No one is sure of exactly who started the chaos.
In a split-second, civilian protesters were rushing military troops. They chucked bottles and threw rocks and swung makeshift clubs at soldiers who tried desperately and calmly to defend themselves.
“Subdue these civilians!” Arnquist shouted. “Do not fire unless fired upon!”
The mass of humanity broke off into clusters of violence and misunderstanding. All sight of the true objective of both groups—safety—was lost amidst the riots.
It was then that the werewolves made their move.
They rushed from every conceivable direction, hundreds of vicious predators. They struck with claws and fangs and savage strength, slaughtering many and infecting even more.
The soldiers fired in blind panic, killing as many of their own and civilians as their enemy.
Civilian protesters found out too late of the true reason for military intervention at Fielder, running in vain from the carving talons and mutating saliva of the beasts.
Through it all, the lone sniper tried his best to pick off targets given the opportunity, and to not retch at the violence below. He had seen the result of the attempted hostage rescue; two of his comrades were now she-wolves. He could not account for the civilian hostages, though he would not be surprised to know that they, too, were among the enemy.
Many of the infected were being dragged to safety by their poisoners. He could not waste time watching the spectacle, but he knew from the sounds of animalistic coupling and rampant howling that they were being transformed.
The group of helicopters remained overhead, reluctant to fire until the bleakest of moments. He had no way to radio them, and no authority to order a missile strike until he knew of the commanding officers’ fates. If they were dead, or worse, joined the enemy…
He was about to fire once more when the light above him dimmed. He looked forward, and saw a shadow looming over him, too large to be human…