Dinosaurs Say Rawr, Idiots Say Things They Regret, Criminals Say Things They Have To

We start our story when our heroes are older.

January, 17th, 2006

Peter shivered in the cold and watched his breath come out in crystallized puffs. Sometimes when he was younger he would just do it as a game, like he was huge dragon breathing fire. Now, he was pretending he was big sorcerer and he blowing ice all over the magical land of Brogeth and freezing all who dwelled there. He giggled a little.

Peter sighed and opened the blue door whose paint was peeling off. Inside was a dirty, but inhabitable house. Right in front of the door were the old, creaky stairs. And on them was a tall, lean boy.

 "Where have you been?" The tall boy whispered.
 "We had to have some food in this house." Pete said, holding up a grocery bag full of instant meals. The other boy's eyes widened.
  "Where did you get money for that?"
  "Red gave me, like, 15 dollars to go get some. I believe his exact words were 'You and the boys won't make me any more money if you waste away'." The tall boy's face relaxed in relief.
 "Well, anyway, Red must have forgotten because he's looking for you."
 "For what?"
 "I don't know!" The boy said, agitated.
 "Boy, is that you?" Red's voice rumbled through the house. That was the thing, he never called them by their names, so how were they supposed to know which one he wanted. Peter just guessed.
 "Yes!" He called, and loud footsteps were heard above and then the giant man appeared at the top of that stairs. 
 "Finally! Where were you all that goddamn time?"
 "I was out getting the food you told me to get." Red just sneered.
 "Well, I need you to do something for me. Beckett, out of here." Wow, last name for William. Impressive.
 "What is it?" Peter asked, intrigued.
  "I need you to go down to Highland St., go to the apartment complex on the corner. Go to room number A3, there you'll find-"
  "Trick?" He asked, frightened.
 "Ah, so you've heard of him. Well, then you know I'm in need of some nose candy, so go down and get me some, and if you do it right, I'll let you off work for 3 days. Got it? Here's the money." Red left leaving several hundred dollar bills in Peter's hand. Pete wasn't exactly excited to be going down to Trick's. It was on the west side first of all, and then it was Trick. Trick, the greedy drug dealer whom he had heard a lot of stories about. 
But a 3-day break from work would be worth trying, wouldn't it?

30 minutes later Peter was in Red's car that they rarely used driving west on Gordon Rd. He was almost to Trick's and he couldn't be gladder. The west siders kept giving him warning glances since they recognized Red's car, but William had told him that if he didn't stir up any trouble, they would leave him alone. 
Pete pulled up to an almost nice looking apartment building. What seemed like hours later he walked up the stairs and knocked on door A3. At first there was no answer so he knocked again. The door swung open and he was faced with the most fearsome, intimidating, tatooed man he had ever seen.
 "Uh, Trick?" He asked in a little voice. The man grunted and beckoned for him to come inside. In the apartment it was quite nice if you lived in slums like these. Seriously, the walls were painted like tan or beige or something. And the furniture looked expensive. 
 "Trick?!" The man called out. 
 "Yeah?" Someone, most likely Trick, asked from another room.
 "Someone's here to see you!"
 "Put him in the kitchen, I'll be there in a second!"
 The man in front of Peter rubbed his bald head and motioned for him to come with him into the kitchen.
Apparently Pete was not the only guest there, because there were two boys sitting at the table who looked around his age. One was of medium stature with thick, dark hair and big, brown eyes, and the other had long, fire red hair and was slightly smaller. The one with dark hair gave him a wolfish grin.
 "You one of Tad's boys? A boy as pretty as you must be." He said.
 "Oh Bren-Bear, stop being such a whore." Peter looked up and saw another boy who had just entered the kitchen. He was almost as short as he was, which was an accomplishment, and had chin-length strawberry blonde hair which held a trucker hat that said 'Nashville'. He was...well...never mind.
 "So, you're the one who's looking for me?" The new guy asked.
 "Uh, you're Trick?"
 "Yep. Nice to meet you. But if you want something, tell me real quick, ' cause I got to do some other things." Trick said, staring at him with icy aqua eyes.
 "Aww, Trick, he's so cute, can't we keep him for a little while?" The boy with dark hair, who was referred to as 'Bren-Bear', smiled up at Peter.
 "No. Now, what do you want?" Hmm. Snappy. 
 "Well, my boss, Red, sent me down here to get some-"
 "Oh, Red, huh! So you're one of his boys, funny, word was that his boys were the prettiest around here. Guess not. But I know what you want, so wait here while I get it." He was out of there so fast, Pete didn't even realize that he had just been insulted.
 "I don't know what he's talking about, I think you're very pretty. My name's Brendon."
 "That's nice, now leave me alone."
 "Aww, you haven't got any love for moi?"  
 "Well, I am a whore. I don't have any love unless you pay me." Pete replied bitterly.
 "Alright, ouch." And Brendon went to go sit back down.
 "Here it is, you got the cash?" Trick said coming into the kitchen again. He plopped down a plastic baggie of what, of course, looked like powdered sugar.
 "Yeah." And Pete pulled out about $500 and hoped he was guessing right. He must have, because Trick greedily tugged the money from his hands and handed over the plastic baggie.
 "Thanks." Pete mumbled, and he showed himself out of the door.

 "Here you go," He was saying as soon as he got home.
 "Well, what took you so long, boy?" Red asked and snatched the baggie from his hands. Red then proceeded to walk upstairs where Peter knew was a whole bunch of girl prostitutes waiting for him.
 "Red?" He called after Red.
 "What, boy?!"
 "Uh, for my three days off I was going to spend it back at my parent's house in Wilmette." Peter said, hoping. All was quiet for about two seconds, then Red started to laugh.
 "You think you can go back there?"
 "I'll come back, I've been here for three years and haven't seen my family or my old friends, please." Pete knew he was acting like a total pussy, but he was hoping to get through to Red. Red turned around.
 "You say you lived in Wilmette?"
 "Yes."
 "That's a rather well-off neighborhood, isn't it?"
 "I suppose so," Pete replied, wondering what Red was getting at.
 "And you think you can go back there? To Wilmette and be with them rich folk. I don't think so boy! You're not one of them anymore."
 "What?"
 "Listen, you used to be the little rich punk-ass in your neighborhood. You can't go back there. You're not that kid anymore. Most likely your parents think you're dead, and it's probably best that way. Can you imagine telling your folks that you live here, in the streets between Farimont and Lanchester? Or, better yet, that you're a little whore? You're doing drug-dealing? Once you come here, Peter Wentz, you can't go back. You're a creature of a dark place, they think you're some sort of animal. And animals and people aren't family with each other. This is your family, now. With others of your species. You. Can. Never. Ever. Go. Back. Got -" But Red didn't finish his speech, because Peter ran right up the stairs and slugged him in the jaw. Red looked a little surprised, but didn't move one bit. Let us face it, Red is an elephant sized man and Peter is rather like, a well, a little sparrow.
 "You little fu-" Red punched him right in the left eye. The blow was enough to send Pete tumbling down the stairs. "And you better go to sleep soon, you've got work tommorow."

 Peter lay there for what seemed like forever contemplating what Red had told him. 

He was so stupid, of course he couldn't go back to his old neighborhood, his old life, even if it was just for three days. He was now a citizen of this evil place, never to leave again. He had dreamed of getting out of here after a couple of years and going back home. To his big house in Wilmette. To his doting mother and successful father. To his brother and sister, all of his friends, Joe.....oh, Joe. Him he missed most of all.
 "Pete? What are you doing on the floor man?" Pete looked over to see a tall, black guy with a large hoodie on.
 "Nothing Travis."
 "Well, anyway, where's Red?"
 "He's upstairs."
 "'Kay, see you later brah."

Peter sprung to his feet when he heard the screams of two women. He soon shook his head for being so idiotic, God knew what they were doing up there, but nothing bad was happening.
 "Yo, Pete! Call 9-1-1!" He heard Travis say. What the fuck? 
 


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