The halfbreed fumed – but this wasn’t a major concern, unless the fox were armed with more than just a club.  He shoved Collins back against the wall and darted in, taking a wide swing with the metal lid to either hit or deter, but keeping his momentum to tackle the fox around the chest.  All he had to do was keep him deterred if the others were good enough.  He felt the club strike his lower back and snarled as he ploughed his opponent into the wall with all his weight – but it was turning out to be one swift and tenacious fur.<br/>He felt his arms grasped now, and he was grappled, slammed back into the brick wall, and swung his opponent back into the bricks – only to be hurled to the ground, rolling over and biting one another.  The halfbreed felt himself roll into the collapsed Collins, bringing him to yelp in agony.  (Fella’s had a rough night…) The halfbreed would think later, as Collins scrambled away, dropping his equipment about the ground.  Halfbreed kicked the fox away about a foot before he was pounced and felt fangs sinking into his arm.  “MOTHERFUCKER!” He screeched, scrambling backwards on one hand and two knees, falling straight into Collins’s scattered inventory as the others struggled in the back of the alley.  He felt at least three syringes jab into various spots on his back – and seconds later, he furiously kicked free, tearing them out lest they snap and leave pins in him.<br/>The blood began to rush to his head, and the world spun – he heard a feral roar before him, a streak of orange, two black paws pinning his tired arms to his sides and something warm and wet clamping over his head… as he stared down fate, sticky and humid, he suddenly realized that, of all things, he was hungry.  Starving.  BAD.<br/>“HANDS OFF!” He gave a muffled roar from inside, tearing his arms and head loose and driving the fox back into the wall with a painful thud.  The creature yelped, and the halfbreed retreated, only to be faced with a primal relentlessness as his opponent leapt straight for his throat –<br/>- And in seconds was sliding straight DOWN it instead.  The halfbreed leaned forward, attempting to make this quick, quick as possible, and soon had slurped up the fur’s tail with little effort.  He felt struggle, hard and furious, but only for a moment.  As the struggle finished up, he was surprised – his metabolism wasn’t that much more powerful than that of an average human, but his stomach seemed to be breaking up his opponent at a remarkable pace compared to Collins, as whimpers died down with the struggle.  The others gave him looks – a mix of interest and various other feelings – but the halfbreed merely answered with a contented belch.  In a matter of moments, his stomach was still bulging, but had lost the definition of its hapless contents, and he could move fairly easily once more on his own.<br/>“Sorry about…” He picked up one of the vials.  “Your shit… whatever it was.” A battlecry sounded over the streets up ahead.  “We need cover.  I can’t handle another one of those tonight…” He gave the sarge a concerned look and helped poor Collins back to his feet, preparing to strut on.