Gramps’ jaw tightened against the pain that flared in his side. It was getting worse. That bastard really did break my rib, he thought.

The bastard in question was currently returning the silver-striped tie that had once belonged to Leroy to its place within the wardrobe. Spats’ movements were slow, deliberate, calculated. He knew that Patchwork was watching him. He had to remain in control, despite the murderous fury that coursed through his veins.

That bitch. That damn BITCH. I gave her everything. I MADE her. Dammit, Babydoll. You were my girl. Why wasn’t that enough for you, huh? Why not?

A buzzing sound broke his concentration. His hand snapped to his pocket and whipped out his cell phone. It was Toothpick. Good.

“You find her?” Spats growled.

Toothpick’s voice was haggard. “Not… yet, Boss. I went down… for the boy… first.”

“The hell are you calling me for then, idiot?”

“Spats, they’ve escaped.”

Spats blinked. “Who? The boy?”

Toothpick’s heavy breathing puffed static into the phone. “Both of them. The boy… And Green.”

Gramps felt the room’s atmosphere change. It was like the air had turned to ice. The very planet seemed to pause. His eyes drilled into Spats’ back. What’s he saying? Something about Nico? Please be okay, kid.

Spats said nothing. His face was expressionless. Only his eyes betrayed the emotions that whipped and whirled through his chest like the snapping tendrils of a tornado.

Toothpick’s voice was anxious. “Boss?”

“Tell Tiny,” Spats said evenly, and ended the call. He tossed the cell phone aside. It slid across the floor and lightly tapped the wall.

The Don of the Colombo Mafia stared at the abandoned cell phone for a long time. At last, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes cleared. The corners of his lips even turned upward into the ghost of a grin.

“Hey, Patchwork,” he said without turning around.

“What, Spats?”

“You said the girl’s name was Piper, right?”

The question took Gramps completely off-guard. What’s he talking about? Then he realized. That damn tie. Well, I guess there’s no point hiding it anymore. I’m sorry, girlie. I tried.

“Yeah,” the old man said.

Spats nodded slowly. “Piper.” Where did he know that name? Why did it sound so familiar? And why, while he had escaped prisoners on the run and his First Lady turning traitor, did it seem so important? Something was stirring in his memory, something from years ago, but it kept eluding his grasp. It was like trying to grab smoke with his bare hands.

Grimacing with effort, Gramps struggled to his feet. I’ve got to save them. I’ve got to try. “What does it matter, Spats? Listen to me. Don’t hurt them. They’re just kids. This whole mess was my fault. I’m the one responsible. Come on, Spats…. Don Colombo… I’m begging you.”

Spats ignored Gramps’ pleas. Piper, Piper, Piper… Where do I remember you from?

Toothpick’s words echoed in the Don’s mind. “The girl… Babydoll took her. She told one of the boys to take the Doc home, and she took the girl with her…”

“Piper. Babydoll. Piper. Babydoll. …Piper!” Spats whispered. His eyes cleared. The storm within him subsided as suddenly as it had begun. A satisfied smile stretched slowly across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Ain’t life funny sometimes?”

“Spats!” Gramps cried, shuffling forward, clutching his side. “They don’t know anything about making bootlegs. It’s me you want, not them. Just take the shirt and let them—”

“Patchwork. Just shut up, will ya?”

Gramps frowned. Spats’ voice had completely changed. The tension and anger had been replaced with amusement. Does he think something’s funny about this?

Spats, still smiling to himself, finally closed the wardrobe door and turned back toward Gramps. A hellish light danced in the Don’s eyes. He stalked toward Gramps with his hands in his front trouser pockets, the grey patches in his hair seeming to turn white with ghostly malice. “So tell me something, Patchwork. Oh, and I could grab the tie again,” he said pleasantly, “but if you really care so much about those kids, I think you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

What the hell is going on? Gramps wondered. “What is it, Spats? What do you want me to tell you?”

“It’s just a little confirmation’s all.” Don Colombo chuckled darkly. “What’s Piper’s last name?”

Fear stabbed Gramps’ heart. His bones ached with a terror so cold that it felt like he’d fallen naked into a winter ocean. Oh, god, the old man thought. He knows!

The Don read Gramps’ expression. His smile broadened into a leer. He chuckled again, and then the chuckling turned into a terrible laugh. He didn’t need the old man to say a word. The horror in Patchwork’s eyes was confirmation enough.

Spats walked over to the wall next to his throne and punched a code into a keypad concealed behind the throne’s back. There was a loud click, and a hidden compartment door swung open, revealing a weapons safe containing the Don’s personal armory. An array of firearms and attachments were mounted inside. They gleamed with a cold, deadly light. Spats’ eyes darted from one gun to the next, evaluating each option with the fussiness of an enthusiast.

“Guess who called me, Patchwork,” Spats said over his shoulder. “It was Toothpick. Seems like that bootleg shirt of yours really works.” The Don reached out and touched a sawed-off shotgun, then reconsidered. He scratched the stubble on his chin. “The boy’s escaped, and Babydoll’s making a run for it with the girl,” he continued.

Yes! Way to go, Nico! Gramps thought. A ray of hope, slight but warm, began to cut through his aching fear.

“And you know what, Patchwork, at first, I was pretty damn angry,” Spats said. “You can’t blame me. I mean, how would you feel if your girl turned rat? But then, I remembered something.”

Satisfaction twinkled in the gangster’s eye as he finally made his weapon selection. He pulled a tommy gun and a drum magazine down from their mounts and began to load the gun. The weapon made loud clicks and snaps as Spats assembled it. Gramps eyed the tommy gun warily. It was a weapon that had tasted blood before. An aura of death in all its binary absoluteness crept from the tommy gun in sickly sinuous strands.

“What did you remember, Spats?” Gramps asked quietly.

Spats closed the hidden compartment’s door and studied the tommy gun with a cool eye. “I don’t have to do a damn thing, Patchwork. All I gotta do is wait for them, all of them, to come to me. Your bootleg shirt, my traitor bitch of a First Lady, and your dumb ass grandkids. Y’know why, old man?” Spats pointed the tommy gun’s barrel at Gramps like an accusing finger. “Because I’ve got you.”

Gramps’ heart sank. Spats was right. There was no way that Nico and Piper would try to escape without him, no matter how wise it would be to do so. And something gave him the feeling that Babydoll wouldn’t let her little sister face Spats alone, no matter how much baggage there was between them. He didn’t know what he found more frustrating: the fact that he knew those crazy kids would try to come to his rescue, or the fact that, if he was honest with himself, he was pinning his hopes on them doing so.

Spats eased into his throne with a smile. He folded one leg over the chair’s arm and rested the tommy gun’s magazine against it. The spat on his shoe glimmered stark white as his foot swung lazily back and forth. The Don looked like a warlord emperor from an ancient painting. The only thing missing was the cherubic angels crowning him with heaven’s light, and, for the moment, the bodies of his enemies beneath his feet. Gramps shuddered.

“Yes, they’ll all come to me,” Spats mused. He gazed beyond the closed door before him, into a future only he could see. “The brats, the bitch, and your bootleg. And then…” The Don laughed again, louder and wilder this time. He cocked the tommy gun. Suddenly, he turned the gun toward Gramps and fired.

KA-SPOW!

A bullet hit the ground next to the old man’s foot. Gramps jumped, yelping as sharp pain from his broken rib stabbed into his side. The bullet ricocheted off the floor and buried itself into the wall beyond, leaving a small smoking crater in the floorboard next to Gramps’ shoe.

“Then I’m gonna kill ‘em, old man!” Spats shouted. “I’m gonna kill that treacherous bitch, I’m gonna kill your little friends, and then I’m gonna peel that bootleg you made off the boy’s corpse! But I’m gonna leave you alive, Patchwork. Oh, yes. Because I’ve got a special job just for you. From now on, you work for me. You’re gonna make me Powerful Fashion Statements that make me the strongest man alive. Clothes fit for a damn king! Because…”

DA-DOOM!

“I’M GONNA BE THE NEXT BUSINESS KING! WORLD CEO, KING JAMES COLOMBO!” Spats roared, laughing maniacally.

Gramps’ heart pounded. The old man glared at the mafia Don, breathing shallowly so as to not disturb his broken rib. Instinctively, his left hand stole into his pocket and gripped a small, round object between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed it with his thumb in slow circles, the same way he had done countless times before.

It was a small, white button. The same button that the mugger had tried to steal, thinking it was Powerful. The same button that Nico had saved, along with the old man’s life, in that alley. Had that really only been days ago? It felt like a lifetime.

“People treasure weird stuff, kid. You’ll figure that out someday.”

Nico… Piper… Gramps thought. Don’t give up! You have to survive this, no matter what!

***

Dust and wood splinters littered the musky carpet. Spattered blood sprinkled the fractured plaster surrounding a gaping hole in the wall. Through that hole could be seen a trail of destruction that wound through several rooms and halls beyond. More walls had been demolished in seemingly random patterns where the giant had charged through. Bodies were strewn all over. Some of the mobsters were dead, while others lay unconscious or twitching in ruined heaps.

At the end of this war path stood the giant. His breathing came in slow bursts like the snorts of a bull. His head lolled to one side, as though he was in a trance. His suit was bloodstained, his face whitened by plaster dust.

Tiny’s rampage had led him down three stories before he finally came to a stop. He had burst through walls, attacking anything that moved, muttering “Cats… Damn cats…” under his breath like a religious cant.

“Please, boss! No!” The gangsters had screamed. All Tiny heard was the yowling of alley cats. His fists rose and fell, rose and fell. No one who was caught by those fists stayed standing for long, and no one who escaped those fists at first had avoided them for long. The giant was as inevitable as death itself.

It had been years since Tiny had lost control like this. Never before had his rage struck him completely senseless within the Colombo Mafia headquarters, though there had been close calls before. His rampages had caused a few broken arms and legs at most, nothing more. But this time… This time was a bloodbath.

The livid red haze that blurred the giant’s vision was finally starting to fade away. Tiny’s piggish eyes blinked rapidly. With each blink, his eyes looked clearer, lighter, more human. Grimacing with confusion, Tiny looked down at himself. He noted the state of his clothing, and then the blood that covered his fists. “Hm,” he observed.

BZZZZ… BZZZZ… The giant’s phone was ringing. He wiped a hand on his suit jacket. It came away white with plaster dust, but less bloody than it had been. Still, there were red streaks on the phone as he answered it.

“What?” Tiny rumbled. His voice sounded distant, thick, like a sleepwalker’s.

“Tiny, thank god!” Toothpick said. “Listen to me! Green flew the coop. So did that kid you locked up. Spats wants you to catch ‘em both before they get away, you hear me? Catch them and take them to the boss!”

Tiny’s body swayed slightly from side to side. He closed his eyes with meditative serenity. Out of body experience, he thought.

“Tiny! Tiny! You hear me, ya big dumb asshole? C’mon! Answer me!”

Clarity shone in Tiny’s eyes as they opened. He sneered. “I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No, don’t kill them, the boss wants—”

Click.

Many stories below, Toothpick’s ragged breathing caught at the sound of the line disconnecting. “That… asshole…” he panted. He tried calling Tiny again and again, but the giant didn’t answer. “Shit!”

Teeth clenched in fury, Toothpick started up the stairs. He still wasn’t recovered enough to use the Power of his business wear, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Tiny ruin everything. The toothpick in his mouth groaned against the force of his clenched teeth.

Where’d Mongoose go? He wondered. I thought him and his friends was supposed to be guardin’ the prisoners tonight. His eyes narrowed. There was only one way to find out.

“God, I wish we’d gotten those damn elevators fixed,” he spat. Ignoring the burning in his lungs and legs, he picked up the pace and climbed the stairs as quickly as he could.

Far above, Tiny turned around and waded through the scene of the carnage he had wrought. He didn’t even glance at the bodies of dead and unconscious men he passed. That was all in the past. He was a new man now. Bloodlust still glowed in his eyes, but he was no longer in a trance. He was fully in control again, and he felt good.

“Fe fi fo fum,” Tiny chuckled as he began to climb the stairs.

Maybe he’d go crush Blue once he was done with the runaways. In fact, maybe he’d pay Spats a visit, too. That little prick had bossed him around for eight years. Eight years too long. Tiny was sick of his big talk and grand ideas, his obsession with the neon-haired prisoners, his consorting with the horny singing scientist.

Things had been different, once. Back when Tiny and Spats had formed the then-smalltime mafia, their only grand plans had been to take over Central City. They’d succeeded, with Babydoll’s help, six years ago. Things were good for a while. Plenty of money, women, guns. They’d even risen to such prominence that, four years ago, the Five Families had become the Six Families with their inclusion.

But then things had changed. Spats had changed. He’d forgotten why they were in the business of crime in the first place. And Tiny had gone along with him, yes sir. He had been right there, supporting every move Spats made, tolerating the Don’s dismissal of his objections, enjoying the power and prestige of being the right-hand-man of one of the most powerful criminals in the world. But the giant wasn’t content to live in James Colombo’s shadow for the rest of his life.

Yes, maybe it was time to make a change. Maybe it was time for Spats to… retire. Maybe it was time for Tiny, James Colombo’s right-hand man, to step up and take over. All he needed to do was clean house, a job he’d already - if, at first, unintentionally - started. Toothpick would be the next to go. That stick-munching sleaze had it coming. And now that Tiny thought of it, maybe he’d squash Babydoll too. That was, unless she’d agree to be his girl once Spats was… taken care of.

“Fe Fi Fo Fum, ready or not, here I come, Spats.”

The giant’s laughter grew like an avalanche in the mountains. His footfalls made the floor shudder. He treaded on the bodies of gangsters like they were pebbles on his path. Bones crunched beneath his feet.

Tiny’s piggish eyes glittered with glee as he said aloud, “Hey, Spats. Guess what? You’re fired.”

***

Green’s hand tightened painfully on Nico’s shoulder. “What’s happening?” they whispered.

Nico raised a hand for Green to wait. He peered once more around the corner, watching the giant lumber away. His heart hammered in his chest like a runaway bongo drum. That was crazy, he thought. Completely crazy.

Minutes ago, he and Green had been sneaking past a series of open doors, just barely evading the notice of the mobsters inside. They seemed to have reached a major operations center of the Colombo Mafia HQ. The mobsters they passed were using re-purposed office spaces to cut drugs. Most of the drugs were powdery and white, though the men in one room were packaging a blue drug that came in glassy shards. Whether by luck or because of the intense concentration of the gangsters, Nico and Green had managed to slip by unnoticed.

“Shame we can’t nab some for the road,” Green whispered. Then, in response to Nico’s look of surprise, they continued, “Aw, I’m joking! I swear. Lighten up!”

“I just figured you did harder stuff, is all,” said Nico.

Now it was Green’s turn to look surprised, but then Nico winked. “Ah, shut up,” said Green, rolling their eyes.

BOOM. CRASH!

The sound of exploding wood and twisting metal was coming from somewhere far away.

“What was that?” Nico said.

Another CRASHING sound split the air. This time it was closer, and more sounds were joining it.

“Is that… People screaming?” said Green.

“C’mon,” said Nico. “We’ve gotta hide.”

They found cover just in time, darting around a corner and pressing their backs to the wall. Alerted by the violent noises, the men who had been working on the drugs started to rush out of their respective rooms, weapons drawn. If Nico and Green had stayed where they were for a moment longer, they would have been caught.

“Close call,” Nico breathed.

Green nodded fervently. “The hell is going on?”

Footsteps clattered past their hiding place. Nico instinctively held his breath, but the gun-toting mobsters rushed on toward the disturbance without spotting them.

From the distance came more screams, along with gunshots, and the terrible grinding sound of destruction. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. Nico looked around for a better hiding place, but there was none. They would just have to hold on to hope that whatever was coming their way wouldn’t notice them.

Then everything went eerily quiet. The last scream had been cut off abruptly. A heavy sense of foreboding settled over the two escapees.

SMASH!

A wall just thirty feet away from them exploded outward. Two unconscious gangsters flew out through it, covered in blood. A huge shape moved through the clouds of dust and shrapnel that whirled through the air. Debris pattered to the floor. The shape looked like a man. It seemed to look around, then raised a foot and brought it down on one of the gangsters with a sickening, squelching CRUNCH. Nico winced.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” Green hissed. “It’s him! It’s Tiny!”

The dust was clearing. A giant mafioso was standing in the midst of the destruction he had wrought. His face bore a blank staring expression. His hands dripped with blood.

“That’s Tiny?” whispered Nico, awed.

Green nodded. “Like I said, he doesn’t see the irony.”

The giant’s head turned toward them, his pig-like eyes a bloody red. Nico ducked just in time. He and Green pressed themselves against the wall, breathing as quietly as they could.

They had hidden there for a long time before Nico risked another look. When he did, Tiny was talking to someone on the phone, though he was too far away for Nico to hear what he was saying. Then, at long last, the giant moved away, laughing. Long after he disappeared around a corner, his thunderous chuckles echoed back toward them, but it didn’t seem he would be coming back.

Nico and Green breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close,” Green said.

“Too close,” Nico agreed. “So, how much farther, do you think?”

Green wrinkled their nose in thought. “I’m not sure. I thought we only had a couple more stories to go, but I guess I was wrong. But we have to be getting close.” They pointed at a nearby window. “See how high up we are?”

Nico looked, and agreed. Many of the buildings that were visible out the window were now below them. Something in the distance caught his attention. “Hey, look,” he said, walking toward the window.

Green followed hesitantly. “What?”

Nico pointed toward a cluster of many-colored lights far below them. The lights twinkled in the night, their exuberant colorfulness proudly standing out against the skyline. Rising high above most of the other lights, a ring of light slowly turned.

“It’s the festival district!” Nico said. “Well, I know where we are now, at least. We’re on the west side of the city.” He pressed his nose against the window, turning his gaze left. “Far from home,” he murmured.

Green didn’t respond. Their eyes were fixed on the slowly rotating ring of light in the festival district. “The ferris wheel,” they said softly.

Nico glanced toward them. “Yeah. You ever been on it? It’s really fun.”

Green just nodded. They tore themself away from the view. “Let’s go. We gotta hurry.”

“Right,” Nico said.

They crept through the wake of destruction Tiny had left behind, taking care not to tread on the bodies that were strewn about like discarded dolls. Most of the plaster dust had settled now, coating many of the gangsters with an eerie white. Broken fragments of drywall crunched under their feet.

Green clenched and unclenched their gloved fists, taking comfort in the sensation of power that tingled through their fingers. Two-Fingers’ switchblade was tucked in their back pocket, and that, too, was comforting. It felt good to be free. Better than they’d imagined it would. For the first time in three months, Green was feeling hopeful, truly hopeful, about the future. It’ll be easy, they thought. We just get to the top level, find out where Spats is keeping Blue, rescue them, and then get the hell out of here. Easy. Easy-peasy. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. Right. Sure.

Nico’s finger traced the new pinstripe on his right sleeve. He wondered dully if it was becoming a habit. Come on, second stripe, he pleaded. Help me out here. What do you do? He sighed. Piper, Gramps, please be okay.

As they slipped through yet another gaping hole in a wall, Green looked from side to side. “There!” They said, nodding toward a staircase nearby.

Nico nodded. Together, they began to climb. At the top of the first flight, a long-faded sign, dangling to one side from a broken mounting on the staircase wall, read ROOF ACCESS.

“This is it,” Nico breathed. “We’re almost at the top.”

“Where’d he go? Tiny?” Green wondered aloud.

“I don’t know. Hopefully we won’t find out.”

“Yeah. Hopefully,” Green said fervently.

***

“What the hell?” Toothpick gasped.

He stood, frozen and flabbergasted, at the top of the staircase, staring down the hallway to his left. The massive form of Fat Bob lay sprawled on the floor far away, unmoving. Beyond that, at the end of the hallway, a limp, spindly figure hung partly out of the wall. It had to be Mongoose.

Did the kid do that? Just how strong is this bootleg, anyway?!

Toothpick’s breath was returning. He shook his head in disgust at the failure of the guards. You idiots. Playing hooky, were ya?

Whenever they woke up, he’d give them hell. But right now, he had runaways to catch. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking stock of the state of his body. He still didn’t feel strong enough for another Shadow Walk, but he was getting close. By the time he caught up to the prisoners, he should be able to use the Power of his business wear again.

Nico. You mighta been strong enough to take out Mongoose and his pals, but if you think you can take me down that easy, you got another thing comin’, my friend.

He popped a fresh toothpick into his mouth, spitting aside the old one. It was nearly broken in two from clenching his teeth. The little silver case rattled as he closed it. There were only a couple more toothpicks left inside. Rolling his eyes, Toothpick started climbing once more.

***

Blue followed close behind Tux, taking care to move quietly. Their bare feet whispered against the carpet. The whole place seemed strangely empty. In the past, when they had been escorted by Tiny out of their cell, the Colombo Mafia HQ had seemed to burst at the seams with mobsters. But since they had escaped with Tux, they hadn’t seen a single person. Where did they all go? Blue wondered. Are we walking into a trap?

Then they saw a crumpled form slumped against a corner, and the mystery was solved. It seemed Tiny hadn’t just been punching walls.

“Blue! Wait,” said Tux, sniffing the air.

Blue stopped in their tracks, silently thankful for the reprieve. Their left leg was aching where Tiny’s massive hand had grabbed it and squeezed. Nothing was broken, they were pretty sure of that, but it still hurt like hell when they moved it. Doesn’t matter, they thought. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is saving Green.

The tabby cat had led Blue down two stories, following her nose. They soon discovered the beginnings of Tiny’s wake of destruction. Blue shuddered at the sight of the first demolished wall. The giant mobster’s piggish eyes gleamed in their memory. Wherever Tiny was now, they hoped it was far, far away. Spats didn’t scare Blue; the Don just made them burn with anger. But Tiny… Tiny was another matter.

“What is it, Tux?” Blue whispered back at last.

The tabby cat’s tail twitched back and forth as she focused on the scent. It was familiar, yet mingled with unfamiliarity, just as Piper’s scent had been. Still, she was almost certain that she could smell Nico nearby.

“This way,” the cat urged. “Come quickly, Blue. I believe one of my friends is near.”

“Really? Already?”

“Indeed. And it seems he is not alone. There is another scent mingled with his.”

“Maybe your friend can help us find Green. His name is Nico, right?”

“Yes.”

Something clicked in Blue’s brain. “Wait… did you say he’s going to be the Business King?”

“He is.”

Blue felt a bit blindsided by the fact that this particularly odd detail had somehow flown over their head, but supposed that in comparison to a talking cat and the possibility of rescue, it was pretty understandable. Business King, huh? Who is this guy?

Tux sniffed again, moving faster now. “They are close,” she mewed.

Blue broke into a jog to keep up with the tabby cat. For some reason, their leg wasn’t hurting anymore. Come to think of it, they weren’t feeling much of anything, with the sole exception of a huge emotion that was growing in their chest. Adrenaline? Anxiety? They weren’t quite sure, but neither of those seemed correct. And there was another feeling too, wasn’t there? An oddly familiar feeling, a feeling they’d last felt that night at the festival. A yearning pang in their heart that ached and fluttered all at once.

Blue stepped forward into unreality. Every footfall felt like it took an eternity. They could feel every texture, every fiber of the plaster-dusted, mildewed carpet against the soles of their bare feet. The air felt colder than it had before, didn’t it? Surely that must be why goosebumps were rippling down their arms and legs.

“Green.” The word slipped from their lips unbidden. Somehow, Green’s name felt like a dangerous word to speak, like uttering a taboo in a religious temple.

Just ahead, Tux mewed as she turned a corner and passed out of sight. Blue followed slowly. A bead of sweat rolled down the small of their back. They rounded the corner…

And stopped dead in their tracks.

Just ahead of them, another person staggered to a stop as well. The person’s vibrant green hair was messy. Their clothes were dirty, and their arms were caked with blood. A pair of leather gloves covered their hands. Their eyes were wide in an expression of astonishment that Blue belatedly realized was on their own face as well.

Blue stepped forward, propelled forward more by the huge emotion in their chest than by their feet. At first they walked, then they ran. The green-haired person didn’t move. It was as though they were frozen in shock. Blue ran faster, faster, past the cat, past another person they didn’t recognize. Nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. All that mattered was that they reached the green-haired person as quickly as possible. Faster. Faster! Blue ran, only stopping when they stood right in front of the one they loved.

“Green,” Blue whispered, and wrapped their arms tight around Green.

Green returned the embrace slowly, hands trembling. They touched Blue’s back gingerly at first, then fiercely pulled them closer. Before either of them knew it, they were both crying. They pressed their foreheads together. Blue held Green’s face in their hands. Green’s mouth worked, but no words came out. They stared into the sparkling depths of Blue’s teary eyes. Blue stared back.

At last, Green found their voice. “Blue, I-”

But Green never finished their sentence.

Because Blue leaned in and kissed them.

Electric warmth flooded both of their bodies, washing over their chests and flowing down their arms. The sensation of their lips touching one another felt simultaneously blissfully safe and perilously dangerous.

Their hearts raced. Green’s hand lightly touched Blue’s cheek. “Blue… I love you.”

“I love you!” Blue sobbed, kissing Green again and again. “I’m so sorry, Green. I’m so, so sorry!”

Green wrapped their arms around Blue and held them tight. “No, my love. No apologies. Okay? We didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s that bastard. Spats. This is all his fault. But you know what? We’re going to kick Spats’ slimy ass and make him beg for forgiveness.”

Blue nodded. It was all they could do. Suddenly, in the safety of Green’s arms, the reality of it all came crashing down on them. Their legs hurt again, hurt worse than they ever had before. And Blue cried, they cried until they had no more tears left to cry, expelling the misery of the last three months like a poison against the safe haven of Green’s chest and shoulder. Green’s hands held Blue’s head gently, stroking their electric blue hair, which was wet from Green’s own tears as well.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, a wild, awful, blissful eternity, the tears stopped. The outside world slowly came back into focus. Blue felt the carpet fibers against their bare feet again. Green heard the dull hum of air conditioning units running within the ceilings.

They pulled away from one another at last. The two of them stood there for what felt like a very long time. Then Blue held out a hand to Green. For some reason, though their hand looked steady, it felt like it was trembling.

“Right,” said Green. They hesitated for a moment, then took Blue’s hand.

They turned toward the others. Tux and Nico had been holding a whispered conversation during their reunion, and now they looked up. Nico grunted as he stood to his feet from the crouching position he had taken to talk to Tux. He smiled broadly at Blue and Green. The tabby cat pounced up onto his shoulder and purred, wrapping her tail around his neck for stability.

“Nico,” Green said. “…Thanks.”

Nico nodded. “I’m glad you guys are together again.”

“Indeed,” said Tux. “The two of you have a special bond.”

Blue wiped at their eyes, chuckling. “Yeah, I mean, I guess you could say that.”

Green gestured toward Nico. “Blue, this is Nico. He helped bust me out of the cage I was in. Also, he’s apparently gonna be the Business King. So there’s that.”

Blue’s eyes landed on Nico. “Hi, Nico. Thanks for helping Green.”

“Oh, sure,” Nico said. He looked a bit unsure of himself, which for some reason struck Blue as funny. “Green kicked plenty of ass themselves, though.”

“That’s where I got these babies!” said Green, showing off the leather gloves.

At the sight of the dried cuts on Green’s arms, Blue’s eyes widened. “Your arms! Are you okay?”

“Oh, sure,” Green said indifferently. “Didn’t even hurt.”

Tux meowed, sounding a little offended.

“Oh! Right! Sorry, Tux. Uh, Green, this is Tux. She’s the one who busted me out. She’s a talking cat,” said Blue.

Green blinked, staring at Tux more closely now. They took in the silky black bow tie the tabby cat wore around her neck and nodded. “Yeah, Nico told me about you, Tux. Nice to meet you. Thanks for saving Blue.”

The tabby cat mewed in satisfaction. “My pleasure.”

“Okay, so, what now?” Nico asked.

A spark glinted in Blue’s eyes. “Now we save your friends. And we kick Spats’ ass.”

“Yeah,” Green agreed. “There’s no way we’re leaving without helping you guys too. We owe you that much. And I want to get a chance to try these gloves out on that asshole. Oh! And there’s this, too, Blue!” They pulled the switchblade from their back pocket and pressed its button. The blade shot out with a shing.

“Great. You found a knife to play with,” said Blue, watching with mild disapproval as Green twirled the switchblade between their fingers. “Just don’t cut your fingers off, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Green said happily. They tossed the switchblade up and caught it deftly, then retracted it and returned it to their back pocket. “I’m gonna cut up Spats’ dumb spats with this baby.”

Nico whistled in appreciation. “That’s pretty sick.”

“Please don’t encourage them,” Blue groaned.

There was silence for a long moment, then they all broke out laughing. It felt good. So good. For a moment, the world felt right again. For the two lovers, the last three months washed away in that laughter, and there was only here, only now, only Blue and Green together again after so long apart. For Nico, the void had seldom felt farther away.

“Our first objective is to locate the gangster known as Toothpick,” Tux said at last. “The old one is held captive in Don Colombo’s office with the Don himself. However, Piper’s location is still unknown.”

“Can’t you smell her, Tux?” Nico asked.

The tabby cat’s tail twitched against his neck. “Unfortunately not. Or rather, the scent is confused. Piper’s scent is too similar to her sister’s scent for me to tell them apart.”

Nico blinked. “Oh, shit. You’re right. I almost forgot about her sister after everything that happened.”

“An understandable slip,” Tux mewed, “but I assure you, Piper has not forgotten.” She sniffed the air. “The aftermath of the giant’s rampage has confused the scents even further. There is too much dust and blood.”

“Gotcha,” said Nico. “So, why do we need to find Toothpick?”

“The last time I saw Piper, she was about to be tortured by Toothpick. He may know her current whereabouts.”

“Wait, what?” A hot wave of anger surged through Nico’s chest. “Tortured?”

“I fear so. But Piper is strong, Nico. Stronger than you know. She has conquered her own instincts many times before. I think that she is strong enough to endure pain. I could be wrong about her being tortured, as well. I sincerely hope that I am.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. Toothpick. That bastard is going to pay.

“Tux, did you say that Piper has a sister here?” Green asked.

The tabby cat meowed. “Indeed. Her sister’s name is Moxie. From what I have inferred, she seems to be a high-ranking member of the Colombo Mafia.”

“Couldn’t Piper be with her sister?” Nico asked. “You said you couldn’t tell their scents apart, right?”

Tux pondered for a long moment. “It is possible. In that case, it would be wisest to search for where their combined scent is strongest.”

“Babydoll,” Blue blurted out.

Nico glanced at the artist. “What?”

“It’s Babydoll. It has to be,” Blue said. “Your friend’s sister. Babydoll’s the only high-ranking woman I know of in the Colombo Mafia. But if Babydoll is Piper’s big sister, then she’s in big trouble. We’d better hurry. Babydoll is crazy.”

Green had a far-away look in their eyes. They touched the side of their head unconsciously. Their vibrant green hair was distinctly thinner on the spot they touched than on the rest of their head. “Blue’s right, Nico. If Piper is with Babydoll, we need to find her fast.”

“It is your choice, Nico,” said Tux. “Should we search for Toothpick, or for Babydoll?”

Nico bit his lower lip, thinking hard. If what Blue and Green were saying was true, then Piper was in grave danger regardless of whether she was with Toothpick or with her sister Babydoll. What do I do? If Toothpick has her, Piper might be getting tortured right now. But if she’s with her sister, she might be in even more danger! Shit! What do I do? Gotta decide quick…

Suddenly, the tabby cat froze. Her back arched. Her tail went bushy. “A powerful presence approaches,” she whispered.

Nico snapped out of his thoughts. “What? Who’s coming, Tux?”

Blue and Green exchanged a glance. Fear and determination battled for supremacy in their eyes.

Tux bared her teeth and hissed. “The giant. The giant is coming!”

BOOM!!!

The wall just behind them exploded outward, sending the four of them tumbling away. Tiny’s enormous fist jutted out into the hall. It slowly retreated through the hole it had just punched in the wall, then it launched forward again, pulverizing an even bigger chunk of the wall and peppering Nico and his friends with debris. Blue coughed as plaster dust swirled in thick clouds around them.

With a terrible grinding noise, Tiny plowed his giant body through the rest of the wall. Drywall and wood splinters slid from his shoulders like dirt shed from an uprooted plant. His pig-like eyes gleamed a wicked red. His face was twisted into a hungry, feral grin as he loomed over the four of them.

“Fe Fi Fo Fum,” the giant rumbled, then he laughed. “Ready or not, here I come.”

Nico scrambled to his feet, summoning the power of the pinstripe shirt. A wild strength surged through his muscles. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and glared up at the immense mobster. Green appeared at his side, twirling the switchblade and tossing it back and forth between their dexterity-enhancing gloves. Tux and Blue took cover behind them. Tux sprang to Blue’s shoulder and hissed at Tiny.

“Well, well, well. Here you are. The escaped prisoners,” said Tiny. “Spats wants me to bring youse to him, but you know, that’s just damn boring. I think I’ll kill ya instead, what do ya think? Oh, and lookie here, if it ain’t Blue. Don’t worry about remembering that plan anymore, you little shit. You won’t remember anything when I’m done with ya. Remember how I told you I was gonna tear Green in half? I’m gonna do it right now, and I’m gonna make you watch. Then I’ll do the same to you. Startin’ with those dainty little hands. One finger at a time. And…” Then the giant paused, eyes fixed on Tux.

Blue folded their arms across their chest unconsciously, tucking their hands under their armpits. They looked from Tiny to Green, who glanced back over their shoulder and nodded reassuringly. Blue nodded back, feeling braced by Green’s confidence.

“You,” Tiny snarled at Tux. “Monroe’s little kitty cat.” He sniffled a bit, but didn’t sneeze. The air was so thick with plaster dust that it seemed, for the moment, to be diluting Tux’s dander. “I told her she should toss you off the roof. Guess I’ll be killing her too.”

This guy’s way bigger than Fat Bob, Nico thought. And he’s damn strong, too. What power does his business wear have? Gotta make a plan. C’mon, Nico. Learn from your mistakes. Second stripe, now would be a really good time, just saying!

Without warning, Tiny lunged for Green. But Green was faster. They dodged to the side, leaving Tiny’s massive fingers to close on empty air.

“Too slow!” Green taunted, spinning the switchblade.

“Hm. You took Two-Fingers’ gloves, huh?” Tiny leered. “He always was useless. But if you little shits are feeling confident because you took down some two-bit grunts, you got another thing… COMING!” He shouted this last word and swung his fist at Blue.

Blue flinched, clamping their eyes shut, bracing themselves for the impact. Green looked on in horror, too far away to do anything to help. Tiny’s enormous fist flew at Blue like a runaway train. Its passing seemed to send shock waves rippling through the disturbed air. It came closer and closer to Blue, headed straight for their head.

A terrible fear pricked Green’s heart. No. Please. I can’t lose you, Blue. Not ever again! Please…

“BLUE!” Green screamed. “NO!!!”

“Hey! Pig Man! Pick on somebody your own size,” Nico growled.

SMASH!

Something crashed into Tiny’s fist, stopping it just short of hitting Blue. A rush of air blasted from the impact, blowing Blue’s hair back. They squinted their eyes open just enough to see what had happened. Their jaw dropped.

“Nico…” Blue gasped, staring.

“Well done, Pinstripe,” Tux mewed triumphantly.

Green gaped wordlessly, filled with such gratitude that they were struck speechless.

DA-DOOM!

Nico stood firm, fist-to-fist with the giant, in front of the artist. He was lunged forward into the punch, with his back foot only inches from Blue’s plaster dust-whitened toes. Even though his hand was easily twice the size of Nico’s, Tiny’s fist seemed to be frozen in place, unable to move any farther. The giant glared furiously at Nico, who returned the look with eyes blazing.

“So you’re the one with the bootleg,” Tiny growled. Slowly, he withdrew his fist and drew himself up to his full, towering height. His head nearly scraped the ceiling. “Toothpick. Damn that idiot. He shoulda taken that shirt off you when he had the chance.”

Nico lowered his fist and stood up defiantly in front of the colossal mobster. He wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline, or if somehow the pinstripe shirt sensed the danger of the situation, but he had never felt its power so wild or so vital. His veins almost ached from the force of it. His fists clenched at his sides.

“Where is Piper?” Nico demanded.

“Huh? Who?” Tiny mused. He sounded unsure, but his eyes danced with malicious glee. “Oh right! That feisty little bitch Toothpick was gonna torture. Yeah, I’m sure he showed her a real good time. He likes to make ‘em squeal. Who knows? Maybe your little girlfriend is screaming for you right now. Heh. Too bad she’ll never see you alive again.”

“You… bastard…” Nico snarled.

“Blue! Are you okay?” Green said, rushing to their lover’s side.

“I’m fine,” Blue said, and to Green’s surprise, they stepped away from their embrace, walking deliberately to Nico’s side. On their shoulder, Tux’s large eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Blue came to a stop next to Nico and looked up at Tiny. “Hey! Tiny! I’m not afraid of you anymore,” they said. “So you have one chance. Get out of our way.”

Nico looked at the blue-haired artist. “Blue…”

Tiny laughed mirthlessly. “Not afraid? That just means you’re stupid. Only an idiot isn’t scared of death.”

“No, it’s not that,” said Blue. They looked back and winked at Green. “I just realized… You remind me of somebody. A bully that used to mess with me. His name was Orvo. He and his friends used to beat me up because I was alone. But then, one day, I wasn’t alone anymore.”

Green smiled. Blue…

“The hell are you talking about?” said Tiny.

“You could only mess with Green and I because we were alone. But we’re together now, and we have friends. You might be able to beat us alone. But together? You don’t stand a chance!” Blue cried.

DA-DOOM!

Tiny’s piggish eyes narrowed in fury. “Well, now, ain’t that cute.” He raised a huge fist and cocked it back. “Don’t matter, though. Together or alone, I’m gonna tear you little shits apart, limb from limb!”

Nico lowered into a fighting stance, fists raised, power crackling through his body. Next to him, Blue knelt down into a sprinter’s pose, their bruise-mottled legs ready to spring. Tux pounced to the floor next to Blue, claws extended, teeth bared. Green twirled the gnarled-finger switchblade in deadly circles, fingers blurring with speed, eyes darting about for an opening.

For an instant, all was still. Then Tiny roared, “I’M GONNA KILL YOU ALL!”

Suddenly, all five of them moved at once.