Flashback

Mike was laying on the thin, lifeless mattress alongside his middle school homework, with his lips curled into a small frown on his face. "So bored…" He mumbled, looking up at the blank ceiling.

He wasn't sure what was going on in the rest of the basement, but as usual, the music was painfully loud; Almost as loud as the European men yelling at each other from all ends of the large room. Doing his best to ignore all the commotion, Mike had already finished his homework three times, simply out of boredom. He contemplated doing it for the fourth, just to have something to do- but continuously working on Math was probably a different level of torture.

Turning his head over to the side, the preteen's warm, brown eyes glanced at a certain green chapter book peeking out of his open schoolbag. He had read so many stories of the same series- and whenever possible, he tried to get his hands on them from the school's library just to re-read them over again. While other kids his age would find it repetitive and weird to do such a thing, he couldn't help but rely on the comfort of the books when he was stuck in his room. They were the coolest!

While reaching his arm out and pulling at the bundle of pages, a grin immediately spread onto Mike's face, despite the loud grumble of his stomach begging for dinner and echoing through the tiny chamber. He wasn't exactly sure how long he had gone without food- he couldn't really remember. From what it felt like, this might have been the longest he'd gone without any in his entire life.

But, it would be okay. All he had to do was distract himself, and it would all be over soon.

…Probably.

There were countless destinations throughout these books- each full of excitement, adventure, and mystery. Every story had it's own unique and thrilling quests, puzzles, and best of all- treasure.

…And, in the end?

Mike held the book tightly to his chest as he stared away from the flickering lightbulb of his room.

The good guys… always win.

Indiana Jones was the best. Nothing ever came in his way of getting what he wanted and doing what was right. He had the perfect balance of both justice and selfishness, one the boy dreamed of also having one day.

Mike stared at the cover picture, where Jones was tilting his hat down low, carrying his grappling hook on his shoulder, and was riding his horse across the land in search for what he needed. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself a bit as he stood up, wondering what life would be like if he had his own horse to get him out of here. Where would he go? And what was it he needed? Would he finally… be free? Was it even possible?

Mike's body answered the first two questions for him, loudly grumbling once more- in hopes of getting any sort of food as soon as possible.

Right. That would be my mission. To find something to eat.

Mike forcefully laughed a bit, doing his best to stay positive. It wasn't long before he walked towards a mirror that was leaning on the rough wall of his room, which was barley balancing. Leaning down and pulling out a cream-coloured fedora that hid behind it, he held it in his hands alongside the novel with a warm smile.

"In the meantime," He mumbled to himself with his squeaky voice, still smiling. "I'll just go on my own adventure."

It would be nice if he had someone else to play with. But, playing by himself to pass time was better than just laying there. Or… doing homework all over again.

Just as Mike innocently reached upwards to put the hat on his head, a sudden pain shot through his stomach, shocking him enough to drop the book onto the floor and hold himself tightly. He kneeled down and curled his body low, groaning a bit from pain as the fedora messily landed on his head.

It wasn't long before he could feel himself take a deep gasp in, his eyes quickly going from closing momentarily to snapping open as he stared at his surroundings. Manitoba stood up rather fast, stretching his arms out and yawning before looking down at his body.

"Well, that's a problem, isn't it?" He spoke to himself with a smirk, staring at his stomach which groaned in response. His eyes darted around the room as he fixed his hat to better fit his head, before looking back downwards to analyze the book that was dropped on the floor.

Picking it up and skimming through it, it wasn't long before Manitoba walked over to the math homework that was scattered in the corner of the room. He picked up the pencil and paper with a smug grin, happy to have some sort of materials on his hands- only to pause and read the contents of the paper.

"Crikey, someone's been sleeping in class." He snickered.

…

Mike blinked twice as he woke up. His eyes took a few moments to readjust to the bright light of the room, which...

…was no longer horribly flickering and giving him a headache?

Rubbing his eyes, he tried to remember what he was last doing. The chapter book that was once dropped on the floor was no longer fallen, but instead, placed back into his bag which was now zipped up halfway- along with his neatly stacked math homework. The fedora he usually kept behind his mirror was left on top of it.

"Huh." He said aloud, picking up the hat and staring at it. "I wonder what happ…"

Mike stopped talking to himself when he noticed a small scribble of a smiley face at the top corner of his homework. He had done it so many times today, and one thing was for sure- that wasn't there before.

But considering his memory loss, how would he even know?

Curiously tugging at the first page, he began flipping through the work, raising a brow from how odd the situation was. It didn't take long for a bewildered look to come across his face, and by the end of going through all the homework, he was sitting down in front of his bag with his legs crossed.

Not only was there more writing over all the pages, someone had actually corrected all the answers for him. Staring back at the smiley face that was left for him, it confirmed Mike's suspicion about one thing- he definitely didn't do it. Sure, he lost his memory from time to time, so he couldn't be too certain… but that wouldn't explain how he could know all the right answers.

Maybe the lack of food was causing him to go crazy or something.

Crawling over to the mirror to put the hat back where it belonged, he couldn't help but have more questions bounce around in his mind.

Speaking of food… wasn't he starving a while ago? How come he didn't feel very hungry anymore?

Those thoughts quickly got their answer as Mike noticed a small cardboard box behind the glass, one which was never there before. He debated on if it he should even look through it or not- after all, maybe it was something of Uncle Vinnie's. But… why would he put it there?

Pulling out the brown box and opening it, a small gasp of relief escaped Mike's lips, as he realized he was face to face with a bunch of stolen food-packaged perfectly inside for him.

…

"Did you really think you could hide from me forever?"

Vinnie had his pique stare down on his nephew. He scanned every inch of the other's face, gritting his teeth angerly at the way the stupid child was smiling.

Mike had a dumbfounded grin spread across his cheeks, almost as if he wasn't aware of his surroundings. It didn't take a psychiatrist to understand he was barley processing it. The teen didn't say a word to his elder, as he kept his smiling lips pressed together, almost humming.

Leaning back, the suited man crossed his arms and angrily stomped his foot down. "How long did you think it would take before I found out, eh?"

Even though the tension in the room was thicker than ever, Mike was still lost in his own world, smiling in his euphoric state.

Everything is fine. This is, just, like, some stupid dream. And I'm sure I'll wake up any moment no-

With a sleek back shoe smashing into the bottom of the chair, Vinnie kicked back the seat Mike was strapped in and pushed it up against the wall, furrowing his eyebrows even further into his face as he watched Mike flinch harshly in response. His body was obviously more aware of the danger he was compared to his scattered mind, as his uncle noticed his muscles tightening against the ropes and naturally fighting the restraints.

Despite how pale his knuckles were getting from clenching his fists together, Mike's cheerful expression stayed on his face as he got yelled at with Italian swears, just like when he was a child. Vinnie roughly grabbed Mike's cheeks with his fingers, pressing into them furiously as he forced the other to look up at him.

"I asked you a question." He growled.

Mike held his smile through the pain, regardless of the way his face was being held and squished as if it were a stress ball. His pupils were widened and obviously larger than usual, and although he couldn't feel it himself, his cheeks were heating up a shade of deep scarlet as he stared at his abuser's face.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He responded honestly, almost as if he were hypnotized.

Impatiently rolling his topaz eyes, more wrinkles formed on Vinnie's broad face as he ran his hand through Mike's hair and pulled on it to keep the unstable teen focused on his demands.

"Ascolta, Mike. You were on TV." He spoke simply to dumb it down for the idiot.

Mike nodded his head as little as he could. "Mhmm!" he mused happily, with an elated smile.

Vinnie scanned Mike's body up and down, noticing the state of shock his body was still trapped in, as his arms did his best to push up against the ropes. Though, it still seemed like Mike wasn't even aware he was doing it.

"You won a large amount of money." Vinnie spoke loud and clear, just as if he were scolding Mike all those years ago.

Mike nodded like a lost child once more with his head which could barley move, due to the other's grasp on him. Innocently laughing as he spoke, his cheeky grind widened. "I did! Isn't it crazy?"

Vinnie, who was now smirking from the pathetic state of mind Mike was trapped in, leaned in closer to his nephew's face while sharply pressing his knee into the teen's thigh, causing that stupid smile to finally disappear as it turned into a sour pout.

"It is crazy." Vinnie's expression went back to being stern and blank. "Almost as crazy as you, Mammalucco." Letting his knee push into Mike harder, he glared down viciously at the other's pain.

"So, I'm going to need you to hand that money over to me."

…

Zoey didn't care how hazy she was, or how badly it pained her to fight herself just to keep her eyes open- all that she could focus on was crawling behind the young guard who was standing in front of the room's entrance as quietly as possible.

Although she had awakened earlier to find herself tied up in the corner of the fancy, golden-accented room, she had managed to escape her in less than a few minutes, thanks to the self defense lessons her father once urged her to take. Boy, she owed him a huge thank-you. If only she had her phone, she would be able to call him and get some help.

But she didn't.

Thankfully, there was something more important she still had in her back pocket. Reaching down to swiftly pull it out, Zoey took a look at the sturdy pocket-knife that once belonged to Jeremy. She held in her hands with a grip shaking ever so slightly, and switched out the sharp blade from it's hiding. She glanced at her ex's engraved initials, which were scratched out by none other than Mal.

Zoey let her head lean back against the gentle lavender wall, keeping her breath steady enough to not be heard. Her eyes closed for just a moment as a look of concern overtook her face. She did her best not to cry, yet the corners of her mouth couldn't help but dart downwards.

Did she really… have it in her to do such a thing? But, she was kidnapped! What other option was there? She had to make it out of this! For herself, for her family, and for her boyfriend!

Gulping down with her aching throat and peeking out the room, Zoey ignored the fact that it didn't have a door and instead, looked towards the guard who was obviously dozing off. His hands were in the pockets of his dark leather jacket, and his eyes were softly closing as he listened to the faint yelling that could be heard from somewhere downstairs.

Zoey couldn't make out the words, so chances were, he couldn't either.

Finally taking an anxious, deep breath in, Zoey turned the knife backwards and used the tip of the handle to whack the side of the man's head, cringing almost as hard as he did, as the jab made contact with his temple.

Immediately falling on the floor, with a thud, the man was holding himself in pain and groaning aloud, which led Zoey to freak out even more and muster up all her inner strength to kick his head twice.

It wasn't long until he wasn't making any more noises.

Her watery eyes widened from shock at the ghastly scene, and with her free hand reaching upwards, she covered her trembling lips.

D-Did I… Just kill someone…?

Zoey stared at his blank, expression which seemed more asleep than dead, only before realizing his chest was thankfully still puffing up and down.

She sighed from a bit from relief, before pulling at his arm and dragging him into the room she was kept in. From there, she hid him behind the enormous, fluffy bed, and tied his hands and legs together the way someone had once did to her.

"That should do it…" she mumbled, before taking a step back. As she looked around, Zoey glanced at herself in the mirror of what seemed to be the most luxurious dressing table she had ever come face-to-face with. A bit of her makeup was running down the sides of her eyes, probably due to crying a bit. Her hair was sweaty and tangled, making it obvious she had been asleep for at least a day. If it wasn't for the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she wouldn't even have it in her to move a muscle.

While analyzing the state she was in… she accepted that she simply couldn't believe this was real.

She was kidnapped. Her and Mike- or, Mal in the moment, got kidnapped.

But who could ever do such a thing? Zoey felt sick to her stomach just contemplating it. This was way past anything Jeremy would do, despite what a horrible prick he was. Wasn't it?

Zoey's thoughts came to a pause as she looked down at a note on the table. She couldn't understand anything written on it, since it was obviously Italian, but the writing seemed somewhat familiar…

…and then it hit her.

The handwriting matched the one she once saw in a letter Mike had gotten while he was in juvie. And there was only one Italian out there who would do such a thing to them.

Who would continue to do such things to Mike and the others.

Zoey's grip on the paper tightened as anger began burning up inside her. She watched it crinkle right before she crumbled it up and threw it back on the desk, her face finally transitioning from a look of disbelief to full of wrath. Her and Mike were in a lot of danger, and she would have to women-up and do something about it if they were going to make it out of this.

Suddenly hearing breathy movement from behind her, Zoey swiftly turned around to meet the captured man's widened eyes, and just as he opened his mouth to scream out- she kneeled down and slapped her palm on his mouth to shut him up.

"Don't." Zoey muttered, without the slightest bit of hesitation. It wasn't long before she used the back of the knife to knock him out once more, before finally standing up again and looking down at the unconscious man.

Using the sharp tip of the knife, Zoey ripped off the bottom of her shirt- and cut the large strip into half. After tying up the young guards mouth with the cloth, she used the second strip as a bandana and tied it around her forehead, right before pulling out the tube of eyeliner Paige had given her the last time they spoke. Shaking the bottom of liquid makeup, Zoey used the brush to smear two thick lines of black under her cheeks as her war paint. She fought the urge to scream out, simply because of the situation she was put in- and instead, gave herself a demanding look while whispering under her breath with a waspish tongue.

"It's payback time."