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It was one of those old houses, where she lived. She is Rebecca Laberti. She is close to her 17th birthday and started to work on her first job two month ago. Rebecca is a pretty girl. She is 5.57, dark hair, very sporty shaped. A classical beauty queen.
At the moment she is preparing a room. The room of her crazy aunt, who killed herself by setting herself on fire. The room in the cellar. Because a guest is moving in. While she was working in her room the doorbell rang. The bailiff was here. Again. He was looking for the parents. With another enforcement order. The parents weren’t here. They were somewhere in the city. The old and grumpy man left with the words, “Tell your parents, that I will be back next week.” Rebecca nodded and closed the door.
She went back to her room to finish her work. She thought about what life was a view month ago. Before her father took this stupid big client. Before he invested all his money in this one order and anything went south. Her father was the proud owner of Laberati Inc. A company that traded Italian luxury marble to England. After the client, a big architecture company filed for bankruptcy anything was okay. Now not even her iPhone worked. The carrier cancelled service after her parents didn’t pay the bills.
“Sold for 22 Million Euros to the lady in the black suit”, the auctioneer said and the other people were clapping in their hands. The lady, Mrs Laura Miller, bought a 40 year old race car for one of her clients. She was working on as a curator for a lot of very rich people in Europe. She took her phone and called the client to tell the good news.
“He is training one hour on his own after the course finished”, the man in the grey suit said to the man with the baseball cap. “Okay. You did anything as we agreed”, the man that was sitting next to him in this dark bar asked to ensure himself. After they made clear, that the plan was on the roll the man in the grey suit payed the drinks and they left. He started his Porsche and drove away, while the man with the baseball cap got into his transporter and headed for the city.
“Don’t be to strict to yourself”, the lady said to her student. You are more than good enough to be here. She pointed in the sign. “Royal Ballet” The boy nodded and smiled. “This is a very important show. I want to be in shape and perfect. I just do a bit of workout.” “Okay”, the lady answered friendly.” The other pupils left the training hall. “Bye Marl, Bye Misses Danov.”
Misses Danov went to her office to check the videos of the training and analyze them. Marlon Miller went to the gym to change clothes and do some workout. Before he did so he sat on the little bench in front of the locker to drink his mineral water with cherry flavor. He loved this drink.
The experienced Ballet coach Misses Danov sat on her desk and watched the videos on her MacBook, when a man with a baseball cap knocked at her door. “Mister Laberti. Nice to see you. How is Rebecca?” “She is sad. Because we cannot afford the dancing anymore. That is, why I am here. Have you asked the Royal Ballet Foundation if the can help us out, so that she can dance again.” “I wrote a letter to them. I don’t want to loose Rebecca. She is talented. But you know those people. They need their time to decide. But hold your head high. I am sure they will approve my statement.” The man nodded. “Can I please see Rebecca’s locker? I need to get some things out of it for her.” “Sure. I will go there with you.” Misses Danov stood up and guided Mr Laberti to the locker room.
“Marlon!”, she screamed. The boy was lying on the floor. Unconscious. The woman leaned over him. “Marlon, hello. Can you hear me?”
Rebecca stood at the door and locked in the room. She had finished. She heard her mother upstairs. “I am finished.” Her mother coma up and looked into the room. “Very good.”
Mrs Miller entered her house in London’s nice East End. Her fiancé was sitting at a desk and wrote an email. “How was the auction?”, he asked. “We have Mr. Larson’s car.” She sat down as well. “Can you pick up Marlon tonight?” “Sure.”
“Marlon!!!” The lady was shouting in panic.
Mr Laberti went up the stairway took out his phone and said. “We are in the Royal Ballet training center. A boy, aged 16, passed out. Please come as soon as you can…. Okay…. Yes….. We will…. The ballet coach an me.”
“The poor boy”, he said, when he came back. He kneeled down. “They come as soon as they can. Sorry. But there is no network service down here.” “I know. And I am so glad, that you are here”, the ballet coach answered.
“….Have a nice weekend”, Mrs. Laberti said on the phone before she hang up. It was Friday. Late afternoon. “Yes, yes, yes.” She was very happy about the call. “Anything is fine, she said to Rebecca, who sat beside her on the kitchen table.”
Two men came down the stairs to the locker room of the Royal Ballet training room. “Are you” Than a sharp sound cut through the air and Misses Danov fell to the floor like a bag. “Bring him to the transporter”, Mr. Laberti commanded.
Two hours later Mrs. Miller was about to leave the city house again. “Money for Pizza is on the kitchen table”, she said while she was adjusting her bracelet, “I will be back as soon as I can.” The London Taxi was already waiting. She kissed her fiancé. “Sorry. But this is an important meeting and an important arts exhibition.” She left.
A Porsche parked in front of a cinema center. A man in a grey suit left the car and entered the location. He looked round until he saw a girl sitting in a café with a boy. She waved at him. He went straight to her. “Do you have the phone?” “Yes.” The man took out an envelope and handed it to the teen girl. She gave him a phone for that. “The PIN?” “Deactivated, the boy said.” “Thank you.” The man left and stared his car.
I will spend the night at Nick’s home. See you tomorrow.
The young man looked at his phone, when he read the short message the son of his fiancé wrote to him.
But I wanted to order a pizza and have a men’s evening with you, he answered.
Leave me alone. You are not my father
He called the number of the boy. But the call was not answered.
A second later his phone rang. A number was displayed, he didn’t know. A friendly man was on the phone. He told him, that he was Nick’s Dad, that he needs to understand that diviorce is hard for children. Sad the young man, Paul Jerson, turned on the TV and started to watch a movie. At least the dog was at home with him.
“Nobody ever shall say, that the lunacy of my sister was not good for at least one thing.” Mr Lamberti seemed to be very proud of his work, when he closed the last white strap around the ankle of the still unconscious boy.
Rupert Miller was standing in the middle of the hall. Modern art that was done by new and talented artists from London was handing on the walls. He was reading a message on his phone. “Rupert. You are looking great”, the beautiful lady said, when she came toward him. “So do you Mrs Miller”, he answered and carried on. “How are you and the novelist with not one penny in his pocket.” “We talked about that. Just leave it for today.” “Okay. My fault. How is our son?” “He is doing well.” “Your business is doing well. A Picasso and an old Ferrari race car in one week.” “Jealous?”, Laura Miller asked with a smile. “No. Picasso doesn’t fit to my collection and I have no need for old cars. And now my dearest of my three Ex wives. Let’s do something for modern artist.” She raised her glass and they started to talk to people from London’s art scene.
I am off. I hate my life, my family and anybody. Thanks for being a true friend all the time I will call you soon, bro. Yours Marlon.
Nick looked at his handy and was shocked. Marlon always seemed to be happy.
What are you going to do?
Take some time off. Can you do me a favour?
Tell your cool Dad, that I will sleep at your place tonight.
Nick has always been Marlon’s best friend. Of course he was doing this favor. But he had a bad feeling about it. So he want to his Dad to tell him. Nick’s Dad was listening while, he reading something on his iPad at the same time. “We need to inform the parents”, he decided.
Mrs. Miller was just coming home. Paul was about to tell her that Marlon was sleeping away, as the doorbell rang. Close to midnight, who could that be. Nick was standing in front of the door with his dad. Laura asked them to come in and Nick showed her the Messages, he got from Marlon. Nicks Dad said. “I thought they were going to see a movie in the cinema and come home after that. Nick than came to tell me.” Laura was shoicked and called her husband at the very moment.
“Oh finally you are waking up”, the voice of Darth Vader said, when Marlon slowly opened his eyes. “What…?” He was looking around. The room was dark. He saw a small green light above the bed. And there was the bed. It was one of this beds, they use in asylums to strap the poor patients on them, to save them from doing things, they should not do to others and themselves. Beside his bed, there was a chair. “Good morning, captive.” Again the voice of Darth Vader, from a person that was wearing a Darth Vader Mask and helmet on her head and the costume of a fat clown on the rest of the body.
“What are you doing? What is this shit all about?” The boy pulled on the white straps in anger.
Laura Miller was about to call the police, when her phone vibrated and she got a message.
NO POLICE! FOLLOW THE LINK sta.sh/014wt235268w
Vaders Voice: “Showtime”
What you will get...
Don't destroy my clothes. I need them for the next episodes.
After the countdown hit zero, the Vader-Clown creature stopped her cruel work and turned her head to the camera.
“Again. No police. We will send you a new link tomorrow.”
“Oh my good.” Laura Miller was in tears. Those last two hours were as bad as if she would be on this bed herself. She knew how ticklish her son was. “Masked”, Paul said. “Masked is good.” Laura and Rupert Miller looked at him. “They want money. They don’t want to kill him. Today they made their point, that they will make him as miserable as they can. But they don’t want to kill him.”
Nick and his Dad have left about 90 minutes ago. They didn’t want Nick to see his friend in that situation. Rupert was taking over. “I think he is right. I will go home now, if they call me.” They said goodbye and the man left.
Marlon was sitting on the toilet. He was looking into the face of Darth Vader. His hands were still tied by the leather straps and so were his feet. After he finished, Vader took out a chocolate bar and a bottle of water and laid it to the small table in the room. “Eat”. Marlon followed the command. He was steps were very small. It took him, a bit of time to get to the table where he ate the chocolate bar and drank an bit of water. After he did, he was commanded to lay down to the bed. There he was strapped down again. “My… My father is very rich. He will pay”, his voice was wacky and you could hear the fear in it. “Do you like your ballet tights?”, Clown Vader asked. “What? Why?” “I like them very much. Do you like them as well?” “I think. Yes I do”, the boy answered that silly question. “Keep them dry. Your live depends on that.” “You will not let me go to the toilet?” “Oh I will”, Clown Vader said. “Than my life I save”, Marlon answered.
At that moment Clown Vader’s hand moved between his legs, scanned for his member and started to stroke and message it. “Hey!” Marlon wanted to say something, shout something, just insist. “Calm boy.” Clown Vader stopped. “I just wanted to say goodnight and know, that you know how vulnerable you are.” With this words, the creature left.
In need time in my own. That was a lie. But Laura Miller wanted to do a phone call. She left the house with the dog. After she was two streets away, she took her phone. “Hi… Kidnapped. Marlon was kidnapped…. Okay. Thank you.”
A man, aged about 40 stood up. He looked at the woman in his bed. Than he moved to his closet and took out his old black leather jacket and looked at it. “Not old. Just older”, he said to himself.
Laura Miller knew, that she has unleashed something. Paul Jerson was thinking how he could prove himself. Rupert Miller was reading a letter again and again. Rebecca was staring at the old tree outside her rooms window. Nick was lying in bed crying. A finger was moving in the cellar of the Royal ballet school’s basement. Mrs Laberati was watching, when her husband was beaten up by two men. Nick’s Dad was writing an email.
An old Dodge Charger was fired up. Destination London.
I come from an artists and business family. I love creativity and fantasy worlds. I try to be friendly. I hate racism, homophobia and bullies.
I love roleplaying that is not boring and that creates a relationship between the characters.
I try to bring some new input to the scene.