Red Moon: Revolution: Chapter 35

A day had been set. Trevor remembered it clearly as if it were yesterday that the battle plans were drawn up. It was going to take time for Caughey to bribe the necessary officials to move tons of weapons and equipment into the Amazon and Dmitri had expected the wait to be long and filled with anxiety. Yet, it was time already. The days had blown by thanks to Dmitri's presence and Rommel who had taken the time to better train Trevor.

Trevor was a strong wolf, one of the strongest to have ever lived according to the Alpha, but he was clumsy. He struck out with reckless abandon and Trevor quickly learned in sparring matches against more wisened wolves that he couldn't brute his way through a fight with another werewolf. They ran circles around him, tiring him until he couldn't stop them from tackling him. It infuriated him, but the more cautious and patient human side of him prevailed, and he took each lesson to heart. He practiced for hours on end in the Russian woods where he and Dmitri had relocated along with much of the Alpha's pack. They were gathering one last time before heading out, letting those who had families spend time with loved ones.

Improvement came swiftly for Trevor, but he could always be better. He quickly fell into a routine of waking up in one of the lodges that were at their camp, practicing till noon before coming back to eat, spending time with members of the pack and then practicing more under the watchful eyes of either Dmitri or other members of the pack, when they were willing. After that, he would spend time with Dmitri, either in or out of the bedroom, whatever suited them at the time.

Many still saw Trevor as a dangerous outsider and defiler of tradition. He had taken Dmitri, the next Alpha by birthright from them even though Dmitri's bloodline was assured already. They were rarely vocal, having taken Lidia's obviously swollen belly as just enough to quell them, by they still whispered in the dark among themselves. However, they were few, much of the pack and especially the younger generations either didn't care or were friendly with Trevor. For the most part, Trevor's integration into the pack was smooth.

Trevor was surprised when the day came even though the day when Caughey would contact them was known. He found himself a little disappointed. He greatly enjoyed his time as an actual member of the pack... his pack. He felt like he belonged. Most of his life he had been on the outside, even in his own social groups in Seattle. He was more of a filler, someone to make the group seem large and popular. No one was mean to him, no, he genuinely considered many of them friends. The problem was his old attitude. He had been a timid man who feared speaking out or raising his voice. That man was gone now, and Trevor found it easier to speak his mind or add to a conversation and as a result, he had new friends, a new family that he felt he was contributing to. Now it was time to leave most of them for a time.

It was scarcely four days after the go-ahead was given by Caughey that Trevor found himself in the middle of the hot, humid Amazon Rain Forest. Mud clung to his fur which was soaked by the water in the air. His nose was stuffed, and he wanted to stop breathing, the mix of scents was assaulting him. There was so much, too much on his senses as he crept with four other wolves, including Dmitri who was right next to him and a dozen of Caughey's men. They wore military uniforms and very well could have been military. Caughey had commented on how corrupt the Brazilian government was on the boat ride that dropped them off about ten miles from the Coordinator's compound. They followed closely behind the wolves.

The plan was simple. A small fleet of fast boats would set up just outside of the perimeter while two groups of wolves and Caughey's soldiers attacked in a pincer move. They would come in fast and hard to try and surprise the defenders. The Coordinator may not be surprised often, but his men would be as a dozen werewolves from various packs and two dozen armed soldiers attacked. That wasn't it either. The boats would also offload about three times that many people once the defenders were occupied by the attacks to their flanks. The boats would also prevent anyone from escaping by water while rear guards made up mostly of werewolves would stop anyone from escaping on foot. The compound was entirely surrounded, and all of the leaders were confident that escape was nigh impossible. There was only one variable that left them worried, the Coordinator himself.

He was a werewolf. Arguments were made that he wasn't, that it was impossible for a werewolf to have gone decades without being known. They didn't want to think that the leader of the Inquisition, the organization responsible for killing countless werewolves for centuries was one of their own. It was a perverted irony that didn't sit well with anyone, werewolf or human.

Once the outside was secure, it was up to the werewolves. The compound was meant to store large amounts of weapons and ammunition before being shipped off to where it was needed. Due to the humidity which would corrode and rust the materials, it was stored underground in a large bunker. That was where the Coordinator would hold out. Caughey refused to send his men in there. He knew what a werewolf could do in close quarters; he had seen the aftermath of one such encounter before in his life, and he had no desire to cause one. If the werewolves could drive the Coordinator out into the open, then he would engage, but not in the bunker. He would have his guardians, eight total, including his own son, ready for when the Coordinator came out if he wasn't killed inside.

Trevor wondered how the other group was doing. Dmitri was leading this one since he was the most experienced of the group. He was also the only werewolf that Trevor knew in their group. Many of the groups had a wide variety of werewolves from a number of packs. They all knew that this was going to be the end and a large number of packs that had both sworn to the cause and not had sent strong, able-bodied wolves to take part in the operation. They were split up depending on skill. The strongest would be the first to hit. The fastest would be part of the rear guard to catch anyone who ran. Some werewolves were more technical, not even changing into their feral forms but manning radios or on standby with medical equipment along with their human counterparts. Everyone who came had a job and Trevor was surprised to hear that Sean was going to be in the water landing. Rob had tried to convince him to go home, that it wasn't his fight, but the fellow Washingtonian had been steadfast. He had also taken lessons under the tutelage of Rob and other werewolves and had greatly improved, enough so that he was eagerly taken in when he volunteered.

Rob was leading the second part of the pincer attack. While he hadn't practiced military maneuvers in many years since he had left the Inquisition, he still retained a lot of skill. "Happens when your dad drills it into you with a belt." He had said with contempt for his father.

The Alpha, Rommel, Caughey, Brennen and other leaders were on larger boats far from combat, but still close enough to watch and direct the attack. Rommel naturally ended up being the main commander of the forces and the older man had jumped at it with little reluctance. With the famed Desert Fox at the helm, spirits were high, and Trevor found himself unable to stop all movement as he slowly crept through more and more of the dense jungle towards their target.

"All groups, report," Rommel's voice came across the earpiece a little grainy. Everyone out in the field had one. Even the werewolves had earpieces jerry-rigged to headpieces to let them listen in even though they wouldn't speak.

"This is Pincer Group Alpha," Rob replied. "We're setting up twenty meters in the woods, just outside of the base. I can see soldier. They appear to have dug trenches. They've been expecting us for some time."

Since werewolves couldn't vocally reply in a way that would be understood, one of Caughey's men replied for Dmitri. "This is Pincer Group Bravo." He was a short Hispanic man with dark skin even for a Hispanic, with thick curls that stuck out from under his camo boonie hat that had foliage sticking out of it for added camouflage. "We're a minute out and will notify you when we're in position."

The other groups were mostly in position. The rear guard was complaining about being stretched thin. The outer perimeter was larger than originally planned due to patrols that had been spotted after the mission had already begun. They had to pull back further to avoid giving away the attack before they started. They were told to do the best that they could, it was too late to send in more people and reorganize the perimeter now. It wasn't likely that many would be coming their way anyways and with the fastest werewolves, no one was expected to make it through.

Trevor's group settled in behind a large fallen tree that had fallen after a massive rainstorm. Its roots stuck up into the air while its canopy, still holding some leaves was shattered across the ground. It provided good cover until the order to attack was given.

Trevor could now see what was left of the Inquisition. It didn't look like a fighting force at all. The men and women were tired, moving slowly and poorly supplied. They had weapons, plenty of weapons, but food had been running short. They slouched, and many were sleeping at their posts. No one seemed to care. This wasn't going to be a fight. It was going to be a slaughter until they realized that prisoners were going to be taken. Enemy or not, working with ex-Inquisition members had given many werewolves who used to kill Inquisition members whenever possible an inside look. Many Inquisition members weren't against werewolves. It was a job to them to support themselves. Most didn't want to die and would surrender once they realized that they couldn't win. Nearly a quarter of the New Inquisition was made up of people who had surrendered to them originally and then switched sides. Now many fights were fought with the objective to take prisoners rather than kill. That was secondary at the moment, only to killing the Coordinator, he was not to be taken alive.

"Alright, everyone is in position," Rommel spoke to everyone from his boat that was with the rest of the naval force and the landing teams, a mile down river and out of sight until their part of the fight came in. "Reports indicate roughly thirty to forty individuals. All armed. They have numerous machine gun emplacements. We need to hit them hard before they can get to their positions. Once the attack starts, the landing teams will begin to move in. By the time they get there, they should be able to disembark immediately and help. Don't go chasing anyone into the woods. The rear guard will pick them up. Your mission is to clear out the compound and then to set up a defensive position around the entrance to the bunker. No one is to go into the bunker until after the outside of the compound is secured. Is everyone clear? This should be a cakewalk."

There was a resoundingly positive response from everyone.

"Good," Rommel replied and then Brennan spoke.

"We've all been working towards this, some longer than others, but we're all in this together nonetheless. This man has tormented us all for years, long before this war began. You all know what he's capable of, and we're not going to underestimate him, but he's going to underestimate us. He thinks of himself as all knowing, without fault, let's show him that he's wrong. Let's show him that his time if over and he will answer for his crimes." She spoke with a vigor that few had seen, even those who had seen her after the Berlin bombing. "Now let's go get this son of a bitch."

"All teams are in position," Rommel said. The cheering was minimal since the teams still needed to keep a low profile. "Begin the attack."

It was pandemonium at first as the werewolves burst from their cover, hitting the closest enemies immediately as gunfire covered them, suppressing those that were deeper in the compound.

Trevor followed Dmitri's lead, sticking close to his mate as they dove into the fray, jumping down into one of the trenches, using it to cover themselves from the returning fire. They surprised a pair of soldiers who were firing over the top of the trench into the rain forest. They had no idea where to shoot and when the pair of werewolves landed five feet aways from them, one made the mistake of shooting Dmitri in the shoulder. They would have been given a chance to run, but that opportunity was gone now. They never got the chance to fire a second time as each werewolf jumped on a separate man.

Other werewolves jumped into the trenches as well, rooting out the enemy that was only just getting its bearings. Their machine gun emplacements, previously pointed out into the river were turned around, and a barrage of bullets cut into the forest. Caughey's men took a few random casualties from the fire, but only for a few minutes as most of the Coordinator's forces began to buckle.

Then came the boats. Suddenly the landing force appeared around the bend and began to open fire on the beach. A few began to turn and run which then created an avalanche effect. It quickly turned into a full out rout into the forest. People dropped their weapons and ran. Some made it to the tree line. Most gave up once confronted by a snarling werewolf.

The battle on the outside of the compound scarcely lasted half an hour. In all, twelve Inquisition soldiers were killed, sixteen were captured, and four escaped into the woods, but they were heading right for the rear guard.

Once the situation was settled with the prisoners loaded onto boats and a perimeter set up, a team of werewolves congregated outside the entrance which was a large steel door. Explosives were set up, and the hinges were quickly blown off without the need to be told. Everyone was eager. They were so close now.

Dmitri, again was going to take point with Trevor right at his flank. They were going to go straight in when they heard calls from the rear guard.

"Something's happened." Someone yelled out. It was the clearest voice in a sea of cried.

"It's out here with us!"

"Where's the left flank? I can't find the left flank anymore."

"I've got bodies out here. Oh, God. They're not even whole anymore."

"Where's it coming from? I need backup, where's the backup?"

Most cries were unintelligible with the sound of werewolves snarling in the background as well. It was impossible to tell what was going on.

"What's going on!" Rommel struggled to yell loud enough to be heard over all of the commotions.

There was nothing but more incoherent and mindless babble with no information until someone finally did say something worthwhile.

"It's the coordinator. There was a back entrance, hidden. He came out of it, a wolf with tan and brown fur. Cut right through us, still is." He was panicked, but taking deep breaths between every other word. "Not even the werewolves can take him down. We need help!"

"Trevor," Rommel said. "You've wanted to prove yourself. Now is the time to show how much you've learned."

It was all he needed to hear. The big, red wolf grinned and looked over to his mate who was just waiting on him.

The two along with the rest of the werewolves that were originally going to storm the compound ran back into the woods towards where the screaming and terrified voices were coming from. The trees had been blocking much of the noise, but once they were in the woods and away from the commotion on the beach, the could hear it. Yelling and some gunfire, small pops that were faint. Mostly screaming.

Trevor led the group as fast as he could, which wasn't that fast with the thick rain forest getting in the way. There was so much undergrowth that he couldn't see for more than a few meters, so he relied more on his hearing to direct him while taking it slow to make sure he didn't run into a tree.

The first body showed up fast. It was one of Caughey's men. He was a mess. He was laid up against a tree, his arms spread out and his chest imploded with his back ribs actually dug into the wood behind him. Something had slammed into his hard. It wasn't the last body either, and they weren't all human.

Many of the werewolves in the rear guard weren't the strongest. They weren't expected to be. They were just supposed to chase down frightened humans who had no fight left in them. They were mostly small and nimble, capable of ducking and weaving through the trees easily. Maybe if they hadn't been stretched so thin, they would have been able to put up more of a lasting fight, but instead, they were often caught off guard individually.

Some of the group that passed by averted their eyes at the corpse of one of the rear guard's werewolves. It was just his torso. The limbs were nowhere to be seen, and he had a large chunk of his neck torn out. Trevor doubted that he would have been able to recover from that even with his advanced healing ability. He kept moving towards the sound of fighting which was starting to pick up.

The rear guard had been caught with their pants around their legs. Many had expected to just sit out in the woods for a few hours and then be called back in. Boring work and therefore when the ground opened up, revealing a hidden entrance, their reaction time was less than optimal.

The first few to go down were so shocked they didn't even get time to call for help. They were killed off silently. It wasn't until nearly four minutes after the Coordinator had bolted out of his hiding place that someone finally got a call off and got a few rounds off. Then there was the mistake that many others made. They, eager to do something other than sit around, rushed off, often alone or with just one other with them. The humans weren't trained as guardians and therefore didn't have the experience required to deal with a werewolf while the werewolves simply didn't have the strength to take on what was coming at them alone. The forest was strewn with the result of their failure, but now they were learning. People were trying to find each other now rather than the enemy, forming larger groups that were hitting back when attacked allowing them to survive long enough for reinforcements.

Trevor arrived at one such group. There were two werewolves and six men in a tight circle. They had been larger before, but the blood and bodies showed what had happened.

"Oh, thank God." One of them blurted out at the sight of so many werewolves. "It's still out there." His eyes darted back and forth from the reinforcements and the surrounding woods. They had been hit, fast, repeatedly. The werewolf, which he wasn't even sure what color it was, would jump out of nowhere, hit once or twice before diving back out of sight. The werewolves could smell him, but not where he was. The air didn't move much with all of the trees in the way.

The Coordinator was smart. Everyone knew that. With the new werewolves, this group was too strong to try and attack, but there were other groups in the woods, scared, trying desperately to get to friendly faces. He needed to move away from this group fast.

The Coordinator was hardly right in his mind. He had given into his bloodlust. So many years of planning were gone. All he wanted now was to cause as much damage as possible before he was inevitably put down like the mad dog that he was. He had run out of his unique silver infused cigarettes nearly a week prior to the attack, and it had taken all of his will not to tear through his own men once the shakes gave way to the cravings for meat and blood. It was a part of him that he had tried to bury long ago at a price. The silver messed with his head, made him forget his past from when he had embraced the wolf, but now he could remember more clearly than before. He remembered his purpose.

Werewolves and humans had been fighting for millennia, well before even the Inquisition. Both sides feared the other and went to extremes to destroy one another. Rome's conquest into Gaul was in part a scheme to kill off the werewolves, but that ended horribly. The werewolves struck back, making alliances with barbarian tribes for revenge which then ended up sacking Rome. Many massacres were secret to kill werewolves. The small peace that was created during the Crusades ended when werewolves, organized into the Knight's Templar were betrayed and killed off. History showed that peace was impossible. There would only be more death and instability.

The Coordinator was old, much older than anything had any right to. He had witnessed, time and time again, the death and destruction that was brought onto the world whenever one side decided that it was strong enough to win once and for all. Both World Wars were partially caused by this, used as cover for this secret war. He had made a promise to end the killing long ago. He remembered that he had no ill will towards werewolves, but they had to go, he couldn't very well kill off all of humanity, it was easier to get rid of the wolves quietly so that the world wouldn't notice. But history showed that all great leaders before him who had similar ideas failed as well, unable to complete the job. Now the Coordinator knew that there was nothing he could do to bring order into the world, but he wasn't one to just let go and give up. He held a grudge against those that worked against him, and he gave into that hate he had for the people and werewolves that destroyed so many years of work. They would bleed for it.

Trevor saw him, only for an instant, a flash of tan through the leaves as it ran off. He gave a loud bark to alert the others, mostly Dmitri, before he bolted after the Coordinator.

Dmitri reacted first, following Trevor's tail as it vanished. The others weren't as fast and would end up falling behind while Dmitri and Trevor gave chase.

Trevor's paws landed where the Coordinator's paws landed in order to keep up. The other wolf knew how to navigate the woods better, so Trevor had to keep in perfect step as he slowly began to gain. The Coordinator was weaving wildly, having realized that he had picked up unwanted guests on his tail. He ran around a particularly large tree whose trunk was thick enough that he disappeared from view long enough to turn around and surprise Trevor and pounce on him, sinking his teeth for where he thought a throat would be, but if by training or by luck, Trevor moved to the left enough that he only got his shoulder bit.

Trevor snarled in pain, snapping his jaws at his assailant, getting a mouthful of fur, but no meat. He rolled, flinging the Coordinator off of him where he quickly recovered, ready to attack again before his foe could recover.

Dmitri heard the snarl and immediately thought the worse. Adrenaline poured into his veins, and his mind became a cloud of revenge as he whirled around the tree and saw his target first and not Trevor, who was getting back up from his roll. Dmitri sprinted right at the Coordinator who was about the same size as him if not a bit leaner. The Coordinator was caught by surprise at the speed that Dmitri came at him and wasn't able to avoid a hit, but only twist his body enough to get a glancing blow that threw him off to the side.

The Coordinator landed on all four of his paws, digging his claws into the soft soil to slow him down and then push off with his hind legs to lunge at Dmitri who was struggling to find good footing in the mud to stop and recover.

More snarling came as the Coordinator landed directly on top of Dmitri's back, sinking his claws into the soft skin and holding on. Deep gashes of red were drawn each time the Coordinator moved, and Dmitri snapped his head to the side, barely avoiding getting his left ear bitten off. He retaliated by slamming against a nearby tree, pinning the Coordinator against it.

Trevor saw his mate in trouble and charged in, diving into the fray. He grabbed a hold of the Coordinator's hind leg and savaged it, but not without getting kicked in the face, giving him a mild concussion and a bloody nose.

Dmitri couldn't take all the scratches anymore which had left his entire side covered in blood and backed off. The Coordinator let go and turned to attack Trevor and get revenge for the damage done to his hind leg. He feinted a bite at the throat, but dove down and grabbed Trevor by the shoulder where there was already a wound. He relished at hearing a pained yelp as he vigorously shook his head from side to side. He would have taken the entire leg off if Dmitri hadn't managed to bite down on his hips, tearing a chunk of flesh out forcing the Coordinator to let go.

They all backed off of each other for a moment. Everyone was hurting, but still capable of fighting. Despite being outnumbered, he had done as much damage to Dmitri and Trevor as they had done to him. He had been in his fair share of fights, some with worse odds, but he was out of practice, and Trevor was the largest wolf he had seen. He didn't seem himself winning the fight, but if he could hurt them enough, he may be able to run off and escape to Rio where he was sure he could find assets and start over again. Fade away into hiding for a decade and then come back once he was sure he could be more effective. He had already torn up the red wolf's shoulder pretty bad, but he could see the wound already healing at a remarkable speed. He would need to hit the other one first, get him out of the fight since he wasn't healing nearly as fast.

Trevor saw the gears turning in the Coordinator's head. He wasn't going to give him the time to outthink them. He charged again, darting to the coordinator's right flank before quickly pivoting with his good shoulder to attack. He went for the neck, it was the only place that was absolutely guaranteed to kill a werewolf since a good bite would cut off blood to the brain if a decapitation wasn"t made.

The Coordinator saw this coming and leaped back, landing hard on his hind legs which buckled from the wound on his back. He quickly got back up as Dmitri, seeing the moment of weakness, attacked. He too went for the jugular and again that was predicted and was surprised to see the Coordinator turn towards him and then duck under the attack, sweeping around to his side and before Dmitri could turn to face the counterattack.

The Coordinator got Dmitri in the shoulder good. He got nearly all of his teeth into the meaty shoulder. He could feel the tough, sinewy flesh tearing away as he pushed a paw into Dmitri and pulled back as hard as he could. He heard Dmitri cry out miserably as most of his shoulder muscles were torn away and then spat onto the ground where pain signals were still flaring, leaving the piece of meat twitching for several minutes. One down, he just needed to cripple the red wolf now who was looking wide eyed at the damage that had been done to his companion.

Trevor was sent into a rage. His mate was horribly wounded; the Coordinator was going to die for that. He would tear him apart piece by piece to repay him several times over. He went to go save Dmitri.

The Coordinator saw the bloodlust in the wolf's eyes and hesitated for a moment. He was used to planning and out maneuvering, he was not above physical fear. It was enough for Trevor. He used his superior size to smash into the Coordinator, sending him flying into a nearby tree where he left a bloody splat where he hit and cracked the bark. He fell to the ground in a daze, nearly all of his ribs were broken. Both lungs were punctured, and there was no telling what else had been decimated inside of him. He gazed up and saw the red wolf looking over him and then the one whose shoulder he had savaged who got up slowly and carefully walked over as well.

Trevor was ready to finish it all, end so much suffering that had gone on for years. The Coordinator was beaten now. The tired and bloodied wolf was laying on his side, breathing heavily. Each breath took him closer to the end as blood seeped from his many wounds, unable to heal fast enough to save him now. It was over.

The Coordinator looked at Trevor in the eyes and did something that surprised him. He began to transform. It was a sickening sight to watch no matter how many times it was witnessed, even more, perverse when it was stopped part way with half-formed limbs jutting at odd angles and his chest looking like it had been smashed with a baseball bat repeatedly.

"I will not die as the very thing I have sought to destroy." The Coordinator said with pained gasps once his vocal cords had formed enough. His transformation had stopped, not by will, but because he was dying. He couldn't tear himself apart and put it back together as a human anymore, his body was at its limits. He glanced at Trevor and Dmitri and scoffed. "You think this is victory don't you, but you don't understand. No one understands." He tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't have been able to hold up a child with the way that one was still digitigrade, and the other was half way to being human. His misplaced knees buckled under the weight and he crashed down into the moist dirt. "How long will it last before the next idealistic person gets it in their head that one side or the other is evil and needs to be killed off. Oh yes, I tried, but not out of some fear or hate. I wanted to see this world prosper." He was getting delirious as he lost more blood. "See it whole again." He reached up to the sky with broken fingers.

Trevor couldn't help but feel sorry. He had expected nothing but curses and damnation after the fight. Both sides were pretty torn up. He watched as the poor pile of meat propped itself up against a tree and struggled to even get a half of a lungful of air. There may not have even been a whole lung to take in air.

"I am a culmination of our failures. A living history of arrogance and greed. I was to be the final judgment, the knife to break the seals of the apocalypse and cleanse out tainted past." The Coordinator's grotesquely contorted body quivered. It was unnatural to hold a form part way between a wolf and a human. The body was not meant to exist in such a state. "But my blade was broken, and the seals remain." He stared Trevor directly in the eye, wincing as he felt his left arm snap from the strain of being held in mid-transformation only to try and heal into a new angle. "I suppose that means you've brought salvation to your kind." Breathing was now almost impossible. He could feel himself slipping away. "Heh. Never thought it would end like this. Barely able to move. At least I fought till the end. The very end." He paused for a moment to think. "I guess I was no better than the Directors I killed. Loathed them for being so stubborn in their ways. So much that I never saw how much I was like them." He coughed up dark red blood and made no effort to wipe it off of his chin and chest.

Trevor looked over at Dmitri. His mate was doing better now, his gash on his shoulder had stopped bleeding now, but he still favored the leg. He moved closer to the Coordinator, the being that had tormented them for so long was now a pitiful dying thing, not even fit to be called either a human or a werewolf. A true monster and monsters needed to be killed.

The Coordinator's eyes were faded. He was barely conscious at this point and babbled on more. Dmitri leaned forward, grasping the thing, bloodied neck in his jaws. The act was quick and without sound, and Dmitri gagged at the texture that reminded him of soggy bread on the outside that gave way to a tougher, stale bread on the inside as the body was already falling apart.

The Coordinator's body slumped, giving out its death rattle, the air spilling out from the newly formed puncture wounds on his neck when Dmitri let go. He squirmed a little more, but not much longer before he laid still, forever stuck in his half transformed state.

It was over. It was done. The last vestiges of the old Inquisition were gone.