Makoto was still upset about the night before. Musing over the work of two nights ago as she walked along the street, she couldn't decide if she was more upset that four people had died, or that one had gotten away with the money. It was easy to forget her nightmares in the light of day, but her "career problems" weren't evadible. As she started walking towards the local pastry shop, she decided that it was worse that one had gotten away, barely. Though the news had another perspective, of couse.

Makoto remembered the news. "Dark vigilante Jupta, the feigned superhero, struck again two nights ago at 12:13 at the currently in-construction Monaghan's Restaurant/Brewery. It appeared that she was trying to stop a drug run, and in the process four out of seven of those involved were killed. The two survivors are both at Divine Hope Hospital, and in stable condition. While some say that Jupta is providing a service to Southerland, most people disagree."

The news had cut to an interview with the mother of one of the dead. Makoto remembered it well as she saw it in her mind's eye.

"They weren't perfect, ain't nobody perfect," the weeping woman said. "But those boys...I knew them since they was little. Don't nobody deserve to be cut down like that. She's a murderer, and she should be caught and put in jail!"

The girl was still incredulous at the reaction, despite the fact that she still felt guilty about it. Though it was hard to sympathize with someone who had raised her son yet let him end up being a drug lord...or maybe he was one of the lessers. Makoto didn't keep up with everyone's names. Maybe the boy had just fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Makoto was uncertain about what to do next. She had to come up with some sort of plan of how to catch Pyrus without looking so evil. Sighing, she realized that she didn't care very much about her reputation. But still, she wanted at least a little dignity. One thing she knew for certain was that if any of the drug lords ever saw Jupta, they would shoot without hesitation. She was the most hated person in Southerland. Possibly all of California, she surmised.

She kept walking, breathing in the cool outside air. It was too nice of a day to worry about such things. Instead her thoughts turned to Sammi and their band. Elsie had written three songs already, and when added to the five that Mia had written for her friends, that almost made up a whole cd. Sammi said she had been inspired, so she was working on something. Ed had improvised two songs, and everyone was jealous of his creative prowress. That left only Jimmy without a song to his name.

Serenity's song finally had a melody. Makoto came up with it one day, and was pleased with it. She hummed to herself as she remembered the words.

"Those years ago when you were just a little girl

You didn't know the truth, didn't know the world

But your heart could tell you all the things amiss

As you lived your life of sweet sweet bliss

And at the end I can truly say

These dark times didn't make you sway

Yeah you kept on straight and made sense of all of this

"And all your dreams came true

They were so fresh and new

Guided by the song in your heart

Your love kept the world from falling apart

"And I can hear you saying,

'Remember that everybody's got feelings just like you' -"

Makoto's thoughts were cut off by a voice she was surprised she recognised.

"Ain't nothin' in this life free." a man a few feet behind her muttered, as if he were deep in thought.

It was the escapee from the previous night. Makoto felt herself tense. In the attempt to look at his face without staring at him, Makoto steadily went to the crossroads up ahead, then turned right to cross the street. Acting as if she were looking down the road to see if traffic was coming, she looked from where she had come and got a quick look at him. It was definitely the same bald head and large eyes. The very man that had run for his life two nights before was hanging up his cell phone and morosely walking down the sidewalk.

Going ahead and crossing the road, Makoto tried to think of a plan. All she could think to do was quickly and as casually as possible get into the nearby donut shop. Looking through the store's large windows, she almost let loose a scream when she noticed that he too had crossed the street and was heading her way. Absentmindedly he put his hand on the door of the donut shop. As he did, the sudden sound of a popular soul song came from his pocket.

"Hello? Oh, hey Rems. Nah, I'm holdin' up, it's cool. I don't want to talk about it on the phone, but --"

Wasting no more time to listen, Makoto dove behind the counter. As she did, she wondered where the workers were. She had been to this shop before, and knew that it closed soon, so she guessed that they were doing some sort of cleaning in the back. She hoped none of them came out soon. Donning an apron and thankful that she was wearing a plain white blouse, she heard the door open.

"Good afternoon!" Makoto cheerfully exclaimed. "Just let me wash my hands, and I will be right there."

The man just nodded. In a moment, Makoto was back from the sink, and an employee of Dippin' Dough Incorporated.

"Good afternoon. What can I get you?" Makoto couldn't remember being so chipper.

"Two dozen. Half a dozen glazed, then three sprinkles and three custard..."

"I am sorry, we have sold out of the custard."

"That's okay. You still got the lemon jelly?"

As he picked out the rest of his donuts, Makoto couldn't help but notice how absolutely tired, even depressed, he looked. A little nervous, even, but mostly just tired and worried. He was constantly rubbing his eyes and even sighed a little. She guessed that he had been very busy last night and was ready to sleep, and doubtlessly worried about everything that had gone wrong for him concerning the drugs.

As Makoto finished putting the donuts into the boxes, she went over to the register. It was then that she realized that she had no idea how to enter in the order into the register. If it were just a simple register where one entered numbers, she could figure it out. But this was one of the registers where everything was labelled, so that whoever stocked up would know exactly which and how many of each kind of donut were sold.

A little impatient to get out of the awkward situation, she just smiled and looked up. "You know what? We are about to close and those donuts are just leftovers. You may have them, on the house."

That drew a reaction that Makoto didn't expect. The man's eyes widened as if he were shocked. "What, really?"

"Oh, sure. Enjoy them, sir."

Amazed, the man managed to stammer, "Wow...thanks."

As he left, Makoto tried to look busy by pulling out some sanitizer and wiping the counters. Once she heard the door shut, she pulled out some money and left it by the register. She looked up to see if he was gone. He wasn't. The man was still standing out there, obviously deep in thought. He looked up at her. She gave what she thought was her most pleasant smile. He waved, a little awkwardly, then left.

The very moment he had gone from sight Makoto threw off the apron and practically dove into the bathroom. Quickly she donned her uniform but left the mask around her neck, then covered it all with her large black jacket, just as she usually did before going out on patrol. Not hesitating in the slightest, Makoto quickly opened a small, frosted window (it was near the ceiling, so she had to move the tall trash can over to reach it) and climbed out. Fortunately there was a closed dumpster on the other side, so that she could close the window as best she could from the outside.

Jumping off of the dumpster and walking briskly into the semi-busy street, Makoto casually looked around. On foot, the strange man couldn't have gotten very far. But as she looked back and forth, trying to look as normal as possible, Makoto realized that he had gotten away. Again. Probably he had been able to reach his car, or maybe he called a taxi. Annoyed, Makoto kicked at someone's littered coffee cup and headed for home -- then promptly turned around and made sure that cup made it into the trash. Sighing, the girl decided that she really didn't need to buy anything. Perhaps if she read a long book, she would fall asleep before being able to hear the voices again. And if it were a good book, she might not have the nightmares.

Being absorbed in her thoughts and now turned away from Dippin' Dough, Makoto didn't notice when the same man reemerged from the donut shop. The man, Jamal Magwe, had an absolutely stunned, and yet almost happy, look on his face, one was about the opposite of the look he'd had when he first arrived at Dippin' Dough.

All he had wanted that afternoon was to buy some donuts before heading off to finish some paperwork at his job, his legit office one that he often used as a cover for his illegal work. His mother called, and they had the same argument they always did: he should get out of the drug business. But as he had told her moments before he entered Dippin' Dough that nothing in life ever came for free.

Until he went into the shop and met a sweet Asian girl who was generous and seemingly full of smiles.

It was a silly thing, Jamal thought. It was just irony, circumstance. Or so he thought before he once again entered the donut shop. Two workers were there, both of them white. When he asked them if any Asian girls worked there, they said no, only an older Asian lady that had been off that day.

Jamal didn't mention anything to the two confused workers. They wouldn't have been able to answer his questions anyway, probably. Who was that girl? Was she even real? Jamal looked down at the two boxes of donuts under his arms. He smiled a little. Whoever she was, he knew that there was something he had to do.

And finally Jamal knew that it could be done.