Notes:
So glossary things: pokies = the gambling slot machines. Canberra where Elsa drove to the other night is the capital city of Australia where politicians live and work.

This is the second last chapter, so it's a bit lighter on the humour and heavier on the action as it reaches the climax! Please bear with me.
Content warning for some fairly graphic violence.

Anna keeps a very ambivalent face. Her lips bunched into a line, like the awkward smile you give to strangers on the street. It's unclear how she is feeling, or whether she is beginning to regret saving Elsa's sorry ass from those cops, when the guys from the Blue House enter the van and tape her hands behind her back. The blind fold is a bit much. The guys here can be a little over the top. Being in the city makes people like that. So extra.

Elsa carries her inside bridal style to make up for it. To let her know she is still safe.

Relatively speaking.

Again, the closeness is an alien sensation. The soft warm body against her own. It's interesting and not entirely unpleasant. The top of her head smells nice. Not that she's sniffing it or anything, like some kind of freak. Just noticing. Elsa is reluctant to put her down, at first. It might be nice to be able to hold someone close like this, but like, consensually. Because they want you to. Like a… like a hug or whatever. A hug but lying down or in a chair. Is that a thing? Elsa doesn't know - she isn't really the hugging type.

She's so exhausted from the lack of sleep, and Anna's weight feels heavier every second, pulling on the weakened fibres of her fatigued muscles. There isn't a holding room here, not a proper one, so she dumps Anna on the ratty old couch and all but collapses next to her, almost falling asleep as soon as her weary body hits the foam. But she can't fall asleep. Not yet. She turns on the tv to keep herself awake. The premier is live, making a statement about the new Metro tunnel they're building under the city.

Boring.

His voice drones on, rather soothingly.

Her eyelids are growing heavy.

Sometimes Elsa does an OHS audit, in her head, to stay alert and grounded. Too many hazards to count in this goddamn house. Guns and knives lying around everywhere. There's a glock on the coffee table next to the rv remote. Boxes stacked up in front of the back door - that's a fire escape hazard. Cords all over the ground - tripping hazard. Open bottles of lye (yes, that's the one they use to dissolve corpses), arsenic and more - poorly labelled of course - that's a… body-dissolving hazard? And she doesn't even want to know what this white flakey shit is, all over the carpet. Powerboards plugged into powerboards plugged into powerboards. A machete in the kitchen, perched precariously on the edge of the coffee-stained bench. Foot-chopping hazard.

It's enough to make Elsa's drab, empty flat seem welcoming.

Hell, it's enough to make the inside of the van seem welcoming.

'What's that smell?' Anna asks, calmly rubbing her face against Elsa's shoulder in an attempt to get the blindfold off. She looks like a ginger cat marking its territory.

There are many smells in this house. Petrol. Mould. Gunpowder. Cigarette smoke. But those aren't what Anna is referring to.

'Just the cleaning products.' Elsa lies. 'Vinegar.'

'This is a meth lab, isn't it?'

Before she can answer, the door opens and Swamp Hag summons Elsa with her long, spindly finger. Imagine choosing the name Swamp Hag for yourself, though. What an absolute power move. She's a big, fat woman in her forties with a sweep of short, grey hair and a wicked smile. Her voice is low and smooth like cigarette smoke. Very charismatic. Intimidating. If she wasn't such a bitch, Elsa would probably admire her. Maybe even hit on her if she was, say, twenty years younger and not a complete psychopath.

And, you know, if Elsa was a little better at hitting on people.

Elsa didn't get to choose her name. She got stuck with it because she had the audacity to suggest that the syndicate could use language that is more culturally inclusive to all its members. Being a hardcore criminal is no excuse not to call out racism when you see it, right?

She tells people it's because she likes skiing.

Anyway, Swamp Hag has a mission for Elsa. She opens up a laptop and to reveal several scans of police statements made by someone under the alias of Whitehorse. Also known as Mr Henry Sykes. A rat.

A rat could potentially put all their asses on the line (literally), and must be eliminated. They've tracked his phone, and he's at a nearby pub.

But Elsa is just… so tired. She thinks she might actually be having tiny hallucinations. Just in the corners of her vision. Shadow people. And there are loads of thugs milling around here, smoking and chatting and not doing much work at all. If it weren't for the fact that they've learnt not to wolf-whistle at Elsa, it could be mistaken for a construction site! 'Isn't there anyone else who can do it? I'm not really at my sharpest right now. I know we can't afford any mistakes.'

'Then you better not make any mistakes.' Swamp Hag's finger pokes Elsa's sternum roughly and she sneers, 'Or you'll pay for it. Again. Won't you, sweetie?'

Ew. Sweetie? Really?

Breath. Let the frustration out. 'Okay, well, I've changed my account details actually, so don't pay me until-'

'Ha!' Swamp Hag cackles like some kind of old sea witch. 'Paid? Oh, no no no, honey. You're taking one for the team. And we really appreciate it.'

'I'm- what?' But she heard. She heard loud and clear. 'I- I'm so tired. I drove all the way to Canberra last night. At three in the morning.'

She's running on pure caffeine right now. Her heart is beating irregularly like a flickering light.

'Aw, diddums.' Swamp's face curls into mock sympathy, eyebrows creased together and lips all pursed together like she's going to give a big sloppy kiss. She talks through squished cheeks, 'And we really appreciate that too.'

Wait, she's not getting paid for that either? She's not getting paid for that! Oh, hell no! 'This isn't fair, Swamp! I'm trying to pay off my debt, here.'

'Not fair? Not fair? Oh, you poor unfortunate soul!' Long, sharp fingernails come up to grip Elsa's jaw, like talons, harder than necessary. Her stormy grey eyes bore into Elsa's own pale ones, and she shakes her head slowly, tut tutting. Talking 'Life isn't fair, my dear. And until you've paid what you lost, remember: I. Own. You.'

She holds on just a little too long, letting her nails dig into fragile skin, just to really let the point sink in, until she finally lets go. Without looking back, she commands, 'Go on now. Click, click, boom. Get it done.'

Oh, Elsa will. She'll grit her teeth and get it done, alright. But first, she has something else to do.

Back in the lounge room (if you can call it that), she opens the laptop and signs into one of the encrypted servers. It's a good thing she hasn't updated her new account details with the syndicate yet. Very good. If they don't want to pay her, that's just fine. It's their loss, really.

An eight million loss.

Is she really doing this? Can she really get away with it? It's risky, sure, but is it any riskier than any of her brazen crimes and countless moments of carelessness that follow?

Like abducting a girl in broad daylight.

Like allowing herself to worry about that girl's comfort. About the meth-lab waste fumes going into her lungs. That cut on her foot. Her emotional wellbeing.

Oh, Elsa, how did this happen?

She opens up the laptop and logs in to her encrypted account, quickly bringing up the pages she needs. Mr Arendelle's money is not yet in the accounts. No new emails. She brings up his number and the cursor hovers over the call button, but… There isn't quite enough privacy here.

'Is that you, Els-'

'Shh, don't say my name.'

'Oo, sorry!' Anna grins beneath her blindfold. 'I forgot. All the cloak and dagger, subterfuge, clandestine aliases and everything. Ten out of ten for style. Can I have a nickname too? Oh! Can it be Knuckles? No, wait, that sounds like a Sonic the Hedgehog thing. How about Goliath? Wait, no, Big Daddy!'

Those names are all taken.

'How about the hostage that never shuts up?' Elsa rises and places her hands on Anna's knees, 'I've just gotta pop out. I'll be back real soon.'

And then, before any of her usual restraint or common sense can stop her, still foggy from sleep deprivation and tunnel-visioning from her devious plan, with a good chunk of her brain preoccupied by fantasies of telling Swamp Hag where to stick it, she leans forward and kisses Anna casually on the forehead.

It's a good thing Anna is blindfolded so as not to see Elsa slap her own forehead and stumble backwards, wondering what the fuck is wrong with herself.

What is happening to her?

This must be what it's like to realise you're transforming into a werewolf.

She stumbles out the door, not quick enough to miss Anna's small voice call out, 'drive safe.'

Outside it's slightly more private and she dials the number she memorised from the laptop screen. It doesn't even ring before he picks up.

He must be sitting by the phone. Like a teenage girl, waiting for her crush to call. It really is cruel what they put people through.

'Hello?' He says like he's just woken up from a nightmare. Unfortunately for him the nightmare still has a little while to go.

'Mr Arendelle. Have you sent the money yet?'

'It's all come through to me, finally. I'm just about to start making the transfers, right now-'

'Don't.'

'What? What's happened? What have you done to her!'

Okay, that one was on Elsa. She probably should have prefaced her don't with something softer. This is why she isn't assigned to negotiations. She holds the phone away from her ear as his panicked screaming alternates between threats and pleas.

'Mr Arendelle, please calm down. Anna is fine. She's absolutely fine. I just fed her. I just fed her some gruel.'

Hm. That last line was probably overkill. What even is gruel, anyway?

'Uh… okay? Why are you calling me?'

Elsa takes a deep breath and squashes down dreams of a cabin in the forest, veggie patch, embroidered pillows, cupcakes. If she can pull this off…

'There's been a slight change of plans…'

Elsa waits by Whitehorse's car. It's a warm evening and she sits on the grass. A poor decision - it's wet, and so is her butt, now. So much for the healing properties of nature. She tries to wait in a comfortable squat with both feet flat on the ground but she's way too white for that, apparently. Her ankles don't bend that way. So she sits on the concrete like a bum, and chain smokes to keep herself alert.

Her initial plan was to go in there and lure him out with her feminine wiles. She's not the greatest at flirting but most men are so thick, it doesn't really matter. Elsa has mastered looking at them seductively, and combined with her very, uh, fortunate figure, that's all she usually needs.

She wonders how Anna would approach the topic. Probably just march up to them, waggle her eyebrows like a cartoon and say something ridiculous like, 'What's cookin' good lookin?

Unfortunately she won't be using any pickup lines or sultry eyes, because she walked in and found herself swiftly asked to leave. Jesus. It was five years ago when she used to sell (admittedly very large quantities of) weed here! These people have the memory of an elephant.

Luckily she did manage to spot him, so she knows he's in there playing the pokies. Alone.

So she waits. This was not what she had planned. She watches a whole episode of Attack on Titan on her phone. And then another one. She plays a mobile game for a while - if you can even call it a game. There's no strategy to it. You just take a dirty, broken house and fix it up so it looks nice and new. She's not proud, but she loses hours in it. Choosing the right coloured vase to go with her curtains. Deliberating between what shade of hardwood floors to put in.

Finally Whitehorse stumbles out of the pub. Taking his very last steps. Thinking his very last thoughts. Breathing his last breaths.

She slides the safety off her gun and cocks it, thankful for the silencer.

This is the part that takes forever. Waiting for them to be in the exact right position. It's not the kind of thing where you can afford to miss your first attempt. During these seconds before Elsa takes a life, time stretches and reality fades, a little bit. She goes into a sort of zone. A tunnel-vision where qualms and feelings and doubts cannot enter. Like a predator. Like a god. Like she's way up above herself, playing a simulated computer game, making this all happen but it isn't really real.

But this time, it's different. This might be the last time she ever has to do this. A strange sensation bubbles inside her. Anxiety? Excitement? Hope? Probably a whole lot of trauma, also, but let's not open up that can of worms right now.

Once he reaches for the door handle, she stands, aims, and pulls the trigger.

It's a clean, quiet shot, and he falls to the ground immediately. A small stream of dark blood trickles from a tidy hole in his temple. His eyes flicker, registering her standing above him, briefly, as they turn to glassy deadness.

The world spins a little. Elsa bends her knees a little and holds her arms out, like she's balancing on a skateboard.

Imagine being cool enough to ride a skateboard. Couldn't be her.

Anyway. She checks her phone and curses under her breath - she's been out for hours! The money could already be pouring into her account. But the encrypted account is too complex to check on her phone. She needs a computer.

Back at the base, it's quiet. A few guys are tapping on laptops in the dining room. Elsa takes frantic steps toward the lounge to find Anna balled up awkwardly (as much as a person can ball themselves up with hands behind their back). Breathing raggedly. No, wait, sobbing!

'Anna, what's wrong!'

She pulls the blindfold up to see puffy, reddened eyes blinking up at her.

'Did they hurt you? What happened?'

Anna sobs again, a few times and wriggles against her binding, trying to wipe her nose on her shoulder, failing that, trying to wipe it on Elsa's arm, 'I thought you'd left me here!'

'I'm sorry, it wasn't meant to take this long.' Elsa whispers. 'I just, um, I got sidetracked. Picking up stationery supplies.'

Anna hides a smirk, then starts inspecting her environment, finally free of the blindfold. Her eyes run over the boxes of junk and dark curtains and the glock on the coffee table.

'You just killed someone, didn't you?'

Elsa says nothing. Just picks up the remote and changes the channel from French news (they're rioting over something, of course). Local indie music videos. Much more relaxing.

'Hey, I was watching that!' Anna says. 'Do you speak any other languages?'

There isn't time to have a big long ridiculous Anna-conversation. She needs to find a laptop - to check whether Mr Arendelle's money has started to trickle through, but there doesn't seem to be one anywhere! She's starting to think her grandpa has a point - things were so much simpler in the olden days, before all these newfangled screens, when they just used good old suitcases full of cash.

'Be right back,' She wanders into the kitchen, ignoring Anna's whimper for now. Soon enough they can both get the fuck out of here. Just as soon as she checks that account and the coast is clear.

'Looking for one of these?' A harsh, low voice snaps her from her reverie. Swamp's fingernails tap loudly against a stack of laptops on the counter.

Elsa spins and slams against the wall, feeling small and ashamed like a kid called into the principal's office.

But also terrified, because this can only be about one thing.

'Is there something you'd like to tell me, Elsa?'

Using real names now? Shit. That is bad. She knows. The machete on the bench is too far to reach. They both have guns, and with the lack of sleep, Elsa doesn't like her chances should it come down to a battle of reflexes... She needs to destabilise her. Just like Anna managed to do. What would Anna do? Flirt with her!

'Um, your, uh, hair looks nice?'

It's like throwing a pebble at Godzilla. She doesn't even notice.

'Would you care to explain why money is coming out of Mr Arendelle's accounts, yet it is not appearing in our accounts?'

Elsa's mouth is dry again, dry as the desert. She's beginning to wish she'd been caught by the cops. A far worse fate awaits her now. She should have known better than to tempt fate. Or than to assume her hit would be quick and easy. Nothing is ever predictable in this business. Not even herself. Hasn't Anna taught her that?

'M-maybe it's just taking a while to process?' Her voice comes out suffocated, like air trapped in a balloon.

'Oh deary me,' She grabs Elsa's left hand and yanks her forward to the table, tut tutting, 'You really have done it, this time, haven't you? Thought you could slip one by me, huh? Thought you could fuck us all off that easily?'

Her eyeballs bulge and her face contorts, almost glowing with molten rage. Like a volcano just before it erupts. 'I should kill you right now!'

Elsa's legs turn to jelly and her throat closes up. She wants to run. She wants to hide. But for the second time since the sun has set, she is completely frozen with fear.

'But because I am a kind and benevolent boss, I won't.'

Oh god. That means she's got something worse planned.

'Left hand.' She taps on the wooden table with her talon, 'Here. Now.'

Elsa shakily raises her hand, suddenly realising how much she really really likes having her hands attached to her body, drawing out these last few moments together. Wishing she'd taken the time to actively appreciate it more. Her future flashes before her eyes. Her stump. She's going to be a stump-person. How will she explain it to her family? Will she be able to do all the things she hoped to do?

To bake and garden and sew and maybe even learn an instrument. And what about the things she already does? Hell, she'll have to learn to tie her shoelaces with one hand. To play video games. To drive. Her life is going to be divided into before this moment and after.

Which is the closest hospital to here? Will she be able to drive there before she bleeds out? Maybe Anna can drive…

The knife makes a metallic swish sound as Swamp pulls it out of its sheath with a delighted smile, 'Of course, you'll need your right one for work.'

She raises it in the air, and Elsa scrunches her eyes shut, unable to watch, waiting for the pain and the chop of the blade hitting wood.

Instead, she hears a deafening bang that leaves a ringing in her ears.

Swamp has disappeared.

Wait. No, she's on the floor. Gripping her chest, fingers shaking as they swim through her crimson blood, searching for the leak. Trying to speak. Managing only a garbled, throaty sound.

Before she turns around, Elsa already knows.

Anna stands frozen in place, still holding the glock in front of her with both hands, a mix of awe, shock and pride on her face. Like a kid who's just landed a skateboard trick for the first time. 'I… I did it!' She grins, 'Did you see? Did you see me do it?'

Elsa's jaw hangs open and all her words catch in her throat. Her poor, caffeine battered heart just isn't strong enough for all these feelings in one night. Her trembling left hand comes up to her chest like a frightened child, and she grips it with her other hand, still processing the relief.

In a surprising display of emotional intelligence, Anna simply takes her by the hand, drops the gun on the table, and leads her out, limping a little from the cut on her foot. Elsa follows like a tame dog, trying to calculate exactly what this means for her future. And for her present. No more Swamp to sneak past. No more unpaid midnight missions to Canberra. No more living in fear. Being called sweetie in a demeaning way. Worrying for her bodily integrity.

Anna hands her the keys. Both their bags hang from her elbow. When did she get their bags? Where did she learn to shoot a gun?

'How did you… ' The rest of the questions never make it out.

'How did I get free?' Anna grins, winks, and pulls out the plastic McDonalds cutlery she used for her hotcakes, 'Kept this in my pocket! I thought I'd wait for the right moment though.'

'Amazing…' . It really is amazing. Anna has saved Elsa's ass twice. Saved herself. Like a scrappy underdog anti-hero. Elsa is beginning to feel like the side character in her own life. She shakes her head in disbelief, rubbing her tired eyes.

The van stands in front of them. Black and shiny as ever. The beast that started this whole misadventure and potentially changed Elsa's life forever. Soon coming to an end. Elsa ignores the soft heaviness in her chest.

'You look really tired. Let me drive?' Anna's hand reaches out to squeeze Elsa's weary, slumped shoulder. The contact is like a beacon in the darkness of this stressful, shitty night. Elsa falls into it. Before she has a chance to stop herself, she finds her arms wrapping around Anna, holding tight, her head resting on her shoulder. And she finds herself squeezed back. It feels warm and safe - the opposite of waiting for your hand to be severed from your body. It dulls the pinching stress in her scalp and the tension in her soul.

She could get used to this.

'Sure. You drive.'

Elsa's heavy body relaxes into the ratty foam of the passenger seat, letting the rumble of the engine carry her away as Anna hits the pedal. They disappear into the sunrise, the cold blue of night surrendering to blazing orange over endless, unassuming suburbia.