Chapter 2 – The Prisoner

Miles wasn't sure what to think. Surprise? Shock? Fear? He probably felt a combination of all three, as there, standing in front of him was none other than his older brother, a face he hadn't seen since junior high school. Clint couldn't help but smirk at Miles' expense.

"C-C-Clint?!" was all Miles could muster.

"In the flesh," smirked Clint, "been a while hasn't it?"

Hearing his father's voice echo back into the kitchen, Arnold raced to the front door to see what the matter was.

"Dad?" he questioned, "is everything alrig-?"

Arnold could barely finish the word before Miles turned back, blocking Clint from his sight.

"Anrold, take Helga up to your room and lock the door," he instructed, "Now."

"Dad, what's going on?"

"I said NOW, Arnold!" Miles bellowed. Having yet to experience him yell like that, Arnold obeyed and ran back to get his girlfriend.

"Arnold, what the heck was that about?" Helga asked, just as confused as he was.

"I don't know, Helga," he answered as they headed towards the stairs, "but it must be serious if Dad is tensed up like that."

As they headed towards his room, Helga took a brief second to glance back and her eyes widened in bewilderment as she saw Clint. 'There's no way!' she thought.

With the two teens gone, Miles turned back to Clint who was still smirking.

"Hey, it's freezing out here," he said, "do you mind if I step in for a hot minute to thaw?"

"Hold it right there!" came the thunderous voice of Ernie as he marched up to the door with his large wooden mallet with the rest of the family and boarders looking on in shock, "I speak for everyone in this house when I say that you have exactly 10 seconds to have that jailbird ass of yours vacate the premises with your nuts in tact! 1!"

"Ernie, that isn't necessary," Miles coaxed.

"2!"

"You haven't changed at all, have you Demolition Man?" Clint commented.

"3!"

"Alright, that's enough!" shouted Phil. Seeing the issue escalate, he had snapped out of his initial shock and snatched the mallet from Ernie before he could swing it.

"What the hell are you doing, Gramps?!"

But Phil was not having it. He had no patience to deal with Ernie's antics when he now had to deal with his supposedly inmate son.

"Ernie, go wait in the kitchen with the others," Phil ordered, "Stella, you check on the Short Man and Helga. Miles and I will handle this."

No one said a word and did as instructed. Phil's steely eyes bored into his first born, doing his best to affirm dominance. Clint wasn't fazed however; he had seen things ten times worse in his 15+ years in prison. This just felt like child's play. Miles glanced back and forth between his dad and brother, clearly wishing this "family reunion" is all a dream.

"You have some nerve showing your face around here, Clint," Phil said darkly.

"Great to see you too, Pop," Clint replied sarcastically.

"You watch how you speak to me!" Phil snapped, "You're lucky I'm letting you stand there! Now why are you here? The last time I checked, you were rotting away in prison!"

"Why Pop, I'm hurt," Clint feigned before he squeezed the bridge of his nose, "look, I not gonna stand here and deny all the terrible shit I did all those years ago and waltz in here like everything's shits, rainbows and sunshine. I did my time and got let out on good behavior and with parole, shockingly. Being in prison really made me reflect on my life and if I ever got out, I was gonna slam the reset button. I even found a job and apartment on the other side of town and I just need a place to stay until I can actually move in there. It'd just be a few weeks, a month at most. I'll even pay rent. You name the price and I'll pay it."

Of course, this was only half true. He did have a job, one that was under Seymour. However, Seymour had set him up with a job that would erase any suspicions.

"Hmmm," Phil eyed him, "what is this job?"

"It's a custodial job," Clint quickly replied, "just something to help me get back on my feet. Here, I even have the documents to prove it."

Phil snatched the paper from Clint and began to look it over. Miles leaned over his shoulder to get a good look. Clint could only silently pray that they bought it.

"It looks legitimate, Dad," Miles shrugged, "I don't see anything else otherwise. I think he's serious about wanting to start over. I'm not saying I trust him 100%, but it's only for a month. What could happen?"

Phil looked at his second born and could see as clear as day as to where Arnold inherited most of his attributes in looking for the best in everyone and believing in second chances. However, the 'what ifs' kept circling around in his aging mind. Was Clint telling the truth? Had he'd changed his ways and wanted to start over? Or was he going to draw a weapon on them the second they let their guard down and kill everyone? The answers weren't there. Feeling like he had no other choice, he looked back at Clint and sighed.

"I know deep in my old bones I'm making a huge mistake," he said, "but you can stay Clint."

"WHAT?!" echoed Ernie, Oskar and Hyunh's voices from the kitchen, causing in the Shortman to cringe all at once.

"You can stay," Phil hurried before he could be bombarded by the boarders, "Miles will show you your room and you'll stay there until we can discuss your rent."

"Sure thing, Pop," Clint grinned as the two brothers headed up the staircase while Phil attended to the shouting and protests from the 3 stooges.

'That was easier than I thought', Clint thought smugly.

Up in his bedroom, Arnold did exactly as his dad ordered and locked the door, while Helga went up and locked his sky roof just in case. Once that was done, they sat down on his couch, still trying to process what was going on downstairs.

"It doesn't make any sense," Arnold wondered, "I don't think I've ever seen him so petrified in his life. Not to mention yell like that."

"Well, I kinda got a glance of the guy at the door and call me crazy," Helga said, "but he looked eerily similar to both him and your grandpa. I think he might have a brother."

"That's impossible!" Arnold stammered, "There's no way. Grandma and Grandpa had my dad late and I know for a fact he's their only son. If he had a brother, they would've told me a long time ago."

"Football Head, relax," Helga said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "this is just an assumption. We'll find out when everyone explains everything. Heh, normally you're the one telling everyone to be level-headed in situations like this."

"I must be slipping then," Arnold smirked as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, "maybe you can give me a refresher."

"Gladly," Helga smirked in return, "Lesson 1."

No sooner had they locked lips, a knock was heard instantly ruining the moment.

"Oh, crimeny," Helga groaned, "every freaking time."

"Arnold? Helga?" came Stella's voice on the other side, "can you let me in please?"

"I don't know, Stella," quipped Helga, "you don't have a lunatic pointing a weapon at you, do you?"

"No, I do not," she replied, "Phil wanted me to check on you two."

Arnold then got up, unlocked the door and let her in, relieved that what Helga described a second ago wasn't there. Stella then pulled up his desk chair and sat next to the young couple.

"You have any idea what's going on, Mom?" Arnold asked. Stella just shrugged.

"I'm just as lost as you are, Arnold," she answered, "I just hope your father and grandpa can handle it like they say they can."

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Helga's earlier comment soon began to resonate with them and all three began to worry. Finally, Miles poked his head through the now open door and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Miles then walked into the room, followed by the two elder Shortmans, both with sorrowful expressions on their faces. Gertie sat herself on Arnold's bed, but remained silent as the two Shortman men stood in front of the trio on the couch.

"You're probably wondering what all that was about," Miles began and sighed, "there's no way either one of us can sugarcoat it. That man was my brother, Clint. He's your uncle, Arnold; and your brother-in-law, Stella."

To say the three felt completely shocked was an understatement. Helga may have guessed it, but the weight of the reveal felt like being hit with a sledgehammer.

"W-What?" Arnold stammered, "I have an uncle?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Now Arnold, calm down," said Phil, "We will explain everything. I had hoped to never tell you about him, but I guess that wasn't going to happen. I guess every family has it's skeletons in the closet. Heh heh."

No one laughed at his little joke.

"Anyways," he continued, "I've told you that your grandma and I had your father late. Well, that's only half-true. Clint is actually our first born child, about 6 years before Miles. Growing up, he was a lot like you Arnold. Kind, helpful, optimistic, and smart. And when Miles was born, they were attached at the hip. Clint would do anything for him and loved him very much. But, something happened by the time he turned 15 years old. At first we thought it was just typical teenage rebellion for the sake of it. But it soon became apparent that his entire personality had begun to change. He would back talk to us, flat out curse out at us, skip school and just became nasty…and a tad violent."

Stella gasped at this.

"Not that he'd hit us," Phil clarified, "it was the other things he was doing. We'd get calls from the police late at night saying he was at the station downtown. We'd be told he was caught for shoplifting, assault, and all sorts of crimes. We soon learned that he had joined a local gang and…and…"

Miles sighed.

"One day when I was 11, I was helping dad collect rent and while I was doing that, went into Clint's room to turn off the lamp he left on in his room. That's when I felt a loose floor board under his carpet and found a small stock pile of cocaine within it. Not even a minute later, he caught me and threatened me not to tell, but it wasn't needed as Mom heard the commotion and saw everything. Needless to say, Dad was furious and told him to burn all of it and then threw him out. That was the last time I saw him."

No one said a word, anxiously waiting for Miles to continue. Gertie could say or do nothing as she let a tear escape her eye.

"Then while I was in San Lorenzo, about a month before I met you Stella, I got a letter from Dad telling me about a shootout out by the Elk Island…"

"The Pier Shootout of '96," Arnold said and it then dawn on him, "oh no."

"Yep," confirmed Phil, "not only was he involved, he instigated it. He shot two members of a rival gang; all for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I got the call from the police, I told them 'I only have one son' and hung up. All Pookie and I could do was watch on the news of the courts saying he was guilty and was hauled off to prison. It was hard on us all, but when we heard Miles had met Stella and was planning on marrying her, we decided that we could move passed this horrible and tragic time for our family and begin anew. You being born Arnold, helped that."

It was all a lot to take in. All this time, there was another family member they knew nothing about. But they couldn't fault Miles, Phil or Gertie. They had good legitimate reasons to keep this dark family secret from them. This man clearly brought shame to the Shortman family and having him appear at the front door out of the blue just brought all of the feelings of shame, sorrow and regret back. Especially to Gertie who at this point had started letting more tears fall. No one said anything more as they all gathered around her on Arnold's bed, all embracing each other in comfort.

As the rest of the Shortman family was processing the weight of the situation, Clint was busy getting himself settled into his room. It was really small compared to the rest with just a bed and closet, but he didn't mind at all. He looked out into the hallway to make sure no one was around before closing and locking the door. It was then he pulled out a cell phone that was given to him by Seymour as a way to keep him up to date with their plans and dialed for him.

"Hello, Clint," he heard on the other end, "what's the latest?"

"It was like taking candy from you Blubber Boy," Clint replied.

"I've told you, please do not call me that," Seymour groaned.

"Whatever," Clint said, "but yeah, I'm in the house. They gave me a room and everything…with rent too."

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Seymour, "so long as everything goes according to plan."

"You don't have to worry about that. And son of bitch, you weren't kidding. My own nephew is one of them!"

"Ah yes. Patience. He is one of the biggest threats to our plans. Are you sure you can gain his trust?"

"With him? That shouldn't be too hard. He looks naïve enough. And it looks like the Loyalty one is his girlfriend or something."

"Oh this is just perfect. The master will be pleased. I'll be in touch."

And with that he hung up, leaving Clint alone with his thoughts. It was then a knock was heard on his door. He answered to find his father and brother waiting for him.

"Alright Clint," said Phil, "Let's discuss rent."

A/N: Thanks again to all the reviews on the last chapter. Went through a bit of a funk a few weeks ago, hence the long wait this time around. Hopefully life doesn't rear it ugly head again until then.

I should note that while there will be Shortaki moments sprinkled through out this story, the Shortman family are the main focal point.

Also, this is just a thing I did with OCs, I tend to seek out "voice actors" for these characters mainly just to get a voice playing in my head when I write. I picture Clint being "voiced" by Robert Downey, Jr. and Seymour by Timothy Spall.

This chapter's title is named after "The Prisoner" from Iron Maiden's "The Number of the Beast" (1982) album.