Parker hated to stay at home. It's five bedrooms, although lavishly decorated, seemed like catacombs. Parker spent his time roaming the streets. Especially at night when most people were asleep.
Parker walked the streets at night, rummaging through trash cans. He found out that sometimes you could find some pretty cool things in them although tonight's special was just trash.
A dark figure approached him, the figures head was down. "You have two choices," the figure said, "come willingly, or I'll use force." Parker debated the two choices reasoning he really didn't have a choice. The man must not have liked how long Parker was taking because a bag was thrown over his head and he was hauled into something moving.
The streets had taught Parker to resist; however, common sense told him to sit tight and shut up. The van moved quickly around turns. Parker felt like he'd never get out. Parker knew he couldn't sit idle. He planned his escape.
However, his plans took a turn as soon as he opened his eyes. His captors pulled the bag from his head. Upon quick observation, all ways out were guarded by no less than five men. Parker was in someones kitchen. Not just anyone's kitchen, Manuel's. Derik walked towards Parker. "Street Rat," he sneered with each step he took.
"Come here," he growled picking Parker up. "I need your help. I need someone with knowledge of the streets to make me some money." Derik looked Parker up and down, "You look like you know the streets."
"I'm not helping you," Parker barked. If he wasn't so dehydrated he would have spit in his face.
"You will help me," Derik sneared, "or I'll kill you myself." There was a short pause and Parker debated if his father was telling the truth or not. Derik knew, "Son or not." With a quick shove Derik made it obvious the conversation was over.
Parker walked the streets at night, rummaging through trash cans. He found out that sometimes you could find some pretty cool things in them although tonight's special was just trash.
A dark figure approached him, the figures head was down. "You have two choices," the figure said, "come willingly, or I'll use force." Parker debated the two choices reasoning he really didn't have a choice. The man must not have liked how long Parker was taking because a bag was thrown over his head and he was hauled into something moving.
The streets had taught Parker to resist; however, common sense told him to sit tight and shut up. The van moved quickly around turns. Parker felt like he'd never get out. Parker knew he couldn't sit idle. He planned his escape.
However, his plans took a turn as soon as he opened his eyes. His captors pulled the bag from his head. Upon quick observation, all ways out were guarded by no less than five men. Parker was in someones kitchen. Not just anyone's kitchen, Manuel's. Derik walked towards Parker. "Street Rat," he sneered with each step he took.
"Come here," he growled picking Parker up. "I need your help. I need someone with knowledge of the streets to make me some money." Derik looked Parker up and down, "You look like you know the streets."
"I'm not helping you," Parker barked. If he wasn't so dehydrated he would have spit in his face.
"You will help me," Derik sneared, "or I'll kill you myself." There was a short pause and Parker debated if his father was telling the truth or not. Derik knew, "Son or not." With a quick shove Derik made it obvious the conversation was over.
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