Harlem Hellfighters

The long sleek sedan drifted into the alley like a boat pulling into port. It was dingy, dark, and cold.

Just like home.

"Не выключай двигатель. Я скоро." (or, keep the car running, I won't be long.) Came a gruff voice from the back seat. The passenger reached down and gripped the arch of her shoe and slid it off of her foot. She didn't get to play much these days. Not like this. Sure, she helped toss a few bodegas. And shook down a few dealers. But this? This was right up her alley...

And she was dressed for the occasion.