He shakes his head.  “Beggars can’t be choosers.  That’s not what I meant.  Just forget about it – I can handle anything if I put my mind to it.  While I’d love to see this whole thing work as much as the rest of you… well, I can hear about ten times as good as the average human and not nearly as good as the next fur.” He sits down across from them.  “I’ve never killed anyone… until tonight.  I’ve hurt people, oh sure, hurt people bad.” He rubs his bulging stomach.  “Pretty awful thing to think about, that someone else’s flesh is being subsumed into me… what about them?  They might be slavedrivers, but I wonder who cared about…”<br/><br/>*******His words trail off as he starts to think about his past experiences with some of the furs…*******<br/><br/>“Steady, steady!” The canine chief laughed, taking aim.  “Human, I meant you, my aim is fie…” Giving a humored bark, he double tapped the trigger, putting one through each shoulder.  He howled and collapsed as the sergeant stepped up behind him, grasping his long, dirty hair.<br/><br/>“Until the day I die, you will be mine.” He growled in the human’s ear, before stretching his vicious jaw.  “Of course, I won’t let you go… I just can’t resist a little sauce…” He lapped up the blood, before proceeding to swallow the moaning victim.<br/><br/>“YOU SICK FUCKER!” The halfbreed stepped out of the crowd.  The people parted.  They were scared, and so was the halfbreed, fairly younger at the time, about his mid teens.  The police chief glared, but grinned wide, licking his reddened lips, having just slurped down the bare feet of his victim, who still squirmed within him.  Civilian furs and human slaves, halfbreeds alike gave the two space.<br/><br/>“What is your name, audacious boy?” The chief growled.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry, sir.” The foxboy looked up at him innocently.  “My friends call me your mamma is a three legged bitch in heat.  Let him out.”  He stiffened his hands for the knife behind his back.<br/><br/>Chief stiffened, and his stomach groaned, shrinking substantially.  “Oop… too late… you’ll have to forgive my metabolism.” He snarled.  “Why don’t you join him, be one with…” The wolf gave an impressive leap, grasping in one hand the rifle, and in the other, pinning the foxboy’s right arm.  At the same time, he clamped his jaws over the halfbreed down to his neck.  One good swallow would have done it, but the boy’s free hand shot up and pulled the chief’s sidearm an inch from its holster – and in a panicked haste, fired off several shots, shredding the canine’s leg.  He yelped, falling back and kicking as the foxboy snapped free the revolver and jammed it in the fur’s mouth, pulling the trigger – with no effect.  The crowd was horrified.<br/><br/>The foxboy stared at the whining canine, and heard footsteps – underling guards, no doubt.  On his feet and like the wind, he was gone.<br/><br/>*******<br/><br/>“Fuck that.” He shakes his head.  “Fuck it, it’s no mistake.  I’m sorry for being such a wuss, sir, it’s just my first time to have successfully killed anyone.  But I’m all for making this happen, so have no reservations about what you ask me to do.  Just make sure you utilize me as best you can, and I’ll in turn give you guys everything I got.” He checks his revolver, and somewhere, deep within himself, hears a low whine.  Internal conflict is no stranger – but this is.  He murrs low, rubbing his stomach and comforting his metaphysical guest.  (In time…) he thinks to himself.  (In time you’ll understand what it’s like being on this end of society, fox.  Be at peace.) He shuts out the whimper, and turns back to sarge.  “One more thing – if I work for you, for now, I’d appreciate… actually being called something.  I man, something I can feel, not something that describes me.  Not just halfbreed.  Only because… it would make things a lot easier in being addressed when we’re in the thick of it.”