Night Rider

Frankie's Diner

... A few months later...

Frankie folded the note and slipped it between the freshly made milkshake and its coaster. She then swiftly picked up the tray of food and stepped behind the counter.

"Your milkshake, sir," she said as she set it on the table in front of the man. He did not acknowledge her. They rarely did. She hurried back behind the counter and pretended to busy herself for the appropriate amount of time. When he was done with the shake, she returned with the tray. As expected, there was a folded napkin waiting for her. She put it on the tray along with the sweating shake glass. As she passed by the man at the counter, she slyly passed him the napkin with a swiftness of hand she had learned after years in the business. No one noticed. The man pocketed the napkin, but as it slid into his pocket, a wad of green cash was revealed for a second, tucked inside. Frankie pretend not to notice anything.

The door's bell let out a small ring as a new man walked in. She had been told to expect someone at 5 o'clock in a hat. This must be him. He looked nervous, cautious, not sure whether or not to trust the joint. Frankie set down the tray.

"The phone is in the back, sir," Frankie smiled. Her diner provided an anonymous phone to those who were looking not to be tracked. The phone didn't seem out of place in the 50's - themed diner. The man hesitantly approached the counter.

He spoke in a low voice, "And where can I find the number?"

"Well, usually it's polite to order something." 

He looked perplexed but bought a Coke. Frankie wrote the number that had been given to her earlier that day on the receipt before handing it to him. He nodded at her and headed for the back. Frankie didn't ask questions in her line of work. It would be unprofessional. But she had to wonder, at times, what she had just participated in. Was the nervous chap making his first big deal, about to call someone who would give him a fat tip, or was the man who picked up the phone his anonymous blackmailer? She guessed it was best that she didn't know. Frankie was just the go-between, providing a service for those making illicit deals and secret tradings, everything under the nose of the law. Which is why it still surprised her every time to watch the Night Rider walk through her doors. She greeted her by the false name she had given Frankie the first time they met outside The Dollhouse as she sat down at the bar.

"Hey, Frankie."

"Good afternoon. What can I do for you?"

"You don't think I just want a BLT?"

"Do you?"

The Rider leaned back in the red swivel stool, "Maybe someday."

That first night they met, several impossible things happened. First, Frankie had turned down the offer to work for Barbie Millicent. Then, the Night Rider herself had introduced herself to Frankie. Then, she had promised to get Frankie back her diner if she would serve as the Rider's personal informant. Frankie had so many questions, and as was typical, the Rider answered none of them, simply promising to keep the cops away from the diner and to provide the appropriate funding to get her started again.

"Why are you doing this?" she had asked.

"Because I need someone inside the criminal undergrounds to help me out." Then, after a pause, she added, "and I would hate to watch someone with your talents be snatched up by Barbie's claws." It was only months later that Frankie learned half her funding was coming from The Dollhouse itself.

"I would never have thought the Rider owned shares of The Dollhouse," she had told the Rider when she found out.

"Me neither. I'm trying to get rid of my portion."

"How did that even happen?"

No response.

"Why would you want to get rid of it? The Dollhouse is booming."

"Because I can't stand working with Barbie. The Dollhouse was supposed to be a simple club. Not whatever it is now."

"Wait, you helped start it?"

"That's probably enough talk about the Dollhouse"

And they hadn't discussed it since. Now they only talked business. Frankie knew exactly what business the Rider was in for today. She had, for the past few months, sent Frankie chasing a lead about the Warlock. It was supposed to lead her to his operations compound, where the Night had been murdered.

"What do you have for me, Frankie?" she asked.

"You're not going to order first?"

"Frankie."

"Fine." She lowered her voice. "I think I've found it. One of my guys was finally able to get one of the Warlock's men in here. Xavier. You know him?"

"Of course I do. He's one of the Warlock's right hand men."

"Right. Well he came in for some business, recommended by my friend, and I was able to lay your tracker on him. I've been watching him for the past few days, and he often returns to this one spot that's completely off the grid. I had to actually go down there myself the other day to see if the place even had a building. It did."

The Rider's brown eyes were positively glowing. "This is great, Frankie. I'll get Jason and we'll go out there tonight."

"I do want to warn you. The security there was high. Subtle, but certainly top of the line. I'd advise you to be careful."

"You know me. I'll be fine. Just give me the address."

Frankie was honestly proud of her work on this particular assignment. She just hoped she was right, because this wouldn't be the first time she'd sent the Rider on a wild goose chase looking for the Warlock.

"I'll send it to you. Tell Jason 'hi' for me."

"Will do."