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Chapter 1- No Rest for the Wicked

A sinister kid is a kid who

Runs to meet his Maker

A drop dead sprint from the day he's born

Straight into his Maker's arms

And that's me, that's me

The boy with the broken halo

That's me, that's me

The devil won't let me be

"I don't know, maybe he wanted to make sure you could get a hold of him.." Miranda shrugged, tossing a dirty rag into a bucket full of murky water. "I think you should just call and stop worrying about it." She tapped her foot, nodding towards Ryan's cell phone that sat out on the counter.

"Ok, I'll call." The shark relented with a frustrated chuckle.

"Well?" She raised her eyebrows as her tail flicked back and fourth. Ryan stared back at her with half a grin on his face. "Fine." She blurted, snatching up her purse from underneath the counter. "Promise you'll give me details."

"No promises."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yep."

Miranda shot one last pouty look at him before she turned away from the bar and disappeared into the darkness. Ryan stared back down at the two numbers that were in front of him. The one that had been left in his apartment was scribbled on a piece of blank scrap paper, with a little doodle of a peace symbol beneath it. The second, a different number, was neatly printed in marker on a cruise line brochure. He knew both would probably reach TJ, but he still had an odd feeling about it for some reason.

He dialed the one from the brochure first. You would never notice it from the outside, but he felt a twinge of excitement when it began to ring.

"Hello?" A familiar voice answered at the other end.

"Hey man, its Ryan."

"Oh hey!" The Dolphin's voice greeted him. "How have you been?" His voice quieted and hurried footsteps and other voices could be heard in the background.

"Did I call at a bad time?"

"Not at all... But make it quick, I'm at work."

"Oh. Well, just wanted to make sure you have my number. I see you'll be in town again in a couple weeks..."

"Yeah. I'd love to meet up again, if thats where you were going." He whispered even lower, Ryan could even hear a hint of seduction in his voice.

"For sure. Maybe we could even do dinner this time."

"Ha! I didn't expect you to be a dinner kind of guy."

"Not on the first date, at least."

TJ scoffed in response. "Listen, I got to go. Text me, alright?"

"Yeah." Ryan answered as his smile faded. "Hey, TJ.."

"What?"

"Did you leave another number in my apartment? I found a note after you left."

There was a couple long moments of silence.

"Uh, no. Just the one at the bar. I honestly considered not leaving my number at all... Anyway, I got to go. Text me!" He hurriedly added before he hung up.

Ryan sat at the bar in silence for a moment. He left his seat and pulled down his favorite bottle of rum. Without getting a glass he sat back down with the bottle in his hand, continuing to eye the note from his apartment. He grimaced after his first large swig of the harsh beverage. He just barely shook off the burning sensation in his throat before taking another gulp. He was going to need it if he were to confront what he knew was going to be on the other end of that telephone number.

He set the bottle on the counter, picking up the note in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He finished dialing the number and paused for a moment. The excitement he had felt when he called TJ was gone, replaced with a sense of dread. He pressed the send key, moving the phone to his head just as it began to ring.

There was a click after the third ring followed by silence. Ryan sat listening.

"Hello?" He spoke with frustration in his voice. More silence. Another click, and then a dial tone. Ryan let out a sigh of relief, tossing the phone down on the counter and snatching up his bottle of rum again. He crumpled the note that he had found in his apartment and tossed it into the trash.

He spun his stool around to face out at the ocean. The breeze and the sound of waves washing over the sand were incredibly relaxing. Well, that and the hard liquor just beginning to make its way into his bloodstream. Just as he was about to zone out a sharp buzz caught his attention. He turned the stool back around to see his cell phone angrily vibrating its way across the counter. He snatched it just at it fell off the edge. He didn't recognize the number. And just like that, the feeling of relaxation was gone.

It was only a matter of time before a past like that catches up to you. Not even disappearing and moving nearly a thousand miles away to an island paradise is enough to bury that.

________________

8 Years Earlier

"Hold still please." The bureaucrat asked just as he pressed the button, blinding the shark with his flash. "Turn to your left please." Another flash. "Alright, have a seat over there."

The leopard shark lazily made his way to a bench in the corner of the room. He slumped down, his gaze down on the cement floor, occasionally shooting glances to far corners of the room. He fiddled with the handcuffs that were digging at his wrists. At least the jail had been nice enough to handcuff his arms in front. He hated the feeling of them. Not only were they physically uncomfortable, they made him feel small. Like a frightened animal. Not that he would ever admit to being afraid.

"Ryan." A stern voice called out. A tall, authoritative dragon stood in front of one of the doors, his presence still menacing through the steel bars. Bright red eyes stood out against the green scales, the kind of eyes that could make you confess your worst sins with just a look. "My office. Come on." He beckoned as he opened the gate, taking on the tone of a disappointed parent.

The big shark cringed as he stood. The officers that had placed him under arrest had not been the most gentle, or friendly for that matter. They had stopped him while he was out wandering the street. Sure, he had not done anything illegal ,yet, but he was out looking for some fun. A joy ride, maybe find an unlocked residence or a liquor store to knock over. He couldn't even remember who threw the first punch. A power tripping cop with an ego versus the renegade street thug with an ego. No way that would end without bruises and bloodshed.

"Have a seat." The dragon beckoned to a simple steel chair in the center of the room. It was even bolted to the floor. He wandered over to his desk. The name plate that sat on top read "Det R. Davidson, Parole and Juvenile Services". He opened a file cabinet with a loud clunk, produced a rather large bundle of paperwork and tossed it down on the desk. "I see you didn't waste any time leaving your foster parents once you turned 18."

"I was gone a quarter past midnight on my birthday." The shark smirked, then winced as a sharp pain shot down his jaw.

"And this is the second time I've seen you in the two weeks since then. You know you're going to do jail time. No more hiding in the juvenile courts. We're talking felonies here."

"Felony? They don't have shit on me. I wasn't doing anything." He absentmindedly prodded at one of his sharp teeth with his tongue. It had been knocked loose in the brawl, freely rocking back and forth in its socket.

"Damn straight they do. You gave the patrol sergeant one hell of a shiner. You're 18 now, no more leniency. You're going away for a couple months at least."

"Look what they did to me." The shark shrugged, motioning to all of the bruises of his own. "Called me scum. Told me I should jump in the ocean and never come back." There was a few moments of quiet as both of them figured out what to say next. "If there's nothing you can do why the hell have you brought me in here? I'm an adult now.." He added an extra sarcastic sounding emphasis on the last two words. "Just toss me to the judge, I'm not your problem anymore."

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't know." He pushed aside Ryan's already thick file. "Listen, I tried my best to give you a fair shot."

"Why? I'm just your average shithead." Ryan leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, trying to appear more relaxed than he actually was. In reality, his heart was pounding and quickly picking up pace.

The detective chuckled and casually tossed the file back in its cabinet. "You've made it pretty easy for someone to stop caring..." With that he stood, tossing open the sliding gate again. "You're headed to county tonight. Your court date is next week." He nodded beckoning for the shark to stand. "My best advice is to take the plea and see if you can get some leniency." The loud clang of the gate locking sounded extra hollow this time. For once in his life, if actually gave the shark a chill down his spine.

Another officer, this one dressed in a plain tan uniform, was waiting on the other side. He wore a department of corrections patch.

"Mr. Storm?" The gruff doberman asked, looking at a notepad before quickly stuffing it into his pocket.

"Yeah..." Ryan rolled his eyes. He wiggled his loose tooth again before licking his lips. He could still taste blood.

"Alright, we're headed down to lockup until your court date. Looks like you've seen some action tonight."

"Not my favorite kind." Ryan responded with a sarcastic tone. "Don't worry, the liquid courage has about worked its way out of my system."

"Uh-huh." The corrections officer nodded as he eyed the shark cautiously. "Right down this way then. I'll follow you."

Apparently they had some cells in the back of the police station that were meant for longer term occupation. Those who were seriously dangerous or just unlucky enough to not make bail. The orange lights of the booking area turned to a soft white fluorescent as they made their way down to the holding areas. The cement floor got smoother and a fair deal colder.

"You get one more phone call before you go in. Free of charge. After this the only one in contact with you will be your council. Anyone you want to call?"

"Nope." Ryan responded without hesitation. He reached up and scratched his nose, wincing as he touched a bruised area. He smirked as the jail cop backed off a few paces. He was obviously uncomfortable with the fact that Ryan had been handcuffed with his hands in front.

"Stop here." The corrections officer pointed to two yellow footprints painted on the floor. The shark obeyed, placing a foot in the corresponding spot. "When the cuffs come off you'll put your hands on the blue circles, understand?"

"Yeah."

He followed the directions as the cuffs were taken off. The officer simply motioned toward the open cell door that was open. Ryan stepped inside. It was nice- as nice as a jail cell could be. It would obviously be uncomfortable to lay down in but he had it good if that was his only gripe. The floor was made of smooth concrete polished to a light shine. Halfway up the wall it changed to cinderblock coated in a thick layer of paint. There was a bench along the far wall, and a stainless steel commode mounted on the wall next to it.

"Alright then. Any issues... Just yell." There was a twinge of sadism in the last bit of the officer's breath. He slid the cell door shut with a loud clang. The sound made him jump. It felt like he had been punched in the gut.

The week in lockup was uneventful. He managed to stay out of trouble for the most part, kept to himself. His court date went as well as it could. He had some smarmy court appointed lawyer assigned to him. It was actually a weasyl, which Ryan poked fun at endlessly until the guy quit. Appointed in his place was a very cold avian lady. Not bad looking either, if he wasn't gay he would have totally bombarded her with obnoxious advances. She obviously tried to use her looks to her advantage, growing endlessly frustrated when she realized they weren't going anywhere.

Both of his council decided it would be best to plead guilty and hope for some type of plea. Plead out the numerous felonies to one felony and a handful of misdemeanors. A good plan that most people would probably go for. The shark honestly didn't care. It was hard to describe. He could feel the immense pressure of jail time hanging over him, of spending what could be years locked in a cage. But he just didn't care. Maybe it was some form of depression. Or insanity.

Of course, the prosecution used his past against him. They were lenient, but not by a whole lot. He did not learn his lesson in the juvenile courts so he would have to pay the price in the adult legal system. He hated watching the prosecutor evangelize in front of the judge. The only ways he kept himself entertained during court hours was fantasizing about jumping out of his seat and ripping the smarmy bastards throat out. It was possible, they chained his hands but never thought to muzzle the creature with a face full of daggers.

16 months in a county prison. Not the worst outcome, but it certainly wasn't good by any measure of the imagination. Hey, at least he wouldn't have to worry about feeding himself or finding a warm place to sleep.