Rufus grunted as he placed the wooden crate on top of the others. The heavy lifting never got easier, but he imagined the crates as giant money bags, and that made it worth the effort.
He jumped slightly at the sound of metal rattling. Turning around, he scanned the large warehouse, shrouded in shadow. Mice... probably. He turned back to the task at hand, hastening to place the last crate onto the pile. Then he reached for the large tarp lying nearby.
“How kind of you to hide my cargo for me,” a man called casually from behind him.
“Ah, Maurice, I should have known you’d be stopping by,” Rufus replied coolly, throwing the tarp over the boxes. “I’m afraid Louis wouldn’t appreciate me giving away his special powder, but you’re always welcome to buy some off of him.”
Rufus turned to greet his rival, a lanky dark-haired man. His mustache curved with his mouth as he sneered at Rufus.
“I would, but sadly, I forgot my wallet at home. But you know what I didn’t forget?” Maurice reached slowly for the holster at his waist.
Rufus caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. His own hand darted under his jacket, and both men drew their pistols in a flash.
“Ah, I see you’ve finally got the latest model,” Rufus commented.
“Yes, it’s quite efficient,” Maurice replied lightly. “Though I could best you with my old one as well.”
“Surely not,” Rufus refuted. “I’m willing to bet I could get the upper hand over you with no pistol at all.”
“Mayhaps, but surely close-combat wouldn’t be quite as equal with your physique.”
“Surely you aren’t backing down from a duel because of that.”
“Surely the only reason you would be suggesting such a duel is because you fear my reflexes more than my fighting capabilities.”
“Then you do not fear my fighting abilities more than my reflexes?” Rufus raised an eyebrow at Maurice, his eyes fixed on his opponent’s gun.
“I mean no offense when I say this, but I do not fear any part of your person.”
“Then shall we settle this matter without our guns?”
“Yes, let’s.”
At once, the men tossed their guns to the ground, the sound of their impact echoing through the warehouse. Then in a rush of flapping jackets, they each drew a large knife from their pockets.
“Well, great minds think alike, don’t they?” Maurice chuckled a little.
“They do indeed,” Rufus agreed. “One must be prepared for the worst.”
“Yes, indeed. Though we both know I have always been better skilled with knives, and I would hate for this fight to end so soon.”
“Really? I would have expected you to wish it to end and you to gain the cargo as soon as possible.”
“On the contrary, I enjoy a good scuffle.”
“Well, then, shall we even the playing ground even more and rid ourselves of these weapons?”
“That sounds intriguing, but if we are to rid ourselves of the knives, should we not also empty our pockets of anything else we might use? To ensure we are totally fighting man vs. man.”
“That would only be right,” Rufus agreed. “But I must be going soon, so we should hurry up.”
The men threw their knives down and then spent a few moments emptying their pockets and jackets and belts of all other objects.
“Now, then,” Rufus said as he patted himself down once more for anything he forgot. “Shall we begin?”
Maurice was about to say, “Yes, let’s,” when they were rudely interrupted by several officers, who burst out from behind a pile of old barrels.
“Hands in the air!” one of the officers demanded, aiming his own pistol at the two men. Rufus and Maurice hesitantly raised their hands up.
A while later, the two crooks had been loaded up and sent to the slammer. Two of the officers stayed behind to ensure the cargo made it safely to containment.
“Well, that was lucky,” Officer Rosen commented as they stood outside the warehouse doors.
“Yes, it was,” Officer Quentin agreed. They sat in silence for a moment until Officer Quentin noticed his young prodigee’s eyes were fixed on the horizon. “What are you looking at?” he questioned.
“Oh, nothing, really, sir,” Rosen said awkwardly. “It’s just that… well, I just noticed you can see the ladder above the buildings now.”
“Oh, can you?” Quentin raised his eyebrows as he searched the skyline. “Why, yes, I see it now.”
“What on earth do you think drove him to take on such a feat?” Rosen wondered. “It’s completely bonkers.”
Quentin shrugged, noticing the sound of hooves coming down the alley. “He’s probably on the same stuff those blockheads were fighting over. Come on, let’s get it stored away so it doesn’t give anyone else crazy ideas.”
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