"Away to thee, hideous blasphemy; Come not to me, proud and unabashedly,

Not a want or desire; In form as pale as yours,

Plots you do conspire; my heart ignores.

Seek not here, that of thine want; Find you fear, in me you cannot." - Luke Schmidt, Guilt

This time, it was silence that embraced them. They had migrated to the bed, and laid down so that both of their legs dangled off the bedside, with the slight hum of the air conditioning unit and the faint chirping of birds outside being their only source of ambience.

They stared blank-faced at the ceiling, lost to their thoughts. Their altercation with Victoria had left them feeling unsure of themselves.

It had taken a bit of their esteem, and a lot of their happiness, but they've done it: the Queen would lay off on making their lives hell, for now. Yet, they held no hope on it being a permanent truce. Someone would need their pound of flesh, and if it wasn't another poor soul within reach, then they'd be back into the breach once more.

So now they lay upon the comforters and blankets of Max's bed, gazing at the white textured ceiling above them and just existing, for this was all they needed to do now. Nothing mattered to them in this moment, just the feeling of being free from social torment, the weight of the cruel world shrugged off weary shoulders for the time being.

That is, until Max's phone buzzed from within the confines of her messenger bag, forgotten up until now.

"Hm—?"

"Ah, that's me," Max reached over past the mattress and dug into her bag, pulling out her phone and reading the message.

"Huh," the brunette deadpanned.

"What is it Max?" inquired Kate, giving her a curious glance.

Cap'n Chlo: ey maximus u wanna go to 2 whales? fuckin hungry 4 some bacon

"Chloe just asked me if I wanted to go to Two Whales with her."

"Chloe? Who's Chloe?" Kate sat up straight, and turned to Max.

"Uhm, well, do you know Chloe Price?"

"She sounds familiar…wait, wasn't she the one that got expelled for graffitiing the girl's bathroom some two years ago?"

"Yeah, that's probably her."

"Oh," the blonde muttered, concerned.

A nervous chuckle, "Don't worry Kate, I've been friends with her for a lot longer than before she went to Blackwell. She's actually really nice to be around."

"Is she a best friend of yours? As in, from childhood?"

"Yeah, we go way back to elementary," Max felt a smile spread, thinking back on memories from before the turn of the decade, before the Riots, "We'd go to her house a lot and dress up as pirates. Her and I always wanted to be pirates when we were kids, always finding a new adventure to seek and whatnot."

Kate looked to her with a sad fascination in her eyes, and Max realized a little too late that the timid blonde didn't have any close friends when she was a teenager.

Perhaps, there was a chance to remedy such a lack of friendship, as the brunette looked pensively to her phone.

"Hey, Kate."

"Yes?"

"How about we both go to the Two Whales, I don't know about you but I'm getting kinda hungry."

A happy gleam shined from the blonde as she beamed a smile, "I'd love to, Max."

"Right, then let's go, we'll meet Chloe there."

Max: sure thing Chloe, i'll be there with a friend

"You got your stuff?"

Kate had gotten off the bed, having put on her tennis-shoes and slung her small leather purse over her shoulder, looking excited for the first time in a long while.

"I'm all set, Max," said the blonde with a smile.

"Alrighty then, let's go."

Pushing the diner's door open, Max was welcomed with the warm smell of freshly cooked bacon and pancake batter, the clanging of dishware upon porcelain along with the serenading vocals from the jukebox in the far side of the restaurant brought a sense of nostalgia unlike anything before. She supposed that Seattle had wringed her of all the happiness she'd felt when she was here in Arkadia, or maybe she'd been homesick for this place and didn't know it until now.

It was good to be back.

They took a booth off to the side, second from the right end, taking a seat and going over the menu perched in a tabletop holder. A quiet waitress came by almost immediately, handing them each a starting glass of water. She informed them another waitress would be taking their orders, and they thanked her as she moved on.

"Have you ever been here before, Max?"

"Oh, many times, so many times. It's been so long since, though," and hungry blue eyes locked to the Two Whales's signature breakfast dish with delight, "God, those pancakes look so good right now. Or better yet, maybe the bacon omelet with some fries."

"Pancakes? ew…" and Max gasped, looking so comically betrayed as Kate glanced up again, and hastily did the blonde defend herself, "What? The Belgian waffles they have are truly better."

"Oh, you did not just say that," Max jabbed lightheartedly, smirking, "If there's one thing I remember about this place, it's that everybody goes here knowing one thing, and one thing only: they're about to stuff themselves with a fat stack of those fluffy, golden-hued, soft-as-the-heavens pancakes."

"Well pardon me then, I'm not one to choose the food of the commoner," Kate jested back, bringing out a posh English accent and taking a sip of her lavish glass cup of water, a pinky extended out for good measure. She nearly lost herself in the act when Max started giggling.

That is, until a voice, thick with its Southern drawl, interrupted them.

"Alright, ladies, Welcome to the Two Whales, what can I get y'all—" and Max looked at the same time that the waitress noticed her, wide-eyed, and broke out in a smile.

"Joyce!"

"Well I'll be, Max? I haven't seen you in a long while," the woman smiled.

Very clumsily, Max rose from the booth and gave Joyce Madsen a tight hug and realized now why she missed the Two Whales so much.

"It's so good to see you, Joyce!"

"Same to you, hon'. Lord knows how long it's been since I've seen you last."

The brunette slid back into the booth, "So Max, what brings you here with a friend?"

"We're going to meet up with Chloe. She wanted to hang out with us, and I wanted to introduce her to Kate here," the blonde in question whispered a greeting and a slight wave of the hand, "I just hope she shows up soon, y'know?"

For the slightest second, Joyce looked stunned by what Max had said, and as the woman spoke Max wondered what was so surprising of their get-together.

"Oh, I know, Max. Chloe sure knows how to be punctually late, but bless her, she tries at least."

Max sat back and relished the feeling of warmth from the indoor heater that swelled from within her hoodie as Joyce requested their orders. Kate asks for the Belgian waffles with some honey on the side, and Max orders the bacon omelet along with a cup of coffee, black, no sugar. Joyce then skirts her way off to the kitchen in the back, her Southern drawl coming alive to whip the cooks into a frenzy over another order.

"Is that Chloe's mother, Max?"

Max replied to Kate's inquisitive look, "Yeah, Joyce is Chloe's mom. I used to see her whenever Chloe and I went to the diner when we were young." A smile, another memory surfaced in her mind, "I'm sure Chloe's dad, William—he probably paid for us, but we thought for the longest time that we got free food here because we were the only pirates in town. I'm sure him and Joyce just wanted us to have fun."

"That sounds like a wondrous adventure, her dad must be fun to be around," Kate says with a smile.

No more smiles for Caulfield.

"Uhm, yeah."

"…Max?" another question, but this time not spoken.

"It's, uh—well, William is…not here, anymore."

The slight widening of hazel eyes tipped Max that Kate got the point.

"I'm sorry, Max."

"It's fine," Max softly dissuaded, "We just got to move on."

The chime of a bell rung as the diner's front door was swung open, and Chloe made herself known, saying greetings to two unknown lads in a booth on the far side of the diner before bee-lining it to their booth. With a smirk and a nod of the head, she smoothly slid her way next to Max's side, ending up too close and near squishing the brunette in the process, making Max yelp in surprise as they collapsed into a fit of cackles together. Kate watched with curious fascination as the two across from her playfully bickered like sisters, they playfully nudged each other with a slight shove and oriented themselves out of their cackling.

Kate raised an eyebrow, confused at the amount of synergy the two had.

"Wus' poppin', Max, sorry for being late—" Chloe's eyes darted to the petite blonde across from her, eyeing the ball of hair atop Marsh's head, "whoa, now that, is a bun."

"I'm doing alright, Chlo. Oh, and this is Kate, she's my friend from Blackwell."

"Hello, Chloe."

"'Sup."

Perhaps it be the way the punk now acts around strangers, but Max couldn't help but notice Chloe now eye the cross upon Kate's button-up shirt, the bluenette laxing into her spot with a calm façade. The mousy brunette felt a tang of worry about her oversight, realizing that Chloe didn't have the most favorable views of faith or followers of such. Caulfield's worries were stifled however, as Joyce made her way over to them from behind the counter, hands carrying the dishes and drinks like it was the easiest thing in the world. The woman served the plates with ease, the steaming omelets and waffles resting in front of their persons with the utmost accuracy.

Never gets old.

"Chloe, sweetie, it's good to finally see you around," Joyce said with a smile, laying on the sarcastic motherly chiding as thick as she could.

The bluenette almost scoffed from embarrassment, replying with a curt, 'Hi, Joyce,' before slouching away and closer into Max.

"Oh don't be like that, dear. I'm glad you're here, and with some of your friends too," Max and Kate smiled at that, while poor Chloe seemed ready to squirm into the red upholstery, a scene that Max coaxed her out of with a playful, gentle shove, "I take it you want the usual, dear?"

"Yeah, thanks Mom."

"Now Max, before I leave you to it, I'd like to ask you to come by sometime, I'd love to have y'all for dinner—you too, Kate, don't think I'd leave you out of this," Joyce teased the blonde, causing her to warmly blush at the sudden attention.

"Of course Joyce, we'd love to," replied Max, looping an arm around the uncomfortable punk next to her, easing her of the social turbulence of having a mother near her impressionable friends. Bidding them a final 'See y'all soon', Joyce whisked herself to a nearby trucker at the bar section, gruffly complaining about another refill.

"I don't know about you, Chloe, but I can't turn down an offer like that from Joyce."

Chloe smirks widely, "Is that so? I feel like that's that's the food talking. Speaking of which—" and Chloe yoinks the bacon off of Max's plate, the gaping brunette can only watch in muted agony as her precious slice of bacon was viciously eaten like a spaghetti noodle. Chloe took her time in savoring the cooked meat before audibly swallowing, presenting her trademark shit-eating grin to a pouting Caulfield.

As if Kate had any reason to doubt the two's ability to read each other, Chloe suddenly jerked her arm up, receiving the half-assed punch the brunette administered with little effect. Chloe was full of hubris as she laughed at Max, who was beckoning the punk that she owed her a bacon slice with a hollow sternness, and Kate felt a tinge lonesome, knowing that she had never felt the kind of trust the two across from her shared. Whispering a silent thanks to the Lord for the food and friends, she dug into a piece of her honey-syrup Belgian waffles, chewing twice before being blindsided by Chloe's brash voice—

"'Ey, Kate, I hope you don't mind me asking, but, why do you got your hair up like that?" Chloe gestures very prominently to a figurative sphere above her beanie, and Max quietly chides her that the bun is not that big. Kate smiles.

"I don't know, I just found it to be…unique, I guess. You don't see anyone wearing a bun like this around here in Arkadia. I'd like people to know who I am whenever they see me." Kate had meant to be cheery, but the words caught up to her mind and she visibly slumped, "at least, uhm, y'know, without any malevolence."

Chloe raised a curious eyebrow and looked to Max for some explanation. The brunette in turn looked to Kate, who eventually glanced up and nodded in the slightest.

"Kate was…she was drugged at a party last Friday and was seen doing things she wouldn't have done if she was sober," Max frowned, not liking the way she described it, "We talked about it and we think it was Nathan Prescott who did it. He and Victoria Chase were at the party, and they're the ones who've been giving her a hard time."

Chloe looked unsurprised, but her agitation was clear, "They're pulling the same shit like what they did with Rachel? That's fucked."

"Yeah, exactly. It's partially why I brought her here to meet you. I figured, if we're gonna get to the bottom of Nathan's schemes and find out where Rachel is, we do it together."

Joyce came by one last time, easing onto the table a steaming plate of bacon slices with a side of chili fries, that which was coated in melted cheddar cheese. Chloe took on the act of an embarrassed daughter for all the ten seconds after her mother glided back to the kitchen, before she ravaged those damn-good fries with terrible prejudice, eliciting a snort from Max and a worried glance from the Christian.

Cleaning her hands with a spare napkin, Chloe smirked, and felt something that'd been pressing her mind since she first arrived burst forth, "I got an idea on how we start this—" she fished out her worn, azure hued switch phone, and fiddled with something before showing it to Max. She looked to see a very curt, very colorful text conversation between Chloe and some person by the name of 'Frank', talking about a meet-up for today.

"Chloe, who's 'Frank'?"

"A guy by the name of Frank Bowers. Like to call him 'Bean Boy Bowers' sometimes to piss 'im off," and Chloe smiled at the apparent memory of creating such a weird nickname for the man, "he's the only drug dealer in Arkadia."

Kate, who had been chewing on a large piece of a waffle to keep from speaking, immediately stopped chewing, and looked wide-eyed at the punk with squirrel cheeks. Max wasn't faring any better, looking visibly worried over how her best friend was describing the only drug dealer in town like a close friend.

"Anyway, so I got him to agree to a meet-up today, and I was getting worried that I'd have to make him wait for me after this, but—" and Chloe looked sympathetically at the blonde across from her, "seeing as Prickskott and Bitchtoria are fucking with a friend of mine, I figure he could help us out a bit."

Even with a mouthful of waffles, Kate clumsily smiled, the grateful gesture made Chloe sport a grin of her own.

"Well, shoot, that's great," said Max, poking a piece of an omelet and waving it in the air as she thought out her words, "maybe he's got some kind of record of his deals or something, you'd think he do something like that, right Chlo?"

"Yeah, probably. If anyone would do it, Frank would. He's paranoid like that."

"Then it's settled, we'll go meet him after this."

"Sure, sure. So, should I drop Kate off back at Blackhell, or—?"

"I'm going."

The casual smile on the bluenette's face was wiped away as she looked to Kate. The blonde reminded her now of a cute, fluffy bunny trying to look intimidating, and horribly failing in its attempt.

"Yeah, sure," Chloe remarked sarcastically, "Look, I know you wanna take down Prescott as much as the next person, but this shit Max and I are doin'?" as Chloe leans forward on the table, Kate slightly reclines back, "Shit's dangerous."

A hand gently clasps Price's left shoulder, and the punk's met with Max's look of subtle disagreement, "Chloe, stop, let her be. She's got as much at stake in this as we do."

Chloe darted her eyes to and fro, settling on Kate one last time before she sighed.

"A'ight then, but first, we need some form of oath."

"Hold up, what?" blurted Max, Kate raised a nervous eyebrow as Chloe heartily grinned towards the brunette beside her, "What do you think Max? If she's joining us, we need a proper initiation into the Pirates of Arkadia."

"Ohhh," and genuine confusion marred Kate's face as Max suddenly smiled something fierce, rising in a crescendo of chuckles as Chloe joined her.

The rusted truck trudged into the confines of the chain-link fence, rumbling forward into the widest clearing in the junkyard and coming to a stop. A moment of tranquility resumed in the weary environment for but a second, before the car doors clanked open. Its three occupants exited the vehicle, slamming the doors closed and making their way over to the building in the back of the yard. That is, until Max saw something that caught her eye; with an about-face Caulfield had her spare notebook and pencil in hand, and had dashed to the far side of the junkyard, leaving Kate and Chloe to wander into the concrete abode ahead of her. Once inside, Chloe took her rightful place in the Lay-Z-Boy, reaching for a box beside the chair while Kate politely stood, eyeing the many trinkets and objects in the room before resting her gaze upon the rebar hole in the ceiling.

"Alright, I know for a fact that I put it in here somewhere—aha!" the bluenette pulled from the cardboard depths a single sharpie marker, tossing it to the smaller blonde and pointing to a corner under a small window-like opening in the walls.

"The names are over there, place yours underneath and you'll officially be a part of the pirate gang," Chloe said with a boisterous smirk, lying back into her leather throne as the captain of her mighty, static ship. Kate obliged, neatly writing her name underneath Max's, the four kinds of handwriting attributed from every girl present.

All except one.

"Uhm, Chloe?"

"'Sup Katie-Kat?"

"This uh, Rachel person, is she the one that went to Blackwell?" Kate turned to Price as she asked and regretted it so instantly. The punk was glaring at her, and Kate didn't know if this glare was meant for her or meant for Rachel given the context. Chloe turned her gaze away and didn't say anything for some moments, before she sighed and laid back in her chair again, this time for good.

"Yeah, that's her."

Chloe grew solemn, enough so that Kate placed herself on one of the benches that the recliner faced, twiddling the marker in her hands and waiting for the bluenette to continue.

"I knew her, we were real close—" a hand runs through dyed blue hair— "we'd hang out here sometimes. She…she meant a lot to me," a lanky arm reached for the small cooler near the chair, but Chloe stopped, thought better of it, and retracted the arm.

A pause. "You loved her."

Chloe visibly recoiled at that, taken by surprise at Kate's intuition.

"Yeah, so? Is there a problem with that?" she barked defensively, to which the blonde softly shook her head.

"I can't judge that which I don't truly know, Chloe. If you and Rachel loved each other, then who am I to say such things?" Kate gave her a gentle smile, and Chloe hated how much this girl she'd met only hours before made her feel like they'd been friends for all their lives, in her own kind way. Perhaps if she'd gone out and bothered to be friends with someone like Kate, she wouldn't feel so burdened by the world.

Something about it made Chloe feel struck even more so by grief.

"Shit, I'm sorry."

Kate raised an eyebrow, "What are you sorry for?"

"I thought you were like one of those kinds of people, the kind who just say nice things and don't mean them. No—you're genuine."

Chloe coughs, then fidgets in her chair, sitting forward and silently impressing to the blonde that she was serious, "I wasn't sure why at first, but I see why Max likes you. You care. You don't act all hollow and shitty. You ain't like those 'holier-than-thou' sleazebags they got in the church. You're loyal, I can tell, and that's something I've never seen in any person I've met outside of Max and Rachel."

"Is that so?" Kate asks, perplexed, "Out of anyone?"

"Yeah, s'fine though, I don't need anyone, not when I've got Max and you," Chloe winked, and Kate flustered like a tomato, prompting a laugh from the pirate queen.

That is, until some raising of voices interrupted the punk's guffaws.

Immediately, Chloe was up and moving beyond the threshold, while Kate hesitated with anxious fervor, before joining the bluenette outside, coming up on Chloe peeking from behind a mass of cable wheels. From the perch of Price's shoulder, Kate witnessed a man, blond and gruffy, looking like he'd lived out in the woods for three weeks straight slowly encroach on a startled Max, who was looking for an opportunity to bolt out of his sight.

Chloe silently swore, looking back to mutter a 'stay here, don't move,' to Kate before boldly stepping out, walking up in front of Max and confronting the man.

"I said we'd meet up, Frank, not get all predatory with my friend," she barked.

"Hey, don't get pissed at me just 'cause I wanted her to speak up, your friend s'too quiet and I can't hear a damn thing she says," he growls, taking one step back and laying his hands in his pockets, his hunched posture made him seem wide and intimidating. Max all but hid behind Chloe, clearly not expecting to meet Frank alone without Price to back her up.

"Look, let's make this short and sweet, no bullshit to cut around. We need some info on one of your clients."

Frank looked blankly at the two for a good three seconds before he wheezed, doubling over to contain the laughter that came forth in sequentially harsh wheezes. Bowers wiped an exerted tear from his eye, almost doubling over again at seeing the stupidly-miffed expressions of the two girls confronting him. Almost coughing from the heavy cackles, he sarcastically jested, "Oh, sure, and while I'm at it, lemme go walk into the police station and boast about what I do for a living. Some sound logic you got there, goddamn," he chuckled.

"Frank, I ain't fuckin' around, I—we need to know something about one of your clients."

"Sorry, no-can-do, Price. You think I let anyone, especially someone as trustworthy as you in on who I sell to? You'd have better luck making me jump off the cliff."

"Frank, c'mon, don't pull that shit. Look—it's about Prescott, and I need to know if the shit you sold him had anything to do with—"

"You think I give a fuck about what that little shit does? Even if he bought from me, I couldn't care any less on what he does with it. Once it's out of my hands, it's no longer my fucking problem."

"Frank, one of my friends was drugged at a party, his fucking party, and now she can't go outside without being harassed by people. If you know anything about what he bought—and I know he goes to you, don't play that shit—I need to know right fucking now."

Frank just shrugs, his mouth flexed in a straight line and apathetic in his tone.

"It sounds more like your friend shouldn't have gone in the first place."

Like a flip of the switch, Max had morphed from cowering to aggressive, and Chloe hadn't the time to stop her as the brunette stomped towards Frank, a hand pointed accusingly towards him and malice in her bite.

"You shut the hell up, you damn—!"

A click, and Max stumbled back, wide eyed and cowering again, but this time with good reason. Frank snarled as he tightly clutched the switchblade in his hand, extended forward and promising to tear through flesh.

"Stay the fuck away from me if you wanna live, bitch."

Chloe herded Max away and behind her again, glaring at Frank to put the knife away; that is, until an object on Frank's wrist caught her attention.

"What the fuck is that?"

"The fuck you mean, Price, you never seen a switchblade before—?"

"Is that a bracelet?" she coldly spat.

Frank looked to the bracelet of small, pearlescent seashells adorning his wrist, strung together by a sturdy leather string. He paused, cursing himself, and Chloe spat again.

"Is that Rachel's fucking bracelet?"

"Price, what the fuck are you—"

"That's Rachel's bracelet, what the fuck are you doing with her bracelet?!" the punk roared, no longer fearing the instrument in his hands as she lunged forward, intent on ripping the item from his arm. Yet Frank curled away, keeping the knife close and the bracelet closer, like a snake ready to strike.

"Back off, Price. Don't fucking make me," he hissed.

"I think you owe me some fucking answers, Frank." She stayed a distance away, eyeing him with a murderous gleam in her eyes.

"I don't owe you shit, this conversation's fucking over. Get the fuck out of my sight—"

"Francis?"

Frank froze, not only with his movement but also with his words, stuttering a bit as he whipped his head towards Kate, standing off to the side unnoticed the entire time. Chloe grew fearful that he'd threaten Marsh as well, but he didn't. Instead, Price watched him figuratively shrink in stature. So visibly stunned, Bowers locked and pocketed the knife, and rasped to the blonde, "Kate, is that you?"

There was a solemnness in her eyes, and a disappointed twinge to her frown. The petite blonde nodded.

Frank did a doubletake between the three girls, and Chloe could see him pale at some realization. He looked so terribly broken then, and seeing him so suddenly tumble from anger to sorrow made Chloe's head spin, bewildered. Gruffly muttering that he'd return, Frank stiffly trudged his way off, towards his lumbering, dusty RV at the front of the junkyard.

As one, Max and Chloe looked to Kate, waiting for the grand explanation on how the blonde cowed the only drug dealer in Arkadia by merely saying his name. She obliged.

"Before I was born, my parents had tried their hand in raising a foster child as an act of good faith," Kate sadly noted, "the child they adopted turned out to be Francis. He didn't get along well with them, from what my older sister told me. She'd said that while they shared the common belief of God, they couldn't share a single happy dinner together."

"He was fourteen when I was born. Apparently, he liked me the most out of my family. My parents kicked him out of the house when they found out he was doing drugs after he graduated high school, sis told me they'd lost touch with him after that. I always assumed he left, went off and did something with himself that was better than doing drugs, but…" the blonde looked to the RV, watching its door open and Frank stumble outside, "…I didn't think he'd be doing this."

Frank look tired, weary with an unseen weight as he trudged up to the trio. His eyes were bloodshot, and the girls beheld the wrinkled leather hardcover book in his hand. He walked up to Kate, looking riddled with shame, and extended his ledger out to her.

"I—I'm sorry."

Max and Chloe stood, tensely laid back, just waiting for some unknown reason to pounce on Bowers and beat the life out of him if he tried anything on Kate.

The blonde in question stared into Frank, knowing what he did, knowing his part in what he'd done, what he would've done, a disgraced family member with no reputation, no hope, no reasons to justify his terrible actions. And she accepted the book, looking at the worn cover once before looking her older half-brother in the eyes.

"I forgive you."

His eyes glazed over a second after, and they watched him try to keep his posture as he choked down the sobs. Kate didn't need to think about pulling him into an embrace, linking her arms tight around him as he did the same, as still as a statue in her grip, looking far off and away. They remained that way for many a moment, when Frank disengaged first, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his weary jacket and looking forlornly to his little half-sister.

"I gotta go now," he glanced over to Max and Chloe, "I can't trust myself to keep you safe anymore, but they will."

Max noticed Kate become sad over his gripe, but he continued, "They're good people, you keep them close, a'ight?"

Kate nodded.

With a nod of his own, Frank walked away, looking back once to the girls before he sheltered himself in his nomadic home, its engine roared to life and the hulk of a vehicle made its way out of the junkyard.

Above, the birds swirled in a cloud of mass, moving with grace in a solid formation, a sort of sentient being created from the maintained efforts of the many. These birds seemed to follow the trail of the RV, travelling alongside its tinged frame before dissipating into the dulled blue sky.

A/N - Francis Bowers, otherwise known as "Frank," is a thirty-two year old drug dealer and, in this storyline, adopted half-brother to Kate Marsh. Frank was born to his biological parents, Gustave and Margaret Bowers in August of 1981, and has lived in small-town Arkadia for all his life. Frank was the eldest sibling of two, and had a younger sister by the name of Emma, born a year after Francis was. The Bowers family lived on the poorer end of Arkadia's social class, and this meant Frank was often separated from his parents, who'd work long hours during the days and only be there in the early mornings to take him and his sister to school. This meant that the siblings only had each other for company, and developed a close bond to look after each other. Tragedy would befall Frank at the age of twelve, when his father, who had been struggling with alcoholism and chronic stress, snapped, and murdered his mother and sister out of madness. Frank managed to escape his father's wrath, and was taken in at the lone church in Arkadia, which at the time served as a shelter for the homeless and needy.

It was here at the church that Frank would meet his new family in the form of the Marshes, and would be officially adopted by the Marsh family at the age of fourteen. That same year, Francis had beheld the birth of his little half-sister Kate, and because of the coincidence of her birth being on the same year of him being figuratively freed from his traumatic past, Frank took to caring for Kate the most of the three Marsh sisters. To Frank, Kate represented a second chance at having a caring sibling and another chance at life, that which was stolen from him by his original father.

Unfortunately, this lingering trauma took on effects that were damaging to Frank and his relationship with the religious Marsh family, such as turning to alcohol and drug abuse to cope with his stress. His academic career at Blackwell Academy was marginally above the threshold of failure, and was not enough to get him into any college institution. This effect of coming up just short in his efforts to be successful took a nosedive once Frank's search for a stable job came up empty-handed in the months after graduation. After being caught once with a joint in one hand and a half-empty beer bottle in the other, Francis was swiftly punished by his step-parents, Richard and Evelyn Marsh, and was kicked out of the Marsh household following a bitter conversation about his life choices and trauma.

Now at the age of thirty-two, Frank exists as an independent drug dealer, distributing a slew of various narcotics to willing buyers.