When they arrived at Jeremiah’s humble bakery an hour later, the night was in full swing. The big “Closed” sign still hung on the door. They made their way inside and Jeremiah quickly locked the door behind him. Even someone like him knew not to trust the streets under the moonlight.
“Here we are.” Jeremiah proudly gestured at his handiwork. Nothing had changed since last Nick and Flores visited. “So what do you think of the place? And why the long face, oh right, never mind.”
“I showed Flores around the place earlier today,” Nick explained.
“Oh really? So you were the one who broke into my fridge, again.”
“Well friend, you never leave any other option for me. Flores helped as well, didn’t you?” Nick smirked as he pushed Flores in front.
“N-Nick!” Betrayed, Flores stammered as she tried to defend herself. “Y-you see, we were just-”
“Ah, already indulging in the shady side of Laslow,” Jeremiah noted, “You’re making yourself at home rather quickly. Like a bug snug in a-”
“Stop.” Flores planted her hand on her forehead. “Just stop.”
“Sorry, force of habit.”
Nick chuckled before intervening, “How can either of you stay mad at each other, huh? Now Jerry, you already know what I want. So how about don’t you go into the back while I take care of the orders in the shop front. Oh, and make sure to grab a plate along with a box.”
“Smooth, but try some more tact.” Jeremiah disappeared into the kitchen. Even though Nick had broken into his fridge more than a few times, he had never found the true location where all the real merchandise was.
“Anyhow, why don't you take a seat?" Nick pulled up one of the taller chairs right next to the counter. Flores happily obliged as she took the spot to finally rest her aching feet. She felt relieved to be able to start unwinding from such a hectic day.
"So what would you like? Do you need a menu?” Nick offered.
Flores stared at the display in front of her. Her eyes were locked on practically anything edible. In this case, it was the entire stash. She reckoned she could wolf down everything in the display at the counter, especially the pecan pie that caught her eye.
“Hmm. So many choices. I’ve never had this many.”
“Take your time. But if you need a recommendation, I can tell you Jerry makes some of the best tiramisu I’ve had. Although, I doubt that’s gonna satiate you.”
“I’m getting a strange sense that we’ve been through this charade before.”
“Déjà vu? I know you're not a wolf, but that hunger says otherwise.”
“Day-jah-voo? Is that what it’s called?”
“Really? You’ve never heard of that saying?”
“Not in the barely two and a half years' worth of clear memories did I hear that clearly. Did I tell you this?”
“Amnesia? Yeah, you mentioned it in an offhand comment. I reckon I might be able to lend a hand, but I don’t know much about you.”
“Well fair, we’ve only known each other for a day. A day?” Stricken with disbelief, Flores’s hand placed itself upon her forehead. “Oh my god. How has only a day passed?”
“Must have been one helluva day,” Nick scoffed as his flirt completely flew over her head, “Can’t say that’s out of the ordinary. You never run out of things to do when it comes to Eric.”
“And yet, he’s run out of things to pay me with.” Flores sighed. “I don’t want to sound materialistic or greedy. It’s just… I only have a signing bonus and a meager one at that. Simply put, it’s not enough to survive on.”
“He’s not paying you?”
“Just not till next month or so. He doesn’t have the money to, apparently.”
“I thought he would’ve changed that by now. I guess his budgeting is still terrible. Well, I can say for sure that he’s not the type to hold out on payment. Not unless he really is cutting it that close.”
“I already rationed things to the point of starvation before I landed behind bars.”
“You did have a job beforehand, right?”
“Yes, many actually. But…” She paused for a while. “I’d rather not get into why I’m still living like a raggy dog.”
“Like a gumshoe, you mean? Hey, we signed up for this life.”
“Cheers to that… if we had a drink.”
“But we have something better! And that thing is pie!” Jeremiah reemerged with a freshly unfrozen key lime pie in a box along with the plate Nick asked for. He had ditched the dirty apron he stole from the warehouse for a fresh clean one from his collection. He placed both on the counter.
“Oh good.” Nick reached for his wallet only to find it gone. Jeremiah handed it back.
“Don’t worry, you’ve prepaid.”
“Ah. Nick ten, Jeremiah eleven. I’ll be sure to even the score tomorrow.” Nick checked his wallet fully to find that only the exact cost of the pie had been taken out. “All’s fair in love and petty thievery, so you best watch yourself.”
“You can’t best the pettiest of the prettiest,” Jeremiah boasted. “the Pretty Penny Pincher himself!”
“You know you just told Flores your supposedly secret identity,” Nick pointed out.
“She already figured it out,” Jeremiah admitted defeatedly. “Prophesied by the fox archetype.”
“Wow! Living up to your name, sleuthhound.”
“It wasn’t that hard considering that you literally smelled of pennies,” Flores dismissed, “It was a doomed secret identity to begin with. Seriously, can you come up with a better name?”
“What? Is the Pretty Penny Pincher not good enough? How about the Priceless Pretty Penny Pincher of Petty Pocket Pleasure.”
“How pedantic…”
“That’s not even the right word. The definition of pedantic means unimaginative. How could I ever be so dull and numb?”
“You certainly dullen my mood and make me feel numb. Out of curiosity, did you major in English in college?”
“Always wanted to be an author!” Jeremiah proudly affirmed. “But I could never get around to it because I could only come up with endings to pre-existing ones. So that’s why I went to culinary school instead. The petty thief part came with it as a package deal!”
Flores didn’t even bother trying to question his line of reasoning.
“Okay, I’ll leave you two to it.” Nick took a slice out with a knife from the counter and placed it on the plate. He slid the plate and a fork to Flores who watched with eager eyes.
“You're giving me a slice?”
“A gift, to put simply.”
“You… You know you could have just offered.”
“Here’s some gambling advice. Never show your hand before you play it.” Nick smirked as he handed the ace of hearts she had drawn during Nick’s card trick. Nick’s phone number was written on the back. “Do keep in touch, sleuthhound.”
Flores was left speechless and uncertain as to what to do. Her heart told her the obvious, but her mind was locked in a cycle of anxious fretting.
“I’m taking this pie back to the station.” Nick shut the pie box closed. “I’ve got a few things I need to wrap up before I head home.”
“Leaving so soon?” Jeremiah complained for Flores. “But the night is still young!”
“And it won’t be once the Rhodes Family do their sweep at twelve. I would recommend you do the same and leave quickly after you take your dinner, sleuthhound.”
Flores’s stomach grumbled in agreement. She tucked the playing card into her breast pocket to let it join the photograph she held so close to her heart. Immediately once she finished, she grabbed a fork and a knife and started digging into the slice of pie. The delicate, intricate tastes crafted with the care and expertise of an artisan left Flores unable to do anything besides relishing in the pleasure coursing through the inside of her mouth. Her eyes closed so she could focus on each delightful chew. Fortunately, she couldn’t shut off her ears the same way.
“They’re doing their sweep tonight? If I’m not mistaken, they proclaimed to start two days from now.”
“It was shifted back, buddy. Control gave me a heads-up over radio since I was stuck in a damned doctor’s office. You might wanna check the news if you don’t believe me.”
Jeremiah’s face melted into a panic. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he rushed to find a remote stashed under the counter. In a corner of the store was a television on the wall that Flores hadn’t seen the first time she entered.
“What do I do? What course of action must I take?!” Jeremiah panicked.
“Work with the hand you're dealt, no matter how bad. Better than folding and letting losses build up.” Nick made his preparations to leave, but not before departing with a, “Have a nice night, both of you.”
“Mfph?” Flores swallowed the pie in her mouth before speaking her goodbyes. “Good night to you as well, slick!”
Flores waved goodbye before turning her attention back to Jeremiah. He had managed to get the television on. Quickly flipping through the various cooking channels, he landed on the eleven-o-clock news. The reporter confirmed Nick’s words as she rattled on a generic warning for civilians to stay indoors. There were a few comments on the unwarned change along with promises of supposed increased security of the city. The lies on screen were drowned out by Jeremiah’s panicking.
“Oh good heavens! Today? What am I going to do!?”
“What?” Flores asked him, but he didn’t respond. “What are you babbling on about?”
“I’m supposed to have the target poached by the next sweep! Dammit, there’s not enough time!”
“Target? Poached? What are you-?”
Jeremiah sighed as he turned off the television.
“Of course, me and my big mouth! I might as well spill all the beans while I’m at it! Oh, the Rhodes are gonna kill me,” he fretted.
“Do you work for them or something?”
“As a subsidiary. And I failed the one job they had given me! Oh curse thine procrastination!” Jeremiah placed his head against the counter while whispering to himself, “What am I going to do?” over and over again.
Flores finished the last bite and crumb of her pie. She noticed a small bottle of a clear substance sitting on a shelf directly behind Jeremiah. The number of warning labels worried her greatly.
“Is that?” Her mind immediately went to poison.
“Huh?” Jeremiah lifted his head up only to be met with the sharp end of an obsidian blade pressed firmly against his neck.
“You have thirty seconds to explain what that clear bottle on that shelf is or whatever the Rhodes are going to do to you won’t match what I will,” she threatened while keeping a calm tone. She was too tired to muster up anything else.
“Whoa whoa, relax. It’s a special ingredient used only for special orders! The one I was supposed to deliver tomorrow! It’s empty anyways! Please don’t kill me!”
“How do I trust that your target wasn’t Nick and by extension me?”
“Trust issues, ey?”
“No, just don’t trust pickpocketers, is all. A hard lesson I learned back in San Alto. Now tell me what’s in that bottle.”
“I dunno? I first assumed it was rat poison. Funnily enough, the one time I used it as such, all of the rats ended up smelling like rotten bloated blueberries. So don’t worry about your slice being poisoned. It’s also one of the various reasons I never bake blueberry pies.”
“And the other reasons?”
“I hate blueberries!”
“Right…” Flores backed off. “Well, I’m still hungry. Nick recommended your tiramisu. I’ve never tried it before and I don't see any harm in it.”
“Tiramisu? I didn’t have the ingredients for it today or yesterday. You’re probably gonna have to wait till next week. That is if I don’t end up closing by then. In the meantime, can I interest you in some cherry pie?”
“Sure, I’ll bite.”
Jeremiah nodded before disappearing into the back again. Flores decided to follow him this time. She found him at the kitchen counter with a prepared cherry pie in cling wrap on a cutting board of all places. It had freshly been taken out of the fridge. She figured that was why he had suggested she take it. Jeremiah fetched a knife and it morphed into a box cutter in his hands. Blinking a few times, Flores confirmed that it was still just a regular kitchen knife.
“Oh, you're here? You fancy a peek into the magic? Not so glamorous when the work was already done.” Jeremiah peeled the cling wrap off with the knife. All Flores could think about was what Los Rubio had done to Charlie’s face. She suddenly felt the slice of key lime pie fighting its way back up her throat.
“Oh god…” She stepped back as she fought against gagging and retching. Her heart quickened.
“Huh? Are you okay?” Jeremiah stopped and faced her with the knife still in his hands. “What? What’s going on? Spit it out already?”
The clean white apron he had on became splotched with blood from the dirty one he had on back in the warehouse. Flores took a shaky step back as she looked away. Her head was spinning as she anchored herself in the doorway. Subconscious voices screamed at her to run before she ended up the same way Charlie did. She fought back with steady breaths as she calmed herself down. She reminded herself that it was just a cherry pie and not anything morbid.
“S-sorry…” She glanced up and refamiliarized herself with her surroundings. “ M-maybe I’ll take something else.”
“You have that much of an irrational distaste for cherries? You were as pale as I was when I first baked with blueberries.”
“N-no no, it’s fine… Just… What else do you have in stock?”
“Well, nothing else except for the stale stuff behind the counter.”
“Why do you keep those there anyways? Self-sabotage?”
“To keep the Rhodes Family happy. I don’t know why, but I’d rather not find out what happens if I don’t. Their imposed laws are somewhat ridiculous. Ludicrous even. So what would you like then?”
“I think I’ve completely lost my appetite now. I’ll just take a look at that bottle and be on my way. Just curious about what exactly is in it.”
“Well, you know what they say about curiosity. But you aren’t a cat, so…”
The two went back into the storefront. Jeremiah carefully reached for it and brought it down slowly. Unfortunately, a woman in a teal dress barged through the front door, causing a fuss. “Woaahagh!” The surprise had caused Jeremiah to lose his grip on the bottle and it fell to the floor with a crash.
“Oh thank goodness I found you!” The woman spoke with an arrogant tone of importance. “Look, I need an order of blueberry pie pronto-”
“Sorry, I’m closed right now!” Jeremiah yelled in annoyance.
“Closed!? But you’re-!”
“Read the sign!” Jeremiah pointed out the door.
“Then who’s this, huh? Is she your catch?”
“I’m an investigator, ma’am.” Flores prepared to show the woman her ID, but the woman just scoffed.
“Hmph! As if! I’ll be on my way then.” The woman turned to leave before giving a mocking smile to the pair. “You two lovebirds have fun.”
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
“We’re not-!” But before either of them could get a word in, the woman left. Jeremiah grumbled.
“Wait. Was that the person you needed to make that delivery to? She was expecting a blueberry pie.”
“Uh…” Jeremiah opened one of the drawers of the shop’s counter and looked through a few of his personal notes. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she might be. Oh drats!”
“Well, what are we waiting for? We can still make it, right?”
“The clock has yet to strike the twelfth hour! You’re right!”
Jeremiah rushed to go grab the prepared spiked blueberry pie while Flores burst out the door searching for where the lady in teal went.
----------------------------------------
They had strayed pretty far from the bakery and still had found nothing. Most honest citizens had long rushed indoors since the announcement of tonight’s sweep. Everyone else was busy packing up shop. Time was running out and neither Jeremiah or Flores had tracked down the woman with the teal dress.
“Maybe we keep searching through the sweep. We might be able to hide somewhere,” Flores suggested.
“Hide? I doubt we can hide once the sweep goes into full gear.”
“How do they have so much power in this city anyways? They’re more of a police force than the police themselves.”
“That’s because they work in tandem with the police. Hence, we can’t hide. They borrow some of the K-9 units from the force and I doubt we can hide our aromas.”
“...I’m gonna take that as a complement.”
The two headed back for the bakery so that Jeremiah could properly lock the storefront down. As they did, the bells of a clock tower striking twelve signified the beginning of the sweep.
"Oh drats! We need to get back soon! Maybe we can still make it home if we hurry." Jeremiah began to run.
"W-wait up!" Flores painted from behind as she struggled to keep pace. "I've been awake for over two-thirds of the day and my legs are beginning to show it."
"Alright, I'll slow down."
They would only make it about halfway back to the bakery before a shadow ambushed them in an alleyway. A figure cloaked in red grabbed Jeremiah, the blueberry pie flying out of his hands and splattering on the ground as a result.
“Flores!” Jeremiah called out before disappearing into the adjacent alleyway.
“Dammit!” Flores chased after him and his assailant. The figure in red held a butterfly knife up to Jeremiah’s neck.
“There is a saying that every great criminal will eventually return to the scene of the crime,” the figure sneered with a heavy French accent. It was impossible to discern who or even what the figure was. An unnatural darkness formed in front of their hood and only a single spiteful yellow eye stared back. “Strangely, that phrase applies best to murders.”
“Grrk!” Jeremiah struggled to break free. He reached for his knife and felt the blade press against his neck.
“Let him go!” Flores ordered. As fatigued as she was, she drew her own knife anyway. She completely disregarded Eric’s earlier advice about close-quarters combat and took Nick’s instead. She kept her other hand firmly on the grip of her taser. She felt something odd about the taser but didn’t bother to investigate. Time was not in her favor. Seeing as the figure refused to relent, Flores charged at him.
“Oh? Se cacher derrière les autres ?” The figure, with one swift move, deflected the attack with a defensive slash. Jeremiah was shoved to the floor as the figure restrained him with a foot. “Brave of you to cover for murderers!”
“Murder?” Jeremiah croaked, “I’m not a murderer! I’m a lover!”
“Then explain why you were snooping around.” The figure continued to defend against Flores’s pathetic attempts at fighting while simultaneously interrogating Jeremiah. “You took her hand. You took evidence. Tell me, why would anyone do that?”
“It’s not anything as how it appears. I-”
The figure’s patience wore thin and he stamped further on the back of Jeremiah’s neck. The crushing force suffocated him. At this point, Flores played her trump card. She stowed her knife and replaced it with her taser. As she pulled it out, loose bits of plastic, circuitry, and screw scattered around.
“Qu'est-ce que c'est? Une blague?”
Judging by the tingling sensation removing feeling in her arm, the battery in the taser was still live. The taser, by extension, should still be armed. She suspected that pulling the trigger would result in friendly fire, but there wasn’t much of a choice. With the hand she was dealt, she hatched a plan. She approached the figure with a premonition of twisted irony and enervation. This would be an all-or-nothing bet.
“Step away from him, and you won’t be hurt.” Her tone refused to convey the threat as anything more than a cold plea.
“Threatening me, lady? Comme ce n'est pas digne d'une dame. Go ahead, give me your best shot.” The figure opened his arms to confidently taunt. “Don’t disappoint.”
She stood less than a foot away from the unmoved figure. Without hesitation or warning, she pulled the trigger. As she expected, the probes did not launch out and the entirety of the battery was discharged into her hand. Struggling through gritted teeth and adrenaline, she aimed her hand for the figure’s knife. The figure predictably attempted to disarm her with said knife, only to be met with an electrifying shock. As the metallic knife’s conductivity met the broken taser’s power, a crackling arc locked both of them in a stunning union of temporary paralysis. Flores suffered through her third electrocution of the day. She held her resolve through, utilizing each jolt to wake up her tired body. Her arm luckily positioned itself close to her knife through random twitches and spasms. Finally, the battery ran dry and freed them from their electrical shackles. The instant she regained control over her body, she struck. Diving her knife with all the remaining energy she could muster, her blade drove deep into the figure’s unarmored abdomen. Surprisingly, it was harder pulling out the knife than the act of stabbing.
“Grah!” The figure leaped back while clutching the wound. “Vous maudire! Merde!”
Jeremiah launched up and raced to ready himself to assist. He reached for his kitchen knife only to find it gone. The figure took out an odd-shaped syringe and injected it near the sustained wound. Although the figure’s clothes had been cut, the flesh underneath regenerated with only a small scar marking that any damage had even been done in the first place. The figure cackled before revealing Jeremiah’s knife appeared in the figure’s other hand. Just as Flores thought she had finally gotten lucky, all of her efforts were undone. Both her and Jeremiah’s analysis of the situation came to the same conclusion.
“Run!” they yelled in sync as they turned to bolt for an escape out of the alleyway. The figure dashed around them and cornered them at the exit.
“Pas si vite! I still want to toy with you a little longer before I take back what she deserved!”
Jeremiah turned and dragged Flores with him. He had been down here before, but only once. The reason would become evident soon enough. Flores watched behind her as the figure stalked in the distance like a hunter approaching their kill.
With each step she took, Flores's legs burned with even more pain than before. The ground felt as though it was kicking back harder as well. Each wave of agony eroded her will to survive further. With the ace of hearts and the photograph close to her heart, she powered on. The stimulating shock and adrenaline rush gave her a temporary second wind. Deep down, she knew she had already far surpassed her limit and this uncovered reserve of energy would drain soon.
“W-where are we going?” Flores asked through pained breaths.
“Somewhere, hopefully.”
They kept running through the twisting winding paths created by the various buildings around them. Stenches of garbage and disposed rotting food covered the tracks of the killer lurking behind them. They rounded a corner and into a dead end of the maze-like alleyway. Flores’s heart sank as she skidded to a halt. Out of breath and out of options, accepting the worst became the only way to go.
“Uh, Flores?” Jeremiah whispered, “Before we try and go back, can I tell you something?”
“It better not be an embarrassing confession so we can at least die without shame.”
“This alley is notorious for its impossibility to navigate. It also has a reputation for being closed on most sides with gates.”
“You’re kidding me…”
“Found you!” the figure’s voice echoed. Flores and Jeremiah jumped in fear as the daunting sight of the figure loomed over them. They had been thoroughly cornered.
“Here’s another fun fact,” Jeremiah whispered, “The neighboring merchants call this alleyway the Graveyard. Do you know why?”
“I think we’re about to find out!”
The figure ominously struck the two knives he held together. Jeremiah nudged Flores to pull out hers, but she was too exhausted. After all of the action of the day, being electrocuted three times, the minor scuffle, and the futile sprint into their graves, Flores was spent through and through. She had depleted every ounce of energy, vitality, strength, and everything else keeping her from the verge of collapsing onto the floor. All that was left keeping her upright was not enough to put up a fight with. She closed her eyes as she clung tightly to Jeremiah.
"I… I yield… I can't go on…" The words fell out of her overtired mouth. She fell to her knees.
Jeremiah retrieved Flores’s knife and wielded it in a last defiant bid for survival. “Engarde, if it’s the last thing I do! Tonight, I die a death befitting a chevalier. Have at thee!”
"Mais personne ne le saura..." The figure was too blinded by the hunger from the two knives demanding blood to see what was so off about Flores. With her ears, Flores could hear several footsteps in the distance.
----------------------------------------
Tonight’s monthly sweep would be the fifth one for the loyal members, enforcers, and monitors of the Rhodes Family. Confusingly, they had executed their forth only a week ago. Four months into the Rhodes Family’s second rise to prominence and there were already inconsistencies propping up from their plans. The order from the head was passed down the ranks without any explanation. Not even a famiglia sottocapo, better known as a bishop, knew the reason for such a rash decision. Complaints from the other families, associations, and crime groups filled the imboxes of practically every major figure in the family. Not there were many left. The people of Laslow wondered if history would repeat itself. Many suspected that like the tides or the moon, the Rhodes Family would wax and wane but still cling on. They wondered how long it would be that way, and so did a particular son of the family’s head. His title of “peacekeeper” was an ironic title to most that saw him. But to Louis Rhodes, the sottocapo leading his two men, it held a fraction of truth. He had plans of ensuring that the light wouldn’t fade on the family again, which is one of the many reasons why he preferred to be simply referred to as Rhodes.
“Boss, we’re really going down here again?” a man in a leather jacket complained. Delano, the resourceful right-hand man, stood guard close to Rhodes.
“Come on, chaps! What’s with the sluggishness?” a man in a black suit spoke with a British twang. He was his the ever-reliable Constable Bull. His title was even more ironic than the one given to Rhodes. He waited ahead and lit his smoking pipe while the other two caught up.
“You know I don’t like being dragged out mid-nap, Bull.”
“Tch! Delano, you nap every other bloody hour.”
“Quiet down, you two. We do our job and we get out. Nuff said,” Rhodes ordered. He kept the codex of rules closed in his left hand while the other rested on the pistol by his side. “Now get that gate open.
“On it, boss.” Delano stepped up to the gate of the chain link fence with a set of lockpicks in his hands. It only took him a few seconds to pick the lock wide open.
“How do you keep bloody doing that?” Bull asked in awe.
“Eh, luck of the Irish,” Delano responded as he tucked his lockpicks back into his pockets. As he pushed open the gate, he heard the sounds of rushed footsteps and whispering. “Hmm… Looks like we’ve got someone.”
Rhodes went in first. He temporarily removed the bishop-shaped pin and tucked it into his pockets. If it caught the light, the pin would have given away his position even if he stayed close to the shadows. With a tight clutch on his pistol, he advanced forward carefully. A figure cloaked in red rushed passed.
“After him,” he ordered and the three silently chased the figure with weapons drawn.
“Engarde, if it’s the last thing I do!” a pompous voice echoed through the night, “Tonight, I die a death befitting a chevalier. Have at thee!”
“Embarrassing,” Bull commented as he followed behind.
They arrived to the scene of the cloaked figure ready to kill an investigator and a baker.
“Halt!” Rhodes ordered.
The figure briefly turned to look behind before quickly weighing the odds of winning a fight against five, technically four, armed individuals. He looked overhead and spotted his escape, a low ledge of a rooftop.
“Au revoir, et va te faire foutre!” The figure leaped to the rooftop before anyone could fire and disappeared into the night. With that, Rhodes and his men turned their attention toward the two remaining in the alley.
“Oh no!” Jeremiah’s hands dropped the knife as he raised them up into the air. “P-please no!”
“Well well well, look who it is?” Rhodes menacingly opened his codex.
As Rhodes walked closer, Flores recognized him as the same man from before.
“Please, my liege, the night is not over yet, I-I can still get the delivery made-”
“Oh I understand,” Rhodes confided. “I know that the deadline was abruptly moved to tonight without warning. I understand how bad of a business deal it is to demand a subsidiary to rush for results.”
“Do you mean to show mercy?”
“I do not enjoy making bad business deals just as I do not enjoy doing the things I must do. But just like a rotting limb, you must cut it off before it spreads. Tell me, how many chances did we give you?”
“Please! I tried, but the Teal Hand you sent to pick up the package ran off!”
“Blaming others for your failures? That is certainly new for you. I did not enjoy having to employ one to assist in delivering the pie to the target. Even less so, considering the history I had with the lady I sent. And yet, you still disappointed me. My patience is not limitless.”
“No, please! But one more chance, sire!”
“I do not appreciate you taking me as a gullible fool. A pattern tends to repeat once it forms. I am ordered to put a stop to said pattern.” The familiar mafioso raised his weapon as he read the words off of the codex. “When a subsidiary fails to meet expectations three or more times consecutively, a level four or above castigation is ordered. In other words, I must leave at least one bullet inside of your body, Mr. Quijano. You are fortunate that the rule is up to interpretation by the enforcer. Still, I wish things would have turned out differently.”
“Oh heavens above, let me seek out my martyrship before I pass!”
“Please calm down. I will try my best not to kill you, but it’s difficult when you squirm around so much. You still have your uses, however small.” He cocked the hammer back on his 1911 pistol as he aimed at Jeremiah’s foot to reduce the chances of him bleeding out.
“W-wait.” Flores dragged herself in front of him. She didn’t even have the stamina to stand up. “Don’t shoot.”
“Hmm?” Rhodes kept his aim steady.
“Hear me out, please-” Flores begged on her knees.
“Wait one second… How strange.” Rhodes hid his pistol back into the hidden holster within his suit. He studied the strange face of Flores and failed to recognize her as the same Lone Star Office employee he spoke to earlier. “To think you of all people would show up. I see you have acquired quite the load of cash.”
“W-what?”
“You even decided to finally accomplish your dream and buy one of those demented things. Even worse, those aren’t your clothes.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re-”
“I saw them worn by a new friend to the family. To think you have the gall to steal twice from us. I guess it makes sense as you’ve always wanted to play the role of the fox.”
“Y-you must be mistaking me for someone else- Ngh!”
Rhodes lifted her up by her collar. Even though her legs touched the ground, she dangled from his hand.
“So where’s our money, ey fox? You know how the fairy tale goes.”
“Please, sir, my wallet is empty, a-and my debts only grow. I never stole anythin- Ack!”
Rhodes lifted her up further. Yet she still couldn't see Rhodes's eyes, only the unimpressed frown.
“To tell such bald-faced lies… The loan you took is right on your face. Or at least, on the new costume head you are wearing.”
“I-it’s not a costume, I swear-”
“Then why does the mouth not move? I will admit, it’s incredibly realistic apart from that. It makes me wonder how much this must have cost.” Rhodes dragged her around before throwing her forcefully at a nearby trash can. She impacted it with a loud thud.
“Men,” Rhodes ordered, “Hand me the contents of her wallet and take her to the police. She will repay her debts one way or another.”
“Wait! You have mistooken her for another!” Jeremiah pleaded.
“I will let you off the hook with only a standard fine this time. You are lucky I am more merciful than my colleagues.” Rhodes walked away as Bull and Delano began rummaging through Flores’s pockets.
Bull located her wallet, flipped it open, and spotted the Lone Star Office ID card before uttering, “Uh oh. Um, boss?”
“Hmm? What is it?” Rhodes stopped and turned back around.
“You’re not going to like this.”
Curious, Rhodes returned to Bull. He was handed Flores’s ID card.
“I think she’s a part of that detective agency you were talking about.”
“Oh merda…” Rhodes checked on the poor investigator only to find her out cold. He grimaced further. “Curse my luck! How did I mistake her for someone else?”
“Uh- here.” Jeremiah handed Flores’s knife to Delano. “Put this knife back into her pockets. It belonged to her.”
He did so and looked back up at her face. “Hey boss, her face changed.”
“No it bloody didn’t!” Bull objected, “It just sort of looks…” He couldn’t figure out exactly what felt different. “Well, as it should. Boss, with all due respect, I think might need to get your head checked.”
Rhodes sighed as he shook his head. “Maybe you are right. It has been a long day only made longer now.”
”So what do we do, boss?” Delano asked, “We still have the rest of our patrol to do, and I want to get done with it so we can all rest.”
“Mr. Quijano, please attend to her and make sure to deliver our sincerest apologies.”
----------------------------------------
Roughly five minutes later, Flores awoke to the feeling of water splashing her face..
“Urrggh…” Her head, back, and legs ached in all sorts of new ways.
“Finally! You almost tricked me into thinking you were dead!” Jeremiah celebrated.
She opened her eyes and found herself back in the bakery. This time, she was lying on the hard tiled floor.
“What happened…?” She sat upright and almost immediately regretted doing so. Her back still hurt from being thrown into a trashcan.
“Well, you were attacked by the Rho-”
“I know that, I mean why am I not dead in a ditch right now? They seemed hellbent on making it so.”
“I’d hazard a guess and say your pleas finally proved themselves true. I think the mob owes you, now.”
“‘Owes’ and not ‘owns’? How so? They finally realized who I was?”
Jeremiah nodded. “Oh, and they also left you this!”
He gave her a small red envelope with an ornate golden design.
“What is this, Chinese New Years? Heh, I guess that Asian girl in prison wasn’t lying.” She cautiously opened it. All that was inside was a pin in the shape of a pawn. “This is demeaning…”
“I think it’s a gift of gratitude.”
“No, no. It’s what I deserve. I can only say ‘thanks’ for reminding me of my place.”
“Well, they did tell me you should pin it on so that any other Rhodes Family members won’t attack you. The sweep is currently in effect, and I doubt I’ll be sleeping anywhere but those booth seats.” He pointed to the booth by the window.
“A bit too little, a bit too late, but better than nothing.”
She pinned the pawn onto the left side of her trench coat. With this, she hoped to make it back home in one piece.
“You sure you want to sleep there? You might wake up in the morning with a sore neck. I’ve certainly had my fair share.”
“I’ll be fine! B-but what about you? Will you need an escort on your treacherous journey back-”
“I’m gonna go by myself.” She stood up and reached for her wallet. “Well that’s an issue.”
“Oh, you must have your mind on your wallet! Here!” Jeremiah tossed her wallet to her. Surprisingly, she managed to catch it. “Ease up, I did not touch its contents.”
She checked and sure enough, everything was there. She took out the last ten-dollar bill and left it on the counter.
“Here, for your troubles today.” She turned around and prepared to leave the bakery.
“Wait, why are you paying me?”
“Call it a superstition, but I believe my sour luck is to blame. The money’s compensation for that and for stomping on your foot earlier.”
“W-what about having some pie first? I promised you could have some pecan pie, a-and you even paid!”
“No. I’m just gonna go home. Have yourself a good night.”
The front door closed with the same jingle as when it opened. She stepped into the cold, dark night. Alone, once again. She had gotten used to that feeling long before she had met any of the current people that knew her. She should be smiling at the new faces that surrounded her, just like the first several times. Instead, she felt sorrow knowing what lay in front of her. A familiar, haunting thought crossed her mind. She quietly whispered to herself, “How long before my name becomes known to none again? I pray for it to be never, but I must know better by now.”