***

A concern that once again shown on her face from the memory, "So, yeah... a flawless heist." she said thoughtfully, holding the flash drive up to the light, inspecting it as if it were a precious gem.

"Six hours in bed with him, you say?" François' voice broke through her thoughts, reminding her that he was still on the line. "That was... inconvenient."

Gale rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see her. "Inconvenient? Darling, this is a masterclass in patience. I've infiltrated the penthouse of a superhero, drugged him, and gained access to his top-secret files. All in a night's work."

François audibly inhaled, "Well then it's now my turn, and I can assure you, six hours, minimum." he said, his voice dripping with innuendo.

Gale scoffed, "Oh, please, spare me the empty promises, François. You know I'm not one of your little playthings to be paraded around and discarded at your leisure."

"Plaything? Oh, Gale, you wound me." François feigned offense, but his voice was laced with amusement. "I merely meant that I intend to put your skills to good use once more. After all, you've proven yourself quite adept at... handling difficult situations. Name a time, and a place. I'll be there with bells on."

Gale chuckled, not from the jab of his proposition, but because of her incoming parry, "The time is now," she spoke as a small white portal opened beside her, "And the place is here." she finished as she tossed the flash drive through the portal, with it disappearing into the void.

A clatter sounded on the other side of the line, François gasped, "How did it? How did you?" he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the phone. "Here I thought that I was the demon."

Gale ignored his barb, instead focusing on the task at hand, "The world we inhabit, François. My payment?" Gale asked, her voice as smooth as silk, yet underlying it was a sharp edge that demanded attention.

"Ah, of course," François replied, his voice regaining its composure. "Your usual account?"

"Indeed," Gale confirmed, walking towards the expansive window, her reflection staring back at her, a smirk playing on her lips. "And François, do remember, I expect a bonus for the... creativity displayed during this mission."

"Only if you promise, how you say, 'a rain check,' Gale," François retorted, a hint of challenge in his voice. "I do so enjoy our... negotiations."

Gale chuckled, "Oh, François, always so eager. But I'm afraid I must decline. Business before pleasure, after all." She paused, her gaze drifting back to the Los Angeles skyline outside. "Besides, I have a feeling our paths will cross again soon enough."

"Indeed, they will, Ma Chèrie," François agreed, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "Until then, au revoir."

Gale hung up the phone, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft click.

Suddenly, a buzz could be heard. She turned back to the phone, but it wasn't her burner. It was... The Red Phone.

Gale sighed as she turned back to the expansive window, her gloved hand pressing against its frame, as if to steady herself. She took a deep breath, the scent of ozone from recent combat mingling with the faint aroma of brewed coffee. The silence was deafening, a stark reminder of the absence of Art-Man®.

The Red Phone buzzed again, an incoming text from, "Fedora." She turned on text-to-speech and transcription mode, setting the phone down on the glass-topped coffee table.

Fedora: And the dreams that you dare to dream, Really do come true...

Gale closed her eyes for a moment, then responded, "You stole my money and my cigarettes, And I haven't seen hide nor hair of you yet..."

Fedora: Hello dear, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time.

Gale raised an eyebrow, her reflection in the window mirroring her surprise. The phone was reading Fedora's text in its standard feminine AI voice, but she could hear his low, smooth, smoker's rasp beneath it. She could see the shadow of that fedora cast over his face.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise. You don't normally call me at work, dear. Do you need me to take care of something on my way home?" she asked with a quip.

Fedora: In fact, I do. We seem to have an issue with flowers and poultry. I'm afraid I can't leave the house today. Could you swing by the market and pick up a few things?

Gale smirked, leaning against the window frame. "Flowers and poultry, you say. That sounds like a recipe for disaster, or perhaps a very expensive dinner party."

Fedora: Indeed, it does. But I assure you, it's a matter of great importance. We might not actually have a problem with the chicken, but roses are indeed confirmed to be an issue, a thorny one at that.

Gale's face showed concern, her eyes narrowed in determination as she continued, "Do I get access to the joint account this time or is it all on my dime... again?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Fedora: I assure you; this is a rare occurrence. But I'm sorry, you'll need to dip from your private account. However, you are free to fill that account any way you see fit without any interference.

Gale's eyebrows shot up, her reflection in the window mirroring her surprise. "Without interference, you say. That's a first." She paused, considering the implications. "Alright, dear. I'll play along, but Timmy needs his tricycle, and some assembly will be required. I don't want you to get involved with that either. Unless you want bloody hands from the sharp metal."

Fedora:  I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, dear. I knew I could count on you.

Gale smirked, pushing off from the window frame. "Always a pleasure, dear. I'll see you tonight." She ended the call, tossing the phone onto the couch. She turned back to the window, her reflection staring back at her, a smirk playing on her lips.

"What a peculiar day," she mused aloud, her voice echoing softly in the empty penthouse. She took one last look at the sprawling city before grabbing her phones and striding towards the elevator, her silver ankle boots clicking on the polished marble floor.

***

Next Issue: A new hero is introduced, while Gale continues her quest given by the mysterious Fedora.