Chapter 11

"Would you put your hands down? You look like a god damn idiot."

Training Officer Michael "Guppy" Guerra had had enough. His incorrigible rookie partner hadn't stopped flexing, bending, and twisting since this morning's coffee and showed no signs of tiring. He was getting a cramp just watching her.

"I can't help it," Officer Annie Cofield replied as they walked side by side down the streets of Midtown. "Sergeant Lipton wants me to break in this new gear as soon as possible." She readjusted the bracers strapped to her forearms. Made of Kevlar and steel mesh, they matched the breathable padded chest plate wrapped around her torso. She looked more like a police action figure with all 800 accessories than a human. Riot gear and face shield sold separately.

Since when did protective custody turn into a shopping spree of the department's armory? Weren't people supposed to get whisked away to some shabby hole in the wall apartment instead of being thrown back onto the streets to fend for themselves? Then again, the one under protective custody was his partner, and his partner was supposedly being targeted by the Midtown Murderer, and losing a salary's worth of equipment was worth catching the biggest serial killer in the history of the city. If Guerra played his cards right, he might even be the one to land the collar. After all, the target on his partner's back was so big that the one on his own was practically non-existent. It was like the higher ups were trying to make her as noticeable and vulnerable as possible to lure the devil out.

"Just because you have to wear it doesn't mean you have to keep posing like a cosplayer every time somebody looks in your direction," Guerra snapped. More than one social media tagger waltzed up to them, asking to take a selfie with the officer in the fancy get up. It wasn't even like Cofield was pretty. He'd seen freshwater whiscash with more appeal than her.

"I'm not posing," Cofield blushed. "I'm just getting used to moving in it."

It was a miracle she could move at all. The whole uniform probably weighed as much as she did. Wrapping her in bubble wrap would have been cheaper and just as effective. The station couldn't even afford to retrofit her training officer's uniform even though he was walking in the same shit that she was. Then again, he didn't plan on sticking around when it all inevitably hit the fan. Guerra glanced over his shoulder at the unmarked police car following along on the street behind them. The plain clothes officers inside had orders to keep watch over the pair and jump out should the Midtown Murderer reveal himself. Guerra always said Cofield needed a babysitter. At least now, he wouldn't have to suffer alone.

Officer Cofield tugged a pair of fingerless gloves over her hands. They matched her new black uniform (because SWAT didn't come in any other color) and were completely outlandish for walking around in public with. It didn't help that the white bandages on her hands rimmed the edges underneath the gloves like something out of a Kung-Fu movie.

"You plan on taking down that big bad skitty with your fists or are you just afraid of scraping your palms on the sidewalk again?" Guerra asked.

Fighting a pokemon using hand to hand combat was for hillbilly wranglers and jock heads, not cops. Then again, he'd love to see her try, but for some reason, he could only picture her wrestling a miltank in the mud and failing miserably. It was a wonderful thought.

"Pantherians are a very physical species," Cofield explained without acknowledging her partner's sarcasm. "And based off of her previous attack patterns, I'm almost positive she'll use her size and strength to her advantage instead of relying on long range attacks.

"She?" Guerra interrupted. "You get an up close piece of that action in the alley, Cofield? I didn't peg you as a pokemon poker but then again, I wouldn't be surprised."

Guerra warmed himself beside the heat of his partner's cheeks. In the beginning of their partnership, ruffling Cofield's feathers was difficult, if not near impossible given the shear thickness of her ignorance, but ever since the nickname "Baby" started floating around the station, she ballooned faster than a jigglypuff at the slightest lewd comment. The silence of her raging embarrassment didn't last long, however, as the doorman from the high rise next to them suddenly jumped out onto the sidewalk in front of them. He wore a burgundy red uniform with two sets of polished gold buttons down the front. They matched the trim of his hat and the gold inlay around the revolving glass doors of the front entrance. The man saw Guerra first, but once glance at Cofield and she might as well have been the Savior reborn.

"Perfect timing," the bellman huffed as he struggled to catch his breath. "The bastard's already on the 54th floor. You've got to go get him."

Guerra firmly based his entire lifestyle around the fact that he never had to do anything. He knew Cofield's new uniform would draw attention, but this wasn't the blonde, giggling, coy sort that he liked. This was an invitation to free, untaxed, day ruining hard work. Guerra quickly held out his arm to distance himself from the sweaty red faced misunderstanding intruding upon his good humor.

"Hold on just a minute," he began. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Is someone in the building?" his partner interjected.

Just like a Cofield to stick their nose where it didn't belong. She looked up the side of the high rise with her pretend x-ray vison and pinched her eyes against the glint of chrome and glass. The architecture alone set the building into a higher tax bracket than the surrounding neighborhood. Guerra glanced around the front entrance of the condos, looking for a few strong armed security personnel and finding none. Million dollar condos with little security, little bellmen, and gaudy tastes meant one thing and one thing only in this town:

Celebrity Aces.

And sloppy ones at that. Ones that didn't want government representatives snooping around their personal business. The city was littered with pokemon trainers on a quick rise to fame with too much money and too many bad habits between their scattered tournament winnings.

"Does this bastard-er, person, live in the building?" Guerra asked. Depending on the answer, he might want to bring a spit mask.

"I've been working here for five years and I've never seen that guy in my entire life," the bellman answered. "He couldn't afford a place like this even if he sold his soul."

It was a pretty judgmental answer for a man who wore bells and buttons for a living, but given his experience, the trespasser was probably an ex-girlfriend or rival ace. Guerra preferred the latter.

"Do you know what he wanted?" Cofield asked.

"Hell if I know. The guy came out of nowhere and blew right past me, muttering to himself like a crazy person. I tried to stop him but he had this weird look in his eye, ya know?"

Officer Cofield stiffened a little.

"When he got to the elevator and couldn't get in, he assaulted me and stole my keycard!" the bellman explained.

Both officers noticed the significant lack of dirt and bruising on the bellman but said nothing to the effect. He probably handed over the keycard without a fight, but calling him out on it wouldn't change the fact that he was a lying shameless coward. It would only make their jobs that much more difficult.

"What did this guy look like?" Officer Cofield continued.

Guerra felt the hole they had stumbled into getting deeper and deeper.

"Big barrel of a guy with a messed up face, blue jacket, and blue pants."

Officer Cofield's expression hardened with something between recognition, disappointment, and irritation. The bellman, thinking he just escaped a brush with death from one of the FBI's most wanted, interpreted the look as a commitment to his cause and rushed ahead to open the side door of the condo's front entrance.

As if they could actually do anything with such a vague circumstantial complaint.

Officer Cofield reached up to her shoulder radio and called in to dispatch. Guerra quickly snatched her by the arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, keeping as quiet as he could to preserve the agency's public image.

"Didn't you hear? There's a trespasser in the building?" Officer Cofield answered.

The only thing Guerra heard were the wails of an incompetent fat dirty doormat. "All we know is that there is a man on the 54th floor who probably forgot his key and took a complimentary one from the concierge without asking nicely."

"It wouldn't hurt to check it out."

"We aren't supposed to deviate from our search."

"This building is full of pokemon trainers. If we see one, we'll question them. Broadening the search only narrows the possibilities."

What was she, a meditite?

"We aren't supposed to go anywhere without back up."

"So we'll signal the guys like we did for all of the other apartment buildings we entered and they can follow along."

"But we're about to get off shift in fifteen minutes."

"Sounds like just enough time for you to prove me a worry walrein."

Guerra gnashed his teeth together. His partner was shorter than him by a full inch and yet she looked down at him as if she stood on the 54th floor. Given the chance, he'd push her off of it. Guerra released his partner as the dispatch operator answered the hail.

"12 David, show us responding at a potential 12-84 in progress at 552 Altaria Boulevard, the Oasis Condo Apartments," Officer Cofield said before she turned to the street and signaled the unmarked police car. The officers inside heard the call over the radio and signaled back. The pair was free to proceed and back up would follow shortly. There was no stopping the mission now without looking like a complete feebas.

"If this turns into overtime, you're cleaning the cruiser the next time somebody vomits in it," Guerra warned.

"You said it yourself," Cofield replied with a shrug and a smile. "It's probably nothing." She bounced up the steps like a baby hoppip and the bellman opened the door for her. Guerra begrudgingly passed through the portal and glanced around the crystal accented lobby, half expecting to see a mural painted on the ceiling. The architect must have had more modern tastes. The intruder wasn't the only one who would have to sell his soul to get a room in this place. Then again, Guerra might not have to. If he got in good with the staff here, he might be able to get access to the high profile amenities they offered, like the bar in the lounge off to the left. Rich women always loved a man in uniform.

"Just this way to the elevator," the bellman said. He hurried to the front of the group and motioned at the back wall. "The elevator requires keycard access on the ground floor, but once you're in it, you can use it freely from all upper levels." Guerra felt the sweep of well-planned delegation brush past him. "I saw the elevator stop at the 54th floor when the guy was in it, but he could be on any level now if he changed his mind or took the stairs."

This doormat was damned to think that they were about to do a floor to floor sweep of the building. Another concierge appeared and conveniently swept her keycard across the pad and pushed the little round button pointing up. That was about as useful as she was going to get. Did anyone here have any sense of responsibility? Then again, how could they when G.I. Jane was on the scene?

"It's a start," Officer Cofield said as the elevator doors opened.

"I'm sorry I can't go with you," the bellman finished, "but I have no one to relieve me and I can't leave my post unattended."

Of course not. At least, they wouldn't have to listen to his excuses any longer.

"We'll take it from here," Guerra reassured before stepping into the elevator. When the doors closed, he slumped against the wood paneling, crossed his arms over his chest, and jutted his jaw in his partner's direction.

"For someone married to the manual, you sure come up with some cockamamie schemes, you know that, right?"

"I don't get it," Cofield said.

Guerra couldn't tell if she was lying or not so he assumed the worst of her. "We just spent the whole day knocking and getting doors slammed in our faces by a couple of pompous pricks, and you want to bloody your knuckles some more? For what?

"Narrowing down the list of suspects for the Midtown murders takes boots on the ground and that's exactly what we're doing. There's a pokemon trainer in this building that was on the list of suspects, Suite 542 in fact. Seems coincidental, don't you think?"

"I don't remember anyone like that on the list."

"Not the final list, but it's worth checking out since we're here."

Guerra narrowed his eyes on his partner's back. It felt like she was hiding something, but she hadn't been dishonest or secretive with him about anyone or anything yet, and frankly, he was starting to think she wasn't capable of such a thing, so he brushed off the feeling. It was much easier to fall into his usual discontent than to fight with her. "Aren't you tired of wasting time today?" he asked instead.

"If someone asks me for help, I'm not going to ignore them."

The subtle jab to Guerra's ethics pinched a nerve, and the more time he spent with his partner, the more painful it became. "That shit for bells didn't ask us for anything," Guerra defended. "He just needed someone to clean up his mess." He held his chin a little higher. "That's your problem Cofield. You only hear what you want to hear and can't stand to miss an opportunity to stroke your ego. I bet you go around feeding stray pokemon, thinking how sorry they are, without ever considering how you contribute to the nuisance. Did you ever stop to think that people don't want your help?"

Cofield remained poised and attentive, but her cheeks were hot again. "Everybody needs help once in a while, even if they don't realize it," she said, standing even straighter and taller than before. The damn growlithe.

"Like that homeless scumbag you brought in the other day?" Guerra persisted, determined to bring her down to his level. "He sounded real thankful when the interrogation started. You could hear him screaming all the way from the locker room. I'm surprised they even let him go. I heard he lost the tail we put on him by the second day. Talk about guilty."

"That was a misunderstanding."

"And I'm sure he completely understands," Guerra added. Talking about the homeless nobody was one of the few things that got under Cofield's skin. If he tilted his knife just right, he might be able to draw blood, or better yet, fresh tears. Those were more shaming and might just sweep her right off of the force.

"Why do you care so much about him? I saw you looking for something in every slum and shady corner we passed. Found yourself a new boyfriend have we?"

"He's instrumental to this case."

"He's a suspect."

"He's a victim."

"He's fucking crazy. Haven't you heard him? The guy talks to voices in his head!"

"And who's to say those voices don't have something important to say?"

Guerra paused on that one. "Can you even hear yourself right now?" Her silence said enough. "Damn. You're just as crazy as he is."

Officer Cofield kept her eyes forward and face stern, just like she always did when her mind was made up about something. His cheap jabs and low blows wouldn't affect her anymore, not when her impregnable wall of self-righteous convictions was up. The elevator doors opened with a ping. It was about damn time.

A loud pounding rumbled down the hallway. It was too loud and persistent to be anything less than an irate visitor. The two officers looked at one another. The little bellboy was right. Who would have thought?

Guerra and Cofield put their hands to their belts, stepped out into the hallway, and rounded the corner. A man with blocks for shoulders shouted and pounded on one of the condo doors halfway down the hall. His heavy blue jacket and grey wool cap chafed against the color of the velvet rugs and silk walls surrounding him. He wore a bandana over his face and glanced over at them. First, at Cofield. Then, Guerra, and back at Cofield again.

Guerra didn't recognize the wild eyed maniac until the man turned tail and ran down the opposite end of the hallway with a limp so bad, he might as well have had a peg leg. It was Mad Max, Midtown's local schizophrenic and Cofield's new boy toy. For the first time in their entire partnership, Guerra saw Cofield hesitate. This might be his one and only chance to strike first. He threw out a pokeball and a mightyena in a dark blue collar materialized in front of them. Trained to materialize at the ready, the bite pokemon was already in motion before Guerra even shouted the command: "Bite!"

Mightyena dashed down the red carpet and launched himself at the intruder. He bit down on the man's arm and dragged him to the floor, shaking and pulling until cotton grew between his teeth. Officer Cofield jumped into action now that fangs were involved and ran down the hallway shouting commands to stop the attack, but a bite pokemon trained to do what it did best wasn't easy to wrestle with, especially with anyone other than its owner.

Cofield pulled out her command whistle and blew a short sharp note loud enough to break Mightyena's concentration. The bite pokemon released his hold and retreated to his owner's side, passing Cofield as she approached. The gutless gutter grunt writhing on the floor pulled the bandana from his face and knitted a string of profanities so tight that they could have tucked the devil to sleep. Cofield knelt down beside him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked while fussing over the shredded bits of his sleeve. If she acted like that after every take down, she'd get a shiv to the belly. Guerra strolled up behind her with Mightyena at his side. The bite damage wasn't nearly as extensive as he had hoped. No blood, guts, or bones to make the catch worth retelling in the locker room. That blue jacket was tough . . . and oddly familiar. Cofield shared similar sentiments.

"Is that my scarf?" she unexpectedly asked.

Mad Max held his arm and flexed his fingers to make sure they still worked. "You're a god damn menace, you know that?" he said, shrugging off the officer's worrisome hands. If it wasn't for her, Mightyena would have ripped his arm out of its socket, and what was worse, Cofield let him get away with the action without so much as a scowl. The entire exchange was a disgrace to the badge.

"I could say the same thing about you," Guerra answered as he loomed over the both of them. Mad Max didn't miss a beat.

"Kiss my ass," he automatically replied. The venom in his words was potent enough to stir Mightyena into a snarl. To no surprise, Max curled back his lip and returned the favor.

"Outa the way, Cofield," Guerra snapped as he reached through her and lifted the hopeless pile of stink to its feet. "Get up. You're coming with us."

"You can't arrest me," Max contested. "I haven't done anything!" He shrugged off Guerra's touch, and unlike Cofield, Guerra was waiting for an excuse to escalate the matter. He threw Max into the wall and pressed against his back to keep him from squirming.

"Running from the police makes you guilty of something, and as far as I can see, now you're resisting arrest."

"Easy Guerra!" Cofield shouted.

Guerra ignored her. With a known rebellious nuisance in his hands and Mightyena nipping to get in on the action, he wasn't going to relinquish a fraction of his authority, especially not to a smart mouthed rookie.

"Guerra," she said again, this time without the surprised look on her face.

"What?" he barked after opening his handcuff pouch. "He's the guy you were so adamant about catching. You want me to let him go because he's your new BFF? What about all that dribble about justice you're always spewing?"

Mad Max turned his head to look at Cofield and the look he gave her was enough to stun.

"Well?" Guerra pressed. Caught within the snares of her own morality, Officer Cofield said nothing. It was a silence Guerra had waited his whole partnership to hear. "That's what I thought."

Guerra peeled Mad Max from the wall and walked down the hall towards the elevators. Officer Cofield stopped, clenched her fists, and fell quietly in line behind them. Guerra grinned to himself. It felt good to be in the lead again with a collar in his hand and a rookie dutifully following behind him: silent, submissive, and in her rightful place. They passed the doorway to the condo that started it all, Suite 542. It was still as solid and unyielding as it was before despite Mad Max's best efforts to tear it down. Guerra was sure to let his prisoner see it as they whisked by.

This las minute call turned out to be more exciting than anticipated. Cofield got the reality check she needed. The bellman owed him a favor and one of the most notorious annoyances in the city was off of the streets, at least, for a little while. Being a repeat offender, Mad Max might even go to jail this time. What would Cofield think about that? Guerra glanced back to propose the question, only to find that his partner had fallen out of line again. She stood in front of Suite 542, staring at the door with a curious yet suspicious look on her face.

Shit.

"What're you doing now?" he asked, although, at this point, Guerra was sure he would never understand what she did or why. "We got our guy. Why ruin someone else's day? Clearly, they're not home or don't want to be bothered."

Officer Cofield kept her eyes on the door and shifted one hand onto her utility belt. "I thought I heard scratching," she said while attempting to use that x-ray vision again.

"You've got hair in your ears. Hurry up, let's go," he ordered, but the leash he had on her melted like warm putty between his fingers the harder he tried to pull it.

Officer Cofield stepped closer to the door and turned slightly sideways against the frame in a cautious assessment of the situation. "Do you smell that?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's the wafting fragrance of our ripe little friend here, so get away from there." She wouldn't ruin this collar for him. Not today.

Officer Cofield unhooked the one and only pokeball from her belt. Duke, the poochyena, materialized at her feet seconds later. He glanced up at his trainer for orders and she gestured a command using one hand and two fingers. It was a skill most officers were too lazy to maintain outside of the required courses at the academy. The sign language was only used in Special Team's stealth operations. Cofield's new uniform must have spurred a few too many fantasies in her head.

Duke went to work at the command and sniffed along the bottom of the door. Guerra bristled. His authority would not be thwarted by a rookie's flawless execution of special skills. She wasn't the only one who remembered how and when to utilize the hand signs. Guerra waved at Mightyena to stay and watch the captured criminal while he reeled in his partner, but the bite pokemon followed him anyway. Guerra gestured again, this time, more forcibly. Mightyena dropped his ears and glanced back and forth, confused by the subtle then overly exaggerated commands. Guerra could've kicked the mutt in its prized teeth. He groaned and dragged both dogs down the hallway to where his partner was standing.

"Cofield! I'm gonna kill you," he said as he stormed up beside her. "What the hell is it now?"

Something suddenly hit the door hard and fast from inside the suite and the entire wall rattled. Guerra and Max jumped back into the wall behind them. Mightyena and Duke flinched into a fit of growling and barking. Officer Cofield pulled out a weapon, held it at eye level, and aimed it at the door. It came from an old brown leather holster hidden at the eve of her back. Guerra had never seen a gun outside of the police museum before. Maybe in ceremonies and funerals, but never in the petite hands of a pale faced rookie. The cold hard steel crafted solely for killing looked too heavy for her conscience to bear.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Guerra asked. And where could he get one?

Breaking eye contact with the door, Officer Cofield quickly realized her mistake and holstered the weapon. "Sergeant Lipton gave me special permission to carry one," she explained.

Special permission, special weapons, special body armor, it was time to put all of that favoritism to good use. "Well, are you just going to stand there?" Guerra prompted, flicking his eyes to the door. This was the push he'd been waiting for, "or are you going to investigate whatever the hell that was?"

Officer Cofield glanced back at the door to Suite 542. It was silent, and the longer it remained so, the larger and closer the possible danger became. She swallowed a lump of doubt down her throat and slowly approached the door one more. Duke cried out behind her, an obvious warning to all of them not to go in, but Cofield only ever heard what she wanted to hear. She looked back at her pokemon partner and smiled. Another gesture, this one smaller and more inviting, set Duke at her heels again. He bent down at the ready, ignoring the weight of his puppy fat as it brushed the carpet underneath him. No light came from underneath the doorway. There were no more startling sounds from within. Officer Cofield reached up to the doorknob.

"Don't," Mad Max suddenly whispered, startling the shit out of the training officer next to him. Guerra quickly pushed him against the wall again, but it wasn't enough to keep him quiet. "There's something in there."

"Don't you mean someone?" Guerra corrected. People lived in buildings, not ghosts, and he wouldn't be convinced otherwise. Max and Cofield both looked at the training officer, then at one another. They exchanged the same silent realization and it left Max bone white and Cofield more determined than ever to go in.

"Wait," Max hoarsely whispered. This time, it was Mightyena's growl that kept him in place.

Officer Cofield quietly held a finger to her lips and turned the doorknob. It was unlocked. It could have been dislodged from Max's beatings or broken from the strike from within, either way, there was no backing out now. A wedge of black grew from the frame as Cofield pushed the door open. The darkness was heavy, empty, and incredibly suspicious for a condo that was supposed to be occupied. Cofield paused. Could it be that she was afraid of the dark?

What a baby.

Officer Cofield looked down at Duke, made another motion, and nodded. They were going in. Not fearless, but courageous. It made Guerra sick. Mad Max might have felt the same, but it was impossible to understand the bits and pieces of words that came out of his mouth. Officer Cofield unhooked the projectile stun gun from her belt and clicked on the built in flashlight. Gun powder and lead wouldn't help her find her way through the dark. Shame.

The hallway quieted again. The moment of penetration had come. "MPD," Officer Cofield announced, shinning her flashlight into the crevice. The light only darkened the shadows around it. They all waited for a reply, and when there was none, Cofield pushed the door open wider so that she could go inside. Duke stayed tight at her heel, ears high, fur bristled, and teeth at the ready. Mightyena perked and attempted to follow the pack but Guerra quickly waved him back with a sharp motion. He wouldn't be left alone.

"MPD," Cofield announced again. "Is anybody home?" The silence only thickened in the darkness. "MPD! I have a canine. We're coming in!"

Officer Cofield and her poochyena slowly inched into the room, turned into the foyer, and disappeared into the darkness. Guerra relaxed a little now that his partner's tension was no longer palpable.

"She'll be alright," he told himself. This would be a good teaching moment for her. All this stress and tension over something that was probably nothing. Maybe she'd think twice before accepting random complaints from the public. Strange noises were common in shared living spaces. It wouldn't be the first or the last time a pet pokemon tackled a door because there were strangers on the other side. False alarms like this happened all of the time. Cofield would be fine, especially in that body armor. She wouldn't even feel a tackle unless it hit her in the face and her pinhead already made a small target. Guerra came away from the wall with one hand on his hip and the other on his prisoner.

Mad Max obediently held his ground, probably because he was too busy muttering softly to himself to pay attention to what was going on in the real world around him. That's right. He had the perpetrator in question. The bad guy was already in custody. Guerra had nothing to worry about. His partner would return in a few minutes after clearing the apartment. She'd be all red faced and down trodden for failing to fulfill her expectations once again. Guerra looked into the dark slice of room. He couldn't see anything but he could smell something. The strange odor from before had gotten stronger. Mightyena cried and shifted uneasily on his paws.

"Are you going to let her go in there by herself?" Mad Max suddenly asked. Was he having a rare moment of clarity?

"Someone's gotta make sure you don't try to run away again," Guerra answered.

"Aren't cops supposed to work in pairs or something?"

"Mind your own business. She can take care of it."

"Really? Her?"

He had a point. "Shut up," Guerra snapped. He watched the door again and didn't hear anything. That was a good thing, right?

Mad Max stepped towards the door and Guerra quickly yanked him back. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked. He looked around the hallway. Where the hell was their back up? Probably drinking coffee by the front door and getting an earful from the bellman waiting for this false alarm to be over. Mightyena perked again. His ears flattened and a low growl rose from the belly of his predatory instinct. He shifted into a position that signaled potential danger ahead.

Mad Max's instinct was right. There was something in that room and it wasn't your friendly neighborhood pokemon trainer.

"Fine," Guerra suddenly said, "but if I'm going in, you're coming with me." He repositioned his captive to stand in front of him. Mad Max would make a nice shield if anything unexpected popped out. The two shuffled toward the door with Mightyena watching their backs. Sweat rolled down the side of Guerra's face.

What was he getting so nervous about? It was just an apartment. This door didn't lead to another dimension. There was nothing waiting for him in the darkness except a snot nosed rookie and her pudgy pokemon. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Nothing at all.