Jack Of All Trades ✓ | steampunk, dragons, trickery

Chapter 3.4: Dead End for Rocky

Jack crept down the stairs. He could see a lantern light moving and a broad shadow creeping after. Rocky went into the main office and began to rummage through some papers. Probably he was looking for something to link Knave Diamondo to Jack Ogswold somehow. But he was just a stupid henchman.

Or maybe the boss is stupid if he thinks he's going to find anything on Knave Diamondo here. Jack crept to the hall and saw the door was unlocked.

Step One, He smirked, trap the animal. He locked the door.

Damn it! Finch-James' panicked thought sprung into Jack's head. Rocky began to rummage through the papers and drawers faster as if now his life depended on it.

It did.

"Rocky Howards!" Jack called. "My old friend. How's the crotch doing?" he said with a laugh. Rocky came storming out of the room with a bunch of papers in his hand. None of them useful, at least not for him.

"It's Hollows!" He roared. "Where's the key to the safe?"

Jack scoffed. "Key to the safe?"

"Don't fool me, fool. We know who you are and we know you have it."

"Have what?"

"The crown jewel!"

Jack blinked at Rocky. "Listen, I think you might have had just one too many drinks—"

"Double Jacks," Rocky sneered, "Knave Diamondo, Jack of Diamonds, Prince Slayer, Jack Cogswold, Jack Ogswold, you have many names and I have proof you're the same person. I wonder what Palestone would think when he finds out tomorrow, or you can give me the key now and I won't tell."

Dungshit. Jack sighed and noticed Rocky slip his hand in his pocket. Something glistened in the lantern light—a weapon or a bluff. Shadows danced on the walls. He sure liked these white walls and didn't want to mess with them.

"Fine. I have the keys in the warehouse out back. I really don't want anymore trouble with the thing. It's been my burden this entire time. You understand, Rocky? A man's burden's gotten to be too heavy for him."

"You're lying. There is no key in no warehouse." Rocky pointed at him and curled his lip. "I ain't falling for that."

Jack shrugged. "Alright," He took out his knife and set in the floor, "there. Without that, only a chance kick like last time would get you. Compared to you, I'm rather scrawny."

Rocky's eyebrows wiggled as if his tiny brain was trying to work out if Jack was playing him or telling the truth. He threw the papers on the floor. "Take me there. If you're lying, I'll break your skinny little neck."

"Follow me," Jack said and grabbed the lantern. Then he took Rocky down the hall and out the back door. He unlatched the warehouse and pointed to a brown box. "In there. It's the gold key. You'll see it on top."

He was lucky that Rocky was stupid enough to fall for that. Jack closed the warehouse door and locked it.

Rocky turned, contorting his face in anger. "Why you—!"

Jack snuffed out the candle. Darkness was his friend. He could feel his old fighting instincts coming back. Just by sound he moved left, right, kicked Rocky in the crotch, and slipped away again as Rocky made a feeble grab. He fell to the ground. Jack was on him again and kicked his face. When hands came up to grab his legs, he kicked the crotch again.

"Mercy!" Rocky cried out.

"Shut up, dungshit," Jack muttered and kicked his face, stomped on his stomach, and kicked his crotch again, crunching the fingers that protected.

"Mercy!" Rocky squealed and writhed about. Jack just kept kicking him and kicking him until Rocky went silent, but he wasn't dead.

"Wake up, dungshit!" Jack hissed in his ear. From the nearby table—which he knew where everything was even in the dark—he grabbed a nail and poked Rocky's ear.

"Mer-cy!" Rocky cried, waking up. "Please, please, I beg you, please dammit, stop, please."

A rush of adrenaline filled Jack. He smirked as the energy traveled up and down his body. "Who told you about me? Huh?"

Rocky shook his head but said nothing.

"Answer me!" Jack barked in his ear. He grabbed Rocky up from the ground and rolled him, so he lay on his back. Laying a foot on his unprotected crotch he said, "Answer me or you lose your credentials!"

"Please, have mercy, please!" Rocky only cried. Jack realized the man was useless. He bent down and touched his left arm.

"You're pathetic," he spat. "I'll ask you one more time. Who told you about me?"

Rocky's eyes filled with fear.

If I tell, Norman's gonna kill me.

"Norman Fellows?" Jack said. Rocky gasped and quickly tried to compose himself, but he had already given the answer.

Norman Fellows was Jack's old partner and one who betrayed him.

Norman was right! He's Knave Diamondo! Rocky began to chuckle underneath until Jack stomped on his crotch so hard there was a crunch. Before he could wail too loud, Jack stomped on his throat.

"I know what you're thinking, but I have no associations with Knave Diamondo. You have the wrong man, and this is your demise. I don't kill people. It breaks my morals. But for you, I'll make an exception."

Desperation and fear touched Rocky's eyes as Jack strengthen the pressure on his throat. Rocky tried to say something, but nothing came out.

Not the right man? But Norman...

"You failed, Rocky Howards." Jack flipped him off, making sure the middle finger was the last thing he would see as his life faded.

After disposing of the body behind the warehouse, Jack returned to the office to find that someone had been in here while he was dealing with the idiot. It was most likely Finch-James. Papers strewn everywhere, drawers yanked out, but once he cleaned up, he found nothing was taken but a wad of fellings that Simon had left in the money drawer.

Petty theft because if you've come to thieve, you can't go home empty handed.

By the time Jack was back in bed, it was almost three in the morning. It didn't feel like that much time had passed, but as he lay there, he finally felt the exhaustion. With a sigh, he settled into his blankets. His mind drifted through the events of the day and sleep washed over him. He yawned and turned to his side.

"He did get one thing right," Jack mumbled, "the crown jewel is in the hands of Knave Diamondo." A smile crept up on his lips as he fell asleep.

That night, he dreamed of rolling green hills, an apple grove, and a little boy who realized that he could never go home again. The imposter had gone home in his place promising to return, but he never did. The broken promise led the little boy to live a false life. 

One day, seething with anger, the little boy took up a knife and killed the child that stole his parents. People called him the Prince Slayer, but the next day, no one ever saw him again.