The Pact and the Prodigal Part 2

A gentle drizzle fell over the grey churchyard.

Above the clouds the sun would be dawning on a new day,

but it was nearly impossible to tell from where the flying squirrel stood.

The masked marvel shifted her weight from foot to foot, like a prize fighter waiting for the next bout.

Everything about this set her teeth on edge. She and the Red Panda move fast and kept at the shadows where they could, and

covered themselves with clouds of smoke and other tricks where they could not. These were the

things that kept them safe, not standing flat-footed in a churchyard, attending a funeral for

another mystery man. The minister of the quiet church in the city's north end seemed to

share her concern, and he stepped closer to the squirrel and spoke quietly. Everything is ready,

he said, I know this is not the sort of thing that can be rushed, But as we discussed, I know it, Reverend,

Kit nodded. Nobody wants to bring the circus to town. We're just waiting on a couple more.

The minister nodded, but still seemed anxious. With all that you and the Red Panda have done

for this community, I was only too glad to offer your

friend Mr. Anders a place to rest. A friend might be stretching it a bit, Kit shrugged. I never

met the guy. He wasn't real warm. The Red Panda looked after his retirement, but the mass phantom

kept to himself. And he was, forgive me, I didn't, the Reverend hesitated.

There have been mystery men in Toronto for a long time before us, the squirrel shrugged.

And I guess there will be long after we're gone.

It seems funny that people forget, but maybe we ask for it.

She looked across the rows of headstones to try and see the red panda, but in the near

darkness of the spring dawn she had to activate her night vision goggles to do it.

...