Acceptance

elvet Vixen dangles in midair, gripped firmly between two crimson-gloved fingers, her tiny satin corset creasing slightly from the pressure of Madame Mirage’s hold. Her long red hair spills over the magician’s palm, boots kicking weakly at air, her gloves pressing against the massive thumb at her side.

Her breathing is shallow. Her voice, though now comically small, is sharp with disbelief and demand.

“Okay. Fine. You win. Magic is real.”

She glares up at the towering illusionist above her.

“But that doesn’t explain why. Why go through all this just to kidnap me?”

Her voice trembles—not from fear, but from the sheer absurdity of her situation. She’s been vanished, shrunk, and now handled like a prop in some twisted show-and-tell.

“Let me guess. Cleo Capone pulled strings from prison, wanted to finally get rid of me—hired you to make it flashy?”

Mirage laughs, a rich, theatrical sound that fills the dusty factory like applause.

“Oh, darling. Cleo? Please.”

She tosses Velvet Vixen into her other hand and lazily reclines back against the mound of stolen cash like it’s the world’s fluffiest chaise lounge.

“I answer to no one. Certainly not some second-rate mobstress with a pinstripe fetish.”

She holds Vixen up again, this time at eye level, her dark lashes fluttering as she gives the tiny heroine a long, indulgent look.

“As for why I took you…”

Her smile deepens.

“Because you were the most dazzling thing in the room.”

She twirls the superheroine slightly between her fingers.

“I could’ve made the mayor disappear. Or that uptight detective of yours—what’s her name? McKenna?” She hums. “But you… you walked into my act wearing that glittering little number, hips swinging like a metronome, and I thought: That’s the kind of girl who deserves a box with her name on it.”

Velvet Vixen scowls, her cheeks flushing.

“You kidnapped me because I was… shiny?”

“No, sweetheart.” Mirage leans in closer. “I kidnapped you because I wanted to play with you.”

She taps her wand once on Vixen’s shoulder—causing a tiny sparkle to erupt across her skin—and grins wickedly.

“And because, let’s be honest… every good magician needs a glamorous assistant.”