He had been gone for so long. Now he was back where he had grown up, but everything was changed. He felt like a stranger. Nothing was the same anymore. He was a different man from four years ago. The city was different, but the changes were for the better, it seemed.
His older brother had also changed, and not in a way that best pleased Franky.
He approached the mansion, attracting his fair share of stares—which was quite a few—but ignored the gawkers. He had business to attend to. At the gates, a young woman greeted him.
"Cutty Flam," he said. "He'll understand." The woman gave him a strange look, but went along. A few minutes later, she returned.
Franky was turned away.
His bare feet slapped against the pavement as he walked towards the canals of the city. His pulse raced, blood pounding in his ears—all he could hear was a steady baddum, baddum, with every contraction of his heart, a single thought running through his mind:
What the hell happened?