Mytho sat at a table and waited. This potential client Tutu found was starting to become more trouble than he initially thought. However, Tutu was insistent that this was important, and his wife put a lot of trust in her. Right when Mytho was all but ready to give up, a face he didn't expect to see entered this hole in the wall establishment. The man with almost purple hair and brown cat-like eyes sat at the table beside Mytho's so their backs were to each other.

"I hadn't expected Mayor Cat to be needing our assistance." He said quietly.

"And yet, here I am." Mr. Cat replied, "I have a tall order to ask of you. I need to disappear."

Mytho nodded, "We have plenty of safe houses you can lay low in, though being a public figure will be much trickier to hide."

"Not to hide." Cat said firmly, "I need you to fake my death."

Mytho was silent. A thin frown spread across his face. "Why would we do that? That would put the city in a bigger disarray than it already is."

"The Raven has cast his eyes on me for too long. One final wrong step, and I'll be as good as dead. I've already got my assistant to be ready to take over. Please, do this for me and I can tell you what the Raven has been asking of me lately. I believe that information will be most useful to you."

Mytho nodded, "Alright. We'll see what we can do."

"Ah, and one more question. That redhead who pointed me towards your group."

Mytho gulped, "What about her?"

"Is she single?"

Mytho sighed with an exasperated smile, "Uh… let's say she's already spoken for."

Fakir made his way to Mytho's office. When he entered, Fakir noticed Mytho talking with a man he did not expect to see, with long brown hair and bangs that curled at the ends to frame his face. To say Fakir was confused would be an understatement.

"Ah, Lohengrin!" Mytho said, "Excellent timing, meet your fellow contact. Callsign Quixote."

Fakir stared at Quixote. "Wait, you're the bartender from the other night."

"Oui!" Quixote answered excitedly, "It is a pleasure to be working with you, Lohengin!"

Fakir looked back at Mytho, "So is this whole speakeasy full of your contacts or what?"

Mytho laughed, "No. There's usually only two. Though I guess three when you show up."

"Fair enough. So what do you need from me?"

"I was getting to that." Mytho gestured to one of the open seats in front of his desk. Fakir obliged.

"Brace yourself boys, this is a task I certainly didn't anticipate." Mytho took a deep breath, "We need to fake the mayor's death."

The two contacts looked shocked. "And why would we do that?" Fakir asked.

"Because the Raven will most likely kill him soon. This way, he can disappear and we can be one small step ahead of the Raven. In exchange, he'll let us know what the Raven has been having him do without the public's knowledge."

"Sounds too good to be true." Quixote said, one brow raised.

"I know. This is hard to believe. But where will we find another opportunity like this?"

"I have a question," Fakir said, "What exactly does he plan to do after we," he cleared his throat, "kill him?"

Mytho sighed, "He wants to take his chances outside the city's boundaries."

Fakir shook his head, "We might as well kill him for real."

"I know, but this is what he asked for. I need you two to work together on this task. Quixote, you have some knowledge on certain gangs that might want the mayor dead. Think you can pose as the member of one?"

Quixote flipped his hair, "Oh but of course! For although I am cursed with such beauty that almost every woman fears to approach," he droned on, "I do possess the knowledge of many an enemy of ours!"

Mytho noticed Lohengrin cringe at the other man's speech. He knew this was going to be hard for him, but if he could handle one mission with Quixote, he could handle working with anyone. "Good. Lohengrin, I need not only your input on how to make this public scene more believable, but also to make sure everything goes off without a hitch."

Fakir crossed his arms and frowned. He preferred having to look for missing people. Given this small sample of how Quixote behaved, this case was going to be a headache. And he thought Tutu's game at the speakeasy was aggravating…

After mulling over his thoughts, Lohengrin nodded. Mytho walked his contacts through the details he had so far. He wanted as public a scene as possible. That meant this 'killing' had to be in front of the church in the center of town. (Even the Raven couldn't miss seeing that.) With how well Quixote could draw a crowd, Mytho thought he would play an angry mobster wanting to get even. He would fire a blank at the client. As he collapsed, the client would have a pig's bladder full of blood he would crush to look like he was shot. Lohengrin would arrive on scene just as Quixote escaped to 'confirm the kill' and help escort the body to somewhere safe.

Fakir inhaled a breath of his cigarette. "How are we supposed to get in and out of the crowds without being noticed?"

Mytho cocked his head, "You don't think you'll be capable of getting through the crowd?"

Fakir shook his head, "There's no telling how the crowd will react to Quixote as he escapes. For all we know an off duty cop with a sense of justice could be there and tackle him before he takes two steps."

"Monsieur has another means of escape then?" Quixote asked. Fakir's frown deepened. Well, there was one idea. He tapped the spent end of his cigarette on the ashtray. Keeping his eyes down he answered, "Tutu might know an exit route. She's familiar with the back alleyways."

Mytho nodded, "Of course! If she can figure out a few pathways of escape, that will make this plan go a bit smoother."

Fakir stood up after crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. "I'll see what she says." Doing his best to slip back into the speakeasy unnoticed, Fakir looked for his partner. To his surprise, she was nowhere to be found. He scowled as he desperately scanned the room. She had to be here. She was always here! Paranoid at her absence, he looked behind himself. She wasn't there. He didn't notice right away, but he felt off balance without her here. He did his best to push that feeling down and put forth a feeling of frustration. "Idiot!" He mumbled, "You wanted to work together but when I need you, you go missing."

While he stewed in his anger, Rue quietly walked up to him. "Frowning like that will definitely keep others away from you." She smirked.

He slowly turned his head to her. "Funny. Where's Tutu?"

Her eyes wandered to a door marked W.C. "She has to keep up appearances. Questions about where that bruise came from could cause problems for her character." Her face hardened. He hadn't realized until this moment, Rue probably cared a lot about Tutu. If that didn't add pressure to working with Tutu, he didn't know what would.

"My apologies." As much as he wanted to defend himself, he didn't think it would work on Rue in this situation.

"There's no need to apologize. I chose to get involved." A new voice said. The two turned to see Tutu. Fakir took note of her cheek. To the untrained eye, it looked a bit off. Naturally, Fakir knew better. The amount of makeup she used to hide the bruise stood out to him easily. He couldn't linger on his discomfort for long. This wasn't the time or place for it.

"You didn't have to though." Rue added sourly. Tutu sighed, "Rue can we talk about this later?" She nodded curtly and walked away.

Fakir hummed, "You know, I'm not sure if she'll ever forgive me for what happened."

Tutu shook her head, "She's been like a second mother to me. Whether I like it or not." She looked to her partner, "Did you need something?"

He stuck his hands in his pockets, "What do you know about the current case?"

"The mayor needs to hide." She said matter-of-factly. "More than that." Fakir added, "We need to fake his death."

Tutu reeled back in surprise. Fakir went on, "I was hoping you can work out a few exit routes from the church in the center of the city."

Tutu frowned, "When do you need them?"

"Tomorrow morning."

She huffed. "It's never easy…" she mumbled. "I'll get it done before last call then."

He nodded and slipped back into Mytho's office.

The empty dawn covered Gold Crown as ordinary people went about their routines, unaware that a murder was about to commence. Mr. Cat treaded nervously in a circle in the alleyway with Fakir. The detective leaned on the brick wall with his arms crossed and a cigarette in his mouth. "Sir, you really should calm down." Fakir said flatly, "You'll be taken care of."

Mr. Cat shivered, "I know. But this plan-"

"The walls have eyes." Fakir said quietly.

Mr. Cat stopped in his tracks and sighed, "You're right. My apologies."

The church bell chimed for 7 AM. It was time. Mr. Cat looked at Fakir. The man looked like he was melting into a puddle of anxiety. Fakir only offered a single sharp nod. Regaining his posture, Mr. Cat straightened his tie and did his best to stride confidentiality out into the hubbub of the busy morning street. His eyes darted around frantically. He didn't know where his 'assassin' would appear. His nerves were getting the better of him as he forgot to tip his hat to any citizen who would catch his eye. He was only a few paces from the front door of the church now.

It was now or never.

"Mayor Cat, you scumbag!" A man before Mr. Cat shouted. All eyes were drawn to the scene. "Your actions as mayor have been a rather large thorn in my gang's side! And I won't tolerate it any further!" Quixote was dressed rather ruggedly, much different from his style of dress as the bartender. Though strangely enough, the two curls that normally framed his face were pointed up, like the horns of a bull. Most of his face was covered by a large brimmed hat.

Mr. Cat put his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry, sir!" He panicked, "I don't understand what you mean?" He wasn't acting. Mr. Cat was terrified!

"My Hobby Horses have had just about enough of your rules! How is my gang supposed to make a name if you keep cracking down on our territory!"

"I'm so-"

"Don't interrupt me!" He snapped before brandishing his revolver. "When you were elected, I told my group that if I were a woman I would have had your hand in marriage! But after so long of being in office, and the hardships my gang has faced I was wrong!"

Fakir scanned the crowd. For the most part, onlookers were mostly confused by Quixote's scene (even with him swinging a revolver around). Fakir himself was agitated by the ridiculousness of Quixote's monologue.Fakir had to wonder where and why Mytho hired this nut. 'No one cares. Just pull the damn trigger already!'

As Quixote's monologue dragged on, Fakir noticed a gentleman's hat moving very carefully through the crowd. Fakir swore under his breath. They were running out of time.

Internally furious, Fakir rushed Quixote. He grabbed his hand and did his best to 'wrestle' the gun out of Quixote's grasp. In reality he was still trying to keep the gun pointed at Mayor Cat in the hopes this scheme would actually pay off. Quixote wasn't quick to catch on.

"Let go, you briggin!" He shouted, trying to pull his hands free.

"Pull the trigger!" Fakir said in a low hiss. Quixote blinked a few times before a small man broke through the crowd.

"Gold Crown Police! Hands where I can see them!"

Quixote, now realizing what was going on, shouted. "Never!" In one swift motion, Quixote pushed Fakir down and (finally) pulled the trigger.

Two gunshots rang out at that moment. Fakir looked up to find both the mayor and Quixote were down. Knowing full well they had to complete the plan first, Fakir rushed to Mr. Cat. The man's face was frozen from shock. Fakir did what he could to 'examine' the body. In reality, he was making sure the last few pieces were in place. The pigs bladder had erupted, the 'gun shot' could easily be seen, and the victim looked as stiff as a dead cat.

The officer came up to Fakir. "Are you alright, mister…?" The detective turned around.

"Fakir!" He said, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Fakir sighed. He recognized him immediately. "Dilan." He replied, "I was out on my way to work when I came upon this scene."

"Hmm," Dilan said, "How's the mayor?"

Fakir shook his head.

"Damn. Did you overhear this guy say anything? Motives, associates?"

"I think he mentioned the Hobby Horses? Whatever that means."

Dilan huffed. "The Hobby Horses turned aggressive? That's troubling."

"You should probably address the crowd." Fakir said, gesturing to his head towards the onlookers chattering and starting to move in closer. Dilan nodded and turned away. Once his back was to him, Fakir quietly slipped back to drag the possibily dead Quixote out of sight. Remembering the path Tutu had drawn out for them, Fakir was able to disappear with the limp form of Quixote. Once they were at the rendezvous point, Fakir checked Quixote's pulse.

Normal?

He pulled away Quixote's jacket only for a very large book to fall out. He noticed pretty quickly the bullet embedded in its pages.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Fakir huffed. Just as he said this, a young woman with incredibly long blonde hair arrived. She gasped in horror. "Is Quixote alright?" She asked. At this, Quixote sat up in a panic. He patted his chest several times before realizing he survived. Fakir only offered him his now ruined book. Quixote gasped in agony. "Oh cruel misery! Who would be so horrendous to destroy such high art!"

The woman laughed. Quixote turned to her, "This is no laughing matter, Briar!"

"You can get another one, Quixote." Briar smiled.

Fakir looked at the woman. "Briar?"

She nodded, "Quixote's partner. Follow me. The walls have eyes after all." The two men followed her to what Fakir had to assume was a safehouse. Once the door was closed, Briar turned to her companions. "Now please, tell me what happened." Briar said.

Fakir huffed, "What happened was this moron monologued for too long that almost got him killed."

Briar actually seemed amused. "But was the goal completed?"

"Only because I forced Quixote to!"

"I was in character!" Quixote snapped.

"And we're there any issues we need to worry about?" Briar asked.

Fakir huffed, "Someone recognized me."

Briar's smile faded. She leaned in expecting more of an explanation. Fakir went on. "Former coworker, his name is Dilan."

"Did he suspect anything? Or see Quixote's face?"

"I don't know. At the very least he thinks he shot a member of the Hobby Horses. Though considering his body disappeared, pretty sure he'll know Quixote survived."

Briar nodded. "I'll have to let Mytho know. I'll ask you both to lay low for a little while. I'm sure Mytho will let you know when it's safe to return again." Fakir nodded. Quixote, although distraught, agreed.

After a few minutes of Briar asking for any other details as well as informing the two how best to stay hidden, a question formed in Fakir's mind. He walked up to Briar and whispered. "Briar, be honest. How do you put up with this guy?"

She giggled, "I guess the same way your partner puts up with you."

He frowned. "Seriously, this guy's insane."

Briar kept her smile, "He may seem foolish, but he comes through when it counts. It also doesn't hurt that he lets me know how grateful he is for my help." She winked, "You should consider doing the same for your partner."

He furrowed his brow. Briar didn't seem phased at all by his glare. He went on, "Isn't that a little too personal?"

"Absolutely not!" Quixote shouted from behind the two. Fakir had to catch himself before his instinct to punch Quixote took over. Quixote continued, "It's important to pay a woman proper respect! You should at least thank her!"

Fakir huffed. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get out of this one.

Tutu was in her usual element, dancing with a stranger. On paper, it was hard for anyone to see how her cover story helped anyone. She could tell with this current partner she wasn't going to get much more information out of him. Dancing would let her see how people really feel. If her partner was nervous or hiding something, they would be stepping out of time or be very clumsy. If her partner was very forward in the dance, that let her know she could get this person talking.

And then there was Lohinegrin…

She hadn't had the chance to dance with him yet. Maybe if she did, she could figure out what his problem was. Lohinegrin was confusing to her. Demanding to work alone, even though that almost got him killed. Pushing her as far away from his part of the job as possible, even when he needed her help. The more she thought about it, the more aggravated she became. After all, weren't they both here to help Mytho?

Once the dance was finished, she excused herself from her partner to collect her thoughts. That didn't last long when she saw Lohinegrin enter the speakeasy. Of course he was drawing a bit of attention to himself by keeping his hat on. He nodded to her, then to one of the private booths at the skywalk.

Tutu did her best to remain in character. Lohinegrin wasn't supposed to be here after all. Last she heard, he needed to be out of sight. She waited a moment before following in his footsteps to the booth and closing the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. There was a slight panic in her voice. "I thought Mytho said you need to lay low for a while?"

"I am." Lohinegrin answered, tipping his hat.

Tutu frowned, "Why are you wearing a hat in the speakeasy? You're drawing more attention to yourself."

He huffed and looked away. "I came here to say 'thank you'." He mumbled. Tutu looked dumbfounded. "Thank you?"

"For a job well done." He looked back at her. In the back of his mind, there was some amusement seeing Tutu's confused face. "Honestly, your part of the plan was the only thing that went right."

She sighed with a smile, "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"Anyway, Quixote was insistent I let you know."

Tutu stared for a moment, "Wait. You risked drawing attention and going against Mytho's orders to tell me Quixote says thank you?"

He scowled at her. "I'm thanking you too. The least you could do is accept the compliment, idiot!"

Tutu huffed with a growl. Even Lohinegrin's compliments came with insults. She crossed her arms and looked away, allowing Fakir to see how her bruised cheek was healing. While the makeup covered most of it, he could still tell it was there. That feeling of discomfort returned. This time, he wasn't going to fight it. That softened his ire. He sighed. "Tutu."

He drew her eyes back to him. "I'm sorry I got you hurt." She turned her head back to him with mild suspicion. She could see he was being genuine. "I already told you not to worry about it. We're partners."

Lohinegrin huffed then left. He couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted to. It felt… too forward to do so with her.

'A situation that shouldn't have happened to begin with.' He clenched his fists as he walked out the speakeasy. 'Why am I so weak? Can I not protect someone like her?'

He stopped in his tracks. Why did he care so much? He barely knew Tutu (as he was supposed to)! Yes, there were partners. And yes, it was her decision to get involved. But he was there when she got hurt! He was armed and capable of helping her before that Phantom Knight hit her. He didn't understand it completely, but he felt duty bound to protect her...

He huffed and continued on his way. This was not the time nor the place to think about all this. He silently headed back to his apartment.

A/N: This one took too long. My apologies on that.

Thank you so much for reading this far with me! I greatly appreciate it!