He spent what felt like the rest of the day twirling his thumbs. Marcus had come to expect a lot of downtime while he waited for his new boss, but thus far it had been mostly filled with mishaps and adventures, and those always had the side effect of passing time more quickly. Even as the shadows grew long, he paced back and forth outside the hotel, keeping one eye on the car and another free to spot stray foxes. It was hard to tell when the vixen would be done tormenting him, but if he had to guess it wasn't yet.

"Good, you're here," a voice called out to him as the pace of a fine-souled Italian shoe hastened its way across the asphalt.

I can't even keep an old man from sneaking up on me, the kid lamented to himself as he turned to find Naugus rushing to the car.

"I've just been reminded that I have some matters to attend to back at the Blue Oyster."

"Of course," Marcus smiled as he opened the door for Ixis. "Are we in a hurry?"

"Not particularly, but I don't want to be out all night," the crime lord responded as Marcus found his own seat.

"Hope you don't mind me riding up front," a voice startled him to the point he half screamed.

"You'll get used to that," Naugus assured him. "It's the only way she can seem to amuse herself."

"Hello to you too, Fiona," Marcus sighed as he started the car. "How long has you been in here?"

"Why do you care?" the fox asked as he turned out of the alley.

Because I've been standing here for hours waiting for you to try this.

"I don't, just curious if this is where you sleep when you're not getting crumbs all over my couch."

Naugus raised an eyebrow, now more curious than ever about the banter between the two.

"I made you coffee," she scoffed.

"You made something, but it definitely wasn't coffee."

"Seemed just fine to me."

"You drank that!?"

"Pardon me for interrupting," Ixis chimed in, "but is there a need for an employee fratinization policy?"

Marcus locked eyes with Fiona for a moment before the both shouted, "No!" in as defiant of tones as they could muster.

"I figured," the grey-haired man grumbled, "but I don't think that's going to stop me from considering one..."

"Him?" Fiona replied with a look of scorn. "Him?" she asked a second time of the man in the back seat. "I have standards."

"No you don't," Ixis laughed. "You have an inability to trust anyone."

If he hadn't been sitting right next to her, Marcus would never have heard Fiona's low-pitched growl, no doubt outside the old man's hearing range.

"But that's precisely what makes you so good at your job," he continued.

Marcus felt that if there was anyone that should have been offended thus far, it was him, but rather than open himself up to any more ridicule he decided to keep his mouth shut. However, Fiona seemed as if she were on the verge of saying more, the words rattling around between her teeth begging to be let out.

"Trust is irrelevant when he's harmless," the vixen protested while wagging a finger in his direction.

I would very much like to disagree...

"Fiona, Fiona, Fiona. I've taught you better than that. Even if you know you have the upper hand, you should never so willingly underestimate anyone. It's always the quiet and unassuming ones you have to watch out for."

I know I'm the driver, but I'm right here... you're both talking about me as if I wasn't.

"The alley, please, Marcus," Ixis said after some much-needed silence. "I'd like to go in through the back today."

It was impossibly narrow, made even more difficult to navigate by the trash bins. When he reached the opening behind the building he pulled off to the side and made a move to let the man sitting behind him out.

"Marcus, if you wouldn't mind grabbing the case in the trunk and following me inside."

"Of course, sir," he responded without missing a beat.

It was the type of steel briefcase that could have contained anything. He had seen it every time he opened the trunk but was far too scared to look inside. It had the heft of a bowling ball, but wasn't nearly as heavy as it could have been if it was filled to the brim with credits.

Ixis strolled thru back entrance of the Blue Oyster like he owned the place, and that was of course because he did. Not one person stopped to ask the trio who they were or what they were doing. Right thru the kitchen and into one of the biggest walk-in refrigerators Marcus had ever seen. A chill ran thru his body as he eyed slabs of beef twice his size hanging in the frigid air.

"How are we today?" Ixis asked of a man who had his wrist cuffed and tethered to a meat hook hoisted just high enough to force him to stand on his tiptoes.

"A bit warm actually, do you think you could turn it down a bit more?" Ixis' prisoner laughed.

How long has he been here? Marcus couldn't help but wonder. An ordinary person would have certainly frozen to death by now, right?

"I can certainly have someone look into that for you, I wouldn't want you stay here to be uncomfortable," the crime lord said with a distinct grin as he motioned for Marcus to approach. "Set that over there on the table."

With some trepidation Marcus found his way past Naugus and set the cast down a shockingly clean stainless-steel table before retreating to Fiona's side.

"What's in the case," he whispered at a level he knew only she would be able to hear.

The fox glanced it him as if to ask if he were joking.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we? Who do you work for?" the gray-haired man asked of his prisoner.

"Couldn't tell you if I wanted to, I work contracts. No names, just cash and a target."

"Let's say I believe," Ixis allowed as he paced cautiously back and forth, "I can only imagine you know who I am."

"I charged a lot more, believe me."

"As you should have," Naugus agreed nodding. "But still... you know who I am?"

The man shrugged this time as if to admit defeat, "I guess I got greedy."

"You see, the thing is I run the underground in this city, and I find it odd that you claim to be working contracts without my knowledge. I've asked around. No one seems to have heard of you. Care to explain?"

"I don't consort with just anyone. I pride myself on discretion."

"Mmmhhmmm. Fiona, what did you learn?"

The fox stepped forward, prodding the man with her gaze, "He's current or ex-military. Exceptionally trained if he's managed to stay conscious in here."

"Cute pet," the prisoner smiled. "had one when I was growing up."

Ixis returned the grin, "Not to state the obvious, but she's the one who put you in here, remember?"

"Got lucky is all. I'm not used to fighting people half my size."

"Let's try this a different way. Tell me what else he's planning and I'll let you go. That's not an offer I usually make, trust me."

"What who's planning?"

"I see," Ixis sighed. "Perhaps if we made you a bit more comfortable you would be a bit more willing to talk. Marcus, run out into the kitchen and grab a knife like a good lad."

"No problem, sir," the kid replied as he turned on his heels and bound out of the freezer back into the warmth of the kitchen.

It was nearing peek dining time, and there wasn't a person who didn't appear to have a singular purpose.

"Make way," someone shouted as they heaved a large pot of boiling liquid past him.

"Uhh Chef," Marcus inquired after him.

"Not now."

"Ixis sent me."

"What does he want?"

"A knife."

"Oh no, no, no, no. Did he say what for?"

"I think he just wants to cut the guy loose?"

"Shhhh," the man replied sternly as he stirred the soup, "we never talk about what goes on back there. Ever."

"I need to cut some rope." Marcus changed his answer.

The chef threw open a drawer of old cook wear and reached in.

"Here, take this," the cook replied as he handed the kid a small rusting paring knife, "I've had enough of my good ones ruined."

"Uhh, thanks," he replied as he took the pathetically small blade and returned into the depths of the freezer.

"I was starting to think you forgot about us," Ixis laughed.

"Don't know my way around this place yet," Marcus answered as he held out the dull knife, "and your chef seemed reluctant to part with anything other than this."

"I see," Ixis said as he studied his new weapon. "This will have to work."

In a violent twirl the otherwise frail crime lord spun the knife into his prisoner's thigh.

There was shriek followed by silence. The man was tougher than he appeared.

Marcus could not help but take a large step back, quickly followed by another.

"I think you understand where this is going."

"I always have," the man spat. "You have a reputation."

"I could have a new one if you tell me what I want to know."

"Maybe I have a reputation too?"

Ixis stared the man in the eye as he slowly removed the blade.

The next plunge went into his knee, but this time Naugus sawed away as the man screamed in agony. The ruckus only stopped when the crime lord held up a bloody disc of flesh and bone.

"I never understood the point of kneecaps, did you?" he proclaimed to no one in particular.

Marcus stomach has suddenly decided to disagree with him as he felt the need to wretch.

"I thought the knife was to cut him down?" Marcus asked sheepishly of the fox standing next to him.

She visibly fought the urge to giggle, "We work for Ixis Naugus."

"And?"

"And, you know who that guy is, right?"

"That guy? I've never seen him before in my life."

"He's the who tried to kill Ixis."

"Oh..."

Suddenly the violence made sense, or well at least more sense. Removing someone's kneecap seemed obscure and brutal beyond words.

"Yeah," she replied somewhat tenderly, "maybe you should sit this one out."

"Maybe," he agreed as he back pedaled towards the door.

Part of him wanted to run and never look back, but then it occurred to him that it could be him tied up in a meat locker next. Tepidly he found his way back to kitchen and out to the front of the restaurant.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he asked aloud as he sat down at the bar.

"Can't tell you how many times I've heard that one before," the bar tender smiled. "Can I get you something?"

"I'm seventeen," the kid laughed.

"Your Ixis' new driver, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I couldn't tell you no if I wanted to."

"Think I'll pass for now," Marcus decided, "but I guess a glass of water would be nice."

The man seemed to divine a glass out of thin air as he shot a stream of cold water into it from his soda gun.

"What's with the piano?" he felt the need to ask. The lights above it were dimmed, but it seemed in remarkably good repair not to be used on such a busy night.

"Ehh, so the pianist took the stray from the other night. Still in the hospital, but he should be back next week."

"Huh," Markus mused as he took a sip of water. "Never really thought about where that bullet went."

"You were here?"

"Sitting outside in the car, I heard it all... Does it bother you?"

The bartender's smile shifted slightly.

"I mean working for him?" Marcus added.

"I knew what you meant. The truth is we've all learned to take the good with the bad. None of us are in anywhere as deep as you are. I serve drinks, I just have to deal with the occasional assassination plot and then it's back to business as usual. Ixis doesn't ask anything of me personally other than a Manhattan. If I screw that up I'm fired, not dead. I can live with that."

"I thought bartenders were supposed to make people feel better?" Marcus quipped.

"That's the alcohol's job, I'm not your therapist."

"Thanks for the water," Marcus laughed as he pushed himself away from the bar and strode over to the Piano.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing?" the bartender called after him.

"Thought you said you couldn't tell me no even if you wanted to."

"Yeah, but this is different. We don't need you screwing up the atmosphere."

"You should turn the lights on then," Marcus replied as he ran his fingers down the keys.

It had been a while, but his parents had forced him to take lessons for what felt like his entire life. At some point during those twelve years, he was able to try and find a way to enjoy it. Jazz felt like as much of a rebellion as he could muster when it came to the Piano. His parents had expected him to learn classical, so he did his best to find the antithesis.

Much like the knife he had found, he was rusty but still capable, not that anyone else would know one way or the other. Even without percussion, the chords were rhythmic, blending seamlessly into the candle lit dining room. When not a soul looked up from their meal, the bartender who had rushed over, looking as if he were ready to remove Marcus, forcibly if necessary, was now having second thoughts.

"Lights would still help."

"Uhhh," the man hesitated as he reached for a switch, "yeah sure, why not? Seems like you know what you're doing."

"Parents made me take lessons for twelve years. I hated it until I discovered Jazz."

"Our guy usually plays classical, but that's been wearing on me for years now."

"You're welcome then."

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Nah, I'm just going to do this until I forget."

"Forget what?"

Marcus nodded back towards the kitchen.

"Right, yeah, let's not talk about whatever is going on back there. Just give me a holler if you want anything."

Almost three hours had gone by in the blink of an eye. And in a true turn of events Marcus had more in his tip jar than he made in two nights working as dish washer.

Why didn't I think to do this? He sighed in frustration. It's way less dangerous, he thought before remembering what happened to the previous person sitting here. Well at least I would get to keep my friends.

As if on cue, a red shadow materialized in the corner of his eye.

"Didn't know you played," she smiled at him as she took a seat on the bench next to him, tail wagging.

"Probably a lot you still don't know about me," he replied before continuing to push a melody into the air through his fingers. "Don't suppose you know how to play?"

"Of course, I've been sneaking in here for years teaching myself."

"Really?" he inquired eagerly.

"No," came her blunt reply.

Turning back to the keys, Marcus sighed, "You could have warned me."

"You could try pretending like you didn't have at least some clue as to what you signed up for."

"I didn't grow up here."

"You didn't grow up," she corrected him, "and I would try do to that, quick."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"No problem. Ixis is getting himself cleaned up, so we don't have long."

"Got it," Marcus said as he glided his melody into a conclusion.

There was a small smattering of applause.

"That's how you're going to go out?" the fox giggled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what else do you know? Don't you want to make them clap like they mean it?"

"I thought you said we had to go."

"Ixis isn't going anywhere without us, let him wait."

Us...

While she hadn't asked to be included, Marcus had every intention of roping her into his finale whether she liked it or not.

The chords were considerably more upbeat. People were starting to look as he reached over with his free hand to pull the mic to his face. He wasn't exactly good at the singing part, but he could get by.

If you had spent any time in this city over the last twenty years there were certain songs that were somewhat required knowledge. Anthems played by the daring few who sought to challenge the stars who had coined them. They were as much a way to pay tribute as a way to challenge.

The vixen eyes went wide when she caught on to what he was doing.

***Lyrics are not mine. Song: Paris - Artist: Chainsmokers***

He smiled at her as he bit into the first stanza, "We were stayn' in Paris to get away from your parents, and I thought wow if I could take this in a shot right now, I don't think we could work this out on the terrace."

The vixen's grin grew as she watched the entire restaurant begin to look in their direction. This probably fell well outside of their expectations.

Dinner and a show, he mused.

"I don't know if it's fair," he continued, "but how could I let you fall by yourself while I'm wasted with someone else."

They both took a big gulp of air before belting out the next line together, "If we go down, then we go down together."

"They'll say you could do anything," the vixen sang in a voice so stunning it almost made him pause.

Holy crap... she can sing.

"They'll say I was clever," he answered, doing his best to live up to the much higher bar she had just set.

"If we go down, then we go down together," their voices again collided. "We'll get away with everything. Let's show them we are better."

"Let's show them we are better," Marcus sang into the mic before she pulled it away.

"Let's show them we are, let's show them we are, let's show them we are, let's show them we are better," the vixen took over in a truly one of a kind voice before offering to share the mic with him one last time.

"If we go down, then we go down together."

The music hung in the air seemingly forever. The pause was palpable, but when it broke the applause was unending. Half the restaurant was on their feet, a true accomplishment for an establishment frequented by people four times their age.

"I hope neither of you are getting any ideas about your day jobs," Ixis said from a bar stool in annoyed tone when the crowed had died down.

"Sorry, sir" they replied in unison, almost as if they were still singing the duet.

He eyed them both before muttering something about filing papers with HR under his breath, "I don't have all night, let's go."

Marcus gave a quick wave to the bartender as he pocketed the tips form the jar on the piano. The man nodded respectfully in return.

Once the three of them were on the road again, the old man spoke up, "Mysterious, the both of you."