Insertion

Modern Day-No Man's Land

The Federation soldier is lazing by a truck, casually smoking. His comrades are inside a nearby building that is slowly crumbling before the wraith of deterioration. The solider is supposed to be guarding the house, but after a while, like always, guard duty started to get boring. In the grassy lands just outside a city the Americans once called San Diego, all is quiet. A scream emits from the house, but the soldier ignores it, they've been torturing the American they found for days now, but so far he has yet to break.

The soldier tilts back his head and blows a tendril of white smoke into the air, absent minded of his surroundings. Suddenly a knife appears and is buried in the soldier's neck. The action barley processed in his mind when the knife twists and in doing so, ends the soldier's life.

The black clad figure who wields the knife gently lowers the body to the Earth and rolls it under the truck before going prone in the tall grass. He waited for a few minutes for armed tangos to come pouring out of the house, but nothing came. Letting out a sigh of relief, the man starts crawling towards the building, upholstering his silence pistol in the process. He pauses at the entrance of the house and waits; it isn't long before another armed black figure appeared and pauses on the opposite side of the door.

Simultaneously, the two men rise to a crouch position and check their weapons. The first man locks and loads his M99 pistol while the other readies his silenced Honey Badger submachine gun. Both look at each other and nods, slowly the first man touches the small radio around his neck and whispers, "Comanche 1-1 in position, what's your status 2-1?"

"1-1," another silent voice response, "All set up here, there are three guys inside, two more pulling rear security outside towards the north, over."

"Roger, Comanche 1-1 going in," he ends the transmission and nods at his partner, who bobs his head in return. The submachine gunner takes out a flash bang grenade while the other man shook his right foot a little, loosening the tight muscles. After the past days of moving stealthily, his body will finally get to move fast today.

He takes a calm breath as he stands up then he moves in front of the house entrance, raises his leg and slams the wooden door with full commitment. The wood burst into a confetti of splinters as the pistol man takes cover once more and the submachine gunner throws the grenade inside. A moment only passes before they hear the thump of the grenade and the surprise screams of men, signaling the two black covered combatants to move in.

It's as if time has slow to a crawl as the duo of armed men entered. Three Federation soldiers stumble around in blind stupors as they encircle a man in a tattered American ACU (Army Combat Uniform) who is tied to a chair. Hours of training takes over as the two assaulters' raises their weapons and fire semi shots. The pistol hit one man thrice, twice in the chest and once in the head. The submachine gun fired shots in bursts, five shots in the remaining two man's chest. Soon the smoke settles and reveals three bodies on the floor while the American in the chair is left completely unscratched.

The two men freezes in place and listen. Outside they hear the approach of a person who calls out something in Hispanic, then they make out the sound of the footsteps coming to a halt and a soft thump came afterwards; a grim sign that Comanche 2-1 is guarding their rear well.

The leader with the pistol sighs and walks over to the restrain American, while saying, "Falkner," he nods to the down 'Feds', "see if they have anything interesting worth salvaging."

The submachine gunner, Falkner, responds with, "Sir," before he starts patting the body down.

The man with the pistol, the leader of the party, cuts the American soldier loose and inspects him. He is somewhere in his forties, grey hair is setting in and he judges him to be around five foot eleven. However his injuries cover his looks, blood oozes from cuts on his face, his right leg is bent in an odd angle and he groans as he ask, "Who are you?" slightly frighten by his savior who is wearing a mask with a skull design.

The man answers, "First Sergeant Damon Joyce," he looked into the captive's tired eyes and ask, "Are you Corporal Dante Franks?"

He nods and said, "Yes sir, what took you so long?"

Joyce smiled a little under his mask and says, "We had trouble finding your address, all the buildings looks the same around here." Joyce knew the man had the worst time of his life, and most would see the joking as inappropriate, but in truth, the jokes helps the captive to feel better.

"Sarge," Joyce turns to Falkner who is holding up a piece of paper, "This might be important, the guy I took it from is clearly an officer," he said as he gestures to one of the dead soldiers who is indeed wearing a more colorful uniform than the average soldier.

Joyce scanned the letter, but it is written in an alien language that didn't make much sense to Joyce so he places the letter in his pocket, noting to himself he needs to get it to the higher ups in command.

Suddenly the radio crackles to life, "Sir, an enemy convey is on its way, heading right for your position!"

Joyce curses. A convoy? Now? The freaking scouts didn't warn them that this place is a pit stop for Federation troops.

Joyce radios back, "How many and how's our window looking?"

"Three trucks are approaching, all of them full with soldiers, and RV with the helo is in five mikes in the clearing about two Clicks away, over."

Joyce closes his eyes and mauls the information over. The evac point is a little of a mile away and the clearing that they have picked is in a field of grass, absolutely no cover if they get into a gunfight, which they are going to get into. And they most certainly can't last out there for five minutes, not without taking loses.

Joyce curses again before saying, "Swans, I need you to provide covering fire while we fall back, does Gordon has his grenade launcher?"

"He never leaves home without it sir," Swans replies.

"Right, you two cover us, keep shooting till they zero in on you, after that meet us at the LZ, copy?"

"Wilco Sarge."

Joyce nods to himself before looking back at the other occupants in the building who is watching him in turn.

"Heard that?" he asks, they both nodded solemnly.

Joyce flips his pistol until he is holding it by the barrel and present it to Franks, grip first. The soldier takes the gun with a nervous expression. Falkner casually reloaded his newly claimed gun while Joyce bends down and picks up a SC-2010 assault rifle and four full magazines.

Joyce turns to his small team and states, "Here's what we're going to do, as soon as the convoy rolls up, we'll empty our magazines, and make a run for the LZ, when you shoot, take as many of them down as possible, we need to even the odds if we are to survive, clear?"

Timidly Franks speaks up, "Sir, my leg, I think it's broken-"

"It is," Joyce said, "As soon as we finish shooting, I'm going to lift you up and I'll carry you to the LZ, while we move I expect you to cove me, alright?"

Franks nods, "Yes sir."

No sooner did Joyce finish speaking did they all hear the sound of trucks parking. Joyce curses silently when he hears the voices; there must be at least thirty Feds outside.

Joyce and Falkner gets down on one knee and takes careful aim while Franks silently lowers himself to the floor and points his pistol upwards. All three of them point their guns where they pinpointed the source of mass talking, possibly where all the soldiers are grouped. Together they breathe steadily, grip their weapons and wait. The voices approach, closer and closer. The ambushers wait until they hear a shout and open fired.

A firestorm ignites as the three Americans fire through the wood and plaster of the wall, with only Joyce's assault rifle making loud cracks of discharging rounds. Outside the Federation troops scream in pain and shock, no doubt causing them to fall about in total disarray.

Franks is the first one to waste all his ammo, with Joyce and Falkner right behind him. Joyce grabs Franks and lifts him up next to him, shoulder to shoulder with Joyce, the two Americans rushes out the door as Falkner follows from behind.

They didn't get far when the enemy sees the fleeing soldiers and returns fire. All three Americans are force into cover behind a burned out car while Falkner returns fire.

Franks tries to help but curses and yell over the din of battle, "Sergeant, you didn't give me any ammunition!"

Joyce is reloading his weapon and starts firing again while shouting back, "Grab some! They're in my vest pocket!"

Franks hastily retrieves four magazines, loads one into the pistol's breech and starts firing with the guys. Franks lay down covering fire while Joyce and Falkner fire precise head and kill shots. They exchange fire for no more than forty seconds when Swans radios, "Sarge! We are in position! Start running!"

Joyce stops for a moment and watches as an unseen sniper starts shooting targets while a grenadier fires grenades into the throng of Feds. The small explosions and killing by an unknown Spector is all the encouragement the Federation troops needs as they dive for cover. Seeing the Feds hiding behind vehicles and concrete, the three Americans runs off again, sprinting with all they have to get to the LZ.

Even though they were under sniper fire, some Feds were able to get off some shots at the fleeing three man squad. Dirt is kick up by stray bullets when they get close to the soldiers feet and the cars they pass on the road clang as a round skids along its surface. Feeling they are getting too close, Falkner occasionally turns and fires a burst before sprinting after his comrades again. Franks is able to shoot some more shots but they were often wide and didn't hit anything, but his shooting did keep the Federation guys from getting too bold.

They are almost to the field when the remaining fourteen Feds catches up to them. They begin shooting lead at the retreating force's backs. Joyce feels a round tear through his clothes and grazes his ribs; causing him to grit his teeth as the intense heat burns him, but he keeps running. An RPG soars, right over their heads, and hit a tree in front of them, causing it to fall and land on its side. Realizing they need a hard point and that the tree fell just a few meters away from the LZ, Joyce shouts, "The tree! Get behind the tree!"

The small squad sprints the final few yards, braving enemy fire and jumps behind the tree trunk. Franks is wheezing for breath and leans against the trunk while his rescue team continues firing behind them. Franks watches in awe, he knew the Sergeant got hit somewhere by his ribs and the one he calls Falkner took a round to the back, yet here they are still fighting like lions.

The Federation troops soon realize they aren't facing ordinary soldiers; these men are making headshots, kept them behind cover and are fighting despite being injured. Joyce hopes the fear he sees on some of the Fed's faces indicates they wouldn't charge so he takes a chance to glance around. The sniper fire and grenade shooting has cease, he could only hope his guys were alright and are still alive.

As if hearing Joyce's prayers, Swans burst from a bunch of bushes to their right and sprints to their position while a figure from the same clump of bushes shoots suppressing fire at the enemy's location. Swans slid to a halt behind the make shift cover and instantly shouts, "Covering fire!" As one, the four soldiers releases a barrage of lead at the enemy, giving Gordon, the hidden figure in the clump of shrubs, time to sprint out of the grove as well and run to the shelter of the tree truck. He dives and makes it behind cover just as a second RPG tore through the air and explodes on the ground where Gordon was just a few minutes ago.

The reunited team only caught their breaths for a minute before returning to the fight. Three minutes have passed since they first engaged, leaving only two minutes left for their escape choppers to pick them up.

Joyce drops behind cover and looks at his team, his brothers. Joyce's number two guy is Falkner, former resident of LA, the team's heavy gunner, the beast of the group, he seems to be doing fine, but a stream of blood is flowing from his back, Joyce hopes it isn't serious. Lanky Swans appears alright, he was as cool as ice, especially when he goes into fight mode; he calmly loads his single shot L115 sniper rifle and return slow and accurate fire, causing havoc among the Feds. Last of them is Gordon, the tough son of a gun, he survived as a young teenager in the wasteland that would soon be known as "No Man's Land", he was one of the few who Joyce believes was immortal to wounds and that he'll survive anything, he currently had a bandage slapped on his arm, but he doesn't let that slow him down as he fires his Remington R5 at the enemy. Joyce takes a quick breath before sighting down range and opens fire.

Almost every Fed soldier is killed, leaving only a few left who were too terrified to move from their shelter out of fear of being shot. Joyce checks his watch again, one more minute, he was about to order his guys to fall back into the field, but just then Swans yelled, "Look out! Fed reinforcements!"

The team looks up the road and sees three military trucks hurtling down the road; MG's aiming in their direction. Before anyone could let out a curse, they all drop to the ground as hundreds of bullets tore into the tree trunk. More troops arrive, doubling the original number to nearly thirty. The battle soon becomes one sided, the Americans are under too much fire to make head shots, all they could do now is hold their weapons over their heads and fire, not the most accurate shots but at least they could get a chance to nail a fed.

Franks is trying to help, but a bullet blasts through the skin in his hand and gets lodge in one of his bones. His screams of agony are intense; Swans tries providing medical aid, but couldn't fully heal Franks, not here on the battle field. It isn't long before Joyce is hit; the round strikes his right shoulder and drives him to the ground. Ignoring the pain, he gets up and started firing again, this time using his left hand. Almost all of them are shot, but their salvation came in the form of a Black Hawk.

Joyce thank God when he saw their ride out, it didn't land though; instead it stuck to the air and rained down fire from a mini-gun while a crew chief spoke to Joyce.

"Comanche One this is Holiday Fifty Two, looks like you need a ride down there, over," a voice buzzes from Joyce's radio.

Wasting no time, the Sergeant replies, "Holiday Fifty Two, my men and I have casualties, we need a ride out of this dump right now, over."

"Comanche One, area is too hot, suggest you lay down suppressing fire and put up some smoke on the LZ, over."

"Roger Holiday, stand by, over," Joyce finishes before turning to his team, "Falkner, Gordon, give some cover fire, Swans, grab the corporal and get ready to move!"

Joyce unclips a smoke grenade and threw it into the grassy field; soon white smoke began to build. While they wait, the Black Hawk's mini-gun destroys the technicals, but the troopers now found some cover and continue to fire at the rescue team and the helicopter. An RPG shoots into the air and almost took out the vehicle, but it flew out of the way just in time. Realizing the danger of staying on the ground longer, Joyce yells, "Gordon, Falkner, now!"

The two men stand and fire their weapons, driving the feds into hiding. Joyce now turns to Swans, "Alright, go! We got your six!" Swans nodded before lifting up the wounded captive and ran into the thick smoke. Seeing the team is ready, the Black Hawk came in and lands on the opposite side of the smoke screen and waits for the rest of the team.

Joyce is planning that he and the rest of Comanche One would run to the Black Hawk, but that idea is out when the helicopter lands; its powerful rotors are blowing the smoke away. Realizing they might get chopped to pieces out in the open if they run out together, Joyce instead orders, "We'll go one at a time, Gordon first, Falkner next, and I'll be last, ready to suppress, ready?" The two men gave thumbs up so Joyce orders "covering fire!" once more.

He and Falkner fires at the remaining soldiers as Gordon makes a run for it. He stays low to the ground and zig zag through the tall grass as he makes his way to the chopper. Seeing his friend on the bird, Joyce said, "You're turn buddy," to Falkner who gets ready to run. Joyce checks his ammunition and says, "Ok, run!" Falkner shoots through the tall grass as he run towards the helicopter. Joyce is still shooting when he sees it, a Federation soldier standing up from cover while holding a long tube on his shoulder; an RPG. Joyce takes aim, has the man with his sights as he fires off a burst. The Fed's chest turns crimson as he slumps to the side, but not before firing the grenade. The rocket was originally aimed at the Black Hawk, but now its sights have settled on Joyce's position. He only had time to turn and jump just as the tree he used as cover is obliterated. He feels a large chunk of wood smack his head as he falls to the ground. He is just barely conscious when he hears Falkner call out, "Sarge!"

Joyce is still alive and conscious, but there are a lot of blacked out scenes as his mind tries to recover from the blow.

He is lying on the ground, the grass are like towers pointing up at the brown sky as he watches bullets fly through the air.

He blacks out for a bit, when he opens his eyes he is being carried by the straps of his vest, being pull away from the fight. He hears Falkner's voice as if he is yelling from a great distance, he feels something being shoved into his hands and when he looks down it is a Honey Badger gun.

It is dark again; he is still being pulled to safety only this time they are farther away from where they started. Finding some strength, Joyce lifts the gun and open fire, the shots are sloppy and uncoordinated, but they give them a little cover as they retreat.

The darkness returns, and when Joyce could see again, he is being lifted up and place into the chopper while the crew chiefs and his team continue firing. He feels the darkness closing in again, but fights to stay awake, to make sure they'll survive.

Falkner jumps into the Black Hawk and announce, "Alright we are all in! Get us out of here!"

"Roger that," is the pilots reply as they lift off from the earth and heads north, the Feds still firing. An RPG is shot at them again and barely misses their tail rotor by inches. It isn't until the sound of gun fire dies as the distance between the two forces increases did the team slowly relax.

The crew chiefs begin checking the rescue team, the worst one with the most injuries is Corporal Franks, but with his adrenaline pumping he didn't seem to notice. He looks around; now fully aware this isn't a dream and they have made it out alive. He gazes at his rescuers who are not the regular Army guys he has seen in the past, they aren't Marines, they aren't Rangers, and they most certainly are not Navy, what kind of division wears skull masks?

"Who are you guys?" he asks Joyce who is sitting across from him.

The Sergeant chuckles before looking the man in the eye and says, "We're Ghosts."

The Next Day-Fort Santa Monica

Sergeant Damon Joyce nervously taps his feet as he waits to be seen by Elisa Walker, Captain of the base and the CO of the whole Ghost program.

He has no idea what he did wrong, aside from some scrapes his team had sustain they all made it out alive. He personally escorted Corporal Franks to the field hospital and was assured he would survive.

Maybe he thinks my commanding isn't so good, maybe he's planning of pulling me from the program. The thoughts race through his head as he nervously swept a hand through his short blond hair. He wishes he has his Ghost mask, he feels exposed without it, but he isn't allowed to wear it in a safety zone, least a commanding officer says otherwise.

The door suddenly opens and two young soldiers walk out. They are both dress as scouts, has dirty grime plastered to their faces and some blood are sprinkled on their uniform. What struck Joyce is that these two soldiers looks almost exactly alike, and they even remind him of someone, he didn't know who until they pass and he see they are both wearing the same name tags, Walker.

Of course, he thinks to himself, these two must be Walker's sons.

Joyce and the other Ghosts had heard how their CO is planning to draft his boys into the Ghost program and how he is going to test them by trial of combat. Judging by their grim, yet determine faces, he guesses that was where they are going, to be tested by combat.

Following the boys out is the old 'Samurai' himself. Walker is approaching fifty yet he has the body of a thirty year old man. He was retired for only one year when he came back into active duty after the ODIN attacks, along with his two sons. He is known to be honorable and just when situations allow it, which is why many has called him Samurai, only a few soldiers now a days believes in chivalry.

The old soldier watches his family descend down the stairs before turning to Joyce, "First Sergeant Damon Joyce?"

Joyce stands up straight and salutes, "Sir, yes sir."

Walker nods before gesturing for Joyce to follow him inside. They walk through a room full of technicians and computers, went up a flight of stairs before entering Walker's personal office. It has a desk, chairs, computers, a balcony overlooking the sea and, of course, weapons. Walker sits behind the desk and waved his hand towards a chair in front of Joyce. Joyce sits, his body still straight as if it is tied to a board.

The Captain seems to smile a bit before saying, "at ease sergeant."

Joyce allows his body to relax and let out a deep breath. He isn't in trouble; if he was the Captain wouldn't want him to be relaxed, right? Maybe he is going to assign him a special mission.

Walker inspects the rather young Sergeant and asks, "How long have you been in this war soldier?"

"Before or during my military service sir?" Joyce asks.

"Both."

Joyce answers automatically, "I joined the local militia here in LA when I was seventeen sir, only been with them for a month before I was drafted into the military. I was a Ranger for four years before being selected by the Ghost program, and have been a commander of my team for two years now sir."

Walker nods along with the story, looking unsurprised. He stares at Joyce for a minute as if deciding something before finally asking, "How's your team? Do you believe, if asked, they will perform a mission I asked of them?"

Joyce brow wrinkled in confusion. If asked? The Ghosts have always been performing missions, whether they're tired or not, even when they haven't slept for days they're ready for the next mission. Why would this one be any different?

Seeing his confused expression the war veteran sighs, "The mission I have in mind is a high profile mission, it is also deep covert with little or no support at all, no communications either, off the record books kind of deal with a high chance of death," the officer finishes.

Joyce swallows once, before concluding, "A suicide mission."

Walker nods gravely, "We believe the Federation is planning to go out on the offense again, we want to beat them to the punch, however, that note you recovered from that rescue mission and the account of Corporal Franks confirms our fears; the Federation plans to move on us through Canada.

Canada? After the war started, the country sealed itself off and declared itself neutral. Many Americans didn't like this, including Joyce, but it wasn't until he had a taste of leadership did he understand; the nation was just doing what they could to keep their people safe. They do trade food with the US but other than that they have taken no part in the war.

"Sir," Joyce asked, "Is Canada helping the Federation?"

"Negative, they won't let any feds into their territories; however, we believe we have a rat in the nest, one who is covering the Feds as they are making their way into Canada."

Joyce feels his hands curl into fists and asks, "Roark?"

Walker sighs again before saying, "No, not Roark, he's running his business down south, we have no idea who it is and until we do we face an attack on our flank."

"Why not tell the Canadians?"

"Tell the Canadians that an American is helping to smuggle terrorists into their country?" Joyce feels himself flush with embarrassment as Walker continues, "If we do that, do you think they'll help us in the future? Or them?"

Joyce has no idea what to say next so he remains silent. The silence lasts a minute before Walker begins again, "I want your team to go in, disrupt any and all Federation activities and find out who the mole is, understood?"

Joyce thought the mission through before asking, "Sir, could you clarify by off the record books?"

For the first time ever, Joyce sees true pain appear on the Captain's face as he said, "If you are captured by the Canadian forces…we will deny knowing you, forcing us to declare you and your entire team as American terrorists."

Joyce sits there, stun. Throughout his whole military career the same thing kept being said, "Somebody help that man," "We leave no man behind," and "Semper Fi", that's how the Ghosts base their lives, that's how they survived, not by their lone wolf training, but through their group training. It was always reassuring to know there another guy standing beside him ready to help.

Now he's being told if they get into trouble they'll become the very thing he and his team despises; terrorists. America has fought for years to destroy these creatures and the Ghosts had gladly stepped in to help; now being told they might become terrorists themselves is like being told they're no longer Americans. Worst, it is being told that their country, their brothers, will hate them without knowing the patriotic acts his team has done for their country. This is like one of the old movies he used to watch when he was a kid, only it was real and he's the one who'll be turned into the bad guy.

The Captain watches Joyce, waiting for his reaction. Joyce tries to reassure himself, its simple, we just don't get caught and we have a chance, a small one, but a chance to get out alive and ensure our legacy lives on. As he thinks about it, Joyce isn't concern about his reputation, but his team's, he wants only the best for them; he wants them to survive, to live, even if it costs his own life.

Joyce breathes and says in a confident voice, "Sir, when do we begin?"

Five Days later-Jasper Park-Canada

Garth is lying low as he watches the Caribou; they are all asleep, nearly a dozen, if they could bring down five, then the pack will be full for days. Garth already feels himself drool over the prospect of fresh meat. There is a loud crash behind Garth and he tenses, getting ready to run if the massive deer's decide to bolt, but aside from some stirring, none of them moves.

Garth sighs before looking behind him. His brother in law, Humphrey, is picking himself up after apparently falling over a tree branch for a third time. He wonders if the Omega is really this clumsy or if it's all an act.

At the thought of Omegas he thought of his new mate Lilly and happily sighs, he doesn't care if she is clumsy or not, just as long as she continues being her caring and adorable self, he just didn't care.

Humphrey noisily shuffles up to him and starts scratching his ear, making a sound like claws on a hard tree bark. The caribou stirs again at the sound, but remains asleep.

"Shh," Garth hisses annoyingly. He starts to regret bringing Humphrey along, who begged Garth to teach him to hunt for months now so he could impress his Alpha mate Kate, but after what he's seen so far, Garth is beginning to believe he would have an easier time teaching a newly born pup how to hunt. What force in the whole wide world caused Kate, probably the most attractive and well trained wolf in existence, to fall for someone like Humphrey? Probably the same force that caused him to fall for Lilly.

"So, what do we do now oh mighty fart?" Humphrey asks.

Garth didn't take offense, it is an Omega's nature to be funny and besides, even among the former Eastern wolf pack, he was made fun of due to his name.

Garth starts to focus and says, "Alright Humphrey, remember what I told you."

Humphrey sigh before nodding, "Do what you do," the Omega didn't like taking orders, but he is desperate to impress Kate with his own hunting skills as a sort of surprise.

Garth exhales steadily and starts moving forward before stopping, turns towards Humphrey and says, "Whatever you do, don't…make…a…sound," he whispers as loud as he could.

Humphrey nods again before following, getting down on his belly and begins shuffling forward. The young Alpha wolf moves without causing a sound, but the Omega behind him keeps overturning rocks, pushing over pebbles and snapping every stick on the floor. Garth is starting to feel his eyes bulge with his anger until they came to a stop just five feet away from their soon to be meals.

Before moving in, Garth turns and whispers, "I'll go first, and you'll follow me, and whatever you do-"

"Don't make a sound," Humphrey finishes with an annoyed expression.

Garth returns his attention to the herd in front of him and starts moving forward. He feels his excitement grow as he came closer and closer to his prey, a rather plump caribou nested close to the trees he was hidden in. No sound is made as Garth open his mouth wide and made ready to pounce when he stops.

He hears something, a low buzzing sound. It took all of Garth's restraint not to growl at his hunting partner. What is that wolf doing now? He thought to himself.

Then he realizes it isn't Humphrey, the sound is growing from a buzz to a loud roar. He swings his head around and looks towards the Omega who looks just as baffle at he does. The noise intensifies as Garth realizes whatever is causing the disturbance is getting closer.

The Caribou all woke and as one jump to their feet and runs deep into the forest. Garth didn't peruse he is too curious at what is causing the disturbance.

"What is it?!" Humphrey has to yell over the sound as it grew.

"I don't know!" Garth yells back.

Than they see it, it was one of the strange metal birds the humans ride on. It flies in overhead, its strange single ring moving so fast they could barely see it. Garth and Humphrey only saw these metal birds a few times before, they were usually the colors red and white and they always came during the day. This one however is black, and appears larger than the ones that came before. Both the wolves are captivated by this strange sight, they never seen a metal bird this close before and it appears to be stopping.

The trees and rocks starts to fly as the great metal bird came to a halt in midair just above the clearing where the Caribou was sleeping just moments ago.

"What's it doing?!" Humphrey finally shouts after the initial shock is gone.

"I don't know!" Garth replies.

The SOAR pilot keeps the Black Hawk hovering over a clearing they just found while his copilot talks on the radio that is directly linked to the Ghost team behind him.

"Sergeant," the copilot said, "got one mike left then we have to leave."

"Roger that, thanks for the ride Night Stalker," Damon Joyce replies before turning to his team and orders "Weapons check."

Falkner locks and loads his Ameli LMG and says, "Check."

Swans causes his scoped IA-2 semi firing rifle to click and says, "Check."

Gordon checks both his Remington R5 with a red dot reflex attachment and his MK32 grenade launcher before replying, "Check."

Joyce is last as he checks his own Remington R5 holographic sight rifle and says "Check, masks on!" he orders.

As one, the team place on their masks. Swans has a bandana mask, a small square cloth with the bottom portion of a skull covering his mouth so it would leave his sight clear and not limit it like a regular mask would. The rest of the team wears regular masks though; Gordon and Falkner have one oval eye hole over both their eyes while Royce has individual holes cut out for his.

They place on either boonie hats or in Swans case a beanie. They then check themselves over once more. They are wearing forest camouflage pants and shirts that are at the moment covered with their black combat vests that is full with magazines and small nick knacks. They each carry a medium sized bag that holds the rest of their gear; MRE's, radios and spare clothing. The interior of the cabin is flush with a red light as the team waits, saying final prayers and going over the mission in their heads.

Finally the light turn green and the pilots said, "Ok go, good luck boys."

Humphrey and Garth watches as something is thrown from the bird, it is like a long snake only it isn't moving and Humphrey is sure he saw it before during his adventure with Kate. They wait, wondering what is going to happen next when suddenly humans appear. They grab the long things and slides down on them to the ground, then they form a circle and lift long tubes in the air that the two wolves instantly recognize; guns.

The only time they have seen guns was when hunters enter their territory, wearing green garments, strange hats and long barreled rifles. They either walk or travel in their strange metal contraptions that Kate and Humphrey had learned was called "cars."

But these humans are different. They are mostly dressed in black, their lower and upper garments and even their heads. They came not by foot, but by air, and they have the making of hunters, they didn't move, they observe and they are extremely quiet. Their guns are a variety of shapes and sizes, nothing like the hunting rifles they've seen before. Yet what caused both wolves to slightly gasp is when one of them turns in their direction; he has no face.

The wolves often makes jokes about the humans having small ears, short noses and little hair on their faces, but this one was no joke. His face is white and skinny, and boney, because they realize it is a bone. They have only seen a human skeleton once, but they soon remember that their heads, their skulls, is white with holes where their eyes and nose used to be. This human has a skull for a face, perhaps they all did.

The giant metal bird drops the long objects to the ground then it turns and heads back to wherever it came from, leaving the black skull face humans behind. The humans didn't move right away, but slowly and carefully. Two of them picked up the long objects the bird has dropped, folding them and then they cautiously move out with the silence of Alphas.

The wolves watch dumb struck as the humans move away from them and deeper into the woods, it isn't long before they are hidden by the darkness. The wolves stay completely still until they are sure the humans are gone before Humphrey turns to Garth and ask, "Have you ever seen humans like them before?"

Garth shakes his head, "They are like Alphas but their face…did you see their faces?"

They both shiver at the memory. They are silent until Humphrey asks the dreaded question, "Do you think they are dead?"

"How could they be dead?" Garth asks, wondering what kind of dumb question it was.

"But they have no face, and only their bones look like that…when they're dead!" Humphrey finishes.

Garth thought for a moment before turning, "Let's head back to the den, we'll inform my father and Winston, maybe they know what kind of humans they are."

Humphrey follows close behind and says, "They don't look like hunters, do you think they're dangerous?"

Garth didn't say anything, but something was telling him what he saw was something far more dangerous than the average hunters.

This is a revised version of the original chapter