Judy heard Carthusia scream and watched as he was pulled upwards into the vent. The marine watching him was already dead, his antlered head taken off at the shoulders and lying under a table. It had not been a clean cut. The flesh beneath the neck was ragged, the skin in some places stretched out of shape. The blood looked almost black in the red light. The sight might have sent her into a panic attack had the shock of a bullet striking the floor not snapped her out of it.

Clawhauser cowered behind the desk at her side, paws over his ears as the firefight flared with the ferocity of a napalm bomb. She covered her ears as well, gritting her teeth from the noise, too terrified to peek around the corner and see what was going on. All she knew was that they were under attack. A tray of research equipment was struck, its contents scattered across the floor. A surgical mirror was among them, and she took the risk of reaching out from cover to grab it. Ragged holes opened up in the floor nearby, showering her with debris.

Using the long pole fixed to the mirror, she inched the instrument out from behind the desk. She saw flashing flights and vague shapes, and had to figure out the angle needed to see the attackers. At once she could see they were not marines, or Corporate Security. They looked like colonists.

Judy felt sick. A revolt was the last thing they needed. But as she examined the reflection, she realized that the weapons they were using were not the kind that would be found in a raided USCM armory. They were AK47s and M16s, the kind of weapons that were easy to come by but too old-fashioned for the corps to use. Nowadays they were used by gangsters.

The Saboteur Murder Case suddenly had whole new line of suspects.

Judy turned back to the gaping dark, vent. Was she the only one who'd seen what had happened? The creature could come back at any moment, and the marines were too caught up with holding back the thugs to notice the danger. There was a grunt, and Morris went down. The weaker ammunition of the gangsters' weapons would have been stopped by his body armor, but his paws didn't have the same protection. Blood blossomed over the white of Morris's left forearm. His teeth were clenched as he tried to staunch the bleeding. His pulse rifle lay useless beside him.

"Pssst!" She hissed. "Hey!"

Morris looked at her, pain contorting his face into a glare.

"One of those things just took Carthusia!"

Morris turned his head- the first thing he saw was the severed head.

"Oh fuck… Dante…"

'Carthusia's gone! It dragged him into that vent!"

Morris saw the vent and forced himself to let go of his wounded paw. He took up his pulse rifle and aimed it at the vent.

"I've got my eye on it! You stay behind cover!"

Judy nodded. She turned glance at Clawhauser. He stared back with pure fear. Behind him was a cupboard with a glass door, allowing her to see the various bottles of chemicals inside. Among them were two bottles of pure bioethanol. That gave her an idea.

"'Scuse me!" She inched past Clawhauser and opened the door. The ethanol bottle felt full when she grabbed it. Bioethanol burned easily and produced a smokeless fire when ignited. The bottles themselves were thick glass. Convenient.

"Anyone up for a cocktail?" She asked.

Clawhauser gave her an odd look. Morris, however, gave a cruel grin and dug into his pocket.

"Kinda glad I didn't quit smoking just yet." He said as he pulled out a lighter. "You got rags?"

Judy didn't. Clawhauser's jacket fell to the floor beside him. When she looked up, he was pulled out his outer khaki work-shirt, leaving the white t-shirt underneath. "We can tear this into strips!" He said.

That was when they heard the screams. The sound of gunfire became erratic. Something was happening in the corridor outside. This time Clawhauser was the one who risked a peek, using the mirror Judy had put down to begin concocting her plan. "Omigoodness." He breathed and put a paw to his throat.

Judy heard a familiar screech. Her blood froze, stiffening her entire body as she crouched over her bioethanol cocktail.

"Holy shit, it's them, isn't it?!" Hunslet shrieked with terror.

Judy looked to the vent where Carthusia had met his end, just as an eyeless creature dropped down. Then another. And another.

"HOPPS, HURRY UP!" Morris roared over the blast of his own rifle.

Panic sped up Judy's progress. As she removed the lid from the first bottle. Clawhauser handed her a strip of cloth. She hadn't even heard him tear the shirt over the blasting and the screeching. A creature's face exploded into yellow mulch that incinerated every surface it splattered against. Judy stuffed the cloth into the bottle neck until it was dipped in the flammable inside. The body slammed to the floor right beside Dante's severed head. She gestured for Morris's lighter. Morris shot down another creature, but more kept coming. Judy grabbed the lighter when he threw it. She had no idea how the other marines were faring.

Judy fumbled with the lighter. Another shriek. It sounded like Hunslet. The flame came on. The cloth was ignited. The bottle was too big for Judy to throw. Clawhauser threw it for her.

Nick ran for his life, fear and adrenaline heightening his senses. The smell of the sewers grew worse. The sound of running water grew louder. The tunnel grew dark as he got farther from his comrades. The screech of his alien pursuer sounded closer than he wanted it to be.

He turned a corner and slipped on the grimy metal floor. His fall was almost graceful, landing on his hip and sliding under the rail and into the water.

The water was deeper than it looked. Nick kept his eyes screwed shut, too scared of the monster to think about what he was swimming in. His feet found the floor and he shot up, holding his breath even as he surfaced. When he was sure the water wouldn't enter his mouth, he took a breath. The air was warm and foul against his tongue. He heard the hiss of the creature and opened his eyes. His heart swelled with terror and despair.

The creature was six down the underground river, standing chest-deep in the filthy water. Facing away from him. It was so dark in this part of the sewer that the gleam of its skin was the only thing that differentiated it from the walls.

Nick gaped, treading water. That thing had been right behind him. How had it lost track of him already?

The creature was standing between him and the walkway. That meant the other walkway was behind him. Nick started to inch backward. His paw made a slight slapping sound on the water's surface.

The creature spun with a fierce hiss. Acid blood flew from its cracked carapace. Nick braced himself for the worst.

Only it wasn't focused on him. It turned its head left and right. It was poised to attack the instant it saw prey. It stepped closer to Nick, but not directly at him.

Nick eyed the cracked carapace. It had no eyes, but it had to 'see' somehow. The way it had behaved in the lounge hadn't implied it relied totally on sight.

The creature turned to the right, slowly making its way further down the river. Nick started heading for the walkway again, this time doing everything he could to be silent. The creature didn't notice. It couldn't seem to hear his pounding heart. Let it stay that way. Please.

He reached the walkway. This was the hard part. The dripping of water alone would give him way. Instead he gripped the edge of the walkway and waited for the creature to move further away.

He saw movement on the walkway and almost swore. Something the size of Judy was half crawling-half slithering across the floor in his direction. It looked like a mini-monster, a snake with little arms, coated in blood and sewer gunk. Probably came out of one of those poor bastards they found glued to the wall. As it neared Nick, it spotted him and let out a sharp warning hiss.

Motherfu-

The full-grown monster shrieked and stared back, striding effortlessly through the water. It slowed to a stop only two feet from him. It paused, listening. It knew he was there. Nick clamped his mouth shut in case it heard him breathing. The thing screamed, trying to scare him into making a noise. Nick flinched, but made no sound. He let himself sink until he was up to his neck.

The infant creature hissed again. The adult heard it and moved to the rail beside Nick. It lowered itself until its shoulders were just above water, its head level with the infant. The infant inched closer. The adult bowed its head. It had sensed that this was not the fox it was chasing. The bow seemed an act of subservience, a lesser being prostrating before an elite.

But it was still tense. It knew the fox may still be in the area. A potential threat to the infant. It turned its head to the right, listening for any signs of his presence. Nick turned his body silently so he was facing the walkway, gripping the edge tightly with both paws.

Slowly, sinisterly, it turned its head to the left. Its silver teeth were two inches from Nick's temple. Nick closed his eyes, thinking of his mother. Her sweet smile. Her green eyes filled with love.

The creature screamed. Out the corner of his eye he saw the mouth open wider than a snakes, the inner jaw twitching, before he screwed it shut. The scream hurt his ear. Almost deafened it. He almost screamed himself.

Then another sound made the creature turn away from him.

There was an explosive hiss. A blue ball of light flew across the sewer, passing by Nick's head close enough for him to feel the immense heat searing the hair on his fear. On instinct he pushed himself under. The creature's thigh sent him flying through the water as it evaded the light and launched itself at the new threat. He hit the wall beneath the rail. Bubbles exploded from his mouth as he cried out from the pain. When he surfaced and shook the sewer water out of his eyes, he saw the blinded creature and a muscled, dreadlocked figure grapple with each other as they disappeared beneath the water.

Nick wasted no time swimming back to the rail and getting out of the water. The infant slithered away from him, moving further down the walkway. Nick couldn't let it get away. He had lost his flamethrower, but he still had the handgun in his holster. He pulled it out and aimed it at the infant. He probably had one shot before it vanished around the corner.

That was when the dreadlocked creature emerged and threw something in Nick's direction.

In the split second before the projectile reached him, Nick identified something large and round. A glint of blades around the edges-

"Shit!"

He lost his balance and fell on his back in his haste to dodge the weapon. He stared up and watched as the disk circled in the air like a boomerang and returned to its wielder. The mask it wore had no expression, but it must have been angry, for it threw the disk at Nick again. Nick rolled. He felt pain in the tip on his left ear, then a chink as the alien disk sank three inches into the metal floor.

The wind had been knocked out of him. His wounded ear grew wet and warm. Nick was afraid to touch it to see how much had been lost. Instead of finishing him off, the creature was lunging at the infant as it tried to get away. Some kind of shoulder cannon was hanging loosely from its perch, sparking spasmodically.

Nick turned his head to stare at the disk that had almost killed him. It had intricate designs, including a set of holes for the creature to grip it with. It didn't look like the kind of weapon its wielder would want to leave behind.

Through the fog of pain and shock, a mad idea came to him. The tracking chip from that cocooned civilian. He'd taken it for the same reason marines would take dog tags from their fallen comrades, but now he was crawling to the disk. He slipped the tiny tracker in the hollow body of the disk. It didn't fall out.

The Hunter stood, its prize squirming and shrieking in its grip, and roared in triumph.

It heard a scuffle and spun round, expecting either the Earth-born fox or the blind serpent. It was the fox, running for his life, too scared to use the gun he was still holding.

The Hunter didn't go after him. It had what it needed. It was time to leave.

Bogo wandered among the sea of dead in a daze, wondering how things could have gone so fucking wrong.

In the sewers, two marines had died horribly. Two others were injured, including himself. Bogo thought it a godsend when Private Wilde returned to him, blood pouring down his face from his half-severed ear.

"Met your alien secret agent. He's lovely." He'd said. Then he'd collapsed from the shock.

Bogo had bound the ear and carried him back to Carthusia's lab, despite the burn in his side where a stray spurt of acid had melted through his armor. The mission had technically been a success. Finding survivors had been a long shot, he'd known that all along, but they'd killed every creature in that wretched hive and avenged the poor bastards they'd used as hosts. But he'd still felt like the whole bloody thing had been a train wreck. They should have been more equipped to deal with this. They would have been more equipped… if not for that invisible killer.

When they'd entered the hallway leading to the lab, Hunslet raced past several bodies, alien and mammal, to greet them. Bogo had been horrified to hear the story- a group of armed mammals had raided the lab, their attack foiled by a combination of marine firepower, alien sneak attacks and Hopps's bio-ethanol cocktails. They'd captured two survivors: they'd taken several blows from angry marine fists before identifying themselves as Colombian Camels. Their intention had been to retrieve Carthusia, who had been in cahoots with them since the Company had slighted him. When he'd heard of how the scientist had spirited away by one of the creatures, he felt nothing whatsoever. Further questioning from Hopps herself had revealed that Phineas Purvis, currently a corpse simultaneously burned to a crisp and gouged in the torso, had been Green's killer.

As for Ben and Hopps, they were safe. Bogo had handed Wilde to Hunslet and sprinted into the lab to confirm that fact with his own eyes. Ben had met him mid-way, weeping into the buffalo's chest. Bogo had held him back, nearly hyperventilating as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

When Hopps appeared and saw Wilde in Hunslet's arms, she'd reacted with horror, racing to the fox and administered medical aid before the medic could get to him. She only calmed down when Wilde woke from her stupor and assured her that he looked handsome even without his ear. Bogo regretted not thanking her for her assistance there and then.

Marines had died here too, including Dante. Bogo had fought alongside him in the field. The loss had hurt, especially when he'd seen the beheaded body, but with Ben safe and alive in his arms, he'd started to think that things were turning out for the better.

Then a bloodied marine he couldn't name showed up. He'd heard the news. He'd taken three able marines and raced to the dropship bay, followed by Ben and Morris despite Bogo ordering them not to.

It was already too late.

It was worse, so much worse and vast than the massacre in the lab. There were colonists and marines everywhere. Bogo saw dismemberments. Lacerations. Bullet holes. Eyeless creatures also lay still in the blood. There were melted gaping holes all over the floor. The survivors, two-dozen in total, sat huddled within the dropship, being tended to by every marine available. Park lay among the dead, her throat ripped open. Cudson and Rochewool were among the survivors, but Cudson had lost half his hoof to a creature's bladed tail. Bogo swallowed back bile. He could feel the guilt tearing at his heart. If only they'd still had power, and communications. This could have been prevented. More lives could have been saved.

Now McHorn was sitting on the metal ramp of the dropship in a daze of his own, a medic grimly tending to his lacerated arm. The medic had stated there didn't appear to be nerve damage, but Bogo knew the wounds in the rhino's mind would take far longer to recover from. Assuming McHorn would recover at all.

Tears silently fell from Ben's face as he stood at the edge of the slaughter. He made his way over to McHorn.

"How're you doing? Bogo heard him ask.

"They came out of the walls." McHorn murmured, staring at nothing. "They just came all at once. We fought back. Killed some of them. But then some of the colonists had guns too. I told them not to, but they started shooting in all directions. People got hit. They got burned by the blood. They turned on each other… They turned on us… Those things kept attacking…"

Bogo tried to order someone to head to Administration and check the trackers to see if anyone had been abducted. Then he was struck by a vision reenacting the events McHorn had described. A horrible sensation hit his stomach. He retched, then he fell to his knees and vomited into one of the melted, ragged holes.

"God damn it…" He choked and slapped the floor. So many dead, and likely more to follow. It all was too much, even for him.

Ben was at his side in an instant, arms around his broad shoulders. Bogo barely noticed him. He hit the floor again, fighting against his twisted guts.

This was his fault. His responsibility.

"This isn't McHorn's fault." Ben spoke into Bogo's ear. "And it's not yours, either."

He kissed Bogo's head and rested his cheek against the side of his neck.

Bogo pressed his fist into his forehead. His head ached from sheer hatred. But the warmth of Ben's arms, telling him through his embrace that he'd done everything he could have done, that he was right to heed the red flags, was starting to ease him out of his despair. His hoof slowly came up to hold the golden-furred paw gripping his shoulder.

"Sir?"

It was Morris, clutching his bandaged paw. Hunslet was at his side. What the bloody hell was she doing here?

"Private Wilde found a way to track the killer. I stopped by Administration first to check it out, and…"

She held out a PDA. Bogo took the device and stood, Ben standing up with him, staring at the screen. It was a map marking all the tracking chips inside the marines and colonists. Most were here in the bay. Others were still located in the sewer. Carthusia was somewhere in the vents surrounding the lab, almost certainly dead. One was unaccounted for.

Bogo searched, using his finger to move the map around. Then he saw Daniel Ray's chip leaving the colony, heading for the destroyed power plant. That had been one of the colonists they'd found dead in the sewer.

It couldn't be Ray. Not only was he dead, he was incinerated. Yet his chip was on the move.

With the sharpened mind of a commander, Bogo understood.

He locked eyes with Morris. The polar bear glared back with brown eyes filled with hunger for revenge.

It seemed like a lifetime ago when Bogo had promised Ben that he wouldn't go looking for trouble. Hatred burned away the memory of that promise with the potency of serpents' blood.