"You are correct." Champ spoke.
He turned around and placed two glasses in front of each of us. Jack picked his up immediately, downing it in one go, while I took a tiny little sip, scrunching my nose in disgust.
"That kind of day I see." Champ nodded, sitting down.
Strangely enough, despite this place being known to the public as a national brand of bourbon whiskey distilleries, I don't drink. I've never liked it and I never will. I leaned over to
Jack, sliding it over to him.
"You can have it." I muttered.
Before I could move my hand off the glass, he went to grab it, his hand now holding mine. It seems he didn't mean too because he quickly moved it away, like my touch my electric and I shocked him. Not going to lie, it hurts my feelings a little, but I'm going to ignore that. I moved my hand away and he picked up, also downing that one, muttering a thankyou.
Champ grabbed an envelope that sat beside him, sliding it over to the two of us. Jack picked it up and slid a single piece of paper out of it, placing it in the space between us so we could both read it.
Hello, hello, dear friends. I am planning on setting two
bombs for the delightful Raymond Herschel and
whoever else by him or tries to intervene. I'm sure
you are well aware who the man is. Tomorrow is the
day they will go off. It doesn't give you a lot of time, and
that's exactly the way I want it. I just wanted to make
sure you were well aware of what I'm going to do.
It also doesn't hurt to know that you lot will be shitty
about it. Shitty that you know and can't do anything
about it. So anyway, good luck trying to find me.
Sincerely — H..a! You thought I would sign my name.
Absolute fuckwards.
"Well, he's sounds delightful." I spoke, picking up the paper, looking at handwriting.
"Agent Brandy..." that's me, to be clear "...we will need your classic diffusing bomb skills. We need to find out where Mr Herschel will be, make sure the two of you follow his every move."
"Will do. ..." I put the paper down, standing up "...Just let me go get my things."
And by things, I mean my trusty knife and guns.
"Yes sir." Jack stood up from his chair, going out of the room to grab his lasso and guns.
"Also, dress in more casual clothing. Do not alert the public just yet, but do alert Mr Herschel. Do try and get him out of his routine. This person would most likely know his routine and placed his bombs accordingly."
I walked into my office, rushing over to the cupboard in the corner. I pressed down on the door, to opening with a slight pop. Ah, here they are. My knives, guns. Quite the collection I have. Also a few spare sets of clothes if I ever needed them. And right now I do.
I grabbed out a loose black button up and matching trousers. I laid them on my desk and grabbed out a holster that wraps around my stomach. I tucked the gun into its pocket, along with my two knives. A knock at my door filled my ears and I cleared my throat.
Shared Past | Jack Whiskey
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