January 12th, 2030. Ears ringing and bleeding, and turning in all directions, you lay against a broken wall, clutching your broken arm and G1911 in your other bloody arm. Your comrade's bloody screams of pain and adrenaline make your ears ring even more, as the sound of missiles from tanks flies overhead. You painfully rip a piece of fur off your body to patch the wound on your leg, and take a syringe to your arm. You don't want to die here, you won't. shaking, you reach a paw into your jacket pocket, to take out a picture of your family. You smile weakly and stuff them back in. You reload the handgun, shooting a few shots in the enemy's direction, before quickly ducking back down. Just..how did you get here in the first place? Everything seems to disappear around you as you think back, a few years before you got drafted for the war.

February 10th, 2027. Sitting at the table with your wife, three kids and grandmother, all being wolves, you have bacon and stroganoff for breakfast, until the mail slides under the front door. Picking it up and sifting through it all. Bills, ads, magazines...until you get a letter with the army logo on the front. Your ears pin back, before opening the letter with your claw.

All men from 18 to 40 are to be present at the UFA (United Furry Army) army base on February 11th, 2027. UFA officials will give further instructions and information. Deadline is 12:00 AM before the trucks depart. Any men in the age range that do not attend will be held accountable for treason and given 3-5 years in prison.

Well, you don't want to be arrested. So the next day, you kiss your family goodbye before getting into your truck and heading the base, where a line of trucks are set up. Other men are waiting in a line.