The park itself was an oasis of green in the ferrocrete desert of the sprawl. It was about two city blocks in size, enough space for a couple of little copses of trees, some greensward, and even a fish pond. The landscaping had been part of the spate of urban renewal that had swept the city a few years back. Obviously designed by someone who didn't know the ugly realities of the sprawl, the intention had apparently been to create a place for kids to play, lovers to stroll, all that kind of drek. But it wasn't the kids and lovers who moved into the park. It was the squatters, the gangers, the drug and chip dealers, the chippies, the street apes, and the gutterpunks. And that fragging fish pond—within months, Seattle ’s hard rain had made the water so acidic that all the fish kicked off. These days Falcon would have feared dipping even a finger into the pond, afraid all he’d pull back would be bone.