It was a quiet night in the burrow. Rats were either out or asleep, blissfully unaware of the attempted hit that had been taken out on their boss. Well, all bar one of them, anyway.

It could only have been a Rat – who else would have access to her tea? James, of course, but one look at his face told anyone that he had probably never nicked so much as a chocolate bar and a copy of Playboy from the corner shop, let alone tried to kill somebody. No, by dint of Occam's razor Gwen had known it was a Rat. And the thing about her girls was that they were so busy spying on other people they always forgot that she was watching them, and she was the best out of all of them.

There were so many Rats now that they had had to expand into buildings across the city, and even here in the burrow they were two to a room. But half of this particular room's occupants were out working, meaning Gwen could head straight for the occupied bed without hesitating. It was a good thing too, because she had been holding in her wrath for so long that even a second's pause could result in a misfire. Now, though, she was sure.

Without bothering to announce herself, Gwen reached down and grabbed a handful of hair. The bed's occupant shrieked in shock and pain as she was dragged onto the floor by her scalp and Gwen, with a surprising amount of strength from someone so small and battered, hauled her out of the room.

"Mouse!" she yelped, "Mouse, I didn't, it wasn't me –"

Gwen said nothing as she pulled her up the stairs out of the basement, just stared straight ahead of her. The commotion had brought other girls out of their rooms and they stared as the Rat was drawn past them. Gwen could hear the whispers, and although she couldn't make out the words she knew what they were saying. She wasn't surprised when they followed them, either. People liked a show, which was why she hadn't just killed the girl in her bed.

One of her security muscle opened the front door for her and Gwen yanked the Rat out into the street. She kicked her off of the kerb and into the road, then planted her foot on the girl's back and held out a hand. The muscle threw her a sawn-off shotgun, which she caught without looking and pressed into the nape of the girl's neck.

"Go on," she snarled, "beg."

"You can't," the Rat sobbed, "you can't, not in the street, not in front of anyone! You'll get arrested!"

Gwen dropped onto her knees. "In my city?" she hissed. "I can do whatever the hell I want. Roll over, now. Let me see your face." She stood up, allowing the girl to move. Her face was caked in snot and tears and gravel from the road, and she held her hands up in front of her. "Tell me your name."

"P-please, Mouse, I never –"

"Tell me your fucking name!"

"Annie! Oh, god! Please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, don't kill me, they made me!"

"Who?"

"Sharaan!"

Momentarily and to the surprise of everyone present, Gwen's anger momentarily vanished. "What," she said, "really? Little man, big forehead, sweats too much?"

"Yes! He said it wasn't right for the mob's biggest kingpin to be someone like you! He said you didn't deserve it!"

Mouse heaved a sigh. "I'm too busy for this," she said, and turn to her muscle. "Sharaan's got kids. Send a message, will you? Make it clear I don't tolerate insubordination. Feel free to use your imagination."

"Yes, ma'am."

Gwen turned back to Annie. "Why?" she asked, gun still trained at her face. Oh, there would be such a mess to clean up soon. "What did he have over you?"

"He got me back on the smack," Annie wailed, "and you don't let junkies in when they're still high and I didn't have anywhere else to go and nobody else would dare deal to a Rat because they're too scared of what'll happen and he was the only person I could get stuff to shoot up with."

Gwen pursed her lips and looked up. "Clear off," she told the crowd. The Rats vanished, and the people who had just happened to be on the street at the time were ushered away by her security until the entire road was deserted. It took a hell of a lot to do that in Brooklyn. Gwen looked up and checked that all the windows were dark before pulling the trigger on the shotgun.

It is a common misconception that guns go bang. The truth is that, especially in open air, the air around them shatters with a resounding crack, shards of sound piercing right to the very bone. That crack would have been enough in itself to merit the police coming round, so they had to be fast.

"I hope you've learned your lesson," she told Annie, throwing the gun aside.

The girl didn't move.

"Oh, come on. It was a blank, kid. Get up. I haven't got all night."

Annie opened her eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut, and stared at Gwen. "You –" she began, and lapsed into silence.

"Yeah, yeah." Gwen extended a hand and hauled Annie to her feet. "What do you think I am, an idiot? There's always witnesses. I was gonna make a show like this so word would get around and then take you out somewhere quiet. The cops'd be so confused by it all I wouldn't even need to pay them off."

"You're still gonna –"

"No," said Gwen heavily, "I changed my mind. Bloody empathy. Smack, was it you said?"

"Yeah."

"Nasty stuff," Gwen said, scratching her forearm unconsciously, right where the needle tracks were. She had had to beat the addiction herself, alone, sheltering in doorways and under bridges while selling the damn stuff to get by. It hadn't been easy. Now, she had friends in high and low places. "I know a rehab clinic in New Jersey. Here's the deal – you're not Annie anymore. You don't take any of your stuff with you. If anyone asks, stick to the story we come up with. And if you ever set one foot in this city again, I will kill you. Deal?"

"Oh, god," Annie said, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around Gwen's own legs, "thank you, thank you so much…"

"Get off," Gwen said irritably, kicking the girl away from her. "Before I change my mind. This is against my better judgement, kid. I hope you know that." She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled, which called a couple of her guards to her. "Get her to the papers man, tell him she's for Aiaian House. She'll try and run, so tie her up. She's a junkie, you can't trust 'em. Quick, before the fuzz come sniffing."

They took Annie and disappeared with her. Gwen walked back inside and up to her little kitchen, where a wan-faced James was waiting.

"Have you been crying?" Gwen asked, taking in his reddened eyes as she switched on the kettle. "Oh, James."

"I was watching from the roof, miss," he said in a trembling voice, "you –"

"Blew her brains all the way into next week," Gwen said firmly, cutting across him. Then she winked. "The mob's a nasty business, James. You need to learn to look the other way."

"I do, miss." He edged closer to her. "Why'd you let her live?" he whispered, as she pulled two mugs out of the cupboard.

"Because I believe in second chances," Gwen replied. "I'm actually very charitable like that."

"Yes, miss."

She chuckled. "Aiaian House is a lovely place," she said, "I helped fund it, actually. Maybe we can pay a visit, sometime."

"I'd like that very much, miss."

"I thought you would."

A/N okay, so I'm actually, like, really proud of this chapter (which is impressive considering how much I hate 99% of what I write). The first draft of it was basically the complete opposite - Annie died and Gwen was really upset, as opposed to Annie living and Gwen being mildly disgruntled. I like it better this way, because instead of seeming soft but actually being responsible for her death, Gwen spares a life and tries to maintain this heartless exterior. Anyway. Words.