A Chance Encounter on the Street Corner

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The sun hung high in the sky as its midday rays baked the people milling about in the city far below it. All types made up the population on this particular street in this particular city. Teens on a date trying to decide which fast casual dining option at which they should spend the wages they earned at their part-time jobs. Yuppies on the way back to the office, displeased that the deal they had worked so hard on had fallen through. Kids being watched keenly by their parents so that they didn't stray too far. And, as is the case with any city these days, the unhoused who made themselves very public in this high-traffic area in the hopes that someone better off than them would spare some money for a meal... or booze.

Of these unfortunate souls was a young woman, barely more than a girl. It had been days since she had eaten more than a few scraps of food, and longer since she had enjoyed a proper bath. Hair was growing all over her, except for her head which appeared bald save for the short, sharp strands poking out of it. Their color was nearly imperceptible, but it was clear that in a prior life she had been a brunette. While many of her ilk liked to cling to the sides of buildings to shade themselves from the harsh sun, she prefered to sit at the corner of the street. It would, after all, grab the most attention.

On this particular day, the city had been in its third consecutive day of a heat wave. The woman's skin was boiling, her naturally pale complexion unsuitable for this climate. Sweat covered her brow in a sorry attempt to cool her off, and not even reclining on a lamppost could offer her any comfort at this time. She knew what she was doing was stupid at best and deadly at worst, but she figured life wasn't going to get any better any other way. So here she was.

And as she was shielding her eyes from the bright sun, ready to pass out from the heat, she saw him. The man. He had been a few streets away for some time now. She wasn't quite sure what, but something about him had caught her eye. Perhaps it was his relative constance in her vision today. Most people passed by her and disappeared from her life in a moment, but not him. And as he got closer over the course of the morning, it was clear that he was paying attention to her. He was watching her.

Finally he approached. It was difficult to make out his features from where she was reclining. The man was standing directly under the sun, so he seemed, so he looked radiant. It seemed liked time stood still as he waited to speak. She didn't know what he was waiting for, nor what he was looking at. As far as she was concerned, there wasn't a whole lot to look at. But without warning, the man spoke to her.

"You have an interesting body. I'll give you a dollar for every pushup you can do here in a single effort. No need to worry about form, either. As long as your elbows bend even a little bit, it counts. You only lose when your knee touches the ground."

She stared up at him, her face blank but her eyes seared from the heat. What on earth was he talking about? He wanted her to do what? On the street? In this unbearable heat in front of everyone? Then again, the offer seemed rather generous. These days a dollar is worth a lot, and even if she only gets two or three of them she can sustain herself for a few days. But what did he mean by "interesting body"? Interesting how? Questions swirled through her mind, and but she acted before she had come to a decision.

Without a word, she changed her posture until she had formed a plan, her hands burning on the hot asphalt. Whether that was a thing he knew or cared about she didn't know, but the pain barely registered. She still hadn't decided if this was an act of public humiliation or the strangest form of charity, but she supposed that it didn't matter. All she needed to do was bend her elbows, let her chest drop a bit, and then raise herself back up for as many times as she could take.

In truth, the young woman couldn't recall if she had ever done a pushup before. She had heard some children talk over the years about the acts of physical fitness they had to do at school, so if she had ever gone to school she would have done the same. It was hard to say, though. Her memories only went back so far.

Had she been prudent, the young woman would have counted along to see how many she was doing so that she could keep the man honest. But she didn't want to be disappointed if he didn't give her what she had earned, and it was difficult for her to tell what counted and what didn't count. In his offer the man seemed rather permissive, but it wasn't for her to judge.

It was even difficult for her to judge how strenuous this activity was. From her perspective she was lasting a while, in contrast to her malnourished state, but, again, she simply didn't know how she was performing. Eventually, when she thought she had done enough, she touched her knee to the ground. She paused for a moment, as is to signal both to the man and herself that she was done. Still in that position, she craned her neck up to look at him.

The sun had moved, so while it was still hard to look up, she could see some of his features. The man looked young. He had thick, dark hair, with dark eyes and pale skin that looked like hers. He didn't look like he had a strong build, and in fact looked like he indulged too much, but he seemed tall. Then again, from her position everyone looked tall. He stared down at her with an intense expression on his face. After a few moments, though, he loosened up and reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"Impressive. You did better than I expected. Here's what you earned, plus a little extra. Stay in a hotel tonight, or at least go somewhere you can be in comfort. And if you're interested in more, meet me back here tomorrow at around this time."

He handed her a single bill from his leather wallet, and without a word more the man left. In her hand was a $100 bill. Had she really done that many repetitions? The man said he gave her a "little" more, so likely not. But still, she hadn't expected to get anywhere near that much for her work. She had never stayed at a hotel before, as far as she remembered. They sound fancy. Hopefully one night wouldn't rob her of her newfound riches.

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The next day she returned to the same corner, just as the man had instructed. She wanted to position herself at the same lamp post as well, as though she had developed some kind of superstition after just one encounter with the man. Though it had just been one meeting, it left a lasting impression on her. The man seemed so sure of himself, powerful in his own way. And the fact that he had been able to give away money like that on a whim, let alone on a girl like her, suggested great things about this supposed 'opportunity' he had in mind for her.

The walk back to the corner this morning was unlike any other she had made. For one, there was a faint sense of hope deep in her stomach that she might not be a vagrant much longer. Clearly this man had some kind of interest in her, and if she could figure out what it was and how she could be useful to him she felt strongly that she could get off the streets and stay off them.

There was a much larger feeling that made her morning routine seem different, however. Though it was just for a single night, her time in a hotel had changed her. She had gotten so used to living on the street with the other unfortunate souls, and she had also grown accustomed to the reactions the people passing by would have when they saw her. Most ignored her, but there were some who were aggressive and didn't like the sight of her kind. But at the end of the day she was where she was 'supposed' to be. When she walked into that hotel last night, however, she experienced a whole new level of scrutiny.

It was, by all accounts, an average hotel. But even average accommodations were enough to make this young woman's heart leap. Just the simple fact of there being more than enough soft, comfortable chairs to sit in shocked her to the core. How could there be such lavish abundance in the world when she and so many like her knew nothing but concrete and cardboard? But then she remembered the bill in her pocket, and things once again started to make sense.

The lobby was rather empty, with only a few patrons milling about and a small handful of staff attending to their duties. At the front desk were a man and a woman, both much older than the homeless lady who had just walked in. Though they were forty or so feet away from her, she could easily see their faces change from having bored expressions to focused, hateful looks upon her entry. Most would have taken that as their sign to leave, that they didn't belong and that they never will. But the money grew heavy in her pocket and she walked forward.

Once she reached the desk, the older woman addressed her. She was on the shorter side, with white curls replacing her blonde ones slowly but surely. Wrinkles lined her face, and her eyes burned with a green flame. She spoke in a shrill voice that suggested she rarely got to have power over other people.

"Excuse me, sir, but this hotel had a strict no loitering policy. If you're not a guest here, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

A dark smirk formed on the older woman's face, clearly proud of herself for enforcing what she thought was the law. A glance over at the older man, who also appeared to be on the shorter side, saw that he shared in his coworker's twisted joy. Without a word nor hesitation, however, the girl reached into her pocket and gently placed the $100 bill on the counter. The woman's smirk vanished from her face, as she clearly wasn't prepared for this.

"I.. uh, um... excuse me, but how could someone like you come up with this kind of cash?"

She was prepared to try and explain the circumstances behind it, as strange as they were, but before she could the older man interjected.

"Now, Nancy, you know not to ask questions like that to such high-profile guests such as this. Sir, I don't know why you've chosen to grace our humble hotel with your patronage, but we're eager to show you every last bit of hospitality. I'm going to get you checked into one of our best rooms, and then I'll have one of our bell boys escort you up. I can see you don't have any bags with you, but he can still explain to you all of our amenities. We'll just keep this payment with us and you can use it as a credit for any of the services you wish to enjoy. I'll just be a moment."

True to his word, the older man arranged for a young boy in a silly outfit to escorts her to the elevator. On her way there, she couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation the two older adults were having. They probably thought she was out of earshot, but she had always had particularly strong senses.

"Floyd, what are you doing? You know we can't let a bum like that in here?"

"What does it matter, it's not like we own the place. Plus, you dope, he clearly has no idea what a place like this should cost. I just put him in a normal room and tomorrow I'll give him a bogus bill that conveniently adds up to $100. Then you and I can pocket the difference and finally get something good from working in this shithole."

The elevator door then closed, and on the next floor the bell boy brought her to her room. He went on talking for a few minutes about what the hotel offered and the local highlights, but she didn't care. All she could focus on was the bed in the room and the adjoining bathroom. Satisfied with his explanation, the working boy left her to her own devices. Immediately, she fell onto the bed and enjoyed some of the best sleep of her life.

By the time she was able to open her eyes again, she was satisfied to see that it was dark outside. That meant that she hadn't slept the whole day away, and there was still time to take care of some things.

Right away she knew she wanted to do two things: clean herself and eat a meal. Cleaning herself would be the easier thing to do, so she made her way to the bathroom. It had everything she needed - towels, soaps, and a clean, unbroken tub. She disrobed and proceeded to enjoy the best bath of her life, taking care to alternate between taking in the pleasant temperature of the water and cleaning every last inch of her body. Once she was satisfied with her work, she saw a cheap looking razor sitting with the other toiletries this place provided. She had never understood why other women felt the need to shave their bodies, but she decided that if she was going to live like one of them tonight she may as well go all the way.

It took a while, but the girl eventually managed to scrape off all the hair that had been growing on her legs, arms, stomach, and underarms. She even decided to take care of the little stubbles that dotted her face. The shaggy carpet between her legs, though, she stayed away from. Little nicks and scratches covered her from her act of hygiene, and she wasn't eager to try her luck with it in a more tender area.

It hadn't been on her list, but seeing how the tub was still full of soapy water she decided she may as well wash her clothes too. All she had to her name was a tattered, sleeveless shirt, simple pants that didn't go all the way down her legs, and two shoes that weren't the same size and that were falling apart. She washed the shirt and the pants, and hung them on the shower bar to dry.

Finally, there was finding a meal. She knew enough not to leave the room while nude, so instead she looked thought the room for anything edible. After a brief search she found a small icebox with beverages, snacks, and even a premade sandwich inside. Needing no further prompting, she finished off the sandwich and all the food, leaving only the soft drinks untouched. Feeling fully satisfied, she returned to the bed, baked as the day she had been born, and went back to sleep until morning.

The checkout process went largely as expected. Her clothes now dry, she went back down to the first floor without her youthful chaperone. The same two people were staffed at the front desk, and had it not been for her clothes they might not have recognized their newest guest. She approached them and stood there expectantly. It took a minute, but the older man eventually spoke.

"Why hello there... sir? Miss? Um, either way, I hope you enjoyed your night with us. Unfortunately, your stay here has to end. The expenses you accrued since yesterday when you checked in have completely wiped out your payment. Without any further funds, we must sadly ask you to leave. We do, however, hope you return."

She simply shrugged her shoulders and went off. As she walked away, though, she heard the two speak, not caring to try and conceal their words. First the older woman spoke, then the older man.

"I thought that was a man when he checked in yesterday. Are you sure it's the right person?"

"Of course I'm sure, who else would chose to wear clothes like that? And it still might be a man. The face might look feminine, but I've never seen a woman with muscles like that."

Her evening at the hotel now officially concluded, she returned to her lamp post. Though the two people at the desk scammed her, she enjoyed her night and wanted to experience something like that again. Not knowing when the man would show up, she slumped against the lamp, waiting for his arrival.

She didn't have to wait long, luckily, as he found her before noon.

"My, aren't we looking fresh today. It's incredible what little we need to feel like our best selves, things that most of us take for granted. I'll cut to the point. I have a job for you to do, a simple delivery. Payment is $200, half now and half upon completion. Before I give you any more details however, I need to confirm that you can speak. If you want to take this job, please simply verbally respond back to me in the affirmative."

She gazed up at the man, still viewing him with the same glowing halo he had the day before, even though the sun was much lower today. Realizing what was being asked of her, she simply nodded her head and spoke aloud for the first time in months.

"Yes."

Feeling pleased, a small smile came upon the man's face. He reaches inside his suit jacket and produced a sealed envelope from it.

"That will suffice, thank you. All you have to do is deliver this letter to one Mr. Harold Bints. He's the owner of Gerry's Club on 49th Street. Are you familiar with it?"

"The street, but I'll find the club."

"Good. The establishment won't be open this early in the day, but Mr. Bints is expecting deliveries all morning long, and he'll even be on site today to receive some of them. He isn't expecting this, but please make sure he receives it. And if he gives you anything, make sure to bring it back here as well. I'll be waiting for you back here between 8 and 9 PM tonight, which should give you more than enough time to get all this done. Any questions?"

She shook her head.

"Perfect. Here's the letter, and here's your first payment. I'll be on my way, now, and I hope you see you tonight."

Just like that, the man walked away. She kept her eyes trained on him until he disappeared from her sight. It wasn't until then that she stood up, put the bill in one pocket and the letter in the other, and started walking to 49th Street.

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Along the way to 49th Street, a thought came across her mind. For the first time in a long time (possibly ever), she had genuine purpose. Even if it was only this one job, someone was counting on her for something. This was an occasion worth celebrating. The young woman had become rather practical in her years of living on the street, but, as she was realizing, even she wasn't completely devoid of vanity and wanting creature comforts. Once again the $100 bill in her ratty pocket grew heavy, and it inspired her to add a few detours to her trek. After all, she had well over nine hours until the man would be ready to meet with her again.

Her belly was full and her body was rested, so she thought of her clothing. They were in a sorry state despite having just been washed, and she decided it was time to replace them. And her shoes. They were mismatched in both style and size, on top of barely being held together. It was time for a wardrobe upgrade. And as it would happen, she was half a block away from a shoe store she had frequently caught herself staring inside of from the outside. Hopefully whoever worked there wouldn't have the same attitude as the people from the hotel.

A light bell rung as she opened the door. A young girl with a sunny disposition immediately turned to her from the counter and smiled as though by reflex. Her greeting, however, was warm and inviting, matching the friendliness in the laugh lines that were already forming on her face.

"Welcome! Is there anything I can help you with, miss?"

She hadn't prepared for this. For some reason, she didn't think she would need to talk at all for this transaction. Realizing what was at stake, she cleared her throat and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Shoes."

The sales girl giggled, her laugh making her new customer blush. Had she said something wrong? Did she look strange? She must have, but was this girl so cruel as to laugh at her?

"Well of course that's what you're here for, miss. This is a shoe store, after all. I mean was there a specific kind of shoe you're looking for? The cobbler who owns the shop only specializes in a few different styles, but we have a wide variety of sizes available."

A moment passed where the sales girl looked at her customer, observing the completely blank look across her face. Understanding what was being communicated, the sales girl came out from behind the counter and urged her customer to come forward. The customer sat on a small chair, as directed, and put one leg forward, again as directed. The sales girl then proceeded to measure her feet with a device that looked strange to her, and she took a note before speaking again.

"I'm guessing you're looking for something on the comfortable side, a shoe you can wear in a variety of occasion. Luckily we have something that I think can work, though it'll have to be in a men's style. Unfortunately we don't have any women's shoes that go up to a size 13. May is get you this pair?"

Once again she found herself blushing, although for a different reason this time. So often she was mistaken as a man due to her appearance, and it was oddly giddy to be recognized for what she truly was. And yet there was something... more going on here. She couldn't figure out what it was, but nodded in assent.

The sales girl grabbed a pair of black shoes from a shelf, as well as a pair of socks, and put both onto her customer's feet.

"There you go. These loafers will take you where you need to go, but you must promise me that you'll always wear socks with them. The socks will help the shoes last longer, and they'll also feel more comfortable that way. The leather will feel a little tough for the rest of the day, but as you wear them they'll break in and turn into the perfect fit for your feet. Are you satisfied with them?"

In a quiet voice, she responded simply.

"Yes."

"Good. Now stand up and meet me at the register."

She got up and followed the sales girl back to the counter. She grabbed several bundles of socks and put them in a small paper bag.

"So that's the shoes, the pair of socks you're wearing, and three more pairs so you don't need to wash these right away. Is there anything else you'd like today?"

"No thank you."

The sales girl leaned in close. For the first time the customer realized the shape of this girl's body. She was short but broad, with ample curves from head to toe. Her blonde curls fell onto the counter as she leaned forward, her mouth open suggestively.

"Are you sure?"

The customer blinked rapidly as she felt her face get hot, her mind going blank from how flustered she felt.

Before she could react, the sales girl stood back up straight and giggled again.

"Teehee, glad I could be of service for you today. That'll be $10."

Completely on autopilot, the customer handed the sales girl the bill and was quickly given her change.

"Thank you for being our patron today. Please come again so I may take care of you once more."

Though she was having difficulty processing the last few minutes, the customer left the store, happy to wear her new shoes. After a brief walk in the open air, she remembered her desire for a new outfit as well and found a tailor close by who could dress her up.

The tailor was an older man, far less friendly but much more professional than the sales girl from before. He wasn't rude to her, exactly, but he was much more direct.

"Good thing you come to my store, sir. You in desperate need of some good clothes. Come here, I measure you. You looking for something ready-made or something bespoke?"

Many of these words were new to her, but she had enough of her wits about her to know she needed something today.

"Ready-made."

The tailor nodded and got to work, noting the breadth of her shoulders, the thickness in her neck and chest, and the disparity in width between her waist and thighs.

"You don't make this easy, a body like yours. You want something now, I give you two different sizes. Thin waist, but big legs and shoulders. You a athlete or something?"

She shook her head, not sure if she should feel embarrassed or proud. The tailor produced a few pieces of clothing for her after checking through his wears: black pants with a belt, a white undershirt, and a black collared shirt with buttons. The tailor explained how the garments were supposed to fit and how she was meant to wear them. The whole outfit came to $25, which still gave her a decent amount of change.

Finally, feeling fresh in her new outfit, she returned to her mission. The letter was in one of the pockets of her new pants, and the extra pairs of socks and her remaining money was in the other. As she passed by a trash can, she made the tough decision to throw away her old clothes. It was a sign to herself that things were going to change from this point on.

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After only another half hour of walking, she came to 49th Street. All she needed to do now was find Gerry's Club and make her delivery. The walk here, detours and all, had felt so lighthearted and fun. However, now that it was time to do the mission she had been assigned, she started to feel apprehension. She took a few seconds to herself to take some inventory and reassure herself that she could do this. The sun had just hit its zenith in the sky, so she had eight full hours until she had to return to her corner. Nine if she really needed the time, but she doubted that she would. All she had to do was hand a letter over to someone and possibly make her way back with something else. Perfectly doable.

She felt perspiration start to accumulate on her brow and her nearly exposed head. The all-black outfit was comfortable and far more stylish than the rags she had become so used to wearing, but it was, perhaps, not the best choice in a week as hot as this. Or, perhaps, this sweat was the result of her nerves spiking. In either case, things weren't going to get better by just standing around. She wiped the sweat off of her skin and continued her search.

The club ended up being in the dead center of 49th Street, something she only realized after walking all the way west and then retracing her steps. For being the target of her mission, the club was surprisingly nondescript. It blended in with the surrounded buildings, and would have almost been unrecognizable had it not been for the small sign on the door. In faded black writing, it was simply the name of the venue, "Gerry's Club."

The man had informed her that the proprietor, Mr. Bints, would be expecting deliveries all morning long. Did he mean prior to noon? It was, technically, not the morning anymore, and she didn't see any trucks or carts out front. Had she missed her moment to sneak in? Perhaps there would be more deliveries soon? Regardless of the truth, the thought echoed in her head once more that hesitation would not lead to success. So, like any sensible person, she advanced to the storefront and thought to just try the door.

She put her hand on the knob and turned it. There was a second of resistance from the turning mechanism, but she was able to continue her movement until it was clear that the door could be opened. She stepped inside and tried to close the door behind her, but she was unable to do so. The door simply hung near the frame, but it couldn't be fastened.

How strange. Typically doors could be closed after they were opened. Oh, well. Her responsibility was the letter in her pocket, not the door. More strange than the door, however, was the lack of personnel inside the club. Yes, it was early in the day and the club wasn't likely to open up again for the next few hours, but surely there would be staff on the inside? She closed her eyes and tried to focus her hearing on anything she could pick up on the interior. It was faint, but she heard a few voices discussing something further in. She made no effort to conceal herself as she walked towards this noise, but she also did not try to draw any extra attention to herself.

Towards the back of the floor, past the bar and the kitchen, was a door with a humble placard, and on it, in the same font as the sign on the door outside, was the word, "Office." This room was the source of the noises she had heard earlier. And unlike her prior experience with the front door, she had enough sense to not simply walk into this room where some sort of meeting was being held. Instead, she opted to knock on the door, just loud enough to be heard over the voices.

At the sound of her knocked, a silence immediately cut through the room. It was difficult to make out, but she could hear an authoritative voice say something along the lines of, "Rocco, go see who's there." A second later a large man, presumably Rocco, unlocked the door and opened it a crack. He had to look down to see her, and though she could only just see his appearance she could tell that he was wearing a beautiful navy suit. The look on his face was severe.

"Do I know you?"

"I have a letter for Mr. Bints."

The ease of her response surprised her. Her voice still sounded a touch hoarse, but she was astounded that she could reply back to this large man so quickly and easily.

"Who sent you? You don't look familiar."

"I don't know his name. He was kind and generous, and he said to give this letter to Mr. Bints."

"Let'im in, Rocco."

That was the authoritative voice from before, the one who sent Rocco to the door. Before she could produce this letter to prove its existence, Rocco turned to the side and opened the door wider, ushering her in. The room was small, with just enough space for a desk, a few filing cabinets, and three chairs. One of the chairs was empty, presumably where Rocco had been sitting. Next to it was a much smaller, more lithe man in a similar suit, and on the other side of the desk sat an older man. He had long, white hair and wore a suit that was just a shade darker than his hair. She proceeded to walk up to the desk, standing next to the unknown seated man.

"So? Where's this letter I've heard so much about?"

She fumbled as she took the sealed envelop out of her pocket, unused to the particular size and shape of her new garment. She handed it to Mr. Bints, who opened it immediately. He spent a few minutes reading it, and as he did a scowl slowly started to form on his face. By the time he was done he looked ready to kill, and he crumpled up the paper and threw it onto the ground.

"Rocco, close the door. And you listen to me, you little shit. I don't know who your boss thinks he is, but he doesn't have the stones nor the muscle to tell me how to run my turf. I want you to go back to him and give him this message for me."

From his seated position, Mr. Bints drew back some saliva and spit on her face.

"Oh, and one more thing. No one comes to my turf and insults me without receiving a parting gift. I don't care if you're just the messenger. Rocco, show him what I mean."

"With pleasure, boss."

Rocco cackled as he cracked his knuckles, clearly familiar and happy with this part of the job. He only needed to take one step to close the distance between her and the door, and pulled his arm back to prepare for a heavy swing. With the unrefined form of a streetfighter, Rocco brought his fist down on her, and the impact was quickly followed by a sickening crack.

"Fuck! My hand! I think I broke my hand! What the fuck is this guy made out of, concrete?"

Rocco fell to his knees almost immediately after the blow made contact with her. He had, by all rights, landed a solid hit, but was unprepared for the unyielding body of the person before him. In truth, she wasn't quite sure of what had just happened. Yes, she knew that Rocco tried to hit her, and yes, she hadn't felt fear at any moment, but she didn't understand why he was in so much pain now. The man who was seated next to her pushed back with his legs to create some distance, and quickly stood up as he fumbled for his sidearm. His boss then joined him, grabbing a pistol from his desk drawer.

"I don't know what kind of freak you are, you bastard, but I'm going to make sure you aren't walking out of here unscathed!"

Mr. Bints and his still-unnamed employee then proceeded to unload both of their guns on her, firing a total of 12 shots between them. Unlike Rocco's punch, which she hadn't felt at all, she felt a slight tap against her skin as the bullets made contact. They damaged her clothing where she was shot at, but the bullets could not pierce an inch of her flesh. After hitting her, they compacted in on themselves from the force, and helplessly fell to the ground. The two men were dumbfounded at this impossible display, but she was just confused. Was her job done? Was Mr. Bints supposed to give her something to take back to the man? It was all so unclear.

Before the two men could find their wits, she cleared her throat and addressed them both.

"Um, can I go now? I thought you were going to give me something to take back to the man, but I guess it's okay if you aren't. Oh, and I think your door is broken. I tried closing it but it won't stay shut."

The unnamed man stuttered a response, somehow able to focus on the last thing she said.

"Th-that d-d-door w... was locked. What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I guess that's why I felt a little resistance when I opened it. Um, before I go, actually, could I have some money? I just bought these clothes today and your guns ruined them. My shoes are fine, I think, but the rest of my outfit needs to be replaced."

Before waiting for an amount, Mr. Bints took out his wallet and threw a wad of bills at her.

"Take it, just go! And tell your boss that his proposal sounds great, we'll do whatever he says! Just please, don't hurt us!"

Hurt them? The thought had never crossed her mind. But as she picked up the money and put it in her pocket, she started thinking about how strange this whole encounter was. It finally dawned on her that she had come here with good intentions, on a simple delivery job, and these men had tried to do harm to her. Worse, actually. When it became apparent that Rocco wouldn't suffice, they had tried to actually kill her. That was how much they looked down on her, just like the hundreds or thousands of people who used to pass by her everyday without a second thought. Suddenly she realized that she had a lot more power than she once thought, and the idea of revenge sounded tempting.

Standing up straight, she looked down at Mr. Bints. He was back in his chair, but even when he had been standing to shoot at her he was shorter than her. The other man was still standing, and he also didn't quite measure up. The only one who looked imposing among them was Rocco, and he was on the floor crying and cradling his wounded hand. She looked down at Mr. Bints and calmly said her piece.

"You tried to kill me just now."

The smaller, older man tried to stutter out a reply, but she interrupted him by slapping a hand onto his desk. The wooden desk broke where she had hit it, the middle part now a splintered mess.

"I'm talking now. You two tried to kill me after your big guy here tried to beat me up. I won't hurt anyone here, not today at least, but I'm going to come back when the club is open. I'm going to come here a lot, and every time I do I want to be able to eat and drink whatever I want without having to pay for it. Am I understood?"

Mr. Bints tried to formulate a rebuttal, knowing the amount of damage a deal like that would do to his business. But he looked down at his desk, and then over to Rocco, and finally over to the seemingly towering person in front of him - and the more he stared the harder it was for him to be sure it was a man and not a woman - who had been shot at a dozen times without so much as a scratch to show for it, and he realized the damage she could do. His life, after all, was worth more than petty profit.

"You're understood, and you have a deal. Now, please, just go."

With that, she made her leave.

[tttrbn]

On the way back to her corner, she made another quick stop at the tailor she had visited not so long ago. Her encounter with Mr. Bints and his thugs had taken less than 20 minutes, and the sun had hardly moved in the sky, so the old, skillful man who dressed her earlier in the day would surely be surprised to see her again so soon. Her expectations proved accurate, and though he chastised her for ruining her clothes so quickly he was more than happy to outfit her again.

"You really no make things easy. I'm a honest man, you pay me and I make you look nice, don't need to ask many questions. But even a guy like me get curious when he see a customer come back so soon. What happen to you, you alright?"

"Yes, I'm okay. If it's okay, I'd like to replace the stuff I bought earlier. I'm sorry for getting them ruined, but it wasn't my fault. And I think I also want something, what was the word you said earlier, bespoke?"

The tailor couldn't help but smile at her request. He quickly found a replacement sent of pants and sweater for her to wear, and got busy taking down notes of the bespoke garment she was looking for. In her recent encounter, she had become quite enchanted by Rocco's suit, both the deep, rich navy color as well as the way it fit on him. It looked like it had been made specifically for a man of his size, and it clung to his bulk in a way that didn't seem to get in the way. She did the best she could to explain the details, and when she struggled he brought out samples of other garments that could lead her in the right direction. It took some time, but the tailor eventually took down all the details he needed for a three-piece suit for her, as well as a white button-down shirt and a tie. There was something about the look the man had, as well as those three other men, that appealed to her. They looked official. Important. Powerful.

"Okay, perfect. I got everything I need. You measurements, though, like I said, are a little tricky. You need to give me time to get this ready. Normally I say a week, but for this I need two. That okay with you?"

She nodded, and the tailor continued.

"Wonderful. That'll be $50, half paid now as a deposit and the rest later. And don't worry about the replacements, I throw those in for free. I just need a name for the order and we good."

She froze as she reached into her pocket for some bills.

"A name."

"Yeah. I know what you look like, but all the orders need a name so they don't get lost. I got a lot of things I work on when I don't have any customers during the day. That a problem?"

"N...no. Um, Jane. That's my name."

"Jane? Strange name for a guy."

"Um, I'm not a man. I'm a woman."

The tailor looked up at her from her scribbling. He had made the assumption earlier, as many did, that between her height, her frame, her closely shaved head, and the depth of her voice that she was a man. But now that she had pointed it out, he could see the little details that he had overlooked earlier that suggested 'female'. He still wasn't fully convinced, but he wasn't in the habit of telling his customers who they were.

"Oh, uh, so sorry miss. I make the mistake earlier and only give you man clothes. I apologize, I no can fix. I only tailor men's clothes, not women's."

"No need. Um, I actually like all the clothes you've shown me. I think they suit me better than women's versions of the stuff here. I want the suit."

He took a second to process everything, eventually nodding. He took her money and wrote the name 'Jane' on the order form.

"You got it, boss. Gimme two weeks and I have your suit ready for you."

Jane smiled, took her replacement clothes to a fitting room, changed, and left the tailor to his work. This had been the first time in a very, very long time that anyone had asked for her name before. So long, in fact, that she had all but forgotten it. She was reasonably certain that Jane wasn't her real name, but needed to come up with something for the tailor. She had heard before that when a couldn't be identified, the name given was either John Doe or Jane Doe, and she decided in the moment that it was good enough for her. She can be Jane in her new life, without worrying about the baggage of what came before her.

There were several hours before Jane needed to meet up with the man again, so she spent the time doing what she had seen others doing: walking around, going in and out of shops, spending time in the park sitting on benches and walking on the grass, and stopping into restaurants and cafes for a bite to eat. Many of these things she had done before this all had started, but because of the way she looked people looked down on her. When she had sat down on a park bench a week earlier, she was a dirty vagrant who was taking up public space. But now, with her cleaned up look and new clothes, she was just another citizen enjoying a moment of leisure. Some people even smiled at her as she walked by. It was, in a word, pleasant.

An hour before the scheduled meeting time, Jane made her way back to her corner. It was usually empty, as though the other bums knew it was hers, but today, for the first time in years, there was someone in her spot. She had encountered this person many times over the years. He was an old bum who answered to the name of Rocket Smithy. Jane wasn't sure how he had acquired that name, but he was a brutish, domineering old man who wore his homelessness like a badge of honor. Blind in one eye and missing half his teeth, the word on the street is that Rocket Smithy had been in a fight everyday of his life. As Jane approached, it was clear that he was looking for one with her.

"I seen you talking to that suit yesterday and today, little girl. I seen how he give you all kind of money just for a little bit of this or that. You think he give me the same if I ask nice? Maybe if I make myself look like a dyke faggy like you?"

"Go away, Rocket. I don't want any trouble."

The older man scrambled onto his feet, his sizable paunch swaying with every little move he made. He was of a height with Jane, and his impressive gut was all that was separating his face from hers with how close he was standing next to her.

"Trouble's what you got, little miss. Ain't no one make it off these streets 'cept in a body bag. You think you better than alla us?"

"I don't think I'm better than anyone or anything. But I'm not going to feel bad that I have a chance to get out. I'll say it one more time, Rocket. I don't want any trouble."

This time he didn't respond. Instead, Rocket reached for Jane's shoulders and started squeezing. She had seen him punch his way out of a dumpster before after a close encounter with the police, so she knew the power in those dirty fists of his. However, she was certain that he couldn't overpower a gun, and she could see the strain flood his face as she tried to push in on her. After 30 seconds Rocket's face was blood red and covered in sweat, and there was a vein running across his forehead. He was clearly exerting more energy than he was used to, and yet it didn't seem to affect Jane at all.

As though he was only holding onto her with a light touch, Jane reached her right arm up and wrapped her fingers around Rocket's neck. Though they were the same height, her arms were longer and her hands were bigger, so despite his neck being thick with tough chords and fat, she was easily able to grip the old man's neck. She then extended her arm out fully and raised her arm up, lifting him off the ground. He was forced to let go of her as the distance between their bodies exceeded his arms' reach, and gravity had caught up to him, causing him to choke in Jane's grasp.

"You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through. I grew up hearing all about you, though, and I even got to see a couple of the things you've done. And up until today, I thought you were impressive. But I've seen what I can do, and it's a lot. A lot more than you, that's for sure. Don't bother me again, or I'll kill you."

Jane looked up at him, the portly homeless man struggling to break free of her iron grip. The more time that passed, though, the less air he had access to and the closer he was to passing out. Right before he hit his limit, he gurgled out a reply, saying that he would leave her alone from now on. Satisfied with his answer, Jane drew her arm back and threw the man she was holding like he was a ball. He sailed over the pavement, crashing down onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

How had she not realized this before? How had it taken Jane this long to realize the level of her strength? It was almost too much to take in. Luckily, her thoughts were stopped short by another man's voice.

"My, my. What a wonderful display that was."

Jane turned her head, but she had recognized the person immediately from their voice. It was the man.

"You're early."

"Only a fool would arrive at the scheduled time. I had a feeling that if I spent a little extra time observing I would be able to see something special, and I was right. I take it the delivery to Mr. Bints went well?"

"He tried to shoot me, but he said he agrees to whatever you want him to do."

"Excellent. I must say, miss, you've exceeded every last one of my expectations."

"Jane."

"How's that?"

"My name. You can call me Jane."

"Ah, yes, good. I suppose propriety insists that I share my name with you. I had hoped to keep this anonymous for a time longer, but this was inevitable. My name is Declan, and I'm pleased to formally make your acquaintance, Jane. Now, as promised, the other half of your payment."

Declan produced a billfold and handed Jane another $100 bill. Though he acted coy, he was nothing if not a man of his word.

"By this point I hope I've established a certain level of consistency and reliability, have I not?"

Jane nodded.

"Then I hope you'll indulge me one more request. Both my employer and myself have taken a great interest in you, and we both believe you'll be a tremendous asset to our group. This is no mere delivery girl job I'm offering, mind. This is a position of permanent employ in the company of one of the most powerful people in this city, and you would be entrusted with jobs of great import both to them and the group at large. Suffice it to say, you'll be saying goodbye to these streets forever if you agree to this."

She didn't even need to think about it. This was everything Jane had ever wanted, even before she knew she wanted it. Another nod from her sealed her fate.

"Excellent. There's one more thing you have to complete before the job is yours, however it's really more of a formality. I need you to be inspected by our in-house doctor. Nothing invasive, mind, it's really more of a checkup. Make sure you're healthy, and see what the issue might be if you aren't. As well as taking a few vitals so that we can understand the caliber of person we're working with. Are you comfortable with that?"

"I don't think I've ever been to a doctor before."

"All the more reason why you need to see ours. I promise you, Jane, nothing untoward will happen during your visit. If you trust me, then, please, follow me."

Declan turned and started walking off, not bothering to look back to see if Jane was following him. He didn't need to, of course, as she left at the same time as him.