((OOC:  I'm back.  Sorry for the extra day.  Things in RL are becoming... complicated.  But no worries.))<br/><br/>The First Sergeant nodded at Marice.  "Go for it," he said.  "Be careful."  He looked at Jenten, then at Emiko.  "She's coming up with you," he said.  He looked again at Emiko.  "Scream down the stairs at me if you have to.  If we're lucky we should be safe."<br/><br/>Janus watched Heretic depart and nodded to himself, running to Merelli in the gazebo.  "Sir!  Sir, if I can talk to you for a moment--"<br/><br/>"Quickly, Private!" Merelli snapped.<br/><br/>"Yes sir!  Sir, I might've fought these guys before."<br/><br/>"What?"<br/><br/>"Our group was attacked by Heretic's old outfit, the Blood Cult, sir.  We killed all of them, but it was a damn close fight, sir."  Janus wiped some sweat from his brow.<br/><br/>The Major piped up.  "Colonel, the anthro-fox gave us all the information he had on the Blood Cult."  He indicated a stack of notes on a nearby table.<br/><br/>"Does that help us at all?" asked Merelli.<br/><br/>"I'll have to--" the Major was cut off as a loud, semi-distant roar bellowed from the alleys, not nearly as loud as Chiro's, but it got the message across.  It was deep, mellow, and definitely lupine.<br/><br/>"It is, as you say, 'game time,' Private," Merelli said to Janus.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>The parking garage in Kree was eerily quiet, with exterior noises reverberating gently around its plain concrete interior.  Most spots were empty on the first level.  One or two sedans were parked here and there, but unfortunately they had been put out of commission in unique ways.  Near the ramp to the second level, a long smear of blood and an unrecognizable piece of clothing lay on the floor, with some flecks of blood on the wall.  The stains were recent - the bit of cloth was still moist even.   From looking at the smear it soon became evident that a trail of bloody droplets led from it to the garage entrance and out into the street.<br/><br/>Where the parking attendant would normally sit were hundreds of shards of broken glass, as the attendant's booth had been ruptured by many, many bullets.  The splattered blood inside did not bode well for the parking attendant's fate.  If one of the travelers poked a curious eye inside, they would be greeted with his shattered, oozing form crumpled up on the floor.<br/><br/>Feldana clung mightily to Sherra, unwilling to let go for anything in the world.  The group would be able to find several intact vehicles on the second floor - it seemed as though the fighting had not reached there, and most of those vehicles that remained were untouched.<br/><br/>One vehicle, a yellow and black station wagon, seemed impenetrable until one spied the spare key poking very slightly out from behind the driver-side sunshade.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>In the garbage truck, Halvorson cocked his automatic rifle.  "Ready," he said to Baz.<br/><br/>O'Toole's eyes opened and she sniffed deeply, clearing her head.  "Let's do this," she muttered.  The medic merely nodded.  Halvorson reached down through the hole and grabbed an edge of the manhole cover, and O'Toole grabbed the other half.  They both gently slid the cover up and aside, revealing a pitch-black hole.<br/><br/>"Fuck," muttered O'Toole.  "Now I know what I forgot."<br/><br/>Halvorson looked at her.  "What's that?"<br/><br/>"Flashlights."<br/><br/>Halvorson smirked.  "No problems there," he said, pulling four out of his belt.  O'Toole sighed with relief.  Halvorson looked at Baz.  "First or last, buddy?" he asked.  He sniffed at the hole.  "Smell like home?"  He gave Baz a nudge.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>The Sandlake Estates building was a fancy riverfront condominium complex, painted a bland light beige color.  The windows were small and far apart, save for on the side facing the river, which hosted a multitude of balconies.  In the early morning light, it looked like a pinkish monolithic cheese-grater.<br/><br/>A fire escape ran up each side of the building, but as usual the staircases on the ground floor were retracted and locked in place.  The main doors were wide, gold-framed panes of glass monitored by a security camera and a motion sensor.<br/><br/>Few furs were on the street this time of morning, but as Chiro and Arget stood a police vehicle rounded a nearby corner, turning down the rode the Estates fronted, heading away from the pair.  If the officers inside looked in their rear-view mirrors...<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>The sewers around Feign were silent, save for a few drips and gurgles.  Then... there was a new noise.  Something was moving nearby.  It sounded like wet leather being dragged across sandpaper.  A thick, musty smell of rot and mold immediately filled the area.  The shuffling noises grew closer, approaching from Feign's left.  A low-frequency gurgling was now becoming apparent, drawing ever nearer...