"Don't move; should you happen to try anything I swear to god I will blow your brains out."
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Disclaimer: Hey, I do NOT have possession of the Hardy Boys. Please review this work of fiction!
Rated "T" for a few violent… how shall I say this? Occurrences.
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A/N: Unlike most fics, this one jumps back and forth. The dates are clearly marked and I hope it's understandable.
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Joe lay, face to the ground, gun pointed at his head. "Don't move," the man warned him. The man handcuffed his hands and left him to lie on the ground when he went to check on Frank. Frank had been knocked out when the other car crashed into their car. He had been driving, but the airbag hadn't gone off.
The man examined Frank, then with great difficulty, put his gun in his hip pocket and dragged him out of the car. First he checked for his pulse and found it, it was there – barely.
He glanced at Joe, who was still lying there, face to the ground. His head ached and he was worried for Frank, who was still unconscious. The man grunted and tied Frank's hands behind his back roughly, worried that Frank might be faking it.
He motioned for Joe to get into the back of the semi truck. Joe did so, not wanting to endanger Frank's life. He shuddered when he saw the large, purple bruise on Frank's face. The man still did not speak; only shut the semi door and drove away.
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Two weeks earlier…
Fenton had called the boys up to his study. As usual, it was a cluttered mess, with stacked books and coffee cups all around. "I'm working on a very, very dangerous case and I do not want you boys involved," he said sternly.
"Why not, Dad?" Frank asked. He glanced around at the mess. Yup, Joe definitely takes after Dad, he thought.
"These people are involved into slave trading, mainly, the slave trading of adolescents. I know you know what that means. These people are dangerous, avoid them at all costs," his father said, showing them several photos of the men.
"Like what - teenagers? But, dad, we're teenagers," Joe replied. "We can—" he started to say before Fenton interrupted him.
"Exactly," Fenton said. "I want you to stay away from these people. DO NOT take any unnecessary chances, you understand? This is how it will go for the next few weeks: You'll go to school, come home from school, do your schoolwork and go to bed. No exceptions."
"But, Dad, Frank and I can go undercover! We can help," Joe said.
"You don't understand how dangerous these people are, Joe. The last three people we sent in undercover died, including one of my old friends on the force."
Joe gulped. "So, they're a really profitable business, I take it?"
"Yes, and they do things you couldn't even imagine to people to get them to listen. I don't want you boys wondering off alone, and don't take any unnecessary chances. Unless you're outside our house, hell, even then, I want you too to stay together or with a friend at all times. Let me know where you are at all times as well."
"Why?" Frank asked. Why was this case so major? His dad had never ordered them away from a case before; this was the first time. Well, there's a first time for everything, he thought cynically.
Fenton sighed. "I just received notice from Sam Radley that they might come after you next. Anyway, even if they aren't after you, they're after teenagers that fit your profile. If I even find out that you are trying to investigate this, I'll ground you from your friends for a week," he threatened. He knew he was being mean, but he had no choice until the criminals were caught.
Frank and Joe nodded and left the room. "I think he's pretty darn serious," Frank said. "I mean, he's never kicked us from working on a case before and he's NEVER ordered us to stay at the house. He knows we can take care of ourselves!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. "What changed? Why can't we take care of ourselves?"
"Ya think?" Joe asked, going into Frank's bedroom and sitting on Frank's bed. "You know what I think? These people are dangerous."
Frank nodded, and, sighing, relented. "I don't think we should investigate this one. I don't want to take any uncalled for risks, either."
"You're sounding like dad," Joe complained. "I was planning on going to the pizzeria tonight," he teased, wanting to see Frank's reaction.
"Well, I don't exactly want to get shipped off into slavery again." Frank shuddered. "Remember how dreadful that was?" He hated remembering it. He had very nearly been separated from his family for the rest of his life.
"Yeah," Joe said, shuddering. On one of the cases they'd stumbled onto a slave/prostitution rink. Frank had been kidnapped and almost sold off into slavery. "I guess we follow orders," he said.
"You better," Frank growled, turning to his desk and starting on his schoolwork. "If we get kidnapped, it's your fault," he added teasingly.
Joe rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered, walking through their connecting bathroom to his room.
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(Right after they were kidnapped)
Frank slowly woke up. "Joe, where are we?" he asked, groaning. His head ached and he could barely feel his hands that were tied behind his back.
"I don't know, we're in a semi going somewhere I guess," Joe replied. "All I know is you have one heck of a nasty black eye."
"How did this happen," Frank muttered, frustrated. "We weren't even on the case! We were coming home from school."
"He crashed into the car," Joe replied. "I think I know who it is. It's that guy dad's worried about."
"The slavery guy?" Frank asked.
"Yeah."
"Great," Frank muttered. "Just great. Wait, Joe, we've been going home from school, coming too school, doing nothing but what Dad said for the past couple weeks! How did he know where would be going?"
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Fenton answered the telephone. "Hello, Fenton," the chilling voice said.
"Hello," Fenton snapped irritably. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, scratching his head.
"My, friendly aren't you?" the kidnapper inquired. "This is Tom Clancy."
Hearing the name Fenton paled in terror. Tom Clancy was wanted for slavery, drug trafficking, and seventeen murders. "What do you want?"
"Well, Fenton," he said, chuckling, "I want a lot of things. But guess who I have right now?"
Upon hearing this Fenton paled in terror yet again. "My sons?" he asked, his mouth dropping ajar.
John smiled. This was going exactly as he'd planned. "Yes, your sons," he said with a snicker. "Your sons are in my care, quite well, I might add. Now, I want to give you a little chase, Fenton, you've been chasing me for years. You have to find your little friends here, and, not to mention, give me my 1.5 million, before forty eight hours… or they are separated and shipped off into slavery, and we both know plenty of people willing to pay money to get there hands on Fenton's baby boys."
Fenton paled. "Let me talk to them," he said.
John snickered. "My, my, we don't ask for much do we? Alright, you can talk to them, but if you do anything stupid like ask for where they are, one of them will die."
Fenton sighed. "Alright," he said. He hated this man with a passion.
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"Here, Frankie," the man said. He snickered. "Daddy wants to talk."
Frank winced. He didn't like the way this guy was talking. He took the cellular phone. "Hello?"
"Frank, are you alright?" Fenton asked.
The man glanced at Frank, and then slowly nodded. Frank sighed. "I'm okay," he replied.
"And Joe?" Fenton asked.
Hearing the word "Joe," the kidnapper ripped the phone out of Frank's hands and handed it to Joe. "Tell him you're okay," the kidnapper ordered, pointing the gun to Frank's head.
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"I'm fine, Dad," Joe said, stuttering a little bit. How had the kidnapper known he was going to try and talk more to his dad?
Hearing this, the kidnapper grinned and picked up the cellular phone. "There you are, Hardy," he said. "Both your kids are 'fine'. Now, if you don't find them within 48 hours or get me the money, that'll change. Have a nice night," he snickered, hanging up the phone.
He glanced at Frank and cracked his knuckles. Frank shivered at the sound as the man said, "Now the real fun starts."
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So what will come to pass? We can't wait to find out… please leave a review, even if it's just to know if you're reading - this is my first story, and I hope you like it.