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It was hot enough in the crowded room to stifle a lizard; although the one playing bass seemed to be doing pretty well. The lion on lead vocals however looked to be having some trouble. He was a huge mammal to begin with, but he was also covered in thick fur from head to toe. Not to mention a huge mane that must have held in plenty of heat even as sweat poured out from within it. The lions roaring vocals however were unaffected as he continued to scream with a primal fury that stirred the crowd like nothing Marcus had ever seen. The lion had already removed his shit revealing the thick muscles beneath, and his chest heaved hugely as he drew in breathe before screaming it all out.

His chest expanded even further as he stood tall and hit the chorus with soaring vocals, surprisingly clean sounding, which was a perfect contrast to the bestial rage that filled his screams. The crowd, despite the somewhat less intense sound, slammed about even harder during the chorus and effectively turned the entire room into an enormous mosh pit. This was far from the first metal concert Marcus had weathered, and it would certainly not be his last if he had his way. He was certainly not large, in fact he was much smaller then a lot of others in the crowd, but he could hold his own without fail. As the clichéd lone wolf that he was, he'd always held his own. An elbow slammed up from in front of him and caught him in the nose by surprise.

It was thrown backwards out of ignorance, not malice, and the goat who had thrown it was completely oblivious that he'd struck someone. Marcus shook his head to clear it. He could taste and smell a bit of blood in his mouth and on his nose. He wasn't mad, it was hard to be mad at a metal concert. It seems like I contradiction but it's true. As the elbow came up again for second strike Marcus shoved the goat away and he went flailing obliviously forward. Long before he hit the ground a hundred hands grabbed him and saved him from falling. That's how it was, and that's why it was hard to be mad at metal concerts. There was none of the bloodlust the media loved to drone on about.

If someone fell, they weren't trampled, they were lifted. If someone was hurt, room was made instantly for them to catch some air. Marcus thought back to the time some flail dancer, or whatever they called themselves, kicked a dude in the head so hard he blacked out cold. Marcus and some equine caught the injured guy before he struck the ground. It was amazing how quickly a path can be made when your carrying a half-conscious and clearly injured guy. The equine must have had some medical experience because when they sat the injured fur, a cougar of all things, on a bench beside the bar, the equine pulled out a pen light and checked his pupils. He did all the tests you see in the movies and at the doctors. He held up his fingers and asked how many where up, which the cougar successfully identified. He told the cat to follow his finger as he moved it back and forth. He asked the cat a few questions and told him it was probably a mild concussion and if he didn't feel better in a couple hours to head to a hospital.

"It's gonna hurt like hell for a while, bud." He said patting the cougar on the shoulder with his big equine hands. "You'll be alright though. You have a ride home? You're gonna be dizzy for a bit." The cougar nodded briskly, his hand planted solidly on the side of his skull.

"You alright, man?" Marcus asked, leaning down to look at him. The cougar nodded and thanked them for hauling him out of the brawl.

As they walked away, Marcus asked the equine "He gonna be alright?"

The equine nodded confidently. "He'll be good in a bit." A broad smile displayed his flat teeth. "It'll suck for a next little bit, but he'll be alright." Then they headed back to the concert.

That was not a rare incident either, neither the KO or the quick help provided to the victim. Marcus did his fair share of moshing. It was fun, and a descent release of all the stress his work provided him with. In his early twenties Marcus had already given up on college and was working landscaping by day, and at a tattoo parlor at night. Today he had both jobs off and was at the concert with a friend, John. He hadn't seen John sense the second opening band, and the headliners where getting ready to wrap it up. It was about time to find him and get ready to leave before the mad traffic rush as was Marcus' custom.

After a minute of half pushing, half moshing his way through the crowd he caught sight of the husky. He was standing way too close to a little coyote girl, looking her deep in the eyes and talking, probably too quietly for either of them to hear, but the coyote was entirely enthralled. The big male coyote who was stomping towards the two of them didn't look too happy about what his girlfriend, mate, whatever, was doing with the fluffy little husky. Granted, little wasn't quite an accurate word for John, but like Marcus, neither was big. John was entirely oblivious to the pissed off canine even as he drew closer, bearing his teeth and probably growling.

Marcus could think of a few ways to handle this, and chose what he thought was the best one. He broke into a run shoving his way through the crowd, the music now forgotten. John looked up as the coyote came within a few feat of the female coyote's back, and he quickly put together what was happening. His jaw dropped open a bit. Marcus flew in from the side, parallel with the ground, leading with his feet, and planted a solid dropkick on the coyote's chest. He'd never liked coyote's anyway. To the coyote's credit he took the hit like a champ, staggering and falling back onto one hand, but never entirely grounded by the strike.

Not big but extremely solid, very well built, and well trained Marcus had delivered a hit that could have stunned a bear, but he didn't wait around to see how quickly the coyote would be back at his feet and to his senses. He dashed back, grabbing a-hold of John's shoulder and yanking him away from the girl. With the skill of a trained shinobi John drew a business-like card from his wallet and flicked it towards the girl with perfect precision. She caught it, smiling sheepishly and slipped it into her pocket before stepping in front of her enraged boyfriend and starting a screaming match to rival the lion's roars. Marcus and John didn't slow down as they disappeared into the crowd and got further away from the coyotes.

John was laughing a little. "Thanks for that."

"Never really liked coyotes anyway." Marcus said, then smiled. "Their posers."

"Who's the one running away?" John asked.

Marcus stopped dead in his tracks. "Shall we go kick his ass?"

John was shaking his head and laughing before Marcus finished the question. Non-confrontational by nature, although you'd hardly be able to tell by some of his actions, John was all for disappearing before a fight broke out. "I'd rather not get arrested."

"Me neither." Marcus agreed and they dug deeper into the crowd. "Now we'll have to make sure to sneak out with the crowd. So much for beating the traffic out."

"A small price." John said, producing a piece of paper with the girls number on it.

"You gave her yours! What do you need hers for?"

"In case she looses it."

Marcus shook his head. He never really pursued a relationship with a girl, or anyone for that matter. John was his closest friend, and they hardly knew each other. Granted, they'd been friends for about 6 years now, sense high school, but they knew very little about each other's true selves. "You're still going to pursue it knowing she's got a boyfriend like that?"

"Mate," John corrected. "but she's breaking it off soon."

Marcus only shook his head again. This was where John got into most of the confrontations he was so intent upon otherwise avoiding. It seemed if a girl was taken she was doubly attractive to him, another thing that Marcus could never understand. Within the next two songs the show was over and the band departed to thunderous applause and screams. Marcus and John added to both.

"They were good."

"Yeah," John agreed. "We'll have to see them again." Marcus nodded. Their sizes helped them disappear within the larger clumps of the crowd as they ducked their heads to appear even more invisible. Marcus caught site of the coyote still on the floor craning his neck, his apparent ex-mate pulling on his arm and yelling as he searched for his prey.

We could take him. Marcus thought to himself reassuringly. John may have been non-confrontational, but there was no one he'd rather have at his back in a fight. John hated when the fight started, but once it was on he could handle himself better then most. They'd been in enough little fights over the years for Marcus to learn that. Between school and concerts they'd been in at least ten different fights of differing odds, and had always come out at least arguably on top. It was part of why they were still friends. They had a shared mentality that even if they got beat to a pulp, they made sure the other guys made it out at least equal if not worse for wear. They had an unspoken rule to watch one another's backs. Neither of them had any other friends really, although John was always cycling through girlfriends. They were also roommates, both thrown from their families at different ages for different reasons.

It wasn't so big a deal for John, although it must have hurt all the same, but for a wolf like Marcus to be thrown from his family, his pack, it was the most terrible thing imaginable. That's when Marcus became the lone wolf, untrusting from a young age, and without family or friends until John. They made it out of the concert without trouble from the coyote, but now they had to deal with the traffic. They made their way to Marcus car keeping a constant watch over their shoulder for trouble from the coyote. They had parked way in the back of the huge parking lot and had a descent walk to get to the car.

When they did, Marcus, as always, checked under his seat to make sure his rather sizable CD collection was still in tact in the huge booklets that held it. His CD player was in tact as well and he quickly kicked up a CD of the band they'd just seen; same as everyone else was surly doing. They prepared for the struggle of pushing and shoving their way out of the parking area and onto the street. After a few minutes, someone finally gave them enough space to get out of their parking spot, jump a curb and get onto the side-road that was just as hard to traverse as the actual parking lot.

Marcus was a quick and aggressive driver, but was always in control and was really quite skilled behind the wheel. He squeezed through holes and muscled his way along, ignoring the honks and curses. John just laughed at the pissed off drivers all around them. They where almost out when a bright red sports car jumped out ahead of them and stopped sideways in the road.

"Hey!" Marcus screamed out of his window, blasting his horn. "What the hell're you doing retard?!" Out of the drivers seat stomped the coyote from earlier, his ex-mate no where to be seen. Out of the passenger seat instead stalked a somewhat chubby hyena. The hyena was wearing a t-shirt and on his flesh, by the glow of the street lights and ambient light from headlights they saw the jagged tribal X shapes of the Bores, a gang that plagued the city. The coyote must have noticed their looks because he pulled back his sleeves to reveal his own markings.

The members of the Bores were required to get tattooed from neck to toe in a tribal tattoo that resembled razor wire that crossed around their bodies making various X's and crosses. They would then precisely dye their fur on top of the tattoo to make it complete. They were notoriously brutal and hot headed. The cops where either under their thumb or scared of them because they never seemed to do too much in the way of counter measures.

"Come on smart-ass!" The coyote barked, his eyes locked on Marcus instead of John.

"Take another crack at me now."

"Jason!" A female voice cried out from behind the car as the coyote John had swapped numbers with came running up from the concert hall.

"Get out of here b-" The coyote, or Jason's, words were cut off by Marcus' spinning and squealing tires as he cranked the wheel and floored it. He slid out around the sports car.

"Mother f-" John yelled, but his words too were cut off, but by the sound of gunfire. Marcus' rear window exploded as bullets whizzed by.

"Shit!" Marcus screamed as he struggled to right his car on the road beyond the Bore's sports car. There was a bit of room between him and the next car, but unwilling to stop, he curved to the right as a few more bullets slammed into the back of the car. John was cursing over and over between prayers. Marcus' car jumped over one curb, then another, and finally he made it back onto the road. John's prayers must have been working because they found a gap between the now panicked concertgoers and slipped out into the night. Marcus looked back through his rearview mirror and saw the chaos that the gunfire had produced. In the panic there had been countless collisions and fender benders, most of which would never be accounted for or would be called "hit and runs" because everyone was so desperate to get away.

Still cursing Marcus was doubled over growling a little. A spike of fear drilled through Marcus' spine.

"Are you hit?" Marcus didn't answer, he just kept cursing. "Are you hit!?" Marcus asked.

"No!" John screamed. "No No No!" He was freaking out, but uninjured. Marcus took a sigh of slight relief.

What was that feeling? Marcus wondered. Do I really care that much... he looked over to John, and felt both pity, and a harsh realization that he had much bigger things to worry about then why he cared so damn much about his friend.

"Let's get home fast." John said sounding a bit wheezy. Marcus just nodded, not sure if the smoke he was smelling was cigarette smoke from the concert, gun smoke from their attackers, or smoke from his extremely pissed off car. John checked the mirrors like a bad itch every few seconds or so.

"They following us?" Marcus asked.

"I don't think so..." John was silent for a moment. "Good driving by the way." his voice was broken like a scared child as he tried to sound off-handed. He wasn't handling the trauma of being shot at with intent to kill very well. It wasn't a first time for Marcus, but he remembered his first time, and always would.

"Yeah, thanks." He checked his mirror as well, examining the massive damage to the rear window of his car. There was hardly any glass holding on around the edges. That would put him back a bit, struggling as he was financially. Their apartment was about twenty minutes away and they made the trip in silence, both of them focusing on willing the car to keep running although it threatened at least three times to die. Each time Marcus was able to force it back into life by the sheer volume of gas he pumped into the cylinders. They drove quietly into the driveway behind their apartment and Marcus shut down the car which gave a wheeze of thanks before slipping into the car equivalent of a coma.

"Should we call the cops?" John said after a few moments of silence with neither of them moving. His voice sounded a bit better now. He was recovering.

"I don't see much point to be honest." Marcus said. "They won't do anything. The Bores have them entirely under control."

"They won't do anything to them, but maybe they'll give us some protection." John said hopefully.

"I don't think so, man." Marcus said. "If you want to, you can, but honestly I don't trust them when it comes to the Bores." Some people mistook the Bores as being the Boars, a mistake that was quickly explained most frequently by a bullet Bored through them by one of the Bores. No one really knew where the name came from, but it was well known, and well feared. Messing with the Bores had been a potentially fatal mistake. They sat in silence and darkness for a few more minutes just to be completely certain that they had not been followed. Finally they got up and headed to their second floor apartment. Marcus input the code for the door and they made their way up the creaky wooden stairs. John checked his watch.

"What time?" Marcus asked.

"Quarter after 1:00." said John. Marcus nodded and led the way to their apartment door, 202. He put the key in and turned the deadbolt, a good lock that he was doubly thankful for this night. He leaned the door inward and flicked on the closest light to reveal their main room. A couch, a small TV stand with a matching TV. A bookcase with more DVDs then books in it was on one wall, and a few band posters adorned the others. It looked more like the room of someone who'd swapped a bed for a futon. It was a two bedroom apartment, but Marcus never used his room. They put their computers in there instead sense he preferred the floor over a bed anyway, and he just slept on the floor of the main room.

They had a small kitchen off to the left side of the main room, separated by a round dining table. Next to the kitchen was a short hall that led to the bathroom, John's bedroom and the computer room. It was slightly messy, but smelled clean compared to the three times smoky car ride home. Neither of them smoked at all or drank excessively, so it was a fairly simple existence in the house and fairly easy to keep clean. Marcus, still on edge, checked all of the rooms for intruders without any logical reason to while John locked the door, put the chain on, then leaned a chair up against it.

"They didn't follow us." Marcus said with more confidence then he felt.

John's shoulders where hunched, he was terrified again, the full weight of what was happening hitting him hard. His eyes were alight with fear, or maybe something else.

"I'm so sorry." It was regret. Tears fell from his light blue eyes and he sat on the floor. "We've got the fucking Bores after us and it's my fault. I just got us killed!" He cried.

"Shut-up." Marcus said harsher then he intended. "We don't wanna wake anyone up." John lowered his head and sobbed quietly. Marcus didn't know what to do. He was frozen, caught between everything he thought of himself and everything he felt inside. He had so much pity for his friend, a strange feeling of remorse for his friends pain, and also a strange connection to it. He felt like there was a bond tightening, completely invisible in the air between them. He wasn't mad at John for what he did, although he thought he aught to be.

Faltering in his speech a little, Marcus said, "It's not your falt. You didn't know who she was." John's response was a slight burp and some vomit spilled onto his shirt.

"How much did you drink?"

"Just a few beers; hardly anything at all." He said. "However I guess a great amount of terror and even a small bit of alcohol don't mix well."

"Suppose not." A silence fell between them, and the tension grew as Marcus was held in place by indecision. The pathetic scene was a pain in the back of Marcus' mind. Everything seemed so small, so brittle, like a stupid depressing movie.

"Fuck that." he mumbled aloud as the image of him and John curled up in the fetal position waiting to die passed through his mind before he stomped it out in rage. He moved over to John's side and sat next to him. "You feel alright? I mean your stomach?"

John nodded.

"I should be alright." He coughed a little bit. His deep voice sounded strange so small and broken. Marcus leaned his head back against the wall behind them.

"They don't know our names." Marcus said. "They don't know where we are. They know nothing. This'll just blow over."

"They know my name." John sobbed, his tears renewed. "It's all on that card." He threw his head in his hands.

His sadness hit Marcus in the gut like a brick from a cannon. "Come on." He said standing. "Start with a shower, and we'll figure out what to do about this." Marcus offered John his hand, which John took after a moment and struggled to his feet. Almost the second Marcus let go of John he stumbled to the ground and barely caught himself.

"I feel like I just sprinted 10K." John said between ragged breathes.

"Terror'll do that too you I guess." Marcus said as he knelt beside his friend, nuzzled his head under John's right arm and hefted him up to a standing position. With one arm around his back and the other holding tight to John's right wrist he half-carried, half-dragged his friend to the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet lid. John leaned back breathing deeply to calm himself.

"You gonna be alright?"

"I can't even stand." John said in his broken voice. Without much thought Marcus reached for the base of John's shirt and pulled it up over his head. The husky was too tired to fight it. A tingling ran through Marcus at the sight of the shirtless and well muscled husky in front of him. He quickly ignored it and dropped the shirt beside him. He turned around and closed the door behind him for some reason. It seemed like a moment for privacy even though the front door was closed and locked three times over. John looked hardly awake. Sympathy moved Marcus' hands to his friends belt buckle.

He pulled it free and John grabbed his hands to stop him. "We've got to get you washed, man. It's not good to go to sleep with vomit in your fur." John's eyes were pleading but he pulled his hands back. Marcus removed the belt and dropped it on the ground with the shirt. He unbuttoned John's pants and between John's wiggling and Marcus' tugging they got them off without much trouble. Marcus was instantly aware of the bulge in John's boxers, and he felt that same tingling return, only this time focused a bit more in his groin.

Stop it! he told himself, and shook his head a bit. John sighed a little bit in anticipation. Marcus pulled down the huskies boxers and watched, almost entranced, as his fuzzy white balls fell out along with a half erect and swollen sheath.

"I'm sorry." was all John said.

"For what?" Marcus said, ignoring his friends growing hard-on. He grabbed John around the waist and pulled him up to his feat. He helped him into the shower where he stood, leaning heavily against the wall. "You gonna be alright?" Marcus asked again. "Can you do this?" John didn't say anything. He was frozen, just like Marcus had been earlier. Marcus was almost positive that it wasn't exhaustion that kept John from washing himself. "Fine." He said finally and pulled his own shirt from his back. "You're like a little kid." John tensed but said nothing as Marcus' shirt dropped to the floor. "Hell, we'll be saving water and time anyway." He tried to say calmly.

He dropped his pants to the floor, feeling his member swelling to match Johns. Damnit. he thought, but didn't stop. He dropped his boxers to the floor, letting his soft sac and growing cock free from their chamber. He climbed into the shower slowly, joining John. John's eyes caught Marcus' half-erection and he relaxed just a little. Marcus turned the water on, and they waited for it to warm up sufficiently before stepping into it. John was hardly leaning on the wall by now, but was still unsteady on his feat.

Marcus pulled the shampoo from the shelf embedded in the wall of the shower and squeezed a liberal amount onto his hand and began lathering up John, unsteadily and unsure of himself. Was this really the thing to be doing when you had the entire city of gangsters after you?

Still, Marcus thought, it can't be that big of a deal. We probably only have the one coyote after us. The others'll just laugh at his misfortune and forget about it. Despite his memory of the hyena who was more then happy to help out his fellow Bore, Marcus put his focus to the matter at hand. What the hell was happening to him? He didn't know if he was gay or what the hell was happening, but he wanted to keep going. He wanted to see where this was going, and he wanted to be close to John no matter what. He scrubbed John's head, a weird feeling filling his stomach. He moved his hands down the back of John's neck, and began lathering his back. He rubbed the dark husky fur and saw the white fur that curled around under John's balls and little onto his ass.

Without thinking, he moved down past John's back and massaged shampoo onto his butt, slowly and strongly. He ran his fingers down the crack, his hand shaking. He reached under and lathered up John's balls from beneath him. John made no sounds, and no resistance. He writhed and twitched a little under Marcus' attentions to his more sensitive areas, but still stood firmly, leaning a bit against the wall. Marcus hurriedly lathered up and down John's legs.

"One...one second." Marcus stuttered as he began lathering his front side as quickly as he could manage. He had a raging erection now, and wondered what would happen if John saw it. "Duck your head and lean forward." John managed to let the stream go overhead and hit Marcus for a second, then then he started to teeter too far forward. Marcus caught him under his arms, but then his knees buckled and the both of them fell backwards. Marcus was able to slow their fall enough to keep from slamming too hard into the porcelain.

"John. John!" Marcus said directly into the huskies ear, worried to death that his friend had just passed out.

"What the hell's going on?" John mumbled, his voice no longer broken with sadness. It now had a confused sound to it. He was just as unsure as Marcus.

"I don't know." Marcus said leaning his head back against the shower's floor. "I have no idea." Marcus reached up around his friend giving him a great bear hug. "I think...I think I want you." Hearing the words come from his own mouth stunned Marcus almost as much as John's response.

"I think I want you too."

"What the hell's going on?!" Marcus almost shouted.

John laughed nervously, still making no attempt to move off of his friend. "Who cares, lets just do what we want."

"What we want?" Marcus asked. He could feel their fur pressing hard against one another. He could feel John breathing deeply and slowly. He slowly reached around John, pushing his hands through the still streaming shower water and found an erection equal to his own which was raging against John's rear. John writhed at Marcus' touch.

"Hold on." John whispered. He posted off the ground with his feet, grinding his back against Marcus' chest. He held his rear in the air, allowing Marcus' erection to spring up. He reached down and grabbed a hold of Marcus' cock and positioned it up against his unused tail hole. They were both already soaped up sufficiently to act as lubricant. He began lowering himself slowly as the tip of Marcus' cock slipped in past his pucker. He gasped lightly and his breathing quickened as a bit of pain ran through him. Marcus started working John's cock up and down with his hands as the husky started down again. The pressure of John's tail hole swallowing his cock was more than Marcus could believe.

He moaned under John as more and more of his cock disappeared into his friends waiting and stretching tail hole. John grabbed onto Marcus' forearms for support as he lowered himself further and further with steady speed until he reached Marcus' forming knot. John let himself relax and fall back firmly against Marcus' stomach as Marcus continued to work on the huskies cock with his hands. John was breathing heavily.

"Does it hurt?" Marcus asked.

"It's amazing." Was all John said before he pushed his hips up into the air, both fucking into Marcus' hands and lifting away from Marcus' cock. He lowered himself back down and repeated the motion with growing speed. Marcus worked John harder and harder, and soon they were slamming against the shower floor as John grew closer and closer to enveloping Marcus' knot. Finally he slammed down hard, and with a slight howl he made it all the way around Marcus' knot. Marcus felt their balls slap together as John truly hilted on his friend. He reached his left hand down and squeezed tightly around the base of John's knot and continued working hard with his right hand while he finished fucking into John's ass.

Marcus shot his load a second before John, filling the huskies hole with hot wolf seed and sending him instantly over the edge. He sent rope after rope onto his own chest, and landing a few onto Marcus' face. They just sat there under the jets of the shower, panting and thinking about what had just happened.

"Come on." Marcus finally said once his knot was sufficiently deflated to pull out from John. He helped John off of him slowly, watching his cock separate from the husky. John could stand on his own now, and they did get around to taking actual showers to wash the cum from their fur. They didn't say anything until both of them where out of the shower and dried off. Marcus left his towel on the rack in the bathroom when he was done, and walked to his room naked, not seeing much point in modesty anymore. John followed suite. Marcus drew a pair of loose fitting jeans out from the closet beside their computers and put them on after a pair of boxers. He was still partially shocked, but he didn't feel much else. It didn't feel like something to make a big deal out of. He left the room without a shirt, and found John sitting at the round table between their main room and kitchen in naught but some cargo pants. He looked a hundred times better then he had sitting on the floor with vomit on his shirt just an hour previous.

"I don't think we should make that big a deal out of it." John said before Marcus could even speak. "Obviously we have some kind of...feeling...for each other, but I see no reason to freak out. Who says it has to be a big thing anyway? Can't we just grow closer, and satisfy each other emotionally and physically without it being some big thing?"

Marcus just shrugged. "Sounds about right to me, but I do have to say..." He paused, unsure. "I...I've never felt so strongly for someone before. You truly are the strongest bond I've ever had in this world. I just want you to know that." John was smiling warmly at his uncomfortable friend when there was a frantic pounding at the door. Even Marcus jumped at the booming sounds. John produced a blade from somewhere and handed it to Marcus who took it without question. He couldn't help but notice how out of place it was. It was a fixed blade knife; dagger really, with a long razor edge. He had no idea where John had gotten it, but there was no time for that now.

Marcus moved to the door as the pounding continued. John stayed just out of sight in the kitchen, ready to charge around the corner should the need arise. With a jerk Marcus pulled the door open and stepped aside. In fell the female coyote from the concert. Marcus caught her by the arm as she stumbled and held her standing. Her nose was bloody and she looked battered to say the least.

"Jonny." She said breathlessly. "Where's Jonny."

"Lisa?" John said appearing from within the kitchen. "Lisa what the hell are you doing here? Are you alright?"

"He's going to kill me Jonny." She said, her eyes darting about the room as if the walls held some monster that could spring out at her from any direction. "He's gonna kill me." She said again.

"And you brought him here?" He yelled, grabbing her arms. The sound of a door being kicked from it's hinges on the floor below them echoed down the hall.

"I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." She sobbed. "I have no where else. I was panicking!"

John looked at Marcus, who's eyes were wild. It made John pause to see that look in Marcus' eyes. Marcus tossed the blade. John caught it and stashed it away in his pants. "Head out that window." Marcus said pointing to the window on the east wall of their second story main room.

Without question Lisa headed for the window. John paused. "I'll be right there." Marcus promised as he yanked a large leather coat from their round dining table. John turned and followed Lisa as she fell out of the window. Not more of this. Not this again. Marcus thought. He opened up the cabinet under the sink and instantly slammed a fist through the wood on the roof of the cabinet. It shattered and from the alcove between the actual sink and the wood that made up it's home fell a gun, a .45 hand cannon as he called it, and a box of it's ammo.

Marcus could hear footsteps stomping up the stairs to their apartment. There was more then one, probably more then two from the sound of it. Marcus slipped the ammo into a pocket, locked the already loaded clip into place and cocked the gun. A satisfying clink marked the gun's readiness. "Things where looking so good too." He said as he calmly walked back into their main room, his coat in one hand and the .45 in the other.

The coyote and the hyena from the concert slammed their way into the doorway, only they were joined by a large feline of some sort. A jaguar Marcus thought, all of which where aiming handguns his way including the distinct Desert Eagle in the hands of the coyote.

"You're that fucker from the concert. You're fucking dead!" The coyote roared.

"You don't know who your fucking with!" Marcus screamed back as both sides opened fire sending bullets screaming through the air into walls, electronics, furniture, and flesh.