Peter stared boredly at Tombstone's red wine glass,

back and forth, back and forth. And so on, and so on, the only exciting thing about this after-party, considering that most of them are only here on business or looking for some grown-up fun that ends in bed when one of the ballet dancers gets lucky.

And Peter himself? He had been sitting on Tombstone's lap for well over an hour, wearing a stupid white sailor's uniform with stockings that were too long and knee-length shorts, and a wide sailor's hat. He looked like 10 at 14!

No wonder nobody took him seriously and slipped him sweets (for which he was grateful).

Some even thought he was the son of Tombstone and said he was taking after his mum... Yeah, no, fuck you, I'm not his son, he wanted to say, but Tombstone gave him a warning look before correcting the men.

Peter yawned briefly as he looked around the room, red velvet curtains adorned the room, which was filled with ballet dancers and the rich men with whom the ballet dancers end up in bed. Peter wasn't a bit jealous of the sluts, he was glad that Tombstone forbade him to do a lot of things... like so many other things that the patron found too 'adult' for the young ballet dancer.

He would prefer to go to sleep now, but Peter really didn't want to wake up in Tombstone's house again.

He always woke up in a room that looked like a rich parent's nursery, strangely the room didn't have a single window, even though the building had quite a few windows and was on the second floor... Maybe he should talk to his patron.

"Tomby, I'm going to the toilet for a minute." Peter announced tiredly and jumped off his lap. On wobbly legs, he trotted from lunchtime training to the toilet, which was somewhat hidden in the hall. He ignored the envious looks from the other dancers.

He opened the ebony door with an inelegant gesture and used the urinal next to an older man, slightly drunk, it seemed. He stank and almost missed the porcelain bowl, Peter ignored him with ease, but unlike Peter, the man seemed to have lustful thoughts about his piss neighbour.

"For how much?"

Peter raised an eyebrow when he heard the voice: "Excuse me?"

"How much for the night?"

Oh, the man wanted to see him in bed. No, without him. "I'm with Tombstone, he doesn't like his dolls being used," Peter said with ease, pulling up his trousers and quickly washing his hands. He knew what would happen if he stayed in the toilet too long.

He turned his head briefly in confusion as he felt a firm grip on his arm.

"I pay better than him, come on little-!" Peter's eyes widened when a third person intervened...

Peter sat bored on the stairs of Professor Otto Octavius, a famous German professor at the University of Hamburg, a man who understood exactly what Peter wanted.

Who saw his potential, as did a few others before they "mysteriously" disappeared. Kurt conners you will never forget, he stretched for a second, had he already mentioned that otto was his ticket to freedom?

Otto octavius, an enemy of tombstonian politics in the underworld of europe, whoever rules the east with an iron hand naturally has the west as his enemy. And none other than the gentleman doctor from Germany would take the risk, a power struggle for something. But neither of them attacked each other, did they?

Peter didn't understand what was at stake between the two, but he knew one thing for sure: it was simply a power struggle, even if Peter didn't understand what they were actually fighting over. He only knew that it was about something apparently very important, about a person or an object.

Both were influential, Octavius ruled north-west London and Tombstone the south-east. Not a traditional gang war, although he has to say they're both either doing it very subtly or hiding it from Peter, and doing it pretty well because Peter, as an informant for the newspaper, gets to hear everything (which Tombstone even allows, a plus).

Too bad, he would have liked more stories about important things.

"I don't get it, Dr Octavius, why am I here again?" he asked, slightly annoyed and a little tired from the previous evening. Otto had saved him from the other men at the last second when Thumbstone hadn't been looking. Peter was grateful to the man, but he had to force himself not to fall asleep again, just staring annoyed at the man drinking coffee. Coffee was expensive.

Octavius just tossed him a heavy yellow book while he continued to sip his coffee.

"G-e-r-man f-o-r n-ew-bies?" Peter read out in a halting voice. Octavius just shook his head in disappointment as he sat next to Peter: "If you learn German for me, I'll take you to Germany with me," Octavius said, as if it was child's play.

Waiting for what?

Peter just blinked for a few seconds, lost, like a puppy that's just been woken up. "Are you serious?" he asked incredulously, if that were true, then he would be free. Free from the ballet, free from the dirty streets of London, free from Tombstone!

"On two conditions," the professor pointed two fingers in front of Peter's excited face; unlike him, he was unimpressed. "You go to school there and then study at my chosen university in Hamburg ..."

"Really?! I-I'll do it!" Peter hugged the language book tightly, finally he had the chance to be free of this devil!

Otto had a slight smile on his face, he knew what Peter wanted and he got what he wanted. "I'm going to have to change your name, Peter," he said, while Peter looked at him in amazement. Before Peter could open his mouth, the doctor continued: "We all know how attached our Mr Gönner is to his little doll."

Peter just nodded at the sharp Tom confusion, Lincoln always knew where he was. If he managed to change his name, he could escape Tombstone, and thank God Tomby has no power in Germany, Peter thought to himself before continuing. "That sounds logical, Doctor," he smiled at the thought of finally being in a proper school and no longer being judged by the albino headmaster.

"Now run boy to your aunt" Peter jumped up and ran as he was told, full of anticipation for a new life.

The doctor is the best ever!