Order had been restored within the White Duck. Relatively speaking, anyhow. 

The first few days had been spent steadily kicking Caterpillar’s crew to the curb, and replacing them with Baba’s own men. Having a cabal that consisted mostly of children and young adults, Tanithka had had Tiny Tim handpick some muscle to fill the role of bouncers and other guards, seeing as potential hell raisers were unlikely to feel threatened by someone who could barely grow a moustache . 

Tanithka had kept the Chinaman around to help deal with the transition, and he had admittedly been helpful in dealing with the admin side of things. Within a few days everything was running smoothly again; The pushers were back to selling their wares, the hookers were back on their street corners, and the club itself was bringing in as much revenue as it had under its previous owner, with all of it now lining the young girl’s pocket. 

Eventually the Chinaman had exhausted his usefulness, and was becoming more hassle than he was worth. Baba Yaga had never tried insect before, but she must confess: She certainly liked the taste of Caterpillar. 

Tanithka polished off what was left of her steak, letting out an unladylike belch as she placed one hand on her swollen stomach, grinning contently to herself. 

She’d had Caterpillar’s obscenely large chairs replaced with trim leather ones, and the immense oak desk had been substituted for an elegant yet more practical transparent plastic one. Today her top was low cut and her skirt was short, but her choice of attire went beyond sluttyness for the sake of sluttyness: She was expecting a guest. 

 Smartly dressed men with neatly combed hair tidied away Tanithka’s plate and cutlery, leaving the young mobster to prepare herself for her visitor. 

The visitor in question arrived a few minutes later, being ushered in by some of the establishment’s guards. He strode coldly into the office, and sat down in one of the leather chairs without being invited to do so. Tanithka had had the chairs designed to accommodate her meagre 5ft 2inches, so that her feet could touch the ground, and the man practically dominated the seat with his large frame. 

He wore a grimy hoodie and ripped jeans, looking tremendously out of place amongst the moderate splendour of the room in question, but neither Tanithka, nor anyone else in the building would call him out on this fashion blunder. The mask he wore was tacky and plastic, the kind that would have attracted scorn and mockery if one were to wear it into the den of a drug lord, had it not been for the likeness which it depicted. 

That of a fox. 

Within Arcadia, such a mask commanded fear and respect, granting one the ability to saunter into the lair of a certified psychopath unannounced, and to leave intact. 

Baba Yaga was beginning to earn herself a reputation as [b]the[/b] looney bitch that you did your very best not to cross, but even she didn’t have quite enough screws loose to make a move against [b]The Kitsune[/b]. Not [i]yet[/i], anyway. 

“Awfully kind of you to grace us with your presence.” She began, after a prolonged moment of silence. The young girl drummed her fingers lightly across the surface of the desk, leaning forwards ever so slightly, giving the masked thug a glimpse of the goods that her low cut top so eloquently put on display. 

The man remained completely still, his form composed, his mask hiding even the slightest trace of an emotion. 

“So, what does your boss want with [b]me[/b]?” She queried, after it became clear he wasn’t planning on giving anything away without prompting. 

“The Fox believes that it would in your best interest to focus your particular talents on the more well off areas of the city.” His voice was a dry monotone, with the faintest hint of a Bronx accent. His body remained motionless, lacking even the slightest twitch. 

Having lived her entire life within the criminal underworld of New Arcadia, Tanithka had assumed she’d seen every time of goon, but this was something new. Some gangsters beat their men into line, inspiring unquestioned loyalty through whatever means were at their disposal, creating blank faced thugs whose utter lack of emotions were a testament to the unbridled viciousness of their employers, but even then she’d never seen anything [i]quite[/i] like this before. 

Every criminal had some little quirk-a dry sense of humour, a weakness for women, or an aptitude for sparking fights-but the figure before her was quite literally a robot, possessing now trace of a personality. 

Whatever the Kitsune was doing, it was working. 

“I see…” Tanithka ran her tongue across the edges of her plump lips, the taste of her last meal still fresh in her mouth. 

“He strongly advises you to take the suggested course of action.” Droned the robot-man, as emotionless as ever. 

“Or…?” Asked Tanithka, arching one dark eyebrow. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Or what?” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“Or he will do what exactly?” She playfully tossed back her dyed hair, fluttering her eyebrows. 

The robot-man didn’t respond, but given the Kitsune’s fearsome reputation, no verbal response was needed. 

“Thanks for popping by to see me. Tell your master that I appreciate his friendly counselling.” 

The robot-man left as quickly as he had arrived, offering her a wordless goodbye as he strode from the room.