“Science, Science, La La La…”

Dr. Myasey hummed to himself as he followed Spats through the rooftop entrance atop the Colombo Mafia HQ. He did his best to drive the Needle from his mind. Humming helped. So did thinking about the formulas he was developing for the new experiment. The thought of the fun he would have with his lab assistants later tonight helped most of all.

Spats nodded to one of the guards who stood at attention by the door to his office. The guard opened the door and Spats swept in with the authority of a king. Dr. Myasey followed close behind, not noticing the disdainful glance the guard leveled on him.

“Hm,” Spats said.

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Myasey asked, not particularly interested in hearing the answer. Whatever Spats wanted to talk about, he was just hoping it didn’t keep him out of the lab for much longer.

“Nothin’. Just thought Babydoll would be waiting for me. Hm.” Spats frowned. Fickle bitch. He’d have to teach her a lesson.

The Don shed his coat and tossed it over the arm of his throne before sitting down. He nodded to a nearby chair for the Doctor to sit as well.

“So The Clothiers hired your artist,” Dr. Myasey prompted.

“Yeah,” Spats said. His eyes glinted. “It’s just a matter of time now. In a few days, or - hell, I don’t wanna be too greedy, Doc – a few weeks, maybe, Blue’s gonna bring me a very special present. Which I will then hand over to you, and then…”

“Then, we unlock the secrets of The Clothiers,” Dr. Myasey nodded.

They had spoken about this before. Many times. So many times that he had sometimes questioned the Don’s state of mind. Over their years of working together, Dr. Myasey had known James “Spats” Colombo to be a ruthless man, but also a level-headed one. But this… This new project? It had become Spats’ obsession. Ever since he had gotten his hands on the artist, he had become a different man.

The scientist’s fingers tapped the arm of his chair. You’re slipping, Don Colombo. This heist better pay off the way you want too, La La, or I’ll turn my brilliance in another direction. Enjoy the sun while it lasts, Spats. If you’re not careful, the daylight will pass you by!

“You’re sure the artist can pull it off?” Dr. Myasey asked.

“No question. Blue will get it done. I’m… a good motivator.” The Don said with a sinister smile. Then he leaned forward on his elbow, looking Dr. Myasey in the eyes. “So? How close are we, Doc?”

Here it was. The question Dr. Myasey had been waiting for. He stroked his goatee, his glasses flashing. A self-satisfied smile spread across his face. Ah! The grand reveal! Oh, Science! La, La!

Dr. Myasey reached into the inner pocket of his lab coat and produced a small, corked vial. The vial was filled with a shimmering liquid whose color defied identification. At first it looked yellow, then it was green, then white, then blue. It was all of these colors at once, and also none of them. Spats’ gaze intensified.

“BEHOLD!” The scientist cried, leaping to his feet and prancing about, holding the vial aloft.

“Did you really do it?” Spats murmured.

“La, La, La! I did, I did indeed! With the help of my delightful pets, I, Dr. Myasey, the world’s greatest scientist, worked a miracle! Within this vial lies my greatest discovery yet: the key to unlocking the secrets of The Clothiers’ power, the lifeblood of the new gods! I call it: The Arkwright!”

DA-DOOM!

The liquid of the Arkwright fizzled and sparked within the vial. Dr. Myasey laughed maniacally.

Spats began to laugh as well. His laugh was rough and quick, the cackling of a murderous hyena. Triumph glowed around him like a mantle. The moment he had longed for was so close that he could almost taste its scent in the air.

“Yes!” Dr. Myasey continued, still holding the vial aloft. “With the power of the Arkwright, I’ll separate the secrets of the Clothiers’ Powerful Fashion Statements from the cloth they hide within, thread by thread! The Clothiers will fall! A new era will rise! Science, Science, La La La!”

“Central City will become Colombo City!” Spats laughed. “And soon enough, there’ll be a new Business King! King James Colombo!”

The two men’s laughter mingled and grew until it seemed it was shaking the very walls.

Then there was a click as the office door opened. A woman stepped in.

It was Babydoll.

Spats’ laughter gave way to a cold smile. This was perfect. This was all perfect. The Arkwright. The artist. And now, this girl, his girl, was approaching his throne. Damn, she looked good. That dress hugged her curves in all the right ways.

And that look in her eyes… me-ow! Fierce. Strong. Those were the eyes that he, Spats, had given her, by the way. And why shouldn’t he feel proud about that? He’d taken a timid broad and molded her into his sexy queen. To everyone else, Babydoll’s will was law. But to Spats? Well, if he said jump, she’d damn well start hopping. No hesitation, and no question, except for maybe, “How high, Spats?”

But wait a minute, now. There was something wrong with this picture, wasn’t there? Fickle bitch. She hadn’t been here waiting for him to get home, had she? Now, that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. Especially when her king was entertaining a guest.

“You’re late,” Spats said.

“I’m-” Babydoll started.

SLAP!

Babydoll’s cheek tingled with pain. She had known this was coming. For an instant, just an instant, a spark of hate flared in her chest, a spark of dignity. She would show James Colombo what happened to the kind of trash who’d slap her. Didn’t he know who she was? She was Babydoll, First Lady of the Colombo Mafia…

Spats’ girl.

What would Piper think if she could see her big sis right now?

The thought of her little sister unexpectedly hurt worst than the sting of Spats’ slap. The memory of watching the cell phone fly over the rooftops flashed through her mind.

“So long, sis.”

The spark fizzled out. The fight left Moxie entirely. She looked Spats in the eye. The underworld king raised his hand again. Babydoll flinched, but the second slap never came. Spats lowered his hand. Babydoll recovered almost instantly.

Spats’ smile broadened. His girl.

“Hey now, Spats! That’s no way to treat your lady!” Dr. Myasey cried. “That’s not alright, La La La!”

“It’s none of your business, Doc,” Spats growled. The threat in his voice was so dire that the scientist’s protests died on his lips.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Babydoll said. She had reached the throne now, and she rested her hip on the chair arm next to Spats. She leaned in close, ran a finger down the mobster’s ear, and whispered, “I just wanted to get freshened up for you.”

Spats had been thinking of giving her another hard slap to teach her a lesson, but… Well, if there was such a thing as a good reason for his girl to let him down, she’d just given it.

He was a gracious king. He’d let this one slide.

Babydoll sensed the danger had passed, and some of the tension released in her shoulders. She looked from Dr. Myasey to Spats. “Have I missed anything important?”

“Ask the egghead,” Spats replied easily.

Dr. Myasey’s eyes flashed for a moment, but he simply adjusted his glasses and turned his smile on Babydoll. “I’ve done it,” he said.

Babydoll tilted her head inquisitively. “Done what?”

The scientist looked at the Arkwright and chuckled. La La La… Time for the encore!

***

what’shappeningohgodwherearetheytakingusgodit’ssohardtobreatheinthisthingsomebodyhelpus

The bag was too hot. Piper couldn’t see a thing. The ropes that bound her dug painfully into her wrists and ankles. But worst of all was the cloth that Monroe had jammed into her mouth and tied around her head. The gag was overwhelming, intolerable. It was already hard to breathe with the bag over her head, but with the gag she felt like she would suffocate at any moment.

A wild beast, Panic, grinned down on her as it pinned her to the ground. Ropes of feral drool hung from its leering, toothy maw. Its eyes were wild with hate.

nononononothiscan’thappenrightnowihavetokeepittogetherholdittogetherpiperyoucandothiscomeon

Another wave of panic slid over her, thick and horrible, like an inescapable flow of black tar. It stuck to her body. It oozed into her ears. Its terrible weight pressed against her chest until she thought her lungs might burst. She tried to scream, but no sound could escape her mouth past the gag. She trembled and writhed, but there was barely any room for her to move on the floor of the car.

helpmehelpmehelpmegodsomebodynicogrampssomebodyhelpmeohgodohgodohgodhelpmeplease

Panic snarled. The sound of its animal fury struck Piper like a physical blow. Tears streamed across her face, but they only made the stuffy interior of the bag even more humid and smothering. Some distant part of her remembered that she had faced this foe before. That she had won before. She knew, deep down, that this was an enemy she knew how to vanquish… Didn’t she? Something about breathing, something about letting it wash over her like a wave, something about just holding on…

Panic’s teeth snapped a hair’s breadth from her face.

Nico…

The sight of him being shoved into the seat next to Gramps, unconscious, blood trickling from his mouth, flashed through Piper’s mind. It was the last thing she had seen before Toothpick shoved a bag over her and Gramps’ heads. It felt like it might be the last thing she would ever see.

Then a kind voice spoke to her out of the darkness.

“C’mon, kid,” said the voice. It was quiet, so quiet she almost couldn’t hear it at all over the sound of her own hard breathing. She recognized that voice, didn’t she?

we’regonnadiethey’regoingtokillusthisisitforusohmygodidon’twanttodiepleasegoddon’tletthemkillus

“You can do this,” the voice growled. Piper felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder reassuringly. “Fight it! We need you, Piper. You’re the only one strong enough to see us through this thing. You can do this!”

Gramps?

Panic sniffed the air. It looked up from Piper, its head turning this way and that, searching for something. Its hair stood on end.

It sensed danger. It was scared.

But her breath wouldn’t slow. Her heart kept hammering. The suffocating feeling wouldn’t let up.

whatthehellareyoutalkingaboutican’tfightthisit’sgotmepinneddowncan’tyouseeitsteethit’sgonnaeatme

She was going to die like this, wasn’t she?

“That’s the special power big sisters are given, Piper. No matter where you are, if you call me, I’ll hear you. Because I’m your big sis, and you’re my little sis. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there…"

Moxie…

“My big sister owes me one. She owes me big.”

A powerful rage started to glow within her. The rage started as a spark, a tiny glow in the coals, but then it started to catch. It was hot. It was ferocious. It was dangerous.

Panic let out a dog-like whine, hesitating in the presence of the rage. Piper could feel its claws retracting, its weight against her body lessening. It was afraid. It wanted to flee.

That brief moment of respite was all that Piper needed.

With a tremendous effort, she threw Panic off of her body. It yipped and growled, a feral wolf-creature stalking the edges of the light cast by her rage. Piper pulled herself to her feet, her determined eyes meeting the wild eyes of the beast.

“Go away,” she said.

Panic let out one last whine. Then the beast fled into the darkness, howling promises of revenge.

The bag didn’t feel quite so suffocating anymore. It was still hot, and the sweat and tears that covered her face made it humid as hell, but at least she could breathe again.

The panic attack had passed. She had won.

She was aware of her surroundings again. She still couldn’t see anything, but she could feel the movement of the car beneath her body. It seemed that they were still airborne. They were on their way to the Colombo Mafia’s headquarters, no doubt.

Moxie’s face appeared in Piper’s mind.

Six years. It’s been six years, Moxie.

A burst of gunfire. A hulking silhouette looming over her. A pair of white spats glowing out of the darkness. A look in Moxie’s eyes that Piper had never seen before; a look of desperation, determination, and desolation.

“Go, dammit! Leave me alone! GET OUT OF HERE!”

What have you been doing? What did you get yourself into? Why did you send me away? Why did you break your promise, Moxie?

They had been so young, that day when everything changed. Piper had been 12. Moxie had been 18. They were surviving well enough by that time. Better than that. They were living, really living, for the first time. Moxie was earning more money than either of them had seen in their lives. Piper was getting good marks in school for the first time. She had to work harder to get them than most of the other kids, but damn it, she got them.

There had just been one unspoken rule that they both abided by. It had just been a fact of life. There was one thing they never talked about. A question that Piper never asked. A question that Moxie never answered.

A birthday cake. A thunderclap. A gunshot. A nightmare…

Piper shook the memories away. She tried to ground herself in this present moment. Her friends needed her help. That’s what Gramps had said.

“We need you, Piper. You’re the only one strong enough to see us through this thing…”

They were kidnapped. Captured by the Colombo Mafia. The same people who had taken her big sister from her six years ago.

Or, maybe… Maybe it was truer to say that the Colombo Mafia was the family Moxie had chosen over Piper?

There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? That thought had haunted her for so many years now that it had become second nature to swat it away like a bothersome fly. But now? Now that she was tied up, lying on the floor of a car that was likely carrying her to her death? Now, somehow, the thought didn’t scare her. It just made sense. It was the simplest explanation. Moxie had gotten tired of her annoying little sister. She had wanted a new family. A real family. Now she had it.

And now, maybe Moxie’s new family was about to kill Piper and her friends.

That’s not going to happen. The thought was firm. Implacable. We’re going to make it through this. We’re going to survive.

Piper gritted her teeth against the gag. Her fists clenched. The rope rubbed painfully against her wrists, but she didn’t care.

Nico…. Gramps…

She was going to save them.

No matter what.

***

The car shuddered as it touched down on the rooftop. Toothpick climbed out and cracked his neck.

“You got ‘em?” Tiny called.

Toothpick looked up. The giant was walking toward him, leaving the rooftop access door open behind him. The tungsten glow from inside cast long shadows on the dark rooftop.

“Yeah, we got ‘em,” Toothpick replied. “Gimme a hand, will ya?”

Tiny just grunted.

Patchwork exited the car without any fuss. That was good, if unsurprising. The old man was experienced enough to know that there was no point in resisting. The unconscious kid – Goober, Patchwork had called him – was simply slung over Tiny’s massive shoulder like a ragdoll. That just left the girl.

Toothpick ripped the bag off Piper’s head. Her orange hair stood out at crazy angles, her cheeks were flushed, and her hat was askew, but she looked otherwise unharmed. She said something to Toothpick that might have been insulting if it wasn’t completely muffled by the gag.

“None of that now,” Toothpick said. He cut the rope from Piper’s ankles and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. “Alright, let’s go-”

SWACK!

Toothpick staggered back; Piper’s kick had caught him completely off guard. The mobster’s face twisted with anger, but Piper was already moving. She spun on her foot and fired off another roundhouse kick at Toothpick.

But this time, he was ready for her.

“Feisty!” Toothpick snarled with a smile. His arm flew out to the side, hand braced like he was leaning against a wall, and caught Piper’s leg.

WHAM!

A spray of gravel flew as Piper slammed into the ground. Her blazer absorbed most of the impact, but Toothpick’s Clothing-enhanced strength dazed her a bit. The heels of Piper’s shoes scraped trailing lines into the gravel as she slid several yards before coming to a stop…

…Right in front of Tiny.

The giant loomed over her like the shadow of a mountain. He looked down on her with the air of a patient kindergarten teacher. “Now that wasn’t very smart, was it?”

Piper’s eyes darted to Gramps. He didn’t return the look, but his head moved almost imperceptibly in a tiny shake.

Not yet.

Piper didn’t like it, but she got the message. Her shoulders slumped. She wouldn’t resist.

Yet.

“That’s more like it,” Tiny said approvingly. “Now be a good girl and come quietly.”

Before Piper could move, her arm screamed with pain as Toothpick’s iron strength lifted her into the air. The gag muffled the cry of pain that tried to escape her. Then she was standing on her feet again, and Toothpick was right in her face. They were almost kissing, their faces were so close. Piper’s eyes sparked with defiance.

“Feisty,” the mobster said again. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna teach you a special lesson. Just for you. We’ll see how feisty you are after that.”

“Toothpick,” Tiny grunted. “Let’s go.”

They all walked toward the rooftop entrance. Gramps was up front, his expression grim. Behind him Toothpick pulled Piper along by her elbow, and last came Tiny, with Nico slung over his shoulder.

They had almost reached the door when Tiny asked, “Where’s Monroe?”

Toothpick blinked. “I don’t know. She was right behind – “

He was interrupted by the rumbling of an approaching motorbike. Toothpick just shrugged at Tiny, then led Piper on through the door. He paid no mind to Patchwork, who was hanging back now. The old man knew better than to try and pull any funny business. Let him get one last look at the city. Whatever.

Had Toothpick paid more attention, he might have noticed the intensity with which Gramps was staring at the approaching motorbike. There was something approaching triumph in the old man’s eyes.

With a roar and a screech, the motorbike descended from the dark sky and touched down on the rooftop. Monroe dismounted, her heavy boots crunching on the gravel.

“What took you so long?” Tiny demanded.

Monroe flounced over, holding an orange bundle in her arms. It was a tabby cat.

“Look, Tiny!” Monroe exclaimed. “Isn’t this kitty the cutest! Just look at the soft fur and the little ears and the adorable little bow tie! Aren’t you the cutest kitty? Aren’t you? Aren’t you!”

“Bow tie?” Tiny said. His expression turned suspicious. “Where’d you get that cat, Monroe?”

“I found her in the alley!” Monroe said happily. “I’m going to name her… Switchblade! Aren’t you the cutest, little Switchblade?! Kawaii!”

“Toss it,” said Tiny.

Unseen by either Tiny or Monroe, Gramps flinched.

“What?!” Monroe cried indignantly. She held the cat even closer. “No way! You just hate cute little kitties!”

“I’m allergic, and that’s besides the point,” Tiny said. “That bow tie could be Clothiers made.”

Moxie’s eyes widened in amazement. “Oh, wow, Switchblade! Do you have special powers, huh? Do you? You little cutie!”

“Don’t be stupid,” the giant grunted. “Business wear doesn’t give power to animals. But it could be bugged or something. Toss it.”

“Are you bugged, lil Switchbladey-wadey?” Moxie crooned. “Are you a little kitty spy?!” Suddenly, her eyes grew even wider and a delighted smile spread across her face. “KITTY SPY! OH MY GOD, KAWAII!”

Tiny rubbed his eyes in resigned irritation. He shifted the burden of Nico on his shoulders. “Whatever. It’s your ass on the line, not mine,” he said dismissively. “C’mon, old timer.”

Tiny ducked through the doorway and began to descend the stairs, gesturing for Gramps to follow him. The old man paused for just a moment before obeying. His eyes darted to those of the tabby cat in Monroe’s arms. Tux mewed and blinked her eyes at Gramps reassuringly, sending Monroe into a fresh wave of exultation.

Gramps smirked a bit as he turned and followed Tiny down the stairs. Maybe, just maybe, they had a chance to survive this after all.

***

Piper’s jaw ached from the gag, and her shoulder was crying out in pain from the way Toothpick was gripping her arm. But none of that mattered right now. She was barely conscious of the pain, in fact. There was a single thought that dominated her mind.

Moxie was here. Somewhere. At any moment, she might run into her big sister for the first time in six years.

Moxie…

Toothpick sniffed. They were approaching a locked door.

“Scanner,” Toothpick said. He tightened his grip on Piper’s arm painfully. “Let’s see how feisty you are after this,” he growled.

The thug who was guarding the door stood. Without a word, the thug opened the door and ushered them into the dark room beyond. Gramps entered as well after a moment, followed by Tiny and Monroe.

“Hey, Toothpick,” the giant said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m just gonna lock this one up ‘till he wakes up, yeah? Or does he need a scan?”

“Nah, he ain’t Dressed,” Toothpick replied airily. “Make sure you lock him up good, though. That one’s got some fight in him.”

“Right. Go easy on her, huh?” Tiny replied, then turned and carried Nico away.

“Sure,” Toothpick said.

What was that about? Oh, Nico… Please be okay… Piper thought, willing the words to reach him in whatever dark dream he was trapped within.

Monroe giggled. “Have fun!” she called to Piper.

Piper turned her head to sneer back at her and felt a jolt of recognition when she saw Tux cradled in Monroe’s arms. The tabby cat mewed adorably as Monroe flounced away. Piper looked at Gramps. She couldn’t be quite sure in the darkness, but it looked as though he was smirking.

“Lights,” Toothpick said.

The thug who had been guarding the door shuffled to the nearby wall and pulled a large lever with a loud SNAP! The lights came on with a loud buzzing sound, so bright they were almost blinding after the darkness.

Whoa… Piper thought.

The room they were now in was enormous. It looked as though rooms on multiple stories had been combined, their ceilings and floors and walls cut away to form one huge makeshift chamber. Wires and pipes were everywhere. They festooned the walls, they hung in tangled bundles from the rafters, they snaked this way and that across the floor. And standing monolithic in the midst of it all was a giant white machine.

The machine stood at least fifteen feet tall. Its white exterior had clearly seen better days. It was scuffed and scraped as though it had been moved multiple times. It was shaped almost like an igloo, with a large round dome in the center and a rounded tunnel at its front that protruded from the dome. A table with a human-shaped indent was set into a track that led into the tunnel. Heavy shackles were roughly bolted into the table, clearly a Colombo addition.

Piper’s shoulder suddenly sang with pain as she was jerked roughly toward the machine by Toothpick. Her heart was pounding. Something about that machine terrified her. Tiny’s words echoed in her mind: Or does he need a scan?

What was this thing? A license scanner? The same sort of scanner that Takashi was trying to acquire to prove that Nico’s shirt was a bootleg?

But there was no way this monstrosity could be the same thing… Piper had seen a Clothiers license sensor before. They were small, meant to be held in your hand. They almost looked like high-tech hair dryers.

“What is that thing?” Gramps asked.

Toothpick chuckled. “License scanner. We, uh… acquired it from The Clothiers a few years back.”

“Never seen one that big.”

“It’s an old model. Been a long, long time since they made ‘em this big. The tech’s come a long way. And I’ve made a few… modifications… of my own.” As he said this last, Toothpick gave Gramps a sinister wink. The old man felt a creeping sense of dread.

The mobster turned to Piper. “Now… let’s see what you’re Wearing, huh?”

“Wait, you’re not going to put Pi- ah, Halfpint in that thing, are you? There’s no need for that!” Gramps said.

“She’s Dressed,” Toothpick said lightly. He was still leading Piper toward the table. The shackles gleamed menacingly at her.

“It’s just her blazer,” Gramps said. “That’s the only Powerful Fashion Statement she’s Dressed in. Just take the damn blazer, you don’t need to put her through that thing!”

Toothpick ignored him. With surprising strength, he lifted Piper and put her on the table. She struggled against his grip, but the power of his business attire made him too strong.

“Hey!” Gramps growled, advancing on them. “I said, it’s just the-”

WHAM!

Toothpick’s fist slammed into Gramps, knocking the old man back on his back. He hit the floor hard.

Gramps! Piper struggled against the shackles, but to no avail.

“You think I trust a damn word you say, Patchwork?” Toothpick said, standing over Gramps. “Cause I don’t, see? You know how many sorry saps have tried to pull that shit before you? No, don’t scan me, all I got is this blazer! And you know how it turns out every time, and I mean every damn time, Patchwork? It’s never just the blazer. We can’t take any chances. Just count yourself lucky you ain’t Dressed.”

Gramps gasped for air. He couldn’t understand why at the moment, but for some reason, deep down, there was something funny about what Toothpick was saying. Then concern for Piper quickly swept the feeling away.

Toothpick turned back toward Piper, leaving Gramps wheezing on the ground. The mobster’s expression was serious, but Piper’s stomach turned as she saw sadistic glee glittering in his eyes.

Without warning, Toothpick reached out and removed the gag. Piper coughed and gagged as the stale taste of the cloth left her mouth. Her tongue felt horribly dry. For some reason, she felt confused. There was something off about this, but she couldn’t place what it was.

A thrill of disgust shuddered down her body as Toothpick leaned in close to her ear. She winced as the tip of the toothpick sticking out of his mouth poked her cheek.

“This’ll teach you to kick me. Have lotsa fun in there,” he whispered.

“Go to hell,” she croaked.

Toothpick just smiled. Then he pressed a button on the side of the dome. The table Piper was shackled to began to move along its track, carrying her into the tunnel that protruded from the dome. Piper’s feeling of trepidation grew. It was quiet inside the tunnel. Cold. Yellow dots of light began to glow from unseen bulbs, casting Piper’s face in a sickly glow.

It’s just a scanning machine, she insisted to herself. Calm down, Piper girl. It’s going to be-

VRRMMM…

The scanning machine began to hum with electric energy. The sound almost reminded Piper of a vacuum cleaner. Clicks and whines rattled off like machine gun fire. Then the tunnel began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. The yellow dots of light turned into streaking yellow lines as the tunnel spun.

Then the pain began.

It started as a tingle against her back. Piper yelped, more in surprise than in pain, but then the tingle intensified into a feeling like needles pricking into her skin and retracting again at lightning speed. Her back spasmed with a will of its own, but the heavy shackles held her firmly in place.

The needle-feeling intensified, slowly, horribly. Now she felt the pinpricks of energy penetrating into her bones, into her organs. It felt like tiny electric bugs were crawling around inside her body. Outside the tunnel, a loud BEEP sounded from somewhere on the machine.

“That’s the blazer scanned!”

Toothpick’s voice. Was he… keeping her updated? Why?

“How’s it feel? Having fun?” The mafioso called. The smile in his voice was impossible to miss.

Ah. So that was why.

In a sudden flash of intuition, Piper understood what had been bothering her before. There was a reason Toothpick had removed the gag. There was a reason his eyes had glittered with such sadistic glee. He wanted to hear her scream.

Well screw you, asshole, Piper thought. I’m not gonna make a sound. I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction.

BEEP. Another article of her clothing had been scanned. Judging from the fresh wave of needles she felt flaring through her legs, the machine was analyzing her pants now.

What had Toothpick said? “It’s an old model. Been a long, long time since they made ‘em this big. The tech’s come a long way. And I’ve made a few… modifications… of my own.”

I’m gonna kick his ass, Piper decided. The thought was grounding, even amusing. Despite the pain, Piper felt her chest shaking with a laugh that couldn’t escape her lips. Yeah. I’m gonna kick your ass. I’m gonna feed you those damn toothpicks and make you swallow them one at a time.

It was a comforting thought. But then another thought flashed through Piper’s mind. A memory. A vision of two little girls holding second-hand cell phones…

Moxie…

The thought of her big sister snuffed the laughter out immediately. Did Moxie know? Did she know that her little sister was a captive of her new family, that her little sister was being tortured by a Colombo Mafia officer right now?

Piper felt sure, in her heart, that Moxie didn’t know. That, if Moxie did know, she would never allow this to happen. But the doubt that twisted in her stomach was more painful than any of the modified scanning machine’s shocks.

BEEP.

Piper closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, and waited for the end.