AU: A Passionate Extortion [Glads]

[Travis Brooks]

Chicago, IL

May 11, 1921

The streets were damp and covered in grime.  It had been raining for three days straight and the sewers had begun to back up, unable to keep up with the flow of water that ran down the curb and into the system below.  Travis looked out at the rain pounding the ground, streaking his foggy window as it went.  His stomach twisted more with every drip, waiting anxiously for his phone to ring. The last thing he felt like doing was going out in this weather, especially to complete the task he was meant to.  He was no gangster.  He'd found himself in the lifestyle purely by chance, kept there with threats and blackmail.  

Gerry "The Hound" Burgess had married his mother, who had been widowed back when Travis was only seven.  Having been lonesome for so long, he couldn't blame his mother for falling for the man.  For those who first met him he was charming and devilishly handsome.  Taking her and her children on had done wonders for his reputation, showing he was a decent man to bring up her bastard children.  It wasn't until she was in too deep that she found out how corrupt he was, and he was only getting stronger by the month.  Gerry was a notorious gangster there in Chicago, and as soon as her boys turned eighteen they came on as his thugs.  They had no choice in the matter.  If they failed to cooperate they would risk their mother's neck, and after they'd watched Gerry gun down enough men they knew his threats were real.  Like it or not, they were part of his gang.

Travis had yet to murder anyone, and he was glad that the job he had to do wasn't his first kill.  It was inevitable, though.  At some point he would have to put the cold metal of a pistol to the back of some poor schmucks head and pull the trigger. But today was not that day.  Today he was going to kidnap the heir of a rival gang and hold him hostage for his step-father.  Glads Thompson, seventeen.  He had a picture of the boy tucked in his pocket, Gerry's spies out and watching for when the boy was alone.  He'd get a call to come out and do his job, his pocket already stuffed with a small bottle of chloroform and a cloth.  It was meant to be quick and easy, he'd knock the boy out and take him to a secluded area, tie him up and take care of him until further instructions were given.  He was a small kid, it was an easy job, especially for someone like Travis.  He was warned not to "mess it up", he knew the consequences if he failed.

The phone rang and he nearly jumped out of his skin.  Cheeks burning he picked up the black receiver and pushed it to his ear.  "Go." Was all he heard and then the click of the phone hanging up on the other end.  With a deep breath Travis placed the receiver back on its hook and made his way from the apartment, down and out into the rain.  

He had been stationed close to his destination intentionally.  He looked inconspicuous as he trudged through the rain, the collar of his coat upturned and his shoulders held high to try and keep some of the rain off him, though it moistened his sandy hair quickly.  By the time he arrived at his destination he was soaked, from the ears up and the knees down.  He knew glads was home alone.  They wouldn't have sent him until he was.  He looked around, not seeing a soul in sight.  The curtains were all drawn in the buildings across the way.  Travis turned back and pulled the bottle of chloroform from his pocket, drenching the rag before placing it back securely, hiding the cloth in his hand.  He turned one last time to make sure the coast was clear, eyeing the car parked out front.  His getaway car.  If all went right he would be helping the boy into the backseat and driving off in five minutes, maybe less.  Taking a deep breath he lifted his free hand up, knocking thrice on the door.

[Glads Thompson]

Glads was in the middle of what felt like a bad dream. He had been out with some silly Fly Boy he met down at the Cabaret, which was always a terrible idea, but he had no desire to go home at the end of his shift. However, the guy turned out to be less than a gentlemen and wanted to do much more than have a pleasant cup of coffee. He wanted to do more than neck as well, and that is where Glads had to cut him off. The boy was far from pure or innocent, but he was doing his best to clean himself up. Not as though that was easy either. So the date had gone bad, and the young man had decided to walk home. Naturally, as he was several blocks away, it began to rain. With a bit of a sigh, he half heartedly jogged the rest of the way.

It was the first time in a long time he was happy to be on the steps of his house. His mother had married a man that was some type of tycoon. Honestly, Glads paid little attention to him because he wasn't all that bad. Got a little loud when he was drunk, but that was about it. His Momma wasn't bad either, but it still didn't feel like home to him. Something always felt off. Shaking his wet curls, he unlocked the door and went in. It was late, but he knew his Momma and Stepfather would be out at some silly party. Not that he wasn't invited, he just wanted to be at the Cabaret instead. It was way more fun than those dull dress parties. Sure people got far too drunk and would yell and touch you when you didn't want to be touched, but still, it was never dull. A little cheeky smile spread to Glads' face as he put the percolator on and headed to take a nice warm shower.

After getting nice and clean, he decided to sit in the living room for awhile. Maybe even until his mother got home. Putting on his pajamas, he grabbed his copy of "Scaramouche" and settled into a nice comfy arm chair. Mostly in the dark of course, only the lamp next to him gave any light to the room. The young man was totally caught up in the romance of the story and barely registered the knock on the door. It was an odd one for sure, and especially at this time of night, but he figured it could be a varied number of people. Maybe it was his Mother running from the car to get to the door so she wouldn't get to wet. He stood and made his way the door, book still in hand. Maybe it was one of his friends from school or work? They did tend to get drunk and randomly show up at his place. However, as Glads opened the door, he was met by neither of these options.

He was staring at a man who was totally unfamiliar to him, or was he? Maybe he knew his stepfather. That was a valid option, considering the way the man was dressed. Glads flashed the man his best smile and slightly leaned on the doorframe. "Well, hey there handsome. How can I help you this dreary evening?" No harm in being polite even if he didn't know the guy.

[Travis Brooks]

It was no surprise to him when the subject he was to kidnap opened the door.  Who else would have done it?  The curls that graced his head gave him a boyish look, making him seem possibly younger than his seventeen years, especially with his shorter stature.  He was more handsome than the photograph that was slipped into his pocket, too.

Travis faltered when the boy leaned up against the door's frame, flashing him a smile that bordered on sultry, forcing him to swallow the lump in his throat.  He didn't want to do this.. The kid seemed sweet, and he was, after all, still just a kid in many ways.  Or so it seemed.  How could he rob him of his trust in others? Clearly he had no problem chatting with strangers who found themselves on his doorstep.  Foolish.

"My flivver broke down." He offered somewhat apologetically, turning to nod at the car that was parked out in front of the boys home.  With any luck he wouldn't have noticed it earlier and wouldn't see through his guise.  He offered his own kind smile, swiping a hand through his hair to rid it of some of the words that was dripping down his temple.  "Would you be kind enough to let me use your phone?" He asked, shifting a little there on the step.  He held the cloth tight in his hand, just out of view from the boy.  He felt like such a rat.

[Glads Thompson]

As he stood there and watched the man, he had to wonder who he was. Glads was slightly curious in general, but this guy was new and possibly exciting which was something lacking in his almost perfect world. The man, whom the younger had decided was dashingly handsome, mentioned a broken down car. Standing on his toes, he glanced over the man's shoulders and nodded. The vehicle in the street was indeed not moving, but he was still wary, even more so when the guy asked about a phone.

Relaxing a bit, he leaned against the doorframe again, but this time a bit further in. An unspoken welcome to go along with his words. "Alright, it's right there in the hall...feel free." He spoke and moved fully out of the way to let the man in. The youth chuckled a bit. "You seem pretty on the level, but for all I know you coulda killed your granny with a hammer." With that he gently closed the door behind the stranger and leaned against the opposite wall, as if standing was too much effort. "Names Glads by the way, make yourself at home. Oh, just put a fresh pot of Joe on, if you'd like some?"

Again he smiled and nodded further into the house, obviously toward the kitchen. So, even Glads knew this was a bit foolish. A strange man, at night, in his home while he was alone. Still, those sweet brown eyes told him he had nothing to fear.

[Travis Brooks]

The kid seemed to go for the story, Travis dripping wet there on his doorstep and looking almost pitiful.  Finally Glads moved aside and travis made his way inside, shaking his damp hair a little, like a dog, and holding the rag in his hand tight.  He was inexperienced with all of this, and he didn't want to do what he had to do, but what choice did he have? Glads wouldn't get hurt, Travis had been promised that, but what if it had been a lie? Was he sentencing the kid to death to save his own skin? His and his mother's?

He smiled, unsure how to make idle talk with the boy.  Did he do it now? Wait until he was turned away? Maybe the kid had a knife on him, or a gun.  Though given the pajamas, he was sure he didn't have either.  Didn't look too hard boiled to Trav, so likely couldn't throw much of a punch.

"Granny's just fine." He promised softly.  "I sure do appreciate the kindness." He offered with a nod, not wanting coffee, but deciding maybe it was a good way to sneak up on the lad.  "That'd be swell, Glads.  The names Eddie." He lied, giving his best smile. Eddie had been his daddy, his real daddy, and it was a good strong name, one that felt comfortable on his tongue as he spoke it.


Travis made his way to the telephone and picked it up, turning to watch the curly haired boy make his way in the direction he assumed was the kitchen.  He slipped his shoes off and slowly, gently, placed the phone back on its cradle.  The rag in his hand felt damp from his clammy palms, but he pulled it out along with the bottle of chloroform, dousing it generously.  Swallowing hard, a shimmer of sweat at his brow, he made his way quietly to the kitchen behind Glads, moving as stealthily as he could.

With Glads now in his view, he came behind the boy swiftly, preparing for a struggle, but hoping it would end well.  He did his best to grapple him, to shove the rag over the boys mouth.  If it all went according to plan, he'd be out in seconds, and Travis could be on his way, victim in tow.

[Glads Thompson]

"Nice to meet cha Eddie." He smiled as he turned his back to the man. "Alright, one cup coming right up!." Glads turned and headed into the kitchen, leaving the Eddie stranger, alone to make his call. The plan was to make the handsome stranger comfortable and maybe the bad date he'd previously been on would be all but forgotten. If he played his cards right that is. Standing near the percolator, the boy tapped his foot along with the bubbling coffee and gently hummed a song to himself. Between the humming, the rain outside, and the somewhat hypnotic popping from the coffee maker, Glads did not hear his new "friend" coming up behind him.

He did feel two strong arms grab him suddenly and of course he paniced. "Hey, what's the big idea!?" Glads managed to yelp as he struggled to free himself, but it was no use Eddie, if that was his name, was far to strong for him. "Please..don't..." He managed to croak out as he felt the cloth slip over his face and then nothing. It was like falling asleep only a bit faster and lot more dizzying. Feeling his body just slump against the other's sturdier frame was the last thing he remembered. There were other bits and pieces but he was asleep and just thought he was dreaming.

Maybe he dreamed the whole thing? Maybe he was still asleep in the chair at home, reading his book. If that was the case, why did he suddenly feel raindrops on himself, it didn't rain in the house. Another mental shrug as he figured it was just something in his mind playing tricks on him. It had to have been a dream, things like that didn't happen. That was only in the pictures. So, the blonde youth kept right on sleeping, blissfully unaware of any wrong doings that may have been happening.

[Travis Brooks]

The boy was stronger than he looked but was no match for Travis.  Guilt enveloped him like a disease as he held tight to the gangsters son, gritting his teeth while covering his nose and mouth with the rag.    All too quickly the fight left the other and he collapsed into a heavy weight in Trav's arms.  I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.. he repeated in his mind over and over, an internal mantra as if somehow thinking the apology was actually enough.

He got to work quickly, laying the boy down and putting the rag back into his coat pocket.  He turned the percolater off and then went in search for a coat.  Any coat would do, really.  He found one he was certain was Glads, and leaned down to haphazardly place it around his lean frame.  He did a quick sweep for shoes but in the end he decided slippers would have to do; he was running out of time!  He hoisted Glads up, sliding an arm under the boy while pulling the dead weight of his left arm over his own shoulder.  His own left hand held Glads, the right supporting him under his right armpit.  He dragged him to the door and made a hasty getaway down the stairs, keeping his head low and working quickly.  

He got him in the backseat and drove off into the rainy evening, thunder rumbling overhead in the distance, the gentle flash of lightening illuminating the sky every now and then.  He drove for only ten minutes, once he felt safe from being followed, before pulling over.  He grabbed the rope on the front seat and tied the kids hands together.  He didn't need to deal with swinging fists while he drove the rest of the way.  When he was through he placed the rag back to Glads lips to ensure he stayed out for a bit longer.  He didn't envy the wicked headache the boy would probably have once he finally roused

Another half hour on the road and he found himself at the old warehouse he would be holding Glads at.  The kid was still asleep in the back and he was glad for it. The downpour had let up to a gentle rain.  Travis got out of the car and opened the back door, hoisting the youth up over his shoulder with a grunt, his knees buckling slightly at the sudden addition of weight.  He hauled the boy in like a sack, the lights already on.  He greeted a couple of the guys with a grunt as he passed, the men watching Travis with a watchful eye.  Gerry's men had never been fond of him, which suited him fine because the feeling was mutual.

The area meant to hold Glads had an old stained mattress on the ground, a chair, some old newspapers and little else.  The door had been open for Travis, but he would need to lock it once he got the kid down on the mattress.  He laid him down as gently as he could on the bed, not wanting to cause any more hurt than he already had.  He watched him for a moment before sighing and getting up to shut the door, and finally resting in the chair.  He pulled his wet coat and shoes off, allowing them to dry some before grabbing for the newspaper and pulling it up onto his lap.  He couldn't read though, not with the boy helplessly sitting there.  What would happen when he woke up? How long was he in Trav's care? When would Gerry come show his ugly face and make a new threat?