Drew untied Aaron's ropes, and Aaron walked out the door without so much as a look in Call's direction. Walked casually, too, as if he had all the time in the world before Call's fingers showed up at his doorstep. Call wanted to hate him, so much. It would be so much easier. But he couldn't blame him if Aaron just wanted to run. Aaron always seemed so... nice. Like he would do anything for a total stranger because he believed people were naturally good or some shit like that. Call had always bought the rich kid goody-two-shoes act without a second thought. But what if it was all just an act? What if Aaron, sweet, funny, kind Aaron was just the cover story for a kid who needed to fit in?
Maybe, Call reflected as Drew ushered him to the car, it was his fault. Of course it was. Maybe Aaron assumed his friendliness was some elaborate deception, meant to lull him into a false sense of security. But that was unthinkable for Call, as he watched Aaron's perfect silhouette finally fade into the darkness. At first he'd hated the mere concept of Aaron, and after such a short time he couldn't imagine a world without his laugh or his eyes or his perfect smile or- Then Call realised that he'd probably never see Aaron smile again. Not at him, at least. How could he have expected this to work out? Now he was stuck driving to some unknown location as he was slowly maimed for some cheap information on a petty gang dispute.
Jack was lamenting, too. Jack prioritized goals over everything. No more auto shop. No more getting dad out of rehab. No more 'setting up legit'. And the money, if it had ever been there at all, was out of the question because Aaron Stewart wouldn't risk life and limb to save him. Aaron would get on with his perfect life and his perfect friends, and forget that Callum Hunt ever existed.
Finally, after what seemed like mere minutes but was probably a lot longer, Call was snapped out of his brooding by the car door opening and Drew ushering him out, flailing the gun he was holding as nonchalantly as if it were a toy. Drew walked Call up to a large, dark building that looked like a factory, from what Call could see. Inside the large, dimly lit entraceway, a gruff voice awaited them.
"Drew." the voice said expectantly.
"Dad!" The man glanced at Drew, and then looked distastefully at Call.
"You let him come in without a blindfold."
"He was in some kind of comatose state on the way over, couldn't even see his hand in front of him, let alone figure out who we are."
"I'll take him to Constantine. Go to the arena and practice how to properly handle that gun. You couldn't shoot a man if he was standing 5 feet from you." Call wished someone had said that to him a lot sooner, or he might have been able to get to his dad and get out of state before The Enemy's men got after them.
"Come with me, Hunt. The Enemy wants to see you."
"What if I don't want to see him?" the man looked at him strangely and said:
"You're the one with your hands tied behind your back. Does it look like you have a choice?" Call slipped his hands out of the rope holding them and dropped it in the man's hand.
"Yes." In response to that, the man took a gun from his belt and held it up to Call's head.
"Whoa there. You don't have to shoot me about it." Call said, and the man just grunted, nodded his head, and walked Call down a winding series of dark corridors until they reached a black door.
The man knocked in a 3-2-1 pattern (he would have to remember that for later) and the door swung open to reveal a lair that even Call had to admit was pretty bad ass. Everything was silver and black, from the lamps to the leather chair to the Enemy's boots Call totally didn't want a pair of.
"Call! I've been expecting you." Constantine-The Enemy said, in a cheerful way that definitely shouldn't have been used in the situation Call was in.
"You can set him down here, Jacob. And leave us alone a while, would you?" Constantine said, playing with a knife he picked up off the table for dramatic effect.
The door swung shut, and Call was alone with this maniac.
"Good to see you again. Look, I'm sorry with all the... prior formalities, but that was necessary. We needed you to stay motivated for the job!"
"Why are you acting like this? What more do you want with me?"
"Look. You and I, we're the same person, Call."
"Jackasses who commit horrible crimes?" Constantine laughed and stabbed the knife into the tabletop.
"I prefer the term 'entrepreneurs'. We're both doing this because we have to." Now it was Call's turn to laugh.
"You could have stopped this a long time ago."
"Look, Call. We both know you could have stopped if you really tried. The fact of the matter is, you like crime. Deep down, there's a part of it that thrills you. We've been keeping tabs on you for a while." Call shuddered. "I'm offering you an in. Work for me, and all your problems go away."
"No." Constantine laughed again, the glint in his eyes both calming and terrifying at once.
"Look, kid. You don't have much of a choice. You rent your daddy's shop to druggies who treat the place like crap, your daddy's off in some loonie bin popping pills and on the brink of insanity, and you're struggling to make ends meet even with doing a little thieving on the side. You've hit up every rich house in the city and then some! You really think that a couple more trips to the pawn shop is gonna get you out of the shit?" Call swallowed hard.
"I can offer you more money than you could ever need, Call. Hell, we could even fix up your dad with a little nurse and send him back to his shop. He would never have to know. I can offer you a family, a place at my side. Joseph wanted his little brat to be next in line, but that kid doesn't have the balls for gang life. Obsessed with ponies, ya know. Can't even hold a gun properly."
"Yeah, well I can't either."
"Not yet, you can't. But you can hold a knife pretty well, judging from the state that poor bloke was in when we found him. We cleaned that little mess up for you too, you know. And besides, we'd teach you what you need to know. After Stewart dishes, we could even keep him around for you when you get off work. Or we got girls, if you don't swing that way." Constantine's eyes raked over Call, expecting a reaction, and Call willed his face not to redden. Judging by the smirk on the other guy's face, it hadn't worked.
"I'll tell ya what. I'll give you a couple days to think on it. Until pretty boy comes back with the info. Then, you can either make the best choice of your life... Or you can both die together."
"Why me? I never wanted this, I never wanted any of it." Constantine rested his feet on the dark table, leaned back, and smiled.
"I'll tell you a little secret, kid. Me and your dad... well you could say that we're old friends." Call's head was pounding.
"How did you know-"
"Jacob! Take the kid to his room. And then take him to the arena. Have the Strike kid teach him how to shoot." And with that, the man- Jacob- pulled Call out of his seat and slammed the door behind him.
YOU ARE READING
The Danger ABC's
ActionCall is a thief. He likes to think of himself as a nice thief, as a kind of Robin Hood. Steal from the rich, pay dad's rehab bills. Steal from the rich, eat lunch at school today. He sells it all to Rufus at the local pawn shop. Rufus doesn't questi...
