Apologies for the long stretch between this update and the last. As much as I would love to be like, "I did it to keep you on your toes!" the real reason is much more mundane than that, but whatever.

Onward~

King didn't scare easily.

Even when she was a small child, and faced with traditionally "scary" things, she never felt much of anything in the fear department. But, now, as a twenty-one year old adult, she was legitimately terrified. But it wasn't because of Jack (he didn't scare her at all) — it was because of what he might do with his knowledge.

In spite of that, she glared at him defiantly as he held her against the wall.

"Moi mettre vers le bas tu putain de connard," she demanded, her voice low and dangerous. Jack completely ignored her and tightened his grip while looking into her face.

"I thought you seemed familiar," he told her. "See, I recognized them eyes of yours. I only ever seen blue like that once."
"Con...gratulations...!"
"And then I seen you fight the other day. And you did something else I only ever seen once: that fancy backflip thing with all the kicks. When you did that? That's when I knew for sure that you were the bitch that was stupid enough to try to fight me."

When King didn't say anything Jack tightened his hold even more and slammed her into the wall again.

"You are her, aren't you?" he prodded.

King scowled fiercely, but slowly nodded her confirmation since there was no point in denying it.

"You were tough, I'll give you that."
"Merci."
"So, tell me what an adorable little thing like you is doin' here, hon'."
"Oh, you know… Just hanging out," King boldly quipped. She moved her feet, which were dangling inches above the floor, for emphasis.

Another slam, this one harder than the first two.

"I'm gonna ask you again. What are you doin' here? And what are you doin' dressed like a man, to boot?"
"Magic," King retorted.

At that, Jack actually chuckled — a sound that was repulsive and off-putting.

"You think you're funny, don't you?"
"A little bit, yes."
"Why don't we see how funny John and Mickey think you are. I bet they'll find you hilarious when I tell them you're a chick."
"They'd never believe you," King pointed out.
"Why? Because of how you're dressed? Clothes come off real easy, hon'."

King's chest tightened as her nausea came screaming back; she actually felt something starting to come up but swallowed it back down just in time. She shut her eyes, unsure of how to respond, but it didn't matter because Jack filled the silence.

"You know what? I'll just go ask your girl about this instead. I bet she can tell me everything."

At that, King's eyes snapped open, her temper — and real, actual fear — rising. She had thought about what might happen to her plenty of times if anyone found out what she was doing, but she had never once thought about the possibility of those around her being put in danger by her actions. If something happened to Jessica, it would be her fault. Just like if something were to happen to her aunt and uncle, or, even worse, Jean.

"Leave her out of this," she growled, her voice a bit strangled. "She has nothing to do with it!"
"That's what they all say."
"She doesn't."
"But she knows, don't she? She knows that you're runnin' around town, dressed up like a boy. She probably likes it, too, huh?"
"Shut up," King spat.
"She's real pretty," Jack commented as if he hadn't heard her. "Doesn't look like a dyke. Maybe I'll send one of my Cats over to play, since you wanna be stubborn. Maybe Paulie. Paulie would like her — she's just his type..."

Horrified by Jack's musing, King renewed her efforts to break free but cried out when Jack increased the pressure on her arms. She thought about trying to throw a knee to his gut or his groin, but the space was too tight for it to be effective on any level. She was completely helpless… and it was really pissing her off. She continued trying to wriggle out of Jack's grasp but was only met with laughter as he lifted her higher off the floor.

"The other option is I take you over to her place right now and all three of us can chat. Or, better yet, I call Paulie over so he can join in on the conversation, too. He has real effective ways he could get some answers out of both of you, but he'd probably prefer it if you sat back and watched. He likes that sorta thing, you know. It's a little much for my taste, but if it means findin' out what the hell games you're playin' then —"

"Money!"

King's exclamation interrupted Jack's diatribe.

"I need the money," King choked. She felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes and, in that moment, hated herself for showing weakness. Meanwhile, Jack stared at her briefly before rearing his head back and laughing.

"Money?! You're playing with us for money?!"

A slow nod.

"What are you, some kinda crazy gold digger?"
"No…!"
"Well, whatever. It is a good payin' gig," Jack said thoughtfully. "I bet you're pullin' in all kinds of cash, aren't you? Probably made a pretty penny for each of the Cats you took down."

King didn't answer. While it was true that Big had paid her very nicely for her work, there was no way in hell she was going to divulge anything more to this bastard — especially since he already knew way too much. (Obviously.)

"You know, I'd hate to see what would happen if Big found out about this. A pretty, young thing like you? He'd put you out on the street without a second thought. Maybe shoot you up with a little somethin' to make you more agreeable, too. Then you'd really make some money… For him."

That was yet another thought that made King physically ill. She swallowed hard while shifting her gaze to the floor.

"So, what do you say? You can tell him, or I can," Jack remarked.
"Don't," King said quietly, her voice cracking slightly.
"'Don't,' she says. As if I give a shit."

Without warning Jack dropped King; she let out a soft grunt as the side of her body hit the cold, hard floor with a good amount of force.

"Don't go anywhere," Jack told her. He placed a large foot between her waist and her ribs; he applied a moderate amount of pressure to keep her down while pulling a beat up phone from his pocket.

"I gotta make a call real quick."

King stared up, horrified. This was it: the end of the line. There was always a part of her that knew that she would be found out eventually, but she didn't think it would be so soon, or because of something that happened before she even gave crossdressing a single thought. Nevertheless, she had failed her brother — miserably. She pressed her lips together and willed herself to stay as composed as possible.

And, so, as much as she wanted to jump up and beat Jack Turner senseless, she, instead, silently watched from under his boot as he started to scroll through his contacts, her temples throbbing and heart nearly beating its way out of her chest. All of a sudden, Jack stopped scrolling. He removed his foot from King's torso (it left a big, gray footprint on her white shirt) and stooped down in front of her. He held the phone up so she could see the screen, which displayed Big's number.

"All I have to do is hit this button and it's over for you, hon.' Unless…"

He trailed off then, and flashed a terrible, wicked smile that made King want to claw her way out of her own skin. She looked away and wished she had just listened to reason. Maybe if she had taken Jessica's words into consideration that night a couple of months ago she would be sitting at home with a bag of 3 Musketeers bars, binging Netflix documentaries while putting off her psych homework. Broke — but safe from harm.

"Maybe… maybe you and I can work somethin' out..."

King blinked a few times, confused. She furrowed her brow as she pulled herself into a sitting position, her eyes fixed on the man in front of her.

"What do you mean?" She asked cautiously.
"Just what I said."

There was a lull in the conversation as King positioned herself against the wall and pulled her knees up toward her chest.

"I'll tell you what," Jack started, breaking the short silence. "I won't call Big — or any of the guys. I'll keep your secret. But you gotta do a little somethin' for me."

King made a face, once again nauseous.

"Oh, nothing like that," Jack gawped. "What kinda guy do you think I am?"
"I already know the kind of guy you are," King glowered. "You beat me up and left me with those perverts, tu de cochon dégoûtant."
"Heh —" Jack held his phone up once more — "I can still push this button and make the call, so I suggest you shut up and listen to what I have to say."
"Fuck you," King blurted angrily.
"Shouldn't have said that, hon'."

With that, Jack hovered his thumb just above the small button, a wide smile on his face.

"You know what'll happen when I make this call. So this is your last chance, hon'. Agree to help me out, and I'll agree to help you out."

King took a deep breath; she didn't want to help Jack Turner with anything in any capacity whatsoever, but if there was even the smallest chance that she could keep her job — keep the charade going and not be murdered or forced to become a drug addicted hooker — then she had no choice but to at least hear him out.

"What is it that you want from me?" she questioned apprehensively.
"Seventy percent."
"What…?"
"Just what I said. Seventy percent."
"Of what?"
"Of anything Big pays you."

At that, King's jaw actually dropped. She stared at the man in front of her in disbelief. Seventy percent of anything she made was going to significantly alter her plans, because there was no way she would be able to pay for her own living expenses while saving up the money she needed to quickly take care of Jean's medical bills and eventual surgery. She did some hasty mental math and came to the conclusion that she would be right back to making almost the same amount of money — maybe a little more depending on circumstances — as she was before she even started working for Big in the first place. Which, after utilities and rent, wasn't all that much for anything extra… such as mounting medical bills. It would defeat her entire purpose of going out and taking the job in the first place.

"You're joking," she told him, wide-eyed.
"And what makes you think that? You're the resident comedian around here — not me. Now, do we got a deal, or…?"

If looks could kill, Jack's head surely would have popped like a balloon under King's hateful stare. She was completely trapped: if she didn't give him what he wanted, he would tell Big and the rest of the Syndicate her secret. But, if she paid up, she could at least keep herself alive, since simply up and quitting wasn't an option now that she had seen and done so much. She would also be able to keep Jessica safe, since her safety was compromised as well.

"How do I know you won't tell them anyway?" she asked quietly.
"You're just gonna have to trust me," Jack answered with a smug expression that King desperately wanted to remove with a few violent kicks. Instead, she took a very deep breath and slowly let it out, doing her best to keep her temper (and her impulses) in check.

"Tick, tock, hon'. I don't have all night," Jack stated. "Now what's it gonna be?"
"Un jour," King started, eyes directly on Jack but her voice shaky, "je vais te détruire, vil fils de pute…!"
"I dunno what you're sayin', hon', but it doesn't sound very friendly-like."

With that, Jack pushed the call button and then immediately put the phone on speaker.

"FINE!" King yelled just as the line started ringing. "Fine! I'll do it…!"
"Atta girl," Jack grinned. He hit the end button before Big ever answered. He then brought himself to his full height, peered down at King, and chuckled before extending a grubby hand toward her. She eyeballed the appendage and stood up on her own, eyes narrowed, absolutely seething with hatred and resentment.

"Well," Jack dictated while taking his hand back. "I look forward to doing business with you, New Guy."

He then turned and made his way back toward the bar area, whistling a happy tune as he went, which left King by herself in the bright corridor. She ran her hands through her hair and laced her fingers together behind her neck, her desire to go home almost as strong as her desire to run back into the restaurant with the express purpose of maiming Jack. Of course, she knew that would be a very, very bad idea; hell, doing anything to the bastard was a bad idea thanks to what he knew. The heartbreaking truth was that if she made a single wrong move, she was dead.

Suddenly immensely relieved for the unexpected night off, King took a deep, shaky breath, wrapped her arms around herself, and exited the building, her chest tight, head splitting and thoughts racing.

She couldn't see any way out of this mess.

Well, that ended badly...

Okay, so you know the drill.

* Moi mettre vers le bas tu putain de connard = Put me down you fucking asshole
* The fancy flip with the kicks is, of course, King's Trap Shot
* Tu de cochon dégoûtant = you disgusting pig
* Un jour je vais te détruire, vil fils de pute = Some day I am going to destroy you, you vile son of a bitch

Alright alright! What will happen next? Tune in next time for what is more than likely the conclusion of this little look back in time! Cheers~!