Monkey was restless. He’d wanted to talk to her - she and Trevor were the only ones in whom he could confide and patience was not his strong point. He felt anxious as he cycled down the road to meet the rest of the hood. The absence of his blade made him edgy. By the time he reached the corner of Moonstone Park, the others had already gone. He kicked the wall in frustration, then set off towards The Plaza. He was alone and unarmed - not a situation to be encouraged for a pre-breeder - and his anxiety increased as he neared the centre of town. He pulled the scarf up high and his hood down low. It was still early and the last remnants of workers were on their way home ready for the weekend. As he rounded the corner of an office building, Monkey heard a jeer and whooping noise from The Plaza. He braked cautiously and scanned the road for any piece of wood or metal that he might be able to use as a weapon. A row of refuse bins, lined up in a delivery duct, drew his attention and he wheeled his bike into the darkness of the alley.
