In a dank alley at the far end of Kazmer, a young halfbreed – well, less than that – a young man, perhaps nineteen or twenty, with only the ears of a fox perched atop his head, lie sleeping in an old, rusty dumpster, top shut.  Granted, this would seem nasty to most, had he not prepared the dumpster for the weeks ahead he planned to stay in the city.  The holds that the garbage truck would normally slide in to grasp the dumpster were hacksawed off, a long but worthwhile effort, and the foxboy slept soundly upon a pile of raggedy sheets, a musty pillow, a half-used can of spray freshener found prior at his feet along with a rucksack of personal items.<br/><br/>He licked his lips, dreaming of food.  So difficult to acquire when one didn’t have money, but fairly easy enough if one had skill and resourcefulness.  He refused to eat garbage.  That’s what theft was for.<br/><br/>Sometime that night, he was jarred to consciousness, which was quite unwelcome granted he was dreaming of crepes and strawberries at the time.  He peered out the dumpster lid, and right there, not ten feet from him… were humans.  Not that he cared if slaves were breaking curfew, not in the least.  He knew a nice human or two.  He knew a nice fur or two.  But this… was something else.  One of them was successfully swallowing a member of the night guard whole.  Very silently, he shut the lid, as pandemonium raged louder and louder outside, and reached into his rucksack for the old revolver.<br/><br/>Not a violent criminal, but very inclined toward self preservation, he was jolted once more when he heard a woman shriek.  Swiftly, he slid out of the dumpster, and kept his eyes out as two of the men snatched up a young foxwoman – one of them parting his jaw immensely.  The other turned back into the alley after hearing a yelp – to find the foxboy holding the gun to the stuffed human’s temple.<br/><br/>“S-sorry… you guys… he was… he got the jump…” The man began to sweat.<br/><br/>“Let her go.” The foxboy ordered with total indifference.  They merely stared, shocked, and a moment later, he pulled the trigger, smearing himself in red, and fixed the gun on the man currently not involved with a hostage.  His foxears perked up from beneath a green bandana to keep an ear out for someone behind him as the stuffed man screamed, gripping his shoulder, trying to stem the flow.  “I’m, I’m sooo sorry, do you speak idda FUCKING ENGLISH!?!” He snaps savagely, holding the barrel level with the human’s eyes.<br/><br/>(( OOC:  Balls in their court now! ^^ ))