Nearly Costly Mistakes: Miami Vice: Crockett x Tubbs

Untitled Part 1

The exoskeleton of the formerly industrious warehouse rose ominously against the otherwise serene and quiet backdrop of long vacated lots. The cool Miami breeze had an eerie way of whistling past the cracked windows, practically forewarning of the danger that was to befall her.

A twinge of regret echoes in the heavy thuds of her heartbeat. She should have told Crockett where she was headed and why. Yet, deep down, she knows he wouldn't have approved. He'd have good reason to be wary and pessimistic. A third party informant, refusing to identify themselves, was offering her revenge on Orlando Calderone and the return of her son who was rumored to have survived the explosion.

Step by step she draws closer to the figure concealed in the shadows of the warehouse. Ricki's gut instinct screams, 'turn back now.' The situation seems innocent enough. What could go wrong with a one on one exchange? She'd hand over the money, he'd gift her the desired information and quite possibly her son. At least that was the endgame. The hairs on the back of her neck bristle, her subconscious continually nagging her: something just isn't right.

Tubbs's eyes anxiously scan the surroundings as if, searching for the cause of her apprehensiveness. "Here I am." She announces. Her words radiating the tension flowing like electricity through her veins. "You've got the information, man?" To emphasize her words, she taps the briefcase full of cash at her side.

The man's eyes grow light, almost merry with amusement. A menacing smirk appears upon the man's face. "Well, Tubbs, I didn't think you'd show." He shoves his back of the wall it had been resting against to circle her. He laughs.

"You going to sing or not?" Tubbs demands.

His purely unsettling grin widens significantly. His hands gesture towards something behind her.

Ricki's gaze hesitantly follows. It was a potentially costly mistake. There, to her surprise were several guards, all heavily armed."This was a damn set-up!" She lets out a savage growl. "Wasn't it?! A pretense to draw me out! My son is dead! Isn't he?! Her hope is crushed. It crumbles like a wall built of stale bread that is trampled under foot, right before her very eyes. "Isn't he?!" Tubbs repeats. This time her words are more forceful as if, she needs him to feel the heavy burden of the accusation.

Before she could so much as react, her arms are clasped tightly by two of the enforcers. They promptly removed her gun. Tubbs struggles with all of her might to scuffle her way out. But it doesn't work. Not by a long shot. They are far stronger than she could ever hope to be. "You've got the money. Let me go. I'll chalk this up to a misunderstanding." She attempts to negotiate. Her nostrils flaring with unresolved anger.

The assumed head of the sleazy crew speaks again. "We can't do that. We're supposed to hold you till he arrives."

"He?" Ricki queries. The color drains from her face. Her heart sinks with the sudden realization of how dramatically she had miscalculated the situation. He- as in one bearing the name Calderone. "No... no ... no... no..." She grumbles, attempting to put up as big of a fight as possible.

"Stop struggling." To his distaste, she doesn't cease and desists. In fact, her fight intensifies. As a direct result of her resistance, a cloth soaked in chloroform is shoved over her mouth and nose. Tubbs strains, trying to force herself not to breathe in the sweet scent. However, it is virtually impossible. The world grows quiet. Her arms and legs grow limp and useless.

*****

Sometime later, the undercover cop returned to consciousness. Her arms, bound behind a pillar. She squints against the harsh light, cursing the mild throbbing headache residing in her temples.