War Of The Race's

CH 18: Revengeful Attacks PT3

[...I Claim Vengeance...]

Bloody red.

Zeka's once pristine coat was painted in bloody red; the snowy white fur on her arms was singed off and replaced with a mangled, burnt, charcoal color, while loose strands of her white fur held in place, baked into the black and pink hexagon pattern of charred skin and glistening exposed muscle.

Her legs were-- also ravaged; having the same grotesque burns and bullet grazes. In fact, the once-white coyote looked like an entirely different person; not a single place on her body was-- spared from the meticulous savagery CLAW had enacted at the meeting between the AU and UCA.

Held within the confines of a safe room, medical staff raced about with bandages and healing jells to cater to the injured; even on-site nanobots were-- administered to more of the gravely wounded or VIPs, such as Zeka, who had received a dose of the miracle treatment prior.

The coyote rested slumped against the steel wall that protected everyone from the outside, where countless CLAW and security forces engaged in battle.

She was-- accompanied by all of B.L., who sat near her, such as Kal'el, Azzrick, or those who formed a protective barrier around them, like Finpa, Melvin, and Ckleck, keeping watch of the chaotic scene unfolding before them.

Their eyes still reeled in suspicion of their fellow 'countrymen,' each member of the squad ready to kill any terrorist who maybe wiggled their way inside the saferoom.

The room weighed heavy from those who screamed out in pain at being operated on, being cut open with handheld lasers by medics to remove bullets or any other foreign objects that may have lodged themselves into the bodies of their victims.

There were also those without limbs, human and anthro alike, bandaged and bruised, who lay on the floor of the saferoom turned combat hospital.

"What a fuckin' shit show," Ckleck said, her red eyes gazing at the many mutilated and traumatized people who lay huddled together.

It was the first time that Ckleck, per se any member of Black Leopard, had experienced such concentrated mass death outside of battle before.

Though all of them had gone on many missions and seen and did their fair share of shit, say, besides the still warm Azzrick, having open-air gun battles in the middle of a populated city for all to see, not even mentioning the hundreds of millions watching it live, was pretty new to their usual go-to stealth ops.

"Tell me about it, of all the places they could have held this damned meeting, it was, 'Ah, let's do it on the one continent where there's prehistoric forest as thick as Ckleck thighs all over the place and barely any ounce civilization while broadcasting it to the entire world, what could possibly go wrong!?'"

Melvin said, rolling his eyes at the plain stupidity of the lack of precaution that was taken into the planning. "At least one of the two small things in your body can acknowledge perfection when you see it, but we'll die from old age before they would've allowed any skinner to step foot on Anno, as they should. Asia would have probably been the next best shot." Ckleck said.

Melvin grunted in response to the sneaky low blow, folding his arms while monitoring the room, quick to detach from the conversation with the Gysinge wolf, he knew all too well where continuing would go.

.

.

.

"What, why'd you get so quiet all of sudden?" Ckleck giggled, grinning ear to ear, eager to not let the lizard escape from her so easily.

Melvin turned to Azzrick, his eyes yelling to the shark for support in a full-blown invisible conversation only the two could understand.

"Well, to be fair," Azzrick jumped in, much to the relief of Melvin, who let out a sigh of relief, "We were literally just invaded by aliens from god knows where or what purpose, so having a terrorist attack right after probably wouldn't have been on the radar of next upcoming events, I figured any hostile groups like CLAW would have been to shocked to pull a move like this."