//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Taking the Job // Story: Can't Stop Now // by PingSquirrel //------------------------------//         As far back as I could remember, I always wanted to rip off the classic opening to a movie.  That, and be a private investigator.  It looks like I got to do both before I turned twenty-five.  I count that as a win.         You could say I had a knack for finding out things I wasn’t supposed to know, like that time I caught two of my grade six teachers in the storage closet together.  Or getting where I’m not supposed to be, like that time where I picked the locks to the school and got copies of all the final exams for grade ten.  That doesn’t even count how good I’m at seeing things that no one ever thinks that anyone else will notice.  And I’m not talking about sitting in trees and sneaking peeks at girls as they change.         By the way, I’m that scrawny guy with the camera.  Old leather jacket, a five o'clock shadow that took a week to grow, and the short black hair?  I’m in the blue Chrysler that looked like it should have been put to in a museum exhibit about dinosaurs and what they drove in the Jurassic.  Who still drove a gas car right these days with it hitting three fifty a litre anyways?  Between the camera and the car, the former was the most valuable thing I owned, and right now, it was earning it’s keep, while the car was likely going to cost me another few hundred by the end of the month.  Stupid car. But, I digress. I was in the middle of a case for an insurance company claiming fraud and in the gym across the street was the target for the investigation.  It looked like it was a case of legitimate fraud, given what I was seeing inside the gym; a hulk of a man was deadlifting with a crowd of amazed onlookers around him.  He tossed the weights away from himself as if they were nothing and cheered out with his arms raised above his head.  Even across the street, I thought I heard him. “Yeah!” There’s no way I should’ve heard that, so I wiggled a finger in my ear.  I don’t know how that was supposed to help, but it’s what people did. The digital camera recorded every moment of it to video and I grinned happily to myself.  My rent wasn’t going to be late this month thanks to this idiot.  Slipped disc, my right testicle.  I couldn’t bring myself to feel any sympathy for anybody that stole or cheated and then let themselves be caught doing something so blatant.  He deserved everything that was coming to him for this. He turned about to face his adoring fans, and I burst out laughing at what I saw.  “Nice tattoo, jackass,”  I gasped out between guffaws.  The guy actually had a dumbbell tattooed on his leg.  Wait!  It’s even better than that!  It’s one for each leg!  How does anyone actually want to do that to himself?  Twice!  Whatever.  I had enough evidence to fulfill the contract, and I felt like getting paid today, so I pulled out my clunker of a smart phone, hooked to the camera and began sending the video in along with an e-mail with all the wonderful details that would let me get paid wirelessly and instantly.  It was a simple task and I did it entirely on autopilot.  Moments like this gave me time to think. If anyone you know ever, ever, EVER says he wants to be a P.I., you could point at my life as an argument against it.  You could say, “See that?  That’s Ryan Black.  He owns Vantage Point Security and Private Investigations.   Laugh at him for living at home and driving a car that that is past the age of majority.”  Hell, the guy that taught a three month course on how to set yourself up as a P.I. practically pointed to himself and said just that.  In every class, he dedicated ten minutes to destroying the idea of ever getting any jobs that would be anywhere as exciting as a movie plot.  I think out of the twelve of us that signed up for the course, only three other guys stuck it out to finish it.  Out of that, I’m the only one that actually went on to put the theory into practice, and I never regretted that for a moment.  It didn’t matter how many times I caught a cheating spouse or busted someone committing fraud, I loved the little thrill of success every time.  Occasionally though, I thirsted for something bigger. But big stuff only happened in fiction, and I had to settle for the little stuff.         I finished up the e-mail, and packed away the tools of my trade into a little bag which included my camera and my paper notepad; we might be in the digital age, but judges still loved their paper records for one reason or another.  With that done, it was time to get out of here. I turned the key to my car and it failed entirely to respond.         “Dammit.  Don’t do this to me, baby,” I muttered as I gave the dash several swats and punches.  That was as effective as I expected because the car was still as dead.         Once again, I had to get out of the “comfort” of the old, worn seats and try and play an amateur mechanic under the hood.  I began to poke and prod several times at several things, hoping each time would cause the vehicle to roar to life, when I was suddenly interrupted.         “Some people were sayin’ you’re spyin’ on me!” the huge, muscle bound, man with a terrible crew cut yelled at me, making me jump right to attention.  He must have been working out a lot over the last while, because he barely resembled the picture I was given by my client when I took the job.  That was neither here nor there though because the more pressing matter was his steady and deliberate approach straight for me.         “What?  Um, no.  I’m not.  I’m with a land surveyor and I’m just here, surveying some land,” I said, stepping back from the man, and putting the car in the way of any direct lunge.  If the car couldn’t get me anywhere right now, the least it could do was be a roadblock for someone else.         “They said ya had a camera or something,” he growled as he moved to follow me.  Seriously, I think I didn’t even come to his shoulder and his biceps were as wide as my waist.         “Yup!  That’s right!  Can’t survey without pictures.  Not at all!” I nervously chuckled as he walked around my Chrysler Roadblock with murderous intent.  Just seeing how his hands were the same size as my head was inspiration enough to keep to the opposite side of the car.  Every time he picked up the pace, I moved faster to match.         “You with those insurance guys!?” he demanded as he made a lunge over the hood for me, and that was the official cue to be a pansy.  I bolted around the car to my still open driver-side door, grabbed my bag and made for the horizon with that slab of meat in pursuit.         The chase continued for several blocks down the street with me screaming in terror the entire time.  In the most dignified way possible, of course.  I probably wouldn’t have been screaming so much if he wasn’t gaining on me the entire time, but I never let him close enough to grab me.  After several blocks, I proved that I could run faster scared than he could angry and he trailed behind me while huffing and puffing.  Thank god I was a skinny bastard.         “Guess I’ll keep your car!”  he called after me while huffing, but I didn’t feel inclined to answer him.  If he could get it to run, he could have it, but good luck doing that without an ingenious mechanic, a blessing from both a young and old priest, and a run of luck that would've been better spent at the casino.         After I figured out where the chase took me, it wasn’t that hard to flag down a cab to take me back to my home in the suburbs.  In fact, the hardest thing about it was getting the language barrier between myself and the cabby, but once that was done, I settled in to get myself a much needed nap.  Ah, the glamorous life of a P.I.:  long hours, low pay and a new enemy in every client.  At least the next person that would come looking for me should be transferring a payment to my chequing account.  With that thought in my head, I drifted out. _-_-_-_-_ “Drop her!” “That wasn’t what I was planning, but we’re such close friends, I think I can do that  for you as a personal favour.” “Help me!  Please!” “Do you think she can fly?” “No!  Stop!” “That’s what you chose?  Hehehe-HAHAHA!!!” _-_-_-_-_         The lurch of the car stopping made me open my eyes, and the first thing I did was checked the time out of habit. Three twenty in the afternoon.   I had that dream again, and once again it left no lasting memories beyond a few, jumbled words and a sickening feeling in my gut.  It didn’t feel like a nightmare, because it simply was too hazy and I usually remembered my dreams.  It was more like a monster case of deja vu without any context or logic.  Either way, I didn’t like how it kept coming back and left me with no solution but to just shrug it off and go about my business.         “Forty six dollars,” the cabby said impatiently in broken english.         “Jeeze.  Why don’t you use a gun?” I muttered under my breath, then it occurred to me that this would count as an expense for the job.  It makes the burden much easier to bare when someone else is picking up the tab.  I offer my Visa over and he runs it through without a word.  It’s just as well because I probably wouldn’t understand him anyways, and with that done, I grabbed my work bag, gave him a tip of an imaginary hat and walked up the driveway to my home.         It wasn’t a massive house, but it’s always been home for me.  I noted that both cars were in the driveway, so that meant both mom and dad were both home.  That wasn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but it did mean that as soon as my dad noticed my return, he’d ask me the question.  I stepped inside, and I could hear the TV from the living room.  It was on the news, saying something about more “pony sightings and disappearances”.  The story has been going on for nearly a month now about how people are turning into ponies that had something to do with a cartoon, or something like that.  Yeah, right.  What was more likely is that people are trying these stupid stunts to get the show put back on the air like Firefly.           (As a side note, season three of Firefly was awesome.  Watch it if you can.)         There was no sense putting off the inevitable, and I kicked off my shoes and walked to the living room where my parents were.  You know the nursery rhyme “Jack Sprat”?  Well, that’s my parents and I definitely took my looks from the both of them.  “Hey mom.  Hey dad.”         “Hello, dear,” said my mother as she watched the news.         “Do I get my basement back this month?” my dad asked without a bit of malice.  If anything, he was hopeful. “Back off, old man!  I got paid today, so no rec room for you,” I replied smugly. “Did you even ask if you could live here after eighteen?” he shot right back. “No,” I muttered as I looked at my phone to see if there was any updates yet.  “Hey dad.  Can I live here?”         “No.  Get out of my house,” he commanded. “That’s why I didn’t ask.  I’ll move out when I’m ready, and not a second earlier,” came the snappy answer without an ounce of respect.  We liked to play like that, but the truth was that my parents gave me a pretty sweet deal with the living arrangements.  They set the rent at five hundred bucks a month as long as I was working on my own business or going to school. That didn’t mean dad didn’t like to tease me about it.  “Shit.  I guess I got to call the guys and get the poker game moved again.   You know, you’re really ruining my social life there, Ryan.” “So, your case went well?  Did you get paid for it yet?” my mom asked as she turned her attention from the continuing news story and my dad’s complaints. “Four percent of the settlement plus expenses.  If I’m really lucky, I can sneak a shitty car into the expense list, too.” I jested.   My dad was quick to jump on the opportunity, “So, you don’t actually know how much you made?  Does that mean I might get my basement after all?” The electronic chime from my phone interrupted my answer. “Shhh, I have to take this,” I said as I smugly waved off my father.  He huffed and turned his attention back to the television while my mother laughed into her hand.  “Vantage Point Security and Private Investigations.  This is Ryan Black.” “Ryan!  You’re sounding professional again!  What’s up, bro?”  said a familiar voice. I deflated and huffed. “Hey Lanny.  Just got in from a job,” I replied as I tried not to pay attention to my dad’s sniggering.  I wasn’t upset to hear from Lancaster Donaldson, but his timing could of been better. “Tough one?”  he said before taking a bite out of something crunchy, but that didn’t stop him from talking with his mouth full.  “Or, more watching people from your car?” “That can be hard!  Harder than getting stoned after painting all day,” I protested, but he did touch a bit of a sore spot.  I loved my work and I had a knack for it, but sometimes, I wish I would get one of those cases that only existed in movies and television shows. He swallowed and took another bite.  “I know, bro.  I’ve seen it.  I don’t know how you stay sane.  So, was the job hard?” “Nah, but my car was a casualty of war.  We should take that thing out and dump it into a lake or something for the twenty bucks of the insurance.  I’m pretty sure I can pull off the fraud,” I jested. “That’d be a great cap off to the party tomorrow!  You’re not going to leave us hanging like last year, are you?” he said after a loud swallow. “What?  Party?”  I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Bro!  Birthday!  You’ve got one every year, and you never do anything!  This year is going to be totally different though!  And, a total surprise!” “You want to take me to the bar,” I said flatly because I saw right through the surprise.  He was right about one thing though.  For the last three years, I was working on my birthdays, and missed them entirely. “And, the surprise is that you’ll pay for a drink.” “You forgot the stripper we’re going to get you.  She’s a classy one this time.  We’re not going to repeat the whole ‘discount stripper thing’ from the last party you did show up for,” he added.  Even four years later, mentioning the debacle on that night still made me blush deep red.  “You’re going to come, right?  If you miss it, you’re going to have to suffer one hell of a Lanny Donaldson prank.” “If I can.  You know my rule, though,” I said as began walking towards the stairs to the basement. “Yeah, yeah.  Client comes first,” Lanny replied right back and followed it with a sigh. “Just try and get here, bro.  Seriously.  It’ll be a good time, you know?  And Lord knows, you need one.”         My phone beeped at me at that point letting me know that another call was coming in.  “I’ll try.  Got another call.  I got to go!”  I rushed out, before hanging up on him before he could get another word out. Before I took the new call, I yelled out to my parents, “I’m in the Fortress of Solitude.  Talk to you guys later.”         I closed the door behind me, but didn’t go down the stairs just quite yet because the reception was terrible down there.  “Vantage Point Security and Private Investigations.  This is Ryan Black,” I answered again.         “Oh good!  I’m Jacob Esterhazy,” the man answered quickly.  He sounded like a man in his fifties, but more notably, he was very tense and worried.  “And I need help.”         Generally, a man of Jacob’s age only would call a guy like me for a short list of things, but it was a touchy subject.  Divorces and cheating spouses always are.  “That’s what I do, sir.  What can I do for you?” I replied confidently.         “I shouldn’t talk too long on the phone about this.  Can you come to my home tonight?  I can give you the details then,” he said, still sounding massively worried.  What stood out about what he said was he wanted to meet at his home.  He wasn’t going through a divorce and he wasn’t worried about his wife cheating because if it were either of those, he’d want to talk to me anywhere but a place where she frequented.  So what did he want to hire me for? “Of course, sir. Let me check my schedule,” I said before a pause. I knew my schedule, and it was empty for the next few days, but you never let a client know that. “I can fit you in around eight, and I charge forty dollars an hour for the initial consultation. Generally, it takes an hour to work out the details and what needs to be done. Is that alright?”         “Yes, yes.  We’ll be waiting for you with everything!” he answered quickly.  Shit.  I should’ve said a hundred bucks an hour because he’d have gone with it.  Oh well.         “Alright.  I need your address and a phone number I can call you at, Mr. Esterhazy,” I asked.           “This phone number is fine, and my address is seven Pine Grove,” he said, and I made a mental note of it.  If I wasn’t mistaken, the address was in a pretty swanky part of town.         “Thank you, and I’ll be there for eight tonight,” I replied.         “Thank you, Mr. Black.”  He hung up.  The poor guy sounded like he was entirely nerves right now, but I guess I’ll have to wait until this evening to find out why.  I refused to speculate on it too much because that path always lead to disappointment when I convinced myself it would be a tough case and it turned into watching through windows again.         Wait a moment.         My television was on.  I could hear it from here, and that meant one thing.  There was an intruder and so I began creeping my way down the stairs, using the theme songs of some show to cover my steps until I got to the door of my room.         I burst right through and screamed at the small figure on the bed, “This is a raid!  Hands up!”         The shrill scream from my little sister was worth it as she nearly hit the roof.  Once again, like the rest of the family, she looked like me.  That is, if I was twelve years old and a girl.  After the initial shock though, she threw a pillow at me.  “Don’t you knock?” she demanded in a huff.         “Not when it’s my room,” I said, holding out a fist. “Pound it.” She did the fistbump right back, and responded, “Blow it up.”  We then both threw out fists in the air, opened our hands and went, “Boom,” in unison.         “So now that our ritual greeting is complete, what the hell are you doing in here, Sally?” I asked, tossing off my coat onto my desk.  If you looked at my room, you’d swear it was owned by two different people.  The side that was for relaxing was a mess with scattered books, magazines and clothes all centred around my (shitty) desktop and an old television.  The other side was for work, and it was several shelves that were neatly organized and sorted, with labeled files and tools of the trade.  And, in the centre, was my sister on my bed, watching something animated on my television.         “Watching TV,” she replied as she settled back down to watch the anime or whatever was on the screen.         “I can see that, but why are you in my room watching TV?” I asked, trying to get her clarify her previous statement.         “Oh.  Auntie Kelly sent you a box of blu rays and DVDs she picked up at garage sales.  She figured since you like them, she’d send you a bunch for your birthday,” she said, pointing to a postmarked box.  “And, you’re like the only person in the world that still watches discs, so I’m here because you got the players.”         “You opened my mail?” I asked.  If it was anyone else, I’d get mad, but to be honest she is getting to be as a big a snoop as I was at her age.  Turnabout is fair play I suppose, and I couldn’t stay angry at her.  She was the family favourite.         “It looked interesting.  You got some fun shows in there, too!” she declared with her eyes fixed on the show.  While she was doing that, I started looking through the box to see what I got.  It looked like my aunt wasn’t picky in what she was getting me as long as it filled the requirements of being on a disk.  I pulled some titles from the box and began flipping through them.  Gargoyles: Season 1 on DVD,  season 8 of House on blu ray.  Those might be worth a watch.  I set them aside and then noticed one that was covered up.  The final season of “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic”. I’m sure someone told me a bit about the show because I knew it ended in a dramatic tone swing to grimdark with a bunch of characters that were never on the show in the last scene.  Something about soldiers and special agents trying to get a resistance movement going against a chaos god-thing after he kills the queen.  Then, it just ends right after the last one gets broken in a pretty rough and dirty fight.  It must have been something I read on the internet, because I don’t think even Lanny would’ve watched that show.  Either way, it must have been one hell of an ending to have people five years later pulling hoaxes.         “You know what?  I’m curious about this one.  Move over, squirt,” I said as I gave my sister a shove to the corner of the bed and sat myself down.         “Really?  That one?” she asked before giggling. “Come on!  Even I’m too old for that one.  And I’m already watching this one.”         “My room, my rules,” I stated as I swapped the discs out.  “You know where the stairs are if you don’t like it.”         “Fine,” she huffed with her arms crossed, but she was also settling in to watch with me.  “But I get to make fun of you.”         “Deal,” I replied as I skipped through the nauseatingly cute selection screen with the tooth-ache inducing music to the episode selection and I went straight for the last episode.  “Now, let’s see what all the fuss is about, eh?”         The episode confirmed everything I’d heard about the last episode.  It was dark, violent and brutal unlike anything else on the show.  Heck, it was probably worse than most adult shows, with Hellspawn rising from Tartarus to brutalize citizenry and chaos gods doing battle with the powers of good. But unlike most other shows, it was a total rout with the good guys dropping like flies.  I was curious if that final fight I heard about could be as intense as I was told it was, because after gods and magicians, a straight up fight would’ve been refreshing.  After all that build up though, it didn’t happen.  Just this purple unicorn getting killed followed abruptly with a crash to credits.         I glanced over at my sister, then started chuckling because she was clinging to her pillow rather tightly. “You know, if that was my favorite series, I’d be pretty pissed off with the “everyone dies” ending.”         Sally blinked several times and let go of the pillow she was clinging to.  The episode must have been more intense because she looked outright scared of what she saw. “I don’t think mom would’ve let me watch that.  That was a lot of blood and bad things.”         “I know, squirt.  Tell you what, you pick the next show, and I’ll get us some snacks, alright?” I said as I got up from my seat and stretched.  I don’t know why, but the episode seemed incomplete, but then again, why am I getting so wrapped up with something about pastel ponies?  Hopefully Sally will pick something we could both enjoy.         She nodded. “Maybe another episode of this.  Just not as scary as this one?” she suggested.         “Sure.  Why not?  I’ll be back with popcorn and other things that are terrible for our hearts and likely will kills us before we’re fifty,” I replied as I headed out of the room.  I loved my sister dearly, and spending an evening watching old cartoons with her sounded like a good way to clear the mind before I met with the client tonight.         “Sounds good,” she called out behind me.  “Get me a Coke, too!” _-_-_-_-_ It was a quiet evening, though I wish I didn’t have to borrow my mom’s car to drive to the client’s home.  My car was picked up by a tow truck earlier in the evening, and they said the only thing that was wrong with it was someone dented in one of the panels and a loose battery connection.  All things considered, I got off pretty light there. The neighborhood was upscale to put it lightly.  The garages around here had more square footage than our entire house.  If I ever had enough money to have a wrought iron fence with a gatehouse at the top of my driveway, I think I could be happy. I’m easy to please.         I pulled up to the house, gathered up my things and got to the door.  I made sure I was shaved and even wearing a suit for the meeting too, but even so, I felt sorely outclassed and I hadn’t even seen the inside of the place yet.  After knocking though, I had that confirmed by a show of conspicuous consumption of epic proportions.         “Good evening.  Would you be Ryan Black?” Jacob asked. I recognized his voice from the call earlier, and he looked pretty much how I pictured him.  Thin and in his mid fifties, without a single hair on the top of his head.  Even with that hawkish nose of his, he looked pretty good for his age.  Or, he would.  The bags under his eyes and his slouched shoulders told me he hadn’t been sleeping well lately.         I nodded and offered a hand to the man. “I am.  Mr. Esterhazy, I presume?” I returned and he took my hand for a firm shake.         “Correct.  Thank you for coming on such short notice.  Please come in, Mr. Black,” he said to me.         “Thank you.  But before I forget, here’s my card,” I said, offering one over.           He took it, looked it over and gave me a bit of a forced smile, but I don’t think his emotional state had anything to do with me.  It was clear that the man was hurting.  “Thank you again.  Have a seat in the front office.  First hallway, second door on the left.  I’ll go and bring Daphne, and we can discuss what we need.”         Well, he didn’t have trust issues at least or, he considered me to be an honest man.  That was good because it would smooth the whole process and hopefully end in a few more bucks in my pocket.  That said, I didn’t want to abuse it, so I went to the office I was directed to and again marvelled at the meticulously clean, mahogany altar he called a desk.  Any one piece of the furniture in this room would probably sell for enough to furnish my dream house.  I was polite enough to keep my hands to myself, but I did note the pair of family portraits on the desk.  One was with younger Jacob, a young girl that would be looking at going to school in a year or so, and a lovely woman.  I’d say it was a family portrait, but not a recent one because the other one was of the current Jacob, an older daughter of about sixteen if I had to take a guess, and another woman.  Daphne, if I had to take a guess. The door opened and I was proved incorrect in my assumption.  The woman with Jacob was his contemporary and finely dressed, and might have been a strawberry blonde at one point, but that was years ago.  At the same time, she also looked as worn down as him with lack of sleep. However, she wasn't the woman from the photo.         “Good evening,” I greeted, getting to my feet to offer my hand to the woman. She sniffled into a kleenex before giving me weak handshake.  All of my instincts were telling me that there was something up and it was big.  “Hello Mr. Black, I’m Daphne.  I hope you can help us.”         Jacob walked around his desk and sat back down. “I’m going to be blunt, Mr. Black.  Our daughter has been kidnapped,” he stated with a forced calm. Even so, Daphne sobbed at that sentence, pulling his attention to her.  He gave her a hug and comforted her by saying, “It’ll be alright.  We’ll get her back.”         “I’m sorry,” I finally replied and when the initial shock wore off, I went to my bag to pull my notebook out in the silence.  Now, I really felt bad for making them wait until eight for me to show up as well as overwhelmed.  I could keep a good poker face about that, but you know the saying, “Be careful what you wish for”?  I was feeling that in full force right now. “I assume you contacted the police.”         “They said they’d kill her if we did and they had inside information from the police so they’d know,” Daphne said, fighting back the tears.  “We just want to pay them and get our daughter back.  That’s all.  I didn’t want to even bring you into this, but we had to do something.”         I looked between the two, and my heart went out to them.  “I see,” I said with a heavy swallow.  It’s hard keeping calm and collected with a bombshell like that falling on you, but I think I was doing pretty well at it.         “They want ten million for our girl.  I do have that sort of money, but not in cash.  It will take time.  More time than what they gave us,” Jacob said, explaining the situation as if it was a board meeting.  I guess that’s just how he was holding himself together.  If this is how he was going to operate, I’d try and match him, but hearing that number nearly made me choke.         “What do you need from me then?”  I asked.         He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I don't know.  We are going to leave a message at the drop location asking for more time.  We just want to make sure they get the message, and if we’re lucky, get a few pictures of the bastards that took her.  Can you do that for us?”         The situation was different than I’m used to, but really, it would just be what I always do on a job; keep a low profile and my eyes open.  “I still recommend going to the police.  They’re much better equipped than I to handle a situation like this,” I said as I took notes on what they needed. “I would much rather go to the police, too,” Jacob said as he held his wife close to his side, “But, she’s not just my daughter, and if anything happened to her because of a decision we made, I don’t know what we’d do.”         “We won’t blame you for anything that happens. I was just told you’re a good young man, and knew what you were doing,” Daphne pleaded, “I just want Porsche safe, and we’ll pay for that.  She never deserved any of this!”                  I looked between the two.  It was pretty clear to me what was happening.  They were a couple that were used to being in control of everything around them, and now, they had none.  Even if they couldn’t go to the police, they were looking to me to regain some control on the situation, no matter how minor.  How could I turn my back on them?  “I understand.  I want to ask you a few details and I’ll see what I can do, but you’ll have to promise me the first chance we get, we are going to the police, alright?”         Jacob looked to his wife, who just nodded. “We can do that,” he agreed.         “Alright.  Let me ask you some questions.” _-_-_-_-_         “Fuck. I don’t want to talk to him.  He’s a fucking freak!” the shorter of two masked men said to the other.  “Look at him.  He’s been like that for, like, a half hour.  Why is he even here?” The tall one shook his head in adamant refusal. “I don’t give a shit. I ain’t staying up all night on guard duty because you’re afraid of him.  He’s supposed to be good at this sort of thing.”         “Who told you that load?” demanded the first man.         “My dealer.  He said he knew a guy that used this guy to fix problems, and he was really good at it,” the second answered.         “If you love him so much, then you go talk with him, fuck,” spat the first as he looked past the jungle of steel studs, half finished walls and a girl bound to a chair with a burlap sack over her head, to where the man in question was standing.   He was simply staring out the window at the night sky, and and the only sign he was actually alive and not some statue was the casual flicking of his balisong open and closed.  While the other two wanted to stay anonymous with balaclavas to mask their faces and avoiding using names, he didn’t take a single such precaution. Instead, he treated the threat of capture with indifference and apathy, and that made the masked pair nervous.         “Whatever,” the tall one said, and stomped over. “Me and him want to go and get some food or something.  You alright watching the girl alone for a while?”         The man didn’t react at all.         “Yo!  You hear me, Jack?  Wake up!” he called again and Jack failed to answer again.         “Out of the way, you useless shit!” the short one swore, then stormed over to to Jack to shake his shoulder.  That was enough to awake him from his trance and he finally turned to acknowledge his partners. “We’re going to get some food.  You just stay and watch the girl.  Can you handle that or are you going to zone out and start staring out the window again?”         It took a moment for Jack to realise where he was or what was happening.  As soon as it happened though, he put on his best and most serene smile, and turned to the masked man and answered, “Oh no,  I’m fine.  You get going, but please, don’t bring back anything with meat for me.”         “Yeah, yeah.  We’ll be back in an hour or two,” the short masked man stated before he turned to leave. “Fucking freak.”         “One day, your mouth is going to get you into some trouble,” Jack called after the pair, and all he got for an answer was a middle finger over a shoulder before they left the half-built office.  He shrugged the insult off.  “I hope I’m there for it.” Since they took her off the streets, he hadn’t been alone with their victim once.  Now that the thought occurred to him though, he wanted to rectify that and he turned his eyes to Porsche.  She had been quiet for quite some time now that she had stopped her sobbing, but as soon as he approached she flinched as far away from him as her bindings would let her go.         “Easy there, easy,” he said comfortingly. “I’m going to take off your hood and gag.  Alright?  No screaming, though.  There’s no one around to hear you, but it doesn’t suit you.”         She settled slightly and he carefully took both the hood and the wad of cloth and tape away from the girl.  The brown haired girl could be quite pretty but the sixteen year old had spent the last two days in captivity, in the same school uniform she was taken in, leaving her hair matted and her face tear-stained.  Across from her was a man in his mid twenties that looked at her kindly in the sort of way a cat might look kindly upon a wounded bird.  He was a lanky ginger that was very clean cut, even if he was dressed in nothing more than a casual, black hoodie and old jeans.  “That’s a good girl.  I’m Jack,” he said as if it was a casual conversation.           “Don't touch me!” she croaked, sending her into a coughing fit.  Having been gagged so long left her throat painfully dry.  The man waited patiently for the coughing to end.  “W-where am I?”         “Nowhere that matters to you, but I did introduce myself, and it isn’t polite to ignore an introduction,” he chided in good spirits.  “We can try again though.  I’m Jack.” She eyed the man warily. “Porsche,” she said, not offering anything more than the bare minimum to the man. “Pleased to meet you, Porsche.  I’d shake your hand, but, you know.  Now, since we already did the bit with the white van, do you want some candy?  It seems to be what guys in white vans offer girls like you,” he joked to the non-response of his captive.  He did make good on his suggestion and pulled a chocolate bar from his hoodie and waved it in front of the girl.  Instantly, her stomach rumbled at the prospect of food but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for it.  The hesitation made his smile fade after a few seconds.  “I understand you don’t trust me and that’s alright.  If the positions were reversed, I’d likely not trust me either.  But, you should because I’m completely honest.  I won’t lie to you or anyone else.  Lying is for people that are ashamed of what they are doing.”         Porsche stared at the odd man in front of her.  “Then tell me why I’m here,” she said softly to test him.         “Money and fun.  They want the cash, and I wasn’t doing anything better when this came up,” he answered as he opened up the wrapper and punctuated the whole thing by taking a bite out of the bar.  Just the sound of the bar made Porsche’s mouth water with what little saliva she had left.           Porsche just stared at Jack venomously for his honesty and he continued to be completely indifferent to her expression.  “So what’s with the candy bar?” she asked. “You trying to be the nice psychopath?”         “The nice ones are the most dangerous,” Jack replied in his friendly way  “But enough about all that.  Today’s a special day for me, and I thought I’d lighten up yours a bit.  I don’t think the last few days have been going as planned for you.”         “Fuck you.”         That one sentence was answered with a harsh slap that left a welt on the girls face, but as quickly as the blow landed, Jack resumed his relaxed posture.  “I warned you once about being rude, young miss.  But it’s a special day for me, so I’ll let that one slide.  It’s my birthday today, and I figured we could split a few candy bars between us to celebrate it.  We can just talk and be civil.”  He leaned in and shielded his face from a non-existent audience and continued in a whisper.  “Just between the walls, you, and me, those guys I’m working with are barbarians.  You seem much nicer and smarter, or at least you did.  You slipped a notch with your vulgarity.”         The girl whimpered still from the blow, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry again.  He was content to wait for her to gather her thoughts for her response.  In the end, her hunger started to get the better of her.  “A-alright,” she finally said meekly.         “Great!” Jack chimed, “Now, I’m going to undo one of your hands so you can eat.  But, there is a catch.  If you so much as try anything to take advantage of this privilege, I’m going to hurt you quite terribly.  Well, terribly for you. I think I’ll do it quite well on my end of the bargain.  I might even cut a souvenir off of you, but that depends how I feel when we come to that bridge.  Understand?”         Porsche’s just nodded dumbly at him. “Y-yes.  I understand,” she stammered.  She had no intention of finding out what Jack might have in mind for her, and playing along to keep him happy seemed the best route. He took out a set of keys and continued what he perceived to be a casual conversation while he undid one of the cuffs. “So, do you take history or mass media in school? There’s been a quote that’s stuck in my head and maybe you know where it’s from.”         She really didn’t care to talk to Jack, but to have the cuff off did let her stretch one of her arms.  “I might know it,” she hesitantly said.  She was unsure where he was heading with such a question.         “Five score divided by four,” he said with the most grandiose voice he could come up with. “I know it’s not much to go on, but it’s all I can remember.  It did seem important, wherever it’s from.”         “Never heard of it.  Maybe something about Lincoln ?” she offered hesitantly, fearing that not getting the right answer or failing to answer entirely would both end in punishment for her.         “Shame.  I’m sure some affable gent said it.  That’s how it feels to me, but it’s hazy.  Maybe it’ll come to me later,” he said as sat down across from the girl to enjoy his birthday ‘dinner’.  “Now, do you want a Snickers or a Coffee Crisp?” He had a good time in sharing a meal with someone else, as the opportunity rarely came Jack’s way.  She just wished to God she’d get home safely.