Chapter 1:

“Quick! Get those pastries ready. The usual, but be sure to grab some a’ those lemon bars, this time!” Florence paused what she was doing and looked towards old Mrs. Betty, who after whisper-yelling into the kitchen immediately retreated from where she came.  Florence was currently in the middle of whipping together dough for the bakery’s special strawberry cookies, which not only were a favorite of her’s, but also a favorite of the locals, as well. Surprisingly enough, despite being a rather talented baker, Florence had never eaten more than a taste of the majority of baked goods she’s managed to produce, but these cookies were a different story. They were sweet, but the fruity flavor was delicate on her easily overwhelmed tongue, and with a side of cream and fresh fruit, absolutely no dessert could take its place.

She looked to the side at Jerry, who glanced at her with a nervous crook in his brow for a brief moment before wiping his hand on his apron and swiftly moving to the cooling racks to retrieve some of the pastries Mrs. Betty had requested. That is, if you could call it a request. Florence knew who had asked for them. The tension and urgency shared between both Mrs. Betty and Jerry was more than enough for her to know that a tray of blueberry danishes with cream cheese was due, and they were due quickly. None of them ever knew for sure when he’d show up, so they always, always had at least an extra rack of them handy. Luckily, the danishes were at least somewhat popular, so most of them didn’t go to waste, but even if they had, it would certainly be worth the loss. Better safe than sorry. Florence also wiped her hands, pushing the bowl of unfinished strawberry goodness to the side and immediately picked out a few lemon bars. There weren’t as many of these prepared, considering that the demand for them was low and, to her confusion, he would never add lemon bars to his usual order. Typically, whether he was alone or with a guest, he had always selected the danishes and nothing else. Florence couldn’t help but wonder what was so different this time around. Maybe this time, if he happened to have a guest, they were miraculously worth the extra effort. That had to be it. Florence knew that he wouldn’t try anything new.

Before she could stand and wonder for too long, Jerry came from one of the back rooms just then, a round tray stacked with danishes in hand. This time, there was a small spot cleared on the side, on which Florence arranged the lemon bars as appealingly as she was able. Looking up at Jerry, she noticed him shiver, eyes darting to various corners of the room, trying to distract himself from the all too common situation he was in. He didn’t want to be the one to deliver the tray. Even though these visits put all three of them on edge, Jerry was always the most paranoid of the group. Who could blame him? Florence had somewhat gotten used to this routine, but Jerry wasn’t so lucky. From his face, she takes a subtle glance at his left hand, which shakily holds the tray before her. She doesn’t bother looking at the other one. She knew that there wasn’t much left to look at. His bone chilling injury was their unpleasant regular’s reminder to follow the routine and to do it right. As to save Jerry the grief and to deliver the sweets speedily enough so as to not cause another reminder, she took the tray, gave her coworker and friend a small, reassuring smile, and walked out into the main area, a few tables bustling with quiet activity. Or rather, what’s left of it.

This guest in particular was enough to make the jovial atmosphere of the shop awkward and strained in a matter of seconds. Most of the time, many of the patrons would casually pay for their sweets and leave just then, hoping not to attract too much attention. This time was no exception. There were a few tables still occupied, but all of them were far away from where Florence was supposed to deliver the tray of sweets, and their chatter was quiet, lacking their usual cheer as they tried their best not to look at the table they were trying so hard to ignore. Florence couldn’t help but notice that even though the tension shared between them all was typical, they also acted a bit.. strange. Along with the usual discomfort, many patrons were acting in a way she didn’t quite recognize. One woman was darting her eyes to the infamous table more than people typically dared to, a man had a look of disgust poorly hidden under his nervous expression and the other sitting with him was murmuring with an unpleasant bite in his tone. She didn’t bother examining them much longer, knowing she had very little time to waste. All she knew was that this visit must have been a little more special than the rest.

Turning the corner to reach his usual spot, she saw him: Don Harvey of the Golden Vultures. A fitting name, Florence thought. Vulture. There was only one gang with this much power in Rain City. Anyone that attempted to build another one got wiped out quickly. Harvey was a powerful man, about as powerful as they get. All of the districts in Rain City were under his control— her district being one of them. He usually spent his time in higher-class districts, unlike her own. This one was in the lower middle: not classy, but not the slums, either. A happy medium. It was a miracle of the worst kind that a bakery as modest as this one was one of his favorite spots to grab a bite.

Since the bakery was one of his favorite spots to visit, Florence luckily hadn’t encountered many attackers or robbers, and the few she had been around to see were dealt with fairly quickly. There’s been several smaller up and coming gangs that haven’t lasted long. They always seemed to do the same thing, allowing themselves to get too ambitious, thinking they’ll make it big by messing with big-shots like Harvey, whether it be by jumping his men or vandalizing and robbing his favorite spots. That’s the thing with Don Harvey. He had eyes everywhere. And even if he didn’t, it’s always come as a surprise to Florence that anyone would be boobish enough to try, knowing what kind of reputation he had. He was known for his cruelty, even within the world of crime and violence that people were so unfortunately used to. Jerry had actually gotten off lucky. Even minor offenses would put you at risk. Simply looking at him wrong could set him off. 

Even though Florence knew nothing good could await her if she took much longer, she couldn’t help but pause, slightly shocked by what she saw in front of her. Just as she thought, this visit was special. He brought a guest. And yeah, they were unusual all right. Suddenly, the added lemon bars and odd customer behavior made sense. Sitting across from the Don was none other than a monster. At first glance, she looked almost human. She had white, human-colored skin and human-like proportions. Her hair was unusually spiked, two tufts almost feline-like, but not quite. She wore a vertically striped waistcoat with black shoes, flared black pants and a sharp-shouldered black coat, which unlike the Don, she hadn’t bothered to take off. A hat with a red band was set on the table to her side, which Florence could only assume belonged to her. The stranger honestly had a dashing look. However, stylish suits weren’t anything too new. The other aspects of this guest's appearance were what caught her eye the most. The monster had strange black markings on her skin, sharply under her eye, from her bottom lip to her chin, and lines across her hands and knuckles that reached to her fingertips. What was most infatuating, though, was her tail. It was long and thin, almost whip-like, with a large tuft of fur on the end, color matching her hair. Every once in a while it would flick when she talked, almost gesturing, as someone would do with their hands. 

Florence hadn't ever seen a monster in real life before. Both human and monster races lived in Rain City, sure, but there was a significant divide between the two, and you’d rarely ever catch them close to each other. Needless to say, the two groups didn’t get along, and as far as anyone was aware, they wouldn't any time soon. Throughout her entire life, any talk Florence had heard from folks regarding monsters was almost always negative. That was partially why she was so surprised to find Don Harvey, one of the people she’d found to be the most openly hateful and racist towards monsters, to be sitting across from one, allowing them to pick out a treat of their own. It’s not that she had a problem with that, though. As far as she was concerned, she had no right to judge anyone simply because of what they looked like. But in this case, she felt like she could make an exception. Florence felt uneasy about this newcomer. Not because she was a monster, but because she was sitting with Don Harvey. And nobody good ever sits with Don Harvey.

“Stop standin’ there and give me my fuckin’ dessert!” The Don’s voice rattled her from her thoughts. Florence was late. And she was staring. That was no good. Hurriedly, she approached the table and set the tray of sweets down in front of the two. She tried to avoid eye contact with the stranger, not only because she had to focus on the Don and hopefully weasel herself out of a punishment, but also because she felt the monster watching her closely, completely silent. That aside, she couldn’t help but notice how much more irritable Harvey was than usual. Granted, he was never nice, especially when people under his orders were caught lollygagging like she had just been, but it wasn’t like him to shout like he had. Other than his influence and reputation, his usual demeanor was yet another reason why he was so terrifying. Sure, if someone were to get angry, yell and become violent, that would be unnerving, but Harvey had a particular way about him that was absolutely bone-chilling. He was the type that’ll catch you doing something he doesn’t like and let the silence overcome you. The type that’ll use that silence and watch in sickening glee as dread seeps out of your every pore, knowing that whatever waits for you at the end of that silence may just be your untimely end. But Florence couldn’t think about that right now. She had to think fast. Jerry stuck to the routine much more closely than she had when he lost his hand, and luckily for him, that was on a particularly good day for the Don. Not only had Florence taken a bit longer this time around, she was also caught staring on a day that Harvey was peeved enough to lose his seemingly unbreakable, silently sinister composure. The odds appeared to be against her.

Harvey picked up one of his usual danishes and took a bite. His thumb and index finger were pressed irritably against his brows, and he chewed silently, contemplating. After a moment, he darted his eyes to the two men standing at the door. That was a bad sign. Usually, he had at least a couple of men with him at all times. As powerful and intimidating as he was, to most he seemed untouchable. But even so, he was still a man with assets that other gangs wanted, and he couldn’t afford to be reckless. If any of the watchful eyes focused on him were to spot a weakness in his security, they’d take advantage of that without question. And so, he was never alone. That being said, the men keeping vigilant next to the door weren’t anything new, and it wasn’t their presence alone that shook Florence. It was the fact that he was clearly thinking about acknowledging them. Usually, when they were just keeping guard, Harvey didn’t bother to address them. That doesn’t come as much of a surprise, though. To him, they were likely just unimportant objects, only meant to draw attention to themselves if things went south. However, there was one exception to this, and that was when he wanted someone to be.. taken care of. She only saw him bother to even look at his guards one time. And that one time was when Jerry lost his... She didn’t realize what that look meant at the time, which is why when she was sent away and Jerry was not, she didn’t think much of it past anxious suspicion. Just thinking about it made her feel guilty. How couldn’t she have known? It’s fucking Harvey. Of course a look and a subtle tap of his knuckles meant something. Even if she knew, she doubted she could have done anything. If she tried, it would have turned out much worse, for both her and Jerry. 

Harvey wasn’t acknowledging them yet, but he was going to. Everything within her was screaming at her to politely nod to the Don and leave, to swiftly take advantage of his momentary indecision and make a break for it before he could send her to her potential doom. But she couldn’t leave. Anyone knew that they couldn’t leave Harvey’s side until he dismissed them, indicating that all his needs have been met and that he had no other demands for the time being. Florence was cornered. He inhaled. He exhaled. She looked on in horror as he began to turn his head to the men. She was screwed.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Ya don’t need to stand around like that all day, though.” 

...What? Florence blinked in shock, aiming her gaze to the monster for the first time since she approached the table. Up close, she noticed that her sclera was dark and her iris an orangish white, her slitted pupils still focused on her in an unbreakable stare. The stranger was still eyeing her critically, but her tone was casual and somewhat playful, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. It probably wasn’t long that they were staring at each other, but it felt to Florence like the world stopped for a moment as surprise momentarily replaced the dread and fear she had just felt seconds ago. This woman was bold. Bolder than she’d ever seen anyone act around Don Harvey, that is. Even his usual guests, who had a substantial amount of power as well, were daunted enough to shrink in on themselves next to Harvey. And for a guest to override his typical rules? Well, that was unheard of. 

She must not have known how to act around Harvey. No, that couldn’t be it. They were acquainted, weren’t they? It would be reckless not to look into whoever you were meeting up with, especially if it was someone like Harvey. But that couldn’t be it, could it? This monster had confidence, but that confidence wasn’t without a sense of precariousness. Her calculating gaze seemed to sparkle a bit at Florence’s confusion, and her grin tugged ever so slightly higher. No, she was being daring, not reckless. She did that on purpose. Florence took a second to look over at Harvey, who bizarrely broke his typical, intimidating expression in a look of shock as well. He shook it away quickly so as to not appear baffled, and waved his hand dismissively at her. “Get outta here.” Florence quickly nodded, glad to have been able to leave in one piece, and left the pair behind without giving them a second glance.

She returned to the kitchen and allowed her tense muscles to relax. She knew the flimsy batwing doors weren’t much of a barrier between her and those criminals, but she couldn’t help but feel safer away from prying eyes, instead able to enjoy the sweet environment she knew so well, where she could lose herself for hours and bake to her heart’s content. When she first entered, Jerry was pacing back and forth anxiously. He must have been captivated by his own worry, because it took him a few moments to realize she had come back, the sound of the doors finally registering in his mind. His eyes snapped up to her, and he hurriedly shuffled closer.

“Y-you’re okay.. looks like you’re alright.” His dilated gaze relaxed into something softer as he examined her hands by turning them in his own, relief causing his shoulders to slump. “Was worried there for a while. Usually doesn’t take you that long, s’all.” Florence nodded in understanding and squeezed his shoulder, gave him a smile and walked around him to return to her strawberry cookies. They wouldn’t bake themselves. Florence thought that after what she had just experienced, she could use a sweet treat to settle her nerves. That was a close call. Too close. She shivered. If it wasn’t for that monster, things would have gone a lot worse. Did that stranger.. help her? No, that couldn’t be it. She was a criminal. Not just any criminal, but a criminal that was sitting with Don Harvey. She couldn’t be good news. And yet despite the power Harvey holds, she distracted him at just the right moment. Perhaps she was just mischievously attempting to get a reaction out of her and the Don. After all, she definitely got what she wanted if that’s the case. Perhaps she’s the type that likes pushing the limits. Still, whatever her intentions may have been, Florence was thankful she had been given a chance to escape completely scuff free. She silently reminded herself to experiment with more lemon dessert recipes, just in case the monster came back and wanted more of a variety as an unspoken, special thanks.

Florence, immersed in thought, hadn’t realized how much time passed. Her cookies had been baked, some dough for other recipes had been prepared, and the kitchen was almost completely cleaned. Jerry walked in through the kitchen doors with his jacket slung over his shoulders and his fedora on, ready to go home at his usual time. “Ah, I see you’ve finally come back to earth!” He said when he noticed Florence looking in his direction. Unlike before, his normal, cheerful self was back. She was quite glad to see his happy grin after the day she just had. That was Jerry, for you. Contagiously optimistic. “I tried to get your attention earlier, but I was having some trouble. Mrs. Betty left the shop ‘bout an hour ago.” He tried to get her attention? She felt a bit guilty about that. Not just for ignoring him, but for making him worry. His expression faltered just a little. “Today was tough, I bet.” Just as she thought. He was worried after all. “..have a good night, Florence.” She nodded towards him, he smiled again, and he left.

After washing her hands, she hung her apron and grabbed her jacket, just as Jerry had. Before she left every night, she always double-checked if the main area’s tables were cleaned. Cleaning them was Jerry’s job, but while she knew he was perfectly capable of cleaning them himself, every once in a while he’d get caught up in a conversation with a few lingering customers and miss a spot here and there, and while it didn’t happen often, it happened enough. She gave the tables a quick once over, nodded in satisfaction and turned out the lights. It didn’t bother Florence, and nowadays, simply considered it a part of her routine. Just check the tables, make sure they’re clean and turn out the lights. No problem. She shrugged her jacket onto her shoulders and was about to leave until she noticed something.. different. She barely caught it. A faint glow was coming from something beneath one of the tables. One of the back tables. The Don’s table. Warily, she approached, bent down, and peered underneath.

There it was, tucked in the crook of the booth’s seat. If it hadn’t been for its subtle glow, she probably wouldn’t have found it at all. For a moment, she wondered why Jerry hadn’t noticed it, but she quickly remembered that the light had been on. Of course he wouldn’t have seen it. The glow was barely noticeable in the dark, let alone in a fully lit room. Florence carefully picked it up between two of her fingers and examined it close up. It was a small, glass cylinder with a glowing red liquid inside. It was almost glittery, but not quite, and the substance churned irregularly. She had never seen anything like it before. But the bizarre, unknown substance was the least of her concerns. Nobody sat here but the Don, so it must have been his. She couldn't begin to imagine the trouble she’d be in if she was found with something that belonged to him. It wouldn’t matter if it’s something she had just stumbled upon. One of the things he hated most was a thief. She could just put it somewhere until he returned, and give it to him then. But interacting with Harvey more than she was required to would be dangerous, especially after the close call she had just hours before. And even if she did, there’s a good chance he’d label her as a thief that simply regretted her choice to steal and pretended to have stumbled upon what she stole in a lousy attempt to save her own skin.

But the vial wasn’t on Harvey's side of the booth. It was on the seat across from him. The spot where the monster had sat. Did it belong to her? Not only was it on her side, but it was also unlike anything Florence had ever seen, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if monsters had access to different things than humans did, especially considering how strictly separated they’ve always been. It had to be hers. Maybe the stranger would come back, and she could give it to her then. Florence’s first thought was to dispose of it somewhere and pretend she hadn’t seen it. That would be her safest bet. But even so, that monster had saved her skin whether she had meant to or not, and in a greedy world like this, Florence couldn’t help but appreciate that. Returning the vial is the least she could do. Even so, she couldn’t be reckless. This person was still a criminal. She’d have to be careful. Florence examined the vial for another brief moment before storing it in her pocket, where it could stay safely hidden, before starting her walk home.