What's this? Another chapter? In the same month? What devilry is this? This is what comes of me trying to avoid school work while trying to get back into the habit of daily writing again and fluff up my NaNoWriMo word count.

Warning: For those who are bothered by such things, near the end of this chapter, there is a heavily implied moment of dubious consent. Nothing graphic; I'd be upping the rating on this fic if there was. Make of it what you will.

Razer, Shiv, Rayn, Mizo, Krew and Edje are all property of Naughty Dog. Everyone else is mine.

The room they'd been put in had gotten cold in the night, uncomfortably so. So when Lise had rolled over into Atin and seized him for warmth, there had simply been no getting rid of her. He'd sighed, accepted that she wasn't about to let go anytime soon and fallen asleep once more. Some hours later, Atin awoke to find that, at some point, he had grabbed and held onto her in his sleep, only to be welcomed from the world of dreams by a mouthful of reddish-brown hair.

The sound of him spitting roused Lise and she sat up, rubbing one eye with the heel of her hand. Both her wrists were mostly circled by a ring of red bruising, but otherwise she appeared no worse for wear.

"Why, in God's name, do you have so much hair?" Atin demanded, wiping at his chin and lips.

A halfhearted shrug. "I didn't have you pegged as a cuddler."

"Hey. You started that."

Another half-shrug. Lise began combing her hair with her fingers, making irritated little 'hmm' noises when she encountered tangles. "Maybe I did. But you're the one who wouldn't let go later." She examined the tips of one section of her hair, sighing. "Sleeping with you is like sleeping with a puppy."

Atin spluttered. "What?"

"Y'know, they're clingy and need to get as close to you as possible."

Any retort died in his throat. What exactly could he say to that? There really wasn't much that he could. "Why are we even wasting time on this? We should be figuring out how to get out of this."

Lise stretched and got to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles out of her clothes. "That's not going to happen until they decide it can happen." She wandered around the room, seeming to take stock of just how devoid it was of anything to really make it comfortable. "The syndicate isn't about to let us just waltz out of here because we don't want to be here anymore."

Atin watched her, cringing inwardly as she rubbed a bruised wrist.

She wandered over to examine the view from the lone, tiny window. "Everyone's probably worried sick about us."

He had to resist correcting her. No one cared about where he was. "Hey, we'll figure something out. I'll get you back home." Atin got up and walked to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

Lise smacked his hand away, spinning to face him. "This is all your fault."

Atin's right eyebrow shot up. "My fault? As if."

"If you'd never come here, this never would have happened." There was such a conviction to her words, such certainty that yes, this really was his doing, that Atin wasn't sure how to respond; that seemed to happen a lot around Lise, come to think of it.

He was spared needing to say anything by the sound of the lock sliding out of place on the door and a scowling Shiv entering the room.

"You two," he growled, "the boss wants to see you."

The sharp trill of Rodas' cell phone jolted him from where he sat, half-asleep in a living room chair and he fumbled blindly for it in his pocket. A quick glance at display and he disconnected the call. He wasn't drunk enough for this. Or maybe he wasn't sober enough. Either way… He was caught in some bizarre state between the two that was, in his opinion, no good for dealing with anything. He reached for the mug he'd had his coffee in the night before and eyed the last mouthful contemplatively before downing it. It was cold and more like alcohol with a hint of coffee than the other way around. Rodas couldn't bring himself to care.

He'd just decided to put his phone back in his pocket when it began ringing again.

So that was how it was going to be.

He flipped open his phone. "Stop it."

"Rodas, thank Go-"

Click. He snapped his phone shut again. What part of "I never want to see you again" did Shane fail to grasp?

For a third time, that sharp ring came. "Fuck." He didn't bother to glance at the display, just hefted the phone in his hand and sent it sailing across the living room where it collided with the wall, popping the back cover off and sending the battery pack skittering across the floor. There. No more Shane.

He rose, bringing the now empty mug with him as he headed into the kitchen where he dropped it into the sink to join the dishes serving as evidence of his parents' breakfasts.

Come to think of it, where were his parents? He couldn't imagine that they'd just decided to up and go to work after last night. They'd probably gone to the authorities, for all the good it would do.

Shane had all but handed Atin and Lise over to the syndicate, some good the police would be there.

Atin had heard the stories about the retired racer turned gang lord, had had a vague idea of what to expect if he ever saw him… It wasn't enough to have fully prepared him for this. He was held fast by Shiv and another man, neither of them showing any sign that they were about to let him go. Lise was again kept still courtesy of Zayit; she looked far, far less than thrilled about it and seemed to be calculating the best angle to kick him from.

And then there was Razer himself. The streaks of silver-grey shot through his hair failed to make him look less imposing, quite the opposite really.

Smoke spiraled up from the tip of his seemingly ever present cigarette and he raised it to his lips, studying the teens before him.

There was something penetrating in Razer's gaze, something that made Atin want to hide. He flicked his head, sending his bangs flopping pitifully into his face, partially obscuring his eyes, using them as a slight barrier between himself and the other man. He needn't have bothered.

A gloved hand came up, catching Atin by the jaw, twisting and turning his head as those green eyes scrutinized him. It was making his skin crawl. He wanted to back away, break free of that grasp but there was something in the way Razer held his face that suggested trying to do so could very quickly become painful; there was a hidden strength in his hand, a sort of power that warned against trying anything stupid.

Atin forced a smirk. "Like what you see?"

Razer made a disapproving 'tsk' sound. "How very much you look like your father."

The Haven teen was unable to hide his scowl at the comment. "Familiar with him, are you?"

"You might say that." Here Razer paused and took a drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke in his captive's face. Atin coughed and tried to turn away, but Razer's grip held him in place. "Suffice to say, I'm wondering what an unremarkable brat of his is doing in my city."

"Bite me." He spat at Razer, saliva hitting the retired racer just below his right eye.

The force of the resulting slap made Atin's head spin and the world flicker out of focus, just for a moment. He barely had time to fully register that he'd been hit before pain flared in the right side of his neck. He yelped and tried to move to grab at the source of the sting but Shiv and his companion held him fast. Razer pulled his hand away, leaving only the burn from the end of his cigarette.

He swiped an irritated thumb over his cheek, clearing away Atin's spit. "If I were you, boy, I would consider taking a more cooperative approach."

"I think we both know that's not about to happen."

Again, Razer made his irritated 'tsk.' "That stubborn attitude will land you in trouble, boy."

"Always does."

Out of the corner of his eye, Atin saw Lise sigh and he felt the barest twinge of guilt. He was doing neither of them any favours. He gave her an apologetic look, which was returned with a scowl.

"I see how this is." Razer's voice was smooth and dangerous, still calm despite the anger that he had to be feeling. "Shiv, take the girl elsewhere. He's showing off for her."

The big man nodded and released his grip on Atin, moving instead to take Lise from Zayit. Razer caught Atin's chin in his hand once again, forcing him to look at him. "Perhaps once we have removed this little distraction of yours, you will be more cooperative."

"I wouldn't count on that, if I was you."

They'd separated Lise and Atin then, Shiv leading Lise away while Zayit was turned to the Haven teen. Lise shot a rather concerned look at Atin as she was lead away, glancing at him over her shoulder from the doorway.

The beeping had confused him at first and it had taken a full thirty-seconds before Rodas realized that it was coming from Atin's cell. He debated about whether or not to answer it, for all he knew it could be Atin sneaking a call from some mysterious outside source or, just as likely, someone from Haven.

"Hello?"

"Are you coming home yet?" Some girl who sounded vaguely familiar with that same slight Haven accent that Atin possessed. What if it was one of his old girls from Haven? What could he say? What if she was looking for a date… Or a booty call?

"Er…May I ask who I'm speaking to?"

A pause. A sigh. "Alright. Look, generic guy friend of Atin, put my twerp of a little brother on the phone."

"Ranovla." He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but as the name of Atin's sister came back to him, Rodas couldn't help speaking as the sense of relief washed over him. He wasn't dealing with a girlfriend. Family he could probably handle.

"Oh. I take it we're acquainted then."

They'd met briefly. Once. "Sort of? I'm Rodas from-"

"Kras. That little turd." Another pause, shorter. "Sorry. I meant that about him. I should have known he'd be out your way. Can you put him on, please?"

Rodas looked around as though he'd be able to find some sort of help from the walls of his room. They had no wisdom to offer him for the moment. Why did he get the joys of telling people the bad news? Didn't Atin's parents have connections to that organization that passed for a police force out there? "Um… About that… Atin's not here."

"'Cursors' sake. It's, what, three in the afternoon there? What can he possibly be doing at that hour?"

Rodas shook his head, despite the fact that she couldn't see him. "No, no. I mean, y'see, Atin and my sister went out last night. They seem to have been taken by the racing syndicate."

This time the pause from the other end of the phone was a long one. "Sorry. I think I misheard you. Did you just say that my brother's been kidnapped by a Kras City gang?"

Her brother and his sister. The two of them. Lise and Atin, both abducted just because Shane… Because Shane what? Because Shane was some kind of asshole that could be bought so easily?

"It's what seems to have happened. They didn't come back last night." Why couldn't he just commit and say that yes, that was definitely what had happened? The little voice in the back of his mind supplied another of its unwelcome answers. Rodas chose to ignore it.

Silence.

"Ranovla?"

"Oh my god."

He wanted to say something reassuring, but nothing came to him. It wasn't exactly easy to be reassuring when his own sibling was lost in the same situation. Was she panicking? He couldn't tell. Nothing seemed to fit. "Sorry" felt like a joke, "I'm sure it'll work itself out" was a blatant lie, so was "They'll be alright." He sighed into the phone. "I wish this hadn't happened."

"Yeah. So do I."

Zayit seemed like someone who had learned how to conduct interrogations based off of nothing more than watching old crime shows. His threats were laughable and his blows weak. Atin doubted that he'd even be bruised from this supposed interrogation. Generally creepy as Zayit might be, a serious interrogator, he was not. And, it turned out, making him aware of this fact was altogether too fun not to exploit; it made him fumble all the more.

"Look, pretty boy, we can do this easy, or we can do it hard. I don't really care." Zayit had the collar of Atin's shirt fisted in one hand, half dragging him up from the chair he'd been crudely bound to.

Atin smirked. "Are you propositioning me? Cause there are definitely better ways to ask." Dry sarcasm, a surefire way to irritate the agitated Zayit.

The hardest blow yet. And the one most worth it, not to mention the least nonsensical out of the entire weak set. At least he knew what he'd done to cause that one, at least there was something in this whole bizarre world of abrupt captivity that he could still make sense of.

There was some kind of anger in Zayit's eyes, a scowl on his face and an angry tremor in his limbs. Atin arched his pierced eyebrow at him, waiting to see what he was about to do.

A slap across the face, forceful, but not enough to do any real damage. It was like Zayit was afraid to actually hurt him or something. Then again, considering what this place thought about people from Haven, there might actually be some truth to that theory. Except for the gleeful way that Zayit had helped Shiv with the capture...

Maybe he just really, really sucked at this whole thing.

"Why won't you crack?" Zayit demanded, shaking Atin by the shoulders. "Why?"

Atin wasn't sure if he was supposed to provide the answer to that question or not. Better to stay silent in this case probably.

Zayit was glaring again. "Shiv had better be getting more cooperation out of that girl."

Atin rolled his eyes, shaking his head hopelessly. "Look," he said, "whatever you think I'm up to, which by the way is nothing, no matter how you slice it, I wouldn't be including her."

"Why should I believe that?"

A shrug. "Maybe because everything else I've been telling you is true?" Atin flicked his hair out of his eyes. "Your call."

Minutes later, Zayit had left the room, muttering things under his breath about how they could expect him to get any answers and this was more of Evike's jurisdiction anyway.

Rodas was on his third rum and whatever-else-happened-to-be-nearby, by the time his parents got home that evening. He didn't bother to ask where they'd been. From the haggard appearance of Virgil and the red eyes of his mother, it was easy enough to assume that they'd spent the day hunting for leads on Lise. More than he'd gotten done.

His mother called him for dinner. Rodas drained his glass and rose, heading into the kitchen.

The meal was an uninspired and relatively flavourless one, clearly having just been pulled together from the first quick thing that came to mind. Whitefish and potatoes… Definitely not one of his mother's more amazing dishes.

He pushed his dinner around on his plate, trying to ignore the dreadful, awkward silence that hung over them. It broke as his mother spoke up. "We never should have let her go with that boy. I didn't trust them going out together like that."

The already bland meal turned to ash in Rodas' mouth. What? He looked to his mother, hoping that maybe he'd managed to misunderstand the implication in her tone.

Virgil nodded slowly. His gaze fell on Rodas and, if possible, Rodas shrank further in on himself under his father's eyes. "I'd have much rathered if she'd been out with your friend Shane. I trust him far more than I should've trusted that foreigner."

Rodas barely managed to swallow. He pushed his plate away. They were blaming Atin. Atin who hadn't so much as touched Lise and were praising the bastard who was the reason that Lise was gone.

"Rodas?"

"I'm not hungry anymore." He rose, absently pushing in his chair. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"What are you going to do? Try to sex my secrets out?" He suddenly wished that he hadn't thought to ask. Evike was looking at him in an almost predatory way and Atin was reminded of a particularly skin-crawling incident involving a bar and a woman old enough to be his mother. Eugh, cougars.

Evike chuckled. "Would it work?" she asked, running a finger along his jaw and leaning in close. "I'm sure you're love to get rid of a little pent up energy about now. What say you and I make a deal?"

She straddled his lap and pressed a hand to his chest, her other cupping his neck to pull him close. "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll see that you get some manner of satisfaction out of helping me."

Atin shifted his hips. Whether he was trying to dislodge her, or gain a more comfortable position, even he'd have been hard pressed to say.

She ground against his hips, leaning down to capture his lips in a hot, rough kiss, her teeth clicking against his lip ring. "Do we have a deal?"

There was a part of Atin that desperately wanted to say yes, to tell Evike that he'd do whatever she wanted, but he couldn't bring himself to actually say so. She kissed him again, the hand she'd placed on his chest moving to tease a nipple through his shirt.

A breathy sort of moan escaped Atin and he heard Evike chuckle. "I take that as a yes, then?" Her lips were on his neck by then, hot and enticing, biting and sucking at his skin hard enough to bruise. A hand slipped downwards, sliding between his legs, cupping-

"No dice." His hands had curled into fists, his nails scraped against the armrests as he struggled to clear his head.

"What?"

"No dice," he repeated, this time with more conviction. "I'm not going to tell you anything." Why was he acting like he actually knew something that they'd want to know? He was almost certain that he didn't.

"You sure about that?" Evike's lower hand tightened, squeezing him through the thin fabric of his cargos. He bucked against her hand, wanting to feel the hot friction she was offering and hating himself for the need to. She laughed again.

"Teenagers."

"The hell'd you get the hickey from?" Lise demanded as Atin was escorted back to the room they were being kept in. Whatever individual questions they'd asked her, if any, had evidently taken far less time than Evike had with him.

Atin raised a hand to cover the large, purpling bite mark on his neck. "Slightly rough interrogation."

"What happened? Get hit with a whore?"

"You could sort of say that." He wasn't in the mood for her banter, all he really wanted was a long, cold shower. A shower, and maybe, just maybe, to be on his way home, back to Haven where the world made sense. Atin took a seat on the floor and leaned back, running a hand through his hair, inky strands sliding through his fingers before flopping into his eyes once more.

"Sort of? Why the mopey look then? Not as good as you'd been hoping for?"

Home was definitely sounding good now. But they'd have to get out of this whole mess first and that was going to pose a challenge. He sighed. Trying to think of a way to get out of here felt beyond him at the moment.

"Atin, what's up with you right now?"

Atin's shrug was half shudder. "I feel dirty."

Lise moved closer then, got to her knees behind him and slipped her arms around him, burying her nose in the hair behind his right ear as she embraced him.

"What are you doing?"

"Hugging. Feel better?"

"Not particularly."

For a moment, Atin was certain that he'd felt her lips press to the back of his ear, but forced himself to dismiss the notion as ridiculous. Lise did not like him and, except for the fact that she had her arms around him at that exact moment, she certainly did not just plant random kisses on him because he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He had to have imagined it. Still, she didn't seem to be showing any signs of letting go any time soon.

Atin cleared his throat.

"Are we sleeping together again tonight?"

Lise made a sort of snorting sound and he could feel her draw away slightly. "Depends."

"On what, exactly?"

"How cold I get."

Atin managed a laugh at that, turning to try and get a look at Lise. "You're ridiculous."

Back in his office, Razer was mulling over the events of the day. Something didn't add up. The boy had been so blatantly insistent that he knew nothing, and he had been surprised to hear of the brat's initial resistance to Evike. She claimed that he'd caved in, in the end, but she had failed - once again - to draw any useful information out of him.

She was losing her edge. And possibly her nerve. She'd assured him that she'd have the boy talking. That was twice now that she'd failed to do so. He doubted he'd have the patience to allow her the opportunity of a third failure.

He'd dismissed her, leaving the strong suggestion that her services might no longer be required. She hadn't had it in her to argue.

His pack of cigarettes lay amidst the clutter on top of his desk; he'd have to clear that off soon, it was getting embarrassing. He picked up the carton and drew one of the cigarettes out, examining it the dim light coming in through the window.

Maybe they were going about this wrong. Perhaps the boy was a warning more than a sign that Rayn was attempting to pull another power-play. It was a distinct possibility. He never had quite figured out the way that woman worked, not like Mizo or Krew who were almost laughably formulaic. No… She was brutal but not quite like either of their predecessors. There was something he was missing.

Fine. He'd play her games.

Razer pulled out his cell phone and flicked it open. It was picked up halfway through the second ring.

"Edje."

The man sounded confused, surprised at the abruptness of Razer's tone. "Yes, boss?"

"Find me Rayn. I'm getting to the bottom of this. Now."

Fillerish chapter is fillerish. The next chapter will be less so. Probably. I fully intend for stuff to happen in that one, as opposed to this one which is, really, a whole lot of everyone getting nowhere. Also, I should probably start working on getting Atin's parentage worked into this thing, since I'm pretty sure that people would actually like an answer to that.

Anyway, essays on Norse Mythology and mermaids and perverts need writing. No, that is not all one essay. No, I was not kidding about the perverts. I wish I was.

Until next time.