FSE

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Fleabag and FANG

an /adhg/ story

by KrautDyke and Steele

tags: femdom, military, verbal abuse/insults, male human/female anthro, wrestling, lima syndrome

Synopsis: two jaded veterans from opposite sides of the North American conflict of 2008 find out they have more in common than they'd ever thought, and learn that after the rest of the world has abandoned them, the only thing they truly have left is each other.

“Four more hours to go…" Asche muttered, twirling the cigarette between her fingers. “Gott im Himmel, these days seem to stretch on forever."

“Tell me about it" Stahl, the massive snow leopard beside her muttered, flicking a butt away. “Can't wait until I get to go on soddin' paternity leave"

“I came here to get my paws on some handsome human male." Asche continued as she watched the near naked, dust-coated males working in gangs to shunt the carts of white mineral up to the loading areas. “Thought I'd have the perfect posting. But nah, these stupid submissive humies have to ruin the fun for me." She turned and shot a quick glare at a bunch of prisoners who worked the lithium cart. They visibly straightened when they saw her, their jaws dropping as they gazed over her body with puppy dog eyes, nearly salivating at the sight of her.

“Yes, I know. Because you say that every bloody day, Asche." Stahl said.

“Because it's tr… Oh, Gottverdammt, go back to fucking work!" the hyena sighed, noticing the prisoner's reactions. She brandished both her HK MP10 and middle finger at the sweat soaked prisoners. “Stop drooling over me and move your fucking cart."

The humans nodded; whispering and shooting her glances as they continued to manhandle the cart of minerals.

“For Gottes sake. I did three years in the Fallschrimjaeger and this is what I get. No human boyfriend, no family, no house of my own and nothing but these pathetic mongrels fawning about. And here I thought there was no way anything could be worse than Florida."

“Hey, it's certainly not all it's cracked up to be.. I love my Annette, but she was still a hooker. Whore born and bred. We're destined for trash." Stahl said. “Though from what you've told me, I doubt it's that bad."

“Eh, I guess it's not. And hey, you have to remember, all humans are whores, not just Annette." Asche muttered miserably “But I get what you're saying. Nobody with any prospects in life gets given Lithium mine duty." she threw the butt away and gave the leopard a nod. “I can't believe I fucking volunteered for this scheiße… I'm going on the rounds. See if I can grab something to drink."

The other soldier sighed and tipped his head before withdrawing another cigarette.

Asche walked along the gravel paths, the massive Aardwolf ducking her head as she made her way through the tunnels. Standing at 10 feet and 1470 pounds of pure half draconic power, the underground mines were miserable for someone of her stature… but there was hardly anyone better suited for the much needed job of standing around and looking intimidating all day. She slung her PDW across her back as she watched the hundreds strong prisoner gangs shovel the mounds of white lithium carbonate out of the mining carts to be loaded onto cargo trains destined for the refinery. They wore dirty overalls or just their underwear, rarely with some worn and dirty clothes from their lives before the mines. When Asche stalked her way between the tracks, the males turned to shoot her hoarse whistles and coos.

“Oh go and eat a cock you fucks!" She snapped, shooting them the finger with one paw and racking the charging handle on the MP10 with the other. She resisted that dark urge at the back of her head, the one screaming for her to unload the PDW at the bastards on full auto before turning it on herself. “Get back to work, all of you! Fucking pathetic shitstains."

They all did as was asked though she could definitely make out the sexual mutters of “Yes mommy" and other assorted degenerate signs of obedience. Gott, it made her gag. Why couldn't she find a strong, rebellious male? That's what the mines were supposed to be for, punishment for those who refused to submit, yet all she saw were broken submissive husks who still had years left in their sentences and probably wouldn't survive a day without an anthro girl taking care of them once they returned to the surface. They disgusted her, simps and whores the lot of them. She really needed that transfer to D block she'd put in.

She trudged her way along to the dilapidated square hut that was the mess and pushed inside, filling her canteen with water and looking at the few other guards lounging around or eating. Her big hyena ears swiveled around and listened in on the various conversations going on. A coyote and a goat were sitting at one of the tables, shooting the breeze.

“...the husband and I are thinking of going to New York on vacation next month, what should we do? I've got most of the days planned out, but I'm still sure there's room for more than Central…"

“Hey, Ixnay on the Uniteday atesStay. You're gonna trigger the Bundeswehr Dyke's PTSD."

Asche turned around and snarled. “Oh fuck you. I am not a dyke!"

“Sure you aren't. Then why haven't you settled down with a human yet? The mine is full of 'em," the goat teased.

“Because none of them are good enough for me." The Hyena huffed proudly, puffing out her chest.

“You know, you're never gonna find a human with your impossible standards, Feldjäger," said the coyote. “Maybe you should try lowering them. And getting a Haircut."

She huffed, finishing filling up her canteen with hot water and mixing in a packet of 'spray dried instant coffee, type II' before storming off back into the mines. She thought up a scalding retort and turned around to yell it at the 'yote while walking away, when she bumped straight into one of the prisoners she hadn't even noticed, shoveling lithium chunks into some sacks for transport.

“Gah! Fuck, Watch where you're fucking going, you overgrown piece of mangy filth! I already have to shovel your stupid fucking lithium, you could at least do me the fucking solid of not making me spill it everywhere, fleabag!" The prisoner grunted at her.

Asche paused, used to the submissive mewls for forgiveness and the begging for her not to beat them up or step on their dick. This… was different. This was actual resistance and disobedience. She looked down at the human prisoner, folding her arms under her chest and snorting hot air in his face.

He wasn't anything special. Caucasian, 5'11, 175 lbs give or take, wearing a beaten old BDU jacket over the prison coveralls. She recognized the DUI unit badge on the jacket as belonging to the 124th Infantry Regiment, part of the Florida Army National Guard, which caused her fur to bristle at the sight.

“What, you aren't gonna apologize, Fleabag? You raised in a barn? Of course you were, you fucking animal." The Prisoner muttered, picking up his shovel. “You just gonna stand there looking mad and stewing, or you gonna hurry up and beat me and get it over with? My Time's valuable too, I gotta quota to meet."

Asche stared at him. “Are you for real?"

“What?" He glared back, shoveling the ore. “The fuck'd you mean by that, you overgrown chicken coop raider?"

“Okay first off, I'm a hyena you dumbass. And secondly, are you actually this disobedient, or are you just trying to get mommy yeen to step on your junk like the weak ass beta male all you humans are?"

He spat at her paws. “Use your fucking dumb ass furry brain and figure it out, bitch."

“Hah.. Oh, I like you. You're different." She smirked at him, before breaking out in one of her species' ever famous cackles. “Every other human knows its place. But you… You have to be taught it." She picked him up by the collar of his jacket, her strength enough to lift him off his feet with only a small level of exertion. “Well consider school in session."

“Unhand me! I know my rights! You're only allowed to use the baton, you unwashed mutt!" The Human grunted, grabbing her wrist and trying to squirm free from her grip.

“You're saying you'd rather I beat you with a baton than with my bare hands? Because the former is more painful." Asche raised a brow. “...also, you know that rule is for the good behavior cases in Blocks A and B, right? Welcome to C Block, fucker."

“I can still take whatever you piece of shit furbags can dish out. I know you're not allowed to kill me."

“Why would I want to kill you, FANG?" She snorted in disdain. “I've already done enough of that for a lifetime."

“Fang? My name is…"

“Gott, and you think I'm dumb? You're Florida Army National Guard. I noticed the jacket, shitbag." The aardwolf cut him off, pinning him against the wall of the cave. “Or should I say you were. That's an old Uniform. They switched to ACU after the War."

“What's it to you, you flea ridden doormat?" He grunted.

“I was in the second wave at Daytona, FANG." Asche lowered him so he was only a few inches off the ground before she dropped him. “We were enemies once."

“We still are, you NATO dog." He glared up at her, shakily getting to his feet.

“The police action is over, FANG... Just get back to shoveling lithium." She sighed, turning away to head back to her post. “Consider this a warning."

“Should have killed every last one of you mutts at Daytona or died trying…" He grumbled under his breath, watching the massive hyaenid hybrid walk off down the mineshaft. “...Why'd I have to surrender like a coward?"

Her trip back to Checkpoint C was uneventful. Asche returned to her post, leaning against the outermost chain link fence that separated C block from D block, sipping coffee from her canteen. She tried to clear her head from her earlier encounter and just settle back into guarding a glorified pile of rocks.

“That was a long coffee break for you, Feldjäger." The leopard next to her finally spoke up after a few minutes of silence. “People in the mess giving you shit again?"

“Oh. I uh... tripped over a human on the way back… and… I think I like them."

“You like a human?" Stahl asked incredulously. “I thought I'd never see the day."

“Well… like like? I'm not sure," she muttered, kicking an empty cardboard cigarette box across the dusty floor. “He was different. Strong still… at least somewhat. Still had a fire in him that I haven't seen since the war."

“Really? He sounds like trouble to me," the leopard scoffed. “Can't trust those defiant types. The ones who still believe, and I mean really believe in 'the cause' are hard cases. They'll stab you in the throat with a penknife while you sleep given the slightest chance"

“Like he could even get a scratch on me." She scoffed. “He's still a human."

“Tell that to Horst and Zaloga…" He scowled. “Hell, you were in Florida, you of all people should know what kind of violence and backstabbing they're capable of."

“I've also been in these gottverdammt mines for the past 8 years, without so much as a single major incident. They work, they learn to submit, they get sent back into society, and then they find some big anthro mommy to take care of them and keep them in their place. " Asche said.

“Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt. You're the closest thing I've got to a friend down here. Just think of how dull my shifts would be without being able to listen to you bitching!" The snow leopard laughed.

“Aww. Thanks for your concern, but I can take care of myself. You really don't need to worry about this human. I could snap him like a twig if he tries anything." She said, dropping the magazine on her PDW and slowly racking the bolt to remove the bullet in the chamber. She caught it and loaded it back into the magazine, Just in case she needed to threatenly charge the weapon again.

“If you say so, Asche." The leopard shook his head.

The rest of the shift was boring and passed without incident, Asche and Stahl talking shit back and forth. The large German hyena took the leopard with her on one last patrol sweep to ensure that every prisoner was accounted for and on the transports back up to their bunkhouses on the surface. As she made her way through the empty mineshafts, she couldn't help but think about the human she had met earlier; the defiance in his eyes, the fighting spirit within him. Asche needed nothing more in the world to make him hers, and hers alone. Even if she had to break him to do so.

“How do I get a human, Stahl?" She broke the silence as they rounded a corner, PDWs drawn.

“You grab them and put them into a mating press until they stop struggling." The leopard bemused.

“I'm being serious! How do you get a human to like you? You married Annette, you have to know." She huffed.

“You're not still thinking about this 'FANG' character, are you?" He shook his head.

“Of course I am. He's exactly the kind of human I've been looking for all these years." Asche said.

“Well, If you really want to know… Every guard in this facility has probably treated him like shit or avoided him, because he's a disobedient little prick. He's probably so starved for kindness and attention that if you're even the slightest bit nice to him, or talk to him a lot, you'll set yourself apart." Stahl told her. “Also keep marking him with your sweat so any other girls back off. And be ready to fight for him if they don't."

“Thanks, you're the best." She patted the smaller leopard on the back.

“I know I am." He bragged.

Asche pulled out her radio as they finished their sweep. “Blutsauger actual reporting. C Block's clear, we'll be at the surface access in five, over."

“We copy, see you in five." The radio crackled, and the two headed to the surface access together. Asche stepped on the elevator, put in her earphones, and let the world fade away to the sound of 38 Special.

[May 2nd]

“I'm gonna go talk to him." Asche said. It was the following afternoon, and now seemed as good a time as any to take her break.

“I still think it's a bad idea, Feldjäger." Stahl warned. “You know nothing about this human other than he was your enemy during the war. For all you know, he was one of the people that tried to kill you."

“For all I know I was one of the people that tried to kill him." She said, stretching and holstering her PDW.

“And that is different how?" The leopard asked. “Please explain to me."

“Halt die klappe, Stahl." She shushed him, walking away from the checkpoint. “And hold down the fort while I'm on the rounds."

The aardwolf walked her way down the mineshafts, her eyes wandering over the gangs of human prisoners as they went about their business, trying to locate her quarry. She shoved past a group of humans that scurried to get out of her way and begged for her forgiveness for being in 'Mommy's' way, eliciting an eye roll from her. Asche finally found him carving away at a chunk of lithium carbonate with a pick, away from the other prisoners, grumbling and cursing under his breath.

"You again? The fuck do you want, Fleabag? I'm meeting my god damn quota and minding my own business." He grunted at her. "So I'd appreciate it if you'd mind yours."

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to waste my lunch break talking to your simian ass, FANG?"

"My name isn't FANG, it's…" He protested.

She cut him off. "Prisoner 8732B. FANG is shorter."

"You really don't care what my real name is, do you?"

"Do you care that my name isn't 'Fleabag', FANG?"

"Point Taken, Fleabag. So what, you want to talk to me? You have god damn shit heaps of so called 'men' who want nothing more than attention from some overgrown mangy mutt like you, why bother with me?" He turned around to face her.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm being nice to you because I like your rebellious nature? How unlike everyone else down here, you don't take scheiße from anyone." Asche stroked his hair, much to his dismay. "It's admirably stubborn."

“No." FANG replied. “I wouldn't. Because even though you mangy fucks try to put on this thin veneer of civility, deep down every last one of you are animals and monsters. You're just trying to encourage it so that you can laugh when your friends beat the shit out of me."

“Bold of you to assume I have enough friends to use the plural version of the word. And why would I have my friend beat you when I could do it myself?" Asche asked, giving him a noogie.

“Can you please stop touching me? Why are you guards all so handsy?" He tried to fend off her petting, to no avail. “So what, you're lonely? Big ugly killing machine wants friends, so she decides to go torment the one human she didn't murder and let slip away?"

“Look… I'm sorry about the Police Action." She withdrew her hand, squatting on the floor to be face to face with him. “I was in the Bundeswehr reserves for the benefits right out of highschool. I wasn't paying attention to whatever political bullshit was going on across the Atlantic. Next thing I know America has plunged into a civil war, and because of a bunch of treaties that were signed before I was born NATO got involved. Trust me, the last thing I wanted was to be there."

“The last thing anyone wanted was to be there, mutt. You European fucks shouldn't have even gotten involved, it was an American conflict, you should have let us settle it." FANG sighed.

“We couldn't. America is too big for anything to happen in a vacuum. The Russians and the Chinese wanted to take advantage of the chaos, we needed America back to normal and our side to keep them on their short leash. That's what happens when you set yourself up as the world police." Asche tore open a retort pouch and pulled out a shelf stable sandwich. “Want some?"

“..." He looked at the sandwich, and then snatched it out of her paw, stuffing it into his mouth greedily.

“I said some, not all." She sighed. “And you say we're animals."

“You are animals." FANG said between mouthfuls of sandwich. “I wouldn't be stealing your sandwich if you fuckers fed us better."

“Not something I can change." She frowned, patting him on the head.

“What did I just say about touching me, mongrel?" He huffed.

“Nothing that'd stop me from doing it, that's for sure." The Hyena teased him, giving him a noogie. The human tried to shove her arm away, and was able to move it just enough to stop the onslaught of her grabby paws. “Oooh, you got some fight in you still. Just how I like 'em."

“Cut it out, you walking carpet! I'm trying to work!" He protested.

“Whatever even got your panties in such a twist, FANG? It's been 8 years, I thought Humans…"

“Shut up." He cut her off with a glare so murderous that it almost had her instinctively reaching for her sidearm. “Shut the fuck up, before you say anything we both regret."

“You're not the only one it broke, FANG." She looked him in the eyes. “Every vet has scars, some of them just aren't visible."

“Look, just… talk about something else, Mutt." He said, looking down at the ground to avoid her gaze.

“What'd you do before all this?" She asked. “The mines, the fighting, everything."

“I was a normal guy," he said, his voice both nostalgic and tinged with bitterness. “I drove taxis. Went to bars. Hung out with friends and played video games. Hell, I'd even met a girl before you guys showed up. I think we were in love."

"I'm sorry, FANG," Asche said, frowning at him and dodging the subject of a past lover. "So... A taxi driver, huh?"

“Yeah." He nodded. “The National Guard was only one weekend a month. I needed to do something else to make money in the meantime."

“I was gonna go into business myself, but... well, it wasn't exactly cheap and I didn't do well enough in school to qualify for free college," she said. “Too focused on bullying the cute human boys into submission. So there I was, straight out of secondary school, needed a paycheck and good benefits, so I signed up."

"Then the 'War' started?" He asked.

“I prefer the term 'Police action'. A war would have required someone declaring it. But yeah." She nodded, before trying to change the subject away from the fighting again. “So… How exactly do you even pass the time down here? It's boring as fuck and I'm a guard, who access to way more things to keep myself occupied than you prisoners do."

“Think, Mostly. Read, when in the bunkhouse. I don't talk with anyone because the other prisoners are vapid fucking retards and I hate all of you furry fucks."

“Do you hate me?" Asche looked at him, tilting her head.

“Yes... You are still a smelly, dirty animal who destroyed my life and everything good in it. But..." He sighed at her, before admitting, “I guess I hate you less than the other guards."

“You can't hate forever, FANG. Trust me, I've tried." She told him. “Keeping it inside will just burn you up."

“It's the only thing keeping me warm down here." FANG muttered.

The aardwolf paused for a second, bemused. “Wait, was that a fucking Red Dawn reference? Patrician choice, but no wonder you were a filthy guerilla."

“You may be a stupid authoritarian bitch, but at least you have a good taste in movies." He cracked a smirk. “Not enough to make me stop hating you, though."

“Look… I can tell you want me to leave you alone right now, and I will. My break is almost up, but one last thing before I go. Don't piss off any of the other guards, please. I couldn't live with myself if I let you get beat into a coma." Asche told him, getting back up to leave. “You're more interesting than just about every other human in this mine, so stay safe."

“Well, you're the least repulsive fleabag of your whole dirty race," he said, before muttering under his breath. “Finally she leaves."

A few hours had passed, and Asche was once again doing the task that took up so much of her daily routine: shooting the shit with Stahl.

“So how'd it go? You went and talked to him earlier, didn't you?" The leopard asked.

“I think I'm getting to him." The Hyena mused. “He called me the 'least repulsive fleabag' and told me that out of all the guards he hates, he hates me the least. So… It's a start."

“If that's your definition of a start, you must really be desperate." Stahl laughed.

“Can it." She huffed. "I like him. And I'm gonna make him like me."

"Just how do you intend to do that, Feldjãger?" He asked, turning to her.

“Not a gottverdammt clue!" She said, stretching and working out the cricks in her neck. “But I've got some favors I can call in from people in administration, if you've got any ideas."

“I might have a few. But you're gonna need to call in some favors…" Stahl chuckled, trailing off.

[May 7th]

Dylan Maddock, 8732B, grunted as he shoveled lithium carbonate into sacks for transit. The guards had mostly left him alone ever since his run in with the massive aardwolf, and his quota had lowered ten pounds, so whatever she was doing must have been working. Shame that all that meant was he had caught that fleabag's attention. He got a glimpse of her from his spot in the tunnels as she made her way to the mess hall, and he shuddered as she eyed him up like a piece of meat. There was something different about her, but he didn't trust it. She probably just wanted to get her rocks off using him, you could never trust the mangy fucking mutts. They were monsters through and through, but if her attention meant his time spent here sucked just a little less, he supposed he'd accept it. She was hardly the worst furball he'd dealt with, that was for sure. He shrugged and got back to the task at hand, letting his mind wander as he continued the brutal physical labor that his sentence demanded of him. Swing, swing, swing… shovel, shovel, shovel… Fucking miserable.

As he got well into his routine, he heard the distant thuds of blasting charges from deeper in the mine, and his eyes began to glass over. He didn't even realize what was happening to him until it was too late to stop it…

Daytona Beach - Florida, United States of America - December 2008

He was back. The sweat was rolling off his face. He could feel the weight of his M17A3 rifle in his hands, the magazines of 7x43 rattling against his chest. The sun was shining overhead, but black clouds of thick smoke cut through the blue skies. Up above, they could see the contrails of fighters and missiles. The FLANG and the Air Force trying their damn hardest to keep the enemy at bay.

“Keep moving!" His sergeant yelled. He'd been an airport worker, loading bags. Now his brown skin was pale with dust from collapsing buildings.

He followed them, all in their grayish digicam, as they bogged down the street. Civilians passed them, families herding crying children as they dragged their suitcases. Victims of bombs and burns staggering about.

“They're landing in force!" The woman with their platoon radio had yelled over in the din. “At least six different landing zones, mainly French and German. They're dropping in Parachute and Air Assault infantry to reinforce their beachhead. Fleet is sitting out within shelling distance for their destroyers and frigates to give fire support"

“Keep going! We need our defensive positions set in case they break off the beach!"

More rockets. A wing of F15Cs booming overhead. Somewhere on the highway he could hear the turbine engines of tanks, knocking abandoned cars out of the way.

Adams, turned in front of him. “You good dude?" He asked.

Dylan Maddock, 124th Infantry Regiment, Florida Army National Guard nodded back, his hand gripped at the pistol grip of his rifle. “Just eager to kill some mutts!" he replied.

“You'll have plenty of time for that" SSGT Lieter had yelled. “Keep the pace. Don't stop for anyone!"

More families passed by, some covered in soot. There were fires burning up ahead. A bunch of humvees were parked in the McDonald's lot, their crews racing to deploy mortars. The civil war had gone from bad to worse now.

“Jeez sarge" Potter called out, her short boyish hair hidden under her helmet. “We're gonna be breathing out our asses by the time we get there. Can't we get some MT or sumthin'?"

“MT is wasted on your asses," Lieter yelled back. “They got more important shit to move!"

“Fucking hell" Dylan muttered, feeling the sweat start to ooze down his neck, soaking into his shirt. “I only signed up for a few weekends and summer camps. Not this shit"

They were getting closer now. The gunfire from the landing zones was nonstop, while overhead, the Paladins and mortars screeched to unleash as much ordnance onto the beaches as possible. Enemy aircraft started to be visible. Super Étendards, Rafale Ms and F4 Phantoms from the French and German Carriers, dogfighting with the FLANG and USAF or diving down to unleash lethal payloads.

People were starting to join them now. Not soldiers, but armed civilians. Shop owners that clutched Hi-Points and pump actions, traffic cops with service pistols, and of course, there were the threepers that had been all over the news in the past months.

They tagged onto the end of the NG platoons, swaggering about with their skull-masks and customized ARs. A few walked alongside Dylan and he saw their plate carriers festooned with patches- custom flags, militia insignia and the inevitable anime girls.

“Ready to fuck up some europoor ziggers, solider?" Asked a beer-gutted militaman from behind his face coverings.

“Shut up asshole" Dylan snapped back. “I'm not in the mood"

“Whatever dude" the guy snorted, checking the safety on his tiger striped rifle.

“Fucking amateurs" SSGT Lieter yelled “You wanna ride with us, you better do whatever the hell I say!"

The militia, of whom there were about twelve, muttered and cursed but most nodded.

“Sure, I guess" one called out “Try to keep up with those trash M5s"

“Cut the shit asshole!" Potter yelled, her lips pursed “I'm in no mood to have to shoot some chantard"

They had marched on, past police and EMTs shepherding civilians to the Evac centers, to reach part of the high street; shops, nightclubs and bars all packed together. For a minute they paused to take on water while Lieter and the LT checked the radio, before they got the orders to dig in.

Cashier counters became firing positions as they loaded up sandbags with gravel and debris from craters. Apartments overlooking the pavements and streets became blockhouses, the windows piled with furniture to become rifle rests. Claymores were nestled in alleys, covering entrances and exits to deter flanking moves.

Dylan found himself in a kids room. Likely a girl's by the decor and furniture. He sat on the pink chair, his rifle resting atop a few pillows and watched as the smoke drew closer. The sounds of fighting were growing louder and louder, as were the immense booms that rolled off the sea. What it was, he had no clue.

“I heard" Adams said beside him, having taken his helmet off to give his one-inch blonde buzz cut some air. “Those mutt bitches rape you when they get you"

“Do they now?" he muttered back, sipping from his bottle.

“Yeah dude. They're like, sex mad and shit. Drives them crazy. They'll rip you throat out when they climax or beat you black then leave you to die on the roadside once they've raped you. I've heard about all this shit"

“Bull." FANG snorted back. “I'm more worried about fighting them. I know that 7 times 43 was brought into kill mongrels but god damn the old M17 can feel small"

“Same dude. That's why we got Arty and HE. Plus we got the FL ANG and Airforce dropping AGMs on the fuckers as they land. Ripping them up with the thirty mike mike like takakaka."

“Here's hoping, man. Fuck it. If we had the navy in full order and there hadn't been the fucking defections, all those Euro boats would be shark chow by now"

The sudden boom of an Armèe De l'Air Mirage 2000 dropping its payload rippled through the air, making the whole building tremble. Dylan cursed, spitting dust from his mouth before peering out of the window. He could see a fresh, searing cloud of flame and smoke billowing into the contrail-crossed sky.

His personal radio set crackled before the LT's voice hurriedly spoke over the comm.

“The forward positions ahead of us are buckling. They're pulling back past us. We need to hold the line"

“The mutts are coming!" Yelled one of the militiamen, popping up over a roof to wave his weapon. A ragged cheer went up from his fellows, filled with expletives and curses. “Time to kill some furry bitches!"

“Oh my god" moaned Adams, rubbing his eyes. “Somebody tell this dumb motherfucker it's not Independence Day in here"

“If it gets them motivated," Dylan replied dryly.

A rattle of M17 fire punctured the dry air, followed by a flurry of heavy rounds. Humans started to run through the streets: Guardsmen dragging injured comrades or slinging their weapons and running at full pelt.

“They're coming!" They yelled, throwing themselves through shop doorways and into cover. FANG started to sweat harder, he'd counted less than three squads.

More gunshots. Something exploded on the street corner, smoke rolling across the asphalt. Militiamen emerged through it, one stumbling along, clutching at an empty stump of an arm. Another in a Hawaiian shirt went to help him before they were suddenly bowled off their feet by a heavy 7.92mm gauss round.

“Oh fuck!" Gasped Adams.

More explosions. Likely rolled grenades. Then a few more militia staggered into the street before collapsing dead. Dylan felt his hands start to shake as he heard the stomping of heavy boots.

Then the shooting started.

It was like a storm. Gauss rounds were everywhere, turning the buildings into the surface of the moon as each of the powerful rounds tore craters into the concrete and plaster. Dust and fragments rained down in sheets, while whole walls sloughed away under the determined barrage. Dylan kept as low as he could, peering down his rifle sight as he clicked the safety off.

He could see them. Massive figures, hunched over their rifles as they fanned out into a V-formation. As they emerged from the smoke, their dark forest-green fatigues and speckled webbing identifies them as Jaegers of the Bundeswehr.

Then in reply, even as the German soldiers continued to lay down suppressive fire, a barrage sounded out. M240s from on top of roofs erupted into a buzz saw burst of tracer rounds and FMJ that cut across the anthro lines. Immediately they dove for cover or to ground, firing as they went as the GPMGs were joined in by all the M5s and M17s that the defenders brought to bear.

FANG squinted down his sights and fired in short, rapid bursts. The hot brass clattered across the floor as he watched his rounds kick up dust, missing a muscular looking equine by several inches. Swearing, he adjusted as she turned in the direction of the gunfire and raised her own G86 towards him. He fired again, depositing four rounds in tight grouping that hit her right in her chest, bowling her onto her ass. Her rifle clattered away and she seemed to groan, reaching for her ballistic vest where she'd taken the hit. Dylan yanked on the trigger again and the horse's snout plumed into red mist.

“Oh shit" he gasped, realizing that he'd just killed his first anthro, the seemingly invincible animal titans. Maybe they weren't so high and mighty after-

He suddenly dived as the air grew thick with gauss rounds, the window being truly eaten up until half the wall was missing. Hissing and cursing, he crawled on his hands and knees, chunks of plaster bouncing off his helmet and staining his fatigues. He ejected the magazine from his M17 and shoved another home with a click as he moved to the doorway, needing to move position.

“Adams! Let's get the fuck out of here!" He yelled.

Adams didn't answer.

Dylan suddenly felt very cold. He didn't want to turn around and look. More rounds were landing all around the room. He didn't have time to check. Adams was beyond help, he knew.

Crawling outside, he paused to get his breath back as a loud “whoosh" told him of a LAW being let off outside. The rocket exploded a parked truck, spraying droplets of flaming oil across the street as the deadly gun battle raged on.

He found his way down the floor to be greeted by a headless militiamen prostrate on the floor, his gore soaking into his cheap urban camouflage. Vomit spilled from FANG's mouth and he retched until the bile was clear of his lips.

“Come in!" Yelled a voice and he found the SSGT and Potter alongside a couple of his fellow guardsmen. They crouched amid the chaos of a kitchen, reloading their weapons.

“We need to hit them from all sides" the SSGT told them all, his helmet buckled and broken from a glancing hit. “They're going to start their sweeps soon and we'll split them up and will them out, clear?"

“Staff sergeant!" They all hissed, clutching their rifles tightly. Dylan could feel the blood roaring through his ears, heart pounding like a MF.

He could hear the kicking of doors and the screaming of foreign tongues. Making sure his safety was off, he moved to a position behind a countertop. A note was scrawled there: 'Steve- I'm taking the kids and heading to my pa's as fast as I can. Try and meet us there. I love you.'

A sudden rattle of gunfire. It couldn't have been more than a few doors away. There was the blast of some UGLs and another feral scream as one of the anthros took the brunt of the 40 mike-Mike. The whole house shook like a thunderclap with an A-10 run, shaking the foundations as the cannon ripped through a block.

“They're coming" one of his fellows whispered, moving to aim their SAW at the doorway.

“Keep calm. Deep breaths. Shoot the first one that moves" the SSGT whispered back.

There was a sudden smashing sound as the door caved in. It came right off its hinges and crashed to the ground in the hallway. There was a shuffling of feet and FANG saw the gleam of a laser. The next thing he knew, through the sight of his weapon, a green flecktarn uniform came into view.

He fired on instinct, holding down the trigger and punching five rounds into the lynx, starting at the belly and moving upwards through the center of mass. He was joined in by the others who popped off quick bursts, riddling the German who crashed to the floor in a twitching heap.

“Take that you dirty fucking animals!" Dylan found himself screaming.

There was a second pause followed by a *ping* and a clattering sound. Something bounced in from the hallway and rattled across the floor. A black shape. Like a loose can.

He heard the scream to get down and had thrown himself behind the counter. But not late enough to have his eyes seared by the bright flash and his ears to suddenly erupt in white noise. Dylan was on his knees, dropping his weapon and pressing his hands to his eyes as all he could see was white, intermixed with faded circles of red.

“Fuck.....fuck" he moaned, unable to hear his own voice. He could hear the blasting roar of the SAW on automatic- the gunner firing blind no doubt.

There was movement, but for several seconds he was unable to do anything before his vision cleared and he was able to see a fuzzy image of the broken plates and shattered glass before him. Groggily he reached out for his weapon and grabbed the pistol grip, before hauling himself up, ears still ringing.

There were two of them. A third had taken a lucky SAW round to the face and lay in the hallway. One was rushed up against the staff sergeant, the two struggling and screaming as they tried to gut each other with knives. The other, a golden retriever, scanned the room nervously, having quickly dispatched the SAW gunner and the other guardsman. She caught sight of Dylan and raised her rifle, mouth dropping to yell. He beat her to it, clumsily steadying his weapon on the counter and emptied as much as he could into the center mass. The G86 fired and went wild, taking out the light fitting, while the owner jerked back with a sickening moan.

Panicking, Dylan spun about and pointed at the ocelot who was struggling with the SSGT. Lieter was groaning, fighting to keep the anthro's hands away from his neck while trying to stab his combat knife into the felines' side. The ocelot managed to bring the man's forearm to her mouth and bit. Lieter screamed in pain and managed to stab her in the thigh, then again. Blood squirted as the ocelot snarled in pain, eyes filling with tears as she squeezed harder.

FANG didn't take any chances. He shoved the barrel of his M17 into the back of her head and pulled the trigger. The shot sounded like a cannon blast and red filled his vision.

He was aware that he was being dragged. Something was in his eyes, hot and wet. He rubbed furiously and blood came away but he could still see.

“I'm not blind" he managed to gasp. Suddenly he was being helped up by dust coated guardsmen.

“Shit, I thought all that was yours" one of them managed to weakly chuckle. “Looks like you managed to get that bitch good"

“Uh?" He muttered and looked about. Lieter was being helped along but the black sergeant's face was pale and his arm a ruined mess, savaged by teeth and bearing a tourniquet.

“There wasn't much of a head left there" another added as they handed him back his rifle. “Turned it to tomato paste"

They were pushing through the back lot, the home that they had defended was now aflame and starting to pour with smoke into the already polluted air. He tried to spit the taste out of his mouth but only spread phlegm onto his collar.

The various unit survivors had pulled back to establish a new line as the company commander called in mortars on their previous position. Smoke and dust plumed as the 60mm rounds dropped on quick succession- hopefully dissuading any follow up strikes by the NATO forces.

Groggily he made his way to the new defensive position as dumpsters were pushed into place to form protection and rubble was rapidly piled into sangers.

He sat down and found his bottle was mostly intact. The water was a lukewarm relief on his throat and tongue.

How were they supposed to stop those things? There were monsters pure and simple- the fucking animal had damn near bitten the SSGTs arm off!

He kicked at an empty magazine and shook, balling his hands into fists as he heard other guardsmen moving about, collecting empty magazines and hanging out refilled ones or spare boxes.

“Dig in and hold it here. Company is looking to get MT to pull wounded out and us to a new position" one of the surviving SSGTs hissed, as he moved between the gatherings of grayish uniform. “Remember your CMT"

It was punctuated by a distant rumbling noise as one of the huge apartment blocks on the Beachside collapsed in a swirl of smoke and dust.

“Fuck"

“How many people were in there?" One of his fellow FANGs asked, watching with horrified fascination.

“I don't know…. maybe it was evacuated?" He offered as the grating nose of the distant building crumbling rang through his ears. “Might have been empty"

They got a reprieve somewhat. Long enough to refill their magazines and water bottles, while their wounded were dragged back to a M113 ambulance to be taken away. But it couldn't have been longer than fifteen minutes. All around them the sounds of battle raged, the radio frequencies filled with the efforts of the American military to stand against the invaders. At one point he swore he could hear the distant sound of missile impacts- big ones off in the distance, out of sight. His efforts to find out what it was, came to nothing, only that something was happening in Key West.

And then the fighting started again.

This time they moved slowly until they were in range, before attacking with their underslung grenade launchers. The heavy explosives ripped through the defensive positions, blowing out windows and setting off cars. Dylan hit the deck as glass fragments pinged off his helmet and enemy rounds screeched overhead. He dragged himself up, seeing shapes in the dust of the position that they had retreated from. Germans again, in their green uniforms, rattling off pot shots. A few tossed grenades but overshot, the projectiles landing into empty stores and shredding the contents.

Then the National Guard hit back. Their support weapons- M240s and M249s, sprayed long bursts that erupted over the advancing enemy. Brass soon covered the ground as Dylan peered up and added to the fire, shooting bursts with his rifle.

He felt a sudden crashing force and was thrown back. For a second he was dazed, but as he reached to his head, he felt the shredded material of his PASGT helmet. It had taken a glancing blow- the hardened Kevlar splintering away.

Grimacing, he forced himself back up and put his rifle back into his shoulder, crawling along into a new position as spent brass bounced off his back from his fellow guard. But they were taking losses, a fellow guardsman lay dead in the road, five meters away. Another curled besides one of the M240 gunners, moaning as he clutched at ruined fingers.

More of the tall female figures were moving into position now, and to cover them, the screech of mortars heralded the arrival of smoke rounds- white mist blossoming in the kill zone. Immediately, he heard the officers call the anti tank weapons up, screaming for LAWs and AT4 rockets.

Before the enemy could charge, the humans fired their rockets into their positions. Buildings shuddered and collapsed, loud howls sounding out from within.

But they were taking losses, too many of the guard were laying motionless. The machine guns were keeping up but the accurate fire of the Bundeswehr troops was whittling the rest of the troops down.

They'd stalled the enemy advance again. He thought. There was loud firing up and down the block, smoke erupting from flaming buildings or burning cars.

Another burst of enemy fire made him dive back down, followed by the defeating blast of an enemy mortar round. One of the M249s ceased firing as chunks of asphalt and grit rained down upon them, the stink of blasted and scorched meat filling his nostrils. He forced himself to focus on the enemy line. But it was shooting at shapes in the smoke and shadow. Firing at the demonic figures that flittered back and forth. At one point he shot off a triple burst and swore that he saw a badger stumble over, dropping her rifle, but then she was hidden in smoke once again.

How many of them were left? The company must be decimated. And surely the longer they remained in this position, the likelihood of an enemy aircraft hitting them increased. He pushed it from his head and crawled on his belly through the cover, brushing aside spent casings and empty water bottles as he went. He reached a specialist, crouched behind a concrete bollard and crouched beside them.

“What's happening?" He yelled.

“No idea. SSGT said the Company radio just took a splinter" the specialist keyed his personal radio, cocking his head for information. “Taken some heavy losses… they're trying to rustle up some-“

There was a loud popping noise and the Specialist jerked to the side, gore erupting from his shattered helmet. He kneeled over, right before Dylan, a fist sized hole in his helmet.

'Oh fuck, oh fuck.'

There was a fresh barrage of enemy rifle grenades, followed by more of the LMGs falling silent. This time they were accompanied by feral roars, before the terrifying visages of the immense Germans charged forth. Animals in humanoid shape, firing their rifles from the hip as they sprinted through cover.

'Fuck this.' FANG thought as he grabbed his rifle and scrambled to his feet. Others were getting up too, even as they fired back. He sprayed but only a second layer his magazine ran out, as he watched a timberwolf leap through the air to land right on top of a gray clad national guardswoman, before swiftly stabbing her with a bayonet. Others gunned down the retreating humans, shooting with deadly accuracy as the Americans sought cover. Most made for the ruined buildings. Some stood and were cut down as they fired back.

Dylan didn't want to die. So he ran. He heard bullets screech past him as he ran horizontally to the line, away from both his comrades and the attackers. His rifle clattered against his chest as the screams and cries of his slaughtered fellows rang in his ears, the metallic blood taste filling his mouth.

Keep running…. keep running. His legs pounded, his webbing noisily rattling.

He rounded the corner and was nearly ran over as he stumbled into the road. His chest bounced against hard steel as the gray-green Humvee drove past, the driver yelling something at him. Dumbstruck, he watched as the pair of vehicles turned the corner, pointing themselves towards the collapsing position.

The two respective gunners swung their mounted M240Gs and began to fire, feeding the belts with their free hands as their rounds laced into the advancing anthros. FANG just stood in place, wordlessly watching as one of the doors opened and a regular Army sergeant emerged and approached him.

The man grabbed him and yelled something, pointing back at the vehicles then to the position. More men were getting out, readying AT4 rockets.

The best Dylan could do was mumble something inarticulate, lips slurring. The sergeant seemed angry, giving his chest a shove and continuing to yell.

Dylan didn't notice. He saw the furthest gunner suddenly recoil then scream as something grabbed him from his turret. The dismounting infantry turned, as the flanking NATO troops made their attack. One HMMWV suddenly flipped onto its side, pushed over by a tigress and a warthog. The second gunner spun about to fire, but a Doberman leapt onto the hood with enough force to buckle the metal, before driving the bayonet on the end of her rifle into his face with a howl.

His mind had been battered and crushed by the sights he'd seen, but FANG knew enough to run. As the rest of the regulars fought back with their carbines, he dropped his own rifle to the floor. Feet crying out with pain he ran, a scrambling, panicked run for cover as he heard the bayonets, teeth and E-tools behind him. Then the crush of steel as the Humbees were flipped over, rolled onto their roofs with triumphant howls.

A few shots followed him into the side street, then into an alley. He expected to feel teeth in his neck at any second, for a huge demon to run him down and grab him. But it didn't come, so he just kept running.

Slowly his run became a stumbling walk. And then Dylan paused, catching his breath. He turned around to make sure no one had followed him. Nothing. The Alleyway was clear. Stunned, he emerged into the sunlight and smoke of an empty street. Splattered with gore and painted with dust.

He looked about. Nothing stirred. Just the sounds of battle thundering over the city. He was alone.

Slowly, he started to stumble away, in the direction out of Daytona, where he found himself slamming into the armored chest of a massive anthro woman. She growled at him as he slunk back, her fangs dripping with drool as she began to speak.

"Turkey and Swiss or Ham and Cheddar?"

He stood there wordlessly.

Correctional Mining Facility - Queensland, Australia - May 2020

Asche snapped her fingers in front of FANG's face. "You in there dumbass? What kinda sandwich do you want? Turkey and Swiss or Ham and Cheddar?"

FANG looked up at the Aardwolf, who was currently holding two retort pouches. She smacked him across the face with them. “Food. I have food. Yes yes, I know you're dumbstruck by my tits, but you need to eat."

“Ow! God damn it Fleabag." FANG rubbed his nose, snagging one of the retort pouches with his other hand and ripping it open.

“You zoned out there. Mining Lithium really must be mind numbingly boring." Asche said. “...Should have used my 'pits as smelling salts. Would have gotten your attention faster."

FANG wretched a little in response. “Oh God… Gah, are you trying to make me lose my appetite so you can eat both of the sandwiches, you fat ass?"

“Nah, I already had like five of 'em. You okay, prisoner? Seemed pretty out of it." She asked, giving him a concerned look.

“Yeah, I'm fine." He lied, moving his pickaxe aside and sitting down. “It's lunch time already?"

“Thirteen Hundred local." Asche said. “I need to get back to my post, actually. Don't let anyone catch you with this." She said, unwrapping the other one and handing it to him.

“I won't…" FANG said as he thanklessly snatched it from her, averting his eyes from the larger woman. “You should probably get back to your post, furball. Since you're late, and I know that massive ass of yours ain't exactly fast."

“You're right… I should. You stay safe, okay monkey?"

He grunted in response, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“So… Is he growing on you yet?" Stahl asked Asche as she came back and leaned against the chain link fence.

“Shut up." Asche huffed at the snow leopard, folding her arms under her chest.

“That well, huh?" He shook his head. “I'm telling you, it's not gonna work. You should just cut your losses and get one of the tamer prisoners."

“Yeah, because that's what I want. Some fucking pathetic mommyfag who's already been broken by another woman. Let someone else do the best part." She dripped with Sarcasm as pulled out her well used combat knife. She ran her finger up the dull edge of her mother's old Type 2 AKM Bayonet, scowling. “I will make it work, Stahl. Or I will go insane in this damn hole in the ground."

“I pray it's not the latter, Kraut. Last thing I wanna do is find you in the bathroom with your Service rifle, ranting about 7.92 FMJ."

Asche shook her head. “Don't you worry about me, Stahl. Besides, if I planned on going out, it would involve a failed liver."

[May 14th]

Asche sat down next to a panting FANG slumped against the lithium carbonate walls, offering him a canteen.

He opened it and sniffed it.

"Mutt, I appreciate the offer, but this is coffee."

"Oh, scheiße. Wrong canteen." She took it back and passed him another. He sniffed it once more, before guzzling it down. Water dripped from his chin as he passed it back.

"What do you want, Fleabag?" He asked.

"To talk."

"About?" The human turned to her, looking her up and down.

"I dunno. Anything really. Uh... Sports?"

"Sports? Furball, my team was the Dolphins..."

"The Dolph... oh. Right. The Miami Dolphins." She winced. She remembered Miami like it was yesterday. How could she forget?

"Yeah... " FANG mimicked a mushroom cloud with his hands. “...Boom."

"Yeah... moving on." Asche said, figuring it was best to avoid conversation about that particular aspect of the conflict. “Uh... Last movie you saw?"

FANG thought for a bit. "It was the Dark Knight. Few months before the war. Good movie, though I didn't exactly know it was gonna be the last one I'd ever see."

“That's a pretty good movie, certainly could have been worse. At least you didn't watch the fourth Indiana Jane movie or something instead." Asche cackled. “Gott that movie was awful."

He looked over at her Cackling. “You know, you kinda remind me of Heather Ledger."

"The actress that plays the insane cackling hyena lady villainess in the Dark Knight?"

"Yeah, that's the one!" FANG said, pausing as he realized something. "Hey wait, doesn't she play that Dyke cowgirl in Brokeback Mountain too?"

Fleabag glared at him, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“She totally does! No wonder she reminds me of you, you fucking Dyk-"

FANG was cut off by the loud ripping sound of Velcro being undone, as the Hyena woman unfastened her Standard Issue Flak Jacket. She dropped it to the ground with a thud, the plate clanking against a rock. She then reached under her 'Bundeswehr' Tank top with a paw, tearing bandages from her chest and discarding them. Her chest appeared to grow several cup sizes once she'd freed the girls from their gauze prison.

“...What are you doing, furball?" He asked, before he was blindsided by the massive anthro slapping him across the face with one of her fat tits.

“Shut." She growled down at him.

He rubbed his head, groaning. “Oww… I will take that to mean the mangy carpet doesn't like being called a dyke. Noted."

“She does not." Asche huffed as she sat back down, leaving her plate carrier off for now.

“So uh…" He tried his hardest not to stare at her chest. As much as he hated anthros like her, he was still a guy. “...What's the last movie you watched, Mutt?"

“Just got my folks to mail me the Director's cut of Shin Godzilla." She said, “You know, I'm pretty glad the Japs have mostly taken over the entertainment industry after Hollywood's decline. Means more Kaiju films for me."

“Huh, figured you'd like that weird Euro arthouse crap." FANG mused. “So, Kaiju films? What, you like empathizing with the JSDF troopers in 'em?"

“Nah, I just like the giant angry monsters that wreck everything." She laughed. “Always kinda wanted to be one growing up."

“Of course you did." He shook his head. From the tone of her voice he could gather she enjoyed those kinds of movies a little too much. “So uh… Hollywood's still not back?"

“Eh, they make some stuff here and there. Not as much as they used to. Between the writer's guild strike and the police action they got pretty fucked." She said, “But hey, look on the bright side. They had to cancel that dogshit looking Red Dawn remake that was supposed to come out in 2010!"

“Man, the trailer for that was so bad.“ FANG chuckled. “So what, are Martial Arts movies all the rage now?"

“Nah, Japanimation's the big hit now. Probably because of the Police Action, all things considered." She mused. “I'm sure you had a guy in your unit. You know the one. The guy who had a hard drive with all 200 plus episodes of Supa Kawaii Prince Kenni or Armor Trooper Votom Mellowlink or something like that?"

“Heh. We did, actually, now that you mention it. Not that we got much time to watch them with the rebels and you mutts giving us such a hard time in Georgia."

“Of course you did. I swear, every unit has a designated combat Otaku." She shook her head and cackled. “Course, it only makes sense they're such a dominant force in the entertainment industry now. They're pretty much the dominant force in most Manufacturing industries. Ever since Taiwan hit the Three Gorges as a last Hail Mary and Fuck You to China before they lost."

FANG glanced over at her. “Japan? Really? I thought their whole economy Crashed in the 90s and they never recovered."

“Japan's been a force to be reckoned with in South East Asia since the police action. Y'know, since you Yanks weren't around to tell them they can't have nukes."

“I thought that was like, in their constitution that they couldn't?" The human asked.

“It was. Because of you guys. And you know, because they tried to take over the world in the 40s." She mused. “Kinda like us! But hey, we both learned our lessons. Anyways, without the big bad US of A around to protect them and China on the offensive, they had to become a nuclear power to defend themselves." She continued to explain. “Though it was kinda fishy how quickly they got their Warheads operational once China started pushing J-10s into their airspace… Hey, did you know that most of the Lithium you guys mine here goes to Japan? The Aussies and them have a pretty good thing going."

“Fleabag. The last fucking thing I care about is where these fucking rocks go when I'm done shoveling 'em." FANG said.

“Touche."

“Isn't lunch almost up, furball?" He asked, glancing over at her watch.

“Ah fuck, it is. And I almost forgot!" She pulled out another retort pouch she'd been sitting on. “Scheiße. I guess it's a flatbread sandwich now."

FANG rolled his eyes at that, but accepted the gift. “Thank you." He muttered under his breath. He really did appreciate her feeding him real food.

“What was that?" She pretended not to hear him.

“I said you're a gross smelly flea ridden furball."

“And you... are welcome, Monkey." She patted him on the head and picked up her Flak jacket. She struggled to put it on without her chest bandaged up, her plate pressed out further than usual.

“Having trouble over there? Probably shouldn't have hit me." FANG mused, getting up and grabbing his pickaxe once more as he bit into his sandwich.

“Probably not, but you kinda deserved it." She said. “Plus I bet you fucking enjoyed it, too."

“Eh, It certainly was nicer than most slaps I've gotten from monsters like you." He chuckled.

Asche waved him off as she made her way back to checkpoint C.

That night, Asche stripped into her skivvies. Gott, she hated the Australian weather. She couldn't believe she'd volunteered for this shit. It was the middle of the night and almost winter here, and yet it was still 24 Celcius out. That was summer weather back home in Germany! At least it wasn't January. She flopped on her bed, pushing aside the covers and falling asleep for the night.

Daytona Beach - Florida, United States of America - December 2008:

Asche had always wanted to go to Florida. It always looked so pretty on postcards or on television… This was not how she ever expected to get to see it. The picturesque Hotels of Daytona Beach were pocked full of holes from a strafing run by Marineflieger Tornado IDSs, the palm trees were on fire, and she was holed up in a convenience store taking small arms fire from a pizzeria across Atlantic Ave.

“OBERGEFREITER FUCHSJÄGER, GET YOUR TAIL UP HERE AND LAY DOWN COVERING FIRE WITH THE ONE FORTY EIGHT!"

“YES MA'AM!" The 19 year old aardwolf shouted, running up to the store front and placing the bipod of her particle beam weapon on top of an overturned soda machine. She wished she'd been issued something that was better at punching through cover, like a gauss autocannon, but elected to work with what she had. She squeezed the trigger on her MG148 and swept the beam over the windows of the building across the street. “Got three, maybe four contacts, all monkeys! They're keeping their heads down for now!" She reported back to the feldwebel.

“Merkel, get a frag through that window while we have them pinned down!"

“Copy, Frag out!" The Jackal grenadier shouted as she swung around her G86 Gauss Rifle and the underslung HK-EGLM, firing off an 83mm from the latter. It was funny, in movies and vidya, the sound engineers always made grenade launchers sound like a “sha-thunk" type of deal. Asche learned first hand that they instead sounded like an angry, overgrown shotgun. Then was the deafening blast and the shower of glass from the pizzeria across the street. The rubble settled, and there were no signs of movement from the building. She reduced her rate of fire to occasional potshots, but nothing returned fire or even seemed to be stirring within.

“Fuchsjäger, pack it up! We're clearing the Papa John's!"

"Leave it to the Americans to put a pizzeria next to a pizzeria, across the street from a convenience store that sells pizza." She muttered, folding up the bipod and taking her finger off the trigger. She grabbed her weapon and started hightailing it across the abandoned highway, feet crunching on the broken glass and various debris that was liberally strewn over the ground. The rest of the unit followed after her, smoke pluming into the air while jets screeched far overhead. The whole city seemed to be a mess. Daytona Beach.... what an odd name. Still, she reckoned it was a far better deal than the stinking swampland that seemed to cover this entire state. Everything here was dirty and chaotic, filled with all manners of dangerous critters and treacherous terrain - nothing like the well maintained farms and forests back home in Germany.

“Großvater says that Kilo company has engaged at least a regiment strong of enemy hostiles, they're fresh on the beach and still unloading supplies, reporting enemy artillery fire in support" her radioman reported, one hand to her headset.

“And what do they want us to do?" The feline feldwebel asked the possum.

“Continue clearance but work our way towards them. Maybe catch any enemy reinforcements"

“Jawohl."

The squad carefully approached the Papa Johns, wearily eying up the National Guard M939 truck parked outside. Covering with her MG148, Asche waved the jackal forwards. The soldier dashed ahead, keeping low as she ran to peer through a glassless window.

“Clear!" She yelled back, slinging her G86. “It looks like it was being used as a brief supply stop. Piles of blankets and water bottles inside"

“Leave it" Asche motioned her back. “Nothing of use to us"

“Jawohl, Obergefreiter, ma'am!"

“Jeeze, I barely outrank you, Soldat. No need to be so formal."

The jackal ran forwards, panting under her tuck and rejoined the unit. She shot Asche a smile, one that made her snort and shake her head.

“That's not going to get you a medal, Merkel." Asche told her with a grin. “You're going to have to do better than an empty pizzeria. Speaking of empty pizzerias..." The Hyena formed up, taking point and running up to the independent pizza joint next to Papa Johns, her particle beam weapon at the ready. As she looked into the shattered windows, her face fell, snout wrinkling in disgust, and she had to turn away. She vomited into her mouth a little, spitting bile onto the sidewalk. “Mein Gott im himmel… That is… A lot of monkey meat. Feldwebel Schwarz, confirming at least 3 kills from that grenade."

“Roger…" The tigress said. “They'd have done the same to you, Fuchsjäger."

“I… understand, Feldwebel." She nodded.

Onwards they moved, the sun blazing down through the gaps in the smoke plumes. Shelling from American paladins and the Kreigsmarine blasted intermittently in the background, followed by the screeching roar of a low level bombing.

“This heat.... it's ungodly" the comms woman muttered, wrinkling her nose.

“Get used to it, It's fucking December. It'll be worse in the coming months, and you won't be improving it by complaining."

“I know ma'am, but still." she sniffed at the wet patches of her musky armpits and recoiled.

They'd moved onto a main road, one that was piled with empty cars- many stacked with luggage. The occupants must have fled the failed evacuation and taken refuge elsewhere, she reckoned, peering inside one.

“Dumbasses really were taking the beer coolers and six packs with them." laughed another squadmate.

“They're Amerimutts. It's what they're like." agreed another, jabbing at a “Cold Dead Hands" sticker with their barrel “They really must believe this shit."

“You bet. And I don't think they'll realize that a peashooter like theirs won't do Schieße against a G86 or a JDAM"

“Amen to that."

“Kilo Company is recording increasing casualties. The enemy has mortars and 155 field arty engaging them" the comms woman reported as they passed a pair of T-boned haulers, fruit spilling from their cargo holds to rot in the sun.

“What's our fix?" Schwarz asked. The artillery certainly could be heard.

“Two and a half clicks out. Echo Company is pushing through to try and relieve them but they say they're encountering enemy strongpoints and some dug in M60A3s. I asked our Company command but they say we're too spread out to provide a cohesive supporting move"

“The hell we are, Whoever had this idea for squad sweeps this soon after the invasion is a gottverdammt dummkopf!" Asche snapped. “We're lucky that most of the armed civilians with actual balls have fucked off to the rural areas to hold out in. We could be seriously fucked if they wanted us to be."

“I'm just following fucking orders." The Tigress grumbled. “Seemed fucky to me too."

“I thought the Nurembourg trials proved that bad things happen when Germans 'just follow orders'."

“Halt die klappe und stellung nehmen, Fuchsjäger."

“Yes Ma'am."

More artillery rounds thundered in the distance, followed by the scream of missiles and the terrible groan of a collapsing building. Asche shuddered. Urban warfare was something she'd trained for, but never something she expected to see unless the Russians invaded. It was starting to strain her nerves.

They were approaching a junction, whereupon she turned to the Opossum and Tiger.

“Petra, Feldwebel," She told them. “We're approaching the road junction. Signs of previous high civilian activity but no enemy contact yet"

“Understood. Petra, radio in on the PRICK-77." Schwarz said.

“Yes ma'am!" Petra nodded, fluttering her large brown eyes. “Reporting in." She activated the large communications set on her pack and relayed the information as the group ground to a halt. Right as she did so, the air was split by the thunder of a .50 caliber M2.

The burst was well aimed and precise. The heavy rounds stitched about them, spraying chunks of asphalt into the air as Asche went to dive for cover, tackling Schwarz to the ground. “Get the fuck down!" She shouted back to the comms woman.

It was then when she saw Petra shudder as a round from the burst blew right through her throat in a spray of gore, sending her crashing to the ground.

“Nein!" Asche screamed, climbing off the tigress and scrambling towards the opossum. She reached out and grabbed Petra by the straps, dragging her along. She reached the cover of a concrete bollard, having left a thick trial of gore in their wake. Hands shaking, she sat Petra upright and tried to stanch the blood-spewing wound.

“You're going to be okay!" She hissed, clamping down as the warm red liquid flowed between her fingers. “We're gonna get you to a medic, and then your lucky ass gets to go back home with your family!" Petra was looking right back at her, tears flowing from her eyes as she nodded. Then those big brown eyes lost focus and the hands that gripped onto Asche's forearms, desperately seeking comfort from the bigger aardwolf, fell limply away.

“GOTTVERDAMMT!" Asche screamed, snatching up her Particle Beam and joining the rest of her squad in firing back. The enemy seemed to have dug into a former hair salon, the windows piled with sandbags and barricades. Inside, a Browning M2 blasted away upon a tripod, while other National Guardsmen fired wild shots off with their M5s and M17A3s. “Iss scheiße und stirb, Affenbastarde!" She roared as she squeezed in on the trigger, letting the cyclic fire rate of the particle beam do her talking for her.

“Comms woman, radio for…"

“SHE'S DEAD AND THE PRICK SEVENTY SEVEN HAS BEEN HIT, FELDWEBEL! WE ARE CUT OFF!" Asche snapped at Schwarz, prompting a scowl from the tigress but no comments.

“Lay down covering fire for Scharfschützin Winter, and keep your fucking heads down!" The Feldwebel ordered.

Particle beams scorched the air as the unit fought from cover, peppering the enemy positions. Merkel popped off a 83mm grenade that went wide, taking a large chunk out of a neighboring building but failing to do serious damage.

Asche snarled, enraged by her comrade's blood that soaked her fingers, blasting away with fury. Bullets whined and sparked about them, punching through the soft-skinned vehicles that they crouched behind. She saw two of her squadmates suddenly dash from cover, scant seconds before the gas tank on their car ignited, into a billowing plume of flames.

“Got the Bastards!" Winter roared, firing off a bolt from her PSG-3 that struck the M2 gunner dead in the forehead. He collapsed and the fire momentarily slackened only for another guardsman to take up the spade grips.

“They're flanking!" One of her squadmates yelled at her, pivoting to shoot at the camouflaged figures crawling atop the rooftops. “There's more of them!"

These soldiers lay prone and fired off rapid shots with their M17A3s, forcing the Bundeswehr to change cover, Asche dragging the lifeless corpse of Petra with her.

“They're encircling us!" Merkel shouted, her head recoiling as a 7x43 round glanced off her helmet. “We need to pull back!"

“Nein!" Schwarz snapped back, reloading her G86. “We need to push through and wipe them out! Kill every last one!" She popped over the bonnet of the SUV and fired off several shots. She watched as one of her troops, a stoat, was blown off her feet as the NG on the flanks fired off their own underslung GLs.

“Push forwards! Drown them in our weight of fire!" Asche roared, getting up and dashing towards a family van and trailer, bullets sparking about her until she reached the cover. The rest of the squad were firing back, providing cover as Schwarz joined her, then joined by Scholl.

The weapons fire gutted the dug in positions. The men and women of the Florida National Guard fell to the floor as their squad mates tried to keep up the rate of fire.

Magazines and casings soon coated the linoleum tiles- the barrel of the M2 glowing with its sustained fire. There wasn't much time left. Terrified, a shivering trooper grabbed at their platoon radio set, the officer long dead, and started to talk.

“Not much longer!" Asche yelled, tossing the last of her grenades to Schwarz. She fired it, and the rounds tore across the roof of a small apartment unit, sending chunks of concrete and scorched air vents tumbling onto the street.

“Once up close, get inside and hose them down!" Schwarz told her. “We're being held up too long already"

“Ja," Asche dipped her head. Another UGL landed behind them, exploding with a shower of fragments. “They're panicking"

She went to dash ahead again but paused. There was a sound. Something over the loud blasting of the firefight and the rumble of background gunfire. A deep sound.

“Try this you fucking animals!" Screamed a voice from above the hair salon. A bloodied guardsman stood up, M5 in his hands, and fired off a 40mm grenade. The projectile sailed over Asche's head and landed 30 meters back amid the cars, where the rest of the squad was moving up. Confusion filled her head for a split second, before smoke began to billow from the impact. Thick, blood-red smoke.

And then the roar grew.

Asche had barely enough time to scream “RUNTER...!" to her fellow soldiers before the AGM hit. The last thing she saw before she was blown head over heels was Merkel standing right in the center of the explosion, before the jackal vanished in the ball of flame.

The next thing she knew she was on her back, blood streaming from her nose and ears, head ringing and pounding, looking up at the sky. Just in time to see the sleek shape of the FL ANG F15C blast overhead, turning away from the site of its strike.

“Scheiße" she moaned, rolling over. Smoke was everywhere and her chest hurt like hell. Her pants were soaked- she'd pissed herself with the shock of the impact. “Shieße!"

Her ribs seemed sore but mostly intact, she thought to herself as she dragged her body into all fours and panted. More blood dripped from her mouth- her teeth all felt loose.

She managed a glance upwards and felt the heat on her face. There was fire and smoke everywhere. The section of highway behind them was ablaze, the flames leaping into the air amid the broken wreckage and collapsed buildings. There was no sign of the rest of the unit. They must have all been incinerated, Merkel among them. Her fist pounded the hot asphalt. So many names. So many friends. All erased in a second.

Wheezing, she tried to stagger onto her feet and saw Schwartz. The tigress was prone on the floor, her uniform partially blasted off her frame. Blood poured from her badly smashed nose- she must have been bounced off a car or the ground by the force of the blast. Not to mention her ankle, badly broken with a bloody spur of bone protruding. Scholl, a lynx, lay beside her- unconscious and badly flash-burnt but still breathing. Her MG148 lay beside her, the generator pack still intact.

Breathing heavily she dragged herself over and snatched up the support weapon, throwing the loops of the pack over her shoulders. Smoke was obscuring her from the defenders. It allowed her to hobble forwards, breathing heavily as she felt rage wash over her anew. She'd make them pay for what they did.

She pulled back the cocking bolt to make sure that the power hose was properly connected and strode right up to the hair salon. The smoke parted to allow her to see the gray camouflage of their uniforms as they reloaded the M2, moving casualties out of the way and taking on water.

One of them saw her and yelled, going for his M5. All turned as Asche pulled on the trigger and marched into the salon. The one forty eight erupted in a series of bright blue energy bolts, the atmosphere cooking into plasma about the beam as it cycled on and off. The bolts smacked into the guardsmen, killing the one that went for the M2 instantly before she turned them onto the others. Where the energy hit, flesh turned to ash. She riddled another before turning a thirds' head into charred ruins.

“Die you fucking runts!" She bellowed, looking truly demonic in the blue light of her DEW, reflecting off the blood pouring from her face and spilled down her front.

The other two occupants died as they fumbled for weapons, her weapon easily carving them up, flames licking from their seared fatigues. Snarling, she kicked over the M2 on its tripod and proceeded forwards towards the back rooms of the salon, the chairs having been upturned and used to form defensive barricades. She spotted the three corpses piled atop each other- recently fallen in the attack- and sank a quick burst into their cold bodies for good measure.

“Rot in hell, Schweinaffe." she told them, before moving towards the back door.

She was greeted by the door being kicked open and two M5s pointed in her direction.

All three fired at once, but the humans were quicker. Asche shuddered as the bullets smacked into her vest, a few of her already damaged ribs cracking while another round tore right through her bicep. What was most worrying was the fact that a single 7x43 round had punched through the feed cable to her DEW. Only a single bolt emerged from her MG148 that went wide.

“Scum!" She roared and threw the broken support weapon right at them. It collided with the two gunners and knocked them back as she threw off the pack and charged right at them.

There were three, all dressed in the NG uniforms. Two drew bayonets, a third swung a sharpened spade. Asche went for her VP70A2, but her paw gripped around her entrenching tool instead. With a flick of her wrist, Asche unfolded her E-tool. The blade swung outwards as she charged them, bolting through the small door.

The one with the spade struck first, she caught him by the hand and squeezed. His scream rang out, only for her attention to be diverted to a shooting pain in her side. One of the others had stabbed her deep. Enraged she turned and swung her entrenching tool. The sharpened tip neatly unzipped a line across the human's throat, red gore spraying out as if from a pressurized hose.

“Die you overgrown fucking rat!" The first screamed, having grabbed at the spade with his good hand and swinging it into her leg. The force was enough to make her already battered knees buckle before she grabbed him by the neck.

“Fuck y-“ he said before she opened up his stomach and the hot steaming ropes of his intestines splattered onto the ground.

She smiled, eyes alight with fury only for another pain to blaze through her lower back. Another knife thrust, this one hard and well aimed.

“That's for my kids in Key West!" The owner screamed, yanking the knife out. Asche spun about, the pain taking her breath away, to see the last Guardsman going for one of the dropped M5s. Anger boiled up inside her. They would pay. For Merkel, Petra, Oswald, Erna, Winter, Vera and Gertrud. She saw red and threw herself at him, ignoring the blood that now liberally ran from her own wounds. Asche was no longer a soldier. She was a predator. A beast of vengeance. The human didn't have a chance. Her huge furry hands seized his neck and his hand. Fingers loudly snapped as she disarmed him of his knife. Dust and ash rained down from the ceiling, painting them ghostly as she wrapped her hands about his neck. And with a single, enraged movement- she snapped it.

It was then she realized who the guardsman was.

It was FANG.

His eyes rolled back in his head, blood dribbling out his lips, broken bone protruding from his neck.

She screamed and the whole world seemed to collapse about her.

Correctional Mining Facility - Queensland, Australia - May 2020

The Hyena awoke upright in her bed, panting and covered in sweat. She looked around the dark room, and collected her thoughts. She'd had the flashbacks before, but… why was FANG there? She obviously hadn't killed him, he didn't have kids, and thinking back, the human whose neck she'd snapped in hand to hand looked nothing like FANG. Completely different facial structure, hell, he was of Cuban descent if she remembered correctly. She got up and opened her footlocker, digging around in it to pull out her flask. She pressed it up to her lips, only to realize she had forgotten to refill it. She grumbled and dug deeper into her foot locker, past her personal items, to pull out the entire bottle of Jaegermiester she kept hidden in the bottom. She unscrewed the lid and started drinking it straight from the bottle, just trying to forget it all.

It hardly mattered. No matter how much she drank, the war would always be there. In her head. Waiting for her to think that everything was fine, just so it could punch her in the gut and remind her of everything that had happened. Asche glanced down at the bottle, contemplating another swig.

What would FANG think of her?

She exhaled, shaking her head and putting the cap back on. She placed the liquor back in her trunk, sitting there in the dark. She laid down on her side, looking around the dark room. It took her a long time to close her eyes, and when she finally did, she curled up into a ball. Alone.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

.

[May 20th]

Asche slumped against the fence. She'd been having flashbacks the past few nights, and had to drink herself to sleep last night. Hopefully there wasn't an inspection today. She'd knocked her flask over tossing and turning, and her flak-jacket reeked of Jagermeister still. At least it masked that she'd been trading most of her shower time to other guards for favors to spend on making FANG's life just a bit less miserable. Stahl had been quiet most of the morning, he knew better than to try and pester the aardwolf when she was working with less than a full night of sleep.

Suddenly, her radio crackled to life.

Bzzzt-ring reports of a prisoner altercation with a guard in C block, over. Anyone free go check it out, see if backup is required.

"You know… 10 Euros says it's your pet monkey.." The leopard told her.

"I don't take bets that I know I'm going to lose, Stahl. You hold down the fucking fort while I handle this." She pulled out her radio. "Blutsauger actual investigating, Over."

Asche ran down the mineshaft as quickly as her tired legs would carry her, weaving through prisoners in her path. She stopped to find a few guards watching Miranda, a Jaguaress, kicking a twitching and curled up FANG. He looked like he'd already been tasered and gut punched before she'd arrived, and yet the Jaguar was still going at him. The hyena could feel the rage building within her, but didn't immediately lash out.

"What the fuck kinda mickey mouse scheiße do you think you're doing? You've already beaten him into submission, fucking restrain him already, dummkopf!" She demanded, folding her arms under her chest.

“What? I'm just showing this pendejo human his place, since he clearly doesn't know it, zorra." Miranda said, a cruel smirk on her face. "No one gets to talk to me like that, and I'm making sure he remembers it!"

“You better restrain him or I will." The German aardwolf snarled, her eyes narrowing. “That's an order!"

“I never thought you were much of a stickler for the rules, puta," the jaguar mused. “What's it to you? He's just another worthless human."

“Oh, I'm a stickler for the unwritten ones of this facility… Let. Him. Go. Miranda."

“I don't think I quite know which one you're referring to, Dyke." She spat.

“Oh, I think you do. The unwritten rule every guard knows to follow. Now give me the fucking prisoner. Last. Warning."

“Why don't you educate me once I'm done with this culo?" The jaguar said, punctuating the sentence by kicking the prisoner hard in the gut once more.

Something in Asche snapped, and she lunged at the other guard, “Schweinehündin!" She roared as he headbutted the Jaguar, the impact of her horns leaving red marks that would eventually bruise. “Du fickst nicht!" She then followed up with a gut punch to Miranda's abs. “Mit dem menschen eines anderen Mädchens!" The hybrid then swept down low to grab FANG and shield him from the other guard. He flinched as she grabbed him and hoisted him up in her big, strong arms. She turned her head to the recovering feline and growled at her, her thick draconic tail preparing to sweep the bitch off her feet if she tried anything. “Now if you touch FANG again, I will personally make sure you spend the rest of your career scrubbing latrines. Is that understood, Gefrieter?"

"Who the fuck is FANG?" Miranda asked

“Hell if I know… They'll bloody court martial you, damn crazy kraut." One of the guards watching said.

“Ah yes, I'm sure they'd love to hear about how your friend disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer and how she was disciplined in the field. You lot'll keep your fucking mouth shut about all this." She snorted, walking up to Miranda and helping her to her feet. She ensured FANG stayed out of her reach, the little human currently limp in her arms. “I don't tell them you beat a prisoner far beyond your quota and disobeyed an officer, and you don't tell them you got what you fucking deserved. Deal?"

“Fine… Chinga tu Madre…" Miranda spat.

“As for your earlier question, this particular human is FANG. And he is mine. You wanna have your fun with any other ones while I happen to not be watching? Go ahead. But gott im himmel help you if I find you messing with 8732B again. You do NOT fuck with another girl's humie. If you have a problem with him, you take it to me. I'll ensure he's punished." The Hyena said.

“Wait, fucking dyke has a human?" The other idle guard mused. “I thought you ate carpet."

“Oh fuck off." Asche snorted, carrying off FANG further in the mines to check on him. The vulpine found the little corner of the mine he'd been chipping away at earlier in the day. She set him down and started to check him for bruising, unbuttoning his BDU jacket and unzipping the dirty coveralls he wore under them. He looked injured, but from what she knew about human endurance, wasn't permanently damaged.

“...fuck you'd do that for, furball?" FANG finally spoke up, clutching his stomach. He couldn't even look her in the eyes.

“What, Unbutton you? I'm checking to see if you need medical attention, I'm not raping you or anything." Asche said. “Unlike the other guards here, I'm not like that."

“Any of this. Save me. Claim I was yours. I don't need your fucking help, you mangy piece of shit!" FANG said, fighting her off with what little strength the wounded human still had.

“FANG. I'm trying to help you." She tried to reassure him.

“And why are you trying to help? Because you want to make me yours." He said. “You're trying to force yourself on me, fleabag. I'd rather get beaten than that."

“Let me go get Miranda then." She started to get up from where she was kneeling on the ground checking on him.

“Bad dog! Sit! Stay! Heel!" FANG protested, grabbing her leg in an attempt to stop her from leaving. “Okay… Fine. As much as it pains me to admit it, I'd rather have some bitch like you forcing herself on me than be beaten by that jaguar whore. You're better than her, at least..."

“I figured between the two of us you'd pick me, even though I know you don't particularly like me." She said. “But you're gonna."

“You're persistent, I'll give you that, Furball." He sighed. “I have a question for your mangy ass… Several, actually."

“Go ahead."

"So first up, How bad is it? My chest hurts like fuck."

“You'll live, but you're gonna have these bruises for a few days. That's about all I can tell you from what I know about first aid, I had some training in the Bundeswehr but am by no means a doctor." She frowned at him. “You'll need to rest. I don't really have the authority to take you completely out of the mines, but I can forge paperwork to make it look like you're meeting your quotas. I'll still need you to at least pretend to work, though."

“I hate that I'll have to owe you another favor… but thank you, you dirty fuck mothering kraut." He said. “So, I'm curious. About what you said earlier. You know, how I'm the only unruly male in the facility. Surely you're exaggerating… you furry fucks couldn't have taken the fight out of every man."

“Most have it taken out of them in rehabilitation or fake it enough to go back to society. The worst cases are sent to an actual prison… You're rare in that you've managed to get sent to the mine and keep up the act for more than a few days, but not so bad that you've committed any crimes worthy of real prison. That's pretty uncommon, as far as humans go. Say, can I ask you some questions of my own?"

“I suppose it's only fair. Not that anything is fucking fair for humans after you assholes won."

“Are you... scared of me? You flinched when I picked you up to save you from Miranda. And you were shaking the whole walk over here." Asche said, petting his hair as she leaned him against the wall of the cave, sitting him up. “I know you're probably struggling with anthros because of the war, but… I'm not gonna hurt you, FANG. Last thing I want is to break the only worthwhile humie in here."

“Me? Scared? Of you? Ha!" He laughed for a second, before wincing in pain and prompting Asche to check on him. “Okay, yeah, a bit. You're imposing, even for an anthro, mutt." He pointed up at her horns weakly. “What, your mom didn't think a human was good enough for her, had to go and fuck a goat?"

“Dragon." Asche corrected. “Dad's a dragon."

“A Dragon? Fuck… So what, I'm the princess you're trying to kidnap? Fuckin' 'ell. Okay, it's my turn for a question. So I think I get why you hate being called Dyke now, you filthy mongrel. But what's with all the other guards calling you it? You're clearly interested in me, a male." FANG asked. "There any reason, or are they just talking shit like soldiers do? Because they should atleast be calling you proper insults; like the mange ridden, half breed, overgrown, authoritarian, Nazi bitch you are."

"First of all, you're thinking of the wrong authoritarian regime that caused the suffering of millions; thank you very much. I was born in the DDR, you're off by like 50 years." Asche corrected him.

"Aren't you only like 30? Or are you some old fucking hag, furball?"

"Nah, I'm 29. I was born after the Berlin wall fell, but before unification was official and modern Germany was a thing. Reunification was in October, I was born in June."

"So you're an authoritarian commie bitch, huh? Gonna put that in my insult toolbox, you stinky yeen. Now tell me why everyone calls you a carpet munching lesbo dyke, before I jump on the bandwagon."

"Fine. Fucking hell..." She sighed. "So during the war in Florida, at what you'd call my FOB, we had a Hyena Comms officer. Male, kinda chubby, lactose intolerant. So because he was lactose intolerant he had a bunch of that wunderbar sweetened condensed milk tubes and the jalapeno cheese spread from captured US MREs. You know the latter I'm sure."

"God, I'd fucking lick your rank ass 'yeen cunt for some MRE jalepeno cheese right now." FANG muttered under his breath.

"Hey, I keep it clean! But yeah, imagine what a girl like me would do for an ammunition box stuffed with 30 pouches and 35 tubes of sweetened condensed milk. Plus... you know, I didn't want to stoop to using a human 'comfort boy' like some of the other units did." She spat the last two words, disgusted by them. “I tried my hardest to keep my unit in line. Lead by example."

"Some example… what's all this garbage have to do with being a dyke, anyways?"

"You know how rare male furs are, right? There's only like 3 in this facility last I checked, and I keep hearing there's supposedly more female furs pretending to be dudes than actual male furs in the wild." She said. "Plus, some female yeens have that whole fake dick thing going on too. Put two and two together."

"Oh. OH. Well. We've all done things we're not proud of for MRE cheese, mutt. That's war."

“What, you have a similar tale?"

“Not talking about it." FANG shuddered, thinking back to his capture.

“Seems unfair to me, I talked about mine."

“I will talk about literally anything else, you fluffy whore." He huffed, trying to fold his arms before realizing it hurt too much to do. “Also, what was that about female furs pretending to be male furs in the wild?"

“It's my turn to ask a question. I'll tell you after."

“Bitch."

“I'm a Hyena, not a bitch, FANG." She mused, sitting down next to him. “So… You still mean what you said the other week? About hating me."

“I did say I hated you less than everyone else, mutt."

“Which sorta implies you like me."

“No, it implies I hate you less than everyone fucking else, you dumbass."

“Which means you like me more than everyone else. Schachmatt."

“Fine. I tolerate your fucking presense, you hairy monster. Is that good enough for you?"

“I'll take it... I used to be a lot like you, you know." She said, helping him put his Jacket back on, slipping his arms through the sleeves. She took a good long look at the 127th Infantry badge, brushing some of the dust from it. “Hated humans who fought back against us. Humans like you. Thought you were the scum of this earth, responsible for all the atrocities committed during the conflict."

“And what changed?" FANG asked her.

“I know better now. I get that you were just like me. Scared. Young. Fighting in some bullshit war that some politician you didn't even know got you into. Just trying to protect your home." Asche pulled him into her lap, and started buttoning his jacket for him.

“Yeah… I guess you're not wrong, fleabag." He grunted as she picked him up. “That hurts you know…"

“Everything's gonna hurt for a little while. I'm just softer than hard rock lithium carbonate. I figure you'll feel better with something soft to lie on while you recover."

“Yeah, like a bed. Not a smelly fucking kraut."

“I'm the best you got, asshole." She licked his ear. “You can ask your question now."

“You heard it just fine the first time with those big ass ears."

“Well, long story short, sometimes flat chested females who are single will pretend to be males to catch humans off guard. They figure it's easier to become a bro than a girlfriend, and it would be hard for their human to turn them down if they've become good friends already."

“What the fuck is wrong with you anthros?"

“Hell if I know. I'm not nearly flat chested enough to pull it off."

“Yeah, I'll say, you fucking bimbo. Are those fat ass things even natural?"

“Your head is resting on them, do they feel fake?"

“Like I know what anthro tits are supposed to feel like."

“Well, allow me to educate you..." The aardwolf grinned, her fluffy draconic tail coming around from behind her and slowly wrapping itself around his legs. She pressed her breasts against him as she leaned in to whisper into his ear. “...they're supposed to feel like this."

“Hey, can you cut that out, you mutt?"

“It's not your turn for a question, prisoner." Asche smirked, before leaning further in and forcibly giving him a kiss. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth, and she only withdrew it when she felt him struggling for air.

“Didn't you just fucking say you weren't trying to rape me, Fleabag? Unbelievable." FANG caught his breath, holding his chest and panting.

“Please, last I checked that's sexual harassment at most. Plus I'm pretty gottverdammt sure I earned at least a kiss, saving your ass and all."

“Yeah, well let's see how you like it, you mangy beast." He muttered, turning around and returning the kiss with a quick peck on the side of her snout.

“Hey! I'm supposed to be one the one doing the kissing here. You're my weak little soon to be boyfriend, not the other way around." She blushed fiercely and pulled him closer to her chest.

“Did you actually have another question or can I ask my last one?"

“Yeah, I did have one more…" Asche said, reaching down and stroking the side of his face. “So… what you said about MRE cheese and eating me out. Were you serious?"

“Okay, now you are trying to rape me."

“I'm not trying to rape you, I'm trying to exchange goods for services."

“So the fucking commie understands free market capitalism."

“I'm just saying, I'm a guard, I can get you food. Like, actual food, not the scheiße we feed prisoners. You like those sandwiches I give you, right?"

“I am not going to whore myself out for food, you mutt." He huffed.

“You just implied that you would not even five minutes ago."

“I mean… I would appreciate the gesture of being given food. Those are pretty good sandwiches. But I wouldn't exchange it for sex when I have 2 square meals a day, as fucking bland and disgusting as they are."

“Good."

“Good?" FANG looked at her incredulously. “I thought you were trying to exchange cheese for sex for the second time in your life, you filthy cheese whore."

“I don't want the other fucking guards buying their way into your pants with food, you dumbass. I like that you're not a whore, like every other fucking fleshbag here who'd spread their legs for the first guard to walk up to them."

“You are the first guard who has walked up to me, you dirty animal." He muttered. “But… good to know you're at least protective of me. That means a hell of a lot down here with bitches like Miranda."

“Hey, Anthro girls are supposed to protect their weak little humie boyfriends. It's how the world works." She said, licking the human's greasy hair to try and groom it into shape.

“I guess so. Didn't work that way before you furry fucks won, but it does now." He sighed. “Just… Wish things had turned out differently."

"Hey, just because your little podunk town in Florida didn't have any fluffy girls doesn't mean us being protective is a new invention, doofus. Though it must seem like it if you've only dealt with human females." She said, before frowning and holding him even closer. “Sometimes life deals us a shit hand, and we still have to play it. I'm here in the mines with you, aren't I?"

“Fleabag. You're fucking crushing me." He wheezed, prompting her to stop hugging him so tightly.

“Sorry."

“But Yeah....shit hand indeed. Now I'm rotting in this fucking labor camp until I'm deemed ready for society and you're hitting the bottle like an abusive waifur hits her human for cooking dinner wrong. Shit indeed... “ He looked up at her. “Seriously, do you fucking BATHE in Jägermeister, you overgrown bitch? It's as prevalent as your stank ass musk."

“Why would I bathe in alcohol when I could drink it?"

“Fair 'nuff, Fleabag. Fair 'nuff."

“So… You said you had one more question?" Asche asked, rubbing over his shoulders.

“Yeah… I did, but..." FANG stammered. “I'm… not sure if I really want to ask it anymore. Especially not when I'm in a position where a bitch like you could easily smother me to death."

“That bad, Huh?"

“I was gonna ask you something about the war... But, now I have another question, instead." He said, straightening up. “Why humans? What makes us so desirable?"

“Like, for me, or for everyone?"

“I guess for you first, then in general."

“I've always wanted kids some time in the future." Asche said, rather bluntly. “But I'm a Hybrid… and we only can have children with humans. It's why you've never seen an anthro that was more than two species."

“I've honestly never even seen a Hybrid before you, you half breed mutt."

“Anthros don't wed other anthros often, not when we have squishy little humies like you to play with and fall in love with. When they do, it's even rarer to marry outside your species…" She explained. “But you can't choose who you love. Mutter couldn't help but fall for Vater. More importantly, my dumb ass couldn't help but fall for a piece of work like you."

“Are you implying you love me, you mangy fleabag?"

“Yeah, I am, ya dense motherfucker. You really think I'd be talking to you, much less have stuck my neck out for you, otherwise?"

“I mean... talk to me? Yeah. Risk your neck? No. I wasn't sure about you until you gave that hairy bitch Miranda her just deserts." He chuckled. “Which you certainly did. You're a fuckin' animal."

“I know I am." She said, tracing a claw along some of his old scars. “And so are you, for a human. Almost like we're made for eachother."

“Don't you get all mushy on me, you kraut bastard. Weren't you gonna tell me why Anthros in general want us?"

“I ain't some fucking psychology professor, FANG. I'm a grunt. I don't know why it's a scientific fact that most anthros want a humie." She grumbled. “But if I had to hazard a guess, there's 3 major reasons. Eins, you're cute. Zwei, you're soft. Drei, there's a lot more of your males than our males. Seems like it's just nature taking its course at that point." The draconic hybrid shifted under him, rumbling happily. "Look, I need to get back to my post soon… but I'll let you lay here a little longer. You need rest to recover."

“For weeks I wanted you to leave me alone and you insisted on bugging me. Now that it's the one occasion that I don't want you to leave, you're going? Un-fucking-believable…"

“Hey, I ain't leaving you yet, and I'll be back." She roughed up his hair some more. “You're gonna be getting your spot reassigned once I call in some favors that are owed. It'll put ya right next to checkpoint C, so you'll always be in ear shot."

“Great, I have to be close enough to smell the stinky ass cheese whore? I thought you were doing me a favor."

“I'll be close enough to stop your ass from getting beat again, that's what matters. Hardly be a good girlfriend if I let you get your shit stomped in twice."

“And who said you're my girlfriend, fleabag?"

“I did." She stated assertively. “What the fuck are you planning on doing about it, huh? I'm the only person that fucking matters to you in this hellhole.."

“What am I gonna do to some bitch like you?" FANG raised a brow, before grabbing one of her nipples and twisting it, eliciting a yelp from the aardwolf. “Maybe I'll do this."

“You fucker, that hurt!" Asche grumbled, holding her breast.

“Yeah, and so did your hug! I bet your mangy ass still enjoyed that as much as the hug, too..."

“I swear if your ass wasn't already beat, I'd beat it again, FANG."

“Yeah, but you're not going to." He said smugly.

“I will begrudgingly admit you are safe from a beating right now, if only because I need to get back to the checkpoint." She huffed, gently pulling him out of her lap and setting him against the wall of the mineshaft. “But your ass is getting fucking mate pressed as soon as you're better."

“Bring it on, you furry fuck. I bet you can't even do it without breaking my hips."

“We'll see." She said, standing up and getting ready to leave. “You take care of yourself, you little shit."

“I suppose I would be sad if something happened to your miserable hide. So you better continue being the least awful mutt out there, you kraut bastard." He lazily waved to her.

“So where's my ten quid?" Stahl asked smugly.

“Oh fuck you, I never took that bet you Inselaffe!" Asche huffed at him, settling back in at the checkpoint.

“I jest, Asche. Is he okay?" He asked, “I know I'd be livid if someone hurt Annette."

“To be fair, Annette is also like, 8 months pregnant and a hell of a lot more fragile than some vet from the police action. I'd be fucking pissed if someone hurt her, and I've never even met her." She told the snow leopard. “But, long story short, he got fucking trounced. He should be fine after some rest, though. Humans are pretty verdammt resilient. But I still had to give that spanish jaguar bitch a fat lip because she can't take a hint or follow orders."

“You punched Miranda?"

“Bitch wouldn't get off him, didn't have a choice."

“Blimey, someone's having a rough day. Can't say the bitch didn't have it comin' though. She's a bloody tosser. At least the rest of the day should be pretty uneventful."

“Amen to that. Gonna be boring as scheiße "

“You take a long rest when we get back to the bunkhouses. You deserve it."

“I fucking will."

Later that night, Asche laid down on her glorified cot to sleep. She pulled the wool blanket over herself, and closed her eyes, going out like a light. She hoped she'd get a good night's sleep. She was sorely mistaken.

Florida, United States of America - February 2009

The back of the MAN truck jostled and rattled, across the muddy Floridian road. Asche grunted as she bumped up against the Fallschirmjäger besides her, their gear clattering about. “What a shithole" Asche grunted, all the naive optimism in her completely gone after Daytona. She peered out the back of the vehicle. On either side of the poorly maintained road, wet swampland extended as far as the eye could see. A flat greenish brown land of wet sodden soil and brackish pools. “Do people actually live here, it's like an overgrown greenhouse that smells worse" she commented to the wolf sitting opposite her.

The Wolf shrugged. “I hear this is supposed to be where they send all their old folk to retire"

“And do what? Do they drown them in the swamp so they don't have to pay for nursing homes or something?"

“Probably"

She turned to the spotted hyena on her other side, the small male looking nervous as he toyed with his sidearm holster. “You know anything about this, Bush?"

He shook his head.

“Would have thought Intelligence would have snapped up a half Yankee like you" she snorted.

“I requested a Fallschrimjaeger unit, like my momma." he said quietly.

“Beats me how you even passed airborne training" laughed Struwe, the rat chuckling loudly.

They were headed to go raid a suspected weapons cache in some backwater hamlet, likely stashed there by some rebels from the start of the civil war. The briefing colonel had mentioned the likelihood of heavy rebel presence. This shithole had been on the anti-gov side of the civil war to start with, she thought to herself. They're not exactly going to be pleased to see us roll up. Not to mention she was in charge of these bunch of paratroopers, promoted to Feldwebel. That tended to be the benefit of being one of the only non-casualties in your unit. Seven other gloomy looking anthros, mostly carrying G86s with a single MG148 particle beam phalanx. Should have been her carrying it still. Of course, it wasn't just them, they had the attached burgers too. She looked over at the American vehicle following them, a Hispanic human manning the .50 caliber turret upon the truck.

They arrived outside the small town, the vehicles screeching to a halt. Immediately Asche got her troops out, keeping quiet as they moved to crouch into an all round defense posture. She slung her rifle and crouched behind a large blackberry tree, bringing up her binoculars. It was a typical trashy run down American small town. Bunch of decaying looking houses, some outright abandoned and collapsing ones. Trashy stores and what seemed to be a garage given the rusting cars piled about the back.

“What a dump" she muttered, shaking her head. There was a rustle and one of the Americans crouched beside her. A puma in the green fatigues of the US marines. “You people live in a mess here" Asche grumbled in her accented English.

“I'm from up north, not round here" the puma shrugged. “Don't lump me in with these hillbillies" she slung her weapon and crouched to look at the map Asche had been consulting. “Too hot for my taste"

“The weapon dump… supposedly it's in here" Asche pointed with a twig to the garage. "Drone flyover got some IR footage of people moving stuff in"

The puma nodded before she added. “We pulled some intel out of the UN food line, people said they might be moving shit out into the houses"

“Great. Guess the UN ain't fucking worthless for once." Asche muttered. “Well, we'll do a standard Cordon. Go in and cut off each end of the street. Go into the garage first and clear it but make sure nobody can get out of the civilian houses, then sweep them too" she looked up at the hot, blue sky. “If it goes to shit, there's an NH90 with a cargo bay full of Jaegers on a 30 minute deployment time waiting to go"

“And it's up to us to make sure there's no AA capability active then" the puma nodded. They'd all done some rehearsal drills earlier that morning. They knew the plan.

The Americans didn't take too kindly to the appearance of the trucks and military vehicles on their roads. Asche sat in the back of the MAN, weapon at the ready as she saw children running to sling mud, sticks and stones at the sides of the green vehicles. People hissed and threw up middle fingers. Some were running between houses. Shit, runners. She thought to herself. The Bundeswehr hasn't had much experience with insurgencies besides the Somalia deployments. She'd met up with some of the British task force on the way over and they'd had all sorts of stories about their war in Northern Ireland. VCPs, bomb attacks, riot duty and snipers. It didn't help her nerves.

“Out!" She snapped and they all piled out of the truck, weapons up, moving towards the garage. She felt a rock hit her helmet and ignored it as they pushed to the door, past rusting cars. Dieter and Wernicke were up first, and they kicked the door open with a snarl. Wernicke was in first, the fox sweeping with her rifle as Dieter followed up behind. Then two others followed by Asche herself. She came through in time to see Dieter force a man in dirty mechanic overalls onto his knees.

“Where's the fucking guns" the mastiff snapped.

“Fuck you you flea-“ Dieter hit him with a punch that broke his nose and sent him crashing over.

“I said, where are the guns" she snapped back.

“You can take them from my cold-“

She kicked him in the stomach as one of the others called out. “Drop the weapon!"

Asche spun about, drawing her VP70 in the confined space. It came from another room of the garage, further in. Followed by a rattle of shots as Asche ran to the source. By the time she was there, the hostile was dead- a man in camouflage clothing was slumped at the back of the room, a section of his head missing and a long barrelled SMG in his slack hand.

“He went for it" the donkey reported grimly, her rifle smoking. “Wouldn't stop"

“You did well" Asche told the private as she approached the body. He was by a hole in the floor- several planks removed to expose a large compartment hidden below. Asche peered down. “Jackpot. Bush? Call it in"

They'd found two more humans cowering in a back room, and they now knelt against a wall as the Fallschrimjaeger emptied the hole. “Three AK- type rifles, likely Chinese" Groth, a ferret, read out as she noted down the cache. “Two machine pistols, TEC-9s"

“Columbine tested, Zebra approved." Asche snorted.

“Four army issue boxes of 7x43. Six mortar bombs, army issue. Two belts of .50. Two boxes of grenades- fragmentation. One AT4 anti tank rocket"

It was a good haul, but Asche was conflicted. There was a lot of empty space... Like the compartment had been made with more storage in mind. “Expand the perimeter" she ordered. “I want those houses searched" she jerked her head to the floor. “They've been moving shit out of here"

Pistol in hand she emerged out into the hot sunshine again, just behind her moving unit of paratroopers. She could see the cordon being established with humans starting to come out of their homes, angry at the gunshots. They were shouting at the larger anthros, one or two even carried shotguns, though no weapons were being pointed- yet. “Struwe- take your section and clear the left one" Asche ordered. “Mine will take the other" Most of the paratroopers kept their weapons out in a cordon as the two units moved towards the cracked facades of the two homes. Asche saw a flicker of movement in one of the windows- her grip tightening on her handgun. There was a crack. A loud sharp one, with the gunshot booming from a block away. Dieter gave a yelp of pain and stumbled onto her knees. Instantly there was shouting and the paratroopers took cover.

“Sniper!" Asche saw Dieter manage to get into her feet and hobble towards them, crouched by the side of the street. There was another crack, and the asphalt erupted in a puff of dust and fragments but the dog managed to get into cover- leg stained red and moaning pitifully.

“Take the house!" Asche snapped. “Get in and out of sight. Bush, call this in!" She jabbed a finger at the hyena before turning to another NCO. “Hold the perimeter and neutralize that sniper!"

They smashed the door open and rushed inside, weapons at the ready. Asche was second in, helping Dieter along as the Mastiff grunted in pain. The home was shabby, with a broken couch and TV taking center stage. “Get looking! I want whatever they're moving found" One of her paratroopers rushed up the stairs, rounding the top. There was a loud blast of a shotgun, and she came crashing back down the stairs in a bloody heap.

“Contact, top floor!" Groth yelled, unleashing a full magazine up through the floor. Shards of wood rained down as she sprayed wildly. Ash looked up in time to see a pair of dark green spheres drop down the stairs.

“Get the fuck down!" She yelled and grabbed the wounded Dieter and shoved her onto the floor, smothering her with her own body. There was a second and then the two grenades exploded- the confined space making her ears throb and ring. Dust filled the air. Asche coughed and pushed herself off Dieter. The dog was shivering and whimpering, bleeding into the dressing on her leg. Asche momentarily squeezed her hand before looking about. Groth was dragging herself across the floor. Her uniform was peppered with holes from fragments, but she wasn't bleeding too heavily aside from a trail coming from her boots. Her feet had been closest to the blast and must have taken large fragments.

“Shit" Asche looked about. Wernicke was on the floor dazed by the blast, but was regaining her senses. Moltke however, was unmoving. Outside there was gunfire now- loud screaming and shouting. Asche had a memory flash. Of Daytona, of the American fighter jet. Almost her entire unit turned to ash. It wouldn't happen again. Her world narrowed to this house. “Wernicke, watch the door!" She was up, pistol out and charging up the stairs, feet thumping on the wood. The human was waiting there with his shotgun. He fired once but prematurely, Asche sunk three shots into his center mass to down him- even with the garbage pull of the clunky trigger. Within a stride, she was in close and put the barrel under his chin. Gore painted her front. Anger filled her, fury burning intensely within her chest. She swapped out the magazine and moved into the hallway. Shots were coming from one of the rooms. The hall was a mess, with cans and bags of trash scattered about. Her clearance drills were automatic, every nerve in her body focused on one thing- killing. The next door was smashed open. She was in- seeing two figures at a window- pointing a civilian AR-18 out. She didn't register their size, she just fired. Her VP70 fired off one 3 round burst of 9mm, then another. The two jerked like broken dolls, the rifle clattering to the ground. Asche advanced.

It was a teen, and a child. Both in grimy shirts and shorts. She finished the job, Uncaring.

Narcissa's words rang in her head - 'They'd have done the same to you, Fuchsjäger.'

Outside she could see bodies. Civilian ones. And one of the trucks with the flames of a petrol bomb flickering over it's cab. There was still shooting. Heavy shooting. One of her paratroopers dived across the street and something heavy and automatic ripped up where she had been standing seconds ago.

It was a credit to Asche's senses that she heard the man come running. It was probably the shots. He'd heard them and came to help the two in the room. When he pushed through the door, Asche turned and pointed her VP70. Another pull of the heavy trigger.

Nothing. Not even a click.

She heard the man scream with rage and loss as she dived behind the bed. He had a slung rifle, but fired a large handgun instead. It was like a cannon- the bed exploding with fragments of wood. Asche tossed the broken pistol at him and sprang towards him, shoving him against the wall with the weight of her larger body. He screamed and struggled as she grabbed the hand with his revolver. His beard was marred with salvia as he tried to bite and struggle, cursing and hissing. Asche seized the hand and twisted it with a snap of fingers. The human gasped before she kicked him over and pointed the large caliber handgun at him. She didn't have time to give him a witty remark like this was some action movie. She just watched the pistol burst his head like a melon.

The building was clear. She emerged outside to find that Bush had summoned the QRF and that the road had a swathe of bodies lying in it. Unarmed ones, lying where they had gathered in their mob.

“Struwe!" She snapped- her personal radio ruined by a grenade fragment. “Where's the fire coming from?"

“Building across the street!" The NCO replied. “Two machine guns by the sound of it"

“Hit it with the gas grenades" she ordered. “Then follow it with the HE"

One of her paratroopers obliged. The CS went in first, one into the top floor and one into the bottom. Then came the HE and the flames were nearly immediate. Fire licked at the windows, then the shooting started to taper off. Screams followed. People were running from the door. By the time Asche saw they were unarmed and ordered her unit to hold their fire, they'd already been dropped by her subordinates. The flames grew, the combination of gas grenades and explosives creating both a growing blaze and noxious gas. By the time she heard the approaching thump of rotors, the home was ablaze.

Clearance took hours and by the end, they'd killed nine insurgents. Twenty “probables'' - which meant the mob. The Americans had managed to neutralise the initial sniper and found a dissembled mortar and 60 nearby stored bombs. Asche had watched the bodies and the wounded being lifted into the helicopter before it took off, leading its QRF with her. They expanded into a sweep across the area, leaving Asche with her weary and shocked troops. She hadn't even blinked when Bush reported the command to burn the civilian bodies. Nor did she question it when muffled gunshots sounded out more were added to the pile. They had found their weapons hadn't they? What they came to do.

She stood by the now flaming pit, as more helicopters approached through the muggy sky. The revolver was clutched in her hand and she lifted it. 'MAGNUM RESEARCH PKD-M2019 .45-70' was emblazoned on the barrel. It was big- likely a hunting weapon, as she could still comfortably carry it- even as a non human. The whereabouts of her shitty plastic pistol was unknown to her. This would be a fitting replacement, she just needed to give it a clean of the grime and gore first.

She looked up as the puma walked past. The feline gave a curt nod, accompanied by two rifle wielding humans. Before them were a number of what seemed to be highschoolers- looking dejected and nervous.

“Sorry about your girls" the puma called out in a hard voice.

“Your men too," Asche replied.

She watched them carry on walking, then to vanish behind a building.

The shots came later.

Asche looked at the fire. She needed a drink.

Correctional Mining Facility - Queensland, Australia - May 2020

Asche bolted upright. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, then sat on the edge of her bunk. The hyena hybrid rummaged around in her footlocker for her flask and walkman. She put on her headphones and sat there listening to Rammstein as she unscrewed her flask, taking a deep sniff. She paused, and screwed the cap back in place, remembering what FANG had said during their last meeting. The hybrid stood up and placed her flask back in her trunk, staring at her dimly lit alarm clock - 23:58. She needed to head outside, clear her head a bit. She pushed the door open and made her way outside, ensuring not to wake the other guards.

After standing there for a while in the crisp Australian night air, she snuck towards one of the prisoner bunk houses, slinking into the night like a fox raiding a henhouse.

[May 21st]

FANG woke up to the immense weight of a 3 meter aardwolf pressing him into a bunk and hugging him like a teddy bear. The first thing he noticed was that she seemed to be drenched in a cold sweat. The second thing he noticed was that Fleabag apparently slept in only her panties.

“Fleabag, what fucking time is it?"

“0045. Give or take 5 minutes."

“It's almost 1 in the fucking morning? Why the hell are you here, you smelly mutt? Wait, are you in my bed, or am I in your bed?"

“You're in mine. I had a nightmare."

“You? A nightmare?" He raised a brow. “What the fuck does a huge hairy bitch that could turn Michelle Myers into a pretzel have a nightmare about?"

“Florida."

“..." FANG paused for a moment. “Yeah, that was the answer I was expecting. Do I even want to know?"

“No. You don't. Look, I need something to take my mind off of it so I can get back to sleep."

“And I'm that thing?"

“Yeah, you are. You should feel honored, usually it's Jägermeister."

“I'm going to need some booze myself if you keep squeezing me. I still fucking hurt, remember you dumb ass mutt?"

“Oh, Right! Sorry, doofus." She got up and pulled him to her chest gently, roughing up his hair by taking deep sniffs of it.

“What the fuck are you doing, you fluffy whore?"

“Sniffing you. I read online that sniffing humans is relaxing." She said, laying back in her bunk underneath him.

“Anthros just fucking talk about shit like that? God, you're weird."

“What's weirder is that a lot of you humans LIKE to be sniffed. So really, what species is the weird one?" She asked, taking more sniffs of him.

“Definitely yours, furball. Shouldn't you uh… be wearing something?"

“I'm wearing fur, it gets hot enough here."

“Yeah, but that doesn't cover anything, bimbo."

“And why would I need to cover up anything for you, FANG?" The hyena teases, licking his cheek. “You're my boyfriend, after all."

“Fair enough. So uh… why are you so goddamn wet? Seriously, you're drenched."

“Nightmare. I woke up like this."

“And here I was expecting you to make a sex joke, you dyke."

“Dyke?!" She huffed, then began aggressively groping his package. “Does this feel like something a fucking dyke would do?"

“Hey, what do you think you're doing, you overgrown mutt? That's my di…"

“Is it? Because I think it's mine now." She whispered into his ears, pulling down his pants.

“You're gonna tear them! Let me get them, you goddamn beast!"

“Keep it down, it's one in the morning." She muttered, but allowed him to take off his own pants. The aardwolf pulled aside her panties and grabbed him by the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss. He then lined himself up with her anatomy, his face sinking between her breasts.

“There, they're off, you fucking bitch."

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

“What I think you want me to do."

“Well you don't just stick it in, schweinhund. Or maybe you should, I probably wouldn't be able to feel it anyway."

"And what, you expect me to munch your flea-ridden carpet or somethin'? I thought you animals were supposed to be used to ruttings."

"That's rich, coming from a species that collectively can't keep their legs shu--YIP!"

"Did you just yip? I barely put it in!"

"I could... hardly tell!"

"You are really bad at lying, Fleabag. Your claws are digging into my back, you overgrown bitch. I think I'm bleeding."

“You've been through worse. I thought humans were only supposed to be like, 5 inches!"

“Yeah, on average. You got lucky, ya Kraut bastard."

“Fuuuuck." She panted. “Is it supposed to feel like this?"

“You said you weren't a virgin, how are you so damn tight?" FANG grunted.

"Probably because I'm a virgin. I just tore my hymen doing track and field back in highschool."

"Wait… What? But… MRE Cheese."

"Oh. Pssh, nah, never penetrated me. Only said if I had sex with him I'd get the goods. He never specified what kind of sex."

"So... Oral? Fuckin' cock suckin' Cheese whore."

"What, like a blowjob? Pfft, no way. You know what a pseudopenis is, humie?"

“A what?"

“Psuedopenis. It's something hyena girls have. A big fat yeenis"

“I don't even want to know. You better not have one."

“I don't, only spotted Hyenas girls have em. I'm just fucking with ya. Nah, I used a strap on."

“What the fuck is wrong with you, furball?" FANG shook his head. “So what, the BHC too much for ya? You want me to stop or something, half breed?"

“Stop now and I will break your fucking legs, monkey." She pulled him closer, whispering in his ears. “Put it all inside me."

“Like this?"

“Slower, you moron! God, have you never fucked an anthro before?"

“Of course I haven't, you smelly mutt… Shit, you reek."

“Well then remind me to shower next time I drag you out of your bed at one in the morning, dumbass."

“I fucking will, you stinky ass yeen."

“No you won't. You'll like my scent by then." She murrs as she buries his face deeper in her bosom, coating him with her sweat. “Everyone online says humies just grow to love the scent of their big anthro girlfriends."

“Bitch, there is a difference between your natural scent and fucking unwashed stank ass musk. You're definitely in the latter category right now."

“Quit your bitching or I'll shove your face in my pits, FANG."

“Don't you fucking dare, you mangy furball!"

“I think we already established that you can't stop me."

“I will twist your nipples again, Fleabag."

“Fine…" She muttered, before letting out another yip. “Gottverdammt, is that all the way to the hilt?!"

“Yeah. You better not be giving me pubic fleas."

“I don't have fleas!"

“I highly doubt that, you walking sack of flea bait."

“Well you're the one who started fucking me, so that sounds like a you problem if I have them. Which I definitely don't." Asche ruffled his hair up with her paw, pulling him closer and locking her legs around his waist. “I just wanted to cuddle."

“Don't you fucking lie, you wanted humie dick and you know it."

“Wanting it and getting it are too different things. But now that I have it, you aren't fucking pulling out."

“I don't have a fucking condom on, you cheese whore!"

“Good. We'll let nature do its thing then."

“I swear you better not let me get you pregnant, I'm not fathering any fucking mutt pups in a work camp."

“You worried you're gonna pump me full of cubs, 8732B?"

“Only because you're tighter than a frog's butt in a watermelon seed fight, fucking kraut. Not really giving me any choice..."

“You close?"

“Maybe? You feel so damn good it's hard to tell... I expected a hairy beast like you to be like a hotdog down a hallway."

“Sometimes expectations exist to be subverted. After all, I expected you to be a mewling little mommyfag based on all the other humans I see."

“Yeah, well I expected you to kick my fucking ass, dyke.

“Call me a dyke one more time and I'll have to."

“You're a Carpet munching Dyke that…" He yelped a few seconds later as she slapped his ass hard. “HEY! A SPANK IS NOT A KICK."

“My legs are too busy keeping you in place to bother kicking, FANG. Now what did I tell you about fucking keeping it down?"

“I would if you didn't fucking spank me, you monster."

“Naughty humans have to be punished, FANG. Otherwise I wouldn't have a job."

“Smelling you right now is punishment enough, trust me."

“I do not smell that bad, quit yer bitchin' or I'll make you sleep with me every night."

“Truly awful."

“Truly." The hyena leaned in and licked him on the cheek. “Now are you gonna fucking cum in me or what?"

“Why are you in such a hurry, you furry fucker?"

“I don't wanna spend all night waiting for your knot to go down."

“My… what?"

“Your knot? You know, that thing that inflates at the base of your dick when you're about to cum, so you can ensure I don't pull off you?"

“What in the Sam Hill are you talking about? I… don't have one of those."

“You don't? Huh, humans are weird."

“That sounds solidly like an 'Anthro dicks are weird' problem to me, Fleabag. Fuuuck… Well, if you want me to cum, just keep doing what you're doing down there."

“You mean this?"

“FUCK! Yeah, that!"

“Unf… Mein gott..!" The aardwolf moaned loudly, her claws digging into the human's back.

“Less claws! Gah!"

Asche howled out as she hit her climax in time with FANG, her muscular body holding him in place as he spasmed from his orgasm. “Gott im himmel..." She panted, catching her breath.

“Holy shit… I needed that."

“So did I…" She looked into his eyes, smiling slightly as she leaned in and whispered. “Mein…"

"Asche, turn off the bloody lesbian porno or put on your sodding headphones. It's gotta be bloody midnigh... '' Stahl grumbled from the other Bunk in the small room, turning over in his bed, breaking the intimacy of the moment. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but the leopard looked away sheepishly once he realized what was happening. "Oh. Uh... Hello. This must be FANG, I take it?"

“It is. Now go back to bed and I'll fucking introduce you to eachother in the morning. When we all have clothes on."

“Yeah sure, whatever." Stahl nodded, rolling back into a comfortable position.

“I told you to keep it down, FANG."

“You HOWLED, bitch." Fang muttered. “So Asche, huh? I think fleabag suits you better."

“Halt die klappe."

“Do I atleast get that MRE Cheese you promised earlier?"

“We never agreed on that. And you never ate me out, that was the deal."

“Let me at your stinky yeen cunt then."

“Be my guest, I'm going to bed."

“Psst. Hey. Wake the fuck up, Humie."

There was a muffled groan from her crotch, and she reached down and pulled FANG's face out of her snatch.

“Hnnngh… Fuck off, Furball, there's no way it's 0600 yet."

“It's not, it's like 0430. But you really shouldn't be in my bed when daylight rolls around."

“What, you wanna get rid of me already, bitch?"

“No, you just shouldn't be here. I don't want to get you in trouble when roll call comes around." Asche said, turning him around and planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Hey, enough with the damn licks. We only get 5 minutes in the showers."

“If anything that means you need more licks."

“What are you, a cat?"

“I thought I was a fleabag?"

“You are a fucking fleabag."

“And you're a humie who's gonna get in trouble unless you get out of my bed and let me walk you back to the prisoner bunks. So go on, get up. Put some damn pants on."

“Fine, fine." He grumbled and started to pull his pants up. “Talk about hit and quit."

“You got three hours of cuddling. That is far more than you're allocated, prisoner." Asche teased. “Come on, I'll walk you back. After breakfast I want you to report at Checkpoint C at 0720."

“For?"

“I need to double check that you're okay. No incident report was filed, so I'm the only person who knows you're hurt, doofus."

“I wouldn't be nearly as hurt if some huge bitch hadn't pancaked me into her mattress last night."

“You loved it, don't even try to deny it, FANG." She chuckled. “Wait, you were on top, weren't you?"

“You rolled on top of me during the night."

“Scheiße... Sorry." Asche blushed bright red. “You alright?"

“I can walk, can't I?" He asked.

“I walked off a .280 during the war, that didn't mean I was alright."

“I'm fine, furball, trust me."

She pat him on the head. “Well then, if you're fine, you can get your ass to the prisoner quarters without any help from me."

“And get caught and beat?"

“Fine, I'll fucking escort you. Pussy."

“The only pussy here is the one that I wrecked last night."

Fleabag didn't even find that worth a response. She got herself dressed in her Uniform and snuck outside, holding FANG in her arms the whole way.

“This is not what I thought you meant by escort." The human said, muffled by her bosom.

“Quiet you, we better not get caught."

“Wait, don't guards fuck prisoners all the time?"

“Yeah, but I don't."

“Because you're a fucking dyk-mmmmf!“ FANG suddenly felt all the air get squeezed out of him by powerful arms and his face shoved deeper between her breasts.

“Shut it, you." Asche muttered as she silently opened the door, setting FANG down on the floor. “There. Now get in your fucking bed. Or don't, I'm not your mom."

“You want to be."

“You shut your gottverdammt mouth right the fuck up this very second. I will let you call me dyke before I let you call me mom. Which is never." Asche huffed and turned around, smacking the human with her tail. “Now go to sleep. You need your strength."

After breakfast Asche made her way to Checkpoint C with Stahl, trudging her way through the dimly lit caves.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?"

“Oh shut it. You'd be banging Annette if she was a prisoner."

“Hey, I'm asking you a legitimate question. Maybe you'll stop being so bloody pissy all the time now that you have a boyfriend."

“Okay, yeah, I enjoyed myself." She said as she got into her spot and leaned against the fence, holstering her MP10. “For the first time in years, I had a good time that did not involve destroying my liver."

“Yeah, you just destroyed that prisoner's pelvis."

“Please, FANG is tough. He can take it."

“Didn't you almost smother him last night?"

“Yeah, and he's fine. Humans are made to be smothered, aren't they?"

“Last I checked they still needed to breathe."

“I'm not gonna fucking suffocate him, Stahl, Gott…" She huffed. “I already know I'm not gonna get another Human like him."

“Suffocating someone until they die is the dictionary definition of 'smother'."

“Don't be a pedantic faggot, Stahl."

"You're the sodding faggot, you overgrown dyke."

"Bitch, if anyone is a faggot, it's the one of us here who had to eat a soggy biscuit for his Para initiation."

“Oh fuck you, kraut."

“Don't you even think about fucking me, or I'll have to have FANG beat you up." Asche cackled.

“Oh no, I'm so scared of some wanker half a meter shorter than me." He said, dripping with sarcasm.

“Fine, I'll beat you up in his stead."

“Okay, that genuinely is scary." The snow leopard shivered.

“That's what I thought, Inselaffe." The hybrid said, stretching. She perked her ears and turned to face the mine as a familiar, tired looking human in a BDU jacket walked up.

“FANG. You're early."

“Hey Fleabag. I eat fast. It's the only way to prevent assholes from stealing your food." He said, looking to the Snow Leopard. “Who's the kitty?"

“Stahl. You met him last night."

“Humans don't see so good in the dark, Mutt." He said. “They also don't see too good when their faces are buried in fatass tits."

“Oh shush you. Stahl, this is 8732B, or FANG as I call him."

“Oh yeah, I looked up his files the other day. You mean Dyl…"

“He hasn't earned name privileges yet." Asche huffed as she grabbed the feline's snout and covered it.

“How does one 'earn' name privileges anyways, you overgrown furball?" FANG asked with a rather annoyed look on his face.

“You'll earn it when you start calling me by my name instead of things like 'smelly kraut yeen'."

“Well, guess I'm FANG, then..." The Human shrugged. “...you smelly kraut yeen."

“That's what I figured. Anyways, FANG, this is Stahl. He used to be in the Parachute Regiment, then got transferred here after he got injured during the second Islas Malvinas conflict in 2011."

“THEY'RE CALLED THE SODDING FALKLANDS. WE BLOODY WELL WON." The Leopard snorted.

“I know, it just pisses you off." Asche cackled.

“She's like this. It's probably why the bitch likes you." Stahl sighed, offering a paw to FANG. The human looked at it for a few seconds before shaking it.

“Err… Hi…" FANG said, his normally sharp wit failing to come with an insult in his sleep deprived state.

“You feeling any better after getting your pelvis crushed by this bitch?"

“Slightly. This fucking cheese whore is atleast gentler than that overgrown mexican house cat."

“ 'Mexican house cat'? Bloody 'ell, No wonder Miranda was trying to kill you." The Snow leopard snickered.

“Speaking of that Schweinhund, Your bruises healing?" Asche asked, walking up to the human and pulling open his jacket.

“Easy with the jacket, beast. It's the only thing I have left." He said, unzipping his coveralls before she did. “They're less purple than yesterday. Still hurt like hell."

“You'll get better. It's just bruises."

“That so? And where's your medical license, ya dumb mutt?"

“Fine, if you want to see a doctor, I suppose I could fudge an incident report. Say you tripped or a rock fell on you."

“Why can't you say Miranda beat me again, you flea ridden shitbag?"

“Because I don't want to get written up for kicking that motherfucker's ass."

“If anything they should give you a medal for that. Probably the most heroic thing you've done in your whole lousy career as a soldi…" FANG was cut off as Asche growled at him, baring her teeth.

“Touchy subject, FANG." Stahl warned.

“Alright, alright, I'll drop it. Dyke."

“I will break your pelvis, monkey boy." She huffed.

“That supposed to be a threat?"

“No, More of a promise." She said, then dug around in her pockets. “...Speaking of promises."

“Holy shit is that Jalapeno Cheese spread?"

“It is. I had to trade my breakfast danish to get it off one of the yanks, so I hope you're happy."

“This is the greatest day of my life. Well, since I got put in prison."

“Oh, and last night wasn't?"

“Well, you were fucking me at one in the morning, so technically that still counts as today."

“Touche." The Aardwolf said.

“For the record, I'll have you know that I ate you out because I wanted to, not because of the cheese. I'm not a cheese slut, unlike someone here."

Asche gave FANG a death glare for that.

“Down girl. What, you want a treat? Maybe a belly rub?" FANG said.

“I mean… I wouldn't turn it down. Asshole." She blushed, turning away and smacking him with her tail.

“Blimey, you two are precious." Stahl chuckled.

“Shut up." They said in unison.

“So… Stahl's a dude, right? Or is he one of those chicks you mentioned earlier."

“I share a room with him. He's definitely a guy." She said, “Don't worry, he's married. And not working with much down there."

“Piss off, Slag." Stahl said.

“Oh, I'm sure it's enough for a Human like Annette." Asche cackled.

“Ah, this must be where she gets all her practice for verbally abusing me. Wonderful." FANG shook his head, laughing a little. “What, can't handle the heat with that shag carpet you call a hide?"

“Great, now there's two of them." The snow leopard sighed. “You truly are perfect for eachother."

“Me? Perfect for this flea bait? Nah, she needs someone built like that one dude that chases you in Resi Two. And even then, she'd still find a way to break half the bones in his body."

“I'll break all the bones in your body if you don't shut your trap, humie." Asche growled, then checked her watch. “Shit. I need to get you to your post, lest you get beaten by someone other than me. Remember, don't work too hard, I'll cover for your ass if need be. I'll see you in a few hours."

“Jeez, it was a joke furball. I figured you could take those, seeing as you have a mirror."

Fleabag responded with a swift smack on the Human's ass, escorting him down the cramped halls to where she'd holed him up yesterday. She set him down and cracked her knuckles. “Hey Monkey."

“What, mutt?"

“I like ya." She smirked, leaning down and giving him a kiss on the forehead. She picked up his pickaxe. “So don't say I never did anything for ya."

The massive aardwolf woman swung hard, shattering the lithium carbonate into large chunks.

“God damn." FANG blinked. “We should just have you guys mine the lithium. It'd be done faster."

“It was never about mining lithium, skinbag. This is just a prison with extra steps..." She grunted, taking another swing. “..and we're both stuck here."

“Oh yeah? I'm only here for another 6 months. How long's your sentence?"

“Until I fucking retire." She sighed. “Or until I settle down with a cute human."

“Huh. Wonder where you're gonna find one of those."

“A cute one? Not you, that's for sure." She cackled, dropping the pickaxe after a final swing. “There, that should be enough lithium for you to shovel and still look busy. Now I gotta stare at a chain link fence for 5 hours and occasionally wave an MP10 around."

“Sounds riveting." FANG dripped with Sarcasm.

“Oh, just as fun as mining lithium. Good luck." Asche nudged him, giving him another sloppy lick before she turned around and walked off, leaving the human alone with his thoughts.

He really wished she hadn't.

Georgia, United States of America - January 2009

FANG felt awful. He had something, he knew it. Was it from their food or the conditions? It didn't matter. He was shitting nonstop, his energy drained and his head throbbing. It made him drag his feet through the mud as the January chill sunk into his bones.

All around him the mix of uniformed personnel looked despondent. Army, National Guard, a smattering of Navy and Air personnel . All had worn expressions, their uniforms frayed and dirty, their weapons hanging loosely from their straps.

Behind them, Rome was shrouded in clouds. They'd started the preparations to fortify the city but when the NATO forces had started to close in, the thousands of troops had dug trenches outside instead. It was towards these that he now trudged, passing splintered trees and pools of brownish water in craters.

Since he'd fled Dayatona, he'd managed to meet back up while the remains of his regiment. From there, they'd pulled upwards through Florida, fighting rear actions against the invaders in Ocala and Tallahassee, before reaching Georgia where the G-ANG had reinforced them. Then it was more fighting. Albany. Macon. Sometimes racing against the enemy to retreat and regroup.

News had been sporadic. The Key West incident from back in Daytona. The Canadian NATO forces taking Seattle, Brunswick and Newport. The bombing of Norlfok and Peterson. The rest of the civil war fighting still going on to the south and the heartlands.

None of it was good. Few people could get cell phone connection and landlines were few and far between.

His boot drummed on the wooden duckboards, occasionally splashing in water as he moved through the trench, dirt piled high on each side. At one point he passed one of their remaining M1A2 tanks, dug in and shrouded in camouflaged tarps. Its gun remained pointed into the distance but he knew it likely was out of fuel, or nearly so. There wasn't much equipment left now.

Soldiers and guardsmen lined the trench, looking up as he stepped over them before he made it to his position. A crater the size of a station wagon, partially covered by bivouacs.

Montes nodded as he arrived, the scrawny looking man loading 7.92 belts into boxes.

“Much around?" He asked.

FANG grunted and tossed him a can. “They're going into Rome to try and sort out more. Found a stash of canned polish hams"

Butler clambered down from the firing step and turned about, his legs thick with mud and uniform hidden under a stolen overcoat. “Are they still good?"

“No idea. But beats MREs that have been sitting in a warehouse for the last decade" FANG grumbled as he lay down on the few planks they'd found to lay over the mud. He turned and offered a can to Sully who accepted, then one to Moore. She seemed unresponsive, her eyes red and weeping as she sat wrapped in a space blanket.

“Much happen while I was gone?" he asked.

“Still nothing," Butler shrugged as he opened his can and took a sniff. “Reckon we won't see much for days"

“They're close enough to start sending their fast movers over," Sully grunted. “Not that we have anything in the area to throw back"

“Silver from Bravo company said they saw some of our F16's while patrolling yesterday" offered Montes. “We still got some birds up and about"

“Well, I'd appreciate them actually putting in a show for when the Krauts are all over us"

“I just wish they'd hurry up and let us move into Rome. Take up from proper positions under proper cover" FANG bemoaned as he opened up his own can. “Sick of these trenches. Sick of my fucking feet getting wet"

“Probably worried about civilians"

“Well that didn't help in Daytona"

“Just be fucking glad we didn't get routed to Atlanta" Montes grunted. He was the only regular Army among them. The rest were all National Guard, Florida or Georgia. “That place is going to be a fucking mess for sure"

“Well it's those fucks who got us into this mess" Dylan grunted, spitting a glob of phlegm onto the floor as he cast his eyes to the tall figure at the end of the trench. It shifted, turning its canine head for a second.

FANG stared back at her. Clad in dirty BDUs and oversized webbing, the Collie looked a mess. Her fur was matted and mangy, while one ear was missing.

“What are you looking at?" Winn muttered, taking her M240B back up and placing the bipod on the lip of their position.

“Nothing, fleabag." he told the collie, face pulling into a sneer. He didn't have any food to share with her. The dog would have to get her own.

The canine scowled but didn't argue, instead turning back to the tree line ahead, scanning for any sign of probing attacks.

“Did you manage to hear anything out of Atlanta? I thought you were over by the battalion command last night?" Dylan asked Butler.

The other guardsman scratched at his unshaven face. “Bits, not good. Riots. Bad stuff, properly bad. It's making fuckin' Svlalmadia and Gorznea in the 90s look like a fucking picnic in the park. Sent some of our last Apaches over there, I last heard."

“Can't be good"

“Sure fucking can't. I got a brother in Norcross. Haven't heard from him and his family since last month" Sully spoke up, tossing his empty van away over the parapet.

There was a bitter silence. Dylan tried not to think about what must be going on there. The riots and mass murders around when the president elect had been assassinated were bad enough. Before the same things had happened in Kansas City, Portland and Pittsburgh. Now, it must really be a hell hole. He'd seen the masses of refugees forced off the interstate as they'd retreated. Swarms of lost humans.

He hated the feeling that they were losing. But as much as he tried to keep his hope up, to keep on believing that the mighty forces of the true US government and military could defeat both the rebels and the NATO invaders, it was being ground down by reality. How they were being pushed back further and further. The issues with their supplies and the lack of support. Dylan could see it in everyone's faces as they wondered what was happening to their families back home, if they even had homes to go back to. But with each passing night he heard the NATO strike aircraft hitting distant targets, each town they had driven through that had bodies strung from every street lamp, he had lost hope.

More days passed. Wet and cold. The water rose up through the sucking mud. The sounds of artillery grew closer and fresh smoke appeared on the horizon. No news at all reached them. The soldiers waited in ignorance of whatever was happening beyond. His illness continued, and he felt weaker and weaker.

Five days later he sat wrapped in a tarpaulin, eating robotically from an MRE. That morning they'd been awoken by their artillery units in Rome firing on the closing enemy.

“There's something going on," Montes spoke up. Dylan immediately went to look over the parapet, only to remember that Montes was facing the other way. He turned and saw people moving about in the rear. People collecting in tents... then the sound of engines. Trucks and Humvees.

“What's that?" He muttered. “They rotating us out?"

“Don't get my hopes up" grunted Sully.

There seemed to be a deal of commotion. People were moving about the trenches, runners going between positions.

A guardsman from their company ran through the trenches, clutching his rifle. Dylan grabbed him as he went past.

“What the hell's going on?" He asked the grimy trooper.

“No idea. Can't get anything from company command. Trying to find out what" the man answered. With that he was gone, splashing through the waterlogged trench system.

“Maybe they're sending out some counter attacks. Or sending them behind the lines to meet up with some resistance?" Butler offered

“I don't like it" Dylan shook his head.

“Whatever it is, I hope command knows what they're doing. Hell, which general is even in command round here?" Sully scoffed, his voice thick with a cold.

Dylan tried to see what was happening. There was a crowd, forming among the buildings of Rome's outskirts, that was for sure.

“This is giving me a bad feeling" spoke the collie, her voice shot through with tiredness and hunger.

“What mutt, you got told by your NATO buddies they're coming soon?" Sully scoffed.

“Fuck you, Sully" she hit back, too tried to sound hurt.

“They've got to be close enough that we can hit them with tube artillery" FANG grunted.

More minutes passed by, the tension building as the defenders waited. More troops came through the trenches, asking what was happening or complaining they couldn't reach anyone on their personal radios.

“There's movement!" Montes called out suddenly, before his voice trailed off. “Holy shit"

It was a swarm of green, tan and gray uniforms. Whole companies worth of soldiers emerging from Rome's outskirts. A swarm pushed up the road, past truck and MRAP wrecks, while many simply walked towards the trenches.

“What the fuck are they doing?" Dylan muttered “Can you see any weapons?"

Montes lifted his Colt M5 to squint through its ACOG. After scanning a few times, he shook his head. “I don't think so"

A bitter thought struck Dylan's mind. He tried to push it down, to deny what was happening. His battered sense of pride refused to accept that outcome.

The mob drew closer. They were soldiers, National Guard, Airmen and a few marines. Some were dirty, most were hungry with lined and lean faces. As they approached the trenches, yells and accusations rang out from the defending troops.

They approached his trench and stepped right over it, climbing onto the opposing bank. Dylan watched dumbstruck, none of them having weapons. Some were unclipping webbing and plate carriers, dropping them into the mud.

“What's happening!" He snapped, his rifle at the ready.

“Drop that fucking thing" snapped a captain, his BDU clean compared to the filthy crowd. “It's over. We're surrendering."

“What?" Dylan was incredulous. “You gotta be fucking joking. Under whose god damn orders?"

“Under mine, soldier! They hit regional command last night, and I'm in charge now. So stop playing the hero before you get us all killed" the officer snapped, before he crossed the trench and lifted up his arms in surrender.

“Fucking coward" Dylan turned to the others as the air was filled with the sounds of movement, as thousands joined the surrender.

To his shock he saw Butler take off his helmet and let it drop to the ground, before removing his coat to do the same to his webbing.

“What the fuck are you doing?" Dylan asked angrily.

“What do you think? It's over" Butler scoffed,

“The fuck it is!" Dylan pointed an accusing finger, “Just because some rat fuck officers are giving up, doesn't mean I am!"

“He said Regional command is fucking gone" Butler pulled his coat back on. “They probably nuked it or some shit, hell, who knows what they did in Atlanta. There's no point"

“No point? They're invaders, you fucking pussy! They're dirty stinking animals who are invading our fucking home. The United fucking States of America! What have our parents said? Our ancestors said? About standing your ground and defending your home against invaders and fucking monsters like those things out there? You're just going to go quietly into those war criminal mutts! This fucking country was built on reiststance and I'm going to keep on fighting until I'm in the ground or those Euro-fucks are dead in front of me"

Montes sighed, his rifle dropping to the ground. “Dylan, give it up man. It's over"

Dylan watched them with an open mouth as the tired, hollow-eyed troops around him shook their heads. They were loosening their weapons and equipment, knocking over ammo cans to collect personal belongings.

He felt rage bubble up in him. His face flushed. Tears threatened to prickle at the corners of his eyes. They couldn't just desert him like this! Leave him like this!

He pulled back the bolt on his carbine and raised it, pointing it square at Butler and Montes.

“You're going nowhere" he hissed through gritted teeth. He would do it. He'd force them to die like proper Americans. Not go into some death camp or be shot by some roadside. And if he had to shoot… he'd shoot.

Montes shook his head. He gave him a look, one of pure fatigue and apathy. “It's not worth it. It's over for us. Don't make it harder than it has to be" he said simply. He then turned away, bending down to the near comatose Moore. “Come on, we're leaving" he told her and she nodded dumbly as he and Butler took her by an arm each, lifting her up. Sully let his rifle fall into the mud as he and the others started to climb up the parapet- slow and sluggish as they squished through the mud.

Dylan watched it all, frozen in place, rifle with a round in the chamber and his finger on the trigger. But he could do nothing to stop them. He watched the four trudge and stumble away, joining the crowd of dirty, broken soldiers. Trucks started to drive over the trenches and down the road, filled with the wounded or just defeated troops.

Then he turned and saw the Collie, Winn, still in place, her M240 gripped tightly.

He found his voice then.

“Aren't you going to go then, you fucking mutt?" he said savagely.

“What?" she asked, voice full of bitter hurt.

“Surrender. Go join the rest of your fleabag friends in tearing this country apart. You're all the same I'm sure" the rifle suddenly felt heavy in his hands and he backed into the wall of the trench, sliding down into the mud.

“What? I'm an American for fuck's sake!" The Collie's voice was suddenly full of rage. “I've been in this army for three years. I swore oaths…. And how dare you question them. How dare you question my loyalty!" she clenched her machinegun tighter. “All the shit I have had to put up with. Seeing my own people murdered on TV in those riots. Listening to fucks like you call me mutt, traitor and enemy agent. I fought for this country, you bastard. And you still think I will just give it up like that?"

Her voice wavered, on the verge of cracking despite her anger. He could see the filth encrusting her fur. The blood on her gums and the fatigue in her eyes.

It was just him and the mutt in the trench. Them against whatever was out there, with the surrendering forces still walking past him.

In that moment, he gave into despair.

The carbine fell from his hands, landing with a splatter in the mud, the ACOG sight breaking away.

“What's the fucking point?" he moaned, head falling into his hands.

He sat there, his world swimming about him. Then he had enough. He stood up and walked to the lip of the trench. The crowds were thinning out now. He pulled himself over, smearing more mud over his uniform. A look back over made him see the Collie look down at her weapon, ears lowered and utterly disillusioned, before she too cast her M240B away and climbed up onto the parapet.

Then they started to walk. Mist was coming down now. Dylan trudged through mud and shell holes, splashing through water, dimly aware of the Collie walking beside him. He could hear movement up ahead. Sounds of helicopters.

All the while he felt sick to his stomach. Hating himself for what he was doing but seeing no other choice. Despair filled him, eating him from the inside out.

Then through the mist, figures started to approach. And as the surrendering masses parted, he saw them.

The anthros. Wearing uniforms of green, black and brown, dark blue berets upon their heads. Holding their bulky rifles as they warily moved between the humans- checking for weapons or explosives and taking surrenders. One approached. A leopard with a radio on her chest, clutching her MAS-91 gauss rifle. He saw the flag on her arm, the tricolor. And he held up his hands.

The far taller leopard looked at him with a scowl. One of pity. And he felt his despair grow. But she nodded. His surrender was taken.

Beside him, he heard a choking noise. He turned in time to see Winn break. She fell to her knees, shoulders shaking as she looked up at the leopard. Her mouth opened and she tried to form words. Before she lost it and began to cry. Tears flooded her eyes as the leopard moved closer, making sure to move her rifle out of reach. And then embraced the dog. And the collie's sobs grew deeper as she hugged the French soldier back. Crying and sobbing into the pristine uniform as the Armée de Terre helicopters thundered overhead- heading into the surrendering Rome. More French troops were moving past, and their wheeled vehicles were following now. Heading on into the city. Open topped jeeps, then the bulk of their armored cars.

It was over. He could feel the terrifying presence of one of the stinking beasts behind him, and all he could do was hope and pray she wouldn't hurt him…

Correctional Mining Facility - Queensland, Australia - May 2020

“You're zoning out again, are you sure you're okay?" Asche asked, placing her paw on his shoulder.

“Huh? Oh… Yeah, I'm fine, furball. It lunch time already?"

“Yup. Got you your sandwich again." She slapped the retort pouch against his ass before tossing it into his hands. He ripped it open.

“Hooray, that means I can nap for 30 minutes." FANG said, tearing into his sandwich. “Unless a certain mutt decides to yak my ears off."

“You wish I'd want to talk to your dumb ass. Nah, you're just gonna sit in my lap and rest up. We have a long night ahead of us." Fleabag grinned wickedly, sitting down next to the human.

“Someone's getting ahead of herself." FANG chuckled, leaning against her. “You better not even think about pegging me."

“Pegging?" She raised a brow. “Why would I peg you?"

“MRE Cheese?"

“What the fuck does pegging have to do with MRE Cheese?"

“Last night? The yeen? Your virginity?"

“Well I certainly don't have my virginity anymore, thanks to you.." She cackled. “But what the fuck did I tell you last night? Because I won that Cheese in a Poker game with Bush."

FANG gave her a look that said he wasn't buying it. “Bush?"

“The yeen. Besides, if I had a strap-on in my trunk to peg you with, then even more people would think I'm a Dyke." The aardwolf huffed.

“People think you're a dyke because you look like a fucking dyke. Try growing your hair out. Or atleast combing it." FANG suggested

“It gets in the way if it's too long. That and it makes me look like I should be in an 80s hair metal band." Asche said.

“If you were in a Band, it'd be Steppenmewolfmommy." He joked.

Fleabag bemusedly snorted in response. “I will let that slide. Because it was funny."

“Furball?" FANG frowned at her.

“Yeah, you hairless ape?"

“How… Long were you in the war for?"

“...Two Years."

“Two Years?"

“All the way up to the aftermath of the Miami Nuclear Incident and the Austin Armistice." She said, “Believe me, I tried to do only one tour… But I couldn't bring myself to go back to a normal civilian life after Daytona… So I went career. You?"

“Only lasted about seven weeks." FANG sighed. “I'm a fucking coward…"

“You're not a coward, dumbass. Sometimes discretion is the finer part of valor." She said, running her fingers through his hair. “Plus you're the first human brave enough to stand up to me. That counts for something, even if it just means your balls are bigger than your brain."

“Thanks, Mutt."

“So… You get captured? Or just desert?"

“Not now, Fleabag." He shuddered, thinking back. “I… I don't know you well enough to talk about it."

“Yet." She said, “But I understand."

“Heh… Yeah, yet." He nodded at her, cracking a small smile. Her presence at least helped him get his mind off things. The human leaned further against her, sighing. He took a deep breath. “Damnit Mutt…"

“What?" She tilted her head down at him.

“You were right. I do kinda like your fucking wretched stank-ass musk."

“Told ya." Asche smiled, pulling him closer and watching as he drifted off to sleep.

FANG woke up to the banging of Asche taking another few swings with the pickaxe for him, rubbing his eyes and getting up.

“Oh good, you're up." She said, offering the pickaxe to him. “I need to be back at my post before we both get in trouble. It's almost Thirteen hundred hours."

“It is?" He used the pickaxe to help himself to his feet. “Shit. Thanks for covering for me, furball."

“It's what I'm here for. Now go on, you need to go meet enough of your quota to not get beaten again. I'll see you either right before the last security sweep, or later tonight." Asche leaned in and licked him, before gagging and coughing. “Bleh, Lithium dust." She wiped off her tongue on her sleeve, then wiped FANG down enough to give a second lick.

“Take care of yourself, you wretched mutt." He grinned at her.

“You too, you stupid hairless ape." She laughed.

Dylan frowned as she walked away. It had only been three weeks, and already he was starting to miss the fleabag when she left. Maybe she was right about her being his girlfriend. She was certainly the closest thing he had to a friend down here… Girl or not. He looked down at where she'd left his pickaxe, and slowly lifted it up. He was still sore, but it was probably best to get back into the swing of things sooner rather than later. Only 4 more hours of this shit.

FANG yawned groggily, before realizing he wasn't in his bed. He was currently upside down, thrown over the shoulder of a massive anthro bitch.

“Furball?"

“FANG." Asche said, opening the door to the guard barracks, carrying him towards her room.

“How the fuck do you sneak up on me? You weigh a literal ton." The human asked, trying to get his bearings.

"Fallschirmjäger Training Secret." She said, “Also, you're always out like a fucking light. Probably because of how much work you have to do. I need to find another way to lower your quota, so you have energy to stay up."

“Eh, missing a few hours one or two nights out of the week won't kill me." He said. “Or atleast, it won't kill me before you do by shattering my pelvis bones."

“You wish I'd break your pelvis, monkey boy. You are way too hurt for that, and I shouldn't have done it last night. I wasn't thinking straight." She said, opening the door to her quarters.

Stahl looked up from his issue of Soldier of Fortune to the Aardwolf and her quarry.

“I don't even want to know, so don't tell me." The Snow Leopard said, putting his headphones in before burying his nose in his magazine once more. “Pretend I'm not even here."

“Was already planning on it." The aardwolf cackled, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, Fleabag. Whatever you have planned, bring it on." He said, before he was unceremoniously dropped on her bed.

“Well, tonight that's getting a good night's sleep in a proper bed.“ Asche said as she stripped off her tank top, her massive breasts bouncing free as she revealed she wasn't wearing a bra. She was exceptionally toned, her muscular torso covered in scars and burns from her time in the police action.

FANG couldn't help but wolf whistle and stare. It was the first time he'd gotten a proper good look at her naked in the light. “I'm starting to get why the other prisoners call you Mom-."

“Shut." She growled, baring her fangs at him. “No one is allowed to call me that. Not even you."

“Why? I understand 'Dyke', but what's up Mo-'' He was cut off by a low growl. “...The M-word"

“Not now." She said, leaving her compression shorts on as she climbed into bed with him. “I don't know you well enough either."

“Yet?" He asked, mimicking their earlier conversation.

“Yes, FANG. Yet." She smirked, putting her arm around him. She ran a paw through his dirty hair, letting out a content mix of a purr and a growl in his ear. "Guten nacht, mein süßer affe." She whispered, closing her eyes.

He rolled over, burying himself in her neck fluff. She was so much softer than his bunk - he was beginning to understand what others saw in the big hairy monsters. "I have no idea what you just said, furball." He groggily muttered, muffled by her fur.

"Don't worry about it... Don't worry about anything right now." She rubbed at his back gently with her massive paw, trying her best to avoid his bruises. "Your Fleabag's here. And she's got you."

~That's the one thing I'm the most worried about...~ He thought to himself.

“Mein…" She yawned, already beginning to drift off to sleep. Between her warmth and softness, he couldn't help but follow suit.

[May 25th]

“Furball?" The human asked, picking away at another deposit of lithium carbonate.

“Yeah, Eighty Seven Thirty Two?" Asche looked down at him, tearing a bite out of her retort pouch chicken burrito.

“Why the fuck are you so huge?" He asked, craning his neck up to look at her as she came by to check on him.

“Like, me?" She asked.

“Anthros in general, really. But yeah, especially you. Like, damn girl, someone ate her fucking wheaties growing up."

“I'm a Half-Dragon. Dragons are huge." She said, “My dad's 358 Centimeters."

“English, furball."

“Divided by 2.54…" She did some math in her head. “...141 Small Freedom Units."

“That's almost 12 feet. Holy shit, he must hit his head on freeway overpasses."

“That's nothing, my Great Grandma was 13 foot 6. Before she died in the october revolution"

“Jaysus. Are you fuckers neolithic megafauna?"

“Hey, I'm not the one here that's 1 percent Neanderthal." She leaned down and sniffed him, wrinkling her nose. “Though in your case I'd say it's close to 5 or 10 percent."

“You're the one that fucked a cave man."

“I did, and I'll do it again." She laughed. “But as for anthros in general, I can't answer that shit. I'm a glorified security guard. not a scientist Maybe so we can rough house little dorks like you?"

She roughed up his hair.

“Ey, quit it! And remind me next time to get assigned the massive bitch that's also a biology major." He chuckled, squirming his way out of her grasp. “Guess that means it's your turn for a question."

“How much longer are you in for?"

“3 months, 4 days, 11 hours and… What time is it?"

“1217." Asche checked her Casio.

“...43 minutes. Assuming I pass my fucking review."

“Well shit, your sentence is shorter than mine, Prisoner. My Contract isn't up for another year."

“What are you gonna do when you're out of this shithole?"

“Find a nice bar and drink some real fucking beer, for one. None of this Hopster's bullshit."

“Atleast you get beer, mutt. I'd drink anything that wasn't fucking water or cheap coffee at this point. Hell, I'd even settle for that fucking piss that's Boar's Light. "

“Anything?" Asche got a wicked smirk, hooking her thumbs into her waistband and beginning to hike her pants down.

“Woah, Jesus, Mutt! Okay, maybe not anything. It's gotta be fucking safe for human consumption."

“I'm safe for human consumption." She winked.

“Fuck off, stankdog. I'm not drinking… whatever it is you're offering."

Asche cackled maniacally. “Fine, wimp. You know… Maybe I'll have to swing by Florida once I'm finally off. Buy you some drinks."

“You mean like a date?"

She shrugged. “I dunno. You'll be free. Do you want it to be a date?"

Dylan thought about it for a second. “...No." He lied. “...But I guess I wouldn't mind seeing your hairy ass again with a few more beers in my system. You might even look cute then."

“That sounds… Nice." The Hyena agreed. “I'll take you up on it - see what happens. Fucking Dork."

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck… Who would have thought 20 days ago that he'd be looking forwards to something involving an Anthro?

[May 27th]

Asche let her MP10 hang from its sling as she patrolled the mineshafts along her route. She was starting to get concerned that she hadn't seen FANG all day, normally he had something to complain to her about… and it wasn't like him to miss free food. Something had to be up… It was probably that bitch, Miranda. Where the fuck was that irritating Spaniard whore? She'd fucking wring her neck for daring to lay a paw on him again! She quickened her pace down the rocky corridors, scanning for any sign of the overgrown housecat. Asche caught a glimpse of her accosting one of the humans pushing the cart, and made a beeline straight for her.

“Rapido, Rapido, I don't have all day for you pinche… Ay!"

Miranda let out a string of curses as the much larger Hyena picked her up off the ground. The prisoner she'd been chewing out quickly ran off to find a new job to do, and someone else took over moving the cart. The jaguar hung limply in Asche's paw, nervously biting her lip. “Can I help you, la asquerosa? You uh… you might wanna get that forehead vein looked at. Doesn't look too healthy."

“You're going to want to get your bones looked at once I'm done with you! What the fuck did you do to FANG?"

“8732B? I haven't touched him, Pinche Apestosa Hiena! You got your point across plenty good last time!"

“A likely story." Asche leaned in and snarled, baring her teeth. “And just why wouldn't he be at his station if you hadn't? He's a lot of things, but late for work isn't one of them."

“I swear to Santa Maria I haven't done nothing! I wouldn't want to piss you off." Miranda shivered a little. “I heard one of the C inmates is in the clinica, but it's not because of me, I promise! I heard a scorpion got 'em."

Asche dropped Miranda, wiping off her paw on her shorts in disgust as she stormed off to the infirmary.

She pushed open the door and past the soldier on clinic duty.

“Hey! Hey you have to sign in!" Asche ignored him as she pushed open the doors to the back of the clinic.

“FANG!" She ran up to the human lying on a cot in the back of the room, barging aside the human woman clad in white that was sitting by his side. “What the fuck happened to you?"

Dylan groaned as he turned his head to look at Asche. “Ugh. Spider… bite… hurt."

“You got bitten by…"

The Doctor coughed, interrupting Asche. “Is there an Emergency, Lieutenant?"

“You tell me." Asche asked. “What kinda spider did dumbass stick his grubby little flesh paws down the hole of?"

The RAAMC woman looked up at Asche, aghast. “Why I… Ahem. What Mr. Maddock here experienced is no business of yours."

The hyena let out a snort. “Monkey, what kinda spider bit you?"

“Funnel… Web… Thing. In… Pillowcase." FANG answered, reaching out to touch Asche before the doctor interposed between the two of them.

“Whatever this inmate did to you, there is no reason to be so aggressive in MY sick bay, Mrs… Fux Jay Gur?" She said, trying to keep her composure. “Now if you don't have anything important in here, I'm going to have to ask the duty officer to escort you out of here."

“The most important thing to me is in here, and I'm making sure he's okay!"

“I'm… important?" The prisoner asked.

“No, you're just hallucinating from your spider bite…" Fleabag huffed. “Of course you're important to me, you ape!"

The doctor looked between Dylan and Asche with a raised eyebrow. “Oh. I see." The human woman stepped back from the bed, giving Asche some space. “Five minutes. And if I hear any bedsprings squeaking, you'll be spending plenty of time in the clinic. In a bed of your own."

She walked off, muttering under her breath about finally understanding where the mysterious pelvic bruising had come from.

Asche kneeled down beside him. “How you doing?"

“Eh… Well… The doctor's say I won't… die." He coughed. “Despite the prolonged exposure… to the toxic miasma that surrounds you, Stankdog."

“You little shit." She reached into her pockets and pulled out the now very flat retort pouch sandwich. “You hungry at all, dingus?"

“Huh… No. I'm just tired… And in pain. Even… With the antivenom… The area around the bite hurts."

“I'll leave this here for you if you get hungry." She laid the pouch on the table beside his bed.

“Hey… Furball?"

“Yeah, monkey?"

“Can… Can you stay here… Until she kicks you out?"

“Yeah. Yeah I can." Asche said, resting her head against his chest. He weakly ran his fingers through her greasy hair. She let out a rumbling purr that almost made him forget she was a three quarter ton killing machine.

As soon as it felt like it had started, the doctor walked back into the room.

“Alright. I've got another patient coming in. Guard who broke her wrist in a fall. Out." The human waved Asche off like she were a common housecat, and began preparing another cot for a patient.

“Aww… Can I see him tomorrow?" Asche asked.

“If you behave yourself and sign in." The doctor rolled her eyes as she continued with her work.

“Take care… Mutt." FANG said weakly.

“You too, dumbass. And maybe don't pick up spiders the size of your fist next time."

[May 30th]

“You look exhausted, Meat." Asche said, patting Dylan on the back. “You doing any better?"

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just still tired from that bite, but I have to actually fucking work again, now that my wounds have healed."

Asche took the pickaxe from him and swung at the rock once more, burying it in the rock.

“You know, there's this one spot that's really good for catching a nap when your CO is breathing down your neck."

“Is my mangy paw-role office-fur implying that I should lay down on the job?"

“Considering you look like shit even more than usual, yeah, she is, monkey." She said. “C'Mon. Follow me."

Asche lead FANG to a small crevice near the checkpoint she guarded, looking back and forth to ensure no one would see them slipping inside. She ducked inside the small cleft of rock, her horns scraping against the rock.

“You sure this hole is big enough for two people? Or rather, one person and one massive bitch." he asked, sticking his head inside. Her massive furry mitt grabbed ahold of him and pulled him inside as his protests were muffled by her broad paw pad.

“It's big enough. But only 'cuz yer such a runt, dork." The hyena let go of his face, adjusting herself against the rock face. She pulled him against herself, her paws trailing over his body. “...I hope you appreciate the mattress."

“It needs to be washed, for starters…" He coughed, pulling his face out of her cleavage. “Maybe learn some about personal space, too."

One of her claws hooked into the zipper of his jumpsuit, pulling it down with a single digit.

“This entire alcove is my personal space, dumbass." She whispered into his ear, her hot breath falling on his back. “So what'll it be? Stay in here and have a nice nap, or keep your virgini- Oh right, I took that already."

Dylan opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't work up the nerve to correct her. He just sighed and shivered a little in her touch.

“I just want to sleep, mutt…" He said. “Okay?"

Asche looked down at him, those piercing green eyes of hers showing a hint of concern, but she nodded and withdrew her paw from his chest a few inches before it reached his groin.

“Alright, monkey." She snorted, pulling him closer to her chest. “I suppose I am keeping you up at night."

He chuckled a little, resting his head against the fabric of her uniform. She paused for a moment, before reaching up to run her claws through his dusty, matted hair. The hyena twirled one of his bangs around her finger, roughing him up a little to see his reaction. He didn't even stir, already out like a light.

“Guten nacht, kleineraffe." She said, closing her own eyes and settling in for a quick nap.

Route 27 - Florida, United States of America - November 2010

It had felt like a lifetime to Asche since she had first heard the outbreak of the Second American Civil War. Two years to be exact, but there had been the months of violence and rioting that had gripped the American nation's cities and population centers. The voter manipulation, then the assassination of the president and the state of emergency. Lynchings on TV, broadcast hijacks. The “race war" between anthros and humans. And then the NATO council's announcement they were to begin the Police Action to secure the US nuclear stockpile.

Then came Daytona. 22 months ago. After marshaling, the helicopter assault and the follow up figuring.

As she walked down the highway, she thought about how far she'd come, how much she'd endured.

Petra bleeding out in her arms…

The American jet killing everyone at Daytona and Schwartz, her Feldwebel losing her leg and being sent home….

The fighting through Florida and into Georgia….

Dieter losing her leg and the shooting of the highschoolers….

Groth dying in the nail bomb attack in Athens….

Kleist being shot by the sniper during the clearance sweeps….

The refugee camp they'd found burned to the ground….

When they'd come across the remains of the Anthros who'd been unable to get out of Atlanta in time. Still in their pits or hanging from wires- decayed, rotten.

The little human girl whose mother had brought her to them for medical attention. Those dark, huge eyes going slowly lifeless as she bled out….

The first time the rebels had used chemical weapons….

Whines and begging of the human terrorists they'd shot and hanged in Tupelo…

So much. She remembered it all in horrifying detail, clear as day. Somehow she knew that she'd never be able to forget. Maybe she needed to see a shrink about it. Scratch that, she definitely needed to go to therapy when she got back to Europe.

Asche adjusted her G86's strap and continued walking down the highway. Long since abandoned cars were passed by as her platoon made their way towards Miami. The fighting here was reduced to the occasional insurgent attack but the signs and scars of the initial invasion were plentiful. She passed by the scorched hulk of an M1A1 on the curb of the highway, its turret split open by an anti-tank weapon. Over the other side was a hill upon which rested a circle of ashes, with only the charred tail rotor sticking out of it revealing that it was once a German attack helicopter.

“You think we'll be allowed back soon, Big Mama?" Bush asked behind her. She turned to see the squat male Hyena plodding along, back arched under the weight of his radio.

“Maybe. The Oberst told me that they're looking to rotate the worst hit units back as quickly as they can. Landwehr call-ups are in effect to try and replace some of the worst hit. Belgium and Spain are going to move more troops away from the Defensive Action in Eastern Europe to send them over here" Asche told him.

Bush nodded quietly and stared off into the hills. Asche gave a shake of her head. Poor bastard didn't have much to go home to.

“You got a civilian job to go back to?" She asked in a gentle tone. “I don't remember you mentioning it"

“I told you Big Mama, but it was a while back" he shrugged. “Don't blame you for forgetting- I worked in IT for Hamburg hospital. Was nice there. People were nice to me"

“You'll be back there before long" she nodded. “They'll call you a hero. You deserve it. Best radioman I've had"

“Not that we've had many in our career" Wernicke snorted, being just close enough to hear.

“Well he's lasted longer than Petra" Asche muttered quietly.

“I didn't want to be a hero" the hyena gave a sigh, fingering the trigger guard of the MP5 that swung from his shoulder. “I just wanted to save people…. get to Atlanta in time"

It never helped to have family in a war zone. Asche decided to try and shift the conversation away from that.

“How about you, Wernicke?" She asked the fox. “You got much to go back to?"

“I'm a high-school teacher" the fox snorted “Got two kits. Girl and a boy"

“Handling it well?"

“Girl is too young to really understand. I don't think my son is. Needs me back" the fox shook her head. “Not long to go and I will"

“Must be nice when you eventually see them," Bush frowned.

There was a thump of rotors and they looked overhead. A pair of Luftwaffe Puma helicopters shot through the sky, towards Miami.

“Sheesh, someone's in a hurry," said Asche.

Another rumble. A couple of Venom light helicopters now, following the same direction. A few minutes later a second flight did the same.

“Something up?" Wernicke grunted.

“Bush, can you get anything?" Asche called to the Hyena.

He fiddled with his headset and listened for a while. “Company says continue patrol but wait for instructions, Big Mama" he listened some more. “Checking over channels but there's some interference. Airwaves are pretty congested"

“Like Wernicke's ass after too many field biscuits" Asche couldn't resist the joke.

“Oh fuck off" the fox huffed.

Something brewing up? Asche couldn't help but wonder as they passed several large craters- likely from artillery. The churned up earth was sprouting with fresh grass and seedlings now. At least the birds were gone. Back in the early advance there were huge swarms of them- seabirds and crows eager to find bodies to pick from.

They continued to walk, occasionally checking long abandoned cars or burned out remains of gas stations. Occasionally another helicopter would head towards the city at some speed

“They fighting in there? I thought we had Miami pacified?" Asked Remer- a rat who was one of the recent replacements. Most of the unit was replacements like her, fresh out of jump school.

“You'd think so," Asche told her. “That little shootout we had last week looked like a kid's party compared to when we rolled up to Miami way back. There's probably still a bunch of die hards holed up there even if we killed most"

The rat nodded and gulped.

“Any more luck Bush?"

“I can't…. command net still hasn't replied and there's too much traffic to be able to hear what's happening" he reported, “Sorry, Big Mama."

Asche rubbed the back of her neck. “I don't like this. It's giving me a bad feeling"

“Do you want us to stop?" Wernicke called.

“No, keep-“

There was a sudden flash of light. The patrol stopped dead, all turning to the distant city.

There was a rumble- a thunderous rumble.

Asche couldn't believe her eyes. Something was emerging from the earth. Gray, red and black.

The beginnings of a mushroom.

Helicopters. Dropping from the sky like flies, their blades slowing.

“MASKS ON!" She screamed, body switching into autopilot. She dropped her weapon and ripped her gas mask out of its thigh pouch. It went over her snout and her world became a hellish rubbery prison. The overalls came next, the laminated material hurriedly being pulled over her body, the straps tightening about her wrists and ankles, racing to get it all on.

The wind came, the blast of hot wind that blew ash and dust into the air. She wobbled in place from the shockwave and looked up.

It wasn't a nightmare, there was a cloud rising into the sky. Just like the ones from the old footage, the black and white pictures. Maybe a little smaller but unmistakable.

It had to be nuclear.

She turned around. Masked faces stared back at her, the paratroopers trembling in shock.

The next thought came automatically.

“Start digging! Dispersed blast pits for follow up strikes!" She yelled through the filters, unhooking her E-tool and running to the earth on the sides of the highway. The blade bit into the brown ground as she dug with panicked fury, digging and scraping. The others did the same, digging until they were bent over and struggling to breathe through their gas masks. Sweat coursed down their limbs and their lungs burned from limited oxygen as they dug as quickly as they could, hacking thigh-deep pits into the ground

When she could take cover inside it, Asche lept in. She hugged the dirt, panting and resisting the urge to vomit inside her mask. She'd been first to go, but now with her blast pit dug, she was left to her own thoughts.

Was this it? The nuclear threat, the one that the whole of NATO had invaded the US to stop, had it been unleashed? There was no putting that genie back in its bottle. Her mind flashed with images. The French silos in Metz popping open as alarms wailed. British submarines racing to alert status in the depths of the Arctic. Russian missile command reacting with panic, bringing the full might of their air and sea arsenal to bear. Chinese bombers launching from their airfields.

It was all over if that was the case. No more Germany. No more good beer, sports on the TV, summer afternoons and hikes in Fulda, dandelions rustling in warm breezes. There was going to be nothing left. She'd be lucky if she was eating cans of Dinki-Di in 6 months.

Minutes dragged by, agonizingly slow as the mushroom cloud crawled upwards- a blighted stain on the sky.

She thought of that British TV program she'd seen as a late teen, the nightmares it had given her. Imaging each harrowing scene being made real across the world.

It was hell being left to your own thoughts.

How long had passed? She wanted to check her watch but it was now under rubberized CBRN equipment.

Asche popped her head out of the pit, looking about.

“Bush!" She called. “What's on the radio?"

“It's d-dead, mama!" he called back, voice trembling with fear. He sounded close to snapping. “W-won't s-switch on!"

“Of course," she hissed. EMP pulse must have fried it. The memory of those falling helicopters came back to her. Had they been killed on impact? Or were they now trapped inside their twisted wreckage, exposed to the elements or the next strike?

It was like being in a solitary confinement cell. Waiting. Time trickled by as she sweated in her suit.

How long until the next one that finishes us?

Had it been hours? She wasn't sure. Her watch had stopped. Her hands were trembling like leaves in the wind. Her trousers were wet, soaked when she'd had to relieve herself. The same hideous cloud still hung over Miami. Asche felt like she was going insane.

Then she heard the rumble of an engine. Distant at first, then drawing closer.

Nervously she peered out of her shelter, clutching her G86. A few minutes passed, and then she saw it.

The six wheeled vehicle with its slanted front- older than herself and instantly recognizable. The Fuchs APC- CBRN sealed. And behind it, the trucks.

She clambered out and waved only to be met by a blast of a megaphone.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"

Two figures dismounted and raced over, MP10s drawn. They wore gas-masks and full contamination suits. Of course, she thought as she raised her hands. The CBRN corps. They'd gotten here quickly.

“IDENTIFY!" One demanded as they approached her.

She gave her unit designation as calmly as she could.

The two CBRN operatives lowered their weapons and pointed. “Take your troops to the trucks. Hand over your weapons and get inside. We're pulling you out for decontamination"

She relayed the order and her unit obliged, shivering and trembling with fear as they were herded towards the waiting vehicles.

“What's happening?" Asche found herself asking one of the faceless soldiers. “Is it over?"

“Non tactical nuclear" the figure told her flatly. “Command is getting control back. Situation in Miami, looks like one of the American subs had tried to quietly dock to take on supplies from sympathizers. KSK launched an assault while it was in dock"

“Stupid Americans" Asche found herself hissing. “What the fuck did they expect?"

She reached the back of the truck and started to clamber on. “So they blew the reactor?"

“Who knows. Stray round? Suicide?" The trooper shrugged. “Whatever it was, hell of a lot of people are dead or dying"

Bush shook his head. “They would have had to detonate it, Lieutenant. Nukes have too many fail-safes." She knew he was sobered by the weight of the situation when he didn't call her his favorite nickname.

“Fucking hell." Wernicke scoffed incredulously.

Asche didn't need to be told that. As the trucks began to set off again, she looked at the rising toxic cloud.

How many people had lived there?

Correctional Mining Facility - Queensland, Australia - May 2020

Asche bolted awake, gasping for air and fighting to get out of the hole. Dylan was bowled to the floor by the massive hyena scrambling out into the corridors of the mine, clawing at her neck and prying at her face as if to pull something off. She struggled to breathe, and FANG's instinctual reaction was to reach up and slap her back to reality. He then paused, his hand mere inches for her face, and realized slapping the 1500 pound anthro was a one way trip to becoming a human pretzel. He placed his hand on hers, gently rubbing it.

“Fleabag! You're okay, you're right here with me." Dylan squeezed Asche's paw, his fingers wrapped around two of hers. “Feel that? That's me. Nothing else. Remember that. I'm right here, and we're safe."

Asche's breathing slowed down just a tad as her ears swiveled to face the sound. Her eyes focused once more, and she removed her hands from her face as she rose back up to her full height. “...Sorry." She frowned, looking down at him. She squeezed her paws together tight.

“Don't be." FANG said, trying to avoid having his fingers crushed in her iron grip. “It happens. Saw it all the time in the camps… We had ways to deal with it."

“Special Techniques?"

“Well, smuggled in drugs mostly." He said. “But yeah, sometimes."

“I was there…" She shivered, “In the trench… after it hit… struggling to breathe."

“After… It… Oh. The Nuke." The human's face fell, and he nodded sympathetically. “I remember hearing the news in the camp. Can't even imagine…"

“The old 60s B-roll from before the test ban don't even begin to do it justice…" Asche looked past him for a few more seconds, the wisps of her flashback still clinging to the edge of her psyche. “However bad you think it was? It was worse than that."

He leaned against her. A heavy arm went around his shoulders in a tired hug. For a moment Dylan and Asche stood in the silent embrace.

“Fucking cowards…" Asche broke the silence finally. “They should have fucking surrendered. Nuking your own fucking city to avoid capture… Killing all those innocent people."

“It was a war. Soldiers kill innocent people all the time."

“Not Five Hundred Thousand of them with one key turn." She snorted. “That kinda mickey mouse horse shit is for the fucking politicians."

“Yeah. It is." Dylan agreed. “But I get it. If I had to choose between that or the camps…" He sighed, not finishing the thought.

“Would you really have done it though?"

Dylan shook his head. “No. No I don't think I could. Not even if I knew what was gonna–" Dylan bit down on his words. He didn't want to think about that. Not when he needed to be there for Asche.

“If you knew what was going to happen, Monkey?"

“...Forget I said anything."