Kara threaded her way through the early morning commuters, dodging kids, and avoiding the hard-faced men that made up the life blood of the city. She had made the decision to seek help last night and there was only one person that she could turn to now- Mycroft Heron, aka Pig-Pen.

The long train ride gave Kara time to weigh disgust versus necessity. She regretted ever entering his place. Pig-Pen was a slob who had never done a day of real work in his life if he could avoid it- and his house had epitomized that fact. Four full bags of trash had sat next to the front door with another half-full one sagging nearby. The dishes in his kitchen had fused together, connected by a hard, amber slime. The bathroom was worse- better not to remember that at all. Used tissues made a corona around his bed, while another batch grew like a garden around his computer. The smell of each room offered different combinations of rotting garbage and cat urine.

Yesterday her problems had gotten big enough to warrant a second trip.