Babydoll looked down at her little sister Piper, who was kneeling on the floor of the dingy utility closet. Piper’s eyes were fixed on the too-big hat she held in her hands. Every now and then, a tear would fall from her cheek and land on the hat with a soft pat, marking the fabric with a small, dark circle. Babydoll’s heart pounded. Her fight-or-flight instincts wrestled within her chest. She felt hot and cold all over. Her breath came quick and shallow. Piper’s last words echoed in her mind, relentlessly and unmercifully vivid.

“Why didn’t you want me anymore?”

Moxie Bravo, Babydoll, The First Lady of the Colombo Mafia, Spats’ girl, stared down at the young woman that she had once cared for, that she had once protected and fed and laughed with and played with; the young woman who had once been a little girl whose grubby hands tightly gripped her own, whose eyes shone with confidence that, so long as her big sister was there, everything was going to be just fine.

“Why didn’t you want me anymore?”

It wasn’t true. It had never been true. Had it? She had never stopped wanting her little sister, never stopped loving her… Had she?

An image flashed through Babydoll’s mind: a vision of an old, battered cell phone, its dim display still listing years-old records of missed calls from her little sister, flying from her hand and sailing far, far away over the Central City rooftops. Had she even watched to see where it would land? Had she dared? No. She remembered shutting the window. And she remembered the words she had whispered: “So long, sis…”

Damn it. Damn it!

“Why didn’t you want me anymore?”

Stop, just stop, just SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!

She opened her mouth to berate Piper, to attack this physical manifestation of her most horrific guilt and regret, to tell her that she was no longer her big sister, that Moxie Bravo had died six years ago, that the woman Piper was looking for had died the same night she had given Piper that stupid hat.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

Then another voice whispered to her out of her memories. This voice belonged to a man. A man who she had tried, for years, to convince herself that she loved. Sometimes, she even believed it. Sometimes. After all, who was she without him? Where would she be if he hadn’t seen her potential, if he hadn’t decided to sculpt her and shape her into the woman he wanted her to be? He knew best, of course. He always said so. And sometimes, she even believed it. Sometimes.

Sometimes.

“That’s a good girl,” Spats’ voice hissed in Babydoll’s mind. She flinched instinctively, as though the memory of his voice was a physical blow.

“See? You’re damned sexy when you want to be. Just throw those old clothes out, okay, Doll? I’ll buy you the fanciest, sexiest clothes in town. No girl of mine’s gonna look like a bum. Hey, Babydoll, why do you gotta be such a bitch sometimes, huh? Stop being such a dumb broad, I made you better than that.”

Babydoll longed for the voice to stop. She was squeezing her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, willing it to go away, but the Don wouldn’t be denied. He got his way. He always got his way in the end. His voice kept whispering to her out of the past, tormenting her.

“Hey, Doll, where’s my welcome home kiss? Now kill him, Doll. That’s right, good girl, just pull the trigger. Attagirl. Nah, the boys’ll clean up the mess. No girl of mine’s gonna work like a damn maid. Hey Doll, you’re lucky I found you, you know. I saw your potential. I made you something. You were nothing before, weren’t ya? Yeah, that’s right. But not anymore. Now, you’re a queen.”

“Stop it, please just stop,” Babydoll whispered. But Spats never stopped. Certainly not for her. He was in charge, he was the Don, he was the one who had made her who she was, and he would never let her forget it.

Never.

“Hey Babydoll, come here a minute. You’re sorry? Good. Don’t make me punish you again, Doll, you know I hate having to do that. Don’t forget. I made you. You belong to me. You’re MY girl. Mine. Mine! MINE!!!”

No… no, no, no, NO…

“NO!” Babydoll screamed. Her gloved hand lashed out and SLAMMED into the wall, upsetting the contents of the dusty cleaning supplies completely. The blue substance that was caked onto one of the shelves got several more lines carved into it by the tumbling bottles. The polishing brush bounced off its bristles as it struck the floor. A bottle of chemical cleaner made a soft rattling sound as it rolled across the floor and passed beneath the shelves, out of sight.

Piper looked up, her eyes still wet with tears but now sparkling with alarm. She stared up at her big sister, her heart torn between fear and pain and compassion. For the first time since they had encountered one another outside Spats’ office, Piper felt like she was really seeing Moxie. In a flash that lasted only a moment, she took in the sultry makeup, the skimpy dress that left almost nothing to the imagination, the small scar on her shoulder, the ghost of a yellowing bruise on her cheek. And there was more; an anguish that seemed not only to grip her sister in this moment, but that Piper sensed had made a home deep inside her heart like some sort of hateful burrowing creature with many clawed, searching hands.

“Moxie…” Piper breathed.

Breathing hard, Babydoll collapsed against the wall and sank to the floor. The slinky dress constrained her legs too much for her to sit, so she tore at it furiously with the power of her gloves, whimpering with enraged agony. She ripped a long strip off of the bottom of the dress, freeing her legs to move. She threw the strip of glittering fabric away like it was a venomous snake, then broke down completely. She was sobbing so hard that Piper became afraid she was hyperventilating.

“Moxie, Moxie, it’s okay!” Piper whispered. She crawled to her sister’s side and tentatively reached for her shoulder. She half-expected Babydoll to recoil from her touch, but her big sister leaned toward her. Piper pulled her in and held her close. After a moment of hesitation, Moxie slid down to Piper’s lap and rested her head there, weeping. Piper stroked her big sister’s dark wavy hair, wanting to say something but having no idea of what to say.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Moxie whimpered between sobs.

Piper’s heart ached. It was a familiar ache, an old ache. She had felt this ache many times over the last six years. But tonight was the first time since… since that night… that the pain felt so unbearably raw. So ravenous and wild. So present.

That night, when everything had changed. That night, six years ago, when Moxie had left, and had never come back.

The night of Piper’s twelfth birthday.

And as Piper sat there stroking her big sister’s hair, Moxie’s mind was also six years in the past. Six years ago, when she had taken a leap off of a cliff whose height she didn’t understand. Six years ago, on the night she had first met a man who had destroyed everything.

The night when she had first met Spats Colombo.

***

CENTRAL CITY. SIX YEARS AGO.

A young woman pressed herself against the uneven brick of an alley wall. She peered carefully around the corner, breathing as softly as she could, bracing herself for the sight of her pursuers.

But there was nothing. No one.

With a shaky sigh of relief, she sank against the wall until she sat leaning against the brick, knees folded to her chest. A large wave of her dark hair fell onto her forehead, hanging into her eyes. She blew it away with a puff of air, but it only lifted lazily for a moment before falling back onto her face. She tried to blow it away again, but this time only managed to move a few strands. The rest was sticking to the sweat that beaded on her forehead. She frowned in frustration. One last time, she took a deep breath, eyes sparkling with determination, and blew a lungful of air at the bangs.

They obstinately remained exactly where they were, not even having the decency to move in the gust of air.

“Oh, fine,” she muttered.

Accepting defeat, she reached up and brushed the hair to one side with her fingers. The sleeve of the shirt she wore - a ragged blue button-down that was several sizes too large for her - slid down her arm almost to her elbow as she raised her hand.

In contrast to the baggy shirt, her black pants were a bit too small. She told her little sister that they were capri pants, so they were supposed to end a couple of inches above her skinny ankles, but the truth was that she had stolen the pants the same place she had stolen the shirt. She hadn’t exactly had the chance to check sizes when she snatched a few articles of Old World clothing off the thrift store shelf and ran. The shop keeper had been getting suspicious. They always did.

Her shoes were the only clothing she wore that fit her well, which was only because good shoes were a necessity when you lived your life running from shop keepers and small-time mobsters. She hadn’t stolen these running shoes. She had saved up weeks worth of hauls and bought them legitimately. At least, as legitimately as she ever bought anything.

She sat there against the brick wall for a long time. Then she started to laugh, and once she started she couldn’t stop. She laughed until her stomach hurt and tears ran down her face.

DA-DOOM!

This girl was:

Moxie Bravo. A Thief. Eighteen Years Old.

Moxie stopped laughing at last and got her breathing under control, but she was still smiling broadly as she pulled her latest haul from her shirt pocket. That was the one advantage of wearing a shirt that was so much bigger than you were: plenty of pocket space.

She held the jewelry she’d snatched in her hands, turning it over, imagining how much Magpie would give her for it. There were three pieces: a gold necklace, and two silver bracelets. They were Old World make, just like her clothes, so they held no special powers. But they were still valuable. Even in a world run by The Clothiers, people still wanted jewelry.

After returning the stolen jewelry to her shirt pocket, Moxie stood and stretched contentedly. She pulled a chunky old cell phone from her front pants pocket. It took some effort to pry the phone loose because the pocket was a tight fit. She flipped the phone open. No new messages from Piper. She was supposed to be in school right now, so that made sense. Regardless, Moxie was in the habit of checking the phone often. She had made her little sister a promise, and she meant to keep it.

A cold tendril of air unexpectedly touched her stomach. Frowning, she looked down and sighed in exasperation. A wide, triangular patch of her stomach just above her belly button was exposed to the cooling autumn air. It seemed that a couple of buttons had somehow popped off of her baggy button-down in her mad scramble to escape from the angry pawn shop owner.

“Really?” Moxie sighed. She rolled her eyes. Fortunately, she had extra buttons at home, but she hated mending clothing. Surviving in Central City as an orphan with a little sister to care for was full of indignities big and small, but none she resented so much as repairing her scavenged clothing again and again.

Still, she had managed to rake in quite the haul. Choosing to focus on the bright side of things, Moxie hummed as she walked out of the alley and navigated the streets. By the time she was slipping past pedestrians on the sidewalk, she wasn’t thinking about the lost buttons at all anymore. Her mind was on Piper’s birthday. It was just a few weeks away.

Moxie’s little sister Piper would be turning twelve. Turning twelve was was a pretty big deal for a little girl, and Moxie wanted to make it special for her. Piper deserved it. The caretakers of their old orphanage hadn’t had time or energy to commemorate the birthdays of the children in their care, so Moxie’s own twelfth birthday had come and gone unnoticed. Moxie was determined that Piper’s birthday would be different.

There was a chill in the breeze. Wrapping her arms around herself, Moxie weaved expertly through the crowds near the city center. She knew the way to Magpie’s so well that she could make her way there on autopilot, which was exactly what she was doing now. In the meantime, she daydreamed. She spent much of her time in daydreams. She daydreamed about having money. About being able to buy nice clothes for herself and for Piper. About always having plenty of food.

But most of all, she daydreamed about having a family.

Other children in the orphanage had wished for their parents to come back to life. Or that there had been some mistake, and their parents had never actually died. But Moxie didn’t wish for her parents. Not anymore. She had made peace with their passing long ago. What she wished for was more realistic, but felt more impossible. She wished for a new family. One of her own. A loving collective in which she and Piper could live and be loved. She didn’t particularly care what that family might look like, only that it would be hers.

But nobody was going around giving away families to little girls.

Moxie was utterly inconspicuous in the bustling crowd of pedestrians. A thief’s life depended on going unnoticed, and that was an art she had mastered. No one ever noticed the skinny girl with dark hair and baggy clothes. People only paid attention to those who disrupted them, or to those who looked like they had something to offer them. Moxie was neither.

The noise of the city center began to fade behind her as she ducked into a familiar alley. She passed quickly through, emerging onto another, less crowded, street.

A flash of bright color above her snapped her out of her daydreams. She looked up at an enormous screen mounted onto a building across the street. On it was displayed a video advertisement for a new line of blouses from The Clothiers.

The girls in the ad were beautiful and confident. Most of them looked to be only a little older than Moxie herself. The models winked at the pedestrians below with sultry expressions. While the blouses they were modeling weren’t particularly revealing, the way the girls posed in them was highly sensual. This new blouse line seemed to focus on powers that increased your Influence. One model gave a presentation to a group of executives. Another animatedly told a joke to a group of appreciative coworkers. Still another winked flirtatiously at a well-dressed man who was clearly supposed to be her boss. The man smiled back and handed her a paper that said “RAISE” in bold text. The model looked toward the camera with a knowing smile.

Moxie watched the ad wide-eyed. She couldn’t look away.

At last, the scene transitioned to a series of still images of the models with a huge text overlay:

IT’S ALL ABOUT THE LOOK. WHAT DOES YOURS SAY?

GET AHEAD WITH THE HOTTEST NEW BLOUSE FROM THE CLOTHIERS

REMEMBER, THE CLOTHES MAKE THE WOMAN!

The advertisement ended. The screen transitioned to a news segment sponsored by Aleph Corporation. According to the news ticker, someone calling themselves “Sigma” was wanted by the Corporate Blue Coats. Moxie tore her eyes away from the screen. She felt foolish for having been so mesmerized by the ad. Images of the fancy blouses still danced in her mind. She folded her arms even tighter around herself. She was horribly aware of the way her too-large shirt’s rough, baggy fabric felt against her skin. Moxie started walking again, faster this time. She deliberately kept her eyes down, refusing to give into the allure of another advertisement.

“Damn Clothiers,” she murmured.

REMEMBER, THE CLOTHES MAKE THE WOMAN!

Moxie hated that slogan. She had learned just how true it was in the last two years. When she turned sixteen, Moxie had finally been old enough to look for a job. For the first time, she had the chance to bring in some real money to better her and Piper’s lives, not just the meager sums she was paid for odd jobs or stolen items. She had thought that all she had to do was work hard and be diligent, and in time, things would get better.

She had thought wrong.

It hadn’t been long before Moxie learned that, without Powerful Business Wear, her job options were incredibly limited. When she applied for jobs at factories, they wouldn’t hire her because they thought she wouldn’t be strong enough without Business Wear that gave her strength. When she applied at retail shops, they wouldn’t hire her because she lacked the superhuman concentration or endurance that other applicants’ Business Wear granted them. She was even turned away from restaurants, because without Business Wear with Influence powers, she wouldn’t be able to up-sell to customers as effectively as her Dressed counterparts.

But even worse had been the jobs she did manage to find. At the first, she was fired after only four hours because her productivity couldn’t match the Clothiers-fueled abilities of her co-workers. At another, she had been suddenly replaced, after two months, by a Dressed applicant who walked in off the street.

Worst of all, her boss at her final job had tried to make advances on her. He’d tried to justify his predatory behavior by saying that Moxie wasn’t providing as much “value” as her Dressed co-workers, so she should be willing to “go the extra mile” to make up for it. Thankfully, another employee had intervened before the situation escalated any further, and Moxie had escaped unscathed.

After that, Moxie had returned to the life she knew best: the life of a thief.

A car honked urgently nearby. She waited for it to pass before crossing the street. These days, ground-based cars were getting rarer and rarer. Most traffic had moved to the sky. Moxie figured that it wouldn’t be too much longer before ground-based cars were left entirely in the past, just like people who couldn’t afford to be Dressed in Powerful Business Wear.

Moxie had tried to scrimp and save. She had dumpster-dived looking for abandoned Powerful Fashion Statements. She had even, on more than one occasion, tried to steal Business Wear. But all of it had come to nothing. Eventually, she had resigned herself to the truth. If she wanted to obtain Powerful Business Wear, she would have to find a way to buy it.

But The Clothiers’ Business Wear was still young. It might have already revolutionized the business world, but it had only been around for about four years now. Even the most inexpensive and useless pieces were still enormously expensive. Moxie had been saving everything she could for a long time now in a small box hidden away at home, but it still wasn’t enough for the Business Wear she needed to break into the business world. Besides, she had a little sister to take care of. That, alone, was a big handicap on her ability to save.

But she loved Piper more than anything. Their lives might be hard, but Moxie wouldn’t trade her little sister for anything in the world. If taking care of Piper and making sure she went through school properly meant that saving for life-changing Business Wear took years instead of months, that was worth it to Moxie. She’d promised Piper that she would always be there for her, and she was determined never to break that promise.

Magpie’s place was getting close. Moxie picked up the pace. It would start getting dark within the hour, and she wanted to be home for Piper by then if possible. Piper asked questions when Moxie got back late, and Moxie hated lying to her little sister.

She never wanted Piper to find out that her big sister was a thief.

***

“What have you got for me this time, Moxie?” Magpie asked.

Moxie produced the necklace and bracelets from her shirt pocket and set them down on the table in front of Magpie. The Fence picked them up one at a time, peering at them closely.

“Otototototototo… Very nice. You never disappoint,” Magpie chortled in admiration.

“Aww, thanks, Magpie. How much are you gonna give me for ‘em?”

The Fence didn’t reply immediately. He scooted his chair back and stood. Magpie was a tall, bald man with a wildly bushy mustache. His dark brown skin was deeply wrinkled on his forehead, though he couldn’t have been older than forty. As he moved across the dimly-lit room, Moxie noticed that he had an odd way of lifting his knees as he walked, almost like the waddle of a bird.

Magpie’s base of operations, which he often referred to as his “nest”, was the messiest room Moxie had ever seen. Black mold festered in the corners, a thick layer of grime coated the tiled floor, and stacks of hoarded items were piled everywhere the eye could see. Every wall that wasn’t covered by overflowing shelves or cabinets was festooned with treasures and knick knacks hanging from nails. In contrast to the filthy room, Magpie’s treasures were immaculately clean. They twinkled and shimmered as though they were constantly and carefully polished, which they likely were.

“Ototototo, sorry for the mess,” Magpie chuckled, side-stepping through a path he had carved through his hoard.

“Why don’t you clean this place up, Magpie? Don’t you care about bringing a date home sometime?”

“Oh, no, I don’t live here. My apartment’s upstairs. Believe it or not, my dear, I’m quite a neat freak.”

“I bet you are.”

“I am! Really! I just like to keep my nest, you know, nice and open! I like to see everything at a glance.”

“Right,” Moxie smirked, watching as Magpie made a precarious crossing over a low wall of piled up old vacuum cleaners. “So, uh, how much are you gonna give me for the jewelry? I don’t have very long.”

“Patience is a virtue,” said Magpie. He had finally reached his destination: a rusty filing cabinet. He gave the second drawer a hard tug and stashed the jewelry inside. “And, for your information, missy,” he continued, now heading toward a stack of three safes nearby, “I bring plenty of dates home. Plenty. Haven’t gotten any complaints yet.”

“Any of these dates come back a second time?”

“Well, they, I… Uh, none of your business! That’s adult business,” Magpie sputtered. Then, changing the subject, “Oh! Here we are! Hm, how does, say, two hundred sound?”

Moxie’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t been expecting that much. She usually estimated too high and was disappointed. This was a new experience. “Uh, yeah! Two hundred? Sounds fine to me.”

Magpie nodded and started to count out the money.

Suddenly, Moxie heard movement just behind her. The door was opening. She snapped her head around to see the newcomer. Who the hell…? She had never seen another person in Magpie’s nest.

Blue Coats? She thought wildly, but it was no Blue Coat that stepped through the door. It was a young man, maybe three years older than herself. He was handsomely dressed in a double-breasted suit. A pair of thin, black suspenders could be seen holding up his trousers beneath his unbuttoned jacket. The young man had a strangely round face compared to his body’s slender build. He might have looked like a child if it wasn’t for a certain glassy look in his eyes. It was a look that sent a chill down Moxie’s spine.

“Hey! Charlie!” Magpie called, a little too enthusiastically. “You’re, uh, you’re early! I’m with another client, sorry, can you wait a moment?”

“Oh, sure, no prob,” said Charlie. He pulled a small pack of toothpicks from his back trouser pocket and stuck one in his mouth.

Moxie suppressed a shudder. Charlie’s eyes were focused on Magpie, not on her. Still, she had the uncomfortable feeling that this mysterious young man was paying very close attention to her. She unconsciously pulled the gap in her shirt closed where the buttons had popped off. She hadn’t thought anything of that bare patch of skin when she was alone with Magpie, but Charlie’s presence made it feel like a dangerous chink in her armor.

Who is this guy?

“Ototototo, here you are, Moxie!” Magpie said, emerging once more from the hoarded stacks and sitting down across the table from her. His voice was just a bit too lively. He was scared of Charlie. And the fact that Magpie was scared of Charlie made Moxie most uncomfortable of all.

“Two hundred,” Magpie continued. “Want me to count it out?”

Moxie shook her head. “No. I trust you, Magpie. Thanks.”

“Two hundred? Chump change,” Charlie murmured past the toothpick clamped between his teeth.

“Uh, yes. Hm. Well, until next time,” Magpie said to Moxie, holding the money out to her. The Fence seemed unsure of how else to respond to Charlie’s comment.

Moxie took the money from Magpie’s hand. She nodded to him and left without another word, taking great care not to look at Charlie. For some reason, she felt like making eye contact with this glassy-eyed young man would be akin to a mouse biting the cheese in a mouse trap. Perilous. Lethal. Foolhardy.

Moxie stepped outside to see Central City much darker than it had been when she first entered Magpie’s nest. It was later than she had anticipated.

“What the hell was that?” she wondered, stuffing the money Magpie had given her into her back pocket.

Upon checking the chunky cell phone, she was relieved to see that she hadn’t missed any calls from Piper. Maybe she could still beat her little sister home. She walked as fast as she could, then broke into a run. Her too-large shirt puffed out behind her like a sail as it caught the air.

Although she couldn’t see anyone when she looked over her shoulder, she couldn’t shake the terrible feeling in her gut. The terrible feeling…

…That she was being followed.

***

Moxie was panting and her shirt was dark with sweat by the time she reached the giant screen where she had seen the Clothiers advertisement. Ignoring the stitch that was beginning to stab into her side, Moxie slowed to a stop at the mouth of the alley that led to the city center. She took in her surroundings.

An episode of Aleph Kids!, Aleph Corporation’s flagship children’s program, was playing on the giant screen now. The children in the show all wore identical uniforms and huge smiles as they sang a song together to close out the program. Moxie had always found Aleph Kids! to be more than a little creepy. It was something about the eyes of the children on the show. They all shone with an odd golden glint.

Shaking off the icky feeling the children’s show gave her, Moxie stepped into the alley that ran toward the city center.

Night had now fully fallen. Not even the street lights that shone at either end of the alley were bright enough to illuminate the long stretch of darkness that obscured most of its length. Most young women would find this darkness dangerous, but to Moxie it was a refuge. A thief’s life depended on going unnoticed, after all. The shadows were no stranger to Moxie Bravo, nor was she a stranger to them.

“Okay, Moxie. Just a little farther,” she said aloud. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” said a male voice nearby.

Moxie froze. It can’t be.

But there was no doubt. The young man she had encountered at Magpie’s nest, Charlie, emerged from the shadows before her as though by magic. The darkness almost seemed to melt off of him like a thick liquid. He chewed on a toothpick and stared directly at her. He was smiling at her. It was a genuine smile, a friendly smile, but it did not touch those glassy eyes of his.

“What do you want?” Moxie demanded. She felt violated; more violated than she had felt when that bastard of a former boss had made advances on her. The shadows were her safe haven, and this creeper had invaded them like a burglar in the night.

Charlie raised his hands to shoulder height as though in half-hearted surrender. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt youse or nothin’. I just wanna talk.”

Moxie took a measured step backward, frowning. Her voice was hard. “I don’t know you.”

“Right, name’s Charlie,” the young man nodded. “What’s yours?”

“Moxie,” she replied. There was no point in pretending otherwise - Charlie had been present when Magpie said her name earlier. “What do you want?” She repeated.

Toothpick’s eyes raked up and down her body, lingering on the triangle of exposed skin at her belly. “Just curious if you’re lookin’ for work,” he said. “It’s easy work, for good pay.”

“I don’t do that kind of work,” Moxie said sharply.

“What?” Charlie looked stumped, then understood. “Oh, nah, nothin’ like that. C’mon, Moxie, don’t be stupid,” he scoffed.

Something caught Moxie off guard about the way Charlie said stupid; it didn’t strike her as insulting. It sounded more like the teasing of an old friend. Who the hell is this guy?

“Look, I asked Magpie about ya,” Charlie continued. “He says you’re the best thief in Central City. That true?”

“Damn right,” Moxie said. Why am I playing along? What are you doing, Moxie?

Toothpick grinned. “Confident! Good. Spats likes confidence. He’s my boss, by the way. Spats Colombo. He’s putting a crew together for a… special job.”

Spats Colombo… Hadn’t Moxie heard that name before? She thought he was some small-time gangster, one of many who battled for dominance in Central City. Thus far, she’d intentionally had nothing to do with any of the mobsters in town. That rule about a thief’s survival depending on going unnoticed? It went double when it came to agents of The Five Families.

“Why me? You don’t even know me.”

Charlie shrugged. “I know talent when I see it. Besides, Magpie don’t work with amateurs. Pretty girl like you’s got no place being in his nest unless you’re a thief, and a damn good one.”

Moxie gave Charlie a close look. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. He still struck her as highly dangerous, but also absolutely sincere. At least, he didn’t seem to be lying about anything so far.

“You said it’s good pay,” she said cautiously. “How much we talking?”

“Two grand when the job’s done.”

Two… Two grand?! Moxie reeled. “For what? What’s the job?”

Charlie smirked. “Thought that’d get your attention. It’s just a little B-and-E gig. Nothin’ too fancy. If you’re as good as Magpie says you are, it’ll be easy money.”

Moxie was silent for a long time. Her mind was racing. Two grand for one job. One job! That was almost as much as she’d made in her best month of thieving so far, and that had been no easy feat.

“Look, I’ll let you think about it. You got until tomorrow afternoon to decide, alright? If you think you’re up for it, give me a call,” said Charlie.

The young mobster held out a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. After a moment’s hesitation, Moxie took it. She tucked the note into her back pocket next to the money she’d gotten from Magpie. “Okay. I’ll think about it,” she said.

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you to call,” Charlie said. “See ya around.”

“See ya,” Moxie said softly, but before the words had even left her mouth, Charlie had melted away into the shadows once more. The young woman’s eyes darted this way and that, but there was no sign of the mobster in the darkness. Whoever this Charlie guy was, he was clearly Dressed in Powerful Business Wear.

“Damn Clothiers,” Moxie whispered, then started walking toward home again. There was no way she’d beat Piper back now.

Moxie broke into a jog as she neared the alley’s opposite end. The scrap of paper in her back pocket made a soft crinkling sound with each footfall. For some reason she didn’t fully understand, that sound was almost comforting.

***

“Moxie?” Piper called.

There was no answer.

The light was off in their tiny apartment. Mustering her bravery, the little girl of eleven marched forth into the darkness. She held her breath so that the monsters which hid in the darkness wouldn’t notice her fear. If the monsters knew that she was still scared of the dark at eleven years old, they would mock her relentlessly before they ate her. It was the mocking that Piper was sure, deep down, that she was really afraid of. Being eaten by monsters couldn’t be so bad, so long as you still had your dignity. Piper got mocked enough at school to know that.

She pulled the fraying string that hung from the ceiling light. Click. The bulb buzzed, flickered, then brightened, bathing the small apartment in light. Piper released her breath in a long, shaky sigh. The monsters that lurked in the dark were held at bay for another day. She could relax now.

She tossed her backpack aside on the ragged futon. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Hunger was the one monster that light couldn’t chase away.

Moxie, where are you? Piper wondered. She looked around for a note from her big sister, but there was none. A tiny knot of anxiety began to twist in her belly. With the manic speed of a junkie, she plunged her small hand into her pants pocket and pulled out the chunky cell phone Moxie had given her.

Her fingertips danced shakily across the phone’s keypad in staccato jabs. She didn’t even look at the keypad - her fingers knew the way well. She had fully dialed Moxie’s number, and was just about to press the green Call button, when she stopped herself. Piper stood there frozen for what felt like hours. Then, slowly, she closed the phone and stuffed it back into her pocket.

Surely everything was fine. Moxie was probably late because she had been held up at her job, as sometimes happened. And the reason she hadn’t called Piper was… Well, it just wasn’t important, that was all. Sure that made sense. Yeah. No problem.

Piper was getting older. She would be twelve soon. Twelve. Perhaps Moxie thought, as Piper privately did, that turning twelve would mean that she was no longer a little girl. She would be a young woman then, nearly a teenager, and it was only a matter of time before she would start doing things like High School and Driving and… And kissing. Her heart fluttered a bit at this last, and she quickly shooed the thought away.

Still, if the shows that played on their old, dented TV were to be believed, shows like Allie Aleph and Straight A and Aleph Teen Force, Teenagers were independent and fearless. They stayed out late, they broke rules, and while they might get grounded if they got caught, even this seemed just another part of the adventure. Teenagers certainly didn’t call their big sisters every time they got a little scared. So neither would Piper.

Resigned to wait patiently for Moxie’s return, Piper turned on the TV. An episode of Allie Aleph was just beginning. Piper watched the show wide-eyed, completely engrossed in the melodrama.

The protagonist, Allie Aleph, was a beautiful black girl with wavy dark hair that was even more pretty than Moxie’s. Piper unconsciously touched a strand of her own orange hair. It was just one of the many things that other children often made fun of her for. Her knobbly knees, her out-of-style patchy clothing, and the debilitating panic attacks that often overcame her at school were other popular targets. Piper was an eleven year old loser. But Allie? Allie was a beautiful, popular teenager. On the show, Allie’s dark hair got compliments, not mockery. Her knees weren’t knobbly, and her clothing was Clothiers designed and fashionable. Most important of all, Allie never had panic attacks. She was confident. Unshakable.

Allie Aleph transitioned to a new scene. Allie’s boyfriend, Chris, was flirting with another girl. Allie entered the scene, and now she was wearing a totally new outfit that included a brown hat. Piper sighed with longing at the sight of the hat. The other girls at school were all wearing hats like Allie’s. The only hat Piper owned was a thick winter cap with dorky built-in earmuff flaps. Without realizing she was doing so, the little girl slid off of the futon and scooted toward the TV on her knees, eyes fixed on Allie’s hat.

Somewhere out in the real world, the apartment door opened and closed again. “Piper?” Moxie called. “You didn’t lock the door again!” She sounded like she was out of breath.

“Sorry,” Piper called back absently, still absorbed by the show.

Moxie stepped out of the entryway and shook her head at the sight of her little sister. “Did you do your homework before you started watching your show?”

Piper shook her head without looking away from the TV. “I’ll do it, don’t worry,” she said.

“Yeah, okay,” Moxie sighed. She sat on the futon behind Piper and pulled her shoes off. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got… held up at work.”

“It’s okay, I figured.”

“Did you need me? I didn’t see any missed calls from you.”

“No, I got it. I’m almost twelve, Moxie.”

Moxie smiled at her little sister. She looked so small in front of the TV. “Yeah. That’s true,” she said at last.

“Moxie?”

“Hm?”

“You know… You know how you were asking me what I want for my birthday?”

Moxie blinked. Piper usually deflected questions about things like gifts. She had done so for years now, ever since she was old enough to understand the fact that the two of them were in dire straits financially. “Yeah,” she said.

“Do you think…” Piper hesitated. She still wasn’t looking at Moxie. Her eyes were glued to Allie Aleph. “Do you think I could have a hat like that?” She asked, pointing at Allie on TV.

Moxie’s eyes flicked up to the screen. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. This wasn’t the first time Piper had mentioned the hats that all the girls at school were wearing. It was the latest fashion trend, the sort of thing that would be long outdated by the time all those hats had ended up in the thrift stores Moxie shopped in. But maybe… Maybe Piper needed this.

Moxie knew more than Piper thought she did about what her school life was like. She knew that her little sister was bullied. She knew that she had no friends. And she knew, in a very grown-up way, that even if Piper started to wear a hat like the other girls, chances were slim that her situation would change much, if at all.

But even so…

How expensive are those hats, anyway? Moxie wondered. She leaned forward in her seat. A soft crinkling sound came from her back pocket.

Two grand for one job…

“Hmm,” Moxie said, making her voice exaggeratedly mysterious, “You never know! I guess you’ll have to wait for your birthday to find out what your present will be, won’t you?”

Piper smiled back at her big sister. Her eyes shone with a startling mixture of emotions. A want to be wanted. A need to fit in. A love and admiration for her big sister that sometimes flirted with idolization. But all of these were the perfectly ordinary emotions of a child. There was one other emotion in Piper’s eyes, and it was this odd glint that startled some deep place within Moxie’s heart, though she wasn’t conscious of it. It was something unidentifiable in the world of children. Something alien. It was a grown-up emotion. It was, perhaps, the first such emotion that Piper had ever felt, though of course she herself would never know that. She wasn’t even aware of its presence in the warm feeling of excitement that swelled within her chest as she looked at Moxie. But it was there nonetheless.

Almost a teenager. Only a hop, a skip, and a jump from almost a teenager, to grown-up.

“Okay,” Piper said at last. And that was all.

Moxie slumped back against the couch. She had half a mind to nap, but then both her and Piper’s stomachs growled at the same time. The two of them snickered at the sound. “You hungry?” Moxie asked.

“Mhm.”

“Okay, I’ll make us something for dinner,” Moxie said, standing.

She waited until she was hidden by the small column that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment to pull Charlie’s note from her back pocket. It crinkled again as she unfolded it. The sight of his handwriting, all capital letters in an uneven scrawl, summoned the memory of the young mobster’s glassy eyes to her mind.

Two grand for one job, she thought. Two grand for one job.

She committed the phone number to memory, then crumpled up the note and used it as tinder to start the stove.

“Hey, Piper?”

“Yeah?” Piper called back.

“I, uh, I might have to work an overnight shift soon. My boss said so. Would you be okay at home alone?”

There was a long silence, then Piper said enthusiastically, “Hell yeah!” Then she started singing, “By myself, By myself, I’ll have the whole apartment, By myself…”

Moxie smiled and shook her head as she started cracking eggs into their small skillet. They spread and sizzled on the hot metal. It sounded a lot like the crinkle of tattered paper.

***

THE NEXT NIGHT

Moxie took a deep, steadying breath.

She was standing in front of a closed door halfway down an alley on the West Side. She wrinkled her nose against the stench of rotting garbage and old booze that hung in the air like a thick fog. Bracing herself, she reached out and rapped on the door three times, as Charlie had instructed during their phone call earlier that day.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

Moxie shuffled her feet uncomfortably. Her dark wavy hair was tinted pink and green by the neon signs that shone into the alley from businesses outside. She shivered and pulled her black denim jacket tighter around her body. The autumn air was getting steadily colder, especially at night.

She felt like she had been standing there waiting for a very long time, and was trying to make up her mind about whether she should knock a second time or just go home, when the door was suddenly unlocked. It creaked open. Inside, the passage beyond the doorway was dark.

A pair of glassy eyes peered out of that darkness.

“Glad ya could make it,” said Charlie, stepping outside to meet her. He held out a hand, and Moxie shook it reluctantly.

“Yep, here I am,” Moxie replied. She felt a bit foolish. What am I doing?

Charlie whistled, looking her up and down. “Lookin’ real nice. You dressin’ up for Spats, or just for me, huh?”

Moxie rolled her eyes and pushed past Charlie into the dark passage. She was dressed in simple black clothing. She didn’t think there was anything especially remarkable or sexy about what she was wearing, but she shook that off. Two grand for one job. If a little ogling from Charlie was the worst this night would have to offer, she could handle that. No problem.

“Lead the way,” said Moxie.

Charlie nodded, closing and locking the alley door behind them. He led Moxie down the dark passageway and opened another door near the end. White industrial light poured out of the doorway, almost blindingly bright after the darkness of the passageway. As Moxie’s eyes adjusted to the new room, she felt a bit confused by what she was seeing. The room looked like a restaurant kitchen. Stainless steel shelving and commercial-grade cooking appliances lined the walls. Pots and pans and cooking utensils of all shapes and sizes hung from racks mounted to the ceiling. Every surface was spotlessly clean.

“Charlie, this the new girl?” A voice rumbled nearby.

Moxie turned. One corner of the kitchen had been cleared out. The shelving had been turned perpendicular to the walls, forming a small alcove. Within the alcove was a table, around which three men were seated. The one who had spoken appeared to be a giant. He was so huge that his very largeness made it almost impossible for Moxie to turn her attention to the other two men at the table. There was something about the giant’s piggish eyes that made her deeply uncomfortable.

“Yep, this is Moxie, boss,” Charlie said, pointedly addressing his response not towards the giant, but towards the man seated between the other two.

“She’s a looker,” said the man on the right. His voice had a thick drawl. In fact, his entire body seemed to have a drawl. He lounged back in his seat in such a languid manner that he might have looked like he was asleep, if not for the fact that his eyes were bright and alert.

The boss shook his head. “Can’t take you anywhere, can I, Johnny? Be polite, for shit’s sake.”

Johnny just shrugged and kept ogling Moxie.

“Sorry about that, Doll,” said the boss. He scooted back in his seat and stood. For a mafia boss, the man seemed pretty young to Moxie. He only looked to be in his late twenties, maybe ten years older than she was at most. His dark hair was slicked to the side with a care that would have been almost prissy if it wasn’t the crown on the head of a truly dangerous man. And the boss was certainly dangerous. Moxie could sense it in the way the other mobsters looked at him with a deference born of equal measures of admiration and fear. A gleam of white under the table caught her eye. It was a pair of spats the mob boss was wearing over his shoes. The spats were pristinely white, fastidiously clean.

Spats continued, “Johnny Paradise here don’t always know how to treat a lady. Gets him in trouble sometimes. Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s James Colombo, but my boys here call me Spats, on account of my spats. It’s a dumb gag, but hell, it beats toothpick.”

“Hey!” Charlie protested. “Toothpick’s a damn good name! What’s wrong with Toothpick?”

Completely ignoring Charlie, Spats continued, “The tall, dark and handsome one here is Tiny.” He gestured to the giant. Moxie’s eyebrows knitted together, but she said nothing. Spats smiled. “So now you’ve been introduced to everybody. Now, what’s your name, Doll?”

Moxie cleared her throat. “My name is Moxie. Just Moxie. Charlie said you had a job for me. A job that pays well.”

Spats’ smile broadened. “Right to business. I like it. Charlie here says you’re a top-notch crook. He says Magpie vouched for ya. That true?”

Moxie nodded stiffly. Her mind was strangely blank.

“Okay then,” Spats said, “Good enough for Magpie is good enough for me. You’re in, Doll.”

“It’s Moxie.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Moxie. Not Doll.”

The room went silent. The three men surrounding Spats were suddenly on edge. They eyed their boss apprehensively, as though expecting him to explode at any moment. An icy chill ran down Moxie’s backbone like the edge of a knife was tracing her vertebrae. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Did I piss him off? Oh, shit, why’d I say that? What was I thinking?

“Moxie it is, then!” Spats said, and he suddenly burst out laughing. His laugh was relaxed, even jolly. But while the other men did seem to relax, Moxie noted that the look of apprehension didn’t fade from their eyes.

“Thanks, it’s just, you know, it’s my name,” Moxie said. She felt stupid, like she was tripping over her own feet, but Spats didn’t seem to mind.

“And it’s a damn good name. Way better than Toothpick, anyway. Don’t you think so, Charlie?”

“Asshole,” Charlie grumbled. Spats just laughed harder.

Whatever storm had been approaching, it seemed to have passed. Moxie realized she had been clenching her fists. She relaxed them, wincing a bit as her fingernails left red marks on her palms.

“It’s a simple job,” Spats said, “but it needs somebody with a certain… subtlety. Your job’s gonna be to break into the back room of the Blue Lily and crack their safe. Feel free to keep any cash you find in there as a tip. All I want is this.”

Spats lifted a photograph from the table and gave it to Moxie. It was a picture of a small jewelry box made of polished red leather. It looked like it was probably quite expensive, but it was otherwise unremarkable.

After studying the picture carefully, Moxie handed it back to Spats. “What’s inside it?”

Spats sank back down into his seat. “Just some cufflinks. We’re gonna ransom ‘em back to their owner.”

“You’re… ransoming cufflinks?”

“That’s right. But don’t fret your pretty head about the details, D— Moxie. That’s for me and the boys to worry about. You just break in, crack the safe, keep the cash, and bring me the cufflinks. And don’t worry, I’m still gonna pay you the two grand Charlie promised ya on top of whatever you find in the safe. Spats Colombo is a man of his word.” The mob boss adopted a look of smug confidence. “So, what do you say? You in?”

Moxie bit her lower lip and plunged her hands into the pockets of her black denim jacket. Making a deal with the mob is like jumping off a cliff, she thought. Only way to know how far you’ll fall is to make the leap, but once you do, there’s no going back.

The Blue Lily… Hadn’t she heard of that place before? Was it a restaurant? A strip club? She couldn’t remember right now. For all she knew, Spats could be asking her to break into an Aleph Corp. stronghold. Still… All the cash in the safe, plus the two grand… All that from one job…

Allie Aleph’s hat flashed through her mind, along with the look Piper had given her, that look that had held such a startling and unexpected emotion. It was that image that settled the matter.

“I’m in,” said Moxie firmly. Her eyes sparked with confidence.

“Welcome to the Colombo Mafia, Moxie,” Spats said, smiling. “Charlie’ll give ya the details. I want the job done by midnight tomorrow.”

Moxie just nodded. She didn’t say another word as she turned and walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

“C’mon, Spats, she is a looker!” Johnny Paradise whined when she was gone. “What, can’t I compliment a sexy broad anymore?”

Spats didn’t look at Johnny. His eyes were still fixed on the door Moxie had just exited through. After a long silence, the mob boss said, “Not when it’s your boss’ girl.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “Wait, boss’ girl? You serious, Spats? She’s nothin’ special! I mean, she’s cute and all, but—”

“Charlie. Shut up,” Tiny grunted.

Spats chuckled. “Sure, she’s cute. And you’re right. She’s nothin’ special. Not yet. But I’m an artist, Charlie. I see a cute broad like that, I see a damn canvas.”

“What, you gonna paint her or somethin’?” Johnny Paradise asked.

Spats leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Heh. Let’s see how she does with this first job. If she pulls it off, I think that’ll be enough to prove her value. Then I’ll take that cute broad and sculpt her like marble. By the time I’m done, she’s gonna be a damn queen. And you boys better be ready to bow down to her.”

“Gee. Can’t wait,” Tiny rumbled sarcastically.

At Spats’ command, Charlie fetched a fresh bottle of booze for the table. The four men started laughing. The mobsters cackled like a pack of hyenas, their voices lost to the night outside, where increasingly frigid air swirled and danced.

Moxie strode quickly through that frigid air, pulling her shirt up over her nose to trap the warmth from her breath. It would take her about half an hour to make her way back home. She would spend every moment of that time turning the night’s events over and over in her mind.

She had taken the leap. Now, she would find out how far she would fall. There was no going back now. No going back.

A gust of breath puffed fog through the fabric of her shirt and vanished into the cold night. It almost seemed to melt away, as though the shadows were a thick liquid. Moxie wondered if a pair eyes, glassy eyes, might be watching her from those shadows somewhere nearby.

No going back.