Kid ignored his alarm clock when it went off at eight o' clock, but when it began beeping eight minutes later, he rose with a groan and hit it, silencing it exactly .8 seconds later; though his OCD towards symmetry had considerably lessened once he became a full Grim Reaper, he liked to maintain some aspects of symmetry in his life. Also, while sleep was something he'd hardly needed even before maturing, the last week had been a whirlwind of meetings with the witches; dealing with an increase in pre-kishins; and overseeing other details he'd never known his father to have to deal with. Plus, the annual renewal of the treaty with the witches was coming up, so not only were those preparations taking up his time, there was still a strong opposition to the signing, evidenced by the picketed protests outside his office. With all the stress he was under, he'd finally taken Liz's advice and gotten some sleep.

Speaking — or thinking, rather — of Liz, he noticed there wasn't the smell of cooking wafting through the air. This was Friday, and Liz didn't have classes until 8:30 today, and so often celebrated that fact by making a big, long breakfast, which usually ended with the kitchen being left a mess since, though the Thompsons were actually fairly good cooks, they fooled around so much most of the pancake batter, or eggs, or cream chip beef ended up splattered on the walls and floor.

Once Kid was dressed, he exited his room and began walking towards the kitchen, which was strangely silent. "Liz? Patti?" he called. No answer; when he reached the kitchen, there was no one there, and the room was as spotless as it had been last night. The shinigami cocked his head in confusion. Where could they be? Maybe Liz had needed to go to school early for something...yes, that must be it, and perhaps didn't have time enough for her Friday meal. And Patty, after accompanying her sister, probably went out to the park to do some painting, a hobby she'd recently decided to master and was getting pretty good at.

Well, there had certainly been times when he'd been gone before either sister awoke, Kid reasoned, so he wouldn't worry about it now. Hopefully he could catch them at dinner time.

And with that, he headed to work.

...

It was times like now, when having important meetings between Shibusen and the witches, especially regarding treaty adjustments, that Kid really wished Mabaa-san actually talked. As it was, Majo, the fox-themed witch elder (who after all this time still hadn't trusted Shibusen with her real name) was acting translator, and always had a harsher tone to her voice than Maba-san.

"Nya nya."

"Maba-sama wishes to address the recent infractions of your own treaty," Majo translated brusquely, narrowing her eyes at Kid.

"And what 'infractions' are you talking about, Majo-san?" Spirit Albarn asked, frowning at the witch. Kid's council consisted of the remaining Death Scythes, that is, Spirit, Marie Stein, Azusa Yumi, Deng Dinga, Djinn Galland, and the "Last" Death Scythe, Soul Eater Evans, who thusly had been forced to take night classes to keep up with his eduation. It sometimes made Kid feel bad, but Soul insisted on being part of the council, determined to live up to his status as a Death Scythe.

"The witch hunts!" Majo exclaimed. "We've had to lay five of our own to rest in the past two weeks! And this, when we are supposed to be free of persecution by Shibusen!"

"Those witches were in clear violation of the treaty," Sid Barret argued, thumping a blue fist on the table. He and Franken Stein, the only meisters and non-Death Scythes, made up the rest of Kid's council.

"Indeed," Djinn Galland put forth. "That pair of twin witches was causing far too much havoc in my city to be ignored."

"Then you should have brought them to us, instead of dispatching your own justice upon them!"

"Nya nya," Maba said gently yet firmly to her subordinate. Majo frowned, but nodded, and quieted down.

"We were within our rights," Azusa maintained firmly, pushing her glasses higher on her nose.

"But we will be more careful in the future," Kid added, hoping to smooth things over and get this meeting over with without a renewal of hostilities. "I assure you, the next time a rogue causes trouble, Shibusen will contact the resident witch and have them deal with it."

Maba cocked her head while Majo glowered, regarding the Shinigami silently; while others were often disturbed by Maba's conservative attire and piercing stare, Kid had never seen anything wrong or eerie about the Witch Queen's appearance, other than the lack of symmetry, of course. After all, hadn't his own father possessed a similar covering?

Finally, the Witch Queen nodded approvingly. "Nya, nya," she said, tone pleased. "Nya, nya."

"Maba-sama wishes you a good day, Shinigami...san." It was clear Majo hated showing any sign of respect to Kid. "We will see you soon, for the treaty signing." Both witches rose; Kid and his council followed suit, out of politeness.

"I look forward to that as well, Maba-san," Kid told the witch. "Good day."

The air crackled with magic, and then the two witches vanished, back to their own realm. When they were gone, Kid let out a sigh of relief and sat back down.

"I still think you trust them too much," Spirit complained, glaring at the spot Maba and Majo had just occupied.

"But they have earned that trust so far," Soul countered, causing the elder Death Scythe to turn the glare on him; Spirit was still sore over the fact that Soul was his beloved little girl's boyfriend.

"That's right," Marie agreed. "And, other than those objections raised by Majo, they have allowed us to deal with witches they themselves cannot control."

"And we will continue to trust them unless and until ample evidence gives us reason to do otherwise," Kid declared, putting the discussion to rest, for now. He knew it would come up again, as it did regularly, but there were other things that needed doing right now.

Aware of that very fact, his council soon dispersed, off to their own individual tasks, until all who was left in the room were Kid and Soul. Kid rose from table and began walking to his office, a room just off of the council meeting room; both rooms had giant mirrors through which he could communicate with Shibusen students, faculty, or whomever needed his attention.

Soul followed him into his office, black suit jacket he'd worn for the meeting held over his shoulder by two fingers. He waited at the doorway as Kid sat down at his desk, upon which eight neat, and rather tall, piles of papers sat.

"You need me for anything else, Kid?" Soul asked. While showing Kid the respect he was due as Shinigami-sama in formal and most public occasions, his friends, when they were alone with him, simply called him by his name, though sometimes they would refer to him with the slightly lesser honorific of Shinigami-san for fun. It suited Kid quite fine. "I told Maka I would try to catch her for lunch."

"No, you're fine," Kid answered. Soul nodded, and began to turn around, but then stopped.

"You wanna come with? If we get Black*Star, and maybe if Tsubaki is free, we could make it like old times," the Demon Scythe suggested. "Maka wouldn't mind that."

"I'm alright, but thank-you," the shinigami said. "I have a lot of paperwork to get to."

Soul sighed. "Man, I'm always trying to get out of my paperwork" Kid knew this, and Soul knew Kid knew, so there was no reason trying to deny it. "I don't know how you stand it."

"And that, my friend, is why I'm Shinigami-sama, and you're just a lowly Death Scythe," Kid informed his friend with a smirk.

Soul let out a laugh, then grinned widely. "Oh, is that why? Alright. But seriously, one of these days I'm gonna get Liz and Patti to kidnap you from this office and take you out somewhere fun with us."

"If that day comes, maybe I'll let you," offered Kid, golden eyes amused as they looked at his friend's red ones.

Soul turned towards the door completely. "Alright, well, before I go, just wanted to tell you that Black*Star said there was some strange wavelength activity last night."

Black*Star was a rising, well, star among Death City's border patrol and security staff, mostly because he used his flamboyance and giant ego to the staff's advantage, such as painting giant replicas of his "Star Eyes" on security cameras and abandoned buildings to deter troublemakers.

"They were just human souls, which is why no one reported it, but the way they flitted in and out seemed kinda weird to Black*Star," Soul added.

Kid nodded in acknowledgement. "Thanks. Liz and Patti didn't say anything to me, so we're probably alright for now. I'll ask Black*Star to keep an eye out, though." He didn't really need to mention the reason Liz and Patti hadn't said anything was because he hadn't seen them, right? Besides, if the girls had encountered anything suspicious, surely they would have made time to tell him.

"Okay. Well, you know where to find me if you need me, Shinigami-san. I'll tell Maka you said hello," Soul said as he finally left Kid's office.

"Okay. Enjoy your lunch."

...

"There!" Kid exclaimed happily as he straightened out the last few pieces of completed paperwork. Since the morning's meeting, there hadn't been too much activity; he'd just had to see off a meister and Weapon pair's first mission, chide Professor (Emeritus) Stein about some recent disturbing experiment gone wrong, and speak with the governor of Nevada about some minor tax issues. That had left the rest of his day free to tackle the piles of paperwork, the completion of which brought him great pleasure.

Now that he was done, however, he suddenly wished he had taken Soul up on his offer. He looked at the clock, and was rather amazed it was already six o' clock. Where had the time gone?

I'll see what the girls are up to, Kid decided. He was a little surprised neither had come to see him today; usually at least Patti was always hovering around his office if Liz and others were in class, and her younger friends, Tsugumi Harudori and her...what was it, three meisters?... weren't busy. But it wasn't as if either Thompson was required to be there, so it wasn't such a big deal. Kid reached for the phone and dialed the house number; he didn't particularly like using the mirror unless it was for business (and the reason had nothing to do with the fact that once he accidentally called Maka and Soul's bathroom mirror...while Maka was getting into the shower...)

The phone rang eight times, and then another eight times, with no answer. Kid cocked his head, a little confused, and a little annoyed. Wasn't this when they normally had dinner? They could have gone out...On impulse he dialed Maka's cell phone, but got the answer machine. Without bothering to leave a message, Kid hung up and tried Tsubaki. Irritatingly, after only seven rings did the Demon shadow weapon answer.

"Hello?"

"Tsubaki? It's Kid," Kid told her.

"Oh, hi, Kid! What's up?"

"I was wondering if Liz and Patti are with you," he said.

"Oh," Tsubaki answered. "No, they're not - Angela, watch out! Not that vase!" There was the sound of footsteps, clunking wood, and a shriek from Tsubaki, all muffled like she had turned the phone away. After a few moments she came back on.

"Sorry about that!" the Weapon apologized. "Angela's being kinda rambunctious; since Kim was having a pretty stressful day, she didn't think Angela should be around her wavelength, and since I had off today, she asked if I could look after her for the day. But I haven't seen Liz or Patti at all today. Sorry."

"That's quite alright," Kid assured. "Thank-you, Tsubaki." He hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, thinking. Something suddenly didn't feel right.

"Liz, Patti," he murmured, hands interlocked, staring intently at the floor as he thought. "Where are you...?"

...

Brooklyn was just like she remembered it.

The smell, the noise, the crowds – it had always felt to Liz that the city was alive, its own organism, and she had flattered her sister and herself by imagining criminals like them to be the heartbeat of the creature that was Brooklyn.

Her role in the city was even the same as back then: crouched in a dark alley, gripping the cold metal of Patti's weapon form, waiting for some sucker to come along so she could rob him. Or, well, maybe not; back then she'd been her own master, responsible for only herself and Patti, unconcerned with anyone or anything else. Now, she was beholden to Fireworks Franky in order to keep a whole city, and the people she called friends, safe.

No, Liz decided as she spotted a bedraggled looking man walking her way, dirty-looking and jittery, it isn't the same at all.

The jittery man might not seem like a good target, but she had made her fair share of illegal purchases to know this was a junkie looking for a fix, and soon. And junkies looking for a fix always had money on them.

When the man reached the beginning of the alley, Liz jumped out, thrusting Patti in his face. "Hands up, wallet out, or I shoot!" she threatened menacingly. The junkie paled and backed up, stumbling over his own feet. He had long, dark, greasy hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in weeks; torn shorts; and a patchwork shirt. She'd put his age at mid-twenties.

"P-please," he begged, shaking; she couldn't tell if it was from fear or withdrawal. "I-I-I need this money. D-don't rob me!"

"I don't care if you need it!" she yelled at him, leaning closer, placing Patti on his collarbone. The man's Adam's apple bobbed nervously. "I want it, so hand it over!"

She felt awful as the junkie fumbled forever in his pockets, finally emerging with a brown leather wallet that looked just as dirty as he did. But maybe some good could come out of this; maybe missing a fix would encourage him to get clean.

Sis, I feel really bad, Patti told her as Liz snatched the wallet from the man with the hand thst wasn't holding her sister. This is really wrong.

I know, Patti, Liz answered. But think of it as a play. We're both just acting, until we can get that button from Franky.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, before lifting her leg and kicking the man in the chest; he went down with a gasp and a groan. She towered over him, and summoned up the insane, psycho grin she and Patti had perfected from the days they themselves were insane and psycho.

"One more thing," she told him. "You tell them – your seller, your fellow junkies, h*ll, even your mother – that we're back. You tell 'em, that the Thompson Sisters, the Devils of Brooklyn, are back!"