The orange light of sunset spilled down the streets of Leigh, which had in at least one spot been temporarily choked up by a small riot.

The shadows from three hulking pale tanks stretched towards a thick and crowded line of monsters who were knotted up behind five thin panes of light borne from the hands of five red-uniformed Order soldiers. The gaps between the tanks had been filled by local police cars and local police; the gaps between the Order's shields had emptied, except for the dead or injured who had not yet been pulled to shelter.

The line of monsters varied wildly--horned men still in their work clothes, lion-headed women, long three-eyed serpents whose jaws dripped with molten metal. They threw things, spat fire, and roared, but did not move beyond the relative safety of the shields.

One of the tanks split the evening air with a concussive shot that smashed into the middle Order soldier's shield--it bloomed into a blinding fire, causing the ogres and harpies and lions behind it to shy away. The soldier did not, though, and the shield just barely held, searing spiderweb cracks racing along its surface.

At the edge of the fighting, Hawk and Teige hunkered just below a broken window, inside an abandoned building. Mere feet away, a thick, noxious black smoke poured over the asphalt. Blurry shapes moved in the smoke--a huge red-eyed boar, a spined green-skinned creature gripping a torn-out street sign, a blue ogre getting ready to wing a lit Molotov into the evening.

Hawk looked witheringly at Teige, who had his hands over his head. The ogre threw the Molotov just as a pair of gas canisters streaming thick grey smoke went spinning his way. Teige glared back defensively.

"Shut up," he said, "Just shut up."