“You always take things too far, in exactly the way I want.”

Ed had told this to Amelia once, just an offhanded comment based on some event she could no longer remember. Maybe she had cooked a meal too fancy for no special occasion, or maybe she had slain a wildebeest and taken the whole thing back to the house to skin, or maybe she had just destroyed a training golem with enough power to surprise her. It could have been any of those things, or all of them.

But while those events have faded away into Amelia’s memory of their years together, she certainly did not forget the words. Ed herself surely meant nothing by it but to flirt, but the words struck her on a deeper level because they were fundamentally, absolutely true.

Amelia was not one to make half-hearted measures and dilly-dally all day. She was not one for getting a job done in the cleanest way possible. No, she took things too far, and she always would.

Case in point: This afternoon.

On the advice of that orcish shopkeeper, she had come to the Red Light District near the Coliseum. The place where johns and janes came for pleasure of the carnal variety, and those associated vices that came along with it. Officially illegal, but tolerated as long as it was contained. And the district had shrunken in recent years in favor of the high-rolling party streets in the Manadhmeth Dungeon’s first floor. And she entered the district in her favorite recent outfit—jacket, with a hood over her head, a mask over her mouth, and sunglasses. It was hardly suspicious in the winter, but here, even less so; half the people in the neighborhood darted around like getting spotted would end their existences.

For what it was worth, Amelia noted the Red Light District was no dirtier, no less inviting than anywhere else in Fleettwixt. Highden might have been filled with all the shiny white buildings, but the crowd was immense, anonymous, and lonely. The Red Light District had flashing signs and friendly workers on every street corner, bright and colorful even as the sun still stood in the sky. If Amelia had come here for the intended purpose, she might have even fallen for its charms.

But she did not come here for sex. She came here for a good time.

The shopkeeper told her to go to a place called “Margaret's Secret.” With all these ragged bars and beaming brothels, she assumed she would have searched for an hour before she found it. That was until she looked up at the towering, six-story structure with a gold dome roof and radiant neon lights flashing in pink and yellow. On the logo, a naked lady danced in a martini glass.

That was the place, then, Amelia thought to herself.

A lone golem, a lowly guard, scanned the horizon as it stood on the street corner near the brothel. Its head followed Amelia’s body as she passed it by. City police did not come around this area, so golems were the only protection anyone here received. Probably a good thing, considering how corrupt the Fleettwixt police were known to be.

She entered Margaret's Secret.

Automatic doors, pleasant indoor heating. And, as soon as she entered, she noticed the entire staff of this establishment consisted of shirtless women, prancing around in lingerie like something out of a teenage boy’s fantasy.

Clean floors, walls with paintings hanging on them, poppy music playing on the speakers. Red velvet carpet and a glass elevator that went up the whole height of the building.

Brothels were never supposed to be this well-maintained, Amelia thought. Fleettwixt really did have everything.

She approached the service desk, manned by a woman of ambiguous race—mixed elf and orc perhaps, maybe a touch of faun in there?—who sported a thong as the only clothing on her entire body. The woman looked at Amelia with eyes so seductive it could only have ever been mastered through dutiful training.

“Good afternoon. Welcome to Margaret's Secret,” she said. “A wonder emporium for life’s stimulations.” She eyed her closely, her vision not slipping into that sense of pity that so many others did when they first saw her. “First time, isn’t it?”

How did she know—

On some unknown cue, a line of women in all shapes and sizes, in at least six different races, gathered. That included three different felids standing next to each other and twitching their tails in excitement. The entire group sported breasts of statuesque shapeliness.

“What interests you?” the woman at the service desk asked. “All our ladies are very friendly and very helpful, if you’re new. If you just want to talk, they’re there too. Aren’t you, ladies?”

Scattered, cheery noises of affirmation from the whole line. Amelia wondered if they were going to make her rank them next.

“You’re a big girl,” the woman said, coming around the service counter and putting her hand on Amelia’s fleshy left arm. She squeezed it a few times to make sure the muscles were real. “Why don’t we take that jacket off and get you comfortable?” The line of ladies took that as their signal to surround Amelia and began trying to rope her into their scheme as fast as possible. Someone’s breasts pushed against her back, and a pair of arms wrapped around her stomach. Her jacket slipped right off.

She swatted everyone away and growled, “It would be very painful for you to continue this.” They backed away. She softened up a little when she realized these weren’t actually her foes here. “I’m not here for you. Sorry.”

All the ladies’ inviting expressions vanished completely, and they left to whatever areas they came from. The service counter woman, the only one left, asked, “Do you have a reservation with someone?”

Amelia shook her head. “I don’t want sex. Or company. Not interested.”

Her face darkened. “If you’re here to cause trouble, then—”

“I’m looking for a fight, but not with any of you,” she said. “I hear this place has a grudge against synth.”

At that final word, ears perked up throughout the floor. The disinterested ladies suddenly made their way back over.

“Don’t you get started here,” the woman whispered. “We won’t have it.”

“You misunderstand.” Amelia took the opportunity to put her jacket back on, but not before stopping for a moment to let everyone around get a good look at her imposing figure. “I want to help you.”

The woman shook her head, then pressed a button on the service counter to activate a radio. “Madame Margaret, will you come down here?”

To that, a voice from behind them answered, “Already here, Lilian.”

A middle-aged human in a translucent pink robe came into view and clasped her hands together. A sense of serene power exuded with every step she took. Madame Margaret, she presumed. “I saw this woman outside the building and I knew something was going to happen.”

“I mean no harm,” Amelia said. Then she corrected, “To you. I mean great harm to others.”

“And synth is involved?”

“Synth is a scourge. I want to take it off the streets.”

Madame Margaret laughed bitterly. “What, are you going to wish it away? Synth isn’t being taken off the streets by anyone but the police, who just turn around and sell it back to the suppliers.”

“I can’t bring down the whole system. Not yet. I’m sorry. For this afternoon, just some synth. I hear the Red Light District is suffering.”

The service counter woman, Lilian, looked at Madame Margaret pleadingly. “Madame, can we get back to our jobs and stop humoring her?”

The response was an eye roll. “It’s not like there’s anyone else coming in right now. Let’s hear this fine specimen out.” She gestured to Amelia. “The Red Light District is suffering, all right. Drug dealers are hiding out in every alley and bar, and they’re distributing their product so fast they’re running out. I don’t know what’s going on, but they’re smuggling it all in with those soul gems, or something. The quality is horrible, but it’s so addictive that people can hardly stop. Half the time, a user inhales it, and then they just go into a berserker rage for an hour.”

One of the felid ladies stepped into the conversation, her tail swaying rhythmically. “Just last week it happened here,” she told Amelia. “A young woman, a regular, came in to visit me. During foreplay she stopped and went to use the restroom. By the time I realized something was wrong, she was already convulsing. Too far gone to save. She died right in front of me. I even know her dealer.”

Amelia put her hands on her hips and leaned her head in closer. “Who?”

Just that word was enough to make the felid’s eyes light up in inspiration. “A faun by the name of Vino,” she said. “He’s hung around these parts for years, terrorizing prostitutes and harassing every woman he sees, but he just got into synth dealing.”

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“Okay. Tell me where he is, and I’ll kill him.”

Madame Margaret said, “Who are you, little girl?”

“I’m not little. I just want to take some drugs off the street.”

“I believe you.” She smirked.

The felid put one hand on Amelia’s stone shoulder. “He’s at that tavern across the street. They won’t serve him anywhere else.” She paused before adding, “Kill that man, and I’ll give you a year of free service. Or something. Just, please, make him suffer like my client did.”

Amelia nodded. “I won’t take you up on the offer. But he’ll suffer.”

And with that, Amelia had all she needed to know. A deluge of drug dealers sowing poison around the Red Light District, and one really good example to set.

If there was one good way to draw Ed out from wherever she was, it was making a big display of things. Taking things too far in exactly the way she wanted.

Today wouldn’t be that big display, but it would be the start of things. It very nearly put a smile on Amelia’s face to think about it. All she needed was the setting sun, her fists, and a target.

She entered the tavern, not even stopping to look at the name. The smell of booze and loud masculine voices was all she needed, and the damp wooden floors that greeted her just accentuated it. This was the place you went when you had nowhere else left to go. And, seeing as it was the middle of the day, only those with nothing else to do, too.

Naturally, the tavern was crowded with men and the women they had picked up. No fauns in sight, either. A bit of beer from a nearby patron sprinkled on her shoes, and she did everything she could to stop herself from beating the person’s face in.

There were two floors above the tavern, presumably for quick sex rendezvous. He might have been in there, in which case she would have a hell of a time kicking in every single door.

But there was a much simpler option, one that would leave a whole lot of doors intact. She went over to the bartender and asked him, “Where’s Vino?”

The bartender merely pointed, and then Amelia saw him.

Head bobbing, thin beard, one leg crossed over the other, a putrid smugness in his smile. Two empty glasses on a small table in a crevice in the corner of the tavern.

“Hey, Vino, you ready?” Amelia asked, walking up to him with the stagger of a valued friend, and raising her hand as if she expected him to stand up and embrace her. Instead, he just stared, caught completely off-guard.

“What’s going on here?” he asked. He sat up straighter and put both hooves on the floor. “Did I forget?”

“Just want some synth,” Amelia said. “We set this whole thing up.”

Vino stood up and began backing out of the crevice, closer to the stairs. “No, no, no,” he muttered. “I don’t set deals up like this. No damn cop is arresting me. Not in your life.”

“I won’t arrest you. I’ll just kill you.” She clenched her fists.

Vino’s eyes blinked rapidly, and he darted up the stairs as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, Amelia took things a little too far, because the rest of the bar had heard everything she said. And they certainly were not on her side. Before she could follow the faun up the stairs, a huge human woman with a buzz-cut and arms that gave even Amelia envy stomped right in her way.

The huge woman roared. Amelia shook her head, sighed, and commenced the tavern brawl by picking up a barstool and smashing it over her head.

This was the signal for all the drunken men in the building to begin piling onto each other and fighting whoever was nearest to them. Few seemed like they were even aiming to reach Amelia; they just wanted a good excuse to lay their buddies out.

As for the woman blocking Amelia’s way, she recovered from the barstool far too quickly. Literally shook the wood off her shoulders. Then she grabbed Amelia mid-punch and began grappling with her.

“Argh!” Amelia shouted. Who was this random woman to be so strong? Why was she even protecting this drug dealer?

The woman shoved Amelia so hard she slammed into the small table where Vino once sat. The two empty glasses toppled over and shattered, just missing Amelia’s fleshy side.

Might you consider... I don’t know, the Combat Module?

No, no she would not consider that. This was absolutely not worth the mana. Especially not when she just obtained a new weapon, right on the floor.

Amelia grabbed the biggest glass shards off the floor and stood up. Once the huge woman came for her again, she stabbed one shard into her neck. She reeled back a few steps, too shocked to understand what had just happened, and Amelia took the opportunity to shove another piece into her chest. They were not deep wounds, but the blood poured.

The huge woman was too in pain to react to anything else. She slowly sat back down on a stool and held the shard in her neck. The blood quickly rushed out of her face.

Before she could reach the stairs, another person grabbed her by the hood and yanked her back—an elvish man with rancid breath and bloodshot eyes. He attempted to pummel her—

But she simply pulled herself around and pulled away from his grip. When he raised his fists, she uppercutted his chin with her right fist and he crashed into the bar. He would never move again.

The huge woman glared at her, knowing her life was ending, but unable to do anything about it. Amelia thought about finishing her off quickly to ease the pain, but another faun began up the stairs, as if to join Vino and help protect him in the middle of his tavern brawl.

Amelia would not be having it. She lunged ahead, grabbed the man by the hoof, and pulled him to the ground. What an ugly little man. He stumbled back to his feet as if to attack her, but she simply grabbed him by the neck. Snapped it.

The body thumped.

And now Amelia had a clear shot upstairs. She sprinted up the creaky wooden steps and checked for any sign of Vino. The second floor had two private rooms, both locked and shut, one with loud moaning sounds coming from the walls.

“I guess I’m breaking down doors after all,” she said to herself as she rammed her right shoulder into the knob.

The first room was empty. Not even a bed, just some bondage equipment, so nowhere to hide.

The second room...

He probably was not in there either, but might as well check, she thought.

Sure enough, when she broke it down, all she found was a human man thrusting deep into a naga woman with her tail wrapped around his torso.

They both shrieked, and Amelia sighed. Moving on, then.

The third floor, right at the top. Four more bedrooms, this time, and none of them with any sound.

“Vino!” Amelia shouted. “I’m here for you.”

She heard a bumping sound and some fevered hoofs clopping from one of the walls. This man really was no professional, if he was fooled by a trick like that.

She ripped the door off its hinges and strolled into the room, where Vino stood, cowering by the window.

Huh, almost dark already. Amelia did not realize it had taken so long to do all of this.

“I have questions for you,” she said.

“P-please don’t kill me,” Vino pleaded. “I didn’t know that batch was bad. It’s not my f—”

“You work for Fourland, right? They give you the drugs?”

“Uh, no. I don’t know. I get it all from some guy. A middleman. Hell, I don’t even know what synth is, really. They just hooked me up with a good gig. I needed the coin.”

“Okay,” Amelia said. “And what about the North Sunwell Company? How is Fourland is connected to it?”

“Uh, I don’t know...”

Amelia stepped up close to him and patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve pissed yourself.”

“Yeah...”

“Who’s your middleman?” she asked.

“Uh, uh, uh...” Too panicked to even answer the simplest of questions. This man was basically useless, but Amelia suspected that going in. She just asked the questions in case anything would come of it. If nothing did, that was okay. There were many more drug dealers to attack later.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Amelia told him. “I’m looking for my girlfriend. Her name is Ed Winback, and she’s a golemancer. Once I find her, we’re going to destroy the whole colonial empire here. The North Sunwell Company will turn to ash.”

“Um...”

“You’re my stepping stone to revenge, Vino. A small step into a larger world. Nobody else will remember you, but I always will.”

“No, no, no... No!”

“Your corpse will be a message to synth dealers everywhere.”

Before the faun could respond, Amelia picked him up and tossed him out the window.

Glass shattering, a high-pitched scream, and a few seconds later, a thud.

A few seconds later, Amelia jumped out as well. She landed with a roll right next to Vino’s body.

Well, he was not quite dead yet. Three-story falls did not kill as often as Amelia preferred. But he certainly would move no longer.

He let out a gurgling sound, as if gasping for air. And then Amelia saw the glass from the window, which had cut him up in a great many places, his throat included.

It was only a few moments later when he let out his last gasp and his life withered away.

That was two glass-related casualties tonight.

And only four total. She was genuinely surprised how low the body counted ended up being.

“Goodbye, Vino,” Amelia said. She kneeled down and pressed a soul gem to the body. It gave off a cheery purple glow, and everything was alright.

The tavern brawl was still raging on too much for anyone to notice Amelia or the body yet. And, fortunately, she had avoided most of the blood spill. So she stood back up and walked back over to Margaret's Secret.

It was only a few seconds before Madame Margaret and the felid prostitute came running out to greet her with curious, excited expressions.

“Job’s done,” Amelia said.

The felid jumped out and hugged her. She did not reciprocate, but also did not brush her off. It was clearly very important to this woman, so she let the joyful, tragic feelings pass in silence.

When that moment was over, she looked at the two women and said, “I don’t know if this will do much. But if you run into more synth dealers, just send them my way. Okay?”

Madame Margaret nodded. “We will.”

With that, Amelia was done for the day. She walked out of the brothel, waved to that simple guard golem watching her face, and went back home.