Noctis Lupus: Enforcer

Fresh Blood

Jase sat slumped on his bunk, alone in the darkness as he listened to the hustle of the soldiers outside. He was depressed, angry, and afraid. For the last two weeks, messages upon messages of defeat after defeat came in over the radio. Humvee after Humvee packed beyond their operational capacity came into the base, injured soldiers near death waiting to be treated by the already sleep deprived medical staff who had their hands full 24/7.

It was only two days since D.C. had fallen before reports from different countries had come in that most of the nuclear weapons had either been disabled or had gone missing. He had contemplated the use of the nuclear submarines, but all communications to them had been cut off. He was also not ready to face the reality that the use of nuclear weapons would be necessary.

"Sir." Jase looked up from the bunk to see a soldier, helmet under his right arm, rifle held loosely with his left hand. Half of his face was was covered, the bandages stained with blood. He could see a scar caused by a claw go down the side of the man's neck. Jase immediately thought to himself that the soldier had been one of the few lucky ones to have made it out from a battle alive.

An extremely rare case, given the current circumstances.

"What is it?" replied Jase with slight tones of irritation in his voice. A headache was starting to form; he had no time to deal with petty issues.

"Sir. Report has just come in. Human forces were wiped out entirely in Berlin."

Jase let out a low sigh before looking back down to the wooden planks that made up the floor of the barracks. "Is that all?" he replied without so much as showing a single bit of emotion. Having heard the same news hundreds of times over the last two days, he was starting to wonder why they were even bothering with telling him.

He heard no reply, but instead watched out of the corner of his eyes as the soldier simply turned and walked off to whatever it was that he may have been doing before. Then silence. All he could hear was the rhythmic sound of his beating heart and the insistent ticking of the clock that hung on the far wall opposite of him, coupled along the occasional helicopter or jet that flew overhead.

After what had seemed like and eternity to him, Jase managed to push himself off the bunk and walk over slowly towards a table. He decided to stand rather than to sit on the chair next to it, and looked over the contents that were splayed out across the top. Files, reports, incidents, victories, and losses. Ever since he had been given command of the human forces left on Eastern and Central parts of the United States, or what was left of the United States, Jase had his hands full.

"Wolves have already pushed further inland," he began to murmur to himself as he glanced over at a map that marked friendly and enemy movement with arrows he had drawn. Primitive and unorthodox, but it was what he had to work with. "Our forces on the East Coast are dwindling by the hour... Might have to call a total evacuation from the country.... Or go guerrilla."

In just two days, Jase had exhausted every available option given to him and that he himself had created. In his eyes, guerrilla warfare was the best possible option for humanity, or at least for those near his location. He had assumed that, at the pace in which the wolves were advancing, at least one of the countries would have entirely been wiped out. Now he realized that they were taking their time.

Toying with them.

"Echo two, Echo two. This is Whisky Seven."

Jase looked over at the radio that sat on the table. He recognized that call sign. It was one of the few helicopter pilots that actually delivered what few forces were brave or stupid enough to come to a base so close to a front that was being lost. "Roger. This is Echo Two."