Chapter 4. An hour later, the Red Panda stood on a high ledge and stared down into a black void,

his brow knitted in concentration. Normally, the experimental lenses he had fitted into his mask

would cut through the darkness, but a heavy fog had rolled in over downtown, rendering the streets

below invisible even to his eyes.

He frowned.

Perhaps he could work out a secondary function, perhaps one that would detect temperature fluctuations

like the radiant heat of a human body, something to work on when he had the time.

He smiled grimly at the thought.

One thing he had not been overburdened with since he launched his

war on crime was excessive amounts of spare time. To his right hanging almost over his shoulder was a jutting

gargoyle in the shape of a pouncing lion. Wrapped around the lion's neck was a thick loop of heavy wire,

within which there hung a strange device, like a miniature winch.

The red panda looked at it from the corner of his eye.

He had checked it twice and was determined not to check it again.

He stared down, out into the blackness,

looking for any sign, any signal, any movement.

Nothing. Another half-minute passed.

He glanced at the winch. Maybe he could check it one more time. From far below, he heard a muffled cry of surprise suddenly cut short. That would be the flying squirrel making her

dramatic entrance. There was a moment of silence

followed by what might have been a large object, like a body upsetting some trash cans at great

velocity. A smirk began to play about his face, but was quickly erased by the ringing of two

pistol shots, echoing up the steel canyons to his ears.

...