Familiars 110

282 10 10
                                    

It's like his brain can't even comprehend what just happened.

All he can do right now is keep running. He wishes he was faster, that he didn't have this damn limp! What makes it so scary is he doesn't even know who he's running from. Why is this happening to him?! He was just kidnapped, and now it's like it's trying to happen again!

He rounds the corner and flocks to the streets of people. At least like this he can blend in. Should he try and get help? Maybe go back for Victor?

Wouldn't that just get the cops involved though?

He can feel his chest heavy, and the urge to scream or cry is creeping into his throat.

"Everett."

A mans voice says. It doesn't sound familiar right off the bat, but as he looks up, he certainly recognizes the mans face...because it looks eerily similar to his own.

Black hair, but with little bits of grey in it due to old age, very little black scruff, a curved nose, pale skin, bags under the eyes, and those greenish yellow eyes.

Crip: "Uncle Wendell?"

He asks softly. He hasn't seen him in...years. His cousin Edgar has nothing to do with his father, so it's not like they've had much reason to be in touch.

The older man glances behind Crip, then back to him.

Wendell: "Are you okay? You look...stressed."

Crip realizes he's probably making a scene. He's been running..his cheeks are probably red, and he's sweaty..
He takes a deep breath, and whispers.

Crip: "I need to get off the streets."

Wendell blinks for a moment, but doesn't question any further. He gentle grabs Crips wrist and leads him safely towards a parking lot. They get into a small black car, and Wendell drives until they're out of that area.

Crip sighs, wanting to go back for Victor. What happened to him? What if he's suffering?

Crip: "You can just drop me off at my apartment, it's by-"

As he looks over to his uncle, his words fail.

He can see it. The look in Wendells eyes. The way he's staring blankly ahead at the road, going in the opposite direction of Crips apartment. The chill in the air is unmistakable.

This was all planned.

This was all Wendells plan.

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