{"sf1_id":802077,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Chapter 1: Operation Catharsis","author":"MicoConejito","words":7229,"posted_at":"2014-12-31T16:25:00.000Z","tags":["Action","Adventure","Alternate Society","Bunny","Death","Drama","Fighting","Fox","Gay Relationships","Golden Retriever","Military","Rabbit","Story Progression","Timber Wolf","Violence (not In Yiff)","War","Wolf","suspense"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/802077-chapter-1-operation-catharsis","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/802077","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=802077\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Springfield on Fire\nChapter 1: Operation Catharsis\nDay one was to divide up their\nforces; half of the base remained there to mend the damage following the\nmorning's mortar fire. The other half would fan out into the hills on a\nsearch-and-destroy mission for the mortar teams themselves. Bishop would be in\nthe hills, where the freezing wind was better at cutting your nose than the\nonslaught of pine needles. \nHis fireteam consisted of six men: Fireteam\nLeader, Corporal Liam Taylor, a clean-cut blond golden retriever. He looked the\npart: dashing and confident, a hefty build that looked solid in the uniform.\nBehind him was the radio operator, a white mouse who barely looked capable of\ncarrying the equipment, Specialist Charlie, \"Boxer\" Fairbanks. After\nthose two came the gunners, those who were not qualified for any specialized\nposition: Pvt. Gabriel Vicks, a vocal pit bull; his squadmates were all\nconvinced he was more qualified for gunner than any of the others were for\ntheir positions. Standing at almost seven feet, he was just larger than Barnes,\nbut, unlike Barnes, Vicks was all muscle. He volunteered for rear-guard to\nbring up our six, and it was both terrifying and comforting for the rest of the\nfireteam to know he was behind them. The second gunner was Smith; there was no\nsurprise there; he made up the vanguard, using his scrawny and agile self to\nhelp scout just ahead of the fireteam. Next was the friendly pack-mule, Barnes,\ninto whose hands they had placed a machine gun. \nWith Bishop trailing just behind Spc.\nBoxer, their fireteam made a single-file line up the winding paths into the\nhills. There was smoke rising from the side of one hill over a little valley;\nthis was more than likely where the mortars had been fired from an hour ago,\nbut any team worth their salt would have packed up and cleared out by now in\nanticipation of Cpl. Taylor's fireteam. \n\"Bishop,\" Taylor called\nout behind him. \"How much training have you had with that rifle?\" He\ngestured towards the M1A1 Carbine in Bishop's hands.\n\"Nothing formal, sir. I was to\nbegin today.\"\n\"Are you any good with\nit?\"\n\"I prefer it to the\nThompson.\" Bishop shivered as the wind caught him under the collar.\n\"B-better scores and more comfortable, yes.\"\n\"I think we're going to be\nrelying on you out here,\" Taylor continued, pointing down the path as it\nopened up from forest to cliff-side. \"They're either going to be in\nperches waiting to snipe us out or holed up waiting for an ambush\nclose-quarters.\"\nThose last two words were heavy on\neveryone's ears. Vicks growled over the shoulder of Barnes, \"I'll put them\ndown myself if they do.\"\n\"Just stay alert,\"\ncontinued the Corporal. \"I will not tolerate casualties on my first\noperation. Boxer--\"\n\"Y-yes, sir!\" The mouse\njumped at his name, saluting. \n\"I need you to relax for me,\nalright?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\" His hand\nlowered by his side, the other holding onto the shoulder strap that helped to harness\nthe large radio unit on his back.\n\"Hand me your\nbinoculars.\" Taylor held out his hand, and Boxer quickly deposited the\nequipment. \"Bishop, I need you to get eyes on that hill.\"\nThe white rabbit slung his rifle\nover his shoulder and took the binoculars, pushing past the meek Boxer. The\nfireteam stopped where the trees had begun to thin out such that, were they to\ncontinue, they could easily be seen. At the edge of the path, there was a steep\ndrop. How the trees managed to grow on the side of the hill, none of them knew.\nBishop dropped to his stomach and crawled to the edge of the cliff, his ears\npressed back by his cap, held tighter still by habit of keeping them down. He\nput the binoculars up to his eyes and looked for the source of the smoke. They\nhad a slight advantage in altitude at the moment, and Bishop found that he\ncould see quite a lot.\n\"I have...\" Bishop scanned\nagain to confirm himself. \"Three targets in the mortar pit.\"\n\"Can you identify them?\"\nTaylor moved closer to Bishop.\n\"All male, clearly combatants;\neach one has some kind of rifle or sidearm on him. They're not wearing our\nuniforms.\"\n\"Identify those weapons if you\ncan.\"\n\"One of them has a long rifle;\nI'm not familiar with it, sir. Another has a Luger, and the last looks to have\na Thompson fitted with a drum magazine.\"\n\"The one with the Luger--are\nthey marked?\"\n\"I can't see any officer marks\nhim. He's not in his jacket--none of them are.\"\n\"Alright. It's a safe bet, I\nthink. What are they doing?\" \n\"Looks like they're collecting\nammunition.\"\n\"Packing up. We need to\nmove.\" \n\"No, no.\" Bishop was\nsurprised as he realized what he was watching. \"They're unpacking the shells\nand moving them over to the mortars.\"\n\"Another strike? Greedy\nmotherfuckers,\" Taylor snarled. \"Boxer, I need you on that radio ten\nminutes ago. Tell them to expect another strike within--Bishop, how ready do\nthey look?\"\n\"Hard to say.\"\n\"Give me something,\nBishop!\" Taylor's bark was sharp.\n\"The Luger is moving to a\nradio; I thi--\"\n\"Bishop!\" Sharper still\nwas this one. \n\"Five minutes at most.\"\n\"You've wasted as many. Get\nyour shit together, Bishop. Boxer: relay that.\"\nThe mouse hurriedly continued\nturning the handle on the little turbine inside the radio box to power it. When\nit reached peak, he grabbed the receiver and began calling, \"Nest Egg,\nthis is Bravo-2. Come in, Nest Egg; this is Bravo-2\"\n\"This is Nest Egg. Go ahead,\nBravo-2.\"\nBoxer's normally-shaken voice was\nclear, smooth, and perfect. His eyes were closed, and he was focused as he\nrelayed the information perfectly. For all his ineptitudes, Boxer was the best\nthing in the fireteam when it came to doing his job. Bishop felt that sink in\nas the Corporal's disappointment in him turned to praise for Boxer. Bishop\nreturned to the fireteam and handed the binoculars back, reequipping his rifle\nunder his arm.\n\"Sorry, sir,\" squeaked\nBishop. \n\"Don't hesitate. Don't waste\ntime. Every second you spend not getting the job done is one second our enemy\nis getting ahead, killing your comrades.\" Taylor turned and looked Bishop\nin his eyes, and Bishop's knees were shaky. \"I need you on-point. Do you\nunderstand that?\" \nSwallowing his pride, Bishop\nnodded. \"Clear as day, sir.\"\n\"Smith,\" Taylor called\nover his shoulder. \"How long is the march down to that pit?\"\n\"Ten minutes if we haul ass,\nbut they'll see us coming a mile away.\"\n\"Any other routes?\"\n\"We could go the long way and\nget up on the path that goes over their pit,\" and he pointed at the\nfeature he was describing as if anyone could see it from there. \"...get the drop\non 'em.\"\n\"How long on that path?\"\n\"Twenty, twenty-five minutes.\nIt's the trail we trained on a few months back.\"\n\"I remember now. Good. Did it\nlook clear?\"\n\"Pretty much, yeah.\"\n\"Yes or no, Private.\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"Okay,\" said Taylor as he\nturned to the rest of the fireteam. \"We take the long road and end this\nfor good. No risk of them getting and setting up again tomorrow. As of now, you\nare on stealth. No noises; do not fire unless instructed. Hand signals from\nhere on out. Understood?\"\nThe fireteam nodded together. Taylor\ngave the hand sign for \"forward, low,\" and they began maneuvering\nbehind Smith's lead, cutting into the trees and avoiding the open cliffs\naltogether. As the fireteam mounted the trail a few minutes later, the sound of\nmortar fire came echoing gently through the trees. Bishop's estimation was\nright at least: five minutes. He thought about how many would be killed in the\nnew wave, if it would be anyone he knew. Maybe it would be someone he didn't\nlike. He didn't want anyone dead, but, if it had to be someone, it might as\nwell be a win-win. He shook the thought from his head.\n\"Don't be an asshole,\" he\nthought to himself. \"Good thoughts... good thoughts.\" Bishop wasn't\nreligious, but he felt a kind of solace in thinking happy thoughts for other\npeople, a king of prayer without the strings attached. It gave him comfort at\nthe very least, which, ultimately, is what he wanted. A prayer wasn't going to\ndivert the mortar fire away from his friends' tents. \nBishop realized how much he was\nspacing out, staring at the back of Taylor's head with no attention being paid\nto the area around them. When Taylor stopped and dropped to a knee, Bishop\nnearly tripped over him. Snapping back into reality, he, too, took a knee,\ndrawing his rifle to his shoulder just in case, the barrel pointed down the\npath. He began to scan the tree line with his rifle lagging, pointing where he\nhad already looked in order to throw off any enemy observers who might try to\nread his posture and avoid being seen when his gaze pointed at them. A feral\ndeer stood munching on some leaves in the path, still unaware of the fireteam's\narrival. This was a bigger problem than it originally seemed. A spooked deer\nwould tip off everything in the next hundred yards that they were there, and\nnone of their guns were fitted for silent kills. \n\"What do we do?\"\nwhispered Boxer to Taylor. \nTaylor didn't respond, watching to\nsee if the deer would move on its own. \"Boxer, do that 'bird-call' thing you\ndo.\"\n\"Which one?\"\n\"Wha- I don't know. Just make\na sound to get it moving without making it run.\"\n\"I'll try.\" Boxer brought\nhis hands up over his snout, one of the only people who could fully cup around\nhis mouth with his hands. He made an enclosing, using his fingers to create a\nkind of instrument to whistle as he blew into his hand; it was a lot like the\nwind in an old house. After a bit of practice, it started to sound like an owl.\nThe deer wasn't convinced by the noise, but it was certainly aware of their\npresence and began walking down the path. It was in the way for sure, but not a\ndirect threat anymore. \nTaylor pointed at Bishop, Barnes,\nand Vicks, designating them as a squad to go along the right side of the path\nthat had the cliff going down. Taylor, Boxer, and Smith remained on the left,\nhugging the wall as they moved forward. This continued for about fifteen\nminutes. It felt like walking through a mine field, each step being a twig to\nsnap or a rock to trip over. Bishop was in the front, and he was unnerved by\nthe impatient Vicks behind him, who pushed each time he slowed down to survey\nthe next leg of the hike. \nThe squads were approaching a bend towards\nthe right in the path when a loud crack snapped through the trees; it landed\nwith a sickening THUNK and squelch from behind Bishop, who turned on a dime to\nsee Vicks staring at him with a blank expression and a large, red hole plugged\ninto his forehead. The hulking body timbered forward, and Bishop was unable to\nget out of the way in time, tripping over his feet. Pinned by Vicks, Bishop\npanicked, trying to lift the body off his legs. He couldn't get leverage, and,\ninstead of moving Vicks, managed only to roll him enough for his face to turn,\nthe wound spilling into Bishop's lap. He couldn't hear Taylor as he called out\nto the fireteam. He couldn't hear Barnes as he yelled for Bishop to get down.\nAll he heard was a second shot. With\nhis back to the source of the fire, he could feel a pinch in his neck and a\nringing in his ears. Dazed, he just looked at Barnes, who was dragging Vicks\noff to the side. Barnes returned to Bishop and pulled his head to the ground.\nWhat little cover they had was effective, as a third and fourth shot crackled,\nblowing chips out of the tree they were behind.\nBishop could see Barnes talking,\nbut he couldn't hear him. He looked at Vicks laying there and reached for him.\n\"Help Vicks,\" Bishop\nmuttered. \"I'm fine.\"\nBunnies didn't belong in the army. \nAnother bullet ricocheted off the\ntrunk of their cover; Bishop flinched, and, upon opening his eyes, felt a wave\nof senses return to him. He heard the return fire and the yelling between\nTaylor to Barnes.\n\"Report, Barnes!\"\n\"Vicks is KIA! Bishop is hit!\"\n\n\"I need suppressing fire down\nrange--now!\"\n\"Bishop, buddy, hold on.\"\nBarnes stood and checked his MG. Bishop patted around for his rifle, and,\nunable to find it, looked at Vicks, whose Thompson laid still under his hand,\nfinger on the trigger. The M1A1 was under him as well. Barnes turned from the\ntrunk and began laying down bursts of fire into the woods. Barnes could see the\nsniper repositioning after his fire and called out his location between bursts.\n\"Smith,\" called Taylor.\n\"Take left flank. Go!\" \nBishop reached for his rifle with\nhis left arm, but was met with a shooting pain in his shoulder as his arm\nlifted. He fell over onto his side, then rolled to his stomach and crawled over\nto Vicks, using the body as cover, and began working the rifle out from under\nhim. The enemy didn't seem to be firing back thanks to Barnes' suppression, but\nit was impossible to tell since everyone was firing together. Bishop could have\nbeen dancing between shots down in the dirt for all he knew. There was a kind\nof freedom in this risk, where he just had to let fate take its course for\nbetter or worse. \nWith the rifle dislodged, Bishop\nmoved across the open to anther tree, seemingly unconcerned with the\npossibility of being shot again. He stayed prone at the base of the tree, his\nrifle propped against a root and his shoulder, finger on the trigger. He\nwatched the tree line as bullets fired into the distance.\nBarnes shouted,\n\"Reloading!\" The silence was uncomfortable as the fireteam ceased its\nfire.\nBishop took a deep breath, but was cut\noff by the pain in his shoulder and exhaled again. He adjusted his breathing to\nhis new capacity and leaned into his iron sights. His senses weren't dulled any\nlonger. He could hear every movement in the trees, smell every bit of spent\ngunpowder, blood, and turned dirt all matted into his fur. He could feel the\ndrain in his shoulder running down his back, and a kind of frailty that\nfollowed in his legs. The sights on his rifle were perfectly aligned.\nBeautiful.\nFrom the silence came another crack\njust as before, and he spotted a small flash from a darkened burrow. Through\nsheer mechanical instinct, his aim moved to it, and calmly delivered three\nrounds down range. They were met with a yelp from afar and Taylor's voice,\n\"Solid hit!\"\nBishop could hear a burst of a\nThompson in the distance and Smith yelling, \"Target neutralized!\"\nAs Barnes came behind Bishop, the\nmarksman lifted his head from the rifle and cringed, \"How is it?\"\n\"Not bad,\" Barnes\nresponded. \"You're bleeding like a pig. I'm going to get a compress on\nthere. You think you can make it?\"\n\"Yeah, let's keep going. How's\nVicks?\"\n\"Uh, Bishop,\" Barnes was\nsomewhere between confused an annoyed. \"Vicks is dead.\" Of course he\nwas; still, Bishop needed to hear it. \"Sit up; I'm going to get under your\njacket.\"\nTaylor and the other squad returned\nto Barnes and Bishop after a series of shouts, \"all clear!\"\n\"How are you, Bishop?\"\n\"A little shaken, but\ngood.\" He winced as Barnes worked Bishop's jacket up over his shoulder. \nSmith came and sat next to Bishop.\n\"Took a bullet... Still breathing. I call that good.\"\nThere was a silence as they\ncollectively shifted their attention to Vicks lying there in the dirt, eyes\nstill looking for the man who killed him.\n\"We can't carry him\nback,\" said Taylor. \"Best we can do is lay him out honorably and send\nin a recovery team for his body when we return. We need to stay on-objective.\nHow long on that wound, Barnes?\"\n\"About finished. Let's get his\narm in a sling so he can maneuver better. He's still a good shot; doesn't need\na left arm for that.\"\n\"While you're doing\nthat,\" Taylor said before looking to Boxer. \"Let's radio in and let\nthem know our situation. We should be able to take the mortar team within\nfifteen minutes. Does that sound right, Smith?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\"Alright. Fifteen minutes,\nBoxer.\"\nThe sounds of mortar fire were\nstill evident, but less for their landing and more for the low SHUNK that came\nbellowing lowly through the trees when they fired. They waited for Boxer to\nradio home and relay while Barnes finished patching Bishop up, who did little\nto resist the wolf when he pressed, held, and moved him. It was because of a\nmixture of weakness from bleeding and a willingness to just get it over with\nthat made him look limp. Needless to say, this was not convincing Taylor that\nhe was fit to fight.\n\"Are you going to make it,\nprivate?\"\n\"Yeah. I know better than to\nfight a medic.\" Bishop's hands were palm-up in his lap, shaking. He could\nsee a still image of the person he'd just killed. He didn't feel bad for it,\ndidn't question it. It bothered him how little it really bothered him. The\npressure--as it wasn't really a pain--in his shoulder was, in an odd way,\nreassuring. He was a live to feel the pain. Vicks was painless. The sniper was\npainless. \"I like the way it hurts,\" he muttered.\n\"Fuckin' sicko,\" retched\nSmith. \"Now he's gonna' go out and get shot again.\"\n\"He just dropped, Smith.\"\nBishop looked over his shoulder to his friend. \"Dropped like a bag of\nsand. No noise, no yelling, no dying words. Just... fuckin' gone.\"\n\"Don't dwell on it,\" said\nBarnes. Bishop realized what Barnes must have seen from behind and nodded; this\nwasn't dismissive advice. Barnes didn't want to think about it, either. None of\nthem did.\nTaylor grunted when he turned Vicks\nover, laying the pit bull's hands on his gun, which was laid over his chest.\nThe corporal placed the soldier's helmet over his face to cover the wound,\ntaking a moment to close his eyes with the solemnity of ritual, as if, somehow,\nVicks wasn't really dead until that moment. \n\"Sir,\" spoke Boxer.\n\"Captain Tanner says we are to keep moving forward until the mission is\ncomplete; casualties...\" He hesitated, clearing his throat and looking at\nVicks. \"Are not a concern in the completion of the objective.\"\n\"Fuckin' expendable, he\nmeans.\" Smith spat to the side in protest, grinding his teeth a little.\n\"We got careless,\"\nretorted Taylor with a sigh. \"Don't get wrapped up in the politics. We\nhave a job to do. I'll deal with it when we get home.\"\nTaylor stood and dusted himself\noff. Boxer and Smith joined him. \"And we are going home, gentlemen. Bishop,\"\nsaid Taylor in an official tone. \"Are you good to go?\"\n\"Yes, sir.\" Bishop spoke\nmeekly and, with extensive help from Barnes, stood for the first time since the\nfirefight began. He spilled his guts next to the tree, the nerves finally\ncoming to turn his stomach all over the grass. His entire body looked to be\nshaking, and, as Barnes could tell, it was. \n\"Barnes, help him along until\nhe gets it together and can walk on his own.\" Taylor motioned for Smith to\ngo ahead, and Smith darted off immediately to continue his scouting.\n\"Bishop, if you fall behind, we can't afford to carry you. If you can't\nkeep up, go home.\"\nBishop wiped his mouth on his\nsleeve and spat out one last time. \"Understood.\"\nBarnes lifted him a little and\nhanded him his rifle. \"Good thing you weigh next to nothin'.\" They\nbegan walking together weakly. \"I'd hate to have to haul anyone else with\nall this crap on my back.\" Bishop sighed into a chuckle. Barnes was good\nfor morale in camp and out there. \nAs they passed the body of the\nsniper, Bishop took note: a mouse not unlike Boxer. He looked to be the same\ncomplexion and pattern, same pink ears, same teeth. He had a pistol in his\nhand, not the rifle he used against Bishop and the fireteam. He was riddled\nwith holes. Smith must have had to execute the poor bastard after Bishop's\nshots proved nonvital. Had he been ready to shoot at Smith with that pistol?\nSome grand last stand against the enemy for honor and valor? Whatever it was\nthen, all that remained was a mound of flesh and bones worth no more than\ndinner to the feral coyotes that would come to take him away that evening when\nit got warmer. There was no valor in death, only the loosing of bowels and\none's dignity.\n\"Why didn't he just run?\"\nBishop said to Barnes quietly. \"He moved when you started shooting, but he\nstopped to shoot back.\"\n\"Who knows,\" he dismissed\n\"Probably thought he could take us.\"\n\"He could have survived.\"\nBishop was getting into the habit of checking hindsight on his foes and\nfriends, criticizing what they could and should have done in his mind.\n\"And you could have\ndied.\" Barnes' words cut at Bishop, a tone which clearly indicated he\ndidn't want to talk about it anymore. \"Can you walk on your own now?\"\nBarnes let Bishop's arm go, and\nBishop held firm. \"Yeah, I'm good.\"\nBarnes handed him his rifle and\ngrabbed hold of his own. \"Let's get a move on then. We're falling\nbehind.\"\nThey caught up with a brisk pace to\nthe Corporal and Boxer. With Smith ahead of them, they made good time and ran\ninto no more trouble until they reached their target, an overhang that looked\ndown into the mortar pit. It was as if they had come from the enemy's own base;\nthis extreme flank was costly, indeed, but, in the end, it had paid off.\nApproaching the edge, Smith peered over without the need for binoculars to\nconfirm that the enemies were stocked and primed to continue firing for some\ntime. They were no more than thirty yards from their targets with a significant\nheight advantage. The sun was coming up behind them such that the enemy looking\nup at them would be blinded. Tactical advantages like this were enough to give\nany commanding officer an erection at full-mast.\nTaylor brought everyone into a\nhuddle and took a deep breath before delivering orders. \"Barnes and Smith,\nyou will each take positions on the ridge to fire into the pit. The goal is to\npin them down while Bishop,\" and he turned to look at the rabbit.\n\"Lays down lethal shots onto the targets if they do not surrender. Do you\nthink you can do that?\"\n\"Absolutely, sir.\"\n\"Boxer, I want you standing by\nto radio in as soon as we're finished. I will stand by Bishop to direct his\nfire. Everyone, get into positions. On my signal, raise and suppressing\nfire.\"\nEach man assumed their positions. Smith\nand Barnes crawled to the edge of the cliff, where they could stand up and cast\ntheir shadows into the pit. Bishop and Taylor sat together on the edge of the\noverhang some space apart from the others. Bishop struggled to create a stable\nplatform for himself from which to aim, the edge of the cliff itself making an\nuneven and unreliable mark. Taylor laid down in front of Bishop on his side,\nback towards the rabbit. \n\"I'll be your spotter,\"\nTaylor spoke softly. \"Use my hip like a bench.\"\nBishop positioned his rifle onto\nhis fireteam leader's hip and trained his sights on the mortar pit. He could\neasily switch aim to every position in the pit and felt his hold was steady\nenough to be relied upon. He could down all three targets confidently within\nfive seconds, he thought. This was good.\n\"This will work,\" Bishop\nsaid to Taylor, who, looking to Barnes and Smith, gave the gesture for\n\"open fire.\"\nIt sounded like an industrial fan\nand a chainsaw battling to see who could be more terrifying. Bishop watched the\npanicked soldiers jump, looking for where the bullets would come from. Because\nof Bishop's position, the enemies taking cover from Smith and Barnes were still\nexposed to him. \n\"If they surrender,\" Taylor\nsaid over the gunfire. \"Let them. If they fight back, put them down!\"\nThis seemed loud enough that the enemies might have heard him, but they didn't\nseem to react in any clear way.\nThe man with the Luger, a tiger\nwith bright orange eyes, stuck an arm over his cover to fire his pistol up at\nthe cliff. Bishop sucked in a breath and held it, swinging the barrel of his\ngun over to point at the tiger. With sights trained on the man, Bishop fired\nonce. Solid hit. The tiger dropped his gun and braced the wound, the impact\nhaving nailed him right in the bicep of his shooting arm. He curled into the\nwound and looked to make the most of his cover; apparently he didn't realize\nwhere the shot had come from. Neither did the other two, one of which was\ncowering behind the mortar itself, his Thompson lonely and unsupervised in the\nmiddle of the pit. \nThe third soldier was in a tricky\nspot, with only his head partially visible to Bishop. He was readying his\nrifle, which Bishop noticed was fitted with a scope. He didn't wait for the\nsoldier to fire; the M1A1 swiveled again and took a snap shot on the soldier,\nplugging him in the skull right where his long mule ear came out. He flopped\nonce, something like a fish, and fell limp over his rifle, then down to the\nground behind his cover and out of view. \nBarnes and Smith ceased fire. Taylor\ngot up, leaving Bishop to keep aim without the stability his corporal's body\nprovided. It was difficult, but he managed.\n\"You have two options,\"\nTaylor yelled over the cliff. \"Option one: you surrender and become our\nprisoners of war. Your lives will be spared in return for your cooperation, and\nwe will release you safely to your families when the war is over.\" He\ncleared his throat and licked his chops. \"Option two: you die alone down\nthere. I think you should be careful how you answer. Our snipers have already\nshown you their effectiveness.\" A clever bluff to multiply his forces in\nthe mind of the enemy.\nThis made Bishop smile. He wanted\nto put a round down into the pit for emphasis, but resisted the temptation. He\nwas having fun being the predator, especially to one such as a tiger, who sat\ncrumpled, cowardly and bleeding, probably crying for his mother to rescue him.\nWhat a wicked smile this was on Bishop's face. He rolled his shoulder a little\nto release another wave of pain down his ribs. He enjoyed it. It was a rush, a\nhigh. \"I am alive,\" he heard himself say. \"You tried your best,\nbut I am alive.\"\nThe enemy soldier caught hiding\nbehind the mortar cried out, his voice cracking, \"I surrender! I want\nout!\" His hands were over the mortar and empty. The tiger was taking his\ntime. Bishop could see the contemplation in his demeanor, the heavy breathing\nthat made his leather pants shine in waves as they moved with the rest of him.\nOh, this tiger was walking a fine line, and Bishop was lightly caressing the\ntrigger as he might a lover, waiting for any good reason to give it one gentle\nsqueeze and feel the release of the rifle against his shoulder along with the\nbruises it might bring in the morning. \n\"And you, tiger?\" Taylor\nsounded triumphant. \"We can make the decision easier on you.\"\n\"No,\" he said, although\nBishop couldn't hear him. He had a very, very thick foreign accent. \"Zhet vhel\nnout be nesuseury.\"He stood, hands near his downed ears. He stood proudly\neven in defeat. \"Cap'cheur me if you like,\" he said, this time audible\nto Bishop. \"But es'pect nou'sing from me. I vhel nout betray my\nalli-.\"\n\"Oh, that's highly negotiable,\"\ninterrupted Taylor. \"As you'll soon find out.\" He motioned for Barnes\nand Smith to descend the slope leading to the pit, and they went sliding down\nthe face like they were surfing. It really was something out of Hollywood. \nThe soldier behind the mortar was\nstanding upright at that point. Bishop had to rub his eyes in disbelief as he\neyed two long, white ears on the man's head: another rabbit? Bishop made doubly\nsure it wasn't one of his older brothers, and, to his relief, let out a great\nsigh upon noticing a pattern of black and brown speckles in his neck, a pattern\nnot reflected in his family of snow-white fur.\nBarnes arrested the tiger with\nlittle resistance while Smith collected the fallen weapons. Barnes directed the\nTiger to begin marching, following him with the tiger's own luger trained on\nhis back. Smith had some fun intimidating and scaring the rabbit, who began to\nmarch without needing orders. Smith would snip at his neck with a hand if the\nrabbit didn't move fast enough, and Bishop had to laugh. In the wild, this was\nan everyday thing. Foxes hunted rabbits. It was a kind of beautiful circle to\nbehold. \n\"We never really escape our\nplace, do we?\" though Bishop. \"He's going to love being a POW with\nour welcoming group. I almost feel bad for him.\" Bishop struggled to his\nfeet and looked to Boxer, who was busy talking with base. Taylor came walking\nover.\n\"You held your own,\" he\nstarted, placing a hand gently on the wounded shoulder, probably without\nrealizing or remembering which was wounded. Bishop avoided flinching. By now,\nhe's convinced himself he was just a masochist. Whatever pain he felt just\nechoed, \"I am alive, I am alive...\" in his head, and he smiled to have\nsome redemption shine in Taylor's eyes. \n\"I'm happy you're with us,\nBishop.\"\nBishop blinked and saw Vicks\nstanding in the darkness behind his eyelids just in that moment. He shivered,\nhis fur standing up at the neck. \"T-thanks\" The word squirmed out of\nhis mouth. Taylor moved to the cliff edge. \n\"Think you can scale\nthis?\"\n\"I'll need you to hold my\nrifle, but I should be able to manage.\"\n\"Follow them back to\ncamp,\" Taylor said while handing his M1903 Colt over to Bishop in exchange\nfor rifle. \"If the POWs run, wound them. If they can't keep up or try to\nrun a second time... Well, you know what to do.\" \nBishop's coy smiled returned.\n\"You can count on me, sir.\"\n\"I know. We'll catch up\nsoon.\" Taylor turned to Boxer and waved his hand over a shoulder at\nBishop. \"Go on ahead.\"\nBishop's surf down the side of the\nhill was not nearly as Hollywood as the others', but he made it with no\nadditional wounds. Once down, he hurried to catch up to Barnes and Smith. The\ntiger was, now, totally bound by his wrists and being led by the scruff of his\nneck. Bishop could tell he'd been roughed up a bit more, likely having tried to\nescape. Bishop thought about who it was who did the roughing, as it seemed\nunlike Barnes to hit a prisoner, but not something Smith was physically strong\nenough to do. A swelling eye, a bleeding lip. The tiger was having a rough day\nfor sure. \nAs Bishop caught up, he cocked the\nhammer on the colt to make its presence known. They passed another deer, who\ncared little for the display the soldiers made at it. Bishop made eye contact\nwith the animal, feeling as though he'd conquered it somehow, a predator of the\nprey. As they made their way back to camp, it was quiet. They arrived to find\nthat the majority of the shells had been carried by the wind and missed the\nmajority of vital targets, having leveled the showers and laundry, but nothing\nelse. \nTaylor and Boxer caught up about\nthe same time the others arrived back, practically falling into the reception\nof those who remained in the base. Bishop, relieved of his need to carry\nhimself, passed out onto another soldier and was rushed to the infirmary.\nThere, the bullet was removed and the wound sewed up. Thankfully, he was out\ncold for the procedure. Bishop would wake later that evening weak, but\nrecovering. \nHe could feel the delight of\nmorphine in his system and relaxed into the pillow behind him. He sat propped\nup in a cot that had him positioned more like it was a chair or hammock, hands\nturned up in his lap. Sitting there, he began running through a reel of the\nimages he's captured that morning. Vicks three-eyed stare came to surface. Vicks\nwas a decent guy. He was older than most other recruits, and he didn't\nparticipate in the bullshit they threw at Bishop. A decent, work-minded guy, he\nwas. ...Was.\nBishop looked around to see who\nelse was in the ward. A couple others were laying in cots, both either sleeping\nor dead. As to which it might have been, Bishop never really found out. Taylor\nentered the tent with a plate in his hands before Bishop had time to\ninvestigate.\n\"Knock knock,\" he said,\nactually looking for something to knock on. \"This place really is a tent,\nisn't it? Huh.\" Taylor came and pulled a chair next to Bishop's cot,\nsetting the plate on Bishop's lap. \"I always thought they were\nexaggerating when they talked about it. You'd think the cold was bad for\nwounded people, but, hey...\" Taylor laughed and put a fork on the plate. \"I'm\nno doctor.\"\n\"You're talking like I'm dying\nor something.\" Bishop smiled weakly, a metallic taste on his tongue, the decay\nof vomit lingering on his pallet many hours later.\n\"Don't say that,\" he\nsnapped quietly. \"No more death and dying. We did a good job today,\"\nTaylor sighed out with labor. \"Brought you some slop. Figure you're\nstarving.\"\n\"N-\" Bishop's denial was\ninstantly shut down by his grumbling stomach; they both eyed his midsection\nlike they'd uncovered a spy.\n\"Poker face doesn't work on a\nstomach, Bishop.\" Taylor crossed his arms and leaned into the back of his\nchair. \"Go on, eat.\"\n\"Really, I can wai-\"\n\"That's an order,\nConnor.\"\n\"S-sure.\" Bishop reached\nfor the plate, noticing his left arm propped up in a sling over the other\nshoulder. \"This seems a little overkill. I feel fine.\"\n\"Morphine and adrenaline do a\nlot to make it seem that way.\"\nBishop started eating. Clean peas.\nClean carrots. Sweet potatoes. A roll salted and buttered, lying precariously\nnext to a small pool of white pepper-gravy made from flour and milk, probably\nthe only gravy the rabbit could eat. It reminded him of home, and, taking a bit\nonto his fork, he choked up. The fork fell into his lap, and his free hand\ncovered his mouth. The tears filled his eyes almost instantly. As Taylor stood\nand reached across Bishop to hold him, the flood overcame the rabbit, and his\npetit whimpering could be heard throughout the tent.\nThis morning, he was being harassed\nby his officers and comrades. An hour later, he'd been shot and pinned under\nthe dead weight of the strongest soldier he'd ever seen. A kind of labor came\ninto Bishop's breathing, trying hard not to hyperventilate and make a fool of\nhimself. Still, something about Taylor was comforting, and he finally sensed\nthat he was free to feel like a person again. He was home again for a moment.\nThe tears he shed expunged his fears, his insecurity, his loneliness. He cried\nas much for his losses as his gains, his friends, who were still alive. He let\nit all out.\nIt took a minute or two, but Bishop\nhad finally decompressed what was built up over six months, now soaked into\nTaylor's fur like a dirty yellow towel. He smiled at Bishop, pulling back and\ntaking a deep breath. \"You don't talk much, do you?\"\nBishop began wiping his eyes,\nsniffling a little. The question was right on point. He couldn't speak over the\nlump that remained in his throat, instead shaking his head and rubbing his\nneck. \n\"I talked to Barnes and Smith\nabout you; I hope you don't mind.\"\nBishop looked at Taylor, both of them\nfully aware of how absolutely pitiful he looked with saturated, red eyes and\nwet cheeks, his nose drippy and ears folded back. \"They're my only friends.\"\n\"That's what they said,\"\nTaylor said while grabbing a cloth from a nearby stand. He handed it over to\nBishop and sat back down. \"Let's hope that's a clean one.\"\nBishop laughed, sniffling between\nthe chuckles. He put the towel to work and blew his nose.  \"They're not racists for starters.\"\n\"No, they're not.\"\nTaylor's tone was that of a therapist: neither to dismiss Bishop nor invite him\nto elaborate. \n\"Everyone else gives me shit\nfor being who I am no matter how well I perform.\" Bishop held the cloth in\nhis hand, grinding the inside of his thumb into it like he was trying to clean\nthe fur off his skin. \"How many of those guys got positions they wanted?\nWhat, like, maybe a third at best.\" Bishop rolled his eyes. \"If any\nof those...\" He struggled to find a word that matched his feeling. \"Fuck-faces\"\nGod, that felt good. \"...had even t-the slightest idea what kind of scrutiny\nI'm under, they'd have quite months ago!\"\n\"That's not untrue,\"\nmirrored Taylor, arms crossed over his chest. \"So, I have to ask: why did you\nstay? You could have left any time, you know. Failed a test, failed an\nevaluation at the range, pissed off Tanner, anything at all. Why stay if it's\nthat bad?\"\n\"If I failed, they'd be\nright.\"\n\"I figured that was it.\"\n\"I mean, it's not like I have\nsomething to prove to them. I just...\" Bishop gave up letting out a sigh and\neyeing the cloth. \"I'm just tired of being the last one for everything,\nthe least important all the time. My brothers all enlisted when I was still\nseventeen, so I couldn't join them. They went off into the other branches, too.\nMy dad told me to enlist in the army because you're the only ones that would\naccept 'one like me.' \" \n\"You seem fine to me, Connor.\nAll your parts work as far as I can tell, and you're pretty good at using\nthem.\" Taylor ran his hand through his hair and scratched behind his ear.\n\"I mean, what does your dad know about the army?\"\n\"He'd tell you he knows\neverything--about everything. That's just... how he is.\"\n\"How did your mother feel\nabout you enlisting?\"\n\"She was worried like she was with\nall of us, but she was used to it by the time I left. She always wanted to\nprotect me from my brothers, and, once they were gone, she started trying to\nprotect me from the world.\"\n\"Can't blame a mom for that,\nthough.\"\n\"No, but I know she didn't do\nit for me.\"\n\"How do you mean?\"\nThere was a long pause again and\nBishop contemplated what to say. His jaw was tight, and Bishop could see his\nmuscles twitching as he grinded his teeth.\n\"You don't have to tell me,\nConnor. I'm just trying to get to know you a little.\"\n\"She didn't want to be the\nmother of the faggot rabbit who got kicked out of the army.\"\nThe honesty fell like a ton of\nbricks in the room. \n\"So you're...?\" Taylor was\napprehensive to ask.\n\"Yeah.\" \n\"Well, I guess that makes more\nsense. Army policy doesn't concern itself with things like that. We just want\nsoldiers wh-\"\n\"The army will take anyone, I\nknow.\" Bishop's stomach and jaw clenched again. \" That's why I'm here\nand not with my brothers. That's why everyone else gives me shit. That's why I\nhave to barter for food and shower last. That's why I can't be alone--anywhere--without\ngetting harassed.\" They both recalled the dozen or so incidents that had\ncome up with Bishop being caught alone by other soldiers and abused in various\nways. \"I haven't even told anyone, but it's like they can just smell it on\nme.\" Bishop sneered at his lap. \"They can smell the faggot on\nme.\"\nTaylor just let him talk, a little\ndisappointed at his manner, but still understanding. Bishop was normally the\nepitome of self-control and patience, but something about this talk was much\nmore than Taylor had bargained for. \n\"I think you smell like baby powder,\"\nsaid Taylor in a tone that was far too serious for the silliness of the\nsentence. \"Doesn't make a difference to me what you smell like. Few hours\nago, you smelled like shit, and I still wanted you in my team. Now you smell\nlike baby powder and dehydrated potatoes, and I still want you on my\nteam.\" Taylor put his hand on Bishop's and squeezed a little. It was an\nintimate gesture that communicated a sense of sincerity and closure.\nBishop looked up to him, his eyes\nfinally dried. The red they displayed was ebbing away to reveal a clear blue.\n\"Thank you.\"\n\"Thank you, Connor. You are an\nasset to this team. If nobody else accepts that, let it be enough that I\nappreciate you, and so do Barnes and Smith. The Commander took note of your\nservice today,\" Taylor said with a hint of excitement. \n\"Wait, really?\"\n\"He wants to recognize your 'determination\nto serve' despite being wounded. Rumor has it he might put in a recommendation\nfor a medal.\" Taylor winked conspicuously and leaned back into his chair. \"Don't\nget your hopes up, but, hey. A recommendation can be just as good to the right\nears.\"\nTaylor looked up above Bishop's\nhead and smiled. \"I'm not sure I could put up with those things.\"\nIt was a ham-fisted change in\ntopics, but Bishop didn't mind. This conversation was one of the first he'd had\nin a long time that felt good. \n\"I really don't know what to\ndo with them.\" Bishop looked up and let them flop down into his face,\nsmirking when they covered his eyes. \"Two big, white flags on my\nhead.\"\n\"Oh,\" Taylor groaned. \"Stop\nit. No more beating up on yourself. Nobody wants to listen to that.\"\n\"I know.\" His tone was\nassuring, casually playful even. Bishop was still smiling as his ears perked up\nto attention, his broad front teeth showing. All he needed was a little\nacceptance, a place to belong that was even a little respected. Now that he\nfelt he had it, there wasn't much else to do. Bishop's stomach howled again. \n\"I guess you're right,\"\nsaid Bishop. He grabbed the fork from his lap and scooped up some of the\npotatoes. \"You really can't poker-face a stomach.\""}