Walters and Harmon exited the front of Khan Tower and were immediately assaulted by freezing wind and snow.

"Whoa, it's cold!" the gray panther said, thankful for the scarf and overcoat he was wearing.

"You just now noticed?" the tiger laughed.

"Well I was kinda hoping yesterday's blizzard was just a bad dream."

It was the first week of December, and the second year in a row when Cape Suzette had suddenly begun getting snow for some inexplicable reason that even the brilliant scientists employed by Khan Industries were unable to explain.

Harmon started down the front steps of the building, intending to catch a taxi. Walters followed after her, grunting at the weight of his briefcase. "Hey, Harmon, wait up!" he called, stopping her at the sidewalk. "So, uh, what're you doing tonight?"

"If you're asking me out on a date, Walters, forget it," Harmon responded. "You know how Mr. Khan feels about relationships that begin among coworkers. Besides, I happen to agree with him."

"Ah, shucks," Walters said, snapping his fingers in good-natured disappointment. "If I got myself fired, then would you go out with me?"

"Maybe," said Harmon, and she hailed a cab. "See you tomorrow, Wally."

Walters sighed as she got into the cab and was gone. "Oh yeah," he said. "She's mine."

Unlike Harmon, Walters only lived a few blocks down from Khan Tower, so in spite of the cold, catching a taxi cab was impractical. Much as Walters hated to, he was walking home. Midway through his journey, he encountered an elderly hyena wearing a ragged coat and a pot on his head, obviously a bum.

"Uh, excuse me, sonny," the hyena slurred, holding out a shaky hand, "spare some change?"

"Uh, sure," Walters said, pausing and setting his briefcase down as he dug into his pocket for his wallet. He was sure that this old timer would just spend the money on booze or something, but the panther's inherent generosity sometimes got the better of him. Unlike many of Khan Industries' executives, Walters had made himself from nothing, and so he understood what it was like to be poor and living on the streets. He gave the hyena a twenty. "Here."

"Oooh," the old bum said, "thank ya sonny. This'll buy a lot of fishsticks!"

Walters blinked, then watched the hyena toddle off with the money, muttering about fishsticks. "What the?" He shook his head, deciding he didn't want to know.He picked up his briefcase and continued walking, and eventually he came across another bum, this one slouched just inside an alleyway. He was a short tabby cat wearing what looked like a badly ripped and torn maroon business suit, an oversized green scarf all but hiding his head completely.

He wasn't moving, and for a second Walters feared he might be dead, but was relieved when the cat flinched a bit. He considered continuing on home, but then decided that this cat looked much worse off than the hyena, and so even though the cat didn't ask him for anything he handed him some money, 50 in all. It was the only way he'd be able to sleep at all tonight. "There you go, buddy," he said. "If I were you I'd use it to buy a new coat."

As he turned to leave, the tabby said, "Thanks, Walters."

Walters stopped dead in his tracks. The cat knew his name? He spun, suddenly recognizing the voice, dropping his briefcase and stooping down, grabbing the shorter feline's shoulders and making him stand so he could see his face, and gasped aloud. It was Douglas Benson! "DDougie!" he cried in amazement.

"Douglas," the smaller feline said, then coughed. Walters was amazed that Benson even still cared about whether or not someone got his name right in a situation like this. When he was released, Douglas immediately began to fall, and Walters caught him. Douglas didn't say any more, going limp in the panther's arms as Walters held him.

Walters was speechless with shock. The last time he'd seen Douglas, they'd returned to Cape Suzette from spending an evening at Louie's, someplace Walters no longer went to. Walters had heard about Dougie's harebrained scheme to buy Louie out by forging Shere Khan's signature and misusing the elite pilot squadron, but until today this was the first time Walters had seen his friend in over a year. He wondered what he should do, and then decided there was no way he could simply leave Douglas here, now, in the state he was in. He looked seriously ill.

Walters decided to take Douglas "Dougie" Benson home with him.