Rellik observed from his vantage point as another vehicle approached the hospital entrance - a prisoner transport truck. "Alright, time to go," he muttered to himself, tensing in anticipation.

  "Beweg dich!" A Werewolf snarled at the prisoners below. They shuffled forward in their bright yellow jumpsuits, their uniformly buzzed heads bowed. Men and women of various ethnicities and faiths moved as one, bound together by heavy chains. They were being escorted to Aussicht, where death would be a mercy compared to what awaited them. Four Werewolves surrounded the group, herding them toward the waiting transport.

  "Geh rein, Abschaum!" one of the guards barked as they roughly shoved the prisoners into the back of the bus. Two Werewolves maintained their watch while the others secured the cargo.

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  "Ich muss pinkeln," one guard grumbled to his companion.

  The other Werewolf chuckled. "Gehen."

  The guard broke away from the group, ducking into a nearby alley. He glanced around perfunctorily, checking for witnesses.

  "Hier oben," came a whisper from above. As the Werewolf's head snapped up, Rellik dropped from the fire escape, combat knife already positioned at the guard's throat.

  "Du lebst!" the Werewolf gasped in recognition.

  In one fluid motion, Rellik drew the blade across his throat. "Du stirbst," he replied coldly as the guard collapsed, clutching at his neck as his lifeblood drained away.

  "Scham," Rellik muttered, watching the body grow still and pale. Each kill weighed on him - these were still human boys underneath it all, bred for war and transformed into monsters. But necessity didn't wait for conscience.

  Now he truly understood how humans had felt in past conflicts, fighting their own kind. How they'd felt about the leapers. Sometimes survival demanded terrible choices.