The reinforced vehicle moved through the quiet streets of Southside beneath the cover of night. Along the sidewalks, the homeless and forgotten huddled beside burning trash cans for warmth, while deals were exchanged beneath flickering streetlights in alleys where few dared to look for too long. Yet the moment the vehicle appeared, even those people scattered. Curtains were drawn, apartment doors slammed shut, and figures lingering along the streets quickly disappeared into whatever shelter they could find.
Whatever that vehicle belonged to, the people of Southside knew better than to be seen by it.
After weaving through several blocks, the vehicle suddenly swerved onto an abandoned industrial road. Its tires screeched against the pavement before it came to a violent stop in front of an enormous warehouse.
The four masked men climbed out and dragged the children from the back, each with a bag covering their head. William could barely keep his feet beneath him as they were forced forward, unable to see where they were going or where they had been taken. Somewhere ahead, machinery groaned to life before a massive cargo door slowly lifted from the ground.
Once they were inside, the children were thrown onto their knees.
The bags were ripped from their heads.
William's vision returned beneath harsh industrial lights, and what little he could see was enough to make his stomach sink. The warehouse was enormous, its interior packed with armed men carrying heavy artillery while reinforced machinery stood between crates of equipment and advanced technological systems glowing throughout the facility. Whatever this place was, it was far more than some hideout buried within Southside.
The four children remained frozen where they had been thrown, their battered little bodies trembling from both fear and pain.
One of William's eyes had swollen completely shut from the beating earlier, leaving him to scan the warehouse through the other. But the weapons and machinery weren't what held his attention for long.
He immediately turned toward the others.
"G-Guys... are you okay?"
Even speaking hurt. His ribs screamed with every breath, and the taste of blood still lingered inside his mouth.
The answer was obvious.
They weren't okay.
The moment William asked, whatever courage Scott and Lily had been holding onto finally broke. Scott began crying beside him while Lily's sobs came out far more painfully, her little body shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down her bruised face.
William felt his own eyes beginning to burn.
"It's okay, guys..." he whispered, forcing his voice to remain steady despite everything hurting inside him. "Don't cry. We're gonna be fine."
He didn't know if that was true, but right now, he simply needed them to believe it was.
William then looked toward Tommy.
Tears and blood ran together down the boy's face, but unlike Scott and Lily, fear had already begun twisting itself into rage. His expression resembled that of a caged bull desperate to break through whatever stood between him and freedom.
Tommy suddenly planted one foot beneath himself.
"Tommy...?"
His legs trembled violently as he forced himself upright. For a moment it looked as though they would give out beneath him, but Tommy refused to stay down. He straightened himself as much as his battered body allowed and glared at the armed men surrounding them with every ounce of defiance a six-year-old boy could summon.
"YOU BETTER LET US GO, YOU BASTARDS!! YOU HEAR ME?!"
His voice echoed throughout the warehouse.
A man stepped behind him and drove the rear of his rifle into Tommy before he could say another word.
The boy collapsed instantly.
"Tommy!"
William's body moved before his mind could stop it, but he froze almost as quickly. Every part of him wanted to rush toward his brother—to help him, to fight back, to do anything other than kneel there and watch. Yet his one open eye shifted toward the weapons surrounding them, then toward Scott and Lily still trembling beside him.
He couldn't.
It was too dangerous. A single reckless move could make things worse for all of them. So William remained on his knees, his hands slowly clenching against the ground as he watched his brother lying beside him, swallowing the helplessness that burned in his chest; for protecting them meant forcing himself to do nothing.
The sound of approaching footsteps suddenly echoed through the warehouse. Heavy stomps struck the floor one after another, firm and deliberate, loud enough for William to know that whoever was coming toward them was definitely someone big.
And indeed he was.
The man stopped directly across from the children, staring each of them down with eyes so sharp that William felt as though daggers were being pressed against his skin. Everything about him was intimidating, from the sheer size of his frame to the anger hardened across his face. To four battered children kneeling helplessly before him, his presence felt less like that of a man and more like the Devil himself had come to collect them.
"Shut your damn mouths, you dirty brats," he growled. "Or I'll do it for you."
Unfortunately, the threat only frightened Scott and Lily further. Their cries grew louder as they huddled close to William, and whatever little patience the man had left disappeared.
"I SAID SHUT IT!!"
His voice thundered throughout the warehouse, frightening the children so badly that their bodies obeyed before their minds could. Scott and Lily immediately bit down on their trembling lips, desperately holding back every sob and whimper that threatened to escape. Their little bodies continued to shake, but neither dared make another sound.
Once the crying had ceased, the man gestured toward two of his men. Without a word, they walked toward one of the warehouse's storage compartments and returned dragging a heavy container across the floor. They brought it directly before him, and with a hard kick, the man knocked it onto its side before forcing it open.
A beaten body rolled out onto the concrete.
The children stared at it in shock, their eyes widening as the color slowly drained from their faces. The man's features were almost unrecognizable beneath the blood and swelling, but his clothes were enough. They knew exactly who was lying in front of them.
Old man Joe.
For a moment, their expressions went completely dull, as though their souls had abandoned their bodies rather than endure what their eyes were seeing. William felt Tommy stiffen beside him while Scott's lips began trembling again and Lily looked ready to scream, but before any of them could call out to him, the large man's voice seized their attention.
"Don't worry, brats. He's not dead yet." His eyes slowly passed over the children. "But I can assure you that one of you will be soon if he doesn't give me my money."
After everything that had already happened that night, there was no reason to believe it was an empty threat.
Tommy didn't care.
The sight of the man who had raised them lying beaten and covered in his own blood shattered whatever fear had been holding him back. Rage took over again, and he suddenly sprang forward with every intention of attacking the man himself. Luckily for him, William had already felt that anger building. Before any of the armed men could react, he lunged after Tommy, wrapped both arms around him, and dragged him to the floor.
"LET ME GO, BILLY!! I'M GONNA KILL THESE BASTARDS!!"
"Tommy, stop!"
Tommy thrashed beneath him, desperately trying to break free, while several guards started walking toward them. The large man, however, raised a hand and ordered his men to stay where they were. For several seconds he simply watched the brothers struggle on the floor, one relentlessly trying to reach him while the other fought just as hard to keep him alive.
A low growl escaped his throat.
"Hey, kid... you're really starting to get under my skin." His eyes narrowed upon Tommy. "I'm beginning to think that if anyone dies tonight... it's gonna be you."
He then glanced toward the armed men surrounding them.
"If anyone else moves, shoot them dead."
William immediately tightened his hold. He pressed Tommy firmly against the floor, ignoring every kick and desperate attempt his brother made to push him away. After what had nearly happened moments ago, he wasn't taking another chance.
Then a wet, bloody cough broke through the tension.
The children went still.
"Oh, well... you're finally awake, scum."
Joe's eyes slowly opened. Dazed and barely conscious, he tried to make sense of his surroundings until his gaze wandered across the warehouse and landed upon the four small figures kneeling only a short distance away.
"...Kids?"
Shock overtook his face.
For a moment, Joe could only stare at them. Fear, anger, grief, and panic seemed to crash together inside him all at once, leaving him unable to decide which emotion to surrender to first. These were the children he had spent years trying to keep safe from the ugliness of Southside, and now all four of them were beaten, terrified, and kneeling in the very place he had tried to keep them from ever seeing.
The large man gave him little time to process any of it. He approached Joe, roughly rolled him onto his back, and planted his boot against the old man's neck.
Joe immediately began choking beneath the pressure.
The children gasped as they watched him struggle for air. Lily instinctively leaned forward before catching herself, Scott's eyes filled with tears once again, and Tommy's entire body tensed beneath William's grip. William wanted to move just as badly as the rest of them, but the warning still hung over their heads, surrounded by armed men whose fingers rested against the triggers of their weapons.
None of them dared move.
They could only watch as Joe struggled beneath the man's boot, every desperate breath becoming harder to draw than the last.
"So here they are, Joe… and it's all your fault."
The man looked down at him with nothing but contempt.
"I told you what would happen if you didn't get me the money. You know better than anyone that I'm a man of my word, and I expected you to keep that in mind when you decided to leave me to take care of them."
The statement caught the children by surprise, leaving them confused by what the man had just revealed.
Joe used to be one of them?
The thought made William's heart ache. Just as questions about the old man began creeping into his mind, the man suddenly drove his boot into Joe's ribs. The old caretaker screamed in agony and curled against the concrete, his body quivering from the pain as the man continued.
"This is the third time you've been late on a payment, Joe. I let the first two slide out of respect for the work you did under me, but I can't keep going soft on you. I have a reputation to uphold."
He pulled his leg back to kick him again, but Joe desperately raised one hand, begging him to stop. Fighting through the pain, the old man slowly managed to get back onto his feet.
"I'll get you the money… I-I'll even double it for you. But please…" His voice trembled. "I beg you, let my kids go, Kohl."
Kohl stared into the old man's eyes. Joe wasn't begging for his own life, only for the children behind him, but whatever sympathy he hoped to find, it wasn't there.
"You knew how things were going to be when you wanted out. There's no such thing as leaving 'this' behind." Kohl's expression hardened. "You'll always pay for your life… or for the lives you want to keep alive."
His gaze then shifted toward the children, passing over them until his eyes settled on one in particular.
"I want triple. You have three days to get me triple the money."
Kohl turned and began walking away. Before disappearing among the men inside the warehouse, however, he stopped and glanced back.
"But like I said, I have a reputation to uphold. Make sure you don't go soft on him, boys."
The men moved toward the child he had chosen.
"Wait!! No—NO, NO!!"
The men held Joe down along with the other three children, forcing them to watch in terror. William's heart sank as tears began streaming down his face, his body trembling helplessly while one of his siblings was punched, kicked, and stomped over and over again. Through the beating, the child cried desperately for help, reaching out for the hand of the older brother who had always been there to protect him.
William reached back.
But this time, no matter how badly his sibling needed him, William simply wasn't strong enough.
…
Morning came quietly over Southside.
By then, the tears had dried upon their faces almost as much as the blood staining their battered bodies. The reinforced vehicle carried the family back through the rotten streets of Southside before finally throwing them out at the same junkyard the children had planned to return to that morning.
Only this time, no one came to play.
There were no excited voices arguing over who would be the White Knight, no metal rods held like swords, and no laughter echoing between the mountains of rust. The family simply began the long walk back home in silence.
By the time they arrived, rain had begun falling over the barren land surrounding their little brick house. Old man Joe walked into the backyard with a shovel in his hands and began digging into the wet soil while the children stood behind him, watching quietly.
When the hole was finally deep enough, Joe set the shovel aside.
He returned carrying a small bag.
With trembling hands, the old man lowered it into the earth, and then the silence finally broke.
Their cries rose beneath the rain as they gathered around the grave, mourning the one who should have been standing there beside them. William stared down into the hole, tears streaming freely across his bruised face as the memory of that small hand reaching for him refused to disappear.
Only yesterday, there had been four children laughing beneath that roof.
Now there were only three.
Because inside that grave lay their little brother.
Scott.