Overview There is a war...A war humanity can't win. When your best chance for survival is recent enemy, things aren't looking good. The teeth, it was often the teeth. The little mongrel probably couldn’t help it, being at least part monster. Jarak did not care however, and saw it as yet another reason why such creatures should be put to death. Not that he would ever do such a thing off of his own back. As much as he despised it, Samuel Thom was still a soldier in the Terran Army, and there was only so far the judicial system went. Even out on the frontier, where it went much farther than back home. Back in the core they wore a velvet glove, out here in the devil’s snatch it was a knuckleduster. Jarak wanted the little beastie to react, to retaliate even. It would give him fair reason to put the rat down, but even after months of such treatment, the mongrel had took everything that came to him. There were the teeth, but nothing more. Even Sergeant Jarak begrudgingly admitted that it was the Thom blood in mutt that gave it just about enough to survive. It was given enough to respect true authority; the creature should thank its whore mother for that. Jarak did not blame Jamisia Thom for her offspring, but rather the filthy beast that stole virtue from such an incredible bloodline. Nevertheless, his face had no tears for the death of an inbreeder, no matter who her father was. The little shit thanked him for the punishment. So he should, really, but Jarak was oh so disappointed. Even out here, there was only so far he could push before one of the other sergeants would step in. Fortunately, he was rewarded an out that saved face and allowed him to bring fury down on someone else. “HAVEYOUGOTSOMETHING to say, Private!?!” With this, a red angry face rounded on Private second class Francesco “Mustard” Musacchio and brought up a knee to match Mustard’s smirk. Jarak was often accused of speciesism, something he only ever publicly denied, but he would always give punishment where it was necessary. Musacchio clearly felt that his fellow soldier’s lack of ability was a laughing matter, and his jaw needed to be broken. Sergeant Jarak did not say anything to the now prone Mustard as he stepped away, a slight limp in his walk. [-] Several hours later the fifth infantry division had been dispatched further south, and was now committed to an aggressive action against Swarm assets. The four squads had been split, with one heading south west, one heading south east – and the final two heading directly south. It was supposedly an effective military tactic. A pincer movement lead by Sergeant Jarak driving deep into Swarm territory. He honestly could no care how the other two arms did, so long as the operation was successful. He wanted the enemy vanquished, personal ambition did not stand in the way. If the other squads succeeded he would still take credit, but his aim was to wipe out the swarm in every way possible. Jarak was sure to make sure Private Thom was in front of him at all times. The General of the same name was up there with President Lorick in terms of admiration, both this unwanted mutt was something different entirely. There was no way Sergeant Jarak could trust it. Really, he wanted it dead, yet he would never personally pull the trigger. Happily though he would push the mongrel into battle, making sure the Private was the purest of frontline infantry. It was a happy accident that Samuel Thom was provided with a rifle that had zero ammunition. An oversight that the good Sergeant clearly had no involvement with.