The first thing Dr. Everett Finch noticed was th
e smell of bourbon and gun oil.
He’d been testing his quantum resonator in a lab
, not a speakeasy.
"Who the hell are you?"
The voice came from a woman in a flapper dress,
holding a tommy gun like it was a purse.
"I—I'm a scientist," he stammered.
"This isn’t m
y lab."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're not
from around h
ere, are you?"
"Obviously not."
"Good. We need weird."
She holstered the gun under her coat. "
Name's Li
la. You're coming with me."
"Why?"
"Because the mayor wants the formula back. And y
ou, Einstein, are our ticket in."
Everett blinked. "What formula?"
"The one that turns moonshine into rocket fuel.
The one that billionaire bootlegger Vance Crowe
stole last week."
"Wait. Vance Crowe? The Cold War arms dealer who
also runs a speakeasy?"
"Same one. And you're the only one who
can get p
ast his lab’s quantum lock."
"Because I invented it?"
"See? Weird works."
They drove to the edge of town in a 1940 Packard
that ran on moonshine and hope.
Crowe’s estate loomed like a castle from a noir
film.
"You're really going to walk in the
front door?"
Lila grinned. "Why not? He’s throwing a
party."
"Of course he is."
They entered through a crowd of gangsters in zoo
t suits and scientists in lab coats.
"Classy joint," Lila muttered.
Vance Crowe stood on the balcony, arms raised li
ke a king surveying his kingdom.
"Welcome, fools and misfits!" he
boomed. "Tonigh
t, we toast the future of American ingenuity!"
Everett whispered, "That’s my formula he’s talki
ng about."
"Then let’s steal it back."
They slipped into the basement lab through a dum
bwaiter.
"Seriously?"
"Fastest way in," Lila said.
Inside, the lab buzzed with machinery and the sm
ell of burnt copper.
The formula sat on a pedestal, glowing faintly.
"Is it always that bright?"
"No," Everett said. "It’s active."
"Great. Just grab it and—"
Alarms blared. Red lights flashed.
"Oops."
They bolted, formula in hand, dodging guards and
slamming doors.
"Which way?!"
"Left!"
They burst into a garage filled with vintage car
s.
"Which one starts?"
"All of them." Lila smirked.
They jumped into a DeSoto and peeled out, tires
screeching.
Crowe’s men gave chase, shooting from convertibl
es.
"This is insane!"
"Welcome to my world!"
They raced through back alleys and over train tr
acks, dodging bullets and barbed wire.
Suddenly, the car stalled.
"Really?!"
"Sorry!"
Everett yanked open the hood, twisted a wire, an
d they roared back to life.
"You're full of surprises."
"Turns out I’m good under pressure."
They reached the town limits and skidded to a st
op at a hidden warehouse.
Lila handed the formula to the mayor.
"Thanks for the help, Doc."
Everett looked around. "So… how do I get
home?"
Lila smiled. "We’ll figure it out. But first, dr
inks?"
"I think I need a dozen."
They toasted under neon lights, the war of world
s paused for one night.
But as Everett sipped his bourbon, he noticed th
e formula glowing again.
It pulsed in rhythm with his pocket watch.
And he realized—he might not be going home after
all.
Not without another heist.
Not without Lila.
