CENTRAL CITY. SIX YEARS AGO.

Come on, come on, come ON!

Moxie sprinted at top speed down the dark, empty street. A nasty stitch clawed at her side and a horrible burning sensation filled her lungs, but she forced her legs to keep pumping. She could hear Tall Paul’s thugs coming after her. Their footsteps echoed thinly against the surrounding run-down buildings. Equal measures of cat-calls, insults, and threats flew after her from their mouths like javelins.

Moxie put on a fresh burst of desperate speed. The chill night air numbed her bare arms - she’d lost her black denim jacket in the confusion - and spatters of Johnny Paradise’s blood were still drying on her shoes.

Dammit, Spats, where are you?! Shit, I’m so screwed! I’m sorry, Piper! I’m so sorry!

The whoops and shouts of the pursuing mobsters was getting louder with each second. Judging by their jeering calls, they had murder - or even worse - on their minds. Moxie gritted her teeth. Everything hurt, but she pushed through the pain. This was life or death. Every footfall could be her last.

They were gaining on her.

***

MINUTES EARLIER

Johnny Paradise held up a hand. The movement was so lifeless that Moxie was struck with the strange impression that he was a puppet whose puppeteer was lifting his limp arm with a string. Johnny’s bright eyes narrowed, and his head swung slowly from side to side. Moxie, who was following close behind him, stopped walking. The soles of her faded black shoes whispered against the thick carpet.

“Something ain’t right,” Johnny whispered. “Keep an eye out.”

Moxie nodded. Her heart felt like it had leapt into her throat, making it hard to breathe. Butterflies flitted chaotically in her stomach. She turned on her heel and clenched her fists, looking and listening intently.

The room in which the two of them stood was so stuffed with luxurious furniture and fancy decorations that it felt claustrophobic despite its massive size. The walls were covered with decor, from landscape paintings set in golden frames to shallow display shelves on which an eclectic array of knick-knacks were arranged, including delicate statuettes and one large silver compass. The patches of wall that weren’t obscured by decor were painted deep red…

…The same deep red color that Tall Paul’s office in The Blue Lily had been painted.

DA-DOOM!

This was:

Lily Manor. Headquarters of the Lily Legion Mafia.

After several tense seconds of waiting, Johnny and Moxie relaxed. There was no sign of pursuit. It seemed the Lily Legion Mafia was unaware of their presence. Moxie’s shoulders slumped with relief. Still, it struck her as odd; they hadn’t encountered a single person since they sneaked past the men standing guard outside.

Maybe they’re at The Blue Lily? She wondered. Lily Manor was located about four city blocks north of the high-class bar Paul Moraque owned.

“C’mon,” Johnny Paradise whispered. Somehow, even his whispers had a languid drawl about them. “Let’s move.”

Moxie nodded. “Hm!”

Moving carefully, so as to avoid bumping into the various expensive-looking decorations that littered the room, she followed Johnny to the door on the room’s eastern end. The two of them paused outside the door, flanking it on each side by unspoken consent. Moxie’s fingers played with the corners of her black denim jacket. Her blood ran hot with anticipation. Even Johnny looked more tense than normal. For once, it seemed there were solid bones in his limbs.

Johnny’s eyes met Moxie’s. They nodded to one another at once, then Johnny reached for the door handle with a long arm. He tested it. To Moxie’s surprise, it was unlocked.

A satisfied grin stretched across Johnny Paradise’s face as he carefully pushed the door open. “This is it,” he murmured. “You’re up, cutie.”

Moxie shot Johnny a withering look for calling her a cutie, squared her shoulders, and moved inside. It was pitch-dark in the room beyond the open door. Moxie sniffed. An odd scent was wafting through the stuffy air of the dark room. It smelled familiar to Moxie, but she couldn’t quite place it. After a moment, the room was plunged into complete darkness as Johnny Paradise followed behind her and closed the door.

“Got a light?” Moxie whispered.

CHA-FLICK!

A lighter sputtered to life in Johnny’s hand. Its lonely wavering flame cast the gangster’s narrow face in a dim yellow glow. His bright eyes reflected the light in a rather unnerving way.

Moxie crossed her arms. “Really? That’s all you’ve got? A lighter?”

Johnny smirked. “Well, what about you, miss master thief? You didn’t think to bring a flashlight?”

“I… I’m not… I didn’t…” Moxie stammered, then huffed haughtily. “Whatever! Let’s just get this over with.”

“Whatever you say, hot stuff.”

“Don’t call me that,” Moxie snapped.

“What?”

“Hot stuff. Cutie. All that flirty shit. I’m not interested, so just stop.”

“Aw, c’mon, sexy. I’m just havin’ some fun,” Johnny drawled, prickling at Moxie’s temper. There wasn’t even a hint of remorse in his voice.

Her chest burned with anger as she started, “I don’t care—”

“LirLirLirLirLir…”

Moxie’s skin crawled. She recognized that laugh.

“Sorry to interrupt your lover’s spat,” said the voice. It came from somewhere deep in the darkness. The two of them froze.

Moxie’s next words died on her lips. Oh, god…

CLICK!

The room’s lights suddenly came on. After the dim glow of Johnny’s lighter, the explosion of brightness that flooded the room was hurt Moxie’s eyes. She squinted, looking for the owner of the voice. The voice that belonged to the man who had haunted her nightmares for weeks.

The voice of Tall Paul.

Then she saw him, and her heart dropped like a heavy stone. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

They had walked right into a trap.

Tall Paul stood smiling at her, his massive handgun tapping against his thigh just as it had been in his office the last time they had met. He was surrounded by gangsters, a dozen of them, all of whom wore similar grins on their ugly mugs. Suddenly, Moxie understood what that strange scent had been. It was Tall Paul’s overpowering cologne; the one that smelled like lilies drenched in chemical cleaner.

“LirLirLir!” Tall Paul laughed. “So we meet again, Miss Black. How odd to find you in the company of Mr. Paradise. I thought your association with the Colombo Mafia was a one-time job?”

Moxie tried to speak, but no words would come out. Her mouth felt dreadfully dry.

“Mr. Paradise, huh?” Johnny drawled. “I think I like that, Paul. Sounds all executive and shit.”

Tall Paul eyed Johnny Paradise with profound distaste. “Yes, well. I suppose thanks are in order, aren’t they? You did well, Mr. Paradise. And as Miss Black is well aware, I don’t go back on a deal.”

Cold horror shot down Moxie’s body like arctic water. She turned, wide-eyed, toward Johnny Paradise. What is he talking about?

Johnny smiled back at her. “Sorry, beautiful. It ain’t your fault.”

“What—” Moxie began, but she was suddenly seized from behind by two members of Tall Paul’s Lily Legion. They gripped her arms with terrible strength, making her draw breath through her clamped teeth in a hiss of pain.

“LirLirLirLir! LIRLIRLIRLIRLIR!” Tall Paul cackled. “Yes, well done, Mr. Paradise! How long do we have until Spats’ arrival?”

“Just a few minutes,” Johnny replied. “Soon as we miss the check-in he should come to the rescue. Then you can, uh, take care of him.”

“What are you talking about, you bastard?!” Moxie demanded. Her eyes sparkled lividly at Johnny. “What, so you were a traitor this whole time?”

“Never trust a gangster, sweetheart,” Johnny winked at her. “What, so you really didn’t know that?”

Moxie blinked. Her cheeks burned with humiliation and shame. She did know better than to trust members of the mafia. It was rule number one. She knew that. She’d known that from the beginning. Suddenly, her reasons for this whole thing seemed childish and stupid. She’d felt good about herself, felt like a winner, felt like a bad ass. Now, it was all crashing down around her.

Piper… I’m sorry…

“Hey, it ain’t all bad,” Johnny said. “Why don’t you ditch Spats and join the Lily Legion with me? I’ll let you be my girl, if you want. That okay by you, Paul?”

Tall Paul rolled his eyes in utter disinterest. “We have bigger problems right now, Mr. Paradise.”

Johnny nodded. “Sure.” He checked his watch. “Check-in time just passed. Spats oughta be showin’ up any minute now.”

Moxie’s heart was racing. Suddenly, her fear wasn’t just for herself; she was scared for Spats, as well. Why? Why did she care what happened to that cold-blooded killer? She tried to push away the complicated feelings that were beginning to swirl within her. She’d first noticed them last night, and they hadn’t made any sense then, either…

***

The last six days had been a whirlwind of chaos. It seemed that Spats had been waiting for Moxie to call, because all at once he sent her a flood of jobs through Charlie. For four days, Moxie had been so busy that she’d barely gotten a chance to see Piper, even in passing.

At first, the jobs were simple. Equipment acquisition jobs. Some of the equipment in question, like a drill with uniquely shaped bits, were purchased legitimately. Others, like certain volatile chemicals, required a less straightforward approach. All this was fine by Moxie; Spats was continuing to pay very well for the work she was doing. In those four days, she’d brought in another two grand. She started to feel liberated, free in a way she had never experienced before. She wasn’t just surviving anymore; she was… Well, she was rich. That was just the truth of it. Rich for an eighteen-year-old orphan girl with a little sister to care for, anyway.

After those four days of simple acquisition jobs, Spats sent word for Moxie to return to his headquarters for an in-person briefing. After lying to Piper about having to work another night shift, Moxie had arrived at the now-familiar alley door which was illuminated, as always, in a faint neon glow from the businesses outside the alley.

“Time for a real job,” Spats had said, once Moxie had been shown in. “Y’know those cuff-links you got for me? They belong to somebody called Tall Paul. He’s a… Well, let’s just say he’s a problem. A problem I need taken care of.”

Moxie suppressed the feeling of fear that stirred in her chest at the mention of that name. A vision of an enormous handgun aimed right at her head flashed through her memory. She pushed past it with some effort and hoped that Spats hadn’t noticed anything unusual in her reaction. Tall Paul’s threats still haunted her dreams.

“Your job,” Spats continued, “is simple. You’re gonna break into his house, it’s a mansion called Lily Manor, and leave him a present. This.”

The mob boss tossed Moxie the same red leather jewelry case she had acquired for him a few weeks back. She took it, and was startled by its unexpected weight. It was as if the box had been filled with metal. It was heavy in her hands; heavy, and somehow solid.

“What did you do to it?” Moxie asked.

Spats smirked. “Like I said. It’s a present. You’re gonna be my own little Tooth Fairy, Doll - Sorry. Moxie. You’re gonna stash this under the bastard’s pillow for him to find. The box’ll take care of the rest.”

Moxie tried to open the jewelry box’s lid, but it wouldn’t budge. Did he glue it shut or something?

“This isn’t any ordinary job, Moxie. Get this right, and you’re gonna get more than paid,” Spats said.

The mob boss slowly sat in his chair on the opposite end of the table, moving with the regal grace of a king easing into his throne. His eyes sparkled with a sinister mischief that was so potent that Moxie couldn’t look away. To her bewilderment, she felt something awake in her at the sight of those eyes. They were rather handsome eyes, weren’t they? Come to think of it, Spats wasn’t exactly an eyesore in general.

Spats smiled. “You pull this off, Doll, and you’re in,” he said.

Moxie raised her eyebrows. “In?”

Spats’ smile broadened. “In. So don’t let me down, Doll. And don’t worry, I ain’t gonna make you do this alone. Johnny Paradise over here’ll go with you.”

Johnny Paradise’s neck slowly rolled forward from where it had been bent backward lazily over his chair. “That’s right, babe,” he drawled.

Moxie eyed Johnny with distaste. Of the four members of the Colombo Mafia, he was the one she liked the least.

“When do we start?” she asked, looking back at Spats.

“Tomorrow,” Spats said. “Charlie’ll get you the details.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Moxie blurted out. Somehow, the idea of pulling a job with Johnny Paradise seemed fraught with danger in a way that even the Blue Lily heist hadn’t been.

“You make regular check-ins by text,” Tiny grumbled. “Something goes wrong, and you can’t send the check-in on time, me and Spats’ll come running.”

“Exactly,” said Spats.

Moxie nodded. That made her feel a bit better, even if it struck her as a bit odd. Spats had never involved himself, let alone Tiny, in any of the previous jobs she’d done for him. Was there something more going on here? She thought there must be, but she wasn’t sure what it could be.

“Okay,” she said. “That everything? Anything else?”

“Nothin’. Not unless you want to have a slumber party or somethin’, Doll.” Spats winked at her. “Could be fun.”

To her surprise, Moxie found herself seriously considering the idea for a split second. What the hell? Spats was a killer, a cold-blooded mafia boss. He was dangerous in a potent and terrifying way that twisted her guts on an instinctive level. But…

But what?

Was there something more to him? Was there, perhaps, something about the man that she found intriguing? Even - and she really didn’t know what to do with this thought - attractive?

Moxie shook her emotions off so violently and so abruptly that she nearly physically spasmed from the effort. Angry with herself, angry with the tingle in her chest and the butterflies in her stomach, she smiled, turned, and walked away.

“Maybe next time,” Spats called after her, and he was chuckling, but somehow Moxie felt sure that he wasn’t really joking. And worse, she didn’t know if she even wanted him to be joking.

What the hell is wrong with me?!

Moxie had left the Colombo Mafia HQ without another word. As she walked home, she had done her best to ignore the visions of Spats’ - rather handsome - face, which flickered, ghostlike, through her mind.

Slumber party. Next time.

It wasn’t until much later, as she lay in her bed on the verge of sleep, that she realized that Spats had been wearing Tall Paul’s diamond cuff-links on his sleeves. Somewhere in her exhaustion-muddled mind, she thought that was strange.

Wait… if Spats was wearing the cuff-links, then what’s in the jewelry box?

But by the time she had woken up the next day, she had already forgotten all about it.

***

The infiltration had gone smooth as butter until Tall Paul’s trap was sprung. Only now did Moxie realize that this must have been because of the trap. No wonder there hadn’t been any guards inside the mansion. No wonder she hadn’t seen a soul as she crept behind Johnny Paradise across the polished floors and shampoo-scented carpets. It had been a set up from the beginning. A trap. She had waltzed right into it. And any moment now, Spats and Tiny would be trapped, too.

Moxie struggled against the painful grip of the gangsters who held her arms, but all she managed to do was shift her black denim jacket off of her left shoulder. Tall Paul’s men laughed.

“Nuh-uh-uh, Miss Black,” Tall Paul crooned, striding toward her with slow, deliberate steps. He raised the enormous handgun and pressed it against her cheek. The gun’s metal was bitingly cold. Moxie gasped.

“LirLirLir…” Tall Paul whispered. He leaned in close to her ear, sandwiching her between his head and the handgun. His voice hissed with a sinuous malice. “It would be a damn shame to blow that pretty face off your head, Miss Black. I don’t want to do that. You’re a smart girl. You won’t force my hand, will you?”

Moxie tried to shake her head and winced as the gun barrel dug even deeper into her cheek. Tall Paul seemed satisfied, though. He withdrew the gun and walked back toward Johnny Paradise. Moxie glared at the treacherous gangster. More than ever, he looked like a boneless puppet held up by unseen strings.

“How much longer?” Tall Paul asked sharply.

“Any minute now,” Johnny drawled. “Better get ready.”

“Right. Boys, you know what to do, LirLirLir.”

The room, which Moxie now saw was a posh bedroom worthy of royalty, scrambled with sudden activity. The two men holding her captive dragged her backwards into a corner, holding her upright as she stumbled. The rest of Tall Paul’s goons, ten men in all, drew pistols of various types and cocked back their hammers. They took up positions in strategic areas of the room, ready to ambush and kill the head of the Colombo Mafia.

Come on, Spats, Moxie thought. Come on, don’t fall for it!

Tall Paul jerked his head at Johnny Paradise, who moved to the center of the bedroom. The languid gangster stood before a pair of huge glass doors which opened onto a balcony some two stories high. Johnny stared at the moon, faint beyond the clouds.

“Y’know, it’s funny, Paul,” he drawled.

“What’s that, Mr. Paradise?”

“Spats was always so damn suspicious, y’know? But it was pretty easy to pull the wool over his eyes. Guess that prick’s starting to slip, huh?”

Suddenly, Spats’ voice rang out, loud and clear, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

“Fat chance, you damn rat.”

Johnny went very pale. “Spats? What the—” He started looking around for Spats, moving with comically exaggerated turns, but whatever he’d been about to say next, he never got the chance.

RATATATATATATATAT!

Machine gun fire rang out with startling sharpness. The glass doors cracked and splintered as dozens of holes were punched through them by bullets from the unseen shooter outside. Johnny Paradise’s body flailed wildly like a ragdoll. He staggered backward, riddled by bullets that slammed into his chest, his legs, his neck. He didn’t scream - he didn’t even make a sound. His body just popped with the impacts, each one spraying little fountains of blood.

Moxie’s eyes went wide with horror. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She heard a pattering sound coming from the floor at her feet. When she looked down, she saw little spatters of Johnny’s blood dotting her shoes and the bottom of her jean legs like the light drizzle that heralds a rain storm.

The bullets kept coming, driving Johnny back step by step. It wasn’t clear if he was moving of his own volition anymore, or if his perpetually limp body was simply obeying momentum from the bullets that kept slamming into him with lethal force. Moxie gasped when his face lolled in her direction. Johnny’s eyes were blank. He was already dead, but the machine gun didn’t stop firing. Fresh bullets drilled new holes through the glass doors, sending lightning-streak cracks spiderwebbing across them. Moxie thought it was a miracle that the doors were still intact.

Tall Paul was shouting something to his men over the gunfire, but they seemed to be caught in the same trance Moxie was. Eleven pairs of eyes watched the ragdoll that used to be a man spill fresh blood in spurts and splatters; blood that sprayed in crimson droplets all over the carpet and furniture, and that painted bright red the wall behind Johnny. Then his back clapped against that wall, and the machine gun finally ceased firing.

Everyone, even Tall Paul, watched in mystified revulsion as the bullet-peppered shape that was once Johnny Paradise slid slowly down the wall, leaving thick streaks of blood behind it. In the same instant that Johnny’s body hit the floor, the glass doors shattered completely with a deafening crash of glass. Then all went silent.

For a long time, the only sound was the cold breeze that was wafting in through the gaping hole where the glass doors had been. It seemed that no one even breathed. The shock of what had just happened lay heavy over the scene like the crush of ocean depths.

Then Spats’ voice rang out again. “Hiya Paul. How’s business?”

Tall Paul’s face flitted through several different expressions before landing on an incensed grimace. “SPATS!” he snarled. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Funny you’d say that, Paul,” Spats’ voice said. Moxie glanced around the room. It was impossible to tell where the voice was coming from. “…Because I was gonna say just the same thing to you.”

“Find him!” Tall Paul barked to his men. The thugs started to move, then hesitated. None of them dared to approach the shooter’s line of sight.

“What’s wrong with you idiots?” Tall Paul demanded.

“Seems to me like they’re scared,” Spats’ voice said. “And I’ll tell you what, Paulie my boy. They damn well should be.”

“What do you want, Spats?”

“Your territory,” Spats said simply.

Tall Paul’s eye twitched. For the moment, he was at a loss for words. Moxie looked from him to the men holding her captive. One of them - the one on her left - had let go of her entirely, and the other’s grip had substantially loosened. She burned with a sudden surge of adrenaline. This is my chance, she realized.

Taking great care to move as smoothly as possible, Moxie started to shrug off her black denim jacket. It slid down her left arm an inch at a time. Her tongue stuck out a bit in concentration. Just a little more! With another slight twist of her elbow, her left arm slipped free of the jacket sleeve. Her breathing quickened. Miraculously, her captors hadn’t noticed. They were too preoccupied by Johnny’s corpse and their boss’ rage. If she could just choose the perfect moment, she felt sure she’d be able to slip out of the jacket’s right sleeve as well, and make a break for it.

“LirLirLir… LirLirLir! LIRLIRLIRLIRLIR!” Tall Paul cackled. “Alright then, Spats! You want my territory, huh? You want Central City all to yourself? You don’t stand a chance!”

“We’ll see,” Spats said calmly. “Hey, Doll. Go. Now!”

Moxie was taken completely by surprise. It seemed Tall Paul and his men were as well, because they didn’t move a muscle as Moxie belatedly slipped from the grasp of the second thug, leaving him clutching her black denim jacket with the bemused expression of a sleepy child holding their comfort blankie. Moxie started running. For just a moment, she had a solid head start. Then realization dawned on Tall Paul’s face.

“GET HER!”

Moxie raced toward the gap where the glass doors had been, ducking and dodging out of reach of Tall Paul’s goons as they jolted to life at the sound of their boss’ order. Tall Paul himself, apoplectic with rage, aimed his enormous handgun at her and fired several times. In all the confusion, he accidentally shot one of his own men. The thug went down gurgling in agony, and Moxie leapt over his thrashing body, bursting through the last shards of the glass doors that were still standing. She landed on the balcony outside.

“Get down!” Spats shouted, and now she could tell that he was somewhere nearby. She dropped immediately, pressing her cheek into the stone of the balcony’s floor.

RATATATATAT!

Spats opened fire once more. Moxie felt, more than heard, the bullets whizzing over her prone body. Little puffs of dust and shards of rock tumbled onto her as some of the bullets hit the balcony’s stone railing. Two more of Tall Paul’s men went down in the hail of gunfire. Tall Paul himself remained in cover, snarling curses and occasionally leaning into the line of fire to take potshots with his handgun out the doorway.

“Jump!” Tiny’s voice shouted. It was coming from the ground below the balcony. The machine gun fire halted and Moxie obediently scrambled to her feet without a moment’s hesitation. She clambered onto the balcony railing and looked down. The giant stood some twenty feet below with his arms outstretched. “Jump!” He said again.

Piper took a deep breath and jumped. Two more shots from Tall Paul’s handgun flew over her head just as she plummeted down past the balcony railing and out of sight. An inarticulate shriek of fury tore from Tall Paul’s throat.

“CHASE THEM! KILL THEM! GO!”

Moxie landed in Tiny’s waiting arms with surprising gentleness. “Thanks,” she gasped. The giant nodded and set her down on the ground with a grunt. “Go,” he rumbled. “Meet back at headquarters in two hours.”

Moxie started to stammer out a protest, but Tiny’s piggish eyes flashed at her with such commanding force that she relented without a word. She raced off in the first direction she looked - northeast - as fast as she could. Behind her, Tiny sprinted away in the opposite direction, his massive footfalls thudding heavily against the pavement.

Lily Manor was a mansion tucked into one of Central City’s wealthiest areas, and it was surrounded by tall penthouse buildings and luxurious restaurants. Because of this, the manor had no real grounds to speak of. It was just a matter of hurdle-jumping over a low iron fence and Moxie was back on the street. There wasn’t any more machine gun fire; Spats must have made a break for it as well. Her heart fluttered a bit at the thought of the way Spats had just saved her life.

No time to think about that now, dammit, she thought angrily. Based on the sounds of pursuit that were beginning to reach her from behind, she had bigger problems right now than finding a murderous gangster’s actions to be, when it came right down to it, rather dashing.

She glanced back over her shoulder. She was still some seventy yards ahead of them, but Tall Paul’s men were sprinting after her. Her heart panged with fear as she realized that there were seven of them. Why did they all come after me?! Dammit!

She put on a fresh burst of speed. Her calves were already burning.

Come on, come on, come ON!

She sprinted at top speed down the dark, empty street. Her side was getting a stitch and her lungs burned, but she forced herself onward. Tall Paul’s thugs were getting closer, howling out cat-calls, insults, and threats. The chill night air was starting to make her bare arms feel numb.

Dammit, Spats, where are you?! Shit, I’m so screwed! I’m sorry, Piper! I’m so sorry!

Moxie pushed through the pain and ran for her life. The mobsters were gaining on her.

BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ.

Her cell phone was ringing. Oh, god, please don’t be Piper, she thought, clawing at her pocket, her speed momentarily reducing to an awkward half-run, half-hobble.

But it wasn’t Piper.

She answered the phone, picking up speed again. She couldn’t speak, but the voice on the other end didn’t wait for her to.

“Use the jewelry case!” Spats yelled.

“Wha… What?” Moxie panted.

“Just drop it on the ground behind ya, Doll! I’ll do the rest. Keep moving! Don’t stop running, no matter what! You understand me?!”

“Yes,” Moxie gasped. The call ended with a soft click.

Stuffing the phone back into her pocket, terrifyingly aware of how close Tall Paul’s men were getting, Moxie fished in her opposite pocket for the jewelry case she had broken into The Blue Lily to steal. Good riddance, she thought, dropping the red leather box on the ground. It hit the pavement with a soft thud, so heavy that it didn’t even bounce.

“Come back, baby!” One of Tall Paul’s men yelled after her.

“Yeah, stop running, sexy!” Another called. “Let’s have some fun!”

Moxie’s fists clenched so hard that she felt the muscles in her forearms trembling. She didn’t stop running and she didn’t look back. Behind her, her pursuers began to run past the red leather jewelry case sitting inconspicuously on the street. Unheard by all of them, the box made a beeping sound that repeated faster and faster.

PRA-KOOM!!!

A rush of warm air slammed into Moxie’s back, sending her sprawling forward and erasing the skin from her right elbow as it scraped the cement. Comprehension dawned on her all at once, and she sat up quickly, twisting around to look back toward the gangsters that had been pursuing her.

They were dead. The bomb Spats had concealed in the jewelry case had gone off in the midst of the seven men, ripping them all to shreds. They were burn-blackened and motionless on the ground.

Moxie’s chest rose and fell, her lungs clawing desperately for oxygen. She noticed that her ears were ringing; not too badly, but they were. She sat there catching her breath for untold minutes, not knowing what was going to happen next and not particularly caring either. She had survived. She was alive. For now, that was enough for her.

“Get up, Doll. Come on,” Spats said.

Moxie looked up. The mob boss stood over her, resting a tommy gun on his shoulder with his right hand and reaching out to her with his left. His eyes shone with exhilaration and triumph. Moxie met his gaze, finding it irresistable - even intoxicating.

She smiled. She nodded. She took Spats’ hand.

***

Piper stared out the bus window watching the city rooftops sail by. School had been bad today, but she didn’t mind much. School was always bad. And while she had suffered a panic attack in the bathroom this morning between classes, even that hadn’t been able to dampen her mood.

Today was her birthday. Today she was twelve years old; almost a teenager. And tonight, she was going to celebrate with her beloved big sister.

Her eyes shone with excitement as she watched the rooftops pass below. The bus ride was her favorite part of school. It felt wonderful to be floating so high above the ground as the bus weaved in and out of mid-air traffic. The clouds were so close that she felt she could reach out and pull tufts of them down like the cotton candy in the Festival District.

The android driver’s droning voice crackled over the bus’ loudspeaker. “Preparing for descent. Please remain seated. This will be our final stop.”

Piper glanced around the bus’ interior. There were only a couple of other kids still aboard; losers, like her, who lived at the farthest reaches of the South Aleph Educational Company’s district. None of them looked at each other as the bus began to sink through the sky towards its landing pad. Paradoxically, their shared experiences as the victims of their wealthier and more popular classmates’ bullying did nothing to bring them closer together. There was safety in flying solo. Crowds drew attention, and attention was the last thing any of them wanted any more of from the other kids at school.

The bus’ engines made the familiar rattling sound as the android pilot took it down. Piper squeezed her knees with her fingers. She felt like she might burst at any moment from sheer excitement.

The bus landed at last. “Bus fees are due before disembarking,” the android driver droned. “We hope to see you again tomorrow. Thank you for your ongoing patronage, and remember, in the words of our founder, Bob Moses: Aleph Corporation is the first and the best. As we break away from the constraints of the past, we look to streamline the future. And that future is Aleph Corp.”

Piper was the first one out of her seat. She fished five bills bearing the Aleph Corporation logo out of her backpack and fed them into the machine next to the bus’ door. Upon receiving payment the door opened, and she sprang from the bus’ confines with a whoop of joy. The door closed quickly behind her, awaiting payment from the next child who wished to disembark.

The chill autumn air burned Piper’s cheeks pleasantly as she made her way home. She took her time. Moxie hadn’t come home from work last night. This had happened before, so Moxie’s absence this morning hadn’t worried Piper too much, but she knew that whenever her big sister did get home, she would be asleep for hours. She hated it when Moxie worked night shifts. She wished Moxie would let her get a job too, but her big sister was adamant. Piper was to focus exclusively on her school, and on having the sort of ordinary childhood Moxie herself had been denied.

Ordinary childhood. Make friends, Piper, have fun, Piper, enjoy yourself, Piper.

Bright laughter rang from the adorable young girl with the wild orange hair as she walked along brick walls with her arms outstretched for balance, as she leapt over manhole covers and piles of long-dried animal waste, as she kicked flecks of gravel along the street ahead of her and watched them bounce and skitter.

Today was her birthday. Today, she was twelve.

Today, she was happy.

***

Moxie awoke with a start. Cold sweat was beaded on her forehead. Gunshots rang in her ears. Johnny Paradise’s blood drenched her bare feet. And somewhere far away, Tall Paul’s shrieks of rage summoned innumerable thugs from the shadows to murder her.

Except none of it was true. None of it was real. Here she was, safe at home, tangled in blankets that were damp with sweat. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She felt awful. It hadn’t been until noon that she had gotten home with Piper’s gift in tow. Mall, the store clerk who had helped her order the hat for Piper last week, had eyed the young woman with scarcely concealed concern, but she’d held her tongue. The only thing the careworn woman had said was an irritating reminder that there were no refunds on custom-made items.

No refunds, Moxie thought dully. Then for good measure she added, Damn Clothiers.

Moxie swung her legs around and stared down at her bare feet. On some level she had felt sure it was just a nightmare, but it was nevertheless a relief to see that they weren’t covered in blood. She groaned and held her head. Her sinuses burned with a thick sort of feeling. A glance at the clock did nothing to improve her mood. It was five in the evening. Piper’s probably home already, she thought.

Moxie had never felt more conflicted about the idea of seeing her little sister. She still wanted her to have the best birthday ever, but right now she didn’t think she could stand being in the same city as Piper’s sunny disposition.

Sighing, Moxie forced herself to stand up and dress. Her tiny bedroom - which was originally built to be a walk-in storage closet - was sparsely decorated. Moxie spent as little time in the cramped space as possible when she wasn’t sleeping. She knelt down and peered under the wooden cot she used as her bed. She pulled out two boxes. One was gift-wrapped; Mall had been kind enough to wrap Piper’s present free of charge. The other was a small metal lockbox with a four-digit combination lock. Moxie turned the little dials to the proper combination and opened the lid.

The lockbox was stuffed with cash. Some of it - the money she’d added from last night’s job - was flecked with little brown spots of dried blood. The rest had been scrimped and saved for over the last few years. Moxie had been forced to empty this box several times before when need struck, but she had always started filling it again at the first opportunity. Now, for the first time, the little lockbox was full of enough money to give her hope of a better future.

Spats had paid her more than generously last night. Upon their return to headquarters, he’d handed her an envelope with ten grand inside. “Your portion, Johnny’s portion, and some extra for being so damn cute, Doll,” the mob boss had said, flashing a charming smile her way.

Moxie had smiled back. The nickname, Doll, irked her less and less. She was even starting to like it.

“So, what now?” she had asked. “What about Tall Paul?”

Spats and Tiny exchanged a glance. Charlie, who had been guarding headquarters during the mission, was chewing on toothpicks and tossing them away at a frantic pace. Johnny’s betrayal seemed to have hit him harder than anyone.

“We’ll figure it out,” Spats said at last. “Paul’s smart, but he’s got a short fuse. My guess is he’ll get impatient and do something stupid.” The mob boss’ eyes glinted with an eerie light. “Either way, he’ll be dead soon…”

Shaking the memories away, Moxie closed the lockbox again and locked it. New memories arose in her mind. Some time ago, she had shared the combination to this lockbox with Piper in case of an emergency. As Moxie picked up the gift-wrapped box and left her bedroom, she had seldom felt more hopeful that such an emergency would never come.

Piper sprang to her feet as Moxie entered the living room. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the colorfully wrapped box in her big sister’s hands. Moxie set the present down on their small table and winked at her.

“You hungry, birthday girl?”

“Yeah!”

“C’mon and help me, then!”

***

Together, the two sisters watched Allie Aleph while eating a dinner made of Piper’s favorites: ramen noodles, chicken fingers, and roasted brocolli with apples.

This is the best night ever,. Piper thought, her eyes shining. She smiled at her big sister, and Moxie smiled back. They burst out laughing.

“So you want to be like Allie Aleph, huh?” Moxie asked during a commercial break.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Piper replied thoughtfully. “I just like her clothes and stuff. She’s a lot prettier than I’ll ever be.”

“Are you kidding? You’re way prettier than her! You’re way prettier than anybody on TV!” Moxie said. “All of them use a bunch of makeup and special effects to look all perfect all the time. You just look perfect naturally!”

Piper laughed. “No I don’t! What about my crazy hair?”

Moxie smoothed down Piper’s wild orange hair and pulled her sister close, hugging her tight. “I love your hair, dummy!” All at once, a huge love for Piper welled up in Moxie’s chest. She felt blindsided by the force of it. She blinked back unexpected tears, thankful Piper couldn’t see her face. “You’re important, Piper. You’re special. And I think you’re the prettiest twelve year old in the world.”

There was something in her big sister’s voice, a certain sincerity perhaps, or maybe it was the way Moxie was holding her so tight, that struck a place very deep in Piper’s heart. She didn’t cry, her lip didn’t even quiver, but an aching love akin to tears swelled in her small chest that was overwhelming. She rested in Moxie’s embrace as the rest of Allie Aleph played, only pulling away when Moxie herself released her when the credits rolled.

“Ready for cake?” Moxie asked.

“Mhm!”

Moxie rose and strode to the refrigerator, making sure to pull on its trick handle with a hard, quick jerk. A small, white box with a sticker that read SOUTH ALEPH CONFECTIONERY sat alone on the top shelf. Moxie brought it to the table and opened it. Inside was a round cake. Its pale pink frosting was decorated with little white puffs and swirls that ringed the edges. On top was a single unlit candle.

“Whoa!” Piper gasped. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of the cake. “It’s so pretty!”

Moxie smiled and lit the candle. “You ready to make a wish, twelve-year-old?”

Piper’s face screwed up in concentration. She looked from the cake to Moxie and back again. She nodded.

“Happy birthday, Piper! Make your wish and blow out the candle,” Moxie said.

Piper stared down at the little flame dancing atop the candle wick. “I wish…” she said quietly. She looked up at Moxie and said, “I wish… I wish that we could be together like this forever!”

DA-DOOM!

A pang in Moxie’s chest made her eyes shimmer with fresh tears. She blinked them away and watched as Piper took a deep breath and blew on the candle. The little flame wavered, sputtered, and then went out. A thin tendril of smoke wafted lazily over the table.

***

After the delicious cake had been eaten, Moxie gave her little sister a mischievous smile. “Ready for your present?”

“Yeah!” Piper cheered.

Moxie slid the gift-wrapped box across the table. Piper stared down at it in wonder.

“Well?” Moxie prodded. “It’s not gonna open itself!”

Piper nodded. “Oh, I know. I just… I just want to remember this forever.” Her eyes met Moxie’s. “Thank you, Moxie. Thank you for everything. This is the best birthday ever.”

Moxie smiled. Her heart pounded with anticipation as Piper pulled on the ribbon and tore off the wrapping paper.

Piper opened the box. Her jaw dropped.

Inside was a large brown hat of the same sort that Allie Aleph wore on her TV show. Piper looked at Moxie, staring in joyous disbelief. “But… But I told you not to,” she murmured.

Moxie chuckled. “Hey, I’m your big sister. You’re not the boss of me!”

Piper looked down again and reached into the box. Moxie frowned as her little sister pulled the hat out and turned it around in her hands. The hat was enormous. It wasn’t just a little bigger than Piper’s head, so she’d have some room to grow into it, like the lady at the store had said. It was just way too big; multiple sizes too big, in fact.

Piper plopped the hat onto her head. It was so big on her that at first it covered her eyes, like a big brown jellyfish was trying to swallow her head whole. Then Piper tilted it back a bit, which worked a little bit better - but only a little bit. She raised her hands like a street performer looking for applause and said, “Ta-Da!”

Moxie was dimly aware that she was crying. Her vision was blurring. Streams of hot tears were running down her cheeks in thick runners. And all at once, a fierce and miserable rage, so big and so hot and so loud that it drowned out every other thought and every other feeling, exploded within her. The next thing she knew she was running out of the room, throwing herself down on her cot, wailing and cursing and pounding the walls and blankets with her fists.

Piper watched her big sister’s meltdown in horror. Her small hands reached up and touched the hat on her head. She wondered how giving her a present could have possibly made Moxie so upset. Piper had never, not even once, seen Moxie so unraveled. Not even in her most towering of rages. Not even in her most vicious rants about The Clothiers, about the Five Companies, about the world they lived in, had Moxie ever lost control so completely.

Piper’s heart thundered with terror as she saw her big sister’s knuckles get bloodier and bloodier as they pounded against the walls again and again. Moxie’s weeping had turned into a strangled moaning that rose and fell with frightening irregularity.

“Moxie…” Piper gasped.

Moxie cocked her fist back to pound the wall again, but instead her arm trembled, faltered, fell to her side. The dark-haired young woman sat down heavily against the wall and sank down to the floor, her breath coming in choked little hiccups and sobs. Piper reached out, hesitated, and then touched her sister’s shoulder. Somehow, so abruptly that the very suddenness of it was utterly terrifying, everything had fallen apart. Piper’s whole world seemed to be shattering before her very eyes, and she was powerless to stop it. And it was that powerlessness that was most terrifying of all.

“Moxie, I like the hat! What’s wrong? I love it,” Piper babbled, talking for the sake of talking, talking because she had no idea what else to do. The words weren’t important. All that mattered was that she said them, that she reached out to her big sister and pulled her back into the normal world.

I’m losing her, Piper realized. It was a cold truth.

Then Moxie, still trembling with sobs, looked up at Piper. Piper gasped. Her big sister’s eyes were filled with a sadness so huge and so desperate that the sight of it very nearly broke her young heart right then and there.

But it didn’t.

Piper was made of sterner stuff than that. She was stronger than she knew; stronger than even Moxie knew. So, her heart didn’t break. Her world didn’t shatter. Instead, the twelve-year-old birthday girl knelt down beside her weeping big sister and took her into her small arms. She held Moxie as she cried and shook and wailed. She held Moxie tight, the same way that Moxie had held her so many times before. She held Moxie for what felt like an eternity, until her big sister’s tears had finally dried up and her breathing was steady again. Only then did Piper pull back and meet Moxie’s eyes.

“Moxie?”

Moxie’s voice was thick from crying, but calm. “Yeah, Piper?”

“What’s wrong?”

Moxie shrugged one shoulder. She looked more exhausted than Piper had ever known a human being could look. “Nothing. Just… Just the hat, I guess. No refunds. It’s too big for you. I’m so sorry, Piper. I’m so damn sorry. I tried, Piper. I… I really tried!”

Piper was alarmed. Moxie seemed dangerously close to tears again, and though Piper had survived the first wave, she wasn’t sure she could survive a second without falling apart herself. “Moxie, no, no, Moxie, listen, I love it! It’s just what I wanted, Moxie! It’s so pretty! Sure, it’s a little big for my head, but I love it! Really!”

Moxie sniffled. “You do?”

Piper nodded, because it was the truth. She was absolutely sincere. “I do.”

Moxie sighed. After a long moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Moxie. Thank you for the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Piper said. She smiled gently.

Moxie smiled back. It was a weary smile, an almost haunted smile. “You’re welcome, little sis.”

“I love you, Moxie.”

“I love you too, Piper.”

BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ.

Moxie’s face went hard. She looked down at her pocket, where her cell phone was ringing.

BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ.

“Moxie? Who is it?” Piper asked, but her sister didn’t seem to hear her. She pulled the phone from her pocket, stared at it with a dead expression, and answered it.

“Yeah?” She said.

Piper couldn’t make out what the person on the other end of the line was saying to her big sister. All she could hear was the faint buzz of a voice - probably a man’s voice - talking for what seemed a very long time. Occasionally Moxie would nod, but her expression never changed and she never spoke a word. The only sign of what was happening inside her was the light in her eyes, which changed from weary, to angry, to determined.

“Alright,” she said at last. “I’m coming.” Then she hung up the phone and returned it to her pocket.

“Moxie? Who was that?” Piper asked, feeling nervous. She didn’t like this. Not any of it. Not at all.

“Work,” Moxie murmured. “I have to go back in. Sorry, Piper. Happy birthday.”

“Work?” Piper frowned. “Have they ever called you this late before?”

Moxie didn’t respond. She stood and changed into some dark clothing. Piper watched her with a troubled expression. Once she had dressed, Moxie pulled on her black shoes. They had strange brown stains on them. Piper had never seen those stains before, and something about them filled her with a new terror that was ice-cold and knife-sharp.

“Don’t wait up,” Moxie said. “I love you, Piper.”

Piper stood and hugged her sister, but it was like Moxie wasn’t even present in the embrace. She seemed far away, in some cold and desolate place, all alone.

Before Piper even got the chance to tell her big sister that she loved her too, Moxie closed the door behind her. The sound of her soft footfalls faded quickly into the distance. And just like that, she was gone.

Piper stared at the closed door for a long time. Her heart told her that something was wrong; terribly wrong. Moxie was in some kind of trouble.

What do I do?

For some reason, Piper thought of the monsters that lurked in the dark; the monsters she knew she was too old to believe in, but in whom she had an unshakable belief nonetheless. Those monsters might eat you, but so long as they didn’t mock you, so long as they left you your dignity, being eaten wouldn’t be so bad.

Were those same monsters stalking Moxie through the night?

Piper pulled the chunky cell phone from her pocket and debated calling Moxie. For the first time, she wondered if Moxie might not answer if she did. It was possible. Tonight, anything seemed possible. Feeling uncomfortable, she pulled the big brown hat down tighter over her wild orange hair.

“See, Piper? Anytime you need me, you can always reach me. Just call me with your phone, and I’ll come help you.” That’s what Moxie had said. And for five years, she had kept that promise. As surely as the sun would rise each morning, Moxie would answer Piper if she called, and she would come help if she was in trouble. For five years, this had been a simple and unquestionable fact of life.

Until now.

What if she needs my help this time? Piper realized. What if she can’t save herself, and I’m the only one she can count on? Moxie would never ask me for help like that; I’m her little sister. But maybe… Piper’s thoughtful gaze landed on the tatters of wrapping paper on the table. …Maybe, family means that sometimes you don’t wait to be asked. Maybe, right now, Moxie doesn’t even know she needs me. But she does. I know she does. So… So what do I do?

Piper hesitated, feeling torn between two worlds. Then, making up her mind, she pulled on her shoes and jacket.

Whatever it is, Moxie, I can help you, she thought. That’s what you’ve done for me my whole life, right? You’ve always come to my rescue. So tonight, I’m coming to save you!

Taking a deep, steadying breath, the twelve-year-old girl stepped out of the apartment and locked the door behind her.

***

The Blue Lily was dark. No socialites danced in its ballroom. No waiters roamed about with trays of hors d'oeuvres. No music played. No cooks stepped out into the alley for smoke breaks. The only sounds were the echoing clicks of Tall Paul’s footsteps as he walked alone toward the building’s back exit, eyes dark with deadly fury.

Spats had made a fool of him. There was no question about that. Tall Paul was no man to shy away from hard truths, but this one was particularly hard to swallow. Spats had humiliated him. He had invaded Tall Paul’s territory, evaded his traps, murdered a dozen of his best men, and snuffed out the one ace he had up his sleeve. Johnny Paradise’s blood would take weeks to clean off of the walls and out of the carpet, if it ever came out at all.

That damn greedy upstart, Tall Paul fumed.

To his knowledge, Spats had only been in the game for a few years. In that time, he had gained a reputation for being a ruthless man. Despite his notoriety, however, his Colombo Mafia had only managed to carve out a tiny territory for itself in the brutal world of Central City’s mafias. Shit, the man only had three real lieutenants, and one of those had sold him out! So how? How, and just where, exactly, did this sniveling little piss-ant think he got the right to take on the Lily Legion Mafia, Central City’s most powerful gang, and get away with it?

Tall Paul’s fingers fidgeted with a nervous energy that refused to dissipate. No. No chance. No chance in hell would “Tall Paul” Moraque, head of the Lily Legion Mafia, Don of all but the smallest corners of Central City, allow some shitty little upstart like “Spats” Colombo to get one over on him and live to tell the tale.

“This has to end tonight, LirLirLir…” he growled.

The Blue Lily’s back exit had two locks: a keypad lock, and a heavy padlock that required a key. Tall Paul punched the code into the keypad, then inserted his key and unlocked the padlock. The door made a heavy CLUNK-HISS sound as its its locks disengaged and its seal was broken.

Tall Paul lit a cigarette as he stepped outside, so preoccupied by his fury that he didn’t notice that the lights that normally shone in the back alley had all gone out. He didn’t even look around or take the precaution of keeping the door open. It closed behind him with a HISS-CLUNK, sealing off The Blue Lily completely, with him outside. Tall Paul took a deep drag on his cigarette and said, “Get ready, boys, we’re going hunting. Call up the—”

He froze.

The men he’d been speaking to - the six men who had been guarding the back entrance while he finished up the day’s business - were all dead. Some lay in pools of blood from gunshot wounds, others lay in ruined heaps with broken bones and battered faces. Only one of them still stood with his back to Tall Paul, but there was something uncanny about the way the guard’s feet didn’t seem to be touching the ground.

“Hiya, Paul,” Spats said.

Tall Paul’s face went ghost-white. He sputtered wordlessly as Tiny tossed the dead guard aside. The man’s feet finally touched the ground as he landed on the pavement with a meaty thud.

Spats, Tiny, Charlie, and Moxie stood before Tall Paul at the mouth of The Blue Lily’s rear alley. Paul licked his lips nervously. He was trapped.

DA-DOOM!

“How’s business?” Spats asked, his eyes glittering dangerously.

Just behind him, Charlie cracked his knuckles and Tiny’s piggish eyes glared. Only Moxie - Miss Black, as Tall Paul knew her - wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were on the ground, watching her feet as she pushed pebbles back and forth with the toe of her blood-stained shoe.

“What do you want, Spats?” Tall Paul demanded, but his voice was a bit too shaky for his liking. There was no authority in his words. He began to draw on the power of his Business Wear, but something about the upstart Don’s smile told Paul that the Influence powers he had used to get so far in the underworld wouldn’t be able to save him now.

Spats’ voice was calm, easy, terrifying. “You know the one thing I hate most, Paul my man? A rat. A rat’s the dirtiest thing a person can be, in my opinion. And I’ll tell ya - until last night, I was damn sure there wasn’t anything that could be worse than a rat. But you, you helped me realize something. Want to know what it was?”

“W-What?” Tall Paul asked despite himself.

“The only thing worse than a rat is a piece of shit that makes rats. And you, my friend, you are that piece of shit. What’d you offer Johnny, huh? Money? Power? We both know you weren’t going to keep your promises either way, so maybe it doesn’t matter. Johnny was dead, either at your hand or mine, from the moment you made him an offer. All that matters is that you took my man, my friend, and you turned him into a damn scummy little RAT!” Spats shouted this last word with such sudden and explosive force that Tall Paul staggered backward and tripped over one of the corpses, staining the back of his fancy blue tuxedo with muddy blood.

“Spats, listen, please, Spats…” Tall Paul stammered. He was trying to use the Influence of his tuxedo to be more persuasive, but it didn’t seem to be helping. He licked his lips with desperate jabs of his tongue, scooting backward on his ass toward The Blue Lily’s locked door, trembling all over. Spats and his followers started to move closer.

“I’m listening, Paul,” Spats murmured.

“You… You can’t kill me, Spats!” Paul whimpered. “You know how much danger you’ll be in if you do? You’re gonna have the whole city against you. You’re gonna be targeted by every rival mobster between here and Ganzhou! You wanna screw with the Ten-Ton Tanks, Spats? Do ya?! If you kill me, you’re a dead man, you hear me? A DEAD MAN!”

Spats snapped his fingers. Behind him, Charlie melted into the shadows, then reappeared a moment later in mid-air above Tall Paul. With a soundless snarl, Charlie brought his foot down with incredible force on Tall Paul’s left knee. Moxie flinched and looked away as the Lily Legion Boss shrieked with agony and his leg made a dreadful CRACKING sound as its bones were pulverized.

Charlie spat on Tall Paul, then slipped back into the shadows and returned to his place behind Spats. The Colombo Mafia Boss glared down at Paul and snapped again. Tiny’s massive footfalls thundered as the giant advanced on Tall Paul, who was gibbering with terror. Moxie clamped her eyes shut. She didn’t see what Tiny did to Paul, but whatever it was shook the ground and tore a scream of pain from the man’s throat that sounded even worse than the last one. She didn’t open her eyes again until Tiny’s heavy footsteps had returned to her side and stopped once more.

Now Spats himself stepped forward. He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, staring down at Tall Paul’s mangled legs - it seemed Tiny had stomped on the right one - with a serene expression. Paul’s whimpering and wailing grew faster and more desperate as Spats approached, but with his legs ruined he couldn’t move any further.

“Got anything to say to me, Paulie-boy?” Spats asked, as though he were reminding a child to say please or thank you.

Tall Paul just snarled at Spats like a feral dog, then he laughed a horrible, croaking laugh. “LirLir…LirLirLir…”

Spats nodded, but to Moxie’s surprise, he didn’t do anything else to Paul. He just turned around and walked back to his place in front of his followers, his face still serene. Then he turned to Moxie and held something out to her. She stared at the object in his hand without comprehending what it was at first. Then her stomach dropped.

It was a gun.

Moxie stared at Spats with eyes full of horror. “I… I can’t…” she started, but Spats just placed a gentle finger over her lips to silence her.

“Too late to turn back now, Babydoll,” he said softly.

Trembling, Moxie took the gun. It felt horribly heavy in her hand. She felt lost as she stepped obediently forward towards Tall Paul. A thick fog had fallen over her mind, a fog full of deep swamps and secret sinkholes and deadly quicksand. A fog that flowed, with irresistible steadiness, from the man whose eyes she could feel on the back of her neck.

Tall Paul had killed before. So had Charlie. But the man who had handed her this gun, whose will was propelling her toward a destiny she would never be able to come back from, was a killer. And now, Moxie realized with icy clarity that Spats intended to make her a killer as well.

He was going to make her just like him.

Just like him.

Her footsteps made soft scraping sounds against the pavement as she came to a stop before Tall Paul.

Two grand for one job. Five grand for one job. Ten grand for one job.

She observed the little foamy dots of spittle that dotted Paul’s chin. The disturbing way his legs - especially the right one - suddenly had several bends in them, not just the single one that came natural for most people. The mealy mixture of dirt and gravel and blood that was caked on his tuxedo and hands like an obscene chunky peanut butter.

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

“Damn right,” Moxie said.

Tall Paul’s eyes were red with tears. His thin mustache quivered on his upper lip. His mouth moved in the same way again and again, trying to say please, please, please, but lacking the breath or power to do so.

“I’m not alone!” Piper said brightly. “I have you!”

Moxie felt Spats’ approach. He placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Now kill him, Doll,” he said.

Moxie’s heart thundered. She felt hot inside - did she have a fever? Where had that come from? She hoped Piper hadn’t caught sick from her tonight, or last year, or whatever far-away time the birthday party had taken place. Her fingers felt too comfortable wrapped around the gun’s handle, too natural. Its weight seemed right, somehow.

“That’s right, good girl,” Spats whispered in Moxie’s ear as she raised the gun toward Tall Paul.

Memories of Paul himself aiming his massive handgun at her flowed like river water through Moxie’s mind. Wasn’t this right, in the end? Wasn’t it right that she should be the one aiming a gun down at this man? This man, who had threatened her, who had haunted her nightmares, who had trapped her and held her captive?

“…Nobody should have to suffer because they can’t get what they need! So whether it’s the Clothiers’ fault, or the Five Companies with their Five Presidents, I don’t care! I don’t care whose fault it is! Because… If this whole system is rotten to the core… Then I’m going to break this whole stupid world, so everybody can live free and have everything they need!” Piper cried.

Moxie smiled. Piper… You crazy kid…

“Just pull the trigger,” said Spats.

Moxie closed her eyes. She clenched her jaw.

“Please…” Tall Paul whispered.

She pulled the trigger.

BOOM.

Then she was shaking violently, trembling all over, rattling from head to toe. She collapsed to her knees, eyes still squeezed shut. She couldn’t look. She didn’t dare. But she felt Spats’ hand on her shoulder again, felt the strength and reassurance that flowed from it like water in the desert.

“Attagirl,” he said. “Welcome to the Colombo Mafia. You’re one of us now.”

Moxie opened her eyes.

Tall Paul was dead. The bullet had hit him right between the eyes. In the end, he had been so consumed by terror that he must have crawled into some deep, dark corner of his own mind, because his face wasn’t twisted in terror any longer. He just looked a bit sad.

She was too close to him here, too close with her knees against the pavement and her living eyes level with his dead ones. Spats must have sensed what she was feeling, because he helped her to her feet. She didn’t look at him, not yet. She didn’t think she could bear to look at anyone right now. Shock, colorless and cold, washed over her.

“I should clean that up,” she said. She didn’t even know why she had said it; it just seemed to be the truth.

“Nah, the boys’ll clean up the mess,” said Spats. “You’re my girl now, and no girl of mine’s gonna work like a damn maid.”

Startled, Moxie looked at Spats. “Your girl?” She echoed. Her own voice seemed to come from very far away.

Spats just smiled. “That okay by you, Babydoll?”

“Babydoll?”

“Yeah, it’s my new name for ya. I think it fits pretty well, huh?”

Moxie blinked. Babydoll. She hung her head, feeling miserable and horrified and more afraid than she had ever known a person could be. I’m a killer. Just like him.

“Hey, Doll, you’re lucky I found you, you know. I saw your potential,” said Spats, as though he was doing her some unheard-of favor. “I made you something. You were nothing before, weren’t ya?”

Moxie nodded.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Spats said with a satisfied smile. “But not anymore. Now, you’re a queen. My queen. Every king needs a queen, right? And that’s what I’m gonna be, Babydoll. First I’m gonna be king of this city, then I’m gonna be king of this whole damn world.”

The words flowed over Moxie like static. They held no meaning for her.

“Tiny, Charlie, take care of the mess, huh? There’s an extra five hundred in it for both of ya.”

The giant and the glassy-eyed gangster muttered their assent and got to work. Meanwhile, Spats steered Moxie away, his hand still resting on her shoulder. Puppet, she mused. I thought Johnny was like a puppet. But it’s me. I’m a puppet. And Spats has my strings now.

“Stay here, will ya, Babydoll? I think you’ve seen enough, uh, unpleasantness for one night,” Spats said.

Moxie just nodded and obediently stayed put as Spats walked away. She didn’t even look up to see where he was going. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

She stood there for an unknowable amount of time, staring down at the pavement. A large beetle waddled along the curb. Moxie wondered if it was looking for food. What kind of food did beetles like? Did they eat people-food? Were they like Piper, who liked ramen noodles and chicken fingers and roasted broccoli with apples?

Will I ever see her again? Moxie wondered dully, but it was a thought with no connection to reality. Her ears were ringing. She couldn’t remember why. Her hand felt oddly heavy. She looked down at it and saw she was still holding the gun. She stared down at the weapon, feeling no connection to its physical reality.

Then she heard a voice. It was a small voice, a hesitant voice, a familiar voice, a dear voice. And suddenly she was afraid. More afraid than she had been at any point before now. Suddenly, the direction in which Spats had walked, and exactly how far he had gone, was of paramount importance. He can’t have her. He can’t get her like he got me, she thought wildly.

She looked up and saw Piper crossing the street toward her, looking so small and so vulnerable. Piper’s eyes sparkled with love and concern for her big sister.

“Moxie…?” Piper said…