I sat in my living room cleaning my weapon, a 2016 .223 AR-15. I looked out the window at my surroundings as I cleaned. My house was the last in a row of abandoned homes, next to a large field which used to be a forest. I still had electricity, powered by a propane generator that was attached to the house. The current government was gracious enough to give resources to all who needed it, without cost as long as the people contributed something significant. I served in the Army for a few years, deployed to Afghanistan, killed a few terrorists. They considered that sufficient. Anyone who volunteered for the military was regarded with much respect. I was just thankful for the help.

I sighed, a contented sigh. I'm thankful for peace, finally. WW3 did a number to the population. We currently have less than 100 Million on American soil right now. Most are in the larger cities, heavily defended. I helped in the war, killing as many ISIS members as possible. Someone took the liberty of dousing a few in pigs' blood and shooting them on camera. After that, no more ISIS. They surrendered all over the globe after that display. According to their laws, those murderers went to hell.

I've always been a weapons fan, gathering different firearms and blades throughout the years. I've purchased enough .223 rounds to fend off a 100,000+ man assault. Not to mention, I love my 12-Guage. I always…ALWAYS have my 9mm and .357 on me, along with my AR-15 when I venture outside my home. I smiled. Home. This is what I have. God, and my house. Home. I found an M203 in an alleyway some time ago, and raided the local abandoned armory for some 40mm grenades. My name is David Warring, and I'm 27. The local Wal-Mart still has enough canned goods to last till the next decade. I was set, physically.

Suddenly, I heard a WHOOOM, followed by a long, loud rumbling. I cleaned the last bit of oil off my weapon and put it back together. My muscles worked faster than my hands. I subconsciously touched my cargo pocket, ensuring my Bible was there. I donned my DragonSkin, also obtained from the Armory, grabbed a magazine from one of its pockets, which then went into the rifle. I chambered a round and stepped outside. I saw nothing. Wait. Lights, coming from the field. I rushed back inside to the back room, the most fortified. It had cinderblocks all around the outside of it, to protect the payload I kept in there. I swapped my AR for the M203, swapped the magazine, and put the spare round in my cargo pocket. I grabbed my survival pack, a military-grade backpack with enough ammo and supplies to keep me alive for over a month. I stuffed five 40mm grenades in my right cargo pocket and put one in the 203. I donned my helmet, complete with NVG one-sight and headed out.

I took the back door this time. I crouched at the corner, looking through my sight. The lights were attached to a very large craft, obviously aerial. I saw the rear hatch was down, and no one was coming out of it. I activated my Land Warrior radar and pulled down the viewer. Two bogies at my 3 o'clock. I lifted it and turned to check. I saw a…fox on two legs? Pulling a cart of some kind, with…another…animal in it? MAN! I forgot to turn the lights off. They were coming straight for the front door. After they disappeared around the corner of the building, most likely to ring my doorbell, I started forward slowly, so as not to make a sound. Sure enough, ding-dong. Ok, so these things had intelligence. I got to the front corner of the house and saw the two foxes. Ok, whoa. Blood. I raised my weapon and chambered a round, as I forgot to do so prior to leaving the house. This prompted a gasp and a look from the obviously female fox pulling the cart. She saw me and raised her hand in a non-threatening manner. "We need help, please," She said. I almost fell over. Wow. They spoke English. I came from around the corner. "Identify yourself," I said in my military tone.

"I'm Krystal, this is Fox. He's badly wounded, and our medical bay is in shambles. Please."

"State your affiliation."

"Star Fox, of Corneria."

I eyed them suspiciously, but I didn't see any weapons on her. I walked cautiously to the cart. I turned the NVG mode to heat, and scanned the contents, all the while making sure I had her in my peripheral. No weapons. "All right. Any crazy moves and you'll have a crater in your chest," I promised.

"Thank you."

I said nothing as I opened the front door with my key. "Put him in there," I pointed to the living room. She had difficulty getting him up the step to my porch, so I assisted from the rear. "Thank you," she breathed. She moved him to the living room, and I moved the coffee table out of the way.

"Let's put him on the couch." She nodded. "1..2…3!" We hoisted him up and I took off my pack. I took out my medical bag and asked Krystal to sit down, as she was hovering. As she did, I looked over Fox's body. Blood on his collar, left side. Not good. I took my flashlight out for a better look. Yep, on the neck, too. I got the surgical scissors out and cut the cloth away from the area. I tested the cloth around the bloody spot, and some fresh red started leaking out, but stopped when I stopped. "Good. His wound has sealed. Was it a main artery?"

"No." She shook her head. "Just the side of his neck."

"Anywhere else?" She shook her head. "Alright, I need your help." I pulled out the Hydrogen peroxide and a field bandage. "I'll take the cloth off, clean the wound and apply the bandage. I need you to hold it down for me once I put it on the wound. It will need a lot of pressure to keep the blood in." She nodded and knelt next to me. "Give me that small, dark green bag." I took it from her and opened it, revealing a tightly wound wad of cloth. I readied the HP, poured some on my hands to sanitize it, and held it over Krystal's. She obliged and copied me as I rubbed my hands together. I took the cloth off carefully but quickly, and blood started pouring out. Good, no gushing. At least it wasn't too long of a cut, but it was deep. I poured the HP on the wound, covering it in the luquid. I took the field bandage and applied it to the wound. "Your move." Krystal put her hand on the bandage and held it down. I took another out of the pack and saw that the blood stopped flowing down his fur. Good. I unwrapped the new bandage, placed it under Fox's right arm, pulled the extended cloth around, and held it over Krystal's hand. "Hold this." She did, and I took the other one around his shoulder. "Move your hand." I tied the two strips together, making the seal as tight as I could.

"He's not going to lose any more blood. Do you know if he broke anything?"

Krystal again shook her head. "We won't know until he wakes up."