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Hello, boys and girls! Long time no see!

Welcome to a brand new RSH adventure! I've been tossing ideas for this around for a long time, and finally decided to pull the trigger and bring it here to you. I've been gone for a long time, with real life taking me up and down and around every twist and turn that it could. I am finally ready to get back on the saddle and start producing content, as it were.

For my returning readers, fear not, I've started working on more main RSH chapters, but alas, this will have priority. There are many things I find fall glaringly short with the main series, which I hope to correct here. I can't just leave Jay and Meryl's story unfinished, can I?

I started the war through their eyes sometime around 2002, so it wouldn't be right of me not to see it through, regardless if I am unhappy with early chapters. I've sat in front of my computer many nights staring at a blinking cursor with the intent to rewrite it, only to realize that I can't. If I do, it won't be the same. It could never be the same. Since the beginning, I'd joined the military, learned an MOS, seen actual war, and so forth. Nothing that I produce now will match the beginning, even if I look back at it and nitpick.

Now, for you new readers, I ask that you bear something in mind when you read this series. It is set during a war. Gruesome sights, sad sights, heinous actions on all sides, mental struggles, suicide, and death are all a part of war. Please keep that in mind going forwards. It is not a pretty thing, nor should it ever be considered as such.

_ _ This story will feature all these things. It will also have sex, adult language, and adult themes. Consider yourself warned, and I hope that these things do not dissuade you.

Who am I kidding, of course they won't.

Thank you for taking the time to join me in this new adventure!

Redfield

P.S. While I do recommend the older version of RSH, this should stand alone for new readers.

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In the woods north of Pressath, Germany

June 25th, 2011

0038 Local

Angelina

Pack Alpha, Lucky Seven-Seven

++++++

“Stay with me, Jacob!" The hushed voice of the Utahraptor whispered, turning to nose the human that straddled her back. The scent of his blood was heavy in her nostrils, potent enough to be almost choking as she slid him back up to the center of her spine, ignoring the painful pressure that was pushing against the base of her neck from the imbalanced weight.

“I-I'm here, Angel." He whispered back, one of his hands leaving its place around her neck to stroke lightly at the base of her jaw, before a tremor of pain shot through his core. The Sergeant cried out, dropping his hand down to steady himself. Angelina could feel the trace of the appendage, slick with blood that travelled in a messy swipe on the tough hide of her neck. The speech impulse belt that allowed her to talk stopped him only for a brief second.

“It's not much farther, Jake." She reassured him, curling her neck around to bring one big, amber eye to meet his dark brown ones. The agony she read in them broke her heart, as for all her strength and cunning, there was nothing she could do to fix this; nothing she could do to ease his pain. The Utahraptor didn't know the first thing about wounded humans. They'd always had a medic before, so that thought hadn't been on her radar.

Until now, that is.

She could feel his blood soaking through her armor, the olive drab fabric warm and sticky on the left side of her body. She had done the only thing that she knew how to do, and that was to lick his wounds clean before dragging him onto her back, and it had fortunately stemmed the worst of the bleeding, but he'd already lost a lot, and she could hear in his erratic breathing that it was becoming more of a chore for him to stay awake.

If he went to sleep, she had a feeling he wouldn't wake up.

They'd been ambushed in the trees north of Grafenwöhr while spotting targets for their pack mate's artillery strikes. The Spetsnaz troops had come out of nowhere, both parties equally surprised that the other was there, and subsequently terrified as Angelina bit straight through the skull of their radio telephone operator, crushing him and his radio with her mass a moment later.

She'd whirled through the column like a dervish, teeth and claws and tail doing their gruesome work on pure instinct. Her breathing was loud, a snorting warble that echoed over the sound of frantic, unguided gunfire. The last man had been able to drop an RGD grenade as she pounced him, catching Jacob with shrapnel that found its way underneath the front of his body armor. Angelina had made quick work of the man, only then noticing that her human was no longer standing, and noticing the fiery pain on her left leg. The radio that adorned that side of her armor had been hit as well, the sharp scent of ozone rising from the compromised battery casing.

That had been three hours ago.

“I could use some coffee." He muttered, holding on to the neck of her armor as she stepped over a large fallen log, keeping her hips as still as possible so as not to jar her human.

“Shh. Save your strength." She commanded, stopping as she came to the edge of a clearing, standing stock still as she sniffed the air, her predator eyes scanning the still meadow.

Her olfactory center and brain had been overwhelmed since the invasion began only a few scant days earlier, bombarded with so much information that even millions of years of evolved instinct couldn't process it. The human world, normally so full of scent information, was nothing compared to the battlefield. The sharp, acrid scent of burnt cordite propellant was ever present, smoke drifting on the wind from the south, where the booms of artillery lit the sky in a terrifying orange hue, despite the sun having set a few hours prior. Occasionally, she'd catch a hint of the other most prominent scents, that of diesel fuel smoke from the multitude of engines that were outfitted on weapons of war. Both sides used it, and there were hundreds of vehicles out and about, enough to make the smell ever present, underneath the cordite, that is.

She ducked into the underbrush quickly, ignoring the quiet groan from Jake as he was carried along for the ride. Angelina had caught the scent of a cigarette drifting through the meadow, and where there were cigarettes, there were people.

“What is-?" Jake started to ask, before being once again shushed by the lithe female. She stood stock still, staring in the direction from which the smell had drifted.

The raptoress watched as a patrol crested the meadow, walking along a paved two-lane road that ran along the far side, amidst the ruins of a multitude of different colored civilian vehicles. She counted the soldiers, noting that they didn't wear the same uniforms as the Spetsnaz that she'd killed earlier, nor the distinctive, easily-identifiable blue and white striped shirts of the Russian Airborne. It was too dark for her to get a definitive identification, but had to guess that they were motor rifle troops. She knew from prior intelligence that there were allegedly several companies of them in their area of operations.

Angel waited for the patrol to pass further south before she set out, footsteps barely a whisper as she moved through the tall grass, scanning in the direction of the patrol to make sure they didn't double back on her. The moon was in its waning phase, and a soft, cool light was drifting down into the still grasses, causing her to curse her luck as she moved. It would only take one Russian private with a pair of rudimentary night vision goggles to pick out the moving shape.

The meadow was full of clothing, scattered about haphazardly by the wind. Every few feet, a suitcase lay sprawled open, the contents spewing forth and no doubt responsible for the once pristine clearing's clutter. The wind shifted suddenly, bringing forth the smell of new decay to her nostrils, nearly flooring her from its potency, but her mind kept her focused on her mission. She stepped around the remains of a tractor trailer that had gone out of control, the torn tarp on the trailer snapping quietly in a light breeze. The yellow material had been scorched along with the cargo, a stylized red 'D' Visible before the ash and iron that was the rest of the vehicle's frame. Angelina's gaze did not linger on the blackened eyes of the burnt skeleton in the driver's seat as she passed.

The road was pockmarked in places from heavy gunfire, vehicles tossed atop one another like so many toys from what was no doubt the impact of unguided aerial rockets. The flipped chassis of a US Army HMMWV lay on the opposite side of the road, the only military vehicle that she could see in the wreckage. The twisted remains of a black Mercedes SUV was crushed underneath it, and Angel couldn't help but think that the burnt hand that stuck out from what was left of the back window was way too small to be from an adult.

This was a massacre.

“There's something coming." Angel heard Jacob whisper, his voice slurring drunkenly as his head flopped against the back of her neck. She had just stepped onto the pavement of the road when she heard the roar of a loaded down diesel off to her left. Her amber eyes flicked quickly north, catching sight of a Ural supply truck cresting the hill. The squat Russian truck had no lights illuminated save for the distinct rectangular cutouts of blackouts.

She kicked into high gear, jostling Jake violently as she ducked into the forest, getting in the clear with plenty of time to watch the truck speed past, now on the downhill side of the grade, diesel engine still roaring at full throttle. The raptor could hear at least two more trucks laboring up the grade behind the first, but she was out of the open and-for the moment-safe.

She immediately worried for her human, hearing the groans of pain he made with each breath. He'd shifted off to the side again, and she turned once more to right him with her snout, pushing his limp body back up into a sitting position, almost like he was riding a horse.

“Good save." He whispered, hugging her neck yet again.

Angelina opened her mouth to respond, but was stopped by the sound of a gasp directly to her right. She wheeled with a warbling snarl, eyes flicking to what had the audacity to startle her. She rose up to her full height, flexing the claws on her forepaws and tearing at the earth with her huge scythed toes.

The raptoress saw the scared face of a young man wearing a Russian uniform that looked as if it was just issued, no dirt or filth to speak of. He was shaking, mouth working silently as his hands thrusted to the air in surrender, the distinctive shape of an AK-74 slung across his chest. She could smell the fear seeping off him in rivulets, coupled with the ammonia scent of fresh urine as he wet his pants.

Before he could get his hands fully in the air, Angel spun on her left foot, her right foot sliding in the soft soil and her long, whip-like tail sailing through the air in a blur that connected with the man's left cheek a fraction of a second later. She heard the snap of his neck, loud as a gunshot in the tightly-packed trees as he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He landed with the rattle of his equipment, rifle muzzle buried deep in the dirt.

Her breath came in sharp inhales, heart pounding so hard that she could feel her own pulse against the stiff collar of the saddle like armor on her chest. She eyed the now dead Russian, nothing more than a kid, seeing a patch that did indeed identify him as belonging to a motor rifle unit. His green eyes stared into the darkened canopy, framing the terrified grimace and the darkening bruise that was developing on the left side of his face.

“Next time w-warn m-me." She heard Jake say, heart spiking again as she noticed that his weight was no longer on her back. The raptoress looked around frantically, her neck in a tight s-curve as it swiveled, before she located the slumped shape of her guardian in the dark earth.

“I'm so sorry! He was right on us and I-!" She exclaimed, voice cracking as she moved over him, visibly checking him for further injury. His hand touched the end of her snout, silencing her before she had a chance to lose her already thin composure.

“It's okay, Angel. You did what you had to do." He reassured his partner, grimacing as he brought his hand back to his already blood-stained body armor. She didn't have to have daylight to see that his wounds had opened up again.

“Jake, you're bleeding again." She said, moving her snout down closer to his wounds. The metallic smell of fresh blood told her all she needed to know. The female had seen enough in the last few days to know that she was running short on time, and that her human didn't have much more left to lose before he'd fade away from her.

He didn't respond with anything other than a nod, fighting to get his IOTV body armor off his body. Angel's jaw opened, pulling the emergency ripcord and dropping the remains of it to the ground, followed quickly by the claws on her hands ripping straight through the fabric of his combat shirt, the two pieces of soggy material hanging loosely off his body by the sleeves. Her tongue lathered out, swiping across the wound for the second time that evening. It had worked the first time, after all. She pushed the metallic-iron taste of her human's blood out of her mind.

“Gross, Angel." She heard him mutter, his hand falling limply from her snout down to the ground next to him. His speech slurred deeply, eyes drooping as he looked up to her.

“Stay awake!" She commanded, bending down and snagging him by the belt in her teeth, dragging him back up to his resting place on her back. He slid back into the crux of her neck, his thighs firmly planted back on either side of her body armor.

Angel opened her mouth to tell him to hang on, but the phrase died on her lips as a line of green tracers shredded the trunk of a half-dead tree directly to her left. Wood chips flew in all directions, making the utahraptor wince as she pivoted on the balls of her feet and ran, ducking around trees at speeds that threatened to drop Jake off her back yet again.

Green tracers ripped the forest apart around her as she gained distance, hoping against hope that the trees would prevent the bullets from finding their targets. The ground around her churned, dirt flying up in her face with each close impact. Angelina shook it out of her eyes as she ran, sliding over the crest of a hill and out of the direct line of sight of what was undoubtedly the same Russian patrol she'd seen earlier.

She slowed her pace to a jog, breaths coming out in warbling snorts as she slowed her heart rate. Her Guardian's arms were still firmly wrapped around her neck, for which she was thankful.

“Still with me, Jacob?" She panted, sniffing the air before sprinting across a small road, a bright yellow road sign with a large black 22 on it flashing through her vision for only a split second before it disappeared behind the trees. Her head turned when she got no response.

“Jake?"

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On route 299, Northwest of Pressath, Germany

Thuringia Area Command

Stárshiy Serzhánt Grigory Sidorovich Dygalo

76TH Guards Air Assault Division

Senior Sergeant Grigory Dygalo sighed, his arm resting on the passenger windowsill of the Ural 4320 Supply truck in which he rode. The window was open, the warm evening air blowing in, quiet compared to the roar of the 11.2-liter YaMZ turbo diesel that powered the cargo truck. They were blazing along route 229, the dimly lit speedometer bouncing erratically at 75 km/h. The driver, Private Lukin, stared straight out of the windshield through a pair of aged PNV-57e night vision goggles, the eerie green glow visible on each side of his eyes. The truck was running no lights save for a single blackout illuminator to the rear, the same one that they were following on the two trucks ahead of them. Only the leader had his lights on, and even then, only the blackout drive lights.

Dygalo watched the dark forest around him, resting the muzzle of his AKS-74 on the windowsill. The company had jumped into Thuringia only three days prior, and their supply of batteries for individual night vision was limited, so he left his own goggles slung in the up position on the Hitlerite 6B27 helmet that adorned his head. He'd always wondered why his country had decided to adapt a design similar to what the hated Nazi invaders had used during the Great Patriotic War, and then, by the Americans that they now fought. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and thought instead of the mission at hand.

They were enroute to the garrison at Pressath with three platoons, set to relieve the beleaguered 16th Spetsnaz, whom had been holding steadily after completing their objectives on the night of the war. They'd been hit hard by the remnants of the American 535th Engineer company as it pulled out of Grafenwöhr and wheeled west, driving down the very route they were now traversing. Every now and again, they passed the burned out remains of American vehicles, interspersed with Civilian cars and trucks that had been caught up in what was no doubt a sweep from multiple New Soviet helicopters. Dygalo caught the smell of decay and burnt flesh as it drifted in on the breeze, no stranger to the smell, or the sight of so much death.

“We're only a few kilometers out, comrade sergeant!" Lukin shouted over the whine of the turbo diesel, dropping a gear as the truck came to a short rise. He could see the sweep of the tachometer dive into the red as the private labored the heavy tandem-axle cargo up the grade, the forest getting tighter on both sides. Ahead of them, the sky was lit with fire from the artillery that was pounding Grafenwöhr relentlessly, the whole city and adjacent NATO military facility burning bright. The black smoke that twisted skywards served only to make the night blacker in that direction, a far cry from the waning moon that shined dull white light through their truck's windshield.

“Exactly so, Lukin. We'll take the cutoff at the end of the forest line and approach Pressath from the east." He shouted back, getting an affirming nod from the driver. He was about to mention that they would have to contact the Spetsnaz before crossing into their field of fire when a stream of green tracers ripped through the sky to their front, passing from right to left across the road.

“Combat action forwards!" He yelled through the open rear cab window to the troops in the back of the truck, grabbing the handle in front of him to steady himself as Lukin put the truck towards the ditch, the loud pneumatic hiss of the air actuated brake booster popping with each pedal press. The Ural rapidly slowed, Lukin dropping the gears expertly as the truck's massive 14.00-20 tires navigated the soft shoulder of the road before jerking to a stop.

“Dismount!" Grigory ordered, throwing his door open and jumping from the transport into a soft bed of pine needles. As the Ural's diesel shut off, he heard the staccato chatter of AK-74s on fully automatic, coupled with the heavier report of a PKM machine gun laying down heavy suppressive fire.

“Comrade Sergeant, Kaluga 10 is in contact with an unknown enemy force directly ahead of us. They are requesting for us to cover them while the rest of our element pushes forward to Pressath." The radio telephone operator said as he ran to Dygalo's side, chest heaving as he took rapid breaths.

“Tell Kaluga that we are to their nine o'clock and are covering them. Request an update on their contacts." He instructed, thumbing the release for the collapsible stock on his AKS-74 and clicking it solidly into place. He brought the rifle up and traced the tree line, following the path of Kaluga's tracers with his sights. The senior sergeant brought his night vision goggles down over his eyes, pressing their activation switch to bathe the whole area under the light of the device's green sun.

He instantly noticed something strange.

There was no return fire from the trees, only the tracers coming from their friendly forces. In fact, he saw nothing at all in the forest. No movement, no bodies, no red tracers flying back at them like so many angry hornets, nothing.

He turned to the junior sergeant underneath him and dropped his rifle on it's sling, stretching his hands out to either side. His sergeant nodded, passing the command down the line with a like gesture. His paratroopers obeyed without question, their discipline and training kicking in despite the rude awakening. They were in formation in less than fifteen seconds, two men watching their rear while the rest of the element watched the forest rise. He pointed towards the trees on the other side of the road with his hand, and his men moved across, not meeting any enemy fire.

“Kaluga 10, this is Roman, cease fire. We are sweeping across." The RTO called, anticipating Dygalo's order as they moved, the radio in his ear crackling acknowledgement as the fire from their sister element died down.

Grigory moved with his formation, smoothly and surely, into the trees. The old growth conifers were smoking from the impact of hundreds of rounds of ammunition, the smell of burnt wood and fresh pine present in equal measure. Not present, however, was anything indicating an enemy force was ever there. No shell casings, no dead, no wounded, nothing.

“Security forwards." He instructed, watching as six men advanced into the forest, staying within sight but checking their immediate area. The junior sergeant, a man named Evgeniy Shagin, approached quietly on his left side, watching the dark woods around them.

Shagin was an excellent junior NCO, Grigory reflected. They'd been together for a year, since the younger man had joined the unit at their base in Pskov. He'd come from a regular army infantry company and had immediately made a good impression on the senior sergeant. Shagin was a short, dark haired man, with the rounded face common of those that descended from the Mongol hordes that had once swept across their part of the world. He trusted him implicitly, and the last few days of combat only served to deepen that trust.

“See anything in here, Grisha?" Shagin asked quietly, holding his own AKS-74 in the low ready. The man's questioning brown eyes met with Grigory's blue ones.

The senior sergeant glanced around again before undoing the strap of his Hitlerite helmet, letting it hang in his left hand as he ran his right through a smartly trimmed tuft of blonde hair. Dygalo towered over the shorter man, thickly built with muscles that were honed from several years in the airborne forces of the Russian Federation, then the New Soviet Union, made him appear twice the smaller sergeant's size.

“I don't, Evgeniy. Suppose it was just our illustrious comrades in the motor rifles jumping at shadows?" Grigory said quietly. There was no love lost in the Russian military between the VDV and Motor Rifle corps. The former considered themselves elite forces, and trained long and hard to earn that distinction in the eyes of everyone that wasn't them. They thought of their 'comrades' in the motor rifles as lazy, sloppy, unfit conscripts, and that thought often caused friction between the lower ranks of both organizations. It was not uncommon on VDV Day to have a bloody fight break out between drunk Desantniki and equally drunk Riflemen, much to the chagrin of the chain of command and the local Militsiya of whatever town was unfortunate to host the men.

“It would not be a surprise, comrade sergeant." Shagin laughed quietly, acknowledging the call of clear a moment later from the returning security element. There had indeed been nothing, as his men had just confirmed.

“We've got one killed here." One of his men, a private by the name of Petrov called, waving to the men from off to their right. He stood just inside the tree line, over the body of what was undoubtedly a Russian soldier.

“One of yours?" Dygalo asked the commander of the motor rifles, a small man that bore a crisp new uniform, two equally new stars on his shoulder boards indicating that he was a lieutenant.

And by the look in his eyes, a fresh one. Grigory thought.

“Yes, one of ours. We left him here to keep an eye on the meadow. Americans have been filtering through for the last few days, trying to reform their units." The officer said, fighting the urge to be sick while looking at his dead trooper.

Dygalo studied the boy's corpse, noting the blood pooling in his left cheek, head bent at an awkward angle from whatever hit him. The print was large, not unlike the butt of a rifle or an entrenching tool.

But to break his neck with one hit? He must've been hit by a beast of a man. Or, he fell. Grigory hypothesized, turning away with a crinkled nose as the smell of death hit him full on. A jumbled shape on the ground directly across from the body caught his eye, and he bent down to look at it.

“American body armor. Looks like your man did meet the enemy after all." Dygalo said quietly, sweeping the area with his red-lensed flashlight. He didn't see much else, other than the dark stained gear. Still no shell casings or other debris. Some odd boot prints littered the area around the discarded armor, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he rifled through the few pouches that remained on the armor, finding nothing outside of the ordinary amongst the obviously blood-soaked equipment.

“There's nothing here. What were you shooting at?"

“We're…not really sure. We heard our man go down, and saw vague shapes milling around him in here. I gave the order to suppress, and that's when we made contact with your man." The lieutenant answered, covering his mouth with a handkerchief as he removed his man's dog tags.

“Well, whomever it was, they're long gone now." Dygalo said, turning from the officer and walking back towards his platoon's Ural. He only had one question, one that ran over and over in the back of his head as he walked.

How could they get away so quickly, with an obviously wounded man?

That thought stayed in his mind as he walked past the stacks of destroyed vehicles and boarded the truck, and lasted until they parked outside of the Spetsnaz HQ in Pressath.

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St. 2181 overwatch position, East of Grötschenreuth, Germany

June 25th, 2011 0245 Local

Staff Sergeant Reuben Reynolds

Machine Gunner, Pack Lucky 7-7

“Mole Base, Lucky seven-seven, over." Sergeant Reuben Reynolds spoke into his radio headset, the fingers on his gloved left hand pressing the push-to-talk switch on the front of his armor. He heard the constant beeping of the RSH 'Jumpstart' communication relays as they encrypted his signal, sending a data transmission that lasted a mere one-tenth of a second to Central command.

The short burst transmission had proved, so far, to be more than a match for Russian direction-finding equipment, which didn't even detect that a blip of radio communications had gone out. The Americans had found out on the first day just how effective Russian detection technology had advanced in the many years since the cold war. The 173rd IBCT's command center at Grafenwöhr was completely wiped off the map shortly after they started their radio broadcasts.

“Lucky seven-seven, Mole Base, send traffic, over." The slightly digitized voice of the RSH Center communications personnel crackled in his earpiece, almost tinny over the headset's speakers.

“Mole base, prolonged New Soviet vehicle movements along Sierra Tango two-one-eight-one, of regiment strength. Various Tango series tanks, of seven-two, eight-zero, and niner-zero class. Supply trucks accompanying, break," He paused for a moment, shifting the poncho draped over his head to block out the white light of his flashlight as he checked his notebook. “Traffic is splitting North and West in Erbendorf, down Route two-two. Similar strength, over."

Reuben had been in place at his overwatch for going on two hours, watching lines of New Soviet armored vehicles head west at high speed, the squealing of metal treads drifting to his ears, even over the roar of diesel and gas turbine engines. They had been going non-stop since sundown, traffic control moving smoothly with no American intervention whatsoever.

“Affirmative, Lucky Seven-Seven. We'll update the threat board and try to send some air power that way, continue planned operations. Mole Base, out." The voice instructed, devoid of emotion as usual.

“Well, that's just peachy. Continue as fuckin' planned." Roo muttered to himself, sliding his flashlight into a pocket on his body armor and all but ripping the poncho off from over his head. He dropped his helmet a moment later, running a hand through his bright red hair. The man massaged the base of his neck, attempting to rub out the soreness that had been ever present since the war began. The sides of his head surrounding his ears were equally sore. They had been rubbed almost raw from the Peltor communications headset that had, like a face-humping alien parasite, made his head it's second home. It was shaping up to be another long night after an equally long day, not just for him, but for every member of Lucky Seven.

The sergeant heard the rustling of leaves behind him a moment before a deep female voice met his ears.

Adine.

“I don't think anything is to plan anymore." He heard the shrubbery say, before a large female Utahraptor seemed to materialize out of thin air.

“It hasn't gone with the plan since the night of the war, all things considered, Adine. No reason to believe it's fixin' to get any better," Reuben answered her. “Any news on Six?"

“No. Everyone else is sweeping around looking for them, but with all the movement, it's been…difficult. There are a lot of patrols out on the secondary roads, as you can imagine. Riley and Bo are moving up along their return line, but so far, nothing." She responded, coming fully into view to lay beside Reuben, big yellow eyes turned on the never-ending green snake of New Soviet armor.

Adine, like Reynolds, was considered the pack's second in command. Where Reynolds was the second to 'Six' Dixon, Adine was the Beta to Angelina's Alpha rank.

Adine was a big raptor, several inches taller than her higher ranked counterpart, and a couple hundred pounds heavier. Where Angelina was lithe, Adine was bulky and muscled, with a dark tan hide and black tiger stripes that set her coloring apart from the other's more…temperate coloring. The pack would often joke that Adine and Reynolds, himself 6'8", were made for each other, both being quote “freakishly fucking huge" in comparison to everyone else.

That'd been before the war, though. It seemed like forever in Reuben's mind, even though it was maybe a month, if not less, that Lucky Seven-Seven had been in place in the Thuringian Forest.

Since the invasion, which had started with paratroopers on the evening of the 22nd, he and Adine found themselves bounced back and forth from recon to recon, reporting enemy concentrations and troop movements once an hour to RSH Central Sector Command. They'd not tackled any of their primary objectives that had been laid out before the start of hostilities yet, nor would they. Fictional units on a fictional battlefield were a lot different from what was happening on the ground at the current time.

The only mission they'd been assigned following the outbreak of hostilities had been spotter duty for the now-retreating troops from Grafenwöhr, whose entire command had been literally wiped from the face of the earth by target prioritization that nobody, including Reuben, had known the Russians could be capable of pulling off.

That mission had met with success until Six and his raptor, Angelina, had dropped off the radio without a trace. They'd been missing nearly four hours with no contact. While four hours wasn't a big deal in peacetime, it was an eternity at war.

“Ready for a break yet?" Reuben asked, looking to Adine as she continued to scan the road with her eagle-sharp eyesight. The big female returned his gaze with a quiet warble, her tail flicking in agitation as she nodded her head in a very humanlike gesture.

“I've been ready for a break since this time yesterday. I can only stalk the same half mile of forest for about thirty minutes before I'm bored." She responded, her third eyelid blinking across her amber eye almost quicker than Reuben could see.

“Well, I'm about ready to pack up. I don't want the Russians to get wise and start sending patrols up here, like they should have about three hours ago." He said, shifting up into a crouch, staying low as he grabbed his notebook and Mk. 46 SAW, slipping the sling over his shoulder to help offset the machine gun's twenty-two-pound loaded weight.

“I'm with you." The raptoress answered, rolling up to her own feet with an audible pop from her sore ankle joints. She flexed her massive killing claws, tearing the dirt beneath her with what amounted to eight inch knives.

She stayed low as well, taking one last look at the busy highway below. She noticed movement in the line of trees directly opposite them, movement that was distinctly different from that of a human.

Her brain shifted into overdrive unconsciously, taking the information that her eyes were seeing and analyzing it just as fast, recognizing the movements that she knew well. The neck moved with a slight bob, not unlike a bird, though the rest of the body movements were stiff and tense, the opposite of what they should be. She couldn't smell anything, given the amount of exhaust that was being carried to her on the wind, but her eyes knew what she saw. The information told her that she was looking at a Utahraptor. No question about it.

“I see something. A raptor in the trees across the road from us." Adine said quietly to Roo, watching as the tall human dropped back to the earth and brought his SAW to bear back on the road.

“Well, I don't see anything on night vision. Are you sure?" He asked, peeking through his C79 machine gunner's optic at the point that she had indicated.

“Absolutely. No doubt about it. I don't smell anything, but that's not surprising." She almost whispered, eyes frozen on the spot. She saw the movement again, slower and more deliberate, as whomever the raptor was made a scanning turn of the head, slowly dropping out of sight as another Russian tank came rumbling by.

“Roo to all Lucky Seven elements, give me a report on your positions, over." Reuben spoke into his radio, a twinge of excitement evident in his normally smooth Tennessee accent. It didn't take long for everyone to respond.

“Beans to Roo, I'm at the Castle."

“This is Texas, Elisa and I are watching the crossroads at Friedenfels. We're RTB in five mikes."

“This is Star, Foxy and I are with Beans, over."

“Colt to Roo, Bo and I are RTB from Grafenwöhr, skirting a Russian Garrison at Pressath. Still no sign of Six."

“Affirmative. Roo, out." He answered the rest of the pack, turning back to Adine before nodding. “That's everyone, Adine. Go check it out. Try not to get run over by a fucking tank."

“I will, Reuben. Do not worry." She said, eyes cocked up in the odd version of a Utahraptor smile before setting off in a beeline for the opposite tree line.

Adine was no stranger to high risk stuff, at least, not in the last few days. Since the war began, she'd found herself in one situation after another, constantly slipping in and out of Russian held territory with Reuben as they tried to build an accurate picture of what was going on. The Russians had invested an inordinate amount of material into seizing and holding Thuringia, for a purpose that nobody, human or dinosaur, could fathom.

She'd only had one call that came a little too close to death, and that was when a turbine powered T-80 tank had rounded a corner on her at full speed, catching her damn near in the middle of the road. Thankfully, a combination of rainy weather and speed had ensured that she hadn't been seen. The raptor, however, had a newfound respect for how quiet the old Russian turbine tanks were.

Adine was the second longest serving member of Lucky Seven-Seven. Angelina and herself had been together since before they'd even met their humans, and thus, shared the two highest ranks. They'd become what the humans called friends almost as soon as they came to understand the concept, going beyond their ingrained instinct to become nigh-inseparable. She'd been distraught when she heard that her friend and packmate had gone missing, despite the strong exterior that she put on for her human.

The raptor hoped that she had seen what her brain had told her.

She slid down the ditch on the side of the road, once more confirming that both sides were clear before making her move. An unusually wet spring had spurred a massive foliage growth in Thuringia that year, and the local government was having problems getting the necessary equipment to deal with it, as evidenced by the overgrown grass on the south side.

Adine was grateful for this as she jumped into the high grass on the opposite side of the thoroughfare. Her half-ton frame was almost made to hide in high grass, and not even her human-made body armor and equipment slowed her down as she did just that. She moved towards the trees, nostrils flaring and picking up what smelled like blood and fresh tree sap. It was directly ahead of her now.

There was an undertone of something else, however. The earthy, cinnamon scent of Utahraptor was buried under the blood, lighting up in her senses like a beacon, not having to even see the party in question to know to whom it belonged.

It was Angelina.

Adine warbled quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of distant tank treads as another platoon of tanks made their way further down the road.

Her heart soared as she heard a hoarse, scratchy raptor call ahead of her. She was moving before it even ended, bounding through the grass with several great strides before she was under the cover of forest. She came face to face with an extremely worn out Angel, seemingly gaunt in her exhaustion, as the smaller female panted.

“Angelina! We were so worried! What happ-" She asked excitedly, only to be cut off by the smaller female.

“It's Jake. He's been hit, and he's lost a lot of blood. I can't get him to respond anymore! I need to g-get him to Doc!" She exclaimed, shaky voice rattling the joy straight out of Adine's mind. This was Angel, the Alpha that didn't panic. Not even when Russian Paratroopers were dropping in on their very heads did she lose her cool.

“It's okay, Angel. You guys are good now. Let me take a look at him." Adine replied, moving to where she could get a look at Jake where he sat on his raptoress' back.

So that's why her movement was off. She was trying not to jostle him around.

Adine saw the sheer amount of blood that stained his clothes even through the darkness of the forest, seeing his ragged breath. He was collapsed against her neck, arms dangling limply down at her sides.

“Roo, this is Adine, I've got Angel and Jake here. He's hurt bad. I'm going to get him to Doc."

“I hear ya, Adine. Do what you have to do and be careful!" Reuben responded, a hint of worry in his voice as it crackled in her earpiece.

“Angel, give him to me! I'll get him to Beans and he'll take care of him." She said, meeting her Alpha's gaze.

“No! I-I can take him!" She protested, sides panting rapidly with each short breath.

“Absolutely not. I am fresh and can get him there quickly. I need you to go to Reuben on the hill ahead and get him back for me. Take care of my human while I take care of yours!" Adine hissed, bending down and shuffling the limp form of Jake onto her back, with nothing but a token protest from Angel. He slid comfortably on the back of her armor, his legs spread wider on her bulky frame, resting on the various ancillary packs of ammunition and spares for Roo's machine gun.

“Go, Angel! And watch for the tanks." Adine whispered, seeing the tired nod of her friend as she turned and beelined back the way she came. The road was thankfully tank free, the rumble of engines still close to the crossroads as Adine stepped onto the hard, black asphalt, her claws clicking on it as she ran. She did her best to keep her back in line, trying not to jostle Jake and further aggravate his wounds.

The raptoress made it about halfway up the hill before the four tank column rounded the bend behind her, rumbling down the road at a more sedate pace than those previous. She could see them out of the side of her vision, a brief flare of panic showing at the squat profiles of the main battle tanks as they advanced, turrets out and scanning back and forth to either side of the road.

No way are they gonna miss me, especially with Jake lighting me up on thermals like the sun.

“Sorry in advance, Jake." She said to the man through heavy breaths, hiding any pretense of a smooth ride as she poured on the speed, darting forwards just as the first tank in line brought its main cannon to bear on the strange heat source it had seen moving across the field.

The Russian gunner stared at the sight for a moment, perplexed at what he was seeing. Originally thinking that the stray heat was a deer, as this area of Germany was rotten with them. He soon made out a distinctly human shape that appeared to be…riding something. He couldn't tell exactly what, as it didn't really make out a clear picture on his thermals, but it almost looked like…

No, that couldn't be right. It looked almost like a dinosaur.

Calling the contact to his commander, who likewise looked on with confusion, the Russian gunner flipped his fire controls from safe to armed and loosed a sabot round at the strange heat source. The main cannon jumped back right next to his head, rocking the tank with a violent shudder as the 125mm smoothbore cannon sent a uranium-cored sabot downrange at over a mile a second.

Adine swerved as she heard the report of the gun, the air nearly sucked from her lungs as a glowing, white-hot projectile sailed over her head from the lead tank. Missing taking it off by less than three feet.

The Russian gunner in the lead tank had already switched his ammunition selector from APFSDS to HE-FRAG, listening to the sharp metallic snaps of the autoloader as it rammed the two part ammunition into the gun's breach. He felt the tank lurch a second later, the main gun slamming back down on the stabilizer mechanism as it reset itself with the tank's sights.

The turret swung, auxiliary hydraulic pump screaming as it answered the gunner's call, stopping abruptly as the gunner guessed where his target would be next. He squeezed his trigger, the whole tank lurching as the main cannon sent another round downrange, propellant gasses puffing into the tank's crowded interior.

Adine felt the earth-shattering impact of the HE round just as she crossed into the woods, the whining whistle of shrapnel shredding the treetops around her as she ducked out of the tank's line of sight with Jake still in tow.

The lead tank's commander was busy as well, traversing his NSV machine gun on it's powered mount and firing off a long burst of .50 caliber rounds at the target area. Green tracers flew forwards, bouncing skywards in an erratic fireworks display as they ricocheted off of the solid ground. Even more shredded the trees at the top of the hill. The three other tanks in the platoon had caught on, hammering the tree line with their lighter coaxial machine guns, never letting up as the drivers revved engines to full throttle, continuing down the road towards their objective with open road ahead.

The rounds drove Reuben back behind the ledge, dragging his weapon into the cover of the long berm that had also hidden Adine. White-hot bullets were eviscerating the trees all around him, hunting for whatever it was they had seen, tree sap and shredded wood raining from where they hit. A large branch fell directly to his left, thankfully missing him as he stared at the conifer limb in disbelief.

It stopped just as soon as it began as the rear tank disappeared around the bend ahead, losing line of sight with the RSH team that was hunkered down at the top of the hill. Reuben only looked up when the shadow of Angel fell over him, a dark silhouette on an even lighter sky.

“Are you okay?" Angel questioned him, breathing just as heavily as she had been when she'd found Adine.

“Peachy." Reuben laughed, coughing at the thick smoke that now hung in the air.

Angel looked at the retreating form of Adine as she headed for home, sighing with relief.

++++++

Burgruine Weissenstein

June 25th, 2011 0256 Local

_Adine _

Beta, Pack Lucky 7-7

“Doc, I'm here." Adine called breathlessly, sliding to a stop along the slick ground in front of one of the tents that was serving as their infirmary. It was tucked behind the ruin's former visitor pavilion, hiding under the cover of dense forest from any wayward aerial observers.

“In here, Adine!" Doc Pintoe called, opening the outer flap for her, allowing it to close after she passed before allowing the inner to open. Her eyes constricted, blinded by the sharp white lights overhead as he brought her into the main room. He gestured to a standard army cot, the ever-present green fabric stretched tightly over a scuffed aluminum frame.

The medic followed her, his brown eyes taking in all of the information he could about his combat casualty. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves, steadying Jacob as Adine slid to a stop.

“Put him down as easy as you can."

“No problem." She said, chest heaving with her breath through her armor as she slid Six off her back with Doc's help. She caught herself as dizziness hit her like a Russian Ural, stumbling as the weight of Jake disappeared. Her forepaws worked quickly once he was off, undoing the securement straps on the belly of her armor, letting in fresh air to cool off her overheated body.

Under the intense white light, she could see the extent of his bloody uniform. His pants and the shredded remains of his combat shirt were completely saturated. His face was deathly pale, almost ghost white.

Doc immediately sent to work, cutting away the remains of his uniform to expose his wounded abdomen. A large piece of olive-green shrapnel was buried on the side of his belly, barely sticking out of a wound that was half as long as the medic's pinky finger. Adine was no expert, but that looked like the only piece that had penetrated.

“Adine, I need you to call for Woods! Get her in here right now!" Louis yelled to her, quickly setting to work triaging the wound on Jake's stomach.

“Already here, Beans! What do you need?" The feminine voice of Madison Woods called from behind her, a glimpse of hazel eyes meeting Adine's as she rushed to Doc's side.

“Come here and drop your gear." Doc answered, waving Adine away.

Adine shifted away from the two, staggering to the other side of the tent and flopping onto her side. Her head smacked off the hard dirt, causing stars to briefly dance in her vision from the impact. The raptoress was hyperventilating, breath coming in short, warbling breaths. Her leg muscles were burning with exhaustion, twitching with involuntary tremors that caused her massive scythe-like killing claws to flick of their own accord. A wave of nausea overtook her, causing her to heave dryly onto the tent floor. Saliva ran from her mouth, staining the spot underneath her head.

_ I hope Six is okay…_

Adine thought as she lost consciousness, feeling her forepaw talons slicing a deep swath in the dirt.

++++++

Adine woke to the sound of falling rain pitter-pattering on the tent roof, her brain feeling like it was trying to pound out of her skull with a pilfered sledgehammer. Her muscles felt stiff and heavy, soreness radiating out to the tip of her tail as it shifted. She felt like death.

She could hear Doc Pintoe talking quietly in the corner, accompanied by the surprisingly girlish giggle of Staff Sergeant Danielle Austin, but she couldn't make out what either of them were saying through her headache. Someone had put a rolled-up blanket underneath her head at some point, and she quietly thanked that person for their foresight. The hard ground was hardly conducive to recovery, after all.

“Ugh." She groaned, warbling pitifully as she lifted her head, causing a fresh jolt of pain to issue from her tortured brain. She opened her clammy eyes, blinking her third eyelid twice in quick succession to clear away the stickiness. She moved to stand but stopped herself when she heard a snore next to her.

Reuben was curled up next to her, leaning against her bare stomach and sound asleep. His armor, SAW, blouse, and assault pack were set in a haphazard pile above her head. She tilted her head down towards him, nosing his red hair and letting forth a comforting croon, her headache pushed to the back of her mind as she focused on her guardian. She didn't recoil at the smell of human sweat that permeated her human's head, as was frequent from their helmets. She had a feeling she was going to have to get used to that. There definitely weren't any hot showers in their castle ruins.

The raptor also noticed an IV set up running under her leg, the line started into her vein on the inside of her thigh. Two large IV bags hung off one of the tent straps above her, tied securely with a few loops of 550 cord.

“Hi, Adine." He muttered, eyes remaining closed as a hand reached up to massage her jaw, earning another satisfying warble from the female raptor. Her tail swished gently, but otherwise, she remained rooted in her spot.

“Hi." She muttered, voice sounding scratchy and digitized. The speech impulse belt didn't much care for irritated throats, as it were. They often sounded off when everything wasn't a hundred percent, but it could not be helped. The electrical impulses that made their speech possible, in conjunction to the throat and mouth muscles they'd been engineered with, all needed to be in perfect sync.

“You feeling okay?" He asked, blue eyes finally opening to look up to her.

The staff sergeant had been worried when he'd arrived with Angel, his raptor having passed out from exhaustion with her armor half off. He'd remained with her since, falling asleep to the rise and fall of her soft underbelly.

“I am not a distance runner." She said flatly, voice returning to normal tone and pitch the more she spoke.

Adine wasn't lying. While her species had phenomenal speed in short spurts, like a cheetah, distance proved problematic. A sprint over that distance was difficult, if not downright dangerous. The very real risk of death from overheating, something that she pushed to the back of her mind at the time, was magnified tenfold from such actions.

“I can argue the contrary. According to my watch, you did six point one miles in seven minutes and twenty-six seconds. If only my next PT test could reflect that." He laughed, trailing his hands down her thick neck, the way he knew she liked. He'd been worried about her, especially after those tanks had taken to shooting at her with such…veracity. To see her relatively unharmed was a huge weight off his broad shoulders.

“Never again." She muttered, her head falling back down to the blanket.

“Even if I'm wounded?" He asked, his voice dripping with mock hurt.

“Especially if you're wounded. You're a lot heavier than Jake. I'd die of exhaustion in the first mile." She answered, head remaining down for a moment before it shot back up, looking over to the cot on which Jake lay.

She saw the sleeping form of Angel, curled up at the base of it with her head resting on his legs, chest rising and falling. Her armor was discarded in a haphazard heap right inside the tent's door. Fresh bandages were wrapped around her legs. Adine hadn't noticed any wounds on her the night before, but then again, they'd both been a little…preoccupied.

“He's not out of the woods yet, but he's stable." She heard Louis' calming voice from across the tent. She shifted her gaze over to where the two were sitting, catching the medic following her gaze to the cot. His dark brown eyes were tired, sunk in his skull with heavy bags.

“Good, he looked like death warmed over. Are we gonna medevac him?" Reuben spoke next, giving his raptor a final rub along her distinct eye ridges before standing, stretching his back with a loud pop as he went to take a seat next to the medic.

“Afraid not. We're completely cut off. This is as good as it gets, folks. If it would have been more serious, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

“Understood, doc. Looks like he gets to skip out with a quarters profile. I'm almost jealous." Reuben laughed, some of the stress disappearing from his voice. Adine smiled internally, watching her human's body language further relax. The pack needed all the stress relief it could get.

“He almost died once, last night," Doc said quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his right hand. “I did an FWB transfusion from Woods. Got him out of hypovolemic shock right quick and back stable. The rest was supplemented by IV. Between those, and the ones that Adine has, we're pretty tapped out. Gonna have to restock soon."

The medic held up two empty IV bags of Hextend that sat on his small field desk, sucked completely dry. He set them back down a moment later before standing and going back to Jake's cot. The medic readied a syringe and a prep pad, cleaning Jake's stomach before dropping the small needle into the tender flesh. The Heparin injection, one of Louis' few remaining ones, would help prevent blood clots from travelling to their leader's lungs. That would most certainly kill him where the Russians had failed.

“It's a good thing we have a prepared SF medic. Jake would not be alive without you, Beans." Reuben said quietly, looking at Austin where she sat across the table, sharing her confirming nod.

“That's for sure. I think we're gonna go pay those Spetsnaz a visit." The other human responded, grabbing her M39 EMR and armor, swinging the latter over her head and buckling the hook-and-loop front piece. She slung the rifle afterwards, moving towards the tent flap. Reuben followed, after a quick goodbye scratch to his raptor.

“Adine, you're on rest until 0001 tonight. All joking aside, your little forest sprint was very hard on your system. Much more and you would have died from overheating." Doc said, looking to her. Beans was rarely ever forceful with the raptors, especially since they normally managed things amongst themselves, so they knew the importance of the situation when he actually DID give them orders.

“Okay, Beans. I'll take it easy."

“Oh, and Adine," He said, more quietly this time. She met his stress-filled eyes, watching as they studied her up and down. “Thanks. He'd be dead without you and Angel."

She only nodded in response, lowering her head back onto the makeshift blanket pillow. The raptoress was asleep within seconds.

++++++