The Las Vegas Strip is a carnival of in-your-face debauchery, it’s an assault on every sense one has, a deluge of sounds that leaves anyone who’s not use to it dizzy.  In her first days here, Lucy found herself walking down the strip and staring at every half-dressed doll & every rube falling for a shell game on the street corners; but she wasn’t a tourist at Hell’s Carnival anymore, she was now a full-fledged carny.

Lucy & her boys turned down a narrow alleyway that was barely lit in the early morning light.  Two blocks away a soup kitchen served those who still couldn’t find two pennies to rub together, but here she was surrounded by a dozen well-dressed men at various points up and down the street.  Each one paid more in a week than any honest man could hope to bring home in a year.  She used to find it infuriating & unfair that some should suffer so badly, but now she’d begun to have a different view of things. 

She couldn’t help but to look down on the people who didn’t have the good sense or drive to do something about their situation in life.  When your children were starving to death, who was the greater demon in this world – the criminal who did what needed doing or the man who sat around doing nothing while it happened?

“Hello Giancarlo.”  Lucy purred.

The man in front of her was dressed in well-worn trousers and a yellowed button-down shirt.  He froze at the sound of her sultry tone and the click of her shoes on the paving stones approaching him.  In his arms, he held a wooden crate that most definitely did not belong at this establishment.

“Miss Lucy, I…”  He didn’t have that sound of fear in his voice that so many men had when approached by her compatriots within SMOG.  The sort of begging that men at the end of their lives often did, or maybe even before they got a well-deserved beating, none of that was present in Giancarlo’s voice because Lucy had never had to hurt anyone that badly. 

“Now see, this is unfortunate.  You’ve put me in a really bad spot.”

“You can… you can just take this with you.  No harm done.”

It was true.  The man was right.  The box wasn’t in the building yet.  She could just take the crate and go.  She might be merciful.  She could be known as a kind leader who forgave her people for making ambitious mistakes – if this wasn’t Las Vegas.  Unfortunately, for Giancarlo, it was.

Lucy nodded to Yamir.  The driver came forward and took the crate from Giancarlo.  Lucy began pacing around Giancarlo.  “That’s where you’re wrong, Sweetie.”  She ran her index finger under his chin.  He didn’t move, just let the gloved digit slide across his sweat covered flesh. 

“You see, if I let you walk away from this without any kind of response, then maybe your friends hear about it.  They think, Lucky Lucy Fazzone is someone they can risk stealing from.  Maybe they get lucky and I don’t catch them the way I caught you – and if I do, they think I won’t do anything about it, because I’m soft.”

“I won’t tell no one.”  There it was.  That fear.  The sound of desperation, the sound of the certain knowledge that SHE was not someone to fuck with.  And that – not her weakness – is what the street rats would all be talking about within the hour.  A wicked smile pulled on the corner of her lips.

“Of course, you won’t Giancarlo, because you’re a loyal soldier.” He nodded, as if he dared to have a spark of hope she might prove to be that kind and forgiving woman he begged for.  Well, she'd be kind.  Although maybe not in the way he was hoping. 

“Thanks to me, you didn’t make this sale to my rival.  Thanks to me, your good name in the streets is assured.  Thanks to me, Pollution won’t have to find out about this little error in your judgement and send BetsyLou to visit you.”  She said the woman’s name as if she was invoking the name of Satan himself.  She wondered if her name would ever inspire such fear as BetsyLou’s name brought in Giancarlo’s eyes now.

She leaned close to Giancarlo’s ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, Giancarlo, I won’t tell anyone.”  She let the tip of her tongue slip out and lick a small be of sweat from his ear.  The salty taste was sharp on her tongue.  She delighted as a shiver ran down the man’s spine visibly.

She stepped back and nodded to Giuseppe who approached the man, cracking his knuckles.  Lucy walked past the two men, the sound of his first punches landing in Giancarlo’s gut caused her to draw a deep breath of morning air.  It was going to be a beautiful day.

“You best thank Miss Lucy, before she goes.”  Giuseppe said somewhere behind her.

“Th- thank you, Miss Lucy.”  Giancarlo stammered through the pain of several blows to his body. 

“Come see when you’re feeling better, Sweetie.” 

Yamir appeared at her side with the crate in hand.  “Put it in the trunk.”  Yamir walked off towards the car which was yet a block away.  Lucy, however, stood on the street corner at the mouth of the alleyway watching the sideshow that was Vegas play out before her.  Truly it was going to be a beautiful day in hell.