He Is Jack’s Unhingable Jawbone.

You have to understand, that’s not the easiest question for me to answer. It ain’t often that I have memorable days. They tend to blur. One day bleeds into the next, until all I can see is the thread of the clue tied to the event tied to the criminal, and what day it is can go hang. Like they used to do to criminals. Even kids. Even kids who just stole because they got in with the wrong crowd and didn’t have any other-

Sorry, lost my train of thought.

So most days aren’t really so much to me. Take today. Today I finally ran down an illegal streetfighting ring, that I’ve been tracking for months now. Pattern was always the same: we’d get a call about a disturbance, they’d describe a couple guys fighting, pretty vicious too, and a big crowd standing around cheering em on. Animals can get vicious when they want.

You ever seen a prison fight? Conventional wisdom says there’s two kinds: the real ones, private, unseen, over in seconds, and the ones that are about making sure everyone seems you can’t be messed with, the don’t-mess-with-me fights. But that’s not true. Nobody really keeps any secrets in prison, so both kinda end up being messages about what happens if you mess with whoever. The point is, I could tell that these weren’t like that. There wasn’t a message. These people weren’t fighting to tell anyone anything, you could see it in the scrapes in the dust and the splashes of blood.

They have these little clubs all over the country, but I have a friend or two in the bureau, and they handed me some evidence, unofficially of course. They were glad enough to have someone step on this before it got big, because judging from the files this was about to turn into something big. Lotta rhetoric about ‘change’ and ‘freedom’ and all that stuff, but that aint what the perp wanted. Same as the fights, there was no message. He just wanted to watch the world burn.

I have to admit, though, wasn’t looking forward to tackling him. We had a few partial accounts of what it was like when he fought, and it wasn’t pretty. They said he didn’t just strike, like you’d expect from a snake, he’d gotten some non-venomous to teach him how to constrict, too. He fought like he was two people.

Still, getting shot kills him just as much as anyone.

I also could have gone with who's grabbing Max'

I also could have gone with 'who's grabbing Max's tail,' 'what that dog is doing up that tree,' or 'how that bear stuck a pop bottle in his back pocket.' All very mysterious.

Thing is, the day isn’t what I remember. I guess that as far as I can tell, it might have happened yesterday. Or the day before. I know that since then, there was one of those annoying little cases like mosquitoes–they’re almost more trouble to solve than to ignore. Shady Shrew stole the wheels off a car, then just hung around and blamed the first pedestrian who walked by. Idiotic, checking the alibi took all of five minutes, I swear, that guy is getting stupider all the time.

I guess next to the underground fights, it doesn’t look like much. So yeah, that’s how my day went.



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