And I had the best view. My office was small, but streetside, with a broad front window whose dark-slatted blinds were always cracked to give me the aforementioned view of L5P. A glass, L-shaped desk held my computer, scanner and papers. A narrow bookshelf put all my books and tapes within easy reach from the desk… or from the sturdy marble workspace of the butcher's block, whose locked glass cabinet held my precious magical supplies.

I started the scan and leaned back in my chair, regarding Spleen, who'd arrived right on time. He bounced back and forth in the little space like an animated garden gnome, rattling the cabinet periodically. "Wulfs one of my best clients," he said. "I swear it, if you could just do this for me-"

"Hey. I said I'd do it." I shagged my hands through my hair, trying to shake my deathhawk back to life after being pinned under my helmet. "So stop trying to persuade me, or I might change my mind." The scanner whirred to life, and I kicked up my feet, staring out over Little Five. Something was wrong. Spleen was nervous, damp, almost sweaty. Damp and sweaty weren't new, but-"Should I change my mind?"

"N-no," Spleen said. Another lie. Not that he never did it, buteven more charming. At my scowl he turned away, stammering; but it was too late; I had him.

"What is it, Spleen?" I asked.

"Crap, Frost," he said. "What can I say? The design is fucking Nazi."6. The Accursed Flash

"It's what?" I said, falling forward in my chair to look as the scanner finished its pass and the image popped up on the screen. The contrast was all fucked, but a moment's tweaking in Photoshop brought the contrast back up, along with all the nice German letters and genuine swastika printed on the bottom of the singed photo.