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Mission No. 36

Zoness
District 13

"Acid Rain"

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Leaving Pukes' lab behind, Falco and Kitt started their walk back to the mechanic shop. All the while, the avian's thoughts worriedly drifted to Katt. He wondered if she'd even be back by the time they arrived; Kitt made it sound like his sister wouldn't return till the evening.

They hadn't gotten very far when the banshee cry of screeching wheels echoed down the street. When the sound of rolling thunder approached, both Falco and Kitt turned their heads. A group of motorbikes threaded through the street's traffic, recklessly speeding towards them. Falco recognized the bikes' colored patterns at the same time Kitt did.

"I-It's Grimmer!" the feline hissed, ducking behind a dumpster. "Quick, Falco, hide!"

The avian made to join him at first, but caught himself. Instead, he stood tall and kept walking into an open parking lot, beak set.

"Falco, what're you doing?! He'll see you!"

"Let 'im," he spat, shoving his hands in his pockets and casually strolling forward. "Why the hell should I be scared of him anymore? I fought in a war. He pissed in alleys with his little kiddie gang the whole time."

"But Falco—!"

The bikers whooped and hollered as they drew closer, causing cars to veer onto the sidewalk or slam on their brakes. They knocked over trashcans and spilled their contents into the streets (not that it made much difference) while dragging pipes and wood planks along the asphalt roads.

Listen to them carrying on like a bunch of high-schoolers, Falco thought with a smirk. They really haven't changed…

The caravan of motorbikes sped past, their roaring engines drowning out his thoughts. They zoomed up the street and turned around the corner of the lot—but rather than continuing on, they pulled into the lot and doubled back towards Falco. The hooligans rode circles around him, yelling and jeering as they penned him in. In any cartoon, they would've stirred up a tornado of dust by now. Their bikes were painted reds, dark greens, and shades of black, but not in solid patterns; the paint was applied in short, diamond-shaped brushstrokes to look like scales.

One of the bikes pulled off from the rest and slowed to a stop in front of Falco. It was covered in alligator-green scales that, unlike the rest of the bikes, were made out of a shiny, iridescent foil. The rider cranked a lever, and the front of the bike, which was outfitted with plastic to look like a dragon's head, belched forth a spray of sparks and flames.

Falco raised his eyebrows. "Oooh… Bit excessive there, Grimmer."

"Falco fuckin' Lombardi! So it is you."

Grimmer was a husky iguana with sewage-green skin and bumpy, bead-like scales. A ridge of pointed spines ran down the length of his back, and his gullet flapped with each word he rasped. His muscled, bare arms were inked in tattoos of interwoven dragons and flames so entangled that one couldn't be told from the next. Two similar iguanas pulled up on either side of him: one with bruised black scales and matching bike, the other sporting ruddy red—his brothers, Scrimmer and Dimmer.

"Well Grimmer, long-time-no-see! Looks like you and your bros finally graduated from training wheels." He smirked when he said it, glancing back to the dumpster he knew Kitt was hiding behind. The feline was probably begging him to keep his beak shut—but he wouldn't let his biggest fan think he was a chicken; he knew how much the kid looked up to him.

Dimmer's knuckles tightened on his handlebars and Scrimmer flashed his slithering tongue, but Grimmer merely smiled toothily. He dismounted his steed and lumbered a few steps towards Falco. He hefted a metal sprinkler pipe above his shoulder: a weapon that looked like he tore it straight from a building's ceiling.

"And you, Falco, had an early retirement after I put your precious bike through the trash compactor. Honestly, it looked better afterwards."

"I didn't retire; just had a change of career."

Grimmer laughed. "Yeah, and a smart one! You tucking-tail and abandoning your team was the only thing that kept them safe. We were just planning a raid on the shop when you left! You were lucky the Free Birds fell apart when they did. One way or another, there wasn't gonna be any more Free Birds." Grimmer swung his pipe around and brought the end right up to Falco's beak. "And you better not go calling them back together, or we'll finish what we started—for good. You don't know how much I wanna wipe the asphalt with your guts and paint a big red handicap spot for whatever's left of ya. Been meanin' to make good on some community service I owe…"

Falco didn't flinch at the metal rod hovering in front of his face—but his hand discretely drifted to the butt of his blaster hidden underneath his jacket. He had to resist the urge to put a hole through the lizard's head right then and there.

"Relax, Grimmer. I didn't come back to reform the Free Birds. Just have some business, and then I'll be gone. Street gang shit is beneath me. I got bigger things to worry about than who has the bigger bike."

The reptile glared at him for a time, then hoisted the pipe back over his shoulder. "Shame. Was kinda hopin' for a fight. Well, enjoy your brief stay in the North End. I hope you like what I've done with the place in your absence!" He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the empty parking lot like it was his personal kingdom. "We take whatever we want, we ride where we please, we put folks in their place… and we give them their sweet, sweet fix of Allusion to keep 'em cowed. Things've been pretty great without you losers around. I'll let you go for now—but if I smell one whiff 'a ya reforming the Free Birds, well…"

When he trailed off, Scrimmer hissed a fizzling laugh, and Dimmer licked his chops with a slimy tongue. Grimmer threw his leg over his bike, and his brothers followed suit. The rest of his gang revved their engines.

Grimmer's golden slit eye flicked back to Falco. "Oh, and Lombardi, if you came back to get with your old tail again, well… you're in for a nasty little surprise."

Howling with laughter, the gang tore off down the street, continuing to sow chaos until they disappeared in the distance. Only then did Kitt emerge from behind cover.

"Geez Falco, what were you thinking?! They coulda clobbered you!"

Falco clenched his fists, gnashing his beak as he watched them go. "Grimmer's a fucking scumbag, but he wouldn't do me in like that. His pride wants a challenge and a fair fight. Plus I'm not a threat to him anymore, as long as I don't drag the guys back together."

"So, you really aren't planning to restart the Free Birds?"

He scowled down the street at the fading plumes of dust, sighing and trying to evaporate his anger. "No. No, I grew out of that stuff. There's no sense in fighting his dumb street gang anymore. It was fun while it lasted, though."

Kitt's shoulders slumped. "Oh…" He looked off at the clouds of dissipating smoke and scattered dust left in the gang's wake. "I wish someone would. Right now, no one can challenge them. They just ride around like they own the place, taking what they want, scaring everybody, and peddling Allusion. They like to tease Sis when she's out, too…"

Falco clenched his fists again, feeling a vein on his neck stick out. No matter how much he denied it, a part of him did want a rematch with Grimmer: a chance to pay him back for all the things he did. Hell, just watching him drive around like a menace and seeing the ruinous effect he had on the North End made him feel like filling his chest full of plasma holes.

Then, with a cold shiver running down his spine, Falco realized… what was there to stop him?

…No, it wasn't his fight, a small voice in the back of his head argued. He didn't belong here. He'd only put Katt and her brother in danger if he stayed, and any effort to remove Grimmer would embroil the neighborhood in further destruction. No one wanted that… but his finger caressed the butt of his blaster anyway.

"Yeah, it sucks," he sighed, shrugging with feigned indifference—but his blood was beginning to pump at what he planned to do. "…Say, why don't you run on ahead Kitt, and I'll meet you at the shop later? I've… got another errand I wanted to run."

Kitt pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow at Falco. "…Alright, but stay out of trouble for me, will ya?"

Falco patted his shoulder, his cold, narrowed eyes gazing down the street. "No worries. Just a little somethin' I wanna look into. I'll be back later tonight…"

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The clouds of mist around Fox turned darker; swollen and heavy as if it were about to rain. His neck felt sore from having to sleep against a veritable rock all night, but he was used to cockpits leaving a similar impression. It didn't help that his arms were still tied behind his back, and he couldn't properly lie down. He felt stiff all over, and his muscles ached from being stuck in the same position going on two days now. His stomach felt like a miniature singularity, threatening to tear him up from the inside out from lack of food. His lips were chapped and his mouth had completely dried out. His head felt hot from dehydration; and that was on top of the headache he still had from when Namah bashed his skull in the other day.

But most of all, Fox felt lonely. The last company he had was the day before, but it was only Mother Namah interrogating him and delivering ultimatums. He hadn't seen Krystal in a couple days now, either. At least she was safe somewhere else, and probably treated far better than he was.

Out here in the open, naked and essentially tied to his own gravestone, Fox felt even more alone. Had the Cerinians forgotten about him? Would they just leave him to rot after three days, satisfied he didn't possess powers and couldn't hurt them even if he wanted to? It wasn't like he could break free if they abandoned him.

If he was a witch, he'd free himself; if he wasn't, he'd starve…

Buck up, he told himself. They'll release you tomorrow or the next day for sure. If you just suffer a little bit longer…

A wave of fatigue set in, and Fox yawned hungrily for sleep. He'd barely gotten any shut-eye from how uncomfortable it was. He let his torso slouch forward, his restraints going taught. His head slumped down, sweat-and-dew-matted hair getting in front of his eyes. If he relaxed enough, maybe he could finally sleep—at least for a little while. But a thousand nagging voices cried out from all over his body, demanding he stretch and scratch. It was wearying…

…

Then the lightest, most delicate paw Fox had ever felt cupped his cheek, tilting his head up. When he saw who it was, his eyes widened, for before him stood Krystal—though not as he'd ever seen her before. Her hair was brushed and combed neatly, much better than he managed to get it at the hotel. Her clothes were stunning, yet not at all Lylatian: an intricately-woven, teal green robe which rivaled Mrs. de Pon's sparkling dress.

He blinked to clear his vision. I'm hallucinating already?

Paranoia seized hold of the todd, and he jerked his head free of the vixen's hand. He spoke to her warily: "You're… you're not Krystal. You're just another hologram projected by that witch."

The vixen seemed hurt, taking a step back and clasping her hands. "Wh-what? Don't be silly!"

"You trapped me once when you created a mirage of my mom. Now you want to trick me into telling you something, but it won't work again. Just… just leave me alone. Please."

The Cerinian searched his eyes desperately for any sign that he recognized her. 'But Fox, it's me! Can't you see that? I'm real!' To prove it, she held his cheeks in her hands again, reassuring him with her touch.

That physical contact drove away any lingering doubt from Fox's mind. He felt ashamed for jumping to conclusions and being so quick to accuse her.

"I'm sorry Krystal, I-I didn't mean that! I'm not thinking too clearly right now."

When his eyes met hers again, a look of sheer pity came across her face. "You poor thing, you look awful…"

Fox's cheeks burned, and he was reminded of his state of undress. "Please don't laugh, and don't stare," he joked to mask his embarrassment.

But Krystal's eyes trembled with tears the more she looked at him, and she caressed his face in her hands. 'Laugh? I could never laugh at your suffering! I know what it's like to endure what you're going through now; to be naked, restrained, and deprived… No one else should have to experience it—certainly not alone!'

Unable to hold herself back any longer, she knelt and threw her arms around him. 'I can't stand seeing you like this…'

It pained Fox that he couldn't return her embrace. Still, he did his best to lean forward into her hug. "Hey, at least they're treating you well. I've been worried about you." But he pulled back to look her in the eye, hissing. "Wait, you shouldn't be here! The other Cerinians would be mad if they found out."

Krystal placed her hands on his shoulders. "It's alright! I snuck away without them seeing me."

Fox looked down and shook his head. "You went out on a limb for me again. Why… why didn't you run when you had the chance? I told you to escape when we were at the lake shore, but you didn't. You stayed and fought. You risked your life for me…"

Krystal smiled at him, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I couldn't just leave you, silly. Besides, where would I go? I'm lost without you."

The todd sighed. He knew she had a point. Like it or not, she was tied to him, and he was responsible for her.

His stomach growled noisily, as if a wild beast had taken up residence in his belly.

"Oh!" Krystal exclaimed, "That reminds me, I brought you something…"

She untied her robe and parted the front flaps, revealing a bundle of alien fruits squashed against her stomach. She flinched when she saw what had become of them during her journey over. "Oops! I had to sneak these out of the Matron's Hall, so I hid them in my clothes while they weren't looking. They got a little… mushy."

They certainly did, for as she peeled them off her belly, the juice left her white stomach fur stained a rainbow of colors.

"It's fine; I'm sure the flavor's still intact. I'm just grateful you brought me food!"

Belly aching, Fox instinctively reached for the fruit, but pain shot through his sore arms when the bonds held him back. "D-damn," he cursed.

"Please, I can help!" She raised a yellow-colored grape to his lips. "This will be my way of saying thank you, for all the times you fed me."

"Krystal…"

"Ahhhh!" She opened her mouth wide like a mother instructing a child.

Fox's ears flattened back, and he felt a bit humiliated, but his desperation for sustenance won out. Leaning forward, he awkwardly plucked the grape from Krystal's fingers and bit down, releasing a flood of sour juices into his mouth.

"Wow," he said while chewing. "This is really good."

One-by-one, she fed him each of the grapes(?), then produced the remains of a purple citrus fruit. She frowned sheepishly. "That was all of the nice fruit. The rest got a little smashed…"

"I'm so hungry I'd eat anything as long as it's dead," Fox reaffirmed. He bit into the purple-colored orange and jerked his head back, tossing it the rest of the way into his mouth. Just like the grape, it tasted delicious and alien to his Lylatian palate. His only way to make sense of the fruit was describing it in terms of flavors he already knew well, but there was still a foreign element he couldn't place no matter how hard he tried.

The last of the fruit she had to offer was nearly mashed into a paste that barely held together; it was an electric blue in color, and dotted with seeds. The interesting remains led Fox to wonder what shape it held before it was puréed against her stomach.

"Sorry, there's not much left," Krystal warned, but scooped it off her stomach and presented it to him anyway. Fox eagerly attacked the fruit, resorting to licking the paste off her fingers. "Hehe! Your tongue tickles!" she giggled.

Fox's cheeks burned, but that didn't stop him from finishing the rest of his meal. Between slurps, he offered up apologies for licking her, but continued on. When he'd finished lapping her fingers clean, the vixen wiped them on her robe. She stood up and straightened her garb, which worried Fox.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked, heart sinking, but hiding it.

"Mhm! You need a drink."

Before he could stop her, Krystal turned and skipped across the boulder, disappearing into the pink mist.

"Wait, Krystal!" Fox called, but it was too late. I hope she's not going to sneak all the way back to the village for me…

After only a few minutes, the vixen returned, her hands cupped and dripping water. Carefully, she knelt in front of Fox again, offering him the makeshift chalice. "You must be really thirsty out here, too."

"Thank you." Fox leaned forward and sipped the water from her paws, then lapped up the small puddles that remained. When he was finished, he sighed in gratitude. "Ah! That should hold me over till tomorrow… but you should get going. It was real brave of you coming to see me; I'm just worried they'll begin to miss you and come here looking. Then we'll both be in trouble."

"But I can't just leave you here like this," she pouted.

"I'll be fine!" Fox made a show of sitting up straighter and smiling confidently. "It's just another day. Heck, I've gotten lost in the desert once longer than this. Tomorrow they'll free me and everything will be… fine…"

Fox was interrupted by a huge yawn that left his jaw sore, and his eyelids began to droop. He slumped forward and pulled against the ropes, groaning. "I just wish I could get a little sleep between now and then…"

There was a short stretch of silence that ensued, during which time Fox nearly forgot Krystal was even there. Fortunately, the vixen took pity on him. With his eyes still closed, he felt her reach behind him and touch the ropes binding his hands. He highly doubted she would know how to untie knots; not after being cooped up in a lab most of her life. He'd already tried wiggling his hands free the night before, but all he'd succeeded in doing was chaffing his wrists more. Nothing short of dislocating his thumbs would allow him to—

The ropes suddenly took on a mind of their own. Like snakes, they wriggled and crawled against one another till the knot came free. Taken by surprise, Fox fell forward into Krystal's waiting arms.

"What?" he mumbled. "How did you—?"

But Krystal lay a finger over his mouth. 'Shhh… just rest. You've been through much pain, and you need sleep.'

With gentle hands, she guided his head onto her lap, which Fox gratefully snuggled into. He lay his cheek against her soft leg fur, unable to ask for a better pillow in the world. For once he felt comfortable, like he could finally drift off into the sleep that so vigorously eluded him.

Krystal gazed down at his relaxed form in satisfaction. Comfortingly, she lay a paw on the back of his head and began lightly playing with his hair. This turned out to be Fox's weak point.

"You can't stay here long…" he whispered sleepily.

'I know—but we have some time. You just rest and let me worry about things for once.'

A drop landed on the stone not too far from the pair of vulpines. Fox's ear twitched; he'd felt a storm coming all morning, but now the clouds were bursting. The drop was joined by another, then another, then a gradual increase until the couple was sufficiently pelted. Fox's fur was dampened by the deluge, but Krystal had the solution. She quickly shrugged out of her robe, then stretched it out like a canopy above herself and Fox. The todd felt like a chick covered by the protective wings of a mother hen. Soon he was dry and shielded from the rain; all that was left was a gentle pattering that threatened to lull him to sleep.

'Doesn't this remind you of something?' Krystal asked.

"Yes… it's like when you first saved me," Fox murmured.

'I barely knew I could trust you then, but I'm glad I did.' Krystal looked down at him warmly, her arms propping up the robe above them. Unbeknownst to Fox, a determined expression came over her face, but he could hear the resolve in her voice.

"Fox, I promise you we'll escape this. Together."

He shifted against her legs. "No…"

"You're right, we can't leave now; they have your pack and food. I'll have to go back and get them, maybe steal some more fruit so we can survive in the desert."

"I can't go. I have to wait it out so they'll trust us."

"But Mother Namah and her sisters… they aren't nice people. At least, not all of them. They're mean and harsh! I can't stand them treating you like this. They remind me of… of…"

Fox had trouble staying awake, but he did his best to reason through the clouds of sleep. "It's fine. I understand why Namah is doing it. They're just afraid of some dangerous things. Their only fault is they jump to conclusions. Don't you see, Krystal? I have to pass this test—for you. We've finally found your family. This could be your new home!"

"I don't care about my sisters," Krystal firmly stated. "And I don't care about my home; not if you're not there."

"But I will be," Fox insisted. "Once I pass the test, they'll let me go, and I can see you again."

"Well… we'll see."

Fox sighed, snuggling against her legs. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

The todd drifted off, lulled to sleep by his full stomach, soft pillow, and the gentle pattering of the rain.

When Krystal felt that he'd finally dozed off, she peeked into his dreams. They were far from calming; the young todd envisaged the Cornerian soldiers closing in on him, or hooded Cerinians tormenting him; even monsters they'd seen in the desert swallowing him whole. Fox unconsciously shifted, and a disturbed frown darkened his face; it seemed even in sleep he wasn't allowed to find peace.

Distraught by the haunting visions she saw, Krystal fought them back. She quietly whispered the lullaby she'd learned from his mother, hoping it would bring him relief like it had so many times for her.

Within moments, the shadows torturing Fox's mind vanished. A powerful calm came over him, and he stopped squirming from the nightmares. A pleasant smile tugged at his lips, and he rested.

While Fox dreamed and the rain poured, Krystal let the last note of the lullaby fade and set her mind to planning their escape.

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While Kitt returned to the shop, Falco headed elsewhere in the North End. His destination: a rundown parking garage on the opposite side of the neighborhood. When he arrived and saw the decrepit concrete floors and gaping black windows, he felt his skin crawl beneath his feathers; the familiar urge to turn and run nipping at his heels. After all, this had been the heart of enemy territory in the past: specifically, the hideout of Grimmer's Gang.

Falco usually avoided their turf in the daylight—especially their headquarters. But when some occasion brought him through the area, he walked with a quickened pace, exchanging glares with the lookouts stationed out front. On nights when the Free Birds went carousing on their bikes, however, it was a different story; he'd be hopped up on the thrill of the moment and buzz the garage entrance with the rest of his crew, shouting and jeering at Grimmer till he answered their challenge and rolled out as well, and the two gangs went racing and brawling through the North End together till they were too tired and beat-up to continue.

Now however, it was different. Falco was alone. He didn't have Katt or any of the others with him—and unlike the Free Birds, Grimmer's Gang had grown. The whole North End was his turf now, and his mangy goons were everywhere.

He stopped at the corner of an alley opposite the garage, hiding behind the bricks for cover. A low-hanging cloud of smog wafted in from the east, seeping through the streets. Good. He replaced his filtration mask over his beak and pulled his hood tightly over his head. Now none of Grimmer's thugs would be suspicious if they saw him hiding his face. It'd keep them from recognizing him, too, though he wondered how many of these shit-stains were working for Grimmer back in the day, or would even remember him.

Before the smog enveloped the whole block, Falco realized the garage wasn't the only thing they were guarding; a larger number of thugs loitered in front of the doors to the adjacent hotel building, acting like they owned the place. Grimmer must've moved his headquarters into the fifteen-story high-rise after he expanded; he probably ran the whole apartment. And, if he knew his old rival, he'd likely save the cushy penthouse for himself.

Falco furrowed his brow, darting his eyes over the two hideouts while he still had visibility. Both the front entrances to the apartment building and garage were guarded, and any back entrances were likely guarded as well. He needed some other way in—but perhaps he could capitalize off this smog.

Once the thick cloud enveloped the entire block, Falco emerged from his hiding place and began circling the two buildings. Even in the fog, Grimmer's men remained at their posts—only now with grumbled curses and unsettling gasmasks over their faces. Two stood in front of each entrance and exit, while others took turns patrolling the perimeter.

When Falco drew close to the alley between the garage and the apartment complex, he found his way in: an old, rusted fire escape that rose between them. Looked like it went all the way up to the roof, too, though the top disappeared into the fog.

Falco timed his entrance carefully, waiting till the guard on patrol left the alley before he made his move. Once the hawk's tailfeathers disappeared around the wall, he sprinted in behind him. Using a trick he'd practiced and perfected years ago, he dashed up the side of the wall and kicked off, managing to grab the underside of the escape ladder with a resounding clang.

Shit, that was loud!

Heart pounding, Falco pulled himself up into the fire escape. He'd barely yanked his feet onto the lowest platform before two of Grimmer's men rounded the corner to see what was up. Falco pressed himself flat against the wall and sucked in a breath, holding deathly quiet while they prowled around the alley below him. Thankfully, they never bothered looking up—and once they returned to their stations, he resumed his climb.

The smog covered his ascent well, shielding him from the eyes of gang members in the adjacent garage levels. He had to be careful climbing up though; the weathered fire escape was rusted and in bad condition, and he had to make sure no one would notice him each time he passed a window on a new floor.

Eventually he climbed out of the smog around the tenth floor, losing his cover—but it wasn't any lighter up here. Though it was afternoon, storm clouds were drifting farther overhead, and a chilly breeze blew the ground-level pollution out to the coast. The twilight of the storm would further conceal him.

Finally, he reached the penthouse on the fifteenth floor. He pulled himself onto the terraced roof surrounding the glass-walled apartment, crawling low to the ground and ducking behind any cover he came across: AC units, electrical boxes, HV receivers, and long dead plants eaten away by poisonous rains.

He found himself short of breath as he approached the wrap-around glass windows; his pulse was galloping at a hundred miles an hour, knowing that he could be caught two hundred feet up with nowhere to escape to—and afraid of what he might find.

As he crept closer to peer inside, a small voice nagged in the back of his head: You shouldn't be here. You promised not to get involved. You gave your word you wouldn't stick your beak in her business. You're not supposed to get in trouble. This will only make things worse for her…

Falco had never killed someone in cold blood before. Yes, he'd lost count of how many ships he'd downed with Star Fox, but war was war. This was different. He'd used to think something like this was beneath him, but right now, his blood ran as cold as a reptile's; a reptile, he hated to admit, like Grimmer.

He pressed himself flat against the window closest to the wall, behind which a retracted curtain hung. Sucking in a breath, he peeked around the drapes and looked inside.

There Grimmer was, kicking back on the couch like he was the king of the North End.

At once, Falco grabbed the butt of his blaster, ready to pounce; with one or two well placed shots, he'd end his rule over the North End, and wipe off that smug grin he always gloated over him with—but at the last second, he caught himself, eyes widening.

Katt stood in front of Grimmer in a white bathrobe: her pink fur returned to its usual vibrancy. He couldn't see her face, but Grimmer's fond smile was plainly visible while he spoke and laughed with Katt, their exact words muffled by the glass windows.

Falco's heart sank, and he threw himself back behind the curtain. No, he didn't want to be proven right: not like this.

Grimmer said something and snapped his fingers, and a shadow from a third figure fell across the curtains. Falco caught his breath and scooted back against the wall. He flinched and prepared to draw his blaster when he heard the window crack open, and the voices inside became audible—but Grimmer's underling didn't do much else. He went around cracking windows to let in the rare fresh air the storm brought, then drew the curtains closed around the entire room.

Now the interior was obscured except for the dark silhouettes of the figures inside, and a single, thin sliver between the curtains where he could peek in. Soon, the third shadow left, leaving just the outlines of Grimmer and Katt. Hesitantly, Falco scooted closer to listen in. He had to know why.

"My girl did a wonderful job on your fur, didn't she?" the lizard said, voice now audible.

"It's very nice, Grimmer."

"Next time it gets like that, stop by, and I'll have her treat you again. I prefer you this way: when it's so bright it hurts my eyes."

She giggled, but the sound stung Falco like venom. "You like it?"

"Oh, I like it—but why don't you let me get a… better look at it?"

Another giggle, and he wanted to believe it was forced, or perhaps nervous. "Okay…" Katt's silhouette shrugged, and a shadow slipped off her shoulders, leaving the outline of her figure standing alone against the gold curtains.

Grimmer whistled in appraisal, and Falco felt his ears shriveling. "You look real fine, girl." He patted his lap and added, "C'mere, pussy…"

The feline's shadow sashayed across the curtains and climbed onto the couch with Grimmer's, becoming one. Falco grew sick from the sound of smacking kisses, but he couldn't tear himself away, like he was watching a train crash—and he lay on the tracks. He gnashed his beak, only able to make out their tangling silhouettes and a thin cross section between the curtains.

"What, did I make you jealous?"

A claw traced over a green G tattoo on her pink thigh.

"I've moved on, Falco."

Her paws lifted the hem of his shirt over his head.

"You never want to be the one left behind, dumped and forgotten like you're worthless."

A feline and reptilian head locked together.

"You don't know anything!"

The clouds above finally burst, raining cold, stinging droplets down. Falco felt like he was going to vomit, right then and there; he couldn't stand the sight of Grimmer's dull green against Katt's bright pink. He didn't know how to describe it, but it just felt wrong.

His hand closed around the grip of his blaster again, and he drew it. Already, a plan was forming in his head. He'd shove the window open, tear Katt free of his greasy claws, and fill Grimmer's scaly hide so full of holes he could grate cheese. Then, he'd run off with Katt down the fire escape, and, and…

But that wouldn't fix anything, he realized. He could at least get revenge on Grimmer, but what then? One of his brothers would simply take his place, the gang would capture and kill him before he escaped, and nothing would change in the North End. Besides… would Katt even want to join him? Did he even want her after this?

A monstrous side of him wanted to shoot both targets after he broke in, and his knuckles shook and turned white around his blaster. He could never forgive her for this; it was like she knew he was watching, and she made a show of making love to his greatest enemy. Grimmer had humiliated him once before, when he destroyed his bike and gave him a beating he'd never forget; now Katt wanted to humiliate him further. So Fox was just the beginning; she didn't tell him about Grimmer yet because she was saving his moment of realization for the last second, to make as big a fool out of him as possible—and that slimy bastard was in on it, too.

"Say, Katt… I met a familiar friend of ours on the street today."

The sound of kisses stopped. "…Oh? Who was it?"

"That kid you used to ride with: Lombardi. He's back in the North End again—or maybe you already knew?"

Katt's voice hesitated, and Falco caught his breath, pressing his ear close to the crack to hear over the hissing rain. "…No, I didn't know he was here. Haven't run into him yet."

"Heh, guess he's forgotten about you after he turned-tail and ran. He always was chicken… But you used to be his girl, didn't you?"

Katt's form shifted atop Grimmer's. "Yeah. We were going together."

"Aw, that's a shame—but it'd be an even bigger shame if that loser tried to get with you again, considering our… special relationship." Once again, his finger possessively traced the spiral of the green G on her thigh. "I spared his sorry ass years ago, but I ain't inclined to do it again. So, if I caught him, say, pestering my girl or trying to 'round up his old gang again, I'd have to put him down for good this time. You understand, right kitten? No hard feelings?"

Falco remained deathly quiet, hanging onto Katt's every word as the depressive, hissing rain soaked him through.

"…No, of course not," she finally responded. "We haven't been together in years. I'd never let that pathetic loser come crawling back to me again. He had his chance, and he… blew it…"

"Good, good. That's what I wanted to hear, girl."

"But I hope you wouldn't go too—Mmmph!" Grimmer's shadow pinned Katt to the sofa beneath him, his mouth silencing hers.

Falco's heart rent in two. It was one thing hearing Katt open up to him in her garage and at the junkyard; it was another hearing her lay into him behind his back, unintentionally letting him know how she really felt. His hand replaced his blaster, then fell to his side. He tore himself away from the pair inside, eyes looking with longing over the side of the building. Sure took a long time climbing up here; maybe he'd just go down the fast way…

Then he remembered how Katt had felt to him the day before, after she'd kicked him out of the garage. Whatever that chemical did to him, he could've sworn it let him feel her inner emotions, and they were… sadness. Longing. If she really had moved on, why did she still seem to care?

Looking back through the curtain slit, Falco once again noticed the visible patch of cracked skin beneath the crook of her elbow as it wrapped around Grimmer's shoulder. His eyes fell to the floor, unable to stomach looking any longer—but for the first time, he noticed a nondescript cardboard box sitting by the couch, one of the flaps open to reveal a glinting stack of syringes.

And just like that, it clicked.