Cue gave herself that name. She likes it. She had it rough growing up, but she had certain gifts that made it easier. If she wanted something, she could take it. If she didn't want to be seen, she wasn't. If she wanted to stop the drugs, she did. Easy.
Things got tricky when she swiped that bag. There was an old camera in there. It made such a satisfying chakk when she hit the button. When she hawked it, it showed back up in her apartment. When she tried to resell it, the cops were on her right away. When she lost them, she threw out the camera. It showed back up in her place. She smashed it. The next day it's fixed. That's when Shoemaker first showed up.
He was pretty matter of fact about it, "You work for me." She told him how he could twist off his genitals. He made a call. NSA sent some black SUVs to collect Cue. Turns out, they received some convincing evidence that she was taking money from Al Quaida. She was zip-tied with a bag on her head before she knew it.
Hierogamy can be sweet or scary. It's usually consensual. Cue spent a week in sleep-depro. They'd come in twice a day with food she'd have to eat while they held barking dogs inches from her face. By the end, her brain was mush. Shoemaker came to her then. "Now you get it? You work for me. I own you." And boom, she's back out on the street.
She does his dirty work. She breaks into places. She steals what needs stealing. He only tells her what he absolutely has to. She's been working like this for a little over a year. Long enough to start to see how Shoemaker's machine works. Long enough to pick apart his threads and maybe weave a web of her own.