A/N: Sorry I was so late in posting this! I got distracted with some other stories. Lesson: How bout you work on one story at a time? Me: Ermm...where's the fun in that. I do apologize you guys. Also, I ran into a Writer's Block...soooo...hope this is okay. Thx for staying with me!
"I was, probably 15 years old." Jack mused, "Some o' the kids were hungry, and people didn't 'actly like givin' out food. So, I stole it. Snyder didn't like that, so he tried to get me. Took 'em a while, he eventually had ta chloroform me. I didn't like that one bit, woke up the next mornin' all stuffy and hazy. It was really different." A look of anger crossed Jack's face. "Snyder wanted money, see. So, he starved the kids in the Refuge. So, I stole more food. Snyder ended up punishin' me. With a belt." Jack moved aside his shirt collar a bit, revealing long, wicked scars, "I was sore for a good few weeks. He was terrible, so I escaped on Teddy Roosevelts carriage."
David gazed at Jack with newfound respect. "That's bad." He said.
"Well, now we know for sure who has Spot." Boots spoke, "So, we have a better chance at winnin' him back."
Jack nodded, fingering the empty bottle. "Problem is, I don't know what he wants." He said.
Boots leaned back in his seat, "Yeah, that is a problem."
They sat there in the quiet for a few more minutes. "I hope Spot's okay." David said. They mumbled their agreements, still quiet. Jack stood up, once again pocketing the bottle, "We should go an' tell Brooklyn that we've furthered the…news?"
"Investigation." David said for him.
"Yeah, that word. In-vest-i-gat-shion."
"No, no, no. It's in-vest-a-gate-shin." David corrected him.
"That's what I said, in-vest-a-gate-shion." Jack repeated. David groaned, grinning. "Jack, you're impossible." He said, slapping him on the back.
Jack smirked, "So I've been told."
Spot had been moved places. Snyder had dragged him away from his other hiding place, losing his hat in the process, and now he was laid near a dumpster. Boy, it smelt terrible. He was hungry. And thirsty. When was the last time he had some food? Spot slowly processed what was going on around him. That was annoying. Why was everything so slow? Spot sighed inwardly.
He felt someone shift beside him and tensed up ever so slightly. Spot wasn't one to like physical touch, at all. Period. The person must've felt him tense because he chuckled. "You're awake."
Snyder. Great. Of all people you didn't want to wake up to, it had to be Snyder. Spot forced his heavy eyelids open to glare at the man. The said man looked back at him with an amused look. He held out a scape of food, "Want it?"
Spot shook his head. He didn't trust him. No matter what his stomach said. Snyder shrugged and shoved the food in his mouth. "Your friends dropped by earlier." He remarked.
Spot's eyes widened. He wished he could say something, ask if he'd caught them or whatever. But he couldn't because he was gagged. Snyder must've known what he was going to say, "No, I didn't get them. It wasn't the right timing."
Spot worked his jaw, moving his body into a semi-upright position. Snyder surprisingly allowed him. "You're in for a ride." He said, smirking as he fingered something in his hands. Ohhhh…..great. Last time Spot had heard those words from Snyder's mouth, he'd been sore for weeks. This wasn't going to be a fun time.