Hunt's Point NYC
17/11/2007 19:55pm

A lone crow swooped along the docks near Hunt's Point and it landed, pecking at something it had found on the ground. Across the way, perched on a wall, was a young boy. His hair was dusty, but underneath the dust was soft, brown hair. He leaned on his hands, observing the bird as it tapped the pavement with its beak.

"Paul, what are doing?" A voice said, making the boy look round.

"Watching this crow." He replied, and another boy sat next to him.

They sat in silence for a moment and the crow lifted its head and watched them, before taking off into the air and soaring away into the dimming sky.

"You scared it away, John." Paul snapped.

"No, it was your ugly mug that scared it," John said, then nudged his friend. "Anyways, George has found another mark."

Paul huffed and slid off the wall, trailing after John through the alleyways that weaved around Hunt's Point and past a group of men that were clearly dealing drugs, past two women wearing very little and into another alley.

"So, where's this mark?" Paul snapped at a younger looking boy.

"He's heading down towards Edgewater." George replied.

Across the way was another boy. He was the oldest, but the smallest. He looked uncertain and his hands trembled slightly. When the others started walking, he followed cautiously.

The four of them snuck through the maze of alleys until they found the mark. He was a tall man with slicked, blond hair. He was walking with purpose. He must have been some kind of business man that had lost his way in the dark. Hunt's Point was no place for a man like that. The four teens waited until he was closer.

They weren't stupid and had never been caught and it would be the same again. They dug around in their pockets and pulled out masks. Obscuring their faces, they waited and threw a few nails onto the pathway. The man didn't see them and stepped onto one. It wasn't enough to dig too deep, but enough to make him stop.

"Fuckin' shit." He grumbled, lifting his foot.

He was so busy with the nail that he didn't see the figure approach him, but for some reason he must have sensed a presence because he stopped toying with the nail and grabbed John, slamming him to the ground.

"You little shit." The man seethed.

"Hey, let him go." Paul yelled, running over.

The man was quick again and stuck his foot out, tripping him. He pressed one hand onto Paul's throat and glared down at him.

"You little fucker's were gonna rob me, eh." The man snarled.

George and Ringo stepped into the street light. The man craned his head to glare at them. George raised his hands in surrender and the man considered him. His eyes went to Ringo, who looked horrified. This had never happened before, but he supposed it was bound to eventually.

"I oughta slit your little throats." The man hissed.

"D-don't, please." Ringo shouted, stepping closer.

The man narrowed his eyes and then glanced at the two teens on the floor. He'd heard about a group of teens that were mugging people. They hadn't been caught yet. Impressive for a bunch of stupid kids.

"You've never been caught." The man stated.

"No, sir." Ringo replied.

"That's good. That's real good," The man grinned, removing his foot from Paul's throat and allowing the two to stand. "You're clever, little fuckers, ain't ya?"

"N-no, I mean, are you gonna call the police?" Ringo stammered.

"Call the police? You're British, eh? Nah, I ain't calling the cops." The man chuckled then. "Where you guys from?"

"Liverpool, sir." George finally spoke.

"Tell you what. I won't kill ya if you're willing to come with me." The man said, grinning.

Ringo's eyes flitted to Paul and John. They were leaning on each other and looked more than a little apprehensive, but they nodded.


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21/11/2007 09:45am
West Broadway

"And you're certain this is a good idea?" Alfred asked, pausing then to think.

"Yeah, this is the best place to raise kids. My shitty appartment is no place for them." Marco shot back.

He was seated on a couch, tugging a faux, fur pillow. Alfred was sat opposite on a plush armchair. His eyes flicked outside to the back garden. Rukia was trying and failing to get those four boys to play with her. She was only eleven and didn't seem to grasp that older teens didn't want to play childish games.

"Do you still intend on training them?" Alfred asked, a note of disapproval in his voice.

"Yeah, you should have seen them, Alf," Marco grinned. "They've never been caught. That takes some fuckin' skill."

Alfred quirked a silver eyebrow at the language and at the thought of criminal activity. He was about to respond when the door slammed and the teens and Rukia walked in. She was clutching her stuffed bear and looking glum.

"Rukia, why don't you show the boys to the guest wing." Alfred offered, and she perked up at the thought of being helpful.

They disappeared out the other door and Alfred waited for their footfalls to vanish. He narrowed his eyes at Marco.

"They can stay here, but the moment this 'training' gets too much I will intervene." He snapped, and Marco nodded.

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14/05/2008 11:18am
West Broadway

"Tomorrow, I'll be sending you kids on a mission," Marco said, sitting on a chair. "Don't screw it up."

He stared at the four teens. It had been a few months since they'd arrived here and steadily he'd been training them. It was difficult at first. They had no control over their emotions so he pushed them to breaking point. Emotions were what made people weak and exploitable. It didn't take long for them to break.

Paul was sporting a rather nasty bruise under his eye where Marco had struck him, but Marco had reasoned that discipline was a vital part of raising a child. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a photo, setting it on the table fot them to see.

"This is Andreas Spinetti. He's the mark." Marco continued.

"How do you want him killed?" John asked.

"I'll leave that to you kids. Consider it a treat for doing so well." Marco replied, and he stood, leaving the room.

"Rukia, we know you're there." George said, and the eleven year old peeked out from round the corner where she'd been hidden.

"How'd you know?" She asked, walking over.

"You sneezed, you dork." Paul said.

"What happened to your face?" She asked, looking upset.

"Nothing. It's adult stuff." He replied.

"I am an adult," She huffed, then her features softened. "Are you really going hurt this man?"
She jabbed the picture with her finger and took a shaky breath. She looked at Ringo. He was the sweetest and he couldn't meet her eyes. She looked stricken.

"Again, adult stuff, Rukia." John snapped.

"N-no, it is not. You're not the bad guys." She insisted, eyes glassing over.

"Yes, Rukia, we are." Paul stated, and she lowered her head, but then found her resolve. "Well, I'll tell Alfred."

She turned to leave, but was grabbed by John. His eyes met hers and she whimpered at the cold look.

"If you tell then something bad will happen to you and Alfred." He hissed.

He let go and she let out a choked sob before turning and running from the gym. She ran until she couldn't anymore. Rukia longed to tell Alfred, but she didn't dare say anything. She slumped against the wall and glanced upwards at the picture of her Mom and Dad. They were still away on business. They were always away on business.

She saw Marco walking back down the corridor and she hated him. She was eleven and yet she loathed this man. She'd watched him, sometimes secretly, sometimes not. She's seen him be abusive. She'd seen him hit them, punch them, manipulate them and she hated him with everything in her. She looked at the picture again.

"I'll look after them." She reasoned to the portrait of her parents.

Her gaze went to the end of the hall again and she wiped the tears from her eyes. She would be there for them no matter what. Even if they killed that man and many others after him, she would always be there for them.

Notes