Hello, children, it's Story Time.

Godric's Hollow

11 Years ago . . .

It hurt.

He hadn't expected it to hurt.

Peter Pettigrew pulled his hand away from his arm and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. No. James and Sirius were talking quietly, and Lily was cooing over Harry.

Relieved, Peter folded his hands in his lap and did his best to look inoffensive and innocent. This part was easy; he'd had lots of practice. Were he given to self-reflection, he might have wondered if that was why his his Animagus form was a rat, a creature generally associated with deceit and betrayal.

"All right there, Wormtail?" Sirius asked as he and James came over.

"Well, yes," Peter admitted. "But Remus . . ."

"Even if he knew, he would still have that trip," Sirius soothed. "And . . ." he exchanged a glance with James. "And it's better this way. We can't be too careful. Moony will understand."

Peter rather doubted that, but he knew better than to argue with Sirius once the bigger man had made up his mind. "Are we ready?"

"Just about," James replied. "Peter, I know you're worried. but Betwys Beddau's standing stones would keep out a demon, never mind Voldemort. This time tomorrow, you'll be kicking back in the village pub and Pads here will be somewhere in Turkey letting Malfoy and his lot run themselves ragged trying to catch him."

Sirius' grin was positively vicious. "Turkey, Morocco, Egypt. Maybe Wakanda."

James sighed. "Pads, Wakanda does not like outsiders."

"Yeah, but think of the look on old Voldemort's face if he found out his Death Eaters got blown to bits."

"Not the point, Pads," James' voice was patient.

"Yeah yeah," Sirius grumped.

"Mr. Pettigrew," Dumbledore stood in the doorway of the house James and Lily were about to call home. "We are ready."

Later, it was easy to slip out of the Order safe house and make his way to London where he knelt and told Voldemort exactly where to find James and Lily Potter.

Peter probably should have felt guilty, and he did, just a little bit, but it was only a bit, and the fact that his actions would lead to not only the death of his friends, but death, destruction and attempted genocide of the Muggle population barely crossed his mind.

In the end, Peter Pettigrew would be alive, and that was all that mattered.

The Burrow,

The Present.

Tony was the first to speak. "What . . . the hell?" he asked.

"Bloody hell!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed. "Pettigrew!"

"Pettigrew?" Tony asked. "Isn't he supposed to be dead? Like, blown up dead?"

"Oh yes," Remus told them, "and I, for one, am very interested in how he put himself back together."

Pettigrew's chuckle was tinged with panic. "Ah, Remus, old friend, well, you see . . . ah . . ."

"Traitor," Remus snarled, and the word reverberated with a growl.

"Remus," Pepper tried. The sound of her voice pushed the wolf and the rage back down, resealing them under the icy calm and he took a deep breath. "Remus?" She asked again, because quite frankly, the look on his face terrified her.

"Ah . . ." Remus rubbed his face with one hand, eyes not leaving Peter's prone form.

"Okay, time out," Tony said, hands in the shape of a T. "Again, because I feel this is a valid question worth repeating; What. The. Hell."

"That's Peter Pettigrew!" Molly exclaimed. "But he's dead! He's was blown up by Sirius Black!"

"And it was Black who betrayed the Potters to You-Know-Who!" Bill Weasley added. "Right?"

"So we thought," Remus replied and then he sank down onto a nearby chair, his icy calm suddenly gone, and his legs weak. "I was away on a research trip the night James and Lily were killed. Sirius was supposed to be the Secret Keeper, but they must have switched without telling me."

"I did think it was a bad idea," Peter pointed out.

"So when Harry's parents died, Sirius went after Peter," Pepper nodded.

"Instead of Peter after Sirius," Remus confirmed. "I told you they only found a bit of his finger." He nodded towards Peter's right hand. "Ring finger is missing its tip."

"So he runs into Black, blows the street, bites off his finger and goes rat, disappearing into the rubble," Tony finished. "Leaving Black alone and to all appearances, irrefutably guilty."

"Wait, Pettigrew is an Animagus?" Arthur asked. "And he's been in my house for ten years? Ten bloody years?"

"Say, Mum?" one of the twins asked, Remus thought it might have been Fred. "Didn't Ginny have a nightmare a few years back? Said there was a strange man in her room?"

Remus had no idea if that was true, but it was worth the murderous glares suddenly directed at Peter, who nearly wet his pants in terror. "It would seem he is, and an unregistered one at that. Surprising, Transfiguration was his worse subject at Hogwarts."

"Mum, Dad, Mr. Lupin." Bill Weasley had pulled up Peter's sleeve. "Look." There, although faded, was the Dark Mark.

"So let me get this straight," Tony said. "Pettigrew, not Black, was the Secret Keeper."

"Yes," Remus confirmed.

"Except that Pettigrew is actually a bad guy."

"Yes."

"And Black is a good guy."

"Yes."

"And so the bad guy is lying here, while the good guy is in prison for a crime he didn't do."

"No."

"What?"

"No one lasts very long in Azkaban, Mr, Stark, the Dementors see to that. Sirius may be dead, but at least his name can be cleared." Remus sighed. "He deserves that much." He flicked his wand and Peter rose from the ground, floating in mid-air. "Molly, Arthur, can I use your Floo?"

Azkaban killed.

It killed slowly, insidiously. Like some sort of relentless force, it ate away at you until there was nothing left but a shell that would then die and be summarily disposed of. It was, in Remus' mind, possibly the worst way to go.

"Can't we talk about this?" Peter pleaded, feet attempting to halt his forward progress. Unfortunately, he was floating, which only resulted in his feet flailing in mid-air.

Were it not for the location, Remus might have found the sight amusing, but Azkaban was no laughing matter and even with a Patronus, he could still feel the chill of the Dementors, watching, waiting.

"There's really not much you can say, Pettigrew." Kingsley Shacklebolt was a tall imposing black man with a quick smile and ready wit. "Framing a man for one murder, much less thirteen, is bad enough, but you also hurt your own mother by letting her think you were dead." He shook his head. "That's not how a man treats his mother."

"It was necessary," Peter said matter of factly.

"Like hell it was," Remus snarled.

"Lupin!" Shacklebolt snapped. They came to an empty cell and Shacklebolt unlocked it with a twist of an old metal key. "The man's in Azkaban. Whatever you could do to him, this is much worse."

Across the hall, one of the other prisoners had shuffled up to the bars and was staring at them with an intense gaze. Remus did his best to ignore the madman and kept his eyes on Pettigrew. His Animagus abilities had been suppressed, but it was obvious that everyone had severely underestimated Peter and Remus did not want to make the same mistake twice.

"Mmmmmm-m-m-m-m-moooooooooo . . ." Behind them, the prisoner was trying to speak and something about the man's voice made Remus turn. "M-m-m-mooooo . . ." the man rasped. He was tall, Remus noted. thick black hair dirty and matted, same with the beard, his clothes were ragged and through the tears, Remus could see lines and shapes created by dirt being rubbed into the skin. "M-m-m-m-moon," the man told him.

"Something wrong?" Shacklebolt asked, shutting the door to Peter's cell and locking it. "Don't get to close there, Lupin. Poor bastard's mad enough as it is. No telling what he'll do."

"M-m-m-moon!" The man exclaimed and then looked past him to the cell before letting out an inarticulate scream of rage and lunging at the bars as though he could reach across the space between them and strangle Peter. "R-r-r-r-r-r-arrrrrgggggggggh!"

Remus was about to turn away when he caught sight of the man's left arm and raised his wand. "Lumos." Here, the skin was much cleaner, with four shapes patiently and painstakingly drawn; A perfect circle right below the elbow, then after that, a stag, a dog, and then a rat, which had been furiously scratched at, the skin almost mutilated.

"Lupin?" Shacklebolt asked over the man's screams.

"I'm . . . I'm not sure," Lupin admitted. "Lumos Maximus." The light flared and the man flinched away in pain, eyes unused to the bright light. "Lumos," he said, the light dimming back to it's usual brightness and then he crouched at the bars. "Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice friendly. The man crawled back to the bars, staring at him and Remus raised his wand, still ready to jerk it out of the way.

"Moon," the man said and nodded, proud that he could get that word out, and then his hand shot through the bars, gripping Remus' shoulder with surprising strength. Familiar strength. "Moon," the man said, his eyes burning into Remus'.

Eyes Remus knew. More importantly, those eyes were sane.

"Lupin?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Can you release this man?"

"What?"

"Yes or no."

"Well yes, but Merlin's beard, why?"

Remus smiled, the first truly happy, genuine smile he'd had in ten years. "Because this is Sirius Black."

Dumbledore met them in the main courtyard of Hogwarts. Remus had felt that Dumbledore would know what to do and Shacklebolt had agreed far too quickly. By now, Remus was almost positive that Shacklebolt was like Remus and so many others, bound to the old man by loyalty or favors owed. Or both.

"Ah, Mr. Black." Dumbledore said as though Sirius had simply dropped by for tea.

"I'm sorry to barge in, Professor," Remus began but Dumbledore merely raised his hand.

"It is of no matter, Remus," Dumbledore said. "What is important is that Mr. Black is here, although, perhaps a quick trip to Madam Pomfrey is in order?"

"Ha . . ." Sirius tried. "H-h-h-h."

"Mr. Potter is safe," Dumbledore replied, "I promise you that." Sirius let out a growl and Dumbledore sighed. "Poor choice of words, I suppose, all things considered." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Mr. Black . . . Sirius . . . I ask that you let Madam Pomfrey have a look at you, eat a sensible meal, and get some rest. In the morning, we will have a very long, and dare I say, very overdue conversation, hm?"

"Hem hem." Coming towards them from the gate was a woman flanked by two large men in black robes and something about her scared Remus to death. She radiated wrongness, danger. She was other. For the first time in his life, Remus actually considered letting the wolf out.

Dumbledore, who had a poker face a stone statue would envy merely looked slightly puzzled. "Ah, can I help you . . . "

"Delores Umbridge, Ministry of Magic. This is Blue and Waters from the Department of Mysteries. We're here for Sirius Black."

"Black is a free man," Shacklebolt pointed out. "I have the writ from Crouch's office clearing him of the charge."

"Oh, yes," Umbridge nodded. "Yes, of course. But there is still the matter of the thirteen Muggles who were also killed. And, Mr. Blue and Mr. Waters would very much like to know how Mr. Black survived ten years in Azkaban." A strange light seemed to appear in her eyes. "Among other questions."

Fear curled around Remus' gut. Somehow, he knew. Knew that this had nothing to do with the Muggles and everything about making Sirius disappear, and worse, punish him for daring to not only be alive, but innocent.

"N-n-n-no," Sirius said, backing away, "No."

Umbridge had a wide mouth and it stretched even wider as she smiled. "Come now, Mr. Black. You have my personal guarantee and that of Minister Fudge that you will be perfectly fine."

Remus shot a pleading look at Dumbledore but then flinched as there was a loud bang and a wall of smoke.

"Disparios," Dumbledore said and the smoke dissipated, Sirius was gone.

"He apparated!" Umbridge yelled.

"You cannot apparate at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, striding over to where Sirius had been standing. "Ah!" He bent down and picked up something from the grass. "A smoke bomb, no doubt intended to go off when someone passes by. Although . . ." He poked at it with his wand, which was long, rigid, and ornately carved. Once, Remus had asked Dumbledore where his wand had come from. Dumbledore had merely smiled and told him that it was a great wand and that he was rather fond of it. "Yes, here, the trigger is misaligned, a short in the circuit, if you will. Some prankster's first effort, I should think."

Umbridge glared at him and then waved Blue and Waters to search the grounds, marching after them, her spine rigid under her jacket.

"If you'll excuse me, Professor," Shacklebolt said then, "I'll be needed back at the Ministry." Dumbledore nodded and Shacklebolt hurried off.

"Remus, would you like some tea?" Dumbledore asked, and Remus heard the command under the polite offer.

"Ah, yes, Professor, I would love some."

By the time Remus returned to the Burrow, his head was swimming and the bag he carried was filled with notes and and books he not only needed to read, but he should probably let Jarvis have a look at as well. The computer could sort data and process patterns and new information faster than a team of academics. Then there was what Dumbledore had told him personally, and if even half of what the old man suspected was true, Remus was scared stiff.

Sirius turning up hadn't helped either, and that had been when Dumbledore had handed Remus the bag and sent him on his way. Raised voices had followed him out, and Remus hoped they didn't come to blows. Well, mostly hoped.

A part of him he didn't like to think about hoped they killed each other and his hand closed tightly around the bag handles as he fought the sudden fury at Sirius that reared up within him, teeth bared and . . . he squeezed his eyes shut and willed the wolf back into its kennel. With the monster once again secured, he stepped around the corner and stopped.

There was a bonfire in the backyard.

As Remus watched, Tony, Bill, and Charlie, followed by Harry and Ron, carried a bed out of the house and threw it on the bonfire while Molly spoke with a blond haired man as Ginny and a girl who could only be the blond man's daughter weaved flower chains.

"Remus! "Pepper exclaimed, coming up to him and handing him a glass. He could smell that it was his favorite tea. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," Remus replied and set the bag down. "Should I ask?"

"Ron couldn't sleep," Pepper said simply. "I guess he started thinking about how Scabbers fooled everyone and slept in his bed and just . . . everything. So, Tony suggested setting the bed on fire." In the yard, sparks shot into the air as the fire hit a knot in the wood. Harry and Ron cheered.

"I see."

Pepper nodded. and gave him a wry smile. "Everyone else is helping Ron and the twins switch rooms. To be honest, I don't think anybody is going to be sleeping tonight." She sipped from her glass. "How did it go?"

Tersely, Remus recounted finding Sirius alive, the rather lengthy argument in the offices of the MLE, and ended with the confrontation at Hogwarts as Arthur wandered over to join them.

"Umbridge?" Arthur's face screwed up as though he'd eaten a fly. "Short woman? Face like a toad?" Remus nodded and the older man shuddered. "Bloody hell."

"Trouble?" Pepper asked.

Arthur took a long drink from the mug in his hand. "Came out wrong, that one. Personal Undersecretary to Fudge, but she's really his hatchet man."

"The Minister of Magic," Remus explained to Pepper. "Basically, the Prime Minister."

"On top of that, she's a bloody racist. Funny because she's a half muggle, not that you bring that up where she can hear you, mind." Arthur wagged a cautionary finger at them, swaying slightly on his feet, and Remus remembered the other man was a lightweight.

"We won't, Arthur," Pepper promised as she switched his and Remus' drinks with the deftness of a stage magician. She gave Remus an apologetic smile as she began to herd Arthur towards the house.

Bending down, Remus picked up his bag. They would be going home tomorrow, and the full moon would be in a week. Reading the books and notes would give him something to do in the daytime.

Well, that and worrying.

Pepper finished typing the email and hit send. That was the last one and she was glad for it. Interest in StarkCom was beginning to stir and the major news sites were taking notice, which was good, since the release for StarkCom's phone and tablet were still months away.

Unfortunately, the major news sites were taking notice and there were still plenty of people who took issue with Tony's decision to stop making weapons simply because he'd decided to stop making weapons.

"And meanwhile, Tony hides in the basement with Yinsen and Remus," she said out loud. "Or he would if Remus wasn't out sick. Ugh."

"Ah, Ms Potts," Jarvis spoke up. "About Mr. Lupin."

"Hm?" Pepper asked, calling up the stock reports.

"I have been considering ways to bring this up tactfully, but as you have mentioned it first, as it were . . ."

"Jarvis, what is it?"

"As you have said, Mr. Lupin is out sick due to a medical condition he has never discussed with anyone here."

"Nor should he if he doesn't want to, Jarvis. He has a right to privacy."

"Nor do I wish to infringe upon that, but he has been employed with S.I. since August and a pattern has emerged."

That got Pepper's attention. Regular use of sick days suggested a myriad of things, most of them an abuse of the system. "A pattern?" Absently, she noticed Tony walking by and then stopping to listen.

"A schedule might be a more apt term. Each of Mr, Lupin's sick periods has occurred once a month and always for five days. Furthermore, my inventory sub-routine has noted that Mr. Lupin's work meals the week previous to his sick periods always include a large amount of beef as opposed to his usual preferences for a small amount of fish or chicken. And finally, Ms. Potts, his sick periods are always during the full moon."

"Full moon? But why would . . . oh."

Not so bad this time . . .

Remus struggled towards consciousness, trying to discern why waking up felt different, why light, why cool, why soft?

Soft?

Remus forced his eyes open. Had someone heard him? Were there people in his house? Was he out?

"Hey hey hey!" Pepper's voice soothed. "It's okay, you're safe. You're at home. You're fine."

Remus turned his head. Pepper knelt next to him, placing a damp washcloth on his forehead. She gave him a smile. "You're fine, you're home, you're on your sofa. We found you in your closet."

"You're gonna need to replace that door," Stark's head popped into his field of vision. "There is a massive, and I mean massive crack in the wood. Hell, screw that, I'll make you a new one. Something with steel mesh." He pulled out his phone. "Jarvis, I need carpentry gear, I'm making a door."

It was too much and Remus passed out again.

When he awoke again, Remus found himself in a bed in a dim room. He could feel he was wearing bandages and a soft linen gown Looking at his hands, he saw that he had a vitals monitor on one finger.

"What?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lupin," Jarvis said. "You are in Mr. Stark's house and it is four twenty-eight in the afternoon. You have been asleep for some ten hours."

The door opened and Pepper entered, carrying a tray. She was smiling, but there was an edge of nervousness.

'Well of course, she's nervous,' Remus thought. 'She's in a room with a monster'.'

"Here," Pepper said, setting the tray on his lap. "Auntie Martha's special soup for the severely ill."

Remus looked down at the soup. It smelled heavenly, but . . . "You know," he croaked out.

Pepper sighed and nodded. "Jarvis figured it out." She tried for a smile. "Tony's excited. I think he's going to start calling you 'Lon Chaney', though. Sorry."

"He's an idiot," Remus ground out. He was about to be fired anyway so civility went out the window. "You all are." Pepper blinked in surprise and Remus pressed on. "I appreciate the attempt at civility, Ms. Potts, but I have little use for false charity and I'll take my leave now."

It was then that Pepper's face underwent a curious transformation, going from surprise and kindness to an expression that matched Minerva McGonagall for it's sternness and iron determination. "You're staying put."

"I'm a werewolf," Remus shot back. "You think this is the first time this has happened?"

"No, and it's clouding your judgement." Remus blinked and Pepper's expression softened. "Remus, we've read enough in all those books you've bought to know how you've been treated. I don't pretend I can fully understand, but you should know by now neither Tony or I are going to hold something you can't control against you."

"I'm a danger."

"You have a medical condition," Pepper corrected. "Medical conditions can be treated, worked around."

"It's a curse. I'm a monster."

"Says who?"

"Says . . ." Remus trailed off, blinking at her. When you got right down to it, everyone who had ever told him that were repeating what they had been told by people who had been repeating what they had been told all the way back to Merlin knew when.

"Yes?" Pepper asked.

"I'm a bloody idiot," Remus sighed, managing a strangled laugh and then sobered. "It's not wholly wrong, though."

"Remus . . ."

Remus shook his head. "No, Pepper, even if it is indeed a medical condition, I'm still at the mercy of it. My will, everything that is me, is subsumed once I'm changed. At best, it's a psychosis, but I'm still dangerous when it's the full moon. No words will change that."

Pepper smiled. "So it's an obstacle, then."

"Call it whatever you want, Pepper, but—"

"Remus," Pepper patted Remus' wrist. "Tony wants to help, and when Tony sets his mind on something, little things like obstacles get stepped on."

For the first time in years, Remus Lupin felt a tiny surge of hope.

The box had been a gift from Remus for christmas, a build your own orrery that could be shrunk down to fit in your pocket. Having completed his homework for the moment, Harry had elected to spend a rainy Sunday morning tinkering with the movement gears over breakfast. Tony always told him that no matter what the manufacturer said, you could always get at least ten percent more out of something. Aunt Pepper said that this was why Tony was going to someday burn his house down, but if Seamus could make stuff blow up just by trying to do charms and only get some soot on his face and his hair standing on end, Harry didn't see how the orrery catching on fire would be any different.

Picking up one of the support pegs, Harry looked at the instructions to verify it's location, and then began to carefully install it. Once it was in, he began adjusting the gears.

"You're going to overclock it," someone said. "I've seen those things fly apart because the gears weren't set right."

Harry didn't look up, but pointed at the far side of the device. "I'm going to put a flywheel there."

"An' that'll work?" The other person had a mild Scottish brogue.

Harry shrugged. "I'll find out when I turn it on."

The person didn't respond, but Harry didn't notice. It wasn't until all the pegs were in that Harry looked up to see someone sitting across from him. It took Harry a moment to realize that the person was a girl, with long black hair and fascinatingly brown eyes.

She was very pretty.

She was also the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang.

Whom Harry was supposed to face in the next Quidditch match.

. . . and at the other end of the Gryffindor table, Oliver Wood was glaring at them.

Peter huddled in the corner of his cell, knees pulled up to his chest. The Dementors were taking their time, slowly sniping off bits of him the way a tailor might cut the odd errant thread.

Most lasted days at most in Azkaban, Peter had lasted a week, mostly by keeping his thoughts and emotions in check and locked down, and partly because the MLE had rounded up a gang of Dark Object smugglers and the Dementors were distracted.

It was about then that a masked man dressed entirely in white came up through the floor, grabbed him by the shirt, slapped some sort of mask on his face and pulled him down.

Saved!

He was not saved.

After being pulled through the very earth, Peter had kept his eyes closed because phasing your way through solid rock was so weird, it hurt his brain, they had finally emerged somewhere on the coast, where the man in white had unceremoniously dropped him.

"Got your package, Sitwell," the man had said in a voice that sounded strangely filtered. He pulled the mask from Peter's face.

"Thank you, Ghost," replied a dark skinned bald man wearing a suit and horn-rimmed glasses. He took a thick envelope from his pocket handed it over. "Your fee, and a small bonus should I need you again."

"For Shield, the MLE, Hydra or the Death Eaters?" Ghost asked.

Sitwell's eyes narrowed. "You are remarkably well-informed."

"Yeah, I am." Ghost waved the envelope. "Pleasure doin' business." With that, Ghost sank back into the ground again and was gone.

Peter got to his feet. "Thank you," he said.

"Oh, you're welcome, you're welcome." Sitwell pulled on a pair of gloves and removed a wand from the inside pocket of his jacket. "This is yours, of course. You're going to need it." He waved the wand and Peter felt the bindings on his magic and his animagus powers being lifted.

"Need it for what?" Peter asked. He wasn't stupid, Sitwell wouldn't have hired Ghost to break him out of Azkaban unless he needed something and every survival instinct Peter had was screaming warnings. He took his wand from Sitwell, noting the tracking charm that had been placed on it. It also hadn't escaped his notice that the gloves and the use of Peter's own wand to lift the bindings meant that there would be no way to prove that Sitwell had been involved in Peter's escape. Clever.

"For the Master," Sitwell told him.

Something in the other man's voice made Peter's instincts scream louder. "The Dark Lord lives?" He asked, mentally calculating escape routes and plans. Not from Voldemort, of course, never from Voldemort. But Sitwell was another matter.

"Of course He does!" Sitwell snapped. "As if a mere child, one born to a traitor and a mudblood could defeat Him. No." Sitwell shook his head. "No, the traitor Potter did something, cheated somehow, but I have faith, Peter." He chuckled and shook his hand, one finger raised as though admonishing someone. "Oh, I have faith. As do you."

"Oh! Oh yes." Peter let out a chuckle of his own, even managing to make it sound convincing. "Yes, I do."

He didn't.

Author's Notes:

Betwys Beddau is the village where Remus and Sirius take Harry in the fic Laocoon's Children to keep him safe in lieu of the Dursley's blood protection. Even if slash isn't your thing, I highly recommend it simply due to the quality of effort and research put into it.

In the history of the magical world. Wakandan wizards and witches are of a peculiar note, primarily for the fact that they do not seem to use wands to perform spells, but instead wear amulets made from a unknown metal which, if rumor is to be believed, amplifies their powers. They are also the only nation on earth not to have signed the Statute of Secrecy and have refused to recognize the authority of the Wizengamot or the United Magical Council of Africa. Even today, their borders are tightly controlled and any incursions, intentional or otherwise, are mercilessly dealt with, resulting in strained relations with both their neighbors and the rest of the world.

Trivia: Remus' neighborhood was originally known as Arroyo Seco, constructed in the early 90's and later burned down by members of the LAPD during the arrest of the developer, Jack Travis, a former LAPD officer turned crime boss. The project was later acquired and finished by Roxxon International, however, interest was lukewarm and Roxxon earned no profit on it, leaving Arroyo Seco to its own devices, with most of the houses being rented out. No, this probably isn't a Lethal Weapon crossover, just a nod to LW3, one of my favorite movies.

Yup, Harry/Cho. You're welcome.

Now then . . . where do we go from here? Heh heh heh . . .