Dog Star 1: "Dog Eat Dog"

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The wooden crate squealed its protest as the iron crowbar demanded entry, prying smooth metal nails from weathered oak crossbeams to reveal yellow beds of straw. Sweets dug through the hay impatiently, retrieving the clips and boxes of ammo first. His breath passed from his chest as he caught sight of the stock of the black, steel weapon. Drawing it to his shoulder before sliding the barrel out of the box, he lined Scarf up in the cross-hairs, one brown eye peering between the narrow valley of the sight.

"Be careful with the merchandise. These guns are worth more than all of your little asses combined." Big Daddy Sweets ordered of the petite kittens struggling with the boxes, none of them granted the advantage of a pry bar. "And get a move on too, the buyer is going to be here soon. Boots! Get a broom and start cleaning up the mess! There's hay and straw all over the goddamn place."

Sweets set the assault rifle into the trunk of an old model three-wheel land cruiser. The vehicle was inexpensive and unremarkable, the kind of car chosen specifically to blend in.

As the mostly German Shepherd dog kicked his way back through the piles of packing material that he himself had littered the floor with, he pulled out his digital telecommunicator and sent out a quick, digital note. The note was mostly code, but it sent the message he wanted to the person who was most interested in the new shipment.

Just as Sweets was snatching the last rifle away from his most capable and prized ho, Mittens; the sound of an old cruiser without a functioning muffler pulled up outside.

"Go see who that is Mittens, make sure he came alone." Sweets ordered, shoving the sable haired neko toward the stairs where she could have the high vantage point just in case things went wrong. "Boots, go get ready to answer the door. Scarf, come here and be ready to run once I give you the cash. This all has to go exactly- according- to- plan! If any of you fucking pusses ruins this, I'll be wearing your pelt before I eat dinner. Go! Go! Go!"

Big Daddy Sweets clapped his paws at the girls as they struggled to catch up to his ever broadening demands. While they cleaned the small garage of empty crates and packing straw, Sweets sent off another digital note: "The Flea is Landing."

Boots cleared her throat daintily, signaling the others that the bad dog they were waiting for had arrived at the door. The room fell still and silent in the same moment as she door swung open to grant entrance to the old Pit Bull with a scar over his left eye. Razna-Fang hadn't been out without his pack in decades, preferring to let his subordinates and aspiring-rebels handle his dirty work. Sweets had insisted on dealing with the legendary Razna himself, refusing to even discuss an arms deal with lesser pups.

Razna was smoking a cigar, the smoke billowing up over his scarred-shut eye and around the brim of his trademark camouflaged ball-cap. It was clear that the elderly leader was not pleased at dealing with a common pimp who was disloyal to his own people and indifferent to the plight of his fellow mixed breeds.

“I’m here cat-lover. Now where is what you promised me?” Razna demanded, making no attempt to hide the impatience and disgust in his snarling tone. “The feline stench in this gutter is making my stomach turn.”

“Relax, Alpha-dog. It’s all right here.” Sweets smirked, feigning good-nature even as his back teeth ground themselves together. “Come take a look, I won’t bite ya. I trust that you brought the price we agreed upon yes?”

Razna just shoved the briefcase full of currency-cards into Sweets’ arms as he pushed his way past to inspect the trunk full of firearms and ammo. Sweets glanced quickly over his shoulder at Scarf, passing the briefcase into her slender hands. One swift motion from his ear and she was off, running in a dead sprint from the garage and back to the safe-house as fast as her slender, athletic legs could carry her.

“Where the hell is she going?” The rebel leader barked, a low growl following the gruff demand from the dog’s throat.

“She’s just making sure the money gets somewhere safe. Not to worry. It’s all there.” Sweets grinned, his charisma affecting the most disarming smile he could manage. “Go on, enjoy them. Fight the power. Die for the cause and all that.”

Sweets lobbed the small ring of keys over to the much larger and older Alpha-Male. Sweets grinned bigger as Boots pressed a button to lift the slatted metal garage door, allowing the legendary rebel Razna-Fang to drive off with a trunk full of powerful weapons.

The very moment the old rusty bucket of a vehicle rolled out of Sweets’ driveway, a chorus of squealing tires and flashing blue lights sped in from both sides. The cars ran silent except for their skidding wheels, every window tinted pitch black to match the flawless paint.

Secret Police.

The enemy of all rebels in the Cannus system. The arm of the government charged with protecting the order, the status quo, and of course catching the occasional “Big Fish” to parade in front of the media.

“Son of a bitch!” Razna shouted, throwing open the car door and making a dash for the trunk. “It’s a set up! The fucking mutt set me up! Kill them all!”

Razna-Fang never went anywhere alone, from surrounding rooftops on all sides weapons fired in short bursts of automatic fire. Sweets fired a few blind cover shots with his chrome .44 Magnum the steel door painfully slow in closing again. Barking and gunfire flooded the streets as the car doors swung open and the secret police returned fire.

“Pack it up you pussies! We got to get the fuck out of here!” Sweets demanded.

Boots complied right away, rushing to his side and clinging to his torso. Mittens silently refused to leave her post until she threw off a few heavy pins through the second story window. A long, anguished yelp confirmed that her aim was true as ever. Nekos were renowned for their keen eyesight. She fled her post just before bullets tore through the window into the wall she had been standing in front of only a split second earlier.

“Damnit bitch! I said MOVE!”

If you were to look at the three room apartment, the older television, rumpled bedding, the general disarray of the tiny living space, you would imagine it's occupant to be lower middle class. A working mutt, generally irrelevant but with places and the option to go further, because no family could exist here. Maybe even a student would be crammed in here while saving money. You would never imagine this near hovel was home to one of the most feared and brutal members of the Secret Police.

Two figures are on the bed, but only the larger would be of any interest. Rexxar looked mostly like a Rottweiler, but he was about as far from a pure breed as you could get. The previous ruler had been big on experimenting, and Rexxar was one of them. He wasn't sure what his exact pedigree chart would look like, and he didn't really care. Whatever had gone into creating him had made an incredibly violent, intelligent, and sexually voracious dog. As he sat up, stretching his broad muscles, he glanced at the female bitch beside him on the bed. A feral smile crossed his muzzle as memories of her yelps replayed in his mind. She'd approached him last night, so he had no reservations about using her any way he damn well chose. When he'd finally finished with her she'd passed out on the bed, he shot a glance at the clock and grinned again, that had only been a little less than four hours ago.

He nudged the sleeping female and growled, "Get up, you're leaving in five minutes."

Rexxar climbed out of the bed and straight into the shower. It actually took less than the five minutes to purge the scent of sex from his fur and fully reawaken his senses. He stepped out, toweling off. The girl was mostly awake, but Rexxar wasn't in a terribly good mood. He'd remembered what was supposed to happen today.

Without a word, he tossed the girl her clothes, then scooped her up and tossed her out the door. He was going to have to be sure he was properly armed for this, and he didn't let anyone see where he kept his toys. He found the weapon he was after, a pair of .44 mag revolvers with a blade fixed under the barrel. It worked wonders for close quarters combat. With his choice of weapon fixed on, he dressed. Normally he didn't bother with the more formal attire of the police force, but today would be different. He made sure the vest was properly set under his loose fitting shirt. While he didn't anticipate taking any fire, better safe than sorry.

He made a brief stop at the station, confirming that everything would be in position. If Smiles screwed this one up, Rexxar would tear his body apart. The police had been searching for Raznar for a long time, when Smiles approached Rexxar with a guarantee about getting him it was too good to pass up. While Rexxar couldn't care less about politics, allegiances, or pedigree quality, he also had a job to do. It galled him a little that he had to go through Smiles for this, but they had a good enough working relationship.

Rexxar had caught Smiles one night smuggling goods in the shady side of town. It hadn't been a particularly good night for Rexxar and he was inclined to take out his emotions on the smuggler, until the neko's had shown up. While he probably could have made a go of a fight with them all, Rexxar also had very little loyalty to the ruling party. Smiles' offered a deal, info in exchange for getting some slack, and anything else he could provide. For some time Rexxar's eyes had been wandering to the various girls Smiles had stabled, the neko's especially sticking in his mind. He hadn't found an opportunity to get at them yet, but eventually. In the interim money, guns, some doggy tail from time to time kept Rexxar looking the other way. That couldn't last forever, but he'd deal with that later.

A few hours later, Rexxar was on a rooftop a few blocks away from the site. Smiles' had lured Razna into the open. There were plenty of support for him on the rooftops, but they wouldn't be a problem, hell, they'd be an enjoyment. Rexxar passed the message along when Smiles' let him know it was time.

All hell broke loose soon after, and Rexxar's feral grin flashed before he took off across the rooftops. The poor dumb guys in front of him, so focused on shooting into the street they never even noticed the whirlwind of death leaping from building to building.

"Ooooh," Mittens breathed, her eyes widening at the sight of the gun Big Daddy revealed, eagerly opening her own crate with one of her Pens. A little grunt, her tail flipping furiously, and it finally cracked. One for her own fondling! She pushed aside the straw and mess, plucking it out. A bit big for her grip, the neko looked ready to topple over with it any moment.

She wanted to play with it. Just a few, quick little-
Aw. He took it.

Still pouting slightly as he sent her off, she made her way up the rung ladder, perching atop a stack of boxes and peering out the broken glass window. Looked to be in the clear... She gave an affirming nod back to the others, though one of her pens was already waiting in her hand, fingers twirling it slowly.

As the other dog entered, Mittens simply slunk to the other side of the box, watching from between the bars of the rail to the events down below. This seemed to be going just as Daddy hoped. Even though she was saddened at not getting the cnace to try out any of those beauties, she was happy to see them go as Razna took the driver's seat.

A yowl escaped her as the sudden explosion of light and sound filled the now-opened doors, scrambling back to her window. She should have been paying attention! Sure enough, her assumption of his lone arrival was proven wrong, extra gunfire joining in.

He was yelling at her.
Meh. She was used to it.

"I'm COMIN', Big Daddy!," She snapped in return, the spike in her fingers still twirling about before hurling out the window at one of the aiming guns. Spliced the doggy's paw from its finger, leaving Mittens to giggle happily before scooting quickly from the boxes. Another howl left her lips as the gunfire followed after her, taking the harder route of simply jumping over the side of the rail.

She realized it then. She had barked at him. She had barked at the dog.

*Shit.*

Scrambling over to him, she glanced back at the doors, quickly giving him an apologetic raise of her eyes. "What now? Boom boom bye? Ohhh, please?"

As they arrived at the safehouse, Boots immediately let go of Big Daddy and dashed to the door, to secure it and also to make sure no one had followed them.

When she was certain all was clear, she left Big Daddy, Mittens and Scarf to talk as she got their 'celebration' items in order.

A cigar for Big Daddy and 4 cups with their best whiskey they had on hand. Or at least the best whiskey that was bartered for just last week.

Boots walked up to the case with the cards in it. She had never in her life seen this much before! It was like a dream, Big Daddy's dream, come true! After a quick count, she meekly made her way back up to Big Daddy and handed him a data pad with the count of the cards. It was all there. Despite the police interrupting them, they had gotten what they needed from the deal.

The first two didn't even know what hit them, the bark of his guns lost in the cacophony of semi-automatic fire that engulfed the area. Rexxar didn't miss often, and each pistol barked again, two more enemies falling with gaping holes materializing in their chests. Then he was among them, despite his large frame he was agile, and they all knew who he was. A reputation is a powerful thing, even more so when it's totally and completely deserved. And Rexxar had earned every damn bit of his.

The blades on his guns cut those too close to shoot, then he opened fire again at the fleeing canine forms. Rexxar had played the shock factor, the inexperienced and the cowardly would be fleeing. It was the determined and zealots that remained to fight him. He dodged left, grabbing a wounded dog to absorb the first wave of gunfire. His return fire wasn't nearly as accurate, but it didn't have to be. He slid behind a metal structure and reloaded. He carried several speed loaders with him so the process took mere seconds, then he was moving again.

Those who remained were pretty good about keeping cover, but they were also located along the edges of the building to provide optimal fire into the street. A tactical advantage most of the time, Rexxar turned it against them. Even a glancing blow to a shoulder carried enough force to push them back over the edge and to the street below. Once the roof was clear, he jumped to the next one. This time they had an idea he was coming, but the fire from the street helped suppress their movements. This time the blades on his weapons did their work. He didn't have to kill with every blow, a slash along the wrist could sever tendons and keep them from firing, or on the leg to hamper mobility. He dodged and ducked around them, gouts of blood running in his wake as he sped across the roof. This time he didn't leap to the next building, instead he dropped to the street below.

Despite the acrid scent of discharged weaponry, he'd picked up on Razna's scent. He dodged down alley's for a moment before coming face to face with the rebel. They both stopped short, staring holes in each other across the 20 feet between them. The pitbull had an automatic rifle, and Rexxar didn't have many rounds left in the revolvers. It didn't matter. They charged each other, Rexxar noting the movements of his opponent. Dodging bullets was easier than people made it out to be, but also something that took lots of practice. Razna fired in controlled bursts, his weapon tracking Rexxar's movements. That actually worked in Rexxar's favor, a hailstorm of bullets would have been more difficult to avoid. As it was, he only had to avoid where his opponent was aiming.

The distance closed, and the pistols barked again, but his adversary was good. By the time they crashed into each other, both were devoid of ammo. Rather than fight for position to use the blades, Rexxar tossed the guns aside and grappled with the pit bull. They snarled, bit, rolled, scratched, anything to gain an advantage. Unfortunately, Razna was at a disadvantage.

One of the first things Rexxar had learned in training was not to rely on his size. Someone who relied on size to get what they wanted was a bully, and bullies are invariably cowards. Rexxar had learned technique first, then how to use his size to his advantage. Now Razna was feeling the results, a true monster.

Their clash ended almost as abruptly as it had began, Rexxar's teeth finally found purchase in the pitbull's throat. With a wet crunch bone, ligaments, and blood vessels shattered under the force of his bite. The gunfire was winding down, but Rexxar hardly noticed. The pulsing sound of his own blood as it coursed through his ears was all he heard in this moment of victory. The rest of the police were rounding up the few rebels, inevitably they found Rexxar, his tongue tracing his lips, cleaning the blood of his fallen foe.

Glance inside the war room of the Emperor, one would probably see engineers around with one or two generals talking about recent uprisings. But today, the war room is filled with some of the empire's top generals. One of them being Karpa. As the generals go on their trivial conversation, he stands up and lets out a quick bark for silence. Though he may be one of the younger generals, it is obvious he commands the room.

"Fellow generals, as you have obviously heard, there have been an increasing amount of rebel uprisings. Luckily, our secret police have been able to keep them relatively low key. But there has been one very disturbing aspect to these rebels. Weapons. Somehow these rebels have been getting their filthy mix-breed hands on weapons. I've recently sent out a spy team led by my trusty assistant, Naida, to find out the culprit. It turns out our favorite rebel and his nekos have come out of hiding to make some money. Yes, Sweets is back and if we have any hope of restoring peace, this half-breed must be killed!" as he slams a fist upon the table, the group bursts into panic.

They know of Sweet's infamous record in his smuggling deals.
"Quiet you cowards!" Karpa growls. "Now, Sweets is a strong man and his nekos are no pushover either. I am suggesting that we send an elite team of fighters to go and fight the resistance. I have already picked out the team which includes myself and Naida. The only reason you know about this operation is because the Emperor wouldn't allow me to go on without consulting the board first. Now, what is your decision on this matter?"

After a quick murmur amongst the generals they come to a unanimous decision to allow the operation to proceed. "Thank you," Karpa says. "Now quickly Naida. I need all the supplies for this operation by the end of the day and make sure our team is equipped and ready to leave at dawn tomorrow. Have everyone meet in my residential office by then and we shall begin this op. Understood?" Karpa swiftly stands up and, with a flourish of his coat, walks out the door with twin blades tinkling behind him as he leaves.

Naida had done a great job working undercover despite the fact that she was obviously a very pure breed of German Shepard. She had been quite happy to be trusted enough to lead the spy team but was even happier to know that she would no longer be in charge of the operations. Karpa was after all planning to go with them this time.

"Affirmative," She said as Karpa gave his orders. She was quick to follow him out of the room ready to get the mission underway. She had a lot of the things they would need on standby, she was ready and prepared for this and she had no doubt in her mind that the General was going to get the support from all the others.

He was not a man to be crossed in any sense of the word.

The female shepard quickly got on her phone and started calling their team together giving them the basic info that they would need. They were to meet her for their supplies in two hours time and then finally be waiting in Karpa's office before sunrise. She didn't want any of them late.

Karpa made his way back to his office inside the Operations building. He nodded to Naida, relieving her from duty for the rest of the day. He walks into his office and takes off his coat and weapons. Sitting in his seat, he reaches over for a bottle of Cognac and fills up just enough to relax. He begins to think about the operation to come and is confident in his and Naida's ability to pull it off.

"Naida," he thinks. A purebred and a wonderful woman. Her loyalty to the Empire almost rivaled his own. But that wasn't it. Her looks are perfect. Her personality, perfect. The more he thought about it, the more he began to see Naida as a woman, rather than just an assistant.

"No," he quickly shakes his head. "These thoughts are not meant to be brought up. This is work and tomorrow I have an important mission to pull off. I can't mess this up." He downs the rest of his drink, dons his coat and weapons, and walks off to his personal armory. If he was to proceed with this mission and succeed. He needed some good firepower.

Naida was not the sort that could just 'take the rest of the night off' as it were. She was a hard working woman and there were things to be done. She was walking back to her office when she spotted Karpa walking off in the direction of his armory. Yes, she knew about his armory, she had been sent down there to get something for him on occasion.

She debated only for a moment if she should follow or not and quickly decided that she might as well. It wasn't like she had a home life to rush off to or anything like that. Her heels could easily be heard on the floor as she walked after him.

She held some paperwork in her arms.

"Karpa sir, are you planning on getting any rest tonight?" She asked as she got close.

Karpa almost reached his armory and heard heels walking towards him. A moment later he heard Naida ask if he was going to rest tonight.

"Probably not, Naida. Too much on the mind with this operation. Just picking up some weapons for tomorrow."

He then turned around, entered the code for access, and proceeded into the vast armory. Looking around, he finds his most cherished firearm. An expertly crafted semi-automatic magnum. The weapon packed a huge punch in its 12-round clip. It would punch a hole in an enemy the size of his fist. Passed down to him from his grandfather, Karpa always used this weapon for missions. Whether they were big or small. He continued on in his armory stocking up on ammunition for the magnum and picked up another gun along the way. This one though was just a simple standard-issue semi-automatic 15-round pistol.

He cocks his guns and aims down the sights. Putting them both into holsters at his chest, Karpa walks out without another word to Naida and goes on his way home. Ready for tomorrow's mission

All's Well That Escapes Hell.

Sweets' eyes narrowed and his lips curled back from his teeth and a low, lopsided growl rolled up his throat. She had talked back to him, Mittens, the one who was supposed to be the good example for all the others had talked back to him. As she descended the stairs, her skirt fluttering faintly and breasts jiggling under her cute sweater vest, Sweets barked at her earnestly. His bark was loud and aggressive and echoed off the cement walls of the garage, his teeth clacked shut next to her ear as his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Watch that smart fucking mouth, Puss. Don't forget that you need me more than I need you." Sweets whispered harshly as he led Mittens toward the back part of the garage. "You're nothing more than a pair of fuzzy gloves to me. And if you forget your place again, I'll turn you over to the rebels who will do much worse to you. Is that what you want?"

Before waiting for an answer, Sweets shoved Mittens toward the loading dock where his Inter-Planetary cruiser was parked. By space-ship standards, it was microscopic, essentially a hot-rod made from separate parts and illegal modifications. But without a warp drive, "Swagger" took forever to make the long trecks across space.

Still, it was more than capable of escaping auto-cars and surface aircrafts.

"Go rig the PE-4 Mittens." Sweets demanded, giving her a hind-paw kick under her skirt to send her stumbling into action. "Boots, hurry up and get on board. We're skipping this shit-storm."

While Mittens hurried to make final preparations and wire the explosives placed at key stress points all around the garage. Sweets had taken every precaution in preparation for this operation. Dealing with rebels was always dangerous, and dealing with Secret Police even more so. Combining both, playing each side against the other for personal gain; well that was suicide!

The garage had been gutted weeks ago, and wired to blow. Sweets revved the rocket engines of his ship as Mittens set the timer, threatening to leave her behind at the mercy of whichever side came out victorious or in a flaming ball of death.

Mittens sprinted on board, just as the after-burners jumped to life, firing blue flames out the back of the sleek chrome and steel craft. There was no time to wait for the roof hatch to open, Sweets crashed through on his way out.

Debris and shrapnel squealed against the hull as Swagger took skyward, the hollow thumps of wayward bullets riddling the bottom of the ship. Sweets didn't look back or turn the ship at all. He sped skyward as fast as he could, until the sky faded to black and the fight below was lost in the distance. Once they were safe he leveled off, just in time to watch the tiny flash of what was once his prized chop shop going up in a ball of flame and raw percussive power.

"I hope Scarf made it out okay..." Sweets muttered, programming Swagger into a descent pattern that would take them back to the safe-house. "Belt up, bitches. It's going to be a bumpy ride home."

***

The "Safe-House" wasn't so much a house at all, it was a luxurious high-rise condo that Big Daddy Sweets owned. It was on the top story of a massive residential complex, which ensured that even the Imperials wouldn't try to bomb him out. He owned spacecraft storage on the roof of the building, which allowed him to keep Swagger safely stored while he was laying low.

Sweets tried to hide his sincere relief at seeing Scarf had already arrived with the briefcase full of currency. Boots ran off to prepare a celebration for him, as Sweets made his way over to snatch the case and inspect his haul. The sting had gone better than he had imagined. When Boots returned with the cigar and whiskey, Big Daddy traded her the case for the items, gesturing with his ear for Scarf to help her count up the earnings.

"Mittens! Get over here and put that smart-ass mouth to some proper use." Big Daddy Sweets demanded as he settled into his comfortable armchair and lit the cigar with a match, turning to look out the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the entire Capitol City. "This was a good day for us girls. Aside from a minor attitude flair up, you all did very well. I'm proud of you."

As he mentioned the "Attitude flair up", Sweets dragged Mittens to her knees before him, lowering his slacks to allow her access to his red knot. As Boots brought over the data pad, Sweets took a long drag of the cigar and smiled. He took a long sip of whiskey next and looked out the window, breathing a long sigh of relief and satisfaction.

All seemed well. At least for now...

Mittens grimaced a bit more as Big Daddy barked at her, her ears falling back as he pulled her in. She was going to owe him for that, she was sure of it. She was half afraid he was going to claim a part of her tail, right then and there, start work on the cuffs of his mittens- but instead, he shoved her off to the craft, giving her an extra boot to get moving. A sigh of relief washed over her, quickly hurrying to get everything set. Digging out the explosives hidden inside the ship, she set about getting them in place as the rest of the 'crew' got settled in. There. The last cord attached to the timer, a quick glance around, and they'd be leaving behind one hell of a fireworks display.

She yelped as she heard the ship's engines, bolting back toward it and slamming the doors closed behind her, panting a bit as she slipped into her seat.

---

Home.
Well, what he called home.
What they called 'that place where Sweets kept them safe...ish'.

As the cargo was unloaded, Mittens tried to avoid him, hesitantly trying to make her way to help Boots instead.

"Mittens!"

She hissed softly, closing her eyes as she turned around, frowning as he barked out for her to make up for her mistake. Slowly saddling up next to his armchair, she glanced to the other two as they worked about, wishing she could do the same. His praise brought a little smile to her face, though it vanished as soon as he mentioned her outburst and snatched for her.

Quickly moving to her knees, she waited for his pants to be opened, taking him into her lips the moment his cock came into sight. Already made one stupid move today. Don't make it two and wait too long...

She sucked on him gently, long and slow, letting her actions speak the apology her mouth certainly couldn't at the moment. Nestled between his knees, her hands resting against her own lap, she continued to work, the soft slurp and pop of her lips muffled by the cascade of her hair about her head and his lap. She could smell his cigar, the scent of his whiskey. Well, those should help to calm him down some, shouldn't they? Her mouth took him further, engulfing him as far as she could, her tail slowly sweeping against the floor.

Rexxar was never a very lucky individual. Do date, in terms of pure luck, there had been two major events in his life. One was the scientist who added whatever strain of genes gave him the intelligence to hid his sexual and violent appetites, the other was running into Sweets. Today he was given a quasi-gift from Lady Luck. In this case, the other members of the Secret Police had just finished removing the body of his victim from the alley when Sweet's warehouse went up in a thunderous roar. It wasn't technically owned by Sweet's, but he'd been using it for some time, though no more apparently.

The explosion was powerful, it was lucky for Sweet's most of the civilians had been cleared either by the police or by the rebels before the meeting. Too many civilian casualties never benefited anyone. Plus it was known that Sweet's had been involved to some degree in this, and the backlash would have been too much to handle. Rexxar was far enough away the force of the blast only moved his upper body, unfortunately that was also the range when shrapnel and debris were at their most dangerous. He tossed himself through an open window into a building and rode out the hail storm of debris that fell in a surprisingly large radius around the point of explosion.

When the dust was more or less settled, Rexxar moved to the mobile command post that had been set up. Sweet's wasn't dumb, the explosion had served two purposes, removing any legitimate trace of his business there, and providing cover for his ship. It was the ship that Rexxar was more interested in. If the smuggler hadn't got out in time he'd be very put out.

It didn't take long to find a functioning camera a few blocks away that had a brief image of the ship speeding away. That was really all Rexxar needed, the ship was nondescript enough to pass for something else on replays, or at the very least he could claim ignorance. The larger problem was the body count. One didn't take down the leader of a major rebellion without casualties, and casualties always meant more headaches on his part. Rexxar didn't do well with reports, paperwork, or inquiries. He could give them all the information, but the mundane nature just made his other appetites more insistent. This one was definitely shaping up to be a headache, Sweets was going to owe him big time for this.

Rexxar had to return to head quarters for a bit, he could postpone many aspects of his job, but not all. So about an hour after the signal to take down the pit bull had been given, he was seated in his office, waiting for the inevitable call from someone higher up than him. He was in charge of the take down, and good or bad, whatever was going to come down was going to hit him first.

Boots and Scarf had finished up counting the total of their 'loot'. She wasn't too sure if it was a good haul or not but as long as she did her part and Big Daddy no complaints about her, it was a good day.

Daddy was on his third helping of whiskey and he seemed to be enjoying his time with Mittens. With a slight blush, Boots looked away and started to prepare the night's meal, as she always did for the gang.

It didn't take long for Boots to get something prepared for everyone. She was a pretty good cook when she really concentrated on it. And besides, they really couldn't order out right now, not with what happened this afternoon. Daddy always said it was best to lay low for a while until things cooled down and if he said so, then it must be right.

Boots didn't notice that it had gotten very dark outside and that a storm was brewing. Just then a loud clap of thunder echoed through the place, scaring her into a hiss and sending her running toward Big Daddy. She meowed quietly, more embarrassed than anything that everyone had seen her get scared. Boy she was going to hear from Mittens on this, teasing her soon probably...