He was lying on cold concrete, his face pressed against a small pile of autumn leaves. He didn't remember falling. A hand grabbed him under the arm and hauled him up.

Brock, his expression concerned, was saying something, but Emmet couldn't quite make it out. There was a ringing in his ears that drowned out everything else.

"What?" he shouted.

"Are you okay?" Brock repeated.

"Yes?" Emmet replied, still shouting.

Brock patted him on the shoulder.

Slowly, the world roared back to life. A car alarm was going off nearby and people were shouting.

"Where's Ian?" Emmet asked.

"He's fine," Brock responded, pointing towards the entrance of the park where Ian squatted, examining something on the ground. "Come on, let's go see what he's got."

As they approached, Emmet noticed a young Asian woman standing opposite Ian. They were arguing about something.

"You can't be sure," she was saying.

"Yes, I can," Ian replied.

She flapped her arms at the surrounding debris. "There's nothing left to verify your theory against! Without concrete proo--"

"It's not a theory," Ian snapped.

He rubbed his fingers through a soot mark on the ground and held it up for her to see.

"That's Nilium," he said. "You know anywhere around here that sells Nilium?"

Arms folded across her chest, she pursed her lips. She didn't appear ready to agree with him, but wasn't offering any further argument either.

"Rey," Brock said, by way of greeting.

"Brock," she said tightly without looking at him.

In the distance, sirens sounded.

Brock glanced over his shoulder nervously. "That's our cue, Ian."

Ian wiped his finger on the thigh of his jeans and stood. "Can't leave this here, Brock. If the cops get their hands-"

Frank cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take care of it, son. It's our district. You and yours better get gone."

Ian shrugged off the hand. He stood for a moment longer, frowning down at Rey. At six feet, he was nearly a foot taller than her, but somehow, she made it look like she was the one looking down on him.

"Get lost, Balinski," she said.

"You'll need- " Ian started.

"I said get lost, Balinski," she cut him off.

"Fine," he snapped, "fine. I'm going. Just don't screw it up this time."

She glowered at him until Brock gently pulled Ian away and hustled him and Emmet towards the car.

***

"So you think it's one of ours?" Shane said.

He leaned up against the car, his arms wrapped around a giant, plush dog head he had been wearing moments before.

"Not one of ours," Ian said.

"I meant a Rifter in general, get your toes out of a knot," Shane replied. "Man, you're all about the hate, with that bunch aren't you?"

Ian narrowed his eyes, but Brock cut him off. "I think it's likely. Who else has access?"

"Head office say anything?"

Ian snorted. "Do they ever?"

"What about Henry?"

"Let's keep this Earthbound for now," Brock said, rubbing his eyes. "Henry's got enough problems and I don't relish the idea of any non-humans finding out. They mistrust us as it is."

"Wh-wh-what if it is a n-n-non-human?" Emmet asked from the back seat.

Brock shook his head. "That would have set off a whole other set of alarms. Has to be human."

"It probably is one of that bunch," Ian said. "My money's on Foster. Slippery worm. Or Frank. Did you notice the way he cut Foster off when he mentioned Turner?"

"I did," Brock answered, "but it doesn't matter. It's all on New York's turf, so whether we like it or not, it's Frank's problem to deal with."

"Well, at least you guys are okay," Shane said. Then, with a quick glance into the back, he added, "Well, mostly okay. You know, if you're going to take the kid out, you should probably be more careful with him. Return him like you found him or something."

Emmet's cheeks heated up, but he didn't say anything.

"We did find him like that," Ian answered. "Hey, what's with the Dog suit anyway?"

"Pet Emporium's grand opening," Shane replied.

Ian cocked a brow.

"Job's a job," Shane said, a touch grumpily.

"Well, make sure you bring it on our next jump, okay. Might be good armor for you."

Shane scowled and jammed the dog head back over his face. "I'm going back to work now. Call me when you have a better job."

***

Emmet waved once as he watched Ian pull out of the driveway. With a sigh, he re-adjusted his kit on his shoulder and made his way towards the front door. He tried the door. Locked. Good, his dad was still at work.

Tugging his keys out of his pocket, he jammed them in the lock and pushed the door open. Without bothering to undo the laces, he slid out of his shoes and bolted up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He dropped his kit on the floor and, with some coaxing, managed to shove it under his bed. An old coke bottle and a dirty sock popped out the other side. He nudged them back under with his foot.
He would have to clean under there, eventually. There was a distinct odor coming from somewhere and he had a sneaking suspicion it was coming from under the bed.

Flopping onto the bed, Emmet rubbed his check and winced. He probably had a bruise by now. Sitting back up, he glanced into the mirror on the back of the door.

It was worse than he had thought. A whole half of his face was black and blue and his lip still oozed from where Danny had split it. No wonder Ian and Brock were so concerned. How was he going to explain this to his dad?

He sighed and his eyes fell towards the bottom of the mirror where he could see a corner of his pack poking out from under the bed in the reflection. He lifted his foot and made to bring his heel back into the pack, slamming it back under the bed, but his foot froze at the apex of the swing.

There, beside the pack, a human face peered out at him.