# Keeping Promises

Title: Keeping Promises
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Grenadieranon
​
Happiness, thy name is Lucy.
Anon was lying comfortably in his bed, brand-new mattress, sheets and everything. He recently moved into this apartment after proposing to the love of his life.
The sounds of the shower running in the background, complimenting the patter of raindrops hitting the window.
The outside may be cold and hostile, but in here, it was warm, and soon it was going to be even warmer. The shower stopped, and minutes later, she slowly walked towards the bed.
He looked upon her, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a towel around her silver hair, the ceiling light reflecting off of the dampness still clung to her wings.
A loud thunderclap outside barely jostled him, nothing could rip him out of this tranquility.
"Hey Anon..." she spoke, calmly: "...you gotta be up in 50. Contract's by eleven."
What? Surely she was joking. It was pitch black outside, there was no way it was morning, no less that close to noon.
"What do you mean?" he replied, he wasn't sure what she meant by contract's, some kind of work deal? Did he forget something important?
Oh no, was he turning into one of those men? The ones that tune out their women and keep forgetting important things they tell them?
Did he take her for granted already? Thoughts racking his brain, they were quickly forgotten when she knelt down next to him, the bathrobe falling open ever so tantalizingly.
"You have to wake up, Anon." almost a whisper in his ear.
"I don't want to, I don't want to leave here forever. Fine, just 5 more minutes, okay? What did you mean by contract?"
The ptero woman sat back, smiled, and replied:
"MOUS! I swear to Raptor Jesus if you don't unfuck your shit right now I will rip out your spine through your asshole and beat you to death with it!"
​
What?
​
Anon suddenly jerked awake, the coziness of his bedroom replaced with the heat of a thousand suns. The patter of raindrops replaced by the muffled thumps of distant gunfire.
He reached for his eyes to rub the grogginess out of them, only to smack his hand straight into his goggles.
​
"Ow, I'm up!" he yelled. Strapped into a harness he started to take in the world around him, he was standing behind the machine gun on his Humvee.
'Oh, right, I'm in a desert in the middle of nowhere fighting god knows who on the ass-end of the world...'
​
He looked ahead, a vehicle was stopped in front of him looking much worse for wear. An 8-wheel troop transport, and beside it, a large crater.
Dust was settling everywhere, the large cloud being carried away by the mild wind. People were piling out of the back of it. From how the vehicle was sitting, with it's left wheels off the harder parts of the dust-trail, he could tell it must have slid off course.
​
"Finally, I said contacts at 11, get that .50 barking or I make good on that threat, ya hear?"
The anklyosaurus that was yelling through his headset was Sergeant Jose Garcia, a gruff, brown-colored asshole. He's been through hell and would make sure everyone around him is as miserable as possible to share the fun.
Anon wondered if unnecessary violence was a trait inherent to Anklyos, or if he just had bad luck with the ones he kept meeting. Rosa was no joke, but you could tell she wouldn't actually beat you to death.
And altho this guy had much less of an accent than Rosa, and little tendency to slip into bouts of Spanish, you could still tell a slight tinge of Spaniard sifting through none-the-less. Rosa was also much easier on the eyes.
​
"Fucker can sleep through an artillery barrage, I swear on my mom..."
Specialist Marvin Randolph was a green raptor, quipped a lot. Anon would have almost called him the comedic relief if he wasn't so damn competent.
Guy could take apart and repair an entire engine block if maintenance let him and gave him the tools, but because of army protocols, he was never allowed to flex those skills, unless nobody was watching.
He said his dad owns an Auto-repair shop and trained him from a young age. Good with electronics, too, but nowhere near as skilled as a certain pink raptor he remembered.
Reed was stoned pretty much 24 hours a day, and if that wasn't enough, you'd add the night hours as well, and he could still wire up a concert stage competently.
​
"Brachio, this is Anky, lead vehicle has been hit by IED, contacts 11'o'clock in a hamlet, moving into position to cover. Watch for secondaries. How copy, Over."
Garcias' voice was suddenly calm and collected, his previous rage non apparent. The reply over the radio wasn't audible to Anon, since internal group and platoon radio were two different sets entirely.
"Alright, driver, get us down to the left there, 100 meters towards that hamlet, I want us between them and our guys."
"Got it, boss."
The driver was another human, Private first class James Caspar, Caucasian looking with a dark buzz cut and not a hint of facial hair. While the army was mixed race, humans and dinos were still not as intermixed as the brass wanted for their public image, partially for lack of suitable recruits in certain units.
Humans had a hard time fulfilling some of the more "Dino-centric" requirements, and racism was aplenty. The guy was tall, lanky and wore glasses, probably why he was designated driver, but he was also very good behind the wheel.
One time he drove over a bridge people thought for sure was too narrow, but with half of a wheel in the air on both sides, he made it. At speed. Guy could be a stunt driver for action movies.
​
Anon, meanwhile, racked the handle on the side of the gun, just in case he managed to forget earlier. He didn't live that last time down for weeks. When a full round clattered onto the roof and down the turret hole, he knew he hadn't forgotten, but better safe than sorry.
He had a bit of trouble keeping the gun steady as the Humvee veered off the road, but the ride became less bumpy once it hit the softer sand next to it. He squeezed off a few rounds into the hamlet in front of them.
It was a good 700 yards away, only a vague flash from a window or a hint of movement betraying the fact that there were people in there. Small dust clouds were forming a couple meters in front of the closest building.
Every so often, a barely visible trail of light would follow one of his bullets towards the target, and he would adjust his aim until they were going roughly where he wanted them to.
'Short bursts, watch for effect.' Anon kept repeating in his head. The brass clattering over the roof of their vehicle as it lurched to a stop.
​
With the vehicle now steady and his aim properly sighted in, he let off a couple longer bursts. Sections of wall were visibly breaking off under his tender .50 caliber ministrations.
​
"Pile out, suppress that hamlet!" the booming voice in his earpiece shouted, as he felt three doors swing open. From up top he couldn't see much, the armored shielding to his sides blocked most of the view to the immediate surroundings of the vehicle.
His rifle was strapped to the right side wall should he ever need it. Anon always made sure his head was behind the bullet proof glass panes to his direct front, however, as he did not need more holes in his head than anatomically necessary.
​
Soon, the staccato of smaller caliber weapons joined his own, single shots from his left, short bursts from his right. The small, earthen buildings to his front kicking up more and more specks of dust that slowly drifted in the wind.
Yet, flashes from windows kept appearing. Whenever they shifted their fire to a different one, another hole in a wall or a corner would briefly light up.
"Damn fuckers are dug in like ticks." Caspar was audibly annoyed.
From behind them, another vehicle rolled up, another eight-wheeler, this one had a much larger gun on top inside an angled, fully enclosed turret.
As it came to stop about 50 yards to their left, the concussive blast from it's 105 mm cannon rippled over Anon like a gust of wind. Not a second later, one of the smaller buildings in the hamlet turned into a cloud of dust, pieces flying in every direction, accentuated by the sound of a large, smoking brass case flying out the back of the turret.
​
Anon noticed the belt in his box becoming shorter. As the last round left it's casing behind on the turret floor, Anon shouted "Reloading!" as he racked the large handle back, opened the top cover, and dusted off the feed-ramp.
Then he unhooked the box and tossed it over the rear, holding his right arm down through the turret hole. Almost immediately, someone handed him a fresh box. It was a practiced drill and it worked like a well-oiled machine.
He pulled it up, popped the snap-locked lid open and clicked the box into place where it belonged, pulled the new belt out and placed it where it needed to go.
Closing the top cover and racking once again, he was ready to go, as another concussive blast from his left announced another large cloud of dust and a roof collapsing in the hamlet in front of them.
​
"Wounded are loaded up and charges set, pile in, we are leaving!" Garcia yelled, a grunt accentuated his order as he no doubt lifted himself from the prone position he was returning fire from.
Anon noticed less and less return fire as the bombardment of small and large bullets and shells pounded the small hamlet slowly into dust. Not long after, the distinct 'thump' of the three doors could be heard, and Caspar slammed the Humvee into reverse.
Anon kept up the fire as best he could, making sure not to sway too much off target. The eight-wheeler in front of them let out one last cannon round before it, too, reversed back to where they came.
​
Making a wide berth around the stricken vehicle, Anon could finally see the extend of the damage. As they were passing wide around it's right side, the front two wheels were smashed and at an odd angle, the side armor skirts blown clean off.
No doubt the mine protection of the hull underneath did its job, but he could see the skid marks from where the vehicle shifted sideways from the blast a good three yards. Must have not been comfortable for the guys inside, probably a lot of bruising.
They were the heaviest armored vehicle in their convoy tho, and usually equipped with radio-supression gear to stop remote IEDs.
'Must have detonated it by cable, crafty assholes.' Anon thought to himself.
"Aye, they know we block cell-signals, they are adapting." Randolph said, chuckling. "Soon, we will have to learn new tricks too, if we only stick to the book, they will eventually know the book too."
​
As the vehicles passed one by one, all weapons that could swing to the left were laying into the hamlet, sans the heavy cannons from before. Firing those sideways had a nasty tendency to tip the vehicles dangerously from the recoil, so it was often avoided.
It was fine when it was stationary, but the last thing someone wanted was a vehicle comically tipping over while everybody was trying to get the hell out of dodge.
​
They were now more than a kilometer away from the hamlet, not really out of danger, but usually out of the immediate shit-zone. Anon started clearing some of the errant brass that made it into his turret ring and inspected for damages.
He almost immediately noticed the large, round crack in one of his thick glass-panes, forming a spiderweb pattern across the entire front, with a small, reddish, grey object stuck in the middle of it.
'Oh thank Raptor Jesus for all that is good and holy in the world...'
As the last vehicle left the perimeter, a small explosion could be heard behind them. Anon turned around to see the vehicle they just evacuated burst into a ball of flame, burning stem to stern in seconds, engulfed in white smoke.
Incendiary charges no doubt, to not leave anything useful behind when there is no time for recovery operations.
​
"Command just got notified we had trouble on the way. They will be expecting us with extra Mojitos and warm bath towels when we get to the fob."
Garcia was usually not one for jokes, but after firefights, he often broke one or two out.'To break the tension.' he would say...they weren't always good. He would get much more creative when he was trying to insult you into submission.
"Then Mous here can continue his beauty sleep during a massage in the Sauna, while we scrub the Hummer and prepare him a meal." He could feel the disapproving stares from everyone, like daggers in his legs.
"I'm sorry, I ... must have dozed off for some reason. I don't remember when..." Anon tried his most apologetic plea. He knew full well that, as Gunner, he was an important piece of their security.
They were sitting behind armored glass and doors, he was the only one able to reply in kind when under fire to provide them with some safety. He was also the eyes and ears, having some of the best vision around if he sat up high to see over the armor plates.
Sleeping on that job was akin to sleeping on guard duty, it was a betrayal of trust. And it's not like anyone would immediately notice, unless they talked to him and got no reply. He could have been out for minutes, hours even, standing in his harness.
He didn't know. He felt like a massive, inconsiderate asshole.
​
"We talk about it when we're out of this mess." Garcia sounded almost fatherly, and something round hit Anons leg a couple times. He reached down with his arm and found a can of energy drink in his hand.
'Power thirst - Fizz bitch' it said on the can. Randolph's stash.
"Maybe you need to see the medic, coulda been heatstroke or dehydration, you know? Don't wanna have you keel over before I get to do it, Skinnie."
Cracking the can open, and drinking the rancid fluid within, Anon could feel his guts revolting already.
"Could be, it is pretty warm up here. Any chance we could turn up the AC a bit?"
That got a chuckle out of everyone. After all, they were like family. A dysfunctional family full of guns and murderous intent, and easy access to explosives, but a family none-the-less. They called each other brothers. And siblings fought sometimes.
​
"Still gonna NJP your ass for sleeping on the job, Corporal...gotta maintain standards."
​
But daddy was still pissed. 'Fuck!'
​
=================================================================================================
​
Every day was the same shit. Drive here, deliver this, drive there, pick up that. If he wanted to join DinoParcel, he would have.
But then again, DP doesn't let their employees play with high-caliber weaponry.
His platoon had been assigned to convoy escort for the last two months. It was 90% boring as all fuck, and the other 10% Anon could rather do without.
As the Humvee was moving past the outer gate of the FOB, Anon could only think about one thing. How hard the Sergeant is going to grill him for this...
He swung the gun upwards as far as it would go and leaned back in his harness, starting to separate some of the snap-locks.
​
"Oi, what have you been dreaming about anyway, Anon, you get kinda mumbly in your sleep." Randolph said with a smirk. "Could have sworn you professed your undying love to us."
"Probably his fake fucking 'girlfriend' again. I swear he can't shut up about the broad." Caspar held in his laughter.
"She isn't fake, you've seen the pictures!" Anon spat back, he hated how they talked about Lucy, jealous bastards. After freeing himself from the restraints, he grabbed his rifle, cleared it and clambered down and fell into the empty seat.
"And when I'm back home I'm going to propose!" She'd be there, he was sure of it.
"If she's still there, Dino-fucker." Caspar, as the only other human in his group, always made sure to drop a hint or two of his dislike of "inter species" relationships. Anon was his favorite target.
Well, only target. But if news from home came in about some famous couple, he would always have to drop a remark.
"I keep telling you, they get tired of waiting, and then some handsome guy swoops in and you are all but forgotten." some bitterness swung with the sentence.
​
"Yeah, not one relationship I had held through a deployment. Let alone multiple." the Raptor leaned back in his seat.
"That's because you are ugly as sin, and your dick's probably not worth waiting for either." Caspar smiled.
"What, you want a sample?! I'll..."
"Shut it, ya clowns, get a room already. I don't need to hear about your pathetic love lives before talking to the Captain."
The large Anklyosaur emphasized his scolding remark by slamming his hand on the front dash, the large screen to his left serving as a physical barrier between himself and the rest of the crew, otherwise they would probably always be at risk of a slapping when they started squabbling like this.
​
As the Humvee came to a halt at it's designated spot, they all stepped out of the vehicle. Makeshift container buildings stacked around them accentuated with a tall tent here and there, behind a tall barrier of cube-shaped sacks filled with sand to serve as a wall around the entire compound.
Randolph glowered at Caspar across the vehicles' engine deck. They all cleared their weapons and clicked them dry into a box of sand, under the watchful eyes of a guard.
When they were all done, the Sergeant addressed his men:
"Alright, you help with unloading the trucks, I'll go debrief with the Captain and give him our turn of events. Same-old, same-old. Don't gore each other until I'm back."
Each of them gave a nod in acknowledgment. Garcia was one of those NCOs that didn't want to be addressed as "Sir.", the first couple weeks made sure they wouldn't forget.
As they watched him leave towards a large tent, they turned to where the Trucks they had been escorting were busily being unloaded. Caspar and Randolphs' Love-Hate relationship was on full display, as they were already busy joking around as they made their way over.
​
The large parking lot was abuzz with activity, people moving crates to and fro. Two dinos stood on the back deck of each truck, moving crates to the edge for some other people to pick up.
They always had various supplies loaded, usually expendables such as food, ammunition, spare parts. One of the trucks was a large fluid tanker, the labeling on the side indicating it is drinking water, and some people were already hooking hoses to it to pump it into nearby tanks.
The fuel trucks usually only moved at night, but it depended entirely on the situation. They had the advantage at night, what with the enemies lack of night vision equipment, but once a fuel truck had been hit underway.
Anon wasn't present, but the descriptions were enough to send a chill down his spine.
​
As Anon made himself busy unloading various smaller crates, he couldn't help but think about why he fell asleep. He thought he had caught a good nights rest, as good as was possible at least, and he didn't feel tired when they set off on the route.
He tried to remember the last thing he consciously saw before being so rudely awakened, the last village they passed, but nothing came to mind.
'Shit, maybe it was heatstroke, it does get kind of hot standing in the sun all day.' he thought to himself. 'Maybe I do need to see a medic. But I feel fine now.' he shook his head. There was no dizziness afterwards.
His mind almost automatically fell back to Lucy, he could kind of remember the dream, like a distant haze. He would often think of home, the people he left behind in Volcaldera Bluffs from his senior year of High School, sometimes to just take his mind off of the current boredom, sometimes just out of nowhere.
It wasn't a secret he felt home-sick. He remembered how excited he was when he got his deployment orders. How he thought he would see the world, do cool action movie stuff. After all, he felt like a god after basic training.
No longer the lanky, weak Anon from Rock Bottom, he could now bench 200 lbs easily and run for miles without dying. He could probably go back to Volcano High and show that bollard who's boss. But now, with constant death an ever present reality, he...
"EY, you listening, Anon?"
​
He turned around, only to see Caspar and Randolph staring at him.
"Mind telling us why you are putting food crates with the ammunition?" He looked down at the crate he was holding, clearly marked as 'Potatoes', and the building he was heading towards was indeed the armory. "Or do you think we should issue those as grenade replacements?"
He put the crate down and sat on it. Caspar and Randolph both walked over, Anon could notice the concern on their faces.
​
"Everything alright with you? This isn't normal, you're spacing out more than usual." Randolph put his hand on Anons shoulder.
"I honestly don't know." Anon sighed. "I let you guys down today and I don't even know why. I feel terrible about it. Maybe something is wrong with me."
The Raptor sat down next to Anon. "Maybe, but you don't look like a victim of heatstroke or dehydration. More like you are just somewhere else in your mind."
Randolph was a pretty good people reader. He had no trouble socializing with the rest of the platoon, and he could read a room like a book.
It's almost like he had a sixth sense for a situation, and when Randolph notices something is off, you best take heed, because he's probably right about it.
He also always seemed to know what to say in a situation to make you feel better, or lighten the mood.
"Maybe he just needs to get laid."
Caspar was the complete opposite. Blunt, but honest. He would speak his mind directly and with no filter. "This place doesn't have much in the way of prostitution, stuck up, prude little pricks. Cradle of civilization my ass!"
He turned to Anon. "Some good human pussy would do you good, Anon. I honestly don't know what you see in this dino-chick. She sounds like a lot of work, to be honest."
"Shut up Caspar, you might not be able to appreciate it, but I can tell." Randolph said, turning to Anon, "Actually, hurry up and get your ass shot. Maybe I can be the bearer of bad news, in my fancy dress uniform, and console her afterwards." he winked.
"Over my dead body." Anon snarled back.
"That would be the case, yes..." Randolph laughed, it wasn't funny at all. "...but say. Go get yourself checked out by the medics. We'll cover for you and tell the Sarge where you went. Let's make sure it's nothing physical, okay?" He slapped his hand on Anon's shoulder as he got up.
​
"Yeah, you are right."
​
==================================================================================
​
The night was cool, a stark contrast from the blazing hot days. The medics told him nothing was physically wrong with him, no heatstroke, no nothing.
They did inquire if he needed some sort of psychiatric help, or maybe spiritual, or just someone to talk to. He didn't know at the time.
But when Garcia told him he got "Volun-told" for night watch, being "the best rested of all of us.", he had some time to think.
And he thought he figured out what it was that made his mind wander back home and back to his love all the time.
He wrote a letter. A letter containing everything he ever wanted said. To everyone he knew back in Volcaldera. Poured all his thoughts and emotions into the paper.
If something were to happen to him, at least they would know how he felt and what they meant to him, good and ill. A letter to all the people the Army wouldn't notify, wouldn't let him put them on the 'to contact' form, only his parents.
His dad would probably get the message of his passing, shrug and ask if he had to pay the funeral.
​
No, his parents would take the knowledge to their graves, Lucy would never know why he broke his promise to return to her...
​
"Hey." a familiar voice approached from behind, almost a whisper. They weren't on radio this time.
"Yo Randolph. Why are you up at this hour? Shouldn't you get some rest?" Anon didn't avert his gaze away from the outside perimeter, looking straight ahead into the open field.
"Insomnia. Haven't had more than 3 hours of sleep a day. Why do you think I keep slamming those back like I do?" Randolph swished the can in his hand.
"Shit man, since when?"
"Since the first firefight we had...2 months ago?"
Randolph was always chugging those damn things. He didn't have much better to do on the back right seat. But he never seemed like the sleepy guy. He always seemed alert. More so than Anon recently at least.
They stood in silence for a while, only occasionally broken by a slurping sound.
​
Eventually, Anon had to break the silence. "Hey, Randolph, you said you didn't live far from Volcaldera Bluffs, right?"
"'bout 2 hours by car. Just one town over."
"...did you mean what you said earlier? About being the bearer of bad news? Would you do that?"
The raptor cocked his head. "Uh, yeah, why?" "And the other thing?" a cocky smile was developing on Randolphs' face "Well, you know..."
​
Anon finally turned around to face his partner. "Cut the shit and be serious for a second, yes or no?" Anon spat, making sure to get the message across as much as possible. Randolph was taken aback by the forcefulness of the question. He let out a long sigh.
"No...of course not! You know I was just joking around. I wouldn't do that shit to you! Hell, I don't even think I could face her, knowing how much she meant to you if it came to it... Why, what's on your mind?"
​
Anon composed himself and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking, what's making me space out so much. I wrote a letter, and I want someone to deliver it for me if I don't make it out of here."
"Every day, someone gets maimed, blown up, shot. Sure, most leave as cripples or wounded, but we have fatalities too,
and I think what kept my brain from staying in the here and now was the thought that I could never tell them what I want them to hear."
He carefully pulled the letter out from his pants pocket. "Her parents address is on here. If she isn't there, maybe they know where she moved. I want you to deliver it, if I get killed."
Anon held the letter out towards him. "You don't have to accept, I can always ask the other guys. At least I know Caspar won't fuck her."
​
The raptor was shocked. "Wow, uhm...sure man, anything for you." Randolph pocketed the letter, making sure not to crumple it. "I'll put it in my duffel back at base. And I promise you, I will deliver it if I make it out of here, and you don't."
A moment of silence.
"And fuck Caspar, by the way, two-bit racist motherfucker, that you would even consider him over me? He wouldn't even dare step foot in our country, not even if you dragged him there in chains."
They both stifled their laughter.
​
"Thanks." Anon let his shoulders droop for a second. "That means a lot to me." They both clasped each others forearms, then broke the brotherly handshake.
They continued standing there in silence, looking out into the dead of night. Eventually, the occasional slurping noises made Anon chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Randolph asked.
"Oh, nothing, you just remind me of an old friend of mine."
"Oh, that Reed guy, right? You mentioned him... Say, is it true that he was constantly high on Carfe?"
"Far as I can tell...he'd never give me any."
"Yeah, shit'll kill you. I tried it once and woke up two zip codes away from home. I didn't even have a car at the time and had to call my dad to pick me up. Boy was he maaaad."
Randolph dragged out the last syllable. He smiled. "Shit's not for me."
They shared a laugh.
​
Eventually, Randolph returned to his bunk, leaving Anon alone in the dark. The sky illuminated by an endless sea of stars. Out here, with less light pollution, you could see many more stars than in any city.
And through his night vision goggles, there were even more to see besides.
​
=================================================================================================
​
The next two months were the same uneventful shit, occasionally broken up by pants shitting firefights. Randolph eventually gave Anon a letter too, said "Maybe you are onto something.".
It was addressed to his dad's auto-shop, which he also lived in, and contained tons of stuff he wanted his parents to know. "Real personal parent-son stuff, you know?"
Oh, Anon knew. The raptor had indeed been sleeping better, and Anon's mind didn't wander back home nearly as often anymore. Guess he was right on the money. He promised Randolph he would deliver it, just as he had to him.
​
What he also knew was that they were on one of the rarer night-fuel runs. They were taking a new route, which led right through a town supposedly pacified.
But since they didn't previously take that route, intel assumed they wouldn't have any trouble, since the militants wouldn't be able to prepare.
They also wouldn't want to damage the fuel trucks, so they wouldn't bring any heavy firepower to bear. At least, in the simple worldview of intelligence guys.
​
They crept through the town, lights dimmed. There was not a single soul in sight, not a single light in any home. It was outright creepy.
"Keep your heads on a swivel, I want any movement reported ASAP!" Garcias voice came through the headset, the throat mic making his whisper still very audible.
Anon kept scanning the roofs and upper floors for movement. So far nothing. He leaned as far down as his retention harness allowed, vary of snipers.
​
Then, out of nowhere, the front vehicle of the convoy exploded, the force of the blast from directly underneath lifting the 25 ton vehicle up a couple feet, even if the mine-protection directed some of the blast sideways.
Almost simultaneously, the very rear of the convoy detonated, boxing them into the main street.
"Fuckers learned a new trick! Caspar, get us out of here, side streets, NOW!"
As Garcia was frantically radioing the situation and route they were planning, Caspar wasted no time, slammed the foot down and wheeled the Humvee into a side street with the precision of a race-driver.
The right side was blocked by rubble, so the only path was a left-hand turn.
Anon could hear voices erupting from behind them, spun the turret around, and spotted silhouettes on the roof.
​
"Contact rear!" he belched as his gun sprang to life. Almost as soon as he started firing, the next vehicle, one of the fuel trucks, barreled into the side street, knocking parts of the corner of the inside building out as it barely fit in to make the turn.
"Take the next right that looks wide enough for the trucks, map says ahead is a dead-end."
Rounds were impacting the armored sides now, as more and more people showed up to spray fire onto them. Anon kept the .50 busy, as he swiveled across to cut down anyone standing on the roofs.
Dust and debris fell onto the truck behind him, and Caspar weaved around the street like a maniac, making aiming that much more difficult. But it was better than getting stuck.
​
Then shit went literally sideways, as a bright flash to their right indicated they had hit another IED just as Caspar was taking a right turn onto a two lane street.
Their Humvee tipped over on it's left, and plowed into the building on the far side, wooden beams shattering under the force of the 5 ton truck that was still almost going 30 miles per hour.
​
When Anon came too, dust was still settling, so he couldn't have been out for long. Secure in the knowledge his head was still attached, he reflexively unstrapped his rifle from the right side, which was now on the floor as he was facing backwards still.
He quickly scanned his surroundings, before trying to unbuckle his harness.
"Everyone alright?" he tried to keep his voice down, but adrenaline was rushing through him now. He frantically fumbled with his left hand, trying to undo the straps before anyone checked on their crash-site,
but the accident had entangled him in it, and he couldn't find the release. The thing that was supposed to save his life in accidents like this now threateneing to become a danger to it.
​
"I got you, brother." Randolphs' voice came course through the headset. And not a second later, the harness fell apart. Clearly, he had found and pulled the quick release tab he had been searching for.
Anon scrambled out of the turret hole and secured the surroundings. Garcia groaned "Had better rides before, Caspar." and immediately tried to radio what happened, their location, everything.
Anon didn't hear if he got a response.
​
"Anon, help pull Randolph out. Quick." Caspar sounded panicked.
He let the rifle fall limp on it's sling and turned around, the helmeted head of his Raptor buddy soon emerged from the dark hole. A yelp of pain indicating he didn't make it quite as unscathed as everyone else. "I think he got shrapnel in the leg, he's bleeding all over the place."
"'m fiiinee, just need a second to walk it off..."
Caspar and Garcia soon followed, and besides a couple scrapes and bruises, they seemed like everything was holding together. For now, who knows how they felt once the adrenaline stopped pumping. They had to move, and fast.
​
"Bullshit." the Anklyo spoke. "Anon, you carry him, Caspar, take point. I'll take the rear. Closest exit out of the city is that way. We have helicopters scrambling right now." He pointed in a direction away from where they just crashed into.
Clearly he had spent the day before studying the map of the town. He picked up Randolphs' light machine gun. "Go!"
Anon heaved the Raptor onto his back, his left leg and left arm slung to his front like a necklace. Holding onto his rifle with his right hand and his buddies extremities with his left, he followed Caspar wherever he went.
Caspar briskly moved around every corner, making sure no surprises await them. They heard the distant gunfire behind them, and moved away from it.
Normally, they wouldn't dare leave friendlies behind like this. But if the rest of the convoy that rushed past their crash-site was still moving, they couldn't wait for them either.
And they are one man down, what good would they do, fighting through a hostile town into the hornets nest?
No, getting out alive was a higher priority, the convoy had to deal without them for now.
​
They made their way through a handful of buildings, less than a minute worth of travel, when Anon noticed something warm running down his legs. Probably blood.
"Hold on." he stopped, set the Raptor down as careful as he could against a wall and examined the damage. He was still breathing, but his pants leg was torn to shreds, and through his NVGs, pitch black.
Which meant it was soaked in blood.
"He isn't going to make it like this, the artery is busted."
Garcia and Caspar went to secure the entrances to the room they were in. Anon opened the lid on Randolphs' first aid kit. It flopped open limply, exposing various gauzes, sheers, tape, and a plastic cable with a handle on it. Grabbing the tourniquet, he wrapped it around the Raptors thigh.
"This is gonna hurt, Marv, and I'm sorry for the leg." he only got a dozen twists in before the blood curdling scream of a raptor filled the building. He would never forget that sound.
But he had to keep going. Garcia was trying to hold Randolphs' snout shut as he flailed about with every extremity he could, eventually passing out from the pain.
When he was satisfied he did a good enough job, Anon bound the handle tight with some tape around his buddies leg, lifted him back up into position, and the four of them continued. Voices could be heard yelling somewhere distant. They probably heard Randolph too.
​
Caspar kicked a door open, checked the front and both sides and moved to the right, but just then, just as Anon entered the building behind him, a movement alerted him. Just ahead of him, about 5 yards away, a man stood up.
He did not wear a recognizable uniform, he had what appeared to be a rifle in his hand.
Without even a moments' hesitation, Anon ripped his rifle upwards and pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times. The figure only had enough time to look back in horror at the man that was about to take his life.
Anon saw him fall, then went and followed Caspar. This was the first time he killed another person like this. Sure, he shot at many and was shot at. But it was usually at range, nothing more than shapes in the distance, shooting at him.
This was the first time he looked a man in the eyes as he killed him. Was he even armed?
But he had no time to dwell on it, future Anon would have to deal with that, adrenaline was pushing him forward. His legs starting to burn from the extra weight he carried.
​
The helicopters on standby only needed 10 minutes to get to them from where they were, and they already spend 8 running through this maze of buildings.
Soon, the air was filled with the familiar sound of helicopter blades. And with it, the deep thump of gunship cannon fire.
"SHIT!" Caspar yelled out in front, frantically shooting his rifle down a street he was about to cross from the doorway. "Contact right!"
"They are on our ass." Garcia pushed to the front. "I'll lay down cover fire, Caspar, Anon, get ready to cross. That door over there!"
As the Anklyosaurus got into position kneeling by the door frame, they made ready for the signal. Garcia leaned out and started unloading his belt of ammunition down the street.
The response came swiftly, random bouts of dust started appearing on the road. They were shooting back, but evidently not very accurately. Busy not getting shot themselfs.
Anon couldn't see what he was firing at, but frantic yelling and disparate gunfire coming from outside indicated there were more than a couple of them to the right.
​
"NOW!" Garcia yelled, continuing to lay into them. Caspar went first, tapping Garcia as he passed, reached the other side of the street, more a dirt path than anything, took cover and returned fire in the same direction.
The surrounding walls were soon dotted in the same random dust clouds, and some pieces of wall broke off around him.
​
"SET!" Caspar yelled from across the street.
"NEXT!" Anon started running, he didn't bother tapping Garcia, he did not have the hand free. He didn't bother to look down the road, only at his target. A door on the opposite side of the road.
He heard a snap in front of him, but it did not slow him down. He reached the fragile looking door and kicked it in with all his might. It flew off its hinges and came resting in the hallway of the building behind it.
His legs were giving him hell. Straining to continue functioning, begging for rest. His breath was ragged, and his lungs were burning. He stumbled into the next room to the right, rifle half ready, it was empty.
Garcia came barreling into the door frame as Caspar slowly backed through, returning single, accurate shots as he moved.
As soon as he stepped over into the hallway proper, he dropped his magazine and inserted a new one. "Go, almost there!"
When they plowed through the next door, they were greeted by open desert, and a dust cloud off in the distance. The blinking lights and sound of rotor blades ahead told them a helicopter was just ahead, waiting for them.
His steps were starting to fail him, his feet more stomping than running.
​
'Just a bit more, you can do it, you have to! You promised!'
​
=================================================================================================
​
The next day was hot. Anon was straining under his bandages, somewhere, he ripped up his arms on the way on some errant piece of metal and didn't even notice.
When he got released with only minor wounds, he immediately went for a smoke. Then another. Then another.
Eventually, Garcia joined him. "Hey. Anon. How you do?" his voice a bit raspy, probably lost it in all the yelling. Ever since last night, he's been more restrained, nice even.
Maybe he just didn't want to play the big hard-ass when everyone was still kind of processing.
"Could do better...damn shakes won't go away." he held up his hand, it was visibly vibrating.
"Eh, that's normal. It will go away, see?" Garcia held his hand up, steady as can be. "You'll get used to it. Everyone deals with the first time differently, you know?"
Anon stood there, occasionally dragging on his cigarette, until it was but a smoldering filter. He hadn't often smoked since high-school, but he needed something numbing right now.
​
"How's Caspar holding up?" He was desperately trying to avoid the painful question.
"Shaken up a bit, was his first close contact too. He said he'll sleep it off. Found the whole ordeal very 'enlightening'...whatever that means."
​
Anon looked into the sky. Bright blue, just like home. But the innevitable came ever closer. He couldn't avoid it any longer. He had to know.
​
"Heard of Randolph?"
​
The question hung heavy in the air. There was an uncomfortable silence for a while, a silence so deafening Anon could almost not hear the reply.
​
"Si. He got flown out to a military hospital that night, critical condition...he lost a lot of blood."
​
Anon balled his fist. He didn't need to know any more. A tear ran down his face.
​
"The Humvee is going to feel a lot more empty without that damn raptor, that's for sure..."
​
Anon pulled yet another cigarette from his pack.
"Got a spare?"
He held the pack out wordlessly, Garcia grabbed one, and lit it with Anons lighter.
​
Anon exhaled, the smoke drifting into the sky. "See you on the flip-side, brother..."
​
=================================================================================================
​
Three and a half years later.
​
"Are you sure this is the place?" Lucy didn't sound very confident.
"Yes...this is where the envelope said. It must be here somewhere." Anon drove the car around the area, an auto-shop should be easy to find.
There. A large garage door with "Randolphs' Auto-Repair" painted above it.
He always kept the envelope Randolph had given him. 'Just go there.' He said. 'Can't miss it.'
He parked the car nearby, and as the engine wound down, Lucy put her hand on his. She looked at him with concern in her eyes.
She wore the same yellow sundress and red bow around her crest as she did when they met again, after he came back. It suited her.
"I have to do it. I promised him." Anon swallowed. "God I hate doing this... I will feel like shit afterwards."
​
How would his dad even react to the letter? His mom...was his mom even still around? He didn't talk about her much, only swore on her a lot.
​
They both entered the auto-shop. Lucy held onto his hand as they walked in. A single jack in the middle of an empty room. A large door on one side.
Tools neatly arranged on tool racks on the walls. Not a single drop of oil on the floor. Either the place hasn't been used in forever, or he runs a very respectable business.
An old Raptor soon emerged from the back, about late 50ies, Anon would guess. He wore the typical dress you'd assume from a mechanic, a cigarette limply hanging from his mouth.
​
"Welcome to Randolphs' Auto-repair, can I help you?"
"Mr. Randolph, I'm a friend of your son. We are here, for this." Anon held the envelope out.
The old raptor took the envelope, opened it, and looked at the contents.
"Ah... I see. Friends of Marvin... Follow me." the old raptor turned around, up a flight of stairs.
​
As they entered what was undoubtedly the apartment attached to the large garage, they were led to the living room, a younger raptor could be seen sitting in the sofa in front of a TV yelling obscenities at it.
A soccer game was running. The room was decorated in various soccer team paraphernalia that Anon had no way of recognizing, but they all had the same color scheme, yellow and blue.
He hated soccer...he didn't know what the big deal was supposed to be. But do not dare say that to a soccer fan.
The table in the middle held various assortments of drinks: beers, water, some sodas. Some of the beers were already opened and empty.
As soon as they stepped into the doorway, the young Raptor noticed them.
​
"I see you are doing well, glad you don't need a leg to repair cars." Anon quipped with a smile.
​
"Mous!" he yelled, jumping up from the sofa. You almost couldn't tell his right leg was a prosthetic from the way he moved around on it, but since he was wearing a blue-yellow soccer uniform, it was immediately apparent.
He walked towards the couple with very little problems. When Anon got sent to recruit in Volcaldera, he simply found the number of the shop online and called, they kept somewhat in touch since then, and last week, he got invited to Randolphs' birthday.
Which just so happened to coincide with a major league soccer game.
​
"Glad you could make it to the game, it just started, come on, sit down. I got drinks. Garcia called, wished me a happy birthday too, can you believe that?"
Almost as fast as he jumped up to greet them, he apologized. "Oh, where are my manners. You must be Mrs. Mous! Lucy, right? Call me Marvin, I'm so happy to finally meet you." He extended his hand in greeting.
"Nice to meet you, too. Happy birthday to you." Lucy took his hand and shook it.
"This guy, I don't know if you know, but he saved my fucking ass, carried me all the way through hell, I only survived because of him. You are so lucky to have him, I swear on my mom."
"Oh, I understand completely." Lucy just smiled. "But I'd like to hear it from you."
​
As the exited Raptor was beginning to explain the story of his hero, and was clearly willing to chew Lucys' ears off with endless war stories, Anon interrupted him:
"Marv, I gave your dad your letter."
Anon smirked.
"What? Are you mental? You know the things I said in there?"
"No, but I'm sure we will find out in a second. You have snacks?"
​
Almost as soon as Anon and Lucy sat down, a shrill "MAAAAAAARVIIIIIIN!" could be heard from the kitchen.
"Mous, you fucking dick!"
Laughter filling the room. Even Lucy had to stifle a chuckle.
"Hey, you make me watch a soccer game, I get my own kind of revenge. Besides... I promised."
​
======The end(?)==========
​
[Dedicated to all those that didn't make it, and to all the WIA.]