It was about six days into the job when he found something he wasn't supposed to. This also happened to mark the point when the memories started getting foggy.

In retrospect, a bottle of rat poison and a small book were rather conspicuous objects to just be left lying around with the door hanging open. At the time he simply thought that maybe his new boss was just used to hiring blind people as security. His curiosity got the better of him, as it always did. What a shame that Javier passed by the room just as he started flicking through it and saw a stranger's name written in the back cover.

He'd learned on day one not to cross Javier, after a few of his clearly-terrified colleagues told him of the man's dealings with the criminal underworld: extortion, racketeering, illegal fighting tournaments and all that malarkey.

But then again, he'd never been known for making great life choices.

He'd asked who the stranger was, that was one thing he knew he'd done for certain. When Javier failed to give any answer other than a shrug and a wry smirk, he'd inquired further along the lines of why the stranger's book happened to be in Senor de la Cruz's possession, filled to the brim with his most famous songs.

That was probably the tipping point for Javier. Looking back, it wasn't really the best idea to interrogate his boss' second-in-command, especially when that second-in-command was rumoured to beat a man to death every alternate weekend. Once again, he'd demonstrated his perfect inability to keep his mouth shut.

There in the room, Javier had snarled at him to get back to work, the man very unsubtly massaging his knuckles as he did so. The thought of the book stayed in his mind for the rest of the day and all the way back home. It happened to dissipate however, when he stumbled onto the sight of the building he happened to live in trapped in a raging inferno, flames piling from every window and all its tenants standing outside to watch their livelihoods burn to the ground.

That was to say, all the tenants other than his wife.

And whilst the memory was foggy from that point on, he was fairly certain he briefly caught sight of Javier standing at the scene, a bit further away from everyone else.

Still smiling that wry smirk.

5 Nights Until Dia de los Muertos

"So where are we going?"

"Ernesto de la Cruz's mansion. We're going to break in, don't you remember?"

"…I'll be honest, no, not really. I thought you said you were just stealing a few files."

"Which are in his mansion."

Victoria desperately searched for an excuse.

"Tonight? You're doing it tonight?"

"Why not? There's no time like the present, after all."

She briefly considered withdrawing herself from their deal. Chances were it wouldn't be the first time she'd be doing it.

"So now it's not only thievery, but breaking and entering as well?"

"No, of course not. What do you think we went to the studio for? The fun of it?" One of his cockroaches poked out of his sleeve, depositing the key it had taken from Héctor into his hand. "This little item here is all we need for a successful heist."

"But we're still uninvited, with no permission to be on his property. It is, technically, still breaking and entering."

"You're remarkably quick on the uptake."

She gave the back of his head a stony look.

"Please understand that if you're glaring at me, as I've noticed you usually do when things go silent, I'm not sure why. I was trying to calm you down using factually incorrect statements. It's what friends supposedly do, remember?"

She'd brought that on herself, she supposed.

"Despite your misguided attempts to put me at ease, you're still committing a crime here, Anton" she growled.

"We're committing a crime" he corrected her in that infuriatingly casual way. "Partnership, remember?"

"Oh, no" she snapped, trying to ignore the fluttering of panic, "No. You may be able to just disappear all of a sudden the moment things go south, but I can't. If I'm caught committing a crime, everything my family worked for, the shoes – everything will be ruined. The family name tarnished."

She didn't dare imagine the disappointed look on her father and grandmother's face if she was ever escorted to the door by police and publicly mocked for trying to steal from a worldwide celebrity. A celebrity músico, no less.

"Oh, get your head out of your family's backsides. They'll be none the wiser. Besides, Héctor will be needing this returned soon and I'd rather not let him down this year."

Victoria arched an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"Didn't you notice the discolouration of his bones? I'd say he's got just a few weeks left, tops."

She suddenly felt horrible. "And you can't…?"

"Whilst I may be a detective with unparalleled investigatory skills, I'm not an immaculate deity. There's nothing I can do for him, except maybe return this key as quickly as possible so he can get back to his scheming."

"To cross the Marigold Bridge?"

"No, to rob a bank. Yes, to cross the Marigold Bridge, what else?"

She didn't appreciate his condescending remark, but had little time to snap back at him as he suddenly shoved his bow tie into her hands.

"Hold this" he declared, undoing the top buttons of his dress shirt and opening his jacket and waistcoat.

"What on earth are you doing?" she demanded, slightly worried. She wouldn't put it past him to just strip off in the middle of an empty street at eleven o'clock at night.

"It's a disguise."

"You've just made yourself look a bit messier!"

"Well, in the unlikely event we're caught in the act, they'll be looking for a messy man, won't they? Not the impeccably-dressed gentleman I usually tend to be."

Oh, how hard it was for her not to roll her eyes.

"The bright red might help them see through your cunning ruse."

"You're rather overestimating the intelligence of hired muscle, my dear."

"And stop it with the "my dear" stuff. I'm at least fifteen years older than you."

All Victoria knew about the Plaza del Cruz was that it was smack bang in the centre of the Arts District, a hive for all the wannabe musical stars to congregate. The luxurious five-storey home of the man himself was viewable from all angles, lit up with spotlights that magnified the brightness of the white paint.

All the budget seemed to have been spent on the front of the building, as, approaching from the rear, little could be seen except the odd light turned on near a balcony. The rest was just a nebulous black mass which towered over them and made Victoria further regret her choices.

"Okay" Anton said, removing his jacket and dumping it unceremoniously on the ground without looking at where it would fall. No wonder the thing was so filthy. "This is the part where we hop the fence. You coming?"

And without waiting for an answer, he ran at the rickety barrier and cleared it in a single leap. There was a split-second silence, followed by a sharp crunching sound and another muffled "ouch".

Steeling her reserve, she removed her work apron and hoisted up her dress before climbing over in a more dignified fashion. Anton was standing by, examining the now-cracked lenses on his glasses.

"Shame. I really liked those" he said quietly. He looked up to see her lifting herself over and his grin widened. "See, now you're getting into the spirit of things. Need any help?"

She shrugged off his offered hand, landing firmly on her feet. Despite what she was doing, she couldn't help but flash him a vaguely smug smile.

"No need to be like that" he said begrudgingly, flexing his fingers and heading towards the double doors at the other end of the garden. The path along the middle of the giant lawn was lit up by small solar lights and there was a lightly-trickling fountain in the middle. Both of them broke into a steady jog, the seriousness of the situation finally settling in for Victoria.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate. There was no going back now, not really. She was in private property and she couldn't let herself by caught. Reaching the double doors, she pressed her back against the wall to make sure no-one could see her if they happened to look out of a window.

Then she noticed Anton wasn't with her.

Her head nearly swivelled off of her neck as she rapidly searched left and right, panicking. His black shirt was much harder to see in the darkness, she had to give him that, but it didn't make her job any easier.

"Anton!" she hissed, laying eyes on him at last. He was by a small, cream-painted structure a few metres away, fiddling with the lock. "What are you doing?"

The lock came loose and he swung the door open.

"Going into the garage, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"But – "

"Hey! You!"

Both of them turned to see a heavyset skeleton in a black suit and sunglasses storm up, flashing a torch at them.

"This is private property!" he snarled. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Victoria opened her mouth to speak several times, but repeatedly ended up closing it. It didn't matter if she wasn't in possession of a physical stomach, the urge to throw up was too strong.

"Oh, well, we're gardeners" Anton responded calmly, his voice muffled as he walked into the garage like nothing had gone wrong.

Victoria just put her head in her hands.

"Gardeners" the bodyguard repeated disbelievingly. "And what gardeners show up at half eleven at night?"

"Enthusiastic ones."

"Don't you move" the guard barked, beaming the light directly into Victoria's eyes despite her not doing anything. She couldn't help but feel somewhat irritated by his macho, overly-threatening manner. A scraping noise caught both of their attention as Anton backed out of the shed, dragging something along in front of him. "You're both coming with me."

He stormed towards Anton and reached for his collar.

Big mistake.

With only inches to spare before being grabbed, Anton whirled around, a folded solid oak lawn chair in his hands. The chair crashed against the bouncer's head, slightly splintering upon impact and causing Victoria to jump.

The man flew backwards off of his feet, hurtling a good distance before landing face-down in the gravel. He groaned, but didn't get back up.

"There we go." Anton said casually, letting the chair drop. He turned to face Victoria. "You're glaring again. Is there anything I've yet done that doesn't annoy you, or do you just like to look unhappy for fun?"

"How about a little warning before you attack someone next time?"

Anton's head tilted.

"If I'd announced out loud that I was about to hit him with a chair, Victoria, I think he may have been rather inclined to duck."

She just continued glaring, so he simply shrugged his shoulders and headed towards her, still dragging the chair along.

"I'll unlock this, thank you" she whispered, not wanting him to make yet more noise whilst they were going through the back. "Keys?"

His brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, before realisation dawned and he shook his head.

"Oh no, those keys were for the garage."

She blinked.

"Then just how do you expect us to get in, Anton?"

"Simple" he surmised. And before she could even think of stopping him, he raised the chair again and swung like it was a rounders bat, whacking the doors by the handles. The flimsy decorative things burst open easily. Chances were de la Cruz had believed an intruder wouldn't have gotten past his security, not bothering to tighten his protection anywhere else.

Victoria tutted to herself. What a lazy man.

She followed him through the doors into a spacious cloak room as he clicked his fingers.

"I've got it." The room after that was a giant kitchen, most likely for party preparations, full of nothing but metal benches and ovens. "We should establish a code."

The hanging ladles, spatulas and other cutlery glinted in the moonlight as they creeped along.

"And just how would that work?"

"A snappy phrase, perhaps. For instance, Gustavo is a fish."

She only just held back a snort of laughter. He either didn't notice or didn't care, continuing to speak.

"I'm a smooth talker, as I'm sure you've noticed. The unfortunate fellow outside would have come up behind me, upon which I would said by the way, Gustavo is a fish. Then, whilst he was temporarily confused, I would have hit him with the chair."

Victoria just shook her head, smirking as they came to another door, leading onto a hallway with a ridiculously long rug lining it. They checked both ways for incoming guards before heading towards the stairwell.

"I'm going to ignore the ridiculous ideas you like to have from now on."

"Fair enough. You're missing out, though."

They reached the top of the stairs, Victoria taking the time to look at the golden banisters with intense dislike. What a waste of money.

"This is where we momentarily part ways" Anton declared. "You stay here and keep watch; come find me if someone uncovers or blocks our escape route. I'm going to head up to the study and get the files."

Victoria nodded, partially glad that she wasn't expected to do anything more, turning around to observe the pitch-black hallway.

De la Cruz's study, from what Anton could tell via his intense spying sessions, was facing the front of the mansion so as to give an eagle-eyed view of the egregious statue in the square. The window spanning the entire wall was a dead giveaway, making the man perfectly visible to the ever-speculating press and fawning media whenever he was at his desk.

In a way, this was perfect for Anton's means. At least he was certain he was breaking into the correct room this way.

He briefly considered smashing in his second door of the night, but the voice of reason argued that he was probably pushing his luck this way, what with now being so deep into the mansion. Said voice had also decided to sound like Victoria, which was an odd decision for his psyche to make, but it suited him just fine. The only downside was that it had to fight with all the other ones for space.

He tried the handle. It was locked.

Crafty buggers. They had no sense of fair play; they hadn't even warned the thief in advance. Looked like he'd be doing things the old-fashioned way.

His thoughts wandered back to his new partner as he worked. Stern type, not a barrel of laughs. Pretty, in an owlish sort of way. Also a shoemaker with a pathological but unexplainable hatred of all things musical.

He'd noticed whenever the slightest resemblance of a tune popped up, be it a tapping of a toe or a few notes from Gustavo's pathetic excuse for an orchestra. She'd flinch or stiffen; most likely not even aware she was doing it.

Anton had noticed every time. He knew people looked at him like he constantly had his head in the clouds, but he had an eye for these sorts of subtle signs. If suspects thought you weren't paying attention, they'd become more relaxed. If they became more relaxed, they'd make more mistakes.

The lock gave way and he slowly pushed the door open, hoping the floor boards wouldn't creak too loudly as he entered. The room was lined with memorabilia and rewards, de la Cruz's stupid smile beaming at him from every angle.

"Stop smiling" he told a particularly garish record cover, but unfortunately it didn't listen. Oh, well.

The desk in front of him was topped with a few forms, a pencil pot and a typewriter. Anton knew that people who'd died before the invention of computers preferred to keep it old-school, but why a millionaire guitarist couldn't invest in an IT guy was beyond his understanding.

All the desk's drawers were empty, save for one at the very bottom. Inside was a simple red notebook, tattered, frayed and strangely familiar.

Interesting for a materialistic man like De la Cruz to keep such a dog-eared thing with him all this time. Flicking through the first few pages he recognised a few lyrics from the man's most famous songs, most likely drafts judging by the constant scribbling-out of the odd word. But a cursory glance at one of the documents atop the desk (a record deal set at an extortionately high amount) consisted of handwriting that varied in practically every way.

Whilst the deal was signed with the bold cursive of a man who was used to giving far too many autographs, the notebook was sloppy and disjointed, with much less love and care put into it. And in the back cover was a name that someone had obviously attempted to rub out. There were multiple guesses as to why De la Cruz would vandalise his own notebook like this, but one was thing was for certain: that name, whatever it was, certainly didn't start with the letter "e".

He slipped the book into his breast pocket, saving it for later inspection.

"Hey!" A sharp voice much too loud for indoor use roused him from his thoughts. Was this every bodyguard's new catchphrase or something? Fighting back the pang of irritation, he turned to see another one looking at him accusingly.

The man's face split into a visceral grin that could have rivalled his own. "Thief, huh? Guess it's a good thing, in a way. I needed the exercise."

He cracked his knuckles. Had he been in possession of any eyes, Anton probably would have freed his inner Victoria and rolled them. Instead, he settled on putting his hands behind his back and gripping the chair in front of the desk.

"Gustavo is a fish" he said simply.

The bodyguard's smile slid from his face like melted butter and he opened his mouth to say something.

Now that things had settled slightly, Victoria wasn't sure whether she liked or disliked guard duty. It was the safer option for certain; hiding in one area carried less of a risk that wandering directly into a guard's patrol route. But once again, it was clearly the task for the least competent.

Stand and stare at a doorway. Real mentally taxing stuff.

Trying not to look like a petulant child, she straightened herself up as she stood there in the shadows, jittering at the slightest noise.

A glint of something caught her eye. An eerie sort of green light, emanating from behind a set of double doors at the far end of the corridor. Giving the bottom of the stairs one last cursory glance, she quickly but quietly ran up to them, putting an ear to the edge of one to make sure no-one was on the other side. She slowly pushed them open just far enough to squeeze through, finding herself standing by the edge of a highly-detailed pool.

Along the wall above her head was a balcony, which interconnected with another with a pair of stone steps that led deeper into the mansion. The water of the pool was still, almost unnaturally so, as if it hadn't been disturbed by anything other than cleaning chemicals for decades. The tiles at the bottom were needlessly ornate, a mosaic lining the bottom of flowing skulls and mermaids, but any artistic beauty it may have had was ruined by the bright neon lighting around the room which threw sharp blades of deep blue and lime green all over, lighting the cavernous and rather bare ceiling above.

"…of course, the Sunlight Spectacular is going ahead…" The deep tones of a male echoed from directly above. She hadn't realised she'd walked so far forward, until she found herself quickly moving back under the cover of the balcony. She could only catch certain words as it was joined by another man's, this time much scratchier and more worn.

"Sure, sure. You want me on lookout again?"

They grew clearer as she slowly shuffled in the opposite direction Anton had taken, straining to hear as best she could.

"Yes. Héctor hasn't made his monthly appearance yet, so it'll only be a matter of time until he shows his face, stinking the place up as usual."

Victoria frowned. Héctor? Not the same one from the studio, surely?

"What'll it be this year, then? Broken leg? Cracked tibia?"

"I'll leave that to your discretion."

"The lads'll be happy about that."

"What can I say? It's Dia de los Muertos soon. I'm just a charitable soul."

"We'd better make this one the best, mind. The sod's pretty close to fading, from what I could tell the last time I saw him."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. All yellowed."

Victoria felt her fist clench. What really were the probabilities of there being two Héctors in the nearby district, both weathered-looking and likely to be forgotten?

"And Imelda?"

"Still none the wiser. Dunno why you're expecting something to change. Why, you want me to pay the ol' Rivera household another visit?"

Every sentence was like a weight being placed on Victoria's chest. Imelda Rivera. There was no way they could be referring to somebody else. But what was the connection?

"That may be for the best, yes. Don't forget your crowbar, of course. And maybe just get right into the beating this time."

"So long as you're signing my pay check, I'll go in a tutu for all I care. Anyway, I'm gonna go get a drink first."

She slowly began to double back, keeping her eyes in the back of her head as she heard the two men begin to walk down what she assumed to be the stone steps, if the speed of their footfalls were anything to go by. From what she could make out, this man with the gravelly voice had been the same person in the garden three nights ago. He'd mistaken her for her grandmother, but the motive for his intrusion still remained unclear. Why did her family need to be threatened by the employee of Mexico's most famous guitarist?

Maybe Héctor was linked in some way…but no, she'd never heard anyone in the family mention his name, neither in life nor death.

She was almost back at her makeshift watchpoint when the door to Ernesto's study flung open with incredible force, a shocked cry accompanying the bodyguard who flew through it, one intact arm clutching his skull as he slid along the polished marble tiles.

Standing over him was Anton, holding yet another chair and his grin looking particularly menacing in the darkness.

"Good news, Victoria. I think the code works."

"I told you I heard something!" the guttural voice snarled, sounding more like a roar than a shout. "You lot, this way now!" The sounds of multiple footsteps pounded the floor above them, drawing closer to the stairwell.

"I hope you got what you wanted" Victoria breathed, reaching for his arm, "because I don't think we're going to have much more of a chance to look around."

She grabbed him and dragged him along, aware of the footsteps getting louder. Dashing back along the corridor, returning to the stairway and hurtling down the steps two at a time, she ignored his undignified cries as he stumbled over his own feet, focused on dragging him behind her no matter the cost.

Upon entering the kitchen her metaphorical heart stopped in her chest as the imposing figure of the bodyguard from the garden stepped into view, suit askew and teeth bared.

Building up the strength as she ran, Victoria hoisted up her dress and let loose a kick as she leaped at him. It landed a bit lower than she'd anticipated, hitting his shin instead of his nether regions, but it had the desired impact. He bent forward, howling and she followed it up by elbowing him in the back of the head before shoving her way past, hand still tight around Anton's arm.

The back garden was bathed in sudden, blinding white as searchlights flared up one by one, illuminating them as they continued to run. The troop that had been chasing them down the stairs filed out behind them; lead by a silver-haired man with a particularly ugly scar.

"I swear I've seen that fellow somewhere" Anton murmured, but she paid him no attention, instead trying to focus on how they were going to get up and over the fence in such a short space of time.

"The garage" he muttered in her ear as guards began to encircle them, some barking into walky-talkies whilst others pulled out truncheons. Something metallic was pressed into her hands from behind. Feeling its grooves, she recognised it easily as a key.

"What?"

"In the garage" he said slowly, "there is a car."

"It won't help. I can't drive."

"Shouldn't be a problem, I –" he cut off abruptly and his voice returned to its normal high volume. "What do you mean, you can't drive?"

"Am I speaking code? I can't drive, Anton."

Julio had always managed deliveries, no matter the context of whether his heart was beating or not. Victoria had been too busy in life to pay any attention to learning; it wasn't like she really ever left Santa Cecilia, anyway. Death hadn't provided any further reason either, as the busiest areas of the city was strictly pedestrians and trams only.

"Then you'll have to learn quickly. I'm going to hold off these hired gorillas in a highly spectacular fashion whilst you ready our escape."

"All I know is that the steering wheel controls the direction, and that was just off-handedly mentioned in a magazine once." The bodyguards were stock-still now, waiting for the go-ahead from the silver-haired man, who was standing there and watching them argue with a shrewd look in his eyes.

"You're halfway there, then. Ignore everything else and just focus on the wheel and the two pedals. Press one pedal – you stop. Press the other and you go. Simple, really."

"Oh, God."

"Don't worry. On certain occasions, my most careless plans work out for the best."

"Is this one of those occasions?"

He turned to survey the situation. "Not really, no."

The silver-haired man stepped forward and they both tensed, expecting the worst.

"Hey there" he growled rather casually, "The name's Javier. Care to explain what you've been doing on private property?"

Anton, of course, was the first to speak.

"Oh, seeing the sights, hitting your colleagues with chairs, that sort of thing. I don't suppose you could let us leave and pretend this never happened, could you?"

Javier just smiled a toothy grin that wasn't remotely friendly.

"Worth a try, I suppose" Anton conceded, clearing his empty throat and waiting for what would happen next.

"Tell you what. I noticed you've been snooping around the boss' office. He doesn't take too kindly to thievery, so hand over whatever you stole and maybe we'll let you off with a light beating rather than getting the police involved."

Victoria put a hand to her chest, wincing.

There's panic again. My old friend.

"Can't do that, I'm afraid. Against my philosophy."

Javier reached down and steadily drew a vicious-looking meat knife from his boot.

"Give it back" he said calmly, his entire posture rigid and ready to attack. "Or I'll throw this so hard, your girlfriend here will be skewered to the fencing."

"I'm not his girlfriend" Victoria blurted.

"She's my criminal-scaring utility" Anton agreed. "But regardless, I'm not giving you the chance to do that. If you don't let us go, I'm afraid I'm going to have to hurt you."

Javier snorted. The ring of bodyguards echoed with sycophantic chuckles.

"Sure, tough guy. And how d'you plan on doing that?"

Anton straightened his bow tie and checked his cuffs before speaking.

"Well, you see –"

And then without warning, without any recognisable signs of what he was about to do, he took a large step forward and punched Javier across the face. Every spectator moved as one, Victoria scanning the gaps between the bodyguards for exits as they gasped and converged as one.

Javier recovered with a snarl as Anton attempted to descend on him, straightening himself with a well-aimed to kick to the detective's face as he threw himself back upwards.

Victoria mustered her upper body strength as two of the bodyguards made for her, shoving one roughly out of the way as he came forward for a grab. The second managed to snag her dress as she ran for the garage; she responded by throwing a fist out behind her and successfully managed to make it land against some part of his face.

The garage was thankfully close, though she could hear the footfalls of two more behind her; having decided to have gone for her rather than Anton. The door was still open, broken fragments of chair strewn in front of it. She leaned down and grabbed a piece as she reached the car – a cream-coloured item with blacked-out windows and a finish that had been shined within an inch of its life – swinging it around with her body at the nearest target.

Guard number one grunted as the makeshift club hit him in the side of the face, flailing around in response and accidentally hitting number two in the process. Using the distraction, she slotted the key into the door and allowed herself a quick sigh of relief as it unlocked perfectly and swung open on the first try.

Her attempt to slam the door shut behind her as she climbed into the driver's seat was hindered as the frame was blocked by guard number two's wrist, who had since shoved his way to the front. Adrenaline clashed violently with her urge to stop as she slammed it repeatedly on the bone, hoping guard would see sense and detach it over his pained cries. He eventually did, allowing her to turn the lock back on and slide the key into the ignition.

Wham. Something hit the left-hand side of her face, digging tight into her skull and eye socket. It took tremendous effort to pull it off, the bodyguards outside now banging on the windscreen, the echoes so dull and throbbing that it felt as if they were inside her own head. Digging her fingers under the object, she finally managed to prize it off amidst the cacophony – the hand had regained sentience, now making a grab for her again as she held it a distance.

Half-focused on the hand and half-focused on her escape, she put slotted the keys in the ignition with her right hand as she wrestled the enemy appendage with her left. The engine came to life, humming appreciatively amongst all the rest of the noise.

Her left eye was covered as it moved around to the front of her head. Blindly hitting pedals with her foot, the world lurched back and forth as the car struggled to do anything correctly. A sudden roaring as she was pressed back into the seat told her she'd finally hit the right one, the hand slackening its grip slightly, as the force caused it to lose control.

One of the guards had rolled off the side of the bonnet as the vehicle came shooting out of the garage, but the other was two slow. A number of successive banging noises across the roof and the sound of a muffled yell made it clear he'd been thrown along the exterior and performed quite a spectacular flip off of the end.

The rest of the guards scattered as she approached, foot pressed into another pedal with more force than necessary and hoping that it was the correct one. Anton and Javier only briefly paused in response to the oncoming two tonnes of metal, giving Anton enough time to poke Javier in the eye and break out of the headlock he was in as Javier cried out in pain.

"Move, quickly" he grunted as he opened the door beside her. She tried her best to shuffle along, really, she did, but when she was wearing a full-length dress it was a tad difficult not to get caught on something. There was an awkward ripping sound as the hem caught on a thin black stick poking out from underneath the dashboard. Anton paid it no heed, moving the stick in a certain direction and letting the car fly forwards. Victoria was knocked back again, this time falling almost upside-down into her seat, her air bun loose and glasses askew. She sincerely hoped her glare was still efficiently communicative when she was nearly on her head.

"Hold on" Anton said simply, grin illuminated by the reflection of the car's headlights. Victoria straightened her glasses and began to utter a "what?" before they rammed the fence and she was sent backwards for a third time.

It was official. Once they were out of here, he was getting a boot lick for every one of this car's sudden movements. She was never getting in a vehicle like this again, that was for sure.

A single unfortunate bodyguard tried to cling onto the back of the car as they revved out onto the street and was forced to let go as Anton deliberately swerved into the curb and his side was scraped along the rough tarmac. Victoria forced herself not to watch it in the mirror, but Anton happily hummed along as he examined the spectacle.

"Fifteen seconds" he commented, once the man finally relinquished his grip and rolled to a stop behind them, slowly growing smaller and smaller until he became a dot on the road behind. "That was a whole twelve seconds longer than I expected him to last."

Victoria didn't answer, instead checking to make sure none of her bones were missing and that the rip in her dress wasn't too obvious. It was right up the front, the part which would normally have been covered up by her work apron.

Which I left by the fence when we broke in, she realised. I won't be able to go back and get it now.

"I understand that I forgot to use our code phrase just then" Anton said happily, as if the whole evening had gone off without a single hitch. "But please remember that this is a learning practice."

"What happened with Javier?" she asked, deciding there were bigger topics to address.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"He had you in a headlock. Weren't you able to beat him?"

"I like to think I beat him in a moral sense, as in he's a hired thug for a hack songwriter and I'm not. But in a literal sense, no, I didn't. I was, as they say, steamrollered."

Silence. It was surprisingly uncomfortable, given that she'd always loved them.

"I left my work apron."

Anton raised a finger. It struck her that he now looked oddly bare with just a dress shirt, suspenders and bow tie. "Hold that thought for a moment please, Victoria."

He took both hands off the steering wheel; the vehicle swerved dangerously as she leaned across and tried to establish control on her own. There was a rustling sound from the backseat as Anton's head re-emerged, the struggling hand of the bodyguard wriggling in his grasp before he rolled down the window and tossed it out like a plastic wrapper.

"Continue."

"I took off my work apron when we jumped the fence. It had the logo and name of the family business on it." She felt embarrassed, like a young child who'd wrote all over the walls and only just now realised their mistake.

Anton flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, not taking his eyes off the road.

"You're a wonderful burglar" he sighed sarcastically.

Victoria immediately felt her defensive barriers reinforce themselves.

"Apologies if I haven't had a lot of practice breaking into people's homes, Anton. What was your plan again, exactly? Hop into a garden, break into a garage, use a chair to smash down a door, then just hope no-one heard it and you'll simply waltz in?"

Whatever direction they were driving in, the night air was becoming thick with a hazy smog. The car began to lurch more as the road stopped being flat and was replaced by rough, loose cobblestones that bounced around beneath the wheels.

"Well, it worked to a point, didn't it?"

Angry at many things, but mostly herself, Victoria fixed her gaze on the windscreen, her glare so intense she was fairly certain she could burn a hole through it.

The odd building passed by, but all of them were heavily vandalised or had weeds and ivy growing from every available window. One didn't have a roof, but instead the burnt remains of a frame that was still smoking at the edges.

"In any case, there's good news and bad news."

She decided to stay silent, her jaw twitching.

"The good news is that I found a substantial piece of evidence in De la Cruz's study for when we accuse him of plagiarism."

He slid the notebook out of his inner pocket ever so slightly, just so she could see, before moving it back out of sight.

"The bad news is, your apron combined with security footage means he has evidence of our crimes. What with being a widely-adored man of such high influence, the entire police force will be looking for us and we are now officially wanted criminals."

It was what she was expecting to hear. It didn't make her any less angry though.

"And my family?" she growled.

"Oh, here we go with the family again. What about them?"

"If that músico probably knows who I am by now, all my family will be aware of what I've been a part of once the posters are up."

"And all of that will be forgotten about once we hand in this notebook and De la Cruz is exposed as a fraud. The news will be too busy chasing his limousine down every street to keep paying us any attention."

The word street echoed in Victoria's mind. Speaking of, where were they? She didn't recognise any of the worn-down structures. None gave an air of natural decay like in Shantytown, but looked more like they'd been violently torn down and shredded apart by rabid animals.

"Los Odiados" Anton said nonchalantly, obviously catching onto her unspoken question.

Just when she thought her day couldn't get any worse.

She was in the worst depths of the Land of the Dead, where all the shunned evil resided. Murderers, rapists, war criminals…their place of residence in the afterlife was the one thing they all had in common.

"We're in Los Odiados" she stammered. This was new. Rarely did she stammer, worried or not.

"Yes, we've established that" Anton replied. She didn't even notice her lack of an attempt to snap back at him.

"This is…this is bad."

"It's not the best, I'll admit. Living conditions leave a lot to be desired, but the police will never come down here looking for us. They're not very well-liked around these parts, as you've probably guessed, so they just leave this hole alone to slowly rot."

"I'm really not comfortable with how calm you are about this."

"I've been down here a couple times before, waiting for some overzealous client to get off my back. It's all a matter of finding information and keeping to yourself, really. Just let them think you're down here for a reason: no serial mugger approaches you if he thinks you've committed genocide."

"And…have you?"

"That's a tale for another day." His head slowly pivoted to face her and she honestly couldn't tell how much of a joke that was.