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'The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.'

-Lao Tzu

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Chapter 4: Gravecall

>A gentle, floating sort of warmth, Everything just... sits, tranquil, pristine.

>The air holds no buzz, no murmuring, no thrum.

>Every part of you is at peace, there is no tension, no worry.

>Only your gentle rise and fall is what moves, the beat under your chest is so calmed you can't even feel it.

>A homely cream glow pours in from the window.

>The dither of small voices outside, laughing, at peace.

>A door gently creaks open, and she's there again.

>You always know the hazy thing is a she. It just is.

>You feel a warm radiance from her, it's love, she stands there waiting for you.

>But you can never bring yourself to look at her, even when you catch a glimpse she's merely a warm blur, a stand in for an actor that will never appear.

>You can't move anyway. and you know what happens next.

>This is the future you can't have.

>A deep humming drone cuts across the silence. You move by roaring engines, You come from the night, Death is all that awaits you.

>The voices are gone, she is nowhere, faded back into nothing as your pleasant surroundings fall away into a starless void.

>The cold shoots through, gripping into you like the claws of a voided behemoth.

>Your spine entangles with a marionette of wires, flesh peels away and rots as nothing but burning cold enraptures you.

>The iron bolts on to your limbs, entrapping you in your tomb.

>The droning bellows in your ears, it is everything and nothing.

>Your eyes are peeled away for hollowed lenses of clockwork and rusted spikes.

>You are a monster of iron, standing, corroded, hulk, a thousand fathoms tall.

>But you are still powerless, locked in vigilance over the black ash of a dead world, a macabre titan carved of the corpse of everything that was. The dark sky roils and bellows.

>a sea of bodies lies below you, every hollowed eye is upon you. judging, hating, calling for you to join the nothing.

>This is the future you chose.

*

>Your eyes open with a start, needles retreat from your spine as your heart spasms. You hate that fucking dream.

>The distant roll of trumpets cuts across the morning air, reverie.

>You inhale deep through your nose, time to face the world.

>Despite your dream you feel well rested, well enough for having woken up in the middle of the night beforehand.

>Time to hoist yourself out of bed, you fully expect Teth'ra to have already gotten up and left.

>Stretch the shoulders and up you go.

>As you sit up gathering your bearings there's a protracted yawn, and its not yours. The lump on the other cot produces two burly arms and a yawning muzzle. You smile slightly seeing she hasn't absconded before you could get a chance to talk.

>"S' it morning already?"

"Can you not see the fuckin sun's out?"

>"fuck off its five in the morning." she groans.

"Well its time for you to run off again, thats reverie sounding."

>"... I did not run off."

>You toss an empty water bottle, which bounces tinnily off the tip of her nose.

>"... Point taken"

>You start buckling on your kit to get ready for the day, lacing up your boots as she rises like some ancient leviathan shaking off a coating of dirt. The whole time you exchange passive aggressive glaring and maintaining an air of disapproval.

>Eventually as she finishes lacing her boots she relents.

>"Look i'm sorry I left so suddenly yesterday... I had a lot to think about."

>There's what you wanted to hear.

"No shit?"

>She rolled her eyes with a faint smile and a huff.

>"I'm sorry about putting you through that, I jus-"

"I'm the one who should be saying sorry here, I focused on what you are rather than who you are. I was wrong to do that."

"I just haven't had..."

-don't remember-

"... Pleasant encounters with anthros in the past. And I let that color my perceptions unfairly."

>...

>"You still tried to help when I was down, that means... well, it means a lot. That's a good friend in my book."

"You got shit taste in friends then."

>That guilt was re-surging again, you had driven her to tears because of how stubborn you were to accept anything out of your norm.

>But before you could even think on it more she had knelt down in front of you and bought you into a loose hug.

>Always with the hugging, this one.

>"My taste in friends is fine. You just need to stop doubting yourself so much."

"You... don't blame me?"

>"For what?"

"The way I acted. The way I pushed you?"

>"Look, I know what you must be thinking, That I'm willing to get so close to humans even though I've had.. less than optimal memories of them while you can't say the same for anthros. But I won't judge, I grew up utterly surrounded by humans, I know not all of them are bad."

>"I can't even imagine what happened to make you so scared, but I can only assume anthros were a rare commodity where your from, so you don't know any better."

>Ignorance is bliss.

>You can see her tail slowly wag, her energy is infectious and you find your spirits lifting a bit.

>"So I'll just have to teach you better." A hinting of excitement floats on her voice.

"I guess."

>"No guessing, I'll show you that you don't have to think of everyone as a threat."

>She breaks the hold and tussles your hair roughly as you hiss in frustration.

>"'cept for Vilka, she can go fuck herself" she says as she stretches, cautious not to hit the crossbeam.

>"I gotta report to rolecall, you get off, lucky you." Then she walks out.

>Might as well do something today.

>You finally remember where you threw your hand radio the other day just before you walked out looking like an idiot.

>Turning it on you fully expected to be screamed at for missing some important appointment, but there was nothing.

>You still dreaded the possibility of having to explain to anyone wondering why your coms were off that you were busy consoling a jackal woman having a full on breakdown.

>Would anyone even believe she was capable of an emotion other than anger?

>Then again same could be said about you. especially considering most people that knew better were dead.

>...

>Teth'ra is right, you need to stop making yourself depressed.

>Honestly speaking, you had no idea what to do with yourself. You couldn't just wander off to do PT, uppity leg and all, doctor's orders to avoid walking on it until Thursday. Defying a doctor's order is only for those with a death wish.

>You had nothing to work on. No poker games, drinking alone is a bad idea, and you didn't even have any good books on hand.

>You can't just go follow Teth'ra around.

>Nobody knows you do that thing what with the guitar and it's going to stay that way.

>What the fuck do you even do?

-masturbate and lament your life-

>First of all you're surrounded by snouts with a far more acute sense of smell then your old pals, and second.... well you don't know what the fuck they would do if they caught that scent. Start their heats? go into frenzy?

>That wasn't the sort of question you could just ask Teth'ra either 'yo it cool if I thrash joystick even if the smell alone sends everyone into a sex-crazed blood lust?'.

>The thought of them pinning you down and shredding your clothes and mangling your skin with it, and rutting against you.

>Jesus Christ how horrifying!

>You shuddered in revilement, your not even sure what they have downstairs, are they more like animals, or like humans?

>Sure you joked about the male equivalents that one time, but that was just stupid rumors.

>And that is ABSOLUTELY NOT a line of questioning to ask the one anthro you trust right now.

>To think of it, laying with an anthro, you didn't... hate the idea, but it confused you greatly.

>Could you even? even disregarding the teeth and claws.

>The logical part of you reasoned that due to the nature of being bipedal and the fact anthros were originally engineered from the human template meant it would be inefficient and illogical for them to have anything but human like genitalia.

>Your fear of the exotic and unknown whispered that you didn't know for certain.

>You tossed aside the internal debate

>It wasn't an issue you needed to worry about, not unless they were the aggressors. Being honest the only one of them you would hold any interest towards would be Teth'ra.

>That mouse, Eva, was kinda cute, but you had moved past women like that. You didn't like the idea of being with someone so.. passive.

>Lyudmilla had made an impression, but there was a reason women are called foxy for nymphomania related reasons, and she was the very definition of foxy. Plus it would be near impossible to think of that as anything but a one night stand.

>The others you had met yesterday were just.. no.

>especially not that goddamn bear.

>Vilka's peculiar interest in you was uncertain, she could be eyeing you for any number of reasons you could think of.

>The thought that it was for sexual interests, eugh. She already raised all sorts of red flags from what Teth'ra told you, she was also slacking in both posture and hygiene, the signs of someone entirely unfit to do the dance of love and care.

>But Teth'ra... You knew her, she was soft and vulnerable on the inside but hard and strong on the outside, which reminded you of yourself if anyone. She was also very caring and attentive with how she had been looking after you. And, her figure, umf~

>Plus you got the definite sense of tomboy from her, and tomboys were your cryptonite. A loving woman you could play poker and box with, who could hold down hard liquor and get all girly when she was drunk.

>The sort of girl who would whine and complain about wearing a dress to the ball, but show up looking far more beautiful than any 'proper' woman. And even if she teased and pushed you about squeezing her in a dress, you would know... You would know that it was her decision just to make you happy.

>The sort of woman that would tackle you into a wrestling match, that would devolve into sloppy, passionate sex.

>She would feel right at home going out with you and the boys to a dive and shooting pool. The sort that would protect you just as much as you protected her.

>The sort of woman that would have such a light of love and adoration for the children you would have together, unafraid to box anyone across the ears for mistreating your kids. The sort you could hold close when she worried and fretted over being seen as anything but the wonder she was.

>...

>Shit now you've gone and done it, your procreation destination is certainly getting active now.

>You have to address this sometime, just so things don't get awkward between you and your favorite jackal. But how?

>Well... if you could get far enough downwind you should be ok.

>fuck it! It's better than doing nothing.

>You were about halfway out of the camp when you radio screeched like a tropical bird being sucked into hell, its talons raking along a collage of chalkboards the whole way.

>Its life calling: your going to die scared, tired, and alone; you will never pass on your genetic lineage with a loving partner; You've been having this fantasy since highschool; and she isn't interested in anyone outside her own species.

>Bonezone is kill

>rest in peace stunty magic man of Penalia, we knew you for all of five minutes.

>"eyyyyy heloooo, jackass, your radio is on again..."

>That was the voice of captain Vegalta, the man that led the thumper unit of what was the 512, you had no idea where the remnants of his outfit were sent to after the 512 was dismantled, and you had no clue why he was on your frequency.

>"Tommy boooy, I know you can hear me." Just for that quip you would leave him hanging just a little longer while you come up with a method of retaliation.

>"Pick up the phone!"

>You slowly unhooked the radio from your belt loop and held it up, clicking on the transmit tab

"It's a radio chief."

>The hissing at the other end of the line went dead for a brief moment.

>"I fucking know that!"

"Ya sure, you had trouble remembering my name."

>Vegalta had always attempted to come up with stupid nicknames for you, everyone just called you Tom, or failing that, smartass.

>"Look I tried to get a hold of ya yesterday. Where were you?" he didn't rise to your bait, must be important... maybe.

>Granted he was still being the loud fuck he always is, and you still needed your payback.

"I was ahhhh, busy with sumthin'... yeah.. busy~."

>You put as much of your acting chops into your delivery to make it seem like you were lying in bed with a lover in the afterglow.

>"fukin' just... Whatever!... Get down to hanger A32, north side of the base near the east field, ya know it or not?... jackass"

>You gave your best evil grin, Vegalta was a self-styled lady killer, and would get testy if their was talk that someone was getting more tail than him. Which wasn't hard since he made the mistake of initiating a long and deep rivalry between the 512 rumblers and the 512 thumpers, and your troop got real good at sabotaging his little dates.

>Those were fun days pulling off what felt like shit out of a heist flick with your pals and Captain Willard... days that were gone now.

>fuck, what did Teth'ra say about making yourself depressed.

"Yeah I know it. Why?"

>"We got a surprise for ya!" belted in a different voice, one of the other boomers, you couldn't place a name to the voice but you had hung around a couple times with him.

>Normally you would be suspicious of such an offer due to the 'friendly' rivalry your two troops had against eachother, but those spats had died out when the battalion was dismantled. Might as well.

"This better not be a joke or i'm gonna shoot one of you."

>"Ah relax, bygones are bygones now, see ya in a bit Tom." they knew your dead pan delivery well. While you were a bit miffed about having your train of erogenous thought bumped off the rails, hanging out with the guys one last time before they shipped out was fine by you.

>You mentally put aside to save some time in the day to get your issues pressed out, your sure the little breakup party they no doubt had planned wouldn't last long into the night, not without the rest of the jocks there. Hell, without most of the battalion there.

>...

>fucking hell stop doing that.

>You'll just load more of your angst onto the only friend you have in this world.

>Eventually you hobbled your way over to A32, this was actually a fairly large hanger, a couple mechs plus spare parts and support rigging could be comfortably fit within, you entertained the thought that the surprise could actually be a fully functioning Rumbler, dolled up in memory of the 512, but that was too optimistic.

>As you walked the perimeter towards the hanger doors you would likely just be getting drunk off your ass and singing to the memory of your old pals, certainly a more pleasant way of remembering them than the official methods.

>Some boomer you recognized stood at the corner excitedly waving, a familiar face, just one you can't nail a name to right now.

>"Yo Tom! come see, your new machine came in yesterday morning!" he then retreated around the corner in a jog.

>You mentally had to restrain yourself from ditching the crutch and running around the corner to see your new darling.

>But still you picked up your hobbling pace.

>Your building sized mass of fuck you! was back!

>Sure it wasn't the same old machine, but it was likely a custom order just for you, after all you were a sole survivor! you got medals and shiny shit for that!

>What high grade parts will it have? maybe a new weapon system? New engines?

>Maybe it has giant ass pile bunker fists so you can smash the everliving FUCK out of any enemy monster or machine or machine-monster you find like so much squishy pancakes!

>Maybe some micro-delay load, burst cannon shoulder battery to fling a wall of high explosive death from afar!

>A rail cannon that launches thermobarics! or even fucking NUKES!

>Giant mini guns! Death Rays! Swarm missiles! Drills to pierce the heavens!

>The possibilities were making you fucking giddy like a kid on christmas, maybe you had been reading too many comics in your spare time.

>Ah fuck it! You got a new mech!

>You rounded the corner and strode the short distance to stand in the shade of the open hanger door and gawk at your new baby.

>Your beaming smile shattered like a cheap Fabergé egg when you saw was NOT a Rumbler, but a vaguely assorted pile of pieces and systems and half built blocks and plates, hanging around some ugly ass endoskeleton.

>Your teeth attempted to grind into dust in a single pass as every muscle in your body locked up and your eyes started burning.

>Were your clenched fists pressing so hard your nails were drawing blood? you don't care right now.

>In one lightning snap you turned your head to stare your BURNING FURY right into the soul of the sniveling little shit who said you had a... surprise.

>This is not a surprise! This is a giant Fuck-off mess! was your crutch rattling against the ground from how much you were vibrating in your incadescent rage? you don't care. It don't matter. None of this matters. Aside from strangling the lier your looking at right now!

>"now uhhhh. I-I know this looks bad. b-b-b-But! i-i-It's one of them new modular deals! yeeah! it uh- it came. like. this."

>"S-still a work in progress y-ya know?"

>work in progress.

>Work in Progress?!

>WORK IN FUCKING PROGRESS?!!!!

>How the fuck were you supposed to turn this pile into a functioning mech inside of a FUCKING WEEK!!

>WITHOUT a support crew!!!

>Something in your brain twitched as everything burned, the apologist backing away slowly as you stared boggle eyed at this thing they dared to ship you instead of a working machine, you can't hold it in anymore and you have nothing within easy reach to destroy.

"FFFUU-"

---

<Teth'ra>

>Pushups were no sweat, You had been doing hundred sets since you were 14, if anything it was cute how others thought the morning PT routine could wear you out.

>Vilka had been wearing on the troop particularly hard this morning, likely to make everyone appreciate the little wine n' dine she had planned for tomorrow, and by extension her. You hadn't even began your run yet and the complaints were already starting.

>Of course you ignored them, you were more concerned with letting your thoughts wander as you nonchalantly powered through this non-effort.

>The corporal to your left wasn't feeling quite up to it, she was already huffing and her ups were getting a little shorter while her downs went faster.

>You had told her multiple time before to lay off the snack cakes and actually fucking lift, but nooo she wanted to have a full figure for the boys.

>You were certain she was just jealous you had both the strength and the looks to show her up. She never failed to mention how you were soft around the edges 'oh those blimps are so damn big, how do you keep em' like that without stuffing your face?'.

>Its not like a high-carb, high-protein diet with plenty of hard work was some long lost Tibetan secret to immortality.

>Though she seemed to give that classic bratty bitch snickering when she saw exactly how much you did eat. She stopped after you snapped your jaws shut about an inch away from her nose with a loud *clack*.

>Still a real mood killer, you had been feeling a lot better since yesterday and everyone else just has to ruin it, and right now its Vilka trying to push the whole troop over the edge because of an 'outlying performer'.

>"fuhhhuuck *huff* how do you *huff* do this all fuhkin' day?" she asked breathily.

>You took the opportunity and with a huff launched yourself up further than usual on your upstroke and turned to lean yourself onto a single arm, and continued the pushups on a single closed fist. You faced her with a clear grin and condescending eyes.

"Ohhh you know... I just lay off the transfats and work hard instead of worrying what cute boys think when they leer at my ass."

>Yeah that definitely got right under her skin, she looked like she wanted to say something but was just too mad to think. And too tired to even say it.

>Then break was called and she dropped onto the ground in a wheezing heap. Fuckin newbies.

>Lyudmilla was about to start berading the lazy shit, which you were all too eager to sit and watch someone else suffer besides you.

>But your ears swiveled as the wind blew in, and judging by how many stopped in the middle of what they were doing to listen you weren't the only one hearing it.

>It sounded like a rocket motor on full blast but maybe that was the wind disrupting it.

>What the hell was that?

---

<Tom>

"-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuck"

>You heaved for breath, you weren't quite so sanity-splittingly pissed now, but still white hot hatred burned in you.

>How the fuck were you supposed to fix this, it's in fucking pieces, and you can't have more than a week before you ship out.

>there's no way you can do it... there's no way.

>You felt your beating heart trying to pull its best freestyle dance routine. what the hell can you even do?

>"That had to be some sort of record breaker dude."

>You were the son of an Irish bastard and an Italian opera singer, you had one hell of a set of lungs on ya.

>Not like that was going to help much. You can't fucking piece together a machine out of this mess no matter how long you can hold a note.

>You looked with exhaustion more than anything towards the boomer, the weight of the impossibility of the task in front of you setting in.

>You started croaking out your objections.

"How the fuck am I supposed to fix this? It's in fucking pieces, you.. you can't get a machine out of that!"

"fuck me."

>Your legs felt hollow, you leaned on your crutch more. Would they send you in without it? is this how you die? Bureaucratic incompetence?

"I mean you can't even.. just... fucking how?"

>Shit, you felt like you wanted to cry again. You should have waited to see if you couldn't have bought Teth'ra along, then you wouldn't have to act like a bitch in front of anyone but her. She would have done that magic bullshit with her nose and mauled you with self help advice and the sort of presence therapy only a sapient dog is capable of before you even got this far.

>There goes that crippling loneliness again. You pulled your head down, and considered how to get rid of the only other person here before the waterworks started up again.

>"Ya do it with OUR help."

>...

>You chanced a look towards where you assume Vegalta was standing.

>Holy shit.

>They're all there. Everybody from the 512 that got out alive. All of them wearing wrenches and jumpsuits.

>Goddamnit guys!

>You find your breath catching in your throat. Don't cry!

>Don't cry in front of them you pussy!

"Well?.. The fuck are you all looking at?! Get to work!"

>they gave lazy salutes and started in towards the heap of parts.

>Glorious fucking faggots everyone of em'

>fuckssake don't cry, not in front of em'

>You hobbled off towards the tiny corner office within the hanger and shut the door, confident nobody could hear you over the starting din and racket of assembly, You let out the the cry that had been bouncing around your chest.

>Those fucking assholes.

>They made you so damn happy.

>When you recovered from your moment you stood up and hobbled out, badgering your impromptu work crew on every fine detail and adjustment. If they had come together to make your machine, they would do it right.

>You tried your damnedest to hide just how much this meant to you, but you had a sneaking suspicion they had an idea of it anyway.

>Still, they didn't call you out on it, you need to be strong.

>They understand.

>The rest of the day rolled by like this until the sun hung low and you decided it was about time to turn in.

>Looking back the progress made was phenomenal, most of the core systems were in place, auger, fire control, engines, transmission and drive linkages, hydraulic and power lines.

>Most of the plating and housing for the legs was complete too and had been bolted on.

>A few key differences were showing up as you looked over the half built mech, the feet for one were a different shape, with wide wings that folded out towards the rear and a practically naked back heel which supported an oversized quad chamber blast vent. The whole array was covered in wide, down-faced digging claws while the forward heel and the stabilizer wings were heavily armored with blunted plates.

>Vegalta rather cheerily informed you the differing foot pattern from the factory standard "cleated boot" was for increased traction in all directions to accommodate a brand new full motion gearbox.

>You had heard of the "reverse-Y" foot pattern before, mostly from one of the few anthro pilots you ran into bitching that the digging claws faced down rather than forward so they couldn't use them to kick things. You counter-bitched that in the event of CQC in a rumbler, kicking things was a terrible idea. The wide flat-top body of the torso would get in the way and not having both feet dug firmly into the ground would just give your opponent unneeded opportunities to flip you off your balance.

>If anything you beat the fucker into submission with the weapon arms and shoulder charges coupled with judicious application of the frag cannons before stomping them when they're on the ground, Where the digging claws would do more than make a mess. That got you growled at and called a 'brutish monkey' and with your goat and adrenaline up you made ready to demonstrate on his stupid face before the guys stepped in and pulled you away before you broke someone's jaw. Good times.

>The leg plates also had more prominently flared cowlings, which were currently empty but would shelter blast vents in the future, and from the looks of things, larger than your previous fair.

>Blast vents were an essential part of mobility for any high speed machine that locomoted by legs, bipedal or otherwise. With how many moving parts are included in the complicated machinery of a set of mechanical legs that can roughly follow a human range of motion, friction heat from all the moving parts builds up fast at speed. Coolant fed radiator coils leech excess heat from component groupings and breath it into the air gap between the machinery of the leg and the armored shell. This heated air is then discharged by the blast vents using mechanical diaphrams that are operated by the compression and impact of the machine's legs every time it takes a step.

>The harder the impact, the more is vented, this keeps the leg components at a stable temperature to avoid certain actuators and rotors from melting during an extended sprint. With the higher bore blast vents, especially the monstrous ones included in the new feet, how much harder were they expecting this machine to run?

>A new gearbox can't make that much of a difference.... Could it?

>They called it full range, which was just ridiculous, it couldn't follow the movement of its operator exactly....

>But then why the massive upgrade to the blast vents?

>Perhaps they were just anticipating an increased load in weapons and armor.

>You would see how much this claim was worth when you gave the first test piloting of the machine.

>You made your way back to camp... fucking full range motion, ludicrous.

>You were more than ready to conveniently forget all about Vilka and her little event the next day, Teth'ra was already asleep when you wandered in and you didn't want to wake her just to share your overflowing excitement about building a new mech with better parts.

>The idea of a full motion gearbox was of course impossible, but the improved traction and no doubt more refined and updated systems would edge on the performance of your machine to new heights.

>You went to sleep entertaining the idea of 'ordering' Teth'ra to help you and the guys with construction and fine-tuning, you were certain she would prefer your company over her usual days. Plus you needed some way to segue into inviting her on as your sub-gunner.

>No big deal right? just a natural opportunity to solve both of your problems with one stroke. Not like you were asking her out or anything.

---

>The night passed without incident, no wake up calls, no disturbing dreams.

>You awoke rather naturally, and pulled yourself up in your cot on autopilot, reaching for the mug of coffee that wasn't there.

>You reminded yourself Jurgen isn't around to brew you coffee before anyone else is up. not anymore.

>You blinked hard to clear that early morning fog from your eyes. You found that Teth'ra was still asleep.

>Watching her closely she didn't seem as relaxed as the night previous, you hadn't thought on it yesterday since you were dog-tired.

>Her breath was shallow and rapid, she started turning fitfully, distant whimpering held behind some invisible wall.

>oh no

>Do you do this? even with how she may lash out when you pull her out of it?

>You didn't think on that question as you already were gently pulling away the blankets to get a firmer hold on her.

>Her whimpers were restrained and distant, but there was an underlying desperation to them as her legs tensed and her chest hammered with each one. Some invisible hand from her dreams choking her voice.

>She fidgeted and curled, some unseen beast haunting her.

>A harsh strangled whisper from her panting muzzle. It sounded so far away, she was calling. Screaming from some pit within herself.

>"tom" She's calling for her knight, time to ride in.

>Your such a hopeless fucking romantic aren't you.

>You lay a hand on her shoulder as you lean in, holding her neck as you mumble into her raised ear.

"I'm here"

>The result is immediate, all of her tenses as she gasps for air, shakily returning breath. Slowly she uncoils as she feels you holding her in place.

"Bad dream?"

>She nods shakily as she still faces away from you, she hoarsely grunts "Y-yeah."

>You pull away and let her catch her breath, and pull in a folding chair to sit down by her cot.

>While she composes herself you pull out a pair of old mugs from the supply cabinet and pour out some of the water in the small tank there. Grabbing a couple packets of that ready to go coffee mix and dumping it in before setting them over your little butane burner to warm while you stir in the powder.

>This MRE coffee mix tastes like watered dirt but it's better than nothing.

>You sip at it and grimace, Jurgen's blend has this beat by miles, you would have to ask the man how he did it when you got back into the hanger. Your sure you saw him yesterday, skulking around lugging ammo crates.

>Sipping on the caffeinated liquid garbage, you reminisced over how handy of a man Jurgen was. He was always cold and didn't talk much, but you could tell he cared with how he did little things like that special blend of coffee he woke the troop with.

>Everytime you were camped up in (or anywhere near) a city or town, he would wander off when it was quiet and return with pack-fulls of fresh food, alcohol, and medicine. He was probably off raiding homes and clinics but it's not like the bugs ever left anyone behind to moan about their things being requisitioned.

>The precious few times a survivor was happened across it was usually some thin, ghoulish sort of person that managed to squirrel themselves into a barricaded hole too small and too well built for the bugs to bother with rooting them out.

>Months of isolation and critical shortage of supplies or any sort of human contact while waiting for nothing but an inevitable death took their hold. Most shelters turned up with the sole inhabitant dead, either by starvation or their own hands.

>What people made it through that alive by some miracle are forever altered, half the time they end up attacking the infantry that stumbles across them during building sweeps. Others are broken completely, just a gaunt husk without someone home.

>Poor bastards, all of em'. They probably spent the weeks in those cramped little boxes of safety, wishing they had the courage to die side by side with who they held dear rather than run and starve themselves out in a hole.

>There used to be more survivors, early in the war. Entire families, even whole neighborhoods and classrooms would be found huddled behind some battered blastdoor. They used to be called miracles, now every survivor you find is some broken loner or rarely, a desperate pair. Now they're called tragedies.

>You rose from your musings as Teth'ra sat herself up and draped her legs over the side of her cot. She huddled the blankets over her shoulders against the morning cold.

>You offered the other mug and she took it, gently cupping it between her paws. Grimacing as she took her first sip.

>Neither of you likes this trash, no one does. If anyone actually enjoys the taste of powdered coffee they're either lying or insane.

>Or they're a high ranking officer too dead inside to care. Never trust anyone who can suck the shit down without grimacing.

>The only guy you ever knew who didn't balk at the taste was that sniper, and he scared you. You were certain he was some kind of sociopath.

>And Dempsy never drank coffee, just chugged soft drinks and rotted his teeth while leering at women.

>Teth'ra looked deep in thought as she nursed her bitter stimulant. Something was bothering her, something beyond what caused her little breakdown before, or anything you could draw a bead on. It showed in the way her tail hung.

>You wanted to say something, but it was better to just leave her to mull it over for a little while, thats always how everyone handled you when you got moody.

>Just hold off for a bit, no need to appear needy in regards to keeping her in high spirits, that would just annoy her. You cringed more as you edged towards the bottom of your mug, you didn't even have a shot of whiskey to chase it down with something that didn't taste like a used air filter.

>You polished off your mug and set it back on the table, with absolutely no intent to refill it, this was military grade coffee after all, one cup was more than enough. Drink more than one and you would be so jittery you would make a tweaker look collected.

>Your friendly jackal was still sipping tentatively at hers, looking more present than earlier. The time was right, better now then never to ask her.

-social interaction! hisssssss-

>calm down! It's not like your asking to take her out for a drink.

>You're just asking her to get all sweaty helping you with your big gun.

-*screams autisticly*-

>No!... You just need her helping hand for some very personal adjustments.

>...

>fucksake! It's NOT a sex thing! that was one of the first things she said to you!

>But then again that second day when she came by she seemed to be less committed to that promise than what minimum suggested she intended to keep it.

>But was she teasing? or was there something else there?

>You pulled away from that downward spiral into the next. It's fine, the two of you won't be alone, the hanger is absolutely packed with pretty much everyone left from the 512 helping with your project.

>But you knew those guys liked to get up to shit, if they suspected you were having... thoughts, it didn't matter if you actually had a thing with her or not, they would conveniently arrange to bump you two into each other.

>Regardless you want to figure through what's bothering her. So it's time to ask her to help grease your throttle cable.

>FUCK

>You took a moment and fidgeted with your fingers. Stop freaking out dumbass!

>The only thing you need from her today is to press your buttons to find those sweet spots.

>Tapdancing Christ, your hopeless.

>Just belt out the question before it gets any worse.

>By now she's polished off the cup of reject grounds and has shifted a little to get more comfortable.

"soooooo, *tsk* Wanna help build my mech?"

"I'm sure the guys can find a good place for you to help out, like handling those big driveshafts."

-*mental headslamming*-

>smooth dipshit... real smooth.

>She looks rather thoughtfully out towards the forward corner of the tent as she allows the blanket to slide off her shoulders.

>Your head sags downwards as you lament your raging hormones. You made a mental note to work out your kinks when you got the chance, just so things don't get weird. Well, weirder than they already are.

>You notice her shorts have ridden up a bit from there usual cut. and those legs are bare to the world right now.

>The rolling, heavy hills of her thighs entrance your errant gaze, an ocular fly caught by a meaty spider. Very. Meaty.

>Large enough around to hug like a teddy bear filled with that stress ball gel stuff.

>She shifted and the behemoth rose, coiling under itself in a great swell that sprang taught against her skin.

>Hidden collections of fat clinging to the leviathan like delectable lampreys jiggled tantalizingly, revealing themselves to your small corner of the world.

>To think that beautiful swelling of power had a twin, solid, caressable handhold fo-

>You forced your eyes closed and pulled away, inhaling greatly to clear your mental state. You prayed she hadn't noticed, you've been slapped and screamed at for less.

>As you dared a peek she was still thinking over the question, but you had a different sort of problem as you lurched back into self awareness.

>Your certain other dog had risen to the challenge of the twin leviathans and was ready to go barking up those trees. And your damn brain wasn't holding the leash.

>The mental wrestling started in earnest as you boxed your own swell back down before it became noticeable.

>You crossed your legs, just to be safe. Teth'ra eventually turned back to you, as you fought with the strength of Adonis to keep from looking at her legs again.

>Just watch her eyes idiot. Indeed this helped, they seemed warm as she wore a pleased smile.

>"hmmmm... Yeah sure why not. It isn't a vacation, but I'll take any opportunity to forget about-"

>"Hey!! Hope i'm not interrupting anything!"

>You almost jumped out of your chair, the jackal bolted upright and slammed her head on the crossbeam again.

>Jesus

>You caught your breath and laid a hand over your startled heart as you gazed up at the culprit that had spoiled your quiet moment.

>Currently nursing a healthy laugh with a paw to her nose and a shit-eating smirk was the bushy, tangled mane of a greyscale wolf you know.

>"hehehehe. So Tom, you ready for dinner today?" She asked with a wide smile.

>Both you and Teth'ra must be giving identical glares but it doesn't seem to deter her.

>"-Vilka." The jackal finished her hanging sentence from her new spot on the floor, rubbing a fresh sore spot between her ears.

>The canine in question seemed to pointedly ignore her counterpart and stare expectantly at you.

>No clue occurs to you as to what shes thinking, as she only holds her muzzle through the flap, her ears and tail (the very things you were getting used to reading) completely out of sight.

>What energy you had before was bleeding out of you.

>Can't deal with this shit right now.

"Yeeeah, about that.. My mech came in pieces so I have to devote every waking moment to working on the damn thing."

>For once you didn't have to break out your well-worn talent for bullshitting. Vilka seemed to turn from expectant to thoughtful.

"I can call the guys up on the radio if you think I'm lying."

>"Now I didn't say that."

>You had nothing reliable to read right now other than her voice, you weren't trusting anything she said or taking any chances. So you slid your radio off the table and called up Vegalta.

"Hey Chief, pick up the, 'phone'"

>You wouldn't forget that little slip, you knew, and he knew it, and you would never let him forget.

>"Har har Tommy boy. Anyways good mornin', watcha callin for? You don't already have a date lined up to duck out on us with do ya?"

>You cringed softly at another one of his terrible nicknames. You noticed Vilka took peculiar interest in the conversation. Teth'ra was just on the floor, massaging her scalp and softly swearing.

"You know I hate those pet names you try to give everyone Chief. And quite the opposite, my Lieutenant seems confused about how I HAVE to be there to coordinate construction and tuning of my new machine, so I have to blow off her little dinner plan."

>You stressed a few points of speech in a subtle hint to the boomer captain that you would rather not socialize with your CO. He would understand.

>"Actually Tom-"

>oh no, noo no nonononono

>"-Your LT must be a lovely gal to treat ya to dinner-"

>FUCK You had mentioned the dinner plans and her gender! That fucking idiot thought you were trying to blow off a date!

>"-And I'm not the kinda guy to let life get in the way of things like that-"

>No Vegalta. Your just some matchmaking clown that thinks its nice of you to try to get everyone laid, regardless of if they actually like the girl or not.

>Your resolve was plummeting and Vilka's eyes seemed alight with mischief. Seems anthro eyes aren't that different from a human's in terms of expression.

>"-So you and your lady lieutenant have fun with your little outing, we can manage here without ya. Actually close to finishing! Have fun!"

>"Sounds like a plan then!" Vilka chirped happily and then disappeared before you could offer a different excuse.

>You felt your eye twitch, today was already ruined, is it too much to ask for just ONE quiet evening. Preferably with your new friend.

>Teth'ra sighed heavily as she picked herself up. "Guess that's that then."

>She threw on her clothes and stepped out before you could conjure anything to get her to help you and her blow off this whole charade.

>You settled for clicking on your radio again.

"... I hate you Vegalta. I hate you so fucking much right now."

>"Tchh, Oh come on Tomcat, that anthro pussy has go-"

>You turned off the radio, set it on the table and quietly restrained that part of you that wanted to march over there and beat that boomer idiot over the head, with a pipe wrench.

>One day, goddamnit, just one day of peace and tranquility before you marched off to get killed. Why must you be denied this?

"Why me?"

---

>You decide to keep it simple, civilian clothing was permitted since this was pretty much an 'unofficial' social outing. So you dig out an old pair of blue jeans and nice black collared tee with a few crosshatched diamond patterns about the shoulders in white.

>You liked this shirt, and at least wanted to look presentable for your own sake more than anything. Showing up in uniform is just asking for unwelcome attention, lots of questions about being so hard up and needy women thinking they can crack your hard exterior open with their hooks.

>Still, you were a mech warrior, and that was bound to charm one of the servers at the joint, hopefully some cute redhead. So on went your service jacket and your goggles.

>You dug out a fine toothed comb and ran it through the morning mess that was your hair, bringing out what volume and waving charm you could put into it with some passes. Allowing yourself to find some of your confidence.

>Today didn't HAVE to be bad, just find some corner table to keep to yourself and possibly Teth'ra, Hang out some, get a nice meal free of charge. And if any cute waitresses come by and strike up conversation about the goggles you can tell them: yes, you do drive a massive, thrumming, beast of a machine.

>*sploosh*

>You gave a show winning smile as you looked at your trim self in the small mirror. Not bad, not bad at all.

>You would have to shave soon, and you wondered over the idea of growing a beard, a little extra hair is hardly a problem when surrounded by furry bodies right?

>Briefly you pondered if anthros view human men as more attractive with or without facial hair.

>Once again, a question you shunted aside, it doesn't matter to you, not unless they start throwing hints your way. Then you have to figure your way out from there.

>If anyone it would likely be that vixen, Lyudmilla. But you had the impression she does it to everyone.

>The rest of the day crawled by as you largely wandered around doing nothing. Well that was a lie, you were trying to find Teth'ra, to at least hang out before the inevitable awkward dinner. You weren't liable to have another panic attack, as long as no one touches you, But just being in the same room as almost 50 snouts without an easy way out with only one of them that you trust is bound to set you on edge.

>Eventually you managed to catch up to her as everyone was making ready to head out.

>But before you could ask her to stick with you Vilka called from a jeep packed with her and the sergeants, the passenger seat conveniently empty.

>You aren't playing this fucking game, you merely hold up your keys in response. If it's so desired, a trooper's civilian vehicle can effectively be shipped to wherever their deployed at for their use off the base. Soldiers like yourself took advantage of this and bought along your automotive darlings, even if they had to sit for a long while in a stuffy communal garage.

"Hey Teth'ra I could give you a li-"

>When you turn she's gone. Your heart scrunches a little. why is she avoiding you?

>Did you do something else wrong? Why doesn't she just say what's bothering her?

>The other vehicles in the small convoy start peeling away as you walk towards that empty motor-bunker that has your car.

>You turn back to see a shapely figure with an angular face and a voluminous tail standing all by her lonesome.

>"Oh dear~ It seems I hev been left without transportation. Vhat ever shall I do?"

>The vixen's acting is terrible, you groan and roll your eyes as you make towards the garage.

>"It seems I must ride vith you, dear Tom." Swear to god if she sheds on your upholstery.

>She follows you daintily as you crack open the corrugated door and find your car waiting not that far in.

>Your big old noisy darling, a 1970 Camaro 427 swap. Seven angry liters of big block V8 sat under the veiny bulge of that overlong hood. Likely making promises your own package under the hood won't measure up too since your not a freak of nature.

>You still adored the old machine though, it was your first and only car, a hand me down from your father, and it was pretty much the same age as you.

>The midnight blue paint untouched by dust or sunfade, it glimmered softly as you ran a hand along the cold curves of your old steed. Almost as if you were making an apology to it's stalwart old spirit 'sorry for leaving you alone so long, let's go somewhere and forget about this for a while'.

>All the memories you had with this old girl, losing what was close to you made you want to hold on to them all the tighter. Especially as you glanced around the garage and saw the other cars, the ones owned by your ex-pals.

>Eternally faithful machines slumbering. Waiting for that kiss of life from masters never to return.

>It softened your heart to see them abandoned, monolithic reminders that yes: they were here, and they aren't coming back.

>You breath deep and forget.

>Time to worry about the now. To her credit Lyudmilla doesn't interrupt your quiet moment. Only smiling faintly as she cracks open the passenger door and settles herself into the seat.

>You hope she propagates the trend and keeps to herself during the ride. You may forgive her for that flirt earlier and the obvious game she's playing now.

>You open the door, taking in the sight of the hood and those fat bordered stripes of white that adhere to the dorsal surface before you sit in the tan upholstery.

>Some people call the faux-wood paneling and the coffee cream leather tacky but to you its home.

>Keeping the door open to enjoy the sound that wheezing behemoth of an engine makes you crank the starter. And get nothing.

>Right, she's been sat in a garage for ages, battery is likely flat.

>"Heving trouble getting it up?" She smirks faintly with a sly laugh, her little joke is more for her own amusement than antagonizing you. Everything she does is practiced, measured, and restrained. But you knew that she could be rattled like anyone else.

>Without speaking a word you pop the hood with the tab in the foot well. She watches you with curiosity as you go around back and open the trunk, the carefully knitted composure fading as you produce a large black box with jumper cables dangling off it instead of a tool set.

>You wire the jumper plugs in and flick a few switches on the top of your handy little box. Climbing back in and cranking the starter again.

>It turns, turns again and then the engine breaths into life with a burbling roar, the growl bouncing around the garage with an overnote din of sound and fury. The whole car shakes as the engine kicks into its gurgling idle. Lyudmilla bristles and softly clutches at her comforts as the mask of practiced composure cracks open, leaving her eyes widened and her form tense as she hovers off her seat.

>Sure the over sized engine guzzles gas and makes a lot more noise than it needs too, but it just feels more alive that way.

>You unhook the jump kit and slam the hood, relishing as the vixen makes eye contact and she can't hide her surprise.

>You stash it back in its place in the trunk and then climb into the driver seat and make to pull out of the garage. The car seems to purr happily to get back out in the evening sun.

>"Vet was... more than expected." You allow a satisfied smirk to creep over your lips.

>As you pulled out of the garage and out of the base onto the roads proper she regained more of her composure. You weren't too far behind the rest of your group so you took your time, making a point to drive along the freeways and drive rather boringly at that. Engine roaring the whole way because the thing has no overdrive and regularly pulls 2k rpm at highway speeds.

>This was to let the fox know you had more than enough grunt under the hood to pull something stupid and have some fun, but that you would be as boring as possible around her in an attempt to dissuade what interest she may have in you.

>If anything you knew taking the back roads to the base with Teth'ra in the passenger seat would really allow you to cut loose and enjoy yourself, she would be the kind of girl to go straight along with it too, maybe even egg you on. This is why tomboys are best.

>The vixen would just tense up and refuse to let herself enjoy it, but then conveniently swing around to 'liking the power' after it was said and done. She asked you inane questions during the drive there in between relaying directions.

>"So vere are you from?"

"Boston"

>"Vaht did you do before the mechs?"

"Motorpool"

>"Vaht vas your childhood like?"

"...Different"

>"How vas your time in the 512?"... Willard, Obie, Kask, Terry, Felix, and so many others. How dare she bring up their memory while it's still sore.

"I'm sorry, are you filling out a fucking questionnaire?"

>"Merely curious." she says defensively. You shoot her an intense glare and then go back to eying the road. You're done talking.

>You turn up the radio as she huffs gently and adjusts her pearly white tube dress. It clings to her figure like so much plastic wrap.

>She pointedly adjusts her chest while she fidgets, trying to get you to pay attention to her and resume conversation.

>Real fucking classy, but you refuse to play this game. The rest of the drive is silent on your end.

>Eventually you arrive at the place and find its lot packed, so you motor around the block and park in a lot a little ways around the corner. The rumbling big block seems almost reluctant to shut off just when it had gotten up to stretch its legs.

>Lyudmilla disembarks with a fluid grace but you can see her twitch uncertainly, the rattling from the engine probably has her off her A-game. Still, she attempts to uncover the mysteries that are you and yourself as you walk.

>"I may be late in saying it, but apologies for the. erm.. incident, the other day. From all of us."

>...

>"sergeant Smith was coming out of her winter daze, she wasn't thinking when she set you off." You have to wonder if bear anthros legitimately hibernate or if they just slow down during the winter months.

>"I do hev to wonder why though. Would you care to share the defining incident? so we can reach an.. understanding?"

-don't remember-

>"Your fear must originate from somevhere, It could help greatly if we just-"

"It's none of your business."

>It really isn't, all they need to know is not to touch you, the only one you trust that far is Teth'ra.

>The fox keeps quiet at that, you just want to get this over with and go back to base. You need to let off some steam.

>The restaurant is some Italian joint that you've never popped in on, you puzzle over why you haven't heard of this place before, Italian is your favorite. You wonder what sort of Soprano/Montana type of guy owns the place.

>As you walk in, your hit across the face with the reality of it, the whole place is run and staffed by anthros. There goes your whimsy over charming a cute waitress, it's just not the same when their covered in fur.

>You try to pick out Teth'ra in the crowd but there's no luck, in the moody lighting with the crowding of snouts and ears, you can't see which pair is hers.

>And you find the only seat waiting for you is at a round table with Vilka, and the other sergeants, plus a few faces you don't recognize.

>Your beckoned to sit down after Lyudmilla, hemmed in with the fox on your right and Vilka to your left. Still you can't pick out those gold-tipped ears or vivid blue eyes, your doomed to socialize with your friend's tormentor.

>You made your orders and then you proceeded to button down and shut up. It would be easier to slip into a slightly less nervous state of mind if you could actually see Teth'ra in the crowd, just to know she's here.

>You pulled the same trick as you did last time, jacket stays on, goggles over your brow, act like a statue. Anyone asks, your cold.

>And they did ask, and your answer got you a round of sympathetic cooing from around the table, the timberwolf waitress chimed in with melancholy that you must be so cold without fur. This was a mistake.

>Vilka in particular fawned over your misfortune. You thanked your fortune when the food arrived so you could have an excuse to just flat ignore everyone. Of course the torture didn't end there.

>Lyudmilla wasn't shy about trying to pressure you into some sort of corner, and you kept on the backfoot away from her, but this sent you closer towards the wolf.

>even as the feeling of dread crept around your lungs, you noticed the wolfess would conveniently wander her paw closer and closer to your unused hand when you were staring at your plate and ignoring the fact a conversation was even happening at the table.

>You stuffed that hand away in your pocket, complaining that the restaurateurs were keeping the heater off.

>This earned the act of Vilka rubbing a paw along your arm and cooing "Poor thing is so cold without anyone to warm him up", To your credit you didn't launch out of your chair because she made the move very obvious but every second of her rubbing along your sleeve made every nerve crawl.

>Your anxiety tangled your breath and the volume of your internalized screaming was approaching the sort of cacophony one gets when dropping a live frog onto a hotplate.

>Where the hell is Teth'ra?

>Still you cant pick up any trace of her, and your heart shrinks in on itself further. She's supposed to be here, to step in when your in over your head. And your far in over your head.

>Constant eyes on you, Lyudmilla and Vilka closing in on you from both sides, The pressure not to lapse back into instinct, Your stomach doing corkscrews.

>You breathed steady to keep yourself calm, but your heart shuddered with every beat. You refused any alcohol, though the others may fawn that it was you being responsible, you really didn't need any extra encouragement to throw up.

>The she-wolf was all too eager to guzzle down expensive wines and loudly reminisce about misadventures at officer's academy.

>You slowly distanced yourself as her movements became more impulsive and erratic, but this set you closer towards the vixen. Who made eyes at you as she sipped tepidly at a cocktail.

>You tried not to pay attention as you leaned back and scanned for your one refuge, your jackal, where is she?

>Still nothing, your gut lurches. The atmosphere in here is oppressive.

>You close your eyes and concentrate your breathing on the distant ticking of a ceiling fan, barely heard over the murmur of voices.

>You were back home, listening to the racket from that bashed old ceiling fan in the living room, the murmur of voices and occasional growl or bark was just noise from the tv. Nobody else was here right now, and the gentle aroma of Guinness and cigars masked by cheap air freshener greeted your nose like an old friend. Your dog curled herself at your feet, huffing softly. The soft presence of her long velvet fur sliding up your- waaaait a minute!

>You snapped back and pushed some errant touch away from your leg. Eyes fluttering back into the now, you glanced around trying to find your culprit, but nothing gave them away.

>While you didn't feel immediately sick, unease still hung over your every thought.

>Vilka was in the middle of some rambling story, her snout lurching in seemingly random directions as she recounted. You turned away only to come almost nose to nose with Lyudmilla's sultry gaze as she leaned towards you.

>You leaned away, recoiling, both from the proximity and your spiking unease. You wanted to find Teth'ra, just to shelter in her shadow a few minutes to collect yourself.

>The vixen kept her eyes on you. "I know you must be a little nervous, dear Tom..." understatement of the century.

>You feel that something sliding up your calf again, it's definitely her leg.

>"But I promise you. You can still enjoy yourself- Ve don't bite... hard~" It slides up your leg onto your thigh, edging gracefully towards your precious sausage and eggs.

-RED ALERT-

>Everything recoils. GET IT AWAY! GET. IT. AWAY.

>At this point you don't give a damn about how much of a scene you make, you shunt away and then bolt upright, marching promptly to the men's bathroom. It's empty, perfect.

>Lurching in one of the stalls, face flush with heat, you prepare for your stomach to heave, you feel violently ill.

>Your breath is heavy but the main event refuses to appear, small comforts.

>You gather your strength and take nice long look at yourself in the mirror that dominates the wall.

>You look like hell, a pallor mix of red and paleness splotched across your face, its natural color retreated.

>Your eyes are haggard and stressed. Now that your actually alone to think you can collect yourself.

>You wash your face over with cold water, trying to shake off the clinging film that sapped your resolve.

>You can't take this anymore, you drove yourself in, you'll drive yourself out, even if you can't find Teth'ra.

>But your little escape was not to be, as you exited, darting straight for the door, everyone else was already making ready to leave.

>fuck your timing.

>When you did get outside a slurred voice called from behind you as you turned for the corner.

>"Ooooooh Tahm~" followed by an obviously buzzed giggle. The wolf could at least still walk straight...-ish.

>As she bore down on you, breath swamped with the smell of liquor and wearing a pleased grin with a half faded gaze, you noticed the vixen trailing off towards one of the jeeps, giving you a prompting wink. You returned a death glare in kind.

>Oh christ finally! You see Teth'ra! your gaze flicks past the wolf propped against the building corner towards the large frame of your friend. She notices and your eyes carry a heavy pleading look to them, but her own scan you ever so briefly and then flick to Vilka before shrinking away. Her ears go flat as a frown purses her muzzle. The blow in your chest feels like a hammer.

>fuck your life.

>Why in the flying hell is she avoiding you? with that little display it's obvious she would rather not. so why?

>"Yah know Ih'd rather not ORDER you to drive me home there hairless."

>Great now the bitch is being a drunk flirt AND a racist.

-we aren't so pure ourselves-

>shove it brain, we have good reason.

>You hunched up your shoulders and let the nastiest scowl sit across your face, having the vixen prodding at you was one thing, but a drunk wolf? You hopped she was the sort of drunk that got motion sick so she would at least button it during the ride.

>You skulked around the corner and she followed, you heard her feet scrabble a few times as she took uncertain steps but no tumble.

>She seemed delighted as you plodded towards your car, would you really soil your darling with this wreck in the passenger seat?

>"oooo You drive one of these beasties- mmm! You HAVE to take me to base in this bad boy then... don't make me order you to~"

>No choice then, if she sheds on your upholstery your going to strangle someone. But your frayed nerves still twitch as she stumbles by you and waits expectantly at the door. You climb in and unlock the other door.

>She pretty much falls into the seat, tail swaying haphazardly, her ears are off-kilter and sagged, and you notice through the whispy fur within them they're flushed an intense red, guess you know how alcohol affects that then.

>You crank the starter as she fumbles for her seatbelt, silently hoping the battery went flat again so you can pretend you have no jumper kit and call for a tow. The old girl turns right back into life as you twist the key. Your not sure if you should be happy or pissed, so you settle for a close relative, apathy.

>Vilka gives an almost girlish squeal followed by deep laughing, and capped off with what your dead to rights sure was a growl of pleasure as she settles into the vibrations the engine cascades over the car. You even see her leg twitch slightly.

>Your agony increases tenfold and you offer silent prayer to whatever god may or may not be listening that she isn't... leaking on your upholstery. Those stains do NOT come out easy.

>You palmed the shifter to put it into drive, but found your hand being capped by the sort of warmth one would expect out of a fleece blanket. Gently you put the car in gear and then slid your hand back onto the wheel, sucking in air, if you had jerked upwards those claws would have done damage.

>"whoops~ hmm hahaha" You shot her a look of incredulity. She returned a lazy smile and bedroom eyes. You felt sick all over again.

>Should your drive careful to avoid exciting her? or drive fast to just get this torture over with, despite what she may think over the possible (and nonexistent) connotations.

>Fucking hell, the real answer is you want to go home, get drunk, and set fire to things but that's not an option since life decided to take your existence as a challenge.

---

>Still as you peel out of town, things just refuse to work the way you want them too. Vilka attempts to goad you into taking the back roads rather than the highway. You weren't listening but a convoy of emergency vehicles raced towards the highway as you waited at the stoplight. The highways are likely jammed now because one idiot slammed into another idiot.

>Your starting to swear reality itself really does hate you, if you want a good nights sleep, you'll have to pour out the throttle along the winding back roads through the hills instead of dealing with the pile up. Vilka took this as victory on her part.

>Your hackled nerves flattened out as you focused on the road, apathy giving way to that quiet anger that you hold across yourself.

>The sort of anger that just dares some idiot to come along and give you a good excuse.

>The engine purrs like a salacious cougar as you drive far above the posted speedlimit on these empty roads that snake through the hills. No cops patrol out here, and even if you are pulled over, your military. They can't just slap you with a ticket for getting back to base at your appointed time. Not with a war on.

>Despite what European motor 'enthusiasts' would tell you, the car corners fine, a few rollbar adjustments do wonders. As long as you ease off the throttle around the curves it won't fly off the road.

>You concentrate on the road, and Vilka focuses her concentration on breaking yours.

>She times her questions with hairpin turns and switchback curves, coupled with a charcoal paw always hovering dangerously close to your legs. The threat is clear 'don't answer and things quickly become uncomfortable'.

>At least that's the interpretation you stick with, if you got the sense she planned to neuter you, you would panic all over again.

>Your getting more and more of a sense of the devious control freak Teth'ra's tired ramblings painted the wolf as.

>The first question comes as you hug a sharp left.

>"Sooo Tom, no anthros huh?" Shes trying to bait you towards something, but your not sure what. You project your genuine ignorance.

"No clue what your talkin' about"

>She humms playfully, then attacks when you begin a switchback with a right.

>"Really Tom? There are anthros all over Boston. *tsk* shame for lying to me like that."

>Those inane questions from the vixen were intel gathering, you note not to reveal anything more about yourself to any of them. ever.

>"I think there's something more than us being... foreign~ No one must have shown you that we can love." her paw slides closer.

>"What really happened? I'll guard your secret, you're safe with me."

-DO. NOT. REMEMBER.-

>The chicane leveled into a downhill straightaway, You stamped the throttle as the camaro eagerly leaped ahead, this threw her off guard.

>Your still the one in control here, and anger hardened your resolve. How can she invade your sanctity in one moment but promise security in the next? The answer is simple, the spider is inviting you into her parlor, you stand outside with a lit match.

"None of your damn business!"

>The dip pulls into an uphill climb, and you depress the throttle more, the engine growls angrily. And you fire back an accusation of your own.

"Is this what you play at? Send out your little pet sergeants to gather blackmail?"

"Your my CO, not my shrink. I don't need to tell you anything."

>The hill levels into a right hairpin and you let off the throttle, braking as you squeeze the machine around the tight bend.

>And just like that, she takes the advantage to press in again.

>"Secrets are unhealthy to keep Tom... I want to know."

-DON'T-

>"This is why I allowed it, those things can eat away at you. You can tell me-."

-NEVER-

>Another straightaway, it's a short one.

"It's Master Sergeant McWhicky. And all you need to know is: NOT TO ASK ABOUT IT!"

>The volume of your own voice almost surprises you. Something approaching a growl loosed from your throat as you exhaled.

>Despite her subtle 'threat' over you and your somewhat opened guard from driving, some angry thing within you edged you on to counterattack, It held your guard for you.

>The turn approached and you didn't tap the brakes as much, lurching around the corner faster than normal, keeping the wolf from regaining the advantage. You struck in, taking advantage of her lapsed concentration.

"And how much do you know of secrets, you must keep plenty if your so willing to gather more. I don't need or want your pity."

"And as for what I want out of you? I WANT for you to do your fucking job, and give me a target!"

"I don't need your faux sympathy. I don't need your hollow concerns. And I won't give you something to hold over me. Your my lieutenant, you tell me what to shoot at. end of story."

>She remained quiet at that, even as another turn came up. A cold hatred in your gut resurfaced and you drove angry.

>This was supposed to be a nice quiet evening: you were supposed to have a table to yourself and Teth'ra and chat about life; you were supposed to enjoy a quiet, homely atmosphere without feeling threatened and sick; you were supposed to be having a laughing jackal playfully edging you into taking these rolling turns at speed; you were supposed to be letting her know just how safe you felt near her, how much you recognized her as a protective and caring person, how you would be happy to call her friend and comrade.

>...

>How you would confess that she was the best thing you could have asked for that night.

>And maybe you could tell her, tell her why. And she would keep you from spiraling into darkness, when you did defy that part of your mind that kept that gate locked.

>Teth'ra...

>Something is pulling her away from you, you want that something dead. Or at least gone.

>Your drive continued as dusk crept across the hills, you flicked on the headlights as this side of earth retreated away from the sun's warm radiance.

>The stars would show themselves soon, perhaps you would lie out under the open sky tonight, and just think.

>That and have a quick wank when you were certain absolutely no one would know, you need stress relief.

>Your thoughts kept wandering as Vilka idly brushed her mane with her claws.

>With what Teth'ra revealed to you that night out under the rain, what she did was making more sense to you.

>It also clicked with how tired she was under both Vilka and Lyudmilla, she split her time between barking angrily at superiors stifling her potential and carefully watching over you. She wanted to guard you from their influence, so they can't pry away what friends she does have.

>Course there's only so far that can go, Lyudmilla was easy enough to distance, you held rank. Vilka was another matter.

>So far you had been rather clear that your not looking to make nice. There was a creeping suspicion she wouldn't let that deter her forever.

>She was invasive and opportunistic. Parasitic sympathies seeking to tunnel in and twist your feelings towards her purpose. A tactic you were familiar with. She was just waiting for an opening to pounce on.

>The base wasn't terribly far off now, it was still a bit of a drive but with your passenger finally taking the hint, the minutes ticked by faster.

>Of course the radio had decided it can't grab a clear signal out here, you allowed your thoughts to wander more, leaving the she-wolf to deal with the silence beyond the low roar of the engine.

>The first thing you thought of was Teth'ra again, she had occupied the forefront of your mind recently.

>The jackal had been invasive too, but the key difference was the utter lack of malice behind it, she never pried too deep, and established real connections with no ulterior motives, aside from maybe pissing off Vilka. You were fine with that.

>You only got the sense the she-wolf was trying to play off your emotional shortfallings, or guilt you into some contract. The way she stared at you never failed to irk you.

>Teth'ra had never failed to attend to your instabilities when she accidentally set you off. Her timid care and restrained curiosity put you at ease. She even comforted you when she didn't have to, when it may have been simpler for her to let you drift.

>If she had been at that table she would have rested a hand on your shoulder and deflected conversation away from what would have set you on edge. Vilka had obviously planted Lyudmilla at your side to get you riled up and force you closer to her out of desperation.

>That was the difference. The jackal may have made the first move but otherwise she was patient and let you come to her on your own; keeping you close enough that the decision was easier on both of you and you could shelter under her until you had regained enough of your pluck to go out again.

>The wolf had organized a spider's web of her underlings to artificially stress you, shunting you this way and that until you conveniently fell into her grasp so she could pretend it was a happy accident. Once you were there, she would not be likely to let you leave on your own again. She would stifle and chain you, worming her hooks into you and cooing that you didn't need anyone else.

>She would treat you the way you caught her looking at you sometimes, like an exotic pet.

>Some deep part of you, brimming in a cauldron of buried rage, accused the wolf of organizing the bear to intentionally set off your little panic attack earlier.

>You had trouble refuting that claim, in the haze of your primal recounting of the events after you launched into instinct. Something in Vilka's eyes seemed like she had been expecting this, and Lyudmilla was bizarrely quick to approach you until Teth'ra stepped in.

>Maybe they just weren't expecting so severe a reaction. Or it could be your imagination painting an enemy where there was none.

>Still, it seemed like Vilka's intent was to drag you close, whether you wanted it or not.

>Her tail brushed by your arm, you turned to see she had wrapped it around herself, she was wearing some glimmering deep blue tube top.

>You hadn't even really noticed before. Come to think of it you didn't even see what Teth'ra wore, probably something boyish.

>You could not imagine that girl in a dress, not unless it's something truly special. Your thoughts came back to your musings on tomboys and a slight smile winked across your jaw.

>You went back to watching the road, allowing yourself to enjoy the speeding straights and the winding curves a bit.

>You resisted the urge to tap the handbrake on a wide yaw to the right, don't wanna have too much fun.

>"Watcha' thinking about?"

>Does she not know when to shut up? She was probably expecting you to spout some topic she could leap in on.

"Teth'ra"

>You spoke flatly. The smile creeped up a little as you noticed the wolf's tail bristle out of your peripheral.

>Probably mad you weren't thinking about her. Good, you wanted her to feel just a bit of what you had been sheltering all evening.

>"She's... quite the character isn't she?" Definitely a more preferable character than her.

"Yup"

>"You know she has anger problems right?" In your experience its a good problem to have, keeps you motivated.

"Yup."

>"She even scratched me once, right across the cheek! Did you know that?"

"Yup"

>Jimmies are officially rustled, judging by the agitated twitch of her tail.

>"And still you hang around her?" Well, you hang out more than around, seeing as how the jackal actually speaks to you as a friend.

"I suppose your jealous."

>Something was making you brave, might have to do with that burning core of choleric rage currently stewing quietly in your diaphragm.

>"Jealous? of THAT?! hmph!"

>Something about the way she said that made the trace of your grin vanish, your middle stirred.

"She's a good trooper. And the best friend I can ask for right now."

>"You can ask for better!" You felt your internal heat start to crawl towards your throat, your face sagged into a scowl.

"I'm guessing that means you right? because your such a fucking saint yourself?"

>You didn't disguise the venom that dripped on your voice, your anger was becoming more fitful, why were you getting yourself so worked up over an anthro?...

>She was your friend, that's why. But evidently Vilka was either too drunk or mad to care.

>"Oh please! Of course you can do better than that uppity little notch-ear! I do my model best to help and heal you and she just shoves herself in and ruins everything! She can never just sit still and be content! always gotta push! Always gotta bark up the tree!"

>Your glare forward grew deadly, and you suppressed a growl shunting its way up your throat, letting it escape with a blowing of air through your nose. But she continues.

>"If I had the option I wouldn't even deal with her, she was some holdover from the previous Lieutenant. Real idiot that one! Didn't even have the decency to leave me anything but a mess before he carked it. Bit much to ask for even for an academy prodigy!"

>The alcohol isn't speaking for her, it's giving her the courage to speak herself. You wanted to scream at her for disrespecting the dead like that, but some baser part of you riveted your jaw shut so she could dig her grave deeper.

>Even the sharper way you pushed the throttle and revved around the corners wasn't tipping her off.

>"So there I am, with a quarter of a functional platoon and an uppity alpha wannabe begging me to take position as A-squad leader with tears in her squinty little blue eyes. And she has the gall to say I don't know this platoon when I tell her the army doesn't work that way! Please princess! I read everyone's files!"

>"And so I put those lazy gadabouts to work and she collapses because she just can't look after herself. So I give her some stims and she won't stop sneaking away from her duties to talk with her precious little dyke buddies. Unbelievable! So back to work she goes and then she acts like it's my fault when she almost drops again. And then the bitch tried to claw my goddamn eye out!"

>"She's fucking dangerous is what she is! That oversized whore just can't leave anything alone, especially my business! I don't know what bullshit she fed you, but she is absolutely no good for you. I did you a favor ya know. Ordering her away from you under penalty of a good court martial. For all that you've been through you deserve a better soul, a kinder soul, someone who understands. You deserve ME!"

>"That ornery omega should be glad I'm a generous alpha and that we live in an enlightened time. If I was less of an upstanding model, I would have had her shot!"

>Your knuckles cracked, teeth ground, eye twitched. an almost red haze edged on your periphery. You barely held yourself in place as your fist balled tight and bit like an angry cobra trying to reach across and shatter the bitch's jaw.

>You let the low rumble of a growl bounce around your throat, if your mouth opened now hell would spill from it.

>"Hmmph, glad you agree." she chided triumphantly. If you weren't busy driving you didn't know what you would do to her stupid face.

>The drive continued as you edged closer to the base, hell it would probably only be an hour or two's walk from out here.

>You wanted to go to your cot, scream a record breaking chain of obscenities into your pillow, and then pass out.

>"Wait! Wait! Stop!"

>The exclamation jarred you out of your furious trance and you slammed the brakes, the car grinding to a screeching halt as you expected to see a fuel truck overturned on the road. There was nothing, not even an animal encouraging natural selection.

"fucking. what?"

>"I love this spot! We can watch the sunset from this hill right by the road here, overlooks the whole base!"

>If they wanted you to avoid the temptation to strangle your commanding officer they put you in the wrong fucking unit.

>You forced yourself to wear a mask of calm, a plan had come to mind.

"really now?"

>"yess, It's wonderfully romantic. I always wanted to share this with someone that caught my eye. someone like you!"

>You swallowed the bile that burned your esophagus. And looked over, an air of serene calm painted over your fury.

"sounds... wonderful."

>"Isn't it though? come on, there's more than one nice view to see up there~"

>You let her believe the illusion that her coaxing was doing anything other than making you want to vomit.

>Forcing a nice, complacent veil over your voice, you offered up the bait.

"well, I guess it's better than nothing. I was a bit stressed tonight."

>Some devious grin flashed on her face. yeah, she definitely planned that. She struggled a bit to undue her seat belt and then happily picked herself out of the seat, stumbling a bit as she made contact with hard ground again.

>She beamed over her shoulder as you fake smiled and pretending to futz with your own belt.

>She skipped along happily, tail fanning in a distinctly devil may care manner. hook.

"Vilka~"

>She paused halfway up the hill into the grass to your salacious call, only to see you wearing a dirty scowl with your hand on the inner handle of the open passenger door. Confusion dawned across her face. line.

"Stay the hell away from me bitch."

>and sinker.

>You slammed the door before realization could sink in, slammed your steed into drive and tore off down the road.

>You didn't even bother to check the mirror, your imagination filling in that blank wonderfully. God that felt GOOD!

>A rumbling chuckle barked from you, that was downright therapeutic, you didn't even have to lay a finger on her. If anything the emotional dropkick was even more satisfying!

>You cared nothing for what hell you may catch in the morning, you didn't care if this stunt made a lifelong enemy of your LT.

>What you did care about was getting Teth'ra back by your side as soon as you can, you had made up your mind.

>As soon as dawn broke tomorrow you would storm into the office of the brigadier general himself and raise merry hell until you got this mess sorted, hopefully with the bitch cycled out for someone who was actually tolerable.

>You were riding the same sort of high you got after a major victory in battle, you could punch the world straight in the mouth right now.

>As you rumbled closer towards the base, remembering to lay off the throttle before you go powering through the front gates, that happiness faded a bit. This was far from over, if anything this was just the first shot fired in this microcosmic war.

>But you kept your confidence, ousting Vilka's unacceptable behavior to the general would be the tactical nuke to end your war as swiftly as it began, you were never one to play fair.

>Remembering what that canid cunt said as she excused herself in her rant over Teth'ra your anger flared all over again. And you made plans upon plans to make life for her a living hell. You glared pointedly at the gate guard as you rolled back in to base, and soon enough your car was back in its little shelter.

>You found your tent was missing when you marched back into the east field, everyone's tents were missing. One mild panic attack and some asking around later, you found that you had been resettled into one of the empty barracks.

>You scrambled back that way, hoping like hell your suspicions weren't right.

>Of course when it comes to matters against your interest, your always right, You found your footlocker at the foot of a bunk that was next door to the officer's quarters, and your platoon was pretty much the only ones using this building.

>So you hiked your shit to the abandoned end of the building, picked a bunk in the corner and settled everything there, fuck Vilka, fuck the sergeants, fuck dealing with anybody that's not Teth'ra right now.

>Everything about today had been draining mentally and to a degree physically, so despite yourself as soon as you settled in, you dropped into sleep almost immediately.

---

>Your dreams that night were fitful and violent, highlight reels of your most gory moments strapped into an auger. Recountings of those street rumbles you got into when you started growing hair on your chin. The amateur boxing you did in high school. The knife fight you got into west of Worcester when you had decided to take the camaro street racing out in the countryside.

>Reminders of that squirming, hateful part of yourself that you would rather forget, just so Teth'ra wouldn't have to see it again.

>You awoke with your sheets an absolute mess and a note posted on the wall opposite you, oh boy here we go.

>While other people have normal problems like sleep apnea or getting munchy and wandering to the kitchen like a zombie, You apparently had become a full on brawler in your rest.

>The note detailed that you had taken surprisingly coherent swings at anyone that touched you. You even landed a solid hit right on an unfortunate trooper's nose. Some of those hooks and jabs in your dreams felt more present than others.

>Still you had shit to do today, so you mixed up your garbage coffee, downed it in a single swig, promptly dry heaved, and then slipped out the back door.

>You marched with purpose towards the brigadier general's office, you would shove this issue right down command's throats and get them to choke on it until they fixed it. There was no fucking way you would work with this platoon unless this shit was fixed pronto.

>You barged in the door and the secretary almost spilled her mug as you trounced up and demanded the earliest possible appointment with the general.

>You were told that he had been expecting you and to head inside. That was... unexpected but still, you had a fucking mission.

>So you pushed open the door and the courage in your throat got caught in a net. Vilka and Teth'ra were there, a third chair waited for you as the general faced the open door, hands propping up his salt flecked chin.

>"Sit down son." That tone snapped at the back of your head, the tone of command you were wired to obey like a dog whistle. You stowed your resolve away for the moment and did what you were told.

>"You came sooner than I expected master sergeant, where is the runner I sent for you?"

"I uh, I came here as soon as I woke up sir."

>He quirked a brow at that, and ice shot up your back. It's bad luck to get someone so high up the chain curious about you.

"I merely thought it prudent to report my... altercation with the lieutenant there as soon as possible sir. And to air my grievances about her unacceptable behavior... sir."

>Vilka piped up "And exactly what part of my behavior is unacceptable?!"

>"Lieutenant." The general warned, the she-wolf promptly flattened herself back into her chair.

>So she failed to pick up the hint from your angry driving and a bubbling fury that was so palpable she must have been able to SMELL it, but the command tone had her obeying like a perfectly trained puppy? Fucking wondrous.

>Teth'ra kept her lip buttoned and pulled her best impersonation of a statue. You admitted she may have the right idea.

>Then the questions started, and all three of you were asked to explain what was going on and how you felt about it.

>Vilka weaved a tall tale of a young hopeful officer being kicked down at every turn by a seditious corporal despite her best attempts to help and make nice, Who wanted to help a wounded mech pilot, only to see him seduced and turned into an insubordinate cretin by her arch nemesis.

>Teth'ra painted a picture of an experienced but beaten down corporal that had been ostracized, bullied, and worked half to death by an uncaring sergeant and a devilish incompetent of a commander. That in desperation for companionship after her friends had been transferred out or lost in the field, reached out to a traumatized comrade that had saved her life. Forging a powerful connection and looking after his mental well-being with care, despite her commander's unprovoked attempts to sabotage her. How hopeless she felt when flat out ordered under threat of court martial to cease her friendship. Who didn't even know how much he fought to defend her honor.

>You relayed your experience of a red-blooded mech jockey waking up in the ashes of his unit, stumbling out blindly and following his God-given duty to save an infantry unit caught out alone and surrounded, not even knowing they were anthros. A good soldier who was tossed about by the waves of fate to end up fighting alongside the very unit he saved despite the prestige of a mech warrior demanding a better posting than a glorified guard dog for a pack of rifles. But he found a brightside when he was visited by a strong and caring jackal when he teetered on the edge of oblivion. Forging a hard as iron friendship and camaraderie with her. Angered greatly when her vindictive bitch of a CO refused to let a good thing stay alive. The rage that burned in his heart when in a drunken fit, said CO belittled and dehumanized his friend into nothing more than some broken drone to be scrapped, and then proceeded to level unwanted sexual advances on him. But restrained himself to merely dump her just outside the base for a head clearing jog instead of giving in to the urge to throttle her, a model of discipline.

>The general didn't seem to give Vilka's tale much stock, you don't get so high without a potent sense for bullshit.

>Teth'ra's lamenting caught his attention as he listened closely.

>Your good soldier routine seemed to stoke his interest, although he didn't ask questions as you were recounting there was more than a few poignant changes of expression on his part. Vilka shifted nervously, perhaps realizing what happened in your car yesterday wasn't an artifact of the liquor playing with her memory. Most telling was a rather intent narrowing of the eyes when you spoke about the drive back from dinner.

>He asked about that further and you suppressed the bouncing glee that was starting to ricochet around your head as you enthusiastically recalled every nasty detail, and your suspicion that she wasn't drunk enough for the wine to be speaking for her.

>The she-wolf shrank into her chair, her face twisted into the image of a scoundrel betrayed. Guilty as charged.

>The score was 2 to 1 in your favor, and you allowed yourself to relax slightly.

>But the wolfess was never one to leave well enough alone, you had learned she had an alpha complex and she wanted everything back under her thumb.

>To this end she accused you of lying, about your past, about where you had grown up, about why you were racist against anthros.

>Teth'ra rather eagerly leapt to your defence, rightfully accusing Vilka of being a control freak. Claiming that you had felt pressured and threatened by the LT's overbearing mannerisms, and that she herself had made fantastic work of helping you through your aversion to anthros.

>The general than demanded more details of such incidents out of the jackal, she wanted to keep your little secrets, but he just bore down at her in that unstoppable way higher officers learn to get enlisted to spill their guts.

>She shamefacedly lowered her ears and recalled the more tender moments the two of you shared. That first night where despite all her nerves and whispering insecurities about the possibility of failure, she hauled you out to the balcony and talked you out of your depression.

>The second day visiting you, where she had shared her lamentations and you had helped her for a change with nothing more than a gentle touch and the right words. The general looked to you and you nearly nodded that it was true.

>That day outside the supply bunker, where you admitted your fears and she helped you regain your confidence to face the very same platoon that so discounted her. You once again nodded along that this did in fact happen.

>And finally, your nervous breakdown in the rec hall, where she had managed to approach and talk you down before anyone was hurt.

>Vilka barked that she was overinflating the severity of it and that she had more or less cornered you and dragged you off.

>Before you could stop yourself you fired off that Vilka had intentionally put you in such a stressful situation, that she had intended for you to have a panic attack, You accused her of staging the whole thing to set you off so she could worm her hooks into you.

>Soon you went on a tirade, your anger flaring, accusing the wolf of the sort of machiavellan plots that would make the Clintons proud (at least before they were found out and executed by the republic senate)

>The screaming match began in earnest from there.

>You were the loudest much to Teth'ra's surprise, but the jackal soon got her dander up too and traded insults with Vilka.

>This went on for a good 5 minutes, until the general's voice cut over all of you.

>You collectively realized you were fighting in the general's office and promptly sat down before you were shot.

>You opened your mouth to stammer out an apology but it was his turn to start shouting.

>The general must have been a DI in a past or current life, and so you sat diligently, weathering the storm as you awaited the 2 coins on your eyes to pay the fair across the styx.

>At the end he had made his resolution over you crystal clear, likely in an attempt to never have to see any of you three in his office ever again.

>You were to get your shit straight and stop agitating every issue, Your position was not in danger but he made it clear any more violations on Vilka's part and you promptly report it instead of taking matters into your own hands. You were also told very bluntly to reign in your anger issues off the field, you hadn't decked anyone yet but he wasn't taking that excuse.

>Plus any more mental breaks on your part would have you pulled off active duty and sent to the shrinks. That threat rang hollow to you, as much as you despised shrinks, these days the army was too desperate to let the crazies off the field to get checked.

>Vilka was getting her spirits back up until the general tore into her. Barking and shouting that she was too much of a bright eyed academy fresh dumbass to acknowledge and address the self-evident issues her troopers displayed. And that ignoring it and treating them like conscripts was the wrong answer in every category.

>She was flat out threatened that if such flagrant displays of malicious incompetence surfaced again, she would be busted back down to corporal and flung into an actual penal battalion to see the other side of what she had put Teth'ra through.

>That had her legitimately terrified, and it should, penal outfits were called 'suicide squads' for good reason.

>By far he was the 'nicest' to Teth'ra. Actually lowering his voice and telling her that what she had been put through should never have happened. He told her that her experience was too valuable to be wasted under a sergeant, and that post haste she would be given a promotion to be put in charge of an understrength assault squad that had been looking for a platoon to transfer into along with a new sergeant.

>You swore the poor girl was fitting to burst into tears of joy.

>But he also warned that she would be watched carefully to see if she really was the command material he thought she was.

>The two of you were then excused from his office and ordered to wait in the lobby until he had finished his chat with Vilka.

>You swore your heard the she-wolf crack off a hurt whimper like someone had struck her on the nose.

>As the door closed behind you, it became deathly silent, and both you and Teth'ra shared a look of worry for what sort of hell was quietly being unshackled in there.

>But Vilka deserved that sort of thing... right?

>You both sat down and let out the breaths you didn't realize you were holding. You frowned and fidgeted with your fingers.

"Well... that.. went better than expected."

>"*sniff* yeah.. yeah, It. It did." You tepidly displayed your concern, looking up to the jackal at your side, the faintest glimmer shone in her eyes.

"You okay?"

>She nods with a little effort, evidently trying her best to keep collected.

>"I'm okay. It's just.. I never thought I would be out under her thumb ya know?"

>"And.. my own squad?! I got so worried I would never see the day, I always wanted to prove myself like that. But... I'm not sure what to feel right now."

>You rested a hand up on her shoulder.

"You should feel happy."

>She nodded softly as the tension in her shoulder slowly cooled. You caught the secretary staring at the two of you, she went back to shuffling papers when you slid a glare at her.

>You folded your hands in your lap and waited quietly until the lieutenant timidly shuffled out of the office. Her head straight down, ears folded, and tail hanging limply. Her just desserts had been served.

>The general handed both you and Teth'ra a sheet each. You had both been assigned to duty shifts the rest of the day.

>You had all but ditched the crutch yesterday as your leg felt perfectly fine, and apparently this meant you were clear to do busy work.

>your hopes faded a bit as you realized you and her were working on opposite ends of the base. It faded more when you remembered.

>Gravecall was tonight.

---

>The clear night air stung at your lungs, you stood rigid, a lone pylon raised against the chilling breeze.

>The silver of your uniform glared under the lights, eyes watched from all around. Still you stand.

>The air tinges and burns your throat, no one stands by you, your shoulders want to sag. Still you stand.

>The names are called at a flat pace, distant as they move from the other side of the platform. The silence after each call punctures your heart. Still you stand.

>A name is called, a parade ground voice responds. Another name, no response, a report takes to the air in their absence. The hammer blow of the salute threatens to knock you off your feet. Still you stand.

>The steady tap of drums calls for bearing and honor, the mournful howl of pipes pulls at your heart. Still you stand.

>The names continue, some respond, others are gone, their absence made weight by the lull after their names. The rifles lend their barking cries to spare your own voices. Still you stand.

>You swear you can see them in your mind's eye, surrounding you at every angle, shielding you from the wind, their faces bold and hopeful. Your heart wrenches as the wind ices your breath. Still you stand.

>The boomers stand in a clump on the far right, a few dancers stand sparsely to the near right. Still you stand.

>To your immediate right, but still at great distance five rocks stand in a tight clump against the wind. The colonel bears his shoulders at the head of the platform, he hides his face as he turns his head down. Still you stand.

>The colonel keep his head low, and holds his cap over his face, You tower unerringly on the far right. More eyes are on you than anyone else, for you are so perfectly alone. Still you stand.

>You keep your head level, your eyes shrouded in shadow by the peak of your cap, every medal and honor that had been pinned to your breast threatens to drag you low. Still you stand.

>The salutes pause for a precious few moments as the names of the leaper pilots are called, and all five respond in turn. Then every eye turns to you as the speaker makes ready to read off his list. All of them can see you clearly, there is no hiding or running from this, it wouldn't be right. They all must see through you, how you want to break the dam, scream at the sky and ask why, why it had to take them. Still you stand.

>The first name sounds over the air "Captain Willard, Gaius D." no response, the report sounds for him, the rifles' clamor grips your heart. Your eyes are wet. Still you stand.

>"Lieutenant McPhearson, Obie H." The rifles cry again, a tear falls. Still you stand.

>"Master Sergeant Kask, Vincent P." a report. "Technical Sergeant Hawking, Edward D." a report. "Sergeant Masters, Marcus A." The drill of the rifles continues unerring, each report hammers your chest. Each name calls their face in front of you, your cheeks are slick with tears, you refuse to be moved, you must stand for them. Still you stand.

>"Master Sergeant O'Neill, Terry C." report. "Technical Sergeant Fairgrave, Wallace K." report. "Master Sergeant Smith, Felix S." report. The names continue, every one a face you remember, every one a report that shoots into your heart. The tears flow and you strangle every cry and wail, holding them down in your chest. Your arm trembles as you hold salute. Still you stand.

>Your head is still high as every name stings your soul, you must stand for them, not because you are strong, but because they can't. You keep your jaw shut, even as your face is slick with the water of your sorrow. Still you stand.

>You feel tears hit the breast of your dress greys, the honors glitter under the light. Your throat pulses as you swallow every cry that tries to leap out of your lungs. Even as you quake, a young sapling against the storm. Still you stand.

>You see them now, spectres of the wind that stand in shimmering traces of the men that were. You gather from the strength of their defiant faces, hopeful despite the falling sky. There is one last name to be called.

>"Master Sergeant McWhicky, Thomas A." The speaker concludes. It catches in your throat, some base part of you wanting to quit. You never knew when to quit so you bark it through anyways, it's uneven, loud, and quavering with raw emotion. But you want to let it know, let the world know, it has not won!

"Reporting!"

>Still you stand.

>The lights shut off, and the murmur of sorrowful voices in the gathered crowd fills in for the silence. Gravecall for the 512 fusiliers is concluded, the unit is officially no more, Its survivors honored and made to stand in the absence of their peers.

>You turn, still holding back the gathering tide as you disappear behind the stage with everyone else that stood under the harsh glare of the lights.

>Before anyone says anything, all of you pull eachother into a tight embrace and weep. You weep for those lost. You weep for those still here. You weep for the future, when more of you disappear.

>You pour your heart out surrounded by your comrades, your brothers. The tides would pull you away from eachother, some would be alone like you, others moved in groups, some sent home. You would keep your binds, keep in touch as long as you can, passing ships still keeping their beacons lit to guide eachother in the fog.

>The drums begin and so goes the march.

>You lead into the first verse as the pipes join in, singing the old ballad as it was written, in Gaelic.

Wander my friends, wander with me

Like the mist on the green mountain, moving eternally

Despite our weariness

we'll follow the road

Over hill and valleys

to the end of the journey

Come on my friends and sing with me

Fill the night with joy and sport

Here's a toast to the friends who have gone from us

Like the mist of the green mountain,

gone forever.

>A second time, and a third you all cry through the verse. The night is closing away and it's time for you to journey on separate ways.

>But no matter where you go, what you fight, or what you see. You all still stand.

---

>You crawled back towards your bunk, your strength taken away after you retreated from the public eye.

>A few saw you, but none approached, your head held low as your cap shielded your burning eyes from the outside world. You were glad that you held enough respect or sympathy to be left alone.

>The future was still uncertain. Vilka had been put in her place. Teth'ra was now in the position you promised her, even if your actions only had partial blame for why she was there.

>All things considered you should be looking up, most of your immediate problems with the platoon are solved. So why does sadness cling to everything?

>You'll have to see if you've managed another depressive episode tomorrow, for now you were still sliding the slick weight from the ordeal of gravecall off your shoulders.

>You came back to find your shit reorganized once again, your bunk was in some corner of an unused barracks hall. As the platoon specialist you conveniently got to sleep on your lonesome, granted you weren't quite as seperate from the rest of the platoon as the night previous but you were fine with that, considering Vilka wouldn't be bothering you anymore.

>You hung up your cap and unclasped the constricting collar of the ceremonial garb. Dress greys always made you feel like you were on display.

>The uniform was folded away quietly and you shivered, clasping hands on your shoulders. Anthros never kept the fucking heater up high enough.

>Too tired, too damn tired to drag yourself around to find the thermostat and crank it up a precious few degrees. The other bunks in the hall had no blankets, or even mattresses.

>The oversized bed lulled gently to you, shoulders sagged, knees ached. Your eyelids felt heavier and heavier with every second that coasted by. Exhaustion pulled you low. Let me down easy.

>Your thoughts froze over as you started shutting down. pushing yourself under the thin covers to insulate against the prying fingers of cold tapping silently on the windows.

>It was the middle of March, but a cold snap had chilled the air, and it would only get colder as you moved north into the tundra and permafrost. The cold of death, whispering for you. Ignore it, it holds nothing you want.

>Lying there staring at nothing, you can't sleep, the cold even snakes under your covers, tomorrow you move out.

>Your machine is reborn, waiting and ready. Your friend in this madness has her own power to help you now, as you will help her. Your officer has been rebuked by a higher authority and will leave you be. So why aren't you ready? Why can't you rest?

>All at once those niggling voices shepherded into the deeper, doubting recesses of yourself come out now that your too exhausted to guard their pens.

>Your new machine is too different, you have no experience or feel for this new modular thing. Your inexperience will get you killed.

>He's out there, waiting for you, to finish the job he started. You'll never see him coming, no one does.

>A flash of crimson, that's all they say, A flash of crimson and a machine falls, their pilot gone. A flash of crimson, and your machine falls next.

>He's always at a distance, waiting. He always sees you first. You can't get close enough, he'll cut you down as the reaper cuts the chaff.

>Humanity is dying, spinning endlessly into the uncaring void as it spits and bites and snarls like an animal. Our death will hold no quiet dignity, we will go out screaming into the night for the fallacy of a second chance.

>It matters not how we have shaped ourselves into the beasts that prowl the land, that soar the skies, and cruise the depths.

>The enemy is without number or mercy, hoards of lifeforms far superior to the frail human physique guided by glimmering, impossible machines.

>You will never know the love in your dreams.

>You will never claim a home for yourself.

>You will never survive this war.

>It will claim you, as it has hundreds of millions of others.

>...

>Your mind drifts down further as sleeps embrace curls around you with all the expediency of a glacier.

>Your half awake mind thinks in disjointed parable.

>Spinning, fragmented chaos. Held together by roping strands of blood and sorrow. Twirling endlessly, a dance without direction or purpose. Before it shatters like spun glass when victory never shows itself. The shape of things to come.

>...

>It's freezing.

>Something stirs, a welcome feeling. You're being watched again.

>You waken slightly as a weight cascades over you, pressing out the chill. More blankets.

>Then another weight settles at your side and crawls in next to you. This is more than a bit forward. If she were human, you'd be questioning if she was into you.

>You guess anthros are a bit less restrained about physical contact due to their slightly more animalistic nature, can't hurt to make sure though.

"Uhhh Teth'ra?"

>"Shut up, you look cold." Her voice is low and tired, exhaustion must cling to her as it does you. And she was right.

>Then it went further, her powerful arms shifted you towards her, she rested her head on the pillow above yours.

"This is more than a bit forward ya know?"

>She only grunts in response, you turn to shuffle away in order to maintain a less... suggestive distance. But she pulls you in closer.

>She presses your back into her, your head is sheltered in the crux below her neck, She cranes it forward, encircling you further.

>Her body exhumes warmth, and you find your eyes growing heavy despite what parts of your brain suggest to move away. She wraps her legs around yours.

>You've only known her for two weeks and your already spooning, but something about this is okay. It's calming, You can't think of anything but her right now.

>You can't help but share your concerns over what lies ahead.

"Teth? What will we find out there?"

>Her tired voice rumbles out of her throat, soothing you as she mutters.

>"... I don't know Tom, I honestly don't know... But what I do know is we can help eachother out there."

>"I'm not losing you.. I've already lost so many out there. I will not lose any more."

>Her gentle words mean the world right now, as they flood in like the tides and sweep away the doubts.

>The cold is gone now, kept at bay by the stacked covers and the warmth of both of your bodies.

>You gently get a sense of her scent as you start drifting. She smells of spices peppered with lilac and honeysuckle. Did she smell this pleasant before?

>The sense of it wafts over you, your eyelids smooth down. And you drift away.

>Your dreams are flowing and serene. Something edges on your sense of self, its violent and wants to hound your rest.

>Some other presence chases it away every time. Some warm bliss that shelters you.

>You allow yourself the rest of lifetimes, something on the horizon will call for every ounce of your strength you can muster. You must build it when you are safe, and looked after.

>For her. You must stand.

[-------------------------------------------------------------Chapter End-------------------------------------------------------------]