FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Disclaimer: Don't read this if you are underage, meaning if you are under 18 SHOO! NOW. And I know you aren't gonna listen because I did the same thing when I was 16. Sigh, so just make sure you lock the damn door so your parents don't catch you, a'ight? All characters are mine. Also, this story contains Incest in it. For the record, I don't condone it and sure as hell don't recommend it. So listen up kiddies and don't try to bang your sis. Got it? If not, your ass is grass and your dad's foot is a lawn mower. Oh, and any copyrighted names I used belong to their respective owners and I was not paid to use them. Go Steelers! And also Go Gators even though I don't go to that school. =)

*************** Author's Note: My friend NightWolfz wanted me to put him in this story, so I did. His real life name is John, so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out which character is base on him. Also, add him on Xbox Live or Playstation Network as A Rapping Panda...seriously he's an awesome gamer. Just tell him to get a microphone that works already, as he's really dragging his feet on this. ^^

************** "War is a delight to those who have no experience of it." -Erasmus

"The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other bastard die for his!" -General George S. Patton

"A sucking chest wound is God's way of telling you to slow down." USMC saying.

Also, you should listen to the songs I provide in the links below when you start reading the action packed parts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8p9JpDuQ-o -Where Eagles Dare

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSJ8rDlBZ_I -Longest Day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B1TOITfRl4E -Paschendale

************** For Kyle, joining the Marines at the age of 17 was an eye opening experience. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. No...it was WORSE than he could have ever imagined. The second the bus arrived at Parris Island, South Carolina, a staff sergeant walked on and yelled, "ALL OF YOU CIVILIAN MAGGOTS GET OFF OF MY BUS, NOW!" That in itself was a shock since Kyle had slept most of the way. He immediately felt alone and afraid, as he was no longer home getting yelled at by his parents, whom he didn't fear. Instead, a 33 year old gray wolf-with tattoos, scars, and arm muscles that looked like they could rip a fur in half like a piece of newspaper-was barking orders to him with a ferocity Kyle had never thought possible.

The first couple of days were fairly easy. Kyle was issued an M-16A4 assault rifle, shoes and combat boots, and several sets of clothes ranging from ACUs (Army Combat Uniforms) to PT (Physical Training) gear. Getting his head shaved was no big deal, but having to share a latrine with 31 other recruits and then shower with them...that took some getting used to. Still, it wasn't so bad. While no one said anything, there was a silent acknowledgement that no one would laugh at each other. This in itself started to cement the relationship that would bring these furs together with a brotherly bond that would last a lifetime.

That bond would further be cemented as the recruits trained together. The average age of the men in Kyle's platoon was 19. Out of the 32 recruits in Kyle's platoon, eighteen were 19 years old, ten were 18 years old, two were 20, one was 21, and one (being Kyle) was 17. Many of these kids were fresh out of high school, while others joined for the promise of Uncle Sam paying their college tuition once they got out. While they all had different reasons for joining up, their current goal was a shared one; survive basic training.

The first day of physical training had the new recruits perform a three mile run, followed by floor exercises like pushups, crunches, leg lifts, and squat thrusts. After that it was to the mess hall for a quick lunch. Once lunch was over it was off to the lecture hall to be given a brief introduction to the basics of hand to hand combat. While learning where the different veins and places you can fatally stab someone is fun, it can only eat so much time before it's time for another round of PT. This time it was a 1.5 mile run followed by a one mile cool down walk. After that it was dinner time, followed by showers, which were then followed by a pep talk by the platoon leader, Lieutenant Reuben Sheppard. A jet black wolf standing at 6'1", his calm but forceful demeanor reflected the strong leadership qualities within him. Having been in the marines for fifteen years, Lt. Sheppard was more than qualified to lead these new recruits into battle.

"All right men, you've managed to survive your first day of basic training. That's a good start, now you just need to survive the remaining 65," Sheppard started off. A few recruits chuckled, while others just listened intently while trying to ignore their aching legs and arms.

"Now, some of you are probably thinking about quitting. Well I'm sorry to say but it's too late for that. We gave you a chance during processing to leave, but you chose to stay and tough it out. For the record, I believe every one of you is capable of being a Marine. Hell, I had to suffer through the same shit you're going through now. It's tough, but in all honesty I have yet to go through a battle that was more painful than basic training. I've been shot THREE times in the ass, TWICE in my left leg, and even had an RPG fragment some bastard in Fallujah fired at me go off and hit me square in the face. The only reason I've made it this far is because I relied on the training I received. So for any of you who think that it's utter bullshit that we make you run five miles every morning, DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY NOW!"

This surprised several recruits and they proceeded to crank out twenty pushups as best they could. Once they were done, they noticed Sheppard just smiling at them with a confused look.

"Boys, do you really think running five miles every morning is bullshit, or were you just not paying attention?"

The recruits wisely replied, "Sir, yes sir!" and left their ultimate answer unknown.

Sheppard continued with his lecture. While officers are encouraged not to use profanity in front of their men-for the reason of showing that officers are superior to basic recruits-Sheppard found that it helped him bond with his men. He was a leader who could command respect with ease, not just because he was a competent leader, but because he was also quite intimidating when angry.

As basic training wore on, Kyle lost touch with the world around him. For one thing, he was only getting seven hours of sleep every night, so he was practically a zombie through the whole day. For another, he quickly learned that in the Marines, you don't think about your orders, you DO them. By becoming even more cold and detached than normal, he found that he could keep pace with the orders his officers and drill instructors gave him. Sheppard listed Kyle's name as a possible candidate for a fire team leader, as Kyle started to demonstrate leadership qualities. One day Kyle's squad of 8 furs (including himself) was assigned Kitchen Patrol duty. This meant they had to cook for the rest of the platoon one morning. On the bright side, this meant no PT. On the other paw...it meant getting up at 4:00 A.M. to get breakfast on the table by 5:30. During KP duty Kyle took charge and assigned each recruit to a certain duty. Kyle then went about assisting each recruit while also keeping track of time, production, and how close they were to their quota. These actions did not go unnoticed, and Sheppard decided to keep an eye on Kyle.

The real test of strength came during the Crucible Event. The Crucible is basically the final exam of the Marine Corp, and boy it's harder than a fucking T-Rex's shit. It involves a nighttime march, followed by only four hours of sleep. Once everyone gets up at 1 A.M. it's time for a simulated assault on a fortified position against another platoon of marine recruits. Several other simulated battles take place, along with a brief resupply simulation where everyone has to re-equip and feed themselves within a set time limit. Once that's done, some hand to hand combat drills are performed, followed by a simulated assault supported by M2 Bradley APCs (Armored Personnel Carriers).

After two days of simulated combat and only eight hours of sleep, the last test is to stay conscious on a five mile hike to the debriefing zone. Once that's done, the recruits who passed will have the honor of becoming Marines in a few days. Kyle could not have been happier on his graduation from basic training. He even got to see his family again, as his father had the courtesy of showing up to congratulate him. At the end of the day Kyle's Marine friend Jon had to literally help Kyle pry Katie's arms off of him as she gave him a farewell hug.

Four days later Kyle's company was assigned to guard a resupply outpost in southern Afghanistan. By this time Kyle had been promoted to Corporal, along with his friend Jon. Jon, who was the 21 year old in their platoon, had gone to college for three years before joining up. His father had been laid off during the economy collapse of 2008, and hadn't been able to find work since then. Without a job to help John pay for college, the only way Jon would get enough money was by enlisting in the military. Jon figured that if he was gonna go to war, he should do it with the world's most renowned fighting force.

Due to his college experience, Jon was trained to become a radioman. His job would be to relay communications between things like air support, artillery, armored support, as well as relay orders between the battalion's headquarters and the men in the field. Kyle was assigned to be a fire team leader, meaning that out of the eight men in his squad, he was in command of three of them. Shortly after getting out of basic training, Kyle's company was sent overseas to Ft. McCrery in southern Afghanistan.

Unlike larger military bases in Afghanistan, Ft. McCrery was basically a gas station on top of a mountain. McCrery was built on an open plain surrounded by eight other hills atop a mountain 25 miles east of the city of Kandahar. Under the protection of the 33rd Marine Battalion, Ft. McCrery served as a refueling base for attack helicopters and Humvee patrols. However, it was far more than just a gas station. The primary reason McCrery was built was to support special operations by the Navy SEALS and Army Rangers, as well as other NATO special forces like the British SAS and German Kommando Spezialkräfte (KSK). These Special Forces targeted the opium trade, which was flourishing in the rugged mountain terrain of south Afghanistan. Taliban and Al Qaeda forces were known to back the local drug lords in return for weapons, money, and potential recruits from the bullied population. So, in February of 2010 NATO leaders met and agreed to begin performing sabotage operations against the drug lords in hopes of cutting off a vital flow of funds to terrorists in Afghanistan.

While the average Marine soldier would only have been told his job is to protect the fort, everyone knew that something involving the drug trade was up due to the large number of NATO spec. ops troops that resided on the base. Kyle arrived at Ft. McCrery on April 15, 2010, with his battalion as they took up the task of keeping the base safe for the next 150 days until they were rotated out. Since Ft. McCrery was still under construction, many of the base's buildings were tents or hastily erected temporary structures. These buildings were not bullet proof by any means, and the officers in command were eager to get the base up and running. Combat engineers managed to get a space cleared for helicopters to land and park by May 2, 2010, and a quartet of AH-64s arrived the next day.

Even during its construction, Ft. McCrery proved to be a valuable asset to the NATO mission, as over a dozen joint operations missions were performed by British SAS and American Navy SEALs. These missions managed to destroy several poppy fields, as well as a Taliban weapons cache and training center. Taliban forces in the area did not appreciate having their vital sources of income destroyed, and they immediately plotted a retaliatory strike. It did not take long for them to figure out where Ft. McCrery was, as the constant flights of CH-47 Chinook cargo helicopters and convoys of supply trucks meant that the U.S. had something nearby. Taliban scouts located the base on May 6, 2010, and soon a strike force of 300 insurgents was on its way. These men were armed to the teeth with AK-47s, AK-74s, RPKs, RPDs, Dragonov SVD sniper rifles, 60mm mortars, RPGs, and fragmentation hand grenades.

On the morning of May 10, 2010, the insurgents set up camp on Hill #214 (the Marine's call sign for it that is). Hill #214 provided an excellent view of the base to the south, and best of all it was only 700 meters away; a perfect distance for mortar bombardments and sniper plinking. Although the insurgent's seven snipers agreed that it was possible to snipe from this position, most of them opted to try and get within 300 meters of the base so they would not have to compensate for wind, gravity, elevation, and the rotation of the earth. It was decided that since the Marines probably had satellites monitoring the base, it would be best to attack when night fell. And so the plan was set in motion..... **************** Ft. McCreary, 7:50 P.M. - 3rd Platoon Barracks

"Jon, where's my Kill 'em All album?" Kyle shouted from his bunk to his friend combing his fur on the other side of the barracks.

"I don't know man, I don't have it. Look under Lewis' bunk, he's always borrowing my Slipknot albums without telling me." Jon replied.

"Aha! Found it; we're cool now," Kyle said as he pulled his Metallica CD out from under Pvt. Lewis' bunk. Kyle proceeded to pop the disc into the barrack's CD player. While he waited for the player to read the disc he smiled to himself as he admired the walls of his barracks. Metallica, Iron Maiden, and Black Sabbath posters were proudly displayed over every set of bunk beds. The motto of 3rd platoon was "You're either a metal-head or you're fucking-dead." Not the cleverest of mottos yes, but it did display the pride the furs in the platoon took in their music.

As "No Remorse" came on Kyle couldn't help but think of Katie. This was the song he listened to shortly after their first time together. Kyle tried not to think about Katie too much, especially since he knew it would be months, maybe even years before he got to see her again. Still, the mind is a slave to the heart, and at that time Kyle's heart was in full "nostalgia mode," not wanting to think of anything but his mate 5,000 miles away.

"Dude, what's up?" Jon asked as he walked up behind Kyle, who had been standing there with a moody look on his face for a full two minutes.

"What? Oh, nothing bro I'm just thinking." Kyle replied.

"'bout what?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Kyle replied coldly.

"It's about your sis isn't it?"

Kyle flinched and angrily replied, "Shhhh! Not so loud!"

"What? We're the only ones in the barracks. Everyone else is off in the internet trailer or grabbing a bite to eat."

Jon knew about Kyle and Katie's relationship, as he had figured it out after having to pry Katie off of Kyle at the graduation ceremony. However, instead of judging Kyle or mocking him, he instead showed acceptance and agreed to keep it secret. This action essentially cemented their friendship, and from that point on the two wolves were practically brothers (although every fur in the platoon had this kind of relationship with at least one of the Marines in the unit).

Kyle sighed and replied, "Fine. Yes it's about Katie. But I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Jon raised his paws and said, "Fine dude, whatever you want. C'mon, let's go get something to eat before the mess hall closes up."

Kyle nodded in agreement and soon the two wolves were on their way to the mess hall. Jon was about 6'1", while Kyle had finished growing and was now standing at 6'4". At the time their platoon was off duty, so it was okay for them to be slightly out of uniform. Kyle had on a desert camouflage boonie hat, and was still wearing his ACU pants and boots, but had chosen to only wear a tan t-shirt (due to the heat of the Afghan desert) and left his ACU shirt back at his bunk. While this was normally not acceptable since his name and rank were displayed on his shirt, the officers on the base weren't too keen on enforcing dress code policy. They figured that being in a combat zone was stressful enough, so letting their men's appearance slide was not too big a deal. After all, it's not like Fox News or CNN had cameras out here.

Jon was still wearing his whole uniform, although he had left his shirt unbuttoned since the A/C unit in the barracks didn't do much good and it was still 90 degrees inside. As they walked to the mess hall Kyle looked around the sky. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon. The base had no floodlights or excessive illumination of any kind, as the Marines were still trying to keep it a secret from the Taliban. Kyle admired just how many stars one could see out here. Without the light pollution of Atlanta, he could see hundreds of stars that were not visible before. The moon was out too, providing a white glow that made moving around the base easier. At that moment Kyle heard a booming sound, similar to thunder...but slightly different.

"What the hell is that?" he said as he craned his neck to see where the sound of thunder could be coming from on a cloudless night. Suddenly the air was pierced by the unmistakable whistling of incoming artillery fire.

"GET THE FUCK DOWN!" Jon screamed while pulling Kyle down with his as a pair of 60mm mortar shells exploded short of the base's perimeter fence by 10 yards. Fortunately a 60mm shell only has a 6 foot blast radius, but since they are a light shell it's easy to carry plenty of them. Another boom followed by the whistling sound of falling shells brought Kyle to attention as he shook off the shock of hitting the ground so hard. This time the shells landed within the base near some parked HMMWVs (High Mobility Multi Wheeled Vehicle, conversely known as a Humvee). A marine standing guard was pelted with shell fragments and fell to the ground with several lacerations to his right arm and leg.

"ALAHU ACKBAR!" "YAAAAAHHHHH!"

Suddenly the bloodthirsty cries of fifty Taliban warriors filled the air as they laid down a brutal rain of covering fire with a dozen RPD light machineguns. The squad of marines standing guard at the front gate was cut down like trees as a wall of lead ripped their limbs apart. More mortar fire rained as alarms blared across the base. Kyle and John didn't know what to do as it seemed the gates of hell had unleashed a scourge of death upon them. AK-47s could be heard chattering away at 600 rounds per minute. 7.62x39mm bullets shredded tent fabric and the thin fiberglass walls of the temporary structures. Officers ran about trying to reorganize their men while the base's communication personnel sent out a distress call to a nearby battalion of mechanized infantry with the U.S. 1st infantry division. Unfortunately, it would take them 40 minutes to arrive, which by that time might be too late.

The Taliban had the element of surprise. They already had the base in a state of disarray, and had killed nearly two dozen marines already. Another group of 50 insurgents approached from the west, while the original group continued to pound the front gate from the south, effectively entrapping Ft. McCrery in a crossfire. More mortar shells fell and damaged a pair of the four AH-64 Apache helicopters parked at their helipads.

Kyle crawled on his belly with John following close behind him as they tried to get to the concrete garage, the only building that was capable of surviving direct hits from the mortars. Suddenly he was blinded as a white light filled his face out of nowhere. Using his paw to shield his vision, he realized that some marines had liberated a Humvee and were driving straight for him. He quickly stood up and waved his arms, causing the driver to slam on the brakes and swear at him. However, the driver realized that Kyle was in his platoon and yelled, "Blackmon, get in the Humvee now! Move!"

Kyle yelled for Jon to follow him and soon the two had boarded the vehicle. Once inside they found a British SAS soldier in the front passenger seat, and a second marine in the back slapping magazines into assault rifles. The second marine, a red/orange furred fox, handed Kyle an H&K-416, while passing an M-16A4 to Jon. The SAS soldier, a white furred tiger with black stripes, was using an M-4 with a red dot reflex sight. The German Shepherd driver, whom Kyle recognized as Pvt. Lewis, yelled, "Kyle, get on the M2! We're going after these fuckers!"

Kyle stood up in the center of the Humvee and poked his head through the porthole in the ceiling. Once he was comfortably standing he grabbed hold of the Browning M2 .50 Caliber Heavy Machine Gun mounted on the roof. He evilly grinned to himself as he cocked back the charging handle, loading the first of 100 rounds into the machine gun's firing chamber. Down in the Humvee he heard Lewis turn on the battery powered CD player he kept on the floor. Iron Maiden's "Where Eagles Dare" came on. Kyle grinned again, and thought to himself, 'Okay...now I'm ready to kick some serious ass.'

The Humvee was not like its civilian counterpart. This one was open like a jeep and had a bed like a pickup truck. The windows were bulletproof fortunately, a custom job put in by the Special Forces soldiers who didn't want to be sniped while riding to a target. John and the fox readied themselves as John aimed out from the right of the Humvee and the fox from the left. The SAS tiger called out, "I can see their muzzle flashes maybe...300 yards dead ahead. Let's go get 'em!"

Lewis hit the gas and the Humvee accelerated to 50 MPH in a matter of seconds. Fortunately not all the marines at the gate had been killed, and a surviving black dragon had sense enough to open the gate for rapidly approaching Humvee. Once outside the complex all of the insurgents took notice of the lone vehicle charging them.

A tan furred jackal insurgent yelled out, "Quick! We need an RPG!"

However, before either of the two insurgents armed with RPG's could react Kyle opened fire with the M2, effectively shredding them. Kyle steadied himself as the M2's recoil pushed him back a bit. Even though it was mounted it still kicked like a mule. Kyle didn't know how many spare belts of ammo he had, so he kept his rate of fire to 3 round bursts, which allowed him to maintain accuracy and rapidly locate new targets. His eyes nearly popped out of his head in amazement as he saw one insurgent's chest nearly disappear as a 12.7x138mm bullet punched a hole straight through him. Lewis never let off the gas, and soon the Humvee was speeding at 70 MPH through the line of insurgents. Many of them were firing at the Humvee, but since they failed to properly lead their target their bullets passed behind the Humvee as it drove by. Jon, the fox, and SAS tiger all began emptying their clips into the hoard of jackals, tigers, desert foxes, and coyotes.

Lewis made sure to run over any of the insurgents that got in his way. Kyle had to hang on at one point when the Humvee bounced as particularly large insurgent was crushed beneath the left tires. Once Lewis had driven the Humvee through the line of insurgents, he slowed down to a more manageable 35 MPH and made a sharp right turn so that he drove parallel to them. Jon and the SAS tiger began unloading their rifles at the Taliban rebels, with each scoring multiple hits as their 5.56x45mm NATO rounds struck the soft, unarmored insurgents. The best part was that the bullets Jon and the tiger were using were Fused Metal Alloy rounds-bullets which literally explode into a dozen fragments upon entering their target, guaranteeing a one shot kill. Normally the U.S. did not use these bullets, as the Geneva Convention banned their use, but since Ft. McCrery was supporting Black Ops-Operations that may defy preset laws or treaties, or may require the use of unethical or immoral measures to achieve the desired mission-there was no reason to not use FMA bullets.

"Fuck yeah!" Jon yelled as he watched a jackal's arm get blown clean off his shoulder as a FMA round shattered the joint that connected the fur's arm to his torso.

Suddenly Lewis's radio headset crackled with a message from Lieutenant Sheppard. "Private give me a sit-rep (situation report)!"

"Sir, we're in a Hummer south of the base engaging multiple ground based hostiles," Lewis replied.

"Listen, those fucking mortars have us pinned, and we've lost nearly 50 men already to them. We're popping gray smoke to hide our positions while we try to get the two other Apaches off the ground. Head to Hill #214, just north of the base. I've got a sniper who's seeing a lot of flashing lights coming from the top, so that must be where their mortars are stationed. Take 'em out ASAP!"

"Roger that, we're Oscar Mike!" Lewis shouted back over the chattering gunfire coming from inside the Humvee.

"Okay guys," he shouted to the Marines in the back, "we're heading to that peak 1000 meters north of us. Command says they've got a fix on some Taliban mortars there and we're the only one's not getting pinned down by mortar fire."

Just then the SAS tiger yelled, "Watch out, hostiles at our three o'clock!"

Sure enough, the second line of 50 insurgents was now 200 meters to the right of Lewis's Humvee. Lewis quickly wheeled the Humvee to the right and sped up to 70 MPH, charging the insurgents dead on. Kyle opened fire the M2, unleashing a devastating wall of lead as the insurgents suddenly realized that it was they who were caught in a deadly crossfire.

CRUNCH! Lewis flinched as he felt the bones of an insurgent get pounded into dust as the unlucky bastard was crushed beneath the Humvee's massive tires. More insurgents scattered, only to be mowed down as Jon and the fox Marine opened fire with their M-16A4s in single shot mode, being sure to make every shot count as they emptied round after round into the fleeing crowds of Taliban warriors (if you can even call them warriors that is). As Lewis continued to speed for Hill #214 he yelled back, "How many did we get?"

Jon tried to count the bodies, but more and more just kept piling up as a pair of Marine snipers armed with M21s outfitted with nighttime thermal scopes picked off the remaining rebels. "Looks like they're all dead, I can't see any of 'em moving!" John replied.

Kyle noticed that his M2 had only 10 rounds left in the belt, so he yelled down to Jon, "Dude, hand me one the spare fifty caliber belts! I'm running low!"

Jon complied and quickly opened an ammo box marked .50 Cal. Carefully lifting the heavy belt partway out of the box, he handed it up to Kyle through the roof porthole. Kyle then attached the new belt to the old one, ensuring that he'd have at least 110 rounds of sheer killing power ready. Lewis slowed down as the Humvee arrived at the base of Hill #214. The sound of mortar fire could still be heard, as it had only been four minutes since the attack had started. Already nearly a third of the insurgents were dead, but there were still plenty camped atop the mountain, and so long as they were alive no one was safe. Lewis had to slow down to a crawling 20 MPH as he drove up the winding path to the top of Hill #214. The path didn't quite fully encircle the hill, as it wrapped around the right side of it, with the main entrances being at the top and bottom of the path.

"Lock and load guys," Lewis called out, "we're about to pay these fuckers a visit they won't soon forget!" Everyone checked their weapons and slapped a fresh clip inside of them as well. It was payback time. A few seconds later the Humvee roared over the path and was now directly behind the main insurgent camp. Dozens of insurgents were running about gathering equipment for the second wave of attacks against Ft. McCrery, and therefore did not immediately notice the approaching Humvee. However, it didn't take long for them to notice it once Kyle opened up with the M2. The thunderous pounding of the heavy machinegun soon drowned out all the noise around it as its massive bullets tore through the lines of insurgents. This time Kyle went full auto, not bothering to conserve ammunition as he tightly gripped the trigger. In only eleven seconds all 110 rounds had been fired.

"Jon! I need another belt!" Kyle called out.

"Roger that!" Jon shouted back as he opened another ammo box and handed it up to Kyle. "That's the last one, make it count!"

The SAS tiger had overheard their conversation and yelled to Jon, "There's an M240 back there mate! Load it cause we're sure as hell gonna need it!"

Jon nodded and got to work unpacking the M240 .30 Caliber light machinegun. Meanwhile Kyle had just finished reloading the M2 and re-opened fire on the insurgents as Lewis drove the Humvee in a circle around the perimeter of the camp. Kyle flinched as he heard bullets ricochet off the side of the Humvee, a cold reminder that this wasn't a videogame, but rather real life. A sudden trio of loud bangs brought Kyle's attention to the insurgent mortar teams set up on the southern end of the camp. He quickly aimed the M2 at the mortars and opened fire. The M2 roared to life with its distinct "thumpa thumpa thumpa thumpa" chatter as it sprayed hot bullets at over 3000 feet per second. Sand and dirt flew up all around the mortar team as the barrage of bullets shredded the crews. One bullet struck the box of mortar rounds, causing the old Soviet era munitions to detonate in a bright orange ball that set several insurgents on fire.

"Roast in hell you fuckers!" Kyle shouted over his own gunfire as he emptied the last twenty rounds into a squad of rebels firing their AK-47s at him. Kyle suddenly felt a sharp burning sensation and realized he'd been shot. He looked at his right arm and saw a thin line of blood trickling down. He shook off the pain as he concluded that he'd only been grazed and would just need a bandage after the fight. Suddenly his M2 went "click" and ceased firing.

"Jon I'm outta ammo!" Kyle called down to his friend.

Without a word Jon handed him the M240 loaded with a very heavy 200 round belt of 7.62x51mm NATO rounds. Kyle quickly brought the weapon to his shoulder and opened fire. He was surprised at how fast the gun could spit lead, as he fired off half of the clip in only 10 seconds. Firing 900 rounds per minute, the M240 was like a swarm of hornets one could direct at the enemy. Kyle looked around and guessed that with the combined firepower of the M2 and his comrades' rifles, they had already killed nearly half of the insurgents up here. But now the element of surprise was gone and the insurgents were digging in. Kyle ducked back inside the Humvee to retrieve some hand grenades to help with that problem.

Lewis suddenly swerved hard to the left and shouted, "OH FUCK RPG!"

Kyle was thrown to the floor as the Humvee swerved and skidded across the rocky ground. Then time seemed to freeze as Kyle felt the concussion from the impact of an RPG shell. The windshield and passenger window shattered, sending safety glass everywhere. Kyle felt lightheaded and briefly lost his sense of sound, while his sight was blurred severely. He felt someone grab his arm and drag him across the floor and out into the cool night air. As his senses returned he realized John had dragged him out the back of the Humvee, as the vehicle had taken an RPG round straight to the engine block. Though disabled, the Humvee could still provide cover from the hail of gunfire that started to rain up the now stranded Marines.

Jon tossed Kyle his H&K416 along with a bandolier containing another 4 clips for it. Kyle looked around and saw that everyone had made it out of the Humvee alright, although Lewis had several scratches on his face from the flying safety glass. Still, had the glass not been mixed with plastic Lewis would most likely be bleeding to death instead of just scraped up. The SAS tiger and fox Marine were standing side by side unloading rounds at the crowd of insurgents. John meanwhile was trying to raise Sheppard on his radio, while Lewis was salvaging as much ammo from the Humvee as he could.

"Command, this is Alpha Dog, we're pinned down on Hill #214 and need immediate support, do you copy?" Jon barked into his radio.

"Roger that Alpha Dog, we read you," replied a Marine in the command control tent back at Ft. McCrery. "We've got two Apaches spinning up their rotors. ETA 3 minutes."

"That's no good command, we'll be dead in 2 if we don't get some fucking support! We've got 100 plus foot mobiles firing on us, and our Humvee is disabled."

"Uhhh...roger that. Hold on Alpha, our 120mm mortars are standing by to give you support. Call sign War Hammer."

Jon switched radio channels and called out, "War Hammer War Hammer this is Alpha Dog, requesting fire mission over!"

Another Marine with a radio stationed at the 120mm mortar pit replied, "Roger that Alpha, just give me the co-ordinates."

Jon ducked as a 7.62x39 bullet ricocheted off the hood of the Humvee and nearly struck him in the head. "Hammer I don't have a map with me, just send the shot and I'll guide it in!"

"Negative Alpha, we might hit you and..."

"I SAID FUCKING SEND IT GODDAMN IT!"

"Uhh...affirmative. Standby...firing! (Mortar goes off in background) The shot is out!"

Jon watched the ground as he heard the 120mm shells fall with their distinct shrilling cry. A trio of shells landed in the center of the plateau, kicking up a cloud of dust the helped to conceal the Marines. Jon approximated their position on the plateau and quickly called out target adjustments.

"Over! Bring your fire 40 meters south, 10 meters east."

"Roger that Alpha, sending the shells now."

Suddenly the fox Marine fell flat on his back as a sniper managed to get off a clean headshot. Kyle moved over to him to see that the fox had been struck right in the teeth and was now missing several of them. The bullet had curved down and ended up severing the fur's spine as it exited his body. Kyle took some relief in knowing that the fox probably hadn't felt a thing. He then moved back against the Humvee and began firing into the mass of muzzle flashes he saw 100 meters away on the other end of the plateau. Kyle fell backwards on his butt as the 120mm mortars finally made impact. This time they took out 20 insurgents that had been clustered together in the open.

Still, there were nearly 80 of them left, and the sheer volume of their fire was starting to rip the Humvee to shreds. John quickly barked out new co-ordinates, "Hit! New target 10 meters north, 15 meters west! Send it!"

"Roger that Alpha Dog...the shot is out! You got incoming!"

Jon watched with smug satisfaction as another trio of shells fell and blew a four man squad of insurgents into the air. However, no one noticed that the rebel with an RPG-7 had reloaded, and was now taking aim again. Without warning there was a bright flash and sudden explosion directly behind the Humvee. Kyle pivoted to his right and immediately saw the smoke trail from the RPG shell leading back to the coyote who had managed to flank them. Kyle brought his rifle to his shoulder and emptied six FMA rounds into the coyote's chest, shredding the fur's insides into something that would resemble raw hamburger. Kyle then looked over his shoulder to see Jon shaking his head. From the looks of it he was okay, and just slightly stunned. The SAS tiger was fine too, but Lewis was not.

"OH JESUS GOD MAN!" Lewis cried in pain. Jon scrambled on his hands and knees over to Lewis. Jon nearly threw up when he got to him, as Lewis' left leg had been blown clean off from the knee down. His right foot was missing as well, and he was losing a lot of blood.

Without a word the SAS tiger turned and shot Lewis in the head. Jon looked up at him with a look of anger. "WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!"

"He was already dead mate, I just ended his suffering."

Jon gritted his teeth and pounded his fist into the ground before pulling a fragmentation grenade off of Lewis' bandolier. He pulled the pin and threw it with all his might toward an approaching squad of insurgents, who didn't see it land in the darkness and were promptly filled with shrapnel upon the grenade's detonation.

More insurgents approached and laid down a wave of suppressing fire as a dozen of them charged while unloading their AKs. Bullets ripped into the Humvee and started to actually pass through it. The SAS tiger emptied his M-4 into the crowd, but more just kept coming. Dropping his M-4, the tiger pulled out a Glock-18 machine pistol loaded with a 33 round magazine. He quickly emptied his weapon's contents into the charging rebels, who were now only 30 meters away. The tiger's Glock suddenly ran out.

"Coveh meh I'm reloadin' GAH FUCK!" he shouted as he was cut down by a burst of RPD fire. Down but not out, the tiger tried to crawl further behind the Humvee as Kyle and Jon covered him. Kyle's H&K416 ran dry, so he tossed it aside and once again picked up the M240. It still had 100 rounds in the belt, and Lewis had managed to pull the spare 200 round one out of the Humvee as well. Kyle racked the slide to make sure his weapons was still loaded and then unloaded a steady stream of bullets into the fast approaching hoard of insurgents. Some of them were only 20 meters away as Kyle and Jon mowed them down together. Jon's M-16 ran out and he quickly ejected his empty magazine and slapped in a fresh one. However, while he was reloading a stray RPD bullet caught him in the head. Jon slumped and fell on his back, motionless. Kyle didn't notice at first until he had finished reloading his M240.

"What the? JON!" he screamed as he ran over to his friend. Jon's eyes were shut and a thin trickle of blood flowed down the right side of his head. Kyle felt tears come to his eyes as he felt a strange burning sensation boil over in his chest. He tried to calm himself by taking a deep breath, but that only seemed to fan the flames of rage burning inside him. "Sleep well my friend, may you now know the comfort that you sought in this life. Rest in peace," Kyle said as he quietly uttered last rites for his friend.

Kyle rejoined the tiger, who was bleeding heavily from his abdomen. "I don't think I'm gonna make it mate, I'm bleeding on the inside and the out," he choked as a thin stream of blood leaked down his chin.

Kyle nodded and looked back at the plateau. The insurgents had stopped firing, as they believed all of the Marines to be dead, and were now regrouping. A crowd of at least 50 rebels gathered in the center and then quickly began making their way for the path off of Hill #214. Kyle didn't know what to do, as the Humvee was directly in the crowd's path. Kyle pulled a pin out of a frag grenade and held it in his left paw, while he held the M240's pistol grip in the right paw.

He looked back over at the tiger, who was applying a packet of powered blood coagulant on his stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Kyle stood up and tossed the grenade, which quickly drew the attention of the remaining insurgents. The grenade exploded while it was still in the air, sending a hail of shrapnel into three unlucky desert foxes and tigers. Kyle ducked behind the Humvee's engine block as a salvo of bullets flew towards him. "Dear God, please...don't let me die up here..." Kyle prayed while he cowered behind the ruins of the Humvee. He looked around at his dead brothers in arms and knew that if he did go, he wouldn't be lonely on the other side. Suddenly he heard a faint thumping sound, sort of like thunder...only...it was something else.

Looking over the hood of the Humvee, Kyle's eyes lit up with joy as he saw a pair of AH-64 Apache gunships flying overhead. A second later the thunderous roar of their 30mm cannons filled the night air as the crowd of insurgents scattered and panicked. Some tried to fire at the helicopters, while others just made a run for the path. It was no use in either case, as the Apache gunners had their thermal vision activated and could see the body heat of the still living rebels. The sound of ricocheting cannon fire and screaming insurgents became almost deafening as the Apache's made short work of the exposed Taliban forces. Kyle just wickedly grinned and kept his head down as he watched the remaining insurgents get torn to shreds. After thirty seconds of almost nonstop fire the Apaches moved on, beginning a slow circling patrol around the perimeter of Hill #214. Kyle looked at the tiger, who seemed to be doing okay now.

"Stay here, I'm gonna go mop up any survivors," Kyle said to the tiger. The tiger nodded in reply and continued to rest as he coughed up a small loogie of blood before spitting off to the side.

Kyle reached into Lewis backpack and pulled out an infrared flare. With this, he would be identified by the Apache's gunners as being friendly, as it sent out a flashing strobe light only visible to someone with thermal vision. Kyle also noticed that Jon's radio had been destroyed by the RPG blast. He hoped he wouldn't need to call for anymore backup as he slowly ventured out onto the plateau. He walked over to an insurgent he found crawling on his stomach. Both fur's legs were torn up from 30mm cannon shrapnel, and the fox couldn't move. Kyle simply aimed his M240 at the fox's head and put a single round into the man's skull. Moving on, Kyle found a few more wounded Taliban soldiers. While Kyle felt no guilt for executing his enemies this way, he did feel slightly guilty about how much he was enjoying it. He became borderline sadistic at one point where he intentional shot a wounded tiger in his kneecaps before finishing him off. As he was busy finishing off the remains of the Taliban strike force, Kyle didn't notice a slight movement to his right.

A lone coyote armed with an SVD sniper rifle slowly crept up on Kyle's flank as he put the young wolf's head in his crosshairs. The coyote smiled as he prepared to take down this last opponent, silently thanking Allah for the clever idea of hiding in a pile of dead bodies to escape the wrath of the helicopters. The coyote was startled as Kyle suddenly turned and noticed him. Without taking the time to adjust, the coyote fired....

BANG! (Gunshot echoes)

Kyle felt a hot pain pierce his abdomen as he heard the single gunshot. 'Sniper, damn it!' Kyle thought to himself. He slowly fell to the ground on his side and went still.

"Hah! That will teach you to mess with the servants of Allah young American," the coyote smugly spat as he walked over to check his kill. He proudly beamed over Kyle's body as he stood above him. The coyote set his rifle down next to Kyle and check the wolf's body. 'Hmm, he still has a pulse. Well....not for long,' the coyote thought to himself as he drew a 5 inch long knife from a holster on his belt. He rolled Kyle on his back and slowly brought the knife to his throat. However, before he knew what hit him Kyle sprung to life and grabbed the insurgent's wrist with his left paw and the coyote's throat with the other. The sniper was horrified to realize the hunter had become the hunted. Kyle's eye's still burned with life and with rage as he hurled his weight into the coyote and pinned the sniper to the ground under him. Kyle pulled the sniper's wrist to his muzzle and promptly sank his fangs into the man's arm.

"GAAARRRGGHHH!" the sniper cried out in agony as his paw released the knife. Kyle still had a firm grip on the sniper's throat, but before he could strangle the coyote further he felt the man punch him across the muzzle with his free paw. Kyle was thrown off the rebel and back to the ground. Both furs quickly stood up and faced each other. The coyote wasn't bleeding from his stomach though, and was fast enough to recover his knife. Kyle stood confidently with his paws in a ready position as he watched the coyote approach him.

The sniper made a quick jab with the knife that Kyle simply dodged, and then made a follow up strike with his right paw. Kyle dodged this attack as well, and then moved back to put a little more distance between him and his aggressor. The coyote tried to strike again, only for Kyle to avoid his attacks a second time. Kyle began to taunt the man by making faces and giving him the finger. This infuriated the sniper who made the mistake of trying to directly stab Kyle in the chest. Kyle moved to the side and grabbed the man's arm. Without warning he suddenly twisted the coyote's arm behind him, pinching the radial nerve that runs allow the bicep and sending a shockwave of pain through the coyote's left arm. He dropped the knife again and then felt Kyle's fist bash him in the back of the head. The coyote stumbled forward, not sure of what happened. As he turned around, his eyes went wide as Kyle charged him...while holding his knife!

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Kyle screamed as he rapidly jabbed the blade into the coyote's stomach. Not satisfied with one cut however, Kyle withdrew the knife and made a slash across the sniper's throat, sending a spray of blood across both of their clothes. The coyote's voice box had been sliced open and the only sound he made was a slight gurgling as his own blood drowned him. He fell to his knees and looked up as Kyle delivered one last blow by bashing his knee into the man's face, breaking his facial bone plate and ending the sniper's life once and for all.

Kyle took a step back and admired his handiwork. Finally, it was over. His friends had been avenged, and the threat against Ft. McCrery had been removed. Kyle looked down at his stomach to see a large bloodstain gathering on his shirt. He felt cold, and he began to shiver as the feeling of the frigid Afghan night set in. Kyle started to feel fatigued as the feelings of blood loss set in. He stumbled back to the Humvee and found the half empty packet of blood coagulant the SAS tiger had used lying next to the tiger's body. The tiger was still breathing, but he wasn't conscious. Kyle picked up the coagulant and lied down of the ground. He pulled up his shirt and poured a generous amount on the wound. He felt a light burning as the coagulant got to work and began sealing up the hole in his stomach. He felt a little bit better, but something still pained him.

'The exit wound!' Kyle realized. The FMJ (full metal jacket) bullet had passed straight through him, causing only minimal tissue damage (as opposed to a FMA bullet). Still, he was bleeding out of a hole in his back, a place he couldn't reach. Even if he could, he didn't have any coagulant left. Kyle felt clammy all over as he began to sweat with fever. The adrenaline that had been flowing through his veins was gone, and now his body was shutting down on him as he slowly froze to death on the ground. He brought his legs up in a fetal position, trying to keep warm...but it was no use he knew. He felt like he was slowly falling asleep, only with a sense of dizziness and nausea mixed in.

'Damn it...why didn't I check for snipers before venturing out of cover? How am I gonna explain this when I get...oh right...I won't have to. Well I guess Jon won't be too sad...but...oh God Katie! Dear God, how's this going to affect her?' Kyle felt a twinge of pain in his heart as he realized that his sister was about to suffer the biggest heartbreak of her life, and he was the cause of it.

'God, please...don't let me die....if not for my sake then for Katie's. I know what I did was wrong...but don't punish her for it............don't punish her for what I did.' Kyle's breathing became short and he felt like someone was standing on his chest. 'Please God....don't make Katie suffer for my actions.........please..........' *************************************** "When you go to seek revenge, you had best dig two graves." - Confucius

8 Chapters Down....1 to go.