"Well, well, well Duncan. Long time no see, eh?"

Duncan sat down in the chair facing his bosses desk, and propped his feet up onto it. "Let's just say I took a vacation," he muttered, running his hands through his green hair.

"You're lucky we didn't think you bailed on us. Or else we would have had to eliminate you, hm?" Duncan's boss drummed his fingers along his desk.

Duncan felt an odd surge of discomfort. He pulled on the collar of his shirt a little, and looked at the floor. This was his job. The job he regretted taking, but the job he couldn't quit. He couldn't run, and he couldn't hide. He just had to sit back, do what he was told, and pray no one thought he was an informer or a liar. "So what's my job this time?" Duncan asked with a sigh.

"Kidnapping," a large smirk crept across Duncan's boss's face.

Duncan swallowed a small lump in his throat. He'd done a lot of terrible things- stealing, helping people escape from prison, poisoning, etc. But he'd never kidnapped someone. That just felt…over the line of what he was willing to do. At the same time, Duncan was not prepared to die for not doing it, either. "All right," he said, looking up, "Who is it?"

"Ah, let me show you. She's a pretty thing, that's for sure. But we aren't kidnapping her because she's pretty, or even because she did something wrong to us. We're doing it because her dad has money. Money we need desperately."

"So…like a ransom, right?" Duncan inquired, feeling slightly better that with luck, the girl wouldn't have to be killed. "We collect the money and let her go?"

"Are you going soft or something? Does it really matter what happens to her? All we need to worry about now is the money. After we get the ransom money- of- oh, I don't know, half a million or so, then we'll worry about the girl. But first we need to get her. And you need to get on good terms with the gang and I again. So I've put you in charge of this, because I want you to prove that you're still a trustworthy guy. So, Duncan, will you do it?"

Duncan was fed up over the 'going soft' comment. Ever since he'd met that stupid hotheaded chick on that dumb game show, he'd been acting a little different than his usual self. But Duncan was no softie, and he was determined to prove his boss, Aiden DeLatorre, wrong. Duncan sat up straight, and took on a more powerful air. "Of course I'll do it. So who is this silly little rich girl, anyways?"

Aiden pulled a picture out of his pocket, and flung it across the desk at Duncan, who caught it between two fingers just before it hit his nose. He studied the picture, and a feeling of surprise seized him.

"Well if it isn't the Princess herself." His eyes widened. He couldn't stand her now, that was true. But he wasn't sure he could kidnap her either. "Where do I find her?" Duncan asked uncertainly, feeling his heart sink. He and Courtney were already on bad terms that couldn't be repaired, so it wasn't a big deal, was it? And it wasn't like they'd kill her. As soon as her father paid up, she'd be free, she'd hate him more, and he'd never see her again. Easy enough, if not painful.

"Here's the address," Aiden said, sliding a new piece of paper across the desk. "Good luck. And please, try to make this fast, okay? We really need that money."

Duncan looked at the address, folded up the piece of paper, and slipped it in his pocket. As much as he hated it, he was already thinking up plans on how to make this little mission go as quick and painless as possible.

Courtney was laying on her bed, watching taped reruns of the Total Drama episodes. It must have been the thousandth time she'd watched them. Every time she saw herself, she'd flinch. Why had she been such a controlling monster? She was feeling intense regret over losing Duncan. All because she'd turned into a psycho who thought she could have whatever she wanted. Courtney buried her face into a pillow as she listened to herself screaming. She had had a good thing with Duncan, even if he was a delinquent. He had been her Duncan, and she had been his Princess. And then when she'd gotten kicked off for the first time, she'd gotten a hundred times as bad. She longed to apologize. To everyone. To Bridgette, to Duncan, even to Harold.

She'd never been good at making friends, and after watching the tapes, she finally discovered why that was. Because she was a controlling, manipulative snob who acted all high and mighty to shield the fact that she was lonely. She was so afraid to show her weakness, that she had turned into a monster. She was tired of being reminded of it. Something needed to change, even if that meant sending apologies to everyone on the show. It probably would never patch up her fight with Duncan, but maybe it would at least let everyone know that she regretted acting that way. And Courtney promised herself that she would change. Even if it could never change what had happened, she could start fresh.

Courtney hurled one of her debate club trophy at the television, breaking something off of the dumb cheap painted gold trophy. She didn't really care much to look up and check. But the television just kept replaying all of her mistakes. All of her lies. All of her everything. Now, she wasn't even sure if she could be proud of any of her accomplishments. What was the point of being good at things if she just wound up with no one to call afterwards and share them with? What was the point, if she didn't have any friends to stay up late at sleepovers with? Even though she was nearly an adult, and sleepovers were childish and trivial, she regretted never having one. Weren't all girls supposed to have sleepovers? Courtney could only remember always being busy, with violin lessons, or special after school programs or homework. Had she even ever called anyone besides her family before? Yes, there was one time. She had called Melissa Baker to ask what the math homework was when she was out sick. Melissa Baker had answered, and then hung up without even a "goodbye."

Courtney shut off the television with a heavy heart. She went downstairs, and began boiling some water for pasta. Her father wasn't home. He was never home, not anymore. He was always working or out with friends or drinking or with other women. And last year her mother had just walked out, and disappeared off of the face of the Earth. So Courtney was alone now, even in her own home. She couldn't even depend on her own parents anymore. From the outside, it appeared as though she were pretty well off. But if anyone truly knew what was going on, then maybe they'd understand. For now, she could only pretend that her family was perfect.

The house was big and empty, not even a single pet lurking about. Her father claimed to be allergic to animals, but Courtney knew better. It was just because her father didn't want to have to worry about buying food or toys or training lessons. And he was petrified of stepping in animal mess. But Courtney had never wished for an animal more these days She poured the box of pasta into the pot, and set the timer on the stove. She wished her father would come home. When he was home, he wasn't much of a conversation type of guy, but at least he was there, and that somehow reassured his daughter. Of course, nowadays he was bringing home unfamiliar women- a new one every time. When Courtney tried to question him about it, he pushed her away and told her it was in retaliation after her mother walked out.

Courtney had tried calling her mother's cell phone millions of times, only to receive the answering machine on which she left countless messages. Messages her mother probably never even listened to, and just deleted.

Trash. Useless trash. That's all Courtney was to anybody these days.

She shut off of the stove and dumped the half cooked pasta into the trash. She suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore.