The red light in his eyes and the single note landing-warning jolted him awake. He blinked around and then at Kristen's seat, seeing her lifting her head and rubbing her face. He looked down and snapped open the cover on his watch, tapping a stud until it showed London time - 4:14 am - still before dawn, they'd made pretty good time. He closed his eyes again and focused on being awake, fumbling in his pocket and producing a cigar. He breathed deep and looked at the stogie in his fingers... the end was crushed, and there was a dark splotch on it that he knew used to be in his veins... but... He tore the damaged end off and stuck it in his teeth. Pulling and flicking open his zippo, he stood and turned - using the moment of lighting the cigar to eye his team and gauge their state.
They were a mess. The ones that weren't wounded on the outside were still going to be carrying this battle on the inside for quite a while. He glanced down the line of eleven pairs of hollow eyes and sighed out a cloud of smoke. "We're home, kids. Trucks are waitin' and our own beds a few miles after that." He stepped around Kristen and felt her stand up behind him. Together they walked down the line as he continued. "Let's just get off this bird and get our asses back ta the barracks. No need ta rush, but let's keep it orderly." He turned as he reached the cargo netting that enclosed the aft section and folded his hands behind his back. He could see that they all knew what was behind him, black bags that used to be friends... some no longer even human in shape. He spoke softly, meeting those looks as he said the words that always burned up his throat. "We lost a lot of good people, let's be organized and kind about getting them on those trucks and getting them home. Body-bag detail is by volunteer basis, I don't expect I have to ask any of you twice." He steadied himself as the plane lurched and bumped on touch-down, "We're almost home, people."

The tail-end loading ramp touched tarmac and Donovan stepped off, glancing around at the tiny airstrip. The lights at the edges of the runway turned the night beyond an inky black and blotted out the stars, but the feel and smell of the air alone served to settle his nerves considerably. He decided to take a deep breath just to enjoy it, and as Kristen joined him he gestured her towards the waiting trucks across the pavement. She nodded and jogged over to them, and he turned to look back up the ramp.
Two of the Rangers passed him, each with a black bag in their arms, and he nodded to them - exchanging understanding looks. As two more descended the ramp, he caught sight of Kendra standing just to one side of the activity. Her fingers were curled in the netting that hung from the wall of the plane, and she was watching the unloading with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Donovan sighed and flicked away his cigar, sidestepping the Rangers coming down and walking up the ramp to where Kendra stood. At close range he could see she was shaking badly, and her lips were moving almost imperceptibly with soundless words. He laid one hand gently on her shoulder and used the other to begin prying her clenched and shaking fingers from the net. She jerked her head up to look at him and he spoke softly, taking her freed hand in his. "C'mon lieutenant... it's time ta go home." Kendra's eyes snapped to the body bags and her lips moved, barely forming sound. "Home..." she mumbled, and fresh red tears leaked down her already smeared cheeks. "I can't even bring him home, sir... they didn't... they didn't leave me enough to... to..." Donovan pulled her into a rough hug as she lost her voice in a silent sob. Still holding her, he turned and walked her down the ramp as she shook against his shoulder. Over Kendra's black curls, he saw Kristen approaching at a fast trot, concern on her features.
Then his eyes caught a dim flare from beyond the edge of the runway that cast Kristen's shoulder in silhouette... and his world slowed down...
He saw the ugly orange smoke trail begin, led by a black dot that expanded into a lethal cylinder as it arced toward the plane... his voice sounded like a drone in his own ears as he shouted at his Rangers... he felt like he was moving in molasses as he pushed Kendra to the ground and leaped for Kristen... the explosion of the rocket striking the side of the Hercules hit him even as he slammed into her, the two of them were thrown hard to the pavement as the big plane heeled over in flames - one wing scraping into and snapping off against the tarmac, the other buckling down and slamming into the ground tip-first on this side... debris was everywhere, pelting his back and scattering across the runway... and he heard the screams begin from inside the cargo bay... they were burning alive...
He was on his feet again before the wreckage had completely hit the ground, his Grizzly .50 in his hand to cover Kristen as she rolled to her feet and sprinted for Kendra. He winced as the first of the three trucks went up in a fireball, but he really wasn't surprised... he hardly noticed as the other two went, he had turned and was running for the other side of the tarmac. Ahead of him he could see Kristen half-dragging Kendra, and two more Rangers running with them - Rowen and Cale... The rest... He tried not to think about.
He felt the blood burn in his veins as he pushed his speed beyond human, catching up to the others just as automatic weapon fire ripped across the tarmac towards them. He squinted ahead and forced his eyes to see beyond normal vision, piercing the shadows and searching for resistance ahead by telltale aura. The shadows ahead... shadows... Even as he saw the forms, hidden in the artificially dense darkness, his arm snapped up and his gun roared. He was gratified to see the figures twist and flip... four shots, four hits... they hadn't expected to be seen. "Bloody Lasombra bastards!" He snarled, seeing the darkness ahead of them ease a bit. He was thankful the shooters from behind weren't marksmen, he could hear bullets rip the air in passing and could see chips and chunks erupting from the pavement, but he was betting on the lights confounding their vision as much as it had his. If he could just get his people past them...
His feet impacted grass just as he felt the dull thump in his lower back, then another in his right shoulder-blade. He stumbled a bit and saw Kristen start to turn back to him. He recovered before falling and waved her on. "Go for the wind-break!" He growled, shaking off the bullet impacts and evening his pace again. As soon as she turned forward, he stopped and spun - dropping to one knee to return fire. He leveled his weapon and squeezed off two shots even as he ripped a new clip from his outer thigh pocket. He could see his attackers beginning to pile onto the runway in pursuit and was gratified to see one of them go down from his quick pot-shots. "Sweet Jesus..." he breathed, sighting and dropping three more before ejecting the spent clip. There were a lot of them...
They swarmed onto the runway, some carrying weapons, some firing as they ran, some just loping forward as fast as they could to close to personal killing distance. Most were human enough, but plenty of them bore animalistic features that marked them as Gangrel that had gone over the edge. All of them were Sabbat.
Donovan held his stance until his clip was empty. He absorbed three more hits in the process, but the pack left eight of their number behind on the tarmac as they advanced. They still had twice that number by the time they reached the other side. Donovan cursed and lurched to his feet, spinning on his heel and making his tired blood burn again as he sprinted for the line of trees ahead. He hoped Kristen and the others had hit the wind-break and kept on going... He felt his leg kicked out from underneath him in mid-stride by a lucky bullet, and he went down in a roll that brought him right back to his feet at the edge of the trees. He had barely steadied when two forms burst from the windbreak and swept past him on either side. His heart sank even as he felt an odd surge of pride at the war-cry that went up from Rowen and Cale as the two men charged the onrushing Sabbat. Donovan reloaded as he turned, and did the only thing for his Rangers he could, emptying the clip into the line of Sabbat to add a little confusion as his two men collided with the enemy. He saw Cale attack with combat knife and Brujah strength, taking three of the Sabbat before he was yanked from view. The Gangrel Rowen had gone as animal as some of those he faced - Donovan didn't see him fall, but heard his soldier's last howl as he spun and ducked into the trees.
He ran as hard as he could, dodging trees and searching ahead for a glimpse of Kristen and Kendra. He could hear the pack howling and hollering behind him, but had managed to keep them at an even distance. He spent the effort of will needed to close his wounds as he ran - this was no time to be losing blood that he needed for the fight... but he was growing dangerously weak. Then he spotted them, two forms running almost as fast as he - just ahead and to the right. He angled to catch them, and in seconds was beside them. Kristen threw him a look and mouthed 'where?'. He looked ahead and called up the memorized map of the area. Where indeed, where the hell were they running to? Somewhere to make a stand. More than thirty Sabbat had been waiting for them, less than twelve were behind them now. Pretty good odds for a Ranger... if they could find some cover...
He had it... a quick review of his mental compass and he jerked his head left, Kristen and Kendra shifted with him and they set to just running like hell. Donovan knew there was an old church ruin about forty miles southwest of the airstrip. If he was alone he might make it there in fifteen minutes - with Kristen and Kendra it would take twenty-five. Could they run that hard that long? They had to.
But he had no doubt some of their pursuers could run faster... he was thankful he hadn't heard motorcycles yet - but he wasn't counting his chickens... He saw Kristen catch his movement as he ejected his spent clip and slipped in his last fresh one. Without breaking stride she tore open the Velcro on her own thigh pocket and handed two more over to him. He grinned and dropped back, skidding to a stop and turning to sight back along their path. He sidestepped behind a tree-trunk and leveled his weapon as the first of their pursuers - a Gangrel that seemed to move like the wind - burst into view. Two roars from the Grizzly in Donovan's hand and the Sabbat went down, one knee a pulverized wreck and part of his head missing. Neither was lethal to a vampire... but on the battlefield of the night you go for the disabling wound, not the almost impossible sure kill. Donovan shifted his aim and squeezed off two more rounds at another Sabbat that had slowed to take cover behind a moderate-sized tree. One shot took her in the hip even as the other filled her eyes and face with an explosion of wood splinters from the tree. She went down with a howl - clawing at her eyes. Donovan turned and sprinted to catch his team-mates.
BY the time they reached the ruin, Donovan had stopped twice more to snipe their pursuers, but the last time had been fruitless. They were getting smarter. Still, he guessed there were only four - maybe five still in pursuit. From the shelter of the ruin they would be no problem. Provided he didn't just keel over from exhaustion. As they ducked between the crumbling stone walls, he looked over Kristen and Kendra critically. He could tell Kristen was dead on her feet, despite the vampire blood mixed in her veins - she was still human, and her human half was beyond exhaustion. Kendra was in better shape physically, but she was moving like an automaton, going when pushed, stopping when yanked to a halt. Donovan prayed the Sabbat were pissed off enough to make a frontal assault. If they attacked outright, he could pick them off... but if they got sneaky...
He checked his clip quickly and moved to a vantage point to wait...

Szarina van Holt leaned from the Land Rover and glanced at the sky. With a small grimace of distaste she noted the indigo and red streaks of early dawn and fetched her sunglasses from the dash. Glancing at her compatriot, she smiled as she uncoiled her long legs and stood. "You have good news for me, my sweet?" she inquired in German, glancing around at the wild and overgrown surroundings. The viper's smile she turned back to her companion spoke of her distaste of both the hour and the locale.
Erik Thorrsen took off his own sunglasses and squinted at the sky thoughtfully. It was a little power game he played by not answering her directly and immediately. He knew she liked him to rebel just a little bit, she despised weakness. But he had to keep it in careful measure...
He looked down at her and grinned, popping his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Mission accomplished, my love." He beamed, also speaking German. "Both of them. The Irish lot were eliminated - the last of them took refuge in that church up there, but they didn't last long once we arrived. The local packs we organized for the attack were pretty much wiped out in the process - even more than expected, leaving their havens ours for the taking."
Szarina smiled with satisfaction and turned to crook a finger at her driver, then turned back to Erik as the tall dark-skinned man got out of the Rover. "I want to see these last few, perhaps their remains will be useful. Take us to them."
Erik nodded and turned, pointing at the ruins at the top of the hill. "I am told they were holed up in the base of that east tower. A few of my shooters dealt with them easily enough, but I held back from explosives - I knew you might want trophies." Szarina favored him with a saccharine smile as they climbed the hill. "You are so thoughtful, Erik." She purred.
A few moments and they were picking their way between the fallen stones. Rounding a corner, they came upon the scene of the Rangers' last stand. The body of a young woman lay sprawled just inside the entrance face down - save that she had no face or head to speak of. Beyond her a muscular brunette girl lay slumped against the wall, three large wounds showing in her upper chest and shoulder on the right side and a drying trickle of blood marking the last breath from her lips. Partially cradled in her lap was the body of a large blonde-haired man, most of the back of his head was a gaping cavity and one of his eyes was nothing but open socket. Szarina smiled warmly at Erik. "Your shooters deserve notice, my love. Excellent work, I am pleased."
Erik's proud smile froze as they all heard a scrape and groan come from the dead. He drew his rapier from under his coat even as he yanked Szarina back from harm's way as they saw the seated girl raising her head and arm. Blued steel gleamed as she leveled the gun at them.
Despite wounds and exhaustion, the look in Kristen's eyes was iced calm laced liberally with hatred. "Fuck... you..." she wheezed, punctuating each word with a bullet. Erik felt an impact and sudden pain under his arm as he scrambled to push Szarina out of the line of fire. She tripped and fell on the uneven stones and he dropped to one knee to cover her, even as her other companion stepped forward calmly. Erik saw him lurch back a step as Kristen's gun roared again, and he hissed at the man impatiently. "Just kill her, you arrogant idiot!" But he was forced to sigh as the next shot blew the top of the Assamite's head off. Into the silence that followed the man toppling to the ground in a heap, Erik shouted into the opening as Szarina struggled to sit up from under him. "You are going to die, girl." He called in heavily accented English.
"I want her alive." Szarina suddenly hissed, and Erik nodded - momentarily admiring the look of mad planning in his mistress' eyes. "There is no way you can win." He called in to the lone girl, rubbing it in just for fun.
Inside the shelter, Kristen looked down at Donovan's head in her lap and stroked back a lock from his forehead. She heard Erik's shout as she wiped a few spatters from Donovan's cheek with her thumb. She sighed at Erik's words, murmuring to herself. "I know."
Breathing hurt, and moving was worse, but she leaned over and kissed her Shield-mate's cold lips. "I love you, Donny." She whispered. "Let's go home."
Erik jumped slightly as he heard the last shot, and beside him - Szarina screamed in frustrated rage...