Chapter 08 - DOCKS:

  The cruiser nosed out of the Eastern garage into the busy street, paint catching the noon glare. Sirens on, the steady pulses of lights on the roof were not as flashy during the day.

  Muldoon had one hand on the wheel, the other holding some kind of pastry he had just fished out of the bag Morty gave them. The smell of bread and roasted meat filled the inside of the vehicle.

  “No fucking joke,” he said through a mouthful. “The precinct cafeteria does good work. Almost makes me want to ask a transfer to here. You sure you won’t eat any?”

  Ruld gave him a sidelong look, the kind that said you’re impossible but didn’t bother to argue. “You’re going to choke before we get there.”

  “Then I die full and happy.” He used his elbow to nudge his partner’s side.

  The rhino huffed through his nostrils, grabbed a muffin and stuffed it whole into his mouth, turning back to the window. “Most of these people don’t know the messes happening behind the scenes,” he muttered, watching crowds drift past — shopkeepers sweeping doorsteps, kids running with half-deflated balls, the ordinary rhythm of a city pretending it wasn’t bleeding.

  Muldoon swallowed and said, “Yeah. That’s the trick, isn’t it? Pretend hard enough and you can almost believe it’s normal.”

  “Easier for them,” Ruld said.

  “Not for us,” the wolf answered, the joke gone from his tone. “Well, there is always something bad happening here and there. At one point, society just… gets on with it. They are not having to face it like we are about to. So it gets easier to pretend it doesn’t exist”.

  “Yes. I feel stupid, but part of me wants these people to look scared. How can they just go on as if nothing is happening?”

  “It is how the saying goes. Ignorance is bliss.” Muldoon said, proud of himself.

  “I see. So that’s why you’re smiling so much lately?”

  “Ha. Screw you.”

  =================================

  As they continued on the road to the north of the borough, the tight streets gave way to stretches where the city thinned, giving way to industrial sprawl. Warehouses rose like tired giants. Muldoon drove, hands firm on the wheel while the rhino slouched in the passenger seat, terminal glowing faintly across his muzzle as the map pulsed, rerouting them twice because the units were moving their patrol.

  By the time they reached the docks, the day had soured into haze. Patrol cruisers lined the fence. Uniforms moved in slow rhythm, herding dock workers back from the gates.

  In normal days, the sounds, the movements, the smells on the docks would come from the work that never quite stopped. Today, the enforcers were the ones doing all the activity.

  Muldoon drove the cruiser past the gates that surrounded the vast area. Some local workers gathered near the entrance, being informed of the situation and kept away by a pair of female officers.

  A blonde human officer, tall as Muldoon and twice as tired, waved them down. “Afternoon, agents. We had a crazy night, but it has been quiet for the last hours. Central, right?”

  “Yes. We were told that you guys needed someone good to help with the mess,” Muldoon replied.

  She didn’t look impressed. “We’ve been cleaning up since dawn. Gunfire stopped around four. Still chasing the stragglers.”

  Muldoon leaned out the window. “Where do you want us?”

  “Well. We have all hands on deck having a look around. Making sure that we didn’t miss any of Varro’s crew, or if they left souvenirs. But it is a big area to canvas properly”

  “Well, many hands make the work lighter. So we’ll park and try to make ourselves useful.” Ruld replied.

  “Suit yourself. Dylan’s running point — crow, black coat, doesn’t talk much. Third pier over.”

  “Thank you.” Muldoon replied.

  “Are those muffins from the cafeteria in that bag?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Did I mention there is a toll fee to enter the docks?”

  Ruld chuckled and proceeded to hand her a muffin.

  “I do have a partner at the gates with me. You wouldn’t be so evil to deny an officer in service food, would you?”

  “Muldoon, we are being robbed in broad daylight.” Ruld chuckled

  “Told ya to eat everything before getting here.”

  “Thank you, boys.” She smiled for a second until the altered voices from the workers outside the gate got her attention as they argued with her colleague.

  “Hey, lady. What about my pay?” yelled some of the dock workers.

  “Sir, you must talk to your superior. This is a DAIR’s busyness. For your own safety, go back to your house,” the other officer said, looking tired. She had to argue about the same thing with lots of people.

  Muldoon drove away.

  They parked near a line of containers and stepped out.

  The air blanketed them with a smell like wet metal. At the docks the last night’s wounds showed — bullet-pocked walls, dried blood — like the aftermath of a war. Driving further into the complex, the evidence of gunshots and brute force against the pavement and building walls was clear.

  The next city downriver was Murialta, a little over 100 km away, where the Lorn river opened into a delta. Here, it widened into a slow stretch — too far inland to smell like salt, too close to the city to ever feel clean. The water there was thick, brown with silt and some iridescent oil spills. The air tasted of iron and algae.

  Muldoon stretched, shaking crumbs off his shirt. “You ever notice the river always smells like it’s digesting something?”

  Ruld didn’t laugh. “It is.”

  They started down the dock. Boots echoed against the steel grating; ropes swayed overhead. The cranes loomed like skeletons. Bullet holes pocked the walls of the nearest warehouse, streaks of dried blood marking where someone had dragged a body. Parts of the wall had mortar missing and crater marks.

  The storage houses stood shoulder to shoulder along the waterfront — long brick buildings with corrugated roofs, walls stained with decades of soot and diesel smoke. Most of their windows were boarded up or painted over, but light still spilled from the gaps between planks, glinting on puddles where the rain never fully drained.

  And the boats — the heart of the place — were quiet. Just oscillating a few inches up and down, like tired lungs breathing in rhythm with the river. Some were small sand barges, their hulls low and square, dredging silt from the riverbed to sell to the concrete plants upstream. Others were cargo carriers — wide-bellied ships with chipped paint, their names half-scraped off, their decks cluttered with ropes and rusted barrels. All were locked. But they could see some enforcer teams exploring some of those.

  A crow in a black coat looked up from a terminal near the pier office. His feathers were dull with dust. There was also a civilian in there, the dock master, looking extremely nervous, but helping the crow with the camera feeds

  “You’re the central pair? Muldoon, Ruld?”

  “Not sure about pair. I’m married. And if it wasn’t the case, I’m way above his league.” Muldoon said. He picked up his badge and presented it to the other enforcer. “You must be Dylan, right?”

  Dylan nodded. “Yes. And this here is Mr Hiran.”

  The human gave them both a short wave.

  ”You two look fresh. Don’t worry, the smell’ll fix that.” Dylan continued. “We’ve got two dead in the water, three wounded in holding. Varro’s trail ends here — at least what’s left of it. We’re still mopping up.”

  Ruld crossed his arms. “Heard you’re looking for stragglers. Found many after the moose vanished? Do you think any of them slipped past?”

  “Fuck if I know it. The drugs and ammo branch made a move on Dorgan’s operation yesterday. They were trying to pin down the old fox for a while. And oopsie daisy, we get a skirmish in the middle of the city with an alpha. We don’t know the precise numbers. The ones I mentioned we found after the moose took off, there were about 9 other dead on his side before that. He might still have ten or more with him.”

  Muldoon whistled.

  Dylan looked toward the stacked containers, their rusted sides streaked with river grime. “You want to help, check the southern stacks. We heard noise earlier, it might be rats. Might be worse. Jocasta is on the lead. Meaning she shoved all the logistics up my ass and fucked off with a rifle to sweep the warehouses.”

  Ruld grunted. “On it.”

  “We are using channel ten on the radio chat. Report anything suspicious. Fall back and don’t play hero. We had two amazing ones last night. And both are dead now.”

  =================================

  They moved off, ducking between metal corridors that smelled of rain and gunpowder. The ground was slick. The wolf’s boots squelched.

  “I never asked. But are you one of those preds with a good sense of smell?” Muldoon asked after a while, voice low but sounding lighter again.

  “Decent, but not my strongest point.” The rhino answered with a whisper.

  “So, can you smell if there is one of those other guys here?”

  Ruld gave him a wild look.

  “What?”

  “There are lots of enforcers around. Plus, yesterday, plenty of people bled on this ground. And the river stinks. Do you honestly think I could pinpoint anything in this mess?”

  “That is why I asked. I don’t know if you could.”

  “I wish it was that easy.” He stopped. Nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air and made a disgusted face. “Did you just fart?”

  “I thought your sense of smell wasn’t that great.”

  The joke earned a faint smile from Ruld.

  They turned a corner and froze — movement behind a cracked container door. Both drew sidearms. Muldoon signaled low; Ruld nodded. They split, one to each side.

  Muldoon yanked the latch open — a rat bolted out, followed by the stench of rot.

  “Gods,” he muttered, lowering the gun. Inside were soaked crates, a dark smear on the wall, flies buzzing thick. “One of his, probably. Didn’t make it far.”

  Ruld leaned in, eyes narrowing. The smear wasn’t splatter. It was a handprint — massive, clawed, pressed deep into the metal. Dry and forming a crust. A boot laid next to it. It had a foot still inside, the bone and flesh more crushed than cut.

  “Be really quiet.” Ruld whispered, his voice a low growl. He sniffed the air, nostril flaring once, twice, straining against the dock’s reek of oil and rotting algae.

  Muldoon caught it a heartbeat later. Copper sweet stench, bile, and decay of meat left too long under the haze.

  Ruld pressed the radio at his hip three times, a silent signal: We’ve got something.

  They crept toward the back of the container, making slow progress in order to not be loud. Crates had been shoved aside, and a closer look revealed a jagged tear in the metal wall, ripped inward like wet paper. A thick smear of blood trailed across the floor, marking a desperate crawl.

  They got out and circled the stack. Containers packed so tight Ruld had to sidestep, his broad shoulders brushing rust. Muldoon tilted his head, ears twitching. The docks hummed — wind whistling through metal, river water slapping concrete pilings. Then, a heavy inhale. It felt painful, wet air dragged through a clogged throat, a wheezing broken breath.

  “Back corner,” Muldoon mouthed, pistol angled forward.

  They eased forward, weapons steady. Tucked between four container stacks was a sodden tarp, twitching with halting, pained movements. A massive frame shifted beneath, low moans escaping with each jerk. A muscular tail covered in dark green flicked into view.

  “DAIR Enforcer! Don’t move!” Muldoon barked.

  The tarp shuddered, and a shape uncurled: long arms, thick neck, a crocodilian snout lined with teeth that gleamed briefly before sinking back into shadow. His armored vest hung in tatters. His one good eye rolled toward them, dull yellow behind a cracked nictitating membrane. The other was a sunken pit, rimmed in black.

  “Not… Varro,” the croc rasped, voice like gravel on glass. “He left… left me…” He tried to laugh and coughed instead — a harsh, wet choke that ended with blood bubbling out the corner of his mouth.

  “Holy hell,” Muldoon whispered, the grip on his gun tightening

  “Easy” Ruld said slowly as he stepped closer. “Were you with him? With the moose?”

  The croc coughed again and it took a while for him to stop. “I was. Not now. He said we slowed him down… then he… fed on us. Left with the rest. Said… said he’d come back.” He shivered, whether from pain or fear, the rhino couldn’t tell.

  Ruld nodded. Eyes cataloguing the injuries on the other predator. He was in a very bad state. And it had been hours since the confrontation with Varro. This guy had no more life energy to recover himself. “I saw a foot inside the container. Was that your partner?”

  The croc didn’t look. “Used to be. He grabbed her first.”

  Muldoon crouched, keeping a good safety margin. “You got a name?”

  “Rik.” His tongue dragged the sound. “He took the others. Fed on some of us before taking off. He’s… getting faster. Doesn’t care who’s in the way anymore. Went downriver. Said the docks weren’t clean enough. Said he’d find better meat. Wanted to prove …” He gagged mid-sentence, tremors running through him.

  Ruld reached for his radio. “We need medics down here!”

  The croc snapped his head up, teeth clacking an inch from the rhino’s wrist.

  “No!” he rasped, panic flooding his voice. “No medics. No holding cell. You don’t understand.” His voice cracked on the last word. “He said he’d come back. Said he’d finish what he started. I don’t want to be here when he... Don’t take me in. You’ll feed me to him. He’ll smell me.” His voice started to rise, a desperate rasp. “He’ll smell me!”

  Muldoon’s eyes flicked to Ruld. “He’s delirious. Either blood loss or some infection is kicking it. Not the most hygienic place you picked to lay down, mate.”

  Ruld’s jaw tightened. “Calm down. We’re not…”

  Then the croc’s breathing hitched. His good eye went wide, white-rimmed, like something just snapped behind it. The air around him seemed to tighten — that shimmer Muldoon had seen once before when a predator overcharged his life force, followed by a very distinct smell. The puddles around his claws began to steam. His eyes went wide, blazing for one impossible heartbeat.

  “DOWN!” Muldoon shouted.

  Rik charged. Fast enough for his figure to blur.

  The dying croc launched up from the ground, every muscle burning like a fuse. He hit Ruld full force — the sound of bone meeting armor rang out like a hammer. His broken arm snapped the rest of the way but he didn’t stop. His jaws came for Ruld’s throat.

  Ruld caught them with both hands, his boots skidding on the slick floor. The air stank of blood and something else. A chemical and metallic smell, Ketone breakdown, Satan’s breath. The croc’s breath was boiling hot, his skin feverish hot where it pressed against the rhino’s armor.

  Muldoon tried to take aim, but both Ruld and Rik were tossing and turning and both were big. Meanwhile, the crocodile was fighting like a madman, yelling nonsense as Ruld kept his jaws forced apart. His claw shot out, catching Ruld’s sleeve, yanking him forward with a strength that he shouldn’t have left.

  “THROW TIME!” Muldoon yelled.

  The wolf darted next to them, and kicked with all his might on the back on the crocodile's knees, forcing him to falter and stumble forward. Ruld grabbed him in that moment of hesitation and tossed Rik away. The predator landed badly against a container and got up. Snarling, voice a gurgling roar. Body a ruin.

  “Shoot!” Ruld said

  Muldoon didn’t hesitate. Two rounds. Point-blank. The first caught Rik in the side, jerking him back as if he got hit by a hammer. The second went through the eye. As if he was a puppet with its strings cut, his body fell, dead weight collapsing to the ground with a wet thud.

  The predator’s whole body thrashed once more, then slumped. Steam curled faintly from the wound in his chest, mingling with the fog.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The distant hum of cranes filled the void, their cables swaying like pendulums over the water.

  Ruld’s chest heaved. “For fuck’s sake.” he said quietly. “That bastard of five fathers! Burned himself out just to take a swing.”

  The wolf never felt joy when he had to kill someone, but he wouldn’t feel bad either for taking down a mad beast. So, he allowed himself to feel some sort of pride in not failing when it came to it, and some vindication that the world would be a bit better without Rik in it.

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  Muldoon holstered his weapon. “That was wild. I think I read about preds doing this in some of the manuals, but never saw anyone do it.” He keyed the radio at his hip, voice flat. “Channel ten. Survivor’s gone. Confirmed Varro crew. Name was Rik, croc. Said Varro’s heading east, downriver. Passed through here, ate one of his own. We’re looking at a full pred surge.”

  Static hissed, then Dylan’s voice came back, low and grim. “Copy. Pull back to the main pier. We’ll relay.”

  Ruld didn’t move yet. He just stared at the body, smoke still curling from the croc’s chest. “He wasn’t trying to live,” he said quietly. “He was trying not to die like prey.”

  Muldoon grunted. “Didn’t make a difference. Dead’s dead. And fuck you with your predator bullshit. I ain’t a pred, but at the same time, I don’t think of myself as just prey.”

  “I don’t agree with that. But sometimes it’s important to understand how they think. And that is how.”

  They started back through the aisles of containers, their boots splashing through thin trails of blood and small puddles of yesterday rain.

  “So, are you going to eat him?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I mean, you are a predator.”

  “Yes, a big one. With all my predator bullshit”

  “No, I mean. Some of the guys I worked with wouldn’t miss a chance in the field.”

  “So they are stupid. Most of us would need to lay down and digest after taking in such a big chunk of biomass. If I do it, I’d be useless for the rest of the day. And no point in taking it for later. The more time it passes after death, the less effect you get.”

  “Biomass? Is that how we are calling it now?”

  “It is what I am calling it. If the mission was over, maybe. But I would rather not, especially when the biomass spent a whole night rotting in filth.”

  “Ah, the ten-second rule then?”

  “Are you trying to get slapped?”

  “Absolutely not. That is only between me and my wife and only in the bedroom. But you should give it a go with Agent Mortimer. Just, you know, let him do the slapping. You’d kill him. Also, in that regard, don’t top. I saw it, and it made me a little self-conscious.”

  Ruld stopped and took a deep breath rubbing his temples with both hands.

  =================================

  The ear piece on Muldoon and Ruld’s ears came to life with a burst of static and a voice half lost in gunfire.

  “Jocasta’s team here!” a male voice yelled! “Two hostiles! Repeat, two hostiles!” Then screaming metal drowned it out.

  “Copy that. Joel team moving in”. Someone else replied.

  Ruld and Muldoon locked eyes for one heartbeat. They could hear the far sounds of explosions, muffled by the labyrinth of containers and the distance separating them

  The rhino turned and ran. “Central extras here. We’re en route”, he said.

  Muldoon followed, breath ragged as he strained himself to keep pace, gun drawn.

  “Copy,” Dylan’s voice came back, thin with strain. “Captain, we got eyes on you. There is a third one heading your way from warehouse 7B. Don’t — don’t let them flank you. Joel, I’m counting on you for that.”

  A big explosion echoed far away. Ruld looked back just to see Muldoon starting to lag behind. They had fought Rik on the dock’s southernmost side. They now had to cross it entirely in order to help. The distance between them was somewhere over 1,5 kilometers.

  Muldoon’s breath came rough behind him. “We’re not gonna make it in time!”

  Ruld’s head snapped sideways, eyes flashing toward a row of shipping crates on their left. A straight line, but elevated. Perfect.

  “Get on!” he barked, skidding to a knee.

  Muldoon blinked. “What?”

  “Get. On. My. Back!”

  The wolf didn’t argue. He slung his rifle and grabbed onto the rhino’s back harness straps. Ruld’s muscles tensed, the plates on his forearms made a groan shifting as if being strained. For a heartbeat, there was silence — then a deep thrum, like air compressing inside his chest. The wolf felt like being on top of a coil being compressed, a deep rumble building up.

  Ruld gritted his teeth. The veins on his neck bulged. Then the world snapped.

  The rhino launched forward.

  The ground under Ruld’s feet cracked, dust exploding behind them, cracking in the shape of spiderweb lines racing outward. They crossed the first fifty meters in a blink; Ruld’s surge kicked again like a second explosion that hurled them skyward. The wolf gripped tight, wind tearing at his ears as they vaulted over a parked forklift, then landed hard on a container roof. The metal groaned under the impact.

  And then he kept moving.

  They shot forward like a shell leaving the barrel of a cannon. The leaps were raw force, devouring the distance. Air roared in Muldoon’s ears as the docks streaked by.

  “Holy shit!” Muldoon howled, clinging for dear life. “You didn’t tell me you could do this!”

  Ruld didn’t answer. He couldn’t — all his focus was on controlling the trajectory and landing. A bad landing would knock him down or get a broken knee and those would take reseting and at least an hour to fix. He hit the first row of containers at a low angle, kicked off, and vaulted over it — twenty meters up, maybe more. His boots struck the next roof hard, metal groaning. Then came another surge, faster, higher, leaping gaps like a locomotive running on adrenaline instead of rails.

  They covered half the distance in seconds.

  “Ruld! Left!” Muldoon shouted, pointing.

  The rhino was midjump and couldn’t see a faraway figure, perched atop a container, several rows to his left. He didn’t understand what panicked his partner. An instant later, the world went white. The container beneath them exploded.

  Ruld’s instincts kicked in, throwing them sideways midair. The blast shoved them even further forward, flames licking their backs.

  Muldoon coughed through the smoke. “He’s throwing bombs!”

  And then he saw it.

  Movement — at the far left. Something big was throwing some ugly looking explosives. Ruld squinted through the chaos, muzzle snapping toward it — a striped figure crouched on the edge of a crane platform. Wide shoulders, a tail lashing around like a whip.

  It was a tiger. Broad shoulder, forearms wrapped to the elbow in soot-stained bandages. Even from the distance one could see he was little better than Rik was.

  He arched his back like a pitcher and hurled another grenade. The thing sang through the air.

  Ruld veered right, the explosion chewing a crater in the dock, again missing them by just a few seconds.

  “I got this bastard,” Muldoon yelled over the roar.

  Ruld didn’t answer — he just kept charging, his head lowered, every muscle focused forward.

  Muldoon’s world became motion and vibration. He got a stronger grip around the harness with his left hand. The rhino movements were wide parabolas, two seconds cut by a moment where gravity ceased to exist. He waited for the next leap. Grabbed the pistol from the waist holster instead of the rifle.

  The tiger reared back, another grenade in his hand, the pin caught in his teeth. Muldoon thought that he could hear the snarl. He lined up the shot. And exhaled — or tried to, but the wind ripped the breath out of him. His eyes watered. The instant Ruld’s stride hit its peak, the motion went weightless.

  He fired.

  The pistol blared in his hand, the selector switch set in rapid burst fire mode. He didn’t take his finger off the trigger until the magazine ran empty.

  The tiger staggered, dropping the grenade. For half a heartbeat, nothing.

  Then it went off — a blossom of light and smoke right by the tiger, tossing him away like a rag doll out of sight.

  “Got him!” Muldoon shouted, half disbelief, half adrenaline.

  Ruld didn’t slow. “Then hold tight!”

  “Did that tiger blow himself up?” a male voice snickered through the radio.

  “Central guy shot him in the nuggets and he dropped a bomb.” Dylan said

  A chorus of static and low whistles followed. Even Muldoon felt a bit sorry for the guy.

  “Found him. he is trying to run away to the admin buildings. Pursuing.”

  “Copy that, Joel.”

  “Tiger or not, fuck it. I need help here.” A female voice came, and she sounded angry.

  “Central back up is almost there, captain,” said Dylan, a hint of amusement in his tone. “And they are fast.”

  =================================

  Jocasta’s world had been noisy for twelve hours.

  Gunfire, alarms, screaming metal punctuating the adrenaline from the last night’s fight with the alpha. The limber jaguar was a seasoned enforcer. Yet, more than once she thought he had reached the end of line just to be saved by dumb luck. Through all of it, Jocasta moved like a ghost with her carbine.

  The night hadn’t ended; it had just changed color as Varro had vanished and they transitioned from a warzone to a hunting game with the stranglers.

  When dawn came up over the Lorn, it didn’t bring calm. It was just that tiresome game of cat and mouse, keeping on edge all the time.

  She had slept for thirty minutes. Maybe.

  The rest of her squad had crashed in shifts inside a cargo office that still smelled of burnt diesel and river mold. They tried to use the admin building from the docks but cityhall got involved saying they couldn’t because of sensitive documents and risking getting it involved with the enemies left behind. So they had done a sweep. Dylan and of the dock civilian workers kept an eye on the scene via the camera system.

  She usually was into the sneaky type of scouting missions. In and out. She cursed Léo a few times for getting hurt and forcing her to take charge. But his heart wasn’t into it. Deep down, they all knew the big guy was a key factor that kept most of them safe last night as the drug raid turned into a battle royale.

  When the call came from Dylan’s channel —“possible stragglers on the northernmost pier — she was the one who stood first breaking their short rest. It didn’t matter that her claws still shook from adrenaline, or that she could taste copper at the back of her throat.

  Rest was for people who didn’t see Varro’s eyes last night.

  Then they spend the next three hours checking every nook and corner at a snail’s pace. In the meantime, the guys from central arrived and Dylan redirected them to check the south part of the docks. Joel was almost done with the warehouses that took most of the west side, near the admin buildings.

  Elior, the fox, was their spotter.

  The guy had a little camera attached to a flexible metal tentacle locked into his backpack. Before they entered into a closed space, he would control it, making it extend to peek through open doors, windows or any hole he could find. A little monitor fixed to his helmet provided him with the videofeed. When it was done, the thing retracted and was invisible.

  They were doing that now. Waiting as the enforcer maneuvered the camera into a small window at one of the small buildings that worked as a garage to the forklifts. Clem, the badger, made a face and hissed.

  “Inside,” he mouthed. She caught the scent a moment before the noise of metal being banged with a very loud rattling. Then the warehouse door bulged outward.

  “Contact,” she hissed.

  The door exploded off its hinges. Clem grabbed the human rookie on their team and fell down, stopping the girl from being pulped.

  “Jocasta’s team here!” the badger yelled at the radio, “Two hostiles! Repeat, two hostiles!” he rolled and got on his feet and helped the other one up.

  A slab of metal the size of a car hurtled forward — then stood upright. Behind it, a mountain of meat and muscle in filthy armor, a boar. He was using some metal paneling from one of the forklifts as an improvised shield, welded handles bolted crudely on the inside. There was a hole big enough for the muzzle of a heavy gun to peek through and a half inch horizontal line that allowed some vision.

  “Die, government scum,” he shouted.

  The shield slammed on the ground, like a proper tower shield and the gun barked to life. making Jocasta’s team run for shelter.

  Jocasta dove behind a forklift. Bullets clanged against the metal, sparking bright. Elior screamed over comms — “He’s got another one of those.”

  And he was right. They saw a second weapon move and rest against a handle on the side of the shield. This one was able to swivel around and it also started to fire in rapid succession.

  “Clem, suppress!” Jocasta shouted.

  The badger’s own light machine gun roared as he was falling back and trying to get protection. The shield luckily made the boar have poor aim. The recoil rocked his entire frame, sending a chain of hot brass bouncing across the concrete. The boar staggered a step back, snorting like an engine under pressure.

  They were too focused on the boar that they barely registered the rattling noise from before, now drowned under the sound of guns being fired.

  “Duck!” Yelled the human enforcer.

  “Fuuuuuck!” Clem said as a flash of rusty metal rushed toward him. It was a chain as thick as his arm. It cracked the ground where he stood a moment ago.

  The second predator stepped from the shadows of the warehouse: a bear, black as oil, fur sticky and matted. His eyes were red pinpricks under the grime. He was wearing a DAIR helmet and a plated pair of pants. Both smeared with blood. An anchor chain looped around his shoulders and wrists. He pulled it back and then swung it, making a grunt because of the effort. A line of wooden crates disintegrated.

  Clem swore. The human screamed.

  “Fall back to the pumps!” Jocasta ordered. “Keep them separated!”

  The bear charged. The chain whistled over her head, smashing into the pier. Concrete sprayed like shrapnel. Jocasta rolled, the vibration cracking through her teeth. She came up on one knee and fired — three controlled bursts. One of the rounds tore fur and meat from the bear’s shoulder but it didn’t slow him down. The others clinked at the metal links at his chest.

  He was in a frenzy. His breath came in steaming gusts.

  “Raye, mic drop the bear, now!”

  The human was the only one who still had a grenade. She grabbed it and tossed it at the ursine. It detonated beneath his feet, flinging him backward. Jocasta sprinted forward, vaulted a rail, landed behind a loader, and swung her carbine up — firing again, aiming for the joints.

  The boar was advancing, firing from behind his door. Bullets carved through a water pipe, spraying mist into the air. The world turned into a blur of steam and metal.

  Raye peeked from where she was hiding and screamed something — Jocasta never caught what — and then broke cover. Her shots sparked uselessly off the boar’s makeshift shield.

  Then the air behind them snapped — a sharp, ugly whump that made the ground jump. Jocasta’s ears caught the metallic clatter — something small and round bouncing once between the forklifts.

  Her brain made the connection a fraction too late. “Grenade!” She tried to say, but the blast swallowed her voice.

  Pressure slammed into her chest, picked her up, and threw her sideways. Steam, dust, and shrapnel filled the air, raining down. It was stronger than the grenades DAIR used. Someone else tossed those.

  She hit the floor hard, breath gone, sound reduced to a high, keening ring. For a moment, the only thing she could taste was copper and dust.

  When her vision steadied, the forklifts were burning. Clem’s mouth was moving fast and wide. Shouting something she couldn’t hear. Raye lay a few meters away, rifle lay twisted beside her, the arm that held it ending in a jagged stump.

  Jocasta froze there for a second, blinking through the smoke, every instinct telling her to get up — to fight — but her body wouldn’t move. Then the boar’s gun roared again, snapping her back into motion.

  She ducked, rolled behind cover, heart hammering, fury cutting through the shock. Elior darted while the ground around him was peppered by poorly aimed shots. The fox grabbed the rookie by her vest, dragging her behind a crate. The human was still breathing — barely.

  “Captain, we can’t hold this!” Elior’s voice cracked. “We’re pinned!”

  Jocasta took a breath. More explosions and this time a bit further away. Her claws flexed, puncturing the metal grip of her gun.

  “Did that tiger blow himself up?” They heard Joel’s voice on the radio.

  “Central guy shot him in the nuggets, and he dropped a bomb.” Dylan said.

  They kept talking, but she couldn’t pay more attention. The bear was back on his feet, dragging the anchor chain through the smoke like some mythic beast crawling out of the underworld. Each swing tore gouges through concrete, each step closer rattling her ribs. The thing was relentless — too big, too fast, and too angry to even notice the bullet holes stitched across his torso.

  “Tiger or not, fuck it. I need help here.” She angrily barked at the radio.

  The boar took a few steps back and started to cover for his partner. Every time someone tried to move, the heavy gun barked. That improvised shield looked like it belonged to a siege engine. The laughter that came from behind it came out as snorts and grunts like a madman.

  Elior tried to flank, slipping between the shadowed containers, but a chunk of chain smashed the corner of his cover to powder, the shockwave throwing him backward. Jocasta reached out, caught him by the collar, and dragged him down just before another burst shredded the air above them. Debris clattered over their heads.

  “We can’t hold!” Clem shouted from somewhere behind a forklift. His machine gun stuttered back, the sound smaller every time it jammed.

  “Just keep them busy!” Jocasta yelled back, throat raw. Her magazine was nearly dry; her arms felt like lead. Raye was almost gone..

  The bear roared, chain singing as he spun around and hurled it. The links caught a shipping crate mid-swing, flinging it aside like paper. The boar advanced behind him, laying down another suppressive burst, each round sparking off the dock plates, edging them closer, meter by meter.

  Jocasta knew it — they’d be overrun in seconds.

  She hit her radio, breath coming fast. “Dylan! Where the fuck is my backup?!”

  The rest of her curse died in her throat as she watched in horror the bear rip a bollard from the ground and hurl it at the loader she was hiding behind. The machine toppled with a scream of metal. Jocasta dove clear, sliding across slick concrete, bullets tracing sparks a meter behind her.

  The bear was almost on top of her now — a mountain of black fur and metal, steam coiling off his hide. The chain coiled again, lifted high.

  A thunderclap that didn’t belong to any weapon made her and the enemy predator turn their heads.

  The ground shook once. Then again — heavier this time, closer. A low vibration, rolling through the dock like distant artillery.

  Elior blinked. “What the hell is that?”

  Jocasta didn’t know. But she looked up, smoke curling around her helmet, and saw two shapes moving fast along the top of the containers — one broad and gray, the other smaller, clinging tight.

  The reinforcements had arrived. “Grent, kill those,” the bear yelled. A moment later, the boar tried to raise his line of fire, but the shield made it almost impossible, and his aim got way worse.

  =================================

  Ruld leaped from the container. Some stray bullets hissing a few meters to the left. He landed like a meteor. Even to most predators, that leap and landing would have caused some broken bones. His higher muscle and bone density, paired with a well-trained flow of movement, helped him to reduce it to a bit of pain that he shrugged off.

  The rhino landed between Jocasta and the bear. Impact making the ground crack. Muldoon jumped off mid-motion, rolling into a crouch, rifle snapping up, eyes glowing with focus. It was enough time for the bear to recover.

  Chain whipped through smoke, whistling as it cut air — but Ruld was already moving. He ducked under it, caught one of the links mid-swing, and pulled. The chain went taut, metal groaning. The bear roared and yanked back, but Ruld braced — boots grinding, shoulders locking.

  Then he charged.

  Ruld surged forward with a sound like thunder cracking stone. The chain went slack for half a heartbeat, making the bear stagger, opening his guard. Rudl had also pulled his pistol out, firing point-blank at the enemy. Ruld met him head-on. Some of the chainlink on the bear chest broke due to impact. Both of them went crashing through a stack of containers, the noise rolling over the entire dock like a landslide.

  Jocasta blinked, disoriented, as a wolf dropped beside her in a crouch, pistol already drawn.

  “Muldoon, Central,” he said, a half grin under the soot. “We heard you were throwing a party.”

  Muldoon covered the movement, pivoting to the boar.

  The larger predator, Grent, had regained footing, dragging his shield upright and roaring in defiance. The wolf dropped to one knee, took aim at the slit in the plate, and fired — three controlled bursts. The last one found the gap. The boar jerked, stumbling, but didn’t go down.

  He fired back. The rounds whistled overhead, one sparking off Muldoon’s pauldron. Jocasta joined in, firing her sidearm to keep him pinned, while Clem shot from a second angle. Then Elior — blood on his muzzle, limping dashed, he had Raye’s pistol in his other hand. The fox started to shoot from a third position, making it impossible for the boar to get proper cover.

  The boar took two steps back, shield trembling, then something else hit from the smoke — the unconscious form of the bear flew at him, hitting like brick. He fell under his companion, struggling to break free, shield and guns out of reach.

  As one the enforcers stopped shooting.

  “Surrender!”

  “Surrender that pussy to my cock you bitch! I’m going to rip your head out and make sweet love to that hole in your throat,” came the angry reply.

  Ruld landed next to him, fist hitting Grent square in the chest, hard enough to send the air whistling out of his lungs. And he kept punching until he saw the boar’s eye roll back as he passed out.

  Silence — a strange, ringing kind — fell over the dock.

  Water still sprayed like fine mist from where the pipes had been shot. Ruld stood in the middle of it, chest heaving, armor cracked and blackened at the edges, his expression unreadable under the helmet.

  Muldoon let out a long exhale and shook his arms out. “You know,” he said between gasps, nudging Jocasta with his elbow, “That guy over there. He’s not afraid to act like a missile and punch a machine gun-wielding predator in the face. But he can’t invite the guy he has a crush out to dinner.”

  “Muldoon! Shut the fuck up!”

  Jocasta, panting, leaned against what was left of a huge crate. “Who the hell are you two?”

  Muldoon flashed her a grin. “Central extras.”

  Ruld straightened, shoulders rolling, eyes sweeping the wreckage. “Everyone ok”

  “Raye, our rookie, will need medical help like yesterday. But we are ok.”

  “There is an ambulance standing by at the parking lot,” Jocasta said.

  “Oh, yeah. I think I saw it when we parked. Is the rookie stable? I can give them a ride there.”

  “Don’t you even try. I’m applying a tourniquet, and the last thing she needs is to be bounced around.”

  “I just radioed.” Clem, the badger, said. “They are coming here to pick her up.” He had tears in his eyes, but his whole expression was pure anger.

  “Well, we owe you guys one,” Jocasta said. She then pressed the radio. “Joel, update us, dickhead. Did you get the other guy?”

  It took a few seconds for him to respond.

  “Yes, boss. Sorry, we got distracted. The guy was more dead than alive when we caught up to him. So it kept us busy. Locked up.”

  “Glad to hear.” She glanced around. The others looked as tired as she felt. They should be. “Clem here is going to be accompanying Raye when the ambulance arrives for her!”

  “Captain…” the badger protested just to be cut off.

  “I don’t want to hear. You are one of the best when I have your whole attention, and we both know that you’ll be only thinking if she’s going to make it or not. So don’t try to pretend the opposite to me.”

  The guy looked down but didn’t try to refute.

  “Now! Agent Muldoon and…”

  “Ruld.” Replied the rhino.

  “Agents Muldoon and Ruld. There were lots of officers injured during last night's raid. And a good chunk is patrolling the neighborhood. We are almost done scanning the docks. Can you guys help finish it?”

  “Sure. We also came across a hostile hiding among the containers.”

  “Yes. I heard it on the radio. Good job.”

  Ruld stood over the bear’s unconscious body, chest rising and falling like a piston, but each breath coming out with a gurgling sound. He wiped his horn clean with a scrap of tarp.

  “Have you heard anything about Léo and Juno?” Ruld asked?

  Jocasta raised her eyebrows. Some of her spots marked them clearly.

  “Ah, you know them? The hyena got hurt and was sent to the hospital. Léo… got some injuries that he might shrug off. But he needed to eat some stuff and process it. So he is resting while we try to locate Varro again.”

  “The crocodile we fought said he went downriver.”

  Jocasta’s ears twitched. She holstered her weapon and exhaled, a sound halfway between a growl and a sigh.

  “At least we have a direction now,” she said quietly.