Chapter Text
It happened on a Friday.
Which, if Joel was honest, was a rotten day for a kidnapping to take place.
He’d just gotten off work, overjoyed of finally getting to leave that humdrum desk and work of his, forced to do labour in the form of paperwork to compensate for the usual lack of crime around town.
Well, now that wasn’t the case anymore, was it?
Joel had sprinted down Redleaf avenue, the radio he always carried with him unlatched from its spot on his left breast pocket, hurried calls echoing at him in a staticky buzz.
Gem’s voice over the radio. Loud, panicking.
Joel had never heard her so worried. But now, her work demeanor was lost completely to give way to full-fledged panic. She was their commander, the one in charge. She was meant to be the stable one who told everyone to calm the fuck down with an oh-so-steady voice that would infuriate more than settle them. But Joel couldn’t blame her, not when Skizz’s voice reaffirmed Joel’s worst fears not even seconds later.
Scar, gone.
Gem’s only son - sixteen, if Joel could recall - missing.
Blood splatters on the carpet, a knife missing from the kitchen knife block. The entire kitchen a mess - the whole scene painting in clear vibrant colors the tacit struggle.
And Scar was nowhere to be found.
The authorities were called when Pearl, Gem’s wife, had entered the house after work - if Skizz were to be trusted, and in this case, Joel had no reason to doubt him. Joel had been rushed to the scene not even ten minutes later, ruthlessly deterred from what had meant to be a good forthcoming weekend.
But that all didn’t matter.
Joel entered the house, one of the first on the spot since he’d lived in that direction, flashing his badge at an officer stationed in the front yard before carefully sliding himself in through the front door.
Etho was already there, crouching over the wrinkled carpet in the cream-colored living room, his tall frame backed up by the window behind him. He glanced up as Joel sprinted in, giving a quick nod in his direction before looking back down at the stain-spattered carpet.
Joel swallowed, still out of breath, his eyes flashing from one side of the room to the other, trying to locate anything that didn’t fit.
“Did you find anything?” He asked. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, scared and disorientated, worry creeping around the higher octaves.
Etho waved him over, sealing something in a plastic bag, not visibly discomfited by his tone.
“Blood, most likely.” He pronounced, but Joel knew that much already. “We have teams working the surrounding area, trying to see if we can find Scar and whoever took him. Clearly a kidnapping,” Etho paused, running a gloved hand through the air over the room’s surroundings, “Too little blood and disturbances to be no-body homicide. Tango’s already upstairs searching through camera files, and Gem’s on her way.”
Joel nodded, noticing for the first time that he wasn’t in his usual work attire, simply jeans and a white shirt. He began pacing the length of the room, careful to avoid any places that might be of importance. He took it all in, the house he’d visited many a time as a guest, now turned into a crime scene.
He wondered if maybe this was all a mistake - what if nothing really happened, and Scar was safe and sound at school - but Joel knew that was wishful thinking. He had no doubt the first thing Gem did was have Skizz call the school. And if he wasn’t there, and wasn’t anywhere else, and there were obvious signs of trouble in the house… Scar might be dead. Dead.
Joel shook his head, willing his racing thoughts to focus. Just as Etho said, there weren’t concrete signs of that. It really looked like a messy kidnapping.
Crinkled lines on the couch, rumpled carpet, missing knife, crumpled paper on the top table, a phone behind the sofa.
Joel’s nerves spiked. Phone: possible lead; patently Scar’s. Joel walked closer, beginning to squat down to investigate the device - clearly somebody had disposed of it so as to not lead the police straight to them, but that might not matter. He heard a gasp from behind him, but didn’t have time to react as a figure barrelled right past the front door.
Gem stood there, panting, her red braided and usually perfectly combed hair messier than normal, her eyes wide and terrified.
“I swear I’m going to kill them.” She glowered, her face set into a determined line - but Joel could clearly see the horror beneath it all. She didn’t seem to be able to compose herself, not even for a minute. Her commander’s insignia gleamed in the light, backing up the situation’s severity. “Any leads?”
Etho nodded, but so did Joel.
Etho glanced at Joel, motioning for him to start first.
”Doesn’t Scar wear a watch?” Joel began quickly, his left hand clenching and unclenching in rapid succession. At Gem’s nod, he pointed to the phone. “Any tracking apps, GPS, that sort of thing?”
Gem’s eyes grew wider, and she carefully picked the mobile up, balancing it on her palm. She unlocked it after only a few tries. Joel couldn’t help noticing how her hands shook.
Hopefully Impulse had already gone around and taken pictures of the scene as evidence.
“I’m not sure, really.” She said, still tense, still jittery. “There must be though, right?” She scrolled through her son’s apps, Joel coming to stand behind her, watching, hoping.
She clicked on the “Find My” app, and the screen lit up in green. And there - Joel finally saw it. Scar’s Apple Watch, written in bold cubic shrift.
3 km away. Gem released a loud breath of air. At least the watch wasn’t turned off. The screen flashed as Gem clicked on the icon. She tapped on it again, trying to pinpoint the exact location.
Nothing.
Just an eccentric, white circle surrounding the area where the Apple Watch could be, which was literally anywhere in that three kilometer radius. Joel had never seen that happen before.
“It’s like the GPS can’t figure out where the watch is,” Etho muttered right behind him, his hot breath wafting over Joel’s skin, making him jump. “As if it’s in all those locations at the same time… But that’s impossible. Somebody’s messed with the system.”
Gem growled. She snapped up the radio at her hip, pressing the talk button, “Skizz. I want teams to specifically focus on a three mile perimeter around our house, read me?”
Skizz gave back the affirmative, telling her that they’d widen the search.
“What now?” Joel asked.
“Joel, go give the phone thing to Tango - second room to the left, upstairs - see if he can fix whatever nonsense this is.” Gem sounded angrier than he’d ever heard her. Snappy, like she was going to tear apart anything and anyone that stood in her way.
But, her child was gone. Joel didn’t know how she wasn’t freaking out more. If he’d had a son… Well, Joel didn’t think he could have taken the fear of knowing that his own kin was in somebody’s hold, locked up, in a horrible, terrible place.
Wearily, he made his way up, knocking on Tango’s door and coming back downstairs a few moments later.
He came back to find Gem and Etho standing near the top table, heads lowered but conversing loudly with each other. Arguing.
Gem seemed on the verge of tears. He joined them, glancing over to see what they were looking at.
A simple piece of crumpled paper, torn roughly at the edges. A note. It seemed that the culprit had left them a fucking godforsaken note.
Joel’s insides boiled.
“Nothing but a puppet,
Nowhere near in sight.
We’ve got a game,
Win - and he just might
Come back to you.
And well, if not?
He’s ours.
We’ve danced this dance a thousand hours.
They beg, they cry,
They chase our trail,
But not one brat returns to tell the tale.
No boy, no bitch, no girl, no whore,
Comes back to tell of what they bore.
So run, before your little wingless Scar is torn,
Cut and broken, beat and worn.
Get him, fast,
Before we do.
Or he’s gone,
He’s dead,
And just a puppet too.”
“What. The. Fuck.” He said.
Gem pushed the table over, slamming her fists down into the wood and upturning it, sending dishes raining to the floor.