She was running for her life, her lungs stinging, her breath hitching in her chest. Her small feet drummed the pavement, the force of her panic drove her forward. Beatrice tried to listen backwards to the men chasing after her over the noise of her pounding head and thumping feet. To the men who had snatched her best friend Zoé a minute ago! She still felt the force of the blow she had witnessed when that bulky square guy in a leather jacket had grabbed Zoé and shaken her like an old rug, shouting, backhanding her like she was an adult match for him, and not a 12-year old kid. Her beautiful, strong and loyal friend! Who had mentored and protected her from day one at the new school. How did they both end up in this nightmare? All had started out as a good plan to secure the medical treatment of Zoé's mum!

She heard a man's panting come closer, fear washing over her. How many chased after her, just one man, or more? Who? Square guy, or sleazeball standing nearby, grinning, when Zoe was caught and maltreated? Or the third man, the one with the snickering laugh, who stood in the dark, or all of them? Beatrice did not dare turn her head to keep her speed. She needed to hide, to vanish, to evaporate into thin air! Zoe's screams still echoed in her ears.

Trixie shivered in horror, as the scene she had witnessed replayed in her oxygen-deprived mind: She, hiding behind the stacks of goods in the warehouse and Zoé in the front. Leading their way, to deliver the package that had to be delivered, for receiving the money it was worth. Zoé, hitting her head on a protruding metal something, hissing and uttering a little moaning noise. How the lights had suddenly flashed, blinding them. And how Zoé, the package in her arms, had suddenly stood still as a stature, exposed in the light, surrounded by three snickering adult and surely criminal men, for the look of them! Trixie had ducked behind the corner out of sight just by instinct, torn between helping Zoé and staying put, to keep the one and only chance for getting help. Zoé had known that, Trixie guessed, or she had wanted to protect her younger friend. When grabbed, Zoé had denied that anyone was with her, insisted that she had been alone, even when they hit her and her screams echoed around the large warehouse. Zoé had shouted, even in that desperate situation, that if she had had an accomplice, they one would surely be on their way to get help by now! Which made Zoé's intention for Trixie to get the hell out of here painfully clear. Trixie had gotten the message straight and retracted backwards, she was not the daughter of two skilled cops (and a friend to a bounty-hunter-demon-whatever) for nothing! Silently, with a racing heart she had nearly reached the dark exit when she messed up and sent an old tin can tumbling down. Which had set her persecutors hot on her heels while Zoé's screams and a horrible rhythmic smacking noise died behind her as she gained distance.

The nightmarish mess they had gotten themselves into was much more than a nearly-11 and 12-year old could handle. How could she now call the cops? Now, when she and Zoe had tried to smuggle a package full of drugs into this old warehouse? Trixie's heart ached at the thought of the tremendously disappointed look on her mothers' face when she found her daughter – her own daughter! – guilty of criminal deeds, for whatever noble original reason. Trixie could almost depict her mothers' new boyfriends' sneer when Marcus would repeat to her mother what he had often said: That kids need a hard hand to be raised and taught to tell right from wrong! That she, Chloe Decker, was always much too soft and trusting towards her daughter, that Trixie would surely betray that trust some time soon. Trixie hated how she would now prove him to be right.

Trixie's heart ached with the wave of guilt and physical stain. Blood rushed in hear ears as she dashed down the empty dark lane. "Stop, little stinkin' rat! You regret it when we catch you! And your nigger friend will pay if you don't stop!" her hunter roared. She guessed that it was Sleazeball. Two options blinked up in her shivering brain: Hiding! Only - no shelter anywhere. Run, run, get back to the main road! There, on the main road, were lights, shops, cars... there were people, normal, non-criminal, friendly people – bad men feared the light and friendly people, right? Right? Giving in to his bait, let herself be caught to save Zoé was not an option, never! Trixie knew by instinct that Zoé's last hope for rescue would be gone the moment she got caught. She owed this to her friends' desperate attempt to buy her an out!

"Stop, stinkin' rat! Stop! I'll get you!" her persecutor gained on her, Trixie could already feel his panting in her neck. There, some bins standing in her way! Trixie's roller blader training plus derby racing payed off, her body moving on its own: She jumped, flew over the bins in a perfect arch, kicked backwards and rolled head over heels over the pavement with the momentum without feeling any pain. And up she was, running on. The clattering told her she'd made a hit as Sleazeball's yelling confirmed his slowdown. Her derby name flashed through her mind: LuciaFirebolt : bad guy 1:0! Without turning around Trixie dashed on, panting, coughing, towards the lights, towards safety. Fifty meters still to go, thirty, ten...! The sounds of the main road came closer - the panting and sputtering behind her also did. Her lungs nearly burst when she dashed around the corner onto the main road, taking in the scenery and her options with panic-sharpened senses. Miraculously, she found her way around and in-between passer-by Christmas shoppers loaded with bags, as if her path was scribbled down on the pavement. Trixie gained ground on Sleazeball who lost time by rudely pushing people out of his way. A red-and-gold decorated shop straight ahead to her right swam into her blurred view. She knew that shop, she had visited it before! Without a second thought, she wrenched the door open and flung herself inside.

The little doorbell dragon dinged like mad. The old Asian shop owner with the grey beard and hooded eyes slowly lifted his head from sorting the colourful Chinese (well, Hong Kong-made) molten-glass writing pens. When he slowly peered down, he noticed the dark-haired girl on the floor, panting, scrambling to her knees to get up again. He sighed. This meant trouble, he could tell. "Help me, please, help" the girl chocked, nearly vomiting with her panic. "He's not m'guardian, regardless whats he says! He's a crim..." she spat out in a rush. The old man eyed her like an owl who just started to take in the situation. The doorbells shook angrily for a second time. The door was ripped open again and a lean, greasy dark-haired man entered, panting, peering around. He spotted the girl on the floor in an instant and his features broke into a satisfied smirk. Beatrice crawled backwards until her back hit the shop's counter. She noticed with grim satisfaction that her enemy had a fat colouring lump on his forehead and that his left forearm was scratched. "There y'are little rat, finally got you!" his leering grin bared yellowish horse teeth. He took a step forward. "Ya'know, kids these days!" Sleezeball drawled and flickered his gaze lazily to the old man who watched the scenery, waving his hand in a throwaway gesture, "Need to be taught manners, them, don't they? Most of all this one! Little bitch!" He grinned at his prey. "I'll rid you of her, she'll be properly punished!" The old man blinked, slow, owlishly, and remained silent. Trixie's heart sank. Her chances, and therefore Zoe's, were running out. It had been a deadly mistake to seek shelter here. Game over!

The old man, Mr. Wong, Trixie remembered, had seemed so friendly the other day when Trixie had bought a present here. In another life, ages – no, three days – ago, when she finally had decided for Chloe's Christmas present, and had pestered Maze until they went into the shop to buy it. Maze and Mr Wong had gotten on so well, with Mr. Wong respectfully addressing Maze in Chinese and giving a funny bow. But of course, Mr. Wong was a merchant. Being friendly to customers was part of his business. What had she expect, stupid kid she was? Trixie felt lost, helpless, betrayed. Her secret, heart-felt kid belief that someone, something must come to the aid of the helpless clashed with the harsh reality. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, her lips moved silently. "Lucifer, Maze, if you can hear me... please, I'm in so much trouble... help me. It's me, Trixie. Please!"

Of course no kind of superhero came to her rescue! What did she think, stupid children's' dreams she'd made up ages ago? When she used to believe Lucifer that he was the Devil, when she had drawn pictures of Lucifer with angel wings. When she had still hoped against hope that Lucifer and her mother would get together. So that Trixie would have had to put up with Marcus Pierce every other day. But this was what reality was now! She better readied herself.

Sleazeball dashed forward and grabbed for her hair. Trixie whirled away instantly, a strand of her hair remaining in his fingers. Her eyes darted around the room like the cornered bird she was. She scanned the nearby goods on display. Again, her reflexes were fast, instinctively, Maze-and-Derby-trained: She grabbed the chiselled silver paper knife and plunged it forward into the man's right groping hand. He howled and jumped backwards, clutching his bleeding hand. "No, you didn't just..." he gaped at her, mouth hanging open, "Lil' rat has sharp teeth!" Trixie drew herself up and lifted her chin. LuciaFirebolt – Sleazeball 2:0. For one glorious second! She took a fighting position, as Maze had taught her. Trixie knew perfectly well that she did not stand the slightest chance against a grown adult. But she would not go without a fight! At least the police or Maze should find enough evidence for the mayhem she intended cause when they went to find out what had happened to her...

Bad guy shifted his weight to his other foot, unsure how to overwhelm her without being stung again. Then he lunged forward, using his height to his advantage, clawing for her right knife hand. Trixie had flung the knife into her left hand a split second before his fingers scratched her right wrist, to remain in the possession of her only weapon. Simultaneously she had curled herself into a ball and plunged forward against him, ducking to the floor. Sleazeball tripped over her with his momentum, hitting her ribs in a cracking blow with his right foot. Trixie gasped for air with the sharp pain. But it was worth it: Sleazeball crashed to the floor again, cursing, spluttering, struggling to get up. She jumped to her feet, panting, holding her bruised rib cage, her defence weapon still ready and pointing at her enemy. But her strength slowly waned, she was simply worn out. Trixie moved backwards, counter now to her right, her dark eyes fixed on her attacker. Her gaze flicked briefly to Mr Wong, who eyed her curiously as if she were a novel species he needed to study and understand. Then, as if something important was confirmed, he nodded to himself, reached under the counter in slow motion and drew a gun. Trixie's mouth fell open (and so did Sleazeball's) when he, with his owlish demeanour, raised the gun and pointed it directly at Sleazeball. There was a click as Mr. Wong unlocked the gun.

The criminal froze, yellow teeth bared in a funny grimace. "I kindly ask you to leave my shop and let the young lady be." Mr Wong's voice was surprisingly deep and resonant, in an accent that sounded vaguely familiar to Trixie. "I assure you that Madame Li, whose Alhambra Tirade Family kindly protects this little unworthy store of crafted goods, will not be amused that Louie Manchinetti's gang men chase after a protégé of the famous Great Dragon!" Wong peered down his nose and raised one eyebrow questioningly at Trixie, which sent her mind in racing overdrive. Suddenly it clicked. "Yes, um, err, the Great Dragon teaches me how to handle knives!" Trixie confirmed, hating it that her voice sounded so small and shaken, not strong and cool like Maze's. "All kinds of knives. Every day!" she nodded with a slightly more steady voice. Sleazeball glared at them both, uncertain what to do. He bared his teeth. "We have your little friend and she will pay for you at her auction, rat!" Sleazeball spat at Trixie and smirked. "She's delicious, she'll bring a good price!" Trixie did not understand the implications but her guts did. She shuddered when the memory of Zoé's helpless screams flooded her brain.

"I strongly suggest that you reconsider your plans," Wong addressed the man politely in his deep rumbling voice. "The Great Dragon is hell-forged and abides by a higher Lord. As rumour has it, the Dragon has even beaten and humiliated Kang, the Tirade's best fighter. Tell Louie, with the Alhambra's Families' best regards, that no protégé of the Great Dragon and her Lord will be harmed on our watch." After a short pause, he added, "If you would, now, kindly take your leave." When Sleazeball did not move an inch, gaping at him as if to find out how to overcome him, Mr Wong slowly lifted the gun to Sleazeballs head. He blinked owlishly and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The shot rang. Sleazeball howled in pain, clutched his bleeding left earlobe, then he spun around and was gone in an outburst of tingling dragon doorbells.

Trixie stared at the doorframe, shaking from head to toe. She could not believe that she had, against all odds, escaped! Mr Wang sighed in the background. "I hate it to peel bullets out of my doorframe," he muttered under his breath, seemingly unhappy with the situation. Then he turned around, knelt next to Trixie who suddenly noticed that she had dropped to her knees onto the floor, arms and legs shaking and wondering how she got there. His old, wise eyes scanned the figure of the no-longer little girl. "Well fought, young lady, you have it in you. A worthy protégé of the Great Dragon!" Wong praised her. It was all he could give her to help her pull her heart and soul together after the ordeal. He sensed that the girl had irrevocably stepped onto the pathway that leaves the land of childhood behind. In a distant place in the girls' heart, he could hear crumbling princess towers make little crystal clinging sounds.

Wong got up from the floor with a sight about "old bones" and gestured for her to stand up. "I took the liberty to call the Great Dragon before I requested Louie's man to leave", he told Trixie. "She promised to be here in about 10 minutes." Trixie sighed in relief, and nodded, exhausted, grateful. For a brief moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to hug Mr. Wong like she used to hug Lucifer. Ages ago. In a different life. But she was not a little girl any longer, she never would be. "Thank you", Trixie mumbled instead. Mr Wong bent down behind the counter and came up with a coke, which he handed to her. "I mean, for everything! The coke, the knife which I ruined..." she gazed at her hand "...and the bullet!" she grinned mischievously for a second, but the light in her features faltered too soon. "I – I appreciate your help", she said more formally, bowing her head to channel her gratitude into a respectful, heartfelt gesture. She had never understood such gestures until now: He could have easily decided to act otherwise and let her have dragged out of his shop. No Disney-movie-force had made him protect her. It was simply his decision. All your actions come at a cost, she realized...

Mr Wong looked down at the little brown-haired head. "Girl, you seem to have gotten yourself into some real trouble," he murmured. It was not a question. She looked up and he recognized the desperation in her eyes. "Yes I have", she whispered and looked down on her dirty hands. A little bit of Sleazeballs blood stuck on them, which suddenly caused her nausea. The knife clattered from her hands. Tears finally started to form, a springing tide with the waning adrenaline.

"Do you want my advice?" he asked, kindly, and waited until she could control her hitching breath. She nodded to her hands, still sniffling. "First things first: Take a sip of your coke" he instructed, suddenly smiling bright and warm like Santa Claus. "You depleted all your reserves in your fight. Water. Sugar. You know, the Great dragon will bite us if we do not care for you properly, won't she?" Trixie could not help but smile a little. Obediently broke the seal and took little sips. It helped combat the nausea, surprisingly. Wong continued. "Second: You do require assistance. That much I get, when you want to go up against the Manchinelli cartel" he held up his hand, to stop her when Trixie took a deep breath to start her story. "...the police?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow. Trixie's mouth snapped shut. Desperation crept back into her and shone through her saddening brown eyes. She sighed and shook her head. No! She did not want her mother to find out what they had done, just to be seconded by her awful-lawful new boyfriend, probably soon-to-be step dad, Marcus! Wong nodded as if his suspicions were confirmed. "Mmhm, so there's that. Strong assistance is required then, stronger than mine, obviously." He paused, briefly. "If you are familiar with Mazikeen the Dragon..." "She's my friend," Trixie murmured under her breath, "...if you are even friends with her, than you will know her former Lo.., ah, superior." "You mean, Lucifer Morningstar?" Trixie's head shot up. Suddenly she felt hope without knowing why. Something clicked into place. "You have the same accent he has", she stated, eying Mr Wong. "Do you know him? Did you come, ah, from the same place? London...?" She quipped. Mr Wong nodded. "Indeed I do come from the same place, in a manner of speaking. I used to work for him. He is a special... boss, demands loyalty but is fair and generous. Well-connected. I... owe him... a lot." Wong stated, suddenly solemn, his gaze in the distant past. His tone was utterly respectful, even fearful when he spoke of Lucifer, more so than when he spoke of the "Great Dragon", Maze.

Trixie was unsure if Mr Wong really meant the same Lucifer she knew: The Lucifer who had played Monopoly with them and let her paint his face; who had promised her (and secretly given her already the very first) driving lessons in his Corvette; who helped her raid her mothers' cookie stocks and who came up with the very best puppy-dog-eyes look she'd ever seen when they were both caught by mum; who always squirmed so funnily when she hugged him that she had made a game out of it, just to see him wince with her hugs, even when she would normally not do that any longer. Because she was long since too grown up to do spontaneous hugs. A thing he never seemed to notice nor understand, to her utter amusement. But over the last few months everything had changed. Lucifer seldom worked with her mother these days. He had stopped his leisure time visits after Chloe went out with Marcus for the first time. If she was honest with herself, Lucifer had vanished from her, Trixie's, life, and she truly missed him - every day.

"So this is my third piece advice", Wong continued. "You will have to go to his homestead, a night club called Lux," "I know his penthouse, it's so beautiful..." she murmured. Wong's eyebrows went up in surprise "...and you will have to make a deal with the Devil to get your friend back from the mob, unharmed." Mr Wong sighed. "...if there is a chance for unharmed, that is." Trixie's heart dropped at this, when the pictures of Zoé dangling from the arm of that square guy flooded back into her mind. "The devil values his deals, always. He may be your only chance," Wong added. She held her saviours' gaze, mouth slightly open in surprise, her dark brown eyes scanning his old ones. He did neither blink nor wink. There was not a trace of doubt in her saviours' mind that Lucifer, her mum's funny and annoying partner, was the Devil himself. Mr Wong had worked for him... he should know the truth, should he? This was confusing!

Suddenly the door was ripped open. The maltreated jingling doorbells finally surrendered and crashed to the floor. Maze stood in the doorframe, whirling the claw-like knives with deadly ease, snarling. "Where will I find the scumbags that dared to take her"?

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