Charlie Ackroyd opened his eyes, only to once again greet the barrenness of the small room he had become
so familiar with recently. Now, usually, he would immediately react in a panicked tone and maybe shed a
few tears, but at this time of night, his brain only understood about a good 10% of what was going on.
Which was barely enough to see the tall lean figure perching his foot on the wall in the corner of his
eye. Starting to understand again, he could only think a tired “What does he want this time?”
The man in front of him was a specimen who could only be described with the word ‘extra.’
He stood at a large 6’3 frame with clothes reminiscent of a waiter on a doomed high-class voyage from
Southampton to New York City, his shoes being pointy enough to stab you in the chin if he ever decided
to do an Irish jig 2 feet away from you, and claim powdered sugar was magically delicious. He sported
blonde lochs-aplenty reaching his checked belt. It seemed as though every time Charlie saw the man he
was wearing something even more ridiculous than before, this week's special was a red, white, and blue
Hawaiian flower necklace and a white fedora with a light red band.
Or rather, the boy in front of him.
“Hey, sleepy.” He grimaced, cringing. “Sorry bout the recent… influx in requests.” He said looking
ashamedly to the left. Feeling awkward as usual, he tried to change the subject. “So… how’s the ca-”
“Cut the crap, Pietro.” Charlie barked, as a new influx in backbone and adrenaline tried to make up for
his out-of-whack circadian rhythm.
“Alright, alright!” Pietro replied, putting his hands up defensively.
“Whaddya need?” Charlie replied, almost instinctively, the usual fear finally quelling up.
“Ah, you’re cooperating now.”
Charlie mumbled something under his breath.
“It’s Jack.”
Charlie would roll his eyes if he had any current sense of direction, he didn’t know why they still had
that kid if he gets caught almost the majority of the time. Jack's existence made Charlie thankful he
had not actually gone to court and defended yet, although if the kid kept that up, that would change.
“What’d he do this time?” Charlie mirthlessly inquired.
“Bank, local, seen by five guards, wore a bad disguise.”
“How long will it take?” Charlie anxiously replied, nervous about the answer.
“About a week if you wanna get rid of the concrete stuff, extra 2 for circumstantial,” Pietro said, in
an apologetic tone. “Sorry, man.”
Charlie wanted to snap back with something like “You mean for this, or for kidnapping me and holding me
ransom?” but he knew that answer, while it may amuse Pietro, would enrage his father, which would not be
good for anyone involved, assuming Jack is still alive at this point. So, he kept quiet and sighed as
Pietro made the usual hand motion to the man on the other end of the glass window, and everything went
black.
Chapter 2
Float Like A Danifly, Sting Like A Bee
It had been almost a month since Dani last saw her brother. Almost a month after his (hopefully) final
graduation. Her mother was still distraught, her sister still apathetic, and her cat still… cat.