Steal

The future is ours.. isn't it?

80 posts in this topic

Yusai had tried several times in vain to get through to Steal on the phone. There was no answer and he was beginning to worry tremendously. It was unusual for Steal to be -this- avoidant, even when he was in an uncommunicative mood. He wasn't one to make others worry unnecessarily. Otto had suggested that they call the cops, and Yusai responded automatically without so much as a second thought.

 

Lance sat at the bar counter, fidgeting with a shotglass while he listened to Yusai's stilted conversation with the NYPD. He was worried as well, maybe moreso than he had right to be. A small part of him was blaming himself for Steals disappearance, thinking that maybe Steal had run off to avoid him for the rest of the night. He knew that wasn't likely the case, but still, he couldn't help the thought. His other thought was that maybe Steal had been the subject of some blind violence, knowing all-too-well that bigotry--homophobia--wasn't dead in the city, and Lance paled at the idea that Steal could be out there somewhere, bloodied, bruised, or dead.

 

Yusai hung up the phone, a grimmace plastered across his brow and mouth. Otto, arms crossed over his chest tight, asked what the result of the conversation was.

 

"Fuckin' bloody useless, is what they are," Yusai stated, jamming his phone into his pocket. "They won't do a search until he's been missing for at least 48 hours."

 

"That's -insane-!" Otto cried, sharing Yusai's disdain for the law enforcements inepetude, as well as his worry. "He could be anywhere by then... Vermont, Philedelphia... A fuckin' back-alley somewhere half-dead--"

 

"I know that!" Yusai snapped. "There's not a damn thing they'll do about it!"

 

"Well fuck it, then, we'll do something about it. Give me your phone, mine get's shitty reception in here." Otto replied, holding out his hand. Yusai asked him what for, but fished out his phone and handed it to his friend who had yet to answer his question.

 

"I'm going to call a detective or something. Find someone who will go out looking for him ASAP."

 

**

Ian had pulled into the hotel parking lot that his client had specified she would be waiting at. He parked, and he heard Steal make a small, wavering sound somewhere between a whine and a groan. He had made some weak effort to move, open his door, perhaps escape, but the effects of the fumes still had their grip on him and made those efforts futile. Besides, Ian had the doors locked.

 

Ian reached over to the glove box and yanked it open. Some papers inside that had been folded in half unfurreled and fell into Steal's lap. He wisked them up and put the small stack in front of him against the steering wheel, turned the corners of the pages over in his fingers, just barely pulling the papers apart, his eyes skimming over the text on each page. He mumbled some of the words he read half-heartedly, stopping suddenly and saying aloud, "Here we go," and pulling the particular sheet up and placing it on top of the stack. He folded the papers over again and held them tight in his left hand.

 

"All right kid, let's get a move on." Ian said while he pulled the keys from the ignition and unbuckled himself. He opened the driver door and stepped out, circled around the front of his car, opened the passenger door, and looked down at the boy still lolling in his seat. “Can you stand? You better.”

 

He watched Steal struggle to even place his feet on the ground evenly. He sat up and wasn’t able to catch the weight of his movement in time, and ended up thrusting himself face-first into the dashboard, which elicited a groan. When he turned his face to Ian, he saw that his nose was bleeding. Whatever, as long as the rest of Steal was in tact, Ian didn’t care; He had to deliver this kid one way or the other.

 

He sighed, bent over, and reached inside the car for Steal, placing his hands under his armpits. With some struggling, Ian was able to pull Steal upright and lift him out of the seat so he could stand, very wobbly and weak of course. From here, he took one of Steals arms and threw it over his own shoulder to brace him as they walked, the younger man staggering to keep up with Ian’s pace. It took a while, but they eventually made it through the hotel entryway and Ian could already see the silhuette of his clients hair—Steal’s mother—sitting in the lobby, waiting. He called out to her, and she turned to look, her pale blue eyes falling on the sight of her son immediately.

 

Good God, just look at you,” She said, standing, the tail of her gray-blue cardigan flowing down around her legs. “Just what the hell have you been up to? I’ve been waiting for hours.”

 

It’s a long story,” Ian replied, still struggling to hold Steal upright. “Anyway, here’s your kid, as promised. I’ll just need your hancock on this paper here, and I’ll be on my way... Also as promised.” He fumbled his hand that was still holding the wad of papers, that had been wrapped around Steal’s waist, and held the papers out to the woman who plucked them quickly and delicately from his grasp. She turned away from them briefly and tucked her hand into the pocket of her beige, wide-leg pants, pulling out a pen, and then going to work signing whatever documentation it was Ian had handed her. As quickly as she had finished, she turned back to them, not even looking at Ian as she handed him back his documents, her silence and judging eyes upon her son being all the instruction Ian needed to get lost. And so, leaning Steal against the back of the sofa in the lounge, Ian turned heel and left.

 

The quiet in the lobby would have been unbearable if it wasn’t for the low hum of a nearby ice machine to act as a small distraction. Though there was no way to tell how Steal was processing the events of the night, his mother certainly had her own thoughts.

 

Well, you certainly look dreadful. I’ll hope that bloody nose was on account of the dry air, and not because you’ve been up to some incideous activity like snorting coke with your lecherous friends.” Her eyes were half-lidded but focusing here and there on her son, zig-zagging between all the details she cared to absorb. The bloody nose. His short hair. The eye-liner. His—well, his dress was fairly reasonable, if not slightly flamboyant for her tastes. His sluggish demeanour. She processed these things and seemed to be calculating the next thing to say, the next thing she could say to strike some kind of sense into her child, whom she had nothing but intense disappointment for.

 

Still, she was his mother, and in flat tone she asked if he had eaten. “I have dinner ready in our room. You’ll get cleaned up before we eat. And I won’t hear any complaining about the dinner choice, it’s all you’ll be having until we get home tomorrow morning.”

 

With one more judging glare, she turned away from her son and began walking down the hallway to their room. She didn’t have to turn to reassure that her son was following closely behind her. Years of conditioning him in his youth still seemed to have a level of control over him. He knew better than to disobey her, even if she never rose a finger to strike him like his father did.

 

She stopped outside her hotel room and opened the door, holding it open for her son to enter, and she watched him like a hawk as he stumbled inside, her disapproval all too palpable when she entered herself and closed the door behind her.

 

The bath is in the ensuite. There’s some pajamas and a robe for you to change into. Throw what you’re wearing into the bin—you won’t be seeing your father looking like that.” She said, making herself comfortable on a lounge chair in the living room. There was a table just next to her seat with a bucket filled with ice, a bottle of wine, a corksckrew, and three up-turned wine glasses placed on a gilded tray; she reached over and pulled the bottle out, picked up the corkscrew, and was fast at work uncorking the wine bottle and pouring herself a glass in one of the empty cups while her son trudged to the bathroom to shower.

 

 

 

 

 

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Steal was so woozy, he wasn't all that sure what was happening.  He knew he was being taken somewhere.  The guy that had been saying he was only looking for his missing cat was now taking him somewhere.  When they stopped he felt like he was still moving for a while.   It was as if the car was still forcing him into motion even though he was being pulled out of it.

"Wh...?"   he stammered a bit and felt like he was about to be sick.   Finally he found his feet and blinked owlishly around.  It was still a time before he realized just where he was.   He noticed then who was with him.  His mother, no wonder he was there, this was the kind of thing she would plan for, to take him away from any hope of happiness.  Neither of his parents wanted him as anything more than a trophy.   Sit, shut up, and let others see you.  Nothing more nothing less.   He let her drag him into the hotel, walking like a zombie.  She didn't even need to physically pull him, he just followed like a lost puppy.

Well, he had planned to head there on his own, now that he was here though, he regretted everything.  His happiness would be gone forever.  Steal walked into the suite and looked at the food on the trade and the glasses that had been set out.   The thought of anything made him feel physically ill.   He groaned and headed into the bathroom, not really listening to what she had to say.   He didn't want to throw away his clothing, he didn't want to loose anything. 

Closing the bathroom door, he sat down on the toilet and closed his eyes, fighting back a series of sobs.   He didn't want to do any of this but it was too late.   Stowing away his clothing under the sink to perhaps be found by someone.  Finally he stepped out of the room and walked into the main suite sitting down politely but with little expression on his face.   Rather than seeming to mind though his mother was actually happier this way.   To her he was being the way he should.   Dressed in a preppy suit, hair brushed nicely.  "Your hair.. it is butchered.   The long hair showed your breeding."

Soon enough he would be seeing his father though, and then the punishment would start.

***

They had looked all over the building for some sign of what had happened to lose Steal and it was only when one of Otto's staff went out for a smoke break that the bracelet was found.   He ran inside with it and took it right to Otto.

The bracelet was engraved on the back with a notation that it was from Yusai for Steal's 20th.  

"Shit..."  Otto paled a bit and ran over to Yusai with the bracelet.  The meaning behind it being there was obvious.  There was no way Steal would have left it willingly.  He had been taken somewhere against his will.  Calling the cops and telling them he had been taken wasn't going to work.  They had to figure out where he was now.

"Yusai, I am so sorry..."   Otto rubbed his hands over his eyes and closed them tight.  "Shit... what are we going to do now?"

***

Steal watched with a fairly bland look on his face as his father finally walked into the room.   The man walked over and grabbed him by the face lifting him that way to his feet.  He glared at the young man.  "Seems we didn't treat you good enough?  You were not getting everything you could want?  Well, you have a lot to learn."

He dropped Steal back down, watching as his son folded his hands and silently sat in place.  Sneering he walked back across the room.  "Living with a strange man, going to bars every day.. bringing shame on our family, this is not how we taught you."   The elder man paced back and forth.  "We will be taking you home and you will start going through training again.  I will not have you being like this.  We are going to set you up in a different room and start you back into proper behaviour."

The words could only mean one thing to him.  He would be beaten mercilessly for a while until he repented for all he had done.  Still deep inside he would hold onto what and who he was.  Maybe some day he would see his friends again.  Why had he ever wanted to go back with these people.  Oh, for Yusai, this was all for Yusai.

((so sorry.. TnT))

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((sorry for keeping you waiting ive been so busyyyyyyyy))

 

Logan was in the middle of processing the last of some paperwork for the night when he heard his cellphone vibrate on the corner of his desk. He was tired and already a little out-of-it, but he was even more confused to hear his phone ring so late and on a weekend as well. He picked it up, not recognizing the number on the screen, and answered hesitantly.

 

"Hello, Logan Austin's office," He said, the line automatic even when he wasn't answeing phone calls from complete strangers. He heard some noise on the other end of the phone and then a gruff, thick, but clear voice speak from the other end.

 

"Yeah, hi. My name's Otto Lombardi. I don't know if this is a service you cover or whatever but your name came up on a search for local private investigators. Do you do missing persons searches?" Otto was straight to the point, so much so that it caught Logan off gaurd.

 

"I, uh... Hold on a minute, you caught me in the middle of something here," Logan grumbled. He had to take a moment to put aside some files he had been sorting and then pull out some fresh sheets to jot down information from this potential new client on the line. While he did this, he asked, "Did you already contact the police?"

 

"Yeah, we did," Otto responded, "They said they wouldn't conduct a search unless the person has been missing for 48 hours."

 

Logan nodded at this, but needed more information. "I take it the person in question hasn't been missing that long. Tell me. Do you have reasonable suspicion that there's been some... Ill-intent on this individual? And I take it you've attempted contact with this person to find their location?"

 

"Yes, yes," Were Otto's replies. "He's not anywhere that he would usually... Or UNusually be. He's not answering his cellphone, either. I dunno about ill-intent or whatever, but it's really unusual for this kid to just up and disappear without saying a word to anyone about his whereabouts."

 

Blank sheets finally in front of him, Logan was finally organized to take down some proper info. "Tell me more about the missing person, if you would." He requested, pen-tip readied on the paper in front of him. "Name, age, description..." As he trailed off, he heard some scuffling on the other end of the line and then another voice with--what he presumed was--an english accent began talking.

 

"His name's Steal. Er, Stephen, actually. Stephen Masters,"

 

"How old is he?"

 

"He'll be turning 21 in another month. Uh, 20, sorry mate. I mean, he's 20. He's about 170 centimenters tall, maybe a bit bigger--"

 

"You'll have to give me that in 'American' measurements, sir," Logan interrupted, too tired to do the math himself.

 

"Ah, right. Uh, I suppose that's five... foot... Seven? Oi, get the bloody calculator out of me face," Yusai grunted. He cleared his throat and continued, "Sorry. Yeah, he's 5'7, probably no more than fifty-eight kilos wet--ah, that's 130 pounds--has short, silver hair, real vibrant blue eyes, and he's got two red moles on the back of his neck that look like a vampire bit 'im."

 

Logan finished jotting down these details (and was a little surprised at how in-depth the description was), feeling a strange sense of deja-vu as he looked over some of the descriptors of this person. A young man with silver hair, huh? Stephen Masters... Something about the name seemed familiar, too.

 

"All right. Can you tell me a little bit about the circumstances surrounding his disappearance?" Logan asked, skimming his wrist down to another portion of the page. "When did you notice his absence?"

 

There was a pause on the other end, and the sound of thinking through the mouth. Yusai then hesitently explained that Steal must've disappeared just after his show, which was at 9.

 

"Okay," Logan went on, "Did he seem agitated before his disappearance? Did you notice any change in his mood tonight, or prior to?” He heard some long, drawn-out “umms” and “uhhhs”. To clear the obvious confusion he was hearing, Logan continued, “I just want to rule out any possibility of suicide. It’ll rule out some well-known spots for the initial investigation.”

 

Yusai paused on this question, trying to remember Steal’s mood that night. He had been sullen, withdrawn, and quiet up until his show. He sang a very meloncholy song that had even made his own heart sink. Steal was prone to down moods, and if he was making an honest observation, he couldn’t say that Steal was someone he ever considered “bubbly” or “energetic”. And, Yusai remembered Steals suicidal tendencies when he had initially taken him in... But was Steal still that person? He’d like to think that he wasn’t. He couldn’t say for certain.

 

A... A little, I ‘spose. He um... He’s been a little down lately,” Yusai admitted, his voice becoming low and soft.

 

There were some sounds of more scribbling and then a faint “tap” as Logan finished the last of his notes and set down his pen. He had the pertinent inormation he needed for now. And even though it was late, and it was a weekend, his time was money and he figured if he was going to be up anyway, he may as well do some work.

 

I’ll come down to investigate the premises tonight. Keep everything in tact, I’ll be down shortly.” Logan instructed, and with that, he was already slipping on his coat and fishing for his keys in his pocket.

 

**

 

Allan, that’s enough, for Godssake. You know he bruises ike a peach,” Was the only plea to Steal’s father that his mother made in the boys defense. Her tone was not one that suggested pity, at least not outwardly, but more fatigued and annoyed “Besides, he’s already had a bloody nose and... God, do you see the scar on his head?”

 

Allan looked down at his son, who was on the floor on all fours with his head lowered. He had taken Steal by the collar and given him a firm jostle before pushing him aside in frustration. All the past grievances and irritations with his son had come to surface when he laid eyes on him again, and unable—unwilling—to control his anger, Allan lashed out quickly and fiercely. As was his way.

 

Get up,” Allan commanded, ignoring his wife’s interjection. “From what I’ve had to hear from outside sources, you’ve spent enough times on your knees. Get up.” Steal feebly made an effort to get up on his feet, but the effort wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t good enough, for Allan. With a hissing intake of breath, the man bent down and grabbed Steal by a tuft of hair from the crown of his head and pulled upwards. Steal wailed and shot upright immeadiately but clumsily. Alan took a moment to examine his son’s expression, his demeanour, and it was not with eyes of compassion he laid on his child, but one of utter contempt. God, what a pitiful creature he was.

 

Do you have any idea what sort of reputation you’re giving me?” Allan asked in a low tone, his eyes hardening. “The sorts of things your mother and I have to listen to from those snakes on Wall Street? Do you have any CLUE?” He had his hands around the collar of Steal’s robe again, holding the boys gaze. “No... Of course you don’t. You’re oblivious. You’re selfish. It’s never mattered to you how your mother and I stay afload in this economy so long as you were out and about, gallavanting around with your low-life friends.... Leaving us to clean up after you. Leaving ME with a tainted name—a potentially tainted business—because YOU can’t keep it together!” Here he shook Steal violently until he was sick of holding him, and then let him go, not giving a care as his son tumbled on his ass to the ground.

 

Laura, call our damned valet and have him come pick us up as soon as possible. We’re going home tonight and putting this child in lock-up until he developes some sense.”

 

 


 

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While Yusai was giving the insanely accurate measurements on Steal, the boy himself was huddled in a corner, holding onto his bruised face and watching a few drips of blood strike his robe.   It was nothing new really, this was just his father's usual way of handling him.  Amusing that he had forgot something like this.   He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.   He shifted a bit, waiting for his father and mother to start talking. really more like quite but heated arguing.

Selfish, his father called him selfish, but he had no idea just what he had actually gave up.  His freedom, his happiness... 

He sniffled a bit then got to his feet, and stumbled to the bathroom, he had to leave a message, he had to find a way to get himself free again.   Insane really when all he had wanted was to let Yusai free.   He wrote carefully with a strange pencil he found (eyeliner?) on the back of the material of his hidden shirt.   His carefully written letters were a note giving Otto's bar's number and the address of his parent's estate.  It was all he could do.

He then closed his eyes tight sat on the edge of the bathtub and waited.  It wouldn't be long before he was dragged out of bathroom and stuffed into the limo his father would have to drive home in  There was no way they would slum it.  He gave a small smirk then turned his head when the door opened looking at his father who promptly dragged him out of the room.

****

It was about an hour later before they arrived back to the manor, and he was dragged to the secure lock up cell.  AKA his room.   It was terrible.  The computer was the same, the windows were barred and his bed was pretty much the only thing there.   The computer didn't seem to be hooked up, it was more of a prop to make him think that he had something in there.  It was a bad joke really.   None of the staff had the chance to see him and very likely none of them wouldn't even know he was there ever.   He sighed weakly and sat down on the bed, wishing he could be anyone but there.

In the hall he could hear his mother talking about proper security and how it would have to be beefed up outside.   The whole situation was ironic really.,  He had no idea things would be like this.  He had figured his going home would be a bit different, that maybe he would even be given some form of freedom.  His parents still didn't acknowledge that he was their kid.  He was just a bad publicity risk.   He wondered why the heck his parents had wanted kids anyway.

****

The investigation into finding Steal was a slow going process, or at least it seemed like one to the staff working with Otto.   How in the world could they have lost Yusai's friend?  The bracelet had been located and given to Yusai who seemed devastated to have seen it.  

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While Yusai was giving the insanely accurate measurements on Steal, the boy himself was huddled in a corner, holding onto his bruised face and watching a few drips of blood strike his robe.   It was nothing new really, this was just his father's usual way of handling him.  Amusing that he had forgot something like this.   He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.   He shifted a bit, waiting for his father and mother to start talking. really more like quite but heated arguing.

Selfish, his father called him selfish, but he had no idea just what he had actually gave up.  His freedom, his happiness... 

He sniffled a bit then got to his feet, and stumbled to the bathroom, he had to leave a message, he had to find a way to get himself free again.   Insane really when all he had wanted was to let Yusai free.   He wrote carefully with a strange pencil he found (eyeliner?) on the back of the material of his hidden shirt.   His carefully written letters were a note giving Otto's bar's number and the address of his parent's estate.  It was all he could do.

He then closed his eyes tight sat on the edge of the bathtub and waited.  It wouldn't be long before he was dragged out of bathroom and stuffed into the limo his father would have to drive home in  There was no way they would slum it.  He gave a small smirk then turned his head when the door opened looking at his father who promptly dragged him out of the room.

****

It was about an hour later before they arrived back to the manor, and he was dragged to the secure lock up cell.  AKA his room.   It was terrible.  The computer was the same, the windows were barred and his bed was pretty much the only thing there.   The computer didn't seem to be hooked up, it was more of a prop to make him think that he had something in there.  It was a bad joke really.   None of the staff had the chance to see him and very likely none of them wouldn't even know he was there ever.   He sighed weakly and sat down on the bed, wishing he could be anyone but there.

In the hall he could hear his mother talking about proper security and how it would have to be beefed up outside.   The whole situation was ironic really.,  He had no idea things would be like this.  He had figured his going home would be a bit different, that maybe he would even be given some form of freedom.  His parents still didn't acknowledge that he was their kid.  He was just a bad publicity risk.   He wondered why the heck his parents had wanted kids anyway.  

One thung had not changed at all though, his hidden gloves, bandages and pocket knife was still under one of the base boards.  He slid the familiar gloves on, and settled on his bed again, looking out the window at the darkening sky.

****

The investigation into finding Steal was a slow going process, or at least it seemed like one to the staff working with Otto.   How in the world could they have lost Yusai's friend?  The bracelet had been located and given to Yusai who seemed devastated to have seen it.  For the detective that has been phoned though things were even stranger.  He had been spending hours researching information on not only the missing young man but the family and he didn't like the scorpion nest he had found.

How could a family that prominent have been hiding their son for so long.  Other than a few publicity stills there was nothing there, no sports stories, academics, public interests, nothing.  It was like their son was a puppet brought out to dance once in a blue moon.  Only in the last couple of years had anything appeared.

Logan leaned back in his chair and sighed not noticing another member of the agency walking in humming, At least not until he started crowing about closing his case and returning a missing heir to his family.  It was all Logan could do to keep himself from throwing a pen at the other man.  

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