Jubilee's Insidious Operation

The orange light from the streetlamps shined directly into Buckley’s car, illuminating the grimy interior. The petal had never been pressed so far into the floor; the black tires released a howling screech as it clawed across the asphalt at each sharp turn, which seemed like every turn. Buckley, the newly appointed errand boy of ‘The Street Devils’ and a young man with a sharp face, and brown eyes and brown hair, was wildly steering with the fractured driving wheel. He veered between wide births between vehicles, occasionally leaving the asphalt road to then drive on the concrete path. Buckley raced through any red light that appeared before him, each time he covered his face and eyes as a blinding flash appeared before him. Luckily, Dodge Junction was quite bare during the twilight hours, though, he did have a few near misses when he ran a red light. Buckley noted that he should ask a member of The Street Devils to ‘appropriate’ a vehicle for him, his current one was far overdue for maintenance and his licence plate was certainly now noted in an officer’s notebook as a vehicle to apprehend. Though, it was most certainly not in Roseluck’s notebook. Roseluck, the one week rookie recently accepted into the police force, was less than snuggly crammed into the trunk of Buckley’s car. She was accompanied by a bottle of oil lubricant, a spare tire and a bent tire iron, a detail Buckley forgot to notice when he folded her unconscious body into the trunk after the scuffle both of them had. Buckley didn’t think to leave her on the rough gravel by the shipyard, he felt a sense of urgency and caution since an officer of the law had managed to see his face. He wasn’t sure how he would handle the situation, and neither was he sure how he would explain himself to Cherry Jubilee.

As a straight stretch of road started to appear, Buckley turned to the passenger seat, where he hastily threw his pistol and the two duffel bags filled with firearms that Jubilee sent him to collect. He felt around and underneath the duffel bags for his weapon, since it was currently his only means of protection. He eventually found it on the tattered floor of the passenger’s side, and as he returned to look at the road he narrowly avoided a streetlamp. Buckley turned the next corner and arrived at Cherry Hill Ranch, he noticed the faint light of a cigarette waiting at the factory entrance, the light inside the factory shone through any window, ajar door and slither on the factory, creating a temperate amount of light around the premises. The gravel shifted and set underneath the weight of Buckley’s car, the pleasant sound of the scrunching gravel would have felt almost convivial, if it weren’t for the bags of armaments beside him and the unconscious officer in his trunk. As soon as Buckley killed the engine he rushed to the boot of his car.

He fumbled with his keys, the metal jingling as he rushed to find the correct one. Behind him, he heard Jubilee puff another drag from her cheap cigarette as she started to move closer, the sound of shifting gravel signifying her approach. Buckley continued to finger through his keys until he found the right one. The keys, cradled in Buckley’s grip, were then pushed into the lock after a few failed tries. As soon as the boot popped open, Buckley found himself on the sharp gravel. The world around him suddenly turned black as something very hard struck him across his head.

Buckley dreamed of drowning underneath a sea of red, yellow and blue; the thick, suffocating colours enveloped him as he clambered to the surface. Despite being unable to swim and struggling underneath the strange liquid, Buckley was managing to reach the water’s surface. The feeling felt as if it came in splashes, the cool sensation would assault his face then melt away before it came again. Buckley was within distance of the surface now, but once he tried to pierce the top, the cold sensation came again and he was dragged under. The icy feeling stayed this time. Though, it was as if he fell lower into the abyss or the viscous goo became higher. He panicked; he started to swim faster, his untrained arms and legs pushing harder against the liquid. Each time he tried to swim higher, the surface would distance itself from him. The cold sensation was now beginning to creep through his nostrils and push down his throat, Buckley tried covering his mouth and plugging his nose with his fingers in response to the invading liquid, yet, it still pushed through his nostrils and into his lungs. The dream felt so real, and for a moment Buckley felt like stopping and allowing the fluid to seep its way into his lungs and take over.

Then he woke. The mixture of colours disappeared in an instant and it was replaced with a tight, circular green space. Immediately, Buckley knew he was in a bucket, or at least his face was being crammed into one. He didn’t bother to question how or why he ended up in a bucket, he just needed to get out. He grasped the rim of the green container and pushed himself up while trying to flip the bucket and tip the contents onto the floor. Suddenly, the force pushing on his head let up and allowed him to escape the claustrophobic space and finally breathe. Buckley’s vision eased from a watery blur to a clear view in a few moments. When he could see, Buckley realised he was in the Cherry Hill Ranch factory. The red cherries and yellow machinery moved in a jittery course as the products were transported to their designated areas. Before him, stood Jubilee, who was severely agitated at Buckley, and the fact she did not have a cigarette to smoke. Buckley, despite his vision returning, was still unable to move fluently; his motor skills denied to comply, so once Jubilee motioned for a guard to grab him by his shoulders, Buckley was unable to resist; he was barely able to guide his confused legs. Periodically, a throbbing would pass through Buckley’s head; it wouldn’t hurt too badly, but it felt as if someone was occasionally squeezing his head.

Jubilee led the person grabbing Buckley up the metal catwalk that hung above the twisting machinery. Slowly, but surely, Buckley was beginning to regain his ability to move. He was now able to walk normally, almost; he still slipped when trying to support his own weight, but the person grasping him by the arm was keeping him from falling. Near the middle of the catwalk, below them was an idle machine with a conveyor belt leading into a mixer. There was a lack of cherries on the idle machine, which was very strange, thought Buckley, these machines never stopped. Then, he realised something quite vital. Their destination stopped directly overhead a machine that looked as if it crush the cherries into a concentrated liquid.

An abrupt surge of adrenaline shot through Buckley and suddenly all of his motor skills returned, allowing him to resist against the force pulling him by the arm. Though, when he tried too quickly, the squeezing around his head shifted into a stabbing pain. He tried to shake off the person gripping his shoulder before trying to make a dash, but, the grip tightened and he was suddenly thrown into the metal catwalk. His back stung as he collided into the bar; the metal railing bent and cracked his spine as his nearly flipped over the side and into the machine. Jubilee heard the commotion behind her and moved forward a few paces as to avoid the ensuing chaos; she watched as her personal guard, Padlock, held Buckley against the railing until he was a mere push from tipping over the edge.

Buckley, now held halfway off the catwalk by his tie, froze and watched as Jubilee started to approach him slowly. Her white, long sleeved blouse fit loosely around her torso before being tucked into her rosy skirt, which only reached to above her knees before being continued by stockings that matched the colour of the skirt. Her dark red streaks of hair, contrasted against brighter red streaks, was elegantly coiffed and tied back by a yellow band with cherries randomly embroidered along it. Buckley smiled as she approached, he hoped to placate Jubilee with a friendly and innocent smile, even though it was obviously forced. She stopped a few feet from Buckley before she reached into her skirt pocket and produced a white packet of cheap cigarettes. On the red label it read ‘Hoxton’s Buds’ surrounded by numerous warnings of possible health risks. She flipped open the lid, inspected the cigarettes, or the lack of them, and threw the packet into the idle machine. Then she spoke, “I have a few questions for you.” Her voice lacked any emotion, the desensitized tone worried Buckley more than the machine beneath him.

Buckley nodded his head quickly in small motions, then said, “Okay, yes. Okay.”

“Right, Good.” Jubilee started, a hint of satisfaction in her voice, “So, who is that officer that was in your trunk?”

“Roseluck?” Buckley replied.

Jubilee straightened her back and said, “Yes, the young girl who- oh so delightfully- clubbed you and two of my men with a tire iron and, may I add, would have clubbed me if it weren’t for Padlock here.” She gestured to the man holding Buckley over the railing.

Buckley briefly observed Padlock, his impressive physique and rough face spoke machoism, though, his blue hair and pale skin worked against him. Buckley smiled innocently, though his pacifying technique didn’t work on Padlock; the tie around his neck loosened and threatened to send him into the machine. As he regained his composure, Buckley said, “She attacked me and I knocked her out, so I brought her here.”

Jubilee patted her skirt, “So why did you- hey, look at me,” Jubilee clicked her fingers a few times, “not at Padlock; forget he is even there- why did you bring her here?”

“She saw my face” Buckley answered, the words seeming to leave his mouth before he thought about them.

“So, you brought her here so she could see the rest of our faces?” Jubilee asked, raising both of her hands to motion around the factory, “why did you even bother bringing her here? Why not leave her in a ditch somewhere?”

“W- Well,” Buckley stuttered, he didn’t exactly have a viable answer, “I thought-

“You thought that I could fix this?” She asked, raising her eyebrows, “You thought that I had enough power and influence to make this disappear?” Buckley was about to answer, but was interrupted when Jubilee spoke, her tone was starting to spurt venom, “This isn’t like the movies where I have the police in my pocket or I know the Chief of Police as a friend.” Jubilee stepped closer and prodded Buckley with a sharp, red fingernail; each time she said the word ‘your’ she prodded Buckley again, “This is your problem. This is your muck up, with your dirty fingerprints all over it. Give me a reason why you shouldn’t be the next thing that jams my mixer.”

Buckley thought for an answer, he could plead that he had a family, but his last relative died four years ago and he was an only child, as were his parents; Jubilee probably wouldn’t sympathise with him anyway. He could plead that his fellow gang members would notice his absence, but Jubilee could hardly care. Buckley thought back to how he was supposed to return with a favour, but now he would return dead. Then he remembered, ‘the favour,’ he thought, ‘how could I forget?’ Jubilee motioned to turn around and move away.

“The favour!” Buckley blurted, prompting Jubilee to swivel on her heels, her fingertips now pressed firmly together.

“That brings us to another conundrum.” Jubilee looked down at her hands as she pressed them together. She moved towards Buckley slowly and said, “Where are the rest of the guns?”

“The rest of the guns?” He asked. The grip on his tie loosened momentarily and he dropped an inch closer to machine. He was close to reaching the end of his tie, “Woah! I honestly do not know what you are talking about. Some fat Spaniard handed me two bags, filled with guns. That was it!” Though, now that Buckley thought about it, two bags was quite a small amount.

Jubilee was a bit dubious about his story, but, it sounded somewhat believable, “A Nigerian man, named Abidugan, was meant to deliver fifty bags along with a vehicle that could transport them. Your rusted piece of junk- well, I’m surprised it could transport two.”

“You told me to wait for a pink boat- that was it. Nothing else.” Buckley protested, “They knew that you had sent me, so I thought they were the right people.”

Jubilee massaged between her eyebrows, periodically squeezing the skin before saying, “I told you, to ‘wait for a pink shipping crate, with the label Hoxton’s Buds to be stored on the shipyard’ do you not remember that?” Before Buckley could answer she continued, “No matter, they seem to have known who you were sent by, so they have stolen the shipment and have given you- what seems to be- metal rods stuffed into a bag. Did you check the shipment at all?” Buckley wanted to answer, but felt it would be prudent to remain silent for now.

“The biggest problem, you see,” Jubilee lifted her head to look at Buckley, “is that we were meant to act as a bridge between two parties. We got paid a small fee to smuggle the weapons, but now, it looks as if we have taken the weapons for ourselves and, consequentially, we become the target of these organisations.” Jubilee pressed her fingers together much harder, so much so, that the sound of a snapping fingernail could be heard, “In thirty days, which I can probably push to sixty, the armaments are meant to be delivered, and within that time I have to produce a complete copy of the shipment or find the original shipment, otherwise, I have to pay the piper.” Jubilee breathed in heavily, “And you have to as well.”

The favour that Buckley wanted to call upon shrivelled into a decrepit husk with very little value, he had no idea what to say. ‘I have nothing,’ he thought, ‘I only saw his face and that’s about it.’ Buckley decided to go with it, “I saw the dealers face!” he cried, “He’s a fat Spaniard with thin hair… it- it’s slicked back and he has a thick goatee.” Buckley was speaking so fast his mind couldn’t keep up with the words, “He has tattoos along his arms, with one saying ‘Mama’ and he looks as if he crawled through a grease pit. He didn’t say his name.”

This piqued Jubilee’s interest, since she rushed over to Buckley and nearly flipped him over the edge. She motioned over to one side of the factory, and suddenly the machine came to life; the revolving blades and gnashing metal beckoned for Buckley to fall and feed it, the cigarette packet inside was gone in an instant. The droning machinery filled the air with a blaring sound. Buckley’s eyes shut as he flinched, and his body tensed instinctively, “Do you mean to say, that the spokesperson, Pedro Azarola, for the Los Zetas- the most technologically advanced and brutal crime syndicate in Mexico, has decided to become mixed in my affairs?” Jubilee thought for a moment before shoving Buckley in the chest, his only support still being the tie around his neck, “If you want to walk away from this alive, you are going to help me. Pedro is expected to stay in Dodge Junction for a while, you are going to find him, get the guns and deliver them.”

For a moment, Buckley thought that it would be easy to find Pedro. Dodge Junction was a modest town with a low population, but then he remembered the town’s industrialisation in the last few years and the massive flock of people migrating to the city, “How am I going to find him in this town? I can’t exactly knock on every door and ask for Pedro.” He asked. Buckley felt the pull on his tie become fiercer before he was finally upright on his feet and safe on the catwalk, he felt like collapsing and holding tightly onto the railing beside him. The machine beneath his feet slowly went quiet and finally stopped.

“Look for help then,” Jubilee said nonchalantly, “I don’t care how you do it, it is your mess and I have to clean it up. I have to see about postponing our impending death.”

Now that he was stable on the catwalk, Buckley felt safer to ask questions, “Where’s Roseluck?” Jubilee didn’t answer, “What is going to happen to her?” Buckley asked, wondering if she would receive the same punishment he did, but with a more fatal ending. Buckley didn’t exactly condone killing, he only thought that it was necessary sometimes, but he wanted to avoid it.

Jubilee stopped for a moment and thought while Buckley waited behind her. A few silent seconds passed before she spoke, “She’s still in your trunk- Padlock! Come, we may need your help.”

Roseluck eased herself slightly in the dark confines of the overly cramped trunk, she slowly positioned herself to be able to launch herself out of her precincts. With her wrists now tied behind her back, she was unable to retrieve a weapon, which, currently to her, could be anything if enough force was used. She constantly tried squeezing out of her constraints by pulling her hands out of the knotted rope or cutting it with anything she could scrape it against. The thought of a clean surrender didn’t appeal to her, besides, she was in the custody of a criminal, a person who would simply stab her in the back at their first chance. Then she heard it, the sound of shifting gravel, gradually becoming louder as people approached the car; she tensed her legs against the worn fabric and prepared to propel herself forward. Roseluck counted the muffled footsteps and assumed there were at least two people, though, it was quite difficult to hear over her pounding heartbeat.

Padlock took lead of the group, while Jubilee and Buckley lagged behind him and left the hard work to him. Buckley exchanged his keys with Padlock, but, before he opened the trunk, he knocked on the lid three times, causing the occupant to tense harder and prepare to leap out. Padlock popped the trunk after he carefully pushed the key into the lock, the familiar sound called everyone to attention, which was then followed by a loud thud and a juddering of the trunk. A stifled yelp could be heard from the trunk, followed by an exasperated groan. Padlock, now sure that the occupant was stunned, flung open the trunk and heaved Roseluck from inside and onto the gravel; she fell wildly and let out a grunt as she hit the ground, then slowly writhed on the floor, hoping the throbbing in her skull would quickly pass.

Padlock slung her over his shoulder and moved back inside while Jubilee led him to her office and Buckley walked behind Padlock, watching Roseluck wince from the pain in her head while trying to shake off Padlock’s monster-like grip. This was the first time Buckley was able to get a decent look at Roseluck without grit inside his eyes or his head being clubbed by a tire iron. She shared the same hair colour and highlights as Jubilee, except with a rosier hue; the arrangement of her hair was much messier too, with strands overlapping each other and awkwardly jutting out in random areas. Her hands and face were visibly soft and her aroma, despite being crammed into Buckley’s trunk for such an extensive time, was reminiscent of a florist instead of an officer of the law.

Roseluck, now tightly fastened to the worn chair in Jubilee’s office by a length of rope, listened to Jubilee and Buckley speak outside the office while Padlock stood beside her. She would have attacked the bodyguard with a swift strike to the groin if it weren’t for the rope tying her legs to the chair. She fidgeted with the knot around her hands, trying, in a vain attempt, to free herself.

After a few minutes of quiet bickering and constant fidgeting, Jubilee and Buckley entered the office; Buckley stepped in with the grace of a sly fox, he slowly closed the door behind himself while trying to make as little noise as possible. But not before Jubilee stomped into the office as if she were a herd of stampeding cows; she headed for the corner to the left of the door and leaned against the wall, keeping her venomous glare fixated on Roseluck; Jubilee could outstare a painting if she tried. She folded her arms like a parent berating their children and started to tap something against the plaster wall.

Roseluck didn’t pay any attention to it at first, but started to recognise the off-beat tapping when it didn’t synchronise with the screeching and rapping of the machinery outside. She found the source quickly, prompting her fighting essence to somewhat sour as she saw Jubilee tapping a recently polished Webley against the wall with trifling willpower. The barrel, when connected with the wall, would slightly scrape across the plaster for a moment before starting its process again with an erratic length of time in between. Roseluck seemed to lose herself as she watched Jubilee, the constant tapping drowned out the noise of the machinery outside

The click of Buckley’s fingers brought Roseluck from her trance. In reaction to Buckley’s clicking she looked at him with earnest confusion, the friendly smile he wore was strangely out of place. After seeing Jubilee, she was unsure if she would be able to make it out alive; though, Buckley’s smile said otherwise, “Hey, are you alright?” Buckley asked, “You look like a ghost who just scared themselves.”

Jubilee was uncertain if that was a sly threat or not, but it was definitely true, the circulation in her body was starting to concentrate in her briskly beating heart, which felt like it would leap out of her throat. She nodded her head quickly while maintaining eye contact with Buckley, he smiled in return.

“That’s good.” A tap replaced the concise silence in Buckley’s sentence, “We just want to ask a few questions- is that ok?” Buckley raised his hand in a stop signal, as if providing the choice to decline, but the tapping pushed her to say yes. Roseluck nodded her head again, prompting Buckley to smile again, “Good, ok- uh. Where should we start? I already know that your name is Roseluck, my name is Goodwill Buckle- but everybody calls me Buckley- Are you hungry or thirsty at all?” Another tap.

Roseluck, now thinking about it, was feeling famished and parched, but still declined despite the strange hospitality Buckley was presenting. His smile faltered slightly, though he still remained cordial.

A resounding tap, followed by a very faint tap, occurred before Buckley spoke again, “You know- you have quite the swinging arm” Buckley said as he massaged the bruised area on his head, feeling around the lump that was starting to grow, “knocked me out cold. I’m surprised that I’m not drooling in a wheelchair right now.”

Roseluck smirked for a moment, but a quick tap reminded her of the metaphorical pit she had fallen into, “Sorry… about that.” she said weakly.

“Ah, there’s no need to worry about it.” Buckley said as he waved his hand nonchalantly, “A bit of rest and ice will fix it right up.” Roseluck expected a sly tap to break the silence, but none occurred, “Let’s move onto the questions- shall we?” Buckley received a nod in response, “Ok, first question: How did you know to apprehend me?” The question was asked with a dull tone, but a cheerful facial expression.

A quick tap against the plaster wall pushed Roseluck out of her hesitation, “We heard reports of naval activity occurring just outside the docks and I was sent to investigate. When I arrived, you were talking to the spokesperson of the Los Zetas and, well- I’m not going to get involved with that. I’d like to stay alive- when can I go?” She tugged at her binds slightly as she added the last part, her pale hands were beginning to feel numb.

“So, why did you try to arrest me then?” Buckley asked, ignoring her question. He sat on the desk a few feet from Roseluck, knocking over a pen holder and creasing the pages on the open ledger on the desk. This, of course frustrated Jubilee and prompted her to shift her piercing stare to Buckley for a moment. He noticed the shift, but didn’t pay it any attention; he kept his inquisitive, yet approachable, gaze fixated on Roseluck, “How did you know I wasn’t with the cartel?” he added.

Roseluck replied immediately, “I didn’t. I saw you were alone, and thought I could apprehend you.” She looked down at her shoes as she added the last part, embarrassed as she remembered how she botched such an opportunity to snag her first criminal. Buckley looked down at his shoes as well; he too, was embarrassed as he remembered how he was almost overpowered by a girl. He decided to blame it on the freezing temperatures. A tap occurred, and Roseluck and Buckley looked up from their shoes, almost simultaneously, as they were called to attention. Then, Buckley noticed the stifled dread in Roseluck’s damp eyes as she tried to hide her terror behind her cool demeanour, he heard the quivering peaks in her voice when she spoke, and he finally detected the short, panicked breathes of air brushing against his knuckles. Roseluck was definitely scared, even when she tried to look brave.

“Well, lucky for you, I wasn’t. The Los Zetas are ruthless and we are in no way affiliated with them.”

Roseluck was immediately doubtful of Buckley’s explanation, she had seen him dealing with them, “But, I saw you talking to them and then taking-

“What you saw,” Buckley interjected, “was the Los Zetas tricking me and stealing her… merchandise. As I was saying, we are not the Los Zetas, so we don’t plan to kill you- well, not me at least.” He pointed towards Jubilee and said, “You have her to worry about.” Roseluck wasn’t sure if she should find comfort in what Buckley said, it sounded as if it was meant to be uplifting, but it wasn’t presented well.

Buckley continued to ask questions while Roseluck, nearing the start was quite hesitant, would answer them to the best of her ability. He shot off questions while she shot off answers; they mainly revolved around Roseluck’s life and what is going to happen to her afterwards. At the end, Buckley got enough information to get a rough idea of Roseluck’s current life; she manages a flower shop with two of her other friends, Daisy and Lilly Valley, but she needed to find another source of income. She got into the force, thanks to her friend persuading the Chief of Police to temporarily hire her without needing to complete an application or any exams. Though, she wasn’t trusted with a firearm, not after her horrendous display in the firing range; there were more holes in the cardboard cut-outs of civilians than there are holes in Swiss cheese. Each time Roseluck answered a question, she would try to plead with Buckley, claiming that she wouldn’t tell anyone about their operations. She also claimed she would find another job and forget about the whole incident, but Buckley, and most definitely Jubilee, were still doubtful about her discretion.

When Buckley seemed to fall short of questions and silence filled the office, Roseluck took an opportunity to ask a question of her own, “What did you do before all of… this?”

It was a strange question to ask at such a strange time, and Buckley was taken aback for a moment before deciding to humour her. The truth appeared to lodge in his throat, but after a few minutes of weighty thinking and hasty predicting, the truth came undone, “I used to work as a business consultant.” A succinct chuckle came from Buckley before he spoke again, “That’s how I ended up in this business. I invested so much money for other people, and I was pretty good at it. But then- Well, an opportunity to invest into an oil freighter came up. Investing into an oil freighter isn’t easy, but it is quite lucrative. I invested for the Street Devils as well.” The mention of the gangs name seemed to confuse Roseluck for a moment. She had definitely heard of the group, but she had never thought they could invest into such a thing. Buckley noticed her confusion and gave a brief explanation, “The gang may look impoverished, but those are just branches of the gang that have been forgotten about, so there’s nobody to keep them in line. Anyway, I invested nine hundred and fifty million dollars into the freighter and by the end of the day, I had lost eight hundred million dollars.” He rubbed his hands for a moment, bringing warmth to his fingertips, “When the Street Devils found out that I hadn’t stolen the money and realised that it was a mistake, they acquitted me, but also employed me and forced me to work for them until the debt was payed off. This all happened about a month ago and I’ve hardly raised a hundred thousand.”

There’s a strange, psychological phenomenon that can occur when captives are taken, and the reason for this phenomenon is usually due to compassion. It is called the Stockholm syndrome and Roseluck was beginning to feel the beginnings of it. A feeling of sympathy washed over her as she heard Buckley’s unfortunate tale, and somewhere, inside her mind, she felt as if he was the victim, caught in the middle of a mess he never wanted to be in. Though, he was the one who bludgeoned her, stuffed her into his car and was now interrogating her. Silence, again, filled the room for a few seconds, until it was broken by a meddling tap.

“Anyway,” Buckley started. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, the resounding beat jolted Roseluck, “Enough about me, let’s focus on how you are going to get out of this alive. Now, you claim that you won’t tell anyone if we let you go-

“I won’t, I swear.” Roseluck interrupted.

“But, she is not completely sold on your discretion.” Buckley pointed in the general direction of Jubilee, “and, as I am sure you have gathered by now, she is in charge here. I do what she says, no questions asked. However, I’d prefer that you didn’t die for no reason, and I’m sure you would as well.” Roseluck responded with a quick nod. “Good. Now, in order to ensure your discretion, we need to keep you supervised and away from anything that could tempt you to speak about us. We need you to resign from your job as a police officer and ‘join’ us until we find a better solution.” As expected, Roseluck looked as if she had been slapped in the face, but before she could speak Buckley added a comment, which was followed by a slight tap, “However, if you decline my offer, you will have her to worry about.”

Not even a second passed before Roseluck answered, her deductive logic came into full effect as she spoke, “So, if I don’t agree with you; I’m going to be killed by her?” Roseluck motioned her head to gesture towards Jubilee, “And if I side with you, I have quit my job as a law officer and be permanently monitored, or until an alternative appears?”

“More or less.” Buckley replied.

“Well then, I have no reason to decline your offer. I don’t have suicidal tendencies and I would much prefer to live.” She tugged at her bonds again, “Can I go now?”

“Not exactly.” Buckley hopped off the desk and moved behind Roseluck, “We still need to talk about some details, such as who is going to manage you, or how you are going to compensate for your resignation from the force.” The rope constricting Roseluck’s hands started to loosen as he started to fumble with the vexing knot, “I have taken it upon myself to watch you, and I have negotiated with her,” Buckley pointed to Jubilee, “to reimburse you.”

Jubilee’s face and attitude soured a little when Buckley finished speaking. She hadn’t agreed to such things, she didn’t even know that Roseluck’s shared business existed before this conversation. Jubilee would have spoken out and contested Buckley’s lies, but she decided against it and continued with the act. However, if looks could kill, Buckley would be writhing on the floor and frothing at the mouth.

Buckley, however, hoped with all his heart that Jubilee wouldn’t throttle him afterwards. What he said now was mandate, and he would take full responsibility for anything said. A smile crept up on Roseluck as she thought about her captor endowing her, but she quickly forced it into a neutral expression, lest her new privileges be taken away. “Right, if you could, please wait outside. Padlock, would you please accompany her?” he scoffed at Buckley, but still obliged and grabbed Roseluck by her arm and led her outside the office. The next few words were an absolute surprise, Buckley expected Jubilee to shriek at him and leap down his throat and refuse to endow Roseluck. Instead, she remained in the corner, her Webley was still cradled in her loose hands, but it no longer drummed against the wall.

“Mr. Buckle,” She started, “Or I guess I should say Buckley, since we will be getting to know each other real soon. You have managed get yourself involved in quite an insidious operation; a deep, deep pit that will be difficult to get out of and I hope you will be willing to get dirty.” Jubilee pushed herself out of the corner and moved towards the desk, “I have to see about prolonging our deaths. You should start looking for leads in order to find Pedro, I’m sure you will have fun with that. Now, please get out of my office, you’ve made enough mess, you don’t need to spread it to my desk.” Buckley could almost taste the venom in her words.

Outside, the machinery stood still, but only for a few seconds. The worn conveyer belts and scratched metal stayed idle in the blissful silence as they waited to be started again. When they were, the cherries moved again from point A to point B in a swift, automatic motion. Roseluck watched in subtle awe as the assembly line of produce moved to their allocated areas, the smell of sour air invaded her nostrils and the chuffing machinery eliminated the silence in an instant. Her eyes burnt for a moment as they adjusted the thick cloud of cigarette smoke throughout the factory. Buckley hardly noticed the changed as he stepped outside the office, except for the prominent change in temperature which prompted him to reach into his jacket and retrieve the flask in his pocket. He unscrewed the lid and took a swig of the cheap scotch inside. It burnt, at first, when the sizzling liquid danced across his tastebuds, then the liquor went down in a quick swallow and warmed Buckley from the inside, “Roseluck?” he asked.

“Yes?” she replied as she wiped her fogging eyes.

“My house isn’t close by and I am going to have to ditch my car, what about your house?”

“Neither is mine.”

Buckley took a deep breathe in and released a long sigh, which was oozing with frustration, “Right, I’ll get a taxi- Padlock? Can I borrow those handcuffs?” he received a strange glance in reply, but he still procured the items, “Thanks. Even though you are under my management, Roseluck, I still need to make sure you can’t leave my supervision, so I will have to handcuff you to something before you sleep tonight. Do you understand?”

Roseluck nodded, but didn’t exactly agree with him. It was a reasonable thing to do, but she wasn’t planning on fleeing at this point in time, “I’ll call work and tell them I want to resign.” She said.

“And I’ll call a taxi, and tell them I want to go home.” Roseluck nodded again in response, as did Buckley in response to her nod. Padlock kept a keen eye on Roseluck, ensuring that she wasn’t leaking information to her co-workers as she spoke on the phone. Buckley doubted that she would deteriorate an agreement while under close inspection, and sure enough, Roseluck left her job without any problems or questions, just requests to return the equipment that was given to her. Both of them moved outside and waited for the taxi to arrive. The chilling wind assaulted both of their faces and hands, forcing them to dig their hands deep into their pockets and raise their collars to protect their necks.

An uncomfortable silence floated around both of them as they waited, providing enough time for them to realise the events that had just unfolded. As they thought about it, they both realised that in order to survive this criminal world, they needed to work together.