Collateral Damage

From his position at the top of a street intersection, flanked by stony faced soldiers, Ambassador Jeffrey Tyler could see the opposing army try and assemble. He wasn't even sure if they could be called an army. Perhaps "angry mob" would be a better description. They weren't marching over the hill so much as they were lumbering heavily, shoulders ramming other shoulders and drawn weapons sliding against other drawn weapons as they tried to all fit into the narrow, building lined street. Horse sized wolves snapped at their heels and howled eerie warnings.

And the humanoid creatures were chanting in low, throaty voices, an occasional snarl ripping through the still, evening air. Ambassador Tyler felt his lip curl up in disgust. Western civilization hadn't been prepared for the brute force and mad chaotic-ness that these monsters could muster; the poor farming couple who had discovered them on their land had shot at them and shot at them and still their rage kept them coming. The creatures were gorillas – hulking, primal gorillas. Unstoppable in their rabid madness.

But even rabid madness could be cured with the right weapons. The ambassador felt as though he should be ashamed, but he wasn't. This was his world, his country, and he was hell bent to protect it, even at the cost of his daughter's respect.

Chloe wouldn't have to know though. In fact, nobody had to know – except his branch of government and the few soldiers with him now. Jeffrey felt his shoulders tense. He walked quickly towards one of the media barriers, and the man guarding it.

"Anyone try and get in yet," he ushered under his breath.

The man who he was speaking to wasn't a soldier. Jeffery had no idea his designation. "It's been really quiet, actually," the man said, brown eyes shifting. "I think we've kept a pretty good secret."

"Yes, well," Jeffery said offhandedly, clearing his throat. "Good. Keep your eyes peeled for anything else."

Chloe had a front row seat to the action, hidden in an alleyway but literally sitting on the line that separated the two armies. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and for a long time, it was the only sound she could hear. She wanted to run away.

"I grow tired of waiting," the leader of the creatures bellowed through sharp cuspids. Chloe thought that he had one nasty overbite, the bottom fangs curling up over his top lip, even while talking. His statement was met with a round of grunted agreements from his army. One of the green skinned creatures looked her way, its burgundy eyes drifting as though bored. She could tell that it was younger than the rest. For that reason, Chloe wanted to peak further around the corner, to let the creature know that she was here to document, not fight. She wanted to let it know that she didn't condone any of this, that she was neutral and concerned.

But that would be stupid.

On the other side of the line, she could see her father and his soldiers shift uncomfortably. Half the scene was hidden behind the alley wall. Her father was speaking, his mouth moving, but the sound was lost. Chloe worried that the creatures wouldn't hear his negotiation either – or rather, his warning – but from the outraged expressions on their faces, they must have got the message.

Chloe cursed under her breath. Why wasn't her video camera recording any sound? With a hasty glance towards the creatures, she started to tiptoe towards the other wall, still half crouched, where she would be openly visible. When she got to the corner, she sat down, back to the wall, and exhaled in relief. She stuck the camera around the edge again.

" – seconds for you to surrender and go back to where you came from," Chloe's father was saying. "or we will be forced to take extreme measures." It was just a meaningless speech. Chloe had a feeling that there were more soldiers in an ambush behind them too, to catch them on their way out. We couldn't have them running back for reinforcements, could we?

"I am Garrosh Hellscream," the leader proclaimed. "And you insult the Horde if you think we can be threatened!" Angry shouts rang out from the creatures. They stomped their feet and raised their weapons higher into the air. The blades gleamed menacingly in the dying light of the sun.

Then a shot was fired and the creature beside Garrosh crumpled to the ground, a bullet in the forehead. Before the rest of the army could react, a torrent of bullets rained from the tops of the buildings, cutting down a whole row of the creatures. Chloe jumped to her feet, her hand shaking on the camera while trying to get a better angle. She turned her face away, feeling her eyes dampen. She couldn't run now, she had to get the proof, she had to get the evidence.

Now the creatures were scattering, some running for cover and the backstreets while others charged towards the front lines. "FIGHT," Garrosh was wailing. "COWARDS, STAND AND FIGHT!" How he hadn't gotten shot yet, Chloe didn't know. The leader lifted his chin as if daring the soldiers to do it. There was fear buried in his eyes though.

Chloe wanted to do something – anything – but she didn't know what. She watched her father's face, the cold, empathetic expression that was there, the deadness in his eyes as he looked on. Something had changed him. This man was no longer her father.

An unbidden sob ripped from Chloe's throat. Garrosh's head spun in her direction and he met her eyes, a cruel smile spreading across his face. Before Chloe could even think uh oh, the wolf that Garrosh was riding sprang in front of her, cornering her into the wall. Chloe tried to back up, but Garrosh grabbed her elbow, his whole hand wrapping around it easily. Then she was being lifted up off the ground. She kicked and squirmed, but Garrosh only held her higher above his head, his hands squeezing her ribcage. Then the wolf ran back out into the street, and Chloe was officially being used as a meat shield.

"STOP FIRING," Chloe's father screamed. The sound of gunshots slowly faded, but Chloe could still hear them in her head, a metronome that pounded in time with her panicked heartbeat. She couldn't think. Her mouth opened and closed with what might have been a cry for help, but the words never came out. Is this a good thing, her muddled brain wondered. The fighting has stopped. Isn't this what I wanted?

Chloe's camera was still recording. She found it easier to deal with the event while watching it from the view screen, as though it were a movie and wasn't actually happening to her. She concentrated on the screen only, because it was painful to look anywhere else.

"Give her back," someone commanded – not her father.

"She's leverage now," Garrosh said with relish. Chloe tried to kick him again, but he pushed her legs aside, as though shooing away a fly. The humans protested with angry shouts. Garrosh chuckled to himself, or maybe to Chloe, "Sentimental, aren't they?" Then to the rest of soldiers he barred his teeth and snarled, "Follow us and we kill the girl!"

The army of creatures growled more agreements, snorted laughter and then marched back up the hill, with Garrosh taking up the rear and holding Chloe above his head like a trophy.

"FOR THE HORDE!"

High Overlord Saurfang was waiting anxiously by the portal when the Warsong Offensive returned. He could see their disappointment in the way they held their heads, the way their shoulders slumped slightly. Saurfang nodded knowingly at each as they dragged themselves through the swirling purple void, feeling somewhat smug. Yontar stepped out of the line and waited beside him, a guarded expression on his face.

"That was embarrassing," he muttered at Saurfang from the corner of his mouth. "Inacceptable behaviour that was punished rapidly."

"How many dead?"

Yontar sighed and lifted his eyes to the dark sky. "Enough that we will have to take the matter to my father."

Suddenly a high pitched shrieking rose up over the crowd. Saurfang craned his neck in confusion, convinced that no member of the Warsong Offensive would ever make such a noise. "Oh, right," Yontar added dismally. "And there's that."

"LET ME GO," the voice screeched again, trying to sound commanding but only managing a shaking whine.

Garrosh Hellscream came into view, riding in on his wolf mount, an air about him as though he had personally won the battle. Tucked under his arm and squirming like a toddler was a human female. She beat her fists against his side and wailed hopelessly, displaying no dignity in capture. Saurfang felt Yontar cringe beside him. "She looks young, doesn't she?"

"You are only adding to my victory," Garrosh boasted, shaking her once. She let out a surprised sound but finally fell silent.

Then the female spoke in a venomous whisper, "Go quietly or go kicking and screaming; at least the second option makes it more difficult for you!" She started to scream again, straining against Garrosh's grip. Unfamiliar words sprouted from her lips, but her tone made it obvious that she was cursing him.

Saurfang walked towards them and stood in front of Hellscream's mount, forcing him to stop. "What have you done, Overlord?" he seethed.

Garrosh sneered, casting a glance down at his captive, "Evened the playing field."

"A playing field that shouldn't have even existed," Saurfang corrected. "What are you planning to do with her now?"

Hellscream simply shrugged. "Imprison her. Eat her. Let her wander around Durotar till she starves or runs into some quilboar. Drop her off in Ashenvale. Doesn't matter – " The human's protests grew louder until Garrosh snarled in frustration. With one quick motion, he drew the butt of his axe and struck the back of her neck, knocking her out. Her limb body sagged and Garrosh let her drop to the hard ground. "Send her to Thrall with regards – he does have a soft spot for humans." He stopped to chuckle to himself before raising his voice to a command, "YONTAR!"

The young orc, having heard most of the conversation, was already kneeling down beside the human, gathering her up in his arms with a poorly hidden expression of fury on his face. Saurfang balled his fists but remained silent as well. They marched into the portal without a word and rejoined the rest of the Warsong Offensive.

The sunlight in Azeroth was startling compared to the night that they had just stepped out from. The air was dry and dusty.

Durka had retrieved Yontar's mount for him, handing him the reins to his wolf. "Is the human dead," she wondered.

"Just unconscious," he murmured, swinging his leg over the saddle, trying not to jostle the human anymore than she already had been.

"That can be fixed," Durka growled, her top lip curling back. She was petit for an orc, her facial features small and delicate – but what she lacked in looks she made up for in fearsome piercings and sheer ferocity. She looked at the human and her blue eyes seemed to glow with blood thirst. Any male would be lucky to have her, Yontar decided. He barred his teeth at her in a menacing smile.

"Back to Northrend," Garrosh commanded. He pulled his wolf beside Yontar's and smirked, "Except for you, son of Thrall. You've a package to deliver." He grunted out another laugh. "How proud your father will be!"