The lights and sounds of New York City were on at all times of the night. That night, one of the various sounds that rang out was the alarm of a museum. A black cadillac, almost purple under the neon lights of bars, drove through the sound without any care for it. A wolf was driving, with a cat beside him and a bear in the back seat. The bear had leaned over the armrest to joke and laugh with the other two. A thin mongrel was shoved in the corner beside him.

Undoubtedly, those four were the cause of the alarm ringing out.

Taptap Raft held a necklace in his hand, his other holding a loupe to his eye. They had also stolen a handful of paintings and trinkets, but the necklace was what Riff Raft had coveted most. It was cabled gold, dripping five diamonds of various carats throughout its front. The gold was pure, and the diamonds were shaped like teardrops and were flawless in clarity. Riff had told him the necklace was that of an African queen—Koko Loco or something, he'd said—and very much looted. He would either sell it into the underworld or back to the kingdom, depending on the highest bidder. And more importantly, if it was real.

The cadillac slowed down as it was swallowed into the shadows of a forest. A stark difference from the city, the forest was pitch black and dead silent save for the hum of the car engine—the conversation the other three crooks were having had fizzled out as darkness engulfed them.

Riff adjusted his rear-view mirror, turning to look at Taptap through it. His golden eyes shone in the dark. "Ay, Taps, what's the rating on that piece, huh?"

Mooch settled back in his seat while Sandy turned around in hers to stare at him.

Taptap returned the lens to the inner pocket of his suit. "It's excellent. But I couldn't tell you where it's from."

"How much?" Riff went on.

Taptap held it up, investigating it again. "At least fifteen thousand. It depends on if the diamonds are real or not. When did they say it was lost?"

"The Second World War," Riff replied, his eyes back on the road.

"Oh," Taptap replied, blinking in surprise. "They're real then."

Sandy twitched her ear. "Yeah? What's that make it?"

"At least forty, probably more," Taptap replied nonchalantly. Sandy and Mooch's eyes both went wide. He saw Riff's glitter in the mirror and a smirk split across his face.

His fangs parted as he spoke, "Should we tell the Gang before or after they're all drunk?"

Mooch lurched forward again as he and Sandy started chattering excitedly. Taptap didn't mind. He leaned his elbow against the windowsill and balanced the necklace's largest diamond in his hand. He ran his thumb across it. For something so valuable, it was one of his easier robberies—not that Taptap would complain. The Gang hadn't seen a single guard throughout the museum; the only form of security seemed to be the alarm - and by then, it was too late.

It only took a few more moments for Riff to pull up to the patch of gravel in the forest that the Gang used as a parking lot. Scattered pieces of autumn leaves dusted the rocks like confetti. Taptap slipped the necklace into his coat as Riff turned the engine off. As he raised a single finger, both cat and bear became silent.

"Mooch, start unloading the goods. Sandy, go get some games out."

Mooch moved to leave the car, but Sandy pointed to the backseat with her thumb. "And you want Taps to go sit all pretty in your room?"

Taptap snorted in laughter.

But Riff just shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes as he reached for his door's handle. "I don't care what Taps does. I'm drinking a whole bottle of vodka."

Taptap rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car. He flattened his lapel and glanced through the blackness of the woods to check for flashing lights. The woods had never scared him, but the sight of red-and-blue within his woods always did. They always had, but now even more so because of his occupation.

In the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of those colors.

He whipped around, but he couldn't see anything. As he started to step closer, he felt the heat of eyes on his back. He whirled around again. Still, he saw nothing. Within a moment, Sandy emerged from the car, with Riff already standing outside. He looked at Taptap, troubled.

"Are you okay, Taps?" he asked.

After Riff spoke, Taptap noticed how oddly he was breathing, almost panting. He felt nothing on his back save for the fear that pierced through his muscles and the hackles bristling on his neck. He cleared his throat and caught his breath.

"Uh - yeah, yeah," he cleared his throat again. He started to round the car, "Let's go party, chaps," he said, but he couldn't stop himself from wringing his hands.

Taptap tried to enjoy the festivities; truly, he did. He tried to play pool against Dyna (his hand slipped and he scratched on the 8-ball); he tried to play poker against his other friends (he was never good at poker); he tried to enjoy the margaritas Riff had made him (and he did, they were tasty.)

Now he sat in the living room, on a couch not too far from the bar, too tired to engage further. Luckily, the party was also winding down, with his fellow Gang members primarily by the bar, just drinking. Nails had gone downstairs to sleep, followed quickly by their partners. Sandy and Dyna had also "retired" to their room to "sleep."

Taptap couldn't get what he had seen—and felt—out of his head.

It was probably a jay, Taptap tried to tell himself, but the feeling of being watched had settled in his gut. Someone had found him. He sighed and flopped over on the couch, finishing the rest of the martini in his hand. Despite his many drinks, he felt as sober as ever. He placed the empty glass on the end table and reached blindly for the TV remote. He clicked it on and hit mute immediately; he was done with talking for the day.

He surfed for a while, but nothing was on at this hour except for infomercials. He rolled his eyes and landed on one - something about a cool, new water vacuum. Taptap inattentively considered it. Admittedly, his ears pricked when it mentioned it came with a handheld version for double the price.

Of course, Taptap could only stare at vacuums for so long, and his eyes started to wander. He had just started tracing the doorway railing when he heard the floor creak and felt a hand run up his thigh. His eyes flitted up, and he felt joy rise in his chest as he saw his dear husband, Riff Raft. He struggled to sit up properly.

Riff giggled at him and offered him a glass tumbler of amber liquid, but Taptap waved his hand at it. Glancing over him, Taptap almost felt drunk again, with Riff's mussy black hair, the glow of the TV lighting up his pricked ears, his dark and tired eyes, and the outline of his —

"What's wrong, dolly?"

Taptap blinked. "Hm?"

Riff smiled again, sweeter this time. He sat down beside him and rubbed his hand up the inside of his thigh. Riff continued, "You've been so tense since we got home. What? You think we did a bad job with that robbery?"

Taptap rested his cheek against a fist. "Well, it was startlingly easy," he said with a slight laugh, Riff laughing alongside him. He then clenched his jaw and pretended to be interested in the couch on the other side of the room. "I saw something outside."

"Saw something?"

"Yeah..." Taptap muttered, the word letting all the terror that had settled on his skin pierce into him. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, waving his hand at the feeling. "It was probably just a bird, or something. Nothing to worry about, I'm sure."

Riff stared at him. His eyes were as sweet and liquidy as the whiskey in his glass. He ran his hand up to Taptap's knee with a sigh, "Darling..." he muttered, then leaned in closer with a drunken smirk on his face. It twisted quickly from loving to malicious. "I'll kill anything out there before it gets to you."

Taptap just frowned and shoved him away, "Ugh, you really do smell like vodka." Riff just laughed as he was pushed.

Riff took a sip of his drink but continued to sneer. "I will."

Taptap rolled his eyes and turned, trying to find the repeating pattern in the wallpaper. "Surely."

He did not get to search for very long before he heard snickering from around the corner. Annoyed, Taptap turned to see Spinny and Mooch, the only other people still awake, clinging to the doorway and laughing.

"Aww, look at that; Riff's taking care of his pretty little princess!" Spinny got out between giggles. Mooch broke out in uproarious laughter.

Riff whipped around, brandishing his glass as if it were a weapon, "I'll kill you too if you talk about 'im like that!"

Spinny and Mooch giggled more, but Taptap just slumped his shoulders. Drunkards.

Spinny eventually huffed and snorted his way to speaking normally. He padded into the room with red ears and held his own glass. Mooch was right behind, looming over him. "Sorry, sorry - what're we talking about?"

Riff pointed a thumb toward Taptap. "My pretty little princess saw a ghost outside, and now he feels all bad."

Spinny perked up. "You should go for a drive! That's what I always do."

Mooch glared down at him, "Of course you do."

Riff leaned against Taptap, craning his neck to look at him almost upside down. "Are you sober...?"

Taptap couldn't help but smile a little. "I am now that you lot are here."

Riff chuckled. "Then maybe you should! Get outta the woods, get some fresh air..."

Mooch startled, raising a finger. "Oh! We used all our cups for beer pong tonight. Maybe you can get some more...?"

Taptap frowned but stood up, Riff sliding off of him. "Yeah, sure." He stepped away and fixed the buttons in his dress shirt, tucking it back into his pants. His jacket had gotten thrown onto another loveseat in the room. He pulled it up and threw it over his shoulder, holding it by the loop within its collar. He smiled toward Riff, who had not bothered to sit back up. "See you later, Riff," he said as he started to pad away.

At that, Riff shot up. He waved bombastically and called, "Bye, Taps! Love you!"

Taptap flushed, momentarily embarrassed. After a moment, he turned over his shoulder. "I love you too."

Taptap slid past the doorway, hearing Spinny and Mooch start to laugh and tease Riff hardly a moment after he'd left. He chuckled to himself and sighed with contentment. Drunk, yes, he thought; but he wouldn't trade it for the world. He opened and locked the front door, slipping on the shoes he had left in the mudroom. He glanced over them as he pulled his jacket on. Dirt had gotten all over his spats. They were probably due for a shine.

But Taptap just shrugged and ascended the stairs to leave the hideout, resigning to take care of that later.

A black cadillac, almost purple under the neon lights of bars, drove through the quiet city. Taptap sat in it alone with the front windows down with his arm resting in the empty space. He wore his sunglasses over his eyes, and the radio played a low, chilled-out tune. He drove at precisely the speed limit so that no late-night copper could pull him over.

He was driving aimlessly, watching the rise and fall of the buildings around him. All of a sudden, the skyline of the many-storied buildings dropped off. Taptap turned his eyes to the road before him to see what had happened. In front of him, still glowing a faint yellow within the gray night around it, was a gas station. A tiny gas station shoved into the corner of two different buildings.

Taptap pulled in. He parked against one of the pumps but did not bother to hook it up to his car as he left, strutting up to the building. He tightened his tie and pushed his glasses up. He could buy cups here.

Taptap pulled a sack of stacked cups from the shelf and bought another pack of cigarettes. It was a quiet, quick purchase. The sleepy woman behind the counter did her part, not recognizing him. Taptap didn't expect anything more.

Taptap walked back to his car with a slight grumble. He tossed the bag of cups into his passenger seat and leaned against the door, lighting up one of his newly-bought cigarettes. He clipped his sunglasses onto the midsection of his lapel, then sighed out the smoke and smiled - sweet, sweet Dromedary.

He continued to smoke, taking the cigarette into his hand. Suddenly, he felt the heat of a stare on his back. He turned to the door of the gas station, but the cashier wasn't there. Taptap glanced around the rest of the lot but saw nothing else living.

He put the cigarette back into his mouth and straightened up. "…okay!" he exclaimed, "So I am being followed!" He looked around again as he spoke, seeing if anything had made any movement.

Nothing had.

Taptap snarled, which soon turned into a shout. His hackles rose along his neck. "Whoever you are, I demand you show yourself!"

"Heyyy~"

Taptap jumped. That voice came from above him. He ran to the back of his car and looked up at the canopy.

For a moment, he stared.

Then he yelled, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

The person above him let out a gleeful chuckle, then stood up. He fluttered down to the ground, blue cape fluttering in the wind. He sneered up at Taptap, his mismatched eyes glittering with mischief.

Taptap's eyes narrowed. "Underdog."

"Taptap Raft!" he replied, straightening up. "It's been a while since I've seen you out alone."

Taptap huffed, glancing away; seeing Underdog never meant anything good. He turned back to him, looking deadpan. "Are you here to reimburse me for caving in my roof?"

Underdog ignored him, his head tilting with curiosity. "What're you doing out?"

Taptap sighed and straightened up, crossing his arms. "I could ask you the same thing."

Underdog straightened up as well, smirking. "I asked you first."

Taptap grumbled. "My stupid associates ran out of plastic cups for their fraternity games," he said quickly, "Your turn."

"Saw a very Raft-looking cadillac at a gas station. Figured it was a robbery, came to find the information."

Taptap's brow furrowed. "Stop being rude to my car. My gang can do normal business, too."

Underdog chuckled, "Sure."

Taptap took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew out the smoke, frustrated. Underdog glanced away and locked his hands behind his back, content to let an uncomfortable silence set in. Taptap felt the same and took a step away to lean against the back of his car. As he moved, he looked the hero up and down - he wasn't postured to fight. His blue cape bunched thickly around his stupid red boots, and as Taptap took it in, his hair started to rise. He — !

Taptap abruptly forward, an accusatory hand reaching for Underdog's arm. Underdog cringed back, bringing his hands forward to defend himself. "YOU! You were what I saw!" Taptap yelled at him. Underdog furrowed his brows and tilted his head, taking a step back. Taptap continued to snarl, "We just got home and I saw you fly away! What the hell were you doing, watching me?!"

Underdog blinked, then his face sank, his eyes becoming half-lidded. "You committed a robbery. I went to see the damage. Though Riff might, I don't care for painting mockery."

It was Taptap's turn to blink, taking this information in. He took a step back and placed a hand on his coat pocket, where the African necklace still lay. "Oh - well. Thanks for... not arresting us."

Underdog stared at the hand protecting his pocket, his eyes narrowing. "Should I have arrested you?"

Taptap bolted up, stepping back. He laughed awkwardly, "Oh, no, no, no, nothing but painting duplicates in our trunk tonight! Hahahaha..." He quickly moved his hand to hold his cigarette, turning and blowing smoke. He glanced at Underdog quickly, hoping he didn't suspect anything.

Underdog looked very much like he suspected something. But instead of confronting Taptap, he slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "Right. Riff and his paintings."

"Yep! Riff and his paintings!" Taptap cheerfully repeated. He put his cigarette back in his mouth and tried to avoid eye contact.

Underdog did the same, his eyes turning to count the pebbles in the concrete. He crossed his arms, occasionally taking in a gasp of air, only to snap his jaw shut. He tried again but instead started to pick at his gloves. Taptap noticed but was content to let the hero sit in his discomfort.

Eventually, though, Underdog let out a sigh and spoke. "I have been meaning to catch you alone."

At that, Taptap's ears pricked. He turned to face him, a smirk plastering itself on its face. "You mean you trust me to be alone with you?" he sneered, "You're lucky I'm out of bullets, or I'd make you regret that!"

"Yeah, you and half the other people in this city," Underdog replied without missing a beat. He waved his hand to push away the thought. "Anyway, I have this... suspicion."

Taptap's ears pricked again. He suddenly realized that Underdog had hardly been rhyming. Taptap grit his teeth—it must be something serious.

Underdog went on. His voice became small. "Can I... can I ask you some questions?"

Taptap looked at him, feeling very confused. "I suppose," he replied.

Underdog, once again, went to look avoidantly at the concrete and pick at his gloves. "What was—" he turned to Taptap, then fell back away, then faced him again. "What was your name before you married Riff Raft?"

Taptap blinked. It was Clark, but Underdog didn't have any right to ask him that. His thoughts on the matter clearly showed on his face, because Underdog shrunk back.

"...right," he muttered, "Well, what about your home life before you were married? How are your parents? Siblings?"

Taptap blew some smoke. "My father died, and I haven't seen my mother since I moved here. Siblings... one. I haven't seen him since I moved, either."

Taptap saw something glow in Underdog's eyes. He gripped his arms tightly, starting to feel nervous. He stared at Underdog, trying to figure out what was going through his head, asking these silly questions about his past. Surely, as a hero, he'd be more interested in his current life as a criminal. Unless... Taptap shook his head. No, he had been too secretive about his past for Underdog to have figured anything out about him.

"When did you move here?"

Taptap blew smoke. "Eighteen or so."

Underdog's ears pricked. "For college?"

Taptap nodded.

Underdog continued, "Then you were headhunted by a gang, hm?" Taptap glared at him with a look that asked him, annoyed, how he knew. Underdog chuckled, "C'mon, not that hard to figure out."

Taptap huffed. He continued smoking, agitated now at the hero's insistence. Underdog continued to ask him things, but Taptap seldom spoke, replying in head shakes and angry glares. When it seemed Underdog ran out of questions, Taptap removed the cigarette from his mouth for the final time and dropped it, stomping it out.

"Don't litter," Underdog grumbled.

"Don't lecture me," Taptap grumbled back. He crossed his arms again and looked at Underdog expectantly.

Underdog caught his glance and sighed. "I meant to ask. Where did you grow up, exactly?"

Taptap pondered the question. He hadn't gotten his current name until he joined the Gang. Not expecting Underdog to gain anything from the information, he said, "West Virginia," and straightened up. When he looked back at Underdog, his eyes had blown wide and his body was stiff. Taptap ignored him and turned away, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm sure my gang is wondering where I am."

That snapped Underdog out of his daze. "No, wait—" he muttered quickly.

Taptap pulled himself off the car bumper, motioning with a hand for Underdog to drop it. Underdog had a deep frown and suddenly looked very frazzled, with his eyebrows downturned and his shoulders tense.

"Will—"

Taptap froze. He felt every part of his body weigh him down, rooting him to where he was. Most of all, his heart fell—through his stomach and straight to his feet. He glanced all over Underdog's person, bewildered, but he stood rigid. He was serious!

Taptap gulped, forcing his arms to rip away from his sides. He scoffed and tried to smirk, though suddenly, his entire face felt sore. "I don't know who that is."

"No, wait, please," Underdog went on, taking a step forward.

Fear pulsed through his veins. "Get away from me," Taptap growled.

Underdog sighed and dropped his arms, though still stared at the taller man with tears starting to appear in his eyes. "Please, Will," he brought a hand up to his chest, forcing a smile to appear on his face. "It's me, Junior."

Taptap furrowed his brow, looking up and down the hero again. Sure, they did call his brother Junior—but his Junior was a wimp! The cowardly kid he knew could never become the so-called greatest superhero in Biggers City.

This time, Taptap accentuated his words with a growl. "I don't know who that is," he insisted. He pulled his heavy legs from the ground and stomped toward the driver-side door of his car.

Underdog followed him but didn't pass the barrier of the cadillac's tailfins. Taptap glared at him as he opened his door. "You have to believe me!" Underdog exclaimed, dejected. "I have papers to show you, money to give you!"

Taptap laughed and sneered at him. "Bribery! Very heroic of you, Under."

"It's not a bribe," Underdog snarled. "It's your inheritance."

Despite how sunken his heart already felt, it managed to fall further at those words. "My—" Taptap started to mutter. But he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and squared his jaw. "I don't need any hand-outs," he growled at him. "Now go fly back to your sad little life, Juniordog. Go talk to someone who cares about your 'inheritance.'"

Taptap flung himself into his seat and slammed the door shut, turning his key almost before getting into the car. He pulled the stick into reverse and slammed his foot on the gas before the car had time to start. It veered backward so fast that Underdog had to leap out of the way, but Taptap merely shifted back to drive and pulled out of the lot. If Underdog retaliated, Taptap did not turn around to see it. He sped off as fast as the old car would let him, not wanting to give Underdog a chance to catch him.

He sped straight to Adams before he slowed down. His heart stopped pounding in his ears as he slowed, his breath coming out in heaves. He recounted the events as he drove through the desolate suburb, but he felt so angry he could hardly form a coherent thought. He clutched the steering wheel so tightly that the skin on his knuckles became white.

He growled, angrily turning the volume knob to the radio to zero when the host started speaking. The drive became silent, save for the hum of the car engine and the heartbeat in Taptap's ears. His palms became hot and sweaty, but he couldn't tell if it was from the nerves or the grip he had on the wheel. The cadillac slunk past Adams and into the shadows of the woods. The anxiety of it all crept back onto his shoulders as the darkness consumed him.

"How did he know that...?" he muttered to himself. "It's - he couldn't be. Could he?"

It had nearly been a decade since Taptap had left that crusty old cabin in the woods. He left a month after his father died - and never saw his mother or brother again. Taptap's saliva became thick in his mouth. Inheritance. He didn't want anything his father had. He was not fashioned to work in a coal mine all his life. Taptap much preferred the diamonds.

His mother —

He pulled into the gravel patch as his eyes filled with tears. He hadn't seen either of them in a decade. He hung his head, hitting it against the steering wheel, and sighed.

"And if he's right..." Taptap said to himself, in a voice so meek even he could hardly hear it. He wrapped his arms over the wheel and rested his chin on them, staring blankly into the inky blackness around him. "...you've got the blood of a hero in you."

He slowly raised his head and kept a firm grip on the wheel. He almost didn't want to leave—he didn't want to walk back into his gang of criminals wondering if he was related to Underdog. Still, his sweaty hands slowly slid from the wheel and landed on the door handle. He pushed the door open and stepped out, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. It did not soothe his nerves.

"No wonder Boston hated you," Taptap muttered as he walked up to the front door. "You're screwed, Will."

Riff stayed, drunk and drained, on the couch he had joined Taptap on so many hours ago. He had been patiently waiting for his husband to return so he could snuggle more, with no regard for how long it took. Eventually, though, his compatriots abandoned him for the sweet release of sleep. Riff had just sneered and mocked Mooch and Spinny for being single as they descended downstairs. He returned to watching infomercials.

Though, it seemed the alcohol had finally bested him. Riff found himself waking from a daze as a weight was laid across him. It was warm... he was almost content to stay like that, but a soft chuckle pulled him away from the tempter. Riff rolled onto his back and sat up. Despite how slowly he had turned, however, his head immediately started pounding and his stomach started to swirl. The chuckle turned into a laugh.

Riff gripped his head and turned, finding Taptap standing behind him. His ears pricked, and his tail started to beat against the blanket. "Taps! You made it back!"

Taptap was loosening his cufflinks. "I did. And I got Mooch's cups."

Riff's brow furrowed. Taptap tended to be quite monotone in the comfort of the hideout, but he could tell something was wrong. His eyes glazed across him, and sure enough: his tail was low, he was hunched over, his eyes were wet, and two trails darkened the fur on his cheeks. He immediately felt his hangover start to fade. He flung the blanket off his person and rushed over to him. "What's wrong?"

Taptap glanced away, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. He straightened up to unbutton his jacket. "Let's just say... I met the ghost I saw in the woods earlier," Riff immediately gripped his arms, holding them tightly. Taptap continued, smiling half-heartedly, "...Don't worry. I made sure he'll never bother us again."

Riff's ears were back, and he was looking up at Taptap with concern glittering in his eyes. "Like - a real ghost?"

Taptap gripped his arms back. "No. A man."

"A what?" Riff gasped, though the word came out halfway as a growl.

"Don't worry," Taptap told him, kissing his forehead gently. "I took care of it. Now let's get us to bed."

Riff kept staring at him, his eyes blown wide. He didn't want to let Taptap go. Leave him unprotected against whatever—whoever—might be out there. Taptap could tell what he was thinking and nodded at him, a small smile on his face. That only made Riff pull him into a hug, holding him tightly.

Taptap giggled, sounding exhausted. "Would it make you feel better if I said I shot him...?"

Riff snorted and pulled back to look at him. "That depends," he taunted, "whether you actually did or not."

Taptap raised his eyebrows in place of a shrug, merely smiling.

Riff laughed, letting go of Taptap to give him a gentle push. He snickered in reply and bounced back into Riff's embrace. Riff smiled up, even if he didn't feel any better. He slid a hand up to Taptap's collar, helping tug his jacket off his shoulder. "Get to bed. I'll be down in a minute."

Taptap giggled weakly. "Okay..." Riff gave him one last kiss before letting him pull away, ambling through the living room to where the stairs were hiding. Riff stood where he was, waiting to hear the creak of the stairwell.

As soon as he did, he padded toward the entryway where the stairs were... but he did not go down them. Instead, he unlocked the front door as quietly as possible and slipped out into the mudroom. It was a small room with a big staircase at its head, a boundary for anyone who wished to enter the hideout uninvited. Its floor was concrete and its walls were white, with two benches against either wall. Suitcases, tossed jackets and discarded shoes littered the seats and the floor. Riff ignored these, too, instead entering the room on his right.

This room was similar to the hideout, it was thin, with blue walls and a yellowish wood floor. He headed toward a desk near the back of the room. This was Riff's office, where he did most of the Gang's paperwork and other such matters.

But Riff was in no mood to do paperwork. Instead, he slipped behind his desk and hazily pointed to each drawer, trying to recall what was in each. Eventually, he found the one he needed, a very tall drawer on the left-hand side. He flopped into his chair and opened it, tossing around the papers inside to uncover a gun resting at the very bottom.

It was a nice gun; the barrel was pristine and polished, and the grip was a comfortable rubber. Though it was, unfortunately, engraved with the initials BB. But Riff did not have time to gawk. He loaded it with a magazine of golden bullets and clicked the slide so it would be ready for use. Then, as if it had never been touched, he placed the papers back in the drawer and closed it, gun in hand.

He slipped back into his hideout, down the stairs, and into his and Taptap's bedroom. Exiting the small hallway, he spotted Taptap lying on his side of the bed, gripping tightly onto half of his pillow. His dress shirt was unbuttoned but not taken off. Riff could only hope he had taken off his belt before collapsing.

He glanced around the dark room to find Taptap's jacket. It was tossed lazily over their laundry basket. Riff picked it up by one shoulder, feeling around for an empty pocket. Along the way, he found a lump. Confused, he fished around in the pocket to find it. His finger grazed against the sharp cut of a diamond. Immediately recognizing it as the necklace they had stolen earlier that night, Riff hurriedly dropped the jacket and stashed it in the bottom of their sock drawer. He let out a quick sigh of relief and returned to what he was doing.

He picked up the jacket and located one of its many breast pockets.

He slipped the gun inside it.