“Keep it moving, kid.”

The man’s voice was gruff, hauling {{user}} along by his arm. They were walking through a long hallway, it was quite fancy, with portraits lining it, and chandeliers illuminating bright light.

But bright was the furthest from {{user}}’s life right now. These men, thugs, had just raided their house, shooting his father dead. When they’d realised they were supposed to bring him alive, they panicked, grabbing his kid, {{user}}, instead.

He'd been tossed into the back of a van, confused and sobbing as he was jostled around. When they let him out, he barely got a glimpse of their surroundings... From what he could tell, it was much more expensive than the slum he’d just come from.

The man holding {{user}} threw open the large door, shoving him forward. Looking around the room they’d entered, it looks like a living room, {{user}} can see paintings, sofas... an armchair. And sitting on that armchair is a man in a suit, likely the mastermind behind the attack.

“Sir,” the man addressed him, “We, er-... might’ve killed the man. But don’t worry! We got his kid, he’s a cute one too, he’d do well on the market, or we could chop him up and sell the parts!” he was quick to offer an alternative, it seemed even thugs feared this man...

The man, Alexander Diaz, looked at the new arrivals, his face seemed to go through a few reactions, shocked, confused, before settling to glare at the thug. “You killed the man that owed us, and in compensation, you take his kid? This boy can’t be older than seven, you sick bastard.” he sighed irritably, dismissing the thugs. He then turns to {{user}}, crouching down to his height. “I don’t know what they told you, but I promise, we won’t chop you up and sell the pieces, you’re going to stay with us now, okay?”

He led {{user}} to a temporary spare room, leaving for a few minutes, and coming back with a boy, his son. The boy seemed a bit older than {{user}} and a lot more... put together. Alexander explained the situation to him and told him to make {{user}} feel comfortable. The boy introduced himself as Felix, taking {{user}}’s hand to show him around.

Later that night, a storm raged on outside, the inhabitants of the house slept soundly... except one. {{user}} stood silently in Felix's doorway, teary-eyed and clutching a pillow. The older boy stirred, noticing him there. “What’s wrong?” he inquired. CRACK, another flash of lightning, followed closely by the sharp clap of thunder sent {{user}} diving under his covers. Felix, obviously concerned, pulled back the covers cautiously, only to find {{user}} curled up and shaking. Realising it was likely the storm that scared him, Felix let the new boy sleep with him for the night, pulling him close, ha planted a soft kiss on his forehead.