Class ended in 5 minutes but all I could think was, An hour is way too short for lunch.

Technically speaking, I didn't actually have a lunch period. Every day between my third and fifth period I had a free hour to "plan my classes." Most teachers graded papers or worked on their upcoming lessons; I used the time to relax. No matter how much I was looking forward to my break I still had a few minutes of teaching before I could send the students out.

My Current Events class was for seniors who didn't want to take a real history course. It was easy for them, and I tried to make it as easy as possible for myself as well. The majority of their grade came from participation points, leaving me free from grading most nights.

Today, for example, we were discussing the recent ketamine epidemic that had taken Brockton Bay by storm. The Merchants had overnight gone from a laughingstock to the biggest distributors of drugs in town. A lot my students had problems with that, seeing as how most of them belonged to either the Empire 88 or the Asian Bad Boyz. It seemed the only thing the Asians and the skinheads could agree on was that the Merchants were bottom feeders.

If there's one thing the Merchants are known for, it's drugs. This meant that the young Merchants in my class were usually too stoned to care about a few insults or shoves. Of course, they normally didn't care about school either, so as the semester went on I had fewer and fewer in my class. Say what you will about the Empire 88, but at least most of their goons finished high school.

"Alright guys, good discussion today," I lied as I stood up from my desk. "I heard some good opinions today. I can really tell you are all keeping up with the news."

The only homework I assigned, besides three essays over the course of the semester, was for my students to watch the nightly news so we could discuss it in class. Of course, it was clear most didn't do it, but I was willing to let it slide as long as it wasn't too blatant.

The bell rang, so all I had to do now was wait for the kids to shuffle out before I could leave. I turned back towards my desk to pack up my briefcase. Everybody knew not to trust the door locks so I had to take everything with me when I left for lunch.

"Mr. Palace?"

I turned around and saw Juri Lee, one of the few students who wasn't a complete failure. I gave her an insincere smile and asked, "What's up?"

"Mr. Palace why do you allow those racists to spew their filth during class?"

Juri was normally a quiet girl, but I guess she couldn't take listening to those Empire 88 wannabes anymore. I could definitely commiserate; whenever someone with a shaved head started talking, I would usually tune out.

"What do you want me to do about it? As long as they aren't being overt my hands are tied."

That wasn't the whole truth. If you checked the rulebook I had the authority to kick students out of class or give them detention as long as I used my judgement. I was a firm believer in consistency, so if I punished one racist I'd have to consistently enforce a no racism rule, and I didn't become a teacher to deal with that kind of responsibility.

I don't think Juri understood how much she was asking of me because she actually stomped her foot before replying. "But they are being blatant! Neil called me an oriental whore to my face!"

I let out a sigh. Honestly, the kids at Winslow High were incredibly entitled. This little girl expected me to give a nazi gang banger a detention because he hurt her feelings. I knew that she probably wouldn't drop it if I blew her off, which meant that I would have to handle the situation with tact.

As a teacher I had some modicum of authority that I was always willing to abuse so I picked up my briefcase and said, "Tell you what: how about you head on off to lunch. I'll talk to Neil before class on monday."

Before she could respond, I stepped around her and towards the door. She just stood by my desk gaping at me, which meant that my escape was successful. I mean honestly, how would she like it if I came up to her during her break and started demanding all sorts of things.

The normal chatter of the halls gave way to shouting, and I saw two of my least favorite students in the beginnings of a fist fight. Lee had probably already passed his initiation into the Asian Bad Boyz, and nobody would be surprised if Ryan lifted up his shirt to reveal a swastika in the center of his chest. I didn't dislike them because of their gang affiliations, I just hated how they couldn't wait until after school to fight. If I knew them, then this bout of shoving was about to lead into a full on physical altercation that I would be expected to break up.

I walked quickly away from them through the halls towards the teacher's lounge. While I was going to go out to get food, there's no point in buying something to drink when the lounge has everything I could want for free. My students had tried to stress me out, but I knew just how to unwind.

The lounge itself was only a short walk away, just down a few halls and down some stairs. It was incredibly unimpressive, even compared to the rest of Winslow. It was had plain white tiles and cheap cabinets. The only saving grace was that it had a dirty sink and decrepit coffee maker. The grounds tasted like sawdust, but most teachers would take what they could get. By the time I reached the teacher's lounge there was only two people sitting in the plastic and metal chairs. There was a rather tall and fat man talking to an uninterested looking middle aged woman. While I didn't know who the guy was, I knew that the woman was some kind of freshman computer science teacher.

The fat guy glanced up at me as I walked in, but quickly returned to his flirting. I had probably been introduced to him at the beginning of the school year, but I didn't bother memorizing the names of unimportant people.

As I walked around their table I made a big mistake: I made eye contact with the woman. Apparently she was a massive busybody, because she took that as an invitation to talk.

"Wow Jack, are you feeling alright?"

Even though she would defend her actions by saying she "meant well," she still had no right to insult me like that. I would have let her know that, but I was already on thin enough ice with the school administration. It's like she thought that we were best friends just because our classrooms were next to each other.

I tried to smile and said, "Yeah I feel awesome. Just another day living the dream." I quickly stepped around them and headed towards the sink. The drain was rusty and the water quality was suspect, but that didn't matter for my purposes. There was a small stack of paper cups next to the sink, and I grabbed one and partially filled it with water.

It only took a second for me to change the lukewarm water into something else, and only a few more seconds to down the cup. My go to relaxation method at work was to drink about 100 mg or so of secobarbital mixed with water (I wasn't quite suicidal enough to mix it with beer). It was just enough to take the edge off, but still left me functional.

Just to be clear, I wasn't a cape. Capes could punch through walls, or had bulletproof skin. Some of them could even see through walls. All I could do was change one liquid into another kind. So while I never had to worry about running out of beer, the combat applications were extremely limited.

I threw away the cup and turned around just in time to see one of my friends. We made eye contact and started walking towards each other. He stuck out his fist as we got closer, and I obliged him with a bump.

He began our conversation with a joke. "Hey Jack, nice coat. Do they make them for men?"

Despite my best efforts, I started chuckling. "They do, but I don't think you can afford it, Mr. G," I put as much sarcasm as I could into his self made nickname, "Don't you have some students to suck up to?"

"You're one to talk, Mr. Palace, at least I don't have a porn star name."

We started walking to the parking lot while bantering, as per usual. Normally we would use our hour to go get some fast food and complain about our jobs. Well, usually I did most of the complaining.

"Come on man, that was weak even for you," I said as we walked out the main entrance. "I'll have you know that women love my name, and that's not the only thing they love."

Ethan Gladly was my closest friend, which wasn't saying much if I was being honest. He was the closest in age to me among my coworkers, which again wasn't saying much when they were almost all old ladies. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the computer class teacher was older than the concept of computing.

"By the way Ethan, do you like my new watch?" I pulled my sleeve up to show him. "It's a Rolex Sky Dweller. It cost me more than $30,000." The watch had just been delivered last night and I was eager to show it off. After all, what's the point of expensive possessions if no one knows you have it?

"Damn Jack, how do you afford all this crazy stuff on a teacher's salary?"

I leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Don't tell anyone, but there's a lady who really enjoys my company. In fact, she paid for my watch and clothes."

Ethan shook his head while laughing. "Are you telling me you've got yourself a secret sugar mama? You look like a racoon with those huge bags under your beady eyes! And this is on top of the fact that you reek of cigarettes."

My car beeped twice as I unlocked it using my wireless key fob. I got in the driver's seat then reached over to clear off the passenger's seat for Ethan.

"Hey you know I only smoke imported cigars." I countered before he could sit down.

"Jesus man your car is almost as disgusting as you," Ethan buckled himself in then continued, "Did you throw a party in here?"

Every time he sat in my car he commented about the lack of cleanliness. He was probably just jealous of my four year old entry level sedan.

I looked over at him as we pulled out of the parking lot and said, "You know, for someone who complains so much you never volunteer to drive."

He began to reply but I cut him off. "By the way, where do you want to eat today? I was feeling Little Shawn's."

Ethan looked over at me and asked, "That pizza place over on McAlistair?"

"Yeah I saw a commercial for pizza this morning so I've been craving it all day."

"Come on man, you know we can't make it there and back in time. We'd be late." Ethan was a color inside the lines kind of guy and he proved it by constantly shooting down all my good ideas.

"Who cares? What's Blackwell gonna do, fire us? I almost wish she would."

My statement actually made Ethan turn in his seat to face me, and I saw his smile slide off of his face. He opened his mouth to say something, before sighing and staring straight forwards out the windshield. After a moment he brought a hand up to his temple and said, "See that's the thing. You always say shit like this and I don't know if you're joking anymore."

The atmosphere in the car had turned cold. The way he was talking it almost sounded like he was worried about me. I didn't like this feeling.

The silence stretched on far longer than I should have allowed it to before I finally decided to extend an olive branch.

"If you're so worried about being late we can go to Tony's."

Ethan gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and I wondered if that's how I looked to other people.

It was later that night, and I was getting ready to meet up with my sugar mama. I tried to meet up with her once a week, but it didn't help that she insisted on meeting with me in the middle of nowhere. The location this week was an abandoned warehouse near the train yards.

I was taking a taxi because this was not the kind of area that I trusted my car to still be here when I got back. As per usual I told the cabbie to let me off a few blocks away from my destination. I got out of the cab and walked to the back, where I popped the trunk. I gingerly took a brown suitcase out and set it on the sidewalk. I left the cabbie with a generous tip and waited until he drove off before I started walking.

As I walked, I adjusted the back of my fur coat over the Jericho 941 in my waistband. I could have bought a holster for it, but I preferred the aesthetic of having it rammed down the front of my pants. In my profession it paid to be taken seriously, and nothing says serious like a loaded gun.

Most people expect April to be warm, but most people had never been in Brockton Bay. I hunched over as another gust of cold wind hit me head on. It was times like this that I almost wished I lived somewhere else.

First impressions are important. Of course, if you meet a girl in a suit and fur coat she'll expect you to be dressed fancily whenever you meet again. This meant that whenever I met my female benefactor I had to dress up and slick back my hair. I thought it made me look like a suave spy; I'd been told I looked like a kid playing dress up.

I was walking so hunched over that I didn't even notice the thugs in front of me until I almost bumped into them. There were three of them blocking the cracked sidewalk, two black guys and a latino. They were wearing ratty clothes and big grins.

The big black guy in the middle looked me up and down before saying, "You lost man? This ain't the Boardwalk."

As soon as he started talking I took a step back. I wasn't intimidated or anything, but this guy had one of the worst cases of meth mouth I had ever seen. Brown spittle was flying out every time he opened his mouth, and the skin around his mouth was blistered and raw.

"Fuck, man, we go through this every time you see me." I lightly chuckled and continued, "You ever gonna get tired of the same old joke?"

"Not happenin', man," came the laughing reply.

They stepped aside, then fell into step behind me as I continued down the road. I found myself walking with a bit of a spring in my step; it made me feel like I had a troupe of body guards. I mean, how often do you get to lead a group of hardcore thugs?

Unfortunately, our little impromptu parade came to an end relatively quickly. In what felt like no time at all, we had come up to my destination: the only warehouse in the area that didn't look completely dilapidated. It was made of grey bricks and took up nearly the entire block. Every window had been smashed and then covered with plywood.

We stepped through one of the many large gaps in the fence that surrounded the lot and walked up to a steel door. I knocked once, and after a moment I heard a latch open from within. In stark contrast, the inside was brightly lit and relatively clean. That gave me a completely unobstructed few of the multitude of opened up cars.

Immediately my eyes settled on the reason I carried a heavy suitcase all this way. With a smirk I passed it off to one of the thugs and stepped forward to greet her the same way I always did.

"I hope you've got my money, Squealer."