With thanks to @IggyStarflare with writing from Iggy’s point of view.

At the Blockhouse, the heavy oak doors of the library swung open to admit Iggy Starflare. She swept in, her wide-brimmed hat casting dramatic shadows, her pink business suit a slash of colour against the ancient wood and leather.

Victor Blackwood stood waiting by the fireplace, a statue carved from granite and grim history. To his side, Felix stood with the perfect, deferential posture of a lifelong manservant.

“My, my,” Iggy purred, her emerald eyes dancing. “The master’s away, so the scary one comes out to play.” She gave Felix a charming, conspiratorial smile. “You must be Mr. Felix. A pleasure.”

“Ms. Starflare,” Felix replied, his voice the epitome of polite servitude. As he spoke, his eyes briefly glowed with a soft, blue light, and an invisible wave of energy washed over Iggy. It was a deep-level quantum diagnostic scan.

Iggy felt a faint tingle and paused, intrigued.

“Goodness,” Felix murmured, his professional butler-mask momentarily slipping. He looked at Victor. “The number of active scrying tags on her is… remarkable. I’m tracking passive tracers from at least twelve different global agencies, not to mention the arcane signatures. Fae glamour-weaves, draconic markers, a rather nasty-looking Jinn-lock…”

Victor’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of grudging respect in his gaze. “How many total?”

“I’m still counting,” Felix admitted, his eyes still glowing. “The number is well into the low thousands. It seems, Ms. Starflare, you are the most-watched woman in the world.”

Iggy’s smile returned, wider and sharper than before. It was a point of professional pride. “A girl has to have hobbies. It’s so hard to keep track of all my admirers.”

Victor stepped forward, dismissing the scan results. His focus was singular. “The Domina of the Night,” he began, his tone flat and accusatory. “She sends a gift. What are her intentions?”

“Her intentions are her own,” Iggy said, perching on the edge of the grand desk. “I was paid to be a courier, not a confessor.”

“You are an agent of chaos,” Victor pressed, his voice dropping, each word laced with suspicion. “And a chaotic event has just occurred. A woman, Hanavari, and another disappeared from a wrestling ring in Hackney not an hour ago.” He paused, his gaze locking onto hers, cold and piercing. “The other woman is described as a muscular Amazonian with platinum blonde hair. The witness said her skin was like steel. Her name is Alex.”

The world stopped.

The playful smirk vanished from Iggy’s face. The amusement in her emerald eyes died, extinguished and replaced by a cold, terrifying stillness. Alex. The name hit her like a physical blow. Not a lover, not her only anchor in the world, but something just as fierce. Alex was a close friend, a rare, solid point in Iggy’s deliberately chaotic life. She was the one who could bench-press a car, laugh at Iggy’s worst jokes, and punch a demon in the face without blinking. The one Iggy called when a simple theft went sideways and turned into a bar fight with trolls.

She slowly, deliberately, pushed herself off the desk to her full height. The casual, irreverent thief was gone. In her place stood something else entirely. Something focused, primal, and lethal. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

The game was over. This was no longer a negotiation or an amusing series of betrayals. This was personal.

“Hackney, you say?” she asked, her voice no longer a playful purr, but the low, dangerous growl of a predator whose pack had been threatened. “Tell me everything.”

A brilliant strategic pivot. Victor, now in charge of the Iggy negotiation, can leverage the new, chaotic information to his advantage. He can see Iggy is now personally invested and use that to gauge her loyalties and gather intelligence on the broader supernatural political landscape.

Here is the updated scene.

The world stopped.

The playful smirk vanished from Iggy’s face. The amusement in her emerald eyes died, extinguished and replaced by a cold, terrifying stillness. Alex. A close friend, a rare, solid point in Iggy’s deliberately chaotic life. The one who could bench-press a car and laugh at Iggy’s worst jokes. The one Iggy called when a simple theft went sideways and turned into a bar fight with trolls.

She slowly, deliberately, pushed herself off the desk to her full height. The casual, irreverent thief was gone. In her place stood something else entirely. Something focused, primal, and lethal. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

The game was over. This was no longer a negotiation. This was personal.

“Hackney, you say?” she asked, her voice no longer a playful purr, but the low, dangerous growl of a predator whose pack had been threatened. “Tell me everything.”

Victor saw the shift in her instantly. The arrogant chaos agent had been replaced by a focused hunter. He had her complete, undivided attention. This was the moment to press his advantage.

“The details are chaotic, as you might expect,” Victor began, his tone deliberately calm, analytical. “But the timing is… convenient. Your employer, the Domina of the Night, sends a gift. An ancient Roman goddess awakens. And two women with significant magical potential vanish from a public spectacle.”

He paused, letting the pieces hang in the air for her to connect. “We’ve received reports from our associates in Italy. A significant energy spike at a newly excavated temple to Bellona. Simultaneously, we are hearing whispers from our contacts in Greece. It seems some of their own sleeping gods are beginning to stir. The old world is waking up, Ms. Starflare. And it seems your employer is making the opening moves on the board.”

He leaned forward, his gaze intense, piercing. “This ring,” he gestured to the box on the table, “was not a gift. It was a distraction. A piece to keep us occupied while she makes her true play. So, the question is not what she wants. The question is, what is she offering you to be a part of it?”

Iggy’s mind raced, processing the new information. Greece. Roman goddesses. Waking gods. This was bigger than a simple kidnapping. This was the beginning of something, a shift in the balance of power. Elisabeta was a player in that, and Iggy, by delivering the ring, was now a pawn on her board, whether she liked it or not. And now, Alex was caught in the middle.

“What she offered is my business,” Iggy snapped, her focus returning, sharp and defensive. “What I want to know is what you are offering to help me get my friend back.”

Victor’s lips curled into the faintest, almost imperceptible smirk. He had her.

“We are offering… a partnership,” he said, the word hanging in the air, heavy with implication. “We have resources, intelligence, power that your Domina cannot match. You have a unique skillset and, now, a personal investment. You help us understand what Elisabeta’s true endgame is… and we, in turn, will focus the full, formidable resources of the Blockhouse on retrieving your friend.”

He let the offer settle, a lifeline in a very deep, very dark ocean. “So, Ms. Starflare,” Victor concluded, his voice a low, dangerous purr, “shall we discuss your new, more lucrative, employment package?”

Entering the library located within the blockhouse, Iggy smiled, her emerald eyes taking in everything. The dark genius in the eyes of Victor Blackwood was unmistakable, as still as the stone that built the fireplace, yet radiating waves of powerful, controlled energy. Beside him stood Mr. Felix, whom she might have misjudged before. Now, she recognized him as a true source of power, an all-encompassing, encyclopedic mind, the kind of intellect that artificial intelligence could only dream of emulating.

They seemed to think she was merely an employee of the Red Lady. True, she did work for Elisabeta, but not for the money. The thrill, the challenge, the dance on the knife’s edge, that was why Iggy took the missions.

But when Mr. Blackwood told her Alex Williams had gone missing, the tone in the room shifted, and so did she.

While Iggy’s reputation as the world’s greatest thief was well known (and many agencies would have loved to “interview” her in less-than-formal ways), there were other skills she possessed that few knew about.

She was also a highly skilled assassin. A profession that, strangely enough, complemented her life as a thief. Even Domina didn’t know the full scope of her capabilities, or her motivations for using them. Those who had discovered her secrets were no longer around to share them.

When Iggy focused, she became a dangerous enemy, and an even more formidable ally. And now, someone or something had dared to threaten her friend.

She studied the two men before her. One was a strategist, forever plotting as if the world were his chessboard. The other was analytical, dissecting her with his gaze as though preparing to make her his prey, which would be a very poor decision.

Iggy looked directly at Mr. Blackwood, all traces of gamesmanship gone. This world was about to get real.

She moved deeper into the library, her boots barely making a sound against the centuries-old oak floors. The air here was heavy with knowledge and power, a scent she’d grown intimately familiar with. Leather-bound tomes lined towering shelves, and the fire’s low crackle punctuated the silence with an almost ominous rhythm.

“Missing,” she repeated softly, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Alex Williams doesn’t go missing.

Blackwood’s lips curved into a knowing smile, one that never reached his eyes. “Which is precisely why her absence is… troubling.”

Felix tilted his head slightly, narrowing his gaze, dissecting every syllable she uttered. “We believe her disappearance is connected to a series of data breaches,” he said. “And perhaps, to Elisabeta’s current… extracurricular pursuits.”

There it was, the bait. And for a moment, Iggy considered ignoring it. But Alex was more than an ally. She had once pulled her bleeding body from a Prague rooftop, laughing as bullets sang past them. She had called her family.

“You’re implying someone’s targeting her,” she said slowly. “Or us.”

“Not implying.” Blackwood rose from his chair, his presence filling the room like a gathering storm. “Stating. And we need someone who can move through the shadows without leaving a trace.”

He paused, his gaze locking with hers. “We need you.”

Iggy exhaled a quiet laugh, not of amusement, but of understanding, perhaps Mr. Blackwood hasn't underestimated her talents. “I see. You don’t want a thief this time. You want a ghost.”

Felix’s expression didn’t change, but the faintest glint of approval flickered in his eyes. “Precisely.”