A nice piece of art done for me and  voksthefox by PD  PercyD They are an awsome artist and have done an awsome piece for me. I'm really happy with the way it looks and very glad to have it in my gallery.
It's from a scene in a commission I did for my good friend Voks, and I'll post the story attched to this, for your reading pleasure.

---

Operation Landline [DECLASSIFIED]
The tall hyena walked up the ramp into the belly of the chinook. He was wearing combat fatigues in desert camouflage, and a vest, carrying various utensils and spare mags. He had a rifle, an H&K G3, equipped with a scope slung over his shoulder.
Conor had been briefed on this mission, but rather incomplete. His gut instinct told him that there was some involvement from one of the intelligence services, or perhaps a political angle. Preparation had seemed somewhat rough. Operation Landline, it was called.
It was a joint mission, with the Austrians and the Americans, and he was here to spot for an Austrian sniper.
He had asked his commanding officer what sort of bullshit this was, and why he wasn’t spotting for one of the royal marines he had worked with before, but the CO had been unrelenting. Apparently, nobody was available, and the mission could not be postponed.
The glaring light of the sun was fading, and the hyena noticed a second person inside the helicopter.
A blue fox was sitting in one of the seats, leaning against the wall with closed eyes. He was wearing a digital grey camouflage, and Conor could have almost taken him for an American, were not for the Austrian flag on his arm.
A rifle was lying on his legs, a Steyr SSG08, with a custom scope.
This was the sniper he was paired up with, apparently.
He had his eyes closed, resting, preparing his mind probably.
The hyena sat down on the chair opposite him. The Austrian opened his eyes, looking over to him.
“Hello” he said, his English only with a very slight accent. The hyena inclined his head at the Fox. “Hello” he repeated.
They were silent for a few moments, until the Austrian spoke up again. “So, I guess you are the spotter they assigned to me?” He scrutinized the hyena with hooded eyes.
Conor nodded. “My name is Conor. Warrant Officer, first class.”
The fox nodded his assent, a slight change going through his posture. He was more alert, and his eyes opened fully. He spoke up as well. “I am Voks. Warrant Officer, third class.”
The two looked at each other, quiet for a moment, scrutinizing each other. Voks eyes were cold, and Conor wasn’t a paragon of friendliness either.
“So, I guess we both been briefed?” Conor re-started the conversation.
The Austrian fox nodded, as the rear door of the chinook closed, and the turbines began to spin up, the helicopter lifting off with a loud rumble. “We get inserted around four kilometres from the village, on the other side of the ridge. We make our way up to position alpha, and give overwatch to the American team heading down to the village.”
The Austrian’s reply was curt but precise, and the hyena nodded his assent. He’d been briefed in a similar way.
The helicopter began to accelerate and Conor closed his eyes, mentally preparing for what was to come. Voks wasn’t too talkative, and he himself liked the quiet before the storm, to relish these feelings, and to prepare his mind for what was to come.
~~~
The chinook was hovering above the ground, the pitch-dark night surrounding it.
Both Voks and Conor were standing at the gate, ready to rappel down, both equipped with night vision goggles (NVG)
“I’ll go first.” The British hyena said, and Voks nodded his assent.
His gloved paws went around the coarse rope, he swung himself down, and within seconds, Conor was standing on the dusty floor, checking for hostiles in the area, his G3 at the ready.
Voks rappelled down after him, and Conor waved at the helicopter. The rope snaked upwards, and in a cloud of dust and darkness, the helicopter thundered off.
Both soldiers had crouched down low to avoid the dust and the downdraught, and were now observing the area, each of them through the scopes of their rifles, the NVGs warping the colours into an ethereal green.
After they had assured themselves that the area was clear, Voks got up, quickly checking his bearings, and then beckoning to the hyena to follow him, up the mountainside.
Conor got up, and followed the fox, keeping five paces between them, like he had been trained.
They both were wearing headsets, but they did not talk at all. Their full concentration was on the mission, to check the area, to find the route. There was a schedule, and they were both determined not to fall behind.
Slowly, the sky turned from black to blue behind them. They would reach the ridgeline soon. Conor would establish communication to base one last time up there, and then they would descend over the ridge and assume position alpha.
They walked on, making good progress in the dark.
~~~
The two snipers crested the ridgeline at 0534hrs, about fifteen minutes before sunrise. The sky behind them was already turning orange, dawn approaching slowly but surely.
Voks had been the leading man all the way up, and now stopped to turn around, eyeing the hyena’s approach to the ridge.
The blue fox wasn’t entirely sure why he had not been assigned his usual spotter. They had been an efficient team.
This entire operation smelled slightly fishy to the seasoned sniper. He had wild-guessed that it was some political thing, getting both the British and the Americans on board for mission.
From what he had seen on the hyena’s face, Conor wasn’t too happy about working like this, but he did a good job at hiding it. He certainly moved with purpose. The hyena was no amateur, Voks though, with a certain feeling of relief.
“You ready to make the final call?” Voks asked him.
Conor stopped on the ridgeline. His breath was going slightly, but he seemed unfazed by the climb they had just done in the dark.
“I am.” He reached for his pocket, and began unfolding the antenna of the long-distance radio link. Quickly, he plugged it into the radio he was carrying on his vest, and held it high up in the air.
“This is Overwatch, calling Switchboard, can you hear me? Over.”
A moment of silence, then the base chimed in “This is switchboard, we can hear you, Overwatch. You’re on schedule, are you ready to proceed to position alpha? Over.”
Conor looked at Voks, who nodded, and then replied: “We are ready to proceed, over.”
“Be advised that no long range communication will be possible from inside the valley. You’ll be on your own, over.”
“We understand. Overwatch out.”
Voks looked at the hyena, as he stowed the antenna again. “You ready, Conor?” he asked.
“As ready as I can be, Voks.”
The two moved over the ridgeline, and down into the cover of the forest. This time, the hyena, his battle rifle in his paws, led the way. Once they had reached the treeline, both stowed their NVGs away. The sun would be up within a few moments, and they wouldn’t need them anymore. Their eyes were more than sufficient now.
They moved slowly, carefully, checking the forest for hostiles or civilians, until they reached the position.
Position Alpha was a large outcrop of rock, atop which they could assume their position. It would be nigh-impossible to spot them from below, and they would have decent cover, should the enemy advance from the sides.
Conor had crawled up on top of the rock, his G3 over his shoulder, a pair of binoculars with in-built rangefinder in his paws.
The sun was rising behind them, bathing the mountains on the other side of the valley in glorious light, but the hyena was focused on the mission, completely oblivious to the sunrise.
Voks arrived beside him, and began setting up his bipod, and his rifle. The fox’ face was determined, his right fang showing through his lip, giving him a grizzly air.
The hyena was already concentrated on the village lying below them, on the valley floor.
“What do you say?” the fox asked his spotter
Conor was silent for a few moments. “1600 metres to the large house at the main street. It’s where the interaction will take place.”
The fox looked down at the village through the scope, and then swore. “It’s a fucking silbertablett.”
“I am sorry?”
Voks shook his head. “There’s no cover. If the Americans go in, they’ll be without cover, like they were served up on a silver tablet.”
The hyena nodded. “I hope switchboard has thought this through.”
The fox checked his watch. 0604hrs. The Americans would be due at 1000hrs. They had another four hours to wait.
He checked his scope again, focusing it on points downrange, asking Conor for estimates of distance. The hyena was using the rangefinder to supply the necessary data to the fox, noting it down on a waterproof notepad.
“Ready, Voks?”
The fox nodded. “So now we wait.”
“We wait.”
~~~
The hyena had dozed off, but a gentle beep from his watch had woken him in time. His face felt sore, as he had fallen asleep on his binoculars.
Beside him, Voks was still staring intently through the scope.
“You slept?” Conor asked.
“I don’t sleep much” the fox replied, indifferently. “I suggest you take a look at what is going on down there. There’s been movement for the last half hour, in the buildings.”
Conor raised his binoculars to his eyes, and looked down to the village.
The buildings were alive with activity. There were men moving around, carrying objects in and out.
“What the-“ the hyena stopped himself, and looked over at the fox. While Conor was more senior of rank, Voks seemed to have a bit more combat experience than him. “What would you say?”
“Hmm…” the Austrian took a few moments. “Can’t say. Might be preparing an ambush. Might just be general activity.”
“We should hail the Americans.”
“We won’t.” The fox said. “Orders are radio silence unless something goes wrong.”
“This might be exactly the fuck-up we are talking about.”
The fox rubbed his forehead, and looked at the hyena. Conor had some experience too, he figured. And he was no average spotter. The fox had guessed by the gun the hyena carried, and the way he carried it, that he was some sort of commando, or at least affiliated to a commando unit. The G3 was rarely seen in the hands of the British. He decided to trust on his word. Besides, he was more senior of rank anyhow. “All right. You hail them.”
Conor nodded at the fox, and pulled out his radio.
He re-tuned it to the American’s channel, and then started speaking “Phone Booth, this is Overwatch, do you read me? Over.”
“Overwatch, this is phone booth, we read you. Something wrong, over?”
“Be advised to take care in the village, there’s something going on, overwatch out.”
The radio fell silent again.
The Americans would be here soon.
As if on cue, the rumble of a large car filled the valley, and after a few minutes, a Humvee roared into view, blasting along the dirt road at full tilt.
Conor watched it through the binoculars, making its way towards the village, and eventually slowing and stopping, in a large cloud of dust.
Keep calm, Conor told himself. If things go as planned, they’d be out of this within a few hours.
“Ready, Conor?” Voks asked again, and the hyena nodded.
The dust cleared around the Humvee, and he could see two men exit the car, both in uniform, and heading towards a man wearing traditional afghan garb, who had stepped out of the large house.
The three met in the middle of the road, and began conversing.
Conor watched through his binoculars.
Suddenly, Voks nudged his shoulder.
“Two houses down the street, I am seeing activity.”
The hyena checked. He could see two men, both wielding Kalashnikovs, assuming position behind a low dry-stone wall.
“Damn” he mouthed, sweeping his gaze all over the street. There was movement at the back of the houses.
“It’s a fucking trap.” The hyena said. “I will hail the Americans.”
Voks nodded, his teeth set.
Conor grabbed the radio, tuning it, and then calling the Americans. “Phone Booth, this is Overwatch, we’re seeing tangos moving behind the houses and drystone walls. Advise to clear the area. Over.”
The effect of the words were immediate.
The Americans who were doing the talking suddenly went for their guns.
“You got position on the tango close to our friendlies?” the hyena asked. “It’s 1600 metres. No wind. Aim two down, and –“
Voks’ rifle went off, a loud, echoing crack through the forest.
Conor could see the target, the man the Americans had been talking to, being ripped backwards by the force of the shot.
Beside him, Voks calmly cycled the rifle. Conor could hear the tinkle of ejected brass on the stone.
He re-focused his binoculars. “Left dry stone wall, forty metres from the rear of the Humvee. Two tangos, just below the wall line.”
“Got them. Give me a sec”
Voks focused his scope, quickly adjusting the windage and elevation, and the SSG-08 went off again, the clap echoing in the fox’ ears.
The dry stone wall emitted a puff, and the target behind it crumpled to the ground.
Slowly, the Taliban in the village were starting to pour from their covers, and the sound of gunfire could be heard up to the sniper’s position.
Conor could see the first of the two Americans falling under the gunfire instantly. The second one was mowed down the moment he had turned to retreat to the Humvee.
The hyena gulped, but steeled his mind. It wasn’t the first time he had seen allies die in combat, but he still felt a small stab every time. They needed a plan.
“We need to give them time to retreat.” The hyena said. “I’m seeing a machine gun, last house to the right. 1680 metres. Aim a bit higher to avoid hitting the building.”
The sniper rifle went off again with a crack, and the hyena heard the fox cycle the bolt with calm, controlled motions. He was a cold customer, that Austrian.
He was cursing himself at the moment for not having brought his own L115. An additional sniper would have helped, at least psychologically.
“RPG, at the corner of the left house. 1590 metres. He’s aiming, so you’d better be quick.”
Voks fired again, bringing down the RPG-wielder immediately. The Austrian was precise, as well. Conor could judge this himself, as someone who had done similar shooting most of the time.
The Humvee reversed, but was brought to a standstill almost immediately by concentrated gunfire.
The Americans weren’t going to get out.
The doors opened, and three American soldiers jumped out, rushing towards one of the dry-stone walls for cover.
“There’s one coming from the back-“
“I’ve seen him” the fox remarked, quietly, even though Conor could hear an element of tension in his voice.
He fired again, the gun recoiling in his paw, the Taliban being felled immediately.
“They are surrounded.” Voks said quietly.
Conor bit his lip. “We’re breaking position. Going down a few hundred metres. We need to-“
“You do realize, that when we reach them, they will be dead.” Voks was keeping his voice under control, but Conor could hear the strain.
The hyena growled “We aren’t leaving them behind.” He resumed checking his binoculars. “There’s one close to them, on the left house corner.”
“Seen ‘im.” Voks mouthed.
The rifle went off again, bringing down the Taliban.
“Reloading.” The fox remarked, dropping the rifle’s magazine, and quickly inserting a new one.
Conor kept watching the tragedy unfold. It was a well-done trap, he had to admit. The Americans never stood a chance.
One by one, they slumped down. Conor could only watch as the Taliban moved in on the soldiers. Even Voks had stopped firing. It was pointless. They were one sniper squad, and there was at least twenty-five enemies.
They were powerless, damned to watch through their optics.
Eventually, silence fell on the valley.
The ambush had not even taken fifteen minutes.
“The killed them all.” The hyena mouthed through gritted teeth.
“Damn Bastards.” Voks said quietly. “Damned, islamistic bastards!” he added, with quiet fervour.
They were still for a moment.
But only a moment.
Activity resumed in the village.
With a dreaded whine, a mortar shell whistled through the air, exploded two hundred feet above them with a deafening clap. The trees where shaking, and the shockwave washed over the two.
“WHAT THE HELL?”
“The must have approximated our position.” Conor glued the binoculars back to his eyes, and began checking the village for the mortar encampment. “Damn it, I can’t see it. Must be a mobile one. They must have approximated our position from the shots we fired. MOVE!”
Both the hyena and the fox slid off the rock, and scampered towards the trees, quickly taking cover. Their rifles were slinging around their shoulders as they changed position.
The next mortar shell fell some distance off, just a dull clap in the distance.
“When is the Evac due?” Conor asked.
“Three hours.” Voks replied
The hyena slapped his paw against his fist. “We need to get back to the ridgeline, or at least find high ground. I can hail Switchboard, and get us some assist-“
The flash of the mortar shell impacting close by was blinding, and the pressure wave threw Conor through the air back against the ground, the air forced from his lungs, and pain exploding in his head.
His head spun, and he felt a searing pain in his arm, his vision almost blacking out.
This can’t be!
Lying flat on his back, recovering from the sudden shock, he quickly, mechanically checked if his limbs were still where they should be. Dust obscured his vision, and every time he moved his left arm, he felt a searing pain shoot through it.
“Conor! Talk to me!” The hyena felt a paw grip his head and shake it, and he shut his eyes, and then opened them again.
Voks was bent over him, shaking him.
“That...was close...” Conor mumbled.
“Damn right it was!” Voks remarked. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be … fine... “The hyena mumbled, and, with the help of the fox, he sat up.
His arm was hurting bad. “You... all right, Voks..?”
“I’ll be fine.” The fox replied. “Close call with a piece of shrapnel, that’s all. Stuck in the front of my plate carrier, luckily.”
“M...my...arm...”
The fox gritted his teeth, and the hyena opened his eyes fully, wiping the dust from them, and checking out his arm.
There was an ugly piece of metal sticking out of the upper arm. “Oh fuck.” Conor said.
Voks nodded, and added drily. “Describes it quite well.”
Another mortar shell fell, a few hundred metres away.
“We need to get this fixed. Voks, I am going to ask you… to pull it out.” The hyena gritted his teeth.
“Sure? We could-“
“They aren’t gonna stop at using mortar shells, eventually, every single Taliban in that village will come up here and comb this mountainside, till they find us. Either we get up and away, or we will die here. Now grab that shrapnel, and remove it.” There was quiet authority in the hyena’s voice. He wasn’t giving in to the fear, he was fighting it.
The fox assented, moving close to the hyena’s arm, sizing up the piece of metal. “This will hurt.” He said simply.
“Quit screwing with me and get the bloody thing out.”
Voks put his gloved paw around the shrapnel. Blood from the wound was already staining the hyena’s fur and his shirt. They would have to bind it once it was removed.
Conor twitched a bit, and gritted his teeth, his powerful jaw muscles bulging.
The fox tightened his grip on the piece of metal, and with a wet, ugly squelch, ripped it from the hyena’s arm.
Conor emitted something between a growl and a yelp, and Voks could see his neck muscles tense up. The blue fox quickly reached for a bandage in his trouser pocket, and began binding the wound tightly. “You all right, Conor?”
The hyena grinned wryly “I will live.”
“Let’s hope you do. I want to get out of here, in one piece. Gear check.”
The hyena looked down at his vest. The fabric was ripped and torn, his backup magazines damaged, and the radio destroyed beyond repair, as well as the antenna.
“What do you still got, Voks?” he called out to the fox.
“The rifle’s done for. It’s got knocked up pretty badly. Radio is still working halfway. I have my backup, and a few magazines. That’s it. What about you?”
The hyena sighed. “G3 is still all right, even though the scope is screwed. Radio as well as antenna are dead. I have 20 bullets for the rifle, and a few for the backup.”
The two fell silent. “It’s not much, Conor, I grant you. But we can-“
“We won’t make it to the Evac point. That’s two kilometres in the other direction, and this forest will be swarming with Taliban within half an hour.”
“So what. We’ll make it to the Evac zone, and try to hail CAS-“
“That’s doomed to fail”
The Austrian fox got up. “I don’t care. I’m not waiting here for certain death.”
“If we go- wait. There’s another option.”
“What do you mean, Conor?”
“Say, you were a Taliban commander.” The hyena, got up, with some difficulty, dropping his load-bearing vest to the ground, supporting himself with his rifle. “Say, you had pinned down a sniper squad, and sent your men up to kill them. What’s the last thing you’ll expect them to do?”
Voks looked at him incredulously, and then his face cracked open into a smile. “You’re a sick bastard, Conor. I’m starting to like the way your mind works. There’s a long-range radio and sat phone in the Humvee.”
The hyena was smiling too. “And I am pretty sure he and most if not all of his men are now heading up into the mountains to go look for us.”
“We don’t head up, we head down. Head them off, before they spread out.” As if to puncture his sentence, another mortar shell exploded in the distance.
Conor nodded, and began raising himself back to full height. His arm hurt, and so did his knees and his gut, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. He’d been through worse. This was more a scratch to him than an actual wound.
Voks sized him up, and then, without saying anything, supported the injured hyena with his arm.
Conor gladly took it.
They started hobbling down the mountain.
~~~
They had made it down into the valley, an agonizing journey, supporting each other, their eyes buzzing from the shell, and had hidden themselves in an unused irrigation ditch, under the cover of dense foliage.
Conor had been right, the fox thought. The Taliban were leaving the village in droves, heading up into the mountains, swarming out to find them. They wouldn’t have stood a chance against them up there.
The toughest part of the journey remained. They would have to crawl along the irrigation ditch, navigate their way through the town without raising the alarm, and then, hopefully, use the sat phone in the Humvee to call for help.
“It’s time” the hyena whispered. “They are all gone.”
They commenced their journey through the stinking mud on all fours, fighting their way through dead brushes.
~~~
The two had reached the first house, after two hours of crawling. The bandage on Conor’s arm had come undone, blood seeping down the hyena’s arm, and Voks had managed to get a splinter of impressive size lodged in his paw, causing him discomfort every time he used it. They were both muddy all over, their clothes torn, bloody from scratches they had sustained from the vegetation.
Finally being able to raise their bodies from the uncomfortable position seemed like a blessing, but they knew they weren’t out of it just yet. This was the easy part.
The first house was a low building, composed clay bricks, and, thankfully it was empty.
Conor held the G3 close to his body, as Voks, holding his Glock sidearm, advanced, and checked the street for enemies.
“Clear” he whispered, and they quickly scooted over to the dry-stone wall that was adjacent to the main road. Conor’s breath was level, he had his emotions under control.
The Humvee was now merely thirty metres away.
Conor was looking at the truck. “You think I can make it?”
Voks checked over the wall. There were no Taliban in sight, but he could hear voices drifting over from one of the houses. “If you are fast, and quiet.”
Conor nodded, and handed his rifle to the blue fox. “Make the twenty bullets count, should it come to it.”
“Make sure it won’t, Conor. Good luck.”
The hyena checked left and right, and then vaulted over the drystone wall, and, his arm throbbing, he kept low, and rushed over to the Humvee, opening one of the doors, and getting inside, making sure to close them quietly.
The smell of death permeated the hyena’s nostrils the moment he got inside.
One of the Americans, a large, bulky wolf was on the driver’s seat, a bullet having gone through his chest, killing him instantly. He steeled himself again at the sight of the carnage.
Conor stayed low, under the window line, and scooted around for the sat phone. There had to be one. It had to be here.
His paws found the small device attached to the dashboard, and he pulled it from its holder.
He dialled up a number, and held the phone to his hear. It dialled, and then asked him for an ID-pass.
Quickly, he punched in his personal ID number, and with a beep, it acquiesced.
Seconds later, he had a phone operator from the base in Kandahar in the line.
“This is WO1 Conor Ngutu, affiliated to Operation Landline. Get me Colonel Howes on the phone. And hurry.”
“Could you –“
“No. I am on a stolen sat-phone, this is a situation of life and death.”
“Very well. Give me a second.”
~~~
Voks almost jumped as Conor vaulted over the dry-stone wall again. “Jesus, I’ve almost shot you” he whispered.
“Evac is on its way. And we’re getting air support from the Americans.
“How long?”
“Fifteen minutes. Got any smoke?”
“Blue, in my pocket.”
Conor nodded. “Once they are there, we’ll ID ourselves with blue smoke. Till then, stay low.”
Both the hyena’s and the fox’ ears perked up, suddenly. There was the crunch of gravel, not from the main street, but from one of the buildings, and then suddenly, a thick-set dog wielding a Kalashnikov stepped out of one of the porch of one of the buildings.
He didn’t even have time to cry out or raise his gun. Conor had drawn his USP handgun with his right hand lighting fast, and placed a bullet inside the man’s head, spreading his brains on the clay bricks.
He slumped to the ground, but the crack of the handgun going off ricocheted across the village.
“Damn.” Voks said quietly.
The two soldiers immediately got up, changing position, away from the dry stone wall. This was bound to have attracted the attention of the remaining Taliban.
More boots could be heard rushing down the street to investigate. They heard voices shouting, and Voks drew his handgun as well, setting down the G3 against the house. Both soldiers listened intently.
Two Taliban came into view, their guns raised, checking the street for intruders.
Both Conor and Voks raised their handguns, arms level with each other, in unspoken agreement, and this time, the double crack of two pistols going off pierced the stillness.
The two Taliban were felled immediately.
“This is your idea of staying low, Conor?” Voks remarked dryly.
The hyena giggled, despite everything. “Back to back, if necessary.”
“Back to back.”
There was the sound of more rushing feet, and then, suddenly, Voks’ damaged radio crackled into life, an American voice twanging out through the ether: “Is this overwatch down there? Can you read me, over?”
Voks pulled it quickly, and began talking “Overwatch is down in the village. We will ID our position with blue smoke. Hurry! Over.”
“All right! Blue smoke, and take cover! Cavalry is here!”
The two ducked into an empty house, Conor checking if it was really empty very quickly, while Voks crouched down near the door.
Behind their cover, Voks pulled the flare out of his pocket and quickly lit it, the small object immediately emitting copious amounts of blue smoke.
He turned to Conor, for a moment. “If this doesn’t end well...”
The hyena smiled. “We’re cool, Voks. We’re cool!”
The fox nodded, and they turned back to back, and raised their guns, stepping out of the door, back onto the street.
A Taliban, a short fennec, rushed around the corner, his weapon raised, and Voks immediately shot him in the chest.
Conor gritted his teeth, ready for anything, ready to die, even, when suddenly he heard a low drone from up in the sky.
A sound he knew only too well.
A sound the Taliban dreaded like no other.
The sound of an AC-130 Gunship.
“TAKE COVER!” the hyena shouted, he needn’t have said anything though. Voks knew exactly what was going to happen now.
Those things were damned precise and devastating.
The two soldiers flattened themselves behind the building as the first 120mm shell hit the ground with a deafening eruption.
~~~
There wasn’t much of the central part of the village left. The AC-130 had done its devastating work, razing most of the village with its 120mm howitzer. A Blackhawk was approaching, eventually landing in the middle of the devastation, and Voks and Conor were running towards it, fighting through the dust, to get inside. The Taliban had immediately retreated, abandoning the village to destruction by AC 130.
The gunner was holding out his paw, and within seconds, the two snipers were inside the cabin, and with a loud rumble, the helicopter took off.
Conor watched the village grow smaller, and he breathed out in relief, putting his arm around Voks’ shoulder in a friendly way. His face cracked open into a wide smile, a smile of relief.
They were out of it. They’d survived.
“You two all right?” the gunner asked, and even Voks was grinning in relief now.
“We’re all right. Just both pretty happy to be in the air now.” The fox said.
“Must have been quite a thing, down there?!”
“I guess.” The hyena said, his voice harsh against the roar of the helicopter. “We lost some good men, down there.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, slapping Voks’ back. “But I gained a good friend through all of this.”
The blue fox nodded, smiling at the hyena in a friendly way. “So did I. We did this together!”