Prologue:He was the bastard son of a hundred raging psychos…Thunk. Fred threw his single suitcase to the floor and looked around. He was standing in the living room of the foster home he'd been sent to, watching the children run about. He was waiting for someone to show him to his room, but he'd remembered seeing the adults outside smoking. That was to his advantage. Picking up his suitcase again, he set his gaze on a scrawny boy about his age. Fifteen. He made his way over to him. The boy looked up at him nervously. "What?" he mumbled. "I'm Fred. Can you show me where I'm supposed to put my stuff?" he asked, deepening his voice and puffing out his chest dominantly. The boy nodded, and motioned for Fred to follow him. "I'm Nathan," the boy said, leading him into a small bedroom with two tiny beds side-by-side. "You can have that bed, next to mine. No one has it." He plopped down on his own bed, watching Fred warily. Fred didn't waste time. Throwing his suitcase open, he began picking knives up and shoving them between his mattresses. Nathan watched him with wide eyes. Next, Fred picked up his favorite knife, brandishing it with one hand. He advanced on Nathan. "You gonna tell?" Fred growled, slashing the knife around. "N-naw, we're cool!" Nathan stammered, inching away from him. "I'll even be your back up!""I don't need back up!" Fred shouted angrily."I promise I won't tell!""You willin' to make a blood bond?" The color drained from Nathan's face. He closed his eyes tight and held out his shaking finger. Fred fought back the urge to chop his hand clean off, for he needed to keep a low profile. Instead, he held the tip of the knife to the boy's fingertip and gently pricked it. He then did the same to his own, and rubbed it against Nathan's, smearing the blood together.
