Pink.
A chilling February breeze blew down a desolate cobblestone road in a suburban neighbourhood of a southern English town. With it, carried a piece of plain white paper weather-battered and torn in its top and bottom right corners.
It was directionless it seemed. Suffering at the will and whimsy of either fate or chance. Flitting across the street, it took a sudden turn into an alleyway next to a locally owned bakery and landed in a puddle. The gross, slimy water seeped into the page creating blue spiders of ink to leak from the capital letters that looked like they had been scrawled by a child of no more than ten. The words read:
SVLAD CJELLI
DETECTIVE SERVUS
Missing items? Pets? Frends?
Come to 745 Mapul Ridge lane and I can help YOU
Splashing noises echoed down the alley as a young girl hopped back and forth from puddle to puddle as she waited for her mother to leave the bakery. Her boots were the colour of maraschino cherries and were getting increasingly brown as she went from spot to spot, but stopped the moment she gazed upon the piece of paper curiously. As she read it, her dark brown eyes smiled brightly as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds for a second or two and the familiar ringing of the bell to the bakery's entrance caught her attention.
"Marie, come on, it's time to get home for supper." The girl's mother took her by her one free hand, while the other arm carried a paper bag of something that smelled utterly delightful.
"Momma, do you think we are ever gonna find Coco? Do you think she'll ever come home?" She asked, looking up with a hopeful gaze.
Her mother sighed, trying to not give too much away. "I don't know sweetie. Perhaps Coco found a new home, one that is nicer, with lots of cat nip and toys to play with?"
What more could you tell to a seven-year-old girl to make her feel better about a lost kitty?
As they walked, Marie closed her eyes for several seconds, thinking to herself: 745 Mapul Ridge Lane- 745 Mapul Ridge Lane- 745 Mapul Ridge Lane!
A trick she learned from her nan when she didn't want to forget anything: scream it repeatedly in your head at least three times. At least.
She smiled, There, now it's there forever.
"SVLAD!"
…
"SVLAD!"
A young boy hid his head underneath a grey pillow in his bedroom, awaiting an inevitable spanking and shouting match that was soon to come.
He didn't know why he did it. Honestly, it was as if someone else had controlled his hands to write those wretched posters- but he couldn't blame anyone but himself for the trouble he was facing now.
The bedroom door flew open with an impossible force of fearful rage behind it; the doorknob banged the wall that was left dented from several previous openings that were becoming all too familiar for the small family of three. The pillow was pulled away leaving a mess of brown hair over a freckled face unarmored. A mess of papers covered him instead.
The boy sat up, moving the torn papers as he went and only dared to look downward at his father's black polished shoes. He mumbled something.
"Ugh?"
Svlad spoke a little louder, "I'm sorry."
"Y-you're 'sorry'?" His father repeated. "How many times have I told you not to put these posters up around town?"
Svlad didn't answer, he just used a hand to wipe away a mixture of tears and snot that had ran down his face.
"How many times!?" His father yelled angrily over him.
"S-six" The boy answered.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Svlad raised his eyes and studied his father's cherry-red face in the dim glow of a setting sun. There was nothing there except anger. There was no love, no empathy, no respect.
SMACK!
The boy didn't feel a thing until a few seconds after the back of his father's hand reached the side of his face. Stunned, Svlad sat there in total silence. His father spoke about the importance of his safety or some other thing about adults who might use the information on the posters to hurt him, kidnap him or something to that effect. Svlad had of course, heard it all the first time round and he had to bite his tongue as he thought about how no one could be as bad as him, his own father.
The man paced around the room changing the subject and now ranting about the uselessness of the detective pursuit:
"If people really need something found, they would hire professionals- not some silly little boy!"
To the man's dismay, Svlad had already made a name for himself last summer. He helped their neighbours find their car keys which had been lost in a bird's nest in their yard. Of course, it wasn't a real case, and yes, Svlad wasn't exactly trying to find the keys when he was climbing the neighbour's tree without permission (in fact he was actually trying to find someone's lost parrot), but when he returned the keys to their rightful owner he was allowed to choose a cookie from a box with a mixture of different flavours. He chose the monster cookie, of course, and it was so worth it.
But now, he just seemed so little. So small, insignificant, and alone. Maybe his father was right. Even if he felt like he needed to advertise his detection skills it would just be easier for everyone if he didn't.
The man left the room, announcing that Svlad was not going to be getting supper that night. There was no response from down the hall. The sun had started setting and Svlad got up to stare out the window into front yard. The pink mark on his face was noticeable in the reflection, and stung when his hand reached up to sooth it. Tears ran down the boy's face as he looked across the road, jealous of the other homes lined up in the usual townhouse style, that he imagined, were probably full of happy families with nothing to worry about. They probably had brothers and sisters, or friends, maybe a weird uncle or a funny aunt that visited for supper. He sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against the cold glass, closing his eyes.
Tap Tap Tap!
He moved away from the window with a jolt, eyes wide as he saw a young girl, probably- no definitely younger than him knocking on the window glass. Her black hair was tied up in a bun at the top of her head where little strokes of hair jutted out at odd angles. Svlad had never seen her before, but he was quite intrigued by the strange visitor. He opened the window.
"Are you the De-Fect-Ive?" She asked, wide-eyed.
"The defective?" Svlad scrunched his face as if he smelled something awful. "Do you mean detective?"
"What's a dekective?" Marie shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I need to find my kitten! Can you help me find my kitten?"
Svlad heard shuffling down the hall from his room and raised a finger to his lips.
"Does anybody know you're here?" He whispered.
The girl cocked her head at him. "No. I came all on my own." She spoke proudly.
"So, you probably ran away?"
She nodded, again, proudly.
Svlad pursed his lips. "Okay, that's not great, but we will deal with that later."
He ran to his closet and pulled out an old pair of rubber boots and a grey sweater from his closet. Throwing on his clothes he started climbing out the window, making an icky squishing noise as each boot found a muddy spot below him. He crouched away from the bay window in the front and pulled the young girl along with him to the nearest walkway, out of sight from his family's house. The two of them jogged along the fences until Marie spoke up, out of breath:
"Wh-where are we going? Are we going to find Coco?"
Svlad huffed and puffed, leaning against a tree. "Yeah, yeah we'll- we'll find Coco. I just- I had to get away from there first." He stood up straighter.
"How long has Coco been missing?" He asked.
Marie shrugged. "It's been a while."
"What, like a week?" Svlad asked.
"I think maybe a year?"
"A YEAR?" Svlad looked down at her shocked.
Marie scratched her head. "You were the one who said you could help. It was on the paper. I saw it an' I'm a good reader."
"Where did you see it? I thought my dad tore 'em all down." Svlad asked, off-topic.
"It was in a puddle next to the bakery- Oh and before I forget! I know that people usually pay for this sort of stuff, but I have no money, so" Marie reached into her yellow raincoat and pulled out a clear plastic bag with a squished cherry danish inside. "I thought maybe if you helped me-"
Svlad took the bag, opened it and started eating, not realizing how hungry he really was.
"Hey! You were supposed to eat that after we found the kitty!"
Svlad paused for a second and then kept chewing slower. "Sfory" After he had swallowed the last bite, he started walking down the sidewalk, Marie following him.
"What's your name? I didn't ask."
"I'm Marie. An' I read the paper but I only remember the address."
"Svlad, my name is Svlad."
"Sefad? Svaad? What kind of name is that?" Marie asked ruthlessly.
"S-V-LAD" He licked the pink sugar off his fingers one by one. "And to answer your question, it's a terrible one."
Marie giggled, but then grew serious.
"So, anyway, how do we find Coco? How do you usually find pets?"
Svlad answered her honestly. "I don't know if we'll be able to find Coco. I'm sorry Marie, but a year is a really long time for a cat to be missing from home. If we even do find her at all she probably won't even be-" He stopped himself.
"What?! Tell me the truth!" Marie crossed her arms angrily.
"-alive?" Svlad finished.
Marie began wailing in the middle of the sidewalk and sat on the curb wiping away multitudes of tears. Svlad didn't know what to do, and it was quite obvious with the way he acted by just standing in place, but then a familiar tingling sensation at the back of his head old him to look down the road to his left.
Across the street a black and white cat sat staring at the two of them.
"Marie, what did Coco look like?" He asked gently. Marie stopped crying and answered him:
"Well she had a bright pink collar that I picked out myself an' she was white with two big black spots on her back and there was a little black tip at the end of her tail like she had dipped it in paint." She wiped away tears and looked up at her new friend. "Why?"
Svlad squinted. "I think we found Coco."
Svlad had walked the young girl Marie home who returned with the grown cat in her arms. Her mother was frantic but thankful that the nice young man got the girl home safely- it even seemed like the family had barely noticed she was missing at all. Svlad only hoped the outcome could be the same for him. The only light illuminating the roads now were those of streetlamps and living room windows that projected colourful television lights from inside. He didn't want to go home. He felt too afraid. Maybe he could just sleep on the street for a night?
But his mum would worry.
He felt bad for his mum.
He snuck up to his window and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge. Someone had locked it from the inside so he could only go through the front door. He hung his head and forced himself through the entrance. He braced himself for incoming warfare, but none came, there was only silence.
No- not silence, the hushing of a conversation from another room. Svlad peered into the sitting area, where the T.V was off and an ambient lighting glowed from two lamps on either side of the couch where he saw his mother sitting in her favourite pink taffeta day dress and she was crying.
Why do people have to cry all the time? He asked himself and then remembered a bruise on his face.
"Svlad, boy, come here." His father commanded authoritatively, and patted the couch space between him and his wife.
Svlad didn't notice as first but there was the silhouette of a stranger in one of the family's armchairs. Something told the boy, that this stranger wasn't invited. He sat between his parents and touched his mum's hand. She pulled away and placed her hand in her lap.
Svlad blinked. "What's going on?"
The stranger in the armchair leaned forward. "Svlad, my name is Scott, Scott Riggins. It's very nice to meet you."
The stranger named Riggins had a distinct American accent, a mess of brown and slightly greying hair and a rounded face with kind eyes. Svlad kept his eyes to the floor and focused on a spot on the Persian rug that looked like a tea stain. Riggins brushed his moustache with a finger before continuing to speak.
"Your foster parents were just telling me about how good you are doing in school, you seem to be very resourceful."
Svlad didn't speak.
Riggins sighed. "Svlad, you know why we're here. We want to help you."
"Help me, how?" Svlad piped up suddenly.
Riggins held up a poster. "You've been helping people find their lost pets, even months after they've gone missing. It takes someone very special to be able to do something like that. In fact, I bet you were out there tonight, helping someone find whatever it was they lost... We would like to help you learn how to be a better detective, Svlad, hone your skills. What do you think?"
Svlad looked up at the man. "You keep saying 'we'. Who's 'we'?"
Down the hall an unmistakable sound of a toilet flushing and the bathroom door opening was heard through the rest of the house.
"Ah, here he is, Svlad Cjelli!" A man with blond hair walked into the room and placed himself in the opposite armchair to Riggins. He had a thick southern state accent which was odd to hear in England. "How ya doin' kiddo?"
"This is Mr. Priest. He works under me." Riggins said.
Priest's right eye twitched in the dim lighting.
"They're sending me away, aren't they?" Svlad asked Riggins. "They don't want me here. Never did."
"Well, I'm glad that was settled so quickly." Priest stood up. "Come on Svlad, let's get goin'."
Riggins didn't stand until Svlad stood up from the couch. His foster family didn't even reach a hand out to stop him from leaving. That was that.
They allowed him to take a few things from his room. A deck of playing cards, a couple of books, and that was all he wanted. Anything of necessity, he was told, would be provided for him at the military base.
Out in the hall, the two operatives spoke quietly.
"That wasn't so bad. The mission file made this kid sound like a nightmare." Priest said.
"Don't be fooled Agent Priest, if we have Svlad now, it's only because the universe wants it that way."
Priest smirked. "Yeah, well the universe has yet to meet a person of my vigour and determination."
Svlad walked out of his bedroom with a bright blue backpack. He pushed past the men who stood like guards at his doorway. They followed him to the front door and waited as he donned his coat. His foster mum stood and ran toward the young boy, gripping him in a tight hug around his shoulders. He didn't move or say a single word, but he did listen as she cried in his ear:
"Don't go with them, please! I don't want you to go, I don't know what Blackwing will do to you!" She rambled.
Svlad pulled back, confused. His mum- his foster mum was terrified. What did they say to her?
Svlad looked up at Priest whose gun was drawn. A quick piercing noise filled the room twice. First his foster father's body became limp and fell with a deafening thump onto the floor of the living room. Then his mother's body slumped lifelessly onto the floor at Svlad's feet. Riggins was left speechless, not wanting to create any more catastrophe in the house than they already did by confronting Priest in front of the child.
Mr. Priest stared at his superior.
"You know she was never gonna keep quite about this. I did us all at Blackwing a favour."