Short Chapter – next chapter will be up later/ tomorrow.

Ste was sat on the broken sofa in House 4, staring at the array of graffiti and ridiculous doodles that took up the entire sitting room wall. His favourite was a very pornographic comic book strip, which showed these two guys trying to carry out a crime, but being constantly distracted by this same woman. Every scenario meant that the woman actually saved them from being caught, or accidentally helped them succeed in their crimes more quickly. It was quite funny, even after reading it eleven times.

He glanced around the wall at the other drawings; swears, an evil, wild-eyes blue maggot, a worm holding a gun, a rat with the resemblance of Joel….

It went black.

Someone had put something over his head; a t-shirt, a bag, a coat, something. It was musty and filled and his breath became warm and wet against his own face. He could barely breathe. He thrashed about behind him trying to get contact with his captor.

'Do one,' he tried to shout through the layers and layers of fabric, followed by various insults about "wait 'til I get hold of you" or "you'll pay for this", but he could barely hear his own voice and the lump in his throat was making it difficult to sound to threatening.

He was dragged to his feet awkwardly and shoved forwards. He stumbled awkwardly in the direction he was pushed, still trying to hit out, until he heard someone mutter.

'Grab his arms, innit.'

Now he was totally restrained, but he still wriggled. He had no idea who had captured him, but he could imagine one of Brendan's psychotic chronies, or Lawrence. Someone who wanted to kill him, maybe he'd broken a rule and not even realised it.

He stubbed his foot hard on something solid and hissed in pain under his mask, before resuming his pointless insults. He could just about hear his captors whisper:

'Careful' and 'Watch it you clumsy prick,' over the sound of his own shouting.

Then he stopped walking and he felt himself being shoved into a chair, it felt like some kind of dining chair. His arms were untied and then tied again, which felt a bit amateurish to Ste. And then blindfold was removed and everything was revealed to be amateurish.

Ste blinked a bit against the light, but when his eyes adjusted, he could very clearly see Joel, Bart and Kevin standing in front of him looking incredibly smug.

'What the hell!' Ste demanded, trying to get to his feet. It was impossible, without the chair forcing him to hunch over like a cripple. 'What's going on?'

'Initiation,' Bart beamed. 'You've been here a while now, doesn't look like you're going anywhere. Time to earn your place in this house.'

'Are you serious?' he demanded. Then he turned to Joel: 'Is he serious?'

'We all did it, Ste,' Joel shrugged.

'You've got to earn our trust,' Kevin chipped in. 'Joel might know you a bit, but, I don't know. You might be a copper, or a snitch.'

'Well how do I know you're not, eh?' Ste demanded.

'You're not really in the position to be making accusations,' Joel said calmly. 'You need a place to stay, we've given you a room in house 4. Now you need to prove to us, that we should let you stay.'

'You're a….' Ste's insult died on his tongue. He was too angry to come up with something clever that wouldn't result in him being beaten to a pulp by the three of them. He might have stood a chance against one of them, or if he wasn't tied to a chair. But he needed this room, and with Lawrence around, he could do with their friendship or protection or whatever this stupid stunt was going to earn him.

'Fine,' he sighed. 'What do I have to do?'

::

'Now might be a good time,' Bart muttered, leaning across Ste trying to reach the salt. 'Pass us that.' Ste did, but it was going to take a lot more than salt for Green Zone's attempt at cooking to taste like anything other than bland mush.

'Are you kidding me?' Ste asked, glancing up at Warren. He was sat down at the head table. He was practically on a stage in front of the whole Estate and Brendan was right next to him. 'How am I supposed to get the car keys from him now?'

'Time's running out,' Bart sang, pouring the salt. The lid came off and sent salt all over his chips in a lovely white pile. Everyone laughed, but a guy from house 16 called Mickey laughed the loudest. That was all it took for Bart to name him the culprit and he was soon diving over the table to take him out.

The fight was a certain brand of madness that Ste quite enjoyed. Bart was actually pulling Mickey's longish hair, and Mickey was hitting Bart in the head with the sticky bone from his chicken drumstick. One of Mickey's housemates, Riley, threw a glass of water at them, for seemingly no reason at all, but it did prompt Kevin to mutter something bizarre about a wet t-shirt contest, nudging the American guy from House 16 in the ribs.

'Hey. Hey!' Warren came marching over. 'What the hell's going on?' he demanded, bending over to drag Bart off Mickey. Ste saw his opportunity. It was only there for a split second, Warren bending over, arse pointed straight at Ste, keys to the BMW protruding slightly over the denim pocket of his jeans. He reached out nimble fingers and pulled the keys free from their pocket-prison and stuffed them into his jacket.

For a moment, he thought he felt someone watching him. The kind of sixth sense you develop when you spend a lot of time stealing things from shops. He glanced over his shoulder, towards the main table. He thought Brendan was staring straight at him, like he knew what had happened. But then his attention was returned to the scrap next to him, and he realised King Brendan, just like everyone else, was too busy watching Warren holding the two boys at arm's length to notice him.

'You two,' Warren snarled like an angry parent. 'You can do the dishes … all of them. And then a night in the office will do you both some good. Perhaps one of you could kill the other.'

He dragged Bart and Mickey away. They were still snarling at each other like dogs, but Ste was too busy trying to work out how many people were sat in the Central Square and how many dishes that would mean the boys had to wash. It felt like thousands but he guessed it was probably a bit more than 400. There'd been 400 at young offenders, but this felt like more.

He sat down at his seat.

'Jesus,' Joel shook his head. He looked like someone who couldn't work out whether to be shocked or laugh his head off. 'All that over some salt.'

'You wouldn't see me getting locked in the office over night for anything,' Kevin agreed, tipping Bart's abandoned meal onto his own plate before leaning forward as though letting everyone in on a big secret. 'They say Brendan can just appear in there, like a ghost or summat.'

'He can't,' Joel said. He sounded bored by the idea and ignored Kevin sat next to him, nodding furiously and mouthing:

'He can.'

'Talking of things appearing,' Ste said slowly. He was quite proud of his own little segue as he, pulled the BMW keys out of his jacket pocket and placed them on the table. 'Wanna go for a ride anyone?'

'Look at that,' Kevin chuckled, picking them up from the table and spinning them around his finger. 'Bart will be gutted. All he's ever wanted was to take that BMW for a spin.'

Joel just nodded approvingly at Ste. 'Good work,' he agreeed. 'Welcome to house 4, mate.' Then he looked meaningfully at the keys. 'Now we've just got to work out how to put them back without anyone noticing.'

'I can do it,' Ste said confidently. He already had a plan; Macca. Brendan's little shadow liked to take a walk around the tables towards the end of dinner. Ste didn't know why, some kind of attempt to show off, to be amongst them, whilst reminding them that he was better somehow. He was wearing a huge coat today, and Ste just slipped the keys in as he strolled past. Macca didn't even notice. He was totally clueless about everything. He wasn't even cute. Ste didn't know what Brendan possibly saw in Macca.

Bart returned from his night in "the office" claiming it hadn't been that bad. But that meant nothing, because no one in The Estate would be stupid enough to claim anything had been hard, or scary for even a second. He never really mentioned the experience though and if anyone brought it up, he just started moaning about the fact he'd missed a chance to drive the BMW and Ste always grinned at that. He'd definitely become one of the group now. If only making friends was always as easy as pick-pocketing some keys; he'd have been the most popular guy in Chester.

Thanks for reading!