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CHAPTER 2

Aurora, Colorado

1130 Hours, August 16** th ***, 2052*

The convoy wound it way through the trash-ridden streets, the gunners atop the vehicles scanning the rooftops and alleyways for any enemy activity. The convoy consisted of several up-armoured MAV fast-response vehicles, an intimidating Coyote APC with a deadly Bushmaster chaingun mounted in a fixed turret, and three heavily-laden flatbed transport trucks. Several people watched from the sidewalks as they drove by, all competing over the few supplies the vehicle crews tossed out their windows as a sign of good will.

The convoy made its way to the centre of an intersection that joined two arterial streets in the city's downtown district. More and more civilians started to gather around the convoy as the MAV crews dismounted, only the gunners staying inside the vehicles as the others went to distribute supplies. They made their way to the centre of the convoy and began to clamber inside the trailers, pulling tarps from piles of food and medical supplies.

Cheering began to fill the air as the troops, both human and fur, began to unload their cargo and distribute it the civilians. They had ordered the people into neat lines to ensure equality for everyone by the troops first to disembark, and they had complied, eager to obtain vital resources. Over the course of the next hour, over a thousand people would receive enough food to survive for a good two days comfortably and several dozen would be attended to by accompanying medical personnel.

But the trucks soon ran dry of food, their once vast supplies being rapidly carted away by waiting civilians, and some had still not received their share. People soon began to prey on one another, fighting for the rations that had already been distributed to the lucky members of the crowd. Fights broke out and soon there was a full fledged riot taking place at the intersection, the soldiers unsure or unable to do anything to stop it. The crowd was turning hostile, soon beginning to threaten the convoy.

Sergeant Wilks frowned at the act of goodwill being turned into an act of violence. He had to stop them before someone was killed. He swung the gun mounted on the lead MAV about and aimed above the crowd.

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG

Everyone at the intersection stopped what they were doing, ducking and crying out in fear. The shots flew over the crowd and into the air as they flew into open space. Wilks took his hands off of his machine gun's firing handles, his hands still resonating with the vibration. He rummaged around for a megaphone tied to the top of his vehicle, turning in the cupola to look behind him.

"LISTEN UP EVERYONE! I UNDERSTAND THAT LIFE HAS BEEN SCREWED UP LATELY, BUT THIS IS RIDICULOUS! SERIOUSLY! YOU ARE CIVILIZED PEOPLE, SO ACT LIKE IT! THERE WILL BE MORE FOOD IN TWO DAYS! THOSE WHO NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION CAN FIND IT AT EXEMPLA ST. JOSEPH! MEDICS WILL BE HERE FOR THE NEXT THREE HOURS FOR ANYONE IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE CARE! NOW SMARTEN UP AND ACT RESPECTFUL, OR WE WILL MOVE ON!"

Wilks put down the megaphone, slipping it back under the bungee cord he had found it held under. He sighed as the crowd began to disperse, several people coming forward to be treated by the medics. An immense tiger fur made his way to Wilks's vehicle, his combat gear bulking him up and making him appear even larger than he was. His tail swished back and forth behind him as he came into the shadow put off by Wilks's vehicle.

"Good thinking. I was about to start crushing skulls." said his second in command and best friend, Martinez, as he leaned on the MAV's chassis.

"Now that would have shut them up. I'm glad they chose to stop though; it would have been bad if we would have killed civilians. It's not what we need now." The convoy was starting to pack up, people clambering on board their vehicles and the last few wounded civilians being given advice on what to do to keep themselves comfortable.

"You can say that again. I take it you're off to see her again?" sighed Martinez.

"Yeah. She'll be expecting me. Sorry man, but we're going to have to put off tonight's plans." said Wilks as he gestured for the rest of his squad to get in the MAV.

"Alright. But I want a chance to get my money back sometime this week. No more putting it off!" shouted Martinez as the powerful 830hp engine roared to life. He watched as Wilks's vehicle took off on its own route through the city away from the convoy.

"Sir?" started Pfc. Sheckler, Martinez's driver. He used to be a Marine before the war broke out and he had found it difficult to break the old habits of addressing his superiors. He had a pale complexion, brown eyes, and a terrible disposition towards the old-world government. "You ready to roll out?"

"Yeah. Let's go. Where next?"

"We have to join a patrol in an hour. Incidentally, It will take us an hour to get there. Go figure."

Martinez sighed. "Let's go then."

**

"It's good to see you again, Adam," said Penelope Gardener as she kissed Wilks on the cheek, "How's the fight going?"

Wilks hugged her before backing up a step. Behind him, his crew took the downtime to work on the MAV. The electric motors had stopped working a while ago, and the crew missed the backup engine. He smiled before answering. "So far so good. The locals are restless, but at least the Humanists are retreating. Denver is in our hands, and some people are saying that we'll be moving out in a month towards the west."

"That's great! Well... kind of. So you're winning?"

"Here we are. I don't know about anywhere else." Truth is, they had won most of the city back. A few small knots of resistance were still being dealt with, but the core Humanist forces had moved out after the fall of their Aurora stronghold a few nights back.

"At least we're safe for the moment. It's been a long time since we could last say that."

"Yeah. Over a year and a half." Wilks lamented.

"It feels good." she admitted.

"You're right. It does."

**

Somewhere a few hours South of Littleton, Colorado

1230 Hours, August 16** th ***, 2052*

"Contacts spotted. Three men with rifles around the cafe. Another two are watching the road. Thermals are picking up more, but I can't see them directly. I'm guessing about two dozen others, give or take a handful. Looks like they're dug in pretty good. Orders?" reported Paul, looking through his precious scope at the small town laid out below the hill they were perched on.

"Are they wearing the H?" asked Sam, who was acting as his spotter, a high powered-spotter's scope set up on a tripod in front of her. They were laying prone in a bunch of trees some 1.3 kilometres away from the nearest building.

"Hard to tell. They're not in uniform and there are civilians about. My guess is their locals trying to play with the big boys." he replied as he squinted through the sight.

Sam flicked on her comm. "Command, armed contacts in the town. No friend/foe ID yet, over."

Warren's voice crackled back over the link. "Roger that. We've come to a stop about a kilometre out. Any hang-ups in the place?"

"Any hang-ups?" Sam relayed, referring to a common practice among the Humanists. They took furs and hung them up in high places around towns, such as lampposts and hydro lines. Sometimes they were left alive when they were put there.

"I don't see any," breathed Paul as he fiddled with his gun's sights, "Oh wait! I got a fur! Left of the grocer's! They're friendlies!" He relaxed suddenly, his gun's stock dropping from his shoulder and landing in the soft needles carpeting the ground beneath their position. They were under a under a copse of pine trees, their scent permeating the area. "They're friendlies..."

"Command; they're friendlies; a morph was spotted among them. I suggest caution though. Remember Southland? It could be a trap."

"Affirmative. Good job, guys. Keep you're eyes open; we're going in."

Sam and Paul watched as a civilian car pulled around a bend in the road below, heading for the town at a leisurely pace. Paul started tagging possible targets in his HUD, notifying everyone with power armour of their locations. Sam spoke up next to him.

"Five bucks says they don't want in either."

Paul watched for another second to make sure everything was going good before turning to her. "I'll take the bet, but let's make it a little more interesting. Whoever loses cleans the others' armour for a month and has to run maintenance checks on the AI."

"Sure. Hope you like polishing plate, 'cause those guys don't look too happy to see us." said Sam as she pointed to the town where several armed men had stopped its progress.

**

The SUV pulled out onto the highway, slowing to a stop in a few hundred metres outside the town. There were few, if any, signs of battle around the town. The closest the buildings came to bearing battle scars were a few chipped walls from a several bullet impacts, but these were small and few in number. Trees lined the streets and a flag flapped in the wind on a flag pole in front of the municipal building. They waved a white flag out the window and were signalled to proceed to the town's edge.

"Reminds me of home," said Warren, the flag waving in his hand. "I already hate it."

"Just be calm. These guys obviously aren't too inclined to violence. Look at this place; it's almost like the war doesn't exist here." said Marcus.

"Yeah. Or they're good at hiding it." replied Warren sardonically. They drove the humming vehicle to the outskirts where they were greeted by a small welcome party.

"Whatever the case, we're about to find out." Marcus stopped the black 2048 Escalade, turning off its electric engine and opening the door. Warren followed suite, opening the door and leaving the vehicle. They left their weapons inside along with their helmets in an attempt to show the locals they meant no harm.

Several townspeople were starting to gather around the vehicle, many bearing arms. Humans and furs alike marvelled at the new arrivals in their dark plate and curious battle scars. Many had heard of the fighting and had seen the KSS hit the city, so their arrival must have made something click in their minds. All of them had heard as the sounds of war grew fainter and fainter over the last few weeks. It was almost a prophecy coming true for many of them, having long expected the arrival of the city's victors, for better of for worse. They whispered amongst each other as the two battered-looking and war-weary soldiers looked around at the town. They cringed as the driver rose his voice to just below a shout, his question ringing in the oddly peaceful air.

"Hello? Who's in charge around here?" asked Marcus, who was trying his best to look friendly. He ended up looking like a puppy receiving a bone, his tail wagging maniacally and his grin splitting his head nearly in two. A puppy with a garish cybernetic eye targeting people in a methodical function, that is.

The crowd looked at him as if he were insane, some backing up, leading Warren to try and put them on equal footing with the crowd. He failed miserably. "Uhh... Hello everyone. We just came from Denver, you know... ermm... that way... anyways... damn... what I meant to say is; Denver is safe. We won and we were wondering if your community would want to join in our .... uhm... civilization."

Warren shut his mouth before any more rambling idiocy could spill from his muzzle in ill-thought through globs. He found himself wishing that Owen or Sasha were there to see this democracy through, having been the best at this sort of thing. I'm a scout for God sakes, not a politician!

Marcus sighed, knowing instantly that they had lost the crowd. He dialled the happiness back a little before continuing. "Look, fact is, we're just looking for other survivors around the Denver area. We are trying to get this county organized again after the last two years. We're not invaders. We're soldiers, yes, but we don't want to hurt anybody. If there is anyone who speaks on behalf of your town, we would like to discuss options with them."

The crowd finally knew what the newcomers were talking about. One of them, a teenage female cat fur in a red blouse, stepped forward and told the duo what they wanted to know. "Uhm... That would be Francis. He should be inside the municipal office. I can bring you there if you'd like."

Warren looked around at the crowd, taking in their faces of estrangement. It looked like she was all they were going to get. "That would be great. Thank you."

The crowd dispersed, going back to their daily routines as the feline strode forward and gestured for them to follow her on foot. She nonchalantly struck up a conversation as the Pheonocians took up step behind her. "You two make for good public speakers. You should run for congress after this is over." She laughed, her quiet giggle barely reaching their ears.

"Yeah, well we've grown more used to 'aggressive negotiation' when we see someone." shot back Warren, still trying to shrug off the awkwardness that lingered with him after his introduction.

"Whatever. We're not used to seeing anyone come by here any more. There were a few after the sky fell, but nobody has came this way since. We're not exactly too welcoming." she demurred, her orange ears flicking in the warm air.

"What happened here? It doesn't even look like a war is going on." asked Marcus, gesturing around at the stunningly intact town and its myriad of inhabitants.

"It came alright. It was just more peaceful than it probably was in the city. When news of the bombings and raids reached us, we were instantly divided. Tensions ran high for a while, but nobody was shot or killed over it. Eventually the Humanists showed up. There was a bit of a scrap, but we mostly just scared them off. They haven't been back since. I guess you guys were drawing their attention away from the town. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Sure. I mean, you're welcome for being shot at for close to two years." hissed Warren.

She merely laughed, her muzzle splitting in a sly grin and seemingly noticing their scars and Marcus's prosthetics for the first time. "You guys really aren't joking. You've seen war, alright. It would take a lot of death to become that bitter."

Marcus sighed. "That's just Warren. He's always been that way; I haven't seen him smile in four years. I'm Marcus, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you Marcus. Not so pleased to meet you though, Warren, you sour-puss! I'm Jennifer." She winked at Warren over her shoulder. "Here we are. Just head inside. I've got some chores to do; good luck! And maybe I'll see you two later!"

They had arrived at a moderately large building half supported by Roman pillars. It would be hard to find another, more cliche municipal building in the state. It even came complete with the illustrious clock at the peak of the arched roof, still functioning amidst the chaos consuming the rest of the world. Yep, they were still in the good ol' US of A.

The pair of militants walked up the steps that lead to the large glass doors set into the wall. They talked to the single guard posted outside, an ageing man that looked like he had the proper training for the job, and were directed inside and up the wooden stairs to a large office on the third floor that was entered by a further set of high doors.

The room itself was decorated sparsely with only a few pictures on the walls and a bookshelf along one wall. It was lit only dimly by way of several wall sconces set in the corners of the room and the light coming from the windows. The large latticed windows provided a good view of the town's main street, people below still talking amongst each other about the soldiers. A large desk dominated the centre of the office. Behind the desk, seated in a high-backed chair, was a very tired looking man who looked up from a sheaf of papers as they entered the room.

"You must be the newcomers. First off: Welcome to Keslow. I'm Francis Newbolt, politician, and apparently the leader of this place now." said the man as he pushed aside some papers that he had been studying and removing his glasses, placing them in his shirt pocket.

Warren stepped up to shake the man's hand, introducing themselves as he did so. "I'm Scout Sergeant Warren Dracrovian of the 12th Expeditor Contingent, American Department, UN Special Operations. This is my colleague, Sergeant Marcus Veld of the same department. We came to ask if you and your community are willing to become a part of our new coalition."

"They sent two grunts to negotiate a new civilization?" he asked, slouching back into his seat.

"Not exactly," interjected Marcus, who had seen where he was going, "We are in charge of the standing military at the moment. We used to be a part of a UN supported mission in the area, but after the war broke out, we threw our lot in with the side we thought should win. We were more or less just scouting the region for others who think the same."

"So you were coming to see if anything was left out here. I see... I can't say I blame you. In dark times, hum-, I mean, people must stick together in order to survive. There is just one problem. You see, we have not engaged in violence to solve our problems. Sure we had our differences a year ago, but it has been sorted out." said Newbolt, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture.

"I don't see the problem." said Warren, not liking where the conversation was going.

Newbolt coughed slightly and continued, his voice low and foreboding. "I was getting to that. We have lived unobstructed by this war because of the simple fact that it isn't our war. If we were to align ourselves with you, that would make us a potential target for the Humanist forces. We do not have the weapons... or armour... that you so obviously do. We wouldn't last a minute against their soldiers."

"I know what you are saying, and agree with your point of view. However, what is to say that they still won't come after you?" said Warren, "You have gene projects living here. That fact alone makes you a target for them. You have to know that."

The man sighed, standing up and walking over to the window. He stood there for a while, looking out at the small village. "I know. The truth is, I hate thinking about it. When they came here four months ago, I thought that we were doomed. We managed to scare them off, but only through deceit and illusion. They haven't been back yet, though. And now you are here. How do I know that you are any better than them?"

"For starters, we don't commit genocide," stated Marcus, shrugging, "and you have our word that you will still have control of your own actions. This proposed alliance is more of an assurance for us that you won't turn and kill us as our forces try to keep order in the region."

"I guess that it would be better than going at it alone in this... defunct... nation. It pays to have friends. But I cannot decide for everyone here. Keslow is still a democracy. I will have to put out a poll so that the community can decide. It may take a while."

"Rome wasn't built in a day, sir," put in Warren. "I hope your town decides for the better. We would look forward to seeing Keslow join the coalition."

"We'll let you be to decide on a course of action. But if we may ask, may we stay here for the a while? There is another pair of us coming, but hospitality is hard to come by..."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course. I saw you already met Jen, so I'm sure she wouldn't mind finding you some boarding for the night. But I fear that I will have to ask a guard to escort you about town during your stay; just a formality. You understand."

"That sounds great, thank you. Do you want us to hand over our weapons? Store them somewhere? Anything we can do to make your people more comfortable will be done." said Marcus politely, playing the role of the good guest.

"I would like it if you could leave all of your weapons with my man Sven; the guard outside the building. I thank you for your understanding and I hope you enjoy your stay in our little town. Stay as long as you like, but please stay... contained while we decide our course of action. My guess is that it will take a few day to get everyone informed of the situation and ready to vote."

The two said their goodbyes before leaving the office and proceeding down the steps and out the front door. Outside, they talked to Sven about their weapons. He said that Mr. Newbolt had informed him of the situation through the radio hanging at his waist. Apparently Francis didn't mess around and had already made plans with his people.

"So you made it out alive, I see." mused a familiar voice. Jennifer had been walking by, a box heavy in her arms, when the two started down the steps to street level. She stopped to muse at the two slightly disturbed furs as they came to a halt at the bottom of the steps.

"Oh, Jennifer! Mr. Newbolt said we should find you to ask about boarding for a few nights." said Marcus. The sun was getting decidedly warmer and a roof would be nice to hide under.

"Is that so? Well, I guess there are some spare rooms at the motel and its not like we get many tourists any more. Just let me drop off these things and I'll come see you at your vehicle. Fair enough?" She tucked the box under one arm and smiled.

"Sure. I guess we'll see you later then." replied Warren, nodding gratefully.

"I'll see you later then." she said as she walked away down the street to wherever she was going.

"Come on," said Warren, "we've got to go tell Sam and Paul that we're going to be staying here for a few days."

"Alright. Let's go." said the larger wolf morph, kicking a pebble as they moved back to their transport.

The duo found their way back to their SUV, sometimes watching as a vehicle drove by or someone walked past. They entered the vehicle, almost breathing out a sigh of relief. This was the first place that they had found in the last three days that hadn't fallen apart at the seams. It irked at Warren.

"What do you think of Keslow?"

"It's a nice change. It's almost as if the world stopped turning here; despite everything, they're still holding on to the past. How about you?"

"They're hiding something, I know it."

"Oh, come on! Do you have to be such a pessimist about everything?"

"I'm not a pessimist; I am a realist. Nothing in this world is as it seems. My youth taught me that." hissed Warren, glaring at Marcus in distaste.

"What? You think they're going to eat us or something? Nothing will happen. If we're lucky, we just found our first trading partner." shrugged Marcus, calmly letting the words bounce off of him.

"Just be cautious is all I'm saying. I know I will be."

"Whatever. Now be quiet; I have to radio the others."

**

Sam closed the channel, and looked at Paul. He clicked off his comm as well and took off his helmet, pushing himself up from his position and setting about packing up his equipment.

"So," he said, "looks like you owe me five bucks."

"I guess so." she deflected.

"Come on Sam, not this again. You made a bet, fair and square. Now pay up, or you can take a walk!"

Sam decided to follow up on her wager. Last time she had tried cheating him of her debt, he had managed to scam her of twice what she owed. Grudgingly, she reached a hand into her assault webbing, drawing out a five dollar bill.

"Thanka-you" he said, smiling uncontrollably. "What's that? Like, forty dollars now? Remind me never to go to Vegas with you if this war ever ends!"

"Go ahead, laugh it up. I'll get it all back, just you watch." she grumbled.

"I'm sure. Now come on, its a long way to get to Keslow."

"Can't help but feel jealous of Tracer and Tyler. Those bastards are probably sitting back, sipping a beer, and enjoying the AC." she humphed as she shouldered a pack and set out down the small rise. Tyler followed her with a slightly more optimistic outlook.

"Yeah, and having to grind the rough edges off of the newbies." he said with more than a little relish. As much as she envied them, that was a task that she wouldn't wish on anybody.

"At least we can take solace in that."