A 'Situation'. Some bloody situation, I thought. That was a week ago. Both teams had been called out to hunt down a killer. Blue had one side of the state, and Red had the opposite side. "Tigerpaw, you there?" The radio crackled. I thumbed the send button once, indicating acknowledgment. So much for radio silence, as well. I did my work best when I was alone, and they had given me about 50 quare miles to patrol. Easily within my range. A few things worried my though: The killer had escaped a military prison, broke into an armory, and stolen a few weapons, including a browning .30 Cal machine gun. He also stole quite a bit of ammo for it. I sat in my tree, munching on an energy bar, when I spotted a small glint of steel. A quick sniff revealed him. Quietly putting my bar away, I flexed out my claws. Alive. Why must he be taken alive? Mine was not the place to ask why though, and I carefully climbed down to surprise him.
The surprise was his, though, as I felt the bullet go right past my muzzle. Dropping the 30 feet from the branch I was on, I shifted up to the über- full morph, which not only protected me as I hit the ground, but also mostly protected against the spray of bullets. After the shooting stopped, I carefully looked at the area where the bullets came from. A mostly disguised human was staring back at me, the hatred, fear and awe mixed on his eyes like a painters used pallette. A warning growl escaped my muzzle as I slowly started toward him. I do mean slowly, because he still had the gun pointed at me. My armor can deflect most bullets, but not from a Browning .30 cal going full auto.
The human spoke, in a broken Texas drawl which indicated not only that he had been born here, but that he was gonna die here. "Stop right there, you freak. Just sit right there, so I can finish you off easily." Speaking English in this form was difficult, but not impossible, fortunately. "Why?" I said, the word rumbling out like a runaway train. "There's too damn many of you freaks here. I killed at least 20 of y'all, but the damm feds keep importing them. I figure that if I kill 'nuff of ye, they'd stop it." Fat chance, I thought. If only he knew the truth. The radio whispered in my ear, "Backup is en-route." Good. If I could keep him from firing, we might be able to stun him or something. "I'm not a Tigerean. I'm a were." I rumbled back. Like he cares. I look too much like one. "I don't care what the hell you are. You're helpin' 'em. You gonna die, boy." came the result. I heard the gun spin up a fraction of a second before it fired. I had already been bunching myself up for a leap, and now I pushed off. Catching him off guard, the gun's stream of bullets followed behind me by a half second. Too late for him. I stuck a glancing blow on him, knocking the gun off the turret, and him away from the gun. Landing heavily, I spun around and tackled him. Within seconds, the forest exploded around me with both teams. The man was lying on the ground, face up, with one massive paw pressing on his chest, and the other on his crotch. This ensured absolute cooperation through pain. the claws were just out enough to pierce his clothing. My teammates looked at how I had him pinned. Several of them started laughing. Then it happened.
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