((OOC:  No worries, Seru.  See you soon!))<br/><br/>The station wagon rolled out of the parking garage and into the debris-strewn street.  Three blocks away, toward the Fort, was a throng of humans, leading captured furs around by their heads.  Some of them saw the car and raised their weapons, but upon seeing the fur strung to the hood and the two humans inside, they lowered their weapons.  It was too far away to call to them, so they simply watched as the wagon turned in the direction of Sombquist.<br/><br/>Feldana kept squeezing Sherra's hand from underneath the sleeping bag, hoping for some sort of reassurance.  She didn't know what was going on outside of her now tiny world, but she did know they were going to see her aunt.  She knew that they would all be safe there.  Her aunt would be so happy to see her.  She would give her a new toy and maybe treat her to her favorite salad, and let her new friends wash up and change clothes.  Then they would all sit to watch her favorite TV program, "Sail the Seas," with that funny raccoon she liked.  Uncle Lakran would come home from work and give her his big, strong hug, then play hide-and-seek with her for a while.  And when the sun went down, Auntie Maeve would brush her hair by the fire and ask about her schooling while Uncle Lakran sent the slaves off to bed.  And, like always, Feldana would say what a wonderful teacher her mother was.<br/><br/>Feldana's little eyes welled up and she cried into Sherra's palm.<br/><br/>The yellow station wagon made its way out of Kree with little incident.  The road to Sombquist was long, but the sun rising over the waving crops to either side made the scenery pleasant.  Behind them, the capital town of House Blotar's empire smoldered.<br/><br/>And there, on the horizon ahead of them, was a faint plume of smoke.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>O'Toole shook her head, whispering.  "I swear I heard something.  Something howling down there."<br/><br/>"Nothing there now," said Halvorson.<br/><br/>"Yeah."  O'Toole sighed.  "It was something big, whatever it was."<br/><br/>Halvorson scratched his cheek.  "I knew a fella who was slaved in the Sanitation Department.  He said there were... things... in the sewers.  Things that would sneak up on slave parties on repair duty and make off with one of them.  He said the guards wouldn't stop the things unless they came after them.  'Sludge Freaks,' he called 'em."  O'Toole looked at him.<br/><br/>Everyone's radios suddenly chirped, and Arget's voice came through quietly.  "This is Foxtrot, come in team Trash Truck. We are preparing to make our move, on your command. Over..."<br/><br/>O'Toole's eyes brightened, and a smirk came over her face.  Halvorson put his mouth to the collar of his shirt, where he had clipped his radio, keying the push-to-talk button.  "Gotcha, Foxtrot.  Hold position.  Wait for the word.  Over."  He let the radio go and looked at O'Toole.  "I don't know.  Some people used the sewers to get to the kickoff last night, other than that, nobody's ever been down here.  Not the Resistance, nor the Bitch's troops."<br/><br/>O'Toole looked around her at the narrow passage, the brick walls scarcely far enough apart for the two of them to stand side-by-side.  She thought about the howl she had heard.  "Too cramped down here," said O'Toole.  "And maybe those Sludge Freaks are all the protection the Bitch needs."<br/><br/>The medic came over.  "Everyone's down.  Manhole's closed."<br/><br/>Halvorson nodded at him.  "Ah, hell, I don't know," he said, standing.  "We hear an explosion and now there's nothing.  It wasn't near us, and it sure as hell ain't in the direction of the Palace.  If it was a Sludge Freak, let's hope it's dead."  He looked past the medic to Baz and Sara.  "Let's just get moving.  The sooner we get outta here, the better."<br/><br/>The three humans began walking down the sewer shaft in the direction of the Palace, letting the Slayers take rear guard as they swept their flashlights over the walls and ahead, moving quietly.  Roaches and spiders skittered along the walls and ceiling while rats squeaked and hid in inlet pipes before them.<br/><br/>"Now, I don't know how sewers work," said the medic suddenly, "but I doubt this is going to take us straight to the lake."<br/><br/>"It prob'ly won't," said Halvorson.  "The Bitch might be mean, but she wouldn't dump sewage into the city's drinking water.  We'll find out how to get to the lake soon enough."<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Feign's surroundings were bleak.  The masonry walls were home to inlet pipes and small cracks, which in turn were home to all manner of creepy crawlers and vermin.  Only the light from the occasional sewer grate overhead let him see.  The shaft was barely six feet tall and scarcely that wide.<br/><br/>From time to time, a smaller secondary shafts branched off from the one he was in, barely big enough for him to crouch into.  They led only to pure darkness.  The air was thick with the smell of waste and decay.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>For Faust, the going wasn't much better.  He was in a sewer main below a wide avenue, so he could keep up his sprinting for a while.  Occasionally he would break through a spiderweb or kick open a nest of crawling insects.<br/><br/>Then, something was stretched across the sewer floor, coming from a secondary shaft that intersected the main, stretching from one side to the other.  It was thick and wet.  The smell of rot and decay rose from it.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Arget and Chiro were guarded from prying eyes by the three-foot ledge that edged the building's roof.  From where he was, Arget could peek over the ledge and see the Palace's roof, which allowed him to scope out the roof's layout and follow the lookouts' movements.<br/><br/>There was little on the roof beside the helicopter pad.  A door set into a small booth stood off to the left, obviously leading to the stairs downward.  The door was metallic and the booth was concrete, a strange modern outcropping atop the aged granite of the Palace.  The ledge bordering the Palace roof was about half the size of the lookouts.  The Palace itself sported ribs of raised granite on its exterior walls, each rib running from the ground to the roof between the windows.  Metallic shrouds ran from rib to rib over the windows, obviously meant to be protection from projectiles.  The top three floors of the Palace did not have any ribs or windows, but instead bore a massive bas-relief of a battle scene.  Ancient furs were fighting each other all around the top of the Palace, dressed in intricate armor and wielding many blades.  Their images were weathered by time and neglect.  The roof ledge regained the ribs of granite, which extended up beyond the ledge for perhaps three feet, tapering off into spikes.  Larger, thicker ribs of granite ran up each corner of the Palace, extending a full ten feet above the roof before curving inward into large pointed hooks.  The ancient splendor of the Palace made the helicopter pad look even more out of place.<br/><br/>If Arget looked very closely, he could see that there were no visible vent shafts or outlets of any kind on the roof.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Janus picked himself up off the floor as the storm of blades in the window died out.  Hearing Heretic's words, he backed away, knowing full well that cultists would be coming through that window any second.<br/><br/>And come they did.  Three cultists hoisted themselves up over the edge of the window, scrabbling to get inside quickly.  Janus backed himself up against a wall beside Heretic and fired a volley from his rifle at them.  All three slumped dead and were dragged back into the alley, to be replaced by three more, clamoring to get into the room.<br/><br/>Janus fired again.  "If they're looking for you, they ain't gonna get you!" he cried.  Suddenly, there was a loud bang in the building, clearly audible over the noise of battle.  Feral screams and the sound of pounding feet filtered into the room through the door.  "They're in the building!"<br/><br/>The First Sergeant heard Emiko's call and tensed.  He held up a cautionary hand to his men, who had also heard.  Looking at Marice, he nodded, a signal that he had her back.  The Resistance troops on the first floor crouched low, trying not to be seen through the windows.<br/><br/>The major and his makeshift strike team made their way to the flank of the Blood Cult, keeping to unoccupied alleys to avoid being seen.  They emerged into a broad street two blocks north of the park, where they saw dozens upon dozens of archers standing lined up in rows, nocking new arrows to their twisted bows.  In a moment, they had loosed a new volley.  The major's group withdrew quickly into an alley across the street.<br/><br/>Merelli cursed and spat as a second cloud of arrows descended upon his reserve positions.  More men fell than before, including some medics that had rushed to help the first group of wounded.  The roof of the gazebo shuddered with more impacts.<br/><br/>The major looked at the six men he had brought with him.  "We need to get in close so they can't get a shot at us," he said to them.  He pulled four syringes from his pocket.<br/><br/>"Vore Juice?" asked one private.<br/><br/>"No," said the major.  "Berserker Juice."  Their wide eyes showed him their mixture of fear and excitement.  "Taking this is gonna mess with your system.  But it also means you'll be able to take out a lot of their guys.  Whoever wants to take this, I have to let you know that you might never recover.  But you'll be saving your brigade.  Who wants it?"<br/><br/>Hesitantly, three men raised their hands.  He handed them each a syringe.  "Guess I've got the fourth one," he muttered.<br/><br/>"But sir, aren't you important?" asked one other.<br/><br/>"No more important than you guys," he replied.  "Let's get closer."<br/><br/>The group wormed their way up the alley, then across, along the next street, positioning themselves behind the archers.