Dad still worried about my nocturnal explorations. Compared to the last few years at Winslow, they were a vacation.

Even now, I felt more at ease on the streets, whether it was clearing houses of pests or dealing with muggers than I did at Winslow.

I suppose it said something that the riot had been relaxing. Even with Emma, Madison, and Sophia gone, I still wasn't comfortable there. Too many people who laughed at the trio's pranks were still around.

The only reason I hadn't transferred to Arcadia for the remainder of the year was the change in Administration. Gladly, Blackwell, Quinlan, they were all gone, replaced by a faculty that looked like they were used to handling people more suited for the Birdcage than Winslow.

The gang tags were mostly gone, and dozens of the more open gangers were either expelled or being schooled in continuation class. Principle Wilson had been brought in from Boston, and according to some rumors, he'd faced down the Teeth and Butcher when they'd come too close to his school.

Of course, according to other rumors, he was a prototype PRT combat robot, which explained why he was always at school before anyone arrived and after everyone left.

On the other hand, while there was no bullying, more than a few kids resented me for starting this. The days of just accidentally forgetting to go to class were over.

It didn't bother me much. If they left me alone, I'd leave them alone. That was all I wanted. Next year, with my grades up, I'd enter Arcadia.

Granted, I didn't really need to go to school, not with my side business. People were now sending money to the account I had listed. Donations only, and Dad made certain to pull the needed taxes to pay the IRS when I reported my earnings. According to him, even the Marquis paid the IRS.

It didn't matter. Just that morning I'd cleared a warehouse of rats, cockroaches and as a bonus, the beginning of a termite infestation. They'd sent me 1,000 dollars as a donation. About a fifth of what it would have cost them, but I didn't mind. It had been the work of ten minutes, after all.

Granted, I've already spent a lot of it. I had a high-quality set of night vision goggles and tinkertech composite ballistic plates to complement my own costume, along with a few other gadgets. If I was going to be an independent, I had to be able to handle myself.

I paused in the alley as a door opened and someone came out, hauling some garbage. He didn't see me.

Good.

Most people were staying inside. This part of town had been full of E88 sympathizers, with a few islands of upper class housing where the police kept the overt activity to a minimum. But after the E88 had been forced to turn over Rune, lots of their supporters were less willing to flagrantly show their numbers.

Legend was back in New York—but he could always return.

I headed for the roof, scrambling up an access ladder. Keeping low to the roof, I moved forward to get a good look at my target.

Yesterday, I'd passed a building that had guards at it. Open guards, which was rare enough right now that I was interested.

I hit the magnifier on my NVG's, along with the recording function. I could review what I found at home. The building was medium sized. Not big enough for a rally, more than big enough for a drug stash or to house soldiers.

As I got closer, I started picking up more bugs on the inside of the building.

Fleas, ticks, worms…

There were animals in there. Dogs and cats, but few of them in good condition.

I didn't do anything. Going in would be stupid. I wasn't a Brute. I settled back down and took a sip from my thermos of chicken broth.

I had quickly learned that heavy foods were a bad idea when you were jumping over town, but trying to get away with just water or tea could see you losing energy at the worst possible moment.

An hour passed, and I was starting to wonder if I'd have to leave when a pickup truck drove down the alleyway, its lights off.

No matter. I got a photo of its license plate with the NVGs. They stopped, and a moment later, the door in the back of the building opened.

It must have been soundproofed because a cacophony of howling and whining came from it.

"You're late."

"We had a fucking flat tire," the driver said. "Got the stuff?"

"Yeah. Anything for us?"

"Nothing. Neighborhood's gotten wise, and people are keeping their mutts indoors."

"Well, if Hookwolf runs out of dogs, you know he can always toss you in."

"Fuck you."

Hookwolf. At least it didn't sound like he was here, but that put the building on the no-go list. I wasn't close to being able to play in Hookwolf's league, at least not when he was armored up.

A few minutes later, they rolled out a pallet jack with a tarp on it. I could sense the maggots already going to work on the dead animals. A quick move and the tarp was tossed to the side. Some of the dead animals seemed to be moving, there were so many maggots in their flesh.

"Jesus fuck! How long have you been holding them?"

"Refrigerator's on the fritz. Glove up." Moments later, they were tossing the torn bodies of dogs and cats into the flatbed of the truck. I saw one poodle, looking like it had been well-groomed, tossed in, its belled collar letting out a mournful ring. Then there were puppies and other animals.

"Jeeze, you should have seen this one, wandered right up to Hookwolf's prize fighting hound like it was gonna be groomed or something."

The laughter was coarse.

I wasn't much of an animal person, as the thousands of rats I'd buried under tides of ants and spiders could attest.

But this was disgusting. Bullies laughing over their cruelty.

Like Emma.

A few bugs around me started going berserk. I remained still.

I would come back. I couldn't take the place, not alone, not with the risk of Hookwolf. But I didn't need to. I just needed to get enough information to send to the right sources. Hookwolf was Birdcage bound. All I had to do was make certain I was here when he came to check out his stock and then I could notify the PRT.

And ideally, they'd never know I was here.