And here's the second half! If I do well with my writing, any future stories will not only be divided by chapters but also several halves! Hah!

Thank you for reading :3

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Blood Runs Thicker Than Water - Second Half


        The time on their car's dashboard was at sixteen-hundred by the time they were on the lone two-way road that led to the base. To Dexter and Chase's surprise, the army did not skimp out on putting thought into this year's Halloween. Trees were covered in cobwebs, pumpkin head lamp posts, and hanging cartoon bat decors between the trees.

        "They're serious about this, huh?" Chase said.

        "Do you think they'll do it for Christmas too?" Dexter said. "I wouldn't be opposed to free food."

        "If you make a good speech later, I bet they will."

        "Can there be one for my birthday?" Miles chimed in.

        Dexter chuckled, "We'll celebrate that at our home instead." He reached over to ruffle his helmet again. Ambitious if not quite vain of him, almost like himself.

        The outer perimeter wall of the base was tame, and there was no decor on their logo and sign that was carved into stone where it read 'Langley Army Base of the Canadian Armed Forces'. They were still a serious organization after all, that even the guards posted at the gate were in their normal fatigues, wielding assault rifles with reserve magazines in their belt pouches.

        Chase knew some of them, name dropping 'Liam', that bastard, he added. And Gabriel who was known for scoring a perfect ten with his handgun in the shooting range. Both of them were dogs of different breeds, the former a Husky, and the latter a Shiba Inu. Their faces were stone cold which meant either; 'God I wish I was not at this post right now', or 'My nose is itchy'. Or some other excuse.

        Dexter stopped in front of the hazard bar beside a kiosk that had a Jack-O-Lantern on its desk facing them. The decor even had a lit candle inside. He cranked his window down and saw the deer menacingly stare at him. The antlers added to that touch, well-maintained, sharp, if not a bit too reflective.

        The deer eyed his car's windshields, seeing a registered army sticker on it. He saluted, looking straight past the car. "Good afternoon, sir. May I request your passengers to remove their helmets so I may verify their identities."

        "Yes, sir." Dexter nodded, then turned to Miles, "Son, take off your helmet so Sergeant Adams here could see your face, okay?"

        "Yes, dad," Miles started removing his helmet as his father turned to Chase doing the same thing too.

        "Give me your ID too, just in case, Chase." He reached out to him.

        Chase set his helmet aside and rummaged through the side pocket of his bag for his wallet, unfolded it and passed a laminated army-green card with his information and portrait.

        "Thank you," and back to Miles, "Also son, present your wristband, please."

        With a quiet nod, Miles raised his wrist enough for the sergeant to see.

        Dexter passed Chase's ID to him, and fetched his own that were in the glove compartment and gave it after.

        Sergeant Adams cycled through their IDs, leaning down to verify Chase who had moved his head forward between the seats to make the clarification process much easier. He returned the IDs to Dexter and saluted them, "Welcome back Lieutenant Fennix, Lieutenant Quicksilver, and welcome Mr. Fennix to the Langley Army Base."

        Dexter and Chase gave him back a salute, and even young Miles did so improperly. And when they had finished theirs a half-second later, the deer did so too and lifted the bar for them. He drove ahead and into the rotunda situated just past the entrance gates.

        A massive flagpole stood in the middle, surrounded by trimmed grass and bushes, and a cemented plaque that read out the Canadian Army's mantra. And the flag on top flew the Canadian flag first, and the base's flag second just below it.

        Dexter made the exit on the left side of the rotunda, driving at a regulated speed of ten kilometers per hour. Miles beside him looked around with wonder, tossing a few questions at his father about this place. The building next to the rotunda was the guest center where all the parents and peers could meet with their beloved ones during days off, and graduations. And those days only. Next to the left was a long structure with vertical sliding metal gates, those were garages for their IFVs. One of them was in the process of opening so Miles could see what Dexter called a 'Coyote'; a green and dark green eight-wheeled armored vehicle capable of carrying infantry, and this version had a turret that wielded a 25mm Bushmaster and a 7.62 coaxial light machine gun.

        "Do you drive that dad?" Miles looked over his seat as they passed it.

        "No, I'm a sniper. I've ridden in one before, and so did your uncle Chase." Dexter said.

        "Relatively cramped at times," Chase added. "Think of this car but you have to fit eight people inside."

        "That's a lot," Miles said, looking around their car in fascination.

        "Mhm, and you still have a driver, a gunner, and a commander so that's eleven soldiers all in all." Chase said.

        "Can I ride in one in the future?"

        "I can try and convince the driver to let you inside, but I doubt he'd allow you to ride in it. It's mostly used for training here." Dexter said.

        "Aw, okay," Miles was bummed for a moment, but the consolation of sitting inside one was enough for him.

        "Though I can't promise it will be later. Maybe in the future, okay son?"

        "Okay dad," he replied.

        They also passed by an active duty barracks which resembled more like an apartment. Even painted in a shade of mint green too. There were balconies with potted decor on them, some having the Halloween spirit included statues of wolves, witch props, and even a pet cat that watched them drive by. Chase gave a quick explanation to the young curious Miles that that's where he lived for several months while he processed his papers for an actual house. And he said that the benefit of having their own house meant privacy, and being able to wear civilian clothes any time.

        But it was Halloween, and the residing soldiers were given the opportunity to wear costumes. They encountered more of them upon approaching the mess hall. Some dressed as witches, others wolves, but there were a handful who had gone as movie icons like cyborgs and androids, and others were wearing WW2 and WW1 costumes from the Allies side. And one of the Majors, a lion from the British Columbia Regiment went as a Spartan, who was strolling with his lioness daughter who dressed as Rapunzel.

        When Dexter turned to park, stopped by a few of the recruits-in-training who dressed as the Beatles, Miles pointed out another Power Ranger, the blue shark one he said. But neither Chase nor he knew who it was behind the mask, and was walking away. This Power Ranger wore the costume with his tail inside it as well. Guy was committed, he gave him that.

        After they had parked, Dexter said, "This is the mess hall son. This is where we…" he rolled his hands to him to finish the sentence.

        "Rendezvous, sir," he said, saluting his father before putting his helmet back on. Chase, and lastly Dexter too. He slipped his keys around his neck, the fluff held onto it, and the helmet's large frame hid it enough for it to not mold out.

        Dexter had never felt more proud of this direction that life had led him too. Best friend, best and only son all uniformed in their own way. He disembarked from their vehicles, as did the other two. And they all closed their doors simultaneously. But something welled up in Dexter. A familiar feeling when he had left for the Army more than a decade ago. The same pride that his parents felt when he went on this journey. Excitement, confidence, and optimism knowing that he was in a position for his son to see the place that helped him become him. His heart was beating fast, and he glanced over to Miles who looked around much more with curiosity. It was a diaspora to see the civilian vehicles intermingle with army ones like trucks, and hummers with camouflage to match their arboreal setting.

        He went over to him asking, "Well, what do you think, son?"

        "I think it's cool!" Miles said, hugging him.

        Chase was about to put up Dexter's camera but the bigger wolf waved him down. He decided to take a few snapshots of the scenery. Even the moon that was turning an intense orange, almost like the fruit if it were high above their atmosphere, and very large and full of craters. A second sun, one would say, while the first one was sinking into the horizon already.

        It was the cue for the lamplights to turn on, and for their PA systems scattered throughout the base to relay spooky ghost noises, with subtle cackling, and organs playing in the distance. They really did not hold back on this.

        Dexter held his son's hand, and Chase followed beside as they made their way into the mess hall that had been decorated as a big mouth of an alien creature from a franchise they do not know. The big windows were covered by eye-shaped cardboards with red blinking bulbs. A mix of foam and carpet had been rolled out at the main door to resemble a bluish tongue, and fangs on the door frame requisitioned from, he guessed, mine clearing devices. And there was a bat standing on top of the building, looking over them deviously. He wore Dracula's iconic outfit, cloak and all. And yes, it was a soldier who looked the part, and itt just so happened his posting was atop the building.

        He and Chase, with their trained eyes, could see the belt attached to sturdy rope that latched itself onto a hook behind the structure, for the soldier's extra safety. Whoever that soldier was, he would never hear the end of it but it really sold the setting.

        As they lined up to enter, Dexter could not distinguish his peers from their costumes. Some wore the iconic Ski Mask from that classic slash-thriller Monday the 16th, or others wielding fake fire swords that had a plastic flame with orange light imbued into them while dressed in robes from the recently premiered Stellar Battles. But what caught his attention the most was a father-and-son duo who he was not afraid to admit had the best costumes for the night: A pair of horses approached from where they had parked, and they caught most of their attention that even the bat stationed on the roof heard the clanking of their knightley attire. Not only did it seem like real armor, Dexter overheard two parents' elated discussion on how they dressed as the Knights of Purple and Gold. According to them, it was a near faithful recreation with their predominantly purple metallic painting, accented in gold, with pauldrons bearing the Emblem of the High Horse on the left shoulder, and Inylsen's three aligned moons on the right. The taller of the two, presumably the father, wore a velvet cape, while his son did not.

        "Dude, that's dedication right there." Chase was impressed.

        But Miles only cared for the Power Ranger he saw earlier, and the Blue Ranger did indeed return. This time, though, he was accompanied by a shorter Black Bull Ranger, who had the same guest pass as him. The young wolf waved over at them.

        Dexter saw them and waved along, "There he is again. Chase, do you know who that might be?" Because anything and everything about Power Rangers he had only gotten from Miles. Everyone else in his unit was either a rocker, a gearhead like himself, or a historian. Or, like Charles, all three combined.

        "No clue. Also, line's moved. Let's go." He patted his shoulder and turned his head towards the mouth.

        The Blue and Black Power Ranger were able to wave back at Miles as his father guided him inside, and the young wolf hoped to see them later.

        The lighting inside was an eerie ice-white because this was not the mess hall's typical fluorescent bulbs. No, these were surgery spotlights, and it illuminated the room's more peculiar decorations; IV stands with acid-green bags hanging on from them; broken in medicinal cabinets with traces of blood next to the restrooms, and a large mural of an alien's X-Ray painted on the wall where their division's flags are usually hung. He didn't know from what franchise, but this creature had thirteen arms of various length and bone structure.

Dexter saw that the tables were decorated like operating tables; medical green cloth draped over them, some with blood stains that were either blue or red, and the chairs were stationary stools. Each seating had a metal tray laid out for them, with their utensils and plates in them. A smart move that would've made kitchen clean-up more efficient, especially with the children. Some were shouting, others were crying because of youthful phobias like doctors and dentists. The mess hall that day did smell like a medical office, its disinfectant and odd leftover magazine scent. Opposed to the typical exhaustion of day-to-day training, or the greasy food.

The officers that normally sat away from the lower ranks also had their own theme too. Almost ominous, their seatings were perched atop of the kitchen that overlooked the entire mess hall. Its aesthetic was very mansion-like as their normal eating area was shrouded in a faint red light. He could barely see the oak table they usually ate on, but it had authentic candelabras on top, with a silver chandelier dangling above, and the normal lounge chairs they had were replaced with tall wooden ones with armrests.

Even with all these displays and decors, there were uncostumed soldiers stationed at most doorways. Authority was something that needed to be followed. The only part of it that had been laxed was the noise discipline.

Dexter, Miles, and Chase, found themselves sitting in the center right of the mess hall. The panther started taking more photos of the decor, and of themselves. Miles felt shy trying to pose something related to Power Rangers with all these people around, so he simply waved for the camera, and his father was not one to pressure him into it.

        Before long though, refreshments were served by soldiers in their fatigues who wore aprons and bibs over them. The one who attended to them was a Mink named 'Antoinette'. They were given small caramel-coated apples, a choice of water, juice, or soda served in fake-glass goblets, and a boysenberry jam sandwich with the jelly oozing out, almost like blood. Chase and Dexter opted for water, the latter especially as he was to give a speech in a matter of hours. Miles opted for a pink-colored juice that turned out to be four seasons.

        The turnout was far larger than Dexter expected. Almost every table had been occupied, and they were joined by a family of five who dressed as the cheerful and quirky Evvens family. This would be, by far, the most people he would talk in front of.

        Miles noticed his father's uneasiness, and held his paw, giving it a gentle squeeze. He said, "You'll be fine, dad."

        Dexter turned to him, his words drowning out the crowds talking over each other. He patted his son's back and reminded himself that all he truly needed to focus on was his son. Everything will be alright after. He recalled what he brought up earlier and armed himself with it. A cohesive mind would be needed for tonight, and he would get it before then. Hopefully.

        Buzzing filled the air, intersected with the audio hijinks of a microphone being plugged in. This caught the attendees' attention, with a few parents hushing their children to behave for a moment. The speaker who brought the noise discipline was the person Dexter had spoken with in the phone earlier: Major Harding. A horse who provided all the executive decisions of his unit during their tours. Always eager to see action even though their higher ups remind him that his duty was from a command post. A good soldier, Dexter thought. He should've known he would be the host, but what caught him off guard was his costume as a very big pencil.

        "Good evening, everybody." His stern eyes scanned the room and betrayed his outfit. "I am Major Harding, leader of the Ghost Unit." That was Dexter's unit alright. "And I would like to thank you all for coming to the Canadian Armed Forces' first ever Halloween Party." He said flatly. The horse never had a hype man's voice, and he would never hear the end of it if he tried. "This was an initiative for the military to be more inclusive of the every-soldier's family." Applause filled the air with that sentiment, and some of the costumed soldiers cheered aloud knowing there would be no consequence for it later.

        Dexter looked at Miles, with his helmet back on, focusing on the pencil man. He ought to acquaint them later.

        Major Harding continued, "Thank you." He waved at them to settle down for a moment. "Tonight's activities will be a trip to Freedom Square where our special units have prepared an impressive feat of stealth and acrobatics." Which piqued the interest of some of the children. "Followed by a tour around the ground logistics hangars." That only the soldiers applauded. "Where they will give a presentation." Where no one made noise about. "And give everyone free candy." And the room was full of cheer, the likes that Dexter had only seen during graduation. Even Miles raised both his arms and screamed onto the top of his lungs. This lasted for a moment until the parents once more instructed their kids to stand down.

        "Lastly," Major Harding said. "A special demonstration from one of Canada's finest wolves on the semantics of howling." And some of the wolf cubs in the crowd started howling, to the awes and laughter of different parents.

        Dexter appreciated the stretch of a compliment– he was far from being Canada's finest. But Miles certainly saw that in him, tugging at his arm with excitement.

        His son said, "You're going to howl for us later?"

        Dexter patted his helmet, "Mhm. And you'll see why I picked this costume for us." He patted his back, and they both turned once more to the pencil man on one of the steps that led to the officer's personal dining room. While the commotion was being calmed down, it only occurred to him that the costume would be too big for him to fit in the short headspace. "You're going to howl with us too, son."

        "I am?!" Miles yipped with excitement and Dexter nodded to him.

        He turned to the panther. "Chase," Dexter caught his attention, and pointed at their Major.

        He looked at him, "What's– oh. Hah!" Chase slapped the table along with his short humored outburst that died down as the room did. That was close.

        Major Harding continued, "Everyone here will be escorted by our Privates and Sergeants. Please observe proper decorum, and guests." He emphasized the visitors. "Do not be without your guest pass, or with your enlisted family member. There will be consequences for the soldier in charge should they break protocol." He cleared his throat, signaling towards all the soldiers present in the crowd. "Am I clear, soldiers!?"

        Every costumed individual, even through their masks answered, "Sir, yes, sir!" In unison, standing up as part of the protocol. Firm and steady.

        "Good." Major Harding applauded them. "Guests, give your beloved family a round of applause. They are true defenders of the flag and you should be proud of living with them. At ease, troopers."

        Every soldier in the seating area sat down to a round of applause, followed by a lot of hugs and kisses from their families.

        Dexter, Chase, and Miles shared a group hug, their god/son telling them, "That was awesome! How'd you guys rehearse that?"

        Both the wolf and the panther laughed, knee-slapping, and genuinely humored by that. Miles looked at them in disbelief. Dexter explained, "It's one of the things you learn when becoming a soldier; forming this unified bond."

        "Woah," Miles said under his breath. "Maybe I should be a soldier instead."

        Dexter reacted with a smile because he genuinely didn't know what to say to him at that point. Half proud yet half concerned because of the hazard being a soldier brings. "You sure?"

        "Kinda," Miles looked around. "You and uncle Chase do a lot of cool things and help protect our country."

        He held his shoulder and gripped it, "We'll talk about this when you grow older, son." Without sounding distraught. It was not only for his son's sake, but for his own too. Because he couldn't make that speech– presentation without him later.

        Chase sat there confused, and out of Miles' view with similar confusion on how to entertain his godson's interest. Neither he nor Dexter had the experience to talk about it, but maybe these other parents could give them insight.

        "May I have everyone's attention." Major Harding announced, "Our special forces are ready with their demonstration. Please follow our Privates who will be escorting you to Freedom Square. Private Lima."

        Private Lima, a female rabbit stood at attention, arms to the side. "Sir!"

        "Please lead the escort."

        "Sir, yes, sir!" She split her legs in a narrow v-shape, placed her hands behind her back. The Private was about to shout. "May the guests closest to the exit please fall in line in front of me!"

        It was quite the rolecall, Dexter thought. She may have potential to be squad leader because everyone followed her order. Parents who definitely had higher ranks, and their children fell in line with relative silence. The first set moved on their feet, a few murmurs from parent to child regarding candy, and other questions of who the shouting lady was.

        Private Lima paid no heed and continued, "The next set of rows, please fall in line beside them! And the next right after!"

        That was Dexter's table, and they awaited the row before them to finish lining up. It reminded him of his early days in bootcamp. But drill sergeants would penalize you if you were slow. Something he struggled with when he started. Normally if these were a bunch of cadets, and they took this long to line up, every second wasted was a push up. And this would've been two hundred, and he could see that pained relief from the other soldiers that didn't have to go through it again. Others even shared it, among other tales of punishment they had endured back then.

        After three hundred and sixty potential push-ups, Private Lima stood proper once more, took a step forward, and rotated her steps in place. She turned around on the spot, and stood once more, then stepped forward. "Follow me." And everyone did in the same manner they had stood up, the first set of rows were the first to exit, followed by the next and so on.

        Dexter could only imagine if this was a regular day and everyone had gone about marching in colorful costumes. It was weird yet humorous, and he hoped there would be a next year for this. He, Chase, and a few of the adults marched to that standard military beat of left-left-left-right-left, whereas Miles did so but with the opposing direction instead. His son's got spirit, and he was yet to have the conviction.

        Once they stepped outside, Dexter could see the red tint paint the moon, and he could see its light touch the rooftops of the buildings, and the faint shade against the dark green of distant trees. A subtle blanket over the nearby sprint-field, distorted by the stronger light of the lamps that lined along the streets. But he could see the little effect that it did on their suits, Chase saw it too but Miles didn't yet. The red on their uniforms shimmered like energy; they were Blood Moon Rangers after all, and it would be on nights like these they would make such a difference. As childish as the notion seemed to be, Dexter felt more confident about his speech later. It gave him an idea too.

        The costumed civilian division passed by the libraries first, and walked through its ground floor arch decorated with more cobwebs and headless horsemen on both sides. At the end was Freedom Square, an open park-like space which served as a recreational area for graduates and officers, or so the other parents have said. Even Private Lima was not allowed past the arch, replaced by a fruit bat in standard fatigues. Chase pointed out that he was from the Specter Unit. This opening had several benches and walking paths, even around the square that the panther had jogged around in. Four grown pine trees stood proud at the same height as the other, not far off from the corners. And in the middle was a fountain that depicted Sir Logsworth, a Honeybadger who was the first General of the base when it was established in the 1890s.

        They were all instructed to stand in a square formation surrounding it, facing outward. Asides from the library, Freedom Square was surrounded by the officer's personal quarters, a chapel, and an office for logistics and communication. These structures were, however, unlit. The guests and even the soldiers among them went silent as the collective felt that they were being watched. Not even the spooky sounds from the speakers reached this serene park.

        Dexter and Chase could only identify one bat hiding in the tree where the library and chapel connected. But given standard unit protocol, there were supposed to be six total, and the bat that guided them was simply in disguise. His wolf eyes tried to peer around the shadows that hid far from the moonlight. It was then Miles noticed that his suit dazzled under it, and he showed it to his father. Both the older wolf and the panther scoffed.

        After minutes of waiting for this presentation, the fruit bat said, "How'd you like our presentation so far?"

        Some of the children didn't seem to understand. Neither did Miles. The costume soldiers looked around more frantically, wondering where their ambushers were. Dexter and Chase glared at the same tree where the one bat hid well, and a few others tried to see what they saw but simply couldn't. Every soldier had been taught about flanking, maneuvering, setting up and anticipating ambushes. Specter Unit and Ghost Unit were taught to do it better.

        The same fruit bat walked around and noticed the Ghost Unit's finest had caught one of their own. "You're in big trouble Perkins!" He shouted at the tree.

        "Those guys are from the Ghost Unit, not bad." Lieutenant Perkins was a flying fox who unfurled himself from his upside down wing-made cocoon that remained near perfect against the darkened leaves. The outfit he wore benefited greatly during the night, wearing fabric that utilized experimental fabric that helped absorb any light to blend in with a dark backdrop. He went over and shook both their paws.

        "Not bad yourself," Dexter shook his winged hand. Miles' eyes were star studded with his father's impeccable display.

        The young wolf said, "Do you see the others?" He asked, looking around with curiosity. Eyes trying to trace the shadows.

        Dexter looked at their escort who wore their fatigues, "This one's hiding in plain sight." The others among them stared at the fruit bat who was caught red handed.

        "Well played, I'm Captain Abbott, squad lead of Specters." He reached out to Dexter.

        And he shook it too, "Dexter, co-lead of the Ghosts."

        "I've heard about your endeavors as the New Moon Sniper, or Wolf, was it?"

        "New Moon Wolf," Dexter corrected, and the murmurs behind him followed.

        This would be Miles' first time that others would revere his father in such a manner. Anything and everything about him that had been told was simply him being a good soldier. Him doing his duties. Him going on tour to bring peace. Nicknames like 'Dex' or 'Fen' whenever he encountered his dad 's friends in public. But not 'New Moon Wolf'.

        Dexter couldn't bring himself to lie or maintain the facade to an officer, unfortunately, and he let the murmurs continue. He and Miles heard them talk about his infamous howl, and how he 'liberated' a town almost by himself. Chase was there too but he ran spotter and logistics for him. And he cut the tension by introducing Miles to the Captain, "This is my son, Miles."

        "Miles, eh?" Captain Abbott shook the young wolf's hand. "Your father's a great soldier. Knew where Perkins hid, and identified me as a combatant. Did you know there are four more of us here?" He said not only to him, but to the guests and other soldiers too.

        "Specters!" The captain stepped back. "Shriek!"

        And the dark corners between buildings, even on the rooftops, yelled "Strike!" There were four more indeed, all dressed in the same experimental outfit. The most prominent was one who hid quite plainly in sight, hung down from one of the inner patios of the officer's segment. He waved at the attendees whilst in this position.

        Dexter applauded for them, Chase, Miles, and everyone else followed. Specter Unit was on another level, and he could feel the need to beat them at their own game without the use of specialized fabrics. He would have to get creative for that. But he had to learn about it first.

        Captain Abbott began explaining the concept of stealth, ambush, and tactics that could put more than a hundred people at a disadvantage against just six. Clever positioning, communication, and utilizing hand signals. The soldiers noticed his terminologies were all child-friendly, and it did intrigue the younger members of the group. That as they were being escorted out, spoke highly about wanting to be a soldier. The army's plan at work here.

        Next, they went around the regular soldier compound that served the housing, the classrooms, and other typical public facilities exclusive to them like clinics, gyms, and even a grocery. The latter of which was opposite of where the mess hall was, and closer to the garage that was opened fully on display; the same Cougar was still there, accompanied by army trucks. Those who typically operate it were raccoons who were well known for their detail, and innate mechanic nature. They talked at great lengths about their army trucks, tall six wheelers, a pair on the front, and two on the back. It was also added that those in the back could be interchanged for tracks, the same used on tanks, to handle rough terrain. The soldiers were the most intrigued given these vehicles have contributed to their survival in distant areas.

        Dexter told Miles that these trucks were the reason they had coffee or poutine out there in Kuwait. He was a good soldier, that he would say, but logistics were as vital as doctors and cooks in the army. And the speaker gave examples of what they brought: food, clean water, fuel, medicine, and candy most of all that had gotten the attention of all the kids. They handed out plastic Jack-O-Lantern bags packed to the brim with store bought snacks. The adults were also given too but it only meant more for their kids. Dexter received one as they were passed out from the back and side of the trucks, and admittedly he wouldn't mind indulging in some of these. The chocolates were a no-go, but those fruity hard candies were from his favorite brand.

        And once everyone had gotten their own bag, some already lighter than others, the driver/logistician also reminded everybody to thank the hand that gives because they always saved lives. Everyone thanked them, and some of the soldiers gave a more heartfelt thanks for all their effort during high intensity conflicts in prior years.

        Private Lima regrouped with them and informed them of an intermission before their final presentation. Her screaming voice had tired out but her performance earlier had made everyone aware of her, "There will be an intermission at the mess hall where dinner would be served. Please follow me." And the strict stance she had had softened to, simply gesturing them over and slouched with her walk.

        Dexter noticed that the moon's tint had intensified from a light red to a scarlet red, and the colors that matched on his suit glowed, almost like a calling to the moon itself. People murmured not only about the suit, but the wolves' ties to the moon itself. Almost mythic, with his already strong reputation amongst his fellow soldiers. Chase had been receiving the same kind of murmured praises. And a few whispers about Miles too. Rumors were exchanged, and it all shifted once they were back inside the mess hall.

        Officers and their families were already laughing at their table in the distance, whereas the butler-soldiers had prepared their proportioned meals at the table. And as crowds typically went, they also whispered amongst themselves about Lou's. The rumor spread and everyone was talking about it. Where they sat it didn't matter, as long as they found a spot with food on it. The parents, however, told their children to wait until everyone had sat down. A sort-of soldier tradition to wait until the order had been given.

        Major Harding, everybody's favorite Pencil, returned on the steps with a slightly bent eraser head on top of his costume, "Good evening everybody. I see that our soldiers have understood the semantics of mess hall discipline. I applaud that," he applauded by himself. "At ease, and do enjoy your dinner."

        "Yes, sir," every soldier responded in unison, followed by the sound of indulgence.

        "Dessert will be served after the last presentation." Major Harding said before returning the mic to a private.

        Miles and Chase began eating into their meals of bat-shaped burger sandwiches, served with sides of pumpkin-shaped chicken nuggets, and squash risotto with skull-drawn cream on top of it. Dexter, however, stood up and went over to the Major for a request.

        And he returned, an ingenious smile on his face.

        "What did you say?" Chase said after swallowing.

        "Add more flair to my presentation, 'tis all." Dexter started with the risotto first. It was sweet, creamy, and warm enough to soothe his nerves.

        Conversation continued around the mess hall and the talk was mostly about the children's impressions about the military. Given the child-friendly manner at which it was introduced to them, they were more than excited to become a soldier. Miles, though, wondered more about his father's endeavors on the field.

        Dexter patted his son's back and feigned the response by eating food, taking slow sips of water. His son was preoccupied with his own meal too, as well as finding that other Power Ranger pair. But when he finally had to explain it, he did so simply.

        He said, "I was a sniper who had to guard a village back in my first tour of Afghanistan. I did my job well and I was praised for it by my superiors and the locals." Then he explained why the specific title, "New Moon Wolf was because I howled." He drank some water to that effect, knowing he would do one within the hour. "In a manner that scared off anyone who wished to do that village harm." His eyes darted to Chase with a smile, "And my best friend was there to witness it."

        "Yep," Chase confirmed for him. "Your father is scary when he's serious."

        "Definitely," Miles agreed. "Broken vase…" was all he said.

        "You were younger, and you wanted to have fun. Even until now." The father gave his son assuring pats that eased the tension. "I realized that I shouldn't punish you for an honest mistake." Those words were carried by a weight that Miles' innocence should not bear witness to, keeping his face straight to not hint the true horror behind it.

        After half an hour had passed, the pencil pusher returned to the steps, "Good evening once more, ladies, gentlemen, children, and soldiers. Our last presentation is about to start, so if I may request Lieutenant Fennix of the Special Ghost Unit, to please guide everybody outside."

        Dexter stood up in a snap, stepped aside and replied, "Sir, yes, sir!" He removed his helmet revealing red, determined eyes behind it.

        Miles heard a different wolf out of him, and he felt compelled to follow.

        Dexter continued, "May I request everybody to return all your utensils to your trays, and proceed outside in an orderly manner." Followed by, "May I request everyone with helmets and masks to remove their headgear too."

        The soldiers among them in their tables replied with a 'Yes sir!' in unison. And they had stowed their utensils and drinks onto their tray like clockwork. Their guests had done the same too without being rigid.

        Miles tried to do it robotically, and Chase was able to take a photo of him doing so, with his father standing firm in the background as they all waited for the sound of shifting utensils and plates to cease.

        The silence lasted for a moment as the sound of a marching pair of shoes walked towards the entrance. Dexter ordered, "Proceed!" And the mix cue of soldiers and guests stepped outside with haste and curiosity. All the canines had their helmets close to their hips, Miles did too. He moved through the crowd, Chase followed soon after having given the camera to Major Harding with the request to record it. All of them joined their father who stood close to the road where the street lamps were turned off. Once everyone had gone outside, the mess hall's lights behind were switched off too. Followed by an eerie silence that no murmurs escaped anyone's lips. The speakers had been shut off, and the preliminary howls of the wind blew over them.

        Light from the Blood Red Moon, stark and bright, glowed Dexter's suit, as did Miles and Chase beside him. For a minute, Dexter had closed his eyes. The nature of his kind thumped loud in his heart, and the act of wearing this suit surged him a primal sense of authority that coincided with his dreams. How it glowed the brightest, reflecting almost the same glow as the moon itself. Darkness around him disappeared, and he became the source of a red ominous light. There was a tug on his hand, his son looked up to him in awe and fear. He greeted him with a loving gaze from that of a father, and held his shoulders to assure him. Wordless, that he loved him. Everything he had accomplished was to ensure the safety of his beloved Miles. Though their fur didn't match, as a surprise to most of the soldiers who knew about him. But their eyes were the same, and they saw a familial bond that none dared to sever. Guarded by their closest friends, their country, and under the Blood Red Moon, where tears and sweat trickled down easily, blood does not. It would be stuck with them no matter what. "I love you, son." Dexter whispered.

        "I love you too dad, you got this." Miles assured him.

        That was all he needed, and he returned his gaze towards the moon, "We wolves, dogs, jackals, coyotes– canines everywhere, howl during full moons. Here in the military, we howl as a unit, as an army; as one." There was a pause, and an audible exhale for dramatic flair. Dexter put his arms to the side, a step forward, and turned his heels towards them. The suit brought out the red glow of his eyes, natural, commanding. "Soldiers perform their duties so that their fellow soldier," he held Chase close to him. "Your friend can fulfill their duties too. That way we may protect," he held Miles' shoulder, "the ones we love the most with utmost strength, virtue." He went on, "To the military, it did not matter if you were a bat, a raccoon, or a wolf. A bird, a shark, a dolphin, a horse. We will take you in and honor you as our own. Regardless of your nature, so we may nurture you as a competent force of nature. Your loved one accepted the call to protect Canada, and swore their own life to do so. I have too. To protect my son Miles, to protect my best friend Lieutenant Quicksilver." He patted them respectively. "And Chase here would do so for me, for my son; for all of you."

        "So, why a howl?" Dexter explained, "A howl serves as a reminder that even in the hardest days, these darkest of nights, we are always there for each other. You will hear us across the battlefield, the regions, the continent, to carry the message that we are together. Always. And it mattered not if you were a feline, or a lizard. The bond of a soldier is transcendent of our nature. And no effort from Specter Unit, or the Logistics Division, the cooks and servers in the mess hall, would be accomplished without your fellow soldier beside you. Trusting them, respecting them. The howl ensures that. So I invite all of you, ladies, gentlemen, soldiers, children, regardless of species to join us in this act of unity."

        Those who hadn't removed their helmets earlier were moved by such words and finally did. They watched the Blood Moon Ranger turn around and face the moon.

        "Look up towards the moon, and follow my lead." Dexter said. He waited for a moment to ensure that most had looked up, some of the children howling beforehand, leading to a subtle giggle. The merriment died soon after, and he could feel the emotional stirring in his chest. His nerves blazed hotter than they had before, the Blood Moon empowered him.

        The howl started with one, and the next minute his son joined. Dexter reached out and gripped his son's hand, the young cub's howl was deeper than before, almost as if the moon had affected him too. And every canine behind him followed, their continuous hymn echoing across the night and blood-like sky. The non-canines followed with their mimicry of a wolf's howl, some good, some not-so, lions roared, and snakes hissed, but Dexter welcomed it as their own howl regardless. And the next chorus followed, a longer tune that tugged from the depths of his diaphragm, now adjoined by the city of Langley, and then the surrounding forests, and further on as West Canada, under one voice, were united. From the elderly to the infant, they all heard and felt the lifeline that made up their country, any country for that matter.

        The closing hymn ended with the creeping silence as their voices lowered. Whether by instinct or exhaustion, silence throughout the night. Not even the crickets chirped nor the feral owls hooted. And Chase instigated a cheer, and everyone followed with applause and embraces between their families, and newfound friends. The formalities closed with the lamplights reactivating and brightening the mood for everyone. Dexter was found hugging his son, and Chase taking the photo after, with the blood moon in sight, and as their suit's dazzle waned to the gentle orange light.

        Major Harding appeared to congratulate Lieutenant Dexter for his moving speech and presentation, shaking his hand as he announced that dessert awaited them inside the mess hall. Yet stressed discipline and composure so everyone could get a fair share of Lou's famous Autumnal Lava Cake.

        The Blue Power Ranger, and his Black Power Ranger companion approached the Fennixes. They were both German Shepherds, the former was Staff Sergeant Blake Ollson, an explosives specialist who invited his nephew, Adrian Ollson, to partake in the Halloween event. The latter was shy, but he did not hide the amazement towards their suits.

        Blake invited the Fennixes and Quicksilver to join them for dessert. He asked Dexter where he was able to source those costumes, and the following exchange happened over a fragrant and chocolate oozing lava cake, topped with ice cream. Miles and Adrian were exchanging their preferred candies, and Chase returned with camera in hand. He reviewed the video that Major Harding recorded which captured the shimmer of red light against people's costumes, the audio was crisp and it captured his entire speech without flaw. And the howl made him recoil because of how loud it was on the vibrating device. Once it hhad settled, a few more photographs were taken about Miles' newfound friend, and Major Harding having a difficult time trying to go up those steps.

        Their night in the mess hall lasted for another two hours before Major Harding, once again, thanked everyone for coming and wishing them a safe trip home. Particularly for those who drove here.

        Dexter bade Blake a farewell, as did Miles to Adrian. Both these children had an inkling that this would not be the last time they saw one another. His family were once again back in their car, and Dexter yanked out his keys from his neck and put it into ignition, car humming to life as the headlights turned on to several costumed families going to their homes here, or to their cars. It took a while before the crowd thinned out for them to drive home, so he turned to Miles who was counting his candy, and he kissed his forehead before hugging him.

        "That was a good howl you did there, son," Dexter said.

        Miles' tail wagged against the seat, "You really think so?"

        "Mhm, you get better at it as you get older." He gave him fatherly pats on the shoulder. His son was growing up, and was glad to have been there for the most crucial ones. Tonight was one of those. And he hugged him again, tightly. "Thank you."

        "You're welcome, dad."

        "And thank you, Chase." He lifted his head over his son and rested on his other shoulder.

        Chase was browsing the extra fifty photos he took throughout the event before he made eye contact with Dexter, "No problem, Dex. Thank you for your speech, you sure warmed up to a lot of people, and made all the soldiers bond with their families much more."

        "You really think so?" Dexter fished for more compliments.

        "Of course," Chase jabbed his arm, "As competitive as we are at times, we all have a strong bond with one another."

        Dexter loosened his breaks now that there was a large enough gap for his car to pass through, "Honestly, I winged that last part of the speech."

        "Really?" Miles said.

        "No kidding?" Chase raised a brow as he put his seatbelt on, crossing his arms awaiting the wolf's explanation.

        "Yeah, the trail of thought just shifted around, realizing halfway through that I can't bring up the whole intimidation factor." He drove towards the exit, giving a quick salute to the deer who held up a salute as more cars left the base.

        "It'll come up eventually," Chase watched as the Halloween decor had gone by. "Maybe when you become Captain and you tell all them wolves that howling scares the enemy silly."

        "The infamous New Moon Howl." Miles said. "Can you tell me about it, please?"

        Dexter sighed, smiling, "I'll tell you this, son: I forced a howl."

        Miles digested that information, bouncing back and forth what that meant. Correlating the act of howling to full moons, and then what Chase said about intimidating their enemies. And when it finally clicked, "How did you do it?!"

        "Like Captain Abbott said, 'It's all about positioning'." Dexter said. But that was a story for another time.

****