Blood rushed to Napoleon’s face, and within seconds, his complexion was two shades darker than his hair. “So, not only do I apparently need to have my hearing checked, you’re now explaining to me what goes on in my laboratory? Is that it?” Napoleon said, moving closer to Friedrich. “Then, by all means, fill me in on all the other goings-on in my clan because, evidently, you think me quite the half-wit.”

“What? Oh, no, m’lord. I don’t—”

Friedrich’s head fell to the side and then fell to the floor, leaving Napoleon and Ivan speckled with droplets of the man’s blood.

Napoleon wiped a bit off his face and placed his finger in his mouth to savor the crimson fluid. “I love it when it’s fresh off the vine,” he said, prancing back to his desk. “And now that I’ve done the world a favor by reducing its asswipe population by one, be a good boy, Ivan, and go get someone to mop that up.”

“Right away, sir,” Ivan said, turning to leave.

“Oh, and tell Izzo to stop his testing. There’s no need to waste his time on that when he’s of better use to us developing the next designer drug that will be all the rage. We need to fatten our coffers, Ivan, seeing we’re going to have a lot of mouths to feed soon.”

***

Ruby’s plans had been to get up early on Saturday and clean her apartment before going shopping, except when she rolled over to turn off the alarm and heard rain slamming against her window, Ruby said fuck it. She slept until almost ten, and after visiting the basement to start her laundry, she returned to her apartment for a leisurely breakfast of coffee and a cream cheese-slathered bagel. An hour later, with her clothes now in the dryers, Ruby tackled dusting, sweeping, washing, and straightening. Given her apartment's size, it wasn’t long before Ruby placed the cleaning supplies back into the cupboards. Pleased by the cleanliness surrounding her, she stripped out of her clothes and went to take a shower.

Ruby had long ago learned never to take anything for granted, and she treated her belongings as if they were the last she’d ever own. Her apartment was her home, and while it wasn’t a stately mansion or a high-rise penthouse, that didn’t mean it didn’t deserve the same respect. Crumbs scattered across countertops didn’t exist, and magazines disordered belonged in a doctor’s waiting room, not in Ruby’s apartment. Windows were always streak-free, dishes never sat in the rack drying, and Ruby would rather dive in front of a moving train than have a pile of unfolded laundry waiting for her when she got home.