They emerged into darkness punctuated only by headlights and gunfire. Night vis added laser sights and muzzle flare to the confusion.
Mountbatten kept moving, running into the trees. Fisher waved to him, already having set up a small firing position - he was proud to see that his men were disciplined and composed. The officer gave a short series of hand signals to Fisher, directing half his men to security and the rest to a firing line.
They opened up in a fusillade of semi-automatic fire, their small arms striking steel-cored silver-tipped sparks from the sides of their vehicle, knocking back the werewolves with multiple hits. One was flung off the far side, while the other leapt at them.
As one, the four-man team flipped their guns to fully automatic and blasted away at the airborne mass of fur and claws. The air was filled with the fury of gunfire, a solid wall of it that tore at their foe until it crashed to a lifeless heap in front of them.
Fisher gave a ceasefire order. It was clearly dead.
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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More and more werewolves jumped from the forest whilst the convoy slowed, but the men in Mountbatten…Dark Departure
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