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By the time I got back to Mr. Hattori's apartment it was almost morning. I entered through the garage and tried to make my way to my room as quietly as possible, but the old fox had stayed up all night waiting for me. He reacted to my appearance just like I thought he would--shocked at my injuries, angered by how I messed up so bad, frustrated I lost the special hoodie he made me, glad I was (for the most part) in one piece, and too tired to argue about it all until we both got some sleep. We both headed to our respective bedrooms and proceeded to slumber soundly past noon.

When we awoke Mr. Hattori fixed us a late lunch, which we ate in silence while we gorged ourselves. Afterward, I filled him in on everything that happened the previous night. I told him about how I found Brad and I's old hideout and how I got into a fight trying to escape. I expected to get a long lecture about how it was irresponsible of me to go wandering around like that and how I should have tried to avoid fighting at all costs and how I should have minded my business and all that. Instead, he made me explain the fight in detail and show him how the Pack gang members attacked me and how I reacted. He listened patiently and critiqued my use of the ninjutsu techniques he taught me and showed me things I could have done better and other moves I could have used. It was intriguing hearing just how these moves worked in the context of my fight. Finally, all my training was starting to have real life applications and uses. I listened to his advice carefully and thanked him for his insight. Afterward, he still told me what I did was stupid, but he was pleased with how I handled the fight and repeated his thankfulness that I was still alive.

I then told him about how one of my attackers was actually Brad, my friend who I thought was dead. He was nearly as surprised as I was. He knew what Brad meant to me and what we had been through during our childhood. The old fox was disappointed to hear he had joined forces with The Pack but was as relieved he was still alive.

Before Mr. Hattori could try to console me about Brad's betrayal I changed subject and started telling him about the plan I thought up on the way home. I filled him in on who Lynn and her daughter Audrey were and how they tied in with Brad. I told him we needed to get Audrey to safety so Lynn wouldn't have to fear for her daughter's life if she escaped The Pack's clutches, and then Brad could escape without having to fear for Lynn's life. The chain of collaterals for service ended with Audrey, so we needed to find her and free her from The Pack to start the chain reaction.

"Sound like good plan," Mr. Hattori said with a sage nod. "How you plan on getting Audrey out without Pack noticing?"

"Once we figure out which orphanage she's at, we'll go there and grab her under the cover of night," I replied. "I'm sure I could get Brad to help out in the extraction. We'll explain the situation to the owner of the orphanage where Audrey is being kept. If he or she lets us take her, we'll drive her out of the city to some kind of safe location, along with Lynn and Brad. That'll at least get three people outta here."

"And what if owner of orphanage does not let you have her?"

"Then we take her by force. We can't afford to lose Audrey. Too many kids have been born and killed in this godforsaken city."

"You were almost one of them."

I nodded. "I don't want anyone else ending up like me. Or Brad. Or Lynn for that matter."

Mr. Hattori cupped his chin in a paw and pondered the situation for some time. "The Pack may be watching orphanage in case anyone tries something like you suggest."

"Watching? You mean like, with binoculars and radios and stuff?"

"Nothing so fancy," the old fox chuckled. "Most streets have small squad of Pack members that stay in area to keep 'order'. They make sure only trouble that happens is trouble dictated by The Boss."

I frowned. "How do you know all this?"

"I have lived in New St. Louis for many years, doraneko. I have seen how The Pack operates."

"Hmm, alright. Then we need to slip past the squad or take it out before they know what we're planning, and before they call for backup. Where would they be? In a building or on the streets?"

"In the streets. That way they show presence."

Makes sense. "When are they most active? Daytime? Night?"

"Day and early night. Past 1 o'clock there not many Pack squads outside."

"Okay. I'll do some nighttime scouting trying to find Audrey. There's only about a half dozen orphanages remaining in the city so she shouldn't be that hard to find. I estimate that within the week, Audrey, Lynn, and Brad will be far away from New Lou and out of The Pack's reach, hopefully for good."

Mr. Hattori nodded. "How you plan on getting them out?"

"That's where you come in. You have your white Jeep, right? That'll seat you, me, and the three of them. We can drop them off in the nearest safe city, and then you and I can come back and try to figure out who we can help next. Sound good?"

The old fox shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose. I'll have to clean some stuff out of the back."

"Thanks, Mr. Hattori. I couldn't do any of this without you."

He waved a paw dismissively. "Don't mention it. In meantime, you need to get more rest. And new hoodie..."

I smiled sheepishly. "Yeeeeah. Sorry about that."

Mr. Hattori was about to say something else when his cell phone started buzzing. "One moment," he said, and stepped into the hallway. I presumed it was another handyman type of problem someone nearby had. The old fox did that sort of thing a few times a week--got calls to come fix a leaky faucet or do some repair work on a car or whatever. He said he needed the spare cash. I was able to pick up a few pieces of what he was saying on the phone: "how much-... -what street-... -be right over." He was soon back in the room. "Neighbor's car blew transmission. I'll be gone for a while. There's food in pantry. We talk more later, okay dorankeo?"

"That's fine," I told him. He scurried around the house for a few things before he got in his vehicle and left. I was going to ask him about other ways I could have used my hanbo cane during my fight last night but he seemed like he was in a hurry so I promised myself I'd ask him later. My aching body decided that this was a good time to catch up on some more sleep, so I went back to my room and slipped under the still-warm covers.

***

"So this is Brad, huh?" the well-dressed bulldog asked in a low, gravelly voice.

"Yes Boss, just picked him up from that bar, The Doghouse," one of the thugs behind Brad replied.

"Very good, very good. You can go now--the pup and I will speak alone." The two dogs escorting Brad left the room, leaving the black lab alone with the man he once swore to kill.

"Siddown," The Boss ordered. "Ya want anything to drink?"

"I just came from a bar, thanks," Brad said, lowering himself into a comfortable leather armchair across the desk from the crime lord. He had never been in The Boss' office on the top floor of the casino before--he only heard about it from servers and strippers he had bribed with booze a year ago when he and Tyrus were trying to overthrow The Pack. He wondered if the leopard had passed through this very room the night he disappeared. Brad still couldn't believe his friend was still alive and well after this long, eventful year. And judging by where Brad was currently, he expected the surprises would keep on coming.

"Right, that's right. Just usin' my manners." The gray bulldog poured himself a glass of brandy. "I used to go to The Doghouse. Not a bad joint. You go there often?"

"When I can."

The Boss smiled. "Man of few words, huh? I like that. Keeping your cards close to your chest, not giving anything away. I can respect that."

What is he getting at? Brad had heard from those close to The Boss that he had been growing increasingly unpredictable and violent. The lab wasn't seeing any of this so far, but figured being polite and respectful wouldn't hurt. "Yes sir. If I may ask, why have I been brought here?"

The smile disappeared from the crime lord's face. "I'll tell ya why. I just heard from one of your squad buddies. What's his name? The German Shepherd? Ah, never mind. I heard from him you all got in a bit of a tussle last night.

"Yes sir, a bit."

He chuckled. "From what I heard and what I see, you got your asses kicked."

"Yes sir, a bit."

"Your friend told me there was just one attacker, is that right? He took all three of ya on at once?"

"That's right."

"Interesting." The bulldog took a sip of his drink. "Now, describe your attacker to me."

Uh-oh. "He wore dark clothes and moved really fast. It was hard to get a good look at him," Brad said evasively.

"Do you know what species this guy was?"

"Definitely not a canine, sir. A, uh, feline maybe."

The Boss nodded. "Your friend says it was a leopard. That sound about right?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah." Brad wondered how long this would go on. He didn't want to reveal any more about Tyrus than The Boss already knew. Despite their previous fight, he didn't want his friend getting found and hurt.

The bulldog's eyes narrowed. "What markings did he have?"

"I'm not sure, sir, he was wearing a hoodie."

"His face! What markings were on his face!?" The Boss said, voice steadily rising.

"I don't know! It was covered with a scarf and a hood--"

Before Brad knew what was happening a handgun appeared in the bulldog's paw and was pointed at his forehead. "TELL ME THE FUCKING MARKINGS!! DID HE HAVE A BLACK LEFT EAR AND BLACK ON TOP OF HIS MUZZLE??" The gun shook with his fury.

Brad held up his paws. "Yes yes! That's exactly it! Don't shoot!!"

The Boss tossed the gun aside and started pacing back and forth. "I knew it. I knew it all along. He's back. How the fuck did he survive?? He fell off the roof. I saw it with my own eyes!" He began muttering to himself unintelligibly.

The black lab sat as still as possible, trying not to draw attention to himself. He knew that one wrong move or word could be his death. The Boss seemed increasingly unstable. His eyes were wild, his ears were flat against his head, and his paw rested on his chest like he was feeling an old wound. He was panting, as if his vehement pacing was exhausting. Clearly Tyrus' return was distressing to him. Brad had heard rumors of the fateful night when his friend tried to take the crime lord's life. The Boss himself hadn't said anything officially, but word on the street was that there was a gunfight followed by a fistfight, finally ending with the leopard being thrown off the roof of the 40-story casino. If that's really what happened, then The Boss would have been very confident of his adversary's demise. To hear that the same leopard was back and beating up his goons, well... It must have seemed like a vengeful ghost was after him. And in a way that's exactly what was happening.

"You!" the bulldog said with a snarl, turning on Brad. "Why was he at your apartment in the first place? What did he want there?"

"I don't know! Probably wanted to rob the place." Brad dearly hoped that his squadmates had still been unconscious when Tyrus left his apartment. If they knew he stayed for a while they would have reported it...

The crime lord mumbled with increasing ferocity. When it reached the peak of its crescendo he suddenly became silent. His body was still, and he held himself like a gentleman, like he did when Brad first entered. He considered the lab with a piercing gaze. "You. Ya seem like the perfect man for the job. Tell ya what. I'll make you a deal."

Brad surreptitiously looked around for an escape. The Boss was blocking the only visible door. The window looked promising, but he knew his odds of surviving a 40-story fall were far worse than his feline friend's odds. Looks like there's no getting out of this one. "Uhhh, what kind of deal?"

The Boss pressed a button on his desk. "Bring her in," he spoke to the intercom.

The main door opened to reveal a caramel-furred fox with dyed blue hair on her head standing outside: Lynn. Brad's eyes widened. She was dressed scantily, like she was at work, but didn't act like anything was out of the ordinary until she saw the lab gripping his leather chair with white knuckles. "Brad! What are you doing here?" Fear flashed across her face briefly.

"Nothing, dear Lynn," the bulldog assured her. "We were just having a friendly man-to-man conversation. I must have pressed the button accidentally. I'm not in need of your services yet. You can go back to the lounge."

"Alright," she said uncertainly. Brad gave her a nod of reassurance. Lynn gave the two a faltering smile and turned and left, closing the door behind her.

The black lab turned his gaze to the well-dressed canine behind the desk. "What do you want with her?" he asked in a low growl.

"Me? Nono, it's not about what_I_ want with her. She works as one of my dancers, remember? I get whatever I want with her. The question is, what do _you_want with her? She is your collateral for your service to me, right?" The lab gave a curt nod. "Ya want her to stay nice and safe, right?" Another nod.

The bulldog slowly paced back and forth behind his desk. "You know what this leopard looks like. You know how he fights. You should also know that I would like to personally make sure he never sees the light of day again." He moved to Brad's side, towering over the lab. "Bring me the leopard. Alive. So I can kill him. You have one week. If ya don't bring him to me by then, my trigger finger will start getting itchy and I'll be forced to kill Lynn instead."

Brad had just enough restraint in him to keep himself sitting in the chair and not pummeling the crime lord to the ground. He glowered up at The Boss, who offered him an outstretched paw.

"Do we have a deal?" the bulldog asked with a sick grin.