CENTRAL CITY. SIX YEARS AGO.

“Moxie…?” Piper said.

Moxie’s mouth had gone dry. She stared at Piper with mounting horror. She had felt distant before, numb. Now every one of her twelve-year-old little sister’s footsteps clicked in her ears with terribly present clarity. This was real. Piper was approaching Moxie, crossing the dark street with one small hand holding the over-sized brown hat steady on her head.

“Go away,” Moxie tried to say, but her voice wasn’t working. Her head jerked violently as she looked around, sure she had felt Spats’ hand touching her shoulder again. But he wasn’t there.

“Moxie, I came to help!” Piper said. She looked scared, but only a little. “I followed you because I was worried. I heard a bunch of noise. It sounded like… like gunshots. Are you okay?”

Oh, no. No, no, no… Moxie thought. A sickly feeling squirmed in her stomach. Please, Piper. Please, no.

“Moxie?” Piper said again, her big eyes narrowing with concern. “What was that noise? Was it really…” She went suddenly pale. Moxie followed her little sister’s gaze down to the gun that was still in her hand.

“What’s going on?” Piper gasped. “Moxie, where did you get that gun?”

“Piper…”

TEK. TEK. TEK.

Footsteps?!

Moxie turned. In the distance, she saw a familiar silhouette round the corner and walk toward her.

Spats. Oh, god, no. Anything but him. Please.

But it was Spats. There was no doubt in her mind now. The immaculate white spats he wore seemed to glow out of the darkness. He was still far enough away that he might not be able to see the little girl who stood in the middle of the street; the little girl whose wild orange hair was so unlike her own dark wavy hair. It was a desperate hope, but Moxie clung to it with both hands and with her teeth for good measure.

“Piper. Get out of here,” Moxie said firmly.

Piper frowned. “What? No, I came here to help you!”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. Just go home, Piper. Go. Now!”

Piper shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t want to leave you alone, Moxie. What’s wrong? You can tell me, I can help you! We’re sisters, we take care of each other, remember?”

TEK. TEK. TEK.

Spats was getting closer. Moxie’s heart panged with a thrill of terror.

Piper’s heart was pounding. She felt very close to tears, but she refused to give in. It suddenly seemed that she was staring at her big sister across a chasm that was bottomless, but narrow. She felt that if she could just take Moxie’s hand, she could pull her across the narrow gap to safety. Then they could go home together, and laugh and talk and sing and play and cry and work and grow up and go to school and eat and sleep, just as they always had, just as she felt sure they always would. That was how things were supposed to be. Why couldn’t Moxie understand that?

“Moxie, come on! Come home!” Piper urged.

Then she heard the footsteps, too. She looked and saw the dark shape of a man walking down the sidewalk toward them. Only the pair of white spats on his feet seemed to glow out of the night shadows. Piper’s heart was pounding. She looked from the approaching man to Moxie. Her big sister’s face was twisted in a tormented terror.

And Piper suddenly understood many things all at once. She understood that her sister had made a terrible choice. She understood that Moxie felt trapped, and that this shadow-man with white feet was the one who had trapped her. And she understood - but refused to believe - that there was absolutely nothing she could do to help her big sister after all.

The tears were flowing now. She was powerless to stop them. “Moxie…”

Moxie stared at her for a long time. Piper wondered what she was thinking about. Then Moxie’s eyes turned downward. The approaching man’s footsteps were getting louder. Closer. It suddenly struck Piper that she didn’t want to be here when he arrived.

But she wasn’t leaving without Moxie.

“Piper,” Moxie said.

Piper watched as Moxie gazed up again and met her eyes. She gasped. There was a look in Moxie’s eyes that she had never seen before. It was a look of desperation, determination, and desolation.

Piper couldn’t speak.

Moxie raised the gun and aimed it toward her little sister. She cocked the hammer back.

CLICK.

Piper gasped.

I’m so sorry, Piper. I’m so sorry!

Moxie’s voice was steady and cold. “Leave. Go away and leave me alone. I don’t want your help. I don’t want you. Leave me alone, Piper! Just go.”

Piper frowned. The words her big sister was speaking made no sense. They were so absurd, so nonsensical, that they seemed utterly devoid of meaning. It was like her sister was reading her nursery rhymes in a foreign language.

“What?” Piper asked. Her voice sounded more scared than she felt. And why should she feel scared? After all, her sister had just said a bunch of nonsense words, that was all.

Moxie’s body started to shake with violent sobs. Her teeth were clenched together. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. The gun barrel was trembling.

TEK. TEK. TEK.

Spats was close. Too close. Close enough to see Piper.

“GO AWAY!” Moxie screamed.

The footsteps stopped. Spats stood listening in the darkness. Moxie no longer cared. All that mattered was that her little sister escape. Spats might have gotten Moxie, but she refused to let him take Piper, too.

Piper’s voice shook. “Moxie, what are you—”

BLAM!

A breeze pushed a single autumn-browned leaf along the pavement. It rattled as it scraped along, then it disappeared into the night shadows once more.

Piper was cold. So cold. Am I dead, she wondered. Did she shoot me? No, that’s crazy. I’m not hurting anywhere.

Then she looked down. There was a small, smoking crater in the street a foot or two in front of her. Piper looked up at her big sister. Moxie was still pointing the gun at her, panting, eyes full of anguish.

“You shot a gun at me,” Piper murmured.

“Go away!” Moxie cried.

“But I—”

“GO!”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Piper’s feet were glued to the pavement. She couldn’t budge a muscle. The muzzle flashes were blinding in the darkness, but she didn’t look away. She heard two of the bullets slam into buildings behind her. A third impacted the pavement some twenty feet away. The fourth bullet must have flown off through the air without hitting anything, because it made no sound.

Then the only sound was Moxie’s desperate sobs. “Go… Go away…” She kept saying.

Piper’s eyes flickered from Moxie to the shadow man with his glowing white spats. He still hadn’t moved. He was watching them, waiting to see what would happen. Piper couldn’t see his face, but somehow she knew - she just knew - that he was smiling.

“Moxie—”

“GO, PIPER! Go, dammit! Leave me alone! GET OUT OF HERE!” Moxie shrieked.

And right then, with exquisite clarity, Piper felt her heart break.

She fought against the tears, fought against the agony that was tearing its way through her chest, but it won in the end. She started to sob, to cry, and every breath released a fresh scream of horror and anguish that were tangled together like thorny vines.

Piper didn’t stop crying as she turned around.

And she was still crying as she ran away.

Moxie felt empty as she watched her little sister go. She trembled violently and dropped the gun on the ground. It clattered to the pavement below and was still. The world shifted. Her knees hit the sidewalk. Her vision blurred with tears, and then all was agony. Pain swallowed her whole like the maw of a hungry monster.

TEK. TEK. TEK.

“Now that was interesting,” Spats said.

Moxie looked up. Her heart stopped. Spats was looming over her with an expression so full of malicious triumph that it sent goosebumps down her arms.

“Piper, huh?” The gangster mused. “That’s a pretty name. Like Moxie.”

“Spats, please don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t chase her? Don’t try to catch that… that witness, and silence her for good?”

Oh my god. Oh my god, no, Moxie thought. She felt like she was falling, falling forever through empty space. Her mouth worked, but she couldn’t speak.

Spats’ smile broadened. He crouched down and stared at her with the eyes of a killer. “See, that all depends, Babydoll,” he crooned. “Maybe I can make this all go away. Maybe I can keep your little friend - who is she, your sister? Yeah, I thought so - maybe I can keep her secret from Tiny and Charlie. They’ll want to kill her, see, if they think she’s a witness. They might even go behind my back to do it. And I can’t blame ‘em for that. It’s just good business, you understand. And maybe, just maybe, I can promise that I won’t lay a finger on her myself. But like I said, you know, that all depends.”

“D-Depends… On w-what?” Moxie said, her voice thick. She had stopped crying. The fear she felt went too deep for tears.

Spats’ eyes flashed. “It depends on you, Babydoll. See, there’s a price for my mercy. And that price is you.”

Suddenly Spats stood, seized her arm, and yanked her to her feet. Before Moxie had a chance even to regain her balance, she gasped as her back was slammed into the wall behind her. Spats had one hand around her throat. His grip was inescapably strong, but not tight. The light in his eyes was cold. Dispassionate. And that light terrified her far more than the stranglehold he had her in.

“From now on, you’re my girl,” Spats growled. “I say jump, you say yessir, how high? I told you I was gonna make you a queen, didn’t I? Well you’ll be my queen. You’ll be my right hand, loyal only to me, for the rest of your life. And if you do that, not only will I spare your little sis and keep her a secret from the other boys… I’ll turn you into a damn masterpiece. You’ll wear nothing but the finest clothes, you’ll eat nothing but the fanciest foods, you’ll drink nothing but the best booze. You’ll be, hm, let’s say, the First Lady of the Colombo Mafia. You’ll be a mob boss by your own right, giving orders and pulling jobs, and you’ll be second only to me. Together, you and me, we’ll take over this city and then the rest of the world. So tell me, Babydoll. How does all that sound? Are you in, or am I gonna see how fast that little girl can run with Charlie on her tail?”

Moxie gasped as Spats released her neck. The chilly night air tingled the skin on her throat where the warmth of his hand still lingered. She knew that what he was offering her wasn’t a choice; not really. This was the only way. The only way to save not only her own life, but Piper’s, too.

She remembered what Spats had called her that night a couple of weeks back. “See, boys? What’d I tell ya? She’s a damn canvas!”

A canvas, she thought. Now it made sense. She had never been important to Spats. Not as a person, anyway. He had always seen her as something to paint over in his own image, something to sculpt into whatever shape he liked. A canvas. A lump of clay.

She made her decision.

Moxie closed her eyes. “Alright, Spats,” she said softly.

“Alright what, Doll?” Spats’ voice sounded happy, almost giddy.

She opened her eyes again and stared into his. “Alright, you got a deal. I’m in. I’m your girl now, Spats. From now on.”

She didn’t think Spats’ grin could have gotten any broader, but somehow it did. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Okay then,” he said. “Jump.”

“I say jump, you say yessir, how high?”

“Yes sir,” Moxie said, her cheeks burning with humiliation. Then, swallowing her pride, “…How high?”

“High as you can,” Spats cackled.

Moxie jumped. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Spats’ cackling grew louder. Then a new pair of footsteps approached them out of the darkness. It was Tiny and Charlie, their grisly clean-up task finally complete. Moxie observed a fleck of drying blood on Tiny’s thumb.

“Do it for the boys, too, Doll,” Spats said. “Jump.”

Moxie jumped while Tiny and Charlie watched. The giant’s piggish eyes were impassive, but Charlie chuckled and cheered.

“Jump,” Spats ordered.

Moxie jumped.

“Jump!”

Moxie jumped.

Piper… I’m so sorry!

“JUMP!”

Moxie jumped.

***

Two days passed. Piper didn’t go to school. She was too busy having near-constant panic attacks for that. The panic attacks forced her into small corners of the apartment, trembling, arms wrapped around herself, rocking back and forth. It felt like she was being hunted; not by the shadow man with the white spats - Spats, she’d learned the newspapers called him - but by ravenous wild beasts.

She didn’t eat much, but even the little she did eat nearly cleared out the cupboard and refrigerator. She never removed the hat Moxie had given her from her head, even when she took a bath. She was just careful not to let the tub water touch it. She spent a lot of time in the bath, sitting in the water as it grew colder, staring at the dirty grooves between the bathroom tiles with empty eyes.

Another three days passed. All the food in the house was gone now, but Piper didn’t want to leave. What if Moxie came home? She didn’t want to miss her. She had to talk to her big sister, had to find out what was wrong, had to convince her to stay. If this Spats was holding her captive or something horrible like that, surely there was something they could do. Wasn’t there?

Her stomach growled angrily. She tried to ignore it. She had gone hungry before. She could do it again.

It wasn’t until the next day, six days after the fateful night of her twelfth birthday, that Piper thought of the lockbox. Moxie had told her that the money inside was for emergencies only, but Piper figured that this current situation probably qualified.

She tried calling Moxie one more time as she knelt down next to her big sister’s abandoned cot. Somehow, the idea of opening the lockbox felt final in a way nothing else did. It meant acknowledging the reality that her big sister was gone, that she might be gone forever, and that Piper would have to find a way to survive on her own.

The cell phone’s plastic was smooth against the ridges of her ear. The fuzzy speaker purred with each ring.

RING. RING. RING. CLICK.

There was no answer.

Piper scrolled through the list of recent calls, looking to see how many times she had tried to reach Moxie in the last six days, but she lost count around two hundred. She sighed, set the chunky phone to one side, and retrieved the lockbox from under Moxie’s bed. Its metal sides were cold against her small fingers. Piper dialed in the four-digit code: 3-2-6-2. The lock released with a soft chock.

She opened the lockbox’s lid. Her jaw dropped.

It was stuffed. It was so full of cash that a few bills actually spilled over the sides and onto the floor. Her eyes sparkling with wonder, Piper thought that there must be enough money in the box for her to survive for a few months.

In fact, in the end, the money would actually last her three years.

She gathered a couple of bills and stuffed them into her pockets along with the magic cell phone, intending to go shopping for food. Just as she was closing the lid, something caught her eye.

There was a note, written on faded yellow paper, glued to the inside of the lid. At the bottom of the note was a signature that read, Mom.

Piper’s eyes widened. Moxie had never shown her the inside of this lockbox before. She had never told her that there was a note from their mother inside. Why? Was it possible that Moxie hadn’t known about it herself? Piper doubted it, but… if she had known, why hadn’t she told Piper about it?

“Mom…” Piper whispered.

She carried the lockbox out into the kitchen, where the light was best. Bills kept falling from the overstuffed lockbox, but she paid them no mind. She stared at the note. Her eyes followed the curved lines of her mother’s handwriting. And as she read the words, she started to cry.

The note began:

My dearest girls…

***

Babydoll didn’t dare look at the cell phone screen. She knew very well what she would see there, and she couldn’t bear to face the reminders of her broken promise. She thought about throwing the phone away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that, either. So, she compromised.

She waited for a few days until she had a moment alone, then she concealed the phone against the back of a drawer in the luxurious dresser Spats had bought for her. The dresser’s drawers were already starting to overflow with brand-new clothing. Spats had insisted on throwing away all her old clothes and buying her new ones. Babydoll didn’t particularly care one way or another. She didn’t care about much these days.

This lockbox is very special to me. My grandma gave it to me when I was a little girl. She told me that it was a special place to store your treasures. When I was a girl, I kept my flower collection in here. When I married your Dad, I put my engagement ring in here. And now, it’s full of photographs of my greatest treasures of all: the two of you.

Piper finally returned to school the next week. The other girls made fun of her over-sized hat, but she didn’t care. The bullying just didn’t bother her like it used to. She felt like she was separated from the other kids somehow, like she was living inside an invisible house that moved with her wherever she went, its walls impenetrable, its windows locked.

Her panic attacks came far more frequently than they used to, and her grades suffered for it, but she managed to scrape by. She didn’t want Moxie to be disappointed in her, if - when, Piper would correct herself, - she ever came home. Her big sister had wanted her to have a normal life, a good life, and Piper felt sure that hadn’t changed, no matter what Moxie had said. Sometimes, when her anger at Moxie awoke, she would consider breaking the chunky cell phone. But she never did.

Treasure is a funny thing, my dear daughters. It’s something you often don’t know you have until it’s gone. That’s why I’m lucky. I know what my treasures are. I know what they’re worth. And I know how important it is to treat your treasures well. You have to protect them. You have to hide them, sometimes. And you have to love them well.

Babydoll pulled on a pair of long, black gloves. According to Spats, they were Clothiers-made. Very powerful, and very expensive. She gave them a test run during the Colombo Mafia’s next turf war. Spats was right. They were very powerful. With the strength they surged into her body, Babydoll brought down numerous enemy gangsters with terrifying efficiency. Tiny and Charlie were starting to respect her as their superior. She was, after all, the First Lady, second only to Spats.

Spats’ girl.

The Colombo Mafia was recruiting more and more members. Rumors were swirling in the underworld about the new power that was taking over the city. There were even whispers that, soon, the Colombo Mafia might be invited to join The Five Families, upsetting the balance of power in a way that hadn’t been done in years. But that was ridiculous, Babydoll thought. They’d have to change the name to The Six Families if they did that.

Sometimes I get a little scared that your Dad and I won’t always be around for you. I think every parent feels that way from time to time. So just in case, I want to share something important with you. Ready? Okay.

It really doesn’t matter what you choose to keep in this box, girls. Because your greatest treasure isn’t flowers, or money, or rings, or pictures. Your greatest treasure is one another. Piper, your greatest treasure is your big sister Moxie, and Moxie, your greatest treasure is your baby sister Piper. Don’t ever forget that.

When the lockbox money eventually ran out, Piper started to look for work. She was fifteen now, and old enough to do some basic labor for small Aleph Corp. subsidiaries. She never stopped going to school, though. Even when she had to go hungry for a couple of days, she stuck to her studies. She was thriving in high school in a way she never had before. People actually liked her. The bullying she had suffered as a child was becoming a distant memory. She felt comfortable and happy. She was laughing again. For the first time in three years, she felt like life was returning to normal - even if it was a different normal than before.

Her panic attacks were happening less frequently now, but they were much more severe when they struck. Piper had figured out how to manage them well enough, but sometimes they still got the better of her. It was in these moments that she would reach for the chunky cell phone and try to call her big sister. Moxie never answered, but some small part of Piper’s heart still hoped that, someday, that might change.

So treasure one another, my sweet girls. Don’t take any moment for granted. Life is too short, so enjoy it.

Love each other. Treasure each other. Help each other. And most important of all:

Never give up on each other.

With all my love,

Mom

***

COLOMBO MAFIA HEADQUARTERS. PRESENT DAY.

The abandoned office building which served as headquarters of the Colombo Mafia faced the approaching thunderstorm like an ancient sentinel. Its windows flashed reflections of the lightning which occasionally lanced out of the dark storm clouds. The thunderstorm was closer now, and the claps of its thunder, while still distant, were now audible. An unseasonably chilly wind flapped the tarps that covered the cars parked on the building’s roof.

This storm would pass, as all storms do. A week from now, most of Central City’s inhabitants would have completely forgotten it. The thunderstorm may do some minor damage to the city, but nothing lasting. In the grand scheme of things, this storm heralded nothing, meant nothing, and would change nothing.

But the storm that raged within the abandoned office building was another matter entirely.

INSIDE THE COLOMBO MAFIA HEADQUARTERS.

BOTTOM LEVEL.

The wreckage of the cage door still lay mangled where it had landed when Nico and Green made their escape. Dominating the room beyond stood the soot-blackened furnace. All was silent. Not even the loudest crashes of the battles upstairs penetrated the stillness. The only sign of life was a single, used toothpick that lay abandoned on the floor.

LEVEL 9.

Ragged breathing echoed through the empty halls like the death rattle of phantoms. Mongoose still hung unconscious from the wall. Fat Bob lay flat on his back, a mountain that rose from the mildewed carpet. He was the source of the ragged breathing sound. Little sighs of air wheezed from his open mouth. He had regained consciousness, but was in no condition to get up any time soon. In a meeting room far down the hall, Two-Fingers’ eyelids twitched. Only the whites of his eyes peered out.

LEVEL 25.

Toothpick’s face burned red with exertion as he forced his legs to keep climbing the stairs. “Shoulda… fixed… the goddamn… elevator!” he panted.

He had to keep moving. Based on the distant rumbles that echoed down the stairwell from above, the boy with the bootleg shirt might have already reached the highest levels. Maybe he had even reached Spats. The thought sent a chill down Toothpick’s spine. If Spats found out what he’d done, it would be curtains for good ol’ Toothpick Charlie. Tiny would see to that.

Should be strong enough for another Shadow Walk soon, he thought furiously. Just a little farther. Just a little more…

Nico’s determined face swam before Toothpick’s eyes. Memories of their fight - was that really just a few hours ago? - flashed through the gangster’s mind.

Toothpick chuckled again and shook his head. “You’re gonna die, kid.”

“Nah. I’m gonna kick your ass.” Nico smiled ferociously. “And then… I’m gonna save my friends!”

Toothpick’s teeth clenched. It was the boy’s smile that really drove him crazy. His enemies were meant to scream, not smile. Like the boy’s little girlfriend, Piper. Despite Toothpick’s modifications to the scanning machine, she hadn’t screamed. Not even once. But then, she was in on the whole thing, wasn’t she? Her and her big sis Babydoll, two peas in a pod. No. Two rats. Two filthy rats in a filthy rat nest.

And to think. Babydoll - that bitch - owed Toothpick Charlie for every good thing she’d ever gotten in her life. Hadn’t it been him, all those years ago, who took her under his wing? Hadn’t been him who’d seen her potential? Yeah. Yeah, it had. You’re damn right it had. And now, now, was he gonna just lie down and let that ingrate get him killed? No. Hell no.

Toothpick’s pace slowed. I’m gonna kill ‘em, he thought. His eyes went glassy. All of ‘em.

LEVEL 33.

EAST WING.

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

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

Suddenly, all five of them moved at once.

“STRIPE RIOT!” Nico cried, his fists flying faster and faster at Tiny. But despite the giant’s immense size, he was quick. Nico’s fists hit nothing but empty air.

Dammit! Nico thought. I must’ve just caught him off-guard earlier. Gotta try something he won’t see coming!

“Nico! Watch out!” Green cried.

Nico looked up. What the-?! He ducked just in time.

FWOOM!

His hair ruffled from the force of Tiny’s massive fist as it swung where his head had been just a moment before. Heart pounding, he glanced toward Green. They nodded back at him, then returned their focus to Tiny, switchblade twirling in their gloved right hand.

“Hey! Bully!” Blue’s voice rang out. “Over here!”

The giant turned, his piggish eyes glittering maliciously at the blue-haired artist. “Fe Fi Fo Fum,” he rumbled.

“Is that supposed to be scary or something?” Blue jeered. “Pee Pie Poe Pum! See, I can do it too!”

Ignoring the insult, Tiny lunged. Blue danced back, their plaster dust-whitened feet scraping trails into the shallow carpet. “Yeah, bring it on, you big asshole,” they laughed. “Let’s dance!”

“Blue! What are you doing?!” said Green. “He’s gonna kill you!”

But Blue just winked. Tiny lunged at them again, but once more, Blue darted out of the way. The giant’s massive fingers clutched at Blue again and again, but Blue always managed to stay a step ahead. Their large pixie eyes met those of Nico and Green, sparkling with urgency. Suddenly, in the same moment, Green and Nico both understood what they were supposed to do. They nodded to one another.

“Right,” they said together.

With a cry, Nico and Green charged at Tiny’s exposed back. Nico cocked his fist back, summoning the strength of the pinstripe shirt, while Green’s gloved hand whirled the switchblade so fast that it became a blur of flashing silver.

“SAGE CUTTER!” Green shouted.

“PIN STRIKE!” Nico roared.

SLASH!!! SMASH!!!

Their attacks struck Tiny simultaneously. Nico’s fist crashed into the giant’s left shoulder blade. The momentum of his punch spun him around as he flew through the air. Green’s switchblade cut Tiny’s right tricep, and they too spun around as they descended. The two of them landed between Blue and the giant, facing the massive gangster defiantly. Tiny swayed from side to side. He looked stunned. Off-balance. He might tip over at any moment.

“Did we get him?” said Green.

STOMP!

Tiny planted a huge foot on the floor to steady himself. The giant’s eyes cleared, and he snorted like a bull. “Weak,” he sneered, looking almost insulted. “Both of youse are too damn weak to beat me.”

Nico’s jaw clenched. Our attack barely phased him! Dammit, he’s tough. Gotta do better. Gotta learn from my mistakes!

Tux pounced onto Blue’s shoulder and hissed at the giant. Her feline eyes turned on Nico. “You must do better than that, Nico Pinstripe!”

Suddenly, Tiny burst out laughing. His thunderous voice crashed over the four of them like the grinding of ocean waves. The four escapees glared up at the cackling behemoth, ready for anything.

“Well, what do ya know?” Tiny laughed. “That bow tie really does work on you, don’t it, pussy cat? Maybe I’ll hand you over to that egghead Myasey after I kill the rest of these idiots. Powerful Business Wear ain’t supposed to work on animals, you know. Maybe the Doc’ll skin ya for me while he figures out what makes you so special.”

Tux only hissed in response, but there was an odd look in her eyes now. Nico frowned. What was that look? Fear? Uncertainty? What’s going on?

But then the tabby cat seemed to regain her composure. Her eyes turned toward Nico once again. Her voice was fierce when she meowed. “Kick his ass, Nico Pinstripe. I’m counting on you… Business King.”

Nico’s eyes sparkled. He nodded at Tux and faced Tiny. A surge of fresh power burned through his veins from the pinstripe shirt, as though the fabric itself was responding to the ambition that thundered in his heartbeats.

Tux was right. He had to do better. And not just for himself - for all of them! For Gramps, for Piper, for Tux and Blue and Green.

Piper’s words echoed in his mind.

“I was telling the truth, Nico! I want to help you because I like you. Because we’re friends, and I want to help you make your dream come true. But don’t you dare think for a second that I’m only doing this for you.”

Piper advanced toward Nico. He stepped back instinctively. Piper’s voice was getting louder. “I’m in this for myself too, Nico! Because… Because when you told me your dream... When you beat Rudy... When you fought Elizabeth…”

She took a deep breath, and when she next spoke, her voice was a battle cry. Her arm was raised with her finger pointed at Nico, and her other hand was over her heart.

“That fire! The fire of your dream! IT GAVE ME HOPE! Your sparks set my own fire going again, just a little bit at a time, but it’s burning again now, Nico! Don’t you understand?! For the first time since I escaped… For the first time since I left my big sister behind… For the first time in years… I HAVE THE FIRE TO FIGHT FOR MY DREAM AGAIN!”

The passion that burned within Piper flared with such a thunderous fury that, for just a moment, they could all see it. She stood before them, a fierce smile on her face, her eyes blazing with hope, her hair blown by gales of wind. And she… she was…

She was on fire.

TEK. TEK. TEK.

Nico walked toward Tiny with slow, deliberate footsteps. His muscles tightened against the rolled-up sleeves of the pinstripe shirt. The giant leered down at him from what seemed an immeasurable height, his head nearly scraping the ceiling.

“Business King? You?” Tiny growled. “That’s a laugh. How pathetic.”

Nico tilted his head one way, then the other, cracking his neck. Deep in the crevices of his subconscious, he could feel the slithering darkness of the void whispering words of doubt and defeat, but the words held no power over him. All that mattered was this moment. All that mattered was saving his friends.

He raised his fists.

The giant smiled, his piggish eyes red with hate. “Heh. This’ll be quick. I’m gonna send you straight to hell.”

Blue squeezed Green’s hand. “Are you crazy,” they yelled. “You can’t beat Tiny by yourself!”

“Nico!” Green cried. “What are you doing? You can’t do this alone!”

Then Nico held up a hand, and the two of them fell silent. They stared at him with terrified astonishment. Then Nico turned his head and smiled.

“I’m not alone. I’ve got you guys!”

DA-DOOM!

Tux mewed. “Well said, Nico Pinstripe.”

Nico glanced at Blue and Green. “You two just protect each other, no matter what. Okay?”

The two of them nodded back, and lowered into fighting stances. Tux’s eyes glimmered with savage anticipation.

“Fe Fi Fo Fum,” Tiny rumbled. “Enough talk, you little shit. Time to die.”

“You first,” Nico growled.

LEVEL 33.

WEST WING.

Shadows wavered and danced in the utility closet as the hanging light bulb was jostled this way and that. Piper’s fingers stopped stroking Moxie’s hair for a moment, then began again. She listened. Muffled rumbles and booms were reverberating through the building. She could feel the wall trembling against her back.

What’s going on, she wondered. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. Maybe Gramps had broken free of Spats. Maybe the mobsters had started fighting among themselves. Or maybe - the way her heart seemed to flutter at the thought made her cheeks burn with confused emotion - maybe, Nico had regained consciousness and broke out on his own.

Whatever the cause, Piper knew that time was growing short. The world outside this tiny utility closet was coming for them. Soon, too soon, it would find them. And then…

And then… what? Piper didn’t know.

Moxie had stopped crying a while ago. She almost seemed to be asleep in Piper’s lap, but Piper knew she wasn’t. Her big sister was lying too still; her shoulders were too tense. The strip of glittering fabric she had torn from the bottom of her dress lay in a rumpled spiral in the opposite corner. The ghostly yellow bruise on her cheek looked sickly in the dull tungsten glow.

Piper stared down at her sister, too full of conflicting thoughts and feelings to think or feel anything in particular at all. Her fingers moved automatically, stroking Moxie’s dark wavy hair, bringing a gentle rhythm to the moment that was soothing and sure.

“Piper?” Moxie murmured. Her voice was cracked, quiet. She didn’t look up at her little sister. Her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall.

“Yeah?”

Silence. Then…

“I… I’m sorry,” Moxie breathed.

Piper nodded. “I know.”

Silence again.

It suddenly seemed like neither of them were here in this room. They were standing at opposite ends of a dark street. Gone was the eighteen-year-old thief. In her place stood a young woman of twenty-four. Gone was the twelve-year-old birthday girl. In her place stood a young woman of eighteen.

Piper’s hand raised, slowly, hesitantly, until it stretched toward her big sister. Moxie blinked in surprise. Her eyes filled with tears. Could it really be so simple? So easy? Could the last six years really be washed away, just like that?

No, maybe not. But maybe, maybe washing it away…

Moxie’s hand trembled as it stretched toward her little sister’s hand. The dark city street melted away until nothing remained but darkness surrounding the two sisters. Moxie’s eyes met Piper’s. Piper didn’t say a word. Instead, she gave a tiny, reassuring smile.

…Maybe, washing it away wasn’t the point.

Moxie’s hand touched Piper’s. Piper held it tight.

WHOOM.

An impact, the closest yet, cracked like muffled thunder somewhere in the building beyond the closet walls. The shelves made metallic rattling sounds. The light bulb swung from its string in crazy, wobbling circles, coming dangerously close to hitting one of the shelves and shattering.

“I’m gonna end this,” Moxie said abruptly.

Piper looked down at her big sister. Moxie’s voice was different now. The tears and regret were gone. Her words were knife-sharp and certain.

Moxie withdrew from Piper’s lap and climbed to her feet. She didn’t look at Piper as she tugged at her tight dress, adjusting it to a more comfortable position against her body. When she spoke again, her voice was confident; almost haughty.

“That bastard ruined our lives, Piper. Now, I’m going to ruin him.”

Moxie’s gloved hand appeared right in front of Piper’s face. Piper flinched a bit, half-expecting another slap, but no slap came. Moxie was offering a helping hand. Piper’s eyes flickered between the glove and her sister’s face. She took Moxie’s hand. Moxie pulled her to her feet with effortless ease.

“Moxie—” Piper began, but her big sister cut her off with a wave of her hand.

“You have to get out of here,” Moxie said. “You have to go somewhere safe. You have to go.”

“Like hell I will!” Piper snapped. “I’m not going anywhere without you or my friends.”

“Piper, you—”

“No.”

Moxie stared at her little sister for a long time. At last, she nodded. “Okay. But I’m not leaving until Spats is dead.”

Piper nodded stiffly. “Then let’s save my friends first. They can help us take him down.”

“Your friends? You mean the old man you were with? Who else is with you? How many?”

“Just one. Nico. We have a cat, too, but I don’t know where she went.”

Moxie frowned. “A… cat?”

Piper nodded, seemingly oblivious to her sister’s bewilderment. “Yeah. I’m sure she’s fine, though. She’s smart. She was with Monroe, but I bet she already got away from her. She can talk, actually. She has a bow tie. I think you’ll like her. We call her Tux.”

Moxie pursed her lips, then shook her head, resigning herself to confusion. “What about Nico? Do you know where he is?”

“The giant took him away,” Piper said. “But I’m sure he’s okay. He can take care of himself. He has the pinstripe shirt, after all.”

“Pinstripe shirt? …Actually, never mind. So, what about the old man? Who is he? Is he…” Moxie’s voice grew quieter. “Is he taking care of you?”

Piper’s voice cracked like a whip. “Hell no. I take care of myself, Moxie.” Then she blinked, taken aback by the sound of her own voice. Her mouth dropped open. “Sorry, I… Moxie…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Moxie said, a bit too casually. “We need to get going.”

Piper turned away, biting her lip. “Yeah. Right. Okay.”

BOOM.

The crashing noises were getting even closer now. There was something else now, too. A new sound. Voices? Piper wasn’t sure.

“What is that?” Piper asked as the walls around them trembled once again.

Moxie’s eyes narrowed. She opened the door and looked back at her sister. “Tiny.”

LEVEL 35.

Monroe folded her arms. She was pouting. Her kawaii kitten had surely been kidnapped, or maybe even killed. Ever since Tiny, that big ugly bastard, had insulted her adorable little Switchbladey-wadey, Monroe had been scouring every inch of the Colombo Mafia HQ’s top story searching for her. But so far, her search was in vain.

After Tiny’s rampage had descended to the lower levels, Monroe had taken the opportunity to search the small room where he and the other gangsters had been playing card games. She’d wrinkled her nose at the blood that lay pooled around, but she was pretty nimble. She was able to move about the room without getting even a single drop of blood on her shoes, which made her smile despite her worry for Switchblade.

Now, some time later, she found herself perched atop the railing of the northern stairwell. Toothpick had descended this same staircase just after telling her to “SHUT UP!” earlier, but Monroe didn’t care much about that. She was more interested in pouting, at least for the moment.

Everything had gone wrong, somehow. Not just tonight, not just with Switchblade and Tiny and Toothpick, but with everything. How had she, an adorable young woman with impeccable taste and a penchant for all things kawaii, ended up here? All alone, sitting on a stairwell railing, insulted and degraded and avoided by her peers in the Colombo Mafia - did they really think she didn’t notice it? She did. You bet your sweet ass she did.

A long sigh escaped her pouting lips. She absentmindedly twirled a strand of her dark hair between her fingers as she listened to the ruckus that echoed up the stairwell. Tiny’s rampage had stopped briefly, but boy howdy had it gotten going again. And from the sound of it, whoever he was venting his big ugly temper at was putting up a pretty good fight of their own.

“Switchblade?” Monroe called.

No answer.

She sighed again. “Damn stupid ugly Tiny. Screw him, right? Yeah. Screw him. And screw Toothpick too, actually! Matter of fact, screw all of this! All I wanted was to have fun with my sweet little Switchblade, and everybody’s being assholes about it!”

Her voice was rising, but she didn’t care much. After all, it wasn’t like any of the corpses strewn in Tiny’s wake could hear her.

“You know what,” she said to one of those corpses, “I don’t need this shit! I’m my own person, you know? I don’t deserve to be treated like this. Serves you right!”

The corpse didn’t respond.

“Hm. I’m out. I’m leaving. Nobody wants me? Fine. Nobody likes me? Fine. But I don’t have to stick around for a bunch of jerks who don’t appreciate me. I’m gonna find Switchblade and get the hell outta here.”

She hopped down from the railing, tapped the toes of her boots against the floor, and flounced down the stairs.

“Ready or not, here I come, Tiny! If you hurt my kitty-cat, I’m gonna kill ya!”

By the time she’d made it down the first flight of stairs, she was giggling.