by E. C. Myers
She waited for the girls to be far enough away that they wouldn’t notice her exiting behind them. She pushed the crash bar and held it in as she eased the door open so it wouldn’t make any noise. Before she closed it, she tested the handle from the outside; it was locked and she didn’t have the key. She reached into a pocket—that’s right, she had pockets now—and retrieved a small scrap of leftover fabric from her uniform. She jammed it into the strike plate hole so the door wouldn’t be able to latch closed.
The secret exit had let her out into the garden behind the school, in the shade of a willow tree. She made a note of the spot and hurried after the Malachites.
As they went deeper into the city, she snapped some photos of them with her Scroll. The fact that they were off school grounds was incriminating enough. Of course she was, too, but she could claim she was only following them. Which she was.
As an added precaution, Trivia employed her Semblance to disguise herself as an elderly shopkeeper from a local bookshop. And it was a good thing, too. The twins stopped abruptly inside the entrance of a branch bank. Trivia continued walking past them, doing her best to look inconspicuous.
She rounded the next corner and waited there for a moment, out of sight, before peeking back around to see where they had gone. They had crossed the street and were knocking on the door of a place called the Harmony Club. A narrow slot slid open and Melanie started chatting with the person on the other side.
No way they’re getting in there, she thought. They were obviously too young for a nightclub.
Her right eyebrow went way up when the door opened and Melanie and Miltia disappeared inside.
Trivia parked herself in the same doorway the Malachites had used and stepped back into the shadows, dropping her disguise. She had been practicing using her Semblance when no one was around to notice, and it no longer took a conscious effort to maintain an illusion once it was established. While it was active, she was always aware of it, like an itch at the back of her mind that she couldn’t scratch. The longer she kept it running, the larger or more complicated the illusion, the more distracting it was.
She couldn’t see through the mirrored glass of the windows, which reflected the glow of the streetlamps. There was only one way to find out what was happening inside.
She was tired of just watching. She wanted to be doing something.
Trivia was deciding on a disguise that would allow her to infiltrate the club when someone crashed through of one of the club’s windows and thudded onto the sidewalk.
Trivia’s eyes widened. The man groaned and got up, using a cane to pull himself onto his feet. He ran a gloved hand through his orange hair to shake out the broken glass and looked around on the ground until he found a brown bowler hat. He scooped it up with the hook of his cane and adjusted it on his head. He started to walk away, but he paused when Melanie and Miltia jumped out of the broken window.
“You’re coming on a little strong. If you girls wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask. But please, you’re going to have to take turns. I know you’ve never liked sharing.”
Trivia smiled. This guy had a flair about him, keeping his calm after being thrown through a window.
The twins slowly moved in separate directions to flank him.
“The only thing we want to ask you is what you’re doing here,” Melanie said.
“I was just checking in on an old friend. But you’re the last two people I’d expect to run into here. Isn’t it way past your bedtime?”
“We’ll sleep when you’re dead,” Melanie said.
“I’m surprised your dear mother let you come to Vale all by yourself. Well, tell her hi for me.” The man gave them a jaunty wave and then started running down the street.
“Tell her yourself,” Melanie said.
Trivia hit Record on her Scroll just in time to catch Melanie executing a series of cartwheels toward the man, the heels of her shoes glinting in the streetlights.
Blades hidden in her shoes, Trivia thought. Great idea.
The man spun and blocked her foot with his cane, the sharp point of her heel an inch from his throat. He twisted the cane, hooking her foot in it, and spun, propelling her toward Miltia, who was doing gymnastic flips toward him.
Miltia flipped over her sister and landed her feet in the man’s chest, springing off him and somersaulting backward. He staggered back, a hand on his ribs.
“Cute,” he said.
“Flattery’s not going to work on me anymore,” Miltia said.
“I was referring to your moves, not you.”
Meanwhile, Melanie had recovered and ran toward the man. She dropped to her hands and spun her legs around in the air behind him.
Duck, Trivia thought.
The man did. Her heels just missed his head, knocking his hat to the ground again.
Trivia felt like she should be doing something—or maybe she just wanted to get in on the fight. But who should she help? She didn’t know what their history was, but it seemed clear that the orange-haired man hadn’t provoked this fight. He looked like he could hold his own, though.
But if Trivia helped Melanie and Miltia, maybe they would see her differently and stop bullying her. If they were grateful, maybe they could even become friends.
Trivia took a step forward.
Then the whole situation changed when three black cars rolled up and blocked the man’s exit. Their doors opened and men spilled out. Large, angry men.
Trivia had the feeling she’d stumbled into something much bigger than even she could have imagined.
As Roman enjoyed a delicious steak dinner with Honey Wine, a former colleague from Mistral, he had the distinct impression they were being watched.
He liked it that way.
These days, wherever he went, stares and whispers followed him. That was the price of fame. Roman’s face was everywhere: on the news, on wanted posters, and online.
Naturally, Roman had ignored Hei Xiong’s friendly advice and doubled down on his criminal activity over the last few months. He did make an effort to steer clear of places that did business with the Xiong family—no sense in asking for more trouble—but that left him with banks and convenience stores that were unprotected and unprepared. Law enforcement was a joke; they knew how to deal with a crime organization, but they had a harder time catching just one guy.
Roman had no underlings who could give him up, willingly or unwillingly. Other criminals had no incentive to cross him, and some of them even seemed to admire him. For now, Xiong seemed to be watching and waiting. He’d said his piece, and he clearly expected the police or Lil’ Miss to take care of the problem sooner or later.
Meanwhile, Roman was carrying on the longest, most successful crime spree the city of Vale had ever seen. Even some of the public seemed ready to glorify him as one of the most exciting things to happen in Vale in a long time—as long as he wasn’t causing them any direct harm, it gave them something to talk about. He was practically a folk hero.
“This is a great club, Honey. You’re doing well for yourself,” Roman said.
“Sweet of you to come by,” she said. “When this hits the tabloids in the morning, I expect business will get even better. You didn’t have to do that.”
Roman flashed her a smile. “I probably owe you.”
“You definitely do.” She laughed.
When Roman had started working for Lil’ Miss Malachite, she had reassigned Brick and Mortar’s beat to him and Chameleon. Roman, after all, had pointed out they could be doing a better job and promised that he was the man to do it. So collecting the loyalty money from the Luck of the Mountains had become his job. Which was how he’d gotten to know Honey. She had turned out to be fascinating to talk to, and not just because of the sound of her voice. He wasn’t surprised at all that she had worked her way out of the lower levels of Mistral and started a new life in Vale, with her own club.
“You ever think about the old days?” She leaned toward him. Her light skin sparkled
with red Dust—a statement about how much money she had and her daredevil nature. A stray spark could blow her up and maybe her club with it. But it was also a striking fashion statement that looked good on her.
“Too often,” he said.
“I’m the same,” she said.
“When do you go on?” he asked, gesturing to the stage at the back of the club, currently featuring a live band. He had brought earplugs to muffle Honey’s singing; as much as he loved the sound of her voice, he liked being in control of himself more.
“I don’t do that anymore.” She took a sip of water. “I’m trying to keep a low profile in Vale. But I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about that.”
Roman grinned.
“What are you doing, Roman?” she asked. “You sure drawing all this attention is smart? Every cop in the city is looking for you, and I know you’ve made plenty of enemies in the past.”
He spread his hands as if to say, Come on. Look who you’re talking to.
She folded her arms in front of her and lifted her eyebrows.
“It usually takes years to establish yourself as a crime boss. I’m just taking a shortcut,” he said.
“Fake it ’til you make it.”
“You know me too well.”
She nodded, her glittery cheeks glinting distractingly. “I do, which is why I’m wondering why you’re really here.”
“Like I said, I heard about this place and I wanted to pay you a visit. We’re friends, or so I thought.”
Her face visibly relaxed. “Good, because if you’re looking for a partner for one of your ridiculous schemes—I don’t do that anymore, either.” She glanced over his shoulder and groaned. “Uh-oh.”
He wasn’t completely surprised when he looked up and saw Melanie and Miltia Malachite walk in. He’d known he would have to reckon with Lil’ Miss sooner or later if he was going to seize control of the Vale crime world. He guessed it was going to be sooner.
He stayed in his seat and kept eating and enjoying the live band, while keeping an eye on the twins. He hadn’t seen them in some time, because Lil’ Miss had sent them off to boarding school, he hadn’t known where. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that Xiong had noted more of a Spider presence in Vale, and now here were Lil’ Miss’s own daughters. Something was up.
The girls spoke with the hostess and she pointed toward Roman. Melanie nodded and they headed for his table.
So their presence here, tonight, wasn’t a coincidence, either. Someone had tipped them off and they had come looking for him in particular.
Roman rose. “Ladies, fancy meet—”
Miltia punched him in the nose.
Roman staggered back and brought his hand up to his face.
“Oh, you’re here for him.” Honey stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to work. You break anything, you pay for it. Nice seeing you, Roman. Good luck.” She bustled off.
Roman rubbed his nose. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he told Miltia.
“He’s right, Mil. You should have done this.” Melanie kicked the table and it flipped toward Roman’s head. He ducked and it crashed behind him. His half-eaten steak landed at his feet. He picked up his cane and straightened up.
“They call me a crook, but what you just did to that prime rib is the real crime.” At least the meal had been on the house.
Around them, customers shouted and scrambled to safety. They had all seen what Roman Torchwick could do on the news. And they’d just seen what Melanie and Miltia could do. They were all spoiled by complacency here; in Vale this was a disaster in the making. In Mistral, this was just a Tuesday.
Roman hopped back as Miltia took another swing at him. And another. She released a flurry of punches and kicks at him as he retreated and leaned his body to miss the blows.
“You’re clearly working out some issues. I wish I could help.”
Miltia paused.
“That’s better. Now let’s talk about this, shall we?”
Wait, where was Melanie?
He never saw where she had come from, but the next thing Roman knew, he was crashing through the window. He landed in the middle of the street. A car honked and veered around him.
It took Roman a second to catch his breath. He pulled himself up with his cane and looked around for his hat, shaking the glass out of his hair.
There. He hooked it with his cane, tapped the top, and put it back on.
Well, time to go. He started to walk away until he saw the twins climb through the broken window. The Malachites did not mess around.
They had a reputation to protect, and so did he. He didn’t know if this was a personal vendetta or if they were carrying out their mother’s hit on him.
“You’re coming on a little strong. If you girls wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask. But please, you’re going to have to take turns. I know you’ve never liked sharing,” he said.
Melanie and Miltia moved apart to flank him, their movements perfectly synchronized. He’d had to endure their dance recitals when they were little. He’d clapped for them at gymnastic competitions. And now they were trying to do a number on him.
“The only thing we want to ask you is what you’re doing here,” Melanie said.
“I was just checking in on an old friend. But you’re the last two people I’d expect to run into here. Isn’t it way past your bedtime?”
“We’ll sleep when you’re dead,” Melanie said.
“I’m surprised your dear mother let you come to Vale all by yourself. Well, tell her hi for me.” Roman waved and then made a break for it.
“Tell her yourself.” Melanie cartwheeled toward Roman. He heard the click of the blades as they slid from her shoes. Roman brought his cane up just in time to block her foot. Up close he saw the blade an inch from his throat.
He twisted his cane and hooked it around her foot, then he spun, pulling her around 360 degrees and releasing her to tumble toward Miltia as she backflipped toward him.
Miltia just cleared her sister and her feet hit Roman in the chest, knocking him back. She launched herself off him and twisted around midair to land on her feet.
Roman rubbed his chest. “Cute.”
“Flattery’s not going to work on me anymore,” Miltia said.
“I was referring to your moves, not you.”
Melanie reappeared on his left. She leaped into a handstand and spun her legs around behind him.
Roman dropped to his knees just in time, but his hat went flying off.
No more Mr. Nice Guy. He didn’t want to hurt the little brats, despite everything, but he couldn’t let them take him down.
He switched his cane to flare mode and started to get up—and that’s when everything went sideways.
Unmarked cars screamed down the street toward him. He flinched when it looked like one might hit him, but it turned at the last moment and stopped. He looked behind him and found he was blocked on three sides. The doors opened and a dozen goons piled out onto the street, all of them training their guns on him.
They weren’t dressed in Lil’ Miss’s colors, but he knew a Spider gang member when he saw one, even if their tattoos weren’t visible.
He stood up, anyway. “So Lil’ Miss is moving in on Vale. I guess that’s the real reason she wants to shut me down.”
Melanie laughed. “Get over yourself. You’re not a threat; you’re a distraction. But you’re turning up the heat and jeopardizing her operation.”
“What operation would that be?”
“Nice try. Not,” Melanie said. “It might be hard for you to believe, but it doesn’t concern you. You should be happy. You’re going home.”
Roman shook his head. “You’ll have to kill me here, because there’s no way I’m going back to Mistral.”
“Did Mother specify dead or alive, Mel?” Miltia asked.
“Excellent point, Mil. She did not.”
Roman was startled to see a little girl with pink-and-brown hair waving at him from the alleyway bey
ond the Malachite twins. Not waving—gesturing for him to come over to her.
Roman immediately returned his attention to the brats, hoping he hadn’t tipped them off about the girl behind them. None of the other Spiders could see her because of their vantage point, and the fact that they were focused solely on him.
Roman loved alleyways. They were second nature to him. But unlike in Mistral, most of the alleys in Vale were dead ends. There was no reason to trust a stranger and he didn’t see how going down there would help, but he also didn’t have any other options. All he needed to do was get by Melanie and Miltia.
There was nothing for it. He was going all in.
Roman dashed toward Melanie and Miltia. Just as he reached them and they tried to grab him, he fired a flare straight downward and held on to his cane. The force of the explosion knocked the girls back and propelled Roman upward. He landed on his feet just in front of the alley and ran inside.
The girl was there. Up close he saw that her eyes were as mismatched as her hair: one was pink and one was brown. She was also older than her diminutive height suggested, maybe about the same age as the Malachite twins. She wore some kind of school uniform, a dark-blue business jacket and miniskirt with a silver pin on the lapel depicting three connected spirals.
He followed her down the alley until they came to a wall.
“Great.” He looked up, but it wouldn’t be easy to scale the walls. He was still boxed in, and the Spiders had him cornered. “Dead end.” Lots of bodies were discovered in one-way alleys like this in Mistral—eventually.
“How’s this supposed to help?” he asked.
The girl closed her eyes and suddenly a brick wall appeared in front of them, blocking off the alleyway. Her pink hair flickered and faded to the same brown as the rest of her hair. When she opened her eyes, their color hadn’t changed, though—only the expression behind them. She was surprised.
The wall was some kind of illusion, but when he reached out, it felt just as real as the wall at his back.
He heard muffled shouts from the other side. “Where is he? Where’d he go?”
“No way he could have gotten past us.” Someone banged on the brick wall, but it held.