The club was at the same time brightly and dimly lit: the moving lights of the club made it hard to concentrate on anything else if you were not dancing, shining on something for a moment and then moving on. The pounding beat didn’t help, nor did the smell of sweat and alcohol, or the movement of the bodies on the dance floor.

Off the center of the floor, one girl was dancing with a little room around her. The girl, dressed in jeans and a fashionable blouse, had a tattoo on her arm that made a few people avoid her. If they looked closer, they’d see her eyes were watching a man at the bar even as she danced.

Marishka Petrovskaya smiled as he levered himself off the bar. Her eyes, even in the flashing lights of the bar, caught his, and she threw him a wink. He moved across the floor, towards the tough Russian girl.

Tony “Little Cracker” Montonio was the son of Anthony “Crackerjack” Montonio, and he heard his father saying to him, “Son, in our family, the question is always gonna be when do we take what we want, not when do we get it, see?” And now he saw something he wanted.

He was aware of the Russian girl’s reputation – more than a few of his posse (as he liked to think of them) had tried and all struck out. She was a flirt, but when the time came to pay up, she never did. Hell, Davey was still sporting the bandages where she’d broken his nose when he tried to grab her between the legs. But this time, it was Tony’s turn. And a Montonio took what he wanted. And right now, this Russian chick? He wanted her bad.

The crowd parted, knowing Tony was on the hunt, and let him join her. They danced for the song, and then when another came on, he led her off the floor, towards his table. A gesture, and the three women already there were shooed away by his boys, who moved to give him some alone time.

She sat a little away from him, leaning back in the booth. “So. What do you want with me?” Her eyes regarded him with an air of calculation. He knew her kind – they knew they had something to offer, and were willing to trade for it, as long as the trade was going to be fairly even.

Except that Montonios don’t trade, they just take. His great-grandfather came from Sicily by taking a ticket from some jackass, then took power by beating another jackass to death with his bare hands.

He reached over to grab for her chest – not all that big, but she had that whole thing going that said she was going to be rough in bed, and he liked a good conquest. She grabbed his wrist and said something in Russian that he didn’t understand.

“Talk English, you stupid bitch,” he growled.

She smirked. “I said ‘I don’t pull them out in public’. You want some of me, not in here. You got to have place nearby. Even a limo. I’ve never done it in limo before.”

He felt his face pull into the old familiar smirk. “Yeah, I came here in a limo. You wanna try it in there?” And if they messed up the floor, fuck it. Besides, it would be kinda fun to do her in the limo, then push her out half naked on the Pike doing 70. She wouldn’t mess with him, and she wouldn’t get another guy any time soon.

“Da. Go now?”

He got up, and she followed. He grabbed her hand and cut across the dance floor, pushing people out of the way. Outside the door, he led her around the corner towards the limo he had rented.  She stopped, and he stopped short when she did.

“I think I saw something. Up there.” She pointed upwards. He looked, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of violet light out of the corner of his eye, then it all went dark.

---

The Night looked around carefully. This was the riskiest part.  She reached into her pants pocket, pulling out the linegun, and shot a grapple to the roof.  She heaved Tony up there, sapped him again just to make sure he stayed out, then dropped to the ground. A moment had her mussed and lying on her face on the alley pavement, just in time for his friends to come around the corner.

“Hey! HEY!  Where’s Tony?” One of them poked her with his shoe. She groaned, a little theatrically, and pulled herself to hands and knees.

“Dun know. There was flash of purple, then talking to you,” she said, blurring her voice a little, as she sat back on her haunches.

“Shit!” another one said. “That goddamn vigilante got him.”

“Why?” A third asked. “Why Tony?”

“His pop,” the first said. “Break his pop. Maybe Tony knows somethin’ about-“

The second hushed the first. “Not in front of her.” He gestured at Marishka. “Go, get outta here. Don’t say nothin’ about this neither.”

She got up and staggered away. Once out of their sight, she stopped faking the stagger and started walking, and then used the linegun to get back up on the roof.  She smiled, as Tony lay there still unconcious, then turned to a shadowy corner where a black cardboard box sat.

A few moments later, in costume, The Night hoisted Tony up again and carried him to the other side of the roof. Parked in the next alley was her new vehicle. With a smile, she got them both down, strapped him into the seat, and drove off.

---

When Tony Montonio woke up, the first thing he realized the blood was rushing to his head. The second was the chill. The third was the sound of wind in his ears. And then he opened his eyes.

It was a testament that he did not scream at the sight of home plate in Fenway Park — from above. He was hanging from the front of the announcer’s box, and the park was dark.He could feel the wall behind him, and then something tapping on the sole of his foot – it was at that moment he realized they were gone.

“Hello, Tony,” came the voice. It was a little distorted, but a woman’s voice, and something about it filled him with a chill.  he looked up, and as he’d expected hearing that voice, it was The Night. “Nice night. How you doing?” she added, a little mockingly.

“My guys are gonna find you and kill you, bitch. You’re not gonna get away with kidnapping me.” He hoped it came out as confidently as he wanted it to come out, more than he actually felt.

“They’re looking in the wrong place,” she said. “Trust me. I made a point of leaving some obvious clues sending them to Quincy.” She gave him a small smile. “Let’s talk about your father’s business.”

“I ain’t saying anything,” he said, puffing up a little. “My pop’s gonna find you now, and take you apart.”

“Shut up, Tony,” she replied. “You’re going to tell me everything.” She lifted one foot a little, and suddenly he slid down a foot. He let out a squeal of terror, and felt his bladder loosen a little. “Or you’re going to ruin tomorrow’s game.” She let him slide another couple of feet.

Tony talked.

Once he’d finished, giving information about his father’s business and mentioning where he liked to meet to give his people orders, she nodded. “Good. You might want to get out of town,” she said. “Your dad is not going to like knowing how you squealed.” Then she lifted her foot one more time, and he slid down  He screamed, and the rope suddenly slowed, putting him down on his back in the aisle in the front of the nosebleed seats. The loop around his ankles loosened, and he was free. When he looked up, The Night was gone.

---

“Mulligan.”

Detective Sergeant Patrick Mulligan started. “Christ! Don’t do that! I nearly had a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” she said insincerely, perched on the windowsill. “I have a little something for you. A tip.”

“Oh, Christ,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What’cha got?”

She tossed a small recording device onto his desk. “A talk with Little Cracker. Might help. I know you’re poking around his father’s business, so that might help.” She smiled, a little grimly. “Do yourself a favor – bug Davio’s, the booth in the back corner.”

“What’s this for?” he said. “What do you get out of this kinda thing?”

“You’re a good cop, Mulligan. I want you to do well. Good for the city to have good cops doing well. Have a good night.”

“Hey, Night? Good to have you back.”

She grinned and waved, then leapt off, swinging away.

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