Soldiers And Beasts

7. Acrid Aftermath

[Minor Gore Warning]

Hours After The Battle of Fort Argent In Chapter 6

John Pov.

"So, what did you call me over here for?" I ask Frostine, the snow leopard and recruit of the Spec Ops Division as I sat down beside her on a bench. "I just wanted to tell you how much of a great team you and I make." She said rather nervously; as if she was trying to blur her worry. "Thanks, but, the thing is, I'm uh, not exactly supposed to be a part of this—" "There's no need to explain to me John, Lt. General Hoffman already explained the rest. Though I am surprised to know that we'll be having a human on the team, it is nice to have a human to talk to, one whom I don't have to kill." She said, and her description, especially with the way she said it, sort of creeped me out, but in a way, it was to be expected. Frostine looks so harmless, yet she is not.

"Yeah, you handle that M107 just fine," I say to her, earning a giggle from Frostine. "You mean that?" Frostine asks, moving one side of her white hair to the said, showing off her sapphire eyes, smiling at me, showing off her small canines that would have looked longer and sharper if her mouth was fully opened. "Yeah, thanks for having my back out there. Hadn't it been for you, I'd be dead." I muttered, folding my hands together, and turning my head down to the ground. "I'd imagine so. You don't sound very grateful—are you saddened an Anthro had to save you?—a human?" she asks and I burst out laughing, "Oh I knew you were gonna pull some shit like that!" I laugh, knowing well that Frostine, if not any of the others would have said something like that.

"No—not at all—I appreciate your help," I answer, genuinely thankful Frostine saved me from getting killed. "Well, you seem like a very nice person John. I'd do it again if you will." 

Third Pov.

Two whole days have passed ever since the attack the failed F.N.R.C was launched on Fort Argent. It took many of the personnel to remove the many dead bodies of F.N.R.C soldiers lying around the whole battlefield. Many of the Anthros, including most of the members from the Spec Ops Division, were in the mess hall eating, while John was outside trying to find Truman. He wanted to get that beer Truman pledged if they won the battle, which they did, and now John was looking for him to cash in his winnings. "Excuse me." John approaches a group of Anthros, not at all looking for any trouble. "Who the fuck is it?—Oh shit! Look who it is! It's the little bitch the Spec Ops Division has to babysit!" One of the Anthros—who was drunk—mocked John.

"...look, I'm just looking for Truman, alright? Is he around here?" John asks them, trying to figure out if I could get any information from them, instead, he receives a barrage of insults to the face, all of them being mostly about him being human.

"Why don't you go fuck off back to your piece of shit infantry? You're not wanted here, and you never fucking will be—" "That's enough of that." It was Truman who had come to John's rescue.

"Come on." Truman motioned John to follow him into what John presumed to be a bar of sorts. "I suppose you came for that beer I owe you?" Truman asks John as he sits down on a stool at the bar, gesturing for John to take a seat beside him. "Yeah, I just came for that." John replies, displaying no tension in showing his truthfulness, "Damn, not even to brag about how we kicked those F.N.R.C soldiers in the ass?" Truman questions, acting to sound hurt by John's lack of interest in wanting to stay for a chat. "Yes, I am most definitely sure. I just want that beer and then I'll be out of your hair." John immediately cupped his mouth, having realized what he had just said. "Ho! That was so funny I forgot to laugh!" Truman sarcastically chuckles, motioning to the bartender behind the wooden platform to bring him two glass cups of whiskey.