Danny stood slightly away from the crowds thronging around the slave cages. It made him sick. It was ironic. These...animals, laughing and gawking and flashing their wallets and purses in bids on innocent people that they viewed to be the animals. His hands went white knuckled where they gripped his weapon just thinking about it. He stood, stolid and still, an unwavering symbol of hate and discrimination. The armor, the mask, the weapon, the position it was all stained with the blood of countless innocents. He blew a breath out through his balaclava and tried to relax. It wouldn't do to get high strung and dwell on matters he couldn't change, not yet anyway.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">No way...It can't be...</span>Adam Serasin, the big bold bastard of Retribution himself was prancing around the slave markets, his cold stare cooly regarding the markets.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">How easy would it be....Just thumb off the safety...sight down the barrel...squeeeeze the triggeeer...And pow. The biggest son-of-a-bitchin slave trader in Retribution bites the dust...Hard...So simple....But so impossible...</span>He scratched his chin slowly, itching through the latex mask while peering through the tinted visor of his helmet. His radio was alive with chatter as it always was.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Hey, this fight is startin' to get pretty nasty.</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Yeah, but it ain't nothin' like that psychotic She-bitch wolf. She fucks shit up on the regular maaan!</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Shit, you assholes get to chill out at the arena while I get stuck pullin' slum patrol.</span></span>A senior voice chimed in, older, gruffer. Angrier.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Shut it you assholes, this channel is for OFFICIAL reports. Switch to a private channel for you ladies to talk about dresses and boys. Market patrol, check in.</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Hey hey, this is Mark Pat 1, got eyes on Mr. Serasin, everything seems high and tight from this end over. </span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Mark Pat 2 checking in, are you guys seeing this shit? Crazy snow leopard bitch man. I dunno what the fuck is up with that, but I'm not gonna get any closer than I got to.</span></span><br/><br/>Dan turned his attention to the cage in question. He was instantly captivated. He had never seen a creature like that before in his entire life! And as an ODSC officer, he had seen it<span style="font-style: italic">all.</span>He keyed the zoom on his visor and observed the creature in question a little closer. The eyes, the shifting...It was...incredible.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Hello? Mark. Pat 3? Dashenko, call in dammit!</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Uhhh, Mark Pat 3 here, yeah sorry, my gear was turned down, everything looking good on my end, over."</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Okay, Market Patrol, start moving, slow patrol people, everything is looken calm and we don't wanna stir up tension so keep it friendly.</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">"Copy that, on the move."</span></span>He tightened up the straps on his rifle and slung it over his shoulder before beginning to move in circuit around the market, slow, steady steps carrying him around the market. As he passed by the cage with the curious snow leopard creature, he pushed his helmet's visor up, observing and committing to memory the cage's markings and dimensions, his eyes steady and unwavering. The red and gray peering out from above the unwavering balaclava was...unsettling...to some, and coupled with the ODSC uniform and firearms, the crowd gave him a respectful distance.<br/><br/>As he came about and the cage faded from view, he scowled beneath the mask, his red eye flashing with blue for the blink of a moment. He sighed and turned his visor back down over his eyes before syncing his helmet's radio with the pirated transmitter he carried in his gear.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"North Wind, this is Wolf, I'm in the Harem."</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Copy that Wolf. You got us a solid tango?</span></span><br/><br/>Danny stopped for a moment and looked back in the general direction of the astounding shape-shifter.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Ohhhh yeah North Wind. This one is fixin' up to be one hell of a dance."</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Solid Copy Wolf. Waitin' on your signal to call the boys in for supper. </span></span>Reattaching his radio to the regular broadcasting system, he checked in before continuing his route. Clearing his throat, he returned to his patrol.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Whats right ain't always simple an whats simple is rarely whats right. </span>