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Zack saw the most bloody and violent fighting in the history of the Earth while he was deployed to the French front. He witnessed Landships and Artillery war for supremacy, gas kill every living thing it could reach and random pieces of scrap fastened into brutal melee weapons. His actions left him with a Congressional Medal of Honor, the coveted Airborne Platinum Cross and a Purple Heart, as well as Demons that he has yet to reveal to Arien or his current team.

Ardennes Forest, French Front Line

Eight Years Ago

Staff Sargent Zack Thompson-82nd Airborne

Objective: Hold The Western Trench by any means necessary

The battlefields of the Ardennes Forest were quiet, a rare thing as any soldier deployed there could tell you. Night had fallen and for once, the skies were clear. All the stars and vibrantly bright full moon was illuminating the shredded landscape of the French country side, littered with dead soldiers, ruined tanks and the occasional movement of an infantryman who had woken up from a shell sock induced coma scattering to return to his trench line. Standing orders on both sides were that fighting was only to take place between the hours of 7 AM and ten PM, waves and waves of Armor and Infantry had been lost by the Africans and Chinese crashing against US and German Concrete, while a horde of German Wolves had fallen mere hours ago to the chatter of African auto cannons, the maps of the French front had not changed. Everyone on both sides were restless, taking what periods of relaxation they could, occasionally venturing out into the abandoned trenches to assist the wounded and gather supplies from fallen friend and foe. The German Wolves on the ally line had been uneasy since the cease fire went into affect a few hours before the normal time that afternoon. They were fresh, had barely been in the trenches a week, well supplied, fed and with a seemingly unquenchable thirst for blood and revenge, there wasn't an animal in the trenches who wasn't wary of them. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the other males and females in the trenches were nearly too exhausted to move, and Zack was no exception.

Hidden on the lowest layer of the command bunker deep inside Federation territory, Zack was one of three remaining Airborne American's left alive on base, with the other 57 having been killed or MIA. His uniform was muddy and torn, bullet holes riddled his limbs and torso and his muscles and lungs burned with the fury of a thousand suns, a pain he wasn't aware that living animals could feel. His hands wouldn't stop shaking and his knees felt like they would give in at any second. He hadn't eaten in more than a few days and to top it off, knew he was infected with something, but wasn't sure what. The worst part of it all, to him at least, was the fact that every cot in the base was spoken for, either by soldiers far more exhausted than himself, or by wounded. As a result, he had turned to simply using some spare blankets from the supply room as a pillow, but at least they made a good one. Hundreds of other soldiers had the same idea and because of that the supply room had been stripped of any non ballistic fabric as soldiers struggled to get at least a few hours of feet before the artillery barrage that was sure to come at Seven AM on the button. No one knew which side would shatter the cease fire tomorrow morning, and even buried deep underground in a spider web of hand carved tunnels in rooms with only a handful of soldiers in each one, whispers could still be heard. Male and female soldiers of many species and belonging to six different countries wishing that the artillerymen who were sure to fire would be too exhausted to load their cannons come morning.

"Wishful thinking brothers", Zack said quietly to himself to avoid waking the two dragons and German Wolf sleeping close by him.

"Huh?", a Wolverine in a makeshift hammock in the corner asked, his voice carried a thick Russian accent, "you say something brother?"

"You hear all the guys wishing for the artillerymen to be too tired to shoot tomorrow?", Zack asked.

"Oh", the Wolverine answered with a bit of a chuckle, "yeah, wishful thinking. Either those artillerymen are getting resupplied and switched out or their just robots who stand around all night with loaded cannons and for the clock to hit seven so they can start shelling all us grunts again."

"I think it might be both", Zack shrugged, "they're robots who are getting resupplied and switched out as their batteries get low, that way the grinder keeps turning."

"Sounds right friend", the Wolverine sighed, "in Russia, they say the war against the Asian African Federation is all but won. Germans say their vengeance will be swift, bloody, unrelenting and talk of a new Blitzkrieg against Africa saying it will be won in weeks, possibly days, and yet we Soldiers talk of war lasting years more. Who to believe?"

"Who indeed", Zack yawned, "I'm more inclined to believe my brothers than any politician. Wish those suits and ties in high places could see the hell they put us soldiers through. My tour was almost up and now I'm stuck here. So sick of this fucking place."

"In the same boat myself friend", the Wolverine said, "back home in Russia, I have a beautiful female and a little one awaiting my return."

"Do you brother?", Zack smiled.

"Absolutely", the Wolverine answered confidently, "I will return to Russia in glory, maybe not to the public, but certainly to the one I love."

"Wish I could say the same", Zack shrugged, "going back to work on Diesels when I get home, wish I had a family to greet me."

"You don't have a family?", The wolverine asked shifting his position in the hammock.

"Not one that's gonna greet me when I step off the plane", Zack said stretching, "see, I come from a family of crazy liberals. Everyone but my biological sister disowned me when I bought a Kalashnikov a couple of years ago and then wished death upon me when I told them I was joining the army."

The wolverine laughed, "Ah, a Kalashnikov. Does Soviet diesel flow in your veins my American brother?"

"Damn straight man", Zack answered, "never thought twice about it."

The Wolverine chuckled again, "I'm called Andreyev, but most Americans I meet just call me Andrew."

"Zack Thompson", Zack said, "I'd shake your paw, but mine won't stop shaking and I ain't getting up. I hurt incredibly badly right now so I'm laying my ass right here."

The Wolverine was sure to answer, but six explosions rocked the bunker in quick succession, followed by a high pitched siren and various shouting.

"GAS! AFRICAN COUNTER ATTACK!"

Zack reached into his ruck which was right beside him and put on his mask. The two other dragons and Wolf did the same and Andrew certainly wasted no time in donning his. Zack picked up his M235/M203 from his gear and checked to make sure it was loaded before trying to stand, only to fail when he remembered how heavy his gear was. Andrew helped him up.

"Thanks brother", Zack said taking a deep breath and tucking his weapon into his shoulder.

"Of course", Andrew said, "we Soviets take care of our own and must look after our American brothers just the same. I've got your six if you've got mine."

Zack nodded, "got your six. Let me grab my M1900 and lets get going."

Considered by many to be the most devastating infantry weapon ever unleashed upon the battlefields of WW3, the M1900 LBRC/Avenger was a shoulder mounted cannon that fired 60.75x340mm Thermonuclear warheads at four times the speed of sound. The ultimate Anti-Armor weapon, it enabled a single soldier to massacre all but the mighty Landship in a single shot. The explosion was one Zack had seen multiple times since he jumped into France, he'd already gone partially blind in one eye from the amazing flashes that the rockets emitted upon impact. Zack simply threw the bundle of launcher parts on his back and followed Andrew towards the front of the bunker as more and more artillery rounds impacted, shaking and rattling everything. C12 gas had flooded into the command bunker, lurking at ground level where it would seem into inexperienced to be mostly harmless, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. Zack had already felt the effects of smokey vapors once, and after that, he was determined never to experience it again. Other soldiers hadn't been that lucky, having succumbed to the deadly C12 Vapors with their masks half on their face, others were beginning to wander into the command bunker, masks on, but with limbs missing from the artillery shelling, some of them even carrying their severed appendages, ranging from arms to wings and tails. The gas would take them as well if they weren't careful. Zack and Andrew rushed through the horde of Federation Soldiers to the front line of the trenches where the 6 M2 MaDecue Machine guns were locked into defensive positions. Several other soldiers had taken up positions that would let them fire at the African horde that was sure to come within minutes, maybe seconds. The artillery soon stopped, the trenches went quiet again, there was only the clicking of bolts and magazines as the Allies readied themselves for another bloody trench fight.

Minutes passed. It came. The cry of the African Hellfighters as they came charging through the wounded landscape with Bayonets lowered. The Artillery crew's on both side spit illumination flares into the dark night sky, revealing the Hellfighter horde, easily a thousand animals. Then, another cry echoed through the Federation trenches.

"FEDERATION! BOUND BY THE BLOOD OF THE ONES THAT DIED!"

"FOR GOD AND COUNTRY WE'LL END YOUR LIFE!", Zack and his allies shouted as the Browning .50 cals rang, grinding the bones of the African horde into the ground seemingly six at a time, those behind the front charging over the bodies of their fallen comrades with a gaze of steel and eyes like arctic ice. Machinegun chatter continued to slaughter the horde of charging Africans, but their numbers carried them to the line of Federation defense.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK TO SECOND LINES!"

The Hellfighters poured over the line of Fed machine guns and steel found flesh and scale as the lions and Jackals ran their bayonets through the hearts of their enemies. The Federation fighters began to retreat as the Hellfighters forced them from their lines of defense. Here in the confines of the trenches, Federation fighters gave no quarter to enemies as they filled the corridors with a million full metal jacket teeth and flooded the muddy floor with a sea of brass. Zack hit the dirt as 5.56 ammunition ripped through the air above him and tore through the Africans chasing him, their long bolt actions ineffective in the confines of the trenches, where the M235 Trench Rifle and it's 1200 RPM fire rate held the crown. Zack crawled towards a notch in the trench where Andrew grabbed him and pulled him in. In the chaos Zack hadn't realized they'd been separated.

"Got any new holes in you?", Andrew shouted over the gunfire.

"I'm not sure!", Zack shouted with a grin, "what about you?"

Andrew shrugged, "nope! Africans couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!"

"Let's get in this brother!", Zack shouted.

"Hell yes!"

Zack and Andrew popped out from their notch in the trench and gave the other soldiers the go ahead to retreat as they took aim at a group of six African's coming down the trench line. Two of them, dropped to the ground and took counter shots while the remaining four picked off the retreating Feds. Zack, with a round of buck loaded into his 203, stuck his rifle around the corner and pulled the trigger of his launcher. 32 00 buck pellets flew down range and shredded through the Africans that remained standing, but missed the two still laying in the mud.

"You missed GI!", The lioness laughed, "learn to shoot straight!"

"Bitch I was top of my class in basic!", Zack returned.

"Yeah fucking right! Pop out and try again!"

"Nice try!", Zack shouted back loading another round of shot into his launcher. Unbeknownst to them, two Africans were closing in on their position from above their trenches. The two lions appeared on Zack's side of the trench, hunting him specifically it seemed.

"Zack watch out!", Andrew shouted raising his AK and taking two quick shots, dropping the two Africans on their backs in the mud, holes in their heads. Zack nodded towards Andrew and popped out of cover to deal with the two other Africans still in the trench with a spray of full auto fire that their bolt actions simply couldn't counter. More flooded around the corner as Federation soldiers poured in from behind, leaving Zack and Andrew trapped between a bullet storm. African 9mm flying one way and Federation 5.56x45 another. Zack and Andrew were almost dazed from the conflicting fire on all sides as the radio came alive.

"Would someone goddamn answer me!?", a gruff sounding male asked over the radio, in his 60's, at least, "what in the actual fuck is going on over there in the West Trench line?"

"Overlord, this is Staff Sargent Zack Thompson, callsign Vulture, it's the Africans! They've broken the ceasefire and launched a surprise attack! We're outnumbered 5 to 1! We need support now!"

"Uhh", Overlord sighed, "Okay hold on."

"We can't afford to hold on!", Zack shouted into the radio as the Federation soldiers gave him the signal to retreat, "the Hellfighters are gonna overrun us and if we lose the West Trench France is as good as lost!"

"ENEMY ARTILLERY INCOMING!", a random male shouted over the radio as Zack heard the thunderous booms of African cannons in the distance, "EVERYONE GET BACK!"

"Time to move brother!", Andrew shouted as he and Zack took off down the trench line. They could hear the whistling of the shell closing in. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out it was gonna come down right on their heads.

'Holy shit that shell has our names on it!", Zack panicked, tripping over the body of one of his fallen comrades in the process. Andrew, having heard it by some miracle, fell face first in the mud trying to stop himself. He scrambled to help his friend get up.

"WE ARE NOT DYING HERE COMRADE!", Andrew shouted, "WE MUST MOVE!"

Zack scrambled to his feet and continued running down the trenches, but he and Andrew had barely turned the corner when the 500 pound artillery shell landed almost directly on top of them, barely 20 feet away on top of a trench cube. The explosion's shockwave and the shrapnel of dirt, rock and steel splinters tore their way through Andrew's unarmored chest, face and back and ripped Zack's legs off at the knees and his tail off nearly at the base. The wall of air picked up the two war fighters and threw them like rag dolls with only the steel walls of the trench to catch them. Upon impact, Zack was left in a daze, not yet fully realizing what had happened to him. Andrew still had all his limbs, but his spine had been shattered like glass, rendering him almost completely immobile except for his arms, he did realize what was going on, but he couldn't speak. His jaw was sized from a piece of metal that had gone straight through his snout and barely missed poking out his right eye. With shaking hands, he began trying to pull it out while Zack, just barely coming to from shell shock, felt the pain began to set in on his legs and at the base of his tail. As he realized what had happened, he screamed from the sudden, liquid like burning pain tearing through the stumps that had once been his knees. He rolled over on his back, trying to see the extent of the damage, only to loose the air in his lungs when he realized that the only thing keeping them together was his uniform. The force of the artillery hadn't been enough to sever the Carbon Fiber pants he was wearing, and his boots being tied to the inside of his pant's leg had kept his limbs together, though they wouldn't be salvageable if he didn't get medical help soon. He couldn't see his tail anywhere, though he did see someone's tail, little more than a piece of meat inside a Multicam sleeve, no way of telling what critter it belonged to. Andrew, in more pain than he ever felt as a feeling like burning liquid set in on his back, reached out and grabbed Zack's M235 Trench Rifle and his own AK which were laying near by and handed it to Zack, who was currently trying to bring himself back from the dead.

"We must defend ourselves Comrade", Andrew said as he pulled Zack up into an nearby notch and picked up the sidearm of the same Pit bull he'd taken the rifle from. The two focused only on the iron sights affixed to the tops of their firearms as African fighters poured into the trenches with bayonets lowered, straight at them.

"Slow shots", Zack said, beginning to grow dizzy from blood loss.

Andrew nodded. Alternating fire, Andrew and Zack took slow, precise head shots at the Fighters pouring into the trench. One at a time, they dropped. Andrew's Kalashnikov clicked empty, the bolt catching on the magazine and locking back. Zack, with one round left in the camber of the 235, took a level shot that killed three Africans and the bolt locked back in his shoulder, the gun falling silent in his paws. Two Africans, seeing their prey was unarmed, lowered Bayonets and charged, impaling the two friends like fish. The Bayonets skewered Zack and Andrew both trough their rib cages, missing the heart and going into their lungs. The Africans gave their rifles savage twists, tearing tissue and shattering bones before using their muddy boots to hold the broken war fighters steady as they forcibly removed their weapons from their bodies. Leaving the two to suffocate, the Africans moved along, bringing a MKV Landship up with them. Zack couldn't tell the model, but none the less, he couldn't let it pass as long as there was a breath in his body.

Mustering every thing that still remained in his broken and exhausted body, he removed the M1900 bundle from his back and put it together, loading the massive Thermonuclear projectile into the launcher via the back end. Firing this damn thing this close was suicide, but figuring he only had a couple of minutes of life left anyway, fuck it, he was taking that tank to hell with him.

"Not while I live", he grunted as he took the launcher off safe, "here we go."

With a grunt and a sharp stabbing pain in his chest, Zack flipped himself on his stomach and crawled out of the notch, where he had a clear view of the tank. He planted the ass end of the M1900 firmly in the dirt and lined up the reticle on the EoTech with the rear end of the African tank. With a the hardest breath in his life, his finger touched the trigger.

"Go to hell."

The trigger clicked. The disconnect let the hammer go, it flew forward and slammed against the firing pin and set off the primer, igniting the powder inside the cartridge, sending the 60mm projectile flying down the barrel of the launcher and out the end with muzzle flash so bright it could dazzle the Almighty himself. The flash of the muzzle hadn't cleared before the warhead punched it's way through the bottom armor of the African Landship, but since it couldn't punch out through the top, the Landship detonated like the biggest frag grenade the world had ever seen. A wave of blistering heat washed over Zack, instantly turning the mud in the trench into dust and bodies to ash. Shrapnel from tiny splinters to daggers flew through the air, eviscerating everything they came in contact with. Zack instinctively covered his head with the launcher, which saved him from death by just a few millimeters. A flying spike pinged off the top of the launcher, flying into the air before falling down and punching almost clean through his helmet, but somehow, the blast hadn't disintegrated him. It didn't even cross his mind at the time, now, his only concern was getting to the main Federation trench.

"Zack...Zack are you there?", A familiar voice asked, shit, he couldn't place it, he was too far gone to remember, "Zack brother if you can hear me the Calvary is here! Zack?? ZACHAREY!?"

Zack unclasped his helmet and slowly set it aside. He reached back into the notch and grabbed Andrew, who, while still alive, was minutes away from death, as was himself. He loaded another magazine into the 235 and handed it to Andrew.

"I'll move us, you shoot."

Andrew took the rifle from his friend. Zack, for everything he was worth, rolled himself onto his stomach and sized Andrew by the back of his vest. Andrew plus his kit weighed nearly 400 pounds, Zack himself wasn't much lighter, which complicated the situation drastically. With everything he had, Zack hauled the injuries Spetsnaz soldier from the notch and started dragging him towards the Federation line. He could hear Landships closing in from both directions, Federation from the front and African from behind, it wouldn't be long before those rolling fortresses locked teeth and would make the trenches completely uninhabitable. He didn't knew which would come first, the Landships, or death. Zack hauled Andrew along the trench line baked from the hell fire of the M1900's warhead, the sting of radiation tearing through his body didn't go unnoticed and made him sick to his stomach, but still, he kept pulling. With less than 40 feet to the safety of the Federation line, the Landships had arrived. Zack saw the massive, Chobam clad dragon standing as a black mass atop a hill in the night, the white strobe atop it flashing twice in rapid succession, followed by a brief pause and then two more flashes. The top of the allied line was covered with them, ten that he could see. The Africans must not be far behind Zack rolled onto his back, spotting two Landships bearing African paint rolling across the top of the trenches, spraying at his comrades with the chug chug chug of the African 57mm Repeating their army was so well known for. Zack let go of Andrew and hauled the M1900 back out, unlocking the breach and pulling the rack out of the rear of the weapon. The spent shell ejected from the back of the weapon with a really audible, hollow metallic thunk, like an M1 Garand but much deeper and more pronounced, heard even over battlefield chatter. He removed his second of three warheads and inserted it into the launcher, closing the breach and planting the rear of the weapon firmly in the dirt.

"FEEL NO FEAR! KNOW MY PRIDE!", Zack said loudly, "FOR GOD AND COUNTRY I'LL END YOUR LIFE!"

Zack let the second warhead fly. Once again the target Landship exploded like a giant grenade, eviscerating one and crippling, but not destroying, the two next to it. Still combat effective despite being immobile, Zack scrambled to reload the M1900 as the two remaining Landships zeroed in on his position. Zack locked the breach and let the remaining warhead fly. Straight through the gun turret of the tank with him in his sights, the warhead failed yet again to punch through the other side of the tank and went off, the mushroom cloud billowing from the inferno that erupted in the tank. Zack let the empty launcher fall to his side, drew his M235. He groped his vest and after fighting to control the shaking in his hands magnified by blood loss he managed to insert the magazine into his weapon and close the bolt. Taking aim, he leveled his weapon on the chests of incoming African Lions and shot them down as fast as he could pull the trigger. The sights on his weapon shaking violently and making him highly inaccurate. Nonetheless, his shots hit their mark. The six African lions dropped and Zack hauled Andrew the remaining 40 feet to the Federation trench line. Barely reaching his mark, he felt a paw close around the back of his vest.

"I've got your back brother", a male said in a heavy German accent. The animal moved Zack effortlessly to the back to the Federation line and to a medic, a female wold. Zack recognized the face, but still couldn't place her.

"This one's hurt bad!", the German said, "so is the Russian that was with him!"

"Patch me up", Zack said, his dizziness was close to forcing him into unconsciousness, "get me back in this!"

"You're fucking crazy brother!", the German said, "just rest for now!"

"There are Landships still out there", Zack said as his head began to feel like someone was hitting it with a sledgehammer. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe as his lung continued to fill with blood. He felt a prick in his neck and the familiar taste of Compound M. As Zack slid into unconsciousness, he saw the German pick up an M249,

"Waffen SS! Lasst die Knochen dieser Hunde in einem Gewitter aus Feuer und Blei zu Staub zermahlen! Für Deutschland und für das Leben all derer, die vor uns kamen! Diese Gräben werden rot mit afrikanischem Blut sein!"

Four weeks later, Zack was back home in New York, waking up to the sound of the alarm clock he hadn't heard in a few years. He rolled out of bed, walked to his kitchen and got his coffee, the clock on the maker said 5AM. He found himself grinning ever so slightly. It was good to be home, and to be wearing his old work clothes again.

"Gotta get ready for work", he said to himself, setting his mug on the table. He pulled on some old faded jeans, steel toe boots and a brown shirt that with two patches that read, "Ballistic Offroad, Zack Thompson". He was the master Cummins and IDI Mechanic for the shop, having gotten the job shortly after coming home. He grabbed the rest of his things and as he was heading out the door, stopped to look at a framed picture of himself on the wall from when he had graduated Basic Combat training. The animal staring back was not the same one that had come home. Because of his actions in the Western Trench, he'd earned a Purple Heart, a Congressional Medal of Honor and the coveted Airborne Platinum Cross, the first since WW2, and missing limbs. He had woken up in a military hospital in Paris where he'd been told doctors hadn't been able to save his legs. Instead, they'd been replaced with advanced prosthetics that would have muscle and tissue grow into certain places over time, making them feel more natural. They'd had to do the same thing with his lung that had been speared by the bayonet. He'd also been told that, with time, his normal scales and skin would grow and cover his artificial tail and legs to the point where even he would forget that they were there. It hadn't happened yet, but he hoped it would soon.