On the quiet Sunday street of the upscale neighborhood, very little excitement was expected from anything, and some were still sleeping in at the time. Tara Cunningham watched the car filled with her associates with enough excitement for a lively Saturday-night. It was less what they were watching, and more what she tactically expected to happen very soon. Reliably and on-cue, a woman stepped up to the car and let herself in, surprising the men watching the dress shop across the street. They were surprised, and the woman interloper looked so confident, her commanding voice dripping with it. "...you're getting new marching orders from a leading lady, and we do know what's best for naughty boys," She was certainly not expecting to be so surprised herself.

"You mean this leading lady?" A voice interrupted from behind Sally. The door behind her opened up to reveal Tara standing casually, smiling a knowing smile, as her associates quickly disarmed Sally and looked ready to retaliate violently.

"No, boys. Miss detective here is right, new marching orders are coming down, from the leading lady. You believe that, don't you, Detective Saffron?" Tara Cunningham pointed gracefully at the captured spy.

It unnerved Sally how quickly her part of the plan unraveled. She was supposed to remove these spotters out of the equation, keeping them under wraps until Kelli could have a "talk" with them later. A cold shiver of fear ran though her body, knowing who she was at the mercy of, and what little mercy they typically offered. She wanted to sneer at how calm Richie's right-hand woman was, blond hair meticulously-cut to a short, sharp bob, dressed in a smart, stylish grey suit and white blouse, not that dissimilar from how stylish her boss was. But unlike the stoicism Kelli's group was used to after observing her for so long, she carried the easy, assertive charm of Richie McClung too, but with something...more.

"And I don't think you believe that you'll come under any harm as long as you," she pointed at Sally again, as graceful as the first time. "Comply with what is to come. That's certainly believable, don't you think, Sally?" And another graceful pointing of her with her index finger. Sally noted the tone she spoke, soft, convincing, not as practiced as what Kelli could produce, but awfully close. That alone shocked the detective, noting the rhythm of her words and movements, calculated but smooth enough to have almost been missed, as she was pointed at nearly every time "you" and "believe" was spoken. To her programmed core, this shook Sally to what she really believed in, creating fractures in what she thought she knew, while Tara's voice slipped through the cracks.

Tara, for her own account, was running on auto-pilot almost, utilizing something she didn't quite understand and still had a hard time herself believing. Since the taking and further coercing of the judge for Richie's upcoming trial, everything seemed to fall into place like it always did with both Richie and Tara's forward-thinking and expert planning. Everything except Kelli Kennedy herself, which Richie saw as another useful tool. Tara, by contrast, saw her as a dangerous cog in the wheel, something typically immaterial or superfluous that could gum up the works in ways even she didn't realize. Priding herself in extensive research, she allowed Kelli to prepare for the judge's party supposedly "unchaperoned," while she visited yet another source to help delve deeper into what hypnosis could be.

Visiting all the local reputable hypnotherapists, she decided to visit one that seemed to reside on the more alternative spectrum, operating on the terms Kelli did moreso than any reputable hypnotist in town would. Rumors circulate how she was scary-effective in trancing. Arriving at her known locale, a greenhouse she owned, Tara found a woman older by a decade, but gorgeous-looking with auburn of hair and a long green dress to match finger and toe-nail polish, and deep eyes. Visiting the local greenhouse, she expected it to be just the two of them on a Sunday morning, but several people had appeared, testing their mental mettle against someone claiming to be irresistible, charging $100 each to win or to be lost if she couldn't successfully hypnotize them. Tara carefully watched as the woman worked, calmly gesticulating with her hands, using a calming, balming voice, as warm as the climate she kept her plants in. The hypnotist named Cassandra looked over to the suited Tara, and instinctively knew this she was different, smiling at the woman observing her.

Cassandra could tell more than anything, Tara was there to learn rather than to fail at a silly test. Feeling keen eyes follow her every move, Cassandra put several people under at once, meaning to take one at a time, but happy to allow splash damage to create a hypnotic wave over a few challengers at a time. She enjoyed being observed by someone that looked skeptical and trying to hide it, but still showed naked interest, and even an intuition for it, something Cassandra noted just from a long, unspoken look at the woman. Tara at some point came to a revelation - despite everything she believed about hypnosis including Kelli and Cassandra's demonstrations especially, what mattered most is what the subject believed. She'd toyed with the concept with her boss the night prior, thinking he was sleepily humoring his trusted assistant, but there was a chance to test her theory for real.

Getting the attention of the last guy in-line for the challenge, she tapped him on the shoulder. "While you're waiting for a chance to win your money, do you believe I could win it?" He turned to give the pretty blonde his full attention, watching her go for broke as she adapted everything useful that she'd learned, imitating Kelli and a little bit of Cassandra. "If the bet is to win, do you believe you can? Do you even believe in hypnosis?" She lowered the timbre of her voice, speaking to someone she wanted to assert herself to. Hints of interest and passion sprinkled her voice as logic started to put things together that taking and keeping his interest while she spoke might be all it took. And all the hand gestures got Tara to use one of hers on the young man, and the exact same trance that beguiled the female detective soon after.

"You, of course believe, in hypnosis, in compliance. That is why you are here. That is why you are listening. That is why you are still listening. You believe in this. And the more you listen, the more you just want to believe. Because belief is all you have; it is what drives you, me, everyone. I believe in hypnosis and where this conversation is driven. You believe in being driven into this conservation, faster, further....deeper. Yes, that's it deeper. You can be driven deeper. You can go deeper. Your beliefs can become and take you deeper. Because you believe in hypnosis, in compliance, in my control, in what I tell you."

Slowing her pace down to match breathing rhythms, Tara was surprised how easy this had become. Part of her felt like she was mocking the practice, but a greater part wondered if her words were meant to convince herself more than her subject; from both ends it seemed to have a great effect. Every other mention of "you" or "believe" drove Tara's subjects into a concentrated listlessness, triggered over and over by punctuated words and assertive, ever graceful finger pointings that put listeners on the spot, forcibly stealing away their chance to refute, not allowing any other thought or belief to interrupt.

"And every time I point at you, you can find yourself believing more and more, in every word of mine. The more you believe it, the more....the more you don't have to think of anything else, believe in anything else. Listening to me takes up all the space needed to believe, to think. You believe, what I tell you. You think what I tell you. You want it this way. You want me pointing to you. You want me pointing out to you beliefs, believing you want it. Believing because I told you. Believing because when I snap my fingers, you'll find yourself drowsy, droopy, sleepy, sleepy, ready to listen even deeper as you get sleepy. Sleepy. Sleepy. Sleepy...."

She stared to point at them at every sleepy, until the rhythm of finger-pointing was only interrupted by her hand extending to snap her subjects to sleep immediately.

"Sleep!" she commanded firmly, quietly with a loud snap, catching the bodies of the young man at the greenhouse, and later Sally in the car seat. 

Tara smiled as she felt like she'd learned from her mistakes, having a seated subject instead. Richie's henchmen in the SUV looked a little caught themselves in Tara's taking of Sally, and the widest smile the usually-emotionless assistant ever produced in public. 

"And now, Detective Sally Saffron, you can believe in everything I'm going to tell you, because you believe you're doing to do everything for me..."

***

Kelli's head was swimming in and out of consciousness, any movements she could muster felt like she was underwater. Trying to wake up was limply swimming upstream, and her body felt liquid enough that she might've slipped through the arms of whoever was carrying her. A lolling head moved slightly, weighted eyelids only opening to slits to see faint colors and subtle changes in light. It was dark wherever she was going, maybe a basement, or still night-time from her last memory. Only remembering what happened before brought life to her brain, recalling being cornered after Rose's party and the generous contributions that followed. 

Disbelief plagued her that it was Sally that did her in. How had she managed, or Tara managed, to undo expert conditioning? Or had she even managed that? Something about the way her submissive spoke before the lights went out nagged at her as she felt herself lugged into what felt like a car, maybe a limousine with how she was laid down to vaguely see people sitting above her, speaking to one another. The more Kelli listened, the more it sounded like one person predominantly speaking; unable to focus her eyes on the who, more attention was paid to the quality of the voice. It was smooth and calm, but enthusiastic. She swore it could've been an impersonation of her tone whenever she was in a dominant mood, but she certainly didn't want to swear how it sounded like Tara more than anyone else.

Kelli tried to shake the lingering thought out of her head, the idea that a dangerous overseer like Tara had anywhere close to the same kind of manipulative control. The way she heard Sally breathed what sounded like "Yes Tara" shook the more mesmerizing thief. That made her listen more intently to the words and how they were uttered. Assuming she wasn't just lingering in a bad dream, Tara had an impressive delivery, and a patient feel for drawing someone in. If she weren't so out of it, she might be worried that simply listening would put her own mind at risk.

***

To add insult to injury to her condition, a slightly-more aware Kelli managed to feel feet resting on-top of her. It was someone's naked foot moving rhythmically, bobbing up and down as her ears picked up constant gasps of pleasure. Open slits revealed the sight of Tara and Sally naked together, scissoring, writing in pleasure based on Tara's insistent directions. 

"That's it......feels....must.......obedient.....obedience is pleasure.....can't.....no resistance....want....just want more.....to obey...." Awareness went in and out, but experience filled in the blanks with what Tara was doing with Kelli's seemingly former slave.

After a long pair of mewls from orgasming, maybe one of several between them, Tara pulled Sally to her, and started whispering sharply into her ear. Deducing Sally was being reprogrammed for obedience to Tara, and probably Richie, Kelli tried to make a sneering sound too weak for anyone in the back of the limo to notice. She wanted to swear at Tara, at the pair of them, but being angered thinking used up enough energy that Kelli fell back into a overwhelmingly-drowsy state.

***

It had to be hours, or even days later before Kelli stirred herself back to consciousness. Unlike the last few bouts of trying to wake herself up, it was coming much easier than before, and she was sitting down this time. She sighed to herself before opening her eyes, suddenly convinced that she'd just had bad dreams leading up to the next morning. An involuntary yawn came to her mouth, the first sign of a semblance of being rested and calm. But the yawn caught in her throat as she felt a jab in her bicep before she could raise her arms to stretch, and more liquid pumped into her veins. 

Kelli's eyes shot open from the pain to find herself in the darkness of a limousine, sitting next to Roland Darby with the syringe in his hand and a pleasant smirk on his face. Snickering from across the seating drew her to see Richie McClung, utterly fascinated by something on his phone. She blinked looking around to see how dark the inside of the back was, while heavily-tinted windows not blocked by bodies standing outside of it hit the morning light. She was still in her party attire from the fundraiser, ruffled and her curly hair messy and strewn around her face. There was no trace of Tara or Sally; Kelli deducted one or both of them could be right outside the limousine, waiting for her boss. 

She was surprised she wasn't restrained at all, showing how confident Richie was about the situation. Looking in-between the bodies through the windows, it looked like they were in-front of a courthouse, most likely the one where Richie would have to go before Judge Kowalski. 

"Wow, who knew rich, old fucks could bend like that. Fuck yoga, I'm trying hypnosis when I grow up," Richie laughed, looking past his phone to his captive.

A scathing attempt at wit was short-circuited by the feeling of whatever was injected in Kelli moments ago. It wasn't the same sleep agent, nor did it cause a lot of pain and discomfort. More than anything, she just felt weird.

"Looks like you had a wild night, didn't you Kelli?"

"Y-yeah..." came the basic answer from the hypnotist. The way her insides felt obliged to answer that way told her enough.

"Truth serum?"

"Most definitely, my dear. Big day today, and we need to make sure your work is up to code."

"Why don't you ask the...judge?" Kelli paused, tried fighting some of the effects.

"Why not ask you, Kelli? To make sure a manipulator of your caliber did the job she was asked to do correctly. Sorry to say, you can trust someone's work without trusting them. MissPlaced priorities, I'm sure you understand."

Kelli laughed, the fuzzy sensation feeling trippy. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"Yeah, so you can honestly tell me Kelli. Did you program Judge Kowalski?"

"Yes," the answers came quickly and honestly.

"Did you program Judge Kowalski to rule in my favor?"

"Are you absolutely sure you she's going to do what I need her to do?"

"Yes, Richie."

Richie glanced at Roland, looking for affirmation in the truth serum he used; the nod from Roland satisfied his boss.

"Good. Did you have fun manipulating the judge over the weekend?"

"Yes..." it felt good to answer that question, and remember every moment of control and degradation.

"How much fun did you have doing the judge...and all her friends?" Richie showed the images she had taken of the hypno-orgy.

"All the fun."

Both men laughed at the wide-grinned answer.

"What inspired the orgy?"

"Ex..tortion...and fun."

"Smart," Richie nodded.

"Did you enjoy the little bonus of getting to fuck with your old warden?"

"...you knew?" Kelli asked, literally surprised.

"Of course I knew, sweetie. Why wouldn't I throw in a little bonus for you doing me this solid?"

"Because you don't like him either." The question was rhetorical, but Kelli still gave an honest, and accurate answer.

Richie glanced at her for the intuitive answer and chuckled.

"See? We do have too much in-common. Which is why this next question shouldn't surprise you in the slightest - did you have plans for me in all of this?"

"Of course," she smiled, letting the truth flow free. She didn't notice the look exchanged between Richie and Roland, nor Roland pulling the gun from his holster, screwing on a silencer to the end of the pistol.

"Why don't you tell me about these plans?"

"Because I want to tell you about them as long as I can."

The speed of Kelli's answer to what he thought was a straight-forward question caught him off-guard. Richie almost laughed it off as a funky side-effect of the truth serum on her brain, but the enthusiasm behind her statement was more positive than passive, and he was curious about that.

"Why do you really want to tell me about this plan, as long as you can?"

"Because I think it will work."

A point discussed earlier between both men while Kelli was still out was that Roland had permission to blow the hypnotists brains out if he sensed her playing her mind tricks on either man. With that in-mind, and not the first time Richie has authorized such a brazen kill so close to public view, the silenced-end of the gun was pressed firmly against the side of an unfazed Kelli's head.

"And why will it work?"

"Because I will it," Kelli said, looking absent-minded as she said it. Before Richie demanded elaboration, she took a long swallow and deep breath before continuing slowly, deliberately, still under the effects of the serum.

"Because I want to will it, and I want to tell you about hypnosis from my point of view. You would listen closely, carefully to every word I said, to see how you, me, how every is susceptible to it. Men, women, cops, robbers, judges, judged, they all listen to what is presented to them, to the creativity of the words spoken. But the hypnosis, the creativity, isn't a lie; you wouldn't call it a lie if you didn't believe in it."

Richie wanted to laugh at how it seemed to be taking some time for her to go over what she was really trying to say, and it was hard to see this as a con-in-progress from the length of uttering words, or how lost she was when talking about lost words. The last sentence did sound like a cool quote to him though.

"And what you believe is what your mind tells you to believe. And if a hypnotized mind believed they were in a court listening to a judgment, they would listen, to all the facts, all the details, all the testimony, all the evidence."

"Wait..." Richie said, trying to process the cryptic explanation, "you were planning to get me in the courtroom?"

"Yes," Kelli said almost happily.

Working out the logistics of how that could've happened solely in his head, he found himself impressed that she would have the guts to even try that with so many variables to account for.

"Always shooting for the stars, I admire that," Richie admitted, eyeing carefully Roland who he quietly relied on as  a fail-safe. For the thief who could literally talk her way out of, or into anything, he wanted to be ready. The ex-cop was even more paranoid about most things than Richie was, and wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in a threat. 

Roland's expression was as calm as Richie's, listening to Kelli speak about her plans. Unlike Richie, his mind oddly trailed back to a traffic stop months back. On his way back from a job, he'd been pulled over for speeding. He was ready to shoot his way out of exposure if needed, but the cop that walked up to the driver side window was a lady cop, with her uniform a few buttons down from regulation. She acted normally, calmly asking for license and registration, and he predictably took more time than usual to get it, staring at the slightly-exposed valley that was one loose button away from revealing more. 

Looking at the information, keeping her tone light as she talked about how this seemed to be his first possible moving violation on record, he seemed to be more at ease about everything. When she caught him staring longer than expected, a bit of firm, sensual sounding authority was added to her voice.

"Sir, I know you can respect that it's a hot day, and that if anything should be paid attention to, it's this badge."

Raising her badge, she brought it up to hover in-front of her cleavage from his vantage point, the surface shining gently at him.

"If you can promise to follow the law like you follow this badge, you won't have anything to worry about with the ticket, if there's even a need for one. Just follow the badge, following the law, to ease the situation..."

Cleavage still on his mind, rhythmic flashes of light and an almost sexy, authoritative voice combined to catch Roland off-guard until there was no difference between her badge and the law, both under her authority. Several more deeper trances followed prepared the mob enforcer for a time when he would have to show his loyalty, to more than one side. He maintained his loyalty to Richie by keeping his gun on Kelli, and he proved his loyalty to Kelli by keeping the gun unloaded, and after hearing how Richie liked ordered hits to go down, to keep Roland's arm out and ready to shoot.

Safeguards in-place and with time to spare before his appearance at the trial, Richie continued to listen interested, relaxed and unbidden.

"At this trial, you and your lawyer would be there, but...wanted control of the judge, or the prosecutor if I could, puppets of mine used to pull the strings of the galley, the guards, and the public. I would want control of them while I would be your lawyer, speaking in persuasive tones to ensure your freedom."

"M-my...freedom," Richie blinked in gentle disbelief, Kelli's explanation suddenly dragging his thoughts in a different direction.

"Yes, I'm safe if you're free. There is safety in freedom, in knowing that going through every motion, every moment, the outcome is already decided. You can sit back and enjoy watching witnesses witness and recall only the things I say, confused and following my words. As your defense, even if you have no defense, I would still dazzle the court with my words. You have no defense...and you still win. You have no defense...and are still afforded a mistrial by your MissTrial lawyer," Kelli spoke, pride seeping into her voice about how she might pull such a feat off. "In the courtroom, no matter how bright it is, a dark void of silence covers the room, lit only by my illuminating words."

Outside of the awareness of either men, Kelli procured an item from her evening purse, a lighter, gold with an insignia in the shape of Ireland on it. It looked so similar to one Richie hadn't seen since he pickpocketed from Kelli so long ago. Before he could question the similarities between it and the one he'd lost, he lost himself in how she handled the lighter one-handed, practiced motions effortlessly flicking the top open and shut, sparking a flame that lit the dim insides of the limo, letting it linger as she spoke.

"Like how I would trick a witness with witnessing this flame, convinced it was evidence, an exhibit against you, but confusing him with technical jargon like 'zippo.'" 

Raptured confusion was the condition Richie found himself under, trying parse through more than the word "zippo," but simply being dragged wherever Kelli's voice lead.

"Nice Zippo you've got here. Always loved that word, 'zippo'. So catchy, kind of sticks in your head for a good while. I've found it catchy since I was a kid, so it must have a strong way of staying with you, appearing in even the oddest points of your memory, or your imagination."

Kelli seemed to admire the lighter in her hands, more animated and absorbed in casually flicking it open and closed with a grace that looked extremely practiced, giving the viewer the impression that she was a smoker too, impressed by the gentle wrist motions that seemed to maximize showing off the shiny gold surface when lit. The varied lighting of the lighter's surface meshed well with her sparking the flame just as effortlessly, every so often. But even when flicked close and the light temporarily extinguished, Kelli's tones and tempo carried on as arresting, complementing both light and darkness.

"Since I was a kid, I always wanted to learn how to use these things like the heroes did in the movies, looking so cool, using something so hot. Once I got my hands on a zippo like this, I just needed to know how to flick it open, like so..."

Kelli made a deliberate motion to emphasize the sound of it opening. "And like so..." And closing.

"And like so...." and opening "And so on..." and closing "And so forth..." and opening. Both Kelli and her audience knew on some level how the clicking sounds were so well-timed with the rhythm of her words. "Maybe like you would think your words would amount to here today, practiced and convincing, as if, it has to be this way, it has to be exactly as described."

"So determined," *click* "to break it down to perfection," *click* "to make it look effortless," *click* "to make it look natural," *click* "to make it like I could do this all day" *click* "and never tire of watching," *click* "listening" *click* "being absorbed in looking so cool," *click* "holding something that could be so hot," *click* 

Kelli broke the rhythm for a moment to let captive eyes linger on the flame she sparked alive and waved back and forth, occasionally rubbing her hands over the flame at key speaking points.

"Isn't this flame just on the warm side of hot when your hand goes over it?" 

"Isn't it a comfortable kind of warm?"

"Isn't it warm like the sun?"

"Isn't it warm like my words?"

"Isn't it warm like the calmness of truth, the real truth deep inside you?"

"Isn't it warm as you listen to us both become fascinated by the strength of the truth? Breaking things down." *click* "Until the truth is simple." *Click* "And you know the truth." *Click* "That there is no need for defense," *Click* "Only the truth, broken down to simplicity. *Click* "No defense." *Click* "Just truth." 

Kelli, remembering one of her old word-play trances, interrupted her own rhythm to return to a classic. 

"You know, would you believe, just like the truth, I actually broke down the word 'zippo.'" *Click* "And maybe came up with why it's so catchy." *Click* "Why it just catches you." *Click* 

Constant flashes of light in the limo reflected nowhere better than in the two pairs of glassy eyes, and one pair twinkling with glee.

"Because 'zippo' can dwindle down to 'zip.' *Click* Zipping in a straight line, a zip line" *Click* "moving forward," *Click* "one direction," *Click* "the only direction" *Click* "angling downwards," *Click* "down," *Click* "down" *Click* to simply" *Click* "the letter 'z'" *Click*

As the flashes quickened in pace, so where the paces of thoughts slowed down to whatever was received from Kelli. 

"A 'z' all there by its lonesome," *Click* "wanting some company" *Click* "but when broken down," *Click* "all that we can think of is another 'z'" *Click*  "and another z" *Click* "and another z" *Click* "z after z" *click* "and another z" *Click* "so many z's" *Click* "so so many z's" *Click*

Kelli brought the zippo's flame close to both Richie's and Roland's eyes both so empty and vacant, barely registering anything, sluggish postures so ready for the inevitable, even despite the suggestion that kept Roland's gun hand up.

"And I'm sure you know what all those z's add up to" *Click* "despite all other thoughts gone from you," *Click* "don't you?" *Click* "Don't know or can't say?" *Click* "Oh that's ok, I'll help you out."

She clicked once more right in Richie's face sharply *click* "Sleep!" 

She lit the flame one more time to snuff the consciousness out of Roland too, "Sleep!" His gun hand finally allowed to fall fell hard and dropped deeper than his boss.

Kelli sighed, surveying the dark interior with another devilish smile, happiness only weighed down by not having a captive and aware audience to marvel in another genius performance. If she wasn't so pro-anonymity, she would've loved to have a live stream of this take place on social media. Checking her arm where the supposed truth serum was injected, it felt a bit sore. "Small price to pay," she thought to herself.

This really wasn't how she expected to take Richie down of all ways, totally caught off-guard by Sally and Tara the night before. Looking outside, she wondered where the mob assistant and turncoat might be. Despite the uncontrolled variables still roaming around somewhere, she reveled in the small victory of finally having her main target under control, and that enough pieces were put in-place from prior planning to finally have Richie McClung exactly where she wanted him. Kelli reminded herself to stay vigilant, but not to hesitate in letting the coming events to play out as intended.

"And now boys, since both of you put together have fewer thoughts than I have aliases, allow me to motivate you with some words that will help your big day along..."

***

Judge Kowalski sat on the bench, pausing before addressing the full court. She looked down at the report she constantly read from the prosecution, trying to get a piece of evidence admitted that was needed to keep Richie McClung on the hook for a slew of charges brought against him, evidence mentioned by a witness out of place and now threatened the prosecution's position. She looked at all the faces of court, the breathless gallery, the nervous prosecutors, the less nervous high-priced defense lawyer, the strangely-confident defendant, but most of all, the court officers. 

The law enforcement inside the court constantly remained stoic, ready to act on any orders given. In her head, she remembered dreams of such a state, vivid, raunchy, mind-numbing wet dreams that brought out to the surface a delicious darkness somehow blacker than the robe she quivered beneath; the dreams were narrated by a sexy, hypnotic voice, telling her what to think, what to say. Her lips parted as she found tingling praise at her ear, calling her a "good girl" for the decision it knew she was already going to make. Concealing a visible shiver of pleasure from her seat, taking a glass of water to cool herself, she cleared her throat and finally spoke.

"It is the decision of this court, that the evidence introduced by the defense is ruled inadmissible."

The court collectively gasped at the decision, everyone understanding what it meant; Rose almost ducked behind her seat as she pounded her gavel, dropping it, quietly mewling as she "searched" for it, having the orgasm she'd been denied almost for a whole weekend. Rising after a solid minute, controlling the convulsions, she listened to the defense's motion for a mistrial.

"Motion granted," she banged her gavel again, crushing the prosecution's chances of a likely conviction of the charges almost single-highhandedly. 

Richie's entourage in-court hugged their boss, and was all smiles as he was deemed free to leave on-bail. 

He only made it a few steps outside the court before finding officers ready to arrest him, for charges of wire fraud. As Richie's lawyer would explain to him later, the allegations were of stealing funds from Judge Kowalski's fundraising, directing it to an account attached to him. The charge was solid, and there was evidence that a large sum of money totaling what was identified by party-goers touched a shell account loosely tied to Richie, though that money had since been routed elsewhere. Unfortunately, the fact that it touched anything connected to him put him in legal jeopardy, leading to being remanded the same day his original case was declared a mistrial. The supposedly-cleared mobster expressed an understandable amount of rage as he was restrained and carted off to a holding cell, and in all the confusion and scrambling to get a hold of the situation, a certain thieving hypnotist was forgotten...

***

It was a few days later, on an interstate diner serving as Kelli's group's fall-back spot, that Kelli and Ned were calmly taking stock in the totality of the "zippo" situation, as Ned called it.

"Still can't believe you had that thing the whole time, so both Richie and I underestimated how devious you are," Ned lamented over his coffee, still nursing the bruise on his head.

"You've always underestimated me, since day one. You're cuter that way, which is why that part of you hasn't changed," Kelli smiled over pancakes. Her sub wanted to stick his tongue out to her like an adolescent, but he ended up laughing with her, rubbing his head. "The hit still bothering you?"

"Only a little. You could've told 'your' hitman to go easy on me you know."

"Sorry, I need to work on my selling realism, though you really shouldn't be worrying about that pain much longer..." Kelli ran her spiral fingernail over his exposed forearm. Ned set the coffee down on the table, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold it up much longer. "Because your head is too preoccupied with the sound of my voice, or the pleasure running up your arm, flowing easy up your body into your head, to notice any discomfort. Isn't that right, Neddy Bear?" The suggestions plus her triggering pet name miraculously cured the bruise upside his head.

"Mmmmm, I c-can't say you're not getting better at your salesmanship."

"Always glad to have an unbiased critique," she teased his forearm a little more before returning her hand to her meal.

"And to be fair, Roland getting implicated alongside Richie helps too."

"You're welcome, but bad cops deserve jail one way or another."

"Agreed, but what do enslaved cops deserve?" Ned never stopped asking questions he already knew the answer too, another amusement Kelli liked to keep in-tact.

"You'll find out" was what her expression told him, which seemed to sit well with him.

Taking stock of their situation, Sally and Lou were back at work, not missing Ned who was taking a very long vacation. Richie and his hitman were in jail, and the way the wire transfer was setup, the "honorable" Judge Kowalski and even Warden Sunder would soon be implicated, and discoveries about their Course of Appropriation arrangement would be brought to the proper authorities, whether they be state or federal. It would take months, if not years, to find the money Richie was arrested for stealing, never knowing Kelli would consider it severance for a weekend's worth of employment. 

The only unknowable in the equation was Tara Cunningham, and after slipping away Kelli figured by-gones could be by-gones, as the assistant could probably ascend to the same position her boss once had. Kelli was content to leave things as such, and prepare to do some traveling, until she nearly choked on some of her pancakes as a familiar pair stepped up to their booth.

"Might we join you?" Tara smiled, beyond elated to see Kelli gawk unceremoniously, nearly choking on food, while Sally was just happy to see everyone seated. Ned didn't know what to do, looking to Kelli for guidance who looked incapable to give any.

"If we wanted real trouble for you Kelli, trust me, it wouldn't be us coming to see you. And don't let that go down the wrong pipe."

Kelli stared at her in disbelief, but chewed her food and gave a deliberate gulp, before stepping out to let Tara take the window seat, tactically giving herself an easier exit if needed. A bewildered Ned did the same to let Sally take the window, smiling cautiously at his friend.

"So...MissPlacement takes down Richie McClung. Who would've guessed?"

"I think Richie McClung took down Richie McClung, more like," Kelli countered.

She would've retorted, but just laughed, remembering the numerous times she advised getting the hypnotist involved in their affairs, even if she completed her job with flying colors.

"I'm guessing you're wondering how some of your best laid plans went belly up."

"And I feel like your about to satisfy that curiosity with some long-winded explanation," Kelli said, her eyes casually darting around the restaurant or outside for signs of foul play or a surprise attack.

"Oh, I doubt there's more explanation needed than this..." Tara said before extending her hand out to draw Sally's attention to it, specifically to an acutely polished nail with cloudy shades of white, grey and black, forming some sort of familiar design. "Is that fog, or mist?" The thieving hypnotist guessed, the ultimate meaning seeming ambiguous. Regardless, Sally could find deep meaning in following it, her lips parting as she leaned close to just be touched by it. Tara touched the crown of her forehead, and Sally head fell, almost hitting the table before Tara snapped her fingers to instantly awaken her. 

"It seems, you're not the only leading lady around now," Tara smiled, enjoying Kelli's eyes almost bulging from her sockets. More than anything about the stupefying show Tara just performed, the nail design shocked her the most. It was specific enough, rocking the hypnotist to her core that she narrowed her eyes before speaking.

"Tell me more...if you please," Tara gasped gently as a trigger she didn't know about was activated. Ned for his part was totally lost, also wondering why Tara's nail was so intricately decorated, without knowing the context that Kelli did.

"Specifically, Tara, tell me about Cassandra..." Kelli listened more intently than she had in a long while.