Alphonse Norwich IV took a deep breath. He didn't like this whole "flying" business. It wasn't natural, being that far up in the air with nothing but the pilot's word that the whole thing wasn't about to drop straight down. As tense as that made him, though, what really got to Alfie was being in that little seat, crammed shoulder to shoulder with all those non-rats. The stink of a perfume cloud on the cat in front of him, the way the fat bulldog beside him snored, that smug ponce of a chipmunk who kept trying to stop him from having another drink. Alcohol was the only way he would make it through the fifteen hour flight without killing someone.

The day before hadn't gone at all like the rat had planned. He'd convinced himself that he was set to call all the shots, but quickly found himself carted from place to place, being told what to wear, what to say, how to act. In Alfie's mind, the exhibition game should have been all he needed to prove he was ready for the big time, so why had Murina insisted on that god damn photo shoot?

As soon as she told him the plan for the second half of their day, Alphonse didn't mince words.

"Th' fuck we gotta do all 'at for?"

"All what?" Murina responded, an edge to her voice. "Clean you up for once and get some photos taken that aren't from high school?"

"What? Like 'ey don't know what I look like? I showed 'em I can play!" Alfie complained, his big arms crossed. It was an almost comical sight, the large brown rat hunched in Muri's sedan and sulking like a schoolpup.

"Consider this your first step into the big leagues. You'll be doing a lot of this if you get drafted."

Her words had stuck in his head for the remainder of the ride. A lot of this. He'd flown in believing that being a professional basketball player meant playing basketball and little else. That morning he strode out of the elevator feeling like the world was his for the taking. Between contracts and photo shoots and being ordered around, Alphonse wasn't liking what the "big leagues" were promising to have in store for him.

By the time they arrived at Ricardo's, Alphonse's mood had dropped and he had no qualms with sharing it with anyone within earshot. The moment they walked into the posh urban boutique, he made sure to point out his distaste for the "peakie's asshole" appearance, and argued relentlessly with Murina about the clothing she'd picked out. The simple outfit wasn't objectionable in and of itself, but Alfie wasn't fighting over style, he was resisting the whole notion that in order to make it in the pros he had to have people telling him where to go and what to wear. A painful forty five minutes later and Alphonse was proven crashingly wrong, as the pair of rats exited the store, one reluctantly wearing a new outfit, and the other holding the old in a tied-off bag at arm's length.

"There. Doesn't it feel better to get out of those rags?" Muri asked, hoping for at least a glimmer of good mood. Silence followed. The fact that her client didn't immediately shoot back with some kind of insult or slur was somehow more disheartening than if he had.

The cleanup hadn't fared any better. Against his protests, Murina dragged Alphonse to a salon for a makeover of sorts. It took some doing to assure the Alley rat that her intention wasn't to restyle him completely so much as spruce him up a little for the camera, but Muri finally convinced him that he would exit the ordeal just as much Alfie as when he entered. An incredibly chipper bird seemed to find an entertaining challenge in taming the rat's mohawk, which culminated in him asking in exasperation if it was held up with glue. Upon hearing that it was, the avian laughed and boasted that he would make a new rat out of Alphonse. It took another ten minutes to calm him down after that, as well as a new stylist and a rather hefty tip to make up for Alfie having sent the last one off in tears.

When Murina brought him into the studio, Alfie certainly didn't look like his normal self. Between the clean slacks, the soft polo shirt, and having his hair down, he could almost have passed for just any other player Muri had brought in over the past few years. At least, if it weren't for how absolutely impossible it was to make him pose for a simple picture. The uptight okapi behind the camera had to deal with attempts at coming up with a new epithet for a species the rat had never seen before, not to mention constant fidgeting and picking at the clothing he'd been made to wear.

After an hour, the exasperated photographer had enough. He stood up, hands on his hips, glaring at the rat.

"Look, if you want your picture, the one you're sending out to FBA teams to represent you and market you as a player, to be in that ratty vest and old jeans, then by ALL MEANS go ah-"

His sarcasm was obviously lost on the Alley rat. "Fuckin' 'ELL, I was waitin' f'r you to say that!" he barked angrily, ripping open the plastic bag Muri had tossed in a corner to retrieve his garments.

Alphonse changed immediately, not bothering to find a place to do so privately. As much as Murina hated to admit it, he did look more natural in his punker outfit. He was more relaxed, moved naturally, and even managed a few non-abusive comments toward the okapi, albeit mostly self-aggrandizing ones about how much better he looked this way and how he'd played against the Harvaardwak students. His boasting was barely less obnoxious than his insults, but at least they put a smile on his face, and the end result was a series of pictures that were usable, if not especially professional looking. As was becoming the pattern, Murina decided what she had would have to do in lieu of what she'd wanted. At least they'd be an honest representation.

Tempers were high in Murina's Audi on the way back to Alphonse's hotel. Neither spoke at first, until finally Murina broke the silence.

"Alfie, do you even WANT to be a pro athlete?"

He snorted. "Fuck's 'at supposed ta mean?"

Muri sighed. "You've made this as difficult as you possibly could. From square one, it's like you're just TRYING to make yourself unappealing."

Alphonse glared. "Maybe I don't appreciate bein' ordered around like... like some kinda show dog on a leash!" He took a breath. "YOU came for ME, I didn't call you up!"

That set Murina off, and the remainder of the drive was spent with the two rats nearly screaming at one another. It was an argument that went nowhere, and by the time it was over they were at the hotel, both of them exhausted and sitting in the parked car outside the front entrance.

"Alfie..." Murina said, laying back against the headrest. "This isn't about making you be this or that, it's about convincing the league that you deserve to be drafted. This is it. You're here, you're making your impression. What do you now affects the rest of your life. If you don't shape up... you'll have a one-way trip back to Liverpool on draft night and a lot of explaining to do back home."

Alphonse said nothing at first, instead looking down at his knees, his face tight and serious. Muri was ready for another salvo, but one didn't come. Instead, the Alley rat rubbed at his muzzle and looked back at her.

"You're tellin' me I gotta play nice wit' all those shits or I'm out," he said, more a statement than a question. Muri nodded. He grunted, fingers going through his shampooed and un-spiked hair. "An' if I do, an' I get drafted, is it gonna be more o'... all 'at shit?" he asked, referring to the day's "activities".

Muri shrugged. "You'll have to have pictures taken now and again and the occasional publicity spot, but most of your time will be spent playing, practicing, and partying. Long as you watch that mouth of yours there shouldn't be any trouble. That means you can't go and call your coach a nonnie cunt."

A grin spread on Alfie's face. "But what if 'e IS a nonnie cunt?"

Despite herself, Murina laughed. "Then you just keep that to yourself." The two of them smiled tiredly at each other, a moment passing. "Well, you should get some sleep, you have an early flight in the morning."

Alphonse climbed out of the car, looking back in before he left. "Aw, y'sure you don't wanna come 'n tuck me in, eh?"

"Ah, no. Go on."

Arriving in his room, Alphonse sat on the edge of his bed, stripping down and kicking his clothes off to the side. He walked back over to the mirror, looking as nude body, the scars pock-marking his flesh and the handful of tattoos, the brands on the backs of his legs. He grunted, figuring he might as well take one shower before he headed home. It had been quite a few days since his last.

He stood outside the sliding glass door, reaching in and turning the knob. He had a method down. Turn it, hit the faucet a few times to get the water to come flowing out, wait for it to turn clear and then worry about the temperature. To his surprise, the instant he turned the handle the water came spraying out, without a hint of rust in it. He watched it, brow furrowed, and then reached in. It was hot, incredibly so, and it made him gasp and punch the wall angrily, as though the water had intentionally hurt him. Back home, the water came out freezing and it was a gamble if it would warm up enough to be able to get through a quick shower before the heater gave out and someone had to go tinker with it. On top of it all, the water actually shot out of the shower head, instead of just "falling" out.

Alphonse stepped in, let the water wash over him, and just stood there a few moments. He noticed the shower head had symbols written on it, and so he reached up to fiddle with it. Suddenly it turned, and the water came out not in a steady spray, but in hard spurts, jolting the rat and nearly making him lose his footing. Another turn and the water came out in a single stream like a garden hose. On and on he cycled through the settings, and before he knew it, Alphonse found himself laughing. He didn't know why, but each time the water came out differently he laughed that much harder, and he continued to play with it for nearly half an hour. He turned the water as hot as it went and made the room steam up, then made it freezing cold and sprayed himself in the face. Although he never really "showered", he did exit the bathroom cleaner than when he'd entered.

Unlike the previous night, sleep came easily, with Alphonse nodding off nearly the instant he hit the mattress. The next morning went by in a blur. He was woken up by a ring to his room that Murina was waiting for him and to hurry up, and so Alfie threw his meager possessions together and sped out the door. A quick drive to the airport and a hug-free goodbye and Alphonse Norwich IV was on a flight home. As he drifted over the Atlantic, and Alphonse soaked his mind in alcohol to ease the stress, he thought over the previous two days and what they meant for his future. The half-drunk Alfie didn't like where his head was taking him, so he got a few extra bottles. Eventually, the fully-drunk Alfie slept for the remainder of the flight.

After they landed, the jet-lagged rat called home to get a ride back. Philip arrived at the airport a half hour later, after complaining about being woken up at 6:30 in the morning, and surprised Alphonse by bringing their fifteen year old brother Nicholas along, who was sporting a new look.

"Oi, Nicky! Lookit you!" Alphonse laughed, hugging his little brother and admiring the mohawk atop his head. "I go away for two days an' you come up 'n take my place, eh?"

Nicky grinned back. "Somebody's got to! Where's yours?" he asked, pointing at the older rat's tamed scalp.

Alfie snickered, running a big hand over his head. "Ah, had t' look good f' the nonnies, eh? Put on a nice face an' show 'em it's time t' get a real rat in th' league."

The three of them climbed into Philip's old car, the eldest Norwich brother regaling his younger siblings with tales of his time in the States. Naturally, he exaggerated his victories and swept his losses under the rug. Most significantly, he left out any times when he interacted with other species civilly. As he told it, Alphonse Norwich IV stomped his way through Boston, telling off everyone who looked at him cross, beat a Yankee team single-pawed, and made them take his picture in HIS clothing because he'd be BUGGERED if he'd put on some pennyskin just 'cause he was told to.

Alphonse's boasting trailed off as the beat up four-door made its way deeper into Toxteth, crossing the invisible border into Rat Alley. His two days in the United States had highlighted just how far his home had fallen. His eyes went over the abandoned homes and streets in disrepair, ghosts of what had been a much more bustling community even in his youth. Outside the Alley walls, broken windows were repaired, the lights always worked, the water was crystal clear and the sidewalks weren't cracked and uneven. It made him sick to his stomach, that his home should be forgotten while everyone else's was given the royal treatment.

"Oi! Alfie!" Nicky piped up, bringing him back to the present. "You all right?"

"Whu? Yeh, I'm fine," he said back, teasing his younger brother by pretending to reach for his mohawk to ruffle it.

"Alfiiiie! It took forever to get it up!" the teenage rat complained with a laugh.

When the Norwich brothers entered their home, a tidal wave of rats greeted the returning Alphonse. Older siblings hugged, younger ones latched onto his legs and pulled at his arms. Terrence, the 2nd oldest of the family behind Alfie, joked that he thought they weren't going to hear from him again.

"Oh shut it!" seventeen year old Emma chortled, elbowing her older brother in the side. "I'm surprised they didn't kick him right back as soon as he landed!"

The questions began to roll in from the younger ones. "Are you a perfessional basketball player now?" "Did you meet movie stars?" "What happened to your hair?"

Alphonse tried to answer as best as he could, weaving his way through the mass to his mother, seated on their old legless couch.

"Welcome home," she said with a light smile.

"Glad t' be home," Alfie replied, bending down to kiss her on the forehead. "What happened to Colin?" he asked, indicating the small rat nestled up against her. "Thought he'd be the first t' greet me at th' door."

Charlotte chuckled quietly, "When he heard you were coming in the morning, he stayed up all night. Said he didn't want to be asleep when you got home. Poor dear nodded off about an hour ago."

Alfie squatted down and nudged the young rat. "Oi, Colin. Wakey wakey."

Colin's eyes blinked open, slowly focusing. "Eh? Whut... ALFIE!!" he squeaked, nearly leaping off the couch to cling to his big brother.

"Easy 'ere, mate! Don't go bowlin' me ova!" Alphonse snickered, giving Colin a good hug back and holding him up. Then the potential pro baller turned to the rest of the family. "Well then. Think you lot are waitin' for a story, eh? Maybe I tell ya if SOMEONE could get some brekkist cooked up!" he hollered, leaning toward his statement's intended target.

From the kitchen, a voice shouted back. "One more word and I'll fry up your ears with the eggs!" The speaker, twenty year old Olivia, emerged from the kitchen to give her brother a hug, as well as a punch in the shoulder.

"Aw, ya know I love ya, Liv, just havin' a bit of a laugh."

Olivia passed out the meal, the basic spread in stark contrast to the excess Alfie had received overseas. No fancy spices and condiments, no ornate presentation, shared silverware. The familiarity of it was tempered with the resentment that this was what his family had to live off of, while back in Boston they all got spoiled on big city dinners and room service. As he sat with his family, eating and laughing over embellished stories about his two days in America, Alphonse's resolve hardened. He'd make it into the FBA, and when he did, things would be different in Rat Alley.