"You may feel like you're smarter than Ax, but you're not."

I hiss at the persistent pain on my elbow, where Da-Xing's lightning once snapped. Again, for the several time in these few days, I meet more antiseptics.

Instead of greeting us, Sandra tweaks our ears with fussy complaints, like how a mother hen scolds her chicks for ignoring curfew.

"I'd done the same if I were him, Sandra," Roy chimes in from the bar stool, twirling his metal straw on the cup of juice.

"He should've escaped with me instead."

The throb in my head feels like icicles against my skin. I lie on the couch, leaning on the armrest. I've lost count of the painful and sore spots, also of the overweighting facts that I've gained from The Office so far.

Miro is the one feeding me with some water and a bowl of soup since Sandra refuses to. At first, he chides me for the heavy wounds, but his annoyance cools down as soon as Roy begins a topic about his game consoles.

Xin-Yo stretches next to the door, jerking awake after hours of charging. The white smoke, which was so thick, is gone now. "Lin-Roy can dispatch Xin-Yo." The corner of its eyes tip up, as if beaming.

Roy adjusts its freshly-repaired arms. "Are you ready to talk?"

"More than ready. Xin-Yo will spill out everything like a cannon."

"Go on then." Sandra opens her notebook. "What have you found?"

"Jorge Zaragoza has planned Lowlifes' genocide since six years ago, when the previous mayor, Kaya Hua, raised both the sales and personal incomes tax by two percent, regardless of one's revenue. Back then, Biliya Republic and many others were suffering when civil war broke out at our neighboring country, Okauri—"

The terms are foreign to my ears, but my mind can grasp the concept.

It was when Dad, Mom, and I almost never came home, except for sleeping. It was also when Miro was born—when Auntie Morgan borrowed our money since Uncle Oregon hadn't accepted his military pay yet.

"What did the tax raise have to do with Jorge?" Sandra quickly scribbles down.

"Jorge Zaragoza's criticisms to The Office and Biliya Republic's President, Benjamin Kamal, were supported by those with power and money—including some of The Office's influential staff—but scorned by those lacking them. Mrs. Kaya Hua might've feared Jorge Zaragoza's cunning reputation, and that was why the regulation was allowed."

Roy rolls his eyes, scowling. "Was the high taxes meant to remove the Lowlifes?"

Xin-Yo bows its head, as if bearing the sins of its previous master. "There was a huge exodus to Humbass Village. After this, Jorge Zaragoza will surely divide Dogson City. Then the Lowlifes are forced to move out... or banished."

"The Zoo-break was an experiment," I croak out. "They simulated the damages those rabid animals could cause. It was pretty successful. Schools are yet to reopen, and so are some public facilities—"

"He's misusing bioengineering." Roy's narrowed eyes reflect his bubbling anger. "If that's his objective for being a scientist all along... well, he's wrong to assume some biological substances will successfully kick the minority off this city. We'll have our own version of Chiroquin—"

"How could you know that already?" Sandra falters on the stool, gawking wide.

Holy skunks—she hasn't known it yet!

"I just knew after stealing Dad's journal from his office." She holds the leather-cased book like it's a harmful substance.

I swallow a huge lump of saliva, sneaking an eye at Roy.

Sandra sighs, painting a storm on her face. But rather than rage, it looks more like weak typhoon of exhaustion. "How much are you two keeping from me?"

🐾

"So the conclusion is... Jorge has tried to get rid of the Lowlifes subtly all these years. Lately, he develops a more frontal approach, using animals taken from OCZ—"

"Let me correct that," Roy interrupts.

I wait in mutiny for their explanation, but none comes. Their exchange is passed through their stares. How fun is it to have such an understanding someone?

Sandra's clearing throat throws me back to reality. "Lately, he develops a more frontal approach, using animals taken from both OCZ and Huntshire Woods—the latter is still an assumption. The first attempt involved selected zoologists—including my dad—and injected the animals with Chiroquin, a substance created by—"

Roy yawns with a hand supporting his chin. "Ill-willed chemists."

Sandra clicks her tongue. "Alright. The second attempt is combining several animals' DNA and, with a complicated process, he created Da-Xing, a bigger and stronger Xin-Yo. Is Xin-Yo merely a test subject?" Sandra lowers her voice. "Was Xin-Yo's final mistakes merely Jorge's excuse to dump it?"

"That's possible." I extend a yawn.

Sandra scribbles it down, her brows taut. "What do you think they're preparing next? Will there be a third attempt? And why does no one know about it, except us?"

"Do you think everyone is oblivious?" Roy sneers. Arching his back with outstretched arms, he continues, "These days, most people are as cowardly as rats." As if stuck in a daydream, Roy falls silent, his face void of emotions.

"I think they'll try something funny. We've broken into Jorge's office and read his journal, sneaked into his secret chamber, recruited members for our plan..." I weakly fidget with my bandaged fingers.

Roy smiles as his eyes glint with blunt mischief. "If I were Jorge"—his gaze sweeps the room, from the furnitures to the individuals—"my third attempt would be silencing my nosy targets. Or pests, as he likes to call us."

🐾

Sandra's phone buzzes on the rug next to me, gripping my attention away from the moonlight sneaking through the window. It has been nine times during my muse. Yet, she barely wakes up.

How does it feel to have one's only child running away for days? Sandra has also stolen her dad's journal. How do her parents feel about her?

I roll aside, trying to grasp for sleep. Instead, Dad and Mom fill my head, staring at me from their musty cells.

I lift my head to the bunk beds. "Mom..." Miro trails off as he curls into a smaller ball. "Don't leave, you'll go to prison again..."

The night adds more pressure to my heart. I head to the door, careful not to jerk Xin-Yo awake.

The air is still and heavy. Thick clouds are still afloat; there's an incoming rain. The moonlight's frail fingers guide me down the stairs. I end up sitting on the last step.

I clench a tuft of grass, channeling all my frustration and uselessness into it. Crossing my knees, I cup my face with shuddering hands, trying to parry the gloomy recollections.

How much have you done, Allice? How far will their sacrifices be? They've exchanged their families and freedom... what have you sacrificed?

The sinister voice drones on, whispering doubts from my soul. How long have I been trembling? It's supposed to be warm outside, but why am I cold?

An abrupt rustling from the shrubs slaps me awake. Ax stirs in its sleep, adjusting its massive paws under its chin.

My heart pounds in my chest as a shadow lurks from the bushes. Its attire belongs to the night. Its face is hooded, with an inky cloak mounting over its lean figure. I'm seconds away from screaming as my feet press firmly against the ground, ready to kick myself up.

"Allice Worke?" the shadow asks. The moonlight pierces right when the figure towers over me, revealing a grinning golden tooth.

"What are you doing here?" I crawl back to the stairs, my voice rising. When he extends an arm, I knot mine behind my back.

The scarce light emphasizes his hooded eyes. However, his warm smile is brighter than the current situation. "Finally. I've been looking for you."

"You must be here to get me," I say, betraying my inner turmoil. "Your friends must be somewhere." I sweep the surroundings with squinted eyes. No shadows, oddly. The air stills once more, giving way to nature's midnight orchestra.

"I'm not here to hand you over, despite the bounty set on you now." He glances around. "We don't have much time. Look, the Onyx Agent is still on you. And you're still on the The Office's Tracer screen."

I reach my earlobe, tracing the remains of the black gem. There's nothing.

"The particles are between your fingers. Have you washed hands?"

I slowly trace the outline of my fingers; there are coarse gravels at some parts. Before I can process it, he fishes out a U-magnet from his pocket, holding it near my fingers. Thin metal scrapings interfere the owl's hoots. When he shoves the device back to his pouch, I draw my hand back.

"You came here to get me off your screen?" I bite back my gratitude, despite its pleas to exit my tongue.

"Actually, there's more. I owe one of you—no, the Lowlife community—a great debt. If that miserable past didn't exist, I wouldn't have bore the trusted title from the mayor."

"So you're helping me because you were once a Lowlife, and now a Highlife? Is that it?"

"Grandma Mead used to help me a lot. Lately, I have no choice but to stay away from her. We'll be in lots of danger if we're seen together. She has a bitter history with The Office—"

The air turns heavier without any warnings. The natural orchestra dies as soon as it began, as if smothered by unseen hands.

"My actual loyalty lies in her. But I needed money to survive... I turned to Jorge. Despite not knowing each other personally, they're nemesis."

A lightning flashes from the sky, cutting it in half. The air smells musty...

"Are you done with debts to Grand-Mad?" The rain clouds aren't to be blamed for the chills spreading across my nape. "Thank you, Argus. But I'm afraid I must head back—"

A gentle smile rocks his mouth as he shakes my hand firmly. "It's alright. It's all I can help you and Grand-Mad... with—" his voice ceases in his throat as he gapes at the view my back.

When I turn around, dozens of feral dogs are already flocking on the treehouse's roof, roaring and scratching the wood, as if infected by a demon. A horde of five pounce around us, blocking our exits. Curses stream out of Argus' mouth. In his trembling hands, lies a Ninja Grenade. His nails dig on the turtle shell surface, his face ashen.

Amidst the dire situation, a figure trudges from the distance, appearing under moonlight's fading mercy. His platinum hair accentuates the wrinkles curving his face. Argus' gasp beside me triggers me to imitate it.

What is Lin-Orion doing here?

A sad smile replaces his deep frown. "I've always trusted you, Argus. I wouldn't have heeded the old Lowlife's recommendations if you didn't perform as well as she boasted."

Sweat drips down Argus' temples. He grunts when a beast tries to pry the grenade away from his fingers. It remains sealed in his grasp, but blood splatters are now tainting the grass, and his lips form a pitiful grimace.

Ax's roar rattles the area louder than the thunder. It only takes seconds for the dogs to tackle it to the ground. Ax heaves its chest, biting off its attackers and shred their growls into whimpers as they hit the tree barks. The ground drums like an earthquake under their banter.

Shrill cries explode from the treehouse, whose roof is glowing blue. A holographic pattern darts around the building like a shield. "Spider Barrier activated," Lindra says, shortly before subtle whizzes surround us.

Lin-Orion reveals his teeth. Not with a grin, but with a half smirk. "Actually, I'm here tonight for another mission. But I might as well pull several weeds with one yank."