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"Here, sit down," Brad said, motioning to the lawn chair in the corner. He went to the small stained sink as I limped through our old room, which smelled much the same way it did a year ago, bringing back a rush of memories from last time I was there. Ignoring my screaming muscles I allowed myself to collapse into the chair. Normally it would feel stiff and cheap, but after everything that had happened tonight it felt like heaven.

"You, uh, want anything to drink?" he asked.

"Water, if you've got it." I watched him carefully as he went to the fridge, eyes fixed on the handgun still sticking out of his pocket. I almost killed him... He almost killed me!

Brad came over and set himself down on the half-rotted sofa across from me. He handed me a bottle of water and a damp rag. "Here, clean yourself up while you're at it. You've got blood everywhere."

"Yeah thanks..." It came out sounding harsher than intended, but considering what they, what he did to me, it was definitely justified.

The Black Lab's ears went back a little. "I, uh... Look Ty I--"

"Forget it," I said, wiping my face. My nose was still bleeding, and I had bit down on my tongue hard enough to draw blood at some point during the fight. I gave an involuntary shudder as the bitter, warm, iron-tasting substance rolled down the back of my swollen throat. I could still feel his strong paws around my neck, which I knew would have a nasty bruise around it. Not to mention the rest of my body, which had been subject to numerous kicks and punches before and during the fight. My head ached from the blows I had received there, as well as the kick Brad landed to my chin. Frankly, I was surprised I was still conscious. Even more surprised we had managed to make it up two flights of stairs together.

"One sec, I'll get you some ice," he said, noticing me wince as I touched the back of my head, and got up again to go to the refrigerator. To be fair, I had inflicted some significant damage on him as well. I saw him grimacing in pain as he opened the door, the stab wounds on his arms from my claws still dripping blood. The tip of his muzzle looked slightly crooked--it was undoubtedly broken. And as he came back I noticed he was still walking rather stiffly from the groin shot I had landed.

I cupped my paws to receive the ice cubes. It was pretty ghetto, but it was how we had lived for years.

He sat down on the sofa again, wiping the blood from his fur. We each sat there for some minutes in silence, quietly tending to the wounds left by each other.

I still couldn't believe it. I thought he was dead, murdered by The Pack a year ago. But he was alive and well. And one of them. The part of me that was ecstatic to see him alive was completely overcome with the pain of betrayal. We had worked so hard on this, so long. We had nearly all the information we needed to take them down. We were so close. And then he...

A sickening thought struck me. What if he ratted me out to The Boss?_The bulldog had been expecting me, after all. The night before, did Brad really meet with The Boss and tell him our plans in order to gain his favor? _That bastard...

"Look, you can stop glaring at me like that, alright?" the Black Lab blurted out, finally breaking the silence. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know that was you in the alleyway."

"And that makes what you did okay?" I growled. "Murder is alright as long as it's not me?"

"Fuck you Tyrus. You know what I meant."

"Yeah and I know what you did, too."

He slammed a fist down on the arm of the sofa. "SHUT UP, OKAY? I'm not like them!"

"Then why?? Why join them?"

"Because I thought you were dead and I was next! I had to stay under the radar somehow."

Yeah right, by just waltzing into the casino and saying 'Sign me up!'?_But his words gave me pause. I'd seen quite a few of Black Labs in the Pack's ranks. Dress the right way, and no dog on the streets would look twice. And _damn was he dressing the part. Tattered jeans that didn't quite fit, a faded graphic tee, shiny new basketball shoes... I know not every gang member here dressed that way, but there was no denying the local demographic. Sure he was still a little on the scrawny side compared to some of the other ones, but I could tell he had been beefing up his arms and chest since I saw him last. Between the added bulk and the new clothes, he looked like a completely different dog from the Brad I once knew.

But I knew looks wouldn't be enough to avoid suspicion. The Pack members of the neighborhood would have to think_he really was one of them. And seeing how chummy most of them were with each other, I'd say the only way for them to think he was one of them was to _be one of them. "So how exactly did you do that?"

"Well, the night before you disappeared, I went to that one bar we used to go to to get information, remember?" he asked.

"Yeah, and you never came back."

"I did, just... not until the next night."

"Why the hell not?? I thought they found you out and killed you!" I curled my paw into a fist.

"Nonono. Ya see, I, uh..."

"...What?"

"I met someone. I met a girl."

Does he really-... Are you fucking kidding me.

"There was this girl at the bar," he explained. "Remember that caramel brown vixen with the blue hair? Yeah, her. I'd seen her there once or twice before, but never talked to her. So I did, ordered her a drink, found out that she's a dancer at the Boss' casino."

"A dancer?"

"...Of sorts," he said with a distinctly guilty look. "Her name is Lynn. She's been working for him for about five years now so she knows the ins and outs of the place really well. When the bar closed for the night she invited me to her apartment. I agreed, and planned to subtly ask about the layout of the Boss' living quarters."

"You mean to say... That I stayed up all night waiting for you to come back, thinking you had been killed, and you were snuggling with a stripper the whole time??"

"Shut up! She's a really good source of information!"

"Sounds like that's not all she's a good source of," I said dryly.

That really must have pissed him off. He stood up much faster than I thought his injuries would have allowed, and slammed a foot down with a thud. It shook the room, and we cringed as we realized the sound likely alerted everyone living in the building to our argument. He sat down again with a huff. "She's not like that all the time. Only when she's working. She's actually very level-headed and smart. And not a fan of how the Pack runs the city. Or how The Boss treats his people."

"If she hates it so much, then why doesn't she just leave the city?"

Brad sighed and hung his head. "They have her child."

My eyes widened. Woah.

"Lynn wants to leave, she really does. But if she does, or if she doesn't give The Boss what he wants, they'll kill her kid. In cold blood. The girl, cute little fox by the name of Audrey, can't be more than four years old and has lived at one of the local orphanages since she was born. Poor thing doesn't even know she has a mom. All The Boss has to do is give the word, and some thugs will go over there and..." Brad shook his head. "When you work for The Boss, he always finds a way to make you stay. Often it's a chance to get back money lost at the casino, but he can get... creative."

Interesting. "So then what's he got on you? Now that you're one of them, what's the collateral for your obedience?"

"Lynn."

"Oh..." Well this was turning into a regular Shakespearean predicament. One false step for anyone and an innocent life would be lost. That kid was probably the one thing in Lynn's life she could truly love and be proud of, but she probably never even saw Audrey after she was born. Instead of having a normal job and raising a little girl, she had to give her body to The Boss and anyone else at the casino interested in her for enough tips to pay for rent and food. _She must really love that kid to keep working for The Boss willingly... _

And now Brad was mixed up in this mess. In order to survive, he had to do The Pack's dirty work, otherwise Lynn's blood would be on his hands and Audrey would truly be an orphan. Brad was becoming what we once promised to defeat, and reversing the process now would only make him a true killer.

I realized that if anyone in the Pack knew about me being here it could endanger Brad's standing with the gang, and therefore Lynn. I shifted in my creaky seat, feeling more and more with each moment that I shouldn't be here, in my own room. The Lab seemed to sense my thoughts and shook his head. "No, you don't have anything to do with it. I gotta figure this out myself. You don't have to leave."

"Thank you." I genuinely meant it.

His face clearly showed how much he cared for Lynn and her child, and how torn he was about all this. I started to get the sinking feeling that he would no longer be willing to help me in our quest to take down The Boss and free the city for fear of endangering his beloved. But as I looked at his distraught face, even though that spark of rebelliousness was gone from his eyes there was still the warm glow of brotherly love.

"So, Tyrus, time for me to get some answers. One, how the fuck did you live?? I heard they dumped your body off the top of the casino."

Crap. I couldn't tell him about how Mr. Hattori helped me. Even though he was my friend, I couldn't risk him accidentally letting it slip to one of his new Pack buddies. Mr. Hattori was an experienced hand-to-hand combatant, but against thugs with guns even he had little chance. "Nine lives, I guess," I answered evasively.

Brad snorted. "Guess so. Almost makes me wish I was part cat. Also, where the hell did you learn to fight like that? I know I sure didn't show you any of those moves."

"Death changes a man."

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny. C'mon man, I know there's something you're not telling me. What's your secret?"

"I'm sorry, but I just can't tell you right now. I had some outside help, but the person who helped me likes to remain under the radar, much like us."

"What, you don't trust me?" His eyes narrowed.

"It's not that," I said, returning his glare. "He wouldn't want me to give out any personal information of his."

Brad crossed his arms and gave a huff. "I see. I tell you every dirty detail of my last year, and you hardly give me two sentences of yours."

"Well unlike you, maybe I don't want to talk about it," I growled. "While you've been getting it on with your girlfriend, I've been recovering from getting shot, hit by a car, and having more than a dozen bones broken. While you've been at the bar making new friends, I've only had a close-mouthed old man and my own reflection to keep me company. While you've been living in the same place I used to, free to roam the streets as you wish, I've been confined inside one floor of a building and not allowed to go outside. So you can see why I'd be reluctant to tell 'every dirty detail', as you put it."

Brad stood up and loomed over me, his powerful arm muscles flexing. "You think my life's been one of luxury? Look around," he said, gesturing to the room. "You call this living? This place is even more of a dump than it was before. This building is falling apart and there's nothing anyone's willing to do about it. My 'job' for The Pack? Only enough pay for food and clothes. Never enough for a goddamn bus ticket out of this hellhole. My girlfriend? Rarely feels well enough after work to do anything before going to sleep. Nights at the bar? To get away from all this, and to try to find the few decent folk left in town. In a year I've only succeeded twice in that second goal. I'd rather be lonely than surrounded by thugs, thieves, and murderers."

He sat back down, making the sofa's springs creak. I finished off my bottle of water and tapped it with my claw mindlessly. We were back to sitting in silence, each trying to steal glances at the other while trying to avoid eye contact. Maybe it was because we had both changed so much over the last year, and were now trying to figure out who the other was.

One thing was for sure, Brad's loyalty was a shadow of its former self. The black lab I knew and loved would have never strayed from our path of justice. He would have sprung his own plan to take down The Boss instead of trying to lie low. He would have been able to recognize me on the streets as his old friend, not as a thief. But his perceptions must have changed over the last twelve months. He must have learned that enemies can be friends, and friends can be enemies. And I had just learned the same lesson the hard way.

Maybe we had grown up. I could have sworn we did before, when we first left the orphanage and were thrust into the streets of New St. Louis. The nuns at St. Mary's told us we were adults, and I had believed them. Brad and I had to become self-reliant together, learn how to work and earn money, and discover ways to take down a powerful criminal organization. But the adulthood that Brad and I now lived in was much more... gray. There was no longer a clear line between good and evil. Actions could be both good and bad, helpful and destructive, at the same time. Everything seemed different now.

Even my crusade against the pack had changed. One of the biggest reasons I trained every day to take them down was sitting right in front of me. I could no longer avenge him if I knew he was okay. In fact, it made me want to fight the gang less. If he was now part of The Pack, who else of the pure of heart had joined in order to stay safe, to be on the winning side? Would I be harming people who just wanted to avoid conflict, who didn't even want to fight? That's not the ninja way. That's not my way.

So... What is?

I stood up on wobbly legs, the squeaky floor finally breaking the silence. "I... need some time to think." Brad got up and reached out to steady me but I brushed off his paw. "Don't try to follow me."

"You can't go back out there like this," the Black Lab pleaded. "At least stay the night and let those wounds heal a little. I'll even let you sleep on the sofa."

Don't get me wrong, I wanted to. To just lay down and let the pounding in my head fade away and my bruises lessen. But every moment I spent here put him and his girlfriend in danger. And frankly, I wasn't 100% sure I could trust him while I lay vulnerable. Not yet, anyway. I really wished I could.

I shook my head. "I'll be fine," I said, trying to convince both of us. I picked up my hanbo cane and replaced it in its sling on my back. "I'll... see you around. Thanks for the ice."

He stood at the door while I descended the staircase one heavy step at a time. He opened his mouth as if to say something a few times, but no words ever came out.

Before I knew it I was back on the streets of New Lou, stepping out into the cool nighttime air. I tried to breathe in its freshness, but ended up in a coughing fit. It hurt to breathe. After the loud, echoing coughs had died down to wheezes, I zipped up my now-torn-up hoodie and pulled the hood up over my ears. I stuffed my paws in my pockets and started walking. And walking. The buildings started blurring together in my vision, but as if in slow motion. I don't know if it was because of my head injuries or the tears in my eyes, but I couldn't see where I was going or if there was anyone blocking my path.

And I didn't care.