Kraft sat listlessly on a bench on the shelter's second floor, while Angela and Arale played rock-paper-scissors. Whoever won got to take a brush and paint a design on a face...
Kraft's face.
...Oh well. It was better than Arale accidentally demolishing the place.
It wasn't the first time, anyway.
So Kraft continued sitting idly on the bench, reading Wang Mian's messages on the parallel-universe forum.
The Assassin Brotherhood in his world was now up and running, but Frank, who had fought alongside Wang Mian all this time, hadn't joined. His beliefs still differed from the Assassin's Creed.
Meanwhile, thanks to its band of ninjas who weren't afraid to die, the Hand had actually become quite popular in Hell's Kitchen. Recently, it seemed to be planning something big, sending large numbers of its people to New York.
To keep the Assassin Brotherhood from causing trouble for them, the Hand had made sure those people entered through legitimate channels with completely clean identities. They had come to New York as employees of several Japanese companies.
If the nano-earpieces Kraft had left behind hadn't been so effective, Wang Mian wouldn't even have discovered their connection to the Hand.
By the time Kraft finished reading the rambling diary entries Wang Mian had posted on the forum, more than ten minutes had passed. His face and arms were already covered in densely packed, childish drawings, but Aunt May still hadn't come out of Martin Lee's office.
Of course, there hadn't been any loud noises from inside, either. Otherwise, Kraft would have charged in long ago.
Apparently, this world's Mr. Negative still retained some measure of humanity.
Kraft had originally intended to accompany Aunt May to see Martin Lee, but she had insisted on speaking to this world's Dad Martin alone first, leaving Kraft with