japanese, "Why won't you let me die? What have I done that I deserve this burden on my shoulders?!". For the nth time, he made to kill himself. This time, Orca targeted the blade and opened up with his IMI Desert Eagle. The blade broke from the heavy slug and lay beside the grieving private.

"Baseplate, this is Hunter Lead. We need a medevac at grid point Hotel India 4-2. Tango appears to be a wild man dressed as a wolf. He was neutralized and needs a body bag. You monitor?" Orca said to the command center.

"Copy that Baseplate. Sit tight. Also, what was your last?" the commander in charge asked incredulously.

Orca repeated his statement. Still, command did not believe that it was hearing the situation properly. In any case, two UH-60J Blackhawk helicopters were en route to their position. Accompanying them were two AH-64 Apache Longbows for close air support.

Of the eight-man squad, there were only four live members left. It was the bloodiest mission they had ever undertaken and the costliest. Private Kanamata would be advanced to Sergeant First Class before being honorably discharged. He returned to his home on the Japanese mainland. A postcard would arrive from time to time from Hokkaido outlining what had happened every month.

*The corpse of the lycanthrope was sent to Almagordo, New Mexico for testing. There PCR would show that the strain of DNA carried was almost identical to the sample inoculated into Captain Shade Mitchell a year and a half prior. The dead lycanthrope's identity was General FrançoiseExupery of the French Air Force. He had been in close contact with Shade on the facility and was probably infected there.*

The above paragraph was attached to the debriefed report from the surviving SEALS. There was no mention to any of them of what happened to the corpse. It was kept under wraps.

Present day

1900 hours

Borzoi AFB

Orca, Wolf and Sergei trained their rifles on the possible lycanthrope in front of them. They flicked off their respective safeties and slowly squeezed the triggers. This time, they would shoot first and ask later.

No more waiting.

Bookie heard the sound of rounds being chambered and turned around to face the SEALS. His warm smile had no effect on the cold, calculated gazes from the SEAL unit. He sniffed the air and he finally realized they were going to shoot at him. He roared in defiance at their meager attempt to scare him.

When the weretiger had roared at Orca, he did what he was trained to do. He squeezed the trigger on the FN SCAR. Wolf and Sergei also opened up with their rifles. At the sound of the first shot, the tiger sidestepped the incoming round. This round impacted Zeke in the left atrium and kept going.

The pilots all hit the deck. Putting their hands on top of their heads, they waited for the shooting to cease.

Sharkie crawled away from the gunshots and made his way down another corridor. Down this way was the pilot's ready room and storage facility. Here he kept an MP5 SMG for any trips to the combat zone. It was loaded with the standard 9mm parabellum rounds. As he made his way over, he noticed a pair of greenish lamps to his left. Thinking nothing of it, he entered the ready room and made his way over to the cubbyhole.

Behind two stacks of National Geographic was a small safe. Inside this safe was a key to the gun cabinet and his personal Glock 17. Pushing aside the magazines, he opened the biometric safe and secured both key and pistol. The key he placed in his flight suit, the pistol he kept at his side. If anything remotely threatening entered, he would shoot at it. That would include Bookie.

Hearing pants behind him, he pirouetted on his left leg as the gun was pointed at the source of the pants. It wasn't Bookie, but someone else entirely. This furson was an Alsatian. Hesitating for a heartbeat, Sharkie let the newcomer eat lead. When the pistol locked on an empty clip, he bolted for the safe.

The Alsatian, Makin, was stalking Sharkie ever since he had crawled away from the SEALS. Makin had bumped into Jason earlier when he had lost Sharkie's scent. Jason informed him that Makin's target had entered the pilot's ready room. It was to this area that the weredog made his appearance. Half expecting a warm greeting, he allowed himself to pant from the exertion of running through an entire base. The moment he entered the door, though, Sharkie fed him a dinner of lead.

Twenty rounds had impacted the stunned lycanthrope. When the shock had worn off, he set off once more in search of his prey. This time he would pin the human down as he had his wicked way with him.

Sharkie was already at the gun cabinet. As he inserted the key to open his personal safe, an alarm sounded over the base speakers. Someone had sounded the base's red alert. This would shut down the Operations Center behind a set of armored doors. He had a five minute window to get there and call for support. Quickly now, he retrieved his MP5 and the spare magazines. He had five clips of 30 rounds for the submachine gun. His pistol had two 20-round magazines left.

If he could make it to the OpCenter, a crisis could be averted. With that thought in mind, he stepped out of the room and ran into the Alsatian once more. Automatically, he undid the safety on the SMG and let the dog have it in the face this time. While the dog was squirming on the ground, he sprinted towards the sounds of gunfire. Skidding around a dead body, he looked down and saw that it was one of his wingmen. He faltered a bit, before refocusing on the task at hand. The gunfire was getting louder now and closer too if that was any indication of its proximity.

"Why me again?" wailed Makin to the empty corridor. He had wanted to talk to Sharkie, come to terms if you will. Either Sharkie was scared and was running on autopilot or he wanted nothing to do with Makin. The wounds inflicted by the bullets had already healed. Most of the rounds were through and through. He did not have to dig the rounds, most of it anyway, out of his flesh.

Sharkie slipped on a pool of blood and went careening into a door. As he tried to get up, his ankle gave way. When he tried to put pressure on it, he cried out in pain. The ankle had broken when it had hit the steel reinforced door. Behind him, he could hear the clicks of clawed feet running at high speed. A passing marine helped him up and they somehow made it to the OpCenter without incident. The three corridors that led to this nerve center had makeshift barricades of tables, chairs and doors blocking the way. Behind these, soldiers with loaded weapons kept their sights trained on the approaches.

It was through the western approach that Sharkie entered the OpCenter. Astoundingly, though it was already five minutes, the steel doors had not slammed shut. He had time to enter the secure zone and sit down at a console. He wasn't sure though about the Ranger guards on the eastern approach. Those eight soldiers were once part of Alpha team.

Getting a microphone, he broadcast for immediate help on the emergency channel.

"This is Borzoi AFB. We are under attack. I say again, we are under attack" Sharkie announced. The broadcast was picked up by a military satellite and sent to the nearest military facility. As luck would have it, just thirty clicks northwest of the base, was an airbase of the Strategic Air Command.

An alert radio officer heard the calls for help and patched it through. "This is Langley AFB. Borzoi, who is attacking? Russians? Chinese?" the operator said.

"We don't know. They appear to be anthropomorphic, carnivorous beings. I shot one of them and he had dog tags. I think they're ours" Sharkie said unsurely.

"Hang on, can you patch us to General Woodridge? He's in charge of that base is he not?" the operator fired back.

"His line's been cut. We are holding position at the Operations Center. We need reinforcements. We won't be able to last long here. I need ground units ASAP" Sharkie said hurriedly. It was at this point that one of the Rangers growled. Sharkie's breath caught in his throat as he watched what could undoubtedly be the last thing he ever saw.

The Ranger appeared to bulk up considerably. Shortly, thereafter, his face extended to form a canine muzzle. The teeth were long and sharp. Claws on the hands and feet made for a deadly animal. A tail appeared behind the soldier as he shifted stance. Grey fur covered all exposed skin and identified the species. Canis lupus, the grey wolf.

"Get your reinforcements here quickly. This is going to be my last transmission. Oh my God, stay back. Stay back, you bastard! AAAAAaaaaaHHhhhhh.........." Was the last transmission that Langley heard before static and gunshots rang out.

For Sharkie, it was too late. Occupied as he was in witnessing the transformation, he brought the gun up too slowly and was cut down. The wolf had slashed his chest with his claws. As the wolf stood over his prize, Sharkie used his last reserves of strength to unload twenty bullets into it. When the wolf pitched over and died, the pilot was in disbelief. "Why did he die with these rounds when the other one just got up again?" he thought. Pulling the magazine free, he studied the remaining bullets. To his surprise, the bullets he had loaded were silver.

Lycanthropes were weak against silver. No matter his triumph, it was short-lived. His vision turned steadily black as blood flowed out of his wounds. He died on the floor of the Operations Center.

The marine who had brought Sharkie to the OpCenter cursed under his breath when the pilot did not move anymore. Carving his way through the melee, he got the MP5 and the remaining magazines scattered around.

Sergeant Nikolas Svodberg had brought the pilot to the OpCenter because it was supposed to be the safest place in the base when an attack came. An attack from the outside, maybe; an attack from the inside made the place a deathtrap. Keeping to the walls, he counted at least five lycanthropes advancing on the SEAL team guarding the northern approach.

Most of the ordinary base personnel would have to acquire weapons from the armory. Only the Rangers and newly-arrived SEALS had any weapons on their persons. Accordingly, the armory was behind the lycanthropes.

The good sergeant cursed once more as the SEALS lost another one. Checking the MP5 he acquired from the dead pilot, he noticed he had ten rounds left in the magazine. With the three spares, he had around 160 bullets left. 'Better make them count' he thought as he rushed over to the harried SEALS.

"Thought you guys could use a hand?" he shouted to the SEALS as he slid on the floor.

"Gunny, we're running low on ammo. Can you get a squad moving and attempt to resupply from the armory?" Captain Schneider asked. He was low on ammo. It did not help that most of his bullets were training rounds. As it was, the SEALS only had two live magazines apiece. The rest were useless.

Looking at the bloodied face of the captain, the sergeant nodded his head. "Sir, I'll try my best. No promises"

"Understood. We only hope we can get a message out before we get overrun" the captain said sadly. Facing the remnants of his squad, he deployed them in a manner which would ensure that any lycanthropes would face stiff resistance.

"Wolf, go with the sergeant. Here" the captain tossed his satellite phone to O'Donnell, "use this to call for help. Ask for boots on the ground. Code: Hunter Hunted".

"Sir, I.." Wolf started to say.

"Stuff it soldier. I'm giving you a direct order. Go with the sergeant and seek help. The transmitter in the radio room must be down for Gunny to head outside" the captain said as he cut off his subordinate's response.

1930 hours

Base Commander's Quarters

Gene had lowered his weapon the moment the alarm blared out of the speakers. It was a costly error.

With that mistake, the general launched the glass carafe of whiskey at the lieutenant colonel. The general misjudged his aim and the container impacted on Foley's chest. Drawn back to the scenario in front of him, Gene was knocked down by the general's ham-sized fist. The gun slid from his hand and went under the general's desk.

The general kept raining blows on his subordinate in an effort to regain the upper hand and keep Foley from reacting.

The general was sadly mistaken.

Gene Foley was an expert at hand-to-hand combat. Instinctively, he curled into a ball to minimize the surface area in contact with the fists. When the general started to tire, he reversed his position and pinned the general's extremities. With his arms and legs pinned, Ed slammed his skull into Gene's chin making the latter release his grip momentarily.

The scuffle they were making kept the scientists in the room on edge. Mage had dived for the gun under the desk. 'This gun feels heavier than usual' thought Mage as he examined the pistol in his hand. Not seeing any exterior modifications, he ejected the clip. The bullets too, seemed normal.

1940 hours

There was a knock on the door. When no one made a move to answer, the knocks persisted. Finally, Dr. Compton screwed up enough courage to answer the door. As he walked towards the heavy oak door, he thought he heard a scratch of claws on the granite floor outside the office. Hesitating for a moment, the doctor paused in his approach. He felt a sense of foreboding flood his being. Taking a deep breath, he fought the chills that swept up his spine. His steps on the carpeted surface were slow and measured as he tried to appear nonchalant at answering the door. Finally reaching the door, he took a look through the peephole and saw a nervous-looking soldier standing outside, alone.

At that moment, he made a fateful decision. He opened the door to admit the soldier. "What can I do for you son?" he asked as he admitted the soldier inside and closed the door.

"Sir first off, get away from the door" the soldier said as he pointed his rifle at the scientist. At the look of surprise on Dr. Compton's face the young man continued, "Do it doctor. You don't want to get flattened when that door is blasted off its hinges by a charging wolf."

With his hands raised at chest level, the good doctor backed away from the door. No sooner had he done so than the oak door was thrown wide open, breaking the hinges. The one responsible for the destruction was a seven-foot tall, muscled, black-furred canine.

"Who are you?" Dale breathed out before he felt a sharp pain on his nape and his vision went dark. When he woke once more, there would be no people around. Just bodies and blood trails. He was the lucky one.

Both Gene and Ed were busy scuffling on the floor and only took notice when the oak door was shattered. Gene went for his sidearm and discovered it was no longer on his person. Ed was speechless.

The two unarmed scientists were frozen in their seats, their minds blank. Dr. Hillock had reloaded the gun and cocked it when the door was destroyed. Now, he took dead aim at the monstrosity blocking the exit. And opened fire with deadly pinpoint accuracy.

Ever since he was able to wield a firearm, there was no target that Mage was unable to put down with less than two rounds. A double-tap, if you will.

This target was different. Not only did the double-tap fail to put it down, the thing got angry and charged. Quickly, the doctor loosed off the remaining 12 rounds into the creature. When that turned out to be futile, he placed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger on the last round. In his panic, he had pointed the pistol at the ceiling and the bullet gouged out a deep layer within the hardwood. Coming face to muzzle with the giant black dog, the doc's heart skipped a beat.

In that heart stopping moment, the dog snapped his jaws and tore out Mage's jugular. As the human writhed on the floor, the jackal howled as he claimed his first kill.

It was not in Goat's nature to kill the human. However, the human did draw first blood and had to be punished. He was aiming for the shoulder and not the neck.

As the human bled onto the carpeted floor, he felt a sense of triumph and howled accordingly.

Nicely done, Goat. Very well done, Jason spoke through the inter-pack connection. I'll be there shortly.

At the gruesome sight before her, Dr. McKinsley screamed. "With Mage dead, who will head the division?" she thought. Her mutterings were silenced when a red fox appeared in her field of vision. "YOU!" she said forcefully.

Jason had stuck to the shadows outside of the base. He dispatched most of the roving sentries by breaking their necks. He carefully made his way over to the general's office to see the scenario for himself. As he approached the area where the general kept station, he was noticed by one of Bravo's Rangers.

The Ranger let loose with three rounds from his M4. These impacted harmlessly on the concrete control tower five hundred meters behind Jason. The sound of the burst, however, reached the ears of a patrol not more than three meters from an alarm button. They dashed to the box and hit the alarm.

'Shit' Jason cursed. Now the whole base knew there was an attack, it would not be long before the bodies would be discovered. Moving faster now, he decapitated the Ranger and eviscerated the two sentries. Feeling his primal nature breach the surface, his eyes glowed under the moonlight.

Now was the time to hunt his prey!

Canid was making his way through the corridors with the 'loyal' Rangers of Alpha team until he could reach the OpCenter. There he would inform all bases not to heed the distress calls that Borzoi would transmit. It would just be another training exercise. He didn't make it fast enough.

Best laid plans of mice, men and lycans often go awry.

The base alarm sounded throughout the complex. A computer-generated message sent personnel scrambling to their posts.

"All personnel, this is a red alert. Proceed to your emergency stations. Lockdown will commence in thirty minutes" blared from the speakers repeatedly.

Enraged, Canid smashed one of the speakers to quiet the ringing in his ears. With the alarms sounding, there was no chance he could make it to the OpCenter without rushing. Canid roared his dissatisfaction with the SNAFU and picked up the pace. The Rangers tried their best to keep up with the lycan's quick stride.

John had charged at one of the hastily-erected barricades barring him from the southern approach to the OpCenter. Unsheathing his claws, he made short work of the troops that attempted to stop him. The lion would not be deterred from slaying the soldiers that got in his way. As he held another of the human soldiers by his flight suit, he heard Goat's proclamation of a kill. Purring softly, he pulled the human towards him and sank his canines into the flesh. As he tasted the human flesh, he did not notice a marine draw a combat knife behind him. It proved to be his demise.

The marine in question, 1st Sergeant James Lipton, removed his silver inlaid combat knife from its sheath. With the blade facing outward, he charged at the lion. In one quick motion, he thrust the five-inch long blade into the beast's back.

John roared out in anger as a stabbing pain shot out from his lower back. Quickly dropping the pilot, he turned to face his attacker. The human was holding a knife covered in blood, his blood. Adrenaline surged throughout the werelion's body as he made to kill the interloper. Moving with the adrenaline were silver ions released from the knife's edges and hilt.

The young marine bared his teeth at the bipedal lion and readied for another assault. The lion charged first. With a graceful pirouette, the marine avoided the blind charge with ease. As the lion slammed into one of the metal walls, John felt a burning pain overtake him. Shrugging this off as pain from the wound, he dashed once more towards the marine.

This time, instead of avoiding the charge, the marine used the lion's mane as leverage and hoisted himself onto its back.

"You're going down for good, kitty" James said as he drew the knife across the lion's neck. This was too much for the new lycan and he collapsed on the floor. Unlike before, the wounds were not healing. The last thing John saw before passing on was the silver knife go back into the human's sheath.

The entire pack stopped what they were doing when one of their own died. The sadness was replaced with rage and defiance. Now, there would be no live, uninfected human personnel left. They would be infected or dead. As one the pack moved to counter the threat posed by the humans.

Inside Ed's office...

Gene kept his gaze level as he stared into Jason's emerald orbs. He knew something went wrong when Emerald disemboweled General Woodridge and decapitated Sarah. Glancing at Dr. Compton's prone form, his gaze softened as he noticed there was no bite or claw marks on the doctor's body. Exhaling softly, he confronted Jason.

"Bee in your bonnet, fox?" Gene said. The murderous look Emerald fired back was answer enough for Gene. "Then do your business or let me be" Gene told the werefox.

As if in response to the choice, Emerald opened his jaws and bit into the human colonel's shoulder. Gritting his teeth, the colonel held back a yelp. Emerald released his bite and licked the wound so it would heal with only minor scarring.

Liquid fire seemed to flow from the bite wound and began to spread through Gene's entire body with each passing heartbeat. With supreme effort, he fought the venom circulating in his body. As with Eagle Eye, Makin and Canid, the more Gene fought, the more painful it became.

Panting softly now from the exertion of fighting off the intruder, he allowed the transformation to proceed without anymore resistance on his part. As he did so, endorphins released throughout his body numbing the pain.

Around the bite site, hair follicles began producing short, fine fuzz. These spread all over the human's body. Clenching his fists, he only opened them as a sharp pain forced him to. His nails had turned black and lengthened into claws. This was what had caused the pain. His palms had turned black and raised structures began to take shape. These structures were the pads.

Gene's face began to stretch outward as a muzzle began to take shape. His teeth were sharpening until they looked like miniature daggers. Letting his vulpine tongue loll out, he felt his ears lose their rounded shape. They migrated to the top of his head as small, rounded triangular, black tufts. Letting loose a whine, he struggled to free himself from his rapidly shrinking uniform.

Seeing the difficulty the young vulpine pup was having, Jason shredded the uniform to allow freedom of movement. Freed from the cloth confines, Gene's muscles doubled in size. The pectorals were still humanly apparent. An eight-pack was visible, yet not as defined as the muscled "tanks" of the other werecreatures. Gene was sent into a kneeling position as a tail nub formed at the base of his spine. As the spinal extension erupted from the surrounding skin; a layer of soft, white fur kept pace and wrapped the appendage.

With his upper body and abdomen finished, the changes went to his legs and feet next. His leg muscles hypertrophied to allow him to move long distances without tiring. The white fuzz that coated him was now turning into a fur coat.

As the changes approached the feet, Gene felt himself either lengthen or grow taller; depending on his orientation. His feet shifted as his tendons stretched upwards. Both of the big toes were mostly reabsorbed into his body, their appearance marking them now as dewclaws. Gene then lay down as he felt the transformation reach its peak.

His cock began to fill with blood, engorging it to a respectable seven and a half inches long with a two inch diameter. Panting faster, he could feel it grow until he was at twenty inches long and four inches wide. Opening his still brown eyes, he longed to stroke his throbbing shaft which lay pulsing before him. A moan escaped his parted jaws as his cock tip began to lose its mushroom head. Instead, it tapered to a point resembling that of a canine's. A vein pulsed within his cock in time with Gene's heartbeat. A growth of skin around the base of it began to fill out as a knot formed. Counting the knot at its base, the vulpine's cock was now a jaw-breaking twenty-two inches long. A drop of pre emerged from the tip of Gene's cock denoting the new werefox's arousal.

As the cock was morphing into something suitable, the human's testicles also changed simultaneously. The grape-sized organs started to swell as the transformation affected them. These went through progressively larger sizes; grape to strawberries to oranges, until finally reaching a grapefruit's size. The scrotal sac in which these organs were held tightened considerably.

The pressure on his balls made the lycan sit up as he stroked himself to acquire his release. With each stroke, more pre started to flow from the tip. The pleasure the werefox acquired as his pads slid over the sensitive member was awesome. Still, the pleasure now would pale in comparison to the one that would take place when he climaxes. Feeling his climax building with each passing stroke, Gene pumped himself faster and faster. As the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him, he got to his feet and aimed his cock onto Woodridge's corpse. Soon, rope after sticky rope emerged from his cock. Bracing himself against the table, Gene let his cum splatter all over the corpse without a care in the world. Opening his now emerald-green eyes, he howled his acceptance into the burgeoning pack.

As the new werefox turned towards Jason, he received marching orders from Canid.

I see that you have come onboard Gene. Welcome to the new Alpha squad. I want you to watch over Sage to make sure nothing happens to him while he sleeps. He is prey, true, but one I want kept alive until his decision is made. Are we clear Gene?

The last remaining scientist, Francoise Dumont, was ecstatic at the success of Lucius. Short of jumping in the air with glee, he had to keep his emotions in check with the number of lycanthropes in the room. Any sudden movement and he could be eating dirt. Finally as he paid witness to Lieutenant Colonel Foley's final transformation, he spoke loudly.

"Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to see me to the aeroplane parked on the tarmac? This is just going to be between the three of us. I'm not telling a soul about what happened here"

Sniffing the air around the French scientist, Jason picked up a whiff of betrayal. There was no trusting this human. He would just abandon a member of his own team just to get away. That was, and still is, unacceptable. He had to join the pack or be left as a corpse.

"I don't think so, human. What provisions have you made regarding your unconscious colleague on the floor?" Jason said bluntly, reining in the instinct to just tear open this one's windpipe and be done with it.

"Whatsoever do you mean? I have absolutely no intention of telling a soul. I swear on my mother's grave!" Francoise lied through his teeth. He had to get away and inform Pfein that the formula was successful. They could then begin inoculation of the assembled 2nd Foreign Legion in North Africa. Looking at his unconscious colleague, the thought of bringing Dale along never crossed his mind. The American was baggage and deserved to stay in this forsaken base. In his opinion, the research team never existed. A marriage of expediency was what he was willing to inform any investigating officer.

That was if he could get away from two vulpines, and their human escort. All his research would be for naught if he could not leave. He had to move, now!

"I'm waiting, human" Jason said irritably. Canid, I'm going to silence this disgusting Frenchman once and for all. He is going to leave his human colleague behind. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

_Do it. Leave Dr. Compton behind. He may prove useful later on._Canid replied to Jason.

The soldier at the door looked at his watch and called the attention of the two lycanthropes within. "Sir, we might not be able to keep this matter quiet from the other bases if we don't go now. Finish the bastard and let's head for the radio room"

At the last statement from the Ranger at the door, Francoise's blood ran cold. There was no more time for sweet talking. His time was up, literally.

Taking a deep breath, he removed the Glock 17 pistol he concealed in his jacket and pointed it at the red fox. "I'm taking you with me, you American dog!" he said haughtily as he fired one round into Jason's chest.

When the soldier attempted to bring up the rifle and neutralize the researcher, he noticed a gleam in the red fox's eyes. As though he just imagined Dr. Dumont removing a pistol, the soldier just leaned against the wall and watched the outcome.

Jason was furious. First, the human willfully abandons his colleague. Now, he has the balls to fire at me. ME! With an almighty roar, Jason rushed the smirking human. Closing the gap between them in two strides, he knocked the gun away with one swipe of his claws. In a moment, Dumont was struggling for breath as the enraged fox held him by the throat. Listening to the human gasp for breath made Jason's blood sing.

Now, for the final strike. Opening his jaws wide enough for the human to see all the way down to the back of his throat, he put the human's head into his gaping maw and bit down. Hard.

As the werefox's jaws closed around the head, a snapping sound could be heard in the room. That was the fourth cervical vertebra of the human breaking cleanly in two. Letting the headless body fall to the blood and cum soaked carpet, the werefox enjoyed crushing the skull in his mouth into fragments. Brain, eyes, ears, nose, tongue, teeth; all were swallowed by the werefox.

Gene let the scenario unfold in front of him. He really detested Dumont's fake humility. As he watched the red werefox (no, it's either Jason or Emerald now, he thought to himself) charge the scientist and bat the gun away, he felt better that the conniving scoundrel would be given his due. It was even better when the bastard had his head bitten clean off. He chuckled as Forensics would have a heart attack if they really knew why the head was missing. Nevertheless he approached Jason to ask for the heart of the dead human.

Breathing heavily, Jason snarled at the unconscious form of Dale Compton on the floor. Smelling more prey, he advanced on the immobile form. He intended to mark the human, so when Dale woke a reminder would be imprinted onto his skin to show how favored he was in the eyes of the pack leader. A paw on his shoulder halted his advance. Turning to see who the owner of said paw was, he met the same emerald gaze as his own. His feral nature slowly subsided as the gaze was not hostile, it was merely inquisitive.

"Could I have the heart from the body if you're done?" Gene asked Jason nicely.

Scratching the furred head of his newest convert, Jason agreed. "Sure why not? I'm done with it."

"Thanks" Gene responded as he crouched beside the corpse. Closing his clawed fingers to form one sharp palm, he thrust into the chest cavity. As his fingers reached the heart, he closed the clawed hand around the organ and pulled. With a squelch, the heart came free from its place within the dead human's chest. Gene brought the heart to his nose as he smelled the bloody object. Since it appeared delicious, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed. The sensation of a raw, human heart making its way to his stomach was indescribable to the werefox.

At this point Sage interrupted Gene's story. They were now outside hangar 4 where the Learjet they had used not more than 18 hours before was stored. Bile made its way up Sage's throat as he finally lost his dinner. When Gene moved to comfort his friend, the smell of sickness put him off for a bit.

'Gene enjoyed eating the corpse? How far into his furred counterpart did he dive into?' Sage thought as he heaved once more onto the asphalt. After removing what remained in his stomach from the light meal he had the night before, Sage confronted Gene.

"How could you do such a thing?" Sage said weakly.

"What? Eat a corpse's heart?" Gene answered smugly as he crossed his furred arms across his chest.

"Yes! Precisely, that was what I was referring to" Sage responded. For a few heartbeats, there was no response from the towering werefox. Feeling as though he had angered Gene, Sage closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable strike. Except none ever came.

When Sage opened his eyes once more, Gene was nowhere in sight. Beads of sweat formed on Sage's neck as he contemplated where Gene could have gone. A soft tap on his shoulders made him jump a foot into the air.

"Scared you, didn't I?" Gene said as he caught Sage off-guard. The look of fright on the human's face was amusing the werefox even more than the horrors he had willingly participated in last night.

"Still interested in hearing the rest of the story? Or do you want to have breakfast first?" Gene said playfully. With his muzzle not three feet from Sage's face, a lunge would have ended all hope for the human to live. However, Gene was still bound to follow Canid's order to 'keep Sage safe until a decision is made'. Much as he wanted to break the chain of command, the pack hierarchy meant he had no choice but to accept.

"Let's have breakfast. Hopefully, I can quiet my rumbling stomach with some coffee or food" Sage said tiredly. He felt like he had aged 20 years while he slept like Rip van Winkle. Caffeine or something more solid could keep him moving once more.

"Hop on my back, I'll make a run towards the mess hall" Gene offered. With some misgiving, Sage accepted the gesture and climbed onto his former friend's back.

'Quite nice up here, I can see farther than on the ground' Sage thought to himself.

As the human was mulling over his unorthodox method of transport, Gene shifted his stance to match that of a quadruped. "Hang on to my fur, I don't want you to fall off and become damaged goods" Gene called out to his friend, startling Sage from his thoughts.

Gene stretched his body to loosen it up for maximum speed and endurance. After thirty seconds of shifting body mass, he started to trot. Quickening his pace, he moved to a gallop as he carried his passenger towards the mess hall.

Unlike the other parts of the base, there were no corpses in the mess hall. This was decidedly neutral territory. All the personnel here had to run towards their stations when the alarm had sounded. As such, the remains of their dinners were put away by what remained of the dinner crew. It was to this rather immaculate area that both Sage and Gene arrived to.

Letting Sage dismount, Gene rose once more to his eight foot height. Taking a sniff of the ambient air, Gene caught the scent of another human. He growled out hungrily as this one smelled wounded.

In reality, 2Lt. Samuel Thuo was hiding in the kitchen. He was nursing a leg wound sustained in the intense skirmish last night. A creature closely resembling a German shepherd had slashed its claws at him. Kicking the legs out from under that thing was his logical choice at that point. What he was not expecting was to have the dog's claws catch on his trousers, with the sharp tips digging into his flesh. One of the claws had nicked a vein in the process and he was evacuated out of the area as fast as possible by the remnants of the Rangers Bravo unit. They left him in the meat locker to slow the bleeding. He had passed out from shock and awoke not more than 45 minutes after Sage had. He had no inkling what awaited him outside the near impervious walk-in freezer. As he started to take stock of the situation, he noticed the partly-open door. Using one of the shelves nearby as a means of supporting himself, he stood upright slowly.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the metal door. As the sunlight shone through the kitchen windows, he noticed a rifle nearby. He made his way towards it. Leaning against one of the steel ovens was an FN SCAR-L with iron sights. Beside it were four magazines of 5.56 NATO. If there were any survivors, they needed to stay out of sight until help arrived. He only hoped Sharkie's message made it through. As he staggered out into the outer kitchen, he stepped on something squishy. Looking down, he saw that his bandage had come undone.

Sage also noticed when Gene growled out. Thinking fast, he blocked the foxmorph's movement. Or tried to, anyway. Even as a human, Gene could not be stopped by a single man. It took at least three to block his path. With the strength now magnified tenfold, all Sage did was slow him down; even then not by much.

Gene approached the kitchen double doors and swung them open. He stared down at the wounded human before him and licked his lips. He would be having a hearty breakfast of meat this morning.

1500 miles away...

0600 hours

Pentagon Tac-Ops Center

Washington D.C.

"Sir, we have a situation at Borzoi" a warrant officer told his superior. The past five hours were pure murder on his nerves as the screams from dying men rattled the airman.

"Onscreen" his superior replied. Looking at the cold base structures, the officer noticed white dots peppering the screen. 'Clusters of survivors?' he thought to himself.

"When was this taken?" directing his query to the shaken airman. The response shocked him to his core.

"1935 hours Central time last night sir" went the reply.

'A little over eight hours ago. What had happened at the airbase?' the floor officer said to himself. To the room at large, he was firmer in tone. "Why was I only informed of this now? We could have saved the lives of a lot of good personnel" he said fierily. When he was met with dead silence, he persisted anyway. "Well?!"

"Sir, we only got this transmission a little over twenty minutes ago from Langley AFB" one of the other radio operators volunteered. "They thought the transmissions were a hoax, sir"

"Get me Colonel Rhodes and General Smith. They need to be informed of this right away. To hell, if they're still asleep!" the officer said. "Also, get some boots on the ground at Borzoi. I need to know what the hell happened down there for an entire base to go dark" he added.

"Right away, sir. Putting out a patch now" one of the operators said.

"Airman, head to the lounge. I'll talk to you later about what happened today" directing his statement to the nervous airman. The airman in question stood up from his console and made his way out the door.

Sam was scared. Directly in front of him was an anthropomorphic arctic fox. The jaws were open and drool was hanging out of the gaping maw. Raising the rifle, he pointed it at the fox and squeezed the trigger. To his aghast, the gun was still on safety. As he struggled to rectify the situation, the rifle was removed from his grip and dangled just out of reach.

'The fox was playing with him!' he thought as he tried to grab the dangling rifle. As he made an attempt to jump for it, the rifle butt came back down and hit him in the face. The human held his now bleeding nose in his hands. Now he needed ice so he could stop the bleeding. Could this moment get any worse?

Pinching his nostrils shut with one hand, he placed his other in his right pocket to look for a handkerchief. He heard a clatter and looked back up. The rifle was no longer in the fox's grasp. Instead, it had been thrown towards the door that led to the back of the kitchen. Even if Sam lunged for it, he knew somehow that the fox would just turn him into a human shish kebab. Closing his eyes, he waited for the inevitable strike.

It was to this scene that Sage finally made his appearance. He had hobbled as fast as he could to the mess kitchen after being skidded across the floor by Gene's furred hand. Sage's ankle had made contact with one of the columns and felt sprained. It was painful with some degree of tenderness. He found that the ankle would still support his weight, but running was out of the question. By the way Gene's tail was wagging vigorously; Sage assumed Gene had found either a playmate or a meal. It could only be one of the two.

"Gene, help the young man up. He's wounded enough. Stop playing with him" Sage ordered the semi-aggressive werefox.

With a whine and folded ears, Gene complied. All he wanted was a few more minutes of play. At least there were no cameras around; his posture would make a mockery out of him.

"Take my hand, soldier" Sage said as he offered his hand to the stunned junior officer. The officer grabbed the proffered hand and pulled himself up with some difficulty.

Sam thought he was a goner for sure. The hungry look on the fox's face made him about to wet his pants. Thank heavens; a senior officer was around to help him out. Though by the way the officer looked, he had also been through hell.

"Sir, is there still anyone alive in the base?" Sam asked unsurely.

"You're the first I've come across, lieutenant. By the way, call me Sage. I'm not in the mood for formalities right now" Sage said.

"Okay, sir. I'm Sam. Who's the beast?" Sam Thuo asked, disheartened.

At the beast crack, Gene growled. He had a name too! Any more disrespect and Sam would be making friends with the other recently deceased.

"Ignore him. He's frustrated I stopped him playing with you earlier" Sage replied. Both the colonel and the lieutenant continued making small talk as Gene prepared breakfast.

Stifling his urge to just gut the human, he busied himself with preparing breakfast for the three of them. He saw that the coffeemaker was still plugged and poured three cups of dark coffee. Opening one of the prepared foodstuffs, he placed these in a ceramic pan and heated them in one of the ovens. His long nails were clicking on the dials as he brought the oven to just the right temperature. Grabbing one of the hanging aprons, Gene put it on to stop grease getting in his fur. Flipping open the carton of eggs, he grabbed one and pierced the sides making the yolk leak out. Licking his claws, Gene tried again. This time he gingerly held the eggs, and cracked these open against the side of the skillet. Removing a spatula from one of the hooks, he made three pairs of eggs Benedict on some muffins.

The packet of ham and bacon, on the other hand, was easier to open. He just tore a hole in the plastic wrapping with his teeth. Placing these in the oil he used for frying the eggs, he waited for the slightly burnt smell that meant they were cooked just so. When both bacon and ham reached their respective states, he removed these and placed them on the waiting tray covered in paper towels. Focusing now on the customary breakfast rolls, he found none. Letting out a soft growl, he rummaged around for an alternative. As he was about to wreck the refrigerator in frustration, he saw a packet of hotdog buns. Grabbing these, he placed the buns into the microwave to thaw.

Gene served the breakfasts he whipped up in a span of twenty minutes to the two humans and himself. To add theatrical effect, he used one of the wheeled carts complete with the silver dinner covers. As he grasped the lids, however, a burning sensation made him release the lids. He stared at the burns to his palms and grabbed one of the pot holders. With this in hand, he opened the lids and placed the three breakfast meals inside. Taking another, he placed the coffee cups, creamer and sugar as well on top. With both pot holders, he wheeled out the tray to the dining area. As he reached the double doors, he sent a message to either Jason or Canid

Jason, how vulnerable are we to silver alloys?I just felt my hands burn. Frowning at the lack of a reply, he just shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps the werefox was having a nap.

It was now 08.45.

Both humans stopped conversing and turned in their seats as they smelled something delicious coming out of the kitchen. Their mouths watered as they waited for the meal that the lycanthrope cooked.

For Sage, it came as no surprise. Gene was a wonderful cook. Though, there were times that said cook would experiment with dishes and a disaster was in the offing.

To Sam, it came as a shock. The lone thought circulating was, 'I didn't know monsters could cook.'

The squeak of wheels alerted both men to the arrival of Gene and the breakfast.

"Eat up, Sage. Your breakfast is ready" Gene said as he nudged his shocked colleague.

Sage had good reason to be shocked. The spread in front of them was enough to feed a platoon of soldiers or three hungry lycanthropes. Either way, the amount of food was overwhelming.

"I don't think I can eat all that" Sam said as he swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth. When the fox fixed a stone-cold glare on the poor human, Sam shut up immediately and started eating.

"As I was saying before we were rudely interrupted..." Gene commenced once more, glaring at the impetuous human lieutenant.

"Ok, Gene. Continue with the rest of the story" Sage said in between mouthfuls of bacon, buns and coffee.

"Is good actually..." the lieutenant mumbled into his eggs. He was not eager to clash once more with those wicked claws and just kept his head down. One strike had already disabled him, what would another do?

"Glad you like the breakfast Sage. Because I'm thinking of having the human (for mine)" Gene stated hungrily, absentmindedly licking his lips. The menacing look this made was fortunately not seen by Lt. Thuo. He would have really wet his pants.

"Gene, the story if you will. I'm almost done" Sage said, interrupting the werefox mid-sentence.

"Very well, then. After I left Ed's office, I joined Canid on the assault on the Operations Center. We faced heavy resistance from what remained of the marines, rangers and SEALS..."

20.15 hours

September 13th 2015

Corridor C: 100 meters from Operations

Lieutenant Colonel Raymond "Gene" Foley

I checked on Dale's vitals before we left the wrecked office. He was fine and would live a normal life. The Ranger that had knocked him out was nice enough to lend me a radio and GPS device. I placed these items inside one of the drawers in the infirmary office. My intention was for my good friend, Sage Sawyer, to contact us when we swept the base clean. I scribbled a note on one of the Rx forms for Sage to read when he woke. Listening to Barney give commands as every time he ran into resistance, I was reminded of my own experience under Petraeus in Iraqi Freedom.

Gene, what's keeping you? I need you to take Makin and Goat and flank the humans in the south corridor. According to Horn, they're about to break. With no weapons, the advantage is with our teeth and claws. Canid had said to him mentally. Oddly, it resembled radio traffic; just in your head.

Alpha, I'm leaving a note for Sage. He'll need to read it when he wakes, if he wakes. I'll be there in 1 minute. Thought Emerald said we lost John in the southern corridor? Gene replied.

..... That would mean they have special weaponry to combat us. No worries. That should not pose a problem for you and Goat. Use your speed to get over those barricades. Let Makin draw their attention and attack from above. We need to stop all radio traffic that will hamper our escape. Understood?

I thought about the whys of the strategy and found a few holes. If Makin drew their attack, won't he die as well? That makes no sense. What is Canid trying to do?

Get going Gene. I don't have a lot of time to wait for you.

I winced at the mental command. I may be new at being a lycanthrope, but he didn't have to give me the mental equivalent of a swipe. Sighing, I folded the note and placed Sage's Sig on top as a paperweight.

I'm coming Alpha. I'll be there in three. How is Jason at securing our transport?

Gene, stop whining like a pup and get to the southern approach. Canid spoke loudly and mentally, startling the Alpha unit Rangers.

I made my way over and found an HMG keeping Makin, Horn and Goat pinned. The gunner was literally firing the gun until he ran out of ammo. And with two others covering him, we stood no chance at a head-on charge in the narrow corridor.

Scouting for a better position, I noticed a door beside the gunner and his crew. Maybe, just maybe, I could bypass their position and clear the route for the rest of the 'pack' to advance. Signaling to Horn, I gestured at him to listen to what I had to say. At his nod, I told him what to do.

Horn, look for a door on your side; I'll look for one on mine. Hopefully, the inner doors have not been blocked off. We can cut through and flank them instead of a head-long rush.

Makin, stay low and try to make your way forward. Keep both your heads down. Use what cover there is to keep them busy. Horn and I will try a pincer movement.

Okay Gene. Goat and I will draw their fire. Hurry up, please. I'm not done digging out some of the rounds from my legs and chest.

I found a door on my side after three minutes of back-tracking. Cutting through three offices, I saw that the last one had a glass window. Outside it, I saw the gun crew illuminated by the muzzle flash of the HMG. Opposite, I noticed Horn flashing me the thumbs-up. Seems he had also made his way through some inner offices just to reach me.

On three, we crash through the windows. That gun can't rotate and fire back at us. Once we kill the crew, get Canid here as fast as possible. There are no positions. The faster we secure Operations, the more time we have for a "clean-up". Got it?

You got it Gene. I'll count. One, two, THREE!

THREE!

The glass shattered as Horn and I placed our full weight against the panes. Both of the flanking humans were stunned at our lightning approach and died to our claws. The gunner let the HMG lock onto an empty box. As he gestured for more ammunition, I placed my bloody claw on his shoulder. He turned around to face us and I tore into him. Blood splashed onto my white fur, staining it red. I went for his heart as Horn brought Makin and Goat forward. A groan made me tear away a piece of flesh as I gazed upward. Makin was holding his chest and muttered something about "silver round" before collapsing on the floor in front of me. Goat staggered forward and fell prostrate. Sticking out of his back was a silver-inlaid combat knife.

"Nooooooooooooooo!!!!!" I howled out. When I find out who did this, he'll beg for death as I rip him apart piece by bloody piece.

_Makin and Goat didn't make it?_Canid asked over our mental link. I answered him in the affirmative.

If he was angry at me for dallying with Sage, what I felt now was pure, unbridled lycan fury. He was not happy, was a light way of putting it.

GENE, WHEN YOU AND HORN ENTER THE OPERATIONS ROOM. SLAUGHTER ALL HUMANS! GIVE NO QUARTER! Canid ordered his erstwhile commanding officer.

Slung around my neck was my passcard for the room. I swiped it downwards and watched the red light turn green. Horn readied himself in a pouncing position as I got ready as well. The heavy steel door slowly made its way up. When it was enough for both of us to squeeze through on all fours, we ran at full speed. The defenders were busy fending off attacks from the northern and western entrances and left the south wide open.

It was a bloodbath. Any operators within reach, we slashed with our claws. I threw one of the operators into the glass screen for flight operations, destroying it. The defenders that tried to intercept us, we killed with a bite to the nearest major blood vessel. In ten minutes, it was all over. The room, and the approaches had gone silent and the only sound we heard was the dripping of blood from the corpses. Celebrating was out of the question. Someone had to call off SAC's reinforcements before they entered the airspace.

Quickly, Canid slipped into one of the undamaged stations.

"This is Borzoi. Situation has been normalized. Call off the reinforcements. I say again, call off the reinforcements" Canid said into the headpiece.

"Borzoi, this is Eagle 5-1. What happened down there? It sounded like a transplanted Iraqi suburb"

"Eagle 5-1, we had a mutiny of sorts. Most of the rebels have been neutralized. If they attempt to contact you, send us their location. Most of our comms were destroyed to stop us broadcasting. Do you copy?" Canid replied.

"I need your name and rank, soldier. Our planes will continue on their flight pattern until we verify"

"I read you five by five Eagle 5-1. I am Captain Barney Zhou of the 1st Airborne Rangers" Canid said into the piece.

"Voice recognition confirmed" one of the crew on the inbound E-3 Sentry 'Eagle 5-1' said to the operator communicating with Borzoi. "It's one of ours. Call the strike teams off"

"Captain, we have voice match. Strike teams and gunships are RTB. Good luck with the other rebels. Eagle 5-1 out"

"I read you Eagle 5-1, over and out" Canid said amusedly as a grin appeared on his face. Lycans: 1, Humans: 0.

"What happened next?" Sam breathed out. He had been unable to eat anything when he learned of what transpired after he was placed in the meat locker. Sage, on the other hand, was speechless. The entire base was silenced in just under an hour? Impossible!

"Stop interrupting or you're my meal human" Gene snarled back. He had washed his front and muzzle in one of the showers to get rid of the blood. Meeting Sage with blood on his chest would have made his old friend uncooperative.

"Indeed, what happened next?The suspense is killing me" Sage spoke up as he finally got himself together again.

"We proceeded with the clean-up of course. Unfortunately, most of the humans were in the armory. And Ed had acquired some silver bullets. Where do you think the silver in your gun came from Sage?" Gene teased his friend.

"Moving on..." Gene continued as he returned to his almost finished story.

Checking the surveillance footage, most of the humans had barricaded themselves into the armory and control tower. A lone soldier was sprinting towards one of the parked gunships parked to the left of the control tower. Horn zoomed the camera onto the face of the sprinting soldier. As the image cleaned itself up, Gene recognized Bryan "Wolf" O'Donnell. The SEAL was ten meters from the Apache gunship. With the Operations room deep within the base, there was no luck in getting to the SEAL before he started the engines and took off.

Shrugging his shoulders, Gene focused on the soldiers in the armory. Somehow they had to cut the supply chain from both the tower and the armory to have an effective chance of cutting off the humans from any hope.

Outside on the tarmac...

21.05 hours

Sergeant Bryan "Wolf" O'Donnell

What the fuck happened?

I lost contact with Orca and the rest of my squad. Gunny had to stop to catch his breath and a wolf dropped on him from nowhere, biting into his neck. I opened fire with my Desert Eagle and knocked it back a few meters. The wolf just growled at me before disappearing down one of the corridors. When I checked up on Gunny, he was running a high fever. As I tried to help him up, he pushed me away and told me to get to one of the choppers. Save my own skin, if you will.

I refused until he pointed his SMG at me and threatened to open fire. At that I left him to his fate. When I turned a corner, I heard an unholy scream or howl. Whatever creature it belonged to, I knew Gunny did not stand a chance in his weak state.

Closing my eyes, I promised him that I would go for help. I heard clicking on the floor around two doors down from me and I high-tailed it out into the desert night. Slamming the steel doors behind me, I used my rifle to jam the lock and keep whatever it was inside. I looked around me in the darkness and spied the control tower fifty meters away. As I contemplated just sitting by the door and waiting for the creature to break out, I was reminded of Gunny's eyes. When he had pointed his gun at me, his eyes had a glow to them that I will not forget ever.

Drawing on my last reserves, I made a dash towards the control tower and the nearest gunship. I had already closed the distance when I heard footfalls behind me. I kept going until something picked me up and manhandled me all the way to the chopper. When I turned around to confront my rescuer, I noticed a big Rottweiler. A big, bipedal Rottweiler...

"Why'd you help me escape?" I spoke for the first time.

"So you can get help" said a familiar voice.

Disbelievingly, he stared at the Rottie. It couldn't be, could it? Not possible. He had left the sergeant to his dying wish. So who was this??

"I'm telling you the truth Wolf. Get in the chopper before the rest of the pack follows me. I'll stall them as best I can, just go. NOW!" the Rottweiler said as obvious signs of pain appeared on his muzzle.

Without being told twice, Brian opened up the windscreen and got into the pilot's seat. Starting up the engines, he was relieved to see that the fuel gauges were reading full. As his rotor blades began to turn, he glanced to his left where the Rottie was and noticed that it had vanished. As he pulled on the collective, he saw figures in the distance heading for him at high speed. Rotating the chopper to face the headlong attack, he depressed the button on his joystick to unload the Hydra rockets.

With the explosions he was unsure if any hit. Wasting no time, he aimed the gunship north and opened the throttle. Soon, he was over the desert sands and heading for Stuart AFB at high speed. He would try to bring back reinforcements before the remaining strong points were overrun.

Back on the ground, the situation was grim. With no way of calling for help, the humans in the control tower tried an area broadcast. To their dismay, their transmitters were turned off from the OpCenter. They would have to stand their ground and pray that help would arrive soon. The remaining senior staffers committed suicide to prevent vital intelligence from falling into the wrong hands (or paws as the case maybe).

It was all for naught. Canid had turned what humans remained from his squad into lycanthropes. With most of the defenders already dead, he could concentrate his forces on besieging the armory first. From mental maps provided by Gene, he found a weak spot in the armory wall. With enough high explosive, he could rupture the toughened concrete to allow five lycans to cut through the rear. The stunning effect of a wall breach would keep most of the rear defenders out of the action. They would flood the armory from both sides, grinding down the opposition until nothing was left.

That was the plan anyway. They had scavenged C4 from the duffels of three of the nine-man SEAL team. It seemed that they had more than enough to blow the hole. Placing the C4 at the weak point, they wired it to a detonator and lit the fuse. With an almighty boom, the entire wall came crumbling down. The steel reinforcement nearest the blast had been severed and formed lethal projectiles that speared men at least three deep. The rest were bent and twisted.

It was through this hole that all the lycans poured into the armory. The rearmost defenders lay either dead or dying from both shockwave and shrapnel generated by the blast. It was quite fortunate that no ordnance was stored beside the detonated hole or both humans and lycans would have met their respective ends.

The humans in front of Canid were a motley bunch. Of the eighty that had gathered here, only thirty were still able to fight. The others were curled up into figurative balls brought on by fear or were struck down by the aforementioned debris.

"Kill all who resist. We can make use of what remains" Canid growled out to his pack.

It was to this statement that made Jason shake his head. Even if they won this battle, what would stop the armed forces from winning the war? Jason had sought acceptance from the military when he and the original lycanthropes had enlisted. Now, there would be no choice between humiliation or annihilation. He had to force a third option.

Perhaps if we show mercy here, the humans won't ask for blood in return. We both know what man is capable of when he feels threatened. Emerald suggested to his pack leader.

This cooled the raging volcano that was Barney Zhou and made him stop. Very well, Jason. What do you suggest instead?

We mark them as one of our own. Hopefully, they won't be executed. It is our best option instead of the total annihilation of the humans on the base.

"Pin them down. We'll only be fast here. If that pilot made it to any base, the reinforcements could arrive at any moment" Canid ordered his combat-tested units.

Making their way through the dead or dying, they marked all thirty of the still capable humans. From the shock of the bites, nearly all of the humans were immobilized. Inside their bodies, the innate immunity was racing to combat the flood of foreign bodies. As with the original four, these actions only furthered the spread of the virus.

Unlike the original four though, these thirty soldiers along with twenty more in the control tower would lie dormant. The normal triggers need not apply. Only activation by either the Alpha or a trusted lycan would transform the humans into their brethren. That would be for a later time.

It was now 23.02

Somewhere over the Nevada sands...

AH-64 Apache helicopter

Sergeant Brian "Wolf" O'Donnell

Where's the air base? I should have been there by now, thought the sergeant. When he was at wits' end, he noticed a glare off his starboard. Facing the chopper towards the lights, he was elated to see that he was near a military installation if the parked tanks he saw through the HUD were any indication.

In reality, he was 5000 meters from Fort Cherokee. Now, for the hard part. Figuring out what frequency the base was using.

Looking at his dash, he saw the callsign of the gunship. TA 0965. Immediately, he tried the last set frequency to check if the base noticed him.

"ATC, this is Tango Alpha 0965. Requesting permission to land for refit and refuel" O'Donnell said into his mike. To the SEAL's relief, he heard the ATC loud and clear.

"Tango Alpha 0965, you're not due back until tomorrow evening. What are you doing here?" the controller in charge asked. What the operator heard next would electrify the tower and surrounding aircraft.

"Borzoi was attacked. I say again, Borzoi was attacked. I lost contact with my team defending the Operations area. I need to re-arm, refuel and bring much needed reinforcements to stem the tide" was the frantic reply from the normally cool SEAL.

"We will verify from Borzoi..."

"No time. Whoever attacked most likely killed the transmitters. They would have gone dark" was the SEAL's response. "I'm heading in whether you want me to land or not. I am running on fumes here and I can't risk waiting" the SEAL continued.

On ATC's radar, TA 0965's transponder was fast approaching the base. Grabbing his NV binoculars, the controller focused his scopes to the southeast. He spotted the gunship moving at full speed towards the tarmac. Dropping the scopes to his side, he shouted to his colleague to clear the runway. At the speed the helicopter was traveling, a mid-air would be disastrous.

Pushing the aircraft to its limit, the sergeant failed to notice a warning light pop up. The main tank was empty and the two drop tanks on the wings were almost dry. Unless the sergeant throttled back, he would ditch the chopper into a dune ten meters from the base. An alarm sounded not ten seconds later.

The engines had quit. The sergeant braced as he slammed into a sand dune. The chopper went in nosefirst. Within the armored cockpit, the Sarge was bruised but otherwise fine. Unbuckling his harness, he opened the windscreen and fell into the soft sand. With the glow from the base spotlights, he felt he could make it to safety.

The soldier watching the screen had his blood run cold when the dot disappeared from radar. Looking to his standing colleague, he alerted the base's search and rescue.

"A chopper went down somewhere outside the base. I need rescue units to search for the pilots. All patrols, stop activity and start the search starting from the southern watchtower" Lance Corporal Erwin Jenkins said into his mouthpiece.

Sergeant O'Donnell was struggling to move in the soft sand. The wave of adrenaline he was riding on had disappeared the moment he got out of the chopper. It was now a fight just to keep moving. With no more reserves left, the sergeant collapsed just three meters from the chain link fence. It was here that one of the patrols picked him up.

"Wake up soldier. You're all right, you're all right" said the private as he tried to shake the SEAL awake. "Here, drink this" said his buddy as he handed over his canteen. The marine propping up the SEAL took the canteen and poured it onto the semi-conscious sergeant's face.

The SEAL member opened his eyes and looked into the face of the young marine. "Thank God, I'm safe. You're a sight for sore eyes" said the SEAL as he closed his eyes and went to sleep. Quickly checking for a pulse, the private was relieved that he felt for one. The sarge was just tired, is all.

While all this was taking place, the other marine got on his radio. "This is Corporal Ching, we have the pilot. Private Marquez is trying to keep him conscious. I need a fast transport near the western gate"

"10-4, what's the guy's unit?" responded the controller with relief.

"We'll find out when he wakes. He passed out again, looks bone-tired to me sir" replied the corporal.

Not more than three minutes after the radio traffic, a jeep arrived with a stretcher and corpsmen to carry the SEAL to the infirmary. For the sergeant, his ordeal was over.

At Borzoi's control tower, things were not looking good. There were only ten men left inside the tower. They used to be twice that number. Five had placed pistols in their mouths and opened fire. The other five died outside trying to prevent those things from entering. Their hope lay with the departed chopper and its pilot. As the hours passed, their hope failed them as they began to despair.

"I'll never see Alicia reach her tenth birthday if we don't make it out of here" cried one of them. His colleague tried to placate him, to no avail.

"It'll be fine. You can see her again, don't worry"

The sound of breaking glass startled all ten from their sorry state. The lycans had ignored the barricade and simply climbed the tower to the glass windows. Using either head or claws, they had smashed all of the windows and made their way in. The ten survivors heard the click of nails on the metal gratings as they huddled together. The first one they saw was a benign-looking Bengal, closely followed by a fierce Siberian. It was fortuitous that the metal accommodation could only hold two lycans at a time. The remaining humans were spared the blood that caked the others, at least for the time being.

To Eagle Eye's dismay, his lone friend within the base was not in the armory. According to one of the dying soldiers, he had taken refuge in the tower. Thanking him, Eagle hastened the soldier's death to alleviate the suffering. Now that he was in front of the quivering bunch, he started checking heads in anticipation of finding his friend. His friend, 2Lt. Samuel Thuo, was not among the remaining survivors. As he mulled what to do, Bookie grabbed one and took a bite into the subclavian artery. As Bookie wiped his teeth clean of the blood and sealed the wound of the whimpering human, more of the pack made their way forward and grabbed one of the nine remaining survivors. Satisfying their blood cravings could wait until they feasted on the bodies inside the main compound. For now, the priority was to turn as much as possible.

Gene was not among those that besieged the tower. He had salvaged what ammunition there was in the armory and deposited these on the side table beside Sage. He had removed the pistol from the hip holster and checked the rounds that were needed. Looking at the pistol magazines in front of him, he noticed that there were two pre-loaded and two empty magazines. In the empty magazines, he loaded .357 HE rounds. These were requisitioned not more than three weeks ago and were just sitting in the armory. Loading thirteen rounds into both empty magazines, he swept the rest back into the ammo storage box and left these in one of the offices adjacent the infirmary. It was at this moment that Canid told the pack to leave.

We are leaving this base. Gene, you will stay behind and watch over Sage. He is your responsibility. Make sure nothing happens to him while he's still out cold. Also, take the following GPS reading: 73 degrees north magnetic and 105 degrees longitude. Sage can find us if he will follow that coordinates. Good luck, little brother.

"So it was you I shot at this morning" Sage said as realization dawned on him. As Gene nodded his acknowledgment, the lieutenant intruded.

"How did they leave?"

"By air, of course. One of the C-130's is missing" Sage said in response.

"I'm sorry if I stalked you earlier. I was hungry with waiting" Gene told his colleague. Sage just waved him off.

"So, were there any reinforcements dispatched?" Sage said, changing the topic.

"None. We can turn the transmitters back on and call them now if you want" Gene volunteered.

0800 hours

General John Smith's Residence

Arlington, Virginia

The phone was ringing and kept ringing for the next ten minutes. As I sat up, I wondered who in their right mind calls this early on a Saturday morning. Shaking off the remnants of sleep, I put on my slippers and answered the pestering alarm clock.

"Hello?"

"Sir, its Warrant Officer Denise Richardson from the Pentagon. We may have a situation down here and we can't reach Colonel Rhodes" said the caller on the other line.

"Do you know what time it is?" I said as I picked up the clock on the mantelpiece. To my disbelief, it said eight o'clock in the morning.

"Yes sir, its eight in the morning sir"

"I'll be there in 1 hour" I said as I put down the phone. I'm late! I'm never late! I rushed through my morning routine and woke up Colonel Vincent Rhodes on the couch. The bastard slept at my house since he had way too much to drink at the cocktail dinner we had last night.

"Get up Colonel. We're both needed at the Pentagon ASAP!" I said as I dumped a pitcher of cold water onto his head.

The colonel woke with a start and fell off the couch. Rubbing his back, he reached for his phone and also noted the time. Making a quick dash into the bathroom, the colonel scrubbed himself clean in less than ten minutes.

Watching this scene with avid amusement, I halted the colonel when he came out dripping wet and stark naked. "Grab one of the towels on the shelves; I don't want to see anymore of you then necessary today"

"Sorry," the colonel mumbled as he went back inside the bath area "I usually go out of the bathroom naked at my place". Drying himself with one of the soft, cotton towels; the colonel used one to wrap his nether regions as he made his way to his briefcase. Taking out some spare underwear and his dress uniform, he brought these back into the bathroom to begin changing.

'This is very embarrassing. First, I wake up to cold water being poured on me. Next, I leave the bath naked in front of General Smith. What else could go wrong today?' Colonel Rhodes thought as he rushed to dress up.

Outside the door, I waited for the colonel to finish. As much as I wanted to get there on time, Vince would have to fly the MH-60 "Little Bird". I had no experience behind that thing and I did not want to try now. Looking at my watch, we still had time for a quick nip and we could leave. I was about to knock on the door when it opened and out came a flustered Vince holding his brass rank symbols in his hand.

Colonel Vincent Rhodes had been struggling a bit with his insignia. Twice, three of these were upside-down. When he finally got them straightened out, it was time to pin his crossed rifles on the right collar. In his haste, he dropped these on the rug. When he bent over to grab the symbols, he hit his head on the sink as he stood up. Opening the door to allow the general in, he would arrange himself on the mirror outside.

"Stop there Vince. I'll help you with your things. You can eat breakfast while I fix myself up" I told the flustered colonel. I could read the relief on his face as he made his way over to the dining area. As I looked at my bald pate in the mirror, I placed some cream on it to stop from looking like a cue ball.

Breakfast was rushed, yet excellent. We were out the back door and airborne in no less than twenty minutes.

Arriving at the Pentagon, I went off first as Vince had to find a parking space for his chopper. Usually it would be at Andrews, now he just left it parked on one of the slots outside. He kept the keys, of course.

We both cleared the checkpoints installed after 9/11 and made our way through a further three more in the bowels of the Pentagon. As we reached the doors to the Tac-Center, Secretary of Defense Michael Jackson joined us in our walk. Placing our key cards into the slots provided, we each input our individual access codes and were allowed through.

It was now 09.30.45am. More than twelve hours after the attack on Borzoi airbase.

"Gentlemen, we need a sitrep" I called out to the room. As the room turned to acknowledge our arrival, three piping hot brews of coffee were thrust into our hands by one of the watch officers.

"Sir, a little over twelve hours ago. Borzoi broadcast that it was under attack. At 20.55, Captain Zhou of the 1st Airborne Rangers gave the all clear. At 23.05, an Apache gunship crash-landed outside Fort Cherokee. The pilot claimed that he needed reinforcements to forestall a cataclysm on the base itself. The pilot was wheeled into intensive care due to exhaustion. He is only semi-conscious at the moment" Warrant Officer Denise Richardson reported.

"We have boots on the ground?" Secretary Jackson spoke up. As a former USAF fighter pilot, he knew hard evidence from ground sources had to back up aerial recon.

"Not yet sir. We trusted what the captain said on the matter" Ms. Richardson replied.

"That's not good enough NCO! Are there any assets we have on station at Fort Cherokee?" I berated her.

"Major Paul Schumann's SEAL team is preparing to ship out to Colombia with 1st Force Recon. His flight leaves in 3 hours" Commander James Lawrence spoke up.

"Commander, tell the major to get his ass over to Borzoi and find out what happened. Tell him to take the entire 1st Force Recon as well and he has over-all command authority" I told him.

"Wilco, sir" Commander Lawrence replied. On another frequency, Cdr. Lawrence contacted Fort Cherokee. "Sand Bravo, this is Panther. Get me Anubis ASAP"

"Copy that, Panther. This is Anubis"

"Anubis, get your men together. I need you and Force Recon to work together on this one"

"We have been waiting for your green light since 0500 Central. Who is this sir?" Major Schumann answered.

A new voice came on. "This is General John Smith. Put me on speaker, major" The major pressed a button on the console in front of him and broadcast the transmission all around the base.

"You're live sir"

"1st Force Recon, I am reassigning you under Major Schumann's command. You will undertake a sweep at Borzoi and ascertain the damage. Any survivors must be brought to Cherokee for debrief. I don't want to hear any squabbles on this one. Clear?" the general's voice was broadcasted throughout the base speakers.

Major Schumann turned off the speakers as he continued to receive personal orders from the general.

"Major, if the bastards are still in the area. Take one and kill the rest. That is an order" the general said before the line went silent.

"Panther, did I just hear correctly? Were we just given a shoot-to-kill order?" Anubis asked for confirmation.

"That's affirm, Anubis. Send those terrorists straight back to hell. Good luck. Panther out"

"Confirmed, Anubis out"

Turning to his CO, the major said "Well, sir. It appears that you were just relieved of command. Any hard feelings?"

"None. It's a test for you. I'll be in my quarters if you need advice after your mission is over" Colonel Albion Kettering said to his XO.

"1st Force Recon, form up. We're going in with the V-22s. Alpha, Bravo and Charlie company commanders, meet me in the ready room in ten" the major said into the base speakers.

09.45 am

Tac-Ops Center

Pentagon

"Well, gentlemen. Looks like we have a long wait ahead of us. Let's head to the crisis room for some coffee and pastries" Colonel Rhodes said uneasily.

"This is getting out of hand. What will the SEAL team and 1st Force Recon find when they get to Borzoi?" Secretary Jackson said as we made our way to the crisis room.

"We don't know. What we do know is that we have clumps of survivors in the base and they need to be rescued before anything else happens" I replied to that. Godspeed Major, you'll need it.

12.15 pm

Borzoi AFB

Mess Hall

"Have you made your decision yet Sage?" Gene asked.

"You expect me to join a roving band of lunatics hell-bent on fulfilling a deadly agenda?" Sage answered.

"I'll take that as a maybe" Gene replied. Gene's ears started twitching, as if picking up some distant sounds.

Sage noticed this as well. "Hear something Gene?"

"Fast-movers, probably Ospreys. Looks like your decision has been made for you. I'll stand by you, no matter what happens" Gene said as he stood to his eight-foot tall height.

The doors to the mess hall were flung open as three flash bang grenades were tossed inside. Gene immediately covered Sage while Sam took most of the flash. Temporarily blinded, Sam lay prostrate on the floor. Gene's ears were ringing from the sound, yet he still kept Sage covered.

"On the ground, hands over your head! DO IT NOW!" yelled the SEALS.

On a hunch, Major Schumann had deployed his SEAL team beside the mess hall. Alpha and Bravo would sweep the Operations Center while Charlie took on the tower. Any survivors would be bundled up and evacuated onto the waiting Ospreys. The remaining companies of 1st Force Recon were moving in CH-46 Seaknights. They would arrive after an hour of flight time.

As the major turned a corner and entered the mess hall after the SEALS, he noticed a wall of white. Raising his rifle he advanced slowly, gesturing behind him for the other SEALS to bunch up. The first one to be secured was Lieutenant Thuo. The anthropomorphic arctic fox proved to be a larger problem.

Anubis advanced on the fox. As he got closer, the thing towered over him and even Lieutenant Barnes, their 7 foot even sniper. "Show me your hands, fox" he ordered.

When the fox turned around, he saw a human officer behind. Pushing past the fox, he checked the vitals of the human. Hearing growls, he ignored them and administered first aid to the downed colonel. What he was not expecting was to be picked up by his ankle and hoisted upwards. Meeting the fox face to muzzle, Anubis showed no fear.

The fox sniffed him then spoke, startling the SEALS. "Why are you not afraid of me human? Am I not your worst nightmare?"

"You look too cute and fluffy to do any harm. And I have an arctic wolf for a companion, you can't compare. Now put me down, so I can check you for weapons. Non-invasive, I promise" Anubis told the werefox.

Sensing no distrust, the werefox put the major down gently. As the major only barely reached the lower abdomen of the fox, Gene complied and sprawled on all fours. As the major felt the soft, plush coat, he inadvertently groped the sheath of the fox as he was checking for concealed weapons. Feeling something hot on his hand, he rolled the fox over and saw what it was. The tip of the cock was peeking out of the sheath. Finishing his inspection, the major bade the fox to just sit down.

"Why are you blushing?" Gene asked the major playfully.

"Call me Anubis. You are?" Anubis announced to the fox.

"Lieutenant Colonel Raymond 'Gene' Foley. Call me Gene" Gene said as he offered a large paw to the major.

"Mind if I have a cup?" Anubis asked, pointing to the coffee pot on the table.

"Sure, be my guest" Gene said, as he watched the SEAL grab the cup Gene had used not more than fifteen minutes ago. Pouring himself a cup, the major sighed in relief. At least this coffee is hot.

"Sir, this is Alpha. OpCenter is a wreck. You have to get over here. We have a lot of dead"

"This is Bravo, we have survivors in the armory. They need medical attention"

"This is Charlie, ten survivors in the tower. And a lot of body bags as well"

"One at a time, I'll go to Bravo first" Pointing to Barnes, he ordered the tall lieutenant to the OpCenter. Another of the SEALS was dispatched to the tower.

"I'm coming too" Gene said. When the SEALS chambered their weapons, Gene growled in response.

"NOT HERE! Save your animosity for the commies in Colombia" Anubis ordered his men to stand down.

Gene was caught by surprise. No human ever stood up for a lycan before. This was worth looking into.

"Bring Sage Sawyer as well. Drop him off in the chopper, White" Anubis said as he went out the door.

"That's your new callsign Gene. It's either White or Blanc" he told the incredulous werefox.

Stunned, Gene, or Blanc as he was now known, carried Sage to one of the Ospreys. The jumpmaster asked no questions since Anubis was staring at him. The last time someone pissed off Anubis, that person wanted to die. The jumpmaster was there in Pakistan when one of the Pakistanis threw a training grenade at Anubis' direction. Using one of the wooden training rifles, he had sent the grenade back towards its sender. It was a home run.

"White, you're on me. We're going to the armory to check up on the survivors. Watch my back now"

White followed the SEAL and kept watch over his six.

The aftermath...

Picking their way through the bodies, the marines were pulling off dog tags so they could identify the families' about the deaths of their members. The three dead "lycanthropes" as White called them were placed into bags as well. These would ride back to Cherokee with the SEALS. No one was to be left behind.

A few photographs were taken by marines with digital cameras. These were confiscated by Major Schumann's team and put to good use documenting the madness that had occurred here. The cameras were later returned with much of the memory intact except for the pictures of Borzoi. The fright that the soldiers had at seeing White made Anubis uneasy.

The body count at Borzoi amounted to 1, 720 dead personnel. The survivors numbered 64. According to White, only 4 of those were not budding lycanthropes. The two humans in the mess hall were not infected nor was the doctor they discovered in the commandant's office. The SEAL that had escaped to Cherokee the night before was also not infected.

With an AWOL Ranger unit, there was no telling what would happen next.

Over the next few weeks, Anubis faced the entire Joint Chiefs panel, the Secretary of Defense and the President himself. Every time he gave the same report, and the response from all were the same.

Major Schumann would be bumped up two ranks to Colonel. In turn, he would lead a fast-response team to stamp out fires started by the rogue unit. What he would need in the coming battles were advisers who knew how a lycan thinks. As such, he retained White as part of his staff over the protests of the surviving uninfected SEAL. Also, he went through classified documents to find the other enlisted lycanthropes and ask them to join.

Sergeant O'Donnell was awarded a Congressional Medal of Honor for courage under fire. He was offered a spot in the new task force, an amalgamation of numerous Special Forces teams from across the globe. Posthumous awards went to Captain Schneider and the base defenders. General Woodridge's remains, on the other hand, were burned. He was buried in an unmarked grave, on White's and Dale's suggestions.

The battle against Canid would be long and bloody. And it began on September 13th 2015.