((OOC:  rofl baz))<br/><br/>Sergeant Halvorson recoiled from the plasma blast that sprang from the serpent's lips and engulfed their pursuers.  He watched as the furs fell, incinerating before his eyes.<br/><br/>Bane looked ill.  "Is that one with US?" he asked.  Halvorson nodded to him.  This was getting worse than anyone had anticipated.  The carnage was beyond what the humans had predicted or wanted.  The furs were not going to let go of their supremacy so easily.  This war could get very long.  Halvorson struggled with that thought.<br/><br/>O'Toole skewered a lioness-fur with the harpoon-gun, reeling the dead carcass in to the truck.  Halvorson put a foot on it and shoved it away as O'Toole pulled the harpoon from its chest.  He watched Bane pick off a fur's foot with the revolver.  The halfbreed was a good shot, in addition to a good rescuer.  On a deeper level, Halvorson wondered where he had gotten those skills.<br/><br/>The rat in the kilt was struggling with his very big shotgun.  By the looks of him, he'd come a long way to kill House Shenzai's soldiers.  By the looks of his gun, he made good money doing it.  A furry mercenary was on their side.  Halvorson almost grinned.  Maybe things weren't so bad.<br/><br/>Janus had been revived by the medic, and was cradling his head in pain, obviously suffering from a headache.  When the rat passed him a flask, he gladly took it, thanking him.  He took a swing and grimaced, swallowing hard on the liquor, then passed it to Halvorson.  Halvorson swigged on the flask, and nearly gagged.  Whatever it was, it was strong.  He passed it on.<br/><br/>"Spark up an' drink up, yae pinkie bastards," said the rat.  Halvorson finally let the grin come through.<br/><br/>All the furs chasing them were either dead or had run off.  Halvorson finally took a moment to sit down and breathe normally.  He felt the tingle of the rat's liquor and let it wash over him for a moment.  O'Toole relaxed also, sitting beside him, letting her powerful arms lower the harpoon-gun to the metal of the truck's roof.<br/><br/>Bane was looking at something.  He motioned to Halvorson.  "We might have trouble, sir," he said, pointing.  Halvorson looked in that direction.  Sure enough, someone was following them, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.  Halvorson looked at the silvery serpent, who was running to catch up with the truck.  He called to him.<br/><br/>"Uh... I never caught your name, mister," he said.  "But could you check out what's going on up there?"  He pointed in the direction of their pursuer.  "I figure with those wings of yours, you could find out faster than we could."<br/><br/>Janus shook his head sharply, trying to dislodge his headache.  He looked over at Fenson, who was now very pale and breathing in shallow bursts.  The medic was re-dressing his neck, looking grim.  "Is he gonna make it?" Janus asked.<br/><br/>The medic looked at him and shrugged.  "He's breathing through a tube in his neck, and he's lost a lot of blood.  Whatever got him didn't cut any major arteries, but he's not going to be in the fight for a long time... if he does make it."<br/><br/>Janus' face twisted up.  Fenson was the closest thing to a friend he had had in the Resistance.  He grabbed the medic by the shoulder, hard.  "You fix him.  Fix him good.  You make him stay alive."<br/><br/>The medic eyed Janus warily, but said nothing and returned to his work.<br/><br/>Collins spoke up suddenly as he wiped the blood from his machete.  "I'm hungry, Sarge," he said.  "Where can we find something to eat?"<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>In the Resistance command bunker, Eric Lentan reviewed the night's progress.  The Resistance controlled roughly 10% of the city's area, and had seized it within mere hours.  If things went well, they should be in control of a quarter of the city by midday.  The Bitch would start feeling the pressure and call in her big guns.  Then things would get... much more interesting.<br/><br/>There was good news from House Blotar's lands to the west.  House Blotar was a bovine house ruled by the eccentric and slovenly Baron Deral Blotar, a fat old bull more interested in his harem than his reign.  His lands were largely farming towns, where the humans toiled in the fields under the whips of anthro-horses and anthro-pigs.  That put the Resistance cell there in a much better position than the one in Kazmer.  The humans had turned their farming tools on their masters and controlled over a third of the lands already.  Baron Blotar had reportedly locked himself away in his castle in utter fear.<br/><br/>The struggle in the mountainous mining communities to the north was not as good.  House Javier owned those lands, and the coyotes were almost as fierce as House Shenzai.  The Resistance was faltering there.  Lentan hoped that there would be progress before Javier rallied and crushed them, then sent troops to reinforce House Shenzai.  It was all about the timing...<br/><br/>"Oil Rig to Dead Coney, over," came a call on his radio.  He keyed it and spoke.<br/><br/>"This is Dead Coney," he said.  This must be the report from Fifth Brigade's battle in Hempstead, defending the S.E.M.<br/><br/>"Dead Coney, bad news," was the message.  "Hempstead is secure, but a berserker got past our people and snagged Mark Karogen.  We don't know where he is now."<br/><br/>Rage flashed into boiling existence in Lentan's mind.  The Bitch had Karogen.  He tried not to destroy his radio when he keyed it.  "Understood.  Over."<br/><br/>He shoved himself away from his desk, so hard that the chair banged against the door and fell over.  With a scream he drew a dagger from his belt and repeatedly stabbed the wall.  Now all he had left was Jessica.  Karogen would suffer and die at the hands of the She-Wolf.  He slashed and stabbed the bricks until the dagger snapped in his hand.  Then he sunk down against the wall and fell silent.