𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝑜𝓃𝑒

"Those who tread among serpents, and along a torturous path, 

must use the cunning of the serpent"

- Thomas Becket - 

+ + + +

It was awfully silent in the Jones trailer. Both F.P. and Nellie were staring at the maps and pictures Jughead was pinning to the wall, connecting certain points with a red marker.

"Remind me again why I allow Nellie to see this?" Jughead shot at his father, not wanting to throw the man another look. His back was still turned towards the two spectators.

From the moment Nellie had entered the trailer, she'd noticed the tension was tangible in the air. Something didn't settle with her that apparently F.P. had convinced Jughead on sharing his theories with Nellie. She didn't know how much he had told the boy when she arrived but they were still in the middle of a discussion when F.P. had pulled her inside and showed his son's construction with pride.

The bad temper of Jughead didn't escape Nellie. He looked tired, rattled even. Dark bags contrasted starkly against his sickly pale skin. She remembered F.P. mentioning he had taken a trip to the Lodge's cabin but by the looks of it, he hadn't quite enjoyed himself in the woods.

"Respect, boy," F.P. remarked, squinting his eyes at the circle around Sunnyside Trailer Park on the map.

"Nellie is on our side. She wants Hiram Lodge to be over with."

Jughead scoffed at the revelation. "And how do you know Hiram?" he said, distrust clearly displayed on his face.

Nellie faced her dirty sneakers. How could she explain her past without actually having to confide anyone in the truth? She huffed. Her mother would say that the best way to convince people is to look them square in the eye, like you've got nothing to hide from them.

She looked up from her shoes and noticed both the Jones's staring at her. Jughead was frowning. His right eyebrow lifted to dare her to continue.

"I bumped into him in New York, got quite messy," Nellie explained, not quite ready to explain the whole deal. As she spoke, she lazily leaned back, observing her nails. It was better to hide behind a dangerous and vague image, something those Northsiders, as Sweet Pea had called them, would fear.

"So you came all the way here for your vendetta?" Jughead retorted. From the way he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his body language spoke off disbelief.

"That was just my luck," Nellie replied, letting her mouth curve into a dangerous smirk. "I wasn't planning on running into him. But I admit, it's easier to tackle him in Riverdale than it would be in New York. So if the chance presents itself, why not take it?"

Her eyes would've betrayed her, for she quickly glanced at F.P. who merely nodded in agreement. The older man slapped his son on the shoulder and brought the attention back to the plan.

"Enough with interrogating our ally, boy, let's get this theory pinched,"

With the three of them, they watched Hiram's recent moves; the Drive-In, the trailer park, the Register.

"It's clear he's bought the Register to keep the press silent," Jughead remarked, pointing at the location of the Register with his marker.

"He's taking over the Southside," F.P. added, following the red lines on the map with his index finger.

"But what for?" Jughead snapped, slamming his hands on the surface of the table.

"And what's with those mobsters?" he grunted, squinting at Kowalski's and Poutine's names scribbled down in the margin of the map. His hands contorted themselves in angry fists, barely able to relax as frustration ate Jughead alive.

F.P. send a worried look to his son but Jughead collected himself, running his hands quickly over his face. "Alright," he rearranged himself.

"Where would a man like Mr. Lodge get in touch with mobsters? Probably when he went to jail? Why was he there?" He reasoned out loud. His train of thought caused his eyes to be glued to the map in focus. His concentration was nowhere but on the theory about Hiram.

Nellie couldn't help but answer "Fraud,"

At her certain and quick answer, Jughead blinked in response. He was clearly surprised she knew the reason so easily, although he had captured the same idea from being surrounded by Veronica and her exasperations about her father. 

"Alright, and what do Kowalski and Poutine do?"

"Poutine was a restaurant owner," F.P remarked, "or that's at least what the article about his death said."

"And Kowalski?" Jughead continued.

F.P. shrugged but his movement was abruptly stopped when his eyes glistened with an idea. "Nellie, you said the man stays at the Five Seasons where you work?"

"He was still there yesterday, but I no longer serve his room," Nellie admitted, fearing the direction F.P.'s suggestion may take.

"Get back in his room and figure out what his business is." F.P. instructed, not aware of Nellie's disgusted look. "Keep your eye on him,"

"Dad, don't you know anyone at Shankshaw or Yonkers Penitentiary who could know Hiram?" Jughead continued, motivated by the sudden possibility that not everything was ruined for the Southside. They still stood a chance. 

"I'll ask around," F.P. concluded, his hand landing fatherly on Jughead's shoulder.

"Fine," Jughead sighed. "Now, that's what we'll do for now. I'm gonna check on Betty. Last night's events got us quite shaken. I want to make sure she's alright," Jughead ended the conversation. He left without much more, taking his Serpent jacket with him.

As soon as the sound of his engine disappeared, F.P. returned to Nellie. "You're cool with investigating Kowalski?"

Nellie bit her lip. Should she confide F.P. in her past with the man? Where he had tried to get her to say she was a Lodge? Where he tried to get his filthy hands on her?

"It's just that he's no joke, F.P. He has threatened me before... If he catches me snooping in his stuff, I don't know what he'll do,"

"I see..." F.P. said. He brought his finger to his chin, scratching the stubble. "I'll make sure you're safe, Nellie."

Nellie hesitated before she continued, "Besides, he already thinks I'm a Lodge... If he catches me investigating him, he will tell my father for sure. He'll probably think I am working for him or sorts,"

F.P. came closer, patiently laying his arm around Nellie's shoulder and pulling her closer. She could smell the heavy scent of his aftershave lingering in the worn leather of his jacket. 

"It's simple,Nellie. Don't get caught,"