[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 15 (Patreon)

Holy shit, he's tired. Chase rubs his eyes trying to get them to focus on the words in front of him. They blur for a while before coming into focus. He squints and tries to stifle a yawn. Ms. Gagner, his English teacher, has them all reading this super boring book about a who-the-fuck-care Dystopian world. The voice of the girl reading the paragraphs drones on like Sandman himself is whispering in his ears. At that moment, he really hates Lois Lowry and his inaptly named book called "The Giver."

Chase's on the verge of nodding off when someone knocks at the door, jerking him awake. The speaker halts midway through her sentences. He looks up in time to see another student he had seen around school pokes his head in. Disinterested, he's halfway back to Wonderland again when Ms. Gagner's shrill voice rings out in the classroom.

"Chase Reed?" Ms. Gagner calls. Wide awake now, an icy dread creeping into his skin, he answers. "Yeah?"

"The principal wants to see you," she says, nodding towards the boy. Stomach sinking, Chase pushes his chair back and stands on unstable feet. He doesn't want to go. What the hell does Ramsay want? It's the middle of school. Okay, fine he's the principal, but still. Feeling like metal bars had been attached to his ankles, he drags his feet to the front of the classroom.

"Please gather your things with you, Chase. I'm told it would take the rest of the period." Jaw clenched, he turns back and grabs his books and stuffs them into his bag. Well, that just seals it, doesn't it? He's going to have to put out. At a fucking school. Isn't anything sacred anymore? This is where he's supposed to be educated goddammit!

Shouldering his bag, he can feel the curious stare from his classmates. From the corner of his eyes, he catches sight of Anna. Her huge green eyes feel like spotlights beaming in on him. She knows. Their eyes connect for a moment before she shifts it, staring down at the book on her desk, biting her lips. Chase wonders how many times she'd been summoned to the principal office.

With that somber thought, he follows the boy out the classroom and down the hallways. Chase's been here for almost three months, but he still has yet to familiarize himself with the school. Or made any friends for that matter. His current situation notwithstanding, he thinks it's out of habit. With his dad always on the move, he'd been to more schools than he can count on one hand. He was always the new kid. And when he finally gets settled, they're off again. In the end, why bother?

"Chase, huh?" the boy comments. He has a loud booming voice, almost like a bark that contrasts with his person. For a voice like that, he's expecting someone with more build and muscles but the boy beside him is long and lanky. He has dark brown skin with perfectly styled spiky hair. His eyes are brown, friendly and yet not. Chase doesn't know how to describe it, just that this dude makes him wary.

"Yeah. And you?"

"Russell. Like the dog you know?"

Chase frowns. He could just have made a Russell Crowe reference. Seems more fitting than a dog. Weird, but okay. "Do you know what this is about?" he asks, making a vague gesture with his hand.

"Oh yeah," Russell says, a curl twitching at the corner of his lips. When he didn't continue, Chase cocks an eyebrow and prods. "Care to elaborate?"

"Not really, no. I'm disapproving of it but what can I say? He wants Chase." The way he says Chase's name makes it sounds like it's an offensive slur. Sensing some form of hostility, Chase frowns harder, his body tensing. "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem," he says, stopping and turns around to face Chase.

"I don't even know you," Chase snaps, stopping as well. He's confused, and a bit pissed off at the moment, fists clenching ready for a fight.

"Seems like you made a fucking impression on Ramsay," he sneers. "Guess you're damn good on your hands and knees, whore."

The air seems to rush out of him all at once. He freezes. This kid knows. How does he know? Before he knows it, he shoves at the boy's chest, slamming him into the lockers. He grabs the front of his t-shirt and hisses in his face. "The fuck are you talking about?"

The boy had the audacity to sneer. "You think you’re so tough, huh? You're nothing but a whore, Chase. And Ramsay will see that sooner or later. Then, he'll dump you like the sack of shit you are," he spits. The way the boy is speaking, it's like Chase stole his boyfriend or girlfriend or some shit. Possessive, jealous talk. Ah, crap.

"Now, now, now. You see, now I'm thinking you're fucking the man. Is that what this is about? You're jealous?" Chase taunts. Like he wanted Ramsay's filthy hands on him in the first place. But because this boy is such a pain in the ass, he can't help but jerk him a little.

The boy's eyes widened. "What the fuck are you talking about? That's disgusting. I'm not a whore, bitch!" he spits out, struggling now against Chase's grip. Russell got his hands underneath Chase's and shoves at his shoulder. Chase would have held on, but he doesn't want to cause a scene, so he steps back, glaring. "I fucked up, and now he wants you. Well, you're going to fuck this up too. Then, it's bye-bye Chase." He gives him a little wave, the kind with only the top of his fingers moving. Chase wants to break them.

Completely confused now and getting angrier by the minute, he exclaims. "Fuck what up? What the hell are you talking about?"

The boy just brushes off the front of his shirt and smirks. "You'll see." Then he turns and strides away, smug and sure. Chase narrows his eyes at his retreating back and begrudgingly follows. What else can he do?

Once they arrive at the principal's office, the boy knocks once and enters. "Sir, Chase's here." He has to do a double take because now the boy is polite as fuck. His eyes widen as he notices that Russell even had his head bowed a little. What the actual fuck?

"Good boy," Ramsay praises and waves his hand in a sign of dismissal. Russell bows again and closes the door after him. Now that he's alone with Ramsay, Chase kind of hopes that the boy is here with them, pain in the ass or not. There's a clearing of the throat and Chase slowly turns to face the stocky man sitting behind his pompous desk.

"Chase," Ramsay greets "How wonderful of you to stop by."

"Like I got a choice," he mutters.

"What did you say, Chase? It's rude to mumble."

"Cut the crap, Ramsay. What do you want?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, so rude. Didn't your mother teach you better than that?" Ramsay says, frowning in displeasure. Then he brightens up, "Maybe your principle could teach you a thing or two about manners."

"Just tell me what you want and we can get this over with. No need to play games, Ramsay." At Ramsay's thinned lips, he feels a cold sweat coming. But he stands his ground, jutting his chin out. He's not afraid.

"So impolite," Ramsay snarls. "I thought Alastair taught you well. I must be mistaken. Maybe you need a trip down back to the basement to jock some senses back into that PIGHEAD OF YOURS," Ramsay yells the last words out, startling Chase and making his heart jump. He swallows, the scars littering his back tickles with phantom pain. He stays quiet, looking at the ground. "That's better," Ramsay says, voice calm like he hadn't just screamed.

"Now, Chase. I've a job for you." At this, he snaps his head up. A job? Is Ramsay going to whore him out? He thought only Lucas gets to do that. Still, he remains silent. Ramsay slides a piece of paper across the table. "Be there on time. And take this with you." He indicates the briefcase sitting on the table next to the piece of paper. "Do not in any case open the briefcase. Is that clear?"

Chase squints. "Why? What's in it?"

"That is the point, Chase." Ramsay rolls his eyes like it's obvious. "Now, when you're there, you're going to receive a briefcase in return. Do not open that either. Return that briefcase to me. I'll pay you for your efforts. How does a thousand sound?" he asks nonchalantly like he hadn't just offered Chase $1000.

Eyes bulging, he eyes the briefcase. This has got to be some kind of trap. But $1000. That's a lot of money. He might be able to leave this place. Either way, it will be an option. Just in case things get bad enough at the house. "I'm not doing anything illegal," he ends up saying.

"I don't recall giving you a choice, Chase."

Chase stares at the briefcase and the paper. This is all kind of fucked up. First, they got him to whore himself. And now, they want him to bring who knows what to who knows who and return with a more than dubious briefcase. It doesn't sound good. He feels like a mule. Maybe he is a mule. "Is this drugs?" he asks, his voice raising an octave higher.

Ramsay sighs like he is disappointed. "Let me make this simple for you. You do this; little Sammie stays safe. You don't do this, we will hurt Sam." His tone bears no doubt, his eyes lasered in on him.

"Are you threatening my brother?" he asks in a low growl. Ramsay gives him a winning smile. "Bingo!"

Chase glares at Ramsay. He knows he's screwed. There's nothing he wouldn't do to protect Sam and Ramsay knows it. He also knows that if he agrees to this, the next time they need him to do something, they would use Sam to force his hands again. But even then, he couldn't not do this. He owes Sam too much. Knowing when he's defeated, Chase closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'll do it. But if something were to happen to Sam, if he's missing one hair from his head, Lucas is going to hear about this. And you know you don't want to mess with Lucas," he tries.

"I'm not afraid of Lucas. But then again I don't want to get on his wrong side either. There's no fun in that. Besides, I always meet my end of the deal. So, Chase. Do we have a deal or not?" Ramsay leans back into his armchair staring up at Chase with a smug look on his face. Glaring at Ramsay, Chase snatches up the piece of paper, stuffs it in his back pocket and grabs the briefcase. Ramsay smiles a villainous smile. "Be a dear and don't be late."

Chase wants to punch that fucking accent right out of him.

---

The hospital was bustling with activity when they got there. It seems to be one of those places that never sleep. Perhaps there's something to be said about that, but right now, Lucas is too conscious of the body next to him. They're here to meet Zael, whom they were informed was here to take an official statement from Gabriel. As far as Lucas knows, the only person who has intimate knowledge of the gangs in Lawrence like the back of his hand is Zael, and who better to ask than him.

Michael wanted to tag along stating that it was his case after all. Lucas had disagreed. It'll be more efficient if they were to split up. One of them should try to sniff out Hellhound while the other digs up info on the Crossroad Demons. But Michael had been adamant, and Lucas had given in. It's no use fighting with Michael. He can be extremely stubborn when he wants to.

Right now, said man is brushed up tight against his side. The elevator feels small and suffocating. It's not like there's many people inside. Besides them, there are only two other nurses- who are standing in front of them, might he add. So it really doesn't justify the amount of touching currently happening at the back. Not that he's paying attention to it. But he is. Very much so. It seems like his entire being is on high alert on what Michael is doing. Whether he is to breathe or move or even shift, Lucas notices it. The rustle of his clothes sounds loud in his ears. The warmth of his arm where they're touching. His smell. God, this is getting out of control.

The elevator dings and Lucas is quick to maneuver his way outside. He lets out the breath he'd been holding, and closes his eyes. Focus. The door slides close with another ding and then it's just the two of them. Ignoring Michael, he strides down the hallway towards Gabriel's room. He can hear the man's footsteps quicken behind him and seconds later, Michael is falling into step beside him.

They walk in painful silence. Then, "Gabriel. That's a biblical name," Michael comments out of the blue.

"So?"

"Nothing." The tone of Michael's voice is suspicious and Lucas glances over, only to be ambushed by smug blue eyes. "It just seems like you like surrounding yourself with angels." There's a twitch at the corner of Michael's mouth. Lucas stares at him, unamused. "Cmon, that was good," Michael protests. Exasperated, Lucas rolls his eyes but is unable to stop the small upward tilt of his mouth. Michael's eyes brighten at the sight of it while Lucas tries hard not to read too much into it.

Gabriel looks up when they enter the room. He seems somewhat calmer than he was last night, blue eyes clear although it's quite obvious he is still in pain. Bruises littered his face and arms where they were exposed. He's sitting up in bed, the sheet covering up to his waist. Zael is already there, standing at the foot of the bed with a notepad in his hands. They nod at each other in acknowledgment as Lucas resumes his seat from the previous night. He notices Zael eying Michael, who's oddly enough standing back this time, his blue eyes observant and alert.

"How are you feeling, Gabriel?" Lucas asks, voice soft. Gabriel's eyes have never left him since he entered and are now staring at him, unblinking. At his question, his gaze wavers and he drops his eyes to his lap.

"Better," he mumbles.

"Good." Lucas wants to hold Gabriel's hand but he is also very aware of Michael's presence in the room; can feel his heavy gaze on the boy in front of him. He doesn't know why, but he withholds any physical display of affection. Fixing a pointed look at Zael, he asks. "Are you done?"

"No. We're just about to get started." Directing his gaze at Michael, he asks. "And you are?" Lucas notices Gabriel's eyes dart up and settle on Michael. He feels uncomfortable at the amount of intensity in Gabriel's eye as he stares. And stares.

"Michael Angelo," Michael answers, holding out his hand for Zael to shake. "And yes, I realized I have the same name as one of the Ninja Turtles. It appears my parents have a sense of humor," he jokes. Giving Zael a firm handshake, he then directs his attention to Gabriel. "And you must be Gabriel. It's nice to meet you." He holds out his hand but Gabriel just stares at them like they're poisonous snakes ready to strike.

"Doctors said he might be suffering from PTSD," Zael explains.

Michael withdraws his hand, asking, "What happened?"

"That's what we're looking to find out." Turning his attention back to Gabriel, Zael asks. "Can you tell me what happened yesterday? If you can, please give as many details as possible. It will help us find the person who did this to you."

Gabriel's eyes start to water as he swallows compulsively, avoiding all eye contacts. He looks so scared and frightened. Lucas has to keep breathing to control the anger he feels coursing through his veins. They all wait in silence until finally, Gabriel starts talking.

He was shaking as he recalled the assault. His voice failed him when he recounted the rape, the beatings, the humiliation he suffered at the hands of those men. Tears started pouring down his face halfway through the story, but he kept plowing on, unable to stop now that he had started talking. Gabriel described each man as best as he could, but he was half out of his mind with pain, the faces blurred together. And most of the time, he was on his stomach.

"And then they left..." Gabriel finishes, his voice barely audible, a whisper.

"We suspect they're not from around here. Did they mention anything? Like what they're doing here or where they're heading?" Zael asks. Gabriel shakes his head. "Okay, what about accents? Did any of them have a particular accent, slang or term they used?" Another shake of the head. "Apart from Gordon, there were four other men. Did you manage to hear their names?" Gabriel was silent for a while, brows furrowed into a frown. Then, he shakes his head again.

"No, I'm sorry..." Gabriel looks up with tearful eyes. "It's all starting to blur together." He shakes his head. "I can't be sure. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Gabriel. We have more than enough. You did well," Lucas says encouragingly and watches as Gabriel relaxes into his pillow. He looks pretty shaken up. "Zael, can I have a moment with you? Outside?" Lucas nods towards the door and stands, almost bumping into Michael. He's standing so close. Again. Right as he's about to snap at him, he notices the intensity of Michael's gaze, sharp and accessing. They aren't directed at him, but behind him. Gabriel. That uncomfortable feeling is back again. He can almost hear Michael's brain whirring. Ignoring it, Lucas sidesteps him and moves to the door.

Once in the hallway, he turns around and both Zael and Michael are standing there, looking expectant so he begins. "We've figured out who the black man is. His name is Gordon Walker. He came from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He's the second in command of a drug dealing gang called Bleeding Vamps. They might be manufacturing too, but we aren't sure of that. All we know is that Walker is here on business with a gang called Crossroad Demons. Know anything about them?"

Frowning, Zael glances over at Michael before speaking. "And you know all this, how?" Zael asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Michael is my informant," he lies.

"I didn't know you have informants, Lucas."

"There's a lot about me that you don't know, Zael," he counters, but his tone is light. "Now, what do you know about Crossroad Demons?"

Zael sucks at the inside of his cheeks, making his face look more sunken than they already are. "They're one of the gangs here. If you want to buy drugs; meth, cocaine, ecstasy, GHB, heroin, speed, ketamine, whatever. You go to them. They don't manufacture these stuff themselves. They're more like dealers," Zael explains. Lucas nods, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn't, he prods, "Who's the leader?"

Zael looks uncomfortable. "I'm not at liberty to tell. It's a matter of trust."

"A matter of trust? We're on the same side here. And someone attacked one of our people. We can't just let this go. What would people think then? That we're all bark and no bite. Words of that get down the streets, that we can't protect our own people- Poof! Whatever respect and credibility we've gained over the past months. Gone. Is that what you want?"

He knows he's gotten through to Zael when the muscles in his jaw twitches. For a control freak, that's his worst nightmare. Lucas waits him out while he stews in his thoughts. Then, "Fine," Zael bites out. "But you deal with him. I want nothing to do with this. I'll help you with Walker. But I'm not getting involved with Ramsay."

"Ramsay?"

Zael sneers. "Yes, Ramsay. He's the man behind Crossroad Demons. The perfect position too. All that access to these young, impressionable minds. Do you know how often I've come across dealers who are still underage? It's the perfect setup. These kids, if they're arrested, they'll only served time in juvie. A few months, and they're out with 'street cred' to boast about. Ramsay has got his claws in them deep. Make them believe in all sort of things. Control them with the promises of money, power, and sex. About 90% of Crossroad Demons are made up of teenagers."

"Ah, I see. The rowdy teenagers from Saturday night? That was his 'gang'?"

Zael nods. "He told them it was a welcoming party. A hint at what they'll get if they follow him."

"Using my people? Without telling me?"

"Like I said, you deal with him yourself." Zael turns his head back in the direction of Gabriel's room. "I want Walker's head on a platter too. But I'm not going to mess with Ramsay's business."

"Not a problem. I understand your situation. Thank you for the info. We'll take it up from here."

"I'll keep you updated on the progress at our end. Our tech had cleared the scene sometime this morning and are running the evidence as we speak. When we identify the rest of the men, you'll know."

Lucas holds out his hand. "We'll speak later." Zael nods and gives him a firm shake before striding down the hallway to the elevator. When he's gone, Lucas turns to face Michael. He had been exceptionally quiet during the whole exchange.

"What's our next move?" Lucas asks, knowing the answer.

"Ramsay. Guess we're going to Lawrence High after all."