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  Not good. You have stuff to do.

  Showered, dressed, and his list in place, he stared at the house phone for a long time and then dialed Alicia's number.

  "Perc, oh my god, I heard on the news this morning. Are you okay? I can't believe Rick Shatton is dead. Are you sure you're okay? Why did you take so long to call me? It's after lunch. I've been freaking out."

  "Wow, no formal greeting, you must have been worried. Okay? No. But I am not harmed. I wanted to let you know I got the contract and I'll start working on it today. And yeah, I slept pretty hard last night. It qualified as a very long day."

  "I bet. Okay. Just call me if you need anything, seriously, anything."

  "Sure. Thanks, Alicia."

  He dealt with stuff that couldn't wait, paying bills, suspended a few subscriptions, and starting laundry. Clothes didn't clean themselves.

  When all the chores were completed, he poured a tumbler full of rye, made himself a pile of food. Sitting down he took out the contract going over it line by line while he ate.

  The rye level in the glass went down a little, but he inhaled the food. Sighing a bit in relief, he refocused on going through every page of the contract. Perc had been smart when he signed it and actually read it, but so much qualified as boiler plate that you just skimmed. Now that boilerplate mattered.

  It took two hours of going through every line, analyzing the implications, and thinking through ramifications before he found it.

  "Yes!" His voice rang out in the empty house and he got up to refill his glass while he thought about it. The clause was listed as 'Integrity of the Game'. The section of the contract boiled down to the player understood that his behavior could be considered detrimental to the game, including things like gambling or the use of drugs. But the important part of the clause was this '… suspended only after giving the Player the opportunity for an optional hearing, at which the Player may be represented by counsel of the Player's choice…' could he be suspended or fined. Which none of them had gotten. And the hearing was optional for the player to accept, NOT for the player to be offered the hearing. Grammar could make or break anything.

  Perc stood in his kitchen, the tumbler of rye in his hand as he looked out the window and thought. One of the advantages of being the son of an accountant is he'd never fallen into the extravagant spending some of his teammates had. Instead he'd saved, invested, and lived off of less than twenty-five percent of his yearly salary. He suspected if he pushed this, he'd not only have his contract canceled, but he'd be blacklisted and never play again.

  Is it worth it to you? To lose your dream? You still have probably five more years if you don't get injured.

  He looked at his house, fully paid for, just like all his other possessions except for his car which was leased. Then the image of Rick's body still sharp and painful flooded his mind.

  And none of it matters. This isn't the same as killing, but it is discrimination, and someone is manipulating this. I'm just not sure why yet, but if I don't say anything, what happens when they declare us a risk to others? Would they be able to lock us away from everyone for the safety of others? I have to say something now.

  Mind made up, picked up the phone to call his dad. He had some arrangements to make, and parents to reassure. By now they would have heard about everything, and his mother was probably packing to come down here. Which while he loved her, he really didn't need her here, fussing over him.

  The phone call to his parents took two hours. Involved logging onto multiple websites, updating some investments, and convincing his mother he hadn't been hurt. Fine wasn't accurate, but healthy and whole was, and he got her to settle for that. His dad assured him she'd be okay, but the news had made it out like he'd been hurt, so she'd been worried. What did you expect as an only child?

  Smiling and feeling warmed by the love from his parents, but glad they weren't coming down, he hung up and looked at everything he'd verified. Now, if worse came to worse, he'd walk away okay financially.

  The next steps took two hours and most of his rye, but by the time he completed his research he had a comprehensive list of all shifter sports players, both US and International, as well as a large number of Olympians. The volume surprised him. All the reports had stated about two percent of everyone changed, and even with the people still coming it, it didn't change much. But his numbers were huge.

  Perc wondered if the rye had affected his ability to think, but no matter how he looked at it the numbers didn't change. If he looked across all sports, even those not being affected, like golfers, tennis, and soccer players, the ratio looked to be closer to thirty percent.

  Huh, that I didn't expect, but it gives me more ammo. It also implies this virus or whatever went after a certain subset of people. And I notice more than a few of the top athletes in the world, but not all of them. I'd love to know if there was some logic to this.

  He kept adding people to his list, crafted a few more emails, and saved everything in his draft file. Reaching for the phone to call Alicia, he paused, blinking at the time. The clock showed past midnight, and he wasn't sure what day it was. With a shake of his head he headed to bed, passing out as soon as he lay down.

  "Commander, come in." He said the words out loud, yet he couldn't hear them, but they echoed in his mind. "Commander, report. We need orders."

  He waited, but the commander didn't answer. Glancing around at the strange city, arches and shapes he'd never seen before surrounded them. Movement caught his eye and his head turned to the left to see a female form, but in the strange wolfman form he'd been in before, next to him. Her form almost that of a cat, covered in short black fur with emerald green eyes. On his other side lay a male form, bear if he had to guess, brown fur and dangerous looking.

  Perc wanted to speak, to say something, but no words would come.

  [Commander is currently offline. All connections have not been restored. Please hold.]

  The words seemed to mean something as his body settled in, the weapon held tight to his chest as he looked out at the alien world.

  Perc jerked awake, staring wildly at the walls, his normal, boring, ordinary walls. No alien architecture or strange beings next to him.

  What the hell was that?

  Looking around, he didn't see anything or sense anything out of the ordinary.

  Who is the Commander?

  He didn't have an answer, but something deep inside felt like a puzzle piece had almost been inserted correctly. But not quite, not yet.

  Heart racing, body damp with sweat, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep immediately. Pushing off the covers he went down to the pool and started doing laps. Letting the mindless physical exercise wash away the confusion and remnants of a too real dream.

  It was just a dream, it didn't mean anything.

  So why didn't he believe himself?

  Dominos

  Information about the virus that enables shifting is still growing. At this point no success at infecting an animal has worked. Scientists say when the virus is introduced into any animal, it just goes inert doing nothing. What is really strange is that even when using human blood, the virus doesn't react. Even with the blood of a shifter. If you used a flu virus or something similar, it always reacts with blood cells trying to spread itself. This virus doesn't. Expect more research on this strange new virus. ~ TNN Science correspondent

  "Perc Alexander."

  "Mr. Alexander, this is Commissioner Geoff Adams. You left a message you were suing for breach of contract and ADA violations? You do realize I do not take kindly to threats or blackmail." His voice had that clipped vowel sound from the depths of East Coast upper crust, and Perc had to fight a sudden urge to adopt a Jeeves accent just to tweak him.

  Stay professional, something else is going on here.

  "I don't blame you. I dislike being threatened or blackmailed as well."

  "Excellent, then you will be waiting until we have finished our investigation. Good -"

  P
erc cut him off. "No, I am pressing charges. I will be calling a press conference here shortly. I was however going to let Rimero know that I was suing for breach of contract prior to that. Professional courtesy."

  The voice on the other end got harsh and a bit of the clipped vowel dropped making Perc tilt his head eyes narrowing.

  "I thought we had an agreement. We'll let you know when we've decided what the official stance is, and you won't waste our times with threats."

  "I'm not threatening. I am telling you what I am doing. If there is not a meeting between the NFL and the owner and manager of the Hawks, I am suing, and I will let the press know I am suing and exactly why. You breached my contract by not allowing me to take a medical test to prove any risk so that is your choice."

  "We didn't breach any contract, boy."

  Perc rolled his eyes at the attitude, mentally building a picture of a man about five-five, over weight with a cigar in his mouth and black hair slicked back from him face.

  "Section 15 titled Integrity of the Game guarantees I can only be suspended after a hearing between myself, the NFL, my lawyer and owners. I haven't had that. Therefore, you are in breach of contract and I have grounds to sue. And since that little clause looks like standard boilerplate, I'd be surprised if most of the players didn't have the same clause in their contracts."

  "Hold," there was shuffling in the background, and Perc suspected the man had just dropped the phone on the desk and nothing more. In the background he heard a muttered word though not clearly enough to figure out which explicative. "What do you want?" the growl echoed over the phone.

  "A medical hearing, only what I'm entitled to with my contract."

  "Fine, in two weeks."

  "No. Tomorrow. You illegally suspended me almost five days ago without any request for medical tests to verify any issues. I am way beyond due process. I will meet with my lawyer at the Hawks office tomorrow, or I continue my planned course of action."

  Rapid typing on the other end, then Geoff. "Fine, two-thirty at Hawks office." The line disconnected, and Perc resisted the desire to start laughing. Instead he called Laura.

  "Perc, you doing okay? I assume, since this time I knew who was calling that you got your phone back?" Laura's friendly voice relieved some of the stress talking to the NFL had created.

  "Yeah. The crime stuff I'm leaving to the cops. I'm hoping it is a straight forward money-making scheme. Brutal and gory, but at the same level as the slave or sex trade. Heck, probably less work for them because they didn't need to keep their victims alive. Nah, I'm about to throw down with the big dogs and hoped I could hire you."

  "Big dogs? Perc what are you about to do?" Rather than worried Laura had an element of excitement in her voice, and he could almost imagine that vulpine smile spreading across her face.

  She would've made an excellent fox.

  "Meet with the NFL and Hawks about my illegal suspension for medical review with no medical tests being requested or done, and if they force it I'm starting a class action lawsuit."

  "Ooh, I haven't done one of those in years. Who would be part of this lawsuit?"

  "About thirty-three percent of all NFL players, so figure five hundred plus players. Assuming there isn't a way to sue multiple organizations at the same time. I've never gotten that far into contract law and class action lawsuits."

  "Such as?"

  "MLB, NHL, NBA, and a few others."

  "And if we included those what would the number jump to?" He could hear typing in the background and at some point in the conversation she'd put him on speaker phone.

  "Umm…," he pulled up his numbers and looked. "Maybe about twelve hundred if all of them were suspended. At this point I'd be guessing. I only know of about thirty or so for sure.

  "Oh, this sounds like fun. I've been bored anyhow. Yes, you may hire me."

  The conversation devolved into rates and times, and he cringed when they finished. "At this rate I'm going to need to pass the bar and go back to work just to afford you." He mock groused as he made some notes.

  "Oh, deal with it. If we actually sue with a class action that I feel has a good chance to succeed, I'll waive my fees and just take a percentage of the award. That way you won't be bearing the full burden of the cost. I'll see you tomorrow. I want to meet with you first, so expect me at noon and then we can head up to the meeting together."

  "Will do, and thanks, Laura."

  "Nah. Thank you. This at least will be fun."

  Perc hung up and went back to crafting his emails and making sure everything sat on his phone now for a single touch send. He sighed. "I hope they appreciate what I'm doing for them." With a deep breath he pulled up Twitter and started to create a series of tweets, all buffered under various campaigns and options. He could think of three possible scenarios from this meeting.

  They recant all suspensions and life went back to normal.

  Should it bug me that I don't want them to pick that one? That I want this to make a difference?

  He pushed the thought away and kept working through their options.

  They agreed to let him and a few other key players back, but everyone that wasn't a sheer money maker would still be suspended pending the ruling.

  I'll hate them doing this one, but it depends on who is manipulating them and how badly they want us vulnerable. This will lose me my big guns, but I'll play up the sympathy aspect, that they only let back in the ones who make them the most money.

  Third option. They stand their ground force a confrontation.

  I really think they expect me to back down to cave because they'll threaten me and point out what I'm doing. This suspension might not be much more than another few days. That everything will be fine if I'm patient.

  Perc leaned back, mind racing. What if he was wrong, and there was a valid reason for this, and they had a valid fear?

  Then I go with option four. I do nothing walk out and act like an adult.

  It felt wrong, but he knew there might be something he didn't know. And wouldn't know until tomorrow.

  10

  Showdown

  Hope is slowly dying as we enter day nine with no information as to the location of the missing kids. At this point everyone is expecting the worst. As a mother I just want to say, I don't care if my child turns into a rat, this is my child and having him taken from me would be a fate worse than death. If they ever find who did it, I hope his death is slow and painful. ~ Editorial in Sacramento Wasp

  Perc and Laura showed up for their meeting on time, both dressed in suits carrying briefcases, and his phone in his pocket. Walking into office he felt the resentment, but what he found most interesting was Rimero refusing to meet his eyes, while the owner, Christopher Tamedia, just looked annoyed. Then he focused on the third man in the room who had to be Geoff Adams who looked like he would love to kill Perc with his own two hands.

  Christopher started the conversation, the smile on his face fake as his tan.

  "Mr. Alexander. I do regret the confusion involved in this and hope you understand our discomfort at your threats?"

  Laura had agreed to let him speak unless he really messed up, partially to give him experience, but also because he wanted to play with them and make them think his ego ruled.

  "Threats? All I see is that you suspended me without a hearing or medical tests. Along with a spurious reason to suspend me. I'd like to know exactly why I've been suspended. I'm a good player and this makes me look bad. You're ruining my chances for some decent endorsements. And then there is the fact that no one at the NFL Players Association has said a thing. Why aren't they down here throwing a fit for me?"

  Laura told me to couch everything in terms of me, make them think I only care about myself.

  The men glanced at each other at the last part. Geoff Adams shook his head the tiniest bit, and the other two subsided. The subtle relaxation of Geoff told him that had been the correct move, but he waited.

  How the hell did they get to the NFLPA? What co
uld they possibly have over the president to get him to hold his tongue right now?

  "Ah, see that is where you misunderstood. You aren't suspended per se, simply your contract is being put on hold while we finish some investigations to make sure shifters and other players will not be inadvertently harmed. I completely understand how it might look to you, not being familiar with contracts and such."

  Rimero shot him a look his eyes widening slightly, and Perc realized that Christopher had no idea of his background. Fighting back the chuckle took effort, and he disguised it by rubbing his nose. Unfortunately looking away made his eyes fall on Laura and he almost choked again. In the room of men, they'd dismissed her almost immediately, and she stood over at windows that looked out at the field, looking vacant.

  Laura Granger stood about five-two in heels, weighed under a hundred pounds, with short red hair, porcelain skin, and wide baby blue eyes. Most people looked at her and thought sex doll and/or space case. With perfect make up, and her color coordinated outfit of Kelly green and ivory, she looked like an accessory. She also had a JD from Harvard and a PHD from Cornell and had forced laws to be rewritten because of her cases. Her win rate rose above ninety percent, and right now she looked like a woman with no active brain cells, even if she pushed fifty.

  Perc pulled his eyes away and looked back at the men. Rimero had closed his eyes but didn't speak.

  "You see, Mr. Alexander, this is all just a big misunderstanding."

  "Odd. So why would you suspend me, Jermaine, Rick, Brian, and at least twenty more people I've spoken to? I mean I know I'm good. But Jermaine isn't bad. If you thought we were sick, we should have been asked to give blood or something." He even tried to make himself sound a bit dense, but he didn't have much experience at it.