Night had fallen by the time both ships pulled into the harbor of Copenhagen, sailing past the old Trekroner fort guarding the fairway. Minutes before they approached the quays, a small orange boat was lowered to the water by Rhine Forest, carrying their line handlers since the barge carrier’s sphinxes had yet to gain control of their telekinesis.

Both vessels headed for the quays of the container terminal, the area having been chosen because of how separated it was from the rest of the city. With the place’s original security measures, securing it should be an easy task. In addition, the easternmost berth of these quays was L-shaped, in such a manner that it would allow Amandine to lower her stern ramp, the biggest. It was Vadim who took the controls of the vessel this time to bring her in safely under the looming cranes of the terminal. The operation went by quickly in a well practiced manner. Soon enough, Amandine was secured tightly against the quay. A handful of sailors armed with rifles from the armory stayed on the main deck, carefully eyeing the line handlers Rhine Forest had deployed. They had yet to secure the terminal and Rhine Forest’s crew was completely unarmed, meaning they would have to be ready to provide some covering fire if a monster got the jump on them. Fortunately, it seemed no such creature had taken notice of the vessels entering the harbor.

Like many of its fellow northern cities, Copenhagen had an extensive renewable energy production, with a fair sized wind farm built half a mile off the coast of the city in a large arc comprising dozens of turbines. Some had already gone down to disuse as they had seen when they entered the harbor, but enough were still active to run most of the city’s street lights.

This cast an odd picture to both ships’ crews: on one side you had the street lights that were functioning, casting an orange glow over the city which, despite having been abandoned for almost a month, looked almost pristine. On the other side… hints that the city was but a shell of its former self were clear: unmanned boats that had broken out of their moorings and sunk in the middle of the canals, flower beds running wild with weeds, some street lights that had gone out or were flickering from lack of maintenance. The most jarring part was: only the street lights were active, everything else was just dark, from storefronts to apartment windows. Even the large star-shaped UN City building that they could observe from the quays of the container terminal was now nothing but a gigantic shadow that loomed over the smaller buildings around it.

The sailors of Rhine Forest quickly rigged their gangway to allow their line handlers back on board before the large barge carrier raised it back up. The newly reappeared crew had a lot to deal with before they could head out on expeditions like Amandine was about to. Captain Gerig’s crew was still reeling from their sudden reappearance, and the sailors of Amandine fully expected they would need a day or two before reaching full working order.

As for Amandine, a number of sailors moved off the main deck and towards the armory. They had a rescue mission to accomplish, and that wouldn’t come too soon.

One of their unimogs had been brought out of storage for that mission, the canvas covering its cargo bay removed. Since the trucks were the military variant they came with deployable benches in the back to allow for troop transport, with their central positioning allowing the passengers to look and fire out of the vehicle’s side with the canvas frame available as support. Since their departure from Antwerp, some more work had been done on the vehicles which were now fitted with additional headlights above the cabin and winches under their front and rear bumpers. The headlights in particular would come in handy very soon considering they were heading out at night.

Schmitt was the chosen Officer to lead the group, the pick being a no-brainer considering they knew they would be facing wood hounds. The more dragons they brought along, the better. The Chief Engineer might not have been the best shot of the crew but they only really needed him for fire support.

Then came Artyom, obviously. His place on the team hadn’t even been questioned, and he was even on the first team that had faced wood hounds way back in Zeebrugge. The blue dragon insisted on bringing Sri along, the Indonesian hippogriff being one of the only two crewmembers he could trust with the close-quarter fight he expected to occur inside the radio station. The other was Nikola; unfortunately the scarred gargoyle was still too injured to take part in the fight. He would have to rely solely on the Indonesian to watch his back inside; the other crewmembers were in no way sufficiently trained for that kind of fighting. Better leave them to watch the truck outside, having them follow the duo inside of a probably dark building was just asking for blue-on-blue.

That filled three slots on their team, which would have been enough according to their expedition procedures, but the Captain insisted on bringing extra hands along for the ride. Boris joined the team as the medic, and then came Ajit and Carlos, respectively the truck’s driver and turret gunner. Hopefully having six guns ready to shoot at the wood hounds would ensure nobody came back injured.

Inside the armory, Bart was handing out weapons for the group. Full-lethal loadout, with SCAR’s for Artyom and Sri while the rest got FNC’s. The unicorn had spent some time fitting flashlights to any weapon that had a picatinny rail, which unfortunately only comprised of the SCAR’s and their pistols. The rest would have to rely on the truck’s headlights and a couple road flares he passed around for the group to use in addition to their stun grenades. The group only took a single machinegun to mount on the truck’s turret, but that choice wasn’t much of a problem since their last encounter had proven 5.56 rounds were enough to bring down wood hounds.

Now the trick was to make them stay down. Bart handed the team a beer case filled with Molotov cocktails. The last technique of using ignited teargas might have been effective and he did give them some, but the projectiles should allow them to stay much further from the monsters than if they burned the remains using the spray (or dragon fire too for that matter). The Belgian soldier wished he could have gone along… but he was still injured, the gash on his neck only just starting to scar.

After all that weaponry came the rest: enough ammo boxes to wage a small war, the obligatory flak jackets and half a dozen walkie-talkies to stay in touch with the rest of the group. Those; combined with the truck’s own long range radio and their satellite phones would ensure they didn’t lose track of the team… and could radio the ship for backup if shit really started to hit the fan.

For them, now was no time for banter or jokes. The group gathered their gear and mounted their truck. The olive green unimog rolled closer to the stern ramp before coming to a stop next to the waiting Captain. Schmitt leaned over the side of the cargo bay, crossing eyes with his superior.

“Permission to leave the ship and proceed with the rescue, sir?” The orange female dragon asked.

“Granted.” Dilip said with a curt nod. “Alejandro, lower the ramp.” The pariah dog barked to his Chief Officer next to the ramp controls. “Stay safe Schmitt, I don’t want anyone coming back injured, ok?”

Schmitt made to answer the remark but just came up short. The female dragon closed his mouth and shook his head, a small puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. He wished he could make such a promise but they were knowingly heading into trouble. Instead, he settled for slapping the roof of the unimog, signaling for the driver to get them off the ramp. With a rumble of its diesel engine, the truck rolled off the ramp, disappearing in the darkness of the docklands.

“Alej’?” Dilip asked to the hyacinth macaw who was already lifting the ramp back up.

“Yeah?”

“Once you’re done with the ramp, go tell Vadim to prep the infirmary. Better safe than sorry. I’ll be keeping an eye on the radio station in case they need backup.” The dog told his Chief Officer before making his way towards the stairs.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the Indian spotted Geert order a few of the remaining sailors to prepare a Land Rover in case Schmitt’s team needed reinforcements, Bart being told to get some weapons ready just in case. That earned a smile from the Captain; their youngest Officer was starting to get more comfortable with his position and taking initiatives.

He would have to take note of that in his performance assessments, can’t forget those.

Her rescuers were coming. The antennas of the radio station had heard their chatter when they moored their ship in the port. She had heard them herself when she strained her ears, headphones momentarily dropping to her shoulders. She had even heard them talk about sending in their rescue team. She bit back a gleeful squeal. Finally, after eight days spent alone as a little horse she would get to talk to someone face to face! The little batpony’s webbed wings fluttered in joy at the prospect.

That cheerful mood was annihilated by the sound of a monster ramming against the control room’s reinforced door, making Sandra run under a desk and cower in fear. The creatures had been expedient in their hunt, her stunt with the canned Swedish herring apparently only serving to anger them.

Another bang came. The door held strong, it was supposed to. It had been made to keep the nerve center of the station as secure as possible. The problem was: how long could it sustain the repeated ramming? She had pushed two shelves against the door, but she doubted the flimsy furniture would do much once the doors were breached.

Her eyes came to a rest on the photo hanging on her cubicle, the sight of her baby sister soothing her nerves somewhat. As more creatures banged against the door, the mare closed her eyes and forced herself to think of happier days.

Lyngby really wasn’t that far from the port, situated only a twenty minute drive away from where they had moored the ships. In the back of the truck, Artyom decided to make use of that time to make sure everyone was up to snuff with what they were about to do.

“… so our target is what was described as a ‘little horse’ inside the radio station. She can speak English just fine so don’t hesitate to call out for her.”

“What’s her name anyway?” Boris asked from inside the cabin. There was a little window in the back of the cabin that allowed the griffon to communicate with the guys in the back.

“Sandra Jensen.” The dragon clarified. “Now the plan is for Sri and me to head inside and get her while you folks watch the truck and stay ready to get the fuck out. We’re not here to wage war against the wood hounds, so once we got Miss Jensen in our truck, it’s straight back to the ship. Got it?”

There was a murmur of assent from the team.

“Good. Now those wood hounds… Remember, once they’re down you only have seconds before they start to reassemble and get back up. That’s the time you have to torch the remains.”

“We can’t just set them on fire while they’re uh… active, so to speak?” Schmitt asked.

“I’m not saying you can’t Chief, but you probably don’t want to be pounced on by an irate, burning pile of timber, don’t you?” Artyom told. “Last time it just trashed around when I set it on fire, but that doesn’t mean I want to check out if the rest keeps up the offensive when you torch them.”

The orange dragon stared at the boatswain for a few seconds before replying with a curt ‘right’.

The team’s truck moved out of the docklands and into the town proper. The streets were illuminated by sodium lights hung above the avenues using wires in place of poles like in most cities, though some bulbs had already burned out since the Event struck. Their path took them through lines of warehouses by the docks, past some abandoned office buildings around the marina part of the port and finally inside of Copenhagen proper, most of the town being comprised of five to six story buildings with prominent red and beige hues. After less than a kilometer through the city, the truck passed a large power station built out of bricks with three prominent chimneys before it took a turn onto a highway, following the ‘Lyngby’ signage by the road. They drove for a minute before Artyom spoke up once more. The Russian was now distractedly tapping a claw against the side of his rifle, ears twitching ever so slightly.

“I just remembered something about the Molotov cocktails. I was told before we left that De Mesmaeker used a high ratio of diesel in the mix to go with the paint thinner.” He said.

“And what does that change?” Carlos asked. The sulphur-crested cockatoo was sitting inside the cabin under the turret hatch.

“Just saying: the slick they make will burn for a while, so don’t throw them on our escape route otherwise we will either be stuck waiting for the fire to go out or worse: set our tires on fire. And don’t throw them on the radio station.”

“Now that’s just wishful thinking. You really expect not to burn it down when you’re inside yourself?” Boris scoffed. “Come off it, you’re gonna lug around a fire extinguisher or something?”

Fair enough, the griffon did have a point; but that didn’t mean the rest of the team should do it as well. Needlessly setting the place on fire would only make it harder to evacuate their target.

The team progressed north along the highway, speeding though residential districts in the periphery of Copenhagen. Street lights were scarcer now, so Ajit turned on the extra headlights to see more clearly. Most of the buildings in the area were fairly low rise, rarely exceeding two stories in height except for the odd apartment block. Lines of sight were also rather short with numerous rows of trees and hedges separating houses and lining the sides of the roads. The suburban landscape gave off countryside vibes at times, the fact only increased by the now uncontrolled growth of the vegetation. The beige and red hues of downtown Copenhagen had been traded for a mostly green environment, frequently broken up by the orange of the roof tiles used in the area.

Ajit called out the two minutes mark as they passed a gas station and took a turn close to a park. Every member of the team took the chance to give their guns one last check, clicks resounding around the truck as they cocked them. In the cabin, Carlos opened the roof hatch and took control of the turret, making a ‘click-clack’ sound when he racked the cocking handle of the machinegun. Each member of the team then put on an earpiece that connected to their walkie-talkies, the device going under their ear defenders. Most of the creatures they had turned into had sensitive hearing, and firing without hearing protection was often enough to send them on their knees in pain.

“Remember, stick together and watch each other’s back.” Schmitt said over the radio, testing their connection in passing.

They were greeted by the sight of the destroyed entrance gate, seemingly crushed underneath a great force. The wreck of a white Toyota was close by, bits of glass strewn about and a pile of clothes next to the driver’s door. Ajit decreased his speed, now approaching the entrance at walking pace and giving ample time to his gunner to spot targets. The two bipedal dragons in the back dismounted to follow on either side of the truck, guns at the ready. Sri stayed in the back, the female hippogriff propping himself up against the top of the cabin to get a stable firing platform. Him being a quadruped, it was either that or using a pistol to shoot on the move.

The moment they passed the broken gate and came in sight of the building was when they spotted the first wood hounds. A group of them appeared to be trying to climb a gutter pipe to get to the first floor, unaware of the sailors coming behind them.

That obliviousness didn’t last long, the hail of bullets perforating their wooden bodies making the monsters keenly aware of the new challengers in town. With pained howls, their bodies crumpled to bits before they could turn around, Artyom rushing in to deal the finishing blow with a gout of fire that reduced the formerly menacing monsters to a pile of inert blazing lumber.

“Ajit, position the truck towards the back of the parking lot, I want you and Carlos to cover both the gate and the building’s entrance with that MAG.” The ex-VDV barked to the truck’s driver whilst keeping his SCAR trained on the building, its mounted flashlight illuminating the windows of the otherwise dark building. “Sri, you coming?” He asked the female hippogriff.

As the truck repositioned to keep watch on the accesses, the blue dragon saw Boris leave the cabin and set up on the cargo bed of the truck, rifle ready to cover their back if worse came to worst. Schmitt followed the vehicle, gun in ready position and eyes alert for any hint of movement coming from the building. The Indonesian hippogriff slung his own SCAR across his back the moment the truck stopped, quickly hopping off and moving to follow Artyom, his pistol sliding seamlessly in his talons.

Artyom addressed a questioning glance towards the Chief Engineer, the orange dragon raising his ‘thumb’ claw up to signal they were good to go.

“Keep the engine running, we’ll try to make this quick.” The bosun said before turning towards the doors. There were pieces of broken furniture from the barricade strewn about in the dark lobby. “Davai! We’ve waited long enough as is.” He cried out, heading inside with Sri in tow.

Upon a closer look, the lobby was more of a mess than they had made it out to be: slash marks marred the walls, bits of moss, bark and mud stained the floor and there was a lingering smell of rotten herring permeating the atmosphere above the pungent smell of rotting fruit and fresh mud. Crashing noises were coming from all around them, in particular from the first floor.

The two veterans silently moved through the lobby, the flashlights on their guns piercing through the murky darkness of the building’s interior.

“Where is she?” Sri whispered.

“Control room, first floor.” Artyom said, the Russian trying to read off some signs hanging on the ceiling. Unfortunately they were all written in Danish.

“There’s a staircase symbol over here.” Sri muttered, pointing a talon towards a fluorescent emergency sign showing a stick figure going up a flight of stairs somewhere down a hallway deeper in the building.

Following the sign led them to a curving staircase partly blocked off by empty desk and shelves, most of them already destroyed by the wood hounds that had preceded them here. Before Artyom had time to approach it, a wood hound came rushing at them from deeper down the hallway, claws skidding on the tiled floor as it rounded the corner. The creature didn’t get halfway to them before a round from Sri’s pistol landed right between its eyes, the wooden construct instantly collapsing.

Before Artyom had time to rush over and light its remains on fire, another of them came from the lobby behind them, and then two more from the stairs. Without a word, Sri turned around and fired four shots in quick succession at the one coming from behind, Artyom aiming his rifle towards the ones coming from upstairs and neutralizing them with a quick burst of full-auto fire.

Sri’s second target was only clipped by the shots from his pistol. The Five-Seven he was using may have had armor piercing rounds and a large magazine, but the ammunition was somewhat lacking in stopping power, meaning he had to aim for the head to get a quick kill. The wounded but very much alive monster pounced at the female hippogriff who hastily leaned to the side, dodging the attack before dumping a quick round in the back of its neck as it passed him by.

But the monsters were fast to reassemble: the first one was already back in one piece and attempting to cross the rest of the distance that separated it from the sailors. It didn’t go far, being disassembled two seconds later by a well placed shot from Artyom, the blue dragon bearing a grim look on his muzzle. Him turning his attention away from the staircase allowed a new wood hound to drop down, its landing halfway down the stairs scattering the reassembling remains of the two of its brethren already downed by the dragon.

“Tahi!” Sri swore, spotting the new hound and nailing it in the head with two bullets. “Art’ we seriously gotta start burning these fuckers! There’s too many not to, this building’s gonna burn…” The hippogriff ducked once more under a pouncing hound, its claws just barely missing and leaving a graze on his cheek. They were quickly getting overwhelmed. “… and if it’s not your fire then it’s gonna be one of my Molotovs!” He finished, downing the wood hound that had just pounced at him and starting to fall back towards the lobby.

What went unsaid was, he couldn’t keep getting lucky and dodge every strike at this rate. Sooner or later, one would land a decisive blow.

“I know I know!” Artyom cried out as he took aim at the ones down the hallway, backing away slowly to stay with his companion. “I just need them to cluster a little more!” He yelled. If he breathed fire right now he might block the stairs and cut off their access to Sandra.

Not a second later, two of the hounds that had come from the stairs finished reassembling and jumped towards them, hoping to quickly close the gap. One of them almost succeeded, its claw actually managing to scratch Artyom in the forearm before the Russian had time to down it with a double-tap after shooting its companion. The attack ripped a tear in his coveralls and managed to knock off a few of his scales, but it hardly drew more than a drop of blood from the dragon.

There were three more of the monsters in the fight, all now reassembled and charging at Sri from the hallway side of the firefight. The hippogriff was forced to dump the rest of his mag to keep them at bay, their remains sliding along the ground and coming to a rest dangerously close to Artyom.

“Reloading!” Sri yelled, quickly shoving the spent magazine in an empty pouch of his flak jacket and pulling out a fresh one. “Stop fucking around and torch the bloody things!”

“Almost there!” The dragon said, urging his companion to wait a little more. He backed up against a wall of the hallway, putting the remains of the hounds Sri had just downed between him and the other two.

Now if he kept count correctly… There, the two he was looking at were indeed the first to get back up, their green glowing eyes glaring at him menacingly. The blue-beret-wearing Russian glared right back at them, rifle already raised. Heat was starting to build up in his throat.

Just as planned, the two monsters charged, unknowingly lining themselves just right with his rifle’s barrel. The Belgian-made gun sang its deadly tune, sending the wooden remains clattering on the floor among the branches of its three comrades.

There.

Artyom released the burning feeling in his throat with an angry roar, a flame lancing out from his muzzle at the pile of living wood in the middle of the hallway, the fire so hot there were hints of blue in it. The building momentarily lit up as if daylight had come early, Artyom’s flame instantly lighting the wooden remains on fire. The light faded back down, only leaving the warm red glow of the burning timber and the white beams of their weapons’ flashlights.

“That was too fucking close.” Sri uttered in an annoyed tone. “We were that close…” He said, holding two talons a centimeter apart. “… To getting slaughtered here. Why the fuck did you wait so long?”

“I’m trying to minimize fire damage here. I can’t go breathing fire all over the place you know?” He said, inspecting what was left in his magazine and deciding to load a new one in his rifle.

“Come on now, it’s not like we’re going to need that building.” Sri complained, his pistol already trained towards the staircase.

“Maybe, but you will have to excuse me if a career of doing my best making sure stuff doesn’t catch fire makes me unwilling to go Fahrenheit 451 inside a building.” Artyom explained.

“Fahrenheit-what? You know what, fine, let’s get going, the missus is waiting.” Sri said, clicking his beak in annoyance.

The female hippogriff took the lead, pistol held at the ready. The clutter of debris in the staircase was hard to get through quickly and he had to keep his pistol trained towards the first floor as he progressed; they could still hear some wood hounds scurrying about upstairs. Behind him, Artyom was covering their back in case some of them snuck around and tried to attack from behind, but the noise of gunfire outside told them they had instead gone for the truck.

A green-yellow glow appeared on the windows of the building (or what was left of them anyway, the wood hounds had done a number on them). The hissing noise that followed telling them Schmitt had lit up the parking lot with their road flares.

Continuing up the stairs, the two veterans were met with a complete mess of destroyed offices, claw marks and bits of bark all over the place. Broken furniture and shredded stacks of paper lay in their path, the debris making for a constant tripping hazard in the dim light. Beside their own flashlights, they had the green glow of the flares outside to go by, as well as the red light coming from the first wood hounds they had set on fire outside, the flames already quite large and licking at the radio station’s façade.

Despite Artyom’s best efforts not to set the building ablaze, two more wood hounds attempted to ambush them as they progressed towards the control room, their blazing remains joining the other fires that were ravaging the building. The more of them he lit up like that, the more they would have to hurry unless they wanted their target to die of smoke inhalation.

“How many does that make now?” Sri asked, reloading his pistol after they downed the two wannabe ambushers. They had almost scored a good hit on him in the process, one claw nicking but failing to dig into his thick wing muscles on his back. The shallow cut was painful and stained his ivory white coat of fur, but didn’t appear to bleed too profusely. The Kevlar of his flak jacket had made the difference. If not for it, he wouldn’t be surprised if the attack actually managed to hit his spine.

“Seven inside and four outside.” The dragon answered, his red eyes tracking any potential movement in the darkness before landing on a sign. ‘Kontrollere… something’ it read. Must be their target. “There, on the right.” He told the Indonesian.

Then they continued on their way, while more gunfire was heard outside.

These hounds were relentless! The moment Schmitt heard the first shots inside the radio station; a loud howl was heard coming from all around them. A group of hounds tried to rush them through the main gate, only to be greeted by a long burst of machinegun fire courtesy of Carlos, the white parrot letting out a holler as he pulled the trigger.

Schmitt signaled for the Filipino to hold his fire while he delivered a breath of fire on the remains. In the few seconds it took him to cross the distance he could already see the creatures start to reassemble.

God were these fuckers quick. He had expected they would at least need thirty seconds to get back together, not the dozen seconds he was witnessing.

Already he could hear more of them arriving, though from where was rather hard to guess in the darkness. The headlights of their truck could only do so much, and the alarmingly big flames from the first group of wood hounds weren’t giving off enough light to see past the fenced parking lot. Time to pull out the flares then…

What they had were no military grade illumination mortars, but the lit flare sticks Schmitt threw around the corners of the parking lot gave off enough light to make out some wood hounds past the fences, the creatures retreating back behind hedges the moment the light revealed them. One of his flares accidentally landed too close to a parked car, lighting its tires on fire with a loud ‘bang’.

“Stay frosty folks, it’s not the last of them just yet!” The female dragon yelled, retreating closer to the truck.

Two hounds attempted to climb the fence behind them, the attempt noticed just in time by Boris who drilled their bodies with supersonic lead as they jumped off the fence, landing dangerously close to the team. That assault drove their attention away long enough for a new group to round the corner of the building and charge at them unchallenged, Carlos’ attention momentarily taken by the monsters in their six. The five hounds made a dash for the truck, Carlos’ few seconds of lapse in attention allowing two to get under his gun before he opened fire.

With Schmitt and Boris busy in their back, it was up to Ajit to step out of his seat behind the wheel and dump a dozen pistol rounds at the two dogs, one of them managing to dodge his fire and pounce at the Indian. He ducked back behind his truck’s open door, the hound slamming into it full force. The impact was enough to dent the door and shatter the window, shoving it shut instantly. Unfortunately for Ajit, his paw got stuck in the way, the bones in his wrist giving out with a sickening crunching sound.

The injured dog fell down with a pained howl, clutching his hand against his chest. The assaulting hound would have taken the opportunity to pounce on the driver had it not been for Carlos pulling out his own pistol and shooting it quickly before focusing back on his machinegun.

Already, Schmitt was coming back forward, torching Ajit’s attacker and the other hound while Carlos threw a Molotov at the scattered remains of the three dogs he had just downed with his machinegun. The projectile spilled a slick of fiery oil on the asphalt of the parking lot, accidentally setting yet another car on fire.

Those fires were starting to become a problem. Schmitt’s earlier flare had set off a chain reaction of blazing cars, not helped by Carlos’ Molotov cocktail. Meanwhile, the radio station was slowly starting to catch fire, sparks erupting from a melting electrical cabinet that had been in the path of the fire.

“Schmitt to Artyom, you better hurry with your rescue ‘cause that building is soon going to turn into an inferno, the fire’s spreading to the electrical installation, over.” The Chief Officer warned the other dragon over the radio.

“Copy that Chief, we’re on the first floor, gimme five minutes. Out.” The Russian replied.

While Boris was dealing with Ajit, splinting the Indian’s injury as fast as he could and passing him some painkillers, Schmitt made use of the moment of respite to take note of what was going on around them. Above the crackling of the flames and the hissing of the flares, the howling had died down slightly. Probably the hounds were a little less keen on attacking them with that show of force, maybe they had even convinced the monsters to finally back off with the amount of fire around them.

Or not, he thought as he spotted a large group of easily two dozens of the creatures gather just beyond the gates. Carlos held his fire, the creatures being too far for Schmitt to reach them in time if he downed them, and throwing a Molotov there would have blocked off their only escape route out of the parking lot. The numerous pairs of glowing green eyes glaring at them made a shiver run down the female dragon’s spine, his tail tensing up.

And then the dogs showed the sailors a new trick. The glow in their eyes increased tenfold and then… they disassembled themselves? Their bodies fell apart in a clatter of logs and branches just out of their range.

“The feck?” The Luxembourgian said in puzzlement.

Not a second later, the bits and pieces of living wood were wrapped in a green glow similar to the eyes of the hounds, a hazy green fog starting to form above them. The wood levitated up in the air, starting to cluster in lumpy shapes. Schmitt spotted the first hints of an enormous paw with claws the size of a bayonet, bits of moss and pine needles forming a green mane of sorts on the back of a gigantic neck.

“Open fire!” Schmitt yelled before the monster could finish its transformation. He may be in his forties but even he knew not to let the bad guys finish a transformation sequence. The dragon dropped to one knee, opening fire at the increasingly clearer shape of a FEU-sized wood hound. The beast’s eyes lit up with an intense glow, arcs of green lightning arching out from there and coursing through its still forming body.

The thing may have been big, but its body was still only made of wood. The 5.56mm rounds coming out of Schmitt’s FNC easily pierced the living wood, though the comparatively small size of the ammunition made for some lackluster damage against a creature of that size. He could see his rounds chipping at the creature’s large head, sending splinters flying, but nothing that seemed to phase the wooden construct.

They definitely should have packed more than one MAG for the trip.

Schmitt’s fire was soon joined by that of his companions, Ajit included. The Indian dog was holding his injured paw against his chest, pistol held in the other and firing wildly at the giant. More fire was enough to damage the creature’s jaw and send a wood spike of a tooth flying off to the side, but it reassembled within seconds of being damaged.

The truck’s machinegun turned out to be more effective, Carlos’ volley of tracer bullets ripping fair sizable holes in the giant hound’s chest. The concentrated 7.62 fire ripped one of its front legs off and sent it crashing muzzle first in the asphalt… before it reassembled and got back up, maw snapping in anger. Carlos’ gun went silent, having run through its belt of ammo.

“Reloading!” The Filipino cried loudly as he let himself fall down inside the cabin and started looking for the nearest ammo belt he could find.

“We need a plan.” Schmitt stated to no one in particular, continuing to pump semi-auto fire into the monster that was slowly advancing on them, weathering the hailstorm of lead they threw at it.

Back inside the building, the situation was marginally better than with Schmitt outside.

With particularly emphasis on marginally: after engaging and burning three more hounds, the duo had gone through a not insignificant amount of ammunition. It wasn’t so much of a problem for Artyom who was packing nine loaded mags anyway, but Sri only had three to go with the one in his pistol. The Russian had been quick to trade his loaded pistol mags with his colleague’s empty ones, but once he was through those three they were done. Being a hippogriff, a pistol was his only solution if he wanted to stay mobile when shooting, and they didn’t have time to stop.

The additional fires were visibly causing damage to the building: the fire alarm had activated, making it even harder to locate the remaining hounds by sound alone. Smoke was also starting to build up inside, a black layer of smoke already blocking sight of the ceiling. On the bright side, the fire seemed to chase away most of the hounds and Sri’s quadruped stance meant he wasn’t getting his head in the smoke yet contrarily to Artyom who had to kneel to avoid breathing in the fumes.

“We really gotta find her now!” Sri yelled over the blare of the fire alarm as he marched on through the hallway.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” Artyom replied. “You see a sign yet?”

The female hippogriff stopped at a crossing in the hallway, quickly checking around. On his left was a cul-de-sac with a large door at the end… and a keypad on the door?

“Left side!” He yelled before galloping towards the door.

This was indeed the room they were looking for, as indicated by a damaged plastic plaque on the wall next to it. The door was bent inwards, its frame damaged by the claws of the wood hounds. Sri immediately started pounding with one claw the moment he reached it.

“Miss Jensen, we’re the sailors from Amandine!” He yelled. “You got to open the door, we need to evacuate now!”

Inside the room, a little thestral finally peeked out from under the desk she was using to hide. The moment she had heard the first shots she had started to gather what little she could that was in the control room inside of a bag she stole from one of her coworkers’ cubicle. This mostly consisted of some personal belongings like the picture hanging from her cubicle… which was dreadfully little. Was she really left with so little? With barely any clothes on her back and just enough possessions to fill half a shoebox?

She was quick to get up and gallop towards the barricaded door.

“I’m here, I’m in here!” She yelled above the noise of the alarm, already trying to push away the furniture she had used to barricade herself. She needed to be quick; the control room didn’t have any windows and the ventilation…

A plate from the false ceiling crashed down next to her, the frame that held it in place already starting to bend from the heat of the smoke.

“I just need to remove the barricade!” She said, struggling with a shelving unit she had used to block off the entrance. Her puny body was barely able to move the piece of furniture.

“Back away from the door Miss.” The female voice on the other side said.

Sandra quickly backpedaled away from the door, seconds before it burst from its hinges, two powerful white hooves having easily bucked through her barricade. Said hooves were attached to a half-avian half-equine creature with distinctly feminine features. The hippogriff was clad in a set of orange high-vis coveralls above which she wore a flak jacket. She also had a pair of ear defenders on her ears, a small wire going from underneath the device and connecting to a walkie-talkie attached to the back of her jacket. Sandra could see the bulge of wings barely hidden by the flak jacket.

“Thank you, thank you, mange tak!” The mare cried out, rushing over to the hippogriff to hug her between her hooves, disregarding the pistol she held between her talons. “I don’t know what I would have become without you Miss!” She said happily.

“That’s uh… nothing really.” Sri said, patting the small batpony on the back. He bit back a wince, both from the girl calling him Miss and the way her hooves were pressing against his wounded back. The mare didn’t know; she couldn’t possibly know he was actually a dude. “Now, I don’t want to be rude Miss Jensen, but we really need to go. This building is about to burn down.” He insisted.

In passing he noted how the dark purple mare was actually naked, wearing nothing but a pair of headphones, aviator glasses tucked in her white mane and a very small bag.

Nothing alarming Sri thought, how could she possibly sew with hooves after all?

“Right uh… sorry.” Sandra said sheepishly, rubbing a bandaged hoof against the back of her head. She looked up at the taller hippogriff with her bright yellow slitted eyes. “Lead the way I guess.”

“Emergency escape is that way.” Artyom said, emerging from the darkness behind Sri and accidentally startling their rescuee.

It was likely that a heavily armed, red-eyed dragon appearing seemingly out of nowhere during a fire with monsters around wasn’t the most reassuring of sights, contrarily to an ivory coated hippogriff with an orange mane.

“No worries Miss Jensen, this is my colleague Artyom, he’s there to help.” Sri reassured the thestral. “I’m Sri by the way.” He added as an afterthought.

The group wasn’t attacked by any more wood hounds on the way out, though the crackle of firearms outside had risen dramatically. Were they fighting an entire fucking regiment out there? Around them, the burning hot smoke was starting to melt the false ceiling and gnaw at the walls, neon lights and ceiling tiles falling around them and scattering embers each time they hit the ground. The only wood hound they met as they traversed the building was already on fire from some fiery debris landing on it. The creature ran into a wall in its panic, scattering its body parts for the last time.

By then the amount of smoke had increased even more, now occupying half the height of the rooms and forcing Artyom to move around in a kneeling position unless he wanted to breathe in the smoke. He quickly tucked his beret under his coveralls, not wanting the piece of headwear to be damaged in the fire. The dragon was taking the lead of the group, following his steps back to a place where he had located an escape ladder that led to the side of the building opposite to the parking lot.

Just as they were reaching the ladder, Sandra accidentally stomped with her hoof on the dragon’s tail when she was dodged a falling ceiling panel. Artyom’s reaction was instantaneous as he let out a sharp yelp and sprang back up, his torso well inside the smoke cloud and taking a long breath of the deadly smoke.

“Artyom!” Sri called out in alarm. Smoke inhalation was no joke, and the sailor knew that all too well.

“I’m… fine actually.” The dragon reassured his colleague, though the confusion in his voice was evident. “This really doesn’t feel too bad. Just a bit warm. I can breathe just fine.” He said.

“Great discovery pal. Now what if we left? Your immunity doesn’t mean we are immune as well.” Sri urged him, opening the window that led to the ladder. It was barely one floor up anyway.

“Right, right.” The dragon answered, coming to help him. His red eyes were gleaming through the smoke, which would have made for a terrifying sight had the hippogriff not known it was his trusted comrade.

Sri went down first since it appeared Artyom didn’t have to worry about the smoke anymore. The hippogriff grabbed their rescuee under one arm and helped her down, Sandra being unable to grab the bars properly with her hooves. The Danish mare held on tightly to the Indonesian, letting out a tiny squeal of terror into his neck when a nearby window exploded from the heat. They really had cut it close with that fire. Five minutes longer and they might have been caught in a flashover. Artyom followed soon after them, the upper half of the dragon’s clothes blackened by the smoke but otherwise fine.

As for the other group, Schmitt was straight up out of ideas on how to deal with the giant wood hound that was slowly approaching them despite their hailstorm of gunfire they threw at it. Even their MAG and its 7.62 ammunition wasn’t enough to make any lasting damage to the bloody thing, the creature reassembling faster than they could damage it.

The staccato from the MAG stopped once more, Carlos calling out that he was reloading a new belt of ammo. The weapon was running hot and was in dire need of a barrel change, but putting in a new belt was already took too long to afford that kind of luxury. The hundred meters that separated them from the giant beast had steadily shrunk to sixty, then forty.

“Any of you guys got an idea?” Schmitt called out as he slammed a fresh mag in his gun. Three mags left, and then he would be down to his pistol.

“I do but you may not like it Chief!” Boris screamed from the back of the truck, the griffon resting his weapon on the cabin of the truck.

“Screw that shit, do your stuff before I change my mind birdbrain!” Yielding command to a subordinate like that may not be the best of ideas, but the dragon would rather be a bad Chief Engineer than a dead Chief Engineer.

“Alright. Everyone focus fire on its legs!” The Russian had an idea. Whether or not it was true, he would soon find out.

The four sailors turned their aim from the monster’s center of mass to one leg while Boris stopped firing and dug around the back of the truck. He couldn’t properly remember where they had put it, much less in the dark like that. He blindly swept the floor of the cargo bay with his claws, looking for a particular item… There! His talons clasped around the edge of a plastic beer case. Boris pulled the thing to him, finally finding their store of Molotovs.

Alright, Artyom may have told them not to light them on fire when they were alive, but it was fine if they lacked the legs to charge them, right?

“Welp, time to find out…” Boris muttered in Russian as he pulled out a zippo lighter from his pocket.

From the turret, Carlos observed a lit Molotov cocktail soar just above his head, the projectile’s burning rag almost touching the cockatoo’s yellow feather crest. The impact coincided exactly with the moment his machinegun finally managed to break through the creature’s tree trunk of a leg, sending it collapsing.

The burning projectile crashed right on top of the giant wood hound’s head, instantly setting its mane on fire and thoroughly coating it with burning liquid that started to seep between the gaps in the branches that made up its body. And that’s when the sailors noticed something: the moment the flames started to dig inside of its body, the green glow that coursed through the hound’s body… well it didn’t fade away completely, but it must have been reduced to a third of its initial intensity. It’s broken leg stopped reassembling, the still living (if they were even living that is) creature making a last attempt at attacking them by pushing on with its hind legs.

That movement just put it in a better position for being flanked by Artyom. The ex-VDV’s team just rounded the corner of the building behind it, the sight of their boatswain instantly making everyone cease fire in fear of hitting him. As for the blue dragon, the giant wood hound only fazed him for half a second before he breathed a long gout of fire along the monster’s massive flank, the dragon’s fire digging much further inside its half hollow body than Boris’ Molotov ever could.

With one long agonized howl, the giant creature collapsed in a pile of burning timber, branches and vegetation. Its own movement towards them had done them a service: the body was now well clear of the entrance gate, allowing their unimog to easily get out of the parking.

Sri, Artyom and Sandra quietly walked around the burning carcass of the wood hound, Sandra slowing down a bit when she passed its gaping maw that was now spewing smoke and embers in a simulacrum of Artyom’s own fiery breath. The blue dragon scared her if she were honest about it, his red eyes and gleaming white fangs making for a terrifying sight against the dull red glow of the fires that now rampaged around the area. Looking around, she could see her former workplace now ablaze, the broken windows billowing smoke and the roof antennas starting to bend under the stress caused by the heat. On the parking lot, nearly every car (including hers) was now a burning wreck, acrid clouds of smoke emanating from the destroyed tires and making her eyes water. As she followed Sri, keeping close to the Indonesian, a tall orange shape stepped in front of her, kneeling slightly so that the size difference wasn’t that big. Another dragon, this one a female with gentle blue eyes instead of Artyom’s aggressive red.

“Miss Jensen I presume?” She asked.

Sandra nodded meekly.

“Nice to finally get to see you. My name is Schmitt; I’m Amandine’s Chief Engineer.” She said, extending a claw in greeting.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Sandra said, her usual enthusiasm reduced by the carnage around her. She extended her hoof and shook the proffered claw.

“It’s ‘sir’ actually, but no big deal.” Schmitt smiled gently. “Long story short, the change that made you a pony made me female. Bad lottery pick I guess?” He chuckled. “Now, I assume you’d like a ride to our ship?” He said pointing a claw back to the truck in which his shipmates were already climbing.

What happened then was a bit of a haze for the slightly shell-shocked mare. She remembered being helped in the back of the truck, getting a seat next to a bipedal dog with a wrist injury while a griffon of all creatures offered to take a look at the hoof she had injured days earlier. A burly humanoid parrot took the wheel and drove them away from the building, away from… her life. She kept staring in the direction of the radio station long after they left it behind, only able to see a red glow over the horizon. Before long, the adrenaline wore off and the little thestral nodded off in the back of the truck, surrounded by unknown, heavily armed sailors.

Author's Notes:

So that one was pretty heavy in action, hope you guys enjoyed it. I will be following up shortly with a blog post about Amandine.