Chapter Text
Frank motioned to his brother, and they both crept forward, hugging the alley wall. If the information they had been given was correct, the exchange would happen any minute, just beyond where the alley spilled into a backstreet. Joe had his phone out, camera-mode ready to capture the proof they needed to be taken seriously.
The dim street light flickering a hundred yards away provided just enough illumination for Frank to make out a car in the predawn fog. He tapped Joe on the shoulder, and the younger Hardy brother snapped a picture of the license plate. The door opened, and Joe held the phone poised to photograph the emerging occupant.
“You fellas lost?”
Frank’s heart jumped into his throat my as he spun around, car forgotten. Joe turned as well, lowering the camera. The two men standing behind them were massive, dressed head to toe in black, and wearing grim expressions. Instinctively, Frank stepped in front of Joe.
“We’re good,” Frank said. “Just taking a shortcut.”
“Wrong place, wrong time,” the second man growled. “We’re gonna need that phone.”
Frank swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, and spread his hands out. “Sorry to disappoint. I left my phone at home.”
“His phone.”
“Joe, run.” The order was terse and did not invite argument. Frank didn’t wait to hear his brother’s footsteps. He squared his shoulders, then charged, channeling every ounce of high school football he still had. Head down, he barreled into the first man, knocking him backward.
The victory was fleeting. With a grunt, the man casually backhanded Frank, sending him sprawling across the alley floor. Stars danced around his head as he struggled back to his feet.
A deafening boom exploded in the narrow alley, echoing off the walls. It was instantly followed by a cry of agony and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Terror ripped through Frank as he whirled around, one thought screaming in his mind: Joe!
His brother had made it maybe ten yards out of the alley before the bullet caught up with him. Forgetting the danger they were in, Frank sprinted towards him, skidding to a stop on his knees by Joe’s side.
“Joe! Joe, come on, talk to me!”
Before he got a response, Frank felt a heavy hand clamp onto his shoulder, yanking him away from his brother. He struggled, but it was no use against the vise-like grip. He was dragged backwards, towards the same car that had driven up just minutes earlier. Frantically, Frank craned his head for a glimpse of his brother, some assurance that Joe was still alive.
The second man crouched beside his brother now, rummaging through his pockets and patting him down. He swore angrily, gripping Joe by his shirt front and hauling him to his feet. Blood spread from the bullethole in his left shoulder. Not as bad as it could be, but if he didn’t get medical attention soon...Frank didn’t want to think about it.
“There’s no phone!”
More swearing. “He must have gotten rid of it. Just look around, it’s gotta be here somewhere.”
Frank kept a close eye on his brother, even as they were both bound tightly at the wrists and shoved forward into the backseat of a waiting car. Joe’s face was pale and drawn, his breathing ragged. All the trouble they had gotten into as teenagers years ago didn't even begin to compare to the mess they were in now.
“Who else knows you’re here?”
Frank didn’t hear the question. He was too focused on Joe and the blood dripping from his shoulder. The butt of the pistol smashing into his jaw brought his attention quickly back to his captors and the repeated question.
“No one,” Frank said bitterly. They had been too clever, and it was going to cost them this time.
The car pulled up in front of an abandoned warehouse, which would have looked sinister enough without the broken windows and flickering street lights. Frank and Joe were dragged from the car and into the building. The two goons who had grabbed them pulled them to a stop before an elegantly dressed man, perhaps in his sixties. The tuxedo he wore cost more than Frank could make in a year, and the cane he held sported a gold handle.
The brothers were pushed to their knees, sending up little puffs of dust when they landed. Frank glared up at their captors, anger radiating off of him like heat. Joe’s head hung down, chin on his chest, sweat beading on his forehead.