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Readers,

Hope all of you survived the polar vortex and have moved on to better weather. It's just been a lot of rain here.

Not too much to say this chapter, other than I hope you enjoy! Let me know through PM or in the comments if there is anything you want to ask about or talk about. Your feedback motivates me to write more than anything else!

~Redfield

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Pressath, Germany

June 25th, 2011 2240 Local

Thuringia Area Command

Stárshiy Serzhánt Grigory Sidorovich Dygalo

76TH Guards Air Assault Division

_ _ Grigory's head had no sooner hit the pillow before the first explosion shook the building that he was in down to the very foundation. Dust rained into the room from the rafters, making the senior sergeant cough as he jumped out of bed, reaching for his clothes where they sat on the chair next to his nightstand. He didn't bother with lights, as the orange glow of a raging inferno lit his room in a flickering orange nightmare.

“To arms!" He shouted hoarsely as another explosion, this one further off, rocked the building once more, the white sun of a fireball making it akin to daylight inside. The man threw on his flora print camouflage uniform pants, hurriedly buckling his belt before working on getting his jump boots securely tied.

He flew at the speed of light, years of experience working in his favor as he stood, forgoing his uniform blouse in favor of throwing his body armor on over top of his striped blue telnyashka undershirt. He could hear the yelling from the hall as his junior NCOs rallied the rest of his troops, and it simply wouldn't do to be the last one there. Grabbing his rifle, he opened the door, running into the hallway and nearly bowling over junior sergeant Shagin.

“Evgeniy, report!" He ordered, a large hand steadying the small frame of his second in command. The man's eyes were wide, but any traces of fear were hiding below the stoic resolve that he expected of his soldiers.

“Situation Unknown, Comrade Sergeant! Suspect enemy contact along the southern axis of town. The radios are silent." The smaller man noted, his right hand holding the grip of his rifle in the low ready.

“Assemble the men downstairs and we'll sweep the town, two squads from the north and east. I'll lead the north element. Intersect on the church." Dygalo ordered, turning and moving down the hall at a jog as he spoke. He could hear more explosions outside, more distant than the last but no less prominent.

The two NCOs hit the south stairs, skipping every other step as they descended. The small space was darkened further by the light haze of smoke, the smell of burned plastic and diesel choking the two men. Dygalo coughed hoarsely as he reached the bottom, a particularly strong whiff of diesel nearly overwhelming him as he entered the lobby.

His soldiers were already assembled, standing at the ready in their standard two squads. They were in various states of dress, having been roused in the same violent manner as their commanding NCO, but their faces were just as stoic as Shagin's had been.

“Shagin, move out. Approach the church from the east. Keep in radio contact and make sure to identify targets before shooting. We do not want to kill our own men." Dygalo instructed, chambering a round in his AKS-74 before looking to his own squad, giving a nod. The men immediately did the same, falling into step behind the seasoned veteran as he pushed through the door of their former bakery turned barracks.

Grigory held his rifle out ahead of him, the metal skeleton stock pressed firmly into his shoulder as he swept the muzzle over the darkened windows of the buildings surrounding him. They stared back with darkened windows, the quaint warmth of rural German architecture completely gone with the hellish red backlighting.

The streetlights had gone out as soon as the first explosion had gone off, leaving the entire scene lit solely by the flickering firelight. The streets were heavy with the haze of smoke, the same sharp burning-plastic smell that he'd picked up in the stairwell more pungent now that he was closer to the inferno. The eerie roar of the fire was the only sound that he could hear, echoing off the dark buildings around him. Paper, cloth, and ash rained down around them, blowing in the wind that was stirred up by the inferno in small, dusty cyclones.

The NCO moved smooth and fast, making the left turn onto Agnes-Raith-Strasse at what amounted to a jog, the muzzle of his rifle staying trained on the way ahead, ready to deal with any targets that presented themselves.

“Roman to Schuka One, over." He heard the voice of his RTO, Andrei Levanevsky, as he spoke into his radio headset, the large backpack radio slung behind the man crackling with interference. He spared a glance back, head turned questioningly as he made eye contact with the man. The young Efreitor just shook his head, shuffling his rifle into a more comfortable low ready position.

“Roman to any Schuka element, over." The man called again, broadening his search. The only sound that answered the RTO was the sound of booted feet hitting pavement, the heavy breathing of troops laden in body armor contrasting with it as they approached the main road, where Grigory called a halt.

“Any luck?" Dygalo asked, already knowing the answer as the radio remained silent. It was

He knew for a fact that Schuka, the callsign of their 16th Spetsnaz compatriots, had a twenty-four-hour radio watch in place, along with their own headquarters building. They'd been in contact with them the majority of the day as they patrolled the road north, towards Weihersberg, but now, they were stone silent.

“Roman, calling any element in Pressath, over." He tried one more time, only to be met with the hissing static of empty airwaves.

That wasn't good.

“Roman, Shagin, we're approaching the church. So far, no signs of our troops. There is a motor rifle element moving around somewhere near us, but their runner tells us that their radios are out."

“Affirmative, Shagin. Have him relay our positions, and make sure that his boys don't shoot at ours." Dygalo answered, snatching the second radio mic off Levanevsky's pack. He chewed on the corner of his lip for a second, thinking, before rehanging it, not waiting for his second's terse confirmation.

“Forwards." He instructed, pointing south with an outstretched hand. His men sprung into action, two immediately bounding across the street, providing cover for each other as they established security for the rest of the element.

Dygalo moved forwards as soon as they had taken up position, catching the glint off of the receivers of their AKS-74s in the firelight. A massive fire in what used to be an Avia gas station silhouetted them to the rear, and even from over seven hundred feet away, the heat was unbearable. Grigory could faintly make out the sound of ammunition cooking off in the intense heat, the pops and snaps echoing off the concrete and stone buildings around him.

“Casualties here, comrade sergeant!" Lukin called from his left side, motioning to an alley off to their side.

“Ours or theirs?"

“Ours." Lukin responded, bending down to check for a pulse on the two motionless men.

Grigory quickly moved up and surveyed the scene. Their flora-pattern uniforms were stained deep with blood, staining the fabric and turning the sky-blue airborne patches a ghastly brown. One of the men had been wearing kevlar body armor, which was now shredded in three separate pieces, along with most of his individual equipment. Massive trauma to his chest was immediately evident, as if someone had torn at it with a massive hooked knife, spilling the man's intestines on the cold cobblestone. A broken helmet camera adorned the Hitlerite helmet on the man's head, smashed into what looked to be a dozen pieces, resting in the thick red blood.

Grigory Dygalo had been in many battles in the last years, from fighting terrorists in the Balkan states, to the pitched fighting during the battle of Tskhinvali in the Russo-Georgian war, but he'd never seen a soldier eviscerated like that.

It almost looked like he was mauled.

“Fuck." Muttered Grigory, taking one more look at the man before turning and bringing his rifle back up towards the church. There was no time to dwell on it now, not with the village still unsecure, and raiders potentially still in their midst. He gave the sign to continue forwards, moving out behind Lukin, whom had taken point.

Grigory's focus was divided, his rifle forwards, but his mind still drawn to the soldier with his chest literally shredded into pieces. He'd seen a lot of gruesome sights in his service to the motherland, but he'd never seen a man so purposely…mutilated. The amount of force alone to tear right through kevlar was unthinkable.

That was not the work of special forces. They don't do things like that.

His thoughts were silenced by the roar of an autocannon to their immediate front, rounds impacting the church steeple next to them. The massive metal construct that had survived numerous years and two world wars seemed to disintegrate in front of them, adding to the deadly shower of hot metal looking for soft skin.

“Take cover!" He ordered, watching as his men found every available nook to hide in, shielding themselves from the shrapnel that was raining down from above.

“They're still here, Comrade Sergeant!" One of his troopers exclaimed as he tried to get his AKS-74 in a position to return fire down the street.

“No, that's not American. It's ours." Dygalo answered, putting his hand on the soldier's rifle, bringing it back down towards the ground as another wave of cutting hot shrapnel rained down from above.

“Friendly fire." He offered, chuckling at the perturbed look on his subordinate paratrooper's face. He was one of the fresh ones, just joining the unit at Pskov before they stepped off. Of course, he wouldn't know better.

“I-if you say so, Comrade Sergeant." The man muttered, eyeing the more experienced man for a second before facing to the rear, watching for an enemy that was already gone.

The NCO was no stranger to the sounds of those cannons. The 30mm 2A42's distinct chopping fire was something that he could never forget.

“Levanevsky! Contact Shagin and have him make those motor rifle whores stop shooting in our direction!" Dygalo shouted, hearing the confirming answer before he was even finished talking.

I could use a smoke. He thought to himself, stifling a yawn as the autocannon continued to bang away without a break. He patted the young soldier on the shoulder, laughing as another rain of shrapnel cut into the buildings around them, glass shattering audibly from the impacts. It rained down into the unforgiving street, adding to the view of the hellscape that surrounded them. He could hardly believe that this village had been near pristine when they'd returned less than two hours prior.

Better make that a smoke and a stiff drink.

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Burgruine Weissenstein

June 26th, 2011 0230 Local

Angelina

Pack Alpha, Lucky 7-7

Angel had stayed with Jake for another hour before she'd slipped away, crossing the short distance from the tent to the castle ruins. The ruined keep jutted forth into the night sky, a comforting shadow cast in pale moonlight. She moved inwards, bypassing the keep steps and instead entering through the rough-hewn rock arch that she'd ignored on her way to the keep earlier in the evening.

Today, nearly seven hundred years after the original castle construction had begun, the RSH troops had gone about making their own renovations. However, in contrast to the original castle plan, they'd headed down instead of up.

Weissenstein had held a commanding view of the surrounding country in its prime, sitting almost 900 meters above sea level, one could still see what was now Occupied Czechoslovakia from atop it's reconstructed battlements on a clear day. Before the evacuation of Thuringia, the ruins had been a popular tourist destination, one stop on a series of hiking trails that crisscrossed the forest and accompanying nature preserve. The tourists were gone now, though, replaced by battle-weary soldiers and their dedicated raptor partners.

The team had since made the castle their own, having dug out and reinforced a cozy underground living area in the weeks leading up to the invasion. Following the granite vein on which the ruin was built, they'd been able to create a very sturdy space, shored up with wood-plank walls and floor. The whole complex was very reminiscent of a trench dugout from what the humans had called the Great War, a period they'd briefly covered in her education and training segment on the evolution of warfare.

The dugout had evolved as the weeks had passed, morphing from a crude hole in the ground with a rock ceiling, to a softly lit (they were still able to tap into the constantly flickering electrical grid) and comfortable living space. They kept candles on retainer for the periods when the dim LED lights were out, but nobody had seen fit to use them. Since the war, they'd not spent much time at all in what was now their home, until now.

Angel yawned as she stepped down the ramp into the common area, using one of her claws to flick on the soft LED lighting, bathing the shelter in muted bluish hues. The raptor surveyed their area, roughly the size of a standard GP Medium tent.

The row of sleeping bags that lined the wall was unchanged, their ACU pattern camouflage covers (lovingly called a 'condom' by their human guardians, the purpose of which she still could not divine) staring towards the ceiling. The mats that the non-human pack members slept on lay next to each mess of bedding, along with long green duffel bags and extra, non-essential gear. Each guardian had a large, wheeled plastic hard case that served as their footlocker, containing extra clothes, personal hygiene items, and whatever else they deemed necessary.

Four of those spots were now occupied, with the crew that had hit Pressath currently passed out in their various areas. Madison and Foxy were laying together on her sleeping bag, both breathing softly. Their body armor was resting along the wall opposite them, in the usual spots that they put it, along with Madison's M4 rifle and assault pack.

Next to them, Danielle and Elisa were laying in their respective areas, doing much of the same thing. Angel chuffed quietly, laughing at how quickly they'd passed out, thankful that she'd had the opportunity to catch up on sleep, despite the circumstances. She did not envy them for their bloody foray into Pressath. The Alpha raptor didn't have any details on the raid, but she could guess how it went just from seeing the fire from atop the keep.

The Alpha saw Ellie's eye open, her body unmoving as that amber gaze met Angel's. She returned the look with a nod, taking note that Elisa hadn't been asleep at all, just lying there in the peace and quiet. The big female nodded back before shutting her eyes just as quick as she'd opened them, taking a large exhale that made her entire body physically move.

Angelina could hear her pulse racing, despite her outside appearance of calm, and tilted her head questioningly. That was very un-Elisa-like. She was always calm and collected, so the alpha made a note to check up on her later.

The alpha raptor moved through the common area, stepping over Foxy's haphazardly draped tail while simultaneously ducking her head the whole way to save from scraping along the low ceiling. She quickly reached the far end, pushing through a hastily-hung poncho liner and into what served as their command center, the homemade sign outside reading 'Kommandantur' in another joke that she didn't understand no matter how many times it was explained to her.

Angel hadn't had much exposure to television programs, let alone classic ones. She didn't know who Hogan was, and why he had Heroes, but she would be sure to find out at the first opportunity.

That was just one of many of missed opportunities for the raptors of Lucky Seven these days, with so many things pushed along to the wayside now that the war had happened. Angelina recalled a list of movies and television programs, long enough to stretch from the castle to the nearby town (now ruin) of Friedenfels, that would remain unwatched at least for the foreseeable future. Jake and the other human members of Lucky Seven had always been excited to show them new things, even if those things were entertainment items that weren't exactly approved by the more rigid command guidelines of RSHCOM. Angel chuffed in an odd approximation of human laughed as she refocused on her original mission, recalling the chagrin of her human partners at their lack of pop-culture references.

The Kommandantur, whose name suggested the grandeur of a battleship's bridge or a huge map room on a prestigious military base, was really just a small room with various maps and radio equipment set haphazardly about. There was a folding field desk on which Jake kept the pack's spare radio battery chargers, extra batteries, spare push to talk pads, earpiece replacements (the raptors were good at damaging theirs), and two spare radio receiver units. Of the many supplies they'd stockpiled, it seemed as though the communications stuff was always high priority, even when they'd been training in peacetime.

It was towards the last item that Angel moved, reaching out with both forepaws and picking up the small walkie-talkie like device, careful not to drop it. The white letters of the Harris Multiband logo stood out on the green body of the thing, which she briefly took note of as she set it down on the desk. Her sharp ebony claws manipulated the keypad of the device, activating it and watching as the green hue of the backlighting glowed in the even dimmer bunker light. She keyed in her unique number identifier, the current code fill already updated, before switching it back to standby.

The raptor picked up the device once more, holding it like a child in her forepaws before turning to leave. Several scattered items on the other end of the desk caught her attention. She moved over to them, careful to watch her tail in the enclosed space, lest she took out something important (again) with the wayward limb.

The Alpha Raptor studied the items in detail, looking over what appeared to be an identification card printed in Russian, along with the picture of a middle-aged man in military uniform. Another photograph accompanied the identification, one of a blonde human female and two male children. Near the documents, a green shoulder board with three stars was similarly dropped on the table, next to a stack of papers in what looked to be Danielle Austin's handwriting.

One of her packmates must have gotten an officer, if that uniform piece was anything to go by.

Angel huffed faintly, stirring the papers with the air exhaled from her nostrils. She'd get the story from the others when they woke up, rather than read it from an emotionless piece of paper.

She turned towards the divider to leave, only to be startled near out of her skin by Doc Pintoe flying through and nearly running into her.

“Doc! Not wise to startle raptors!" She exclaimed, an involuntary shudder running from her nose to the tip of her tail in an effort to bleed off some nervous energy, her tail tip flicking involuntarily. Strong, cordlike muscles rippled below her hide, scythe-like killing claws flexing. Were it not for her sharp brain, Beans would be a red stain on the floor, time now.

“Sorry, Angel. This couldn't wait," He exclaimed, breathing hard as though he'd just finished running a mile. “According to his vitals, Jake is waking up."

He winced as he watched her whip-tail miss the stack of commo gear by less than an inch, danger close to setting off a chain reaction of expensive proportions. He didn't want to be in the same room when that happened, for plausible deniability purposes. That being said, with the news he'd just told her, he wouldn't have blamed her if she tore the whole Kommandantur apart in an effort to get out.

Doc realized he thought too soon as she ripped the sheet down on her way out, not stopping for a second. The medic sighed, laughing as he broke into a jog behind her, noting that even the half-ton battering ram had failed to wake the rest of the sleeping pack.

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Burgruine Weissenstein

June 26th, 2011 0240 Local

Jacob “Six" Dixon and Angel

Command Team, Lucky 7-7

He remembered the searing pain that was his last waking memory, much preferring the dull throb that he now felt as opposed to that. He vaguely remembered the run through the forest on Angelina's back, her bobbing neck framed by the black that had been drifting in from the corners of his vision. He recalled getting thrown from Angel's back as she attacked an enemy soldier. He remembered landing on his own back, facing the sky.

If Jake had been a man of vices, he'd not have placed any bets on him living in that particular moment. Quite the opposite, in fact. He'd almost knew for certain that he was going to die out there, looking up at those beautiful stars. His Angel was trying her hardest, but he'd known it wasn't going to be enough. Her strength had been starting to flag, ragged breaths coming from her nostrils that were akin to a massive bellows futilely stoking a dying forge.

The NCO had laughed to himself at that moment, whether from blood loss or just the actual irony of it, he couldn't tell, but he laughed. The year and some change that they spent together outside of RSHCOM had been surreal, the running, the hiding, the hunting, and the relaxing like some kind of extended paid vacation. That had disappeared the moment the Russian paratroopers had fallen from the skies, taking their dream world and turning it upside down and inside out. Gone were the days where he'd lay against her, falling asleep to the rise and fall of her unarmored stomach, the rest of his pack doing the same around them.

He'd closed his eyes after she'd licked his wounds for the second time, his hands holding her around her muscular neck, feeling her frantic pulse as she ran. The green tracers flitting silently past them hadn't been a worry to him, only holding his attention for the briefest of moments as he got as close to her as possible, squeezing her neck in a light hug before his strength failed him completely. He'd caught a glimpse of her amber eyes in that tracer light as she looked back at him, tears streaming down her face as she poured on the speed.

Jake had focused only on the warm female raptor below him. He tried to tell her he was sorry, but his voice had failed him, instead letting forth the statement in what amounted to a strangled, silent whisper. He'd smiled softly as he drifted away, focusing on that burning heat below him, and lamenting that he'd never be able to feel it again.

He hoped that she would carry on without him, that she would find her place amongst the rest of their small, unconventional, and slightly dysfunctional family. That she would continue to be the Alpha that he knew she was.

His Alpha.

That had been it before the blackness had overtaken him.

The fever dreams had come on hard and fast, not unlike a storm on the water. One moment it was calm blackness, the next it was sand and wind and dust and blood.

The nightmares that plagued him had returned, bringing along with them the sights, smells, and terrors that he'd lived.

This time, though, he didn't wake up when the IEDs had gone off.

He didn't wake up when the kid that couldn't have been more than sixteen had drawn down on him in that small, filthy alley in Sheberghan, Afghanistan. He didn't wake up when he'd perforated the front of the kid's skull with two 5.56mm rounds from his M4, watching it all behind the illuminated red dot of his Aimpoint Close Combat Optic. It had turned out that the kid wasn't sixteen, he was fourteen, with an old Chinese Type 56 that had been held together with naught but bailing wire. The magazine had been fully loaded with one in the chamber, and Jake had no illusions what would have happened if he hadn't aired the kid out.

That didn't mean it hadn't haunted him, though.

The only thing that stemmed the tide of the nightmares was the gaze of Angel's amber eyes, lighting up his dream world like twin golden suns. He didn't know why he was still alive, or if he even was, but he focused on her and nothing else, and the memories had subsided.

His Alpha, no, his Angel had saved him again, even if it was from himself.

Warm breath drifting across his face had finally brought him out, a comforting croon following as the lovely sounds of his Angel met his ears like music, restoring his awareness in a way that not even thirty cups of coffee could match.

Jacob stirred, groaning in pain even as the relaxing smell of damp woods hung heavy in his nostrils. It was as though there was a pallet of cinderblocks resting on his chest, the skin on the left side feeling as though it were pulled taut.

Another croon echoed in the stillness of the tent as Angelina nuzzled his face with her snout. Thick raptor skin ran along two days of stubble, creating a scratching sound that made Jake smile. He reached up and caressed her snout with his left hand, feeling the warmth of her hide on his calloused fingers.

“Hey, my Angel. Hope I didn't worry you too badly." Jake said quietly, bringing the raptor's nose to his forehead. She was shivering.

He felt another heated exhale on his face a second before a wet tongue graced him from lips to forehead, leaving his face coated in slick slobber.

“Really?" He asked, opening his eyes only to find Angelina's amber eyes turned up in her strange Utahraptor smile. He also noticed the tears that were running down the sides of her face.

“Really." She said quietly, her speech impulse belt digitizing her voice as she choked back a sob.

Jacob brought his other hand up to her as well, wiping the tears away as best he could, only to have them replaced by more. He could feel hot tears of his own leak down his cheeks as he wrapped her in an awkward hug, avoiding the sore pain that was burning in his abdomen. He moved both of his hands lower, moving her head to his once more. He placed a delicate kiss on her nose, smiling to himself when he saw a shiver run from her snout to the tip of her tail, flipping nervously behind her.

“I'm here for you, darling. I'm back." He whispered to her, watching as the quiet sobs once again wracked her frame.

“Jake, I…I was so worried. We didn't know if you were gonna make it." She whispered back, her voice barely coming through over the modulated crackle of her speech impulse belt.

“Worry no more, you slobbery beast." Jake said, laughing and immediately regretting it as it felt like someone was jabbing a hot knife through his stomach. He winced, hand moving immediately over the fresh white gauze that protected his wound.

Angel brought one of her forepaws up to his chest, comforting him as he coughed from the sudden pain. She guided his head back down to the pillow with it next, following with her snout as she met him nose to nose. The raptoress inhaled as he exhaled, sharing breath with him as she watched him with her big yellow eyes. She closed hers after he did the same, concentrating only on the steady back and forth for what seemed like an eternity.

“Sleep, my Guardian. I want you back at my side as soon as possible. You've got a lot of catching up to do." Angel whispered after what seemed to be an eternity, looking down at her human once more. He looked peaceful now, the color back in his face and his breathing normal. His pulse beat steady and strong.

“I'm not gonna argue with that. See you in a few hours, my Angel." He answered quietly, his hand running along her eye ridges one more time before settling down at his side.

“I'll hold you to it." She said back, sharing one more breath with him before standing leaving her human to sleep. The alpha raptor brushed past the tent door and back outside, the fresh air clearing her head as well as her tears.

The weight of the past few days had disappeared as soon as she'd looked into her human's brown eyes, his life, and by proxy hers, was now an almost certainty.

She didn't shrug off the feeling of lightness that floated in her chest this time, nor did she pensively ignore the lightness in her limbs, the urge to run and hunt and fight bubbling up just under her skin when she thought of her human. He was back, and she would make sure that he knew just how much she cared about him.

If it was the emotion that humans called love, then so be it. She'd proudly announce her love for her human from the highest point of the tallest mountain in all of Thuringia if that is what those feelings were. Already, her light heart told her that's exactly what she was feeling.

Now, the only question was, how to go about telling him.

To Be Continued…