The Boy [mxb]

25

"Romano." I pick up my desk phone for the millionth time today.

"Dare, I got your message...shit, fuck, I'm so sorry..."

I contacted Violetta with the recent developments, and also told her about Ciel's disappearance, how I thought that him leaving on his own two feet after taking some of my cash meant that he ran away. But now we think he was lured out, threatened somehow, and it doesn't take a federal genius to put two and two together and realize that the same person who's after me probably has Ciel.

"Dare, I'm so sorry." She's frantic, in a complete reversal of the stoic and impassive paragon I know. "I think I know what's happening here. I'll explain in person."

"How soon can you get here?"

"I'm on my way. Give me twenty."

"See you soon."

I've assembled a task force. We've got guns, men, and horsepower. But we also need a plan. That's what we're trying to come up with now.

The updates are flooding in from all directions, and the empty words and hopeful platitudes all begin to run together in a whirling kaleidoscope.

"We've got a watch and warrant on the car..."

"Get the uniforms out there..."

"We got blue and whites crawling..."

"Spoke to state department security division..."

"...troll the alleys..."

"...tie up our tip line..."

"...still have those defectives sitting on Jeff."

"... a hell of a lot of real estate..."

"Three witnesses, ten different stories..."

"...sent the sketch to every precinct, transit district, and subway station booth-"

"Okay, so what you're all telling me is that we don't have squat," I surmise, nostrils flaring as I struggle to compose myself.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, sir-"

"How, when so far we haven't found dick?" I demand.

An officer pokes his head through the door.

"Nothing from Missing Persons, sir-"

"Well then we're FUCKED!" I scream.

Silence falls over the room. The eyes of the task force officers regard me warily.

Ken rushes to apologize.

"So sorry. Beast's on the warpath..."

"Beast Mode, okay. I got it."

Woosah, Ken mouths at me.

"Okay. Okay." I draw my hand over my face, taking a steadying breath. "Anybody, any ideas?" I march over to the whiteboard. "No? Nothing, alright, daddy's turn."

Uncapping a marker, I split the board into three sections with two vertical lines.

"Exhibit A, the personal attacks: the death threats and bombs. Exhibit B, Ciel's kidnapping. Exhibit C, Tony's shooting. Either these are individual, isolated events or everything's connected. For now, let's operate under the assumption they're unrelated."