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I shuffled into the kitchen sleepily. My chest was tight and my body tingled. I'd barely slept all night, dreading what I'd have to do in the morning. Around 4 AM I nearly had a panic attack and had considered spending the night at Brad's place. But I knew I'd have to face up to this eventually. I needed to know if what Favian said was true: that Mr. Hattori was working for The Pack.

At my spot on the table sat a steaming stack of pancakes. The smell hit me full-force, bringing back vivid memories of the day I learned Mr. Hattori would be teaching me ninjutsu. That was one of the happiest days of my life, but now it was tainted by doubt. I sat myself down heavily and started slowly working my way through the tower of food.

"Long night, doraneko?" Mr. Hattori asked. He was standing by the stove, cooking up another batch.

"Couldn't sleep," I said.

The Japanese man nodded. "How your mission go?"

"Good," I told him. "Lynn, Audrey and Favian are safe. Brad decided to stay behind to help fight the Pack."

"Really? Noble of him."

"Mhm." I put another steaming forkful into my mouth.

"What is your plan now?" the fox asked.

If he works for the Pack, how much should I tell him? I wondered. Then again, if he wanted to sabotage my plans, wouldn't he have done so ages ago?"Not sure exactly," I said truthfully. "Now that Brad's onboard I'll have to rethink some things. But I'll be working on slowing down their logistical ability and demoralizing squads."

"Good," Mr. Hattori said. "Though you should start thinking of an end game. A knockout punch."

I've been working on one, but that probably won't happen for months. Is he fishing for details? Now I was second-guessing myself at every turn.

It was time I turned the tables on the conversation and put my sensei on the spot. If he was trying to glean information from me, I could do the same to him. "As part of my effort to interrupt their logistics, I'm going to be looking into taking out some of their more notorious workers. Would you happen to know of anyone to begin with?" Innocent enough question, if he doesn't know I suspect him...

"I have not been on the streets for long time, doraneko," he said. "Anyone whose name I remember may be gone or dead."

"But you were out just the other day, remember? Fixing some guy's car?" Gotcha.

"I don't count that as 'on the streets'," the old fox said with a dismissive wave. "It was only three blocks away."

"Oh..." I thought I'd cornered him, but his reasoning was simple enough to be believable. Still, for a second I thought I saw something in his eye before he turned back to the pancakes. He scooped them up and put them onto the serving plate on the table. The bottom side of the newcomers were nearly burnt.

What if I try a more direct approach? Too risky? At this point, anything I did or didn't do was risky. The sooner I knew if I could trust him, the better. "I heard a name on the street last night--maybe you've heard of this guy. Does The Hatter ring a bell?"

"Never heard of him."

I saw him cringe slightly. He knew he'd messed up; his answer was too quick, too automatic. If he'd paused and acted like he pondered it for a second, he might have fooled me. His shoulders drooped. He seemed visibly smaller. For a second I felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if I'd gone too far. But I needed to know.

"Doraneko..." The old fox's mouth moved, trying to find the right words.

"You're The Hatter, aren't you? Why didn't you tell me?"

Mr. Hattori picked up a knife from the countertop. I tensed, but he was simply moving it to the sink to be cleaned. He noticed my reaction. "Tyrus, I would never hurt you."

"You've been hurting me by not telling me. All this time I've trusted you. I've lived with you for over a year. And now..." I fought to keep my voice steady. "And now I hear you're working for the Pack."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Does it matter if it's true? Is it true?" I pressed.

He gave a heavy sigh. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing terribly specific. But it sounds like you have a reputation for savagery." I clenched my fists tight enough my claws threatened to draw blood from my palms. "I guess it makes sense. Using a ninjutsu master as a hitman."

"Listen,doraneko," Mr. Hattori said, sitting down at the table. "I am not a killer. I am not a hitman. I am a cleaner."

"A... a what?"

"A cleaner. Clean up crime scenes, dispose of bodies. Make sure bodies fit into small boxes."

I scrunched up my nose. "I'm not sure that's really any better."

"Whenever someone is killed by the Pack, someone calls a cleaner," he explained. "Having bodies laying around is bad for business. As matter of fact, that is how we met."

"Huh?"

"One night, I got a call. Business as usual. I was driving to pick up a dead leopard in an alleyway next to the casino. Next thing I know, the 'dead' leopard is running across the street right in front of me, and I can't stop in time. I hit you, and you pass out. We thought you were dead, so I threw you in the back of my Jeep. A few blocks from the disposal site, you started moaning. I could not believe you were alive. I took you home and mended your bones. You know the rest, doraneko."

I didn't know what to say. I had always wondered how I ended up at Mr. Hattori's after that fateful night, but I'd always thought of the old fox as a Good Samaritan, not as a contributor in my demise. "Were... were you trying to kill me? When you hit me with your car?"

"No. I had no time to react. I saw someone run out in front and I braked. Even if I knew it was you, I still would have tried to brake."

He leaned in and put a paw on mine. "Tyrus, I would never hurt you. You are like a son to me. You know I am not like those in the Pack."

"But why would you choose to work for them in the first place? You know damn well what they stand for and what they do." The corners of my eyes felt wet.

"Such things are not always a choice, doraneko. When I first came to the city, I had no job, no income. I was approached by a member of the Pack and offered a job. Though it was dirty work, I would be a fool to refuse. I worked to survive, and I got in too deep."

"And what happens if you want to get out? What's your collateral?"

"My life," he said gravely. "They would kill me. I know what you are thinking, that my ninjutsu skills would save me. But I am growing old, Tyrus. I can only cheat death for so long. Even if the Pack does not end me, I do not have many years left."

"Don't say that."

"Not saying it does not make it less true. But listen, my friend," he said, leaning in close. "Before I met you, I thought I would live out the rest of my life in service to the Pack. I did not care that my collateral was my life. I was making money and making a living. But then you entered my life, and I had to think about what I truly wanted.

"I knew if I went out of my way to help you, they could find me and kill me. But if I did not help you, your plans to take down the Pack would not succeed. It was a matter of who to put my faith in: you or me. And I chose you."

He squeezed my paw. "Even though I cannot fight alongside you, I know you can succeed. I trust you. And you must continue to trust my knowledge of the Pack and my teaching. Can you do that, doraneko?"

* * *

Brad heard someone knock at the door.

He furrowed his brows. He wasn't expecting anyone this early in the morning. And now that Lynn was gone, he was the only one living in his apartment. He grabbed his handgun from the bedside stand and quietly padded over to the door. He peered through the peephole--on the other side was a worried-looking German Shepherd with a crooked muzzle. Brad stuffed the pistol in his back pocket, undid the latch, and let his squadmate enter the room.

"'Sup, Mills?"

"'Sup, Brad."

"Come in, sit down..." The two sat down in the rickety lawn chairs. Brad looked at his friend's face, still messed up from their fight with Tyrus. "What brings you here this morning?"

Mills shook his head. "Nothing good, Brad, nothing good. Just got back from the casino and a talk with The Boss."

"Oh really?" Brad had a sinking feeling in his stomach. This won't end well. "What did you talk about?"

"I told him about something strange I saw last night," the German Shepherd said, tapping a claw on the arm of his chair. "I told him about how you didn't show up for patrol, and how I went looking for you here. Then I told him how I instead stumbled across you putting your girlfriend in a car and driving off, leaving you standing there with a certain leopard. What the hell were you thinking?"

Brad's paw curled into a fist. He was afraid this would happen. Just when he thought things were getting better... "The leopard's an old friend. Different one than we fought the other night."

"Right. Hoodie looked the same."

"I hear they're popular these days. So what did He say?"

"As you can imagine, he wasn't pleased," Mills said. He lifted up his shirt and pulled aside some fur to reveal some fresh-looking bruises on his abdomen. "I'd hate to see what he'd do to you. He told me to give you a message."

The black lab gulped. "What kind?"

"A 'renewal of contract', he called it. Wanted to let you know that just because Lynn is out of New Lou doesn't mean she's safe. The Pack's influence reaches far beyond this city, Brad. You know that good as I do."

Brad narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Boss says if you don't bring him the leopard in 48 hours, Lynn dies."

The lab felt like his heart stopped. He scrutinized his squadmate's face. "You're bluffing."

Mills sighed. "The Boss said you'd say that. That's why he upped the ante. He said if I couldn't convince you to bring in the leopard, he'd kill me." He looked up at Brad, an expression of agitation and distress across his broken face. "You still think I'm making this shit up? Please, tell me you're gonna do the right thing."

Brad pursed his lips. These days, he didn't know what the 'right thing' was, anymore.

The German Shepherd furrowed his eyebrows. "Seriously? You're not going to say anything? This is my life on the line. Please, give me something."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"This is a really easy answer, Brad! You either want to save lives, or you don't. What kind of monster would look someone in the face and say they wouldn't save their life?"

"If you're so concerned about your own well-being, why don't you leave the city?" Brad growled.

"You goddamn know why, Brad," Mills shot back. "I'd lose my supplier. I need my meds, man."

"I'm sure you can find whatever you're on in any city."

The German Shepherd shook his head. "That's just the thing: they never tell me what drugs they're giving me. I can't just stock up at a pharmacy--I have to go to my supplier to get my daily dose, and that's only if I do as the Pack says. One step out of line, and..." He shuddered. "You don't know what withdrawal is like. You're not on the same collateral system I am. You don't live in dread every day wondering whether or not he'll hand you that packet of pills that make you feel like staying alive another day."

Brad exhaled loudly. "Who's your supplier?"

Mills paused. "Croc down on 5th and Hitchcock. Why?"

"I'll have a talk with him. I'll see if I can get you enough of what you're on to last you until you find a doctor or a rehab clinic in the next city. In the mean time, pack your bags and get ready to leave."

"L-leave? How soon?"

"I'll have the meds and a ride for you by tomorrow morning. Not sure where I'll find a ride, but if I can't find anyone I'll borrow a car," he explained, using the term 'borrow' loosely.

Mills' eyes widened. "But what about The Boss? W-what'll you do when He finds out?"

"He's not going to find out," Brad said, getting up and going to the door to show his squadmate out. "You'll be gone before anyone's the wiser."

"But what'll you do?" Mills said. "Your girlfriend's still in danger."

"I'll think of something; I always do. Meet here tomorrow morning, 24 hours from now."

"Alright..." The German Shepherd stood up and limped to the door. He stopped before crossing the threshold. "Brad... As a friend, I suggest you bring in the leopard. I don't want you getting hurt. Time's ticking--you've got 46 hours left. Please, do the right thing."

Brad closed the door and retreated to his creaky chair. He buried his head in his paws. Last night, getting Lynn, Audrey and Favian out of the city seemed like a flawless idea. With the foxes set free from the clutches of The Boss, he was free to help Tyrus dismantle the Pack. But if what Mills said was true, all that work was for nothing. In fact, it was worse than it was before, since he had no control over what happened to those he cared about. No matter what he did, it always ended up worse than before.

Mill's words echoed in his head: "Please, do the right thing." He snorted. What a joke. Nothing I do is right. He stood up and got a beer from the fridge. He twisted off the cap and took a big swig of the cold, bitter liquid. He knew he'd been going through a lot of drinks lately, but he felt it was the only thing keeping his nerves in check. He'd deal with this problem another time.

One thing was for certain: whatever he chose to do about The Boss' ultimatum, he needed to act fast. And he'd have to have a talk with Tyrus.