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True Proof sighed. “If I had known you were going to be such a baby about it, I would have just gotten someone else.” Mr. Mole glared back at her. “You knew that I didn’t want to work with him! Why was he even hired to begin with?” Rolling her eyes, she walked out of the room. “Because he does it for cheap, and he’s usually pretty good. Anyways, I’ll be sending him in soon, so collect yourself. Try not to kill each other. For me.” Not even Mr. Mole’s respect for his assistant and friend (if you can even have friends while being a mafia boss) could keep him from wanting to strangle the living daylights out of him.
The him in question was quite possibly more suited to strangling Mr. Mole rather than the other way around. A trained assassin, Hound possessed a remarkable animosity for only two people at a time: his current target, and Mr. Mole. The man was excellent at assassination (of course), spying, and general criminal activity, for the right price. He twirled his knife around, sitting on the floor outside his loathed rival’s office. After only a few minutes, Mr. Mole opened the door and glanced around the hallway, finally spotting Hound on the ground. “I was hoping True Proof was joking, but I guess not,” he mumbled, gesturing him to come inside his office. “Aww, y’missed me that much?” Hound teased with a grin. Easy money and getting to harass the one guy who ruined his reputation? True Proof was practically a goddess in his eyes for offering him the job.
Mr. Mole sighed. One week, and it would all be over. One week of surviving with this scumbag working under him, and he would be worry-free for at least a couple of days. Until then- “Sit down, Hound,” he ordered, not wanting to let him know how riled up he was. He lazily complied, taking the time to look around his office. “Is that bookcase new?” Mr. Mole glared at him, as he finally sprawled into the chair across from him. “It is, but that’s not the point. The point is, I need you to eliminate Mr. Swifts. Don’t screw it up this time.” He expected at least a word of complaint, but not this. Hound just slumped over on the desk. “If you’re just trying to humiliate me again, with the very same assignment, I want out.” Mr. Mole sighed. “Hound, please. You know I want him gone too. You have one week, just… go do whatever you do.” Hound walked out without a word.
“I don’t understand it!” Mr. Mole angrily complained. “He thinks it’s my fault that it happened, but he still took the job!” True Proof rolled her eyes across the table from him. “You never even told me what happened, you were too embarrassed.” Frowning, he began to recount the story.
“It was a year or two ago, I don’t quite know. Anyways, we had the monopoly on all the performing stages in town, but that prick Mr. Swifts had gotten in under our control. I obviously got pissed and tried to get Hound to kill him. He was there at the wrong time, just a bit too late. Swifts ended up leaving, and there hasn’t been an opportunity to get him since. Until now. But there might not be another one for the next several years, which is why I need him to absolutely not screw this up like he did the last time. The worst of it is, he’s still mad at me because I said it was his fault!”
True Proof nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “And what was the split-second opening to get him that Hound missed?” Mr. Mole replied, “Swifts likes to play the star on the opening night of each new show he does, since it draws in a crowd. Personally, I think that he’s an extremely conceited man with a balloon for an ego who wants to watch himself dance.” The woman scoffed. “Performers. Now continue.” Shooting a glare at her, Mr. Mole said, “And he goes into a dressing room to get all ready for a few minutes before the show starts, completely alone.” True Proof’s eyes opened wide. “So you-“ Mr. Mole huffed. “Yeah, we tried. No thanks to Hound- he arrived just as Swifts left with guards. We haven’t had another opening in a while since he’s been doing the same shows over and over again, but the opening night for his new show is in a little over a week. For now, Hound is just trying to find precisely where and when this next dressing room visit will be, as well as how to regain control over his recent monopoly once he’s out of the picture.” True Proof frowned. “I get all that, but how did you know that he goes in alone to his dressing room in the first place?” “We used to be performers together, and he wouldn’t even let me in. But the point is, Hound can’t mess this up again or I’m seriously sending him away next time you hire him.” Laughing, she took a swig from her glass. “Let’s hope he doesn’t mess it up this time, then?” “I have my doubts.”
One day on the lookout, and Hound was ready to give up. He had done this a couple years back, so he knew what to expect, but this monotony was aggravatingly all-consuming. Rifling through endless documents, searching for a schedule for the next two weeks and any important information about Mr. Swift’s ownership of the theatre would take hours, but he was determined to not let anything get screwed up this time. Hearing conversation in the hallway, he slipped out the open window and tried to stay hidden. “Vio, the new show next week is guaranteed to be a sellout. With this money, we can expand our businesses beyond just performance! And it’s all thanks to me.” Swifts, Hound thought. But who is this “Vio?” I didn’t see any documents about her at all. “Yes, sir, you’re quite good at planning finances.” “I know, right?” Hound was glad that, even though he didn’t like Mr. Mole, he wasn’t stuck working for the ever-conceited Swifts. The pair’s voices faded from his hearing, and he hastily left, as his position looked rather suspicious.
On the fourth day, Mr. Mole opened his office door to find a file on his desk. Stuck to the top was a Post-It, with the words “Open it, asshat,” hastily scribbled onto it with Hound’s handwriting. He followed the advice on the note and opened it slowly. Inside were photocopies of the ownership documents to all of Mr. Swift’s buildings. Flipping through it slowly, he realized each document was more useful to him than the next. Until he came to the back of the folder, which had a half sheet of paper. It was still Hound’s writing, but much less messy. “Have you heard of ‘Vio?’”
“It’s not even five and you’re already drinking? What happened?” True Proof asked, pouring Mr. Mole a glass. He stared into the hazy depths of the alcohol, pausing before he started to speak. “I think Hound is… actually responsible. And doing his job.” Raising an eyebrow, the woman replied, “Isn’t that a good thing?” Leaning back, he continued, “For over a year, I’ve been assuming that he showed up late to Swift’s stupid dressing room because he was completely incompetent, so I blamed him for Mr. Swifts being alive. But he has clearly done a remarkably good job over the past few days, and I can’t even fault him on anything! He also found a completely random piece of information that is incredibly useful, and he somehow realized that and showed it to me. That work quality would be expected from Blood Fan, but not him. Was I really… wrong?” He forlornly sipped his drink.
“Well, maybe you could actually go to him and listen to his side of the story. Did you even do that in the first place?” Gasping, he replied, “You’re right! I’ll find him immediately.” As he started to bolt out of the room, True Proof grabbed the back of his jacket. “Wait! What’s the information he found?” Prying her fingers off of his clothing, he replied, “It’s a name. Vio, apparently. I still need to find more out about it, but I know for certain I’ve heard it before.” True Proof was left alone in the room. “Vio… I’ve heard it before, too. But whe-oh!” She sprinted out the door after him, heading straight for her bar.
True Proof’s bar was second to none. Except, she supposed, it was her second favorite source of entertainment (Mr. Mole was her first). Deciding to head in through the front, she pushed open the double doors to see her tavern exactly as she liked it- filled to the brim with drunken parties and tipsy couples. The low lighting made her shadow flicker and dance as she strode right to the countertop, sliding behind it as if she had been there all along. She knew who she would find there. “Kroto! Doll, it’s so great to see you again,” she cheerily said. The illustrious “Kroto” giggled back at her, not quite tipsy yet. “How’s my favorite dancer?” Kroto worked in Mr. Swift’s troupe of dancers as the lead, so she knew just a bit more than most outsiders would. Normally, True Proof liked to chat with her, but tonight, she needed information. “I’m doing good! You’re here early. Actually, I don’t even know the time. Do you?” True Proof waved her arm in the general direction of a clock. “It’s after five by now. Kroto, I was wondering if you could tell me more about that “Vio” person you mentioned a few days ago.” Kroto winked. “I don’t know a Vio.” Miffed, True Proof laid a hundred-dollar bill on the table, asking, “Do you know her now?” Snatching the money, she replied happily, “Oh yeah, that lady. She’s been working at the business longer than I’ve been here…” Nodding, True Proof gestured to continue. “Well, her name is Violetta, but most people call her the Long-Legged Lady. It’s her stage name. She’s always with my boss, and she advises him on things, I think. And protects him. Like a guard. She has these fancy prosthetics that make her look spidery, and she always seems like she knows what’s happening before anyone else does. Rumor has it, she saved his life from an assassin!” Eyes widening, True Proof replied, “Tell me more!” Downing her glass, the dancer made a face from the bitterness of the liquid. After what seemed like eons to the “barmaid,” she continued, “Alright. So the story goes that one or two years back, somebody was going to kill Mr. Swifts and had it all planned out so he would have definitely died. But she somehow found out, and readjusted his schedule so the plan would fail and the assassin’s plans would get all messed up. She’s really cool.” True Proof concealed her shock at the story, opting instead to nod appreciatively. Then, she slipped around to the other side of the counter so she could settle deeper into casual conversation with the woman. She made sure to file the new information away for later. Mr. Mole could wait, or else he might be demoted back to her second favorite form of entertainment.
Later that evening, True Proof walked back to Mr. Mole’s office. She needed to tell him about what she had learned, but he wasn’t there. Sighing, she scribbled a note for him to see when he came back the next day. “He should be back by now… he was searching for Hound, right? It’s been a few hours already… He probably just went home.” She left the office to go to her own house, it had been a long day.
Meanwhile, Hound was still where he’d been since the evening started- a hidden corner of True Proof’s bar, in earshot of the counter, but out of sight. He was still recovering from the information he had been unwittingly given. Of course, it was clear to him what it all meant, but he couldn’t believe it. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to. “So that means… we fought and argued and avoided each other… over nothing?” he whispered. It wasn’t exactly a friendship, but it was starting to be. What had happened with Mr. Swifts had destroyed any possibility of that. But she had said… somebody had known and foiled his plan? She must be really good… He thoughtfully stirred his drink, and tried to think of what to say next to Mr. Mole. An apology? Continue on like nothing happened? A haphazard explanation, then a joke to raise the mood? It was hopeless. He would certainly have to get the confrontation out of the way, or he would be too distracted to try and best someone as good as the Long-Legged Lady. But how? Hound realized resolving the conflict would be serious, and blowing it off as something small was ridiculously shallow. There went most of his ideas. The remaining two were opting for a third party to be an in-between for them, or an actual apology. He scratched the first immediately. The only person who could be a third party was True Proof, since she knew the situation. As somebody who had often been hired by her, he guessed that she would be horrible at being serious about it. Mumbling, “So I guess I really do need to talk to him….” He slid out of his booth and walked to the door, not looking back.
The entirety of the next day, Hound hid on the roof of Mr. Mole’s building. He had the key to get up there (and he didn’t steal it, for once), but nobody would bother to look for him. The solitude was needed, for he was trying to think of how to avoid the Long-Legged Lady’s interference. He had written plans over and over again, but each seemed worse than the last. Hound stared out into the city streets to give himself a break, eyes held hostage by what appeared to be a brawl a couple blocks over. He was so intent on watching them that he didn’t hear the door to the roof open, and True Proof walking over to him. “Hi, Hound,” she said, after waiting for him to notice her. He inhaled in shock. “You startled me. Hello, True Proof. How’d you know I was here?” Smiling, she responded, “You came up here after your mission failed last time, so I took a lucky guess.” “Well, it might be a similar situation soon, since this Long-Legged Lady seems difficult to get around. If I can’t get her out of the way, I doubt she’ll stick to just a schedule change this time.“ The woman raised her eyebrows. “I’m not even going to question how you know everything about her now. And shouldn’t you be working on what to say to Mr. Mole? You can’t avoid him forever. Plus, he wants to talk to you anyways. He was going to leave soon, but since I found you…” She let her sentence trail off as Hound slowly picked himself up. He grimaced as he walked down the stairs, clearly not excited for the meeting. True Proof followed him with a hint of a smile on her face.
Hound arrived in front of Mr. Mole in his office just as he was getting up to leave. “Hound.” It was hardly a greeting, but Hound accepted it anyways. “Mole.” They both waited for the other to go first, the hard frowns they normally wore softening slightly in the seconds of silence. Mr. Mole was the first to start. “Look, I’m-“ Hound shook his head. “Don’t be. It was my fault.” Nervously picking at the sleeve of his jacket, Mr. Mole replied, “But I blamed you completely for it. You didn’t deserve that.” “Well, I failed to account for outside interference.” Nodding thoughtfully, Mr. Mole said, “Even if I don’t have to be, I do owe you an apology. Once this is over, let’s go out and get a drink.” It took most of Hound’s willpower to hide his smile. “Sure, I’d be happy to.” “It had better be at my bar,” said True Proof. Both Hound and Mr. Mole spun to face her, Hound instinctively jumping in front of Mr. Mole. “Relax,” she laughed. “You’re both so jumpy today. Maybe if you weren’t so distracted talking you would notice me.” Eying the assassin, she added, “But admirable reaction time. You should be a bodyguard. Anyways, let’s hope the rest of this operation runs more smoothly now that you two made up.” Hound nodded quickly, running back up to the roof before Mr. Mole had a chance to say anything. As soon as he was out of the room, he let himself grin, whispering, “I get to go drinking with him!” Mr. Mole was thinking the same thing, but he would never be that excited in front of True Proof. Thankfully, she waved goodbye to him so she could go back to her bar, haphazardly shutting the door behind her.
Back on the roof, Hound worried that he was running out of paper. His remarkable competence in regards to planning criminal acts was useful, but he had to diagram what he was doing. “If only I hadn’t been so distracted by the fight earlier…” He fiddled with his pen. “That’s it! Distracted!” he exclaimed. He scribbled out his earlier ideas. This one didn’t need a diagram, just a paragraph leaving room for things that had to be filled in later. Tearing the writing out, he stuffed it in his pocket and dumped the rest of the paper in the trash. On the back side, he started making a list of who to ask, narrowing it down to one possibility. Nitre.
It only took one ring for the person on the other side of the line to pick up. “Hound!” The voice was high and feminine, fresh out of college. He replied, “Hi, Nitre. I need some help.” A loud bang became audible from the other end of the line. “What is it this time? Wait, who’s employing you now?”“It’s something for Mole, and I need something flashy and… distracting. “ He heard a static-filled chuckle from the other end of the line. “You’ve called the right person.” Knew it, he thought. She really was the best in the business. “Let’s not plan the full thing over the phone.” “Meet me at that restaurant a couple blocks down from True Proof’s bar. I don’t like to do business with alcohol in the mix.” “Alright, see you at seven tonight.” “Done,” she replied, hanging up.
Under no circumstances would Hound ever willingly “freshen up” for a meal. Food is inherently dirty if it gets on clothing. Cleaning up after dinner made much more sense to him, but unfortunately, society did not agree with his ideals. Thus, he was forced to change out of his work clothes, into a cleaner and less worn version of them. At 7, he arrived at the restaurant. Thankfully, Hound saw it was casual enough for him when he looked through the window. Walking up to the host, he said, “I’m waiting for someone named Nitre, has she arrived yet?” The man nodded, directing him inside and to her table. She was seated in the far back corner booth, already sipping her water. Nitre’s grease stains clearly couldn’t be fixed with just soap and water. Other than that, her suit and combed-down white hair indicated an attempt at cleanliness. Waving at him excitedly when he sat down, she took another sip. “So, what’re the specifics you need?” she asked, once the host had left. “Well, it just needs to make some people think there’s been a security disturbance.” She nodded slowly, contemplating his response. “Inside or outside?” “Probably inside.” Nitre smiled. “I have a good idea of what you need. Oh, I already ordered for us. I hope you like pasta.” Hound replied, “I definitely do, thanks.” She took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. “This will be the final specifications list, but for now-“ she pulled out several sheets out of her bag, “-these will be the rough drafts. Just leave it to the resident bomb expert. I think this job might need a custom design.”
Once their food arrived, their whispered plans were shoved beneath the table. The waiter seemed to be taking echelons, as if he was attempting to sense malicious intent from the pair while serving the food. Thankfully, he left once he had given them their plates. They both immediately pulled the paper back out, continuing to draw on it and map out the final plan while trying not to get sauce on it. The diagrams had been fully completed by dessert. Nitre whispered, “Alright. Let’s do one last run through. Mr. Swifts and the Long-Legged go-“ she pointed to a box on the rough draft, “-here, and once she checks the room so Mr. Swifts can go inside, somebody activates the bomb-“ Hound interrupted her. “Your bomb’s at the opposite end of Mr. Swifts’ building to distract Long-Legged Lady, who thinks he’s safe because of the room check, then I pop up and BAM! Swifts is dead, I leave, you’re long gone, and everyone I don’t hate is happy.” Nitre chomped on her last bite of cake. “You lack the technical terms, but yes. Do you wanna split the check?” Hound nodded. “See you in a couple days, and here’s the money.” He slapped a wad of cash on the table, which made Nitre’s eyes light up excitedly as she pocketed it. “And that’s for dinner,” he continued, placing a couple of folded bills down as he stood up to leave.
Just one more day. For Hound, there was no other choice to finding out what he needed but what he was doing now. This time, he had broken into his office early in the morning. He could already start to hear the voices of Mr. Swifts’ staff- was that the Long-Legged Lady?- so he knew he had to be quick. He placed a small black piece of machinery out of sight, and hastily snuck out the window to the nearby park.
To almost anyone, the man on the bench in headphones looked perfectly average, just enjoying himself while listening to music. But Hound really wasn’t either of those. After a few hours of waiting, he finally heard clear audio in the room. It sounded like Swifts had walked in, and was talking to someone else. “Really, Vio, why did it take you so long to finish the schedule? Opening night is tomorrow!” Vio again. This should be good. Another voice crackled to life. “My apologies, sir, I could have sworn somebody was listening the other day. Since the performance starts at 7…” Bingo, Hound thought. He started the walk back to Mr. Mole’s area twenty minutes later with a filled notepad in hand.
It was already near the end of the day when he got back. Poking his head in the office, Hound caught Mr. Mole’s eye with a quiet cough. The latter looked up, with a hint of a smile once he recognized the roughened face of Hound. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, I just wanted to let you know that I’m done with everything for tomorrow.” Mr. Mole nodded, with a “Thank you” in reply that actually sounded genuine (hard to get from a mobster, but this could really be honest for once). Hound nodded in response, placing a written copy of his plans on the table by the door for Mr. Mole to read. When he leaned back into the hall, it didn’t shake Mr. Mole’s smile.
That night, the breeze blew cool through the city streets, but it didn’t blow enough to reach the boss himself. His sleep was filled with nothing but Hound, endless scenarios of failure and death. Hound, on the other hand, slept in a calmer state, notably lacking the anxiety he normally felt before such a big job. When he woke up, all he could remember was a vague image of Mr. Mole. He kept his eyes closed for a minute just trying to preserve the faint memories of the dream. It’s not like he needed to get up anyways, Mr. Swifts’ dressing room would only be occupied by him in the evening. But even so, he caved to his regular routine and got ready for the day.
When True Proof walked into his office near lunchtime, she wasn’t very surprised to see Mr. Mole slumped over his desk. “That bored, huh?” she asked, watching him start awake to reveal a few papers underneath his arms. “A little… I’m just out of things to do until the evening.” True Proof knew very well how much additional work he had, but he was fond of putting off things. Especially in the face of big events like what was happening that night. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your nap,” she replied. “But first, do you know where my hat is? I think I left it here the other day.” He blearily nodded, going into the side room to grab it. “Here you go.” She smiled and thanked him, rushing out with her hat in hand. As soon as she exited the building fully, she let her posture slump and a sigh escape her lips. “Today just has to go well,” she murmured.
A few hours later, Nitre and Hound were directly outside Mr. Swift’s Golden Rose Theatre. The inside was crowded, but they had chosen points of entry on a relatively hidden side of the building. Hound crawled into the air duct. “Well, this is great,” he muttered. It was a bit of a tight fit at the entry point. But he had done it before, and he would do it again if anyone- who was he kidding, he’d do it for Mole and that was it. He really wasn’t as bad as he had made him out to be for so long. Nitre looked at him with concern, as she planted her completely custom-made bombs inconspicuously by the doorway. “Is this really-“ He nodded, before realizing she couldn’t see him. “Yes, unfortunately. It gets wider later on in the building.” She sighed, shaking her head. Ten minutes later, they were set. Nitre sat on a bench nearby, pretending to read, but she was really keeping a close eye on her watch with a detonator in hand. Hound was in the vent above Mr. Swift’s dressing room, trying to keep his breaths as quiet as possible.
It took all of Hound’s willpower to remain so still and silent for so long, but it was worth not being late again like last time. Finally, though, he heard the door open from down below. He peered through the grate from the ceiling, pulling his head back quickly when he realized it was the Long-Legged Lady searching the room. She hummed slightly, nimble on her prosthetics as she checked every nook and cranny. Hound couldn’t see it, but she looked at the grate on the ceiling for longer than usual, thinking that something might be off. Walking back outside, he could just barely hear her saying, “Well, sir, it looks to be safe. But-“ “Then that’s that. I’ll get ready now.” An audible sigh reached his ears. The door closed, and now the only noise he could hear was from Mr. Swifts himself, changing his clothing.
Meanwhile, Nitre was counting down seconds. “Three… two… one… boom,” she whispered. On “boom,” she hit the detonator and half of the theatre instantly began to light up beneath the smoke. Thankfully, the showy bombs had been made to avoid damaging the building, as Mr. Mole wanted to use it himself later. Both the Long-Legged Lady and Hound heard the noise at the same time. The former stood still for a second, torn between checking to see what was wrong and protecting Mr. Swifts. Eventually, she darted off, limbs clicking on the floor. Hound instantly went to work removing the vent, and after a minute, dropped down into the room. Mr. Swifts clearly had no idea of the chaos occurring outside his soundproof haven, but he was still present enough to lean back in shock as Hound thudded on the ground with the grace of an elephant, pulling his knife out of his sleeve.
The mob boss sputtered in shock as Hound advanced towards him, while he muttered, “Landings aren’t my strong suit.” Coat, hat, and accessories on the ground, Mr. Swifts didn’t look as impressive as usual with just a white collared shirt and his pants on as he was backed into a corner. Just as Hound was lifting his arm up to stab him, the door burst in. Instinctively, Hound clutched Mr. Swifts tightly to his chest, holding the knife right to his neck. The Long-Legged Lady was holding her own hostage, saying, “Swifts, look who I-“ As soon as she saw Hound, she froze, not making a move. Her prisoner was less inclined, though, trying to wiggle out even with sharp metal about to pierce his jugular. Hound didn’t pay him much attention, more focused on the Long-Legged Lady, until he heard a familiar-sounding string of curses.
“Mole?” he asked, breath momentarily taken away. Mr. Mole, for of course that was who it had to have been, smiled sheepishly back at Hound. He started to explain himself, replying, “I was wai-“ before he got cut off by Mr. Swifts. “Well, this is nice, isn’t it?” he said sarcastically. Hound and the Long-Legged Lady both glanced at each other uncomfortably, unsure of whether to make a move, but risk the life of their boss in turn. Meanwhile, Mr. Mole and Mr. Swifts tried to struggle out, but to no avail. They both stopped after a minute, allowing themselves to just be held aloft. The room itself was in near complete silence, save for the quiet commotion of the background.
Somebody had to break it eventually, and that somebody was Mr. Mole. “Hound, just go for Mr. Swifts already. True Proof can run the business if I don’t survive.” The Long-Legged Lady tensed up, but Hound immediately replied, “No. She would not be qualified to hold in your absence.” Mr. Mole stayed silent for a second, contemplating his response. They both knew that True Proof had run his portion of town for years before she got bored (while doing an excellent job of it, too), and was clearly more than qualified. Why wouldn’t he want to try and keep the empire together? Mr. Mole’s life was small in comparison to the riches that could be accumulated. Suddenly, a flash of understanding passed through Mr. Swift’s eyes. “Alright then, since the police are probably on their way already, I think it would be best to just let me go.” The Long-Legged Lady began to slacken her grip as well, until Mr. Swifts continued, “Vio, don’t release Mr. Mole, alright? And if Hound makes a single move, kill Mr. Mole. He takes priority.” Hound couldn’t see the dangerous glint in Mr. Swift’s eyes, but Mr. Mole could. He immediately exclaimed, “Hound, don’t! This is ridiculous!” The tension was palpable in the air, but the sound of sirens started to join in with the background noise. That noise practically made the decision for for Hound, and he slowly released Mr. Swifts. “Now let Mr. Mole go,” Hound practically growled. The Long-Legged Lady prepared to let him go for the second time, but Mr. Swifts grabbed her dress before she could. “Don’t let him go. Wait for the police to pick him up, and he’ll be arrested and out of our hair.” Everyone in the room gaped at him in astonishment, as he picked up his hat from the ground to put it on.
“But, sir, what about Hound?” The Long-Legged Lady was, for the second time in her life, in complete uncertainty as to what to do. Mr. Swifts looked back from the mirror, where he was adjusting his lapel. “He won’t make a move, since he clearly can’t bring himself to be responsible for Mr. Mole’s death.” Mr. Mole’s stomach seemed to catch in his throat, as he saw Hound step forward fiercely towards Mr. Swifts. The latter could clearly care less, lazily grinning. He continued, “Remember, Vio, kill him if he touches a hair on my head.” That sentence froze Hound in place, since he was completely unwilling to have Mr. Mole die. The Long-Legged Lady finally spoke, voice now hushed and nervous. “Sir, what about me?” Looking back with disdain, Mr. Swifts replied, “You’ll stay here and make sure Mr. Mole doesn’t escape, of course.” The entire room exploded into outrage yet again, everyone finally having realized what he was doing. Once the clamor had died down, the Long-Legged Lady said, “But I’ll be arrested too! You know they have files-“ Mr. Swifts sighed and interrupted her for the second time that hour. “I honestly don’t care. It’s your duty to do what is necessary to protect me, and this is absolutely necessary.” Both Mr. Mole and Hound looked at him again, this time not with rage, but outright disgust. The Long-Legged Lady wasn’t far behind. She removed her mask, then let Mr. Mole gently down to the ground. Mr. Swifts barely had time to ask her what she was doing before she lunged at him, knife still in hand. The approaching sound of sirens got louder, but her slew of harsh remarks towards him was still audible as she held him down. Hound grabbed Mr. Swifts’ coat, ripping off two thick strips and crouching besides the Long-Legged Lady. She curiously looked at him, but his reply of, “I need to tie his wrist and ankles,” stopped her glance. He did just that, leaving one excruciatingly annoyed blonde man on the ground.
Hound smiled gratefully, and told her, “We can take care of the rest. But I can’t even express how than-“ She cut him off, for the first of many times. “You don’t need to. I’ll get out of here while I still can, and I encourage you two to do the same.” Mr. Mole grinned at her, and said, “For you, our doors are always open. We would be happy to have you with us.” She nodded happily back at him, and they heard the clicking of her limbs on the floor as she darted out of the room. Mr. Swifts shakily started to say, “Gentlemen, would either of you mind releasing me? I’m sure it would be well worth your while.” Hound ripped another two pieces of fabric off of Mr. Swifts’ coat, shoving one in his mouth and tying the other around it as a makeshift gag. “There we go,” he said. Mr. Mole looked at Mr. Swifts with annoyance. “Let’s get out of here. The cops have definitely arrived by now.” Hound replied, “You should leave right now, but there’s one more thing that I need to do. Do you have a pen?” Mr. Mole didn’t protest, and handed him the required pen. As he left, Hound moved the dresser aside and started to write behind it. He was done a minute later, putting the furniture piece back into place. Mr. Swifts started to wiggle around to try and get out of his bonds, but Hound threw the pen at his face. “You’re not going anywhere but jail.” Sighing in defeat, Mr. Swifts watched Hound sprint as fast as his legs would take him out of the building.
He met up with Mr. Mole at the same place Nitre was at, who bounded up to him excitedly, chattering, “You were gone for so long, I was starting to get worried! Thank god you’re okay.” Lowering her voice, she continued, “And who is this weirdo?” He replied, “That’s my boss,” and Nitre’s eyes widened. “Oops, sorry! I’ve never seen him in person. Also, I’m getting out of here now- I think I see Lady Truth and I don’t want to go to jail.” Before he could respond “See you later, then,” she dashed off and he waved at her instead.
Mr. Mole stared at her in a combination of confusion and awe. “Who is she?” “True Proof’s bomb expert,” he replied. His mouth made an “O” in realization, and they settled into silence as they walked away. A minute later, Hound spoke up again. “I’ve been wondering, how did Violetta end up grabbing you?” Sighing, Mr. Mole scratched his neck. “It’s a bit embarrassing… I was waiting nearby and when I saw the explosions, I ran to see if you were okay. I didn’t count on Long-Legged Lady being there, though.” Looking over, Hound replied, “That’s not too embarrassing, you were just unlucky. What were you waiting for?” Was that a blush tinting Mr. Mole’s face? “I was waiting for… you. After hearing about the Long-Legged Lady, I couldn’t stop worrying about your safety.” Hound frowned at the ground. “Don’t be worried about me. You’re the unprotected one, and I should have done my job better. Next time, I won’t let you get into a situation where you could have been killed like that.” Mr. Mole seemed to deflate at that response. “I just meant-“ Wait, Hound thought. Did he really mean-? “-that I wanted to know if you would be alright.” The other tried to think of a response, but before he could, Mr. Mole sighed and walked ahead. “Wait!” Hound called. A glimmer of hope shone in Mr. Mole’s eyes as he turned around. “Did you mean it like that?” Mr. Mole smiled slightly, hardly needing to ask what he meant. “Only if you want it to be meant that way, Hound.” Running to catch up, he replied, “My name isn’t Hound. It’s Naib Subedar.” Mr. Mole broke into a full grin as Naib wrapped his arm around his waist. “I’m Norton Campbell. Pleased to meet you.” Naib smiled, really smiled, while melting into his warmth. “Likewise.” The two continued walking, away from work and betrayal and near-death experiences. But first- “What do you say I take you out for a couple drinks?” Naib rested his head on Norton’s shoulder. “I would love to.” In the soft light of golden hour, neither could see the other’s face. But it wasn’t hard for them to guess that they weren’t the only one of the pair grinning and blushing like a schoolgirl. They didn’t mind, though- they were together, and they were happy. That was all that truly mattered.
Epilogue
An hour later, Mr. Swifts sat irritably in a corner after recounting a heavily falsified version of the story to the sheriff. That same sheriff was on the other side of the room, showing the tale to the detective through lined paper. Lady Truth read each note carefully, and although she liked Victor Grantz, she wasn’t sure about Mike Morton in the corner. He was a big star and the owner of several theaters in town, but he was always just a bit too connected to some of the other shady businesses she constantly tried to bust. “Thank you, Mr. Grantz, that will be all,” she said, with a faint smile on her lips. He grinned in reply, leaving her with the paper and a wave as he stood outside the door. She knew that she probably couldn’t find anything of interest in the building, but it wouldn’t hurt to look around the room a bit more. Pushing aside the dresser, she had to hold in a gasp as she saw the writing. She read it quietly to herself, the author’s voice narrating each word in her mind. “Hi again, Emma. It’s Inference. Well, not anymore, but you know what I mean. Anyways, knowing you, you wouldn’t settle for just interrogating Mike Morton and you would want to search the room. Smart girl. You probably haven’t realized it by now, but that man is also Mr. Swifts. He’s extremely selfish and rude, even though those are just some of my personal issues with him. But I’m sure you know all about what crimes he’s committed, and if not, it’s definitely on file. By the time you read this, he’s probably trying to sneak out of the room.” She whirled around and glared at Mr. Swifts as he sheepishly pulled back from the door. She continued to read, finding very little left of the note. “I’m out of time, but I’m glad you’re doing well for yourself. See you soon, or not. You never know. -Inference.” Lady Truth forced her face to remain neutral as she called the sheriff back in the room. She whispered quietly to him to explain the situation, keeping her eyes trained on Mr. Swifts. Once he had the full series of events, they walked over to imprison him. She did the talking for him, telling the mob boss, “Mr. Swifts, the gig is up. You’re under arrest.” Mr. Grantz locked the handcuffs on his wrists, and Mr. Swifts didn’t even bother protesting for once as he was led to the car. Before she got in, though, she looked into the darkening sky. “I wonder where you are, Mr. Inference.”