chocolate chip mint, sprinkles and whipped cream
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Something Bad
Rating: G
Challenge: Chocolate Chip Mint #27: dangerous,
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream, sprinkles
Wordcount: 584
Summary: Blackledge VC-11 is removed from his second foster home.
Notes: He’s sixteen here. Also: Victor is my most popular character in the mistletoe match-ups game, followed by Adele. RaTs-ers, you never cease to astonish me, you odd creatures! :P
Because they lived quite close to each other, Tom Lanning usually walked to school with VC-11. He wasn’t that bad, he’d found-they’d met at the age of thirteen, when the Blackledge had first arrived at his new foster home, and they got along. Well... it was hard to get along with VC-11, but it was also hard to not get along with him.
Wednesday morning he didn’t show up at the Aycliffe Cross, a section of the skyscraper walkways that met in a cross at the middle. Hence the name. That was where they usually met up and then they walked the rest of the way to the run-down school they attended.
He wasn’t there that morning.
Always looking for an excuse to not go to school, Tom trailed towards where he knew VC-11’s home to be. It was around the south of Brunel Spire. When he got there, he was surprised to find that there was an emergency vehicle stationed precariously on the walkway, engines still on so that it could continue to hover, sending warm air blasting his way.
Bag slung over his shoulder, Tom sloped towards it and edged around the side, glancing first through the open door of VC-11’s foster home and then towards the vehicle. It was a police unit, with bars at the back and everything. Cool, he thought. Then he noticed that VC-11 was slouched in the back, grey eyes pointed to his feet.
“Uh, Vee?” Tom called hesitantly, rapping on the edge of side of the van. He almost heard VC-11’s neck whiplash as he twisted around to stare at him.
The Blackledge kid was shivering a little. It wasn’t cold.
“What’s up?” Tom asked, a little lamely. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I’ve done something bad,” VC-11 said in a low voice. For the first time in quite a while, a cold needle pierced the wall of apathy that cocooned Tom’s world. Unnerved, he glanced around for any sign of a police officer and leaned forwards.
“What d’you mean?”
“Bad,” was all VC-11 repeated blankly. “Really bad...”
It was then that Tom heard footsteps behind him and spun around. The police officer stood there was a tall and jovial-faced man who smiled when their gazes met, showing slightly bucked front teeth.
“What’s going on?” Tom demanded.
“You don’t need to worry,” the officer said, edging around him to get to the front of the hovercraft. “We’re just taking VC-11 somewhere he can... get the help he needs.”
“What happened?”
“I can’t really say, son,” the officer said apologetically. “With the Blackledges, it’s political, you know? Last time something like this happened there were riots, demanding they all be locked up. It’s a real shame...”
Tom could scarcely believe what he was hearing.
“But what happened? Vee wouldn’t... I mean, he’s just...” VC-11 was weird, he knew that. Everyone knew that. But that was to be expected. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was so mild-mannered that even the thought of conversation seemed to frighten him.
He remembered last riot-some Blackledge kid had freaked out at school and lashed out at the teacher, killing them. There had been people baying for Blackledge blood, no matter who, no matter where. VC-11 had ended up with a broken collarbone. And the things they had painted on his foster home...
“Don’t worry about it,” the officer said again. “Get to school, son-and tell them he’s sick, won’t you?”
Tom never saw VC-11 again.