Leaves rustled. From the overgrown forest in the center of Central City, a strange figure emerged. A dirty t-shirt made an odd contrast with ill-fitting trousers and bare feet, and the remnants of strange stains left his hair stiff in places. Between the bits and pieces of the mismatched outfit, he looked as though he’d escaped from a mental hospital, or maybe a war zone. Standing on the very edge of the nearly foot-tall root structure, he held onto a slender tree and surveyed his surroundings.

“What’re you waiting for, an invitation?” a grungy old man asked, cutting him a look as he walked by. He adjusted the severed monster leg he carried over one shoulder and shook his head at Levi.

With a smile, Levi hopped down, holding his briefcase over one shoulder. “Thank you kindly for offering.”

“I ain’t offering you nothing,” the old man grumbled, and hurried off, moving away from Levi as quickly as he could.

Levi watched him go, then shook his head. “One of us is walking around carrying a severed limb, and I’m the weirdo?”

He glanced at his briefcase, then grinned. Quietly, he muttered, “Okay, so maybe we both are, but at least I’m not waggling it around everywhere.”

The usual street greeted him. A truck unloaded the mangled bodies of the horse monsters, which vanished one-by-one into a vast factory, where workers waited with butcher knives and meat hooks. Just outside the factory, a seven foot tall worker nearly as wide as he was tall casually sliced the hooves off the horses, dropping them into a huge wheelbarrow. The usually jobless louts crouching on the street corners swarmed the fresh bodies, cutting off tiny bits and pieces that were especially valuable and set them aside to be further processed later.

Across the street from that industrious operation, a motel with steel railings stood, a world apart from the bloody brick factory with its black-painted wraparound balconies and bright white walls. As usual, Roxy lounged on the railing, a hand on her chin, looking out at the world.

“Hey, Roxy!” Levi called, giving her a big, friendly wave.

She cut her eyes at him, heavy-lidded eyes thick with lazy sex appeal and black eye shadow, and sighed deeply. “What do you want, Levi?”

He frowned. “Bad day?”

“Hmph.”

Coming to the staircase, he bounded up to Roxy’s side and leaned on the railing beside her. He tilted his head, looking up at her. “What happened?”

“What happened to your face?”

Lifting both hands, he gave it a firm scrub. “Better?”

She stared at the smeared makeup and shook her head. “Worse.”

“Win some, lose some. And you look like you just lost,” Levi commented.

Roxy sighed heavily. For a long moment, she gazed out at the street and the bustling bodies, before turning to Levi. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He clasped his hands. “I would, yeah.”

“Nothing I need you for. Isn’t at that point, yet.”

“Yet?”

Roxy shook her head. She pushed her hair behind her ear and leaned on the hand opposite Levi, shoulder rigid, hip popped. “What do you want? I’ll warn you, I’m tired.”

He reached into his back pocket and flourished a handful of cards. “Just a bit of help.”

Roxy stared at the cards for a long moment, her lips pursed in distaste, then snatched them out of his hands. “The usual?”

“Fifty-fifty. The usual.”

She nodded. Her eyes ran the length of Levi’s body, and she licked plump red lips. “Couldn’t convince you to…trade, instead?”

He chuckled, glancing at his oversized pants, bare feet, and stained t-shirt. Turning a makeup-streaked face to her, he raised a single brow. “Roxy, you cannot convince me that you think this is sexy.”

She shrugged. “I’ve made do with worse.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get me my money, and let me know if that thing you won’t tell me about gets bad enough, alright? You know I’ll take care of it.”

“I know you will, Levi. It’s why I’m not telling you yet,” she said, waggling her eyebrows, the hint of a wicked grin on her lips.

“There we go. That’s the Roxy I know.” He grinned back.

“I’ll send it to Maury, no?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Levi returned, shooting her a thumbs up. He paused.

Roxy crossed her arms and preemptively gave him a warning look. “What?”

“Could I use your shower? And uh, a change of clothes?”

She snorted. “Seriously?”

He gestured at himself.

“Fair.” Roxy thought for a moment, then shrugged. She reached into her pocket and tossed him a small bronze key. “Whatever. The Madame knows you, so eh, no big deal. Room 101. Be quick. You can use whatever you want from the closet in there. It’s all leftovers from old johns.”

“Thanks!” With a quick wave, Levi hurried down the stairs into the room on the first floor.

A few minutes later, he emerged, dressed in a shiny green tracksuit, a pair of black slides, and a slightly less dirty t-shirt. Whistling for Roxy, he tossed her the key. She caught it out of the air and gave a final wave. Levi waved back and headed off, out into the city, past the dilapidated buildings of the broken-down parts of Central City. Back toward Central Square, where a squad of policemen surrounded the bar, working to break down the gummed-shut front doors. Levi cast the bar a look and shied away, pretending to be scared. He looked around.

Not far down one of Central Square’s tributary alleys, a redheaded girl sat on a bench outside a fast food restaurant.

Levi wandered over, coming up behind her and touching her shoulder. Fira jumped, whirling, her eyes wide.

Backing away, he put his hands up. “It’s me, just me. Did Jack find anything?”

Fira bit her lip. She shook her head. “Not much. He said he needed more time.”

Levi nodded. In a wise tone, he declared, “As all fine things do, these things take time.”

He walked on, strolling past the bench as though he hadn’t stopped at all. Fira stared after him, then popped to her feet and jogged to catch up. She peered around his shoulder at him. “Then…we have no leads.”

“I never said that.”

“What?”

Levi reached into the briefcase and fanned out a handful of papers toward her. “Feast your eyes.”

She took them, then frowned. “Someone named Ian’s tax returns…?”

“Huh?” Levi took them back, then scowled. “Not those. Hold on.” Digging through the briefcase again, he pulled out another sheaf of papers and checked it over, then handed it to Fira.

Grabbing the papers, she stared, then froze.

“C’mon. Act cool, keep moving,” Levi encouraged her, giving her a little nudge.

A brunet boy who looked remarkably like Fira stared back at her, a spray of bright blue hair from his long bangs hanging in front of one of his dark eyes. The picture focused on his face, little else visible except the grey shirt and black jacket he wore, but in the far distance, the unmistakable towers of Old Town loomed large.

She looked at the picture, then back at Levi, then back at the picture. “This…where…what?”

“Sometimes, when you hang with some bad men, you find out they’ve been doing bad shit. And sometimes you just find pictures of peoples’ brothers. I don’t know if they had his picture because they have him or because they want him dead, but either way…” Levi grinned at her. “What do you say to raiding a criminal den tonight?”

Fira’s eyes flashed, as blue as a pilot light. “Let’s do it. Right now.”