October 29, 1924, Philadelphia, PA

When Kate asked Charles to train her, he had been a little reluctant at first. He questioned Kate multiple times before agreeing. And even then, he decided he wanted to "test" her first. She understood that he was concerned her emotions were clouding her judgment. She just wasn't sure what the "test" was all about. If she failed, would he turn her down? Would he send her home? Could he even turn her away with how much knowledge she had about the Order? All he'd really said was to dress as she would for one of her rum-running jobs and meet him at the front door at 11.

Everyone seemed to be off training or on assignment somewhere by the time she had dressed for her "test" and met Charles at the door. His face was somber as they walked a few blocks down, stopping at the mouth of an alley.

"Alright, Kate," he nodded to her. "There is a group of boys who play dice at the other end of this alley. They work with us from time to time. I want you to try and find out where our Bureau is."

"Okay," she said slowly, frowning. "But I already know where it is."

"But they don't know that, and they shouldn't be giving that information out freely. Gathering information is a key part of what we do. Sometimes we need to blend in with the crowd and eavesdrop, and sometimes we need to get our information other ways. I want to see what you come up with in this situation."

Kate nodded, already considering her options. Charles put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a small smile.

"I'll be watching."

Kate nodded again and, knowing she wasn't going to get any further instruction or encouragement, readjusted her newsboy cap, and sauntered down the alley, listening for the sounds of a dice game.

Finding the boys was easy enough. There were five of them, varying in age. She approached the group, listening to their conversation for a moment before drawing attention to herself. They were playing craps, goading each other, and that was about it.

One of them, a tall, lanky boy with face full of freckles stood and eyed her.

"You want somethin'?" He asked, neither rude nor polite.

"Just got to town," Kate shrugged, tucking her hands in her pockets. "Looking for work."

Another boy looked up from the dice game and narrowed his eyes. "This look like work, kid?"

Kate glanced around the group, who had all turned to her now. She easily picked out this second speaker, a beefy kid with hair the color of peanut butter and a jagged scar across one cheek, as the one in charge.

"Nah," she said looking him square in the eye. "Looks like rats and mice to me. Where I'm from, rats and mice usually means someone worth talking to." She shrugged again and started to turn away, crossing her fingers in her pocket.

"What kinda work you lookin' for?"

Kate turned back to see that the kid with the scar had stood up and was eying her warily.

"The kind that makes cabbage," she said. "Used to work for some droppers back in San Francisco. Organized joint."

"Droppers, huh?" The kid narrowed his eyes at her again. That was exactly the reaction she was looking for; he knew what she meant. She held his gaze steadily, knowing that looking away first was the worst thing she could do. Instead she cocked her head to one side.

"Play me for the address."

The kid snorted and shot a glance at the taller boy. Kate lifted her chin and repeated the offer.

"Best of three. I win, you give me an address. You win, I walk away with nothing."

"Alright," the kid said slowly. And Kate tugged on the brim of her cap and crouched on the ground next to him. She shot a single, quick glance back down the alley, but Charles was nowhere in sight. She wondered where he was watching from.

She hadn't played street craps in a while, but there wasn't much to it, especially not with a wager as simple as this.

"Boxcars," the kid said, passing her the dice. Kate rolled her eyes. He wasn't going to make it easy on her. Good.

He had chattered away the entire time, either trying to bait her with name calling or asking questions in a thinly veiled attempt to figure out if she really was who she said she was. But Kate was used to this, and he was just a kid. She kept her cool and, less than fifteen minutes later, Kate had won three hands to his two.

"Right," he said, shaking his head. "Which one do you want?"

She didn't know there was more than one Bureau. Maybe this was why Charles considered it a test. She narrowed her eyes at the kid and just said, "I need to know how to find them."

"Got it. Both addresses it is. There's one across town on Cherry Street, not sure who's there anymore. But they've got a place nearby on—"

"What the hell are you doing, Tuck?"

Kate stood and spun towards the voice. So did the other boys. Towering over them was Sal. A coal-black coat buttoned up and a hood pulled low over his eyes, but Kate recognized his voice. She also recognized his stance and the slight curl to his fists. He was ready to fight. Kate loosened her knees and squared her shoulders, just in case he decided to follow through with that thought.

Tuck, meanwhile, held his hands up. "I made a deal with the kid. Fair and square."

Sal's eyes darted to Kate and narrowed. Either he was a good actor, or he didn't have the faintest idea it was her. She didn't budge, her brain racing to try and figure out if this was part of the test or if Sal really had just happened upon them. Either way, she couldn't let her cover drop. Not with the tension in the air. Not with the knives in the boys hands.

And that was when she realized the boys—all five of them—had pulled knives.

Sal growled, "I don't give a shit what 'deal' you made, Tuck. You don't give out that address to some street urchin."

"Fuck you, Sal," Tuck spat.

At that moment, something else happened. Someone else attacked them. It wasn't Sal, and it wasn't Tuck. It was a new group of boys altogether. And one of them had thrown a knife, hitting Tuck's tall, lanky sidekick in the shoulder. The kid dropped to the ground, and chaos erupted in the alleyway. Kate's first instinct was to run, but the moment her eyes fell to the kid on the ground, she stopped. She stood over his body, fists up in a defensive position.

It was Sal who turned on her, the boys scuffling around them.

"Who the hell are you, kid?"

"None of your business, kid." She sneered back at him. She was vaguely aware that some of the boys had fled the alley.

"I'm only gonna ask nicely one more time," Sal said, stepping closer to her. She knew she couldn't fight him. Peter may have taught her a few things, but she couldn't actually fight. She also couldn't back down. The kid behind her still wasn't moving.

So she lifted her chin and replied coolly, "You didn't ask nicely in the first place."

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Sal swung. Just like he had swung at Vera the day before. Kate ducked his fist, just barely, and kicked her leg out in front of her, sweeping his feet out from underneath him. In the same movement, she pulled her Derringer from her ankle holster and leveled it at Sal who was in the process of scrambling to his feet.

He froze when he saw the gun. Kate didn't know what had happened to everyone else, but the alley was suddenly empty. Just Sal, her, and the kid's still unmoving body.

"The kid is innocent," she hissed. "You better make sure he doesn't die."

And she turned and ran.

She made it four blocks, cursing Charles and his "test" the whole way, before Sal caught up to her, grabbing her arm and slamming her into a wall. No one else was around. She could have told him who she was. But her mind was running on instinct now, instinct that told her to keep her mouth shut.

"Who are you?" Sal snarled at her. Kate just looked him in the eye and said nothing.

"Fine," he said, his voice calmer, steadier, but no less menacing. "You want to play that way, we'll play that way. You want to find the Bureau, I'll take you there myself."

Sal yanked her from the wall and dragged her down the street. She hadn't even realized she had been running towards the Bureau. Nor had she realized there was more than one entrance. But Sal pulled her down a short flight of steps and through a narrow doorway, shoving her to the ground once inside. And Kate blinked at the dim room and immediately recognized it at the Bureau's basement.

She scooted herself away from Sal, her back to a wall, suddenly very aware of a throbbing pain in her shoulder. He stood over her and demanded, "Tell me who you are, kid. Tell me what you want."

Kate grit her teeth and said nothing.

Sal was just leaning over her, to ask again or to grab and shake her, Kate wasn't sure which, when Charles marched into the room.

"What's this, Sal?"

Sal straightened immediately. "This one was prying information out of some of Lavezzi's boys."

"I see," Charles grinned down at her.

At the sight of Charles's smile, Kate finally dropped her cover and blurted out, "There's a boy in the alley. He's hurt." She flashed a glare at Sal. "I told you to make sure he was okay."

Sal was staring at her, jaw slack and eyes wide.

"He's fine," Charles said calmly. "It was part of the test. Tuck and his boys owed me a favor. A little more dramatic than necessary," he shrugged. "But that's Lavezzi's boys for you."

Kate stared at Charles for several heartbeats as his words processed, as the last threads of her adrenaline unraveled. It was fake. It was all an act. She could have shot Sal. Sal could have killed her.

"You lied to me?" She felt a familiar bitterness creep under her skin at the words. "You bastard." She stood, stepping towards Charles. She scowled at him, his calm expression only making her angrier, and her voice came out in a harsh whisper. "I thought that kid was hurt. You set this whole thing up—for what? To see if I could handle myself? See if I'd turn tail and run? Well you know what, Charles? I didn't." Kate felt the first tears fall, sliding down her cheeks. She turned away from him and closed her eyes. "Of course, you lied," she said flatly, looking back up at him and lifting her chin slightly. "That's what the Order does, isn't it? Lie and keep secrets. I shouldn't have expected anything different."

"Are you done?" Charles was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows raised.

Kate nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

"Good," he said. "You handled yourself fine until just now. I'm impressed that you maintained your cover the entire time, even when it was just you and Sal, who I know you know. But this," Charles waved a hand at the space in between them. "This is a problem. And this is exactly what I was worried about." He glanced over at Sal, who had quietly backed away from the two but was still listening, watching. "What are the three tenets of the Order, Sal?"

He recited the same tenets that Kate had read about.

"Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. Hide in plain sight. Never compromise the Brotherhood."

Charles nodded and turned back to Kate. "You upheld the first two brilliantly just now. It's the third one that worries me. Joining the Order is a commitment. They used to make us cut off our ring finger when we joined partly to symbolize that commitment. You can't be fully committed to a cause that you hate. If you think all we are is a bunch of liars and killers, how can any of us trust you to never compromise the Brotherhood?"

Kate blinked at him, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. Then, stubbornly, she shook her head. "My mother lied to me my entire life. How does that protect the Brotherhood?"

"I can't answer that for you," Charles sighed. "You may never find a satisfying answer to that question. But if you can't let go of that, if you can't commit yourself fully to our cause, then I can't train you."

Kate looked down at her hands as she unclenched her fists and flexed her fingers.

Then, taking a deep breath, she said quietly, "I understand."

"Good," Charles said. And Kate looked up to find him smiling down at her. He winked at her before turned back to Sal. "Sal, I want you to teach Kate to fight."

Sal nodded. "Sure thing, boss—wait. Kate?"

A/N: Some slang terms in this chapter:
rats and mice = craps
cabbage = money
droppers = hitmen/assassins
boxcars = a pair of sixes