The man about to engulf the vixen let his jaw contract until it shut and eyed the young halfbreed angrily.  Both men had blades tied to their belts - short switchblades that each man had managed to scrounge up on their own.  They wore simple black shirts and pants, with the emblem of the Resistance - a red V with the word "Freedom" in yellow spanning the top of the letter - sewn to their sleeves.  The gorged man against the wall lessened his screaming, then merely whimpered as the wound in his shoulder began to clot.  The vixen was squeezing her eyes shut, trying not to scream.<br/><br/>"You gonna waste a bullet on us, fella?" the angry man said.<br/><br/>"Hey!  Janus!  Fenson!  Leave the civvies alone!" an authoritative voice called out from the main avenue behind the two men holding the vixen.  The two men looked back as a slightly older man in a more impressive uniform approached.  Over his black shirt and pants he wore an army green trenchcoat and had a long sword tied to his belt.  Around his head was tied a black headwrap.  When he saw the young halfbreed holding the revolver to his man, he paused only momentarily.  "Let her go," he commanded the other men.  Reluctantly, the men released the vixen, who immediately ran back into her apartment complex.<br/><br/>"Sarge, he shot Collins," one of the men told the man with the coat.<br/><br/>"Looks like it," said the sergeant.  "Put the gun down, boy, we've got no fight with you.  These assholes seem to have forgotten that our only enemy is the establishment, not all furs in general."  The two men briefly let angry looks pass over their faces.