((OOC:  Okay, here's the battle at Merelli's HQ.))<br/><br/>Merelli slowly opened his eyes.  Pitch darkness greeted him.  Where was he?  He moved his eyes, but the darkness did not lessen in any direction he pointed them.  Something very tight was wrapped about his arms and legs.  He was unarmed.  The noise of battle - screams, shots, clashing metal - filtered into his ears, muffled as if they were miles away.  He felt the familiar tension in his forehead that told him he was indoors.  The stench of moldy fabrics and must clogged his nostrils.<br/><br/>How had he gotten there?  His mind raced, retracing his steps.  He'd been leading the counterattack.  He'd seen the young man named Raice dash for a nearby building, in pursuit of something. Merelli had followed.  Then... noise, pain, darkness.  Unconsciousness.  And now there he was.  Helpless.<br/><br/>He tried to call out, and found a sharp pain in his neck preventing him from doing so.  Something like a cold tongue of metal was pressing down onto his throat, situated just above his Adam's apple.  The compression of it was so harsh that he could barely breathe, let alone speak.  He tried wrenching his head sideways, and found that the metal moved with him.<br/><br/>And then, there it was.  An ice-cold needle on his face, poking painfully into his skin just above the line of his brows.  A long moment later, another joined it nearby, the blood welling up around them to form a smear.  Merelli winced.  Where in the womb of Hashei was he?  And for how long was this going to go on?  The third needle was lower.  He screamed in pain as it punctured his eyelid, just above the eyeball, sliding through the crevice in between to what lay beyond.<br/><br/><br/>The First Sergeant bent down and put Emiko's arm around his shoulders, helping her to her feet.  "How's this for help?" he asked, a gentle smile on his face.  He didn't go so far as to try to hoist up her legs - she was too proud a woman for that.  "Marice, help Jenten if he needs it."  He carefully led Emiko to the stairs and down them, though it would take a little while.<br/><br/><br/>Janus and Fenson were nestled comfortably within Iln, gently rocking with her breaths as she poured life into them, drawing the blood curse from Janus like poison, and healing over Fenson's wounded throat with a small silver scale.<br/><br/><br/>The Resistance had all but encircled the Cult.  A few proactive sergeants led their men to plug up escape holes all along the now-circular front.  The Cultists now controlled roughly two square blocks of the city just north of Crown Park.  The Resistance soldiers began to tighten their lines around the enemy.<br/><br/>From the midst of the enemy lines, a tall wolf suddenly made an appearance, nearly two heads above all the rest.  He walked steadily forward, south out of the enemy lines, out through the last remaining hole in the Resistance front.  Cultists watched him in shock and dismay.  They called to him, "Bachera!  Great Leader!  Do not abandon us!"<br/><br/>But Bachera plodded onward, down past the hospital-warehouse where Heretic had left Janus earlier.  Medics recoiled in fear.  Newly-healed soldiers scrambled to their weapons, but no one opened fire - they were far too confused by the wolf's steady, even motions, despite the murderous look on his face.  Finally, five soldiers and a sergeant rushed up, aiming their guns at the wolf's chest.<br/><br/>"Halt!" the sergeant called.  "Surrender or die!"