Seven hours of interrogation and the prisoner, Brute J. Stabbington has not yet spoken. It takes various torture techniques and the exuection of his brother, Frank D. Stabbington to make him talk. This confession is 100% percent true. Not of this is false. Every word is true.
I've never had much in life.
My mother died when I was young. Died because my damn, drunk father came home and beat her; every night. After a few months, you learn you don't cry when she screams, or he'll beat you too. He did that to my sister, Rachel. She was only 2…she didn't know better. She died because he beat her head too hard. That's why I can never kill someone with a blow to the head; it reminds me of her. But it hurts more when mother doesn't scream, when she keeps the pain in so we didn't have to hear. That's how my brother lost his eye. Shard of glass from a broken window. He was just trying to protect her.
My mother took him to the doctor; both were bleeding, bruised and hurt. We only had enough money to heal my brother.
Then, one day, he came home drop-dead-drunk and beat her, beat her until she was unconscious, until she stopped moving, stopped breathing. I lost a lot that day.
After that, my brother and I got jobs to keep our house and our drunk-ass father in it. He was the only thing keeping us out of the orphanage. In turn, we got beaten, in place of our mother.
Then, it happened. He died of alcohol poisoning, had a few too many whiskeys. Serves him right. My brother and I were alone in the world, left to fend for ourselves. We eventually were turned into the orphanage. We were caught stealing a necklace off a lord's daughter.
When we got there, it was hell. Two meals a day, kids bigger than you, the never-ending sense of failure when you weren't picked for adoption. We grew tough, needing no one except ourselves. My brother, Frank, got an eye-patch, a symbol of our tough times, to cover the awful scar he had. Then we met Flynn.
I don't know when he came or how, all I know was that this kid started out a wuss. Could hear him cry every other day in his bunk, but we took him under our wing anyway. We taught him the best way to get food, how to get warm in bed without pissing it, how to fend for yourself. In turn, he gave us writing and reading lessons.
Then, the royals visited, doing some damn charity. They were basically tossing things at us and hoping we'd catch it. Flynn caught the grand prize. A copy of The Tales of Flynnigan Rider.
We read it every night to the younger kids. That's how he got his name, ya know. Flynn Rider. Used to be Eugene Fitzherbert.
Anyway, we grew up and finally left that damned orphanage. Flynn left to go pursue his dream of having an island with bags of money. What a load of horse-shit.
Frank and I left to go get jobs, but with our big brawn and Frank's eye-patch, no one would give us anything opportunities. Not even garbage men hired us. We found our calling in the thieving industry.
After 10 years of stealing, Frank and I had a small fortune put away. We only used it to get food and clothes. If we used it now, it would be, what's that word…suspicious.
Please, Mr. Stabbington. Tell us how the plot to get the crown started.
Alright, alright. Keep your tights on.
One day, we met Flynn at the Snuggly Duckling, saw him having a beer alone at the bar and we went up to him. He was doing well, but wanted more, wasn't satisfied with his current life. Apparently, islands don't sell for a hundred crowns and bags of money weren't cheap either. He wanted a coveted prize, the Lost Princess's crown. Hearing this, Frank stared at him and told him he was crazy, but this boy we raised was set on his path, but needed brawn, us.
We agreed. Why, I really don't know. We had several drinks before that transaction.
We spent at least two and a half months getting the plan ready, how we were gonna get in, where we were going to go after the heist, and how we were gonna sell it without anyone knowing what it exactly. After that, we needed materials and materials needed money, another I.O.U Rider owes us.
Then the day of the heist. I woke up and wrapped the rope up, unwrapped it, and wrapped it again. I washed my face and shaved. Then a series of three knocks sounded on our inn door. It was Rider.
I took the rope and we set out under the cover of night. When we got there, it was a little past 7am.
Can you give us exact details at this part?
Sure. Then would you like me to wipe your ass for you?
(silence)
Fine.
"Oh, I could get used to a view like this." He said to no one in particular. He was standing at the edge of the roof, a sure-fire way to get caught.
"Rider!" I said. I had the rope all ready and he was standing there like an idiot, as always.
"Hold on…yep…I'm used to it. Guys, I want a castle." He stood with his hands on his hips like he was the king of the world. But the king needs a crown.
"We do this job; you can buy your own castle." I reminded him. I grabbed the collar of his vest and yanked him back towards reality. He tied the rope around his waist and winked at us. He grabbed his 'satchel'/purse and jumped down the opened tile before we were ready. We quickly caught the rope and slowly, but smoothly lowered him down.
He reached the crown and put it in his satchel. Then the worst happened. The guard sneezed.
The one thing we could not fix in the orphanage was Flynn's damn manners. He, of course, had to say something. "Ugh, hay fever?"
We froze. We were probably screwed. Soon, we would be dead by the gallows. That familiar wave of failure crashed through me.
"Yeah." The guard turned and spoke back. Spoke back! We came out of our daze and quickly started lifting him up right when the guard noticed his mistake and quickly alerted his companions.
"Hey! Hey, wait!" The guard called, like we were gonna just stop and listen to every direction they gave us. We weren't servants and we weren't stopping.
We grappled down the castle like the speed of sound and ran through the town, upturning the carts to slow down the oncoming guards.