MIKEY

Mikey arrived at the location Donnie had sent in record time. His first observation was that his Cubs wasn't there. Several minutes of more intensive searching, which earned him plenty of weird stares from passerby, yielded the missing phone.

Or what was left of it.

It looked like someone stomped on it.

Repeatedly.

With steel-toed boots.

He cradled the broken shards of the pink, turtle-shaped phone to his plastron when something caught his eye. Something he recognized from Denim's gear. Something that should not be littering a New York street by the remains of his youngest daughter's phone.

Picking up the tranq dart, he pressed the second speed dial on his phone.

"Mikey?"

"Leo, I need your help. Like now."

SCOUT

Scout's head was throbbing like she'd hit it on something, the ache across the back spread out and met in the front with a groggy sensation; like she'd taken night time cold medicine. Her cheek was against something cold, metal maybe, a vibration meeting her skin telling her she most likely in a moving vehicle. The scent of cigarette smoke wafted into her nostrils and she grimaced as she opened her eyes, the sound of male voices, gruff and snarky hitting her ears- Her. Ears. Her- Oh. Shit.

Oh no. Oh no. No. No. No. She scrambled upright, smacking her head on the ceiling of a what she realized to be a large dog crate.

She was in a cage. Literally.

Her stomach churned as her heart pumped hard, her head pounding as she gripped the metal bars. There was an empty crate beside hers, but no one in the back of the van with her, two guys in the front. She scooted to the back of the crate, eyeing the padlock affixed to the latch. Fantastic. Her gaze shifted to the outside of her prison, locating her backpack by the passenger's feet.

Part of her wanted to scream and yell and throw a royal fit. Another part wanted to kick the door off the crate, knock out the passenger and driver, grab her bag and escape. But they'd drugged her already. Why? Didn't even try to sell her anything, she hadn't paid for it, they'd actually dosed her while she was unconscious. Why?

Why and what would she do now? There was no way in hell she was going back to rehab. In fact, she kind of resented how every little sound almost hurt. It was so loud, almost amplified. She rubbed the back of her head, wincing as she found a lump on the back, right side. She must've hit it on the sidewalk when they'd- what had they done? How did she get in here? What the hell happened?

She replayed her actions, recalling everything up until stepping outside and felt the sting in her neck. They must've tranqed her. Well fuck. Now what did she do? The old Scout would've made all the noise, busting out and destroying everyone. In fact, that was what she'd set out to do when she'd been well- double drugged.

The new Scout had the sense to step back from her predicament. She scooted to the back of the crate and sat in easy pose. She wasn't going back to rehab, she wasn't going back. She wasn't. She wanted to fight these jerks on her own terms and that did not include their drugs. Her Uncle Leo had just started teaching her a meditation method to cleanse the body of impurities. Maybe she could push this negative energy from her, at least some of it- maybe?

She closed her eyes, was about to begin when sounds of their voices, their words kept filling her head, distracting her. It wasn't something she usually had to contend with. Sound. The van's engine was humming, the fabric of her clothes rustling, the passenger seat squeaking as the man in black shifted around. And their voices. They just kept talking. Her head began to hurt so bad her eyes ached. Well if she couldn't focus to clear her thoughts and channel her energy, maybe she should listen, find out where they were taking her… or what the hell they wanted with her.

"Tripp wants her for tonight then we're transferring her to Jersey, Pennsylvania after that. He's thinking this one will end up down South. There's a buyer if she makes it all the way to Texas. Tripp says she sings like a songbird or some shit. He's been looking for her for weeks." The passenger went on about a shortage of talent but Scout's mind was reeling.

New Jersey? Pennsylvania? Texas! She couldn't leave New York she had a competition coming up! She rubbed her face. What was she thinking, she was being kidnapped! Her, an ass-kicking kunoichi was drugged against her will and locked in a dog crate. No. Fucking. Way. Maybe it was time to let old Scout back out to play. But as she shifted onto her butt, bringing her feet up against the door to the crate the van stopped, the driver cut the engine. He and passenger guy got out both slamming their doors. Scout flinched, cupping her ears with her hands. Why was every sound hurting so bad?

Seconds later, the back doors were opened. A white man with sharp features, ice blue eyes and a trim black beard smiled at her. "Look at the eyes on you," he cooed. "You were hot before, but now that you're awake-" He let out a whistle then winked at her. "Wonder if Tripp's offering you up on the side?"

"Not till she's burned out. Right now, she's a cash cow. Entertainment only." The other guy, she recognized the gruff voice as the passenger, sounded like a native-born New Yorker.

He grabbed the back of the cage as the driver, Joel, asked, "Can't we just get her out?"

Passenger guy scoffed. "Tripp says she killed Jayce. He wants her contained until he can talk some sense into her."

Neither of the two really saw her, she noticed. She was a product to them, a thing, not a person. Which must be how Jem, Shen, and Nellie felt in school most days. She was used to feeling overlooked, but not talked about as though she wasn't there. Still, she didn't feel inclined to respond or react to them, a combination of being deaf all her life, and the focus of her recent training.

The cage tipped badly, sliding her into the end. It dipped toward the ground before the two men righted it, carrying her in the back door to Tripp's. The sudden interior lighting near blinded her and she shielded her eyes. But it was the ringing in her ears, from the bustle of the kitchen, that hurt so bad she wanted to cry. Every pan that clanked together, or banged against the metal counter, recoiled like a drill to her ear canals. She wanted to curl up and cover her head. But she knew, she had to be alert, collect information, take in her surroundings. Above all, she had to escape.

SPOT

Spot swung by Tripp's, to pick up another crate of Sensuality for Marco's dancers. He peeked into the unmarked plastic tub to find it brimming with packets of purple gel tabs. That was the stuff.

Snapping it shut, he noticed a couple runners hauling a crate into the service entrance and changed direction to investigate.

One of the runners noticed him. "Sorry, this one's not for Marco. Shame. She's a sweet little piece."

He peered in and his eyes widened in recognition. He'd seen a picture of this girl once, while sifting through Alli's purse. A resemblance so strong, they had to be sisters, smiling with their heads together in one of those gimmicky photo booths.

It had been weeks since Alli'd walked away from him. He should feel anger, humiliation, frustration, but Smooth kept those and many other problematic feelings at bay. It allowed him to focus on more practical concerns. Like how they'd fill their order with Alli ditching, after he'd invested a goodly amount of time into training and reshaping her.

One of their regular customers, some recluse in Maine, had a taste for fair redheads, humans or human-looking hybrids. He liked them 'lithe' as he called it, which translated to stick-like thin from Spot's perspective. He also preferred them on their virgin run of Sensuality, so they couldn't even hook 'em first with chemical dependence.

Alli had been slated to be the next sell, leaving them scrambling for a replacement when she cut and run.

Maine was a good customer, dropping loads of cash to replace his playthings roughly every six months. They were already overdue to send one out. But maybe there was a solution.

He pulled out his phone. "Souvenir?"

The runners grinned, one laughing. "Go ahead. I don't blame you. I'll be thinking back on her later myself."

Spot snapped a picture of the angry little girl in the crate and tucked his phone away. Not that he wasn't concerned about his delivery, but it was time to track down Alli and have a word. With the right leverage, they might fill their order yet.

DENIM/MIKEY

It was like walking through a dream. No, a nightmare. This couldn't be happening. He rationalized the smear of blood in the elevator. But now, standing in Scout's room, blood-covered school clothes in a heap on the floor, her weapons, real weapons, missing; not even he could come up with benign alternative explanations. There was only one thing that could have happened.

Clutching her broken warrior bracelet in his fist, he looked up at Leo in the door frame. "What do I do?"

Leo entered the room and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get her back. Whatever it takes."

Donnie stepped into the space, holding his tablet. "So, I was monitoring police bands, hoping to get a lead if anyone reported a girl being snatched off the street. I got a report of bodies found in an alley by their school."

Leo stilled. "You think it's connected?"

"I know it is." Donnie replied. "I used my back door to the city's system to check the police case files and found some crime scene photos." He held up his tablet, showing a picture of an alley with two corpses sprawled out on the edges of the picture. He selected a part of the screen, magnifying it and applying some detail-rendering software. It was blurry, but unmistakably Scout's golden nunchaku charm.

Leo turned to Mikey. "I'm going to check in with April. Mikey, look at me. You need to tell Denim."

He swallowed hard, but nodded. For the second time, he'd be telling Blue Jeans that he'd lost their little girl.

No. Not lost. Someone took her.

A flicker of anger stirred in him as he dialed the parlor.

"Deniangelo's Pizzaemporium." Kami's cheerful voice answered over the line.

"Hey Kami, it's Mikey. I need to talk to Denim." His voice sounded strained, like he was choking on something.

"Sure. Hang on a sec."

The hold music started and he couldn't help but wonder how polka kept finding its way into his sound files. Probably Donnie, sneaking in some payback after years of being on the receiving end of Mikey's jokes. He endured it as he waited for her to pick up.

After many, many years of coping with migraines Denim knew the tell-tale signs from their very beginnings. But there was no time to deal with one now. Mikey being gone more than usual to train Scout was slowly beginning to wear her down. They were going to have to hire more help. She couldn't keep this up much longer and she didn't want anything to change with their daughter's current path. If Scout needed her dad then Denim would do her part, and that was keeping the pizzeria going.

Only right then, Woody called in with the flu and Gina was already out of town. Which left it up to her or Mikey. And he was training Scout. So, it was all up to Denim, with a migraine in the works, the phones ringing off the hooks, and online orders backing up, while carry-outs and dine-ins were rocking. Great for business.

Bad for a short-staffed business owner whose kitchen was about to be in beyond 'in the weeds' to somewhere 'in the forest'. What was with restaurant worker lingo anyway? It didn't make any sense. There were no weeds in a kitchen, unless someone was topping a pizza with dandelions. Hmm. A vegan might be interested in that. She'd have to bring it up to Mikey later.

"Denim!" Kami shouted, holding the bright orange phone tucked between her chin and shoulder. "It's for you! It's Mikey, he sounds- uh- weird."

Weird? Mikey could sound weird for a thousand reasons. Reasons that she didn't have time to contemplate. But, she guessed that to a new-to-them employee like Kami, he'd sound weird for a while. Denim grabbed a handful of cheese, sighing as she double-checked the topping list on the order then slid the pie in the oven. "I'll take it in my office, Kami. Put him on hold for me, please." She turned toward her dishwasher, grateful that they cross-trained all of their employees on every station. "Pablo, do you mind covering for me?"

"Si', Senora Hamato." He nodded, stepping over to the utility sink to wash his hands.

Confident in her employee choice, Denim wiped her hands on her apron as she made her way to the office. Sinking into the rolling chair she took a second to breathe, rubbing her temples as she partly considered when she'd last taken her migraine meds and if she could take more yet. A glance at the clock said she was good to go. Reaching for her purse she eyed the flashing light on the phone. Wait. Mikey should be busy training Scout right then. Why was he calling her?

Prying the cap off her meds, she grabbed her water bottle, taking the pill quick as a niggling of concern threatened to spill out into one of Mikey's dramatic overreactions. Years of being together had him rubbing off on her in the worst ways. Thankfully, some of her habits had rubbed off on him as well and they still balanced one another. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the phone. "Hey, Hon, what's going on?"

Denim sounded tired. Mikey ducked his head guiltily, though she couldn't see, promising himself to get her more help once they'd found Scout and brought her home.

He started and stopped several times, trying to find the right words in an unusual display of forethought.

"Mikey?"

Ah screw the right words. There weren't any. "Someone's abducted Scout."

Denim's mind went blank. What? "What?" She heard herself say as her pulse quickened. "W-what?" She was a broken record. What did he say? He didn't just-

He was quiet, giving her a minute to process. It was in that rare silence that promised his seriousness, something that met up with the rarest tone of his voice, few words, straight to the point, absolutely no light in him at all. These indicators alluding to all Michelangelo was ultimately capable of, but hadn't needed to be in so very long.

Her lips parted, her mouth attempting to form words but there were none. Then there were too many. "What do you mean Scout was abducted? That's not- h-h-h-" Sounds were coming out, her breaths audible. "No. No. No. No. This can't be happening. This can't keep happening. She's not abducted. Mikey, she can't be. She's somewhere. Someone knows where she is. For fucks sake there's eight kids in this family, I'll give you that three of them are technically adults, but one of them has to know where she is. I mean how- how do you know she was abducted? Are you sure? Don't answer that. I- I- I- I can't do this right now. She can't be abducted. She's been doing great. Like a damn phenomenon. Incredible."

Denim began to shake, her grip tightening on the receiver as she inhaled and exhaled. He waited as she cleared her mind, pulled herself together, something that would take the average person thrice as long, but she was a veteran. Someone had taken her baby. Okay. She'd been down this road before. First things first. She had to get someone to cover the store, get home and arm up- but wait- who were they fighting?

"Okay. Okay." She exhaled. "I'll get someone to cover the restaurant. I'll call Alli. She can do it. Then, are you home? What do we know? Do we know who took her? Is there a plan? I can't believe this is happening."

Mikey scratched his head and paced nervously. "Well, uh, we don't know too much yet. I-" He gulped, "I found an empty tranq dart by her phone. Which was all broke up like someone did it in on purpose, about a block from our place.

"I'm home now. Her weapons are gone, like the totes serious ones. Her clothes from this morning are here, kind of, um..." he struggled to get the rest out, "bloody. But, I don't think it's hers," he added quickly. "Or at least not all of it. Cuz, Donnie found some crime scene photos in an alley by her school that had one of her charms. The cute little chucks I got her that year for Christmas, along with some dead guys. So, it's probs theirs..."

He trailed off, reflecting on how that still wasn't necessarily comforting.

"But, there's gonna be a plan to get her back. I don't know it yet, but, I mean it's Leo. Leo's always got a plan. But yeah, you should totes get Alli-bird to cover for you. So, you're here and ready to roll, as soon as Leo tells us the fool-proof, unbeatable, super-plan, that will definitely get Scout back right away and completely ok."

Oh gods. This was bad. Very bad. Very, very bad. Every word out of Michelangelo's mouth spilled bad, worse, worser, worserer. If there was such a thing. Because if there wasn't before there was now. Then with the rambling, the words he chattered, meaning to assure them both, when so much doubt floated up in the air. And that's what they spoke to her- he didn't even sound like he was convincing himself.

A tranquilizer dart. Empty. Most likely used on Scout.

A crushed phone.

Serious weaponry, gone.

Bloody clothes.

Some of it not hers, probably, because there were dead bodies.

Actual dead bodies in the same vicinity of her lethally trained daughter.

"Mikey," Denim gasped. "Are you thinking-" she hesitated, had to force it out. "Do you think Scout- crossed the line? I mean, I know if she did this is exactly the kind of situation that calls for it- but- that's life changing without everything she already has behind her."

Mikey was quiet, longer than she liked. Probably trying to push away his own distasteful memories. Of which Denim was sure her body count was higher, but volume didn't change the way it stuck with you. Fed your nightmares. Scarred you.

After a long pause, pushing back recollections he didn't want to relive, he answered, "I hope she didn't. Maybe those guys were already fighting and she went in to ref 'em but it was too late."

"Mikey." She spoke quietly.

He let out a breath. "Yeah, I know. But we'll make it right when we get her back. Or as right as it can be. Just...hurry. I'm gonna see if Leo learned anything from April's shakedown at Marco's. I'm hoping she got something since it's kinda our only lead."

"Okay." Denim whispered. "I love you, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Love you too," he replied.

For some reason 'I-love-you's in times like this brought tears to her eyes and Denim was quick to hang up before her emotions got the better of her. Mikey was definitely a catalyst for her emotions. Taking a deep breath, she immediately speed-dialed Alli.