Day - 1 11:34:56

  Baghdad, Iraq

  Sgt. Dean Walker

  Battle Group Phoenix, US Army

  I sat there for hours, the cool night air brushing against my face as I watched the engineers and soldiers from both units working tirelessly. Some were moving bodies, others using heavy machinery to clear debris and shift wreckage. The engineers in our unit were highly respected efficient, skilled, and fast. I wouldn’t be surprised if this place turned into a fully operational base in just three weeks. The command building would take longer, but those engineers were paid well for a reason. I heard they could make up to a 30% bonus, on top of their already impressive salaries shit, they were probably pulling in around 100 grand a year.

  Nearly a quarter of the unit was made up of engineers. The rest were mostly infantry, with a few specialists in critical roles. As for the true elite, there were only three actual special forces teams in BGP Alpha 1, Serra 1, and Zeta 5. Most of the other units, like Serra 2, existed to support them, though that didn’t mean they sat back and twiddled their thumbs. Just before this mission, almost the entire unit had been called in to back up the Marines in taking another town.

  But here I was, rambling in my own head again. Maybe that was just my way of keeping sane keep the mind busy so I don’t snap and lose it on someone. Sigh. This whole situation was a mess. Not a single BGP or ZDF soldier had so much as exchanged a glance. They knew that one misstep, one wrong word, could set everything off. The air was thick with tension so thick you could probably cut it with a pair of fingernail clippers.

  Footsteps behind me pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Josh approaching, his expression unreadable.

  Josh: "You talking to yourself again?"

  Dean: "The voices never answer back."

  Josh: laughs "Goddamn it, dude."

  He moved next to me, leaning against the balcony railing. For a moment, we just stared at the organized chaos below.

  Josh: "This is some serious bullshit, man. You think the President even knows what the hell he’s doing? I get it you're an anthro, you probably see it differently but come on, dude. Us and Velmara? That’s never gonna work. He’s just trying to score points with those damn pacifist voters."

  Dean: "I don’t disagree."

  Eric: "Me neither."

  I turned around to see Eric standing there, helmet off, aviators on despite the dim lighting. His tail swayed lazily, one of his ears flicking as he spoke.

  Dean: "How’s Luna? She calm down yet?"

  Eric: shrugs "As much as someone with her temper can."

  Dean: "Yeah, sounds about right. Fuck, this is so screwed. And now we gotta work with these ZDF assholes from Frostbite. I just hope they keep us busy with actual missions, ‘cause I don’t know if I can take orders from those bastards."

  Before anyone could respond, the sound of running footsteps broke through the night. A private skidded to a stop in front of me, snapping into a salute.

  Private: "Sir!"

  Dean: "What do you need, Private?"

  Private: "I was ordered to inform you that your squad’s tent is set up on the other side of town in the open area. We’ve got a few more tents up as well. If you and your squad could follow me, I’ll show you the way."

  Dean: "Perfect. I’m tired of sitting here, staring at the sky, and thinking too much. Let’s move."

  We made our way down the stairs. Luna was still sitting where she’d been earlier, staring at her bruised and bandaged hand the one she’d used to punch a wall. Zoe and Ava were nearby, deep in conversation. As I approached, they straightened to attention, though Luna remained seated.

  Dean: "Alright, everyone. Our tent is up. Let’s go we can finally get some rest in a cooled area."

  Luna: "I’m going to bed."

  No one argued. We followed the private through the quiet town. Only the occasional hushed whisper or the distant hum of machinery broke the silence. The walk took about 25 minutes before we reached the open area, where about 25 tents were already set up. The private led us to one near the command tent, where I caught sight of both generals deep in discussion.

  Then my eyes drifted to the tent next to ours. A familiar emblem was displayed prominently, Frostbite.

  I glanced at Luna. She saw it too, but she said nothing. Instead, she just walked into our tent, claimed a bunk, and laid down without another word. The rest of us followed suit, each finding a bed. I sat down on mine with a heavy sigh.

  Dean: "I swear, this shit can’t get any worse. Their tent is right next to ours? I’d rather spend a month in the brig than deal with this."

  The team all nodded in agreement except Luna, who remained curled up, facing away from us. Probably best to leave her alone. Finally, I removed my helmet and gear, setting them beside me. I pulled out my phone, scrolling mindlessly, anything to get my mind off this mess.

  After a while, I looked up. Eric was cleaning his MG, Zoe and Ava were still talking, and Josh had gone out for a walk. Luna hadn’t moved. I could tell she wasn’t asleep, though.

  I stood and walked over, sitting on the edge of her bunk.

  Dean: "You alright?"

  Luna: sighs "No. Not at all. I just can’t believe they’d make us do this. They know some of us lost family to these fuckers. I will never forgive them."

  Dean: "Yeah. I know. But they don’t care about us. It’s all about looking good for the media."

  She didn’t respond. I didn’t push. We all had our ways of dealing with this mess. I just hoped we could hold it together long enough to survive it.

  Dean: "Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, you’ve got me."

  Luna: "Thanks, Dean. Really."

  She smiles, a small but genuine one, and I catch it immediately.

  Dean: "Ohhh, you’re smiling."

  I say it in a teasing tone, grinning as I nudge her lightly.

  Luna: "Stop that!" She laughs, swatting at me playfully.

  Dean: "Alright, alright. I’ll back off. I’m gonna go for a walk. You gonna be good?"

  Luna: "Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just needed to sit down for a bit."

  Dean: "Alright. See you later."

  Luna: "Be careful."

  I stand up, stretching my arms as I step out of the tent. The sun is at its peak now, but the cool air makes for perfect walking weather. The makeshift base is alive with movement engineers tearing into buildings, soldiers moving supplies, officers discussing plans in hushed voices.

  I spot the two generals still deep in conversation. General Jackson catches my eye for a brief second, nodding at me. I return the nod before moving on. Without my gear, I feel a hundred pounds lighter, but exhaustion clings to me like a shadow. If I lie down, I’ll probably pass out, so moving is the better option.

  I pass by groups of soldiers, some wearing the stars and stripes of the U.S. Army, others clad in the insignia of the ZDF the enemy-turned-"ally" we’re now working alongside. But the tension is thick. They keep to their own, casting glares at each other, some filled with outright hatred, others just annoyance. A few can’t even bring themselves to look at the other side.

  It makes me wonder. The war that tore the world apart one so brutal it’s just five million shy of surpassing World War II’s death toll left wounds too deep to heal. The politicians might want to mend fences, but down here, on the ground, we still see the blood in the dirt. If anything, this feels less like a world war and more like a world civil war.

  I sigh, shaking my head. God, I can see the shitstorm that’s about to hit.

  Footsteps crunch behind me. I turn to see a Corporal approaching, straight-backed and professional.

  Dean: "Corporal?"

  Corporal: "Sir, the General has requested your presence at the command tent."

  Dean: "Any idea why?"

  Corporal: "No, sir. Just relaying the order."

  Dean: "Got it. Thanks. You’re dismissed."

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  He salutes, then heads off. I roll my shoulders and start the walk back. Thirty minutes wasn’t much of a break, but duty calls.

  As I near the command tent, I spot General Jackson and General Elara standing outside, along with someone else Sergeant Isla, the squad leader of Frostbite Squad. Her arms are crossed, her expression tight with frustration.

  I step up, saluting.

  Dean: "Generals."

  Jackson: "Ah, Dean. Good timing. I was just discussing leadership structure with Sergeant Isla now that your teams will be working together."

  Dean: "Alright, sir."

  Jackson: "General Elara and I have debated this for a while, but we’ve come to a decision. You will take overall command of both teams. However, if Sergeant Isla is given direct authorization by one of us, she may assume leadership for specific operations."

  I glance at Isla. Her jaw tightens.

  Jackson: "It was a tough call. Isla may be older, but you have more real combat experience. You proved that during Brazil."

  Dean: "I appreciate the trust, sir. I’ll make sure both teams are operating beyond 100%."

  Jackson: "That’s the expectation. The reason we’re having this conversation now is that tomorrow, you’ll be deployed on your first operation. It will last approximately a week and a half. Full briefing will be given in the morning. Also, Serra 2 will be reassigned to Zeta Squad, as they’ve been in need of an infantry unit."

  I nod. "Understood, sir."

  Jackson: "Good. You’re both dismissed."

  I salute again before stepping back. Isla does the same but turns on her heel with a glare of pure venom. She storms off without another word.

  I smirk. Yeah, bitch, I have command over you. Suck it.

  I chuckle to myself, heading back to our tent.

  Inside, I find Luna sitting up now, scrolling through her phone while hugging her knees. The rest of the squad is scattered around Josh is back, fixing a tear in his shirt, while Eric, Zoe, and Ava are tending to their own gear.

  They all look up as I walk in.

  Ava: "What’s the word, squad lead?"

  Eric: "Yeah, what’s going on?"

  I crack a grin. "Good news."

  Luna: "What is it?"

  Dean: "I’m in command of both teams."

  The tension in the tent eases immediately.

  Luna: "Thank God." She lets out a long breath.

  Dean: "But there’s more. We’ve got our first mission tomorrow. Details are scarce, but it’s going to last about a week and a half."

  The squad exchanges glances. They knew it was coming, but hearing it confirmed makes it real.

  Josh: "Guess we better get our shit together."

  Zoe: "Yeah… here we go."

  I walked over to my bunk, setting my gear down with a quiet thud. Word around camp was that our first shipment of supplies would be arriving tomorrow, meaning we’d finally have a chance to swap out gear tailored for the mission ahead. It was a relief our current loadouts were more of a general setup, but soon, we'd be able to fine-tune everything for the op.

  For now, though, the sun was still up, and we had a few hours to ourselves. I settled onto my bed, pulling out my tablet and opening up a book I’d been meaning to finish. The words pulled me in, offering a brief escape from the looming operation, the weight of responsibility pressing just a little lighter on my shoulders.

  Time passed, and when I finally looked up, the sky had started shifting into hues of deep orange and purple. With a stretch and a sigh, I set the tablet aside and stepped out of the tent, craving a bit of fresh air.

  The evening breeze was cool against my skin as I watched the sun sink lower on the horizon. The base was quiet, a lull before the storm. Movement caught my eye to the left—I turned my head and spotted a figure near one of the tents. It took me a second, but I recognized them: the combat medic from Frostbite. They glanced my way, giving a silent nod before disappearing back inside their tent.

  I lingered for a moment, letting my thoughts wander. There was always an odd stillness before a mission, like the world itself was holding its breath. After a moment, I exhaled and stepped back inside.

  Most of the squad was already asleep. The only one still awake was Luna, reclining on her bunk, phone screen casting a dim glow over her face. She glanced up as I entered, offering a small, tired smile before refocusing on whatever she was watching.

  Dean: "You should probably head to bed." I kept my voice low, mindful of the others.

  Luna: "I’ll go after you. Just watching something."

  I nodded, knowing better than to argue.

  Dean: "Alright. Goodnight."

  She hummed in acknowledgment as I moved to my bunk. Stripping down to the essentials, I set a silent alarm on my phone before settling in. The cool night air made it easier to relax, and before long, sleep took me deep, dreamless, and uninterrupted.

  The vibration of my phone woke me. I cracked one eye open, catching the faint glow of the screen. 4:00 AM.

  I turned off the alarm before rolling out of bed, grabbing a fresh set of clothes a lighter version of my desert tiger camo. Moving quietly so I wouldn’t wake the others, I slipped out of the tent and made my way to the portable shower house.

  This was my routine. Waking an hour before everyone else to get a decent shower, a moment of peace before the day officially began. The warm water helped ease the tension in my shoulders, washing away the stiffness of sleep.

  By the time I returned to the tent, the others were still out cold. I dressed quickly, securing my gear with practiced efficiency before stepping outside once more. The camp was still quiet, save for the occasional rustling of fabric as the wind moved through the tents.

  I sat down for a few minutes, watching as the base slowly came to life. Soldiers from both sides were waking up, some heading straight to their assigned duties while others prepared for the day ahead. The murmur of conversation, the distant hum of generators, and the occasional bark of an officer giving orders filled the cool morning air.

  A slight breeze swept through the camp, making my hair shift as I adjusted my helmet, still clipped to my belt. With a sigh, I pushed myself to my feet and made my way back to the tent. Inside, most of the squad was already awake. Some were grabbing towels and heading for the showers, while others were halfway through gearing up.

  Eric, ever the early riser, was already suited up and tightening the straps on his tactical vest when he noticed me.

  "Yo, Dean. Up early as always." He grinned, his coyote ears flicking slightly.

  I smirked. "The early bird gets the worm... or however that dumb phrase goes."

  Eric let out a chuckle. "Yeah, something like that."

  From across the tent, Luna groaned as she stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Ava, still curled up in her bunk, let out a sleepy grumble before forcing herself upright.

  I clapped my hands together to get everyone’s attention. "Alright, you’ve got thirty minutes to get ready. Once you’re squared away, we’re heading to the command tent."

  A few nods followed before the team split off those who still needed a shower grabbed their gear and made for the washhouses, while the rest stayed behind, checking their equipment or getting in a last-minute bite to eat.

  I sat down on my bunk, pulling out my tablet. Scrolling through the latest updates on the war, I skimmed reports on troop movements, supply lines, and enemy strongholds. Most of it was the usual: slow advances, pockets of heavy resistance, and the ever-present threat of insurgent ambushes. The war was dragging on, but maybe today's briefing would give us something more concrete.

  Twenty-four minutes passed before I looked up. Everyone was geared up, weapons secured, and waiting for the order to move.

  I stood. "Alright, let's head out."

  The command tent was already packed when we arrived. Inside, the air felt heavy, a mixture of cigarette smoke, stale coffee, and the distinct scent of sweat from too many bodies crammed into one place.

  Frostbite Squad was already there. Isla gave us a once-over before looking away, unimpressed. A few others from her team shot us cold glances. They didn’t say anything, but the message was clear: they didn’t like us, and they didn’t want us here.

  We ignored them and took our positions, standing at attention as both General Jackson and General Elera entered the tent.

  Jackson cleared his throat, his sharp gaze scanning the room. "Good, you're finally here. We can start the mission briefing."

  Elera nodded. "Alright, everyone, take a seat."

  Chairs scraped against the floor as both squads sat around the large table, facing each other like opposing teams before a match. A projector flickered to life, casting an image onto the screen at the front of the room. It displayed a large, well-secured house, and beside it, a grainy photograph of a middle-aged Iraqi man with sharp features and an authoritative stare.

  Jackson gestured to the image. "Your mission is straightforward."

  Elera took over. "This man is your target. He’s a warlord responsible for controlling anti-air defenses across the entire Iraqi region. If we take him out of play, our forces can push deeper into enemy territory without the constant threat of getting shredded from the sky."

  She clicked to the next slide, revealing a network of connections linking the warlord to Crimson Blade, a notorious paramilitary group operating in the area.

  "More importantly," she continued, "he has direct ties to the leader of Crimson Blade. If we capture him alive, we might be able to extract critical intel on their command structure. This could be the breakthrough we need to dismantle their leadership and bring some order to this civil war."

  The screen changed again, this time showing a blueprint of the warlord’s mansion. Arrows and markers indicated entry points, guard rotations, and potential vulnerabilities.

  Jackson stepped forward. "This will be a waiting game. We don’t have an exact date for his arrival, so you’ll be in position for at least a week and a half. We’ve secured a safe house across from the mansion you’ll operate from there until he arrives."

  Ava let out a quiet sigh. "So… a stakeout. Sounds thrilling."

  Eric smirked. "Better than kicking down doors blind. We get to do it smart this time."

  Jackson ignored the exchange and continued. "You'll be gathering intel, monitoring movements, and when the time is right striking fast. We need him alive. Extraction will be handled once the target is secured."

  Elera folded her arms. "You have tonight to prepare. Get your equipment in order, check your rations, and make sure you’re ready to move out at 0500 tomorrow."

  Jackson glanced between both squads. "Questions?"

  Silence. No one spoke. Everyone knew what was at stake.

  Elera gave a firm nod. "Then you're dismissed."

  As we stood, Frostbite Squad remained seated, Isla giving me a pointed look before shaking her head slightly.

  I raise an eyebrow before turning away, my squad falling in behind me without hesitation.

  Dean: “Alright, let’s get our kits sorted and gear up for transport.”

  A round of nods follows as we head toward the supply area, which had been set up just minutes ago. The center of town is a flurry of activity, with both U.S. Army and ZDF trucks unloading supplies. Soldiers move between crates and pallets, some checking manifests, others distributing gear. The scent of fuel and sweat lingers in the cool night air.

  Our assigned truck is easy to spot a well-stocked mobile armory reserved for Serra-1. Stepping inside, I take in the organized chaos of gear, weapons, and rucksacks. The squad wastes no time making last-minute adjustments. Some swap weapons for loadouts better suited to the mission, while others tweak their camouflage to blend with the terrain ahead.

  Luna picks up an M110 DMR, running a quick function check.

  Luna: “Might need the extra reach tonight.”

  Ava, already set, leans against the truck, casually checking her med bag.

  Josh: “You just want an excuse to sit back and take long shots.”

  Luna smirks but doesn’t deny it.

  Zoe pulls a fresh ghillie wrap over her gear, adjusting it as Ava helps tuck in loose fabric.

  Ava: “You sure you won’t just vanish on us with that?”

  Zoe: “That’s the idea.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re geared up and moving as a unit toward the helipad on the other side of town. The soft thump of rotor blades greets us as our V-280 Valor waits, its sleek frame dimly illuminated by floodlights. Nearby, another bird sits ready a larger one I don’t recognize. Frostbite Squad is already loading into it, their forms silhouetted against the lights.

  I spot Allen, our pilot, and Cleo, his co-pilot, performing pre-flight checks. Brandon, the crew chief, stands by the door, giving the bird one last inspection.

  Brandon: “Ah, there they are Serra-1. We already know the op specifics. Just running last-minute diagnostics, then we’ll be ready to go.”

  Dean: “Perfect.”

  I watch as Frostbite squad locks into their seats. The hum of engines intensifies as their bird preps for takeoff. With our checks complete, we move load up and strap in. It’s going to be about a three-hour ride long enough to rest but short enough that adrenaline keeps the edge sharp.

  Josh settles across from me, adjusting his harness. Eric finds a seat beside him. Luna sits alone, lost in thought. Ava and Zoe claim seats next to each other, immediately launching into a quiet conversation that’s drowned out by the rising whine of the Valor’s engines.

  Brandon’s voice crackles over the comms.

  Brandon: “I hope you enjoy your flight with us today.”

  I smirk, leaning back in my seat. The vibration of the aircraft lifting off lulls me into a state of rest, and the last thing I hear before sleep takes me is the steady rhythm of the rotors carrying us toward the mission ahead.

  Would you like to have other POVs or only Dean's for most of the story at some point I will have to switch.