War is No Place for a Child

This was bad. This was really, really bad. Antonio Reda had made it unquestionably clear to Dietrich that no evidence of his biomedical weapons research was to be discovered until their latest attempt at gaining the upper hand in the region was about to take place. He'd been successful at staying under wraps for so long now, and he'd been given a couple of Reda's men to serve as protection in case he was spotted during his research hours. Day in and day out for years, he had his discreetly armed escort, a Russian immigrant and an ex-American soldier, following him from a distance whenever he was commuting between his lab and his home. He'd felt secure... Naively so, unfortunately as it was in his one moment of carelessness that allowed that good-for-nothing spy to capture evidence of his research.

That fateful night, Alexei had managed to chase the man down and get a couple shots in before the large man's inability to keep up allowed the spy to slip away. Fortunately, Dietrich had managed to see something interesting when he followed and watched the spy slink into an alley from a safe distance across the street. There was that strange little boy. It was unexpected, to say the least... Watching, but not able to hear what the two were saying, but he was able to make out that the boy might be of value to him if he were somehow able to figure out if there was some connection between the two. He had Jane, the ex-soldier, station himself to watch the flower boy to see if the spy would show up again. Not even a few weeks later, he was rewarded with a confirmation of the boy's value and with that, began the planning for the child's abduction.

Jeremy didn't really do much during his days off. Today, for instance, he had decided to mess around with a group of the boys a little too close to the docks. He knew that it wasn’t a safe area, but that had never stopped the thrill-seeking spirit in the boy before. They were a small group, so it was fairly easy to sneak their way onto the bridge above with pockets full of stones to be thrown at the ships below. Of course, the boys could only be entertained with this for so long before one or all of them got bored and suggested something dangerous and stupid.

“Bet’cha none a you pussies can sneak onto one a them ships and smash the windows without getting caught,” one had suggested. As tempting as it was, Jeremy wasn’t stupid enough to risk something like that when he already had so much to lose, namely his Uncle Pat’s trust that he’d stay out of trouble involving the cops. Luckily, one of the more unintelligent boys was quick to volunteer, and was just as quick to set off every alarm on that dock as the first window was destroyed. Jeremy had watched the marginally younger boy do it, but each and every one of them was quick to scatter into the shadows as they all knew the cops would come and hunt them down at any moment, leaving Jeremy alone in his mad dash to safety.

Dietrich and Jane had seen the whole bout of vandalism with their eyes not once losing track of their young target. The German scientist looked back to his gruff American companion and gave the man a quick nod before the two of them went to intercept Jeremy in the middle of his escape. Alexei, too big a man to remain inconspicuous, stayed in the car and had his keys in the ignition for when the four of them would need to get away.

There were many places where Jeremy could have hidden, but he already knew all too well how eager the cops were to sniff all of them out and stuff them into a cell for the night. No, Jeremy was going straight home to Pat where the cops wouldn’t bother looking for him. He was already smiling victoriously when the fence separating the streets from the docks came into his view, but he wasn’t going to be making it any further than that as a pair of hands grabbed him by the upper arms and pulled him back into the alley.

“Lemme go! I didn’t do nuthin’!” he pleaded, putting up a good struggle as the skinnier of the two cops stepped close enough for him to see that… These men definitely weren’t working with the cops. “Who the fuck are y—nnnmmmph!”

“Be quiet, boy. Your voice is starting to grate on my nerves.” The faint smile on Dietrich’s face grew when the child’s struggling grew weaker and weaker before becoming still and blissfully unconscious. Drawing his hand away from the boy’s face, he dropped the chloroform doused rag back into its plastic bag along with his gloves. They had what they came for, so with a crisp order directed at Jane, the former military man slung the unconscious Jeremy over his shoulders as they made their way back to the waiting car. All that was left now was to somehow leave their elusive spy a message for negotiations: all the evidence in the spy’s arsenal in exchange for the boy’s life.

If Rémy was certain of one thing, it was that nobody understood loneliness quite like a spy could. Not even the oldest widow living out her days without her partner or the lonely guard of a tower nobody could ever care to visit. Perhaps he was exaggerating, he was prone to theatrics. It was all part of being a spy, afterall, his life was one huge act. Ever movement carefully judged and every word scripted in advance. He could take comfort in the fact that he is simply the best at what he does. Or the fact that, unlike the guard or the widow, he had the ability to drown sorrow in booze and the chest of a good looking woman (or a man, if need be, but that was a little more difficult to drown one's self in).

He had no idea why he had become so melancholy as of late. If anything, he should be gleefully celebrating. He had accquired the notes and evidence of biomedical weapons research, he had practically snatched it out of the hands of those blundering fools and walked out with it. Belucci's reaction was almost worth the bullet wounds in his shoulder. He been given the pleasure of meeting him face to face as he flipped through the stolen notes. He had even been so casual with Rémy that he offered him a cigar and clapped him on the back with one of his beefy Italian hands. Both of which Rémy took with a grin. He had upped the Belucci ladder without Reda suspecting a thing. Last he heard of it, some mush mouthed Mexican who seemed reluctant to show his face to Reda was taking the blame for him. Whether he knew it or not.

All things considered, Rémy had been all kinds of lucky that day. He was even more lucky to find that strange little boy outside of his flower shop. If he had not been so (begrudgingly) kind as to patch Rémy up, he might have stumbled right into the hands of the German and his lovely assistants. Despite being a little rough around the edges and hesitant to trust Rémy, the boy seemed to have an endearing innocence about him. It was something Rémy saw little of these days and somehow he found himself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. It was rather pathetic for a man of his profession. Though, as he sat alone in his apartment that seemed far too big for one person, he felt like maybe he could have something to offer the boy. If his research was correct, he lived in a home above the flower shop with the man who hired him, Patrick. Far be it from him to snatch away a man's ward, he just couldn't help feeling jealous that they could be so close and have the ability to trust one another.

He felt himself getting envious at the idea of having someone greet him every day after he had been working away his days. It was not a sexual relationship that he desired. They were far too troublesome. No. After a few close scrapes with death he found that more than anything, he wanted someone to teach his secrets to. It was only recently that he began to wonder who would notice if he died. Or really, who would care? Everybody was kept at an arms length for him. He had nobody to confide in and nobody to worry about him. But now, and only just now, he had begun to ponder the idea of physically searching for an apprentice.

He had very little to base his feeling off of, but he had started to realise the boy he met that day might fit that role perfectly. He had tried to talk himself out of it but he just kept seeing admirable traits in the young man. He was not naïve, he was mature beyond his years, he had a good humour about him and he was cold enough to deny him help for so long, then suddenly he was crouching over him with such an attentive expression. Of course, being able to treat wounds was always a bonus.

Thinking himself crazy, he began to shrug a jacket onto his shoulders and make his way out of the apartment. This was probably some sort of midnight crisis. Who in their right mind becomes so enchanted by a boy that they want to take them on as their protégé after one brief meeting? He shook his head to himself as he strode toward the flower shop, a smile immediately crossing his face as he saw the boy flattering some elderly women. He supposed the boy's charm might have something to do with his attachment to him.
Of course, Jeremy seemed less than impressed to see him. Somehow this was so endearing to him. He passed off his visit as a simple want to thank him for his kindness and the boy seemed to accept this somehow. If Rémy were ever going to ask him to become his ward, it would not be today. Still, it was not doing any harm to visit him sometimes and to speak to him, was it? Perhaps if this kept up, he could at least play a small role in his life. This appealed to Rémy and he left the flowershop smiling, blissfully unaware of what would become of his new emotional attachment.

Annoyingly enough, Rémy found himself visiting the flower shop shortly after. Deciding he was not done irritating the young man. Suspiciously enough, the lights were off and Jeremy was nowhere to be seen. He looked around the dark room curiously, searching for hints of a fight or struggle and finding none. Suddenly, something familiar caught his eyes. Jeremy's cap was just sitting on the front counter. So conveniently, it must have been placed there. He felt a weight in his stomach as he reached for the cap, lifting it to inspect it carefully. A flash of red caught his eye and he saw Reda's logo flop against the cap, having been pinned there. Flipping the scrap over, the words “Diversity 20:00” were scrawled onto it's back.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. This was clearly blackmail, but why Jeremy? Who were they intending to ensnare? Was it planted for Rémy? Despite himself, he was already figuring out what scribblings were trying to demand. The Diversity was a large ship that frequented the docks, of course, one would only know of it if they knew of it's contents. The Diversity was known by those in the underworld as one of the most reliable shipper of...questionable merchandise. Forbidden products such as alcohol and tobacco were discreetly exchanged in the storage houses no longer in use. This happened every second Friday at 10pm and only the most trusted henchmen of Reda would partake in the stock taking. Of course, nobody but the higher ups of Reda's crew would know of this. Rémy was always the exception. Curiously. It was not Friday nor was it 10pm. It was about 7:30 on a Tuesday. Whoever had left this message meant business. Well, they were about to discover that Rémy was nothing but business. He stepped out onto the street and hailed a cab, heading to the docks.

He was not himself tonight.

Dietrich left Jane with the order to patrol the deck of the ship to keep a look out for their spy’s arrival on the docks. The soldier would be the one to ‘greet’ the man, as well as make sure he was stripped of every concealed weapon on his person before getting anywhere near the German or his captive. It simply wouldn’t do to have the man waltzing in with a knife or a pistol pointed at his head during negotiations. That is… if the spy showed up at all. Kidnapping the boy had been a gamble, and a rather far-fetched one at that. Dietrich knew the slim chance his plan had of succeeding the very moment the idea had popped into his head, but given the circumstances, he didn’t have much of a choice. It was either to seize the opportunity that had been given to him, or to sit and wait for a more solid, but even more unlikely lead to come up.

“Doktor, are you sure this plan will work?” Alexei, the large Russian who had been quick to become somewhat of Dietrich’s confidant after taking up the assignment to protect him, was soft and questioning in his tone, but still held that cold professionalism that needed to remain between them in times like these.

“I do not need to hear such blather coming from you,” Dietrich snapped as he held the gaze of the indignant looking man before him. If the already tense atmosphere around the doctor wasn’t enough, then Dietrich’s rigid posture and the way he snapped at his most trusted guardsman like a cornered animal revealed just how much weight he was putting on his plan’s success. Now, Alexei was a man whom most would do well to show only respect, and given his profession, most would automatically do so after seeing the protruding muscle and the Russian’s notable proficiency with all things that fire bullets. Lucky for Dietrich, that frightening amount of muscle came with an equally perceptive and understanding intellect which was probably the only reason the German hadn’t been punched in the face.

However, the doctor seemed to notice his near blunder and let out a heavy, but mostly inaudible sigh through his nostrils as he attempted to compose himself and answer his companion’s question. “It must. I have put too much time and sacrificed too much to let one stupid mistake ruin the rest of my career.”

“You really needed to bring in child for this? He is almost baby if not for all the swearing.” It was clear to Alexei that his friend was having some second thoughts about his course of action, but there wasn’t much he could do besides doing his best to protect Dietrich if something went awry.
“There was no other choice. It would have been too late if we waited any longer to find another connection to that filthy spy.” Dietrich’s brow furrowed in distaste the longer he considered it. He knew what he was in for when he agreed to work for Reda, but he had never expected to get someone so young involved. Although he did not want any of his own, Dietrich still held on to the moral that children weren’t meant to be dragged into an adult’s ruthless struggle for power and status. However, if all went well, he’d still have his hands clean of civilian blood and would able to keep his high-risk, but luxurious lifestyle. If not, he was going to become a murderer tonight for the sake of his own selfish dream.

Before he could dwell any longer on it, Dietrich closed his eyes and let his humanity slowly detach from him before he turned back at Alexei with all visible signs of his earlier apprehension gone. He had a job to do for Reda, so all of this was just strictly business. “You secured the boy as I instructed, I trust?”

Alexei stood a little straighter when the tone of the doctor’s voice grew distant, and he glanced quickly at the door to the infirmary. “да, he was still unconscious when we arrived. Was easy.” Dietrich nodded and went back to pacing the floor. It was almost that time.

Jeremy hated those days when he woke up still feeling extremely sluggish. It was like his brain was still stuck somewhere in la la dreamland as his body tried getting him to roll out of bed while failing to stop him from running into every wall and piece of furniture in the room. Which he’d done on multiple occasions when he’d slept later than he was supposed to. Geezus, even his mouth felt sticky and gross from having it open while he slept. What was more disturbing, he could feel fresh saliva dripping out from the corners of his mouth as he slowly regained consciousness. As per reflex, he went to wipe the drool away with the back of his sleeve, but he couldn’t seem to lift his arm. His eyebrows crinkled together in frustration as he tried again and failed, a growing sense of urgency welling up in his chest as he wiggled uselessly on the hard bed. Wait… His bed was never this uncomfortable, and his room sure as hell didn’t smell of disinfectant.

Full-blown panic knocked any grogginess out of him as his head thrashed to either side in a desperate attempt to figure out his surroundings. He definitely wasn’t in his room, his hands and legs were bound which explained why he couldn’t move, and the saliva-dampened fabric pushing as a gag against his tongue explained why his own voice sounded so muffled to his ears. Oh god, that’s right. He’d never made it home when he was running from the cops however long ago that was. There were no windows in this room, so he couldn’t tell what time it was, let alone if it was still the same day.

His little chest heaved as he frantically tried to recall who it was he’d seen last, or if there’d been anyone around that could’ve seen what happened and called for help. Someone was bound to have seen him being carried off… right? He was on the docks though. No one who wasn’t a cop would’ve been working out there that late at night, and if they weren’t a cop, they weren’t people you wanted to get messed up with. The more he thought about it, the more Jeremy started to panic and thrash against the bonds holding him down. Wherever he was, whoever had kidnapped him, these guys were not people a kid like him ever should’ve crossed paths with. He’d be a dead in the water if he didn’t get out of there quick, and the fact that he knew the danger only made his fruitless struggles that much more painful.

It was nearly an hour and a half later before Jeremy’s violent thrashing finally caved in to exhaustion. His entire body was covered in sweat; add to that the drying tears streaking down his cheeks from his frightened and smothered screams. The screaming had actually stopped after only twenty-some minutes as his throat had quickly become dry and scratchy from the gag absorbing all the moisture. He was mildly surprised (but grateful as fuck) that no one had come in during his fit, but now this left him alone with only his thoughts to distract him, most of which only serving to confuse the boy even more. It had been too dark for him to see who had taken him; silhouettes and shadows were the best he could come up with to describe the men he’d kind of seen. Just going by the few voices he’d caught and managed to remember, he knew for sure that he’d never met these people before. Jeremy had an excellent memory when it came to people’s faces and voices. It came in handy when he had to alert Patrick of any blacklisted patrons attempting to gain entrance to their speakeasy again after an extended period of time had passed. He had many questions running through his head, but the biggest one that stuck out was why the fuck did it have to be him?

Rémy's foot twitched up and down as he shifted uncomfortably in the back of the cab. This was a rookie mistake, a mistake that was costing Rémy dearly. This is why he kept people at bay. This is why conversations rarely went deeper than a few words of greeting and questions that were asked for show or for personal gain. It sickened him to think that whoever was baiting him had gotten a child involved. Though, whose fault was that? If anyone had been watching Rémy for signs of weakness during this short period of time, they would have seen a great deal more than he had ever shown in his career as a Spy. Asking a child to save his life. Quietly checking on the child's well being. Walking toward the Flower Shop that he worked at and stopping dead in his tracks, turning away like a pathetic man who had nothing better to do than pester some wide eyed little boy who was far too deep into this mess of a war.

No, Rémy could hardly blame them. He would though. Rage twisted within the depths of his stomach, coupled with the worry and shock that had jilted his calm demeanour, he looked noticeably ill as he stared forward through the windshield. Perhaps it was unwise of him to keep in contact with the boy, but to kidnap him from his home...the thought sickened his already disturbed mind. He hoped that they at least had the morality not to harm him, but the boy must already be scared out of his mind. Of course, he had already been suspect of Rémy when he first met him. Already wise to the world of war lords and their hit-men. He knew better than to get involved, but Rémy had pressured him into it. The boy had nobody to blame but Rémy.

He began to wiggle his legs up in down, damn the speed limits, this was an emergency. He leaned forward, slipping some notes into the driver's pocket and muttered a request for him to pretend not to see the signs and to perhaps, go a little faster. With a sharp nod and a few gruff words, the driver sped up. It was amazing what a few dollars and a few smart words could get you in this world. Perhaps it was just something he was born with, or maybe it was passed down through his family, but Rémy always had a way with words and people. He did so enjoy finding out new things about people and socialising. Ironically, when he became a spy he had to give up a huge part of himself. He was never a particularly clingy man, or someone who could become close with a large amount of people. Still, he yearned for the days when he could speak to another person without worrying if they could use his words against him.

Rémy sat back in his seat and watched the dim streets fly past him through the window. Maybe what he saw in the boy was a chance to reconnect again. In a rather dim witted way, he wanted to sweep in and thank him for saving his life in a way that was still beneficial to himself. This was all a very badly thought out, selfish act. The kidnappers must have thought he was some huge chump right now. Although....given his reputation....it was not unexpected for him not to show up at all. He furrowed his eyebrows at the blurred buildings. It was not too late to pull away from this. If he came, he would be pandering to the kidnappers. If he did not....maybe they would let the boy go? He shook his head. Doubtful. The boy would most certainly be killed. Though....how was that his problem? He hardly knew the kid. He was meant to be aloof. Surely years worth of dual loyalty and riches were worth more than some abandoned child. He yelled to the driver, who pulled to a sudden stop, and began to get out of the cab. He tossed a few bills at the man and told him to keep the change.

Stepping out onto the street, the cold night air hit him with a stinging force. He squinted into the distance and huddled himself together as he began to walk away from the docks and back to his apartment. The cold air was not helping the heavy, guilty feeling in his gut and he felt stupid for not asking the driver to simply drive him home. Perhaps a walk could help to clear his mind. He began to mutter to himself quietly, repeating the statement “You are doing the right thing.” Of course, it really did not stick with him. He was selling the boy who saved him, despite knowing better, down the river. He was only proving him right. Validating his fears. He clutched his arms as a gust of wind blew down the street and hissed at the cold. Maybe this was a sign? A chance to do something right for once in his long career of wrong doings. Would he be able to live with himself if he let the boy who saved him die? After he had such a huge impact on his life in such a short time?

Rémy was not entirely sure what happened at this point. Suddenly he was facing the other direction and running as long as his slender legs could take him to the docks. There was no point in hailing down another cab, he wasn't in the right frame of mind for it anyway. His legs seemed to be controlling his body right now. The wind whipped at his hair and the air that he inhaled burnt his throat. An icy hot sensation welled inside of him as his feet thudded against the pavement. In retrospect, this was a fairly stupid idea. He glanced at his watch and saw that he was already late. Ah, he was always one for being fashionably late. His mind was beginning to function again, but his legs were still in control. He did not stop running until he reached the aged wood of the docks.

That was when his legs seemed to stop working. For a moment, they froze on the spot. He tried to step forward, but the seemed nailed down to the spot. This caused him to stand there looking pained, confused and probably rather stupid as he leaned toward the large ship. Suddenly, the reality of sniper rifles and ambushes became very real. His legs became less like large blocks of ice and more like awkward blocks of jelly. For a moment he wanted to slump forward, instead he jerked back into running mode. His shoes tapped against the wood of the docks as he raced forward. 'Go ahead and shoot me' he thought as he became closer to the ship. Right now, he was entirely focused on saving Jeremy, a few gun wounds would not stop him from achieving this.

As he stood at the ship, waiting to see which sick, miserable bastard was going to escort him inside, he thought about his weapons. Most likely he would be told to give them in. He wondered how carefully they would search, though. He would give them his revolver. A Handsome, engraved fellow and he hoped that they would be so kind as to return him. He would also hand over his trusty balisong, those were not rare nor was this one unique, he did not mind giving it up. He would fail to mention the blade hidden in the sole of his shoes.... and several over places. Hopefully, there would be no need to draw them.

His chest rose and fell and he felt his heart thudding against it. That run had done a number on him, but adrenaline was keeping him on his feet. He felt damn stupid but simultaneously heroic. He hardened his gaze as he heard movement and footsteps. Whoever it was thudded against the docks with such force that Rémy felt himself almost bouncing up and down with the momentum. He took a deep breath, it was only then that he had begun to wonder what it was the kidnappers want. He had no way of knowing who was behind it, Rémy had many, many irons in the fire. There was simply no way of knowing which iron in particular wanted to get back at him for his interference. His memory was foggy, what had he been doing that day when Jeremy patched him up? He remembered a Russian...and a German....and possibly another voice...ah yes, the weapons. He had very nearly blundered badly enough to end his own life that day. The Russian was clearly mentally handicapped in some way, but the German was smart. His genius rivalled Rémy's own wit, enough to make him increasingly nervous. This was going to be very, very awkward.

Dietrich was not at all pleased as the clock ticked away passed the stated meeting time. If the spy didn’t make an appearance that night, the German knew he’d be better off planting a bullet in the base of his own skull before Reda gave the order to dispose of him… or worse. By three minutes after, he’d thrown his chair aside with a loud crash and stormed upon the infirmary with his teeth gnashing together in frustration as his Russian companion followed a few paces behind. Upon entering the room, Dietrich did not seem surprised, nor angry that the gag had loosened enough to let the boy speak. That is, he couldn’t have been made any more volatile than he already was as he loomed like a bird of prey over the young and vulnerable creature below him. While he had entertained countless ideas and plans on how to go about committing a murder, he had hoped not to dirty his own hands with the deed until that day.

At first sight of the doctor, Jeremy’s jaw clenched tightly together as badly concealed fright and suspicion worked its way into the boy’s face since, without the other speaking, he couldn’t be sure if this was one of the two men he’d caught a glimpse of at the docks. If it wasn’t, then maybe he could somehow play on this man’s humanity to let a poor orphan boy go. But if it was… Jeremy didn’t have much longer to contemplate his escape strategy anyway once the German’s accent reached his ears as the man called out behind him to his guard.

“Wächter, hold down his arm. I do not want him tearing his own flesh while I am vorking and I would like to have only a minimal amount of cleaning to do before we leave.”

Jeremy’s eyes were wide and frantic when he watched the Russian walk in since, looking at those muscles that were easily bigger than his head, he was suddenly not sure who he should be more afraid of, nor who would be the one to end his life. He felt his stomach lurching violently when the bald man approached him and used one hand to force his shoulder closest to the doctor down, the strap around his wrist taking care of pinning down the rest of the limb.

Two-hundred milligrams. For this particular drug, that was all it took for an adult to get a lethal overdose, but hardly that much was even necessary given that Dietrich was administering the same amount to a fourteen-year-old child. However, if there was one thing the doctor was, he had always been a man focused on getting the most definite results, and he was not going to have the boy toeing the edge of death only to come back and go running to the police. Jeremy’s view was obstructed by the fat man’s arm, but his curses and screams reached the peak of their pitch as he felt the tell-tale pinch of his flesh as the doctor expertly inserted the needle into the crook of his arm. He didn’t know what was being put into him, but the answer he was given was far from reassuring. “It will be like falling asleep. You won’t feel a thing.” Deitrich had muttered grimly, then, as quickly as he’d come, the German and his guard were gone. For now.

With the Russian occupied as the doctor’s lap dog assistant, Jane took it upon himself to be the one to patrol the docks for their quarry. The air was quiet and chilly that night, but that suited the steadfast ex-soldier just fine. The silence, in his mind, was the herald to something coming. Moments of peace had never lasted in the trenches, and now was no exception as his eyes locked onto the suit-clad enemy of this small battle in the underground war. “You! Don’t move a muscle unless you want your innards plastered all over the docks for the gulls to snack on tonight.” Shotgun poised, he pointed the barrel at the spy’s torso as he stalked closer with his eyes focused intensely on the other’s movement. “You’re late.” he sneered, motioning to the ship with a jerk of his head. “You’re coming with me, cupcake, and you’d better hope the Doc hasn’t stopped waitin’ for you."