Sorry for the long wait, guys. I've had the majority of this chapter done for a while now, but couldn't decide on what to do for dear Vladimir's section. I'm still not fond of how short the chapters have been, but I also hate making all of you wait for so long (because I know me, and you'll end up forgetting all about this by the time I update with a chapter that could fill a newspaper). Anyway, rambling. Please enjoy the chapter!

Dorian's footsteps echoed through the long tunnels of his gang's hideout. The orange lights came and went over his body, the steps getting quicker as he rushed to get outside. He couldn't stand being in this prison any longer, he needed some fresh air. D'Ablo was waiting patiently for him at the entryway. How the man could guess where Dorian would be at what time, Dorian would never understand.

As he marched into the street, D'Ablo following suit, Dorian ran a gloved hand through his hair. His old England styled attire made him stick out but luckily the streets were seldom busy this late at night. According to his pocketwatch, it was 1:30 a.m. Hopefully Vladimir had no trouble getting to sleep.

Though if he had, Dorian couldn't blame him.

He felt...dirty, for lack of better words. He regretted trying to take Vladimir so soon, poor child must be completely traumatized. He hadn't wanted it to be this way. The kidnapping was a mistake as well. If he had been a civil human and met Vladimir naturally, things probably wouldn't be so messy. If he let him go, Vladimir would surely disappear forever from his life. But if he kept him in the hideout, the boy would be too scared to approach him. How could he not see the signs? How could he not sense the desperate trembling and crying that were not of apprehension, but of complete and utter terror.

Oh, what to do...

"Boss."

Dorian looked over his shoulder at the man staring back at him.

"The kid?"
"How did it go?"
"If you don't mind my asking."

Dorian chuckled to himself. "I don't think we made a very good first impression. Child was traumatized, couldn't even get within a few feet of without making him shake. Poor thing, must be horrifying to be here with no one." He could understand the boy's feelings. He had been in Vladimir's shoes, once upon a time. Being in a strange place without a comforting face in the crowd. Such a cruel, cruel world it was.

Otis groaned in frustration. Vladimir hadn't called him for nearly two days. Otis couldn't hold in his anxiousness anymore, whenever his phone would ring he would pick it up with the most desperate of hopes that it would be Vlad, only to be disappointed. He had come accustomed to not answering the phone unless it was Vlad calling.

Well, if Vlad wasn't going to call him, he would just have to call Vlad!

Dialing the number, Otis soon found himself hanging onto each beep.

Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Hi, you've reached Vladimir Tod! Can't come to the phone right now, so just leave a message and I'll get back to you!

Otis shut it off and tried again.

Still, the same message rang through.

So he tried again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Then once more.

Still, the same old message echoed in his head as his heart pounded in his ears. Vladimir never let the voicemail answer it that many times. Otis had often times seen him try to ignore an incoming call, and get annoyed enough to answer after a third try. Often times the caller was Henry or October, who were patient enough to call enough times to pester the boy.

Otis stared at his phone screen for a long time. Maybe Vlad had forgotten his phone somewhere, or gone to Henry's and hadn't heard the ringing. Yes, that was it. He simply couldn't hear it and would call Otis back once he saw the missed calls. Everything was fine. Just fine.

Suddenly his phone vibrated in his hand. He quickly looked down, hoping to see Vladimir Tod as the incoming call. Instead, he saw Vikas Krov (1). His face fell in disappointment and worry. Reluctantly, he pressed Accept Call and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Otis! Oh, thank God I got a hold of you."

"Why? What's wrong?" he asked as he stood. Vikas sounded relieved, but out of breath at the same time.

"We need you back here as soon as possible."

"What happened? Is Vladimir all right?"

"He's..."

After the pause, Otis felt worry and anger smash into one. "What? He's what?"

"He's...he's missing, Otis. Mahlyenki Dyavol is missing."

Otis felt his heart drop into his stomach. His world suddenly came crashing down.

Henry McMillan sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, along with his phone. Vlad hadn't answered any of his texts since the night before. Not that he hadn't ignored texts from him before. But Vlad had promised Henry last night that they'd go out into the town and hang out, maybe go to The Crypt.

It was cloudy, perhaps it would rain. Vlad liked the rain, maybe they could go hang out somewhere despite weather conditions.

He rounded the corner towards Vlad's house and breathed out a puff of steam, the white air disappearing before Henry made a new one. Since Vlad wasn't going to entertain him, he'd do it himself.

But what Henry saw when he approached Vlad's house was the last thing he wanted to see. He froze in his steps and stared at the house for a long while. The surprise wouldn't sink it, it seemed to unreal.

The door was hanging on its hinges, leaving the winter air to enter and leave as it pleased. The house was dark save for the blue light coming from the living room, indicating the TV had been left on.

Henry found control over his body enough to run into the house and turn on the lights. He desperately called out Vlad's name, racing around in hopes of seeing him somewhere. The boy was no where to be found. Henry did the first thing he could think of. His fumbling fingers pulled out his phone and he quickly called 911.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he quickly explained his location and situation to the operator. She promised him a group of policemen would be there within the next few minutes. He hung up and paced the room. Otis had been off for vacation, he remember Vlad telling him. So who could've done this? He couldn't think of anyone that would want to do this to Vlad.

Well, maybe the local bullies, Bill and Tom, but they were harmless and would never do something this stupid. Nothing to get them arrested. Kristoff wasn't the type to put much effort into anything past verbal teasing. A robber, maybe?

He felt helpless.

Who would want to take Vlad away?

More importantly, what were they doing to him?

He shook the thoughts away. The police would handle it. They had to. They had to...

When he heard the lock and retreating steps, Vladimir's body seemed frozen in time. His energy slowly gathered, and when it finally did, he suddenly found himself desperately trying to force the door handle down to release him. What was that noise he heard? The loud, "Please! You can't keep me here! Let me out! Let me out!" rang in his ear. Was it him? Was he the one screaming? The top of his hand had drops of water on them, and his cheeks were wet. Were they from him...? He couldn't tell anymore. All he knew was that he was completely and utterly helpless. And terrified.

He was cold. He was lonely. He was scared...

He wanted to crawl away and hide until Otis came to rescue him. He wondered what happened to Henry. He had promised they would hang out. Was it even the next day? If it was, had Henry even bothered to go to his house? Then what? Maybe Otis already knew...? Was Otis already out looking for him?

Or did nobody know he was gone at all...?

Vladimir felt a pang in his head and heart at that thought.

Is anyone coming at all...?

I would also like some help on the direction I should go with this story. Honestly the adoption was impulse and I didn't think everything through, first. While I have Dorian's AU backstory as well as planned lemons (ohh~), I do not have a core plot to follow. I would greatly appreciate help in this department, my dear readers.

(1) - Krov is now Vikas's last name for this AU. I do not remember the meaning of the name however I do believe it is Russian.