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Parosana begins a renewed offensive. A mechanized brigade has been tasked with seizing control of Senchen's industrial district, but standing in their way is a mix of war-weary Corysian soldiers. After a month of arduous fighting for their own homes, the Corysians are losing their hold on Senchen. This is the beginning of the end.

Now the Corysians have been forced to retreat to one of their last lines of defense. The situation looks bleak, and is only made worse when the disorganized resistance is forced to fall back once more.

Cover art symbols are from "MIL-STD-2525C".

Attacking: Parosana

Mechanized Brigade Marines Armored

Defending: Corysia Infantry Battalion (2/159th Infantry) Militia Battalion Marine Company Paratrooper Company

Terrain: Urban

Characters:

Infantry Team (Bravo 3-2 Alpha, 2/159th Infantry): Karbovic - Wolf - Section Leader Darrell - Wolf - Medic Reaf - Wolf - Designated Marksfur Sun - Red Fox - Anti-Armor Terry - Silver Fox - Rifle

Militia: Richard - Gray Fox - Rifle

Paratroopers: Faine ­- Wolf - Squad Leader Roth - Jackal - Rifle

Edits:

07/07/2013: Changed an incorrect word. The word "paws" should have been "pays".

---

The Industrial - Charlie Line - 12:48 PM

"Damn it, I told you we were supposed to keep together!"

Faine seethes with anger at Roth, who had gotten the two of them lost. The wolf could just use his radio and ask for Bravo Team's location, but he's stuck inside a concrete warehouse and his squad-level radio sure as fuck isn't going to send signals through the thick walls. Even if it could, the rest of his Alpha Team is lost too, and unless you're the leader of a fireteam or higher, you don't get a radio. And none of the others are.

Shaking with fear, the jackal only stutters in response. He saw a Parosanan machine gun crew run to here somewhere, and he thought it would be better if they did the other Corysian soldiers in the area a favor and kill the bastards before they lay down heavy fire on them. But now he isn't sure if they really are here, after all, they can't find any signs of Paro soldiers from the warehouse's small office.

"And I let you talk me into this, damn it!"

But before they can retrace their steps, they hear several pairs of boots pounding against the hard concrete floor, amid the gunfire inside the warehouse. The two spin around, assault rifles pointing at the door they came from.

"Keep quiet," Faine says, as the two hastily step clear of the single door leading to the office.

Crouching at ambush positions, they two soldiers keep their Type 55 assault rifles leveled at the doorway. Faine hears one of the furs outside say a phrase, definitely not in Corysian. He estimates a team of Parosanan soldiers outside. The sound of boots races up the staircase, almost next to the office's doorway, and fade away.

"I assume that's your machine gun team?" Faine whispers, breaking the silence.

"I... I guess?" the jackal says.

"Well, we're here, so we mind as well do something while we're at it."

Faine rises from his knee, quickly followed by the jackal. The wolf pokes his muzzle slightly around the doorway, and finds the hallway empty.

"C'mon," the squad leader whispers.

Faine silently pads into the hallway, his teammate following closely behind. After confirming that the staircase is empty, the two ascend to the second floor. The staircase ends at the second floor, where it turns sharply to the right. Faine keeps his Type 55 pointed at the right corner where the second floor disappears. Halfway up, the wolf halts. A voice emanates from the upper level, followed by a door being forcefully opened, and a series of boots landing on the concrete floor.

"They're clearing the rooms," Faine says.

The wolf pats his vest, searching for a grenade, but finds none.

"Damn, do you have a grenade?" Faine asks.

"Yeah, got two left," Roth says, and retrieves a fragmentation grenade from his vest.

"I'll commence firing, and then you throw the frag," Faine says.

"Got it," the jackal responds.

They climb up the last half of the stairs to the top. Faine gets into position just behind the corner, hidden from the Parosanan soldiers somewhere not far ahead. The wolf glances back at Roth, who pulls the safety pin from the grenade. The jackal gives a nod. Faine takes one last breath, and leans out around the corner. By reflex, the squad leader places his assault rifle's iron sights on the first fur he sees, and squeezes on the trigger. In the same moment, Roth hurls the grenade down the hallway. After quickly emptying about half his magazine, Faine returns behind cover to exchange it for a full one. Shouting and returning fire breaks out as Roth picks up his own Type 55 and shoulders it. Further down the hallway, the grenade detonates. Faine, who has by now reloaded his rifle, leans out and fires a few rounds before retreating behind cover. The Parosanan machine gunner, uninjured after the contact, leans out of the room he has taken cover in and lays down fire on the paratroopers.

"Maintain fire on him!" Faine shouts. Eventually he'll have to reload.

Roth barely exposes himself and briefly squeezes his rifle's trigger before hiding behind the corner again. The jackal repeats the action again a few seconds later, keeping the machine gunner busy. Gradually the incoming fire slackens as the enemy's magazine dwindles. Finally, there's a significant pause in the incoming fire.

"Let's move!" Faine shouts.

Roth hesitates at first, but only a moment later he leaves the safety of the stairwell and into the hallway. He uneasily keeps his Type 55 assault rifle leveled. Faine follows his teammate out of cover soon after. Six steps later, the machine gunner exposes himself. The two Corysians react fast enough to fire their rifles, but the other fur manages to squeeze his firearm's trigger anyways. Red splatters against the wall on both sides. After confirming that the enemy has been neutralized, Faine hastily returns to his teammate. Roth whimpers while he clutches the wound on his upper leg.

Initially Faine feels anger against Roth, but it quickly dissipates. He can't expect the jackal to dodge machine gun fire. The wolf remembers too the time a few weeks ago when he released his anger on Harris, another paratrooper, for actions he didn't have control over. His anger is quickly redirected at himself. He is incompetent, unable to efficiently or effectively lead fellow soldiers in battle. I was too hasty, how could I make that simple mistake? Faine screams to in his mind. Sure the machine gunner took a longer break from returning fire than he had before, but that didn't necessarily mean he was reloading or his magazine was empty.

"Damn it Roth, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted so quickly," the wolf mutters as he unpacks a field dressing.

"Just remember the machine gun team actually was here," Roth says back. "And Faine?"

The wolf's ears perk up.

"Yeah?"

"That machine gun can be put to good use."

Faine contemplates their options. The wolf believes it would be better if they fall back and regroup with the rest of his squad. However, the warehouse is likely behind lines already, and trying to find friendlies will probably get the two of them shot. Staying to use the general-purpose machine gun might be able to delay the Paros for a few minutes, long enough for Corysian supporting elements to arrive.

"Alright, I'll trust you on this, ok?"

(.....)

After Roth has been patched up, the two paratroopers identify loopholes in the warehouse's walls that can be used as firing ports. They then retrieve the Parosanan machine gun and all the ammunition they can find. Faine loads a fresh belt of 7.7mm rounds and follows his teammate to their first firing position. The two get into position lying prone on the floor. Roth points out their first target through the hole: a group of Paros congregated at an IFV. Faine lines up the weapon's sights, and presses his paw pad down on the trigger.

The Industrial - Bravo Line - 12:52 PM

The last of Charlie Team, from Bravo 3-2, sprints through the housing complex's doorway under a storm of gunfire pouring from both sides of the street. Bravo Line is the Corysian second-to-last line of defense. Similar to Echo Line, it consists of a mass of fortified multistory housing complexes, only on the opposite side of the warehouses, and past a few rows of railroads. Charlie Team nearly collapses from exhaustion at the back of the room while A and B Team maintain fire at the other end. Terry points his rifle around the corner of a window and squeezes the trigger on his Type 49, resulting in a series of badly placed bullets. The silver fox soon notices that the Paros aren't attempting to assault their position, instead showing more interest in staying put.

But the reason is exposed shortly after by an explosion, the bomb causing it having been released by an unseen Parosanan aircraft. Another three unguided bombs explode soon after, the ordnance detonating in the structure immediately to their right. The room fills with dust, and a few of the Corysians stagger from the shockwave. Two jets then swoop in, covering their general location with cannon-fire and unguided rockets. Acting in unison with their CAS, the Parosanans choose that moment to attack. Several tracked Manta IFVs appear and manage to send several 20mm rounds before the first Corysian anti-armor round is even fired. They can't hope to fight back with the armored support from outside.

"Fall back!" Karbovic shouts.

The infantry section gladly evacuates the room. Karbovic sets up a defensive position a short distance further into the structure, and spreads out his section. But only a few seconds in, a team of Corysian Marines sprint past them. Strange, Karbovic thinks to himself, the plan for Bravo Line doesn't have marines here. And only a few seconds later, an infantry section with Charlie Company's identification hastily squeezes past them. Charlie Company is, according to Bravo Line's plan, supposed to be at least a hundred meters to the west. Karbovic decides to stop the next few soldiers who pass by his section, who happen to be a team from Alpha Company.

"Alpha Company is way up that way, why are you here?" the wolf asks one of them, pointing east and nearly screaming at the fur.

"Says who? The entire situation has gone to fuck!"

They continue on, leaving behind Karbovic speechless. As if to amplify the statement, Karbovic's radio crackles as a message is received.

"All units, this is Battalion Command. Be advised, air support window is on indefinite stand-by, too many Paro fighters, repeat, indefinite stand-by!"

2ndBattalion and all nearby formations are disorganized after the fighting. There really is no possibility for us to win this engagement, is there? Karbovic asks himself. Adding to that, any hope of air support coming to their rescue is out of the question. The only hope left for repelling the assault is the armored support. The wolf quickly forces the thought out of his head. Although we may lose, that's not an excuse to give up.

Before the wolf can do anything else, small arms fire rips through the air. The section takes cover and returns fire on the enemy contact. One of the Paros throws a frag from behind cover, the explosive landing at their hindpaws.

"Grenade!" a voice shouts.

Bravo 3-2 immediately disperses, taking cover in the halls to the side. Terry manages to retreat further behind cover before it detonates, filling the corridors with even more dust. A fur cries out in pain as gunfire immediately resumes. The wolf next to Terry crouches before exposing himself from cover, reaches forward, and drags the wounded soldier behind cover.

"Casualty!" he shouts.

Karbovic, who retreated into the same corridor as them, nudges the wolf's shoulder before he can retrieve the wounded soldier's dressing.

"There isn't any time; we're going to be cut off! Get him behind lines now, we're pulling back!" Karbovic shouts, and then turns away. "Everyone, fall back!"

Terry rises and with the rest of his section as they quickly make their way down the hallway, further from the recent enemy contact. Some of the soldiers who hid in a neighboring corridor also retreat in the same direction. A short distance later, everyone in the section has visual line-of-sight with one another. Meanwhile, the fur wounded by the grenade is immediately carried away from the fighting.

But even as they reestablish contact with one another, gunfire ignites around them. Five other Corysians, this time being militiafurs, appear from a doorway at the side and stumble backwards into Bravo 3-2 as they fire on Paros somewhere around a corner, back where they came from.

"Fuck, almost got me!" one of them says.

The group turns on their hindpaws and sprint past Bravo 3-2, but not before Karbovic stops them.

"Hold your ground and fight back!" Karbovic orders.

"The fuck I would!" a husky militiafurs shouts back.

The last militiafur of the group struggles to point his unwieldy Type 49 the way they came from. But he fails to line up his weapon before a 7.7mm Parosanan rifle bullet rips through the fox's head and helmet. Even before his body lands on the ground, Bravo 3-2's guns lay down fire at the enemy contact.

"Shit! Andy!" the husky chokes out before the other militiafurs pull him away.

"He's dead, damn it, just get the fuck out of here!" a militiafur screams as they, one fewer than before, retreat further into the housing complex.

Bravo 3-2 is given no time to rest as the Paros following the militiafurs engage their new target. Terry frantically fires his rifle at one Paro, before noticing another appear at the section's flank. The silver fox swings his cumbersome Type 49 around just in time and squeezes the trigger, only for two off-target rounds to be fired before the magazine runs dry. Darrell, who is also aiming at the Paro, fires a few rounds and successfully eliminates the contact. Another Paro appears from the corridor and succumbs to the same fate. From somewhere behind cover, a Paro throws a grenade at the Corysians. They scramble for cover as it goes off, followed immediately by the surviving Paros laying down fire.

"Fall back! Charlie Team, cover us!" Karbovic shouts.

C Team stays back, keeping the Parosanans occupied while the rest of the section disengages. Terry, with his rifle's magazine exchanged with a full one, runs down the dark hallway along with Alpha and Bravo Team. Passing an intersection with another hallway, the fur on point stops and whips around his rifle, firing a few rounds in quick succession. The Paros return fire, scoring several hits on the exposed soldier. The other Corysians shoot back, only for an incoming grenade to once again break them up. Terry takes cover in a nearby room as the grenade goes off. He then rises and tries to rejoin the rest of his section, but is unable to as Paros at their flank open fire. Bullets stream through the hallway Terry was in shortly before, blocking the only door out of the room, and prompting Bravo 3-2 to pull back further.

"Keep moving!" Karbovic shouts as they withdraw.

Meanwhile, Terry is still in the small, dimly-lit room. He almost attempts to run after his section, but the pawsteps of approaching Paros force him to stay put. It is then that he notices that three other friendlies are also occupying the same room. None of them are from Alpha Team.

The four hide behind whatever cover is available as the Paros near their location. Two of the soldiers scan the room, one standing at the doorway while the other steps in. A coyote crouching low behind cover listens nervously to every sound made by them. Then the Parosanan soldier in the room takes one step closer. If he were to look down, the Paro would have seen the wolf, but he never had a chance to do so. The coyote rises slightly and brings up his Type 49 rifle around, facing it at the Paros in front of him. He squeezes the trigger, letting loose a stream of 6.5mm CUA rounds, neutralizing the immediate threat. However, the rest of the enemy force is not far outside. One of them peeks in, his assault rifle blazing, and manages to score several hits on the coyote before getting shot himself. Automatic fire streams from both sides before the Paros follow up by throwing a grenade into the room. Terry scrambles through another doorway along with the three remaining Corysians into a second room before the grenade detonates.

The Parosanans stay right behind them. One of them fires through the doorway, hitting one of the Corysians. He goes down with his Type 49 blazing, but his rounds miss. Terry, along with the remaining Corysian soldier, trade rounds with the Paros through the doorway. Terry barely keeps his rifle's sights lined up as he squeezes the trigger a few times in panic. His badly placed rounds, unsurprisingly, don't help. An incoming 7.7mm bullet hits the fox in his gut, causing him to yelp as he falls to the ground. The other remaining Corysian soldier, a wolf, is hit in the upper leg not long afterwards.

An enemy soldier reveals himself from cover, weapon ready, only to be met with two CUA rounds from the wolf's assault rifle. Following behind him is another Paro, who squeezes his weapon's trigger, only to discover that his magazine has run dry. The Corysian fires his own rifle, the last round in his magazine missing its target. The enemy uses his empty rifle as a blunt weapon, swinging the stock forward. The Corysian blocks the strike with his own rifle, but is pushed up against the wall behind him.

"Shoot him, Terry!" the wolf growls, before narrowly blocking another hit from the enemy's rifle.

Terry whimpers in pain from his wound as he picks up his Type 49, and aims it at the two Canids fighting paw-to-paw. What if I hit him, and not the Paro? He wonders before he pulls the trigger. From Terry's location, the two furs aren't blocking one another, but his shaking forepaws don't make the situation any better.

"Terry, damn it, shoot him!" the wolf pleads, his hindpaw sliding a bit under the stress of his wound, weight, and ongoing fighting.

But the two furs sometimes block one another. What if the round's penetration results in both of them being hit? That causes him to index his trigger finger. But if I just aim for the Paro's leg, then that'll be just as good, right? The fox, reassured by his thoughts and pushed on by the wolf, places his finger on the rifle's trigger again, and tries to ignore the pain from his wound. But the wolf pays the price for Terry's delays. The wolf loses his step and stumbles from his wound. The Paro exploits the opportunity to unsheathe his combat knife, and plunges it into the wolf. Paws shaking, Terry half-accidentally fires a round from his rifle. Despite his thoughts, concerns, and hopes against it, the bullet nevertheless hits the wolf before passing through the Paro. The two furs fall to the ground. The wolf continues to writhe on the ground in a puddle of blood, whimpering in pain before finally dying in the dark, filthy room of the bombed housing complexes, fighting for a home which will probably be leveled before the end of the war.

Terry lowers his rifle, and drops it onto the ground. The silver fox's ears splay to either side, his tail lying close to him, lifeless and unmoving. He visibly shakes as he sobs. He's shot enemy Parosanan soldiers before, but another Corysian? The wolf would have died from the enemy soldier, but he had fired that shot, the bullet that struck a fellow soldier. That was barely two or three meters away. Even in the dim light available, there's no way he could have mistaken that.

"I'm sorry," he whimpers.

In pain, depression, and fatigue, he collapses onto his side and curls into a fetal position.

"I'm sorry," he whimpers again.

A short while later, Terry's ears perk up as he hears pawsteps just outside the room. Is this the end? But the fox could be standing up and unarmed for all he cared. His miserable life wouldn't last with his wound untreated.

"Terry, where have you been?" a familiar voice asks him. "You're still here? How- oh geez..."

The silver fox opens his eyes, finding Darrell in front of him, stepping through the doorway and into the room. The wolf looks down with concern at Terry's bullet wound, his uniform soaked crimson with blood. The rest of his universal camouflage uniform discolored by a palette of dirt brown, oily black, and concrete gray from mixing with the remnants of the crumbling city. Terry's black fur is tinted an inconsistent gray after being matted with the lighter colored dust of pulverized concrete.

Darrell slings his rifle and drags Terry to the nearest corner, not readily noticeable from outside. The silver fox curls his black-furred tail close to his chest, and hugs it close.

"D-Darrell?" Terry whimpers as Darrell retrieves the silver fox's field dressing.

"Yeah?" Darrell responds, his ears perking up towards Terry.

"Where's everyone else?"

Darrell finds the package, opening it and retrieving the clean bandage inside.

"We didn't actually get too far. It wasn't long before we got separated, and I found out you and a few others were missing. So I went searching."

The wolf brushes Terry's tail aside places the bandage on the fox's wound with care. He then lifts Terry's abdomen in order to wrap the bandage around.

"But is- ah!"

Terry cries out in pain as Darrell disturbs his wound. The wolf wraps the bandage around and ties the two ends into a knot, finalizing the task.

"There, all done!" Darrell comforts.

However, the pain persists, and Terry continues to whimper in pain.

"Hey, it's ok now," Darrell soothes.

Darrell positions the fox so that his head lies in the wolf's lap. Removing Terry's helmet, Darrell speaks softly to his friend while softly stroking Terry.

"You're fixed up. Everything's fine, everything's alright, ok?"

The silver fox whimpers again.

"You're doing fine, Terry. You're wound's been taken care of. There's nothing to worry...," Darrell says, before his voice unexpectedly stops.

Terry opens his eyes, formerly shut from the pain. He sees his friend listening attentively to something in the distance. His ears swivel around and twitch slightly.

"Darrell?" the fox whimpers.

"Quiet."

Sounds of automatic fire, shouting, and explosions constantly penetrate through the walls of the housing complex, but Terry manages to hear the source of the trouble. Not far away from them is the sound of boots tapping against the tile floor. Darrell stealthily reaches for and picks up his Type 49 before pulling his hindpaws in so they aren't protruding too far into the center of the room. Some words are spoken in Parosanan, as the sounds approach the room the two furs are in.

A Parosanan soldier pokes his muzzle into the room and illuminates the inside with a weapon-mounted flashlight. He visually searches the room, scanning the deceased lying on the floor. Darrell keeps Terry and himself close to the wall, somewhat hidden from view. The silver fox looks up at the wolf above him, watching over him, protecting him, guarding him. While others have left him behind, Darrell had gone back to search for him. And still he is here, vigilant and watchful.

The enemy soldier leaves after a quick glance, missing the two still-living Corysians, and the group leaves the area. When the sounds of the Paros fade away, Darrell exhales. The wolf drops his rifle and strokes a forepaw softly through Terry's fur.

"Relax, it's alright. Look, we'll be able to get out of this mess, alright?"

Inner-Corysia - More than 5,000ft - 1:26 PM

A Corysian pilot levels out his Type 4 multirole fighter aircraft along with the other three in his flight. Soft clouds lie below his aircraft, so close that he can almost reach his forepaw out and touch them. A whole air group of fighters fly in lazy circles through the clouds, waiting for the signal, waiting for the window of opportunity to open. Of course, none of the pilots actually want to fly over Senchen. The skies there are now under Parosanan control, and even maintaining brief air superiority is costly. Everyone has already paid a price with their wounds or lost friends.

"All call signs, activity over the city is dropping. It appears that most of the Paros are returning to carriers. This is it, the window of opportunity is open, bring in the rain!"

The CNAF fighters all turn in the direction of Senchen before leveling out. The officer in command of the flight activates his radio.

"Alright, it's FUBAR on the ground, and the CNA needs us to assist. Eliminate the Paro fighters in the air, and the gates are open to the Type 6s. They'll focus on the bombing, and we make sure they aren't shredded, over."

The officer receives confirmations from all 3 of those under his command.

"Okay, let's do this!"

The entire air group activates their afterburners, accelerating to over Mach 1.5 as they race towards Senchen's airspace. From their current location deep inside Corysia, it'll take 20 more minutes.

The Industrial - Bravo Line - 1:22 PM

Karbovic, along with most of the remnants of Bravo 3-2, has secured a room in the housing complex. They have successfully fended off the Paros for almost half an hour. But the section leader is increasingly doubtful there are any Corysians putting up a defense notable to the Parosanans. The wolf squeezes his rifle's trigger a few times in quick succession, firing several rounds in semi-automatic and neutralizing an enemy soldier who stepped into the open. Karbovic retreats behind cover, and not long after, his radio crackles to life.

"This is Battalion Command, all units be advised, air support will open in twenty mikes, repeat, twenty mikes! Bravo to Echo Line will be bombed, evacuate immediately to Alpha Line! Mixed Artillery will be joining in. TF Iron will arrive in ten mikes, dig in and hold on, out!"

Evacuate to Alpha Line? They're still stuck in the housing complexes of Bravo Line. But where the fuck is Darrell and Terry?

"Reaf with me, Bravo and Charlie Team fall back to Alpha Line!" he shouts

Karbovic crosses through a doorway in search of the two lost furs as Reaf, the last fur in Alpha Team still with the section, hurries to catch up with him. Karbovic could care less if Terry dies, in fact, he would prefer the unskilled and inefficient bastard to die in the bombardment than stay with his section. But Darrell is someone else altogether. Darrell is a soldier competent with his tasks and able to effectively command other soldiers. Losing him would be unforgivable, even if their ideas differ.

But there's another incredibly personal and sensitive reason he can't lose Darrell, and the fact that their ideas on wielding power differ is the entire cause for it. Karbovic is, comparatively, cruel. He may not appear that way to those higher up than him, but for those below, he is harsh, obvious through his interaction with Terry. Karbovic deals with those he commands coldly, lacking any understanding for them. Darrell, however, does not embrace the idea of flaunting power. He helps those under him, showing understanding and kindness. And Karbovic is aware of this. He desires to be the kind of leader Darrell would be. He sees Darrell as the kind of leader he could only wish to become. Karbovic wants to treat his fellow soldiers with understanding, but for him, it simply feels wrong when he acts like that.

But all of this has yet a reason behind it, one which enters Karbovic's most sacred, secret, and sensitive memories and beliefs. The wolf pauses for an extra few seconds behind cover, clenching his paws tightly around his rifle and whimpering softly as the violently suppressed memories of his early life briefly return.

Pawsteps fall outside the room yet, causing Darrell to pick up his Type 49 assault rifle again and listen attentively to whoever is approaching. A wolf, who Darrell recognizes as Karbovic, then pokes his muzzle into the doorway. He looks behind the door and finds the two missing soldiers.

"Air support window is opening soon, we have to go, now!" he says.

Darrell rises on his own, while Terry struggles to with his wound. Karbovic picks up a Type 49 off the ground and growls as he violently pulls Terry out of the room. The fox whimpers, only for Karbovic to shove the Type 49 at him and push him forward after Darrell and Reaf, who are already a few steps ahead. The four soldiers run through the hallway, in search of the structure's exit. Within moments, a fifth fur appears at a nearby doorway. All weapons are fixed onto him.

"Hey, wait!" the fur shouts.

They all immediately recognize the fox. It's Sun, who was wounded earlier during the battle, and sent to a field hospital located in one of the warehouses, now in the paws of Parosana. Terry looks down towards Sun's hindpaw, and finds him still wearing the boot that was partially shredded from a Parosanan 7.7mm rifle bullet. Around his hindpaw is a bandage, shoved into the boot. Blood stains blot various parts of his uniform, but he has no bullet wounds, apparently.

"I can't believe I actually found you furs," Sun pants, exhausted after running here.

"Damn it, almost fucking shot you!" Reaf exhales.

"How did you get here?" Karbovic asks.

"What, was I written off?"

"I assumed the medics moved you."

"Ha! Well the Paros had a fun time with that. No one got moved anywhere. It was a damned massacre. They came in and fucking shot everyone, wounded or not. The medical staff wasn't even armed. I managed to get out of there though..."

Sun's entire body appears to droop as he recollects the events that happened not long ago.

"Hey, snap out of it, the air support window won't wait for us. We have to go, now," Karbovic says.

Sun nods in agreement, and the reunited Bravo 3-2 Alpha resumes their movement out of the housing complexes. The hammering of automatic fire throughout the housing complex reminds them of the enemy presence. Karbovic, on point, brings his rifle from its ready position onto his shoulder in a split second and fires three rounds quickly in semi-automatic.

"Contact!" he shouts.

The team scatters, taking cover behind whatever is available in the immediate area, be it rubble, destroyed furniture, or a wall. 7.7mm bullets rip through the hallway as the Paros fire back. In a lull in the shooting, Karbovic emerges, fires a few more rounds, and ducks behind cover. He redirects the team to an adjacent hallway, which they use to retreat from the engagement. They run to make distance between them and the enemy contacts. After doing so, the team refocuses on their task of leaving the housing complex.

However, it's interrupted when shooting breaks out close to the team. A militiafur runs through a doorway Terry only just walked past, bullets chasing after him. The fox is hit with several of them, and falls to the ground, dead. A moment later a gray fox, also a militiafur, appears from the doorway, nearly tripping as he crosses through. He scurries behind the corner of the doorway for cover, colliding with Terry in a yelp of surprise. The silver fox looks over and quickly recognizes the militiafur as Richard, his childhood friend whom he was conscripted with. Terry knew there was a militia battalion near the 2/159th Infantry and that it was participating in this engagement, but he never discovered which unit it was, and he never thought it would be the same as his old battalion.

Meanwhile, a stream of 7.7mm rounds flies through the doorway, breaking off bits of the concrete wall making it up. The Corysians takes cover, training their rifles' sights on the doorway. The incoming fire dies down. Two Paros attempt to pass through, only to be shot in the process.

As Richard also realizes who he has literally bumped into, Karbovic's radio comes to life.

"This is Battalion Command, TF Iron is approaching Alpha Line, and the Window will open in ten mikes, out."

"We need to get out of here, let's go!" Karbovic shouts.

The team of five, now augmented to six, navigates their way through the housing complex, nearly breaking into a run to get out in time. Midway through a dim corridor, an enormous explosion shakes the structure. Terry is thrown off his hindpaws, along with everyone else. He hits the ground, and before he can even try to stand up, a large and heavy object falls onto the fox. He yelps in pain and surprise as the air in his lungs is forcibly pushed out. Terry tries to inhales, only to breathe in dust, causing him to cough it back out.

"Status?" Karbovic shouts.

Terry's ears still ring from the explosion, distorting the wolf's voice. A series of affirmatives follow as the trapped soldier attempts to choke out a plea for help. He gives up and decides to try pushing the weight off, but discovers he's barely able to move. Looking around, he finds a thick cloud of dust surrounding him, and also realizes that the object on him is a large concrete slab, evidently part of the building their in from the concrete rebar sticking out of it. Thankfully, Darrell materializes through the dust in the air. The wolf slings his rifle and urgently grabs the rebar, lifting the concrete slab so that Terry is able to scramble out from underneath. The fox stands and picks up his Type 49. Examining the situation through the settling dust, he sees the four other furs in Alpha Team, but where's Richard? The gray fox was right behind him, but now the area has been buried under rubble.

"Come on, we need to keep moving!" Karbovic says.

No! Terry runs over to where his friend possibly is, and finds patches of fur and militia uniform visible through the rubble. He drops his rifle and digs through the wreckage with his forepaws, desperately trying to save his friend. In seconds, he uncovers Richard's entire head, and most of his arms. However, slabs of concrete rest on his center mass, down to his legs, pinning the gray fox in place.

"Terry, please get me out of here!" Richard whimpers.

"We have to go, now!" Karbovic snarls at Terry.

The silver fox's flatten against his helmet and he looks at Darrell for help.

"He... he's right, Terry. This place will be leveled really soon now," Darrell mutters, turning away from the fox.

Terry hesitates, unsure of what to do. Richard is one of his only friends, and a precious link to his life before military service. But taking the time to help him might result in his own death. Karbovic, wanting to pressure the silver fox, decides to take action.

"Alright everyone, let's go," he growls before turning and leaving.

The rest of the team follows, except Darrell, who hesitates in his decision.

"Please Terry, I don't want to die," Richard sobs, tears forming in his eyes.

"Darrell, can you help me?" Terry pleads.

"There's no way the both of us can even lift those slabs. Sorry Terry," the wolf mutters, and takes off after the rest of their team before they disappear from view.

Seeing the nearby Type 49 within reach, Richard reaches a forepaw at it, grabs the muzzle, and points it at his head.

"Terry..."

"No, I can't do that!"

"Just pull the trigger."

"No!"

"Shoot me, finish me off, just don't fucking leave me here like this!"

Terry, with tears welling up, glances over his shoulder, finding Darrell a distance off. If he doesn't leave soon, he won't find his way out and he himself will die from the imminent bombardment. How did I end up in this situation? He screams in his mind. Here I am left in a bombed out building in Senchen, hundreds of miles from home, left with the option of executing my friend or running away.

The silver fox stands up, and picks up his assault rifle out of Richard's forepaws. But he doesn't shoot. He can't. Terry doesn't have the will or courage to shoot his friend. Instead he sprints away, in the direction Darrell went. Tears soak his black fur, matted with dust. Richard shouts to him, but his words are incomprehensible as the gray fox's voice fades into the distance.

---

So... did you like this chapter, or did you hate it? Anything you feel about it? Confused? I'm fine with whatever you may say, so go ahead and leave a comment if you desire to.