-Part 2-

Author's Note: This chapter gives the backstory on Mello's team. You can skip it if you'd like, but events from their pasts will become relevant in the story as it progresses.

When Mello had first acquired the Newspaper, he knew immediately that business plans were going to change. Up to that point, the "Manhattan Mafia," as it was so crudely nicknamed by the media, was involved in a whole range of activities. Frankly, the group didn't even have an official name. They had ties to narcotics trafficking, black market weaponry, underground organ donations, money laundering, et cetera.

The third day after finding the Newspaper, Mello had planned on gathering his faithful team to tell them the new course of action. Mainly, the switch from all that miscellaneous stuff to insider trading. He had decided early on that he would keep the Newspaper to himself – mostly because he was afraid they'd think him crazy for believing a fortune-telling newspaper. All he planned on telling them was that he'd acquired new, and very useful, information on the stock market.

It wasn't that Mello didn't trust them. Similarly, the four members of his team trusted him as well. He just didn't want to complicate things further.

The team consisted of Elli, Mike, Lucy, and Nick. Elli, of course, was the blonde fun-loving girl in charge of the Polar Parlor. Mike, a lighthearted and somewhat goofy man, was Mello's trusted sidekick. Lucy was a force to be reckoned with – a quiet and ruthless killer, her bright pink hair was no reflection of her personality. Lastly, there was Nick, a trusted ex-gang member who worked with Elli on the finances and was also in charge of supplying inventory.

The four of them waited to hear the reason behind this sudden meeting.

"So," Mello said, breaking the silence, "we are about to set course in a new direction. One that will make us a lot of money."

He looked first to Elli, who seemed the most intrigued.

"Oh? That's great!" She put her hands together, "Always good news to hear."

Mello smiled to himself. Elli was the second addition to his team in the early days, joining shortly after Mike. Elise René was her real name, but these days she just went as 'Elli.' Although you'd never be able to tell just by looking at her, she had a long history of crime behind her. She'd never killed anybody, oh no, but otherwise she's tried everything under moon.

He still remembers looking over her government case file, the two of them laughing over the (un)flattering photograph of her with a stolen baseball bat, and then subsequently destroying all evidence of her records. Good times…

-Elise "Elli" René-

Mello had met Elli, of all places, in a monastery.

She did not fit in very well among the other nuns with her bright hair, cheerful melodic voice, and, well, her figure. However, she operated out of the monastery for several months, successfully running an underground gambling ring.

Not many people know this, but the Catholic Church has a long history of illicit gambling practices, dating back to the very first Popes. Although illegal since the 1800s, the gambling continued throughout the years. For whatever reason, a spike in popularity brought more people than ever to the underground poker tables, and Elli quickly jumped at the opportunity.

She hadn't always been a criminal, however. Once, over a shared mug of bubble tea, Elli told Mello her story.

She was eighteen years old when she met him. Although she never told Mello his name, she occasionally slipped up during her recollection and used the name 'Miles.' Anyway, she told Mello how she began a law internship at a prosecutor's office in Washington during her years in university. She was young and eager to learn, with a dream of someday becoming a pro-bono server of justice, protecting the innocent from crime.

Ironic, isn't it?

She had hoped to intern at a defense attorney's office, but she wasn't one to turn down a job at her age. So when a spot opened up with the Crown, she happily agreed. She worked directly under one the of the country's most successful prosecutors as an assistant, and followed him everywhere for the duration of her internship.

Elli quickly fell head over heels for this man.

"I'm not talking, like, chick-flick love," she had said to Mello that day, "I would seriously do anything for him. I'd give my life for him." She paused, "…He was everything to me."

And everything, he was. This prosecutor was well known among his peers and rivals, and Elli had heard her fair share or rumours about him prior to starting her internship. Rumours like falsified evidence to maintain a perfect guilty record. Rumours like manipulating judges and twisting the words of witnesses to make his case. Rumours like that.

Of course, Elli didn't believe a single one. Love does that to you – it forcefully changes your sight to be tinted with rose-coloured illusions of perfection. He took her breath away.

Everything from murder trials to crime scene investigations to late night closing arguments, Elli stayed by his side. Because of the job, Elli had made a few enemies and lost many friends, but none of it mattered to her.

The end to this story came on a hot August day. The streets of Washington were enveloped in riots due to a foreign ambassador that was not allowed to attend a G-Summit meeting with the president. For almost an entire day, stores were looted, cars were stolen, homes were broken into – it was chaos. An electronic superstore was robbed of its most valuable devices. A jewelry store, housing some of the world's rarest quartz diamonds and pearls, was also demolished and robbed.

In an unpredictable turn of events, Elli was framed.

She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and her name and address fell into the hands of an envious rival. Taken into custody the following morning, Elli waited confidently for her mentor to arrive and bail her out. Surely he would believe her. Surely they would have a hearty laugh about this, after he bailed her out and defended her name in court. Then they could walk off into the sunset together.

But he did not defend her. He did not believe her story.

Elli's heart shattered into a million pieces that day. She stood at the defendant's podium, repeating her name; Elise René,

Repeating her claim;

not guilty,

not guilty, your honor,

I was framed,

Elise René,

not guilty

not guilty

not guilty

not guilty

not guilty!

Her heart ached. To make the situation even more unbearable, the prosecutor assigned to the case was none other than her mentor. The man she had fallen in love with now stood under the spotlight of the court, accusing her of injustice. With every remark, he shot a bullet through her heart.

'Where were you that day?'

'I was at home, watching the news!'

'Why was your student ID found at the scene?'

'I told you, I was framed!'

'Who would have motive to frame you?'

'I-I don't know!'

'Your honor, I would like to enter a new piece of evidence.'

'What is that?!'

'Security footage of you at the scene, miss René.'

'But… I was never there…'

Elli's breaking moment was when she realized that he was using falsified evidence against her. The rumours were true. He didn't give a damn about her. He would do everything in his power to ensure that she was given a guilty verdict, because he believed her to be guilty of this crime.

That was all that she could take. In the middle of the night, with the help of some other inmates, Elli escaped. And she ran, never looking back. Her life as she knew it was over, thanks to this man. Everything she had worked for up until this moment was crushed in a single day.

Mello had asked, with a clenched fist, "Why don't you just tell me his name, Elli?! I can avenge you, you know that!"

Elli had looked down, tears threatening to gloss over her eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of," she said. "…I still love him."

Upon destroying most records of her existence, Elli fled the state. After some time, she clandestinely got in touch with her family, and sent them away under witness protection to New Zealand. Apparently, she still contacts them once in a while, sending them money and updates on her life.

After becoming fugitive, Elli couldn't very well pursue academics or work. So, ironically, she turned to a life of crime. With her knowledge of the legal system, Elli successfully exploited many loopholes over the years. She was a part of many smuggling rings, from opium to jewelry, and eventually found her place among poker chips and playing cards. From counting cards and proceeds, Elli discovered her talent for finances, turning deficit into surplus with the snap of her fingers.

The cards and green fuzzy tables and the dinging of slot machines were Elli's muses. Her bubbly personality drew many newcomers to her casinos, and she soon found her way to the biggest underground rings of the Catholic Church. Donning nun's robes, Elli accustomed herself with the disguise, bringing in money from the richest clergy in the country. It got dull after a while, but it was comfortable.

To gain access to the casino, you would have to find a nun at the St. Ambrose monastery, and say the key words:

Did you bow to the Lord and repent today?

To which Elli would answer:

I won't bruise my knees getting down to pray – won't repent 'til my judgment day.

Mello had heard rumours of a pretty blonde nun who could provide access to the best gambling scenes in the world. He had to see this for himself, wanting to get in on the action. This is how he met Elli. She was just shy of twenty at that time, and Mello quickly recognized that she was not at her full potential.

He offered her a job. She accepted.

Mello looked next to Nick, who was seated near Elli. He had a toothpick in his mouth, although he was not using it, and he wore the same white suit he always does, with a blue button-up shirt underneath.

Nick nodded in approval at Elli's statement, "What's the upgrade gonna be this time, chief?" He leaned back in his seat, "I hope it ain't contract killing. That shit's harder than it looks. Plus I hate getting blood on my clothes."

Mello chuckled. Nick was the second-latest recruit, succeeded only by Lucy. He remembered vividly the day Nick joined his team…

-Nicholas "Nick" Harrington-

For as long as he could remember, Nick had lived his life as an outlaw. His father and his father's father integrated Nick seamlessly into the gang life. San Francisco was the crime capital of California. Gangs ruled the streets, and reputation was everything.

Nick was in a gang known as the Arcana. Infamous for weaponry trading and contract killing, the group was unique in its hierarchal structure. There were only 78 members at any given time – and each was codenamed after a Tarot card. Upon completing a hit job, a single Tarot card would be left at the scene as a signature.

Nick's grandfather was the Hierophant. He was in charge the maintenance and propagation of tradition and conventional beliefs, and anyone who went against these beliefs was shunned. Balance and conformity were the goals of the Hierophant, and neither positive nor negative is emphasized – only tradition matters.

His father was the Emperor – the archetypal Father, wise in the ways of the world and knowledgeable of how to live as part of a structure along with everyone else. He had a strong and powerful heart, as every father should, but he showed this side of himself through the imposition of strict guidelines and rules, as most fathers do.

With such predecessors, Nick had big shoes to fill. His role was the Magician, a powerful role responsible for theory and practice, logic and emotion, thought and action. He was a master of con artistry and illusion.

At his side was his lovely wife, the High Priestess, arguably the most difficult of the Arcana to qualify with words alone, because so much of her power and ability was veiled in mystery that it was difficult for anyone to fathom it all. She was a sight to behold; a dark-haired beauty with a slight Italian accent and the precision of a cobra – with all of the poison.

The two of them made a wonderful team. The Magician and the Priestess: illusion and grace. Nick's wife was named Amelia – Nick called her 'Amy' and 'my love,' showering her with gifts and a lavish lifestyle. In return, Amelia hung off his arm, showering him with kisses and caresses. They were inseparable partners in crime, and their relationship was the envy of many.

Most envious of all was Nick's younger brother – code-named the Devil.

Devoured from the inside by jealousy, his brother grew to despise Nick because of his happiness. He envied his brother's wealth, his comfort, his status.

It was five years ago, on June the 6th, that Nick came home to find his wife in bed with his brother.

It was on June the 7th that Nick beat his brother to death with a crowbar.

Murder of a fellow member was unforgivable by the Arcana. Despite the circumstances, and despite pleading to stay, Nick was banished from the only family he had ever known. He would have been killed if it weren't for the high position of power held by his father.

And so, without a home, Nick left to wander the deserts of San Francisco. Pursued by the police, he soon went into hiding and made a living through hit jobs for shady clients.

He hated it.

Walking along a back-alley road one day, Nick accidentally bumped into Mello, who had flown to California for a trade. Nick mumbled an apology and kept walking.

"Hey, did you drop this?" Mello had asked, holding up a Tarot card depicting the Magician.

Nick looked at the card, "…You can keep it."

Mello squinted his eyes, trying to make out the art on the card in the darkness of the alley. "This is from Arcana, isn't it? Are you a member?"

"Used to be."

"Are you any good?"

"…Used to be."

"…Wanna work for me?"

This was how Nick joined Mello's team.

At the far end of the couch sat Lucy, the second girl on his team and his latest recruit. She never said much and she wasn't going to break her routine today. Mello and the others knew better than to push her for words.

Lucy was Mello's killing machine. Although he himself was capable of handling a weapon, as was Nick, Mello left most of the dirty work to Lucy. To her, it was a second nature. She could rip a man's head off with one hand. She could suffocate someone without batting an eyelash. She could gut a body without getting a speck of blood on her clothes.

Now as she sat on the couch in his office, she barely looked up when Mello made his announcement. Money didn't matter to her and it never did.

What mattered to Lucy was tranquility, and the feeling of being at ease. She was vicious, cold, cruel, and unbelievably strong – and yet she feared and hated people. She feared men.

Mello was not afraid of her, nor was he a threat to her. She held him in such a respect that her loyalty would never waiver. And although fond of Elli and cautious of Nick, the only other person by whom Lucy felt most accepted was Mike.

This was how they met.

- Lucy -

Lucy was, to put it in Layman's terms, the result of an experiment.

The Global Coalition, together with the US and German army, established a secret project known as the NL-9000 in 2006. 'NL' stood for Nano- Laqueum, meaning 'microscopic trap'. Using nanotechnology, military science was ready to experiment with a new weapon.

Nanobots have always been promising in the field of combat due to their ability to effectively act as an extra set of programmable white cells. Such research, of course, was very controversial and expensive. Luckily, the military had both secrecy and wealth.

The NL-9000 project gave birth to H.O.R.N. – Hyper-Operational Restorative Neurons. Nicknamed 'horns,' this device was a matching set of white, nano-powered antenna, which were in the shape of small pyramidal horns. To function, the horns needed to be surgically fused to the skull of a human being, after which the Nanobots would gain access to the host's brain and electrical neuron energy.

With full power, the horns grant their host an unfathomably strong immune system and metabolism. Microscopic bots can rush to the site of a wound in milliseconds, and are able to close it, on average, 230% faster than the average human leukocyte. Additionally, muscle development is rapidly increased, allowed to host to achieve unbelievable strength.

Lucy was NL-9009: the ninth subject to be fused with horns. She was also the last.

For this project to begin its testing, the scientists needed humans. Lucy was a refugee from North-East Asia, her memories and past were taken from her. Wiped clean by amnestics, like a new doll straight out of the box, she was given the name 'Lucy' by the scientists who awoke her from a coma. All of the NL-9000 subjects had been given names with 'L.'

With no memory of who she was or how she got there, Lucy found herself upon an operating table. The horns had been fused to her skull, on either side of the top of her head, almost resembling cat ears. Before she had a chance to ask where she was, she was taken to training.

Four of the nine NL-9000 subjects expired during or shortly after the fusing procedure. One had accidentally killed himself due to a malfunction of the horns. Lucy and three others were deemed a success. The scientists had to test the limits of the subjects' new bodies.

In trained combat, Lucy endured a series of life threatening injuries. The Nanobots from the horns on her head were able to keep her alive through bullet holes, bayonet wounds, immolation, amputation, and stepping on landmines. Despite suffering incredible pain, the continual injuries made her regenerative strength more and more powerful, and her physical strength was increasing as well.

She was deemed ready for the battlefield.

Lucy got transferred to a Mobile Task Force (MTF-24) on the west coast, which was constantly at war with various groups of interest. Preceded by the news of her successful training with the new technology, she was quickly put on the front lines. At that time, the researchers behind the NL-9000 project were not yet aware of side effects or potential dangers to the host.

In a freak accident of friendly fire, a stray bullet hit Lucy's right horn, cracking off about half a centimeter from its tip. She fell unconscious immediately. For a few days after that, Lucy had to be monitored. The wounds she had gotten the day of the crack took longer to heal. For about 48 hours she couldn't even walk.

The first night in the intensive care unit on the military base, Lucy was raped.

Unable to fully register the sounds outside her tent, Lucy had woken up that night in a cold sweat. One by one, a group of male soldiers from the task force snuck their way inside. Lucy could count at least ten of them. One held his hand over her mouth while two others held her down.

That was the night Lucy lost her humanity. Any shreds of compassion or empathy that may have developed in her heart were instantly frozen over under a dark blanket of stone.

She was still unable to walk on the second day. On the third day, it seems, the unbroken horn had doubled its capacity and Lucy's abilities were fully restored.

The head scientist behind the NL-9000 project received an unplanned phone call from the captain of the MTF from the west coast that afternoon. The captain told him with a shaky voice that the project has to be shut down.

He explained frantically that NL-9009, in a disillusioned state of rage, had dismembered at least ten members of his task force. Without any weapons, words, or warnings.

When the scientist, taken aback by this news, asked the captain to repeat himself, the line was already dead. As was the captain.

The NL-9000 project was disbanded immediately. The other three subjects were terminated and all of the information regarding the H.O.R.N. technology was destroyed. Lucy was the only NL-9000 subject remaining in the world.

She escaped the military facility and walked for miles and miles until she reached human civilization. Noting that the horns on her head attract unwanted attention, she kept them hidden with hats. She had no idea how to live a normal life. She had no one. She had manifested a fear of, and hatred for, humans.

She was alone. And loneliness is the ultimate poverty.

-Michael "Mike" Truman-

Mike grew up in a happy family. It wasn't a large family by any means – just him, his sister Marcia, who was five years his senior, and their father, Charley. Mike had never known his mother, who had apparently left shortly after his birth, taking off with someone else. Marcia remembered her only vaguely, but the two of them were more than happy being raised by their father.

Charley cared for his kids more than anything else in the world and ensured that they had a good childhood. The three of them did everything together – they went to parks for picnics, to zoos, to the lake – something new almost every weekend. Charley worked as a teacher at a college, and tried his best to manage his work hours and home hours.

Marcia and Mike went to school and camp together, and they were inseparable. Marcia, the brave older sister, pulled Mike around by the hand, defending him from the dangers of the world. Mike, a reliable brother and friend, was always there for his sister when she needed to talk. They had no secrets.

When Mike was 12 and his sister was 17, their father got sick.

ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, otherwise known as Lou Gehrig's disease, is a rare and terrible affliction. Invariably fatal and rapidly progressive, ALS attacks the neurons that control voluntary muscle movement, inevitably leaving its victim trapped in the motionless shell of a useless body. Unable to function, the muscles gradually weaken and waste away.

Charley was diagnosed after he went to the doctor complaining of weakness and difficulty swallowing. He was given a prognosis of less than three years.

Mike will never forget the moment he heard those words. He was sitting on the couch with his sister, across from his dad and a man in a doctor's lab coat.

"Your father is sick."

"There is no cure for ALS."

"Less than three years."

As the weeks progressed, Mike and Marcia started to become aware of their father's rapidly degenerating health. It began with a cane, then a walker, then a wheelchair. He could no longer button his shirts. He could no longer teach. He could no longer eat solid foods.

With each passing month, more and more unwanted additions were made to the household. An IV drip. A caretaker. A breathing machine. A heart monitor.

In two years, their father was no longer able to speak. At 14 years old, Mike knew the inevitable fate that was approaching his only parent. Following the muscles of the abdomen, the disease would attack the muscle of the lungs. Ultimately, ALS always leads to death by suffocation.

Throughout the whole ordeal, the family had gotten even closer. It's amazing the love humans are capable of when precious time ticks away from them.

When Charley finally passed, it was a painless death in his sleep. Mike and Marcia were by his side, but they did not cry. Having already said their goodbyes and cried out their hearts, they were ready for the moment when it came.

Marcia, who was now 19, took on the responsibility of caring for herself and for Mike. She put college on hold until Mike finished high school and worked at a coffee shop in the mean time to pay the rent and cover the sky-high medical bills. She never complained and never accepted any help. The death of their father hit her brother much harder – she had to be his rock.

In a couple of years, Mike graduated and went to college. Marcia had decided to stay at the coffee shop, where she soon became the manager. Mike was on his way to achieving a journalist degree when Marcia met Joseph.

Joseph was a doctor at the local hospital. He frequented the coffee shop and became quite infatuated with Marcia – the two of them hit it off right away. He was a kind man, and treated Marcia like a princess. Mike was put off by the fact that someone else was taking his sister's attention, but upon realizing that Joseph was worthy of her, they became close.

In a couple more years, Mike watched with tears in his eyes as his beloved sister got married. They lived in a nice, large house now, a luxury that the siblings had never known. At 19, Mike was saving up money to move out but Joseph insisted he stay with him and Marcia.

Then Layla was born. She had Marcia's button nose and Joseph's curly hair, and she had the whole world reflecting from her big chocolate-coloured eyes. Mike, of course, became the designated babysitter.

He loved Layla to death. When her first words, instead of 'ma-ma,' were 'mi-mi,' Mike was ecstatic. He would take her everywhere, with her parents' permission, and he would shower her with toys and attention. He was in a happy family once more.

But of course, all good things must come to an end.

This is how, on Christmas Eve, Mike wound up on a roof, ready to jump.

Mike had been on a business trip – covering a story in Maryland on some Christmas charity fundraiser. Since it was Christmas Eve, he had wanted to take the day off, but his boss wouldn't allow it. Instead, he tried to finish up his work as quickly as possible and get home to have dinner with his family.

He picked up a large stuffed rabbit for Layla. He wrapped it haphazardly in purple paper, fit with a bow. He had bought a bracelet for Marcia. A watch for Joseph.

As he wondered what they may have gotten him, he put his key into the lock on the door. When the door swung open, unlocked, Mike stepped in slowly.

Why is the door unlocked?

The smell of iron hit him like a gust of wind that picks up when a train speeds by on a platform. What smell was this?

Blood? Is this blood?

His heart began to race as he dropped his bags on the floor. His eyes darted around the living room.

Joseph?

Marcia?

His gaze moved downwards to the wooden parquet floor. Bloodied footprints led out of the room and up the stairs.

Layla?

Marcia?

Where are you?

In a daze, he made his way past the decorated tree and to the stairs. The beating of his heart echoed through his ears, pulsing with an unspeakable fear.

The footprints led him to the bedroom.

Marcia, please answer me!

The bedroom door swung open.

Oh God…

No…

Their deaths were immediately ruled as a homicide. When Mike had found them, his sister and her baby were still breathing. In a few minutes, they were no longer. They had been stabbed multiple times – there was no hope.

From that point on, Mike wandered aimlessly in a haze. He developed severe depression. Not a moment went by when he wasn't thinking about things he could have done that day that could have prevented the deaths of his family.

I should have stayed home. I should have come back earlier. I should have – I should have – I should have – I should have – I should have – I…..

He hadn't noticed the flights of stairs beneath his feet. Suddenly, he was on a roof.

Now, luckily or unluckily, people were around that day. His suicide was prevented and, against his wishes, he started therapy. It didn't last too long though, as the money he had quickly ran out after the burial plots and the funerals were paid for. Having lost all sense of caring for his own life, Mike ended up on the street.

It was a cold February morning in Boston. The snow was relentless, blanketing the streets with a ghastly white. Mike sat on a bench, shivering in the cold.

"Hey. You hungry?"

Mike thought he heard a voice. Was someone talking? Surely not to him.

"Hey, I said! You deaf, too?"

Mike looked up at last, figuring that yes, the voice was addressing him. A young man stood before him, his face mostly concealed by a scarf and the hood of his parka. He was holding a tray with two coffees and a sandwich.

Mike blinked, "This is for me…?"

The young man pushed some snow off the bench and sat down, placing the coffees beside him. "Yeah, you looked pretty pathetic out here. I felt like doing a good deed today." He held out the sandwich, "Plus, I'm a little lonely."

Taking the sandwich carefully, Mike stared blankly at the person before him. "Lonely? I can relate to that…"

"What's your name?" he asked.

"… It's Mike. Yours?"

"Mello."

This was how Mello recruited the first member of his team. Since their initial encounter, Mike followed Mello around like a loyal puppy. He had no idea why this person wanted to give him a new chance in his life, but Mike didn't question it. He saw it as a sign from the heavens that life goes on, and he must go on with it. For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.

As time went on, the two of them formed a close friendship. Mike didn't know much about Mello, but he gathered something about a mafia, something about 'branching off,' something about 'I'll show them all, I'll become the best.'

Mike's positivity and kindness played as a perfect foil to his new boss. Over the years, they recruited more and more people – Elli, Nick, some others in different locations. Mike remained Mello's right-hand man through it all.

A stronger believer of karma, Mike did whatever he could to help people he met. It was his way of thanking fate for sending Mello to him. This sort of pay-it-forward attitude was how he lived his life. So when he witnessed a group of people harassing a girl on the street, he knew he had to do something.

He had been sent on an errand to get some supplies. On his way back to the base, Mike heard a commotion and followed the sound. As he approached the gathering crowd, he saw that the group had formed a circle around two people – one was a man on the ground, and the other was a young woman standing over him.

Those gathered around were shouting things like;

You're a monster! You killed him! Someone call the cops!

The young woman in the middle was being shoved; parts of her clothes were torn and her face was concealed by her own two hands.

She had brilliantly bright pink hair.

As Mike got closer, he noticed that she was saying something.

get away from me get away from me

get away get away get away get away from me

get away get away from me

get away from me please

get away

get away from me please

get away

get away from me

She was trembling – but Mike couldn't tell if it was from fear or rage, or both. He knew he had to do something, anything, to help her. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and took out a gun (provided courtesy of Nick), shooting it into the air.

The crowd instantly quieted. Next, he took out a police badge (obtained courtesy of Elli) and made his way towards the middle.

"Everyone, back away!" His voice boomed, "I am a police officer. I will handle things from here, please leave the scene." Then he added, "NOW."

As the mob began to disparse, he went over to the girl, who still had her hands obscuring her face.

"Hey, it's ok," he said in a whisper, "I'm not really a cop. But you gotta play along, alright? I'm gonna take your arm and pretend to lead you away. Do you understand?"

The young woman looked up but avoided his gaze. She had radiant ruby eyes, hidden slightly by her hair and a winter hat. She gave a small nod.

Mike took her by the arm lightly and, speaking loudly said, "I'm takin' you down to the precinct, missy!"

When they were a safe distance from the scene, and when the sound of police sirens was faint, Mike let go. The girl stepped back a few steps, looking down. She adjusted the hat on her head and wiped some blood from the back of her hand onto her dress. Mike didn't know whose blood it was, but before he could say anything, the girl ran off.

"Wait!" Mike called after her, "At least tell me your name..!" But she was already gone, faster than he had expected her to run.

A couple of days went by.

Mike was sitting in a pub, at a window-side table, with Nick. Mike could no longer go into coffee shops – they all reminded him of his sister. Nick insisted that they get drinks, so here they were, getting drinks.

"And so I told 'im, 'listen man, you're gonna pay up one way or another,'" Nick was recounting some story, waving his hand around dramatically. "And the bastard pulls a gun on me! Can you believe… that…?" Nick's face contorted into confusion as he looked out at the window behind Mike.

"Nick? What's wrong?" Mike put his beer down.

"Uh…" Nick pointed to the window, "I think that chick wants to tell you something?"

Mike spun around. The young woman from before had her hand pressed against the glass, staring at him.

"…I'll be right back," Mike said as he quickly got out of his seat and hurried out of the pub. The girl was waiting for him outside the door.

She had one hand behind her back, and was looking down again.

"Hello," Mike smiled warmly, "we meet again! Why'd you run off before?"

The girl didn't speak. Instead, she moved her hidden hand into sight, revealing a single yellow dandelion. She held it out to Mike.

Mike blinked. "Is that for me?" When the girl nodded slightly, he took the dandelion excitedly, smiling wider. "Why thank you! That's very thoughtful!"

The girl shuffled her feet a bit, then turned to go.

"Wait!" Mike held the weed to his chest, "Please, just tell me your name! I'm Mike."

"…Lucy," she said quietly.

"Lucy," he repeated. "Do you want to come in, Lucy? I can buy you a drink…!"

Lucy looked inside to the crowded pub and shook her head solemnly.

Mike scratched his head. "Well… Will I at least see you again?"

After giving it some thought, Lucy nodded. She then left as mysteriously as she had arrived at the pub.

Mike went back inside to the table. Nick shot him a funny look.

"The hell is that?" He asked, motioning to the dandelion in Mike's hand.

"Something very special," Mike said, taking his seat. "From someone very special."

As time went by, Lucy appeared more and more around Mike. She never said much, and he never minded. Eventually, she showed Mike the horns on her head, explaining that they make her different, and bad. That she hated them.

Later that day, Mike bought her a matching pair of purple silk ribbons, wrapped them around her horns carefully, and said she was perfect just the way she was.

Mello looked at last to Mike, who sat alongside Lucy on the far end of the couch. Mike gave him two thumbs up.

"So then," Mello continued, "here's what were doing: stocks."

Elli raised her hand. "How exactly does one do stocks?"

Mello sighed, "We're going to be profiting off them."

"Wait," Nick said, "we're droppin' the crime stuff to buy treasury bonds? That sounds hella boring, no offense."

"Oh I can guarantee you," Mello smiled, "this is plenty illegal."

Mike shrugged, "I don't see what's so bad about doing legal stuff…"

Elli tilted her head, "So what exactly are we doing?"

Mello took out a piece of paper and a red pen. On it, he wrote down three ticker symbols and some numbers.

"Basically," Mello said, "I have information that these stocks will increase by these percentages overnight."

"That's impossible." Nick shook his head, "You're going on a hunch?"

But the following morning, Bank of America stock, Pfizer stock, and Intel stock saw an increase of share worth. By the exact percentages that Mello predicted.

Thus the insider trading business had begun for the 'Manhattan Mafia.'