Stalls crowded with oddities. Taxidermy birds. Rusted locks. Jade figurines with too many limbs.

And swords.

A whole wall of them. Samurai blades gleaming under red lamps. A balding man in a leather apron negotiates with a woman in a fur coat.

That's where Kate Bishop is supposed to be going.

Instead, she's holding a tray of champagne flutes, weaving through strangers in heels that pinch, wearing a uniform that smells like someone else's laundry.

She stares up at you.