Hey all. Just announcing chapter two. Still kind of boring, but this is where the story actually begins. Read and review, please :) --Mandy
Perseus Ambrose was eighteen years old, about a year-and-a-half over his sister, and he resembled her (or really, she resembled him) so much, it was ironic. He was more pale of a blond, though his eyes ocean-blue and he had the same thin build but much manlier. He had a very creative disposition, therefore he loved to paint.
He looked up from his latest work when the door shut, "Andy, you're just in time!"
"What for?" asked Andromeda as she put down her new book.
"To see my finished painting," Perseus said cheerfully. His arms, jeans, face, and smock were splattered with multicolored paint. He'd been working on a canvas for almost two months, detailing the image as well as he could in hopes of winning the five-hundred dollar first prize in a Milwaukee art show. With a few dabs of the brush in different places, he stepped back to admire his work.
Andromeda had to marvel at it. The painting, probably three-by-four feet in area, was of a gorgeous white Arabian stallion galloping elegantly up a scenic mountain trail. Every detail was defined unbelievably well, from the snow-speckled summits to the firm muscles of the horse's haunches, every hair in its mane and tail and eyelashes.
"It looks amazing, Percy," she breathed in sheer awe. "You are surely going to win."
"Yes!" He gave his sister a joyous hug. "Help me get it into the car! But be careful, the paint's still a bit damp."
Easing the canvas out the front door, they loaded it into the backseat of Perseus's old red Buick, right beside his suitcase.
As he was covering it with a tarp, he spoke to her, "If I leave today, I should get a good section to put it up. Maybe I can get friendly with the judges, you know?"
"Being buddies with the judges won't give you bonus points, Percy." Andromeda rolled her blue eyes at him. "But look, go tonight if you want. I can watch the house just fine."
He gave her a submissive look. "I don't feel right leaving my little sister all alone. What if that hobo comes for you?"
"Don't worry about anything. Gabriel can come help if there's any trouble." She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm not a baby anymore. You can rest easy. Besides, you'll be back tomorrow, right?"
He shook his head, "Two days."
"Oh…" Biting her lip, she shrugged. "Just don't worry. Focus on the trip, the art, the city—it's not every day you get to go into Milwaukee."
"Um…" Perseus was candid for a moment. "Okay. You call me if you have any problems."
"I will." She stood on tiptoe to hug her brother. "Good luck, Perce."
"Saying 'good luck' is bad luck!"
Again she rolled her eyes. "Break a leg."
Perseus climbed into the front seat, and as he shut the door, she met his uncertain blue gaze. He drove away slowly, almost reluctantly, watching her until he was out of view.
"Hey, Andy!"
She stopped waving at the sound of the voice.
Gabriel's head popped up from behind the hedge. "Your brother left already?"
"Yep. What're you doing here?"
"Carson ditched me, so I came to find you." He stepped into the yard hesitantly. "Can we talk?"
--
In the kitchen, Andromeda served Gabriel some grape juice while he sat casually at the table. She had no idea how he couldn't be too hot in his thick baggy t-shirt and jeans.
"So what's going on?" she asked as she sat down.
He only seemed half-present mentally. When his hazel gaze met hers, he said, "I broke up with Lyanne."
"What? Why?"
"We never see each other anymore, and when we do, it's really uncomfortable." He took another drink of grape juice. "I just walked out of it, I guess. We got bored and it finally took its toll."
"Oh… I'm sorry." Andromeda watched him type speedily on his cell phone.
"It's Carson," he said, as if reading her mind. "He wants to know if I'm with you."
She scoffed, "What'd you say?"
"I told him 'nope'." He smirked at her.
"Thanks, Gabe."
--
The sun had vanished behind a thick group of dark cumulonimbus clouds. A sprinkle or two of rain dotted the windshield of Perseus's car as he was at the outskirts of Bluestone. Here there were lots of trees with woods dark and fairly frightening.
"Sure hope Andy will be okay on her own," he said aloud to himself. He was reconsidering leaving without her when something beeped; Perseus had the anxious realization that he'd forgotten to check the air in the tires.
Ahead a few yards, he saw a small trailer house nestled among the trees. Hoping to find someone to help with his flattening tire, he stopped the Buick on the side of the road, opened his umbrella haphazardly, and stepped out into the warm rain.
A low rumble of thunder growled overhead. Perseus lowered the umbrella slightly for fear of lightning. He did not recognize the road he was on, and he wondered briefly if he'd taken a wrong turn.
He was nearly to the trailer, but a noise like grunting came from the forest.
"Hello?" Perseus called out.
"Who are you?" A grimy, ratty bum seemed to slither out from the trees. He looked about twenty, maybe older, though he was quite ugly.
"I don't want trouble," said Perseus, feeling uneasy. "I was just passing through and my tire--"
"His tire's crapped out, boys," growled the stranger, as three more thugs emerged. He addressed Perseus, "What's your name, kid?"
"Uh… Perse--"
"Percy!" bellowed the smallest guy, a young-looking fellow in a black sweatshirt and dirty white tennis shoes. "He's got an old geezer's name! Let's call him Pussy!"
"Um… I think--"
The first man cut him off, "Meet my crew, Pussy—this is Crunch," he motioned to the burliest man, who appeared to be dark-skinned, "Shank," then to the taller, leaner one with long greasy brown hair, "Hook," to the shortest one, "and I'm Bust. He popped his collar. "I believe you are on our territory, Puss."
Perseus backed up slowly, intimidated, before making a mad dash for his car. Throwing the door open, he jumped inside and frantically tried to start it.
Then beside the window was the big thug, Crunch, who slammed his massive fist and shattered the Buick's window. Into the broken window he reached, grabbing Perseus by his shirt collar and pulling him out. Perseus found himself off the ground while staring fearfully at the oily scratched face of the man who was lifting him.
"Hey, Pussy, got any money on you?" asked Hook, peering inside the Buick.
"Check his pockets, Shank," ordered Bust.
The lanky man used a long sharp switchblade to slice open Perseus's jean pockets. A few cents fell from there, along with his black leather wallet. "Got something," Shank said in a gritty voice.
Bust's smile revealed a mouthful of missing or decayed teeth. "Well, Puss," he drawled, moving to pick up the wallet, "you might be able to go free after all." He opened it, examined it, then threw it disgustedly to the pavement. "Asshole! You must've removed your cash."
"I didn't, I--" Perseus tried to say.
"You couldn't pay the toll, Pussy. Now you gotta pay the penalty." He snapped his fingers. "Let's rough him up, boys."
The last thing Perseus saw was every thug approaching him, fists at the ready, and from there it all went black.