Jimmy TwoTimes finished handing out the last bundle of the periodicals to the newsies he'd hired to hawk the Penny Leadfulls wherever possible on the Streets. The printer had done a good job, and while this wasn't his best two-fisted tale, he was certain others would find it entertaining. Time would tell if the effort would bear repeating.

He wiped his forehead with one of his shirt sleeves, before strolling over to his work desk. A copy of the first issue of the Penny Leadfull lay upon the desk, evincing a smile from JimmyTwoTimes. He recalled the day he'd happened across one of the Penny Dreadfuls that had made its way somehow from the U.K. to America. He'd so enjoyed the pulpy periodical with its enthralling tales of horror, and accompanying illustrations that he became convinced the U.S. should have brief, entertaining, adrenaline-fueled tales for quick consumption, as well. So, he started the Penny Leadfulls. Between crimes, of course.

Unable to resist one last look at his work, JimmyTwoTimes seated himself at the desk and his eyes drank in the cover page, which was adorned with an illustration of a gangster standing on the running board of a Buick 50, clutching the inside of the car through the rear driver's side window with one hand, and spraying bullets from the end of a Tommy Gun with the other. Bullets seared the air around the hardened criminal and the Buick. At the wheel of the car was a wide-eyed boy of no more than 15, his mouth agape in shock.

A Bullet and a Smile! - A Penny Leadfull Adventure #1     **Get your fill of bullets and blood in every issue!**

JimmyTwoTimes turned the page and began to read.

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and any portrayal of persons living or dead is purely coincidental and in no way intended to reflect upon any persons living or dead. Additionally, actual places may appear in said fiction and are in no way intended to reflect upon the value or reputation of such.**

"Hey, kid. How would you like to make more money in an hour than your dad makes in a month?"

Tommy D ceased leaning against the side of the malt shop building and regarded the well-dressed man in his pin-striped suit and matching fedora with a dark band running its circumference. For no reason he could fathom, Tommy D took particular note of the sharp creases sown the legs of the man's pants. "Depends what you want me to do, mister. And I ain't a kid." He puffed out his chest. "I turn 16 next month."

"Excuse me."

Tommy D looking him in his steely eyes, couldn't tell if the man was making fun or not.

"You got some pluck kid, I like that. What's your name?"

"They call me Tommy D." The man didn't need to know the reason for the name was that Tommy had an unhealthy obsession with digging, particularly when there were valuables to be found. 

The well-dressed man turned sidewise and pointed at a Buick 50, idling at the curb. "You see that car?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You get behind the wheel, and when you see me cross the street, you pull up in front of the bank, and you wait for me. Then you're going to do some driving. You know how to drive, right?"

Tommy D's chest inflated once more. "I can drive." He wasn't sure he should ask, but he did anyway. "What are you going to do, mister?"

The man laughed. "I got a transaction to make, kiddo." Dapper Dan shot the kid a wink, turned toward the bank and began walking. He crossed the street, noting that it was not very busy. At this time of day, all the mugs were working for a daily wage, while the wise guys schemed ways to earn what they could in less legally accepted ways.  Up on the corner, a Norwegian stood atop a soap box, addressing a small crowd. He was saying something about debates, but Dapper Dan was too focused on his goal to pay much mind.

He entered the bank and his head swiveled. Two lady tellers, four customers, and an aging security guard who looked like he might be on the verge of drooling in his sleep. Dapper Dan chuckled inwardly, pulling a pair of Brownings from twin shoulder holsters. "This is a robbery!" The elderly security guard started in his chair at the sudden sound. "Nobody do anything stupid, or you'll get steel kisses from the twins, here." He pointed one Browning in the general direction of the tellers and customers, and the other handgun at the still seated, but fully awake guard. Everyone but the guard had automatically raised their hands into the air as a sign of nonaggression.

Dapper Dan waved his gun. "You four, over there. Everybody be cool. I'm here for the bank's money, not yours." The customers complied, moving to one side of the bank. "You," he pointed the gun at the brunette teller, "join them." The brunette teller, wearing a name tag that said Janet, rushed to join the others. Dapper Dan put one gun away and switched targets every half second or so, in case anybody decided to play hero. With his free hand, he slid the sack free that he had secured between his back and the belt around his waist. Then he tossed it to the blonde teller and reached for his second gun again. "Fill the sack with money, and you'll live to tell your kids about the day you were robbed by Dapper Dan."

Once he had the money, Dapper Dan started toward the door. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement that he didn't like. Dapper Dan turned and fired three shots from his Browning. The security guard slumped in his chair, dropping the billy club he had managed to bring to bear. Dapper Dan eyed the well-placed grouping of shots, two in the chest, one in the forehead as blood began to seep from the mortal wounds. He shrugged. "I warned you." As he exited the bank he tossed back over his shoulder, "When the boys from the news hounds show up, be sure you tell them I was here."

As soon as he left the building, he heard the alarm trill. He holstered his Browning and ran to the waiting Buick. He hopped on the running board of the car and set the sack of money in the back of the car, dropping it down through the open window. He reached inside for the Thompson and lifted it free of the car, feeling the familiar, comforting weight of the Tommy Gun in his hand. "Drive!" he yelled to the kid.

Tommy D shifted into gear and stomped the accelerator. "Where we going, mister?"

"Just drive!" Dapper Dan spotted one of the boys in blue on the sidewalk up ahead, widening his stance and leveling a revolver at the bank robber. Dapper Dan swung the Tommy Gun in the copper's direction and squeezed the trigger. He felt the heat of the bullet as it zinged past his face. The cop caught the hail of bullets from the Tommy Gun, and dropped like a sack filled with gold bullion to the sidewalk where he spent his last moments gargling his own blood.

Dapper Dan laughed maniacally while hanging from the side of the car, feeling the rush of the wind in his face as the car sped along the avenue. He snapped back on point. "Kid!" he yelled. "Hang a left up here!"

What have I gotten myself into? thought Tommy D. "Okay!" he yelled back. He cornered the next turn and slammed on the brakes when the paddy wagon up ahead of them pulled into a diagonal position, blocking any progress up the street. Tommy D was already reversing the Buick 50 when he heard Dapper Dan's Tommy Gun stutter again. He caught sight of that sack of cash sitting in the back seat as he looked out the rear view to see where he was going, and remembered why he was doing this. A pair of police issue Model B's parked nose to nose, blocked egress in that direction and Tommy hit the brakes once more, stopping the Buick in the middle of the intersection.

Dapper Dan looked from one end of the street to another. He didn't know how they'd done it so fast, but the boys in blue were covering all four directions. "Get out of  here, kid!"

Tommy didn't need any further urging. No amount of money was worth this kind of hassle. He opened the car door and hot footed it away from there.

"Take me if you can, you flatfoot fuzz! But it won't be alive!" Dapper Dan unleashed another fusillade of bullets from the Tommy Gun. "Eat hot lead!"  He swiveled in place, firing bursts from the Tommy Gun. 

At the end of the street, an un-uniformed man stood behind the Model B, taking aim over the hood through the sights of an M1 Garand. He inhaled softly and held his breath, listening for the sound of his own heartbeat. In the space between heeartbeats, he released his breath and squeezed the trigger. The bullet traveled down the street, entering the bank robber's temple, and exiting out the top side of the criminal's skull, along with blood, bone, and brain matter.

"Nice shot, Elliot," commented a cop standing near the plainsclothed shooter. "You bring us a tip that Dapper Dan is in town, and then you gun him down in the middle of a robbery. That's some day."

Elliot graced the flatfoot with a smile. "You might go so far as to say that thus far in my career, this day has been untouchable."

                                                                       The End

JimmyTwoTimes stood from the work desk, a smile carved into his face. He shrugged on his suit coat and turned toward the door. It was time to hit the streets and put in some work.