This place was a dump, but then this was where the gross came to live. The Slums, a not to nice of a place but living was cheap and people came in and out of existence without too much trouble. For Briet this was home, or at least as far as she knew.
Curled up under her usual lean-too made of an old mattress, half burned two by fours and cardboard boxes, Briet was going about life as usual, doing only the necessary. What more did she have ahead of herself? Hopes and dreams were not something she possessed; at least, not as far as she knew. She killed to feed herself and slept for energy to kill to feed herself. A cycle that was never ending, not eventful or “fulfilling” but necessary. Why do more then what was necessary?
The hum of something not quite biological kicked in and Briet placed her large head on powerful paws, ready to drift into the nothingness of her mind until danger set off her sensors or until the moon rose; which ever occurred first. At this time she heard the shouts...