When Lane awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she wasn't outside. That alone was almost enough to send her into a blind panic.
Imagine her surprise when she quickly discovered that she was bound to a chair.
And as if that hadn't already been bad enough, she then realized that she was also back inside the Refuge.
Her day just kept getting better and better.
"Good ta see yer awake."
She snapped her gaze towards the door, already on edge, and snarled when she recognized Oscar and Morris. Hadn't she already ended that chapter of her life? "Is dere a reason Ise he-ah, in tha Refuge, stuck in dis chair? And wit you two, no less."
Each brother stood on either side of the dark, doorless frame, and Lane mentally remarked that she'd never seen them look so orderly in her life. "Ya ain't he-ah fa us ta toy wit," Morris growled, although the way he said it certainly sounded like that's what he wished to be doing.
"Give it a minute or two," Lane muttered sarcastically, gazing warily at the empty chair that was placed before her. "Ise sure I'll wear ya down enough ta get a couple 'a hits in by den."
"No need," A new voice spoke, clear and feminine, and Lane watched carefully as Frisks slowly emerged from the dark doorway, putting her hands on the chair that was placed in front of Lane. "Like he said, ya ain't he-ah fa dem."
"Frisks," Lane said flatly. "Ta what do I owe dis pleasure?"
"Oh," Frisks began, laughing hysterically, "ya have no idea, Lane. Where ta even start?"
Lane clenched her jaw, glowering at the girl. Only a week had passed since Smalls had been proclaimed dead- she'd been in the room when Jack had come back to the theater where Spot had been questioning her, face drained of colour, and had told them the news.
That had effectively ended her questioning, thankfully. Half of the questions Spot had just had to ask her were things that she hadn't even told Finch. Even Trek, for that matter. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Especially the moments when she refused to answer, and they'd spent the next few moments in awkward silence.
"Was it you?" Lane demanded. "Did ya kill dat goil?"
Frisks sighed, looking far too casual for someone who was number one on her 'Lane's Bad Side' list. "Maybe we should start wit tha part where we-"
"Maybe we should start wit tha part where ya turned all those Refuge kids inta a buncha blind little revenge-seek-ah's!" Lane bit out, impatiently cutting her off.
Frisks waved her away halfheartedly, tapping her lip, staring at her in smug contemplation. "Impatient as ev-ah, I see. Ise surprised ya didn't try ta get out yet. Where's yer knives? Ya used ta be handy wit those things."
"Well, I didn't exactly plan on gettin' kidnapped anytime soon, wit tha Refuge bein' gone fa good," Lane growled, shifting around in her seat, trying to break free from the ropes that held her down. "I hope ya don't plan on keepin' me he-ah fa much long-ah. Ya think I don't have anythin' bett-ah ta do wit me time?"
"Ya won't leave dat chair until I say ya can," Frisks suddenly snapped, temper suddenly lost.
Lane, not having the energy to deal with whatever Frisks had planned, sighed deeply. Her tongue felt heavy with the musty air. "And why won't I?"
"'Cause we got rid 'a Brock." Frisks crossed her arms, watching as Lane's eyes narrowed. She had known it was them, but Frisks confirming it made it all too real. "And, unfortunately fa you, yer little newsboy was tha foist ta find him."
Lane blanched. This, she had not known.
Why hadn't he told her?
"How is dat unfortunate fa me?" she questioned hesitantly.
"'Cause we don't much like tha people who find our victims foist," Frisks explained in a sickly sweet tone, "'n if ya don't keep yer big mouth shut 'n tell all yer little newsie friends 'bout it, he'll be tha next on our list."
Lane scoffed, repulsed by the girl, but also frightened. She knew what Frisks was capable of. "Do ya even realize how insane ya sound?"
"No one's sane," was her absent reply, looking off at an invisible point on the wall. "No one's safe."
"Not wit you around."
"Let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we?" Frisks said suddenly, turning towards her. "It was our job ta frame oth-ah people fa things we did."
Struggling to draw in a breath, Lane pressed her nails into her palms against the rising memories. Don't. Don't listen. Don't remember. Don't give her what she wants. "Yer real dense, ain't ya? I know. I was dere."
"They gave us orders, 'n we did dem without complainin', jus like tha obedient dogs we was," Frisks continued, pretending to have not heard her.
"Don't think dat hasn't changed," Lane hissed. "I thought that time in tha Refuge would be enough ta get ya ta change yer mind 'bout 'em, but I guess not."
"Stop interruptin'," Oscar snapped. Lane gritted her teeth, having forgotten they were there.
"They gave us orders," Frisks repeated quietly after a moment. "And we was sent out ta complete 'em. Dey said dey would treat us well if we made good. So, we made good."
After a moment, when Lane was sure she wouldn't be attacked for speaking, she said, "And look at how well dat turned out fa us."
A muscle twitched in Frisks' jaw, before she turned around, gesturing to Lane's brothers. "These two was a great help during me time in tha Refuge, y'know. Turns out, they'd been involved fa as long as you 'n I. Maybe even long-ah."
Lane's betrayed gaze darted from brother to brother. "What? No. We woulda known. I woulda known."
"Well, ya didn't," Morris spat. "Ya weren't tha only one affected by Ma's death, as much as ya like ta think ya was."
"We planned it togeth-ah," Frisks said, approaching Oscar's side. "Tha army 'a kids, I means. Tha day yer friend wit tha crutch came in, was tha day we presented tha idea ta all of 'em. He was passed out- we made sure 'a it. We didn't want a woid 'a it ta get ta Manhattan."
"Ya coulda done it all on yer own," Lane hissed, knowing all too well that she could've. "Why get tha Refuge kids involved?"
"Dey was all ready ta get revenge," Frisks told her. "Why put dat ta waste?"
"You've corrupted 'em!" Lane exclaimed. "Dey think yer givin' 'em freedom, but really, yer jus givin' 'em a life dat they'll regret once dey come ta their senses!"
"Sound famili-ah?" Frisks sneered.
"I left fa a reason," Lane said simply, gritting her teeth. "Shame ya didn't, too. Ise happy wit me life."
"Liar." Frisks eyes glinted. "You've been thinkin' 'bout yer time wit us ev-ah since ya left, but still, no one knows 'bout it."
"Ise gonna ask ya dis one more time," Lane snapped. "Was it you wit Smalls? Yer tha reason she's dead, ain't ya?"
"It don't make a difference," Frisks told her curtly. "Dat pathetic goil is dead either way."
Lane sneered at her. "You little..."
She trailed off when Frisks shot her a glare, daring her to continue. "I wouldn't say dat if I was you, dearest friend."
Lane grumbled something underneath her breath, making sure Frisks couldn't hear her.
"Things coulda been so much different if ya jus stayed," Frisks mused. "Us two togeth-ah coulda brought down entire businesses. We coulda even brought down Pulitz-ah, 'n ya know it's true!"
"Can I jus add dat-"
"Shut up!" Frisks and Lane exclaimed at Morris, with the psychotic girl pointing at him. Lane would've done the same, if it hadn't been for the stupid rope.
Lane inhaled deeply. "Dere a reason yer so stuck in tha past, Frisks? Really, Ise dyin' ta know."
"As if you ain't tryin' ta rush inta tha fut-ah," Frisks shot back. "But yer finally done wit all 'a yer boy-toys, ain't ya? Or is Finch jus anoth-ah one 'a yer conquests?"
Lane narrowed her eyes at the girl, wary of how much she knew about Lane's life after she'd left. "You've been spyin' on me. Dis whole time, you've been spyin' on me."
"Well, not directly, no." Frisks went over to her brothers, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "I was in tha Refuge, rememb-ah? These two, howev-ah, was not. Ya see, Lane, dey disliked ya almost as much as I did. So I set dem off as me eyes 'n ears, 'n dey brought back all tha information I needed... among oth-ah things."
"But why?" Lane demanded. "What good would dat do ya?"
Frisks shrugged. "Not much... I'll admit. But it's always a good idea ta get dirt on yer enemies."
"As if ya didn't already have enough," Lane grumbled. "But if ya wanted stuff on me... 'n den everythin' wit Brock... not ta mention, oh, I don't know, Smalls! Nothin' 'bout dat whole Refuge situation made any sense. It was like ya somehow got Snyd-ah ta side wit ya..."
"Careful," Frisks began, "ya might hurt yer brain if ya think any hard-ah. And I don't think Snyd-ah would ev-ah side wit me wit what we did ta him." She took a moment to reconsider. "Well..."
"Why's I he-ah, Frisks?" questioned Lane, exasperated. "If yer lookin' ta trade me wit somethin', Ise 'fraid yer outta luck. I don't make connections wit folks fa a reason."
"We don't need nothin' else," sneered Frisks. "Although I doubt people wouldn't come fa ya if we told 'em to. Dey seem ta have taken a likin' ta ya, fa whatev-ah reason. Anyway, we don't need nothin' else. We need you. As much as I hate ta admit it, yer tha best we've got."
But Lane could tell there were things, so many things, Frisks wasn't telling her. "Wow, Ise flattered. Truly."
Frisks rolled her eyes. "Seems like dere's a few things ya made yer-self forget, so I thought I'd help ya rememb-ah."
"So, ya brought me in he-ah," began Lane slowly, "ta tell me stuff? Seriously? And ya really felt tha need ta tie me ta dis chair?"
"We both know ya ain't 'fraid ta use yer teeth," Frisks mentioned, rubbing her wrist at the memory. Despite everything, a spark of pride lit up behind Lane's sternum at the reminder. She had indeed bitten Frisks, when a fight between the two had gotten particularly intense. "And we need ya ta come back. Things might jus get bad fa ya if ya don't."
"Don't ya think Ise smart-ah den dat?" Lane spat. "Yer plannin' fa things ta end up bad fa me either way. I has as much pow-ah ov-ah dis as you do, Frisks, ya said so yer-self. Yer losin' at yer own game- yer jus too desperate ta see it."
"Dis ain't a matt-ah 'a how much pow-ah we has," Frisks told her coldly. Lane saw the twitch of frustration in her jaw, though. "Go back ta how it was. Be tha spy you was born ta be. Tha newsies trust ya; get everythin' ya can 'n report back ta us."
"As if." Lane snorted. "Dis is pointless. Can ya untie me now? Anythin's more interestin' than bein' stuck in a room wit you."
"You don't join us, 'n they'll die!" Frisks exploded. "Everyone, dead! They'll all die, 'n it'll all be on yer hands!"
"But I join ya," Lane hissed, "'n den it'll really be on me hands, 'cause I'll be tha one killin' 'em."
Frisks slowly collected herself, nostrils flaring, and leaned down on the chair across from Lane, resting her arms on the top. "Like wit Ticks, right?"
Lane's heart stilled. "What?"
"Ya don't think I knew he came ta warn ya?"
It felt as though a sword had pierced her soul. "You didn't. No, ya didn't."
Frisks didn't answer, having the nerve to look somewhat remorseful.
"Frisks."
"He was a 'Hattan newsie," Frisks murmured. "He wanted revenge, but not bad enough. If ya don't join, it won't stop dere."
Lane couldn't help but think about her words. Ticks had been from Manhattan? She didn't want to ponder the reason why the boys never came for him. She thought at least Crutchie would've mentioned it.
But nothing had been said.
"You really did kill Smalls, didn't ya?" Lane questioned quietly. "Well, maybe it was one 'a yer kids, but it was still you."
"Looks like all those years away didn't do much fa yer ability ta stomach things," Frisks said, but even she looked pale, as if the full severity of her actions hadn't dawned on her until then. "Ya used ta be real good at dat."
"I learnt a thing or two 'bout humanity," Lane spat. Her entire body throbbed with distaste and loathing for the vile girl. "Shame tha same can't be said fa you, Frisks."
Frisks stared at her blankly for a few moments, before sighing as she turned away. "Alright, boys, knock her out."
Lane wasn't even able to get a say in the matter before something hard slammed into the back of her head, and she was plunged into a world of darkness.
(2231 words)
Yeah I'm sorry about everything in this chapter. Ticks, most of all. I knew it would come to this, though. And, well, at least some questions have been answered? I've probably brought on a million more, though...
I finished school today though!! It was really rainy out today, and it kinda looked like it was April again, but at least I don't have to live through another rainy day from inside a class room until next year!!
Anyway, enjoy some more behind the scenes stuff, brought to you by the three evil musketeers:
Frisks, slowly walking through the doorway: So, you're probably wondering-
Oscar: She's not awake yet. Me and Morris were just talking about puppies getting kicked.
Frisks: *heavy sigh*
Frisks, slowly walking through the doorway: So, you're proba-
Morris: Still asleep.
Frisks: ARE YOU KIDDING ME-
Frisks, slowly walking through the doorway: So-
Morris & Oscar: Nope.
Frisks, shoving over the other chair: I THOUGHT I HEARD HER FOR SURE THIS TIME DANGIT
(Bonus)
Frisks, thinking she heard Lane's voice, but not trusting her ears: *in her head* I'm not gonna fall for it again.
*a few seconds pass, in which Frisks slowly realizes that that's definitely Lane's voice*
Frisks: *in her head* CRAP CRAP CR—
Anyway, support your local author and maybe tell me what you thought of this chapter?
~ nutcracker645