It was cold. That happened in February. Hudson City was a cold place to begin with. Even in his insulated suit Nemesis felt the cold. Part of it, he had to admit, had nothing to do with the weather. He was hunting, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to catch his prey.

It’d been almost two weeks since he’d foiled the attack on Frankie Jacks. In that time a small cell of Russian thugs who dealt in child slavery had been taken out. It had all the markings of his quarry, but he still knew next to nothing about her. His biggest clue had been the fact that she’d called him “habibi” – Arabic for “beloved”. It was a strange moniker, to be sure, but more than that it revealed something about the woman. She was either wholly Arabian or of mixed heritage, of that he was certain. Her accent could have been Arabian, but it didn’t quite fit. Someplace close, then. Her skin tone—what he could see of it—seemed light for pure-blood Arabian. Mixed heritage, then. And she had a grudge against the Colonel and everyone who’d helped him.

He’d gone back to the police reports and discovered that at least three of the girls the Colonel had…acquired…over the previous six months had been Arabian. None of them had known family members that matched his quarry. She was an unknown, and she was in Hudson City, and she was killing people.

Nemesis sighed and practiced his pilates, a tensing and releasing of the muscles that allowed him to remain virtually motionless for long periods of time without cramping. He’d been in one place for hours, watching a small tenement above a liquor store for any activity. The man inside was a known contact of the Colonel’s, and Nemesis had thought him a likely target. For days he’d staked the man’s residence out, shadowed him, observed him. Nothing.

He sighed again and stood up, stretching out fully and breathing a sigh of relief. Pilates only helped so long. It was coming on towards dawn and he had to open Pops. Besides, Jen was bringing him breakfast before she went in to work.

A short while later he was back in civilian clothes, turning on neon and starting coffee as the sky turned a smoky grey with the rising of the sun. behind the clouds. Some of the old timers would be in soon and he wanted as little side work as possible left over before Pops came in at ten.

The bell over the door tinkled and Luke looked up from where he was cutting the day’s fruit. A tall brunette walked in, dressed warmly and looking fresh despite the early hour. For a moment Luke was distracted by her beauty, but then it occurred to him that he’d seen her before. Here, in the bar, the night Frankie had been attacked. He stopped cutting the limes, his grip on the knife tightening as he watched her turn around and gently pull the chain to the neon “Open” sign. It went off and she turned around. She was smiling.

“Good morning,” she said. There was a trace of an accent he had heard all too often in his mind. Luke’s mind was whirling with options as she walked to the bar, tugging off her gloves.

“Oh, please,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Please relax. I am not here for anything but conversation.” She glanced toward the corner of the bar where the coffee was. “And maybe a cup of something warm.”

Luke remained motionless. The woman took off her coat and laid it over a barstool. She took a seat and looked up at Luke with warm brown eyes. “Cream and sugar, yes?”

Without ever really taking his eyes off her Luke made her a cup of coffee, dropping in two cubes of sugar and a bit of cream before pouring a cup. He walked over and set it down on a napkin, placing two stir straws next to it. The woman smiled her thanks and stirred the coffee, then took a sip. She inclined her head.

“That’s good coffee. I expected something more…” she thought for a moment. “Base.”

Luke still couldn’t find his voice. He wasn’t sure what to say, or indeed if he should say anything.

“I almost didn’t make the connection,” the woman said, holding the cup between both hands. She blew lightly, her full lips hovering just above the rim. “That night you ran out, though, got me to thinking.”

She looked up at Luke again and again he noted how exotically beautiful she really was.

“You are Nemesis, aren’t you?” She laughed softly. “Even I couldn’t have made that big an error.”

Seeing that Luke wasn’t going to reply she sighed and set down her coffee. “You have been staking out the home of one Walter Rousseau for several days now, hoping that I would be there. In truth I was, but I wasn’t hunting Walter. I was looking for you.”

Again she waited, her eyes meeting his. There was no threat of violence in those eyes, nor indeed in her entire demeanor. She smiled and picked up her cup again, taking a sip.

“You are very good,” she continued. “Twice I lost you, but each time I got a little closer, and you always seemed to be coming this way. Then I made the connection and I checked your forums.” She seemed genuinely amused. “You have such loyal fans, you know. I am a little jealous.”

“What do you want?” Luke finally asked.

“You speak!” She laughed. “Excellent! I was afraid this was to be a one-sided relationship.”

“What do you want?” Luke repeated.

The woman sighed and shook her head, her luxurious hair falling in waves behind her. “So serious. You do not seem so in your interviews, nor in your forums. Where is the lover of life I have come to expect? Where is the happy hero who still manages to strike fear into the criminals of this city?”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

She stared at him, and for the first time Luke saw a hardness in her eyes. For a moment they went dead, devoid of warmth. Then the moment was past and she smiled at him. She dipped her finger in her coffee and began to idly draw on the bar.

“Very well. I am here to ask you again, please do not try to stop me from doing what I came here to do.”

“To kill people, you mean?”

“To dispense justice,” she corrected. She tapped her cup with one long nail. “Something you yourself do on occasion.”

“I don’t kill my quarry,” he replied.

“No?” Her eyebrows rose. “Never?”

Luke didn’t reply. She laughed softly. “So serious,” she whispered. Then, louder, “Why do you want to stop me?”

“Why?” Luke wasn’t sure he understood the question. He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it. “Why do I want to stop you from killing people?”

She nodded, amused again. “Yes. Why do you want to stop me from killing people who knowingly aided a child molester?”

“Because it’s wrong.”

She waved a hand. “Please. It’s only wrong because your society says it is. I have known many places where I would be the hero and you would be the villain simply for not following through.”

“We’re not in any of those place.”

“No,” she said wanly. “We are not.” She took a deep breath, a somewhat dramatic action. Again, she dipped her finger to draw on the bar. “Sadly we are not, but I will make do.”

“No,” Luke said coldly. “You will not.”

The woman regarded him from beneath those raised brows. She lowered her eyes again and sipped at her coffee.

“You are very good, you know,” she said. When he didn’t reply she again raised her eyes to his. “You must’ve trained very hard.”

“I did,” Luke said. “And still do.”

She nodded. “To be on a team with others who have so much more power than you, you must be even better than I know.”

“I am.”

She laughed, a sound of delight. “And so humble, too! Fortunately I believe it is less arrogance and more simple confidence behind that. I would love to trade…techniques…with you some day.”

Luke blinked with the realization that she was flirting with him. Flirting!

“What is your game?” he asked, his curiosity truly piqued now.

“Game?” She shook her head. “I have no game. I desired to meet you, face to face and without masks, so that we might know each other better.” She shrugged. “I have done that.” She tilted her cup to her lips, then set it down. “If nothing else, I think we understand each other better.”

She stood up. Luke tensed. She noticed and laughed again. “You are precious, Luke Merriweather. I think I like you.”

She retrieved her coat and put it on. “I wish you’d reconsider. I’d hate for there to be an unfortunate event in our next meeting.”

“Oh, it will be unfortunate for one of us,” Luke said.

She regarded him with an unreadable expression. “I think,” she said slowly, pulling on her gloves, “That it will be unfortunate for us both.”

“Why?” Luke asked. She stopped, regarded him with her head slightly tilted. “Why are you doing this?” he clarified. “Why do you kill these people?”

She didn’t say anything for a long time. “Because someone must,” she said simply. “More than that I am not prepared to say.” She smiled and turned away.

Luke was preparing to move, to vault the bar and stop her, when the bell above the door tinkled yet again. Jen walked in, a white bag in one hand and a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee in the other.

“Hi, babe,” she said cheerfully. Her smile faltered a little as she noted the woman. “Your sign is off.” She nodded her head toward the ‘Open’ sign. “Want me to turn it on.”

“Sure,” Luke nodded woodenly. “Sure.”

Jen set down the coffee and pulled on the chain, the sign lighting up with a flicker. The brunette smiled at Luke over her shoulder and winked. “Until next time,” she mouthed. Aloud, she said, “Thank you for the coffee, and the directions. I’m sure I can find it now.” As she passed Jen she smiled. “Good morning,” she said, and exited the bar.

Jen smiled as she retrieved the drink tray and went to the bar. The brunette exited with Luke’s eyes still upon her, but she didn’t look back again.

“Who was that?” Jen asked, plopping down onto a stool.

“Just someone who’s lost,” he said. He gave his head a little shake, dislodging his alter-ego, and put a smile on his face. He leaned across the bar to give Jen a kiss. “Good morning, by the way.”

Jen dug into the bag. “Good morning to you, too.” She withdrew a pair of muffins. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d like better so I got one blueberry and one apple-walnut.”

“Um, I like both, actually.”

Jen smiled. “Good.” She pushed both of the muffins toward him. “That’s why I got me a poppy seed.” She licked her fingers. “Oh, and I got you a mocha, because I know you have crap coffee.”

Luke chuckled and stepped over to where the brunette had sat.

“The head nurse said there might be a position opening up full-time,” Jen said. “I guess one of the girls is going on maternity leave soon and she might give me the shifts.”

Luke nodded as he grabbed the coffee cup and set it under the bar on the sink counter. He grabbed the napkins and straws and made to wipe the bar, then stopped. Although mostly dried he could still see the word the brunette had written on the bar.

Qismat.

He frowned as he wiped it down.

Qismat. He’d come across the word while looking up “habibi” on the internet.

The doorbell tinkled again and Old Don and Marty walked in, already arguing about the stock market and whose fault it was.

Qismat.

Fate.