Karogen's comment settled in the dank air for a moment before a grisly chuckle shuddered at him from the darkness.  "Our lords and masters..."  The voice decayed into a series of rattling bellylaughs for a moment.  "Whips and swords!  They hate us!"  It laughed some more.  "I asked her why, she never did tell me... she likes bleeding me more..."<br/><br/>Whoever-it-was laughed very hard, and Karogen could hear the sound of flesh slapping stone.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Beside Bane on the roof, O'Toole glanced over just a moment to see the little trickle of blood form at his lips and ooze down his chin.  She worried for just a moment longer about him, but when a fanatical cry erupted behind her, thought was irrelevant.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"I shall strike thee down in the name of my god!!!!!"</span>A cultist had climbed up to meet them.  O'Toole spun, dropping her pistol in favor of her quarterstaff.  The moron had a spear - this would be too easy.  In an instant she was at him, one end of her staff swinging to parry the spear, the other readied to strike the cultist's head.<br/><br/>Within the safe house, Collins returned to the doorway with a fresh bandage.  Cultists were laying dead by the truckload in the street - picked off from above or immolated by the hail of bullets below.  He brought his tranquilizer gun to bear on the nearest and fired, missing wide.  He tried again and managed to stick the morphine syringe cleanly through the target fur's ear.  It didn't seem to notice.<br/><br/>Halvorson, Janus, and the other humans were running out of targets.  Jania was being hemmed in by a group of well-armed cultists, but she blocked their chances of a clear shot.  Most humans were changing out their clips for fresh ones and eagerly looking for a shot.