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I wandered aimlessly through the gray urban mess that was New St. Louis. My legs screamed at me to just curl up on the sidewalk and sleep but my aching heart told me I would get no rest tonight. The last 6 hours had been an emotional roller coaster. It started out happy and exciting, then cautious and curious, then fearing for my life, and ended with surprise, shock and betrayal. My best friend Brad, who I thought was dead, had tried to kill me, and I him. I didn't know who he was anymore. Avenging his death was one of my biggest reasons to undergo all my martial arts training and try to bring some justice to this hellhole of a city. But now he had become what we had sworn to destroy.

So now what?

My feet led me on. My tail hung low and brushed against the ground, its white tip dragging along it and likely picking up all sorts of filth. My ears were pressed against my head underneath my torn-up hood and I kept my paws in my pockets. The night was growing cold and I could see my breath before my muzzle. I started to shiver--my clothes were meant to keep me cool and unrestricted during vigorous activity like running and fighting, and were doing little to help keep out the wind tonight.

Other than the sound of the wind and my shuffling footsteps, the city was surprisingly quiet. I hadn't heard a gunshot echo through the alleyways in quite a while, and very few cars were on the streets. Midnight was a distant memory. By now everybody was probably in their apartments watching some late TV or resting peacefully. I wished I had never chosen to fight The Pack. I wished I just went along with all the violence and tried to keep my head down so I could live an almost-normal life.

My foot kicked something hard and almost made me trip. I looked down. It was a long, rotting wooden sign that simply read "Orphanage." I inspected the building it lay next to. It was an older brick building that looked like a bomb had been dropped on it. It had caved in on itself some years ago by the looks of it. It was a shame. I knew better than most that these places were more than homes for certain unfortunate children. It was their world. When surrounded by such danger the owners of the orphanages rarely let the kids leave. This little world isn't perfect, but it's the best one these kids know. Memories from the orphanage I had stayed at for most of my life started flooding back to me. That was where I met Brad and started learning how to fight and learning about The Pack. That was where we promised to take down the infernal gang. That was where my life formed. And now it, just like this orphanage before me, was falling to pieces.

My ear twitched as it picked up a small sound. It came from the dilapidated building. I took a step closer and looked more closely. Just on the other side of the broken window was a small shape. It was a kid huddled up and shivering slightly. He seemed to be some kind of gray husky mix, probably about six years old or so. His droopy eyes blinked a few times to focus in on me. I had woken him up.

He had those bright blue eyes that suck you in. They weren't happy eyes or begging eyes or even sad eyes. They were eyes that had seen the same things I had, a face that had known laughter and emptiness, and heart that stubbornly held on to hope even when all seemed bleak. Simply by looking at each other we were having a conversation and getting to know each other. We understood what the other had been through. We were both children of New Lou.

He shifted back to the way he was before I came, curled up in as tight of a furry ball as possible to stay warm. My heart throbbed. I took off my hoodie and draped it over the kid. He soon stopped shivering and breathed slower. "Thanks, mister," he whispered.

Tears welled up in my eyes. Dammit kid, stop being so cute! I turned away and kept walking, the night air cold on my bare arms. Despite my discomfort, the pup needed it more than me. Poor thing. To be born into this city was a terrible fate.

As I walked my chest started feeling less empty. Hope was making a comeback. Even if I can't fight for Brad anymore, I can still fight for the kids and orphans who have to live in this city. I can still try to set things right for them. If I can at least weaken The Pack's grip on the city, it will make the streets a little safer for these kids.

I remembered something Brad told me, about his girlfriend Lynn's child, Audrey. Audrey's life depended on her mother's compliance with The Pack. If I could make sure Audrey's safe, then Lynn could escape The Pack and leave the city. And if Lynn gets to safety, then Brad can do the same without endangering Lynn. By saving Audrey, there was the potential of granting three lives salvation. A chain reaction of freedom would begin, and who knows how far it might go?

I looked around to get my bearings. In my wandering I had slowly gotten closer to Mr. Hattori's apartment building. It was only a few blocks away now. The old fox would not be happy about how my first night as a fledgling ninja went, and probably be mad I lost the hoodie he made. Nevertheless, I picked up my pace, excited to continue my training and start forming the plans that could make The Pack crumble to the ground within weeks. In order to do so, I would need help. I'd need to make some new friends who could get people out of the city and protect them during extraction.

I'd also need to ask for Brad's help. That I was not looking forward to.

***

Brad pushed open the door to The Doghouse and stepped into the noisy tavern. He nodded to the fellow Pack members he was acquainted with and avoided eye contact with some of the thugs he had gotten to know all too well lately. The best way to get to know someone is to see how they fight, after all. He wove his way through the crowded tables and quickly found a seat at the bar. The bartender was currently back in the kitchen working on food orders but Brad knew the fox wouldn't be long. He was a good friend of Brad's, one that he had met over the last year, after Tyrus disappeared. The bartender was one of the few good people left in the city, and Brad made sure nobody tried to mess with him, if he could help it.

But now that Tyrus was alive and well... now what? Brad propped his head up on an arm on the counter and gave a sigh. The black lab didn't know if he could still call Tyrus a friend, based on how their encounter last night went. The leopard was still on his foolhardy mission to cleanse the city of evil and bring justice or whatever. Like one person could really do that. Not even with a nuke could you wipe the wickedness from New St. Louis. There were too many cockroach-like people, eating up all the resources and making a mess of the city, unable to be exterminated. Tyrus' mission was hopeless. The canine had realized that about a month after they were separated. It would never work.

Brad shook his head. What should I do?, he thought dejectedly. He still worried for the leopard's safety and wanted to prove to him that they could still be friends. But the black lab wasn't about to follow him into oblivion, that much was certain. The streets had taught him that self-preservation was priority number one. And even though that sometimes meant bowing your head and accepting orders, at least it meant you could fight another day.

Maybe someday I'll try to take down The Pack from the inside, Brad thought, but he soon put the idea out of his head. Hell, who am I kidding? I can't take it down by force like Tyrus thinks he can--that's just suicide. I can't take it down financially--The Boss is way too rich for anything like that to ever work. Maybe I could try to start factions within The Pack...

The canine sighed again. As much as he would like to entertain such hopeful ideas, he knew that anything he did to stir the pot would be easily traceable to him, and The Boss would send thugs to kill Lynn. Her safety wasn't something he was prepared to gamble with. Too many people in the city lost everything to gambling, and not just money.

Brad looked up to see the bartender come out of the kitchen with a plate and set in front of another person at the bar. "Sorry to keep you waiting, there!" the orange-red fox said to Brad. "Welcome to The Doghouse! Is this your first ti--good God is that you, Brad??"

The lab grimaced. "Yeah, Favian, it's me."

"You look terrible, if you don't mind me saying. Here, lemme get you a drink. It's on the house." The fox scurried around behind the bar for ingredients. Within moments a Rum and Coke lay before Brad on the counter. He took a large gulp of his favorite cheap drink, enjoying the burn of the alcohol as it went down his throat. And to think, most cities have a minimum drinking age.

Favian stood back and watched him drink. Brad could practically feel every inch of him being scrutinized and evaluated. No doubt the bartender had noticed the wounds on his arms and the crooked snout.

"Spiked knuckles?" the fox finally asked, motioning toward the equally-spaced gashes on his arms.

Brad chuckled. "Claws."

"Huh, that's interesting. There's not many people in these parts who have those." Favian gave him a sidelong glance. "I presume you...?"

The lab shook his head. "We called it a draw."

The fox looked a little more relaxed. "Good to know you're not one of those killing machines out there on the streets. I've had to deal with too many of those lately."

Brad narrowed his eyes. "Nobody's been giving you any trouble, have they?"

"No no, not really. It's just... Well, my now-ex finally showed his true colors."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the lab offered. He meant it, too.

"It's fine. I'll find someone else who treats others better. I mean..." Favian looked around to see if anyone was overhearing, then leaned in and lowered his voice. "I mean, it's not like I don't have twice the options most people have. Y'know, being bi and all. It was my own damn fault for thinking I could truly change him. Some people just stay the same no matter what, y'know?"

Brad chuckled. "I know exactly what you mean. It can be damn annoying. Like they're trying to drag you back into being someone you can't be anymore, y'know?"

"Not exactly," Favian said with a frown. "What's on your mind?"

Brad sighed. "Let's just say I had a meeting with a very old friend last night. One who's pretty much the exact same as last time I saw him."

"And he reminded you of how you used to be?"

"Yeah. I guess I've changed more than I thought. What I would call 'growing up' or 'adapting' he interpreted as 'change of heart'."

"And so you two had a... disagreement?"

Brad nodded. "You could call it that. I just..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I dunno. Have I changed, Favian?"

The fox busied himself polishing glasses. "Not sure I'm the best person to answer that, Brad. I've known you for less than a year--since I started working here. I think you've changed physically, sure. Emotionally? Well you've started seeing that girl Lynn, haven't you? I'm sure that's changed you a little inside. Mentally?... I think you've gotten a little quieter, actually. But I dunno, maybe that's just because I like to talk so much. The real question is, do _you_think you've changed?"

"Apparently. My old friend seems to think I've turned into a selfish backstabbing traitor," the canine growled.

"Well yes, I knew what your friend thought of you just by looking at you. But my question is: what do you think? Have you changed?"

Brad took another sip of his drink. "I think... yes and no. I think deep down I'm still the same as I was back then. But covering all that up is a new layer of doubt and worry that wasn't there before. I think that layer simply comes from growing up, y'know? We act differently when we're worried about others. We settle down and try to act in their best interests, to make sure they're happy and safe. I mean, that's the only thing one can do."

Favian furrowed his brows. "I have to disagree with you there. When we really care about someone who may be in danger we can try to protect them either passively or actively. Maybe that's where your friend and you disagree. I take it he had a more passive view?"

"On the contrary. He's the one that has always tried to fight for what he believed in, physically if possible. I'd say he's the active, aggressive one."

The fox examined Brad's face closely. "And you're saying you're not like that?"

"I used to be like that, but not anymore."

Brad could tell the fox wasn't buying it. "Used to?" Favian pressed. "I wouldn't consider what you do to protect me 'passive'. You take a stand. You speak your mind. You've protected me from physical harm by reacting physically... Oooooh if only you weren't straight..."

Brad chuckled. "Straight and taken. Sorry, Fave."

The vulpine waved a paw. "It's fine. Like I said, it's not like I don't have options. My point is, it sounds like you and your friend may be less different than you think. You think that taking action to right wrongs is dangerous, but you still do so to protect people who aren't even your loved ones. You put yourself in danger instead of them. You take an active stance, just like your friend. Maybe you need to let him see this side of you you've been trying to hide over the last year, the side he remembers. Maybe you need to show him you haven't changed either."

"But what if change is necessary? What if being 'active' puts your loved ones in more danger?"

"That's always a risk you're going to have to take," Favian said with a shrug. "If you have to put them in danger to save them from danger, are they really any worse off than they were before?"

"Yeah, if they're dead..." Brad finished off his Rum and Coke in one gulp and exhaled loudly. "I wish... I wish I could just run away from this all, y'know? Just leave the city and all my troubles behind. Even if it was only for a day or two."

"I hear ya. In fact, I'm probably going to be doing that myself soon, except for good."

Brad's eyes widened. "You're leaving the city?"

"Yeah, hopefully within the next week or two. I finished repaying The Boss for my gambling debts and managed to save up enough for a car and some gas."

"Good for you, Fave! I'm proud of ya," the lab said with a smile.

The fox blushed. "Couldn't have done it without you keeping some of the heat off my back! I plan to work as a bartender again wherever I end up. Maybe someday I could even start my own bar."

"I'd definitely come to that!" The happiness quickly drained from Brad's face. "I mean, if I can someday. Right now I'm pretty well tied down here."

"Lemme guess, The Boss' collateral for your service?"

"You got it. I can't leave or step out of line without putting the people I care about in danger." The black lab frowned. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should try to do something to protect them. I dunno. You think it's worth the risk?"

"Well," Favian thought out loud, "depending on how far you go and how successful you are, you could end up saving your loved ones from danger for good."

Brad was going to say something else but Favian's expression suddenly changed. The smile had disappeared in an instant and his eyes tracked something across the tavern coming from the door. The black lab heard two sets of heavy footsteps approach closer and closer and stop right behind him.

"You Brad?" a low voice asked.

"That's right," he replied without turning around.

Favian crossed his arms and spoke up: "I don't want any trouble in here on my shift, gentlemen. You'll have to settle whatever you need to settle outside."

"No trouble," the low voice said with a chuckle. "We just want him to come with us. The Boss wants to see him."