Chapter 2. Thanks for the reviews...Er, review (Superlabelgirl). As long as at least one person is interested in this, I can continue it, so thank you for that. This one's pretty short and looking back on it, it seems more focused on Seth than it does Pickles. Sorry, again, for my amateur writing.

(also italics still represent foreign languages)

Pickles wasn't allowed to do much when he was inside the house. He was only ten years old, but even for his age, his parents tied him down when he came home. This was why Pickles spent his time on the streets, often making drug deals with men twenty years older than him. He knew it was wrong, for a child so young to be drinking, smoking, and snorting so much, but he had to with a family like his.

He was just biking away from a deal, in fact, when he saw something that caught his attention. A small, black car, driven by a formally dressed man, a small boy wearing a blank gaze and a beaten and frostbitten face in the next seat over. Figuring he had not much better to do, Pickles chased after the car as fast as his bicycle could carry him. To his surprise, he managed to keep up with the car and watch where it was headed. The car dove into a sharp turn and Pickles followed.

What Pickles did not expect when turning into the next street, however, was his teenaged brother, Seth, leaning against a building with a cigarette in hand. Pickles, going far to quickly to turn away properly, prayed for the best and zoomed past Seth. But just as he passed his menace of a brother and thought he was safe, he felt a hand grab a fistful of his shirt. He was pulled off his bike, which zoomed ahead down the street,

"Well, hey, it's my fuckin' little brother, haven't see ya around the house for fuckin' ever, man, how you doin'?"

He dropped Pickles onto the sidewalk, the younger boy smashing his nose into the concrete. Paying no mind to his brother's snickering, Pickles tried to pull himself up, only to feel a shoe hit his back and thrust him back down.

"Feck yew, ya feckin' asshole! I was keepin' up wit' dat guy!"

Seth grinded his heel into Pickles' back and let out a hoarse laugh.

"Aw, I'm sorry, man, look, I know ya wanna go and play fuckin' House with your little friends and all, but I had to ask ya 'bout somethin'."

Pickles gave up attempting to free himself from Seth's shoe and sighed in resignation.

"Well, feckin' spit it out, ya shithead!"

Seth put out his cigarette and flicked it into Pickles' hair.

"Hey, now, is that any way to talk to your fuckin' big brother? Gimme a break, kid, you can't always be fuckin' chasin' after your fuckin' imaginary friends and shit."

The force of Seth's shoe lightened up slightly, and Pickles knew his guard was now down. He reached an arm up and threw it over his back, nailing Seth in the shin.

"I can't be feckin' bothered beatin' yer ass right now, I gatta find out what dat guy was doin' with dat kid!"

He quickly ran toward his bike, but Seth was much taller and, therefore, much faster. He grabbed Pickles by the shoulder, spun him around, and decked his brother square in the face.

"Alright, now that we're fuckin' done playin' Cops and Robbers, I'd like to ask you somethin', and I'd like you to fuckin' listen."

Seth grabbed Pickles by the shirt again, smiling at the site of his bleeding nose.

"Now, as I was fuckin' sayin', you little brat, I-"

He stopped mid-sentence, jerking his head to the right. The black car was across the street, the small boy inside, and the man driving was right next to Seth.

"I suggest you put that boy down, sir."

Seth quickly composed himself, his look of shock turning into a smug grin.

"Look, tons of you fuckin' suits have come and arrested me before, I'm fine with more jail time."

To prove it, he gave a solid punch into Pickles' gut. The driver of the car stepped closer.

"Sir, my name is Charles Foster Ofdensen. I am giving you your last warning to release that boy."

Seth's smirk turned into a full smile.

"Ah, sure thing, man."

He pulled his arm back and thrust it forward before letting go of Pickles, sending him flying and right into the pavement.

"There, I let the fuckin' kid go, can you piss off now?"

Ofdensen stepped closer yet again.

"No."

One high kick into Seth's jaw and he was knocked back into the window of the building behind him, breaking the glass with his head. Ofdensen looked down at his work.

"Hm. Smashing."

He pinched the bridge of his nose much harder this time before quickly running to pick up Pickles.

"Hello, Pickles? Pickles?"

Realizing that he was out cold, Ofdensen ran Pickles back to the car, putting him in the back seat. He looked to the passenger seat.

"Toki? This is Pickles."