After he runs afoul of a sinister body swapper, a world-weary detective with a shady past finds himself trapped in the body of a beautiful and brazen stripper. But as his mind starts to fade and hers begins to take over, he soon realizes that he only has 24 hours left to live before he fades away entirely. 24 hours to solve his own murder and bring his killer to justice. (A tale of Faraday City.)

Author’s Note: In openness, I don't like most stories that deal with identity death. And I'm not often a big fan of body swapping stories. Sooo, you may be wondering what's going on here? :) Basically, I wanted to try to challenge myself to incorporate those themes into a story that I could genuinely enjoy and be proud of. So, to everybody who's reading this despite seeing those tags, thank you for giving it a try—this one's for you!

The concept is loosely based on the old noir film "D.O.A.," where a guy is poisoned and only has a couple days to live, and he spends his last hours solving his own murder. For fun, I leaned in on the noir aspects, so you're getting the full ride—a hardboiled detective, a leggy femme fatale, a twisty mystery, seedy characters with schemes of their own, shadowy settings, and more deadpan snark than you can shake a stick at, doll. There are also some nods to "Fallen," a supernatural neo-noir thriller that shares some DNA.

This is set in my Faraday City universe, and in fact chronologically this follows hot on the heels of "Identity Crisis: Adventures In Babysitting," but it's a completely standalone story with a very different tone. So, if this is your first time joining us, welcome! No extra homework is required, just sit back and enjoy. But unlike my other Faraday City stories, which are more superhero-related, this one is more "superhero adjacent." I wanted to give a peek into the lives of the ordinary people who make Faraday City their home and show how they deal with the strangeness. Which also provides a splash of urban fantasy to go along with the neo-noir murder mystery. I hope you like it!

Charade

By Jenny North
Cover art by Fraylim

It was a strange thing, knowing I only had moments to live. Unfortunately, I wasn't in a mood to savor the nuances of the experience because I was too busy grasping at straws, desperately clinging on to any fleeting hope by my metaphorical fingernails. If I hadn't been so distracted, I'd probably have laughed out loud at the irony. I'd always hated my life, but now, here at the end, I clung to it the way a drowning man clings to a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but for me, my last thoughts were of my job. Which was especially rich, considering how much I hated my job. It was a little galling that my last thoughts on this good Earth would be about actuarial tables. Though of the various ways I thought I'd end up checking out, the way it actually went down wasn't even near the top of my list.

I was in reasonably good health for a guy staring down the dark side of middle-age, so a good old-fashioned heart attack had always seemed most likely to do me in. Statistically, cancer would normally be in the solid number two slot, but living in Faraday City and considering what I did for a living, I always figured I'd meet my end by violence. Shot dead by an irate customer or caught in the crossfire of some bullshit metahuman fight between superheroes and supervillains. You know what I'm talking about...eaten by rogue cybernetic land sharks, or maybe gravitational spaghettification from a supervillain's portable black hole gun. Something like that.

No? I guess you're not from around here. Lucky you.

They billed Faraday City as a "city of dreams," a shining metropolis of the future. And if you believe that, I've got a terrific bridge to sell you. I mean, my God, they built the freaking thing in New Jersey. That tells you everything you need to know, right there. "Come for the superheroes, stay for the smell," that's the bumper sticker they should sell, not that anybody asked my opinion.

Even the city of dreams has a squalid and seedy underbelly. That's my domain. Or it was.

Let me paint you a picture. It's a moonlit night in the bustling city, in what the locals might call an unsavory part of town. This is where you'd find yourself if you were either seriously lost or on the hunt for some excitement. The rain from earlier that evening had failed to cleanse the filth, leaving grimy streets adorned with shimmering puddles that reflected the vibrant glow of gaudy neon lights. The scattered neon illuminates the surroundings, but its feeble radiance can't hope to penetrate the creeping shadows that stick to everything like wet tar. In the distance, towering ultramodern skyscrapers glisten, and maybe from down here you can even catch a glimpse of the apex of The Spire if you squint hard enough.

That towering silver monument was supposed to symbolize the city's resilience and collective pursuit of progress, or at least that's what it says on the dedication plaque. It's a pretty sentiment. Though you can sure as shit bet that all those people living in paradise can't see us down here. Rich folks who live like royalty in their shining towers don't think about the peasants scrabbling away in the dirt.

But me, I liked it down here. It's real. The people are real. It's not pretty, but at least people don't play at being anything more than they are. It's not some fabricated superhero nonsense that plays at being some high-flying moral authority.

Now into our picture, let's paint in a young woman. She's in her early 20s...old enough to know better and young enough to do it anyway, but burdened with a worldliness that shows she grew up too fast. She's blonde and stacked with a body that's built for sin, and she wears her brazen sexuality like a badge. With her heavy makeup and tousled hair, it's a sure sign that she's a working girl, to say nothing of her short black miniskirt and a racy red blouse that's cut so low as to leave nothing to the imagination. Her face is still surprisingly fresh, a silent indicator that the city has only started to get its hooks into her. Nevertheless, she fits in perfectly with her seedy surroundings. You could easily imagine her working the streets. Or more likely, walking in the back door of one of the strip clubs a few blocks away before starting her shift.

The only thing a bit peculiar about our young lady here is her demeanor. Something's got her spooked. Badly. Her skin is flushed and her eyes are wide, and she's taking quick shallow breaths as she looks around in a visible panic as though she's searching for something. Across the street, she spots a couple cops flirting with some of the working girls, and she rushes towards them, not even seeming to notice as a car narrowly swerves to avoid hitting her. She stumbles in her high heels from the muscle tremors that are causing her body to shake and tremble.

You getting a sense of the scene, here? If it helps, maybe imagine it like one of those old Hollywood movies with the long shadows and Dutch angles. I'm the one telling the story, so I can tell it how I want. Humor me. Think of it as a dying man's last request.

The cops look up as she approaches, their attention drawn to the sound of the squealing tires and the angry blare of the horn from the car. They don't make a move towards her, they just stand their ground. Quiet. Dispassionate. Sizing her up, in more ways than one.

The frightened girl runs right up to the closer cop, a barrel-chested guy with a mustache and a receding hairline. She practically throws herself against him, her slender fingers with the long red nails up pressed against his muscular chest as she looks desperately up into his eyes.

"Please..." she whispers. The way she says it, it sounds more like a prayer than a plea.

The cop maintains his professional facade as he carefully takes in her frantic eyes, feels the trembling of her hands. His face practically shows the mental checklist he's running through. Rape? Seems unlikely given her unsullied makeup and outfit. Maybe a junkie coming down off a bad high?

"What seems to be the problem, miss?" he asks, all business. Though, like his partner, he treats himself to a stolen glance down at her exposed cleavage. It's hard to miss. And it's pretty fantastic.

Her slender fingers paw numbly against his chest as she peers up at him in a dawning horror. Her expression is that of someone who realizes too late that they're doomed, and who has belatedly come to the terrifying realization that there's nobody who can help her.

"Oh, God... He's killed me..." she whispers. But of course, the cop doesn't understand. How could he? Even in a place like Faraday City, this is stuff they never trained him for.

I should probably back up.

Maybe I'm not being clear. That girl? That was me.

She was also a stripper I knew named Jessie.

Only a day earlier, my spirit got trapped in her body. But now Jessie's mind was taking control, slipping back into the driver's seat. And there wasn't room in her pretty blonde head for any passengers.

Jessie. I'd tried to do right by her, but I'd managed to screw that up, too, just like everything else in my life. But here at the end, I'd made it right. At least she'd be safe.

I'd always suspected that girl would be the death of me, but I'd never imagined I'd be going out like this...

24 HOURS EARLIER

Let's get one thing straight, right up front: this story may take place in Faraday City, but it's not a story about superheroes.

Notice I didn't say metahumans, or supers, or "enhanced individuals," or whatever the term du jour currently is. Faraday City was lousy with those. Hell, they (and the destruction that followed in their wake) were responsible for my livelihood.

No, I said superheroes. I can say that they definitely aren't part of this because superheroes don't exist. Oh, they may walk among us like the mythological Greek gods of old, but take away their flashy powers and they're still people. And at the end of the day, people are out for themselves. So, if you honestly think that those privileged few are out there selflessly risking their lives to save total strangers with nothing in it for them...well, I already mentioned that terrific bridge, didn't I? It's priced to move.

C'mon, just look at some of them. Tinsel is basically a walking billboard for herself, selling technology to the highest bidder. She even started a line of high-end (read: massively overpriced) makeup products for impressionable girls trying to emulate a celebrity superhero. AGON Technologies sells nonlethal weapons to law enforcement, but you can bet they're not losing money on those choice government contracts. But then they put that washed-up has-been of a sidekick Marty Maddox as their front man, and suddenly everybody is falling over themselves to call him a humanitarian.

And Promethean? That supposed paragon of virtue? You wouldn't believe half of the stuff I've heard about him.

Supers are all over the place. But superheroes? I've lived here my whole life, and I've never seen one.

Don't believe me? I should know. I am, after all, the single most hated man in Faraday City. I can't say I'm especially proud of that, but I guess you take the accolades where you can get them. But that distinction is really saying something when you consider the number of power-crazed supervillains who have tried to terrorize, enslave, destroy, transmogrify or otherwise threaten the populace.

I mean, no disrespect to the impressive amount of work that Doctor Malevolence has put in vying for the title, but let's be frank. He spends most of his time brooding in the Manichean Dimension thoughtfully steepling his tentacles as he comes up with his next big plan for world domination, but at best he trots out a good one maybe once or twice a year. Me, I'm out there earning that title every single day.

How do I do it, you ask? I'm an insurance fraud investigator.

Oh, on a good day, I fancy myself a "freelance private investigator," but even I have to admit that's pretty much bullshit. After all, I've really only got two paying clients, and the one that pays the bills is Faraday Insurance.

Once again, allow me to paint you a little picture.

Take a moment and imagine you've just had the worst day of your entire life:

Demons from the netherworld have emerged from a hell gate in your backyard and destroyed your home. Maybe they've enslaved your loved ones in some kind of malign demonic pact, to boot.

Meanwhile, the Liberty Squadron's pitched battle with Grimdark has reduced your small family-owned business to a pile of smoldering rubble.

And just to make things fun, let's say that earlier that same day, your pet goldfish gained both sentience and an acute case of megalomania, and he tried to take over the city from the comfort of his fishbowl. This naturally set in motion a catastrophic chain of events that ended with Brobdingnagian stepping on your car. Maybe also your dog, because why the hell not?

Here, at your lowest point, at your absolute fucking nadir, is where I breezily make my entrance into your life. I'm the guy who takes a look around to figure out how your insurance—the insurance you've been diligent in paying—somehow doesn't actually cover any of this.

I'm actually not the guy who's supposed to break you the bad news. Me, I'm only poking around and asking questions. But you know what? People can always tell when things aren't going to go their way, and they are only too happy to vent their frustrations on me. I am not a well-loved man.

Still, you wouldn't believe the number of opportunistic assholes out there who act like they just won the lotto jackpot because their SUV's paint got scratched by one of Pinball Wizard's technospheres. (Go ahead and feel free to insert your own Powerball joke here.) People say I'm a cynic, but I prefer to think of myself as an optimist. I wake up every day hoping to meet an honest man.

Of course, it was the damn raccoon business that pretty much turned the rest of the city against me. That didn't help. But for most people who hated me, it was because of the job. That's where I really shine.

I pulled up in front of the site I was currently investigating. The small building had once been a very particular kind of secondhand store, but it had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing but charred rubble. It was dumb luck that the neighboring buildings had been empty, or it could have been a lot worse. The fire had been intense—not surprisingly, given the source—and you could hardly make out any details of what the place originally was. All that was left was some fused glass from what might have once been a display case, a bit of twisted metal that might have been a stand. There was literally nothing left.

There never was, in these situations.

As I got out of my car, I scratched at my beard and gave my threadbare trench coat a shake. It was too warm for such things, but the forecast was calling for rain again, and I didn't want to get my one halfway decent suit messed up. I'd been informed that the clients were considered to be minor celebrities in the metahuman world, so I figured I should dress up. Not that "dressing up" by my standards meant all that much. I was half past giving a shit when it came to such matters.

Still, it seemed to put the clients more at ease when I treated the loss of their loved ones and the destruction of their most cherished possessions as something more than a personal nuisance. I was a nice guy like that.

I noticed that the police tape around the scene had come down, although I wasn't sure if that was an official decision, or the work of some of the locals. I knew the police considered the matter closed, but it wouldn't be the first time that Faraday's boys in blue and I had been on opposing sides of a problem.

And it was also clear that I wasn't alone here.

"Dude, what are we even looking for?" one voice came. Young. Maybe not even a teenager yet.

There were three of them scrabbling through the debris, all boys. Or at least, I thought so. The skinny one had such long mop of blond hair I couldn't tell. They were just kids, but old enough to know better. Tweens or teens.

The biggest one, maybe a year or two older than the others, called back, "This place sold superhero stuff! Maybe we find somethin' and get powers!"

Ugh, kids. Not that the adults tended to be a whole lot smarter in these situations.

"Hey, look!" one of them called out. He was a chunky and scruffy-looking kid who probably got teased for his weight. He held up a puffy circular ring and slid it up his arm. "Check it out! It's like an armband!"

"That's not an armband," I said as they all spun around to look at me. "That's a rubber gasket from a toilet."

The chunky one did a double-take and then peeled the gasket off in a disgusted fashion. But his two friends stood their ground as they sized me up.

"You a cop or somethin'?" the little blond one asked.

"He's not a cop, or he'd have said so," the older one said, obviously the leader. "You gonna tell us we shouldn't be here?" he challenged.

"I shouldn't have to. But I'm just the insurance guy. I'm only here to take some pictures for my investigation."

With that, I fished my phone out of my pocket and held it up. The shutter noise clicked as I pushed the button once.

"That should do it," I declared, barely glancing at the blurry image before I returned the phone to my pocket. "You guys have fun. I wouldn't stick around too long if I were you."

I turned to leave, but I hadn't taken three steps before the little one called after me. "Why? What's wrong?" he asked, the concern obvious in his reedy voice.

I gave him a shrug as I eyed the destruction. "I mean, c'mon, you guys know how this city works. Even if you found a power ring or blaster pistol in all this, it's gonna be damaged. You want to risk that?"

They didn't seem particularly convinced, so I pressed the point.

"Don't kid yourselves. Guys like us don't get powers. We're the cautionary tales of what happens when you mess around with things you don't understand. Like that one guy who found that magic bracelet and got turned into a puddle of living slime. Remember him? Or that one dark hero that got stuck in the fairy princess dress that he couldn't take off. You ready to march into school like that? I'll pass."

The three of them fell silent. They were trying to look confident in front of each other, but they were giving each other nervous looks, especially the two younger ones.

"I mean, just look at this place. Something blasted it to hell. Is it gone? I dunno. I sure as cuss don't want to be around if it goes off again."

I turned my back to them and fully expected to hear the sounds of their fast retreat through the wreckage. But to my surprise, it was quiet apart from my own footsteps, crunching through the remains of the store.

"You're just tryin' to scare us. We ain't afraid, old man," came the voice of the leader. His words were confident, but his voice had a little quaver to it, like a faint question mark at the end.

I turned slowly to look at him. His two friends were ready to bolt, but he needed a push.

I locked eyes on him and moved closer.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Then I stopped and broke into a smile and waved my hand dismissively.

"Ah, what am I talking about? You're probably right. It's easy for an old guy like me to get negative after cleaning up after dozens and dozens of superhero fights. All that destruction, all those shattered lives, all that death." I wagged my finger at the leader knowingly. "But you...you'll probably beat the odds, unlike all those others. I mean, someone died right here, right on the spot you're standing on, but you're not the least bit afraid, are you?"

With my foot, I prodded a lump of something charred and sooty that was totally unrecognizable. They shifted uneasily as they watched and then glanced around at the destruction.

"Ah, to be young again. I admire your nerve. Being a hero, that'd be something, wouldn't it? Risking your life for people you've never even met. And just think about all those people you'll impress! Maybe even a certain someone? Ah, putting yourself in mortal danger, risking life and limb just so a girl will notice you. Now that's romantic! Love makes fools of us all, doesn't it? I'm sure The Atomic Slime thought so too before he picked up that accursed bracelet, but what am I bringing him up for? A smart and savvy dude like you will certainly make out better than he did."

I edged closer, so that I was practically standing over the three of them. An eerie quiet had fallen over the space, and I leaned down like I was sharing a secret, my voice taking on a low, confidential tone. I was still speaking directly to the older one, but in a tone of voice loud enough for the other two to overhear.

"Just think. This might be your very own superhero origin story, right here! For all three of you! Imagine all of you flying off to fight vicious killer supervillains. A regular little powerpuff team. Because when the chips are down and your life is in danger—and it will be—you just know that your friends won't hesitate to selflessly risk their own lives to save yours. The exact same way you'd do for them. What a rare and special bond you must share."

I clapped my hands together exuberantly, and at the sharp and sudden noise, all three of them visibly jumped.

"Well! I'll let you guys get back to it. Me, I'm getting out of here before I accidentally touch something that makes my dick fall off. Good luck!"

This time when I turned my back to them, I was rewarded with the scrabbling sounds of their rapid retreat through the debris.

I shook my head. All of my problems should be that easy to solve. Still, it was good they were gone. I wasn't entirely bluffing about the thing that caused the explosion maybe not being gone. I had a pretty good idea what it was, but I needed to test my theory. Unfortunately, the only way to do that was to risk setting it off again.

My hand slipped into my coat, and I nervously thumbed the cold metallic lighter in my pocket. If I did trigger another explosion, I doubted it would survive the fireball any more than I would. Still, if it did, it might be something fun for the next kids to discover as they were sifting through the debris.

A woman's hacking cough sounded behind me, followed by the tentative crunching sound of her footsteps as she tiptoed daintily through the debris. I didn't bother to turn to look.

"Mr. Chase?" she called from behind me. "It is Mr. Chase, isn't it?"

"You shouldn't be here, Mrs. Fox," I said as I rubbed my tired eyes. I already knew exactly how this was going to go. Now, we just had to go through the motions.

She stopped behind me, and I finally turned to look at her. I had to admit, she made quite the picture.

The old lady was in her 80s, but she had a sense of style that seemed to be taken from an era that could only be called vintage. A simpler bygone era of silver screen starlets and Hollywood glamor. The fastidious old dame was all done up in a fitted dark green dress that was modest but still showed off her figure, which a few decades ago I'm sure would have turned quite a few heads. Her jewelry was flashy almost to the point of gaudy without quite crossing the line, and she wore her silver-white hair up with a silk scarf. As I watched, she primly removed her oversized sunglasses with the cat-eye frames to reveal her meticulously made-up eyes that she'd accentuated with winged eyeliner.

A put-together lady like that, looking the way she did, at first you might not even have noticed the big insect-like antennae that rose from her forehead, or her sweeping gossamer fairy wings that glittered in the afternoon light.

This city, I tell ya.

Standing next to her in my worn trench coat, ill-fitting suit, and scuffed shoes, I'm sure we made quite the pair.

"I know it's against the rules," she acknowledged in the offhand tone of the idle rich who believed the rules didn't apply to them. She then paused to glance around at the devastated surroundings with a forlorn expression, and she sighed heavily. "It's just...this store was all that Lennie and I had. And to lose both it and him at the same time...it's almost more than I can bear."

I gave her a curt nod. "You and your husband were supervillains, weren't you?"

Mrs. Fox scoffed and flitted her manicured fingers in a dismissive gesture, as though she was shooing away the notion like it was a nettlesome housefly.

"Oh my goodness, not in ages. That was well before you were born, before this new modern heroic age."

"'Flame and Fortune,'" I said. Their chosen names.

Mrs. Fox smiled politely. "Oh, it sounds ridiculous, I know. When we first came to this dimension, we were a regular Bonnie and Clyde. But we settled down, and we served our time. These days, Lennie and I had been enjoying our retirement."

A rustling movement came from her purse, which was an oversized black bag made of a heavy material. The top was closed, but she ran her hand gently along the outside and made a shushing noise.

"Hush now," she said. She then turned to me. "I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive Precious. She's not used to all this commotion, and I didn't have the heart to leave her at home all alone."

I ignored her and moved over to what had been the center point of the fire. The intensity of the heat had practically fused the surroundings into glass.

"This is where it happened," I said.

She sniffled, which set off another round of rough-sounding coughs. She took a moment to compose herself.

"Poor Lennie. I still can't believe he's gone. The people who sent us those gems had no idea they were Inferno Crystals. The residual magic from the items in the display case must have ignited them somehow. He never had a chance. I suppose it was a kindness that at least he didn't suffer."

"Mrs. Fox—" I began.

"Eunice," she interrupted.

"Right. Did your store regularly carry dangerous metahuman objects?"

"Oh, heavens, no. As I told the police, we weren't even licensed for dangerous or exotic items. We sold memorabilia. A scrap of Promethean's cape, a mission patch from the original Starfall Headquarters, that sort of thing."

"Which was all lost in the fire," I said, bending down to touch the dark sooty mess.

"It's not even about the money," she said wistfully. "The things we had gathered were irreplaceable. Priceless items we'd spent a lifetime collect—"

As she was talking, I examined the dark soot on my fingers, touched it to my tongue, and spit it out.

Mrs. Fox stopped short and regarded me with a pinched expression. "Mr. Chase, I should very much appreciate it if you wouldn't spit on my husband's ashes."

I stood up and brushed off my hands casually. "It's weird he was killed at all, isn't it? I thought he was immortal."

She seemed nonplussed. "That was a common misconception. His people are extremely long-lived, but he could be killed as easily as you or I."

"Funny the two of you getting together at all, huh? With him living all that time, your life span would be like a blip to him. Like falling in love with a fruit fly."

"I'm sure he treasured the time we shared together," she said flatly.

I kicked at a sooty bit of debris with my shoe. "Yeah. I guess you lucked out here, huh? Him kicking the bucket before you. That's one way to blow out a birthday candle."

"Excuse me?" she practically shouted before quickly composing herself again. She took a calming breath and practically clenched her teeth as she glared at me. "Mr. Chase, I appreciate that you have a job to do, but... Tell me again, why are you here? I was under the impression that the police and fire department had determined to their satisfaction that this was all accidental."

I shrugged. "Yeah. No signs of accelerants, nothing like that. Sure seems like it went down how you said."

"There you are, then."

"Still, I'm gonna have to call this one arson. I'll let the police know to reopen your husband's death as a possible homicide. Don't worry, we'll get whoever did this."

"What?" she screeched. "Listen, you little shit, we've lost everything here! Do you understand? Everything! And I'm not gonna stand here while you make a mockery out of—"

She cut off abruptly as there was another rustling from inside her bag, and she started coughing heavily again.

I watched with a detached indifference as she hacked away. "That sounds nasty," I offered.

"It is," she shot back.

"Yep. Probably fatal. Gal your age, I give you a couple weeks, tops. Very 'Romeo and Juliet.' Husband goes up like a matchstick, and the wife dies of a broken heart right after. My advice? Try to go with something classy, like dying in your sleep and not keeling over face-first into a plate of rigatoni at a restaurant. That's never a good look."

The old lady took a step closer, and for a second, I thought she might even take a swing at me. "I'm warning you, you little—" she began. There was another rustling movement in her purse, and she cut herself short.

"Riiight," I said slowly. "Sorry. I wouldn't want you to lose your temper on me. 'Flame,' that was your handle, wasn't it? I mean, who knows, you might accidentally set me on fire, or something." Then I paused to consider that. "'Course, from what I read, you always had pretty tight control over emotions, didn't you? Your husband was the one with the temper."

She straightened up, struggling to regain her composure. "Even I have my limits, Mr. Chase. And you are testing them."

"Yeah, I do that," I conceded.

I reached under my trench coat and pulled my gun out of its holster and aimed it directly at her. It wasn't one of those new-fangled nonlethal stun pistols or taser blasters, just a good old-fashioned gun. Made by my boys, Smith & Wesson. I grant that it lacked some of the specialized nuance of the more modern high-tech weaponry, but it had a way of making a point.

"Have you lost your mind?" she exclaimed.

"That's a handsome broach. Your husband give that to you?" I asked conversationally, noting the gaudy item on her dress. "Not really your style. Let me guess, you wear it to remind yourself of him?"

She was caught off-guard at my question. Understandable, with her eyes still riveted on the gun I had pointed at her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"I've been looking at pictures. You've been wearing that broach ever since he died in the fire. Funny, though, I went back and looked. You never seemed to wear it before he died."

"It's a recent—"

"Take it off. Now."

She looked aghast. "You're robbing me? Here? On the very spot where my husband d—"

I very pointedly and deliberately shifted my aim so that the gun was no longer pointing directly at her. It was aimed directly at her purse.

She turned deathly pale.

"You don't want to do that," she said in a husky whisper.

"Kinda do. Really hate those yappy little dogs."

"You'll kill all of us!"

"An exploding toy poodle, that's a new one. Now take off the broach, Mrs. Fox, or Precious gets it."

The old woman gave me a defiant glare, clearly weighing her options against the conviction that was etched into my face. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached up and removed the glittering gold broach from her dress. Then, I gestured downwards with the gun, and she tossed it on the ground.

The moment it left her fingers, she instantly transformed before my eyes. Gone was the old woman, and in her place was her husband, still wearing her clothes. He was a young-looking man, small and slight of frame with black hair and jet-black eyes, and visibly pointed ears.

"Back from the dead, it's a miracle. Now, the purse," I said, again gesturing with the gun.

For a moment, he looked like he was going to object, but by now, he clearly realized the jig was up. He gently placed the oversized purse on the ground and stepped away. Artfully balanced on his high heels, I noticed.

"Must be a drag wearing your wife's clothes," I teased. "Especially since you can't wear that 'good luck' ring of yours without drawing attention, 'Fortune.'"

He didn't react to my mocking use of his former villain name, but I edged over and carefully kicked open the top flap of the purse with my foot. It was surprisingly heavy, revealing the inside to be made of a reinforced, fire-resistant material. A ruddy glow came from inside, and with the top now open, I could feel the intense heat coming at me in waves. I peered inside to see a small fairy, glowing red hot. She was a tiny thing, young and pretty, and not wearing any clothes. And as she glowered upwards at me, she very visibly gave me the finger.

"In a town filled with masks, everybody's got something to hide," I said.

As much as I bitched about my Faraday Insurance gig, I had to admit it had its uses. For one thing, it helped pay the bills. Mostly. Once upon a time, the work they used to toss my way was enough to make ends meet, but in recent months, the workload I'd gotten from them had been dropping off. I didn't think it was because there were fewer superhero fights.

At this rate, I'd have to put in some actual work for my only other paying client beyond just cashing their checks. I'd strung them along as long as I could, but they were getting antsy. It wasn't my habit to dodge work like that, but given how things went down on the Procyon case, I was having second thoughts.

As a result, when I got summoned to the Faraday Insurance headquarters, I was on my guard.

"There he is! Chase, the man of the hour!"

The heavily affected praise was joined by the slow but steady applause from one Ethan Foster. Foster was my point of contact at Faraday Insurance and the head of the Fraud Investigations unit. He fancied himself my boss, but every time I had to meet with him, it only reminded me why I chose to remain an independent contractor. With his blue striped dress shirt with the white collar, paisley silk tie, and rolled-up sleeves, he was the epitome of the corporate douchebag. He was also at least 20 years younger than me.

I hated this building. Every time I came here, I felt like it cost me a piece of my soul. Everything was so...beige.

Foster approached me, still clapping, although nobody else nearby joined in. Not that there were many people standing about. Most of them had already retreated to their desks and cubicles, but the few who were still around gave me the stink eye. I was used to it.

Foster gave me a hearty clap on the shoulder. "What, no fedora today? Love the fedora! So old school!" he exhorted. "Sorry you missed the pizza party. We like to have fun here," he said, gesturing to a stack of pizza boxes as he led me down the hallway.

We entered his office, and he gestured for me to sit down as he closed the door behind us. He then casually plopped himself into the plush, high-backed chair behind his desk.

"Dude. I'm in awe. Seriously, how do you do it? The husband was an old lady, and the old lady was like a unicorn fairy or something? My mind is seriously blown."

"A phoenix," I corrected him. "They're magic-based metahumans. That's how the two of them stayed together for centuries. He actually lived that long, but every so often, she'd 'die' and be reborn in the fire. He was gonna impersonate her long enough to get the insurance payout, and after that, he'd fake his own death. Or rather, her death. Then, they'd disappear and start over."

"With our money! Though they didn't count on my man, Chase! Ugh, together for centuries, can you imagine? I've been with my lady for two years, and it already seems like centuries." He shook his head and then smiled. "But get you, thinking all romantic and seeing through their scam. And now, instead of the life insurance and property insurance, our payout is a big round goose egg! Meanwhile, they get charged with arson and...I don't know, impersonating an old lady? I don't care. God, man, I could hug you. I could use ten more just like you."

"Thanks."

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk as he looked at me, affecting a more serious tone. "So. Given any more thought to my offer? A man with your skills, you could make a name for yourself here. You'd have to come in to the office twice a week and maybe get yourself a better suit, but you look like you're way overdue on that score, anyway."

I scoffed. I'd sooner cut off my own head, even despite the dire financial straits it would plunge me into. "Yeah, tempting. Still a pass, though."

Foster slipped into an exaggerated combination of a groan and a sigh that was completely phony. "Mmm. Yeah, see, that there's gonna be a problem, my man. Understand, my bosses—it's not me, I got zero control over this—they're really clamping down on this whole 'independent contractor' thing. They need investigators they can, ah—"

"Control."

He pounded his fist on the desk and pointed a knowing finger at me. "Damn, man, that's what I love about you. No bullshit. But you see the bind I'm in."

"Yeah, that's a tough situation for you," I said.

"Glad you understand," he said, oblivious to the sarcasm. "We'll pay you for this last case, but...well, if anything changes, we'll be in touch."

I let myself out. On my way to the elevators, I grabbed a pizza. All they had left was plain cheese. My version of a gold watch for retirement.

The rain had started up while I was inside getting fired. So, my luck being what it was, by the time I reached the lobby, it had turned into a full-on deluge. Since I was wearing my trench coat, I might not have minded so much if I'd had my hat, but...wearing that had become problematic lately. I ran for my car as I held the pizza box over my head for cover, but the cheap cardboard practically turned to mush as I dashed through the puddles of water.

It never ceased to amaze me how this city could get rain like this and yet it never managed to clean away the grime. For a while there, I'd taken to watching the skies to see if there was a pissed-off super with weather control powers following me around and putting a rain cloud over my head.

Fortunately, my car was easy to spot. Not because I'd gotten a good parking spot, but because it was the shittiest car in the lot. It, like its owner, had seen some mileage. A relic of better days. The sedan had originally been a nondescript gray color, but now the paint was faded and peeling, marred by rust and dents.

I clambered inside and tossed the water-sodden pizza box onto the passenger seat, glad at least to have some temporary shelter from the weather as I tried to shake off the rain. A hopeless cause.

The interior of the car was what I tended to view as a rolling struggle between the forces of order and chaos, a silent testament to my life. The dash was cluttered with old coffee cups and a collection of half-filled notebooks from previous cases, and the driver's seat was practically worn down to the springs in places and was covered with a threadbare blanket that provided little comfort during those long nights doing surveillance work. Meanwhile, the broken glove compartment hung perpetually ajar and spilled over with papers, a few loose bullets, and a pair of binoculars that had seen better days.

I put the key in the ignition and what passed for air conditioning kicked on, treating me to the faint tang of stale smoke and cheap cologne that had seeped into every surface. At the smell, I looked down and noticed a crumpled pack of smokes on the dash. Empty, of course. I'd actually quit a while ago.

Then I froze as my hand drifted downward to my coat pocket. What I knew I'd find there. Because it was always there. I slipped my hand inside and held my breath as I pulled back the unopened pack of cigarettes. A little crumpled, but otherwise okay. It had even somehow managed to stay dry, unlike the rest of me. I slowly traced a finger along the top edge as I stared at it. Then I shook my head and unceremoniously jammed it back into my coat pocket.

"Fuck it," I muttered. I reached over and opened up the soggy pizza box and pulled out a cold slice of cheese pizza. I took a bite as I turned on the windshield wipers and drove into the city.

The rain continued to pour as I made my way downtown. Not the "downtown" that was the famous silvered glass utopia of towering skyscrapers and glistening monuments to long-dead heroes, but the grittier, seedier part. The one the locals liked to dare to come to at night when they were hitting the clubs and feeling adventurous or drunk. This was my city. I'd love to say that these were also my people, but circumstances being what they were, I didn't have people. So, when I made an impulsive decision to stop for coffee, well...I honestly don't know what the hell I was thinking.

I pulled into an open parking place down the block from a coffee shop I knew but hadn't been to in ages. Outside it was still raining buckets, so I raised the collar of my trench coat, pretending as though that'd help, and I hurried down the street, wishing I had my hat.

And when I say "hurried," I really mean more like, "lumbered." Hard living and middle age had caught up to me, and my knees weren't what they used to be. Oh, I was in decent shape, all things considered—handy in my line of work if things got rough, which they sometimes did—but I was no spring chicken.

I reached the door at the same time as a middle-aged woman who was also hurrying in from the rain, and I paused to hold the door to allow her to go in ahead of me. She flashed me a friendly smile of gratitude as she entered, one which was quickly tempered with what looked like a quizzical look as she saw my face. In my rush to get in out of the rain, I wrote it off as nothing.

My first mistake.

I was pretty well soaked as I entered the store, and I practically got a caffeine high from the pungent smell of coffee that assaulted my nostrils. However, the moment I saw the crowd of people standing around inside, it immediately triggered a fight-or-flight response. Most of them already had their coffee and were standing around waiting for a break in the rain to go outside. And while a few people casually glanced my way to check out the bedraggled newcomer, so far, nobody was paying me much attention.

Not yet.

All of a sudden, I was glad I wasn't wearing the hat.

I slicked back my hair and got in the short line to order. But before I'd even gotten to the front, I knew I'd been recognized. That didn't take long. Fortunately, the cashier was oblivious, and she took my order without a hitch, but as I waited for my coffee, I picked up on the whispers and the increasingly obvious glances in my direction. I saw a woman hand her friend her phone to show her something on it. I only caught a glimpse, but I immediately recognized the well-circulated photo of me wearing the trench coat and fedora.

The woman who I'd let cut in front of me shot me an accusatory glance. I flashed my eyebrows politely and glanced away as I tried to pretend everything was normal. I just had to wait it out until—

"Order for Raccoon Fucker!" the young female barista loudly proclaimed as she practically slammed my cup on the counter. Which, in fairness, was indeed the name that had been scrawled on the side of the cup in bold black marker.

As I picked up my coffee, the mood in the place took a dark turn. People were now openly glaring at me, and the few who weren't had their friends and colleagues whispering in their ears, no doubt explaining the situation. Even the polite and smiling young cashier was now giving me a look as though she'd stepped in gum.

The barista who'd called me out locked eyes on me challengingly, hardly blinking. I suddenly realized that she was waiting for me to take a sip of the coffee.

I sighed and dropped the cup in the trash. I'd no idea what she'd done to it, but whatever it was, I was sure I didn't want to know. I then retreated outside, back into the pouring rain.

My fucking people.

As I made for my car, I took one step off the curb and stepped smack into a rain-filled pothole that soaked my foot past the ankle.

I took a moment to collect myself and curse my luck. I figured I could be forgiven for not noticing the figure in the dark cape who was shadowing me.

By the time I made it back to my car, I was pretty much ready to find a liquor store and then head back to my place and call it a night. The way things were going, a cold cheese pizza and a bottle of bourbon was a regular party pack.

Then I remembered I was supposed to see Jessie in a few hours. I didn't think she'd appreciate my showing up shitfaced drunk.

As I debated the merits of that decision, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a very distinctive chirp from my phone. That got my attention.

I opened the HeroTracker app and checked my recent notifications. HeroTracker was a useful tool for both finding and avoiding metahuman activity in Faraday City. For the hero groupies, it was a social media tool that allowed people to find out what their favorite heroes were up to. For the rest of us, it was a handy way of avoiding superhero-related hot spots. (You think your evening commute is bad? Try doing it while also dodging schools of walking cybernetic man-eating fish because Battlecrab decided he wants a rematch.)

I'd set up a number of personalized alerts, and it turned out that there was a scuffle going on not too far away that involved Darkmancer. That name sounded familiar, so I fumbled to grab one of my paper notebooks and skimmed through my notes. For not the first time, I wished that I could maintain my notes electronically, but given the number of high-tech CEOs and metahumans on my list, I didn't want to risk getting hacked. In this city, even a thumb drive wasn't safe when there were people walking around who could control computers with their minds. The only way to be sure that I wasn't drawing attention was to keep things old school, on paper. Using tools like HeroTracker was risky enough.

The notes I kept on hand were necessarily sketchy, but I confirmed that Darkmancer was on my list. I just needed to verify some information.

Ooh, yeah. This could be the one.

Apparently, whatever dust-up he was involved with seemed to be dying down already, but I figured I could make it if I hurried. I quick tucked my little paper notebook into my coat pocket and then started the car.

With any luck, today might finally be my payday.

Of course, for that to happen, my luck would have to change.

I raced for the hot spot indicated on my phone. It had only been a few minutes, but metahumans—villains or heroes—tended not to stick around too long after the action died down. But my drive out there gave me the chance to work out some of the details in my head. Because the problem with this little caper was that it put me at cross purposes with my last paying client.

My only remaining paying gig was for a mysterious benefactor who was the best kind of client—the kind who paid his bills on time and never bothered to check in. He'd had me running around doing background research on Faraday's movers and shakers. He wouldn't tell me who he was, and he was extremely cagey as to why he was interested in the information, but I'd had him pegged as either a journalist looking for dirt or a social climber looking for ways to ingratiate himself to the in crowd.

I actually didn't much care either way, so long as the money was good. It wasn't enough to pay the bills, but it was decent pocket money. Of course, with my Faraday Insurance work now dried up, "decent pocket money" wasn't going to cut it anymore. I needed a windfall, and I needed it soon. And I only knew one way to get it.

My mysterious benefactor had been impressed with the speed with which I'd been able to put together my dossiers, but the truth was that I'd had a big head start even before he'd engaged my services. The genius of this situation was that I was getting paid for work I was already doing for my own benefit. But the significant downside was that since I wasn't sure about my client's intentions regarding the information, I didn't dare release the bulk of it to him until after I was done with it, because I wanted the first bite at the apple. I'd strung him along with some samples and empty promises, but he was getting impatient.

Worse, I'd been putting this off for weeks. Which I suppose wasn't surprising, considering how disastrously my first attempt went. What should have been an easy, low-risk payday turned the whole damn city against me. It was bad enough that the Procyon business had put me under a microscope, but given how it had all gone down, I'd be lying if I said it didn't leave a bad taste in my mouth.

But I was out of time.

By the time I arrived on the scene, things were winding down. The damaged cars and buildings were a sure sign of a recent metahuman battle, but apparently a fairly perfunctory one. As I approached, I could clearly make out the flashing red and blue lights of a pair of FCPD police drones hovering nearby. But so far, I didn't see any human cops or metahuman incarceration transports.

Good. That meant I probably still had a few minutes.

By now, the rain had turned into a light drizzle, and a group of umbrellas bunched together off to one side signaled a crowd of onlookers. They were standing right at the edge of the police cordon that had been dutifully been established by one of the police drones, and the crowd was eager to get a look.

A look, or maybe a souvenir.

People tended to romanticize Faraday's heroes, but many more were equally quick to make a profit off of them. And the aftermath of a superhero fight might leave behind all sorts of valuable goodies. A strand of hair off Promethean's head or a scale off of Power Piranha might have DNA valuable to the right people. Even a strand of synthetic hair might be a clue to someone trying to crack a superheroine's secret identity if they knew she wore a wig. And of course some people like Flame and Fortune fancied themselves as collectors of memorabilia that they could turn around and sell for a profit. Among the rest of us mere mortals, there were many who would pay a tidy sum for a shot at owning a piece of history in the making.

At the moment, my interest was more prosaic. I made my way to the front of the crowd with my trusty camera in my hands. Apart from my gun, it was probably my one good piece of equipment. It certainly cost as much. The telephoto lens proved to be a handy tool in my line of work. It'd taken some top-notch pics of cheating spouses over the years that had paid the bills.

I panned the camera across the area where the fight had occurred and started taking pictures. I saw an expanse of barbed tanglevines that signaled the Hemlocks were involved. Yep, that tracked. I spotted a half-dozen of them, all either bound or unconscious. And over there were the police drones. And then there, off to the side was—

Well, it sure as hell wasn't Darkmancer, that was for goddamn sure. Darkmancer was a hero in a dark armored costume with a hooded cloak. This was not him. Not by a longshot.

She was a superheroine, obviously, and one not at all shy about showing off her body. Skimpy costumes were one thing, but this chick looked like she thought she was in a Miami Beach swimsuit competition. She was incredibly stacked with big fake stripper tits and long blonde hair that fell down to a seriously curvaceous rear end, one which was basically bare in the thong-back one-piece black bathing suit she wore. She had long black gloves and thigh-high dark pink boots, but her scant top was cut down to her belly button in front and showed a preposterous amount of skin on the sides and in the back.

She wasn't wearing a mask, not that she seemed to be especially preoccupied with concealing her identity. Or anything else, for that matter. And her costume had weird bondage elements to it, like a spiked dog collar and a "belt" made of chains that included a padlock that teasingly dangled right above a sensitive part of her anatomy. Though from the look of her, I was pretty confident that no guy had ever required lockpicking skills to get access.

Who the hell was she?

I took a few photos, noticing that a couple of the leering guys next to me were doing the same. Also for "research purposes," no doubt.

Puzzled, I pulled out my phone and consulted HeroTracker. This was the right location. And it wasn't showing any other heroes tagged here except Darkmancer. Weird. I pulled up his file picture, but there were no surprises there. Where was he?

"Hey," I said to the guy next to me. "Who's the bimbo?"

Before he could answer, the guy next to him turned to look at me with a big shit-eating grin. "That's Darkmancer."

I stifled a groan as I realized what must have happened. "Let me guess. He died, and she took over the name?" That wasn't all that uncommon in Faraday City, especially since the Hero Registration System had made halfway-decent names harder to come by. Of course, that didn't do me any favors. Dead, he was no use to me. Though I was annoyed with myself that I'd somehow managed to miss something this big in my research. I'd had Darkmancer pegged as a loner, so for him to have a partner—especially a partner who looked like that—would have been a pretty huge miss on my part.

"No," the guy said, laughing. "That's him! Some villainess transformed him into that! Can you believe it?"

I stared at the stacked blonde superheroine, then looked down at the camera in my hands.

"God dammit," I swore. This was no help to me. Dead would have almost been better. This fucking city.

His friend cackled as he took another photo. "Oh, my God. You think he has a wife or girlfriend? He's not hiding that body from her when he gets home!"

"Or anybody else," I muttered as I lowered my camera and tucked it away.

Just then, the second guy started to give me a look of dawning recognition that I recognized only too well.

"Hey, wait a minute," he said. "Aren't you...?"

"No, I get that all the time. I just look like him. Fuck that guy," I said as I turned and walked off.

I distinctly heard the word "raccoon" being murmured behind me, so I decided it was time to make my exit. Especially once it became obvious this wasn't going to be the big payoff that I'd been hoping for. Ugh, I finally track down one of the people on my list to verify some details, and before I can do anything with it, the guy goes and gets himself turned into a blonde bimbo. Unreal. And he's still out there in the public eye looking like that? Man, I'd hide under a rock.

My eyes drifted back towards the small crowd of onlookers. A few were still looking in my direction, but there was one in particular who caught my eye.

How did that old kids' nursery song go? One of these things is not like the others...one of these things doesn't belong...

Instead of walking back towards my car, I deliberately headed in the opposite direction to test my theory.

I was just paranoid enough to be wary of any figure in a dark cloak taking interest in me, especially in this city. Normally, a cloak would suggest a metahuman, but with the rise of superheroes, they'd become a fashion accessory amongst the public, especially for protection from rain and drizzle, as it was doing right now.

And since the cloak only came down to the figure's knees, I didn't need any keen powers of observation to notice the extremely attractive pair of feminine legs and high heels visible beneath.

Still, Mama Chase's oldest boy didn't survive this long by getting distracted by a nice set of gams, no matter how shapely they were.

I paused for a moment and pretended to check my phone and surreptitiously turned on the front-facing camera to sneak a peek over my shoulder. On the screen, I could see that my shadow paused as well, pretending to check her hair and makeup in the dim reflection of a store window. But she was too far away for me to make out details, and with her hood up, I still couldn't see her face.

I put my phone away and resumed walking at an unhurried pace. But as I rounded the next corner and broke line of sight, I immediately rushed to hide behind a pickup truck parked by the sidewalk. A few seconds later, the woman rounded the corner and froze as she saw that I'd disappeared. As I broke cover and sneaked up behind her, I couldn't see her confused expression, but her startled body language told me everything I needed to know.

She turned to look for me, and before she could react, I grabbed both of her wrists and forced her back up against the metal pole of a street lamp.

The struggle she put up was perfunctory, almost to the point of being performative. She wasn't carrying a weapon, but as she looked up at me, her hood fell back and I got my first good look at her.

I don't know what I'd expected, but it wasn't this. She was drop dead gorgeous with flawless makeup and perfectly coiffed hair so black that it practically absorbed the light coming off the dingy neon signs. As her cloak parted, I could see she was dressed in a black evening dress with sleek lines, a plunging neckline, and a side slit that showed so much leg it looked like it was in danger of showing off a lot more. Between that and her black elbow-length gloves, she looked like a socialite on her way to the opera...or a sultry torch singer stolen from another era entirely.

We made eye contact with each other, and at first her eyes went wide and her dark crimson painted lips formed an 'O' of surprise, and she breathed a sharp intake of air that caused her bosom to heave in her revealing dress. But as she peered up at me, her expression shifted as she read my face and saw that I wasn't going to buy her act.

Her face fell. "Well...shit," she muttered. "Do you mind?" she asked. When she spoke, it was with an air of detached confidence. But her voice was a husky whisper, rich with innuendo.

I released her wrists and took a half step back. Close enough to loom over her a little. She took a moment to compose herself as she closed her cloak over her revealing outfit, and as I watched, she gave me a little flick of a perfectly arched eyebrow that signaled that she wasn't intimidated or impressed.

She pressed her perfect lips into a disgruntled moue. "I can't believe I fell for that. That was the oldest trick in the book."

"Honey, that dress is the oldest trick in the book," I countered. "What do you want? I don't give autographs."

She looked puzzled. "Why would I...? It doesn't matter. Look, I'm taking a big risk by coming to you, but I need your help. Does the name Xenos mean anything to you?"

"No. Should it?"

"What about Cleveland Dunne?"

"Who's that?"

"He's my husband. He works for Xenos. They—"

I cut her off. "Is that what this is about? Listen, I don't do matrimonial stuff anymore. Find yourself a good divorce lawyer."

"I don't need a divorce lawyer. My husband is dead. He was coming to meet with you."

I could usually get a good read on women, but this one was a mystery. She was desperate, but not hysterical. But with that outfit and those looks, it was dead certain she came from money. No doubt she was used to getting her way when she flashed her platinum card or batted those pretty eyes. Unfortunately for her, I'd heard that song before. And I wasn't falling for it twice.

"Sorry, beautiful, I never heard of the guy. But if he was looking for me, it's a sure bet he figured you were cheating on him, and he wanted incriminating photos before he handed you your walking papers. So, if he's dead, that means you dodged a bullet. Take the win and go have some celebratory sex with your boyfriend."

I turned away from her and walked away, back into the flickering lights of the street.

"Whatever he's promised you, it's not worth it!" she yelled after me. "He can't be trusted! He'll betray you at the first opportunity!"

I jammed my hands into the pockets of my coat as the rain started to pick up again.

"Why are the hot ones always crazy?" I muttered to myself.

As I walked back to my car, my phone beeped with a text message. At first I'd hoped that it was Jessie contacting me to confirm our date tonight. Or maybe Foster, having second thoughts about terminating our business arrangement. However, I'd evidently forgotten how bad my luck was.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered as I settled back into the driver's seat as I read and then re-read the text message. It was the sound of the other shoe dropping. My mystery client was closing out their account and wanted their files immediately. Timing is fucking everything.

I thought about what to message back.

Files aren't ready. Need another month. Maybe two, I texted back.

There was barely a pause before the response came back.

I'll take whatever you've got. I'll send someone over tomorrow. I'll be in touch.

"Shit." I checked the time. No sense worrying about it now. I'd have to make copies tomorrow morning and hope that his interest in the information wasn't the same as mine. 'Cause if he was looking for the same thing I was looking for, I could forget about that big payday.

I considered heading back to my place, but there wasn't much to check on. So, with no better place to go, I headed over to my next "appointment." This one was one I was looking forward to, however. I checked the time again. Showing up this early would make me look sad and desperate, but what the hell...the shoe fit. And I needed a drink.

By now, night had fallen and the flashy neon lights shone brilliantly on the darkened streets. The garish signage was a signal to the unwary that they'd just entered the sketchy part of town as the various adult establishments hawked their licentious wares with their provocative messages, trying to snag the attention of prospective customers. Traffic was still busy at this hour, and my headlights cut through the gloom as I peered through the streaky windshield.

This was that overlap time between the daytime and nighttime crowds that created a mix of curiosity and urgency. The nighttimers drove slow to take in the sights and sample the bawdier amusements that the city had to offer, while the daytimers were looking to get the hell out. The lurid neon signs became a clear signal that this part of the city was now catering to a different clientele.

Pretty soon the rain had slowed to a light drizzle, and as it did, the working girls began to venture out from the cover of doorways, all dolled up in their skin-tight outfits and thigh-high boots as they tried to catch the eye of the passing drivers. Hookers dressed up as heroines. ("Whoreoines," some called them.) This was a side of Faraday City they don't mention in the tourist books.

One girl with bright red hair in a skimpy red halter swimsuit waved at me as I drove past and sparkling fireworks popped from her fingers. It might have been fake—some of the girls used sparklers or flash powder, or other cheap stage magician's tricks—but there was a good chance she was the real deal. Not a real superheroine, of course, but a girl who was lucky enough to be an ascended meta...but not lucky enough to get real powers.

That's the other thing they don't tell you. Not every ascended metahuman tosses on a costume, because plenty of them end up with barely enough power to light a cigarette, much less pick a fight with other metahumans. Being able to light the barbecue with force of will alone is a fun parlor trick at a Fourth of July picnic, but you won't be planning any armored car heists anytime soon.

"Triflings," people called them.

That's one of the hidden stories of Faraday City. You can get superpowers and still end up as a hooker working the streets. Just one with a better gimmick than most.

My dismissiveness might strike some as ironic, given my destination. I prefer to think of it as enlightened.

The brightly lit sign for Unmasked practically lit up the street, advertising the "gentlemen's club" with a trio of sexy superheroines all done up in neon lights. Desmond Marcks had opened up the place a few years back. He was coy about his "venture capitalists," but it was rumored he was in bed with the Marchetti crime family. I sometimes wondered which city councilman Marcks had to have one of his girls blow in order to land that location and waive the ordinance to get approval for that signage. Even in a city where people ran around wearing tights in bright primary colors, it was a long way from subtle.

I parked in back and went inside. I nodded to the off-duty cop watching the front door. He wasn't the usual guy, but one who I'd seen around before.

"Where's Keyes? Figured he'd be working tonight," I said in a calculatedly neutral tone as I paused to shake the rain off my coat. I didn't give a shit, of course, but I also knew that Detective Keyes was trouble. He and I had locked horns over the Procyon thing and things had gotten a little physical. He struck me as the kind of guy to hold a grudge. Plus, there was the rumor that Marcks had something on him. Cops, I could handle. Dirty cops were...unpredictable.

"Better plans. Fuck all if I know."

Always a pleasure dealing with Faraday's finest.

As strip clubs went, Unmasked was fairly upscale, its high quality interior a stark contrast to the gritty streets outside. Their gimmick was that the dancers and waitresses were all dressed up like supers, both heroines and villainesses. The gag wasn't all that much different from those streetwalkers I'd spotted, but I had to admit the execution was a damn sight better. Not only were their "costumes" much higher quality—what little there were of them, anyway—but most of the dancers really were dead ringers for their real-life counterparts. Sometimes, enough to fool people.

A fun example of that was when HeroVerse News came down here looking to run an expose about how Ephemeral from the Liberty Squadron had evidently started moonlighting as a stripper. Some suspected that Marcks was the one to plant the article in the first place, looking to drum up press for his club. Not that anyone could prove it, of course. Though after that, Unmasked became one of the hottest gentlemen's clubs in the city.

It didn't hurt his side hustle any, either. I had it on good authority that Marcks had been pimping out his girls to Faraday City's rich and famous. Bored and horny rich guys who were all too eager to bang girls who looked exactly like their favorite superheroines.

Not that anybody could prove that, either.

It was on the early side, so the crowd was fairly light. I glanced over and saw that Tia was working the bar tonight. I wasn't really in the mood to deal with her, so I grabbed a table near the back that had a view of the main stage. The dancer working the pole didn't look familiar, but she must have just started her set since she was still mostly wearing her skimpy costume. She was dressed as Plutonium Blonde, and was twirling on the pole to "Armageddon It" by Def Leppard. I had to admit, I liked when they played the 80s tracks...I didn't have much use for the modern stuff.

The dancer was actually pretty talented, and she knew her share of pole tricks. Though I wish I could have said that the waitresses were as competent. The girls were all easy to spot as they worked the room in their various colorful costumes, but even after I'd been sitting there for a while, none of them had bothered to come to take my order.

Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack.

At first, I wasn't even aware that I had my lighter in my hands. I'd been fooling with the gold Zippo lighter half-consciously, opening and closing it. I hadn't lit it, so there was no flame...it was just a nervous tic that I'd picked up. I fussed at it as I glanced around at the waitresses who were ignoring me.

Tink. Clack.

The stripper was halfway through "Shoot to Thrill" by AC/DC when the last neuron finally connected in my brain, and I finally tumbled to the fact that my getting "overlooked" wasn't accidental.

One of the girls who was dressed up as Glitterati in her metallic "battle bikini" walked past, and I tried to get her attention.

"Hey, honey—"

"Fuck off, raccoon fucker," she sniped, not even breaking stride.

I sighed heavily. I could complain. Marcks and I were hardly best buds, but he ran a tight ship, and he wouldn't look kindly on the girls sassing the customers. Even me. But I was here to see Jessie, and I knew she'd get pissed with me if she found out I'd gotten one of her friends in trouble.

Clack. I snapped the lighter closed again and collected my coat before I made my way over to the bar.

"What, no hat?" Tia asked from behind the bar as I approached. She was probably a couple years younger than me, but old enough for me to be grateful that bartenders didn't wear the scant costumes like the rest of the girls. Tia was a competent enough bartender, but she was a few years past her prime, and a few pounds. Though judging from the boyish cut of her short black hair, I was pretty sure I wasn't her target demographic either.

"Bourbon, neat," I said as I grabbed a stool and tossed down my coat.

She nodded and then turned and stepped around a young tow-haired delivery guy who was working behind the bar. I'd seen him around, and he smiled as we made eye contact. Emmet, I think his name was. He was loading some liquor boxes into a storage area behind the bar. Weird time for him to be doing that, but with this club, I'd learned it was healthier not to ask questions. Or at least not to be seen asking questions.

There was a television behind the bar, and I saw that the game had been interrupted by some news report that featured a blonde bimbo superheroine that I recognized as Darkmancer. Her jugs were practically spilling out of the sexy black one-piece swimsuit that constituted her "costume." The audio was turned down, so I couldn't hear what she was saying to the reporter, but she looked ridiculous. Like she was genuinely trying to be taken seriously when she looked like she'd be more at home up on stage here in the club, working a stripper pole.

I scoffed and shook my head. First, the guy goes and pisses off the wrong villain and gets himself turned into a skanky little sex bunny. But then his very first thought is to stuff his new tits into a barely-there one-piece and hooker boots, and then march out the door that way and keep playing at being a hero? What's the angle?

Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack.

Tia put my drink in front of me. She made a face as her eyes cut up towards the TV and then back at me.

"I don't get you, Chase," she said as I took a drink. "You hate superheroes, but you make your living cleaning up after them. Then you hang out here, of all places."

I put the glass on the bar. "Was there a question in there?"

"Sorry, I figured the question was implied. It was, 'What are you, an idiot?'"

Emmet chuckled at her joke. Then, at a glare from me, he went back to moving boxes.

"What exactly was it that made you decide to go into bartending?" I wondered.

"I'm a people person," Tia countered flatly. She shook her head. "Damn, Chase, what'd the world do to you?"

"A dame did me wrong," I said as I took another drink.

"Let me guess. She loved you and left you?"

"Worse. She did the worst thing you can do to a man—she showed me my true nature." I glanced at the waitress in the Glitterati costume as she walked past. She sneered at me again. "'Sides, I like superheroes just fine. Superheroines, anyway. Always running around in those tight clothes."

Tia had noticed the sour look the girl had given me. She cocked a grin. "You fuck one raccoon and they never let you live it down, huh?"

Emmet looked between us, confused. "Dude, you fucked a raccoon?"

Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack.

"Figuratively," I muttered, gritting my teeth.

Tia's eyes lit up as she turned to the young man, obviously pleased to have found the last person in all of Faraday City who hadn't heard the story. "Kid, you are in the presence of a genuine celebrity. You know what a procyon is?"

He shrugged. "Is it like a Pokemon?"

"It's another name for a raccoon," I interjected, desperate to hurry this along.

Emmet snapped his fingers. "Oh, right. The dude that died. The hero. Procyon. Man, that guy was the best! One time he came to my high school to talk about staying in school. He set up college scholarships for everyone in my class who graduated. Dude was always doing stuff like that. Huh. A procyon is a raccoon? I always wondered what the story was with his bandit mask. Also, the fluffy tail."

"I guess he figured Procyon sounded cooler than Raccoon Man," Tia said. "Anyway, there's this big superhero fight, and this one chick on the sidelines gets killed. So, Chase here gets called in by the insurance company to look into it. But then Chase susses out that she was actually Procyon Lass, one of the dude's sidekicks. Meaning now there's no big insurance payout because she was involved in high-risk activities, secretly being a superhero."

Emmet shrugged. "Sucks, I guess. Whatever."

"Yeah. Except, to do this, Chase blows her secret identity wide open. And from there, it's no big deal to figure out who Procyon and Kid Procyon are. Oh, man, Kid Procyon was pissed. He was all over HeroVerse News, openly accusing Chase of trying to blackmail them to keep it under wraps. Can you imagine? Then meanwhile, one of the bad guys goes after Procyon in his secret identity, and kills him!"

Emmet gave me a look of disgust. "Dude. You fucked over the raccoon guy? He was paying for me to go to college! Do I even still get that money?"

I held my hand out helplessly. "Kid, I was just doing my job."

It was a lie, of course, but one I'd told countless times. I figured if I repeated it enough times, I might even start to believe it myself.

Though I don't know why I bothered to try to explain myself. I'd already multiplied this conversation by a thousand. Once the news released that picture of me in my fedora and trench coat, I couldn't set foot outside without getting an earful of all the good things Procyon had supposedly done for the city. And what a douchebag I was for outing him and his sidekicks.

"That dude was like beloved, or something! How was it your job to get him killed? Plus, how'd you even figure out who he was in the first place?"

"Out of the mouths of babes," a man's voice came from behind me. Deep, mellifluous, and enunciated with an almost mathematical precision. I didn't even have to look. Especially after Tia and Emmet immediately snapped to attention and began to look busy at their respective jobs.

"Des," I said over my shoulder in an offhanded manner of greeting before taking another drink from my glass.

Desmond Marcks sidled up alongside of me at the bar at a distance that was perfectly calculated to look casual without seeming familiar.

Marcks was a walking enigma. A big black man with a shaved head and a mustache, he might have been an enforcer in another life, especially given his taut muscular physique that was only barely concealed by the dark designer suit he wore. A suit that was worth more than I made in a month. But his wire-rimmed glasses and smooth, soft-spoken demeanor gave him a perceptive air that always seemed to have a threatening undercurrent to it. A couple guys I knew had a running bet that Marcks was secretly a metahuman on one side of the law or the other, but I wasn't so sure. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

I watched as he paused a moment to peer at the bar and bar stool. They were already so clean that you could probably perform open heart surgery on them, but he nonetheless took out a handkerchief and gave them a quick but fastidious wipe before sitting down and leaning against the bar. He was a neat freak, that one.

"Chase," he replied, giving me a mirthless grin as he tucked his handkerchief back into his jacket. He was too composed to show his annoyance, but I knew he hated it when I acted chummy with him. I'd done a job or two for him over the years. Nothing strictly illegal, but I usually felt like I needed a shower afterwards.

"Our young friend raises an interesting question, doesn't he?" Marcks opined, referring to Emmet's earlier query. His tone remained smooth and casual, but his eyes were locked on my face as I continued to look straight ahead over the bar. "The news reports went on about how you broke Procyon's secret identity by figuring out the dead girl's dual identity. Though I don't recall ever hearing how you managed to crack that particular nut."

I took another sip from my glass and turned my head slightly to give him a sideways look. "Just lucky, I guess."

"Modesty ill becomes you, Chase. Though I daresay you've always impressed me as a man of persistence and resolve. But one does have to admire your optimism, always waiting for that big score to come in, when it never ever does."

One of the costumed waitresses paused to pick up an order from the bar and gave me the stink eye as she passed. She was subtle about it, obviously not wanting to be seen antagonizing one of the customers with Marcks sitting right beside me, but I'd developed a pretty keen radar for it. I took a drink from my glass.

Marcks gave me a shrewd look. "What is it with you, Chase? You're always playing the pariah. I swear, it's like you enjoy being the most hated man in the city. I hope you're not going respectable on me. It's a little late in the game to be developing a conscience."

"We talking about me, or we talking about you?"

He scoffed slightly and then regarded me more seriously. "You know, I could use a man with your skills in my organization."

I chuckled.

"Have I said something funny?"

"You're the second guy today to make me that offer. The other guy tried to sweeten the deal with free pizza every other Friday. Any chance you can do better?"

"Most assuredly."

I turned around in my seat to take in the club. It was starting to get busy, and I recognized more than a few of the faces. Many were VIPs, mixed in with just enough of the local gangsters and lowlifes to give the place some color. The gangsters got off on being around the celebrities, and the uptown crowd got a thrill from brushing elbows with the wrong element. It was like Casablanca, but with naked tits.

Tink. Clack. The sound of the lighter in my hand as I fussed at it.

"I dunno, Des. I doubt I'm polished enough for a joint like this."

Now it was Marcks' turn to chuckle. He glanced down at my rumpled suit. "Truer words were never spoken." Then he gave a minute shrug of his shoulders. "Still, you have the right temperament for it. What is it that you like to say? Oh, that's right. 'In a town filled with masks, everyone has something to hide.'"

I scratched my beard and took another drink from my glass. "Doesn't sound like me."

The dancer dressed as Plutonium Blonde finished her set, and I watched across the club as she climbed down off the stage and snuggled up against a guy I recognized as a city councilman—a married city councilman—who then escorted her to a more private part of the club. As all this went down, it seemed like Marcks had been looking in another direction entirely, distracted as he gave some subtle nonverbal cue to the DJ. But as he turned back to face me, it was obvious that he'd witnessed the same exchange that I had. What's more, he saw that I'd noticed it, too.

"Chase, you and I are in the same business. Information. I grant that you're adept at collecting it, but you don't know how to use it."

I felt a surge of adrenaline rush through me, and I tried not to let my nervousness show. Did he know about my other client? If somehow he'd clued in to what I was up to, that could be trouble. Or was he just fishing?

I played it cool as I polished off my drink. "I suppose you do?"

He broke into a slow but toothy smile. "Again...most assuredly." He lifted his own glass and took a drink, which caused me to do a little double-take. Tia had been working the bar a discreet distance from us, and I hadn't even noticed her bring his glass. That she'd brought it with none of her customary sass was silent testimony to how Marcks ran things here.

Tink.... Clack. I grimaced inwardly at the sound. My affectation was quickly turning into a tell. I placed the lighter down on the bar next to my empty glass with as much forced casualness as I could muster.

"I'll give it some thought," I said.

"Do that. It seemed only sporting to give you the chance. After all, it would be quite unfortunate if our independent lines of inquiry were to bring us to cross purposes."

His smug delivery sent a chill up my spine. I was about to challenge him on it, but he cut me off before I could say anything.

"I understand you're meeting Jessie tonight," he said. It wasn't a question.

"There a problem with that?" I said, bristling. "What, you got her lined up to go on a date with the mayor or something?"

"I seem to have touched a nerve. But you seem to have mistaken my role in this. Ms. Harber is free to see whomever she likes. My girls are dancers, not prostitutes."

Bullshit, they weren't. Although calling him out on his lie was only going to show him how easily he was able to get under my skin. I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.

"Jessie is a talented girl," he observed in a cool, dispassionate tone. The tone of a bored rich guy talking about one of his latest acquisitions. "Not the brightest, of course, but her skills lie...elsewhere. But then, of course, I don't have to tell you that."

"Des, when I brought her here, I told you that she—"

"Chase," he chided in a patronizing tone, "I'm grateful. She's grateful. She's fitting in marvelously. A genuine diamond in the rough, that one. You found her on the streets, and you brought her to me. I'm deeply flattered. Now, what she sees in you, I have no earthly idea..."

For once, Marcks and I were in total agreement. I'd met Jessie some months back while on a case. She was working the streets back then, an angel with a dirty face. She was no innocent flower—hell, I'd sampled those goods myself—but living as she did, it didn't take much imagination to realize that it was only going to be a matter of time before she got herself killed.

Jessie was a good kid, but she was too trusting and didn't have either the book smarts or street smarts to play the game and win, at least not for very long. After my case was finished, I'd introduced her to Marcks. That was back when I thought this was simply a fancy strip club. Now, I worried that I'd helped her to trade her one job hooking for another. I tried to console myself that at least she had a roof over her head.

I'd checked in on her once or twice, but I figured that'd be the end of it. But to my surprise, she reached out to me. It wasn't like we were dating or anything, but I'd seen her a few times. And she wasn't the least bit shy about demonstrating her gratitude in very intimate ways. A better man than I would probably have felt guilty about taking advantage. To say nothing of our age difference. But as it was... Yeah.

Still, it kind of pissed me off to hear Marcks saying as much. But before I could jump to her defense, the lighting suddenly changed, and the DJ made an announcement.

"Okay, everybody, put your hands together! Unmasked welcomes to the stage our newest addition: DOLLFACE!"

Marcks gave me another tight smile as his dark discerning eyes cut over towards the stage. It gave me a chill.

I didn't know much about the real Dollface except that she was a criminal who ran with a posse of thugs who were at her beck and call. It was rumored that she had some metahuman abilities—rapid healing, maybe—but her real claims to fame were the ridiculous "little girl" outfits that she wore, all pinks and petticoats, but still flaunting her decidedly feminine curves. It was a moronic choice for a supervillain costume—as most of them were, I suppose—although as a distraction, I had to concede it worked pretty well.

Plus, any guy who got his ass kicked by a girl dressed like that would have a hard time living it down.

Most of the female heroes and villains who learned that there were strippers running around dressing up like them were less than flattered. A few heroines threatened legal action. Others not so subtly suggested their payback might be of a more vigilante nature. Even so, I had to wonder if the real Dollface might actually appreciate the nod. Hell, I wouldn't have put it past Marcks to convince her to come out one evening to shake her stuff and swish her petticoats for the drooling guys.

The dancer on stage was a credible imitation. All of Marcks' girls were. I'd never much gone in for the "little girl look," but this girl had me thinking twice about that.

She hadn't started to take off her clothes yet, so she was still fully dressed in a frilly pink dress with a bunch of ribbons and bows that gave her a faux innocent look. An image that was reinforced by the froth of scant petticoats that swished girlishly about her long sexy legs, to say nothing of the little lace ruffled ankle socks that graced her feet. A look belied by the decidedly more adult platform heels that she expertly twirled on as she swung her hips and strutted across the stage. Her dress was cut low in front to show off her impressive bosom, which was pressed into a pretty stupendous cleavage. But what really sold the look were her face and hair. Her long blonde locks had been styled into a pair of low twintails that were swept down in front to frame her boobs, and in front, she wore her hair in cute and bouncy bangs that stopped just short of her eyebrows that framed her heavily made-up face. It made her already big and expressive eyes appear huge.

As she bent over to give the guys a view of her cleavage, she was grinning like a kid that—

That—

"There it is," Marcks purred as he saw the look on my face. "The mousy brown hair had to go, of course, but I have to say, Jessie threw herself into this role with particular abandon. Daddy issues, I suspect."

I ignored his smug comments as I stared at Jessie as she traipsed about on the stage. She had a killer body and knew how to use it, but seeing her in this oversexed faux innocent look was messing with my mind, big time.

She was in the middle of doing a little one-woman skit on stage, which was kind of weird. Most dancers would have strutted right on up to the pole and been shedding their clothes by now, but Jessie was doing a bit with a couple of male mannequins up on stage that were dressed as cops, and she was cavorting around them teasingly. She wasn't directly playing to the audience, but as she bounced about, she would "accidentally" flash her panties or her cleavage to her audience.

But there was something else going on.

Jessie pulled out a pair of pink toy guns and pointed them at the "cops," and as she pretended to shoot, there was a Bang! Bang! from the club's sound system that was thumping out a hard-driving beat as accompaniment. Then, a split second later, the mannequins' pants fell down to reveal tiny briefs that said "Doll" and "Face" on them.

The crowd laughed, but I straightened up in my seat. I thought I saw...something. It could simply have been a stupid special effect, but the timing had been weird. Did Jessie just...?

In the edge of my peripheral vision, I could see that Marcks was still looking directly at me, although he was keeping half an eye on Jessie's routine. However, my own attention remained riveted on the stage.

Jessie planted a kiss on one of the mannequin's cheeks as she reached out her hand, and the cop's hat from the second mannequin flew right into her waiting fingers.

Again, the crowd laughed and cheered as she impishly put the hat on her head, looking for all the world like a naughty little girl playing dress-up. But now I was more certain than ever about what I'd seen.

Jessie turned and reached behind her back to unzip her dress, but she fussed at it like it was stuck, much to the groaning disappointment of the men in the audience. One guy laughingly volunteered to come up and help her with it. But then, quite unexpectedly, there was a strange distortion effect around her back, and as she held her hands out to the sides, the zipper began to come down on its own. Slowly, but very deliberately.

She did a quick pirouette to face the crowd, a move that caused her skirts and petticoats to swish and bounce back into place. Jessie's hands were pressed against her breasts, which were now the only things holding up her lacy dress. So, as she dramatically moved her hands aside to take a bow, the dress cascaded down to her feet, revealing her stunningly curvaceous figure and her extremely skimpy pink lingerie underneath.

Jessie then skipped over towards the stripper pole as the crowd erupted in cheers, but I was still in shock.

"You didn't know," Marcks crowed. "Chase, I'm disappointed. I credited a man of your reputation to be more observant."

She was a Trifling. I tried to remind myself that it didn't really change anything, but it stuck in my craw. Whatever powers of telekinesis she possessed—or whatever I'd just seen—were minor, to be sure. Hardly a game changer. But Marcks was right. I should have known. I knew Jessie. I'd dated her a few times. I'd helped to get her off the streets. Hell, I'd had sex with her more than once. Sure, I might have been briefly taken in by the makeup and a new hairdo, but this had slipped past me entirely.

I wasn't sure what pissed me off more. That I'd missed it, or that Marcks had evidently picked up on it immediately and had even worked it into her act.

Marcks gazed out at her as she smiled and struck a pose for the cheering guys.

"When she was out on the street turning tricks, she didn't even use her abilities, since she couldn't figure out a way to make them useful. Isn't that precious?" he teased. "Still, it puts the 'exotic' into 'exotic dancer,' no?"

Jessie did a twirl on the pole, and the lighting changed again to spotlight her lithe form on the stage. A music track started as she began her dance routine, slowly at first. I didn't recognize the music, but it was some modern pop song with a breathy female vocalist. It started off with some teasingly feminine sighs, and as it played, Jessie sensually wrapped her leg around the pole and ground up against it as she wriggled in girlish delight. She made eye contact with the guys in the crowd, flashing her eyes at them.

The music then shifted into a thumping pop beat that thrummed through the club's expensive sound system, and the tone of the song changed into a teasingly dark pop song of dangerous feminine beauty.

"Oh, don't I look nice? Batting my eyes... Isn't it pure perfection? Cute, think I'm polite, stereotype... Got your full attention. Think that you can play with me? You better watch your back... The last thing that you'll hear will be my laugh..."

As the song went on, Jessie launched into her routine in earnest, performing a stunning gravity-defying spin. The crowd cheered, but she didn't react as she twirled and coiled around the pole, and then shimmied and wiggled about on the stage. She had a satisfied smirk on her face, but now she wasn't paying attention to the men in the audience at all. Her practiced disinterest made her even more fascinating, like she was doing this dance for herself, and all the guys here were merely lucky enough to have been present to see her do it.

Jessie's limber body moved sinuously in time to the thumping beat of the music, and as she did so, her every slightest movement was captured by the lights. Her toned body, her flawless creamy skin, her perfect curves in those skimpy pink underthings. Her pigtails and bangs were a teasing reminder of Dollface, the incongruously girlish elements mixed into a decidedly un-girlish presentation as the music reinforced the motif.

"'Cause, baby, dolls kill. Don't provoke us, or we will. Push you downhill... Might be pretty, but we're still... Bitter as much as we're sweet... Knife hidden under the sheets... Baby, dolls kill. Don't provoke us, or we will."

I hardly took a breath as I watched her dance. It was no secret that she knew how to use her sexuality, but I had no idea she was capable of this kind of seduction. The guys closer to the stage hooted and hollered as she twisted around the pole again, sensually running her fingers over it with fleeting touches as she twirled about it gracefully. Effortlessly.

By the time the song ended, the crowd was fully worked up, especially as Jessie broke into a winning smile as she finally seemed to acknowledge their presence. At that moment, I suddenly became aware that she was topless, having removed her bra at some point in her routine. She was so casual about it that it didn't even sink in until now.

The music then shifted into a hard-thumping 80s track by Don Henley, "All She Wants to Do Is Dance." I'm pretty sure I was the one who introduced her to that song. The energy changed completely as she shifted into a more high-energy dance routine and played directly to the guys in the front row. I don't think it was my imagination that she gave a wink in my direction as she started.

I set my jaw as I watched the guys all falling over each other to give her bills as she bent over and flashed her boobs and waggled her ass. They didn't understand her at all.

By the time Jessie finished her set, I realized that at some point Marcks had made a discreet exit. I'm not even sure when. I felt my ticker flutter as she waved to the crowd, half expecting that she was going to hop right off the stage and bound right over to me, but of course she disappeared backstage first.

Tia brought me another bourbon, and I nursed it through the next dancers' act, and then the next. I wasn't even looking at the girls. My eyes drifted around the room, taking in the clientele. I traveled in different social circles than the rich and famous of Faraday City, but I knew enough of them by face and reputation to see that Marcks was doing well for himself. When he'd set up this place in a sketchier, not-yet-gentrified part of the city, people thought he was insane, but they'd underestimated the desire for rich people to go slumming for an evening and see how the rest of us poor slobs lived before they returned to their ivory towers.

I checked my watch again. Where the hell was Jessie? I was starting to get antsy. I figured she went in back to change before our "date," but even by a fussy broad's standards, she was taking a while. Given my reputation, I figured that flagging down one of the waitresses so I could ask them to go check on her was a non-starter, and I didn't want to seem that desperate, anyway.

I'd just turned to look over at the television again when a familiar high-pitched squeal came from right behind me, accompanied by skinny arms that draped about my back in a hug from behind. Even through my suit jacket, I recognized the feel of a nice set of breasts pressed against my back.

"Chase!" Jessie cried out as I turned to meet her.

Her face was lit up like a kid on Christmas, a bright beaming elfin smile that was irrepressibly earnest. I didn't get a lot of that in my life. Before I could react, she threw her arms around me properly and planted a long kiss on my lips. But as we separated, I made a face as I saw how she was dressed. She was wearing the outfit she'd worn on stage, albeit the less skimpy version she'd worn at the beginning of her act. Street legal, but hardly what I expected her to wear on our "date."

"Looking good, Dollface," I said.

Her eyes widened almost comedically as her jaw dropped open in shock. She looked at me like I'd done a magic trick.

"Shut up. That's the girl I'm dressed up as!" she declared in amazement. "How'd you know?"

Yeah, not one of the world's great thinkers, this one.

"Lucky guess," I said. "That's a cute outfit."

"Ain't it great? I totally feel like a super all dressed up like this," she enthused as she plucked at her skirt and bounced into a sexy little half-curtsey. "I really like it here. Mr. Marcks is great, and all'a the girls have been super nice."

"I'm glad," I said, still distracted by the sight of her in that outfit. I had to admit I was more comfortable with the dirty-faced street kid than this sex kitten. "Though I thought we were going to go out for our date tonight."

"Oh," she said, glancing down at her little pink dress with the ruffles and bows. "I could change...?" she offered.

"No," I said, a bit too hurriedly. She'd taken so long already that I wasn't inclined to stretch things out further.

"Oh, okay," she said, wrinkling her nose as she clearly tried to remember something. "Well, Mr. Marcks said we could use one of his private rooms. If you wanna."

"How uncharacteristically generous of him."

"Uh huh!" Jessie responded, obliviously. "He's always doin' nice stuff. Plus, he said we could have it all night."

"Yeah, I bet," I said, practically snorting in derision. I scanned around the room, but Marcks was nowhere to be seen. Though I had no intention of taking him up on his offer. Marcks' "private rooms" no doubt had more hidden cameras than a Vegas casino, and while I didn't think he could use footage of me and Jessie in a sexual encounter to blackmail me, I wasn't about to hand him the opportunity to find out.

"Let's you and me get out of here," I told her. "We can go back to my place. Order in. Have some fun. Then after, I can show you that Bogart film."

Jessie's eyes widened, and she stiffened up at my suggestion. That was weird. We'd had sex at my place before, and if she was nervous about being seen in that getup, she'd hardly be out in public except to get to and from my car. It wasn't like her to be bashful.

"I, uh, think maybe we should stay here," Jessie suggested.

That's when the penny dropped. Marcks. It had to be. Jessie, bless her heart, wasn't near clever enough to be this manipulative, but I could see his fingerprints all over this encounter. I didn't know what was going on, but Jessie wouldn't set me up willingly. Even so, we couldn't talk freely here.

"Tell you what," I told her, "let's just go out to my car. We can figure out what to do from there."

Jessie pursed her lips and furrowed her brow like she was trying to do long division in her head. "O-okay," she said haltingly.

I grabbed my stuff and had started to usher her towards the exit before she figured out that my suggestion meant that she would be leaving the club in her babyish Dollface costume. Even in Faraday City, that kind of outfit would turn heads, especially with her figure filling it out. But right now, I wanted to get her away from Marcks' prying eyes and figure out what the hell was going on.

We got as far as the front door when that off-duty cop working security gave me a warning look as he saw me heading towards the door with Jessie. Customers hassling the girls was a strict no-no, and the fact that I was "escorting" her while she was still in costume was enough to get him up off his ass and in my face.

"We got a problem here?" he challenged me. He was younger than me, and in much better shape. I wasn't impressed.

"We don't. But you're gonna, if you don't get outta my way," I growled.

"It's okay, Mikey," Jessie quickly said to him, seeing where this was headed. "We're just...going out to the parking lot."

'Mikey' didn't seem to know what to make of that. The girls having sex with the customers in the private rooms was one thing, but popping out for a quickie in the parking lot wasn't the kind of image that Marcks would have wanted for his place.

I used his momentary indecision to shove past him with Jessie in tow, careful to make it clear that I wasn't forcing her to do anything she didn't want to do.

"Yeah, Mikey, don't worry about it. I'll have her back before curfew."

The two of us stepped out onto the sidewalk beneath the awning, highlighted in the glow of the club's neon sign. A couple guys hanging around out there got an eyeful of Jessie all done up in her sexy juvenile Dollface costume and hooted in appreciation. She flashed them a quick smile.

Jessie didn't seem at all phased to be seen like that, but as I started to move towards the parking lot, she froze when she noticed that the rain was still misting. She shot me a plaintive look that made her look all the more like a precocious little girl...or at least an oversexed stripper's bawdy interpretation of one.

Tired of the delays, I handed her my trench coat and Jessie chirped out a "thanks" as she slipped it on. As she did, I fleetingly thought it was a shame I hadn't brought my fedora...she probably would have looked sexy as hell in it.

We hurried out to my car, and I opened up the passenger-side door for her.

"Such a gentleman," she said without even a whisper of irony as she slipped inside the beat-up old rust bucket. As she did so, the trench coat fell open in front, providing me with a stunning view of her long sexy legs...to say nothing of her impressive cleavage.

I shut the door behind her and got in on the driver's side. I was embarrassed by all the clutter, but Jessie didn't seem to mind, or even notice. Her full attention was fixed on me. Those big green eyes, the fluttering eyelashes, the glossy lips pressed into a come-hither pout. She casually brushed one of her long blonde pigtails over her shoulder, showing off her fulsome breasts in her low-cut outfit trimmed in lace. A teasing expression of girlish femininity for someone who was most definitely not a girl.

My mouth felt suddenly dry, and I cleared my throat as I tried to get my bearings.

"What's going on, Jessie?" I said, trying to affect a commanding tone.

"Hmm?" she responded blithely. Her expression changed to one of wide-eyed innocence as her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised and disappeared under the wisps of her blonde bangs.

"It's Marcks, isn't it? Jessie, I swear, if he's threatened you, you just tell me, and I'll—"

"Chase!" she said, breaking into a big smile. "It ain't like that. He's...nice."

I resisted the urge to scoff. Marcks was nothing of the sort, but as long as she was useful to him, it was possible she hadn't seen his darker side yet. Although Jessie wasn't smart enough to play dumb. Something was going on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it. Just not here.

I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out my car keys. I put the key into the ignition, but I hadn't even started the car before Jessie sat up quickly.

"Wait! I, uh, wanna show you my trick," she said, placing her hand on mine.

I wasn't really in the mood for games, but her touch was...distracting. Her dainty hand with the perfect skin and the salon manicure was a sharp contrast against my big, rough hand. She took it and caressed it gently as she turned in her seat to fully face me, opening up the trench coat to give me an unobstructed view of her perfect body. Even in that ridiculous costume—or maybe because of it, I was starting to see the attraction—she had an almost feral sexuality to her.

As she crept closer, I gave her a cocky half-smile. "Not that I'm complaining, but I'm pretty sure I've already seen this trick."

God, she was so close. I could smell her perfume, practically feel the warmth of her. With a clearer head, I would have turned on the ignition and driven us back to my place to continue this encounter, but that wasn't the organ that was doing the thinking right at that moment.

Jessie made a vapid giggle and then leaned in for a kiss. I could feel her soft tits brush up against my arm as she did so. She kissed me again and again, energetically...almost forcefully. Jessie wasn't the brightest girl, but in this department, she was practically a savant.

She stopped and pulled away, and I found myself leaning in to follow after her, missing her touch. And what I had going on south of the border was definitely craving her touch even more. So, it took me a moment to realize what the holdup was.

I sat back, and with a little grumble, I reached into my jacket pocket to retrieve my wallet.

"Oh!" Jessie squeaked. "Oh, no," she said by way of apology. "I-I mean, y'don't have to do that right now..."

She took my wallet and put it up on the dash. "Just...wait," she said, furrowing her brow as she looked down at my crotch.

I glanced nervously out the windows around the parking lot, but nobody was around. However, given the circumstances, I wasn't overly concerned about being seen like this. Any residual self-respect I still possessed paled in comparison.

That's when I felt it. Something brushed against my crotch.

It took me a second to do a quick inventory of where both of Jessie's hands were located, and to confirm that neither of them had been anywhere close to the area. Although whatever intellectual curiosity I had was placing a distant second to the rapidly growing erotic sensations that had matured from kindling to a full-on blaze.

My eyes darted up to Jessie, whose face was scrunched up into a mask of over-affected concentration, her lips pressed into a decidedly kissable pout. A moment later, I felt as the button on my pants came loose, quickly followed by a strange ghostly sensation as the zipper on my fly went down, seemingly by itself.

Jessie's face lit up like a little girl, beaming with pride.

"I ain't so good with belts yet," she said as she reached over and unbuckled my belt in a trice. "And for this part, guys like when I do it the usual way."

Before I could say anything, Jessie moved her head into my lap with practiced familiarity.

I sat back in my seat as I felt her go to work, her long blonde pigtails draping down into my lap as she pleasured me. And not just with her mouth. I felt her lithe and dexterous fingers even as her lips and tongue played me like a virtuoso. I lost track of time as she brought me to the brink, only to back off and tease me again.

If this girl ever had a thought in her head, it'd die of loneliness. But dear God, she knew how to fuck.

I opened my eyes as I felt the climax building. We'd fogged up the windows like teenagers on prom night, and I almost laughed. Through the windows, the lights in the parking lot were blurred and hazy, and the gaudy neon lights of the district had become smeared and indistinct.

Wait, who the hell was that?

Even through the fogged windows and my pleasure-addled brain, I could make out a figure in the parking lot. A man, it looked like, and moving right towards our car. A flash of paranoia raced through me as I wondered if it might have been one of Marcks' men, but it looked like the guy was moving unevenly, staggering as he approached. My fucking luck I'd get a homeless guy looking for a handout right at this moment.

"Fuck off," I growled with an angry wave of my hand as the guy shambled towards us.

"Mmm?" Jessie murmured.

"Not you. You keep doing what you're do—ooooh," I gasped as the pleasure hit a crescendo. I threw my head back against the headrest of the seat as I came.

As I gasped in pleasure, I turned and saw the figure standing right outside the door.

"Fuck!"

Instinctively, I pulled my gun out of my holster, even as a bewildered Jessie looked up from my lap. I couldn't make the guy out clearly, but he didn't look like a homeless guy. Through the fogged glass I caught a glimpse of silver-gray hair, mussed but not unkempt. The intruder was focused intently on me, but out of the corner of my eye, another stray bit of movement caught my attention.

It was a second person, farther off, visible under a light close to the building. A woman. Holy shit, it was the brunette knockout in the black cloak again! Had she been following me this whole time? Still, whatever her interest, she was too far away to be a concern at the moment.

Jessie screamed as she saw the guy, her ear-piercing shriek echoing all the louder in the confines of the car. She jerked her head up suddenly, and it smacked against my hand with the gun.

Everything seemed to happen all at once.

There was a deafening sound as the gun went off, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

The world suddenly went dark. I felt cold and alone. I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. A sensation like death.

Jessie was screaming. No, wait. I was screaming. Why was I screaming?

My head felt like it was exploding.

Darkness took me.

I awoke with a start. Or at least, I tried to. My head was pounding, and I could barely open my eyes. I could tell that I was lying on my back, but that was about it. Getting knocked unconscious isn't like in the movies. You get hit hard enough to bounce your brain against the inside of your skull, there's a good chance you have a concussion, maybe even brain damage.

My last girlfriend used to joke that I didn't have enough brain cells to risk losing any like that.

Huh. S'funny I should have thought about her just then.

I brought my hand to my head and groaned as I forced my eyes open. There was a twinkling explosion of color as I did so, and for a second I thought I was seeing stars. My vision focused, and I saw...clothes. Women's clothes? No. Well, yes. Costumes.

Right. That would explain the thumping club music I could hear. That wasn't only my pounding head.

I'd never been backstage at Unmasked, but as I grimaced and looked up at the rack of skimpy and colorful superheroine costumes, I knew that's where I was. Against the other wall was a long countertop of brightly lit makeup tables in front of a huge mirror where the girls got ready to go onstage. I didn't see anybody else around at first, but I was moving so slowly it was hard to be sure.

Damn, those lights at the makeup mirrors were bright. I groaned again as I squinted at the dazzling display.

Wait. Was that Jessie? I could have sworn I heard her just then. Then I detected a whiff of her perfume, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

That was good. I wasn't sure what had gone down, but at least we were here together.

I brought my hand to my head. Weird. It didn't hurt nearly as much as I would have thought. Maybe I didn't have a concussion after all. But...

Was I wearing a wig?

I practically laughed at the idea as I felt a strange pile of hair on my head. Even in my rebellious teen years a few decades earlier, I'd never worn my hair long.

I forced myself up onto my elbow, fighting a wave of disorientation even as I got tangled up in the folds of my trench coat. That was familiar.

What was decidedly unfamiliar was the sensation of a strange weight shifting on my chest. A pair of soft, fleshy counterbalances that gently repositioned themselves in response to my movement.

I looked down to see breasts. Big ones. Coming out of my chest. Long blonde hair cascaded down around them, and I reached down to sweep it out of the way and get an unobscured view. The tits were impressive. They did not belong on me. Nor did the pretty and lacy pink dress that I was wearing which put them on such a fetching display.

In a split second, my disorientation vanished and was immediately replaced with a tsunami of adrenaline and a feeling of raw, unqualified panic.

I grabbed at my clothes and pawed at my changed body, trying to put the lie to what my senses were screaming at me. But my lithe little hands with the pretty manicured nails only reinforced what I refused to believe.

I jumped up to my feet and rushed over to the bank of mirrors. I knew what I was going to find, but I had to see.

As I did, I wriggled out of my trench coat, which was practically falling off of me, anyway. Like a little girl dressed up in her daddy's clothes.

I flung myself desperately against the counter to find Jessie staring wide-eyed back at me. Her prettily made up green eyes were as wide as saucers, and her mouth was open in total shock. Her eyebrows were so high they were practically hidden beneath the wisps of her girlish blonde bangs. My eyes followed the fall of her twin pigtails downwards to where they bracketed an impressive cleft of cleavage that was bordered by the lacy pink fringe of the distinctly juvenile dress she wore.

Or rather, I now wore.

"What the fuck?" I gasped, surprised by the high-pitched vocalization.

My hand flew up to my face, again surprised by the touch of the baby soft skin. I ran my hand up my forehead and into my blonde bangs. It was bad enough that I was a woman—I was Jessie!—without having to look like a "daddy's little girl" fuck doll.

I felt lightheaded, like I was going to faint, and I plopped myself down in the makeup chair. It felt unusually padded, and my mind flashed back to the sight of Jessie's beautifully rounded ass in some tight jeans she'd worn the night I'd first met her. I tried not to think about it. I looked around in a panic. Jesus, I was tiny. Everything seemed huge. I hadn't been this short since before I hit puberty.

Jessie's name was written in a feminine script on a card that was taped to the mirror in front of me, and I suddenly realized that I was sitting at her makeup station. The drawer in front of me was slightly ajar, and I pulled it open. In amongst all the makeup and hair products was a pink purse that I recognized as Jessie's.

Numbly, I pulled it out and opened it. It wasn't very large, but it felt strangely natural in my hands. There wasn't much inside. A wallet. A pink cell phone. A key ring with a few keys and a rabbit's foot. A lipstick. Half a container of Tic-Tacs.

A tampon.

My hand leaped to my mouth as I stared at it and the implication for my current situation sunk in. Though I noticed that my hair was kind of a mess, so I picked up a brush and brushed out my pigtails a little. Then I picked up the lipstick and unscrewed the top, pulling out the wand. I looked at my reflection and leaned forward, moving the wand to my lips to—

To—

What the hell was I doing? Not exactly my number one concern at the moment!

I put the lipstick back on the table. Though as my eyes rested on the Tic-Tacs, I became aware of an odd, stale taste in my mouth.

That's when I remembered the last thing that had been in this mouth.

Just in time, I spotted a plastic trash can, and I bent over and retched into it, trying not to get puke in my long hair that spilled down around my face. I wiped my mouth and grabbed the Tic-Tacs and emptied the container into my mouth.

I plopped myself back down in the chair, still staring at my reflection in horrified disbelief. It was so strange seeing Jessie like that. I wanted to reach out and comfort her.

Jessie. Right. Where's Jessie?

Dammit, Chase, you're smarter than this. Pull yourself together!

Fleetingly, the thought occurred to me that maybe I wasn't smarter than this. Jessie was cute as a bug, but she wasn't very bright. Was I using her brain right now? I sure as hell wasn't using my own!

Focus, dammit!

Right. Work the problem.

It didn't take much imagination to figure that the stranger outside the car had done this to me. To us. Some guy with powers. A metahuman. Somehow, he'd put me in Jessie's body. So, it stood to reason that she was in mine. Or...did it? My head was clearing, but it didn't hurt enough to be a concussion. It followed that my unconsciousness and lingering disorientation must have been because of his powers. Had he swapped bodies with me? But if he had, then why was I in Jessie's body?

I peered nervously around the backstage dressing area. Where were the other girls? Also, how had I gotten back here? I turned to look back at the cot in the corner that I'd woken up on, with my trench coat in a pile on the floor next to it. Right. I'd loaned that to Jessie when we went out to my car. Had she brought me here, maybe in my own body?

"Jessie! What the hell is going on?"

It was a woman who spoke. Tia. The bartender. She was practically in a panic. She hurried over and as I stood up to face her, it threw me to see that I was shorter than her.

"Jessie, tell me you didn't have anything to do with this," she said, holding me by the hands.

"I don't...what?" I said, realizing that in my confusion, I probably sounded as vacant and clueless as the real Jessie. "Tia, what happened? How'd I get back here?"

At the moment, I wasn't convinced those were the most pressing questions I needed to ask, but I also wasn't keen on blurting out a story about being a middle-aged man trapped in Jessie's body. Even in a place like Faraday City where weirdness was the order of the day, they'll still throw you in the loony bin for talk like that.

"Jessie, you... Listen, you're in a lot of trouble."

"Hell, yeah, I am," I squeaked in Jessie's voice.

As Tia spoke, her eyes flashed over my shoulder, and I turned to see the heavy metal door with the bright red EXIT sign right above. The door to the parking lot.

I started to move towards it, and Tia grabbed me by the wrist. I tugged at her grip ineffectually, suddenly keenly aware that she was a good deal stronger than I was.

"Are you nuts?" Tia hissed. "You can't go out that way!"

"Why not?"

"Where the fuck is she?"

This time it was a man who spoke, and I did a double-take when I saw that it was Marcks. His carefully cultivated ice-cool exterior was gone, replaced by a singular, laser-focused rage.

And he was looking directly at me.

Tia tried to intervene. "She doesn't know anything! She—"

Marcks shoved effortlessly past her, and I trembled in fear as he stalked angrily up to me. He was huge. Even in my own body he was intimidating, but now he was more than a head taller than me, and a wall of muscle under that expensive suit of his. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew I'd have to sweet talk my way out of this somehow.

"I'm sorry, Des. I don't—"

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. I didn't even see his hand move as it lanced out and struck me across the face, which now stung from the blow. He'd pulled his punch, so it wasn't hard enough to do any real damage—Marcks was smart enough not to damage the goods—but the slap definitely made an impression.

He reached down with his huge meaty hand and grabbed my skinny bicep and effortlessly hauled me to my feet as Tia reached over to steady me. Marcks once again affected his typical frosty cool demeanor, but there was a dangerous fire in his eyes. When he spoke, he carefully enunciated his words like he was talking to a misbehaving child.

"Bitch, I don't recall you and I being on a first-name basis," he bit out. "Now, tell me what the fuck happened?"

"I..." My head was swimming. I tried to think of some lie that might appease him, but all I could think about was that I was standing in front of this huge and heavily muscled man, and I was a woman half his size with my boobs practically hanging out of this babyish little girl dress. The whole situation was insane. "I-I don't know. I don't remember."

As the words passed my painted lips, it occurred to me that my reply, while honest, may not have been my best move. On the plus side, between my fear and bewilderment, I was probably doing a bang-on impersonation of the real Jessie.

"You don't remember," Marcks echoed coolly. "Well, see, that's funny. Because now I've got a dead guy in my parking lot, and half the force of the FCPD is crawling over his body like ants on a frosted cupcake. Here I would have imagined that something like that would have proved more memorable."

My breath caught in my throat. A dead guy? My mind raced as I ran through the grim calculus of that statement. My first thought was that it might be Jessie, now dead in my body. In which case, I was stuck forever in her body, her life. I glanced around at the changing room and caught sight of my ridiculous reflection. Suddenly, I had a lot more sympathy for her situation, using her body to get ahead.

Or was it the body swapper who'd died? That wasn't much better. At least it meant that Jessie might still be alive, but it didn't do much to improve my current situation.

I hoped that there were other permutations that were more favorable, but Marcks was waiting for an answer. Not that I had one to give him.

"I'm sorry...sir. I don't know anything about that," I said, giving my shoulders a nervous wriggle as I cringed slightly. It wasn't entirely an act. I'd been in plenty of fights in my time, but in this diminutive body, if Marcks wanted to hit me again, there was precious little I could do to stop him.

Marcks didn't seem even remotely satisfied with my response, but as he was about to say something, a few of the girls entered the room from over by the stage entrance, looking uncertain.

The girl dressed as Plutonium Blonde found her voice first. "What do you want us to do, boss?" she asked.

Marcks made a low grumble and glared at me for an interminably long moment. "Get your ass out there on stage," he said to me.

I stared at him in wide-eyed shock. "M-me?" I stammered.

My mind flashed back to when Jessie had performed her number, twirling on the dance pole and playfully shaking her boobs for the randy guys in the crowd. Even if I had the first idea how to do those moves—which I didn't—the thought of those guys leering at my practically naked body made me sick to my stomach. Then I flashed to how the Plutonium Blonde dancer had exited with a guy after she'd finished her set to adjourn to one of the private rooms. God, if Marcks had any other "special clients" for me to "entertain" afterwards...

My brain tumbled into total meltdown at the concept. Suddenly, my realization that there wasn't much I could do to stop a man took on a much more visceral and terrifying prospect.

"Boss, there's no customers out there," one of the other girls complained. "Most of 'em hightailed it outta here when the cops showed up."

Marcks looked like he might blow a gasket as he struggled to maintain his cool exterior. "Fine," he growled. "Anybody who wants to leave can leave. But I'm keeping your house fees, so don't expect to get paid," he said as he stalked past them and out into the club.

The girls weren't happy with his pronouncement, but they had the good sense to keep their opinions to themselves, at least until Marcks was out of earshot. They all gave me suspicious looks, clearly figuring that I was somehow to blame for all this.

I saw that Tia was already talking to them, trying to smooth over some ruffled feathers, and I saw my opportunity. As I turned, I froze when I caught sight of my reflection again. I had no idea how the real Dollface was able to walk around in public in this ridiculous getup, but I wasn't looking forward to finding out. While Tia was distracted, I quickly dumped everything back into Jessie's purse, and then bent down to grab my trench coat. Tia turned and looked like she was going to call after me, but it was too late. I was already out the exit door.

I emerged from the club into a brilliant display of flashing red and blue lights. It made me feel a little more optimistic. After all, if it had been my body that'd been killed, I seriously doubted they'd have gone to this much trouble.

The exit door was technically inside the police perimeter, so I tried to stay quiet and inconspicuous. But I was quickly reminded of the impossibility of that task as I heard an appreciative hoot come from out of the group of pedestrians who'd gathered over by the sidewalk to gawk. A couple guys started beckoning me to come over. One of them made a lewd gesture that left no doubt as to their intentions if I took them up on their invitation.

I grumbled and slipped on my trench coat, feeling like a little girl playing dress-up in her daddy's coat. Jessie was no tiny petite flower, and my male body was no hulking Adonis, but it was hardly a good fit. I yanked the coat closed over my chest in a way that gave "double breasted" a decidedly new meaning, and petulantly folded my arms, wincing as I felt my big soft breasts compressed by the move. At least they were out of sight.

I discreetly edged closer to where my car had been parked, not even sure if "discreet" was possible in this body. There were people all over, and I moved slowly and confidently, figuring that if I looked like I was skulking, it'd only draw attention to the fact that I wasn't supposed to be there. However, my heavy makeup and blonde baby doll haircut with the pigtails sure as hell didn't fit with this crowd either. It ground on me that the only place I would look at home was back inside the strip club, dancing up on stage for the guys. I popped up the collar on my coat as casually as I could manage.

Off to one side, I saw some EMTs loading a body bag into the back of an ambulance. It was already zippered shut, and I couldn't see anything more. Even in this body, I didn't imagine I could sweet talk them into giving me a peek.

God dammit, Jessie, what the hell did we get ourselves into? I hoped she was okay.

The cops' attention seemed to be over by my car. Or rather, where my car used to be.

It was gone.

That...might have been good news. I couldn't see the crime scene clearly from where I stood, but it looked like the victim's body had been marked beside where the car had been parked. So, the homeless guy, maybe.

Everything was a blur, but I remembered the sound of the gun going off. Maybe the guy got shot and killed? He didn't seem to be in all that great shape as he shambled over to the car to begin with. Though it begged the question: whose mind had been at the controls when he went down?

Or an even better question: where the hell was my body, and who was at the controls?

If Jessie was alive, probably the best-case scenario was that she panicked and bolted in my car after this all happened. If she was in the body swapper's body, there was at least hope that maybe she could use his powers to switch us back. I wouldn't be me anymore, but at least I'd be a man again. On the other hand, if she'd taken off in my body, that meant that the swapper was dead, and she and I were stuck forever in each other's bodies.

The other possibility was that Jessie wasn't alive... I didn't want to think about that.

I jammed my hands in the pockets of my trench coat and felt something familiar. My fingers wrapped around the cold metal item and I pulled it out and looked at it.

The fucking lighter. Because of course. Even by Faraday City standards, this had been the ultimate mugging. In one fell swoop I hadn't simply lost my wallet, my keys, and my car, I'd somehow lost my body, my sex, and my entire identity. But despite all of that, I'd somehow managed to beat the odds and escape with a threadbare trench coat and this motherfucking lighter.

Tink. Clack.

I jammed the item back into my pocket and brushed my hand against my purse. Right, because I carried a purse now.

I pulled Jessie's phone out of the purse and checked the time. A little after 11:00. That wasn't good. I hadn't exactly been watching the clock when Jessie and I had gone out to my car, but it had been sometime after 9:00, which means I had two hours unaccounted for. That was a hell of a head start, and a lot could happen in two hours. Especially when someone who wasn't me was running around in my body all that time.

"What are you doing here?" a man's voice demanded from right behind me.

I was still fumbling for a plausible lie when I was grabbed from behind and bodily yanked over behind an emergency vehicle, out of sight of anybody who might be standing around. The guy spun me around—God, how weak was I?—and before I even got a good look at him, he pulled me close and into a passionate kiss.

I'd love to say that I struggled, but if I'm being honest, it was more like "squirmed." Getting kissed by a guy wasn't exactly on my bucket list of dream experiences, but the longer it went on, the more... I felt...

Well, I squirmed a little less. Amid the scent of rain and pavement, the smell of his aftershave stood out, a rich and earthy aroma that blended with the more flowery aroma of my own perfume. It was...confusing. I gasped a little as an altogether not-unpleasant sensation toured through some erogenous zones I wasn't even supposed to have.

He broke the kiss, and I tried to pull myself together. What the hell was wrong with me? Was this Jessie's body just taking over? I can't say I cared for that idea!

"Keyes?" I said breathlessly, staring at him in bewilderment. The last time the detective and I had crossed paths, we'd very nearly come to blows. Though now he was looking at me with genuine concern. He was dressed in civilian clothes, with a dark jacket and slacks. He was a relatively young guy, strong and muscular, with light brown hair and boyish features. He had dark discerning eyes and a strong jaw, but that baby face wasn't doing him any favors. If I were him, I'd have tried to grow some facial hair. Not that I was in any position to critique anybody's masculinity at the moment.

Though I had to admit, the look kind of suited him. I felt my cheeks flush at the way he was looking at me.

Dammit, focus!

"Jessie, thank God you're safe. Tell me you didn't have anything to do with this."

The fact that people kept asking me that question was making me start to wonder exactly how well I actually knew the real Jessie.

"What happened?" I asked as innocently as I could manage. "I heard somebody was killed. Was it...Chase?" I wasn't actually sure I wanted the answer to that question, but at the very least, I needed to know what had happened to Jessie.

He put his big, meaty hands on my shoulders. I guessed it was supposed to be a comforting move, but the intrusion startled me so much that I strained to maintain my innocent look of concern. Plus, looking at him like that gave me another flutter I wasn't at all comfortable with. I glanced downwards, and to cover my tell, I ran my slender feminine fingers down his chest. I noticed that his jacket was missing one of its shiny gold buttons, and I fussed at the spot with my fingers as though prettily concerned.

He wasn't buying it. Keyes' eyes drifted over my trench coat, and I could see him piecing things together.

"Jessie, I told you to stay away from him. Chase is dangerous. He can't be trusted. He's a killer."

"That's not—!" I started to object. Then, I added, "You don't know him like I do."

Keyes gave me a pitiable look. I can't say I blamed him. I sounded like a high school cheerleader defending her "bad boy" boyfriend to her parents. Still, I bristled at his accusation. And Keyes was no Boy Scout, either. I was fairly certain that he was on Marcks' payroll. However, depending on who you asked, while he was on the job as a cop, he was either a paragon of virtue or just a sanctimonious prick. He and I had butted heads plenty over the Procyon thing. And before that, on the Capshaw murder case. My last case before I—

It didn't matter.

What did matter was that he'd referred to me in the present tense. "Chase is dangerous," not "Chase was dangerous." Meaning that my body was still alive. Somewhere.

"Who died?" I asked. "Some homeless guy?"

Keyes scoffed. "They don't roll out a parade like this unless there's some juice. It was some reclusive rich guy."

That caught my attention. "Who?" I pressed.

"Beaumont. Carson Beaumont. His mansion went up in flames this afternoon. Too soon to know for sure, but they figure it was arson. Then all of a sudden, he shows up dead here."

"You think Chase shot him?"

Keyes looked at me strangely. "He wasn't shot. They say he had massive internal wounds, almost like he was pushed off a building. But they found broken glass by the body, like from the driver's side window."

Keyes put his hands firmly on my shoulders again, but this time it wasn't to comfort me. "Jessie, what do you know about this? Do you know where Chase is?"

I affected the best "little lost lamb" expression I could muster and shook my head. "Key—I mean, uh, baby—I swear, I just got here."

He gave me a discerning look, not unlike the one I'd gotten from Marcks. Then he moved to a very intimate distance and lowered his voice.

"Listen, honey. I've got...something. Something big. The less you know, the better, but I think it's our ticket out of here. You and me, on easy street, yeah? No more working for Marcks. And you wouldn't have to dance naked for all those guys anymore."

Normally, the half-baked dreams of a cop on the take wouldn't hold much interest for me. Although right at that moment, I had bigger concerns, like getting my manhood back. However, on the chance that fell through and I was stuck in Jessie's body, I had to admit that a future that didn't involve me dancing for horny guys who stuck dollar bills in my g-string sounded pretty good. I wasn't in any hurry to shack up with Keyes and play house together, but I wasn't in a position to slam any doors shut, either.

"That sounds really good, baby," I said, forcing myself to beam prettily as I met his gaze. I wasn't eager to repeat this experience, but I read the moment and draped my arms lovingly around his neck as he pulled me into another kiss.

As we pulled away, he gave me a half-smile. "You're trembling. You sure you're okay?"

"Mmm hmm," I said, blushing.

"Okay, you need to get out of here," he said, escorting me back in the direction of the club. "We can't be seen together right now. I'll call you later. Do you have someplace you can go?"

"Yeah," I lied, in fact having no idea at all. I needed to find my body, wherever it was. I sure as hell wasn't going back inside the club.

Just then, I glanced over towards the crowd that was gathered over by the sidewalk, and off to one side, I saw a familiar face. I couldn't make her out clearly, but a knockout like that you don't soon forget. And she was looking directly at me.

"It's you," I whispered to myself. The brunette in the cloak who'd been following me. She was also there when the body swapper—that Carson Beaumont guy—showed up in the parking lot. That could be a coincidence. Not that I believed in coincidence. At the very least, she'd seen what went down.

"What's that?" Keyes asked.

"Nothing," I said. I did a double-take to look for the woman, but she was gone, vanished into the crowd. I rushed off after her. Keyes called something after me, but I didn't care.

As I hurried over to where I'd seen the brunette, I grit my teeth as I tried to ignore the extremely distracting jiggle of my new body parts. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't the only one to notice.

"Heyyy, baby! Check out the talent!"

"You s'posed to be a bad girl, peaches? 'Cause I'll put you over my knee if you ask nice!"

For the first time since I woke up in this body, I actually didn't mind being a woman, because those morons were embarrassing their entire gender. Did this shit really work on girls?

My minor exasperation at their antics turned into full-blown annoyance as I ducked under the police barrier tape to emerge onto the sidewalk, only for those assholes to take it as an open invitation.

"Hey, hey! What's your hurry, gorgeous? Let's see the goods!"

As his friend blocked my path, the guy reached over and pulled my trench coat the rest of the way open to reveal my sexy little pink dress. He brushed against my boobs as he did so. For a second I was almost inclined to write it off as incidental contact, but that swiftly evaporated when his intrusion turned into a proper grope and squeeze.

"Fuck off!" I swore, pulling away as I swatted at his hand. But if anything, the kitten play only served to entice him further.

Meanwhile, the brunette had completely disappeared. I craned my neck to look up and down the sidewalk as I tried to avoid the guys' grabby hands.

"God dammit!" I swore, much to the guys' amusement. I was getting seriously pissed off, and their teasing smirks were only infuriating me more.

The worst part was, we weren't alone. There were at least another eight or ten people standing not too far away from us who'd been gawking at the police scene. At first, I was shocked that none of them stepped in to help, but as I made eye contact with them, all of them—men and women alike—looked away, ignoring my plight. It took me a minute to realize that these fine upstanding citizens thought they saw a hooker in a dispute with a couple of her johns and didn't want to get involved.

I glanced over at the police who were still gathered in the nearby parking lot. They hadn't seen me—or maybe a hooker getting hassled by a couple of drunks just wasn't worth their time—but I figured if I screamed rape or something, they might get off their donut-eating asses. Still, so far, apart from some humiliating grab-ass and cat calling, these guys hadn't actually put me in any real danger. It annoyed me to have to call for help for this bullshit. I balled up my little tangerine-sized fists and wondered if I slugged them, if that'd finally put them off, or if it would only escalate things to something more dangerous.

A double-honk of a car horn right beside us caught our collective attention, and the guys and I stopped to look. I was secretly hoping for a cop car, but then I realized that given how I was dressed, I had a real chance of getting picked up for prostitution. If that happened, my evening would not improve.

It turned out not to be a cop car, but what it was surprised me even more. It was a brand new black Lexus with tinted windows, and as the passenger-side window lowered, I could see that the driver was the mystery brunette I'd been looking for.

She leaned down and gave me a girlish wave, wiggling her fingers. "Hey, lover! You ready to go?" she called in a teasing lilt.

The interruption was enough to catch my harassers off their guard, and I wasn't about to miss my window of opportunity. I angrily shoved against the guy in front of me with both hands. Even putting my back into it, he only moved back a few inches, but it was enough for me to squeeze by as I stalked over to the car.

"Lesbo bitch," one of the guys called after me with a sneer as they moved off in search of better prey.

I stopped at the edge of the curb and leaned down against the car to peer inside the open window. My savior regarded me with the barest hint of a smile, a coy look of seductive indifference. Her black cloak was pulled back, revealing her face and hair, and a lot more of the slinky black dress she was wearing.

It suddenly occurred to me that she had no reason to know who I really was. It was probable that she thought she was meeting up with Jessie. I'd have to play along, at least at first. I wasn't sure why she'd been following me, but she'd been there when the body swapper attacked, which meant she might have some answers for me.

"Hi," I chirped in what I hoped was an approximation of Jessie's guileless tone.

She gave me a knowing smirk. "It really isn't your night, is it, Mr. Chase?"

My jaw dropped. "Who the hell are you?"

"Get in the car."

I gasped. "You're...him, aren't you? Carson Beaumont. The guy who did this to me."

"Hardly," she retorted, her smoky voice dripping with disdain. "Just get in the car."

"Look, beautiful, I haven't been a woman very long, but I know better than to get into a car with a total stranger."

"All right," she said with a small sigh of exasperation. Then she reached into the purse in her lap and pulled out a gun and aimed it directly at me. "I'm afraid I'll have to insist."

I froze.

She brandished the little silver gun that was pointed directly at me. "Yes, I know. It's only a .32 caliber, but I needed something that would fit in my purse. Still, it's more than enough to make a terrible mess out of that adorable frock you're wearing. However, we don't have a lot of time. So—if you please—get in the car."

When she spoke, it was a low and controlled voice. Sexy and self-assured, but also pretty clearly a woman who wasn't used to giving orders. I could practically hear the question mark in her statement as her voice went up at the end.

Slowly and deliberately, I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. As I closed the door behind me, our eyes still riveted on each other, she reached over with her other hand and pressed the control to close the windows to ensure our privacy.

"Who the hell are you, lady?" I said.

"I'm the one holding the gun. Are you working for him? I would advise you to be truthful."

"Working for who? Beaumont? I never even laid eyes on the fella before tonight."

"I mean Xenos."

"What the hell is that, some kind of anti-anxiety medication? I could sure as hell use some."

She clearly wasn't amused. "Mr. Chase, as you sagely pointed out, you haven't been a woman for very long. But allow me to assure you that impertinent sass coming out of that pretty little mouth is not your best move right now."

"Why were you following me? How are you mixed up in this?" I demanded.

"I already told you. Before he died, my husband worked for Xenos. I wanted to find out why he was going to meet with you. I followed you because I didn't believe your answer. I believe you even less now. But no more dodging the question. Are you working for him?"

"I don't even know what's going on! You were there, you saw what happened. Jessie and I were—together—and that guy, what's his name, Beaumont—"

"Xenos."

"Fine. He shows up at the window, and the next thing I know, I wake up in Jessie's body. That Xenos guy is dead, and my body is gone with my car. So, honey, if you're gonna shoot, you may as well pull the trigger, 'cause I don't have anything more to give you."

She seemed to consider that as she looked me squarely in the eyes, sizing me up. It was the third time tonight that someone had done that to me—first Marcks, then Keyes, and now this crazy dame—but for the first time, I felt seen. Like she was looking past what was on the surface and seeing the real me buried far underneath.

"I believe you," she said finally. She lowered the gun, but it was still in her hand. "Though you're wrong about one thing. Xenos isn't dead."

"The paramedics would disagree with you."

"Xenos is a body swapper. An ancient one. Beaumont was merely his latest host, and had been for over twenty years now. Xenos calls them his 'mounts,' which should give you an idea how much consideration he gives his victims."

I nodded slowly. In any other city on Earth, this would be science fiction, but this insanity was just another day in Faraday City. Not that knowing that made me feel any better.

"Yeah. When he came up to the car, he tried to swap with me. I think."

"He was injured. Badly. I spotted him after I followed you to the club, but he found you before I could intervene."

I looked down at my breasts tenting out the front of my dress. "I don't get it. If he swapped bodies with me, shouldn't I be in Beaumont's body? How come I ended up in Jessie?"

For the first time since I laid eyes on her, she looked genuinely uncertain. "I don't know."

We sat quietly for a long moment. There was a question I wanted to ask and desperately didn't want to ask. Finally, I forced it out.

"Is Jessie alive?"

She gave me a level glance and sighed heavily. "People who get...swapped...they freak out. They're panicky, walking around in unfamiliar flesh. From a block away, I could tell that you weren't who you were supposed to be. But Xenos? He wears bodies like we wear clothes. He's cool. Dispassionate." She paused a moment to let that sink in. "I don't know exactly how it went down, but I could tell it was Xenos who drove away in your body."

I took a shaky breath. "Which means—"

She put the gun back into her purse. "Do the math, Mr. Chase. Three bodies went in, and only two came out. I'm sorry. Jessie is dead."

A numbness washed over me as I processed that statement. I figured as much, I just didn't want to accept it. I looked down at myself, at Jessie's body. It was all that was left of her. My body was still out there, so at least I had some hope of getting it back, but it was cold comfort.

The woman put her hands on the steering wheel and shifted the car into gear.

"Wait. Who are you?" I asked.

She glanced over at me and her painted lips twisted into a mirthless grin. "Haven't you figured it out? I'm just like you. Or rather, I'm what you're going to be in about ten years. My name is Victoria. Victoria Dunne."

As we drove, Victoria told me her story, or at least enough of it to make me suspect there was more going on than she was telling.

Ten years ago, she'd apparently been a male private eye by the name of Vic DeLuca, and she'd managed to deduce Xenos's existence. She'd confronted him, which proved to be a mistake, since she soon found herself occupying the body of the beautiful brunette woman I saw sitting in front of me. Xenos apparently then made a "hobby" out of her, tormenting her over the span of years. His first move was to see Victoria married off to a controlling husband who was an associate of Xenos. She became a "kept woman" for the much older Mr. Dunne, forced to be the man's dutiful wife.

She was no dummy, though. I saw that she'd returned the gun to her purse, obviously as a demonstration of tentative trust, but she'd also kept her purse in her lap, well out of my reach. We were both very pointedly trying not to look at it, which only made it all the more obvious.

One odd thing that caught my eye was an elaborate silver and black pin that was attached to the strap of her purse. It wasn't very large, but it was a gaudy little thing that prominently featured an image of the moon in the center surrounded by stars, with intricate filigree around the outside edge. I wasn't sure what the story there was, but I could tell just by looking that it was not her style, which was otherwise more elegant and understated.

"I don't get it. Why didn't you leave?" I asked.

She glanced over to look at me, giving an unconscious toss of her hair as she did so. "And do what? Go where? I was gonna go pick up my P.I. business looking like this? Or maybe I'd get a nice office job as some guy's secretary. Then what? Find a guy, settle down, have kids? Besides, there was no way that Xenos was going to let me run around free with the knowledge of his existence. There's no place on Earth I could run where he wouldn't find me."

As she spoke, I found it hard to accept her story. Not because it was so unbelievable—I was living proof of that—but because she was so...feminine. She was a real stunner with those dark eyes, midnight black hair, and flawless makeup, with her dark red lipstick a sharp contrast against her perfect pale skin. Even the way she moved. She wasn't just a woman, she was like a Photoshopped magazine cover model of unattainable femininity.

Next to her, I felt like a sorority bimbo in a dumb Halloween costume. A clumsy and obvious play at skanky sexuality. Victoria wasn't just sexy, she was sex.

"Ten years is a long time," she sighed, obviously anticipating my next question. "And Xenos has been countless people, both men and women, over the centuries. Though I got the distinct impression he much prefers being a man. I think it amused him to have my husband force me to perfect my feminine 'performance' over the years. My husband really got off on it. The sad thing is, I actually kinda understood the attraction. I, ah, didn't have much respect for women back when I was a man," she admitted.

"You know a lot about this Xenos," I said.

"Only what little he told me, not that I trust any of it. Sometimes I could get him to talk about himself when he came to 'check in' on me, but I could never tell the truth from the lies."

"What do you know?" I pressed. I needed to know more. To know that Jessie's death hadn't been in vain.

Victoria gave a minute shrug. "I know he's old. Very old. Centuries, most likely. He calls himself Xenos, but in Greek, that means 'stranger,' so I've no idea if that's his name or a title he adopted."

She got quiet for a long moment, and as we drove, I saw that the pavement was still wet, and there were puddles that reflected the lights of the city. But at least the rain had stopped. I almost laughed. My entire fucking life had turned upside down due to the whim of an ageless madman who was swapping people's bodies around at his pleasure, but still the planet kept on spinning as though nothing happened.

"I'll tell you this for a fact," Victoria said finally. "He's dangerous."

"Dangerous, as in ruthless?" I asked.

"Any idiot with a gun can be ruthless. What makes him dangerous is that he's careful. Methodical. Cunning. I don't think that asshole gets out of bed without a five-year plan."

"You told me he'd been Beaumont for twenty years. But he caught you ten years ago. So, you figured out he was Beaumont?"

"I figured out Beaumont was something. And I figured out that Xenos existed. It was enough to connect the dots."

A terrible sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, I had a pretty good idea why Xenos had singled me out. Victoria said that her husband had been working for Xenos, and that he'd planned to meet with me. At the time, I didn't know what she was talking about, but that was before my "mysterious client" suddenly decided to close his account and wanted the dossiers I'd put together. If Victoria's husband was the guy who was going to pick up the files, that meant that either he was my mysterious client, or Xenos was. If that was true, I could have been unknowingly working for the very guy who landed me in Jessie's body! Though I didn't know what interest he might have in my files.

I figured Victoria might have some insight, but I wasn't in a hurry to share my theories with a woman I barely knew.

As though reading my thoughts, Victoria glanced over at me again.

"The thing I don't get is you. Xenos lives twenty years in relative quiet as Beaumont. Then, out of nowhere, he tries to grab you, and suddenly everything goes tits-up. If you'll pardon the expression."

"Yeah, that's...weird," I said, a little too hurriedly. Jessie's high-pitched voice made it sound even more suspicious. I tried to cover it by adding, "You said he was badly injured. The cop said he died of internal injuries. Maybe he was dying, and my body was just a convenient port in the storm."

"Maybe," Victoria echoed. She didn't sound convinced.

"Where are we going?" I asked, eager to change the subject. We were practically on the other side of the city. Things in this part of town were much more ritzy and posh. Definitely not my usual stomping grounds.

"We're already here," she responded as she turned into a parking lot. Given the lateness of the hour and the number of cars still there, I figured it for another night club. But not one I was immediately familiar with.

As she parked the car, she stopped for a moment and gave me an appraising once over. She had a funny look on her face.

"What?" I said self-consciously.

She thought it over and then shook her head. "It's probably nothing." She unclasped her cloak and slipped it off over her shoulders before retrieving her purse. Then she made a move to open her door, but I stopped her.

"Hold it. You still haven't told me what's going on. What is this place?"

"It's a club. Don't worry about it."

I grabbed her by the arm. "Nice try, toots. You didn't drive us all the way out here to take in the local color. What's the deal?"

"The 'deal' is that there's a very good chance that Xenos is either here, or he's going to be."

"Holy shit! And you didn't think that was information worth sharing?!"

"I didn't think it would matter."

"How can it not matter?" I objected. "Don't you think we need a game plan for how we're gonna force him to change us back? He's not going to do it if we ask him pretty please!"

Victoria peered at me incredulously. "Mr. Chase, what in heaven's name are you talking about? I'm not here to try to convince him of anything. I'm here to kill him."

With that, she slipped smoothly out of the car and sashayed sexily towards the club.

I jumped out of the car and hurried after Victoria as I fumbled to pull my trench coat closed over my ridiculous dress. I finally caught up to her on the front sidewalk, and I grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around to look her in the face. For the first time, I realized I was a couple inches taller than her. After walking around in a land of giants, it was kind of a novel sensation. She was petite, but her curves filled out her dress almost as well as my own did. I couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be a man trapped in that body for ten years. Although given my current situation, there was a decent chance I might find out for myself.

I did a double-take as I saw a fairly substantial line of people not too far away. I wasn't sure what time it was—it had to be going on midnight—but if this was the line to get in, this place was definitely for the nighttime crowd.

"Popular place," I said, glancing at the crowd. I wasn't about to let Victoria wiggle in there and put a bullet in my body, but I also wasn't too keen on throwing down out here and getting into a catfight with her with all these people around. So far, nobody seemed to be paying us much mind apart from a couple guys who gave us a leering up-and-down assessment.

"I would say 'exclusive,'" Victoria corrected.

I looked down and saw that she was holding her purse in one hand, but her other hand was inside the bag. No doubt holding the gun. It wasn't pointed at me, but the threat was clear.

"You're gonna shoot me in front of all these people?"

"I'd prefer not to. Even so, I very much doubt the police will waste much time on a case where a wealthy socialite from out of town defended herself from an unbalanced hooker. One whom I'm quite certain has been seen by several people behaving erratically all evening."

I set my jaw and glared at her. As a man, that look was one of my better quiet intimidation moves. As it was, I probably looked like a petulant little girl pouting because she didn't get a second scoop of ice cream.

She turned and started to walk towards the entrance to the club as I hurried to keep up with her.

"Can't we at least talk about this?" I hissed.

She didn't even break stride. "You know, Mr. Chase, many people in your situation would consider this a new lease on life." Then she smiled ruefully. "Hm. Now that's funny. Those were the exact same words Xenos said to me when he left me in this body. I suppose we all eventually become what we hate. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm going to avenge your friend Jessie. Take some consolation in that."

"I can help you. There's no need for this!"

"Perhaps. Regrettably, Mr. Chase, I've run out of time."

We arrived at the front of the line, having walked past all the people who were waiting to be let in. I hadn't been looking at them very closely, but even to a casual inspection, they were an unusual bunch. Most of the guys were in suits and many of them were wearing fedoras and other hats. The women, meanwhile, looked like they were dressed for either a burlesque show or a 1940s revival in their elaborate and dated gowns, carefully coiffed hairdos, and stark makeup.

Oddly for a club, there was no obvious signage. Even the windows appeared to be facades as there was no view inside, and there was barely enough outside lighting to not run afoul of city ordinances. In fact, the only indication of the place's existence was a lighted art deco style sign situated immediately next to the door that identified the place as "Club Nocturne," a cabaret and nightclub.

The bouncer at the front of the line took notice of our approach. He looked like a muscular gorilla packed tightly into a dark suit, and he'd clearly had plenty of practice giving hopeful people bad news. But as he spotted Victoria, he immediately straightened up and wordlessly stepped to the side to let her in. At first I thought he knew her—even in this crowd, she made an impression—but then I realized that what he'd noticed had been the gaudy silver moon pin on her purse.

I followed Victoria in. Or rather, I tried to, but I found myself blocked by the massive oak tree that was the bouncer's arm.

"I'm with her, you ape," I objected.

The bouncer glanced at Victoria for confirmation. To which Victoria coolly responded, "I've never seen this woman before in my life."

Her dark red lips pressed into a tiny smirk as she entered and the door slid shut behind her. Meanwhile, the bouncer loomed over me and said, "Back of the line, princess."

"But—!"

"Now."

I had half a mind to rat Victoria out for having a gun, but I bit my tongue. If Xenos was indeed in there, she was right about one thing—we didn't have any leverage. That gun was the only thing we had to threaten him with, and even at that, I wasn't optimistic about our chances. If he really was centuries old, it was a fair bet he'd stared down the barrel of a gun many times, and he was still here to tell the tale.

I needed to sort this out, and it was obvious that it was going to take more than a pretty smile and flashing a little leg to win this guy over. So, under the bouncer's watchful gaze, I slunk to the back of the line of people waiting to be let in.

The longer I stood in line, the edgier I got. I half expected to hear gunshots ring out from inside any second, followed by the screams of a panicked crowd. But so far, nothing. Though I'd been keeping a very close eye on the people entering the club. If Xenos was here, hopefully that meant he was still in my body. Because if he wasn't, that meant that some other poor schmuck was running around in my body, and things were going to get complicated in a hurry.

Though Victoria wasn't kidding about the club being exclusive. I watched a few other couples enter the "VIP" line that she'd used, but the line that I was in was moving so slowly that my new feminine body was going to be experiencing menopause by the time I got inside. As near as I could tell, the VIPs all had those silver moon-themed pins...or more accurately, the women did. Sometimes they wore the medallion as pins, or as chokers, or as bracelets, but it seemed like their male companions were the "plus ones" to this show.

While I watched and waited, I wasn't idle. I fished Jessie's phone out of my purse, and fortunately, I didn't have any trouble unlocking it. (Initially, I thought maybe she'd used her birthday as the unlock code, and I started to check her driver's license. Then I got the idea to first try "1234," and it unlocked on the first try. Ugh, that girl.)

My fingers danced over the virtual keyboard as I ran a few quick internet searches. Nothing fancy, but it was enough to verify that Victoria's story seemed to check out. Victoria Dunne was the wife of industrialist Cleveland Dunne, an octogenarian millionaire who lived out west and made his money in oil. I even found a picture of the two of them together at some charity function. The ravishing young Victoria hanging on the old man's arm made her look like a total gold digger, but it gave me a shiver. She'd made it pretty clear that she'd been under Dunne's thumb these last ten years, and heavily implied that sex was part of her marital duties. I cringed at the thought of it.

I also ran a search for Vic DeLuca, which she'd claimed had been her original name. There was very little out there, but I did find mention of a private investigator with that name out in California who'd gone out of business. There were also some posts from an irate customer saying that he'd charged her for a job and then disappeared before it was finished. That was about ten years ago.

Searching for Xenos gave me nothing. I can't say I was surprised. However, the news sites were starting to light up about tonight's death of Carson Beaumont, the reclusive multimillionaire who'd ended up dead outside a Faraday City strip club. No mention of my name in that regard, thank goodness, but it was a good bet the cops were looking for me to ask some pointed questions about that. Or rather, they were looking for Xenos in my body. I could only hope that Xenos didn't ditch it to keep the heat off.

I was running out of time.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of some young couple arguing with the bouncer up at the head of the line. I couldn't make out the words, but the outcome was unsurprising, as they got turned away.

"I told you that wasn't going to work!" the guy sniped as the pair angrily stalked past me. "That stupid piece of junk cost two hundred dollars!"

They continued to argue as they walked past, but a twinkling flash caught my eye as the woman dumped something in a trash can on the sidewalk.

Everybody else in line was busy talking or making other plans as it became increasingly apparent they weren't going to get in, so I appeared to be the only one to have noticed the exchange. I quietly stepped out of line and moved over to the trash can and nonchalantly retrieved what the girl had thrown away.

It was one of the moon-themed pins.

I'd gotten a good look at Victoria's pin while we'd been in the car. If this was a copy, it was a hell of a good one. Certainly enough to pass muster by a distracted bouncer. Except that it wasn't. He'd stopped them immediately.

It was possible that there was some tiny detail that the bouncer knew to look for. Still, this was Faraday City, home to superheroes and all manner of technological and mystical mumbo-jumbo. It was entirely possible that there was some kind of high-tech transceiver or mystical spell on the genuine pins that the bouncer was able to perceive. Not that any of that did me any good.

The blaring of a car horn in the street immediately in front of me grabbed my attention. I looked up to see a car swerve to avoid a maroon Bentley that had apparently crossed over the middle line. The Bentley gave a belated honk of annoyance, and then turned into the parking lot of the club, one of the tires carelessly rebounding off the curb as it did so.

I'd been a P.I. long enough to recognize when an opportunity presented itself. And right now, I was desperate enough to take full advantage.

I hurried back over towards the parking lot as rapidly as I could without attracting attention. The Bentley was already crookedly parked and taking up two spots, and I watched as the driver exited the car and took a bad step as he made a drunken stumble out of the vehicle. He was wearing a tuxedo, and he looked to be a young guy, maybe in his late 20s. There was no way a punk like that could afford a car like that on his own, it had to be family money. From what I could tell, there was only one other person still in the car, a woman from the look of it.

"Shit," I muttered as I realized what I had to do.

I quickly removed my trench coat and tossed it onto the hood of one of the other cars as I looked down at myself in my ridiculous pink dress. My cleavage was on impressive display, but with a wince I grabbed at my boobs and hiked them up, even as I tugged down on the bodice to put on a real show. I then quickly made my way over to where the guy was standing.

"C'mon, Amelia! I'm sure you look great," the guy slurred impatiently. The woman snapped back something inaudible, but she seemed to be checking her makeup in the passenger-side mirror.

I made a discreet cough as I approached, and the guy turned in my direction.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, giving me an appreciative once over. He barely even looked at my face as he said, "Lookin' fine, honey. S'why I like this club. Women don' dress like this no more."

Women never dressed like this, not that I was going to contradict him. "Thanks," I said in a simper as I twirled my finger around one of my pigtails that swept down around my chest. I leaned forward to make sure he got a nice view of the goods as I made a little tsk of disappointment. "It's so boring in there, though. My boyfriend ditched me, and I'm so bored in there all by myself."

Clearly, I wasn't going to win any Oscars for this performance. Not that it seemed to matter.

"Well, thass a shame," the guy slurred as he moved to a very familiar distance. He reeked of liquor, and he was so close that it made me nervous. He was a good deal bigger than I was now, and I definitely wasn't used to being this close to a guy. Especially one who was looking at me the way he was.

I kinda liked it.

I mean, yeah, he was drunk, but he was young and cute. With a strong chin and tousled blond hair. Like a surfer! Ooh, and he had super sexy eyes with this little squint that gave me a shiver.

I gave him an easy smile and lifted my chin. Then I hit him with my best half-lidded come-on glance. "I know, right? And here I got all dressed up, and everything! I just wanted to have fun, but he doesn't appreciate me. I even got a new outfit!"

I leaned closer, y'know, like I was showing off my dress. Then I kinda accidentally-on-purpose brushed my boob against his arm. Guys liked it when I did stuff like that. I snuggled up to him. Wow, I liked the way he was looking at me. He and I might even f—

"Hey, I gotta idea," the guy said as he ran his hand down my arm. "Why don' you an' me—"

"Trey, who the fuck is this?" his date snapped as she got out of the car and shot me a dirty look. She was wearing a slinky black evening gown and glam makeup like the other women I'd seen in line. Real put together. I could tell she'd also been drinking, but she wasn't as drunk as the guy.

The sharp sound of her door slamming shut focused my attention.

Wait. Shit, I'd completely fucked this up. I'd planned to flirt with the guy just enough to tag along with them, but now the girlfriend was on the warpath. I suddenly became aware of how close I was standing to her date, to say nothing of how his hand was surreptitiously stroking the small of my back.

I needed a new plan, and fast.

My every instinct was to step back and de-escalate the situation, but that ship had sailed. So instead, I made a self-satisfied smirk and leaned closer to the guy so that I was practically snuggling against him. I didn't say anything, but I just batted my eyelashes at him prettily.

"She's jus' some girl," Trey said as I gave him an affectionate simpering look. "Her guy ditched her. Maybe she could—"

"Dumbass, she's a hooker," Amelia said as she glared daggers at me. But now that she was close enough, I could see that she was wearing the club's moon-themed pin on her dress above her left breast.

Time to pick a fight.

"Hey, fuck you, Morticia!" I shot back at her, careful not to contradict her insult. Her man didn't seem the chivalrous type, but I didn't want to risk him jumping to my defense. I gave her an angry sneer. "You're no better. You're just a higher class whore."

I stuck my chin out defiantly, practically begging her to pop me one. But while the scowl she gave me could melt stainless steel, she didn't take the bait.

Amelia walked over to Trey's other side and wrapped her arm possessively around his. "Come on, darling, let's go inside. I'm not going to let this street walking gutter trash ruin our evening."

I guess sometimes you have to do things the hard way.

"Bitch!" I shrieked as I launched myself at her with both hands, claws out like an attacking kitten. That was about as much of a threat as I posed. She was a good two inches taller than me, but she'd been drinking, so my unexpected assault caught her off guard as I clawed at her chest and tried to give her a shove back. She raised her arms defensively, but I went in again. Her man, meanwhile, appeared to be in no rush to intervene, and seemed to be enjoying the sight of two girls having a catfight over him.

My hand touched her pin, and I felt as it started to come free. I was so fixated on trying to get it loose without looking like I was trying to get it loose that I didn't notice her hands ball up into fists. Or, for that matter, how she'd brought them up in a boxer's guard position. I certainly didn't notice how she'd shifted her stance into more of a fighting pose.

"OOOOF!" I gasped as her punch to my gut completely knocked the wind out of me. Before I knew it, I was tumbling backwards and landed butt-first on the pavement. My big round ass cushioned some of the physical shock—if not the damage to my ego—and my boobs bounced so hard when I impacted the ground that I worried they might bounce right out of my dress.

My fucking luck I'd pick a fight with a girl who takes Tae Bo classes.

By the time I righted myself, it was all over. Amelia had already taken a moment to collect herself, and I watched helplessly as the two of them started to walk away.

Reflexively, my hand darted out after them as I helplessly reached out, still thinking about the pin attached to her gown. Dammit, two more seconds, and I'd have had it!

That's when I froze.

I could feel the pin in my hand. Or...kind of? There was like a vague sensation in my fingers, like a tickle. A weight.

Holy shit, it was Jessie's Trifling power! Some kind of really low-level telekinesis?

I didn't stop to think about it, I just focused on lifting the pin. Jesus Christ, it was heavy. It felt like I was lifting a bowling ball in my outstretched arm. Even that tiny bit of weight was a strain. Just... a little... more...

Got it!

I watched as the pin floated off to the side, unnoticed by the drunk couple. I strained to hold it off to one side even as I pulled out the fake pin that I'd recovered earlier. The couple was about fifteen feet away by this point, so I tossed it in their direction.

Pinng! went the pin as it landed at the woman's feet. My aim was good, so she looked down and picked it up, obviously assuming that it must have come loose in our scuffle. She shot one last glowering look at me to make sure I wasn't looking to start something again, but since I was sprawled on the ground with a pained look on my face, she just gave me one last derisive sneer before she turned and walked away with her date.

I concentrated and brought the genuine pin to my hand and then hurried over to collect my purse and trench coat.

Not too shabby, Chase.

Still, it was too soon for a victory lap. I followed the couple at a discreet distance, just far enough away to make it clear I wasn't looking to pick another fight. And my timing here needed to be perfect.

I examined the pin that I'd lifted. It looked identical to the fake, although the woman's name was discreetly engraved on the back: Amelia Bettencourt. Luckily for me, Amelia hadn't bothered to check that detail, and I hoped that by the time they figured it out, it wouldn't matter.

I pulled the elastic bands out of my hair to get rid of my ponytails, and I vigorously ran my fingers through my long blonde tresses as we walked onto the sidewalk. Then, as we passed alongside the line of people waiting to get inside, I scanned the crowd until I found my mark.

Ha, perfect. A young guy was standing there talking with a couple of his friends. He was in his early 20s and kind of geeky and scrawny, but he'd committed to the bit and was all dressed up in a zoot suit and fedora. His two friends seemed to be trying to chat up some girls near them in the line, but he was hanging back quietly.

I reached over and plucked his fedora off his head and playfully placed it on my own as he turned to look at me. The shocked look on his face when he saw me was priceless. Even more so were the equally gobsmacked looks of his friends when he saw me pulling him out of line, no doubt wondering what he could possibly have done to warrant such attention from a girl who looked like me.

"C'mon, lover boy, it's your lucky night," I said as I jammed my trench coat into his hands and then wrapped my arms tightly around his bicep. He was too stunned to say anything. His friends howled in disbelief and cat-called after me, trying to get me to choose one of them instead.

My little recruitment hadn't taken long, but it was just long enough for the drunk couple to have started a loud argument with the bouncer as he turned them away. The woman was practically shoving her pin in the guy's face, and the guy was going on about how his father would hear of this.

When the bouncer had ejected me the first time, I'd been all wrapped up in my trench coat with only my face and pigtails showing, so I figured I might catch him unawares by showing up in my sexy pink dress. It wasn't really thematic with everyone else, but it probably passed for the skanky costume of a bimbo who didn't really understand the assignment, so I figured I had a shot. So, while he was distracted with the angry couple, I positioned myself on the far side of my male escort and lowered the brim of my fedora even as I snuggled up against my "date" enthusiastically. I flashed the moon pin as we approached and held my breath.

The bouncer did a double take in our direction, and at first I thought I was busted. But then when I saw the bouncer shake his head incredulously, I realized he was likely wondering what on earth my nerdy-looking companion had going for him to rate a hottie like me.

From the look on his face, my young escort was clearly wondering the same thing.

We entered the club into a fairly sizable anteroom done up in an art deco style. A young woman with a bob haircut and a short fringed black dress approached us and asked for our coats. My "date" was still holding my trench coat, but I elected to have him continue to hold on to it. I figured I'd be needing it. My Dollface costume was sexy as all get-out, but it also stood out like blood on a wedding dress.

The coat check girl didn't raise a fuss, but she was much more emphatic about collecting our phones. My escort tried to object—no doubt wanting to get some photographic evidence of all this—but it was pretty clear that this was a strict club policy. I surrendered Jessie's phone, and he reluctantly followed suit.

We then entered the club proper through a pair of frosted glass doors. Then, as we crossed the threshold, we stepped backwards in time.

The club was like a nightclub or jazz club out of the 1940s, so authentic that I practically expected my vision to be in black and white. It was dimly lit, with lots of small and intimate round tables. Each table had a small round light in the center that threw off just enough of a glow to illuminate the faces of the patrons like phantoms, and collectively give the impression of a constellation of stars in the dim light. The booths and tables around the edge were even more secluded and intimate. All of them had unobstructed views of the small stage that was on the other side of the club.

The band was playing a low-key jazz tune, and the stage had some bottom lighting and a few spots in the back that highlighted the band members, but otherwise hardly seemed to penetrate the darkness. Off to one side of the club was a lighted bar area that illuminated the bottles and glassware with a ghostly radiance that made it look like it had been torn from another era.

And...it was smoky. A faint haze was visible in the dim light, as were wisps and curlicues of smoke from the tables. The scent of cigarettes hit me almost immediately, and it caught me by surprise. Even in Faraday City, the bars and clubs were all smoke free, so this was nearly unheard of. Some people were vaping, but several people in the crowd were smoking cigarettes. Now that I saw the scene, the reasons for their unusual manner of dress outside made perfect sense. I felt like I'd walked into an old movie.

I had no idea places like this still existed.

My "date" coughed at the cigarette smoke, reminding me of his presence.

"Thanks," I said as I took my trench coat out of his arms and slipped it on. I caught sight of myself in a nearby mirror, and my reflection caught me by surprise. Being a woman was bad enough, but it was worse being reminded that I was wearing Jessie's body. I looked positively adorable in my trench coat and fedora, like I was a kid playing at being a hard-bitten detective from a period film.

Speaking of kids...

"Okay, fuck off," I said to him. "I gotta go to work."

The young guy looked crestfallen, but when I mentioned going to work, a look of realization dawned on his face, no doubt deducing that my likely profession was the oldest profession. Though he still looked disappointed.

Oh, what the hell.

I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Look, I got you in. Now, go. Have fun," I said in as firm a tone as I could manage. "And I'm keeping the hat."

I left him and began to make a slow orbit around the club, searching for Victoria. Or...me, for that matter. Or rather, Xenos in my body. As I drifted around the tables, it was a weird sensation. Even wrapped up in my trench coat and hat, I could still feel guys' eyes roam over me. I wasn't showing off my ridiculous dress or much of my body, but the way they watched me, I felt—

I felt—

I had the strangest urge just then to throw the coat open and give them a real show. Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself pulling the top of my coat open, just enough to show a little more skin. It gave me a funny shiver. I kinda liked it.

With a small grunt of frustration, I pulled the coat tightly closed again and resumed my circuit around the club.

I wondered what the hell I would do if I even found Xenos. Though it was a sure bet that my situation didn't improve if Victoria put a bullet in his head. On the other hand, if I warned him of the impending assassination attempt, I rather doubted that he'd be so grateful as to simply swap me back into my old body. And even if he did, he'd killed Jessie...I wasn't about to let him just walk away from that.

I can't say I entirely disagreed with Victoria's plan to kill Xenos, but I preferred to not have a vagina when she pulled the trigger. I was fussy that way.

I finished my sweep of the club and came up empty. I'd checked both floors of the club, and I'd even looked in the ladies' room, thankful that I didn't have to explore that particular experience just yet. There were some rooms for private parties in back, but I didn't think she was in there. The ones I'd passed had several voices coming from inside, and I didn't think that Victoria was likely to want to shoot Xenos in front of a bunch of witnesses. I'd even taken a sly peek into the small kitchen area, and again it was a bustle of people, but no Victoria.

That only left whatever management offices or storage areas this place might have, but I wasn't sure how to even get to those. However, I didn't think Victoria had somehow slipped out the back and ditched me, which meant that she was here. Somewhere.

Shit.

I hated this. I felt like a shot was going to ring out any second. It would be like the starter pistol for my exciting new life as a stripper working for Desmond Marcks over at Unmasked.

Tink. Clack. Went the gold lighter in my hand as I fussed at it. I hadn't even realized I was holding it.

Work the problem, Chase.

Right. Victoria has a gun, but she's not going to want to gun Xenos down in front of all these people. She's desperate and angry, but she probably doesn't want to spend the rest of her life in prison. She'll be surreptitious. Subtle. I needed to be patient and keep my eyes open. An opportunity would present itself.

I found an empty booth off to the side that gave me a good view of the club. A waitress came by and took my drink order, and I got the experience of being carded for the first time in over twenty years. I wasn't keen to stay in this body, but it seemed like my mid-life crisis had become my quarter-life crisis. When my drink came, I was still carefully eyeing the crowd, but so far, nada. But as I reached for my drink—bourbon, neat—I practically recoiled from the smell even before it got to my lips. I guess Jessie never developed a taste for bourbon. I put the glass down in disgust. I couldn't even—

That's when I saw Victoria. She was standing on the stage in front of the band, basking in a spotlight and holding a microphone.

So much for subtle.

I hadn't been paying attention, but the band leader had made some kind of announcement, followed by applause from the audience.

The band began to play a slow and low-key number as Victoria started to sing. It was like a torch song, low and breathy with the piano accompaniment, and barely enough drums and bass to not distract from her vocals. And she was good. Like, really good. By the time she crept up on her first high note and the sax and trombone joined in and the song kicked into a higher gear, the entire audience was mesmerized. Conversations stopped as she crooned out the peaks and ground out the lower register in a smoky voice.

She barely seemed to move at first, causing her slightest motion to draw the eye. She slowly blinked and languidly looked left and right like she was taking in the whole room.

As she sang, I found myself splitting my attention between her and the crowd. She had them eating out of her hand. Men and women were all quietly watching her, entranced. I had a feeling that reasons like this were why the place didn't allow phones, and I was grateful. Normally, by now I'd see a bunch of bright cell phone screens held up across the crowd as people tried to capture the moment. But this was the moment. Right now. Afterwards, people might fumble with words to tell their friends what it was like, but this was just for us.

She ground out another unhurried high note, and as I listened to the lyrics, I smiled when I realized why the melody had seemed familiar. It was a 90s song. I'd hardly recognized it like this, but the song of unrequited attraction worked surprisingly well.

"I don't care if it hurts... I wanna have control. I want a perfect body... I want a perfect soul. I want you to notice... When I'm not around. You're so very special. I wish I was special..."

As the song ended and Victoria's final echoing refrain faded, there was a peculiar stillness from the crowd, like the audience was waking up from a dream and suddenly realized they were expected to participate. There was the beginnings of applause, cut short as Victoria and the band launched into another song.

She sang a couple more songs, ending her set to enthusiastic applause from the audience. I had to admit, even I clapped. Like I said, she was good.

After she was done, she hung out by the side of the stage, smoking a cigarette and checking her watch. I watched her like a hawk, figuring this was the moment I'd been waiting for. But after several minutes when it became obvious that she'd been stood up, we were both disappointed.

To my surprise, she walked directly up to my booth. I guess I hadn't been as discreet as I'd hoped.

"Let me guess," I said as she stood there looking down at me, "Xenos was never coming here at all, and you always just dreamed of being a cabaret singer?"

She regarded me evenly. "Another insightful deduction coming from Barbie, P.I.," she retorted dryly.

"911. Shots fired," I said with a slight wince as she sat down across from me. A waitress recognized her and took our order as Victoria took out another cigarette. She offered me one, and I shook my head. She then spotted the gold lighter that I'd been fussing at and held out her cigarette.

I sighed and shook my head. "Sorry, it doesn't work," I told her.

She took her own lighter out of her purse and lit up as I watched. "That's a shame. May I?" she asked, holding out her hand.

I hesitated for a moment and handed it over to her.

"It's very pretty," she said, admiring the lighter as she turned it over in her hand, gently running her fingers over the subtle floral design that was etched into the surface. She opened and closed it with its familiar Tink-Clack. "I must say, beautiful, it's an interesting little memento. Though a curious one."

"Don't call me that," I said. "And curious how?"

"You'd prefer I called you handsome?" she teased. Then she regarded the lighter again. "You don't strike me as the sentimental type."

"No?"

"No. You strike me more like the kind of guy who'd pawn something like this and then use the money to get a blow job."

I chuckled a little at that, mildly annoyed that it came out sounding more like a giggle. "It's from an old case. A reminder that things don't always go the way I'd hoped."

She sniffed. "I don't think I'd need a reminder of that. Who's 'MCC,'?" she asked, reading the monogram on the lighter.

"Madeline Clarice Capshaw. The one case I was never able to close."

Victoria held out her open palm and offered me the lighter that was delicately balanced on the tips of her fingers. As I took it, our feminine fingers brushed up against each other. It made for an odd contrast. Her hands with the understated but expensive jewelry and an expensive manicure alongside my fingers with the gaudy rings and tawdry bright pink nail polish. She then sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. I was sorry I wasn't able to see them, but it was probably just as well. I had enough distractions to contend with as it was.

"Tell me," she gently prompted me as she took another puff on her cigarette.

I shrugged. "This rich guy died, and I got called in by the insurance company. Augustus Capshaw was his name. Natural causes, or so they claimed."

She had a shrewd look on her face. "But you knew better."

"It wasn't just me, the cops were all over it. The whole thing smelled like old fish. Wealthy middle-aged man, hot young widow. She was bound by a prenup and was cheating on him with some mook on the side. Capshaw was a heavy smoker, but otherwise in good health. He might've lived another thirty years." I flipped the lighter over in my hand. "They found him dead in his study at his desk. The room was locked, and no sign of entry."

"The wife had an alibi?" Victoria said.

I nodded. "And the boyfriend. All signs pointed to a heart attack."

Victoria's eyes practically lit up as she appreciated the scenario. "What, an actual locked room murder mystery? You must have practically come in your pants."

I smiled. I forgot that she used to be a P.I. herself. Most of us got into the life thinking we'd be solving murder mysteries, but most of the work was just taking pictures of cheating spouses. To have a genuine locked room murder case fall into our laps was like hitting the lottery.

"I got brought on board to look for possible insurance fraud. Though I knew right away that Madeline had done it. She was so fucking smug, you just knew she was guilty as sin. Not that I could prove it. I looked at everything. Poisons, toxins, food allergies, you name it. Then, I remembered a trick from an old movie about poisoned cigarettes."

I half expected Victoria to react to that as she took another drag on her own cigarette, but of course, she was much too cool for that.

"How delightfully old school. Like something out of a Mike Hammer story," she said.

"That's probably why I went for it. But it fit. We knew the guy had been smoking before he died, and something like that would've been a great murder weapon since it goes up in ashes and leaves no evidence."

"Clever," she agreed. Then her eyes narrowed slightly as she scrutinized my face. As a man, I had a pretty decent poker face, but I wasn't sure if that extended to Jessie. "But that wasn't it," she said.

"I was so sure I had her dead to rights. We tested Capshaw, the ash in his ashtray, the other cigarettes in his case. It all came up empty."

"What'd you do?"

"What could I do? I had to go along with the Medical Examiner's report that it was a heart attack. Natural causes. Shit happens." I looked down at the lighter and opened and closed it. Tink. Clack. "Six weeks later, this little beauty shows up in the mail. Madeline Capshaw was laughing her ass off at me, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"Cheeky minx," Victoria said.

We sat quietly for a moment while she smoked her cigarette. My eyes drifted to some of the guys walking past, probably working up the nerve to invite themselves to sit at our table and chat us up. Though I noticed that Victoria seemed to be giving me an odd look. Pensive.

I figured it was time to press the issue.

"Outside, you told me you were out of time. What'd you mean by that?" I asked her.

She sighed heavily. "The reason I thought Xenos would be here was because tonight is my anniversary as a woman. Xenos enjoyed having my husband bring me here every year. It amused the two of them to see me shimmy up on stage and play at being the femme fatale. My getting up and singing was our signal to him to let him know we were here. We never knew what Xenos might look like, so I'd do my number and he'd approach us afterwards."

"But he didn't show tonight."

"No. He might have been suspicious when my husband wasn't here."

"Your husband worked with Xenos?"

Victoria nodded. "Xenos is a private individual, but he has people out there doing his dirty work. Also, he's got some kind of vendetta against magic users, though I'm not sure why. And other body swappers, for that matter. He apparently didn't want any competition in that area. I'm pretty sure he's hunted down and killed them all."

So much for finding any help from somebody else, I thought. "So, what changed? Why the big rush to get in here and take him out?"

"What changed is that my husband died the other night. It's not public information yet, but it will be soon. Then, once Xenos finds out that I'm no longer a 'kept woman,' I become a liability to him. He's going to kill me, Mr. Chase. I'd hoped that I could keep our appointment and act like nothing was wrong so that I could lure him out and finish him first. But now it seems I'm in need of your help."

"Our interests aren't exactly aligned."

"They're aligned enough. I know Xenos. If he did indeed choose you for a reason, then you have—or had—something that he wants. That makes you useful to me. Although, as you pointed out, he's not going to give you your body back simply because you ask him nicely."

"What if I had leverage?" I said slowly. "I think I know what he might be after."

Just then, the waitress returned with our drinks. Or Victoria's drink, at least. She put a glass of white wine in front of Victoria, and what looked like a cosmopolitan or some other fruity concoction in a cocktail glass in front of me. I was about to object, but she took off before I could say anything.

"What's this?" I complained.

"You ordered it, handsome," Victoria said, taking a sip from her own glass.

"I did?" I picked up the glass like I was holding a poisonous snake and took a tentative sip. It actually wasn't bad.

"That's almost as embarrassing as this body," I said as I set my glass down and looked at the drink. A little smear of lipstick stained the edge of my glass where my lips had touched it. A bold shade of pink that was a sharp contrast to the smudge of red that graced the lip of Victoria's glass.

But as I looked up at her, she was giving me that weird look again. Different this time. Concerned. Scared, even. Why would she be scared?

"What?" I huffed.

"You really don't remember ordering that just now? And I'm guessing that's not something you'd usually order," she reasoned.

I shrugged and took another sip. "So?"

"Mr. Chase, are you gay?"

I practically choked on my drink. "Excuse me?"

"This is important. Before tonight, have you habitually worn women's clothes?"

"Oh, fuck you. Maybe you went native, honey, but I'm not a fruit."

She ignored my insult, and she looked at me with deadly earnest as she leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"Mr. Chase, since you've been sitting here, you've been eye fucking every guy that's walked past. You somehow knew to order a drink that body would enjoy. And speaking as someone who knows how much work it takes to affect a feminine persona, you're doing it effortlessly. I haven't even seen you stumble once on those ridiculous high heels you're wearing, and that's a trick most women in this club would have trouble pulling off."

"I kinda figured that's, y'know, muscle memory from the body, or something," I demurred uncertainly.

"That's different. Your body has certain preferences, yes. Certain...appetites...that might catch you off guard."

"If you're talking about going in for guys, you can forget it," I insisted.

"Hold on to that thought," she said in a knowing tone. "But what I'm talking about goes beyond that. You're experiencing memory. Or even more than that. I need you to think carefully. Have there been other times tonight when the body seemed to be 'in control'?"

I looked down at my long manicured nails. I should have been fumbling with them all night, but now that I thought back, I realized I'd operated the touch screen on Jessie's phone without even thinking about it. And then there was that time talking to that cop, Keyes, in the parking lot, and I had more than just passing thoughts of attraction for him. Or, for that matter, how I'd snuggled up against that guy in the parking lot.

"I thought as much," Victoria said, reading my face.

"What does it mean?"

She sat back and gave me a level glance. "It means that I've got good news and bad news for you. The good news is that I was mistaken. I believe your young friend Jessie is still alive."

I sat up in my seat. "What? How?"

"That's the bad news. She's alive in there with you right now. You're not acting like her, she's acting like herself, and you're along for the ride. But you're the intruder. Eventually, she's going to take her body back and burn you out like a fever burning out an infection. And there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Jessie wouldn't do that to me."

"I doubt she'll even be aware of you. To her, you'll be nothing more than a bad dream. Two spirits can't coexist in one body like that. Not for long."

"You're telling me I'm going to die?"

She shrugged. It was a maddening gesture. "Or worse. In truth, there's no knowing what will happen to you. You'll likely die. Or you might be trapped forever as a passive observer inside her body, unable to affect the outside world as you spend the rest of her life watching helplessly through her eyes. But you won't be the one in control." She seemed to ponder that. "Honestly, I think I'd prefer oblivion."

I reeled as I tried to process that information, my mouth feeling very dry. "How long do I have?"

"At the rate you're going? 24 hours. At most. She's already taking control in subtle ways. But a day from now, one way or another, you'll cease to exist."

I slumped back in my seat as I tried to process what she'd just told me. I hadn't relished the idea of being a woman for the rest of my life, but when "the rest of my life" was less than a day, that quickly became the least of my worries.

I chuckled ruefully.

"What?" Victoria asked.

"I always had a feeling this kid would be the death of me," I said.

Terrific. Gallows humor. Maybe not super helpful right now, Chase. C'mon, do what you do. Work the problem.

"How do you know all this?" I asked her.

"Xenos told me. I... I begged him to save someone close to me. I suggested something like this as a 'compromise.' Two people in one body, better half a loaf than none at all, or so I figured. That's when he told me how the body's native spirit would extinguish the invading spirit within a day. It's possible he was lying, but I don't think he was. I think he delighted in seeing me crushed by the truth."

"Okay," I said. "You said that Xenos is a body swapper. So, how did this situation even happen?"

Victoria shook her head. "I have no idea. When I'd suggested it to Xenos, I was grasping at straws. I didn't even know for sure this was a thing."

"Dammit. Okay, let's walk through what we know. Xenos was dying, and he came up to my car. I'm pretty sure he tried to swap with me rather than Jessie. So...what would happen if his body died in the middle of the swap?"

Victoria shrugged. "He'd be in your body, and you'd be in the body he just left. Dead."

"Except that I'm not."

She sighed, clearly not enjoying this discussion of hypotheticals. However, given that it was my life at stake, I was more invested. I waited as she mulled it over.

"Fair point. Perhaps your spirit has some 'elasticity' to it. Your spirit was displaced by Xenos, but you couldn't enter a dead body. So maybe you instinctively took shelter in Jessie's body, here. But since you're not a body swapper, you didn't have the strength to displace her. Which explains your current situation."

"So, the thing that maybe saved me is also what's killing me, since Jessie's spirit is going to take over and kick me to the curb. Okay, it's a theory," I reasoned. "Even so, however this happened, Xenos got me in here, so Xenos can get me out. Nothing's changed. We still have to find him."

"Mr. Chase, I'm not even sure he can get you out like that. But think it through. At best, you'd have to swap someone else into your situation. You'd be condemning that other person to death. I haven't known you for long, but I can tell you're a decent man. Xenos may be a killer the way he steals lives, but you're not."

I pondered that. "What does that leave me with? Spending my last few remaining hours looking for revenge?"

"I am sorry for what's happened to you. But by now, I think you understand why Xenos has to be stopped, Mr. Chase."

I laughed once. I didn't know I had it in me, but this had gotten so off-the-scale bad that I could hardly do otherwise. "Look, if we're stuck together, it's just 'Chase,' okay? Not 'mister.' Even my mother called me Chase."

She furrowed her brow. "Is that your first name?"

"No," I sighed. Oh, fuck it, I was a dead man, anyway. No sense being embarrassed by it. "My first name is...Salinger."

She narrowed her eyes. "What, you mean like—"

"Mom read The Catcher in the Rye in high school."

"Everyone reads The Catcher in the Rye in high school," Victoria deadpanned. "Why didn't she just name you Holden?"

I glared at her. Even with Jessie's elfin features, I think I got the point across.

"Suit yourself. Chase it is," Victoria conceded before taking another drink from her glass. "So, what's our next move, handsome?"

I took a drink from my own glass and looked at it dubiously. I ran my finger along the delicate curve of the glass, as though trying to convince myself it was real. My feminine hand with the long painted fingernails seemed every bit as fantastical, but somehow, paired with the drink, they felt like they fit together, like pieces of a puzzle. A puzzle where I was the extra piece that didn't fit.

Whatever happened to me, Jessie would be home soon. I just hoped it wasn't too soon, because I had some unfinished business to take care of with Xenos. Because if I was going down, I wasn't going quietly. And unfortunately, that meant that I had to put Jessie's body in some danger while I still had the wheel.

"I have an idea why Xenos might have singled me out. I think I've been working for him."

Unfinished business.

That phrase kept bouncing through my head as Victoria drove us through the darkened streets of the city. The rain had started up again, like the city wanted to take a piss on me one last time. It's funny, because I'd always liked this time of night, when the city became like a dark shadow of itself. Living and breathing, but not the same as it was during the daytime. A dangerous and passionate Mr. Hyde that was a sharp contrast to the more reserved and respectable Dr. Jekyll it presented itself as during the day.

If Victoria was right, and I had less than 24 hours to live, this was the last time I would be seeing the city this way. Strangely, it didn't bother me all that much.

I wasn't a person, I realized. Not a man, not a woman. Not even alive, not really. Xenos had killed me as surely as if he'd put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. I was merely a ghost with unfinished business, given an extension of a few precious hours to see it done.

I wasn't a man who'd been robbed of his life and was desperately clinging on by his fingernails. Instead, I was cheating death in a deadly game of hide and seek where I'd taken temporary refuge from the grim reaper in Jessie's body.

It was odd how reframing it that way made it somehow easier to handle.

"You know, just because you have a mysterious client doesn't mean that it's Xenos," Victoria said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Doesn't mean that it isn't, either. Besides, you're the one who said it was unlikely that he targeted me by accident."

Victoria seemed dubious. "The timing does seem coincidental that he'd reach out to you today," she admitted. "Though why would Xenos have you running around building dossiers of rich and famous people around the city? He's more than capable of doing that himself. And why would he want them in the first place?"

"Not only around the city," I countered. "Although many of them are here. As to why, I think you answered that yourself. You said he'd been living in Beaumont's body for over 20 years. Then today, his house mysteriously burns down, and he shows up on my doorstep."

"You think he's looking for a new 'mount,'" she reasoned. "Some new life he can slip into. Probably someone rich, with resources. He'd probably be looking for a particular type, someone he can impersonate without raising too many questions."

"Maybe not just rich," I said.

Victoria did a double-take from behind the steering wheel, trying to read my face and keep an eye on the road. "What do you mean?"

I sighed heavily. I wasn't looking forward to admitting any of this, but I supposed it didn't matter anymore.

"Is this about you fucking a raccoon?" Victoria asked.

"I didn't fuck a raccoon!" I objected. "How do you even know about that?"

She shrugged. "After what went down in the parking lot, I hung around to find out what happened. As I was waiting, this young blond delivery guy came out. I asked about you, and he kept going on about how you'd fucked a raccoon, and now he wasn't sure if he still had money to go to college."

"Oh, Lord," I muttered. If there was any justice in this whole mess, it was that Xenos was running around in my body with that albatross hanging around his neck.

"This is that Procyon thing, isn't it?" she asked. When I looked surprised, she gave me a reproving glance. "What? I Googled it after he told me. I did used to be a P.I., you know. Despite what I look like now. That still doesn't explain Xenos's interest."

"Because if he's as smart as you say, I have a feeling he figured out that I'd collected most of the dossiers he was looking for already." I let out another little sigh. "I'd been pulling that information together for months. Longer, even. My access to the Faraday Insurance case files gave me all kinds of insights into people's lives."

"What sort of insights?"

"Insights into whether any of them was secretly a super."

Victoria pressed her perfectly made-up lips into a disbelieving moue. "I'm not buying it. People are constantly trying to crack superheroes' secret identities, but you think you figured it out because you read some insurance records?"

I shook my head. "You don't understand. I wasn't trying to crack any one particular hero's secret identity. I was trying to crack anybody's secret identity. I had a list of rich people and a list of supers. All I had to do was find one match. Hero or villain, I didn't really care. So long as they were rich. "

"Ohh," she said with a wicked smile. "You devious little prick. You were looking for someone rich to blackmail. Chase, I take it back. You're sneakier than you look."

"Now I am," I grumped as I looked down at my cleavage and fussed at a lock of blonde hair. "Anyway, Procyon was the first one that popped. I made the connection after Procyon Lass was killed. With the information I'd already accumulated, I was able to figure out who she was, and from there, I knew who Procyon was. Billionaire tycoon Devon Dennings."

"You blackmailed him for money to keep his identity secret."

"Yeah," I admitted. I wasn't proud to be admitting it out loud, although it was kind of nice being able to brag to someone how I'd done it. "Or at least, I tried to. I approached Dennings. I even reminded him that it wasn't only his own identity at stake, it was also his other sidekick, Kid Procyon. After a little arm twisting, Dennings agreed to pay up, but then Kid Procyon popped the balloon before I could collect. He publicly exposed his own secret identity and claimed I was blackmailing them."

"Which you were."

"Yeah, but nobody else knew that. So, when the press and the cops grilled me, I told 'em that it came out in my insurance investigation, and that I was just doing my job. That probably would have been the end of it, except that now that Dennings' identity was out there, one of his arch-enemies was able to kill him, too. And since Procyon was universally beloved by the whole freaking city, everybody blames me for getting him killed."

"Which you kind of did."

"Don't you start. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. How was I supposed to know the kid was going to blab to the world?" I sat quietly for a moment. "Anyway, Kid Procyon took on Dennings' mantle, and the police were all over me for months. But they could never make it stick."

Victoria tilted her head incrementally. "Useful," she murmured. Then, she added, "What I mean is, assuming Xenos is still in your body, all this makes his world that much smaller. Plus, the police will already be looking for him for the death in the parking lot."

That didn't make me feel much better. Despite everything, I still had a fading glimmer of hope that maybe I could get out of this back into my own body. But if that happened, I preferred not to be going to prison for crimes Xenos might have committed while he was in temporary residence there.

"That's why I think it might have been Xenos who hired me," I explained. "If he was shopping for a new 'mount,' a rich metahuman is the Triple Crown. He gets the money, the powers, and he also gets someone who's been guarded with their identity, maybe making them easier to impersonate. And I might be sitting on a list of potential candidates."

"If you're right, then there's no way that Xenos was ever going to let you live, having seen that information. He wouldn't build a new life with you out there, ready to point the finger."

I made a low and throaty grumble. Jessie's voice took some of the gravitas out of it, but I feel like I got my point across.

"Xenos doesn't have to kill me. He's already killed me. Now, I just need to return the favor."

Just then, a playful high-pitched electronic chirp came from my purse. I recognized it as the tone Jessie used for her incoming text messages.

Victoria and I made quick eye contact. We both had the same thought. I was after 1am, so it was awfully late for Jessie to be getting a text from one of her friends to come out and hit the bars, even on a stripper's schedule. It could have been a friend of hers from Unmasked, but somehow I knew this message was meant for me. However, there was only one person on planet Earth who would know to contact me on Jessie's phone right now.

"Holy shit," I said. "It's him."

The text had come from me—the male me—so Xenos was apparently using my phone. Along with my body. Just the thought of it gave me a chill.

"What does it say?"

"It says, 'Mr. Chase, I want those files. Immediately. I trust I don't have to make threats.'" I looked over at her. "What do I say?"

"At least it means he doesn't already have the files," Victoria said in an equivocal tone. "You said they're hidden at your office?"

I nodded.

"Then it's safe to say he's already checked there, but he didn't find them. He might even be there right now."

"He's gonna want to meet," I said. I chewed on my lip and typed out a response and hit send.

"What'd you tell him?"

"I told him to meet me at Club Nocturne in 30 minutes. He'll be pissed when I don't show, but right now I want him someplace that we're not."

"Smart," Victoria said. She then gave me a worried look. "That's not gonna fool him for long. We need to get those files."

We drove past my place. Victoria didn't even slow down, not wanting to attract any attention. I could see that the lights were off, not that that proved anything. She pulled around the corner and parked.

"You know how Xenos operates. What's the play?" I asked.

"We go in together. He already knows who both of us are, so there's no sense trying to trick him."

I nodded. Then I noted that she was holding her purse protectively in her lap.

"Maybe I should hold the gun," I suggested.

She pursed her lips into a knowing smile. "You're worried that I'm going to put a bullet in his brain before you have a chance to negotiate with him."

"Yes. That's pretty much why."

"If you wanted to have a gun, you should have brought your own," she teased. "Relax. If this turns into the gunfight at the OK Corral, we're both dead. This is insurance. A bit of incentive for him to listen."

I wasn't sure what to make of that. I knew Victoria wanted Xenos dead, even if it meant being stuck as a woman for the rest of her life. However, I doubted she wanted to spend those years in prison for killing my body, either. I had to admit, if she was right and I only had hours to live, it would be a bit of comfort knowing that Xenos was dead first. But even though what Victoria had said about Jessie's spirit kicking me to the curb made sense, I still had some crazy hope that Xenos could fix things somehow. I guess I needed to hear it from him.

Not that I expected him to give me a straight answer, either.

"Fine," I said, moving to put my hand on the door handle.

"Wait a second," Victoria said. "We need to be ready for anything. If he starts swapping bodies with us, it'll get confusing. We need code words. Tell me something about you he wouldn't know."

I thought for a moment. "My favorite kind of ice cream is Magnum. Coincidentally, also my favorite gun."

She smiled. "My favorite month is September," she offered.

We got out of the car and made for the entrance. The rain had let up, and it was a warm and humid summer night, but I tugged my trench coat tight around me. Being in Jessie's body was disorienting enough, but walking the familiar streets so close to home made me feel self-conscious. Like one of my neighbors was going to see me running around in makeup and a dress and have a good laugh at my expense. Though looking like I did, no guy who saw me would be laughing.

I felt a strange shiver run through me. Familiar, but not because of the area. It took me a minute to realize that back when Jessie was working the streets, she'd probably worked street corners like this one. I'd felt sorry for her, but it wasn't until now that I appreciated better what it must have felt like to put herself on display in this dark urban jungle for literally any guy who might come along.

I tugged my coat a little tighter.

Victoria and I got to the front of my building. If she was as nervous as I was, it didn't show. But the closed stores and derelict storefronts that I barely took notice of as a man during the light of the day became a lot more menacing when viewed as a woman in the middle of the night under dim street lamps.

The building itself was a remnant of a bygone era, built before Faraday City had been established. It was an old mixed-use structure from a time when the lines between commercial and residential spaces were more fluid. Since then, it had been chopped up and reconfigured so many times that eventually it was left to decay like the rest of the area, waiting for redevelopment. But for now, it was another forgotten relic on a forgotten street, its once-proud facade now weathered and chipped. The lower floors still held a few struggling businesses—a pawn shop with barred windows, a bar that had shut down, and a bodega that never seemed to be open. The upper floors where my place was located had been converted into makeshift apartments decades ago, long before the zoning laws tightened.

The main front door lock had been broken for months, so we entered quietly. Victoria paused at the aging elevator and raised an eyebrow, but I shook my head and nodded over towards the stairwell. The elevator worked most of the time, but it was as neglected as the rest of the building, so it'd be a gamble if it'd get us up there or get stuck between floors. To say nothing of the noise. This wasn't exactly a stealth mission, but there was no sense in announcing our approach.

Victoria slipped in front of me as we crept up the steps as best as we could in our high heels. She was doing better than me. Her gun was already in her hand—I hadn't even seen her take it out—and for the first time, I got a glimpse of the private eye under the sensual skin. Her moves were still lissome and feminine as she slithered up the steps with an almost feline grace, but she also checked the corners like a professional.

Meanwhile, I was...distracted. Trying to keep quiet in these ridiculous shoes was hard enough, but as I climbed the steps, the movement caused a disquietingly hefty jiggle on my chest. Jessie's Dollface costume wasn't exactly doing me any favors in that regard. It was, after all, a stripper's outfit, so it wasn't exactly designed to provide a lot of support.

My eyes drifted up to Victoria, her big round butt swaying back and forth right in front of me. Her dress was practically painted on, and it showed off all of her curves. She turned to go up the next flight of steps, and the insanely high side slit on her dress flashed a shocking length of thigh, and a bit of lace at the top of her stockings and garter belt. I felt myself flush, and I bit on my fingernail as a playful smile graced my lips.

God, she was so hot. A sexy little shiver ran through me as I watched her. I bet her and me could have some fun. That curvy body, those gorgeous eyes, those dark red lips, begging to be—

Huh, how come she's looking at me like that? Wow, she looks so beautiful when she's angry. She—

"Chase!" Victoria hissed, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

"I'm fine!" I said, a little too loudly as I snapped back to myself. I'd love to say that it was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on me, but the truth was that my body was still experiencing some residual excitement, causing unfamiliar sensations in parts of my body I'd just as soon not be reminded about. Was that Jessie? Was she into girls? That hadn't felt like me. I mean, Victoria was a stone fox, but I usually had a bit more self-control than that. A bit.

"I'm fine," I repeated, although Victoria didn't seem especially satisfied with that response. Though, frankly, neither was I. My glitches were becoming more frequent. If I spaced out like that when we confronted Xenos...

Just focus, Chase. Try to stay focused.

Then I realized that we'd already reached the third floor.

"That way," I said, pointing down the hall. "All the way at the end."

Belatedly, I realized that I didn't have my key to get in, not in this body. But it turned out not to be necessary. The door had already been forced.

Victoria and I made silent eye contact, and the puzzled expression on her face mimicked my own. Why would Xenos have forced the door if he had a key?

There was a loose floorboard just outside my office that had a squeak. I suppose I could have had them fix it, but it was occasionally useful. I silently gestured to Victoria to step over the offending board, and we crept inside.

Quietly, we entered the darkened office. Even with the lights turned off, the flickering neon building sign outside bathed the room in a ruddy glow. The light seemed to bleed through the venetian blinds, casting fractured shadows across the room. This main room was my office, with a big desk and my worn leather armchair, along with a couple smaller chairs on the opposite side for clients. There was a battered old couch off against one wall, along with some mismatched bookshelves and filing cabinets.

And it had been completely torn apart.

The place had been tossed. Not very subtly, either. Whoever did it had been in a hurry. The furniture was up-ended, files were strewn everywhere, and the couch cushions had been sliced open. Some of the drop ceiling tiles had even been removed.

Someone had definitely been here. Someone might still be here.

Again, I made silent eye contact with Victoria, nodding for her to head towards the door on the far side of the room as I moved to check out another door on the wall opposite.

My place was a combination of office and apartment. At one point, the space had likely been a small suite of offices, but it had been repurposed into a hybrid of living and working space. Victoria moved across the room over into my bedroom and bathroom area, while I slid open a narrow door that led to a small kitchenette and storage area. The space was barely large enough to hold a fridge and a sink that was piled with dishes, and a coffee maker that never got a moment's rest. I edged carefully over to the small storage area that housed a number of boxes. It looked like they'd been tossed, too.

Nobody was there.

Suddenly, a sharp sound of movement came from behind me, and I spun to face it. Through the dim glow of the neon lights outside the window, I could barely make out a shape over by the sink, and there was a clattering crash of dishes hitting the floor as I saw two twinkling eyes look in my direction. An embarrassingly high girlish shriek of surprise passed my lips as I saw the small black-furred shape pounce out the open window onto the fire escape.

In a blink, Victoria was standing in the doorway, gun in hand. Her eyes darted around the room for a moment before she leveled it directly at me.

"September," she said.

"Magnum," I sighed. She lowered the gun as I felt my heart rate start to return to normal. "The neighbor's fucking cat," I said by way of explanation as I nodded to the open window.

Then, a thought occurred to me. "Xenos. He can't...?"

"Become a cat?" Victoria scoffed. Then she stopped to think about it. "No. At least, I don't think so. No," she decided more firmly.

The two of us returned to the main office area, and I righted my big leather desk chair that had been knocked over, which proved to be a bit of a strain for Jessie's skinny arms. I then retrieved the desk lamp from the floor and was mildly surprised when it turned on. It added a bit more illumination to the room, adding a bit of a warm glow to the space. As I plopped myself down in the chair, I noticed Victoria had returned her gun to her purse.

I was getting really goddamn tired of always being a step behind on this caper. It was time to get some answers.

"Laptop is gone," she observed, noting the charging cord on the desk. You could still see the hint of a dust outline where the computer had been.

"Clever," I said. "But not clever enough." I got up from my chair and crossed the room over to where my wall-mounted TV was now sitting crooked on the floor, having been yanked off its perch. I reached behind it and pulled out a small USB drive from one of the slots on the back side.

"Is that...?" Victoria asked.

"The files. Detailed dossiers on the rich and famous of Faraday City and beyond. We find Xenos, and I can use this as leverage. It's what he wants."

Victoria regarded me for a long moment as I crossed back across the room over to my desk and sat down. "Chase," she said finally, "you need to destroy those files."

"Excuse me?"

"I told you before, Xenos can't help you. Though if he gets his hands on those files, just think what you'll be handing him. What if he figures out Promethean's secret identity? Or some other powerful metahuman? Do you really want that on your conscience?"

"If you're right, I'll be dead in hours, anyway. My conscience is the least of my worries."

She shook her head and perched herself against the arm of the sofa. She opened up her purse and put her hand inside...

...and came out holding her cigarette case and lighter. But as she glanced up at me, she stopped still as she saw me pointing a gun at her.

"Was it something I said?" she asked.

"I keep a holdout pistol hidden here for special occasions. I'm not sure it'd comfortably fit in an evening bag, but it's a .38, so I figure it'll make a mess out of that dress you're wearing."

I gestured for her to toss her purse to the side. She did so, and I watched as she calmly took a cigarette out of her case and lit it.

"It's a shame. I liked you better with the pigtails. I bet you'd look adorable holding that. Just like the real Dollface."

"Cut the crap, sister. I may only have been a woman for a few hours, but I wasn't born yesterday. You know too much about Xenos to be just another one of his victims. So, I figure you either are Xenos, or you're working with him."

"I suppose I should be grateful you've moved on from thinking he was the cat. Think it through. If I was Xenos, then why didn't I take those files just now?"

"Which leaves the other possibility. You're working with him."

She smoked her cigarette and gave me a sidelong glace. "You're good," she admitted. "But it's not what you think."

"Thrill me."

She made a rueful smile. "Tell me, handsome. Do you think much about dying?"

"It's been on my mind lately."

"Ha. Yes, I suppose so. Everything I told you was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. I used to be a P.I. named Vic DeLuca, and I did track down Xenos. I'd figured out he'd been living in hiding as Carson Beaumont, so I approached him. However, I didn't tell you why. You see, I was dying. Lung cancer. Terminal." She held up her cigarette. "Feel free to find this funny, if you want."

I kept the gun steadily trained on her, but apart from smoking her cigarette, she made no attempt to move.

"I'm finding a lot of things funny today," I said.

"Mmm. Xenos almost killed me outright, but I convinced him that I could be useful to him. I was a good P.I., and he needed somebody discreet. Someone he could trust not to betray him. In exchange, I wanted what he had—immortality." She paused to think about that and took another drag on her cigarette. "I worked for him. I did his dirty work."

"Right. Then he betrayed you and dumped you in this broad's body."

She smiled. It was the smile of someone who got the joke when nobody else did. Or maybe who got the joke too late.

"You don't get it. Neither did I, back then. I was so fixated on not dying, I'd have given anything to avoid my date with the grim reaper. But Xenos had mastered death. He understood what that meant, and he wanted me to understand." She looked me square in the eyes. "This 'broad' wasn't some random woman he picked off the street. She was my daughter."

"Jesus."

"Thanks to Xenos, I got to watch my daughter choke out her last breath in my body, poisoned by a lifetime of booze and cigarettes and my own bad decisions. And me? I was young. Healthy. Years added to my life. All it took was stealing those years from her like some kind of vampire."

"Earlier, you said you'd begged Xenos to save someone close to you, even if it meant sharing one body," I said. "Your daughter?"

She nodded. "I was desperate. I'd have said anything. I begged him to swap us back." She had a faraway look on her face as she spoke, lost in the memory. "You know what he said to me? He said, 'This is immortality. There's no secret to it. All it takes is conviction. To live forever as the Prodigal Son, squandering the riches you've been given, but instead of going home for absolution, you take more. More and more. There's always more to take. All it takes is the will to do it.'"

Victoria glanced casually to the side and saw an ashtray on the end table next to the sofa and put out the cigarette. Then she looked back up at me.

"I'm going to kill him, Chase. Make no mistake about that. He killed my daughter. He's even killed you. You're just too stubborn to have accepted it yet. So, if you're going to pull that trigger, be my guest. You can rest easy knowing that I one hundred percent deserve it. Though if it's all the same to you, I've got one last life I want to take first. And he's long overdue."

The room fell silent as we stared at each other. The only noise was the intermittent buzz of the flickering neon sign outside and the faint sound of traffic.

Finally, I sighed and lowered the gun and put it on the desk. I then creased my brow and winced slightly.

"What?" Victoria asked.

"Well, I figure if you are Xenos, this is the part where you swap bodies with me and take the files."

She rolled her eyes as she bent over to retrieve her purse. She then put her cigarette case and lighter back inside. "You have serious trust issues," she told me. Then she got a sly little smile. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Nice."

"Now that we're friends again, maybe we can get busy tracking down this asshole," she said. "Though you're right about one thing, he wants those files. I still think you're safer destroying them, but as long as you have them, maybe we can use them to lure him in."

"Oh, yeah, about that." I tossed her the USB drive.

She caught it and looked down at the label written on the side: Movies.

"I don't understand."

"Those aren't actually the files. Those are just some movies I downloaded. So, unless you want to watch Body Heat or Double Indemnity, that's not gonna be much use to us."

She looked at me, then down at the drive in her hand, then back up at me. "Oh, you prick."

"I needed to be sure about you. You weren't exactly being forthcoming."

"You can't trust anybody in this town," she muttered. "All right, then. Where are the files?"

"Gone," I said. I gave an upward nod towards the missing ceiling tiles. "They were up there."

"Are there duplicates? Maybe there's a clue in there we can use to—"

I shook my head. "No. It was all on paper. Some of the people I was investigating were pretty high-tech, so I figured they might find a way to wipe it from my computer or even an external drive. I kept it low-tech. I was going to make photocopies before I handed them over, but I didn't have time. The originals are all there is."

Victoria crossed her arms and looked askance at the trashed office. "This...this doesn't feel right to me. Why would Xenos have texted you for the files if he'd already found them? And even more than that, Xenos is methodical. The forced door, the trashed office...this is sloppy. He's not sloppy."

"You think someone else is working with him?"

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. Her eyes flitted around the room as she took in the mess. "From the up-ended furniture, it was probably a man. Maybe two men. But not more than that, or they'd have split up and tossed the whole place. They hadn't searched the bedroom yet."

"Right. Because they stopped when they found what they were looking for."

I hadn't even realized that my lighter was in my hand, and I was fussing at it as I thought. Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack. Tink.

Clack.

"It was two men," I said.

"How do you know that?"

"Because this wasn't here before."

I stepped aside to show her a bullet hole in the wall. I hadn't noticed it at first since it met right at the edge of the window frame. But it was unmistakable.

"Guess they had a difference of opinion," Victoria said as she inspected the damage. Then she looked around at the floor. "No sign of blood, though. And I didn't see any sign someone tried to clean up in the sink. I guess they missed. Odd nobody reported the gunshot though."

I snorted. "Not in this neighborhood. Besides, the building is mostly empty. It's largely commercial, and the landlord is a robber baron who's been buying everyone out so they can tear it down and turn it into luxury apartments or something. This time of night, I doubt anybody would even be here to notice."

"It still begs the question what happened," Victoria said. "I'm guessing they left in a hurry, but whoever it was left with the files."

I scanned around the room. Unfortunately, it had been tossed so thoroughly with all the broken items and up-ended furniture that it was impossible to tell if there had been some kind of altercation.

"Well, I don't—" I started to say, but I stopped short as something on the floor caught my eye over by the couch. Something shiny.

"What is it?" Victoria asked, noticing my distracted expression as I crossed the room to get a better look at the little object.

"I'll be goddamned," I said as I picked up the shiny gold button.

As I sat in the passenger seat of the car, I plucked discontentedly at my frilly Dollface costume. While we'd been at my place, I'd entertained the notion of changing into something else—anything else—even if my men's clothes weren't a particularly good fit. But once I'd realized that the trail led back to Unmasked, I realized that against all odds, this was my most inconspicuous option.

From behind the wheel, Victoria split her attention between the road and glancing over at me with a puzzled expression.

"I don't follow. You said you think that button belongs to that police detective—"

"Keyes. Alex Keyes. Yeah. I, uh, bumped into him in the parking lot outside of Unmasked right after I woke up in Jessie's body. His jacket was missing a button just like this one. It must have come off when he tossed my place."

"That certainly qualifies as sloppy. But if he's got the files, shouldn't we be looking for him?"

I shook my head. "Keyes doesn't have the imagination for something like this. He wouldn't flush a turd without asking someone's permission first. The only way this makes sense is if Marcks is calling the shots. Keyes has been doing dirty work for Marcks. He was probably just muscle on the job."

Victoria nodded. "Desmond Marcks. The guy who owns Unmasked. You think he's working with Xenos?"

"No way. Marcks is only out for himself. But he's connected, and blackmail is his business. He'd appreciate that the kind of information I'd collected would be valuable to him. Even if he wasn't looking for some super's secret identity, he could probably find a way to blackmail some people with it." I sniffed and crossed my arms. "Bastard stole my idea."

Victoria got a pensive look on her face as she worked it out. "You say that you bumped into Keyes after you woke up as Jessie. Which means he must have already given the files to Marcks."

"Right, that follows," I nodded. Then I froze.

"Shit, I just had a horrible thought," I said. "The second person in the office must have been Xenos! Think about it. Keyes tosses the office and finds the files, and Xenos walks in on him, in my body. Keyes freaks out, thinking he's been caught by me with his hand in the cookie jar. Then, one of them shoots at the other, and Keyes managed to get away."

Victoria considered that. "That's not good. That means there's two possibilities. If Xenos escaped with the files, then it's already game over. He's got what he wants, and he's already gone."

"I don't love that option," I said. "But Xenos texted me looking for the files. He must figure I've either got the files, or I know who does. Okay, so for now we have to assume that Keyes got away with the files and gave them to Marcks. That means that now it's a race. If we can get those files before him, we can use them as leverage and set a trap."

Victoria expelled a skeptical breath. "It won't take Xenos long to figure out who Keyes is. You can bet that right now, he's tearing your life apart. We don't have a whole lot of time."

She then chewed her lip as she continued to mull it over and glanced over at me. "There's something else I don't get. How did Marcks know about the files in the first place? I'm assuming you weren't stupid enough to tell him about them."

I sat back in my seat as I thought about it for a moment.

"Oh, that little bitch."

Victoria peered at me, confused. "Who?"

"Me! I mean—her!" I blurted out as I gestured down at myself. "Jessie. A couple of weeks ago, she saw me with the files back at my place on one of our 'dates.' She asked what I was doing—"

Victoria shot me a look of disdain. "God. Please tell me you didn't tell her what you were up to."

"No, but I told her enough," I grumbled. "She must have run back to Marcks and told him. He's smart enough to have figured it out. Or at least seen the potential."

Victoria gave a halting shrug. "She might not have done it willingly. Or he could have tricked it out of her. You said she's not the brightest."

I glanced back over at her. Victoria knew I cared for Jessie and was obviously trying to spare my feelings, but the more I thought about it, the more I came to the same inescapable conclusion.

"No," I said with a sigh. "You should have seen her tonight at the club. Jessie did everything she could to delay me apart from asking for a glass of water. She practically freaked out when I suggested we go back to my place. She was buying time for Keyes to toss the place and find the files." I stared out at the road ahead as the pieces started to fall into place. "That's why she was all over me in the car. That wasn't spontaneous. She was trying to delay me."

"I'm sorry," Victoria offered.

I looked down at myself—at Jessie—and felt a curious duality. I was looking out through her eyes, but I apparently didn't know her nearly as well as I thought I did.

She was smarter than she let on, for one thing. Jessie had seen me working on those files and recognized they were valuable. And even just a handful of hours in her body had made it obvious to me that she hadn't survived on the mean streets all that time by being the helpless waif she'd convinced me that she was. She had a knack for manipulating the men in her life. Me and Keyes, for sure. She knew just how to play us.

Jessie was no jet fuel genius, but she was crafty. And she knew how to take care of herself.

"It doesn't change anything," I said.

"Doesn't it?"

"You said it yourself. This is her body. I'm only a passenger. In a handful of hours, she'll be back in control, and I'll be nothing more than a memory. Though even if I could somehow swap roles with her, she doesn't deserve to die for what she did. She was just looking out for herself."

Victoria looked impressed. "Wow. I gotta say, you're more forgiving than I'd be in your shoes. That's a very adult attitude."

I pursed my lips and glanced over at her as I made an incremental tilt of my head. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm gonna feel less guilty about putting her body in danger."

"Oh, yes, definitely," she agreed.

I figured the police would still be crawling over the crime scene by the time we got to the club. I wasn't sure if that was good for us or bad for us. But as that ran through my head, another thought occurred.

"Xenos was pretty messed up by the time he came stumbling up to my car tonight. Was that your doing?"

"Me and a wrecking ball, maybe," she muttered. "Sadly, I can't take credit. I don't know all the details, but I got the impression he ran afoul of some metahuman."

"Occupational hazard, in this city," I said. But when she didn't offer more, I got the impression that something was up.

"And?" I pressed.

She shrugged. "What? Like you said, it happens."

"Not having all the details doesn't mean you don't have any details," I countered. "Give."

There was a subtle shift in her body language. Most people would have missed it, but I knew to look for it. She was uncomfortable with the topic for some reason.

Victoria took a breath. "I got the impression the other metahuman was another body swapper."

"I thought you said Xenos killed them all?"

"I guess he missed one. Look, don't get too excited," she said as she read the look of hopefulness on my face. "I doubt whoever it was would be any help to us."

"It's not that. Based on what you've told me, I'm in no hurry to find out who Xenos counts among his enemies."

"Then what?"

"Think about it. Whoever it was, they beat Xenos. They beat him badly, and they beat him at his own game. They gave him a reason to be scared."

Victoria gripped the wheel and gave a slight tilt of her head as she watched the road. "I don't think Xenos gets scared."

"Everybody is scared of something. And now we know what scares him. I don't know if we can find a way to use that or not, but he just went from being an ageless supernatural entity to being just another guy on the run from something. And those guys I know how to handle."

Victoria let out a dismissive sniff.

"Something funny?"

"It's a good speech, handsome. But Xenos has been around for hundreds of years. I was just wondering how many of his other victims made confident-sounding speeches just like it."

It was nearly 2am by the time we arrived at Unmasked. Normally the place would be open until 4am, but I half expected the place to be closed down, given how empty it was when I'd last seen it a couple hours ago. I sure as hell didn't expect there to be a line of people queued up, waiting to get inside.

It wasn't as long as the line at Club Nocturne—and the look of the clientele wasn't a fraction as polished—but it was impressive just the same. The cops had still cordoned off most of the parking lot and it looked like the CSI crews were working overtime with some bright lights out there, but if anything, the crowd had gotten bigger. I could see a couple of news crews standing around, and there was even a HeroVerse news drone hovering barely outside the police cordon, taking pictures.

I snorted at the picture. "This fucking city. There's actual superheroes flying around, but one rich guy dies in a strip club parking lot, and people lose their minds."

Victoria took a quick look as we drove past, looking for parking. "It's more likely they finally figured out who he was."

I looked at her in alarm. "They know he's Xenos?"

"No. But Xenos didn't choose to become Beaumont by accident. Beaumont was secretly a costumed vigilante known as Chimera. Xenos has been quietly moonlighting in that identity for years, off and on."

"Hunting down magic users and other body swappers," I said. "I don't suppose you might have mentioned this sooner?"

"I'm telling you now. Besides, Beaumont's body is dead. I didn't think it was relevant."

"Uh huh. Anything else you might have omitted that might be relevant? If you're a secret superheroine, now would be a good time to know it."

She pulled into an alleyway and parked. "Not unless having a menstrual cycle is a superpower. Which, allow me to assure you, it's not," she said sarcastically.

I gave her a deadpan look, or at least I tried to. It galled me that on Jessie's face, it probably looked adorable.

"I think I liked you better when you were sultry and mysterious," I told her.

"Yeah, well, it's been a tough night all around. Now get your lipstick out of your purse and touch it up. And you need to clean up your hair and eye makeup. You look like hell."

After an embarrassing lesson in reapplying my makeup, we got out of the car, and Victoria took my trench coat and fedora. I felt more mortified and vulnerable than ever in my scant little Dollface costume, but considering where we were headed, I figured it was probably best to get used to it. I wondered how Jessie had managed. It never seemed to bother her, but I couldn't imagine how that was possible.

My .38 was still in the pocket of my trench coat, so surrendering my coat to Victoria meant that I was giving that up as well. I wasn't wild about that, either, but my outfit didn't give me a lot of options. The gun might have fit in my purse, but it would have been a tight fit, and I couldn't risk it popping open at an inopportune moment. And strip club outfits tended not to be great at keeping things hidden.

"Wait a second," Victoria said as she stopped me by the back of the car. She reached up and fussed with my hair, tying it into the low twintails.

"That's the best I can do without ties," she said. "It'll hold for now, but try not to toss your hair around in the throes of mad passion."

"Yeah, I'll do my best."

"WOOOO!" came a loud wolf call.

We turned to look and saw a couple guys at the end of the alleyway. They made appreciative noises as they moved closer and looked us up and down, blocking our exit.

I might not have been a woman for very long, but I knew how to size up an opponent, and these guys were trouble. The jerks who'd hassled me earlier were just some drunk idiots, but I could tell just by looking that these two carried themselves like they knew how to fight. They were muscular young toughs, brimming with attitude. One guy had a bit of bling on under his bright red jacket, and the other guy was casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, apart from some fancy high-top sneakers.

I stiffened up as they moved closer. My gun was in my trench coat, which at the moment was draped across the trunk of the car, just out of reach. It'd take several seconds to dig it out, assuming I even got the opportunity. I kept my eyes fixed on the two guys, but in my peripheral vision I was keeping an eye on Victoria, figuring that we might take them by surprise if we attacked together. Maybe. But if anything, she seemed more relaxed than ever.

I felt a surge of adrenaline race through me as they closed in. We couldn't have looked like more tempting morsels if we tried. Victoria, with her sultry looks in her slinky black dress and elbow-length gloves looked like she was a debutante out for a night at the opera. Meanwhile, I looked...well, I looked like a stripper taking a break between sets.

"You ladies look lonely. You lookin' for some company?"

"Already got some," purred Victoria. She plucked my fedora from where it was sitting atop the trunk of the car and put it on, running her fingers playfully and seductively across the brim as she peered up at the guy.

The two men were scarcely more than an arm's length away from us by this point, and my heart was hammering in my chest. I'd fought guys bigger than me before, but this was in another weight class entirely. In the movies, you'll see a spunky and petite heroine taking on guys twice her size and holding her own, but in the real world, technique can only get you so far. Eventually, size and muscle wins out, especially if we didn't have room to move. Which they weren't giving to us.

The guy across from me in the high tops made an odd adjustment with his hips, and my eyes darted downwards to see the extremely prominent bulge in his jeans. One that his friend shared, I noticed.

A cold sweat burst across my body, giving me a shiver. The sensation extended across the unfamiliar expanse of flesh on my chest, making me even more self-conscious about how my big round breasts were on display in my low cut dress. Suddenly, an alarming new fear started to take hold. That the guys might not be here to intimidate or mug us, and that they might be looking for something else. And might not be inclined to take no for an answer. The size differential began to feel a lot more intimidating. Especially if my inability to fight them off might have more dire consequences.

I tried not to let my anxiety show, but I unthinkingly took a half-step back to get some space. Or rather, I tried to, because I bumped up against the rear of the car and stumbled slightly, feeling the cold metal pressed against the back of my bare thigh.

The guy in the red jacket smiled.

"Yeah," he agreed, looking me over in a way that made me feel unclean. "We jus' thought you'd 'preciate some proper male company."

"Ooh," Victoria intoned. "Well, about that..."

Even in Jessie's body, I was a couple inches taller than Victoria. I couldn't imagine how intimidating these guys must have looked from her perspective. But smoothly and deliberately, she faced me and tipped up the brim of the fedora with her finger. She then sinuously draped her arms around my neck as she pulled me in for a kiss.

This, I swiftly realized, was not a chase and sisterly peck on the cheek. She meant business.

I was a little startled by the move, no less so the various alien sensations that accompanied it. The tickle of her hair—or was it mine?—the feeling of our breasts pressed up against each other, the soft touch of her leg as it brushed gently against my own bare silken calf. Despite the insanity of the situation, I found myself practically melting in her arms. There was no doubt that she was the one in control of this encounter, and I can't say that bothered me very much.

I wasn't sure how much of my lustful reactions were my own or how many were Jessie's influence, but I knew one thing for sure—right at that moment, I didn't care.

"Awwww!" the two guys howled at our display in a laughing mixture of attraction and feigned disappointment. But it was obvious they weren't going to be put off that easily, either. So I was a little surprised when, as Victoria and I parted, their ribald cat-call changed in both tone and urgency, into a more clipped, "—awwww—WHOA!"

Confused, I followed their line of vision downwards to the gun that was in Victoria's hand, pointed directly at the guy in the jacket. I hadn't even noticed that she'd apparently fished it out of her purse while we were kissing. Based on their reactions, neither had the guys.

"Show's over, fellas," Victoria said in a tone that was all business. She maintained eye contact with the one guy, but very pointedly aimed the gun lower, at a more sensitive part of his anatomy. "Now, my friend here and I have a busy night ahead of us. So why don't you two cretins run along...or else you and I are both gonna be girls."

We watched as the two guys executed an orderly retreat, pausing only to mutter something inaudible that I'm sure wasn't flattering. Once they were gone, Victoria returned the gun to her purse and picked my trench coat off the back of the trunk and draped it over her arm.

I hadn't said anything, but she gave me a dismissive look.

"Oh, don't pretend like you hadn't been fantasizing about that all night," she said to me. "Come on. Now it's time for you to be the one to put on a show."

We left the car in the alley and started heading towards Unmasked. It was only a couple of blocks, but it felt like a million miles as I walked down the street in my ridiculous outfit. At 2am the streets were hardly packed, but there were enough people exiting the bars and clubs that I felt like I was under a microscope. A car slowed down and honked its horn, and while Victoria was no slouch in the looks department, it was pretty obvious that the hoots of delight were being aimed mostly at me.

Victoria wasn't being particularly helpful, either. For whatever reason, she was following a step or two behind me. A couple times I slowed down to let her catch up, only for her to slow down and make it obvious that she was doing it deliberately. I was starting to get kind of pissed off by it when she abruptly came up alongside me and pulled me over by the entryway for a closed and locked-up storefront.

"Chase," she said sweetly, "what the fuck are you doing?"

Her shift in demeanor took me by surprise. "W-wha—?"

"Don't act like you don't know. You're acting like a little boy out on Halloween who's embarrassed to be dressed like a girl."

"Can't imagine why."

Victoria looked like she was going to snap back a biting retort, but then composed herself and lowered her voice. "Listen, handsome. You got a raw deal, no question. And not to make this all about me, but if we don't get the goods to lure Xenos out, then I'm going to wake up one day soon with a bullet sailing through my brain after he tracks me down. Now, this plan only works if people think that you're Jessie, because if you act suspicious, they'll get suspicious. Which means you need to get over yourself and sell it. So, put on a dumb smile, shake those boobies, laugh at their dumb jokes, and for God's sake, flirt."

I recoiled at her words. "It's not...easy."

She sighed. "I know. Believe me, I know. But you know I'm right. If you can't even fool people on the street, you'll never fool people who actually know Jessie. You can't afford for them to start wondering why she's acting strangely."

I nodded. As we continued to the club, I plastered a big grin on my face and waved at guys hooting at me. I felt like an even bigger idiot than before, gaily prancing along. As we got close to the club, we had to pass the people outside waiting in line, and it was like I was a celebrity or something. Under Victoria's watchful eye, I flirted with the guys and even posed for a few pictures. One guy pulled me in for a selfie and used the excuse to cop a feel. I wanted to deck him, but I just giggled and squirmed away.

The bouncer let Victoria and me in, and I gave him a simpering smile. "Thanks, Mikey," I said. I'd intended it as a bit of sarcasm, the same way I'd used it on my way out the door with Jessie earlier that evening, but based on the leering grin I received, I don't think he took it that way.

"Better?" I grumbled to Victoria under my breath as we entered the club, already wearying of my performance.

"Barely. There's no trophy here for 'most improved.' I'm going to get a table and keep my eyes open. Now, go 'get your girl on' and get us those files."

The club was packed, especially given the hour. Leave it to Marcks to have a reclusive billionaire drop dead in his parking lot and figure out a way to use it to drum up business.

I plastered a vacant smile on my face and started off at a crisp and motivated walk across the club, one designed to indicate to my various admirers that I had somewhere to be. Unfortunately, I hadn't taken ten steps before the tempo of my gait had caused my breasts to bounce in a very frisky and eye-catching way, to say nothing of how personally distracting I found it. I paused and slipped into a slower and more gliding step, although I soon discovered that had its own drawbacks.

"Eep!" I yelped in a decidedly feminine register as I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist, which yanked me from my feet! I tumbled backwards in a tangle of skirts and petticoats as I landed on a guy's knee. He was a good deal bigger than me, so the effect was that of a little girl sitting in Santa's lap to tell him what presents she wanted for Christmas. Although from the way that he and his two friends were looking at me, I was the present. One they were looking forward to unwrapping.

"Hey, Dollface. How's about a lap dance?" the guy said, as I felt his hand slip under my skirt and caress my silky thigh. If his fingers drifted a few inches to the left, he'd be exploring parts of my anatomy that even I hadn't had the courage to investigate yet.

"Sorry, uh, honey, I've got a client lined up," I squeaked. I squirmed in his grasp a little, but with his arm still around me, I wasn't able to get enough leverage to stand up.

"He can wait," the guy said. There was something familiar about this guy. Plus, he was cute. Middle-aged with sandy brown hair and a confidence that came off him in waves. Mmm, he smelled nice.

I shook my head, and it occurred to me that the customers weren't supposed to get grabby with the girls like this. However, I'd noticed that rule sometimes didn't always seem to get properly enforced with certain VIP customers. My eyes cut over at the bouncer, but he merely scanned the club with a practiced disinterest, suggesting that my admirer might have some pull. I figured I could try to flag the bouncer down, but that would only draw more attention. The kind of attention I couldn't afford.

My mind flashed back to how Victoria had handled those two young toughs in the alleyway while I'd stood there like a frightened schoolgirl. It kind of pissed me off that she'd managed to do that, and I couldn't even ditch one horny fan.

I felt as the guy continued to caress my body. His hand drifted up over my waist and cupped my breast.

"I'm willing to make it worth your while," he said meaningfully as his two friends enjoyed the show.

I was about to make another protest when he flashed a fan of bills in his other hand. At first, I almost snorted at the crass obviousness of the move, but then I did a double-take as I realized that those weren't singles. Those were hundred dollar bills! In one hand, he was flashing more money than I had in my entire bank account!

"Ooh, that is flash," I purred. I snuggled close to him to that my breasts pressed against his chest and I practically nuzzled up against him. I slowly reached up with my hand to caress his face, even as I kissed his cheek. And then planted another teasing kiss on his lips. I reached down to move his hand from around my waist and stood up, giving a slow and sexy turn. The guy barely moved as he tracked my movement with his eyes, obviously wondering where I was going with this.

I bent over to give him a terrific view of my cleavage as I ran my hands down my body. "I'll swing by later. I'll make it worth your while," I promised him.

"I'll hold you do that, Dollface," he said with a smirk. Then he reached over and tucked a couple bills under the strap of my brassiere. "We'll call that a down payment."

I smiled broadly and bent down and gave him another kiss on the cheek before spinning in a way that caused my little skirt to fan out from the move. I put a little extra oomph in my stride to give the boys a show.

A pleasant glow filled me as I crossed the club, grinning as the guys took their eyes off the other waitresses and dancers to take a peek at me. Ha! Nice. The music was pumpin', and I swayed to the beat as I strutted along, nice an' easy like. Up on stage, I saw Ashlyn doing the end of her set. Dressed as...whassername. Punchline. Ugh, Ashlyn was such a good dancer! Way better than me, for sure. Maybe after I did my set, she'd give me some tips. 'Course, first I gotta go give a dance to—

Give a dance to... um...

Wait, where was I goin'?

God, I'm such a ditz! Mr. Marcks is gonna be pissed if I...

Wait. Yeah. Mr. Marcks. I gotta see him. To ask him...somethin'. To get somethin'... from him...?

Huh. Right. Over there's the door backstage. With the stairs that go up to Mr. Marcks' office. He's got those funny one-way windows lookin' out over the club up there. Ha. He could be lookin' at me right now, and I wouldn' even—

Suddenly, it was like a veil had been torn away from my eyes, and I was me, again.

I scrambled through the backstage door and hurriedly took two steps up the staircase to the office. Thankfully, there was nobody else around. Adrenaline surged through me as I realized what had just happened. With one hand, I desperately clung on to the handrail like it was a lifeline, even as my other hand came up to my chest. My bosom heaved as I panted for breath.

"Jesus Christ," I gasped. That wasn't me. That was Jessie.

Any faint hope that Victoria had been wrong about my situation or had been yanking my chain vanished like a puddle in the desert. I could remember everything that had just happened, but that hadn't been me in control.

I knew Jessie had been influencing me, but until now, the idea that she might take over the body had been abstract. Something that could happen, but maybe not. Maybe even something I could fight against. But I hadn't expected for it to feel so easy. So natural. God, another two minutes like that and I'd have gladly jumped up on stage so I could and dance and jiggle around for the guys.

Even worse, it was like I could feel her at the edge of my consciousness. Jessie was there. She was getting stronger. And she was pushing me out.

That's when it really hit me. I really was going to die.

A couple waitresses passed by me and asked if I was okay, and I faked a smile and said I was fine. One of them offered me a Midol, and despite the situation, I couldn't help but laugh. I was going to die in a woman's body in mere hours, but at least that meant I wasn't going to get my period. So, I had that going for me.

Jessie's control was growing, that much was certain. At first, her influence was just subconscious, little tics and behaviors. Later, she'd been able to sway my actions. But this felt like outright control, like she was in the driver's seat, and all I could do was watch. Victoria was right, I don't think she was even aware of me. Jessie probably felt like she was sleepwalking or waking from a dream or something.

I had to admire the wicked symmetry of the whole thing. I felt myself nervously opening and closing my hand, wishing for the familiar comfort of my lighter to fidget with. Though that was back in my purse I'd left with Victoria.

Victoria. Right, she was waiting for me to get this done. Focus, Chase. This isn't over yet.

Quickly and quietly, I headed up the back stairs to Marcks' office. But as I paused in front of his door, a nervous breath caught in my throat. I had to admit that it seemed a lot more imposing than the last time I'd stood here. Of course, that time I wasn't wearing stripper heels, either.

Hesitantly, I rapped on the door, more than a little relieved when there was no answer. Then I leaned closer, straining to hear over the thumping house music coming from downstairs, but I couldn't hear anything.

I had to chance it.

I tried the door, only to find it locked. No surprise there. Marcks was too careful for that. Still, I had one ace up my sleeve.

I loosened my grip on the doorknob even as I reached out with Jessie's telekinetic Trifling ability. I figured if I could get a grip on the other side of the knob, I could open the door from the inside. But that was easier said than done.

A thin film of sweat formed on my brow as I whimpered from the strain and tried to concentrate on my target. I could just barely sense it, and it was tough to get a purchase on it. It was aggravating. I could hear the knob being worked from the inside, but it kept slipping from my grasp.

Nervously, I looked both ways down the corridor. This was taking too long. And if Marcks caught me...well, he knew about Jessie's Trifling ability, and he was smart enough to figure out what I was up to.

I pushed the thought from my mind.

I took another breath and tried again. Given how difficult this was, I had a lot more respect for Jessie's little tricks that I'd seen her perform on stage as part of her act. She couldn't do much, but she didn't miss a step or show any strain at all as she danced around with a grin on her face. Meanwhile, here I was, barely able to—

Click.

"Yes!" I whispered to myself as I slipped inside.

I'd been in Marcks' office a few times as a man. The whole thing was a power play, an opulent space done up in black and burgundy, as forbidding as the man himself.

The far wall had a bank of one-way windows that looked down over the club, so that the king could look down over his domain. But the first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. The rhythmic bass that blasted from the high-end speakers on the other side of that glass was reduced to a barely audible tapping noise. Marcks didn't like to raise his voice, and in this environment, he didn't have to. His smooth and soft-spoken demeanor was intimidating as fuck when his every whisper demanded your attention.

My eyes darted over to the big empty chair behind his desk. Even as a guy, I found being in this room massively intimidating, even when Marcks was playing nice. Not that I ever let him see it. However, standing here in Jessie's body and dressed like a little girl in a party dress sent a full-on shiver up my spine. An expensive black leather couch was over against one wall, and one time I'd crassly joked to Marcks how many of his dancers had "auditioned" for him on those plush cushions.

All of a sudden, that joke didn't seem so funny anymore.

I swiftly crossed over to his spacious desk, practically wincing at the sharp staccato clacks of my high heels on the floor. Unfortunately, my files weren't simply sitting out on top of his desk. Nice to know that my luck was consistent.

I quickly searched through his office, using Jessie's ability to unlock a few desk drawers. Given the hurry I was in, I wanted to toss the place—it seemed only fair, given how he'd had my place torn apart—but I had two problems. First, I wasn't keen to find out what he'd do to me if he caught me like this. Second, I was worried about Jessie.

Given how she'd betrayed me, I knew she probably didn't deserve my loyalty. But the simple truth was that in less than a day, she'd be back here, and I'd be a forgotten memory. Which meant that anything I did in her body would ultimately be tracked back to her. If Marcks found out that she'd tossed his office, he'd finish her off without a second thought, and she wouldn't even know it was coming. She deserved better than that.

It was debatable whether I was getting what I deserved, but nobody bothered to ask my opinion on the matter.

I let out a girlish huff of exasperation as I finished my sweep of Marcks' office. Keyes had plenty of time to bring Marcks the files after tossing my place, and Marcks wouldn't have taken any chances. He sure as hell wouldn't be walking around with them tucked under his arm, either.

Which left only one place I hadn't checked.

I opened a cabinet door to reveal the tall black safe inside. It looked simple enough, with a digital pad and a metal handle. But this was Faraday City. With metahumans on every street corner working both sides of the law, it was a dead cert that Marcks would have taken precautions against all manner of metahuman incursions. Jessie's little Trifling powers might open a locked desk drawer, but this was way out of her league.

Unfortunately, I'd barely had time to muse on that when I heard an electronic beep coming from the lock on the office door!

"That is extremely disappointing," Marcks said coolly on his phone as he entered his office. "This is what you're going to—"

He stopped short as he saw me. Before the door had opened, I'd managed to execute an energetic but fairly graceless dive onto his plush couch, and I was stretched out and staring at him propped up on one elbow with a delightfully vacant grin on my face.

"I'll call you back," Marcks said as the door clicked close behind him. He gave me a tight smile, but he made no attempt to hide how his eyes did a quick survey of his office, checking for anything out of place.

"Well, this is unexpected," he said evenly as he looked me up and down. With most guys, I'd have assumed that he was checking out the goods, but a smarter man would also be doing some mental calculations, trying to figure out if I could possibly have hidden anything of value in my skimpy outfit. Marcks was smart enough that he could do both at the same time.

"I wanted t' su'prise you," I chirped in as guileless a tone as I could muster. I was smiling so hard that I thought I was going to pull a muscle.

Marcks didn't move as he kept his eyes locked on mine. "I can see I'm going to have to replace that lock," he offered mildly.

I affected a confused little pout. "But then how could I su'prise you?" I said, again flashing a toothy grin. I hoped I wasn't overselling this. Though if I was, he wasn't giving any outward sign.

"Mmm," he intoned equivocally. He started to turn to head over to his desk, but as I looked past him, I realized that the cabinet to the safe was still slightly open!

"I'm sorry!" I said as I bounded up from the couch. He turned to face me, and I slowed my approach. "I jus' wanted t' see you," I said, peering up at him through my blonde bangs. Slowly and sensually, I ran my fingers down his arm, a touch filled with promise. He might have been carved out of marble for all the reaction that he was giving me, but his eyes had taken on a hungry quality that made my skin crawl. However, I had his attention, so I pressed my advantage.

I took a half step closer to him, nestling against him. I felt like a complete idiot. I had no idea how to seduce a guy, especially a guy like Marcks. This felt clumsy and amateurish, but I could only hope that he knew Jessie well enough that he'd underestimate her.

The same way I had.

I wasn't sure my ploy was working until I felt as his arm slid up behind me. He was a big guy, and strong, and I half expected him to grab me by my ponytails, slam me against the wall, and demand to know what was going on. So I was mildly surprised as he instead pulled me into a tighter and decidedly romantic embrace. He had a grip like iron, and as my boobs pressed up against him, I caught a scent of his cologne. The warm, musky fragrance gave me a tingling feeling as I smiled lazily up at him.

Ooh, yeah. I liked the way he looked at me. I felt so—

He pulled away, and my eyes drifted over to the open cabinet in the corner of the room. With the safe.

The safe! Oh, shit!

"Ah-CHOO!" I sneezed loudly. My sudden fake sneeze caught his attention even as I reached out with Jessie's telekinetic ability to shut the cabinet. I hoped I'd been loud enough to cover the noise.

In fact, it did more than merely catch his attention.

"God dammit," he swore as he pulled quickly away from me. It was an uncharacteristically vulgar response compared to his normally hyper-composed comportment. "Cover your mouth when you sneeze," he admonished me as he swiftly crossed over to his desk and began to clean his hands with some antibacterial wipes. Right, I'd forgotten about his germ hangup.

There was a knock at the door, and one of Marcks' men entered. I started to back up as if to excuse myself, but Marcks held up a warning finger, indicating I should stay put.

The two men conferred about some shady business that I'm sure would have been fascinating if I'd been visiting as my male self, but at the moment, I was still in a panic over what had just happened. That had been Jessie again! If I lost control now, I was a dead man!

I held my hands behind me and closed them into tight fists as I felt my long manicured nails bite painfully into my palms. I maintained my happy but vacant expression for the benefit of the men, but I tried to use the pain to focus my brain on the here and now. At first, I thought that Jessie's body was simply horny, but it occurred to me that many of my episodes had been triggered by a touch or a smell. Usually of a man, like his cologne. Right, that made sense. Scents had strong ties to memory, and I was dredging up Jessie's memories...and her personality!

I glanced nervously around Marcks' office. If that was true, being here at the club was an incredibly dangerous place for me to be. Jessie would have a lot of memories here. I needed to stay on my guard.

"Very well," I heard Marcks say in a neutral but final tone. "But this is the final time. Young Mr. Marchetti needs to appreciate that we rely on discretion."

The goon shot me a look, obviously wondering if they should be having this conversation with me present. In response, I pretended to admire my manicure and gave him my most vacuous smile, and he went back to staring at my chest. However, I suddenly realized that the real show was going on with Marcks over in the corner. He was opening the safe!

I watched as he opened up the cabinet and then proceeded to unlock the safe. Neither man was paying me much attention, but their bodies were blocking my view! I tried to discreetly lean to the side to see better, but it was no good. However, I could see a significant amount of money change hands as Marcks handed his man a stack of bills, and then another.

I edged further to the side, but I could only glimpse a tiny corner of the inside of the safe. Though I knew if I moved any further, it would be obvious that my interest wasn't merely casual.

My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do. I could maybe use Jessie's ability to open the safe wider, but Marcks knew she had that ability, and he wasn't an idiot. If that door jerked open, he wasn't going to blame it on an errant breeze.

Then I wondered what I'd do if the files were in there? If they were, this would likely be my only chance to grab them. What exactly was my plan, to shove past the two men, grab the files, and make a run for it? I wouldn't make it four steps, not in these stupid shoes. I—

Marcks took a step closer to his man and lowered his voice to say something. I couldn't hear what was being said, but it gave me an unobstructed view of the contents of the safe.

The files weren't there.

That's not to say that the safe was empty, but a stack of paper files like that would have been obvious. The only thing that was obvious was that they weren't there.

Marcks closed and locked the safe as he nodded to his man, who took his leave. My head was still spinning as I tried to work out what this meant. Marcks had to be the brainchild behind stealing those dossiers, but if he didn't have them, then who did? Did Xenos have them already? If he did, then it was game over.

The click of the office door closing shut behind me snapped me back into the moment. Marcks' man had just made his exit, and now it was just me and the man himself. And based on the rapacious look he was giving me as he prowled around behind his desk, that wasn't good.

Marcks swiveled his chair around and sat without taking his eyes off of me for an instant. With his right hand, he patted the edge of his desk, signaling for me to come join him.

I forced a dopey smile on my face as I obediently approached and perched my butt on the edge of his desk, right in front of him. My heart was beating like a hummingbird as a raw feeling of panic settled in.

"You know," he said as he idly plucked at my froth of skirts to reveal more of my thigh, "I'm really quite cross with you."

"M-me?" I squeaked. For once, I didn't have to play dumb.

"Mmm," he murmured as he gently stroked my thigh. His dark skin was a sharp contrast to my own—to Jessie's, rather—but it wasn't a romantic gesture so much as a possessive one. Smooth and calculated, like a rich man running his fingers along the sleek lines of an expensive sports car he'd just purchased and was looking forward to taking for a drive.

"Chase's files weren't where you said they were," he said. As he did so, he continued to fuss at my outfit, tugging down on the lacy fringe of the scoop neck to show off more of my cleavage. "I know the two of you are friends. You didn't...I don't know...give him a call to warn him, did you?"

"What? No!" I protested. I tried to turn to face him properly, but his hand gripped my knee like an iron vice, holding me in place. He was still sitting in his chair, but he wheeled it over slightly so that he was directly in front of me. He lifted my other knee and placed it on top of the other, crossing my legs like he was posing a doll on a shelf.

"Des—uh, Mr. Marcks, you know I'd never—"

"Yes, yes. You like it here, and you're very, very grateful," he said in an offhand way, almost like he was talking to himself. "I don't suppose you have any idea why Chase came back this evening?"

I blinked at him stupidly. "Came...back? Y-y'mean, when me and him left together? We went out to his car, an'—"

"I mean after that."

"Chase came back here? Why?" I asked.

"I was rather hoping you could tell me," Marcks said, scrutinizing my expression. Which quickly shifted from confusion to fear as I realized the implications.

I knew Xenos was running around in my body, but I'd assumed we'd have to track him down somewhere. Tricky, but it might give us the upper hand if he didn't see us coming. However, if he was orbiting around places where we already were, we could be the ones walking into an ambush!

God, Victoria was downstairs. Xenos could be here right now! I had to warn her. We had to get the hell out of here!

Marcks obviously read the bewilderment on my face. "Jessie, I swear you're almost more trouble than you're worth. Almost," he repeated. "But fortunately, you're not without certain diverting charms."

My mind was racing a million miles an hour, so at first I didn't follow what he was saying. But then he reached over and grabbed my skinny arms in his powerful hands, and guided me downwards. Onto my knees in front of him.

No no no no no, I thought as I saw the bulge in his pants scant inches away from me.

And yet... It was all so...familiar. Yeah. I knew what he liked.

I reached forward and unzipped his fly, peering up at him with a sly smile as he looked down at me—

Looked down—

I pulled my hands back and squeezed them into fists, feeling the sharp pain of my nails again digging into my palms. Oh, God, I was slipping again! I had to hold on, to stop this somehow. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the antibacterial wipes.

My mouth was nearly dry from fear, but I forced myself to generate some saliva. Then, making eye contact with him again, I leaned forward over his crotch...and let a thin line of saliva drip down out of my mouth, and onto his pants.

His reaction was instantaneous.

"Dammit, woman!" he swore as he recoiled in disgust. He reached down towards the spot on his pants, then jerked his hand back. Then he stood up awkwardly and grabbed a bunch of wipes to dab the spot on his crotch. I would have laughed at the picture, but I was still kneeling down with wide-open eyes, trying to affect as artless an expression as Jessie's face was capable of.

"Out! Get out!" Marcks demanded.

I was up like a shot and out the door before he could change his mind. My heart was still beating a mile a minute, but we weren't out of the woods yet. We had to get out of here!

Victoria and I headed for the back door to the club, and we cut through the dressing area with its row of makeup mirrors and racks of clothes. Once again, I did a double-take at my reflection as we made our way through. Even with my trench coat and fedora covering up my outfit again, I still looked like a stripper wearing a sexy detective costume. But Victoria, even in her elegant gown and elbow-length gloves, exuded an easy confidence that made her look like she fit right in.

I imagined her husband could have taken her to a hockey game dressed like that, and she would have made everybody else there feel like they were underdressed for the occasion.

We slipped out the back, and once again I found myself blinking into the flashing police lights, although I noticed there weren't nearly as many as before. It looked like the forensic crews were still at it, but most of the thrill had died down.

Any person we encountered could potentially be Xenos in disguise, so we did a quick turn to avoid what was left of the line outside the club. I wasn't wild about taking the sidewalks back to Victoria's car since we were so exposed, but it was the most direct route. Although one quick look at the two of us reminded me that looking like we did, cutting through back alleys and secondary streets probably wasn't the smartest move in the world, either.

My hand was jammed in the pocket of my trench coat, feeling the cold metal of my trusty .38. The grip felt unfamiliar in Jessie's smaller hand, but serviceable. Meanwhile, Victoria moved with her usual grace, although her eyes were checking every corner, every shadow. She carried her purse in a slightly protective way that didn't look out of place for a woman in this part of town, but also put her own gun within quick reach.

By now it was going on 3am, and the streets were deadly quiet. There was nobody else on the sidewalks apart from some drunks and a few homeless people huddled in the nooks and crannies of the closed storefronts. The city streets were equally empty apart from the occasional car that drifted past, splashing through the puddled water left over from the earlier rain. A couple of them slowed down as they passed us by, probably wondering if we were a couple of hookers.

I popped up the collar on my trench coat and tugged the brim of my fedora a little lower. I didn't look like much of a man, but I figured if we looked like a couple, even a moment's confusion from a distance might brush them off until we could get to the cover of Victoria's car.

Not that I expected Xenos to be fooled so easily. I knew he was here, somewhere. Prowling around the edges, waiting for an opportune moment.

We were being hunted.

Victoria and I rounded the last corner, finally within sight of the alleyway where she'd parked the car. There, once again, I saw flashing lights. But it wasn't the cops this time. We looked up just in time to see a tow truck sticking its nose out of the alley. It pulled forward and then turned to drive away from us. Towing away Victoria's car.

"Even my luck's not that bad," I muttered.

I made quick eye contact with Victoria, who'd evidently come to the same conclusion. Xenos. It had to be. Limiting our escape routes, trying to control the encounter.

"I'll call an Uber," she said, starting to reach for her phone.

I looked nervously up and down the street. "At this time of night? In this part of town? With the bars closing? Don't hold your breath." I swear I could feel the net closing tighter around us.

Just then, a black Escalade on the other side of the street made a slow approach, and Victoria and I resumed walking. It was dark, but it looked like there was only the driver inside. I had half a mind to flag him down. Carjacking a stranger at gunpoint all of a sudden didn't seem like such a terrible idea.

Even as that thought started to take hold, the car drifted past. Then, suddenly, it gunned its engine and swung around towards us!

"Run!" I yelled.

With nowhere to go, Victoria and I raced into the building that was immediately in front of us. It appeared to be a derelict hotel or apartment building, but the locals had apparently managed to pry open the chain link fence in front enough that we were able to slip through. For not the first time, I cursed this stupid stripper footwear that Jessie had been wearing, but whatever control she seemed to have allowed me to manage pretty adeptly on the uneven ground.

Victoria was already in front of me as we ducked inside what was left of the half-demolished lobby area. Both of us had our guns at the ready as we took cover and looked back the way we'd come. The headlights of the parked Escalade shone directly at us, but as I squinted, I couldn't make out where the driver had gone.

Then I heard something behind me. Barely a scratch of noise from maybe 20 feet back, but enough to get my attention.

A figure was standing there. A man. I couldn't see his face clearly, but he was wearing a trench coat and hat. I could just make out his silhouette in the uneven darkness, but he had the most familiar outline, one I'd seen countless times before. Just...never from this angle.

Or...had I? Gosh, he looked familiar...

Um, also, where was I, anyhow? Ugh, this place was scuzzy! An' way unsafe looking. Not a good place for a girl to be on her own, for sure. I was nervous, but I took a better look at the guy.

I sighed in relief. "Ohh, it's you, Chase!" I said with a big smile as I took a step towards him.

Huh, that's funny. What's that he's got in his hand? It kinda looked like—

"Get down!" some chick next to me yelled.

Before I even knew what was up, this crazy brunette chick plowed right into me, and I heard a gunshot! She screamed like she was hurt, and then she slumped right against me! Like, I don't even know you, lady! I shrieked and pulled back from her as she slumped down to the ground. Then I lifted my hands to my face, and that's when I saw I was holding a gun! How come I had a gun? I didn't even like guns!

I tossed the nasty thing to the ground and then turned back towards Chase. He had a gun in his hand, and he was pointing it right at me!

"Baby, stop, it's me!" I yelled.

Chase gave me a really weird look. "Mr. Chase. I've no desire to shoot you, but I will if I have to. Stand aside. Now."

Behind me on the ground, that brunette chick groaned in pain. Whoa, did Chase just shoot her? How come? She looked like she was dressed to go to like a fancy dinner party or something.

I was really scared and did not know what was going on. I crossed my arms into a little hug as I looked at Chase. "Baby, where are we? What's going on?"

Chase edged a little to the side to aim around me, and I found myself taking a half-step to block him, I didn't even really know why. I just—

Chase looked angry and frustrated. "Where is all this loyalty coming from, Mr. Chase? What has she promised you? Revenge? Redemption? A second chance? Just look at yourself!"

"Police! Drop the gun! Now!" another man's voice suddenly shouted from behind me, over by the way in.

I spun around to see who it was. I...hey, I knew him? Oh, yeah, Alex Keyes. That cute cop I liked. And he had his gun out, pointed at Chase! How come everyone had guns?!

"Alex...?" I said.

"Jessie, get over here! Chase, I don't know what you're up to, but drop the gun or I will shoot you."

I froze. I didn't know what to do! I looked back at Chase, but he still had his gun pointed at me. Or...past me? At the chick on the ground? Wow, she didn't look so good, but she was trying to pull herself up on her elbow. Did I know her?

"Detective Keyes, isn't it?" Chase said. Which was super weird. I thought they already knew each other. "I'll be with you in a moment, once the young lady steps aside."

Everybody wanted me to move, but that felt...wrong. I dunno why. I started to take a step, but a gasp from the lady on the ground stopped me.

"Chase..." she groaned. But...she was looking at me. Like, right at me. But I'm thinkin', uh, honey, I'm not—

"Chase..." I repeated to myself. Then I looked over at Chase. Waitasec. That wasn't right. He was— No, I was—

"Ohhh, shit," I said as I felt myself regain control of the body. "Victoria—!"

With a grunt of effort, Victoria forced herself up on her side. She'd been hit, but she'd managed to hold on to her gun.

Bang! Bang! The sounds of her gun going off startled me, but the kick of adrenaline also snapped me back into focus. A split second later, the room exploded into sounds of gunfire. Keyes was shooting at Xenos, Xenos was shooting at us. I dove for cover, scrabbling around on my hands and knees as I tried to look for where I'd dropped my gun.

"UNGGGH!" I heard a man's voice cry out immediately after a gunshot. Someone had gotten hit, I wasn't sure who.

I caught a glint of gray metal in the dim light and laid my hands on my .38. The shooting had died down, and I broke cover just enough to poke my head up and take in the scene.

Xenos was staring right at me. He'd repositioned to some cover behind a pillar a little further away. However, his gun was still pointing in the direction of Keyes, and I had a shot. Not an easy one, but clean.

He was looking at me with my own eyes, standing there in my own body. The body—the life—that he'd stolen from me. The moment hung suspended in time as I felt the weight of the gun in my hands. Jessie's hands. I knew what I had to do.

I just...couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to take the shot.

The body thief read the hesitation on my face and seized the opportunity to execute a swift retreat towards the back of the building, obviously not liking his odds. I'd no doubt he was dangerous and tricky, but he wasn't stupid enough to give us a stand-up fight when all of us had guns pointed at him, either. The last thing I saw, he was running out the back.

Victoria's groan caught my attention. She was already half on her feet, and I rushed over to her.

"I'm okay," she gasped as I helped her up. "He only winged me."

I checked her out as she continued to survey the space around us. "It missed the bone. You got lucky," I said, looking at her injured arm. "Keep pressure on it. Can you walk?"

She nodded and leaned heavily on me as we moved towards the entrance.

That's when I saw Keyes, dead. He'd gotten hit in the chest, and the front of his shirt was covered in dark blood. His eyes stared unblinkingly up at the ceiling.

"Fuck," I muttered. I'd never much liked the man, but he didn't deserve this. He was a good man, in his way. He'd died thinking he was saving Jessie from me.

I suppose, in a way, he had.

A few minutes later, Victoria and I were screeching away in Keyes' black Escalade that was sitting out front. I drove like a demon for a few blocks, and then slammed on the brakes, causing Victoria to hiss in pain from the abrupt stop.

Before she could do anything, I grabbed her purse out of her hands and pulled my gun on her.

"Magnum," I said.

"Chase, I—"

"Magnum."

"September," she said with a pained wince, answering with the complementary code word. "Good God, Chase, I took a bullet for you back there. For most people, that's enough to establish good intentions."

"I'm not most people. Especially today. Now, are we gonna talk about how Keyes just happened to be driving by just then? Or am I supposed to believe that Xenos called him in, too?"

Victoria fixed a look on me with her dark eyes. Even wounded, there was a quiet defiance there. Then she blinked heavily and shrugged.

"I texted him."

"While I was up in Marcks' office. You had my purse. You used my phone to contact him."

"Jessie's phone. But, yes."

I kept the gun squarely pointed at her. "Why?"

"For the same exact reason that you were going to. Keyes was the one who ransacked your office and stole the dossiers. You said so yourself. I figured he either had them, or he knew where they were."

"Bullshit. While you were sitting there texting him, you didn't know yet if I'd found the files in Marcks' office or not."

"It didn't matter. If you came up empty, then we needed Keyes. If you spotted the files but weren't able to retrieve them, we needed Keyes. If the files were there and by some miracle you managed to retrieve them, then we needed Keyes as muscle to have a chance against Xenos. The only reason we're alive is because Keyes was there. You're welcome."

"Helping us is what got him killed. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Of course. But Xenos has to be stopped. And as long as we're in a confessional mood, maybe you can explain to me why you didn't shoot Xenos back there when you had the chance?"

I didn't say anything.

Victoria sighed heavily. "God dammit. I knew I was asking too much. You're still harboring fantasies about getting put back in your old body—"

"That's not it," I said, cutting her off. She gave me a dubious look. "You said it yourself. Even if Xenos could untangle my spirit from Jessie's, he'd only swap with somebody else, and I'd be passing the buck to them. I just—" I fell quiet, not sure what to say.

"You're not a killer, handsome. I get it. But you need to get over that. This only ends one way. It's either him or us. You know that, right?"

I still had the gun pointed at her, but I lowered it and tucked it back into my trench coat.

Victoria raised her eyebrows. "So? Are you gonna keep us in suspense all night?" she asked.

I knew exactly what she meant. Keyes had been the one to toss my place, looking for my files. He'd done it on Marcks' orders, but he'd been the one to do the deed. Which meant that if Marcks never got them...

I turned around in my seat and then looked in back. Sitting there on the floor behind the driver's seat was a blue duffel bag. I hefted it and hauled it into the front seat. Even before I opened the zipper, I knew exactly what was inside.

"You wanted leverage on Xenos? That's it right there," Victoria said as I pulled out one of the familiar manila folders.

I sniffed. "Earlier tonight, when Keyes found me in the parking lot, he told me that he'd found a golden ticket that would get him and Jessie out from under Marcks' control for good. He didn't know what all this was, but he must have known it was valuable to the right people, so he kept it for himself. And it got him killed."

Victoria groaned in pain again and sat back in her seat.

"We need to get you fixed up," I told her.

She nodded heavily. "I'll give you one thing. You know how to show a girl a good time."

The Carrington Suites hotel wasn't exactly my usual stomping grounds. I doubted I could afford a drink in the hotel bar without taking out a loan. But we needed a place to lie low, and Victoria assured me that one of the more prized amenities that came with their very expensive prices was discretion.

Evidently, that's where she had been staying. That gave me some concern, since I figured that'd be the first place that Xenos would look for us. However, while it seemed that although Victoria's husband had willingly performed services for Xenos, he'd been every bit as paranoid about his employer as she was. When visiting Faraday City for these annual get-togethers, they never stayed in the same place twice, and always under an assumed name.

I draped my trench coat over Victoria's shoulders so as not to draw attention to her wound. Unfortunately, that meant that I had to walk through the lobby in my Dollface costume, with my high heels clicking noisily as we crossed the marble floor. We were hardly inconspicuous. It had to be 3:30 in the morning by now, and we both looked like hell. I probably actually did look like a bimbo supervillainess looking for a place to hide out after a caper. Or at the very least, a prostitute dressed as one.

"Will there be anything else for you and your guest, Mrs. Velasquez?" a bellman asked with professional crispness as the elevator arrived. We might have been royal duchesses coming in from a ride in the countryside the way he addressed us.

"'Mrs. Velasquez?'" I echoed under my breath.

"Paranoid, remember? My husband didn't even choose the alias himself, just in case he subconsciously followed a pattern. He picked it randomly out of the phone book."

A short ride up the elevator later, we arrived at the suite itself.

The place was huge. The sitting room out front was bigger than my entire apartment. I'd once read that this place prided itself on "reserved opulence," but as I looked around at the plush velvet upholstery and wall sconces in the entryway, it made me wonder what "unreserved opulence" must look like. There was a fucking crystal chandelier, for God's sake. As we entered, we were met by the faint scent of vanilla and sandalwood.

The rich didn't even breathe the same air as the rest of us.

Victoria walked heavily inside, tossing her purse onto a side table in a familiar way. At first I thought she was making for one of the couches in the posh sitting area, but she made her way to the bar instead. Sensible.

As she poured herself a drink and quickly downed it, I looked around for a sink. On our way here, I'd made a quick stop at a 24-hour drugstore to pick up some items to clean and dress her wound, but I needed some water. I opened up some double-doors that I figured led to the bedroom.

"No, wait!" Victoria called after me. "There's a bathroom out...here..."

Her voice trailed off as she saw that I'd returned.

She took her drink and sat down on one of the couches. As she made eye contact with me, she had a pained expression on her face that I could tell wasn't merely due to her wound.

"I see you've met Mr. Dunne," she said dryly.

"That would be the dead guy in the bed? Yeah. He's getting a little ripe in there, by the way."

"I would imagine. I did mention that I was working against a deadline. Even in a hotel that prides itself on discretion, they tend to take a dim view of things like that."

"Murder? Yes, I would imagine so."

Victoria was taken aback. "Chase, that is an unfair accusation. I swear to you that his death was entirely of natural causes. Though I grant that his passing while on this trip was...timely," she said, taking a drink from her glass.

"Sorry. Given the timing, it seemed logical to assume you were involved."

She peered up at me. "I never said I wasn't involved. I said he died of natural causes."

It took me a second to follow her meaning. Then my eyes cut back over towards the bedroom. "Oh. Ugh."

Over the next several minutes, I cleaned and dressed her wound. (And also helped myself to a double from the bar.) We'd gotten lucky. She'd lost some blood, but it was only a minor flesh wound. I was able to patch her up well enough.

As I worked, Victoria regarded me with a vaguely amused expression.

"What?" I asked.

"'What,' yourself. That look on your face. You look like you're on stage at a beauty pageant, puzzling out a question from the judges."

I didn't react. Then, after a moment, I said, "If we're successful—you know, dealing with Xenos—"

"When," she corrected me.

"—what are you going to do with your life? With your husband dead, you'll be free, right? You'll have money." My eyes drifted around the luxurious suite.

I half expected some superficial response, so I was a little surprised when she got a thoughtful expression, lost in some memory.

"Xenos once asked me the same question," she said. Then, seeing my expression, she added, "No, not like that. It was before, when I was still a man. I'd just finished a particularly lurid assignment for him, and he was dangling the hope of immortality in front of me. Before I understood what that really meant," she said, looking down at herself. Her daughter's body, now hers.

"What'd you tell him?"

"I told him I didn't know. He didn't say anything, but I knew right away that was the wrong answer. I didn't appreciate it at the time, but I'm pretty sure that was the exact moment he planned to betray me." She shook her head at the memory. "I was so fixated on not dying that I never gave much thought beyond that. I guess I imagined that I thought I'd continue to follow him around doing his dirty work, like Renfield to his Dracula. Later, after he put me in this body and I realized what he'd done, he said to me, 'Immortality demands conviction. It's not enough to fear death. You have to have something to live for."

"Like his vendetta against the magic users and the other body swappers?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. I never understood it, and he never explained it to me."

"Seems hollow," I said. Then I gave her a little smile. "Still begs the question, though."

"What? I'm gonna find a nice man, settle down, have some kids? Not exactly my style. I don't know. My life hasn't been my own for years now. I can't even imagine."

It was a glib answer, and I found myself not wanting to let her off the hook so easily. I said nothing and simply continued to maintain my gaze.

Victoria read my expression, and I watched as a change came over her. It was like I could see her carefully cultivated defenses slip a little, and she got unusually pensive.

"It's a strange question, isn't it?" she admitted. "Someone like Xenos lives forever, jumping from body to body. But the rest of us only get one life to live. Well...usually," she amended with a wry smile, looking between the two of us. "But then this happens to you, and at first you find yourself living someone else's life in someone else's body. Until one morning you wake up to discover that at some point it's become your life, your body."

She paused to consider that.

"My first life wasn't much of a life. Not really. I mostly just did what other people told me to do. Until one day it was like I woke up, and I realized that wasn't enough for me."

I was still bandaging up her arm as she spoke. "That's when you went looking for Xenos," I said.

She nodded. "Back then, I didn't even know what he was. To me, he wasn't a person, he was more of a concept. An opportunity. Freedom, I suppose. Freedom to do...something. I didn't even know what it was, but I yearned for it. I was ready to fight for it. I never really stopped to consider the cost."

"Or that the cost might have to be paid by someone else," I offered quietly.

The observation seemed to shake Victoria out of her pensiveness, and her expression hardened slightly. Back to the tough as nails dame I'd gotten to know. "Yes," she agreed.

"At least you have a future," I said as I finished bandaging her arm. Then I blinked as I realized what I'd just said. "Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Don't apologize, handsome. You deserve to be bitter."

I sat back on the sofa next to her. "That's just it, I'm not. I've done some shit, too. Maybe this is some weird cosmic justice, I dunno." I thought about that for a moment. "You know the hardest part about what's happened today? It wasn't when I found out I was going to die. It was before that. Before I knew Jessie was alive in here, there was this period when I thought she was dead, and I might be stuck living out the rest of her life. I've spent years hoping for a second chance, a fresh start. Then, out of the blue, I had one, and it had cost Jessie her life. And I had absolutely no idea what to do about that."

I nodded quietly to myself. "This...this is better. I'll finish this, and then Jessie gets her life back. She deserves it more than I do."

Victoria said nothing. She pursed her lips and then examined her bandaged arm. "You have some experience with that," she observed. It was an offhand comment, but the look she was giving me was more suggestive.

I cleared my throat. "Occupational hazard," I said. "Though it's easier doing this to someone else than it is to myself."

She smiled knowingly. "That's the truth. I once had to sew up a knife wound across my thigh. It hurt like hell. Left a wicked scar, too."

Reflexively, I looked down at her creamy thigh that was visible through the high slit on her dress.

"That would be the old chassis," Victoria added with a sly grin.

She reached over and took my hand in hers. She then guided it downwards to her thigh, gently tracing my forefinger across the soft, perfect skin of her leg.

"It was right...here."

I was suddenly aware of how close we were sitting. Her hand was on top of mine, pressing softly down on it so that my hand was on her leg. Very high up on her leg.

"We, uh, w-we should—" I stammered.

"There's time," she said quietly. "Don't tell me you're not curious."

Before I could say anything, she moved in for a kiss. Firm and decisive. It felt...soft. Weird. Unexpected. I'd always liked it when the woman took charge, but this wasn't exactly the same.

We kissed, and she parted. And again. When she did it a third time, I found myself chasing after her. She was playful, but challenging. As she nuzzled up against me, I felt her hand on my breast, and an erotic tingle ran through me. All the way down to a fairly startling but not altogether unpleasant sensation in an as-yet-unexplored portion of my anatomy.

It did not go unexplored for long.

We made out like teenagers, awkward and urgent. But with a surprising deftness on Victoria's part. She knew what she liked, and she wasn't shy about sharing. I felt...young. Vibrant. She slipped out of her dress in a trice, but I giggled as I fumbled with mine. However, Victoria removed it so smoothly that I suddenly flashed to how quickly Jessie had removed it when she was on stage at Unmasked, doing her striptease for all those guys.

Now it was me doing it, but for an audience of one.

I mewled and moaned as Victoria worked her magic. The moment caused me to flash back to the last time that Jessie and I had sex—before tonight's encounter in the car—and at the time she'd put on a good show for my benefit, but I knew I hadn't made her feel like this. I whimpered again. It was about all I could manage. I was tired...so tired. Exhausted from the day, both emotionally and physically.

By the time Victoria properly went downtown, I was practically a puddle. She touched me even as I felt the glow seem to pass over every inch of my skin. I couldn't stop her. I didn't want to stop her.

I started to cry.

My gasps of pleasure turned to choked-out cries, and then to wracking, heaving sobs. I wasn't even sure why I was crying. I hadn't cried like that since... Hell, I'd never cried like that. Still, Victoria kept going, pushing me further. There was a catharsis there, a building overwhelming need that threatened to envelop me and sweep me away forever.

As it hit me and shook me, I surrendered to it.

Then oblivion took me.

My second time waking up in a woman's body was every bit as disorienting as the first. Though much more abrupt.

I was awakened by the sound of a clink of silverware against a dish, which was swiftly followed by a rapid but unsettling inventory of my transformed body. One made all the more disconcerting by the realization that I was naked. Given another second, I'd have recognized that I was under a blanket. Given a moment more, I'd have realized I'd fallen asleep on the couch. But I didn't take those moments, because sunlight was streaming in through the windows!

I was up like a shot as I looked around in a panic, clutching at the blanket around me. On the other side of the room, I saw Victoria. She had on a silky black lace babydoll nightie, and I gawked at her as she poured coffee from a decanter.

"H-how long...?" I gasped, wide-eyed.

"Only four hours. It's 8:45. I was about to wake you."

"Four hours?" I echoed. The way she'd said it, it didn't seem like much, but for a man with maybe only 12 hours left to live, that was an eternity!

"You were exhausted," Victoria said, anticipating my objection. "You're no use against Xenos if you can't even stand up straight. I need you sharp. Come on, there's food, too."

I was about to object that I wasn't hungry, but the smell of bacon hit me and I went at it like a starving woman. Between that and the coffee—which I soon realized that Jessie took with cream and sugar—I was feeling better. Not great, but better.

Victoria smiled as she watched me eat. "There's something about the change. I ate like a caveman for a week after I landed in this body."

"Didn't you sleep?" I asked, nodding towards the couch.

"I did. A little. I never sleep more than a few hours anymore. Even after all these years in this body, it's like it can tell I'm an outsider, and it never lets me forget it. C'mere, I may have found something."

I padded barefoot over to a dining room table over in one corner of the palatial suite and saw that she'd spread out several of my dossiers. It put me on edge a little. Nobody but me was supposed to know these things even existed, and now it felt like everyone and their brother was after them. Knowing that somebody else had been going through them felt wrong, somehow. I forced the feeling away.

"What'd you find?" I asked as I sipped at my second cup of coffee.

"I figured if we could find Xenos a new home, it might buy us some leverage. So, I tried to narrow it down. People who are wealthy, probable metahumans, limited family, a life easy to slip into."

"There're no women here," I noticed.

"They're not his favorite. I figured I'd start with ones he'd gravitate towards and then branch out from there."

"Marty Maddox?" I said, picking up one of the files of the balding middle-aged man. "He's rich, but he's awfully chubby and past his prime for superhero work. He gave up on that hero stuff years ago."

"That's your problem, handsome. You're too cynical. He may not have powers, but once upon a time, he was the kid sidekick to Promethean and the Liberty Squadron. Maddox doesn't act it, but people like that are true believers. They don't simply walk away from the life. Though he's not the one I found."

I looked at her, surprised. "You figured out someone's secret identity? Who?"

"Arcturus."

"Fuck off," I said in disbelief. "I tried for months to crack his identity. High-profile, member of the Liberty Squadron, that guy would have been my lotto ticket. Who is he?"

I watched as she slid over two of the dossiers. Parker Wise and Shepherd Cochran. Both of them were rich and in good shape, but that was about all they had in common. Wise was a trust fund baby, and Cochran was practically a self-made man in investment banking.

I shook my head. "Sorry, nice try. I looked at both of those guys until my eyes bled. They fit the profile, but neither one fits with Arcturus's known patterns."

Victoria smiled. "That's right. Neither one does. Not on their own. They're both Arcturus."

I peered at her face, and then down at the dossiers, trying to make it fit. "No. Just...no. They don't have anything in common. I doubt they use the same brand of mouthwash. They—"

"They're brothers."

"What?"

Victoria put the two pictures side by side. Total strangers.

"Look at the eyes," Victoria said. "You can always tell by the eyes. Fraternal twins, I'll bet. Raised separately for some reason. They've had some work done to look different from each other, though. Probably had it done back in school, maybe under the pretext of a skiing accident or something. They've been planning this for a very long time."

"Wise...and Cochran. Maybe," I said quietly. I snorted out a laugh.

"Something funny?" asked Victoria.

"If you'd shown this to me 24 hours ago, it would have been the biggest payday of my life. They'd pay anything to keep this under wraps. Now, it's useless."

"But Xenos—"

"It's too high-profile," I said to her. "Arcturus is a member of the Liberty Squadron. Xenos isn't going to step into that life, rubbing elbows with psychics and God only knows who else who might be able to expose him. And he can't just up and quit being Arcturus. People would notice."

"See, that's what makes it perfect. There's already a backup. If Xenos takes over one of these men, he can fabricate some reason to quit, and the other one will continue in his place. Nobody will know."

She turned back to the stack of dossiers. "Of course, there might be others in there. If we had more time—"

"Time is the one thing I don't have. This should be enough. It's not just hypothetical anymore. Now, we know that these files can give Xenos at least one comfortable new home for years. Maybe even more than one. Let's hope it's enough to bait him."

I grabbed a quick shower, which in hindsight probably wasn't my best idea ever. After my session with Victoria, the combination of my male mind and the touch of my hands to Jessie's body led to...predictable results. It might have been enjoyable, except that I could feel Jessie's mind encroaching on my own. Creeping closer every moment. Like a storm front that was closing in, and just as inevitable in its approach.

I quickly turned off the hot water, and the blast of cold water brought a quick shock to my system that helped focus my mind.

"I put out some clothes that should fit you," Victoria called from the other room.

By the time I emerged and she turned to look at me, she didn't even try to hide her smirk.

"My goodness. We may have found a look for you," she teased.

"What there is of it," I muttered. The short black miniskirt was tight against my hips, and if it showed any more leg, I'd be violating public indecency laws. Meanwhile, the blouse was scarlet red with a V-neck cut practically to my belly button. At first I thought it was missing a couple buttons, but eventually I concluded that the impressive view it was providing of my cleavage was as the designer intended. The black high heels were a small improvement over my stripper heels from last night, but while this outfit drew less attention than my skimpy pink Dollface outfit, it was still a long way from subtle.

I tugged at my blouse in a hopeless attempt at modesty. "You go on a crusade to kill a centuries-old body swapper, and you couldn't have packed some jeans?"

She smiled to herself but said nothing.

"What?" I said.

"Sorry, it was just supposed to be a quick trip into the city, remember? Besides, my husband didn't like me to wear anything he considered 'unfeminine.' I do own a pair of jeans, but on me, they're painted on. I just had a mental image of you trying to cram that big butt of yours into them."

"Funny."

She looked down at herself, still wearing the clingy black babydoll nightie. For a moment, I wondered if that's what she'd been wearing when her husband checked out. As murder weapons went, I had to concede it was one of the more attractive.

"Speaking of changing, I need to do that myself," she said. "I'm going to jump in the shower, and then we can plan."

I nodded as I strode over to the table with the files scattered about. "Right. I'll have a look at these and see if there's anything we missed."

I glanced over at her with a nearly unconscious toss of my hair. We maintained eye contact for a moment, both of us maintaining neutral expressions.

I wondered if she could tell that I was lying. I don't suppose it mattered. Though I never thought it would be the last time I would see her alive.

The moment I heard the water running, I grabbed the duffel bag and hurriedly dumped all the files inside. As I strode for the exit, I noticed that Victoria's purse was no longer on the side table where she'd tossed it last night. Her gun had been in there, so I wondered if she didn't trust me. Frankly, I could relate.

I gathered up my trench coat, fedora, and purse. I was mildly surprised to discover that my .38 was still in my coat pocket. It gave me pause. Victoria easily could have taken that while I was asleep. Maybe she really was on my side, after all. Though I couldn't take the chance.

My mind raced as I rode the elevator down. I put on the hat and coat, and practically rolled my eyes at the image that was reflected back at me in the elevator doors. I looked for all the world like Jessie had been fooling around in my office, trying on my stuff and playing at being a sexy detective.

But I needed to keep Victoria out of it.

If last night had proved anything, it was that Xenos wanted Victoria dead, but at least he was willing to hold off on killing me until he got what he was after. That gave me an edge. Victoria, meanwhile, was on a crusade. She hadn't hesitated to bring Keyes into it, and he'd gotten a bullet through the heart for his trouble. She was going to get herself or other people killed.

But me? I was already a dead man.

The truth of it hit home as I saw Jessie's reflection staring back at me, wearing the fedora and trench coat. I was a ghost wearing her body, dealing out one last bit of justice before death finally took me. It was funny. All I'd ever wanted was a second chance. But, I realized, this was my second chance. One last day to maybe do something right for a change.

The elevator dinged and opened up into the lobby. The valet brought Keyes' Escalade around, and I tossed the duffel bag into the passenger seat as I climbed inside. I drove for a dozen blocks in no particular direction and constantly checked my rear-view mirror to make sure I wasn't being followed. Then I pulled over into a parking place and retrieved Jessie's little pink cell phone.

I knew the number by heart, but I scrolled down to the entry: Chase.

I held the phone and tapped out a message.

Xenos. I have what you want.

I stared at the screen, waiting for a response. A moment later, the phone chirped as a message came back:

Then it's time for us to meet, Mr. Chase.

Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack. It was a few hours later, and I fussed nervously with my lighter as I waited. I worried at the smooth metal so hard that I thought it might spontaneously combust from the friction. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea or a bad idea, but I knew I was running out of time. What I did know was that this was about the stupidest place I could have chosen to meet, but I needed to know something.

The Spire was a huge landmark in the middle of downtown Faraday City, a gleaming metal monument erected to memorialize the people who'd lost their lives in the Turning Point event. After that, metahumans walked among us, and everything changed. It was erected to be a source of inspiration for the people of the city, a promise of a brighter future. I'd never had much patience for wasted sentiment or symbolism, but at this point I figured I'd take any luck I could get.

I pressed my back up against one of the huge metal pillars at the base of the Spire as I scrutinized the people walking around. Mostly tourists, of course, with some locals cutting through on their lunch hour. Any of them could have been Xenos.

The rain had started up again. That was about the only good news. It felt like the city was on my side for once, since it kept the crowds down. I hoped this wasn't going to erupt into a gunfight, but if one thing had been made patently clear to me of late, I didn't always get what I wanted. The fewer people around, the fewer who could get hurt.

Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack.

This was a dumb idea. I figured with Xenos I could either meet somewhere private or somewhere public. They both had their drawbacks. But now I was thinking I'd chosen badly.

Stick with the damn plan, Chase.

"I've never fully understood the fascination with visiting memorials," a man's voice came from next to me. "Your time is so short and precious as it is. It seems like you'd be better served to focus on the events of the present...and the future."

I got a shiver up my spine as I turned to face the man. I hadn't recognized the voice at first, but then your own voice always sounds different when you hear it from outside yourself.

"Where's your friend?" Xenos asked pleasantly.

"It's just me today. Thanks for coming," I said. It wasn't until this moment that I appreciated the size difference between me and Jessie. When I was a man, I never thought about it very much, but with my body now standing so close, the height and weight differential felt like an implied threat.

"Not at all," Xenos responded. "I appreciate the kind invitation. At least, I assume you're not planning on killing me. With this many witnesses around, young Ms. Harber would surely spend the rest of her life in prison for it. Or does New Jersey have the death penalty again? One loses track of such things." He then looked me over. The move was purely theatrical. I'm sure he'd already assessed everything about me in his first glance.

"I see you didn't bring the files. Disappointing."

"That's because I'm not an idiot."

"Mmm," he murmured neutrally. "I suppose that would depend on which individual I'm currently speaking with."

I shot him a look, and he waved his hand dismissively.

"Yes, of course I can see that you and Ms. Harber have become...entangled. In truth, I'm rather surprised she hasn't overwritten you entirely yet. It's been, what, sixteen hours now?"

"I suppose you can help me."

"I assumed that's why you asked for this meeting. Though make no mistake, Mr. Chase. Those dossiers are a convenience to me, not a necessity. However, they are rapidly becoming more trouble than they're worth. As are you."

"I can give you Arcturus. And the ability to walk away from his life cleanly."

Xenos took a long, deep breath. "Tempting. A mount like that would be beneficial for my work. In exchange, I assume you want your life back."

"You can do that?"

Xenos shrugged. "Easily. You and I would swap, and I would take temporary residence within Ms. Harber. Then I would move on."

"Move on," I echoed. "You mean you'd trap someone else in here with Jessie. Someone who'd get overwritten by Jessie's spirit. Someone who'd die."

As I watched, Xenos slowly made his way over to the big dedication plaque for the Spire. He languidly ran his finger down the engraved list of people who were memorialized there.

"All these names," he said quietly. "I'm sure each of them meant something to someone somewhere, but to you and me, they're merely anonymous names on a plaque. Most people don't even get this much. Are you going to let some faceless individual stand in the way of your life? And your life with Jessie?"

"Then what? After all this, you'll just let me go on my merry way?" I asked dubiously.

He gave me a chilling smile that looked unnatural on my features. "You've been speaking to Victoria. She...didn't work out. However, I have higher hopes for you. You strike me as a man with greater aspirations. So, yes, I will have other...assignments...for you from time to time. Though before you object, I should point out that you've already been working for me, you just didn't know it. Our arrangement doesn't need to change."

"You'd actually trust me after all this?"

"I trust you'd understand the price of disobedience. For one thing, I have your gun that killed that police detective last night. I'd be willing to let that remain our little secret."

"That's not good enough," I said. "Victoria. You have to let her go as well. That's the deal."

Xenos fixed me with a stern look and let out an exasperated breath. "You've no idea how many times I've had this conversation. Desperate men trapped in unfamiliar flesh, making desperate gambles. It's quite wearisome."

"Sounds tough. Though I notice we're still talking."

Xenos moved closer so that he was right up in front of me. The familiarity of the move must have triggered a sense memory of Jessie's, because I could feel her clawing to get out and seize control. It was all I could do to remain focused and stay grounded in the moment.

"The most annoying thing about a man who thinks he's about to die is that he believes he has nothing to lose," Xenos mused. "I am not a wasteful man, Mr. Chase, but I am also not above taking my pound of flesh. And allow me to assure you that even if you choose to do nothing and sacrifice yourself in that body, I will see to it that young Ms. Harber does not live to see another dawn."

"You leave her out of this."

"No, Mr. Chase, she is leverage. Just like those files are for you. Now, I suspect you have until this evening before Ms. Harber's mental 'immune system' burns you out of her mind like an infection. You have until then to bring me those files. After that, you needn't concern yourself. I'll find Ms. Harber and conclude our business."

Xenos took two steps away and then stopped, as though he'd remembered something. He turned to look back and casually tossed me a small metal object.

"Oh, here. You may as well have this," he offered.

As the item landed in my hands, I instantly recognized it as one of the moon-themed VIP membership pins for Club Nocturne. I flipped it over and saw the name discreetly engraved on the back: Victoria Dunne.

"I'm afraid she won't be needing it anymore," Xenos added with a wicked smile.

The pin felt heavy in my hand as I realized the implication. This pin had been with Victoria. It was on her purse back at the hotel. Which could only mean that Xenos had found her!

"You may want to check the news alerts on your phone," Xenos said. "There was a terrible tragedy at the Carrington Suites an hour ago. It seems that Ms. Dunne and her husband were both found dead. Yes, a terrible tragedy indeed. She was so young and beautiful."

I felt my face go deathly pale as that struck me. It took me a moment to even process the words. Xenos had said it in such a cold and detached manner that he might have been making an idle comment about the weather. But from his smug expression, I knew immediately that he was telling the truth. Victoria was dead. I'd tried to keep her out of this, but I couldn't save her. Killing her had meant nothing to him.

"You bastard!" I spat. I reached for the gun in my purse, and while I didn't remove it for fear of causing a panic, I had my fingers wrapped around the grip. To my surprise, Xenos didn't make a move to stop me.

"Give me one reason not to shoot you dead right now," I snarled.

"Very well," Xenos said helpfully. "How about...that little girl right there," he said as he indicated a young girl with her mother.

He tapped his index finger against his lips. "Yes. She'll do nicely. She'll be the first person I swap with. Then perhaps her mother. I'm not sure. I'll see how I feel. Nevertheless, there are two possible outcomes. If you shoot her, you'll have gunned down an innocent little girl, and Jessie will go to prison for the crime. Or if you hold your fire, that little girl will be permanently trapped in this body—your body—and you'll be condemning her to life in prison once the authorities discover that she gunned down a police detective last night."

He paused to let that sink in. "After that, you'll never see me again, because by tomorrow, you'll be dead. Or perhaps you'll merely be a spirit riding helplessly inside Miss Harber, unable to communicate with either her or the outside world, looking powerlessly through her eyes as she lives her life. A fate worse than death. To me, the end result is exactly the same. Then perhaps I'll drop in on Ms. Harber and pay my respects."

Xenos stepped close again, although now in a much more threatening way. "However. If it gives you a fleeting measure of consolation, then yes, you can die secure in the knowledge that you will have mildly inconvenienced me. By denying me access to those files, it will take me slightly longer to find my next mount. However, that mild inconvenience notwithstanding, I can afford to be patient, because I have conquered death itself."

He leaned over to whisper in my ear. "You're not a killer, Mr. Chase. I can see it in your eyes and your actions. You should have come to kill me, but instead you came to bargain. But I am a killer. Victoria is dead. And Jessie will die, unless you do exactly as you're told."

"God dammit!" I swore as I walked alone in the rain. I wasn't sure if Xenos would follow me, so I made a point not to walk back to where I'd hidden the car. "God dammit!"

Alone. Now I really was alone. I hadn't stopped to check the news reports on my phone, but I had no reason to believe that Xenos was lying about Victoria. He even knew the hotel where she was.

How the hell did he know that? How had he found us? Victoria was so careful, and I my stupid skimpy outfits barely had room for a Tic-Tac, much less a—

I froze as I looked down at my purse. Jessie's purse. I did a quick inventory.

"Holy shit," I said. After he'd swapped with me, had he put a tracking device on me? Or put a tracking app on my phone? I could feel my blood pressure rise at the thought. If that was right, he might be tracking me right now! I had to—

I had to calm down is what I had to do. He had me jumping at shadows.

Fucking breathe, Chase.

No. No, that didn't make any sense. If he'd been tracking us that way, he could have jumped us any number of times, any number of places.

"I've conquered death itself," I muttered mockingly under my breath. Who the fuck even talks like that? Nobody, that's who. Only bullies and blowhards and guys who are putting up a big front to mask how afraid they are.

Not that I'd given Xenos any reason to be afraid of me.

I choked back a sob and wiped tears from my face as I hailed a taxi.

"Where to, hot stuff?" the driver asked as I climbed inside.

"Drive," I said with a sniffle. I had no idea where I was going. I pulled the phone out of my purse and I haltingly opened up a browser to run a news search.

It was true. Victoria was dead.

A well of emotion came bursting to the surface, and I started to cry. I hadn't cried like that since...

Well, actually, since last night. When Victoria and I had...

I sobbed even harder. I'm sure the cabbie probably thought I'd lost my mind. Or that I'd broken up with my boyfriend, or something. Dammit, I felt so helpless!

I looked around. At the cabbie, at the rain splashin' against the windows. Whoa, was that the Spire? It was big. Hey...wait. I was in a cab? How'd I get here? Was I downtown somewhere?

"W-whass going on?" I sniffled as I wiped my tears.

"Ya wanna go somewhere?" the cabbie said in a gruff voice.

"I-I jus' wanna go home," I whispered.

"'Kay. Where's home?"

"It's at—"

Then I stopped. I can't go there. It's not safe. But...how come? I couldn't remember. I just wanted to be safe. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to be with somebody.

Chase! I thought. I'd go see him. Or...no, that wouldn't work, either. 'Cause...some reason. I couldn't think why.

Mr. Marcks, maybe? No, it was still daytime. The club's not open yet.

Ooh, Alex! He's a cop! Plus, he liked me. He'd know what to—

I had the weirdest memory just then. Like a dream. Of fireworks. Or guns?

My purse was in my lap. It was open, and just inside, I saw the handle of a gun stickin' out.

"Oh, shit!" I said as I closed my purse real quick. I held it tight with both hands.

"Fuckin' junkies," the driver muttered to himself as he started to pull over. "Okay, end of the line, cuddlebug. This is your stop."

"No, I ain't! I...ain't," I told him. Then I sat up and leaned forward to give him a better view of my boobs and gave him a sexy look. "I just got confused is all. For a second. Take me to—" I gasped, "—oh, oh! Take me to, uh, 13th. 13th and Lucent Avenue."

"Y'sure?" the cabbie asked. He sounded like he didn't believe me.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."

By the time we got to our destination, Jessie's influence had faded, and I was feeling more like myself. We'd pulled up into what looked like a mixed-use residential area with some shops and boutiques on the ground floor, and apartments above. I had half a mind to tell the cabbie to keep driving, but instead I paid him and got out.

"Sure, what the hell, Jessie. Why not?" I said to myself. I'd spend the entirety of the last day trying to fight Jessie's influence and keep her muzzled, but maybe it was time to give her a shot. She could hardly do worse than I'd been doing.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle as I stood there on the sidewalk. I had literally no idea what I was doing here. I'd never even set foot in this part of town, and Jessie had never mentioned it to me.

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. It was all bullshit, anyway. Jessie might have come here because some store down here sold her favorite ice cream. I needed a plan. An actual—

"Jessie?" a woman's voice came from behind me. I turned to look at her and saw a woman with an umbrella walking a bulldog.

"Tia?" I said uncertainly. "You're...the bartender. From Unmasked."

The flinty, short-haired woman raised her eyebrows and nodded approvingly, like I was a little kid who'd just recited the alphabet for the first time. "Yeees! That's good. And you're a dancer who works at Unmasked. Well, this has been fun. Jessie, what are you doing here?"

"I, uh..."

"Fuck. You're in trouble, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Well, you better come up and tell me about it. You look like hell. I'll put on some tea."

Shortly, we entered her apartment. It wasn't what I expected. There was more yellow, for one thing. Also, flowering plants. And paintings of sunflowers. I'd always pegged the gruff woman as more likely to have a black leather couch with a plaid blanket thrown crookedly across it under a velvet painting of Elvis.

"You have a nice place," I said as I sat down at the small kitchen table.

Tia laughed. "You said that the last time."

"Still true."

I heard the banging of pots and pans, and I craned my neck to look in her direction as she rummaged around in the kitchen.

"Chase fucked you, didn't he?," she called. "And I don't mean in the good way."

"It's not really his fault..."

Tia poked her head from out of the kitchen to look at me. "Kid, I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are 'he loves me, and I'm sure I deserved it,' I'm calling a rape crisis hotline right now."

"It's not like that!" I objected. But she continued to give me a hard look. "It's not!" I repeated.

Tia didn't seem at all convinced, but she retreated back into the kitchen.

"I didn't know you hated him that much," I said.

"It's not hate," she called back. "I know plenty of guys like him. He's damaged goods. Girls like you get sucked in because you think you can fix him, but you can't. Make no mistake, kid, he'll make his problems your problems."

I sighed heavily. "You're not wrong about that," I muttered quietly to myself.

I did a little double-take as I looked down and saw the stern bulldog glowering up at me.

Tia emerged from the kitchen carrying two cups. "Huh. That's funny. Bubba was all over you the last time." She sat down across from me and handed me a cup. I took a drink.

I immediately gasped out a wheeze and coughed twice. "What is that?"

"It's an old family recipe," Tia said as she took a sip from her own glass. "Four parts whiskey and one part tea. Though sometimes I skip the tea, it doesn't really add much."

I smiled in spite of myself.

"Oh, and if you're worried about the cops, don't be. I didn't tell them anything about you and Chase."

"The cops?"

"Yeah. You know, about that dead rich guy in the parking lot last night. I'm still not convinced Chase didn't have something to do with that, but I didn't want to get you in trouble. Though Chase swore up and down he wasn't involved."

I shook my head. "Wait. You talked to Chase? After he and I...went out to the parking lot?"

Tia shrugged. "Sure. After he carried you back in."

"Chase carried me inside?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yeah, of course he did. What'd you think, I dragged you back inside myself? You must have hit your head even harder than he said you did."

"Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," I said, standing up from my seat. "I gotta move around."

Tia watched as I paced back and forth, tracking me with her eyes as she took another drink from her cup.

This...this didn't make sense. At all. Clearly, something went wrong with Xenos's body swap...that's how Jessie and I ended up in the same body.

After that, I always figured that either she or I had stumbled out of the car somehow, and Xenos booked it out of there rather than having to get caught alongside Beaumont's dead body. Then he went straight to my place, hoping to get the dossiers. But they were already gone, because Keyes had ransacked the place and stolen them. Victoria was hunting him and tracked him to me. And then Xenos was after me, figuring I knew where the files were.

However, that story didn't track anymore. Xenos had to know that the body swap had gone wrong. He said as much when I saw him at the Spire. But if he knew I was still alive in Jessie's body, why leave me behind at the club? If he was after the files, he'd have been better off leaving my unconscious body in the car and taking me with him. He could always ditch me later.

The only reason to ditch me like that was because he was protecting me. From...Victoria? I suppose that made sense. She might have assumed I was a co-conspirator. But once Xenos took off in the car, she would have followed in hot pursuit. She was hunting him, not me.

Holy shit, that's what must have happened.

The bullet hole in my office. I'd assumed that Xenos had walked in on Keyes, and one of them had shot the gun...maybe Keyes while he was trying to escape. But that wasn't it at all. Keyes had been long gone by that point. Xenos arrived to discover that the place had been tossed and the files were missing. Except that it was Victoria who had followed him and tried to shoot him! And she missed. Then she somehow must have managed to get away.

Wait, that didn't make sense, either. When Victoria and I went back to my office, she'd acted like she'd never been there before. But why wouldn't she tell me that she'd tried to kill him and missed? She had nothing to lose by that.

Better question—why would Xenos have gone out of his way to protect me in the first place? If he thought he might need me alive to get the dossiers, I still say he'd have been better off leaving me in the car in Jessie's body and taking me with him.

Regardless of how it went down, something must have happened after he left me in the club. While I was unconscious. While the two of them were at my office. Because by the time I woke up and Victoria caught up with me, everything was backwards. Xenos was trying to kill her—and me—and Victoria was the one who—

I stopped pacing.

"Oh, Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," I said.

After I met her, Victoria was always trying to protect me. Hell, she even took a bullet for me. That can't have been part of the plan. That had to be genuine.

They'd swapped roles. They'd swapped roles because they'd swapped bodies. Which meant that Victoria—the Victoria I knew—was actually Xenos. She was Xenos the entire time I knew her.

Magnum. September. Victoria had been the one to suggest we have code words, but she'd always known them. She was always the same person. Always Xenos.

"I think I need to sit down," I said.

I missed the chair entirely and landed on the floor.

Tia helped pull me up onto the sofa. "Hey, whoa. Are you okay, kid?" she asked.

"Less and less."

It was the only explanation that made sense.

While I'd been unconscious, Victoria must have tracked Xenos to my office and shot at him and missed. That explained the bullet hole I found. Then he swapped with her, leaving her trapped in my body. Then one of them managed to slip away before Victoria could finish the job. Which meant that ever since then, this cat-and-mouse game hadn't actually been Xenos chasing after us and the dossiers. It was Victoria in my body, still hunting Xenos.

I started replaying every conversation I'd ever had with "Victoria." Before, I had good reason to be skeptical that she was telling the truth. But if she'd been Xenos the entire time, then absolutely everything she'd ever told me could have been a fabrication.

But...why? Why all the subterfuge?

If Xenos wanted me dead, he'd had loads of chances as Victoria. Plus, if all he wanted was the dossiers, he could have easily overpowered me and taken them, too. Hell, back in my office, I'd tested "Victoria" by flat-out handing her the USB drive that I'd pretended contained the files. If she was Xenos, she could have—should have—taken the bait.

I was still missing a big piece of this puzzle.

Victoria—the real Victoria, in my body—must have tracked us back to the Carrington Suites hotel. Which made sense, it had been her hotel room, after all. Then, sometime after I left the hotel this morning, she must have confronted Xenos again. Hell, maybe he even baited her there, looking to tie up loose ends. He swapped bodies with her again and killed her, back in her old body. That was the second time my body had been used by somebody else to kill someone. First Keyes, and now Victoria.

I harbored no illusions about getting restored back to my old body and my old life. There was no going back. I was going to die in Jessie's body, and I knew it. But it still ground on me to see Xenos using me in that way.

I grimaced as I thought about how he'd twisted everything around. All of this meant that I'd never even met the real Victoria. She was Xenos the whole time, just playing me.

Oh, this bullshit ends right now.

All right, Xenos. You think you're so smart. You spent an entire day with me, but you had to have fucked up somewhere. I know you did. Guys as overconfident as you always do. I don't know what your game is—yet—but as of right now, we're playing by my rules.

And neither one of us is getting out alive.

I left a very confused Tia behind as I stalked out into the street. She'd been fully ready to call an ambulance to deal with what she perceived as my very obvious concussion, but whatever problems I had going on in my head, they weren't going to be solved that way.

I picked a direction and headed down the sidewalk. I needed to think, and I felt a strange need to be around people as I walked.

"Shit," I swore to myself. I was furious at Xenos and furious at myself for not seeing it. And I was getting really damned tired of constantly being two steps behind.

It occurred to me that as pissed off as I was at Xenos for killing Victoria, this new information meant that I'd never really known her. I'd only seen Xenos's imitation of her. I didn't know how to feel about that. Everything he told me could have been a lie to win my trust and put me off balance, but I couldn't help but feel like there'd been something there, a sense of authenticity. Maybe I'd never really known her, but I still felt like I knew her.

As I thought about it, the only time I'd ever seen the real Victoria was that first night when she approached me on the street, in the rain. She'd wanted my help, and I'd blown her off. I didn't even bother to listen to her story, writing her off as crazy. And now I was the crazy broad wandering the streets of the city, trying to get the best of a centuries-old body swapper. Just look how well that worked out for Victoria, and she knew a hell of a lot more about Xenos than I did.

Victoria was convinced that the only way to deal with Xenos was to kill him, but I hadn't been ready for that. True to form, I'd had to learn it for myself the hard way. People died because of my hesitation. And now he'd set his sights on Jessie. I couldn't hesitate anymore.

I'd been fully ready to give him what he wanted—he could have the damn files, for all I cared—except I was more certain than ever that wasn't what he really wanted. Though now having met him in person, I was equally convinced that it'd never be enough. Even if he let Jessie go—which I seriously doubted—he'd go right on killing people and shattering lives in the name of his damned crusade. Just because he could.

I wondered if I could approach some superhero to help me out, but even if I could find one willing to listen, I'd never convince them in time to help me. Besides, bringing more powerful people into this was as good as loading bullets into Xenos's gun for him. He could take over their bodies and I'd be worse off than when I started.

And all of that was assuming I could even convince them in the first place. Even by Faraday City standards, this was insane. A mad body swapper running around, stealing lives? Xenos had covered his tracks so meticulously that I'd never convince anyone he even existed, much less that he presented an imminent threat.

But there was something else. A feeling I couldn't get out of my mind.

I flagged down a cab and got in.

"Carrington Suites hotel," I said.

I had the cab drop me off a block away from the hotel, and I walked the rest of the way. To look at the front of the hotel, you'd never have known there was anything unusual going on. The place was way too high-class to let its clientele be troubled by anything as gauche as a dead guest, much less an actual murder on the premises. How terribly unsophisticated.

The story around back by the loading dock was a different matter. Hoity-toity digs or no, the FCPD didn't mess around when it came to investigating things like murder, especially when the victims were rich. People would ask questions, after all. It wasn't a circus back here and there were no brightly flashing lights, but there was a forensic van, an ambulance, a couple cruisers...they were getting the whole show.

I sighed. I didn't know what I was doing here. There was nothing for me here. It wasn't like I was going to sneak up to the suite and uncover some crucial bit of evidence. I already knew who the killer was.

And as for going to the cops...yeah, I wasn't going to the cops. It wouldn't take much imagination for them to connect me to Keyes' shooting last night, at which point I'd spend my last few hours on Earth either locked in a holding cell or in a police interrogation room with sweaty cops who smelled of stale coffee and cheap aftershave.

As I stood there and watched while trying to remain inconspicuous, I noticed a bit of commotion with several EMTs rolling out a pair of stretchers. The bodies were covered, so I couldn't see anything, but I knew without a doubt who it was.

I don't know what I expected. I guess I needed to see it for myself. I'd been lied to at every turn in this caper, and I guess that I didn't want to take Xenos's word for anything, even this.

There was a scritch of movement on the pavement behind me, and I practically jumped as I turned.

"Sorry," a guy said, "I didn't mean to startle you." He was young, maybe in his early 20s, not far off from Jessie's age. He was wearing the uniform dress shirt, pants, and vest from the hotel, but the vest was unbuttoned and the shirt was untucked, signaling that he must have been coming off duty. The name tag pinned to his open vest said "Daryl."

I peered at him. He looked familiar. Fuck, that's when I placed him. He'd been the valet on duty who'd parked the car when we'd gotten in last night. Which meant he'd seen me with Victoria, going into her room a few hours ago! I had to—

"Relax," he said, reading my face. "I'm not gonna rat on you. Though the cops are looking for you, so you may want to hightail it out of here."

"Thanks," I said uncertainly. "Why...?"

"You don't seem the type to be part of all that. I hear the old guy was dead for a couple days, and the woman got knifed. They're looking for a guy who did it."

"How do you know I wasn't working with him?" I asked.

Daryl shrugged. "Guess I don't. But it'd be pretty dumb for you to come back here if you were."

I tilted my head in acknowledgment.

He gave a little upward nod towards the ambulance. "I saw you together last night. You seemed chummy. She a friend of yours?"

It was such a simple question, but I realized that I didn't have any idea how to answer that.

"We only met last night," I said to him. "But...yeah, I think so. We had a lot in common."

"Sorry," he said. "Hey, don't worry, I'm sure they'll catch the guy who did it."

I was all I could do not to laugh out loud, but I just nodded my thanks.

He nodded back and took a step away, as if to leave. Then he paused and turned back. "Look, I know how this is going to sound, but you really look like you need a drink. I know this place around the corner..."

I snorted in disbelief but smiled in spite of myself. I had to give the kid credit for trying. Daryl held his hands up in an open gesture, signaling an honest invitation.

"You have no idea," I told him. "But no, thanks. I'm kind of on a schedule."

"Hey, you do you. Be well," he said as he started to move away.

He'd only taken a few steps when I called after him. "Wait."

For a moment, I thought maybe it had been Jessie who'd called out, but to my surprise, it had been me.

I moved up in front of him. I didn't say anything. He stood there and searched my face, but he maintained a neutral, if slightly inquisitive, expression.

That's when I kissed him. Hard.

In a moment, the two of us were all over each other, all grasping hands and sweaty bodies. I'd love to say that this was all Jessie's influence, but I knew it was all me. Or some portion of me, at least. How had Victoria put it? That the body had certain 'appetites'? Maybe I was confused, or this was a moment of weakness, but this was one appetite I fully intended to indulge.

It wasn't the carnal contact that I craved—or not only that, anyway—but I needed a connection, something real, even if it was just physical. I certainly wasn't in love with—whatever this guy's name was—but I desperately needed to know I wasn't alone in the world. I needed to feel alive.

I giggled—giggled!—as we stumbled over some empty boxes behind a dumpster. His hands were on my tits, my hands were at his crotch, fumbling with the zipper. It was dirty, it was wrong, it was impetuous and stupid, but God, it was real. No plans, no lies, no thoughts about tomorrow, just living fully in the moment. I was so fucking tired of weeding through all the lies and subterfuge. I think the simple animal nature of this was as much a relief to me as the moment was pleasurable.

Oh, and it was pleasurable.

My young friend and I switched positions so that I was leaning up against the wall as he went at me with a vigor I hardly remembered ever having. I'd had sex with Jessie several times before, but that was always more measured, more deliberate. Not two kids going at it behind a dumpster, worried that someone was going to walk in on them at any moment.

The nearest I'd ever previously come to this kind of experience was with my previous romantic partner. A married woman, as it turned out. That sex was hot, too. Intense because it was so illicit. But of course it didn't last.

I whimpered as I came, barely a couple of seconds before he did. Hopefully Jessie wouldn't mind my taking the liberty, but seeing as it was my deathday, I figured she'd spot me this one.

As the two of us parted, I pressed my lips into a crooked smile. At first I gave him a kiss on the cheek for doing me a solid, and then I slapped him hard because fuck him for taking advantage. Still, he didn't seem to mind.

I pulled myself together and left him there without so much as my phone number. His friends would never believe him when he told them what had happened.

You're welcome.

I found a little cafe just down the street, and I cleaned myself up in the bathroom. Good God. I looked like—well, I looked like I'd just been fucked. In the mirror, Jessie's face gave me a knowing smirk.

Man, where the hell had that even come from? 'Appetites' were one thing, and God knew Jessie enjoyed sex, but I'd never harbored a sexual thought for a man in my entire life. And yet, it didn't feel wrong.

Weirdly, it still didn't.

This wasn't Jessie's growing influence, I realized. Or even a rash decision made in the heat of passion. This was just...me. Or rather, the strange duality of what I had become. My mind and Jessie's body, finding a new normal. Almost like her body was warming up to me, even as her spirit was trying to kill me.

I can't say that thought made me feel much better.

By now it was going on 3:00pm. Assuming I was phenomenally lucky, that left me with another six hours to live. Which also assumed that "Victoria's" initial 24 hour estimate wasn't a fabrication, like everything else. Although based on the escalating number and type of "slips" that I'd experienced with Jessie's personality encroaching, it probably wasn't far off.

When I thought about it like that, I probably shouldn't have taken the time to screw a guy I'd never met before. Heh.

That time, the smirk I made was entirely my own. Well, if I only had a handful of hours to live, I suppose there were worse ways of spending them.

But as the pleasant post-coital glow faded, it made me think about my romantic encounter with Victoria the night before. At the time, I'd assumed it was the desperate connection of two sisters in arms. Both of us had been staring death in the face, so it was natural that we'd be riding an emotional roller coaster. We were men trapped in women's bodies, curious and attracted to each other. I won't lie. It had been a delightful little diversion.

Except that Victoria had been Xenos.

Granted, he was playing a role, but he didn't have to go that far out of his way. And he didn't strike me as the kind of guy to give in to wild, abandoned passion as I just had. He wasn't living, not really. He was a disembodied spirit, marking time.

I also didn't think he was just doing me a solid by giving me a little hanky panky as a going away present. No, he was no different from the kid in the alley...Xenos wanted something for himself, and it wasn't the passing thrill of a random lesbian encounter. He wanted something, either from me or for me, but I could be certain it wasn't for no reason at all. In fact, the only thing he'd seemed to have achieved was—

Holy shit.

The bathroom door opened behind me and I watched as two women entered, talking to each other. They briefly glanced at me, barely acknowledging me as they made their way into two of the stalls.

"Oh, my God," I whispered to myself. I knew what it was he wanted. Or at least I thought I did. I needed to know what resources I still had at my disposal.

I dumped out the contents of my purse into the sink, belatedly grateful that I'd transferred my .38 into the pocket of my trench coat.

Okay, inventory. The gun in my pocket, obviously. And in the sink, Jessie's wallet. Her phone. Her key ring. A lipstick and a tampon. And my gold Zippo lighter.

I picked up the phone and turned on the camera.

Yeah. This...this could maybe work.

I checked the time again. Right, 3:00pm. That wasn't good. I still had to set up the meeting with Xenos, but it would have to be this evening sometime. After hours. I could only hope that I could hold out that long.

I texted Xenos. You win. My office, 9pm. I'll give you the files.

A heavy sigh passed my lips. "Jessie, I don't know if you can hear me, but I really need you to work with me here," I said quietly. Hopefully, not just to myself.

As the two women emerged from the stalls, they each gave me a polite smile in the mirror as they came up to the sinks. I don't think it was my imagination that the two of them shared a look, no doubt a silent commentary about me.

I cleared my throat as I ran my fingers through my tousled blonde hair. Yeah, I probably would have made an assumption about me, too, given how I looked.

Once again, it made me think back to the last romantic partner I'd had before Jessie, the affair I'd had with the married woman. She was a tiger in the sack, but she was so meticulous cleaning up afterwards that she was practically mathematical about it. Not a hair out of place, no possible chance her husband would notice.

I was about to put the phone away when I got an idea. I sent out another message. This contact wasn't in Jessie's phone, but it was one I knew already.

That night, I was sitting in my office, sweating as I rested my arms on my big office chair. Or at least it seemed big to me. Had it always been that big? I blinked rapidly as I struggled to hold on, just a little bit longer. It was a hot night, and I had all the windows open, which allowed the sounds of the city to drift inside along with the incessant buzz of the big red neon sign outside. I hated that fucking sign. But it was familiar. I needed that right now. Familiarity.

I'd waited too long. Jessie's influence was so strong right now that I could feel her like a shadow falling over me, like how the long shadows had fallen over the city outside. It was all I could do to keep her at bay.

Wait, baby. Wait. A few more minutes, that's all I ask. Then it's all yours, I promise.

I had no idea if she could really hear me, of course. Not that it mattered.

God, I needed a drink. Or sleep. The few hours I'd gotten weren't cutting it. But I couldn't afford either. I needed to stay alert, stay sharp. Just a few more minutes.

It was a sultry night, so I'd ditched the hat and coat, leaving me in the red blouse and black miniskirt, and heels. Victoria's clothes.

Umm, wait. Which chick was Victoria again? Did she work at Unmasked, too? Hey, these ain't my clothes, did I borrow them?

Wait a sec, how come I'm in Chase's office? I—

"Grrr!" I growled as I tried to seize back control from Jessie.

Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack. I looked down at my gold Zippo lighter that I was fooling with in my left hand. Hey, that's Chase's lighter. No, that's not right. It had a monogram on it. "MCC." Who the heck is that?

Focus, dammit. This was Madeline's lighter, remember? Madeline Clarice Capshaw. She murdered her husband. I couldn't stop it. Or...catch her? Something like that...

Tink. Clack. Tink. Clack. It didn't matter. It was my lighter now. And in my other hand, I held my trusty .38. I gripped it tightly. The weight was familiar, as was the feel of the grip. Familiar. That was good. I needed fam—

A squeak of the floorboard outside my office caught my attention, and I spun around in my chair to see Chase standing there.

Well, duh, of course Chase was there. This is Chase's office, silly! He had a funny look on his face, though, like—

Xenos.

I stood up so quickly that I got lightheaded. I aimed the gun directly at him, and stalked carefully around the desk, right up to him.

Xenos looked maddeningly nonchalant. Like he was dropping in on an old friend.

"Mr. Chase, you're not looking at all well. I'd suggest postponing until you felt better, but..." He gave me a little smirk.

"Fuck. You," I said, brandishing the gun in his face.

Xenos wasn't impressed. "If you're planning to shoot me, I fear you'll be disappointed. Many men have tried that tactic over the centuries. I suspect I can read your intentions even better than you can right now. I can swap with you even before you've finished pulling the trigger. You'll only succeed in putting a bullet in your own brain. A curious form of suicide, to be sure. But you'll still have died by your own hand."

"I figured as much. Just think of it as 'a bit of incentive for you to listen,'" I said, recalling the line he'd once used. "I want us to get to know each other a little. Although—" I grimaced as I felt Jessie's presence, and I struggled to retain control—"I'm starting to suspect that your favorite month isn't really September."

Xenos gave me a tight smile. "Oh, very good. I was wondering if you were going to figure out the truth before the end. It's a shame we won't get the opportunity to work together. I thought we made an excellent team, handsome," he said with a teasing lilt.

"Incidentally, credit where it's due. You made an excellent torch singer," I said.

"Why, thank you," he said, taking the compliment at face value. "Over a hundred years ago, I spent some time as a French cabaret singer."

"I should have seen through your act as Victoria from the beginning. No guy put into a woman's body against his will would be that feminine."

He chuckled. "Actually, if anything, I downplayed it. The real Victoria made quite the femme fatale. When you and I got into the gunfight with her and Detective Keyes in the abandoned building last night, I worried she might give it away, the way she was mincing around in your body. Though I suppose you had other things on your mind."

"Funny. Though I give you credit, you did a good job running me in circles. I particularly liked how you scheduled that text message from yourself, so that it came in while we were in the car."

I winced again, shutting my eyes tightly for a moment as I struggled to stay focused. "You've got me talking. Clever."

I gestured with the gun over to the desk and had him empty out his pockets. My wallet and keys. My phone.

When I saw the phone, the penny dropped.

"You kept it. After you swapped into Victoria's body, you still had my phone with you, didn't you? When I thought I was texting with my old body, I was texting you. The damn thing was sitting right next to me in Victoria's purse the whole time."

"Very good, handsome," Xenos said with a smile. He continued to empty his pockets, this time retrieving the unopened pack of smokes I kept in my jacket pocket.

"I wasn't sure if you were trying to quit, so I didn't indulge myself," he offered politely as he tossed the pack on the desk.

"Go ahead and knock yourself out. At this point, I guess it doesn't really matter."

"In that case..." he said, reaching into his other pocket.

He pulled out Victoria's gold cigarette case.

I flushed with anger as I saw it and jammed the gun into his side. "Asshole. You didn't strike me as the kind of guy to take souvenirs."

"Infrequently. I gave that to her, actually. However, it seemed appropriate, under the circumstances."

I took a couple quick breaths as I tried to get my temper under control. He was trying to bait me. To keep me off-balance.

He hesitated slightly as he pulled out the next item. It was a small, high-tech wristband, almost like a smart watch, but more sophisticated. I recognized it immediately, and I gasped when I saw it.

"What the hell are you doing with an iComm?" I demanded, brandishing the gun at him. The devices were primarily used by sanctioned superheroes around Faraday City for secure communications, including with law enforcement. There were plenty of knockoff versions, but this looked like it was the real deal from Faraday Labs.

Xenos opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. "You know what, never mind. I'm sure it's a fascinating lie," I said.

I didn't see a gun, so I gave him a quick pat-down. When I got to his crotch, I didn't feel anything that wasn't supposed to be there, but he gave me a roguish grin.

"Damn, Jessie, if you wanna to know what I'm packing down there, I'd be happy to show ya."

I glowered at his joke and took a step back. Then another. Then...

I gave him a playful little smile, then I pressed my lips into a sexy pout. The guys were always suckers for stuff like that. I— Hey, whoa, how come I was holding a gun?!

"Chase, what's goin' on?" I asked as I looked at him and lowered the gun.

He gave me this big, wide-eyed look. "Jessie! We're in trouble! Hurry, give me the gun!" he said, holding out his hand.

"Oh! O-Okaaa—" I began as I took a step closer, holding out the gun.

But before I could hand it to him, I managed to wrest back control, and I took a step back and leveled the gun at him again. "—ah, ah, ah...fuck you, asshole. Nice try."

"You can't blame a fellow for trying."

I directed him to sit down in my chair behind the desk. I then tossed him a pair of handcuffs and had him cuff one wrist to a sturdy metal bar that I'd had installed there in case I ever needed to restrain a suspect. Never imagined it would be me.

As he did so, I tossed the gun on the desk.

"It's empty," I informed him. "Oh, and just in case you have any thoughts about those cuffs..." I took the key and threw it out the open window.

Xenos regarded his handcuffed wrist with disdain. "Please, this is insulting. I know a half-dozen ways to get out of these."

"I'm sure. Though I'm equally sure that all of them will take time. And—"

"—and you want me to listen. Yes, fine. It's your nickel, Chase. Although I notice that you don't have the files here, so I'm assuming that you've decided to renege on our agreement. If you think these handcuffs will delay my retribution on Ms. Harber, you're quite mistaken."

"Don't worry, I'm giving you everything you want, including the location of the files. We'll get to that. But first—" I said as I turned on the television and pulled out a USB drive, "—I figured we'd watch a movie together."

Xenos sat back in his seat, looking almost bored. "Do you mind?" he said, as he gestured to the cigarette case.

The television was still sitting crookedly on the floor where it had gotten knocked down earlier, and I plugged in the memory stick into the port in the back.

"Suit yourself," I said to him. I slid over the pack of unopened cigarettes, but instead, he reached down to Victoria's gold case and retrieved one from there.

"Don't you trust me?" I asked, making a mock-hurt expression.

"Why start now?" he countered. "Might I trouble you for a—" He stopped short as he saw the gold Zippo lighter in my hand, already lit.

Xenos chuckled and leaned forward to light his cigarette. He then took an easy drag as he gave me a reproving look. "Let me guess, it's only for special occasions? I credited you to be less superstitious."

Clack went the lighter as I shut it. "I have a centuries-old body swapper sitting in my office wearing my body. I think I'm justified in being a little superstitious," I countered. "Mind if we get this started?"

Xenos smiled as he sat back and casually blew a plume of smoke into the air. "Far be it from me to deny a dying man his last request."

I crossed the room and picked up the remote. "It's not so much a movie. Think of it more like my last will and testament."

As I hit play on the remote, I could feel myself slipping away.

The video started, and the shaky image on the screen was me—or rather, Jessie—obviously taken on her phone and filming herself by looking into the camera.

"Hey, that's me!" I giggled. That's so weird, I don't remember making this video?

"I figured I should record this while I'm still able to do so. Sound mind and body, and all that," the Jessie on the screen said. "Because by the time you're seeing this, I'm guessing things probably aren't going so hot for me. Xenos, I imagine this is all going according to whatever plan you're working. Meanwhile, I'm probably fading faster than a cheap dye job."

"Hey! This was not cheap!" I protested. Chase gave me a funny look, but he was sitting at his desk, smoking a cigarette. Hey, was he handcuffed to the desk? Kinky!

"However, my only concern is for Jessie," the other me said. Which I thought was sorta stuck-up, but whatever. "So, the files you want are in a black Escalade on the second floor of a parking garage three blocks south of here."

Wait. Chase's files? Those ones I told Mr. Marcks about? I looked over at Chase to see if he was angry. But he looked kinda satisfied. I felt—I felt—

I trembled as I struggled to seize control from Jessie. "S-satisfied?" I asked Xenos. I edged further away, keeping my eyes riveted on him. Though he remained seemingly unconcerned. He knew I had nothing to threaten him with.

"Of course," he said as he casually took another drag on his cigarette.

God, I hated him. As far as he was concerned, this was all a big game. He didn't give a damn about all the lives he'd ruined.

"Not that you actually want the files," the recording said. "Yeah, I finally figured that out. But don't worry, I'm also giving you the thing you really want. You want to be here to watch Jessie's spirit crush me as I slip into oblivion."

To his credit, Xenos didn't react. Though he did seem a trifle less self-satisfied than he did a moment ago.

"I couldn't figure that out at first," the recording continued. "I mean, if you'd wanted me dead, you'd had tons of opportunities. Hell, you even went out of your way to protect me. Though it didn't help that you lied to my face about everything, so I got so spun around that I didn't know which end was up. But then I realized there were two moments when I got a genuine reaction out of you. The first was last night when Victoria in my body was shooting at us. You took a bullet for me. That was spontaneous...I don't believe that was part of any master plan."

"Th-thanks for that, by the way," I said haltingly to Xenos. Though my attempt at bravado was undercut as I gasped a little and grit my teeth, struggling to hold on.

Xenos's eyes cut briefly over to look at me before returning his attention to the TV screen. He didn't say anything, but I noticed he didn't hit me with one of his smug comebacks.

"The other time was when you and I were in Club Nocturne. It was the moment when you realized that Jessie was still here in this body with me. See, when we met at the Spire, you tried to play it off like you could tell all along, but that was bullshit. What I saw on your face in the club wasn't just surprise, it was fear. You see, I may not always be able to tell when a woman is lying to me, but I can always tell when she's scared. And you were scared. But that didn't make any sense, either. Until I realized—you weren't scared for me, you were scared of me."

Xenos scoffed. He sat back in his chair and smoked his cigarette, tapping out some ash on the desk.

"Maybe not of who I was, but of what I might become. And the way I figure it, there's only one thing a guy like you would be afraid of: competition. When Beaumont's body died mid-swap, it untethered my soul. But my soul has—how did you put it?—a certain 'elasticity?' I bet that's the same thing you've got, isn't it? It's what lets you swap with other people.

"That's why you didn't kill me. That's why you saved my life. You don't want to risk Jessie's body dying prematurely and maybe setting my spirit loose and accidentally creating another body swapper like you. The only way you could know for sure that I was dead was to wait me out and let Jessie's spirit do your dirty work for you. You gutless prick, you were just running out the clock."

The room was practically spinning as I tried to focus on Xenos's reactions, but he was maddeningly inscrutable. Though I noticed that he seemed to be taking greater interest in his current situation, glancing around a little. Giving a discreet tug on his cuffs.

Then I felt myself slipping again...

"You never gave a damn about those dossiers. Or if you did, it was the icing on the cake. You only used them as a diversion so that you could get me to chase my tail around the city until I dropped dead. I bet that's why you let Victoria live, running around in my body. She was no threat to you, but you needed her to keep the pressure on me. I'm assuming that's also why you didn't simply tie me to a chair and lock me in a room while you waited me out. You're curious. As much as you want me gone, you want this to play out to see if you were right. To you, the rest of us are just like clothes for you to wear and lab rats to experiment on."

Huh. That's weird. The other Jessie-me on the video looked kinda sad. Sad or angry, I couldn't tell. But Chase sorta looks like she said something funny.

"Unfortunately for me, this is all academic. I spent the afternoon trying to swap with people, but I can't do it. It's possible that I've got the knack, but I don't have your ability. And I certainly don't have your skill. Maybe killing Jessie might cut my soul loose, but you know I won't do that to her. So, I'm stuck. Drowning in this tar pit until it consumes me completely. But I wanted you to know that I figured you out, you jackass. Even if I can't do anything about it."

Chase had a big ol' grin on his face. He looked over at me, and I smiled back. I didn't get the joke, though. I was mostly just glad he wasn't angry with me about those files. He ground out the butt of his cigarette on the top of the desk as he kept lookin' at me. It was a weird look, though. Kinda gave me the creeps.

"You're a clever man, Chase," he said to me. "Or at least you were. Though not for much longer, I'm sorry to say."

I still didn't know what he was talkin' about, so I just kept smiling. Guys liked my smile. I—

—I gasped as I forced myself to the surface, snatching control back from Jessie. God, her influence was so strong now. It was like being dragged down into quicksand with lead weights tied around my ankles.

The video continued. "There's one last thing I want you to know. Maybe I'm just being petty, but I'm a dead man, so what the hell. I wanted you to know that you were wrong about me. I'm not who you think I am."

As I struggled, Xenos watched the recording with an amused disinterest, the look of someone who'd seen it all. He'd no doubt heard countless men who'd tried to convince him that they were special or remarkable. The last songs of the desperate and the damned.

I could feel myself slipping again, maybe for the last time...

Oh, hey, the Jessie on the video was holding Chase's gold lighter! That's kinda funny, 'cause that's the same as the one that's on his desk right now.

"I told you the story about how I got this. The one case I wasn't able to solve. Madeline Capshaw, the grieving young widow who murdered her husband for the money. But I lied to you. I actually did solve that case. It was the boyfriend all along. It turned out that the guy worked in a field that gave him access to certain exotic materials and less than savory characters. That's why Madeline singled him out," the other me said.

"Or, I should say, she singled me out."

I wrinkled my nose as I tried to get what the other me on the screen was talking about. This was super confusing. Maybe Chase could explain it to me later. It sure looked like he was paying more attention now.

"Madeline and I had an affair. She fed me some bullshit about how her husband beat her, about how she wanted to be together with me. Just her and me, and all his money...if only he wasn't in the picture. I thought she loved me. I thought I loved her. Hell, maybe I did. I loved her enough to kill for her. You see, that's where you were wrong about me. You kept saying that I wasn't a killer. But I am. I killed a man in cold blood because Madeline wanted a chump to do her dirty work, and like an idiot, I thought I was in love."

I watched as the Jessie on the screen held up the lighter again and opened and closed it. Tink. Clack.

Tink.

"Madeline didn't mail this to me afterwards. I kept it. Of course I did. I wasn't about to leave the murder weapon lying around. Y'see, poisoned cigarettes? People might think to look for that. But nobody would think to look for a nanite-based toxin that activates from combustion...like, say, the flame of a lighter."

Clack.

Huh, that's so weird. Chase looks super worried all of a sudden. What's got him so spooked? He took one look at that cigarette butt on the desk, and now he's all jumpy and stuff, and he's tugging on those handcuffs. I wonder where the keys are at?

"In a town filled with masks, everybody's got something to hide," the other me said. "But wow, I'm sorry. Listen to me, rambling on. You know, running out the clock. Of course, now you've got a big decision to make. By now, I figure you've got at most a couple minutes before the poison kills you. Nasty way to die. The bad news for you is that at this time of night, there's nobody left in the building for you to swap bodies with. Nobody except me, in Jessie's body. But by now, Jessie's spirit will be strong enough in her body that I bet she can squash even you. Time to choose, Xenos, the lady or the tiger. Still, you were right about one thing...it was always going to come down to either us or you."

Whoa, Chase is giving me a really weird look. So intense! "Chase, baby, what's wr—"

Out of nowhere, a staggering sense of disorientation threatened to overwhelm me. It was like my senses were going crazy, all building up to a terrible sense of being dipped in cold fire. It felt like dying. But there was something else, as well. The sense of someone else there with me, if only for a fleeting moment. Then a strange sense of passage. I had a profound feeling of disconnectedness, and it was causing me a wickedly intense pain.

Until, suddenly, it was gone.

And it was replaced with an entirely different kind of pain.

"Aaahhh!" I cried out in agony. It was centered on my chest, my lungs. Every breath felt like fire. This was...really fucking unpleasant.

I tried to focus through the torment, and I quickly realized that I was back in my own body. I felt...much clearer. I hadn't fully realized how much Jessie's presence had been threatening to overwhelm me until it wasn't there anymore.

Y'know, if you took away this burning agony in my chest, this would be a big improvement.

I looked up just in time to make fleeting eye contact with Xenos in Jessie's body. He didn't look so good. I'd told him on the video that I could always tell when a woman was scared. Right now, he was terrified.

Good.

Xenos raced out the door, no doubt in search of somebody—anybody—to swap with. He was stronger than me, no question, but I'd been hanging on by a thread. I knew he didn't have long.

Neither one of us did.

I took another agonizing breath and focused on my current situation. I reflexively tugged on the handcuffs, to no avail. No surprise there. I wasn't getting out of this. That was always the problem with this strategy. If I'd tried to hide a key or something, I risked handing Xenos an escape route. This only worked if I cut off every escape route. For me, as well.

That had been Victoria's mistake. She'd wanted to kill Xenos, but she didn't understand him. She'd wanted Xenos dead for selfish reasons. Victoria was afraid of dying, and she wanted to get him before he got her. But Xenos would be ready for that. He'd be able to use her fear against her.

But this was a sacrifice play. I wasn't afraid of Xenos because I knew neither one of us would be walking out of this alive.

From where I was seated at my desk, I looked down at the street outside. Xenos had finally made it downstairs. Shame about that broken elevator, I bet taking all those stairs had been a bitch in those heels.

Right now, he was on the sidewalk, searching around desperately. Cars sped past, too fast for him to swap with the drivers. But then I noticed he was fixated on something across the street, and that's when I noticed them. A couple cops standing there, idly talking to some working girls.

It was strange looking down at that frightened girl as she kept anxiously looking for an opening in the traffic, desperate to cross the street. Because, like I'd said at the beginning of this story, that girl was me. Which is to say, she used to be me. You'll have to forgive a dying man a bit of wordplay.

Even so, it looked like this was going to be close. For both of us. I grimaced through the pain. I had to see this through. I had to know.

A squeal of tires and the loud blare of a car horn sliced through the noise of the traffic.

Xenos tried to make a mad dash across the street, and he took a bad step and stumbled. The cops were paying attention now, but they hadn't moved yet, probably wondering what the new girl's story was. But I watched as Xenos—as Jessie—stumbled up to them, barely able to stand as she threw herself against the closest cop, a barrel-chested guy with a mustache. She put her fingers on his broad chest and looked up at him desperately.

"Oh, God... He's killed me..." she whispered.

Okay, fair enough, there was no way I could hear that part from where I was. Just the same, I'm the one who's telling this story, so I'll tell it how I want. But their body language told me everything I needed to know. Jessie's bewilderment. The cops' officious confusion. There were no sudden reactions, no sense of relief. Just some residents of Faraday City casually shrugging at this latest bit of unexplained strangeness. And this city had no shortage of that.

I'd run the clock out on Xenos, just like he'd planned to do to me. There was no final half-court shot that got off before the buzzer. No last-minute escape.

Xenos was dead. Probably the last terrified thought that went through his head was the disbelief that it had been someone like Jessie who finally did him in.

Good for her.

Take that, you fucking parasite.

I fell into a paroxysm of hacking coughs as the pain in my chest intensified.

Ugh... this... this was okay. I'd finally done something right with my life. After all, I'd killed Augustus Capshaw, I deserved this. And now I was going to die the same way he'd died, choking on the same poison. Two murderers would die tonight, both Xenos and myself, but at least Jessie was safe.

I'd made my peace. I was ready. This... this was justice. I could die well knowing that.

Just then, I heard the telltale squeak of that loose floorboard right outside my office.

Of course, that wasn't exactly Plan A.

Bleary-eyed, I looked up to see a blonde woman entering the office, casually dressed and carrying a small duffel bag.

Madeline Capshaw, my former lover. The woman I'd killed for. The woman I'd killed with. She was a stunner, too, like Jessie. In fact, she could have been Jessie's older sister, apart from a slightly rounder face and those discerning blue eyes that never missed a trick.

What can I say? I have a type.

Earlier this afternoon, after I'd sent the message to Xenos to set up this meeting, I also sent a message to Madeline. I'd told her I wanted $100,000 in exchange for her gold Zippo lighter. The murder weapon. I'd picked a number just high enough to make me seem desperate, but low enough that I knew she'd be able to pull it together on short notice.

I knew she'd always figured that I'd held on to the lighter so that I could blackmail her with it. I had to admit that the thought had crossed my mind from time to time. Even so, I could never bring myself to do it. To say nothing of the fact that if I gave up my one bit of leverage, I figured she'd find a way to kill me, too. I had no illusions about my personal culpability in her husband's murder, but she'd engineered the whole thing from the start and set me up as her willing patsy. I'd always suspected that woman had ice running through her veins.

I was about to find out.

My little gambit with Xenos had served another purpose. He'd been afraid that in me he'd accidentally created another body swapper. I'd guessed that the reason that Jessie and I ended up sharing a body was that after my soul had become untethered, I'd instinctively jumped into her body, but I wasn't skilled enough to fully displace her. Unlike a more experienced swapper, like Xenos. Though of course, it wasn't like he was going to teach me the ropes. Not willingly.

So, I'd made him show me.

When he'd swapped with me in the parking lot that first time, I'd no idea what was going on. But this time, I'd been ready for it. I'd been paying attention. And I figured out his trick.

Xenos boasted that he'd conquered death, but that was a lie. He was terrified of death. He skipped from one person to the next, leaving a trail of ruined lives in his wake as he forever tried to stay one fleeting step ahead of the grim reaper. But now I understood why he thought the way he did. Because to make this trick work, you couldn't simply see your target and aim for it. You had to fling yourself into the abyss with everything you had, no holding back.

I didn't fear death. Not anymore. Because if this didn't work, I would die in my own body, by my own hand. Justice for the dead.

Bleary-eyed, I looked up at Madeline, who by now had quickly realized that I was incapacitated somehow. She didn't know what all was going on, but she also wasn't the type to pass up a golden opportunity. She saw the lighter sitting out on my desk and rushed to grab it.

I flung myself into the abyss. That familiar feeling of pain, of cold fire enveloped me again. It was like I could feel death's icy fingers grasping at me. But there, at the other end, was...something. A light. A presence. Madeline. I moved towards it, and into it, feeling as her soul passed mine.

I suddenly felt off balance as I stumbled forward. My hand reached forward as my fingers wrapped around the cold metal of my lighter. For the second time tonight, I found myself in a woman's body, staring at my old self.

My old self, dying.

I watched quietly as Madeline choked to death in my body. I figured the least I could do was to bear witness. To be with her. She barely had time to process what was happening to her before it was over.

Again, I was a killer. The killer of a killer. Two murderers died tonight. And a third...the third had cheated death.

I collected some of the items on the desk, leaving behind my old personal effects. I also retrieved the USB stick from my television with my confessional video, and anything else that might tie any of this to Jessie. Tomorrow, the cops would find my body, but they'd be stumped. Just like they were stumped by the murder of Madeline's husband. I should know. I helped them investigate it.

I wondered what they'd finally call it. A murder? Death by natural causes? Or maybe it was a suicide. After all, I'd killed myself here, too. My old life. And yet I'd still managed to walk away in the end.

A long blonde tress fell across my face, and I brushed it back. I scoffed to myself as the song "Suicide Blonde" suddenly popped into my head. Dyed by her own hand.

Welcome to freakin' Faraday City.

I paused for a moment to glance around my office, the last remnants of my old life, before I left it behind. To a new life.

A couple weeks later, I sat at the bar in Unmasked as I gazed up at the girl up on stage who was expertly working the stripper pole. She was dressed as Copykitten, but I didn't recognize the dancer. New girl, I guess.

There was a lot of that going around.

I reached for the drink that I'd been nursing and tentatively took another sip and made a face. That was my luck in a nut...with Madeline's riches, I finally had all the money in the world to afford the good stuff, only to find out that her body hadn't acquired my old body's taste for bourbon. I could only hope that she didn't have the same love of cheap fruity drinks that Jessie favored.

Another guy passed me by and gave me a blatant up-and-down look, his gaze lingering on my chest. It pissed me off, but I can't say I blamed him. I'd have done the same thing to a broad who looked like me, no doubt wondering what she was even doing in a joint like this. He probably assumed I was another stripper applying for a job and checking out the competition.

I pursed my lips and gave the guy Madeline's best "fuck off and die" glare. She'd been the master, but I was getting pretty good. All the guys were giving me enough opportunities to practice it, that was for damn sure.

I ran my manicured fingers over the smooth metal of my lighter. It felt bigger in my hand, a little heavier. Though of course, it wasn't the lighter that had changed. I fussed at it, running my fingers across the cold metal.

"You can't smoke in here," Tia said from the other side of the bar.

"Wasn't gonna," I said. "I guess you'd say this is more of a memento."

Back behind the bar, I saw the young blond delivery guy with the tousled hair. Emmet.

We made eye contact, and he had that easy grin and an open demeanor—he'd probably make a pretty good bartender himself—and I returned the smile. The second I did it, I knew it had been was a mistake, since in Madeline's body that read as a come-on. But he was polite. Hell, he even maintained eye contact, rather than just checking out my rack. I was impressed.

Now it was my turn to look him over. I'd sized up plenty of guys in my day—usually right before a fight—but this time I found myself looking at his toned body in appreciative ways that I'd never done as a man.

It bothered me. And it intrigued me.

Tia took notice of our little exchange, but chose to ignore it. Then she glanced at the lighter. "Huh. I know a guy with a lighter like that. Haven't seen him around lately, though. That was his drink of choice, too."

"Yeah, well, it's not mine," I said, shoving the glass away a little.

She made a show of wiping down the bar as she gave me a discerning look. "That's funny, the two of you having the same lighter like that. He always used to drive me crazy, opening and closing it all the time."

I flashed the lighter, showing it had remained closed. "Don't know what to tell you. This one's mine. It's even got my initials engraved on it, see?" I said, holding it up for inspection. "But there's an obvious explanation."

"Yeah?"

"I guess it depends if you believe in reincarnation," I said with a smile.

Tia scoffed in a perfectly measured way, just polite enough to not cause insult.

"Well," I said, lifting up my glass, "here's to absent friends."

"Yeah. Fuck 'em," Tia said with a wry grin.

I smiled back and almost took a sip of my drink, but I didn't even get that far before the smell put me off. I put the glass down in disgust.

Tia had already moved off to refill some drinks further down the bar. Meanwhile, Emmet had paused his work to chat up one of the waitresses. Her body was toned, too, but curvy in all the right places. My eyes flitted between the two of them.

I could sense them. Feel them. Their presence. Not the soft fleshy exteriors or the bones underneath, but I could feel them. The essence of them. Their spirits, I guess. It's not like Xenos had given me a handbook for this stuff.

It was a curious feeling, knowing I had this power. I could swap with them if I wanted. I could do it, and there was absolutely nothing they could do to stop me. As my eyes drifted over them, I suddenly realized that when I looked at their bodies, I wasn't merely admiring them like you would a sexual partner, I was appraising them for something much more personal.

I sighed heavily. I'd spent years trying to put my past behind me. Wanting a fresh start. It's funny how one's wishes are fulfilled.

I can't say I was especially thrilled about being a woman again. And being in Madeline's body made me...uncomfortable. Although for some reason it bothered me less than I thought it would. Maybe because now I was in a position to be able to do something about it if I were so inclined. Age, height, sex, race...things we're conditioned all our lives to accept as unalterable, suddenly became like flavors of ice cream I could choose from on a whim.

I gazed over at Emmet—or rather, his body. If I wanted to be a man again, I could just...take it from him.

It would be so easy. Too easy.

Xenos was an asshole and a killer, but he'd been right about one thing. A power like this demanded slow moves. Deliberate moves. If I swapped with Emmet, I wouldn't even be able to hit the head and enjoy the experience of peeing standing up before he'd be screaming and complaining, and pretty much everybody would be looking for me. Cops, and probably superheroes, too. Unless I killed him to shut him up, I guess.

But that seemed...unsociable.

The weight of the lighter in my hand grabbed my attention. I hadn't even realized I'd been fooling with it. A memento of my old life. These were now dangerous, too. This one more than most.

Madeline was dead. Xenos was dead. My old body was dead. Victoria, too, for that matter. I'd barely even met the real Victoria, but I still felt like I'd known her, at least somewhat. The illusion was more real than the woman herself. Now I was the one casting the illusion.

I'd wanted a fresh start, but I never actually thought I'd get one. Hell, I'd had the experience of standing over my own dead body. You don't get a cleaner break than that.

Xenos thought there was no justice in the world for men like him. I'd proven him wrong. I was no hero, but the notion that maybe there was some justice in this world after all was...appealing.

I sighed a little. A light, feminine noise that passed through my painted lips. "Justice." Was that what this had been?

Xenos deserved to die. So did Madeline. I'd lose no sleep over that. But why had I done it? Was this some form of belated justice, or had I simply been operating out of self-preservation? Or revenge?

Madeline's husband had been murdered, and now one of his killers had been brought to justice. And the other one...the other one was wearing her body.

I vaguely realized that the DJ had made an announcement. I hadn't really been listening, but the abrupt change in lighting and music told me it was time. The night was just getting started, so the crowd was relatively light, but the assembled guys managed to make a fair amount of noise with their applause and hoots and hollers as Jessie came brightly prancing out on stage in her Dollface costume.

I loved to watch her dance. She could light up the stage with her bouncy exuberance. And it was fair to say that I knew those curves more intimately than the guys could ever dream of. I watched Jessie intently, but for once, I wasn't focused on her body or her lively dance moves.

She was too far away for me to have attempted a swap even if I'd wanted to—and I didn't, I'd spent more time in her body than I cared to already—but I could sense her spirit. I tried to focus to see if there was anything else there—anyone else—but I couldn't sense anything.

Xenos was gone. His spirit permanently extinguished. I hoped. Or who knows? Maybe he was trapped in there, looking out helplessly through Jessie's eyes as she beamed at the guys as she shook her breasts and worked the pole. That was the fate he'd wanted for me.

In a perverse way, I was a little disappointed there was no sign of him. If he was still out there in the world, at least then I'd have some purpose, some focus, in hunting him down. Now, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I'd not only been given a new lease on life, I'd been handed a huge opportunity. Now I had to choose how I wanted to use it.

Xenos had been a lonely immortal, using his abilities to fuel an endless quest for revenge. But I felt...I don't know...connected. I could literally see how we were all more similar than different. I'd spent my whole life standing apart from humanity, but now...

Over on one of the screens behind the bar, there was a TV report that had interrupted the game with news of some superhero crisis. I used to think that was all bullshit, those do-gooders risking their lives selflessly. But now...I dunno. I guess I wasn't so sure. I didn't believe in karma, but if I did, I was still deep in the hole in that regard.

If I believed in that.

Which I didn't.

I ran my thumb across the smooth metal of my lighter.

Ah, I'd never had patience for all that sanctimonious superheroic bullcrap, anyway. Acting one way, and secretly being a whole different way, it was all just a big—

"Hey, hon, what's your name?"

It was a woman's voice this time. And she was close. Very close. I turned to face her to discover that she was encroaching on my personal space in a decidedly familiar way. She was young and attractive, a fetching little thing all done up for a night on the prowl.

My lighter was still closed in my hand, but I tapped it on the bar. "It's Ch—" I started. "Charade," I said, smiling at my own little joke. For some reason, I'd used the British pronunciation, I guess to make it sound cooler. Shuh-raad.

"Cool," the girl said. "That French or something?"

"Something like that."

She leaned in even closer and turned around so that we were practically cheek-to-cheek. She spoke in a low tone, barely audible over the driving beat of the music.

"My boyfriend thinks you're hot," she whispered into my ear with a suggestive lilt. She then sidled up against me and peered meaningfully over towards a table in the corner where a guy in a leather jacket was giving the two of us an appreciative glance. "So do I," she added. "We were curious if you were interested in a little three-way?"

I slipped the gold lighter into my purse, watching as her eyes tracked the motion. Her smile was frozen on her face as she looked me over. I hadn't been in this body long enough to develop a sense of vanity about it, which is maybe why I noticed what I did.

She was giving me a once-over, but she wasn't checking me out. Her eyes flitted between my purse, my necklace, my diamond stud earrings, my outfit. I'd dressed in what I'd thought was an unassuming outfit, but of course Madeline had bought only the best. This girl could see it, too. I wasn't just some random chick, I was money.

I glanced over at the guy at the table. Antsy, but not excited. Trying too hard to look disinterested. He tugged at his jacket nervously, and I made out the outline of his gun clumsily hidden beneath.

I then tossed my hair and glanced down to steal a peek at the girl's small clutch purse. It was closed, but I could tell it was overweighted, like there was something heavy in there, too. I might have given her the benefit of the doubt and assumed it was a large phone, except that her phone was plainly visible in the bag's outside pocket.

The streets of Faraday City were dangerous, but these two were packing an awful lot of firepower for a fun night on the town. But it was about right for a couple of thieves who were looking to mug a clueless rich dame who was slumming and going to a strip club as she played at being edgy. I suspected the two of them probably got a thrill out of taking rich bitches' money and then giving them a good scare to remind them they didn't belong in this part of town.

They didn't. But I did.

I pinched my purse closed and gave the girl a friendly smile as the clasp snapped shut. Clack.

As I stood up and walked with her towards the table, I could practically sense their excitement. Giddy at the prospect of a rich and pretty ingenue blithely walking straight into their trap.

"You know, I've never done anything like this before," I whispered to her.

"Don't worry, hot stuff. You just let us do all the work," she assured me as she placed her hand against the small of my back, guiding me forward, a little too insistently.

"You and your boyfriend do this sort of thing a lot?" I asked, doing my best to look oblivious.

"Oh, yeah. We're super close."

"Really." I peered over at her with a predatory grin. "You ever wonder what it would be like to be a whole lot closer?"

She gave me a confused look as I hit her with a winning smile and looped my arm playfully around hers. Then, as the three of us exited the club, I heard the music change for the next part of Jessie's set.

"Suicide blonde was the color of her hair, like a cheap distraction for a new affair... She knew it would finish before it began... Woah, baby, you lost the plan..."

THE END

I stretched out a tense muscle and ran a towel through my long blonde hair as I padded barefoot into Madeline's bedroom—now, my bedroom. It wasn't easy to adjust to her life, but the money was making it a damned sight easier. I tossed the towel onto the bed as I tightened the satin belt on my changing robe. Going to her exercise class had been an instructive experience regarding her body. She was in way better shape than I had been. And of course, taking a shower afterwards was always...distracting.

I hadn't slipped into Madeline's life without issues, though. Her friends had noted that I was behaving oddly, for one thing. I was woefully unprepared to live her life. I didn't know any of her passwords, and I could barely even find things in the kitchen. The longer I lived like this, the more impressed I was with Xenos's ability to enter another's life without drawing attention. I could scarcely manage this one.

However, occasionally dealing out a little extracurricular justice to the scumbags of the city was proving to be diverting. I'd learned that a muscular thug who'd once handed me a fairly epic beatdown as a man had been using his girlfriend as a punching bag, and let's just say that she seemed significantly more satisfied with their new living arrangement than he was.

I sat myself down at the makeup table and took a sip of my drink that was sitting there. I then picked up my current object of curiosity: Xenos's iComm unit that I'd retrieved that night in my office. The fact that he'd been carrying it around with him told me that he didn't want to let it out of his sight and was therefore valuable, but it was proving to be a thorny puzzle.

I thumbed on the activation button.

"Identify," the unit said brusquely.

"Xenos."

"Confirmed," the unit responded.

That had been the easy part. After all, it wasn't like Xenos could use biometric identification. The next part was tricky.

The unit announced, "Identify active protocol. Final attempt before permanent lockdown."

I let out a grumble. I'd taken two guesses already: 'Xenos,' and 'Chimera,' thinking he might have a soft spot for his old heroic identity as Beaumont.

But that, I realized, was the problem. He wasn't nostalgic, at least not for his old—what was the term he used?—'mounts.' We were like clothes to him. I didn't get nostalgic for socks I used to wear.

Then I thought back to something that "Victoria" had said. She'd been telling me about something Xenos had once said to her, but of course she was Xenos...he was talking about himself. He'd said that the trick to immortality was conviction. To have the conviction to take and take. To live like the Prodigal Son and squander your riches, but then instead of asking for absolution, just taking more.

What an asshole.

I took another drink from my glass. Then, clearly and distinctly, I said, "Prodigal Son."

"Confirmed," the iComm responded. "Prodigal Son protocol disengaged. Welcome, Xenos."

The unit unlocked and the menus sprang to life, and I marveled at it. The contact information alone was a gold mine. Then I noticed a prominent red oval-shaped button in the virtual display. I pushed it.

Suddenly, a loud vorp sound came from a few feet away, and a glowing energy portal opened up.

I'd heard of this technology, but I'd never seen it in person before. This was a 'warp closet,' an other-dimensional space which superheroes were able to access to store their belongings. Usually they were pretty minuscule, but as I peered inside, this one looked as big as my old apartment. And it was neatly filled with all manner of sculptures, paintings, technology, and other artifacts. I entered, and off to one side I even saw the high-tech black-and-white battle armor that Xenos had worn as Chimera.

This was Xenos's treasure room. All the useful and valuable things that he'd collected over the centuries.

"Payday," I whispered to myself as I wandered inside.

I hope you enjoyed the story! And be sure to check out the Faraday City worldbuilding site for more information about the city, the characters, the story's complete soundtrack, and other fun stuff! It can be found at: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/faraday-city-jenny-north