The next time my eyes flit to the neighbor's roof, the four-legged shadow is gone. It's both relieving and burdensome. Some animals are still wandering around, even in Highlife areas... wait—is it why it disappears now... because it isn't attracted to a Highlife territory?

"Sandra must stay back; that long sickle can only be used in close combat." Roy puts his mask on. His sharp command stirs me awake.

"Ridiculous."

"You chose that back at my lab. Told both of you to choose something easier, right?" He pats her shoulder like a brother before stepping to the balcony's railings, the tossing-and-turning Rubik's Shield in his hand. "Allice, get ready. Come here at my call. Remember the plan: both sides get out alive. We're only here to defend ourselves, not to hurt anyone."

His emphasis makes me gulp.

Is he afraid that I'll avenge Lin-Irene for her treatments to Auntie Morgan?

"Put your hands in the air!" someone bellows down there, followed by the shrill clicks of taser rods. Arsy's whimpers claw through the air, along with her treading soles.

"Do you think it'll work?" Sandra whispers from my crouching back. "Roy went too easy on her. Who would be scared to lose their phone forever? And trade it for distracting attempts?"

"A spoiled child like Arsy."

"I just want to get fresh air. Why am I treated like this?" Arsy struggles. "Why are they here, Irene? What did you... tell them you're my friend, and I've done nothing wrong—"

"You've helped me a lot, Arsy. Thank you for the Friendly Dogson update." Lin-Irene pauses, as if letting the words hit Arsy like a hammer. "Get her into the—"

Roy beckons at me before throwing the cube on the driveway.

It lands with a hiss, exploding into a massive wall, pushing everything to the road's center. The police cars roar with sirens as they crash against the neighbors' cars.

Roy draws a handful of grenades from the pouch on his belt, tilting the black devils around. "The grapples are set."

I poke a finger into my ear to ensure it's clean. What grapples? "Don't grenades explode?"

"Yup, with grappling hooks that shoot out of metal arms." As I let out half a smile, he nervously chuckles. "What? I'm trying to save as much blood as possible. Hospitals are running out of donors and supplies."

"I know you're behind all this, Roy." Shattered glass on the road cracks under a pair of boots. When I peek from the railings, Lin-Irene is twisting her taser rod in a way similar to Roy with his Rubik's Shield. There's also a hair clip like Sandra's to tidy her bangs; what weapon will it turn into? "Turn him in and I'll leave."

Spite glints in Roy's eyes when he shakes his head. Unbuckling his knees, he drops three grenades to the road. Sounds of slinking metal arms explode like a several-headed serpent, closing in around each unmoving limb. Some tasers buzz against the grappling arms, only for the sparks to bounce back.

Roy really is avoiding a bloody war for Irene's sake.

"Allice Worke," someone bellows. "Turn yourself in. Hand over what you've stolen. Fighting will result in nothing. More people will get hurt."

It's like lava is flooding my system. I hurl the boomerang from above. As I land on my back, flipping the glasses off my nose and cringing at the boomerang's rough scratch on my healing palm, pained cries fill the night. I harshly lift my healthy arm to catch the twisting weapon. Blood and ripped fabric decorate the Dragonfish-teethed edges like plaques.

Six policemen have fainted, bloodstained. Another six are hugged by the metal arms. The remaining three fire bullets at my face before Roy cleans them with his grenade. The boomerang wanders again, slashing at the persistent adults and land them on their knees.

But the platinum hair is gone.

"Your sister"—I apply pressure on my palm while biting down the bubbling cries—"isn't there."

"If I were her, I would've done the same."

I catch the more-bloodied boomerang in an awkward angle. "What do you mean?"

"Why did I hide Sandra, saving her for last?"

I'm yet to answer when blades clash behind our backs.

Sandra parries Lin-Irene's blow, putting her weight against the latter. Her height also gives her advantage. Lin-Irene kicks Sandra's shin, hits her neck with the machete's handle, and knocks her to the floor. Sandra's hand shoots up, slapping Lin-Irene. This time, the machete's handle hits her chin.

"Just like I thought, you're always a coward, Brother." Recovering from her unstable stance, Lin-Irene towers above Sandra's crumpled figure, eyes burning with distaste. "Everyone will be disappointed, especially Dad. I'll tell him about your mysterious activities."

"I care for that as much as I care for you." Roy flicks his remaining three grenades, calmly pacing to Lin-Irene, whose machete swings in front of her. "You're only OCZ's aquarium staff. Why are those shrimps such a great deal? Are you looking for promotion and try to win OCZ's directors' hearts?"

I cringe at the acidity in his sarcasm.

If Lin-Irene is bothered, she refuses to admit it. "It's personal. Leave everyone else out of this. OCZ gives me full authority to get all the missing animals back, anyway."

"You should've replaced 'missing' with 'dangerous'. You want them back for more 'coincidences' in the future, right? You're not done toying around with them. Tell me, was Jorge behind all these?"

The two circle each other like contenders in a karate match. Both the machete and grenades are ready to pounce. The after-rain breeze scrambles their platinum hair, as if urging one to advance first.

"Not answering? Just like I thought, you're always pathetic, Sister. A pitiful people pleaser. A useless and ruthless—"

I back against the railings as Irene slashes her machete to Roy's forehead. Roy foresees the attack, swiftly ducking back and knees her in the stomach, throwing her off-balance. Her back cracks, but she can still punch with her machete's butt. The given force staggers Roy. Before he heaves a breathe, she repeats the movement. Roy counters it with a punch against her rising head, and she tumbles back to the floor.

He's gradually pushing her from the east to the balcony's west, trying to get her closer to its wall. The grapple won't miss its target, while the metal arms won't wrap on anything else.

It's a good strategy until realization dawns into Lin-Irene's eyes. She jerks the curtain off the balcony's door behind her. When Roy's grenade explodes, releasing hungry grapples, she tosses the bundled curtain into the hook. It rattles in agony, choking. Other arms shoot towards Irene, but she crawls back to the house's corridor, out of their reach.

Roy hurls another grenade, snarling at her swift sideway roll. Before those arms lunge at her, she ducks to the grenade, binding its arms together. The grapples act like ferocious jaws with necks tied to each other.

Shoot—without a distant-ranged weapon, Roy's unable to attack Lin-Irene without getting mistaken as a prey by his own grapples.

His plan to use kinder weapons is backfiring.

"You'll regret getting at my bad side." She smiles like a bloodlust executioner, moreover with that machete in her hand. She's like an aggressive animal with some Chiroquin inside. "No more—"

An ear-splitting thud against her skull drops her face-flat, causing blood to splutter out of her head. Sandra's lips shudder, like the long sickle's blade in her hand. She uses the butt to knock Lin-Irene down, but her own palm gets hurt in the process.

I examine her wound as I help her stand. Her blood lingers on the blade, and bruises grow on her skin. Her movements are sluggish, like her brain isn't there to control her.

"Roy," she calls out as I sling an arm to support her.

His eyes are blank, void of emotions, as they address Lin-Irene. He shoves his last grenade into his pouch, biting his lip.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. She'll stay alive, right? It... it shouldn't be a major injury—"

"It's alright." He avoids her gaze. "Someone should knock her senses. I'm just... not used to see her bleeding. She never did, even in our common sparring."

Roy's doing a terrible job of hiding his concerns for Lin-Irene and encouraging his comfort to Sandra.

Sandra's sickle transforms back into a hair clip, unlike Lin-Irene's machete, which lies still in her grip. Hastily tying her untidy hair, she leaves my side and treads to the storage, where the elders and Miro are in. "We should get out of here. It's not safe. Please take anything you need"—Sandra bites her lips, adding more to her miserable look—"look, we're sorry for dragging all fo you into this."

The first to burst out is Mr. Julian's wife, her face pale like she's seen a ghost. "Where's Arsy?"

"In the police car." Roy silences a scoff when people murmur about Lin-Irene's quiet figure on the floor, pointing out her injuries and gawking at her unusual, intricately-decorated machete.

After a brief and chaotic packing session, Roy leads the entourage downstairs, his movements as sluggish as Sandra's. It's like he doesn't want to stay confined here any longer. Miro isn't in a much different state; glued to my back, he quietly whimpers, his hands unconsciously grabbing my sweater.

Once we're outside, I check the surroundings. The satisfying after-rain's scent on grasses will be more enjoyable if the view isn't unconscious officers. Jogging across, I drag a half-asleep Arsy from the car's back seat. The cuff around her wrists are loose. Apparently, they weren't properly adjusted when Roy began his attacks.

"There isn't much time." I usher her, Miro, and the elders into a parked van at the driveway. It's Mr. Jules' courier ride for years. The dust-smeared white paint supports that statement.

The police might've called for backup, and it won't be long before they surprise us. They're so keen on getting me and the shrimps. What roles do we play in Jorge's grand scheme for Dogson?

"Where are we going?" Grand-Mad wheezes.

"We can go to my house," Mr. Julian says from the back seat, seeking approval from Roy's downcast eyes but finding raw guilt instead.

"Our time is running out," Roy mutters after removing his Rubik's Shield from its position. "We have to get these people a hideout, gather more group members, find out Jorge's plan—"

"Then we should split up." Roy and I look at her as if she's just grown a limb. She sheepishly smiles. "We're all beaten. But we're the ones they can count on."

"Hey, maybe Roy's lab is a good hideout," I exclaim, flaring with short excitement. "It's pretty spacy."

Spirit returns into Roy's darkened eyes. "Yes. Let me handle the recruitment too then, since Grand-Mad and Mr. Jules are together with me. They're strong Lowlife figures, no?"

I'm yet to protest when Sandra chimes in, "Roy's right, Allice. We'll be the ones confronting Jorge. Besides, Jorge is Roy's godfather. He'll suspect something if the family's bad boy visits him."

Roy scowls. "Anyway, we should jump into the van, then get some rest."

As if being electrocuted, I jolt forward. "How's your late-night shift, Sandra? And doesn't Roy always come home?"

The two share an ashamed eye roll before climbing into the van. "Let them suspect all they want," both say quickly, as if wanting the sentence to end quicker. Still questioning their behavior, I follow close behind.

It's only a van for six. Won't it surrender at the over-capacity?

"You spoke that out loud, kid." Mr. Jules chuckles, chugging the gas. It's like riding an old toy car. "But not even the government's Autodrive Pod can beat her strength."