Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Missing
“Martha! Martha Jones!” A voice called outside in the corridor, louder and then softer as footsteps pounded past.
Mary stopped eating and raised her head, glancing towards the door.
“Leave him be, he’s probably searching for somebody,” Her husband told her, eating porridge.
“You suppose she’s been carjacked?” Mary asked, picking up her spoon.
“Reckon so--they usually are,” He said, porridge now dripping off of his face.
Footsteps pounded past again a few moments later, and then knocking, knocking, doors slamming shut, pounding, pounding—knocking on their own door now.
“I’ll get it!” Mary cried, jumping up and running towards the door.
“Mary, no!” Her husband cried, sitting up.
She opened the door before the person on the other side had a chance to leave. “Ah--hello,” He said, turning towards her. “My friend, Miss. Martha Jones, she was just--”
“Carjacked?” Mary asked, staring at him.
“Mary, no, get away from the door!” Her husband yelled at her.
“Back off, Frank!” She yelled at him as he started fumbling around in the kitchen.
“Ah, no, kidnapped, I was going to say.” The stranger said, frowning. “But why--”
“She was taken by two people, was she not?” Mary asked, turning back to him.
“Yes.” The stranger said, frowning as he stared at her. “How did you know--”
“I’m warning you, sir, back off!” Frank said, raising his weapon.
“Frank, leave him alone!” Mary cried.
The stranger raised his hands. “Listen to me, both of you, I don’t mean you any harm,” He said, staring at them. “I just want to know what the heck is going on here. This is New, New New New New New—whatever New York. I’m just--I came here for a nice holiday with a friend, wound up in the Under-City, got her kidnapped or carjacked or worse--”
“There is a difference.” Mary said, turning to him. “Carjacking is different from kidnapping. Kidnappings usually involve ransoms and plans and the promise of a safe return. Carjackers snatch anyone, regardless of who they are, but most often they snatch the poorest, loneliest of people because they know nobody could afford or would want to pay a ransom for this person. They often do it without warning or without a plan of action, just that they’ve got a car, a partner, and they would like to get out of here, quick as you can please. They offer no promise of a safe return.”
“That’s why, if you go outside for anything, you don’t do so alone.” Frank said, nodding. “Go with a group of people--six people will do nice. Though finding five other people to go with you outside is tough; gets tougher everyday.”
“We can’t—we can’t face the world outside there without one of the Moods, or without—Frank’s gun.” Mary said, nodding. “We mostly stay in here, Frank and I.” She said.
“That’s just--” The stranger shook his head. “I’m going to find my friend.” He said, turning away.
“Not so fast--” Frank said, staring at the stranger. “This is--this is my house, and I’ve--I’ve got a car parked just outside, just waiting for--”
“Sorry, I don’t accept rides from strangers!” The stranger said, running off.
“Hey, wait, come back here!” Frank cried, waving his gun.
“Frank, leave him alone!” Mary cried, grabbing Frank’s gun as they wrestled with one another; a shot ran out.
“Frank! Frank, no!” Mary cried.