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Prometheus War

Chapter 2: Catfight

Tunes stalks down the center of the road as the rosy glow of sunrise starts to lighten the eastern sky, one of his customized 1911 handguns held low as he scans the shadows around him, "Are they sure this is the last grid reference they had for team four?" His throat mic picks up his sub-vocal words and transmits them to his partner who is prowling along the rooftops.

"Affirmative," she responds as she keeps a steady eye on the bigger picture along the street and the solitary figure stalking down the middle to stay clear of any cover that an infected could leap out of.

The male bobcat squats for a moment and picks up a casing, "Yeah, forget my previous question, they were here. This is one of War's .50 cal. Beowulf rounds." He scans the street and notices more brass lying scattered on the ground, "Looks like quite the firefight from the brass and expended magazines I'm seeing. But where are the bodies? I see some blood pools, but no dead infected or clear signs of our comrades."

Touch calls him from her rooftop vantage, "There's something on the other side of that green pickup. I can't make it out from here but it looks like it might be a body, be careful."

He responds with a quiet click as he dashes with a sudden burst of speed towards the indicated vehicle. Leaping over the hood he slides along the metal and raises the pistol as he lands on his feet, focusing his sights on the figure slumped there. "Damn," he swears as he leans in and checks for a pulse on the big humanoid equine. "It's War, he's down." His fingers find the faint throb of a pulse at the horse's thick neck, "He's alive, call in an extraction. He needs immediate medical attention if he's going to pull through. He's got numerous claw and bite marks on him, but I don't think all the blood is his. He put up one hell of a fight." He pats the empty magazine pouches and nods, "Looks like he clocked out on ammo and was swarmed, but why didn't they finish him off?" He freezes as he realizes he hasn't heard a response from his partner, "Touch?"

Her quiet voice reaches his ear-bud receiver, "Tunes... He's bait, and we just stepped into the trap. You're surrounded."

His ears flatten and he stands upright with unusual clam to pull a metal phial from his vest and unscrew the cap as casually as if he is having afternoon tea in a calm meadow, "How many?" Throwing his head back he gulps the thick syrupy liquid before he caps the phial again and puts it back in its pocket.

"Too many, and there must be several of the smart ones because I'm not getting clear shots to take them out yet. I'm only getting flashes of movement. They are using tactics; we've never seen them do this. Tunes, you need to get out of there."

Tunes smirks as he pulls out his i-pod and selects a playlist, "Well, you know I can't do that and leave War here like he is. If they want to play, let's not keep them waiting." He looks up at the tigress on the rooftop, "Please scratch my back when needed." With that he taps the play button and the street starts to echo with a loud yell as The Immigrant Song starts to blare from the speakers in his vest and he blurs into motion with his enhanced reflexes and superior musculature.

At the sudden loud music the feral and rabid beasts break from the control of the ones who can still think and plan to charge at him screaming. His hands raise both of his handguns and the barrels start to spit flame as the .45 caliber pieces of lead fly towards closing targets. Over the music he hears the higher pitched crack of Touch's rifle taking down infected one at a time, but there seems to be more and more to take their place. When the slides of both guns lock back, the magazines depleted, he slams them into their holsters and grabs the combat knives sheathed next to them.

His lips pull back in a snarl as he leaps towards the closing hoard, "NO!" he hears Touch's scream briefly over the music as he wades into the tide of rabid beasts that used to be human with twin metal claws arcing and cutting down his opponents.

From her perch Touch screams as she picks off target after target but the tidal-wave of infected piles on top of the feline as he slashes, punches, and kicks them. "NO! TUNES!" she screams as she pulls a grenade from her harness and tosses it into the mass of infected. The blast takes out several, their bodies soaking up the force of the explosive and the shrapnel leaving more intact to take their places. She triggers her radio back to base, "Tiger Pit, this is team fourteen, we've found a survivor from team four, and we're getting swarmed. Request backup! We need our backs scratched!"

A scrapping behind her makes her turn; her reflexes squeezing off two rounds into the infected who had been trying to sneak up on her before her mind even registers the danger. Kicking off she jumps to another rooftop and continues to pour a solid lead rain into the flood below while the infected trying to reach her have to shift to her new position, and she knows they can't jump as far as she can.

"Fourteen, this is Tiger Pit," her radio crackles, "we can have Valkyrie-two overhead in ten minutes. No other air assets are available. Pop green smoke when Valkyrie-two orders to indicate positions."

She grimaces, "Be advised Tiger Pit, Tunes is in the melee and unable to pop smoke..." she hesitates and takes a deep breath before she gives the code, "He requests having his back scratched."

There is a hesitation from the radio operator at base, "Fourteen, that is not advised. Valkyrie-two is carrying heavy. Can you pop smoke for him?"

"Negative, only carrying two and I need to mark the survivor from team-four. Note, second member of team-four not located. Repeat, location of second member not known."

Tiger Pit is quiet for a moment, "Valkyrie-two is advising against use of onboard weapons. He has a team of snipers onboard who will provide long range support as soon as they are in range. We advise Tunes to extract to rooftops."

The tigress snarls, "He can't goddamnit! He is being dog-piled on and I'm down to only three magazines. He is already down to his knives. We need fucking support not advice!"

The voice on the radio hesitates, "Understood Fourteen, Valkyrie-two is now six minutes out. Snipers state they can engage in three."

The tigress pulls a small red large bore pistol from a chest pouch and points it to the sky, "Firing parachute flare!" She jerks the trigger and the 40mm flare flies into the air and bursts into glaring green light as it starts to drift slowly down. "Now tell them to put the hammer down, or we'll lose Tunes and War to these monsters!"

She tracks her targets and makes every shot count as the swarm of infected block the view of Tunes until he sends two or three flying in a shower of blood. She can hear his roars of rage and screams of pain over the music and forces her pulse to stay calm as she loads another magazine, 'Two left.'

Touch's ear twitches as the sound of rotors beating the air come to her over the music and cries of the infected. "About damn time," she mutters as she reaches for the green cylinders on her harness. Pulling the pins she tosses one onto the rooftop behind her and the other towards the wounded equine in the street below. The clouds of green smoke billow to identify their locations precisely to the incoming Blackhawk. Returning her eye to the scope of her rifle she notices targets falling and the distant cracks of high powered rifles join her own.

The flood of infected closing on Tunes finally starts to thin as his motions slow from their blurred frenzy and the strain of the battle takes its toll on the CQB expert. With the aid of the two snipers on the inbound Blackhawk she is finally able to keep the infected left away from the bobcat as he tries to catch his breath.

As the hoard of infected finally dissipates under the precise shots of the snipers Tunes drops to his knees, the blades that saw him through his struggle falling from his limp fingers as he kneels there, the last of his energy spent and gone. Touch looks up from her scope and triggers her mic, "Area looks clear. Sniper team, stay on over-watch, I'll go down there. Valkyrie-two, can you provide dust off?"

"Affirmative Fourteen," the pilot responds as the Blackhawk circles the area. "The area is tight, but I think there's enough room for us to get down there. We will deploy snipers to rooftops to provide over-watch during extraction."

Touch watches Valkyrie-two hover over an open roof and two figures drop as she slings her rifle and pulls a pistol, "Keep an eye out for the other member of team-four. We have not been able to account for Fluff."

"Roger," one of the snipers responds as they scan the street below.

Touch leaps from the roof and lands with a heavy thud on the street three stories below. Her booted feet crunch through the debris and squelch in the blood that pools on the ground as she leaps over dead infected in her rapid dash. She halts and kneels next to the panting feline and yanks the speaker cord out of his I-pod to quiet the music that still blares, "Tunes, talk to me."

He gives her a crooked grin, "What... what a rush."

She smiles back but gasps as she catches the falling bobcat, the last of his energy spent as he passes out. She taps the keys on her forearm and runs her hand scanner over her weak comrade, "Damn you're one lucky cat. No bites, but you're going to sore for a few days from scratches and bruises."

"Touch, we have motion," one of the snipers reports. "It might be Fluff." The tigress lifts her head and scans the scene. "Your eight o'clock," the sniper on the roof guides her.

She turns and lifts her pistol but lowers it as a small furred arm reaches out of some debris to pull its owner from the cover. The female husky is bleeding, battered, and nude except for shreds of her uniform as Touch sprints to her. "You're... real..." the young female canine asks as the tigress kneels over her and runs her medical scanner over the prone figure. She starts to cry and Touch notices the blood and other fluids matting the fur between the nude female's legs as she gasps, "They... they raped... raped me..." The husky female grips Touch's leg as she bawls, unable to hold it back anymore in the presence of another female.

Touch soothes the husky with gentle strokes of her shoulder as she scans the area. "Valkyrie-two, get your tail down here and get us out. We've got three wounded; two unconscious, one critical. We need to get them back to base ASAP."

"We're inbound, Tiger Pit is expecting us and has trauma teams ready for all three." the pilot responds as the tigress feels the wind pick up around her from the Blackhawk's rotors.

* * *

Mike and Lisa sit at a table in the mess hall when Mike notices the familiar large female tiger wearing black BDUs enter the room and get a tray heaping with food before looking for a seat. He raises an arm and waves to her, "Hey Touch, we've got a spare spot over here."

She notices him and with a tired grin she takes the indicated spot in the crowded room. "Thanks" she says as she folds her hands and bows her head in prayer for a moment before she picks up a fork and digs into the mountain of food on her plate.

Lisa looks at the overloaded tray with wide eyes, "I wish I could eat like that and keep my womanly figure."

The feline gives a snort, "It's not all it's cracked up to be. If we don't eat this much while we're doing combat operations we run a serious risk of low blood sugar and getting too weak to do our jobs."

Mike nods remembering the phial of liquid she had ordered Tunes to drink when they were rescued, "That's why you carry some kind of high sugar liquid? To give a boost when your body needs it because during high activity you burn through the calories? Like when Tunes took on those infected in hand-to-hand combat." He looks around for a moment but doesn't see the humanoid bobcat, "Where is he anyway?"

The tigress lowers her ears back into her shaggy black hair as she lowers her muzzle towards her food and mutters, "Infirmary."

The two eighteen year old humans stare at the felinoid in surprise before Lisa asks, "What happened?"

The tigress balls her empty hand into a fist, "Some of the 'smart ones' got control of a small horde of infected and laid a trap. They had already taken out one team, but didn't kill them. They left War, big equine guy, in the open where he attracted our attention. They used 'em as bait. They knew someone would come looking for them." She closes her eyes as she says, "I let him walk into that trap while I was on the rooftops."

Lisa hesitates before asking, "You said something about another team, what happened to the other members?"

Touch bends the fork in her hand without noticing as she opens her eyes, but they don't focus on the pair of humans before her, "Fluff... she was raped by the beasts then beaten and clawed within an inch of her life." She looks at the fork bent in half and forces her fingers to relax. "Doctors say she'll survive, but they're not so sure if she can ever go into the field again. The psychological trauma is pretty bad and we don't have any trained psychologists on staff."

Lisa nods with some understanding, "I was starting my first year of school to become a psychologist, but I'm certainly not fully trained. I've just read a lot of books and papers. But, maybe I could help? After all, the woman at the entrance said we all need to chip in to survive this new world we're in."

Touch nods as she pulls a combat knife from her belt to spear a piece of food and pop it into her mouth, "I'd appreciate it. Fluff got her name because she had such a carefree attitude and of course, being a husky, she's naturally fluffy. I'd hate to see her ruined by this incident."

Mike clears his throat before he asks the burning question that's been on his mind, "Can I ask you about what you went through to become what you are now?"

The tigress shrugs her shoulders, "I'm sure I can't answer all your questions. Some things are classified unless you decide to volunteer for the process while others I just don't know. After all, I'm a grunt, not a big brained scientist. But, you can always ask."

"Actually, my biggest question is did you volunteer?"

Touch nods, "Yes, I was one of the first to successfully undergo the process and I wouldn't change my mind about it in hind sight. In fact I wish we had gone public before the whole world was collapsing. We might have been able to immunize more people through the same process."

"What about the species they spliced you with, do you have any choice?" he asks.

She shakes her head, "No. I don't understand the process, but the scientists select the DNA which you are most compatible with. Most are predator species, but there's a smattering of equines, rodents, and a few others."

Mike taps a finger on the table a couple times as he looks over at Lisa, "Touch, who do I talk to about signing up?"

The tigress stops eating, a morsel of food on her knife halfway to her open mouth. "Kid, you sure you want to do this? There's a very important point to remember, it's permanent. That was made clear to all volunteers. There is currently no known way to change a warrior back into a pure human." She huffs, "And in the crazy world we're in now, I don't think I'd even want to try."

Mike grimaces and protests, "I'm 18. I'm not a kid."

Touch lets the world pause for a dramatic moment as she studies his face before she nods her head, "Maybe not legally by the old rules, but to me you're an inexperienced cub in the prime of his life about to make a big decision without knowing all the details, a decision that will change his future for all time." She tilts her head as she studies the young man with her piercing green eyes, "How old do you think I am Mike?"

He leans back in surprise before he looks her up and down and shrugs, "Maybe mid-twenties? I mean it's hard to tell, but you don't appear to be that old. From your strength and speed I'd say you can't be much older than thirty tops."

She roars with laughter so hard tears form in the corners of her eyes to roll down her cheeks. The two humans look at each other for support before Touch bangs a hand on the table, "Kid, I'm 55, over double, hell, triple your age. Part of the process makes me appear younger. After all, this body is brand new, only had it three weeks, but to me and most of the veterans, you're kids. Tunes, he's 60 and was getting close to mandatory retirement age when he signed up. He was a close quarters combat instructor for years and could still toss the young recruits like he was still in his twenties. We were all combat veterans before we were assessed for Project Prometheus. It was a requirement to show we could handle the stresses that this whole thing put on our minds." She taps her forehead, "Kid, let me tell you a secret. I think the trick to surviving the process is eighty percent mental." She sits back and wipes the tears from her furred cheeks as she continues to chuckle.

Mike frowns, "But I want to fight, I know how to use a weapon and the basics of tactical combat. I can learn the rest." He looks to Lisa for a moment before he continues, "Besides, the mental part can't be that hard. I know it's possible since you and the other fighters here did it. Besides, can anything really be worse than the hell out there?"

Touch munches her food for a few moments as she studies the young man, "Lisa, what do you think? I've seen the way you look at him. I was a young girl myself once upon a time. Do you want him to become a freak like me?"

"You're not a freak," the girl replies. Lisa turns to lock her own dark green eyes on Mike for a moment before she answers, "I want him to feel like he's helping, just like I want to help. But, I know I have no combat skills. I'm a nerd, not a soldier. He's the soldier."

Touch eats the last of her food as she nods with understanding, "We need nerds as much as we need fighters Lisa, maybe even more than we need fighters."

She looks back and forth at the two teenagers before shrugging and shaking her furry head, "Alright, Mike I'll pass your request on to the commander. Lisa, I'll introduce you to Dr. Tanya, she's in charge of the medical team." She lifts her glass of water towards the young couple, "Here's to the rest of our lives, however long or short that may be."

All characters unless otherwise stated are the intellectual property of Chris Gilman [aka. Goliath Wildcat] Story © Copyright Christopher Gilman 2015 all rights reserved tell me what you think