Growing up poor, malnutrition and the final straw. The house that belonged to the frope family, mysteriously burnt down one summers night, not but a minor breeze that night. Zander luckily was with friends for the night as he disliked the house, it took his only two parents in its wake. But it made him stronger than ever before, here is the story. Visiting the vacant plot among the trees where his childhood home once stood atop a hill just off the lower end of Staton Island. 21 years old now he was, still blundered among his parents death he mournfully searched for answers only to find them.. Down an old railroad maintance road a ways lead to an abandoned train station a few acres away from where our house plot sat lonesome. Inside it was dark from the vines covering the windows, a light flickered in what looked to be an old storage car. Upon investigation I found the man named George, he spoke in a raspy voice but he came off clear “Down in these parts a fella like you stands out like a sore thumb.” He pointed out my designer suit and rhinehorn light blocking lenses, “I see what you mean,” Zane pulled off his hiking bag drawing out a more suitable outfit, with a quick glance he found a cozy 2nd car changing to his hiking gear and nearly folding his suit back inside alongside the lenses letting more light to his eyes but keeping his presence in the area discreet. “That is better kid, let’s go meet the boss the same guy that took out your family. But what will you do about this animosity Zane?” I will talk to him about taking the plot as my own and dwelling here. He cheerily obliged the information, “I see well he’s just up there in the old mine shaft, best of luck.” As he turned and proceeded back, while Zane continued. At the shaft he wiped the summer sweat off his face and proceeded in through a metal door to a lit room full of smoking people on red retro diner stools and benches, the boss sat on a plushy Ottoman in the back. Advancing up to the man with a calm demeanor two body guards stepped between us before he could tell them to let me by. “You come in here looking important, who are you son?.. Wait your that Frope kid aren’t you? Your paps was my right hand man till he burnt to a crisp. Oh I have something for you Zane,” Gesturing for his fetcher to fetch the documents “this is the account of his death confirmed by three loyal guards: Watching over the Frope residence one lightly gusty night we saw a smaller build guy in all black even the heavily muffled machine he was driving, we only saw the glimmer of the paint as he sped off. Putting our attention back in the house we saw smoke so we proceeded to grab the fire extinguisher from the shed upon turning around to stonch out the flame we noticed it was already a bon fire.” The letter sent mixed signals down Zanes spine, but he kept them down.” May I restore said residence and dwell here Macko? “Yes you have my permission being his blood son it is rightfully your spot, best of luck now go I must return to this plan.”
With permission Zane took the plans back to his office in New York where he built a brand new layout expanding the property four acres for an advanced concrete-steel wall surrounding the two story modern art deco home. While he was there he had his interior design specialist deck out his crib. It took a specialized team 365 days to complete that massive fortified home, coming down the driveway he was in awe of the newfound jem among the decrepit landscape, opening the gate with his clicker he proceeded into the main grounds as it closed behind him. The man grounds had four acres between the house and the walls, the walls themselves stood 24ft high. Inside was an open layout bottom floor, containing a kitchen, dining room, a wall separated to living room off the latter room. And a closed half bath. Upstairs was a classic layout of rooms 3 in total, his bedroom and master suite bathroom and walk in. Down the hall was the third and final spare room containing a bathroom of its own and a modest closet. A man by the name of Garret resided a few acres next door felt again enchroched apon, the same man that rode off scuff free that night also the same man Zane ran into at the rail station surveying the Gados gang. He has a garage chucked full of artillery, bikes, atvs the lot. Without much fire planning he stealthed in believing he had the upper hand against Zane, using his association with Macko the Gados leader as merit. Or his four decade stint in the army messed up his head a little, would explain his retirement. Using his suction cup rig he scaled the wall quietly, surveying the yard and house for movement as he made his way down the other side. Inside the fortified yard he got the tingle something wasn’t right as he heard a shotgun cock, unloading a buckshot round at 10ft distance spraying the intruder as he dropped. Calling 911 for assistance, immediately the sherrif was at the gate questioning why the man had been shot. To which I stated, the man was trespassing on my land seeking to do harm to me, becuase you have relations with macko their leader. “So an ex con and a gang banger, today is better than I thought as he crammed Zane into the backseat with the intruder,” as the sherrif climbed back into his driver’s seat driving back to the station on the upper side of town where few but some live.
For the first time since he was a boy Zane was at the wrong end of the bars, knowing they couldn’t charge him with anything concrete he passed the time until his lawyer got him out scuff free. “Sorry it took me so long Zane I got caught up in a money laundering bust back in New York, we could really use you back in the force you were an excellent captain,” The stalky man in a suit practically begged his once now retired boss. If I were to return to New York and the crime that it beholds it would be a pleasure, I’ll get ahold of the chief querying if my request to transfer was approved. Days later Zane was again running the station, it was quarterly performance reviews again in a trend with last year’s rise and lowerage of crime rates. Promotion was assured his new office would be FBI for his advanced educational background, permitting more vacation days he enjoyed the memories of the Frope house, especially now he tracked down the man who no longer could escape justice setanced life for the death of the two parents and the trespassing.
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Twister Fiction 