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Kaylee turned and plodded dejectedly back to the crime scene. She was so close, but there was nothing there. She wondered, vaguely, what kind of luck Alvin was having.

_____________________

Alvin stood shoulder-to-bicep with Georgie and shoulder-to-elbow with Dim. They’d taken him down a series of winding alleys, and it didn’t take long to lose a sense of direction. Alvin suspected that they’d doubled back on their own route just to confuse him.
But right now, that didn’t matter.

In the rough concrete room was Alex. He was surprisingly young, close to Alvin’s own age of eighteen than the twenty-five that Alvin had guessed. He was also dressed in the all-white clothes and bowler hat, but he had some sort of makeup on his right eye.
There was a silence between the three of them.
“Droog? Georgie? Who’s this Nadmenny little malchick, then?” Alex asked, biting on his nails. He didn’t really look at them, but stared at the space above Alvin’s head. Alvin fought the urge to jump and make eye contact.
“Little bleeder wanted to chumble, O brother,” Georgie responded, shoving Alvin forwards. Alvin stumbled, throwing a black look over his shoulder at Georgie. Then turning his attention to Alex, he informed him of what he was after.
“I’m here on behalf of the Rotterfeldt police force. Did you hear anything about a murdered person?”

The three other boys started laughing.
“Oh, Lord! Listen, little millicent, somebody all on his oddy-knocky shan’t be asking questy-estions of yours truly. Get it?” Alex asked, reaching over to knot his fingers in Alvin’s hair. Alvin let out a small squeak, and started pulling Alex’s wrist.
“Lock me in Staja, won’t you, little millicent?” he snarled, throwing Alvin to the concrete. Alvin managed to barely understand. State Jail again? Why was that familiar?

Alex’s boot came down in the middle of Alvin’s back, then burst into Alvin’s ribs. Alvin curled up in pain, mind racing. Don’t try to think of why they’re beating you up, just think, why is this familiar? Why is this so bothersome? Horsefeathers!

Alvin tried to raise himself onto his knees, and was pushed over by Alex.
“Get it yet? In your pudgy grasp? Ask here again, we’ll vred you something real horrorshow, got it?” was hissed in his ear. It was closely followed by a chuckle.
“But yet it’s so Zammechat that you managed to come all by your oddy knocky. So I’ll rewards you, yes I will. Hold still.”

The memory crashed into Alvin’s consciousness.
“Government experiment!” Alvin spat, rolling onto his back. Alex blinked. His hands were resting on the snaps of his jeans. Georgie and Dim’s laughter was beginning to die down. Alvin rattled on, oblivious.

“I remember you. Um, some sort of government doohickey. The Ludovico technique ring a few bells in that empty head of yours?” he asked.
Alex snarled. “Shut it, kid.”
“I read the Prophet. Everybody knows about your government work, don’t they, Mr. DeLarge?” Alvin asked, raising himself up on his elbows.
Alex said nothing. Winding a foot slowly back, Alex kicked Alvin in the face as hard as he could.
Alvin felt his jaw rattle together and there was a bright pop of pain from the middle of his face.
“Ow.”

Alex leaned over him, grabbing the younger boy by the collar of his sweater. Raising him off the floor, Alex snarled low in his throat.
“Listen you malenky Radotsy-killer, don’t kvetch about subjects beyond what your Modzg can pony up to. Right then?” Alex asked, very softly.
Alvin could feel his nose bleeding, but there was only one thing that seemed important at that time.
“Did you gun down the fellow on Drury?”

Alex’s eyes seemed glassy and glazed over. “Chepooka, kid. Didn’t murder no soul.”
“Was that so hard?” Alvin asked, voice distorting through his broken nose.
Alex laughed, and raised his hands to wrap around Alvin’s throat. He squeezed until Alvin’s eyes rolled back and the younger boy spasmed, but let him go. Alvin drew in a deep breathe.

“Scat, before rabbit appeals to yours truly,” Alex recommended. Rubbing at his neck, Alvin stumbled up and wandered out the door between Dim and Georgie.
“Bum’s rush to ya, ungrateful scum,” Alvin muttered.

_________________________________

Kaylee had begun to pace up and down the steps outside the building. Where on earth was Alvin? Was he dead? Drunk? Or worse, had his medication worn off?

Spotting a familiar red sweater, Kaylee leapt off the steps and raced down the street. Up closer, Alvin was a wreck. A purple ring was welling up around his eye, and he walked with a hunch which just screamed cracked rib. There was a blue string of markings on his neck, and his nose was definitely broken, and dripping blood onto his shirt.

“I’m going for the Capone sort of look. Tell me, sis, is it working?” he asked, smiling. His lip was beginning to swell, too.
“What on earth happened?” demanded Kaylee.
“Enh. Met the shadier side of Scab’s End. Don’t worry, nothing an aspirin or twelve won’t fix,” Alvin responded, limping up the steps.
“Is your rib broken?” Kaylee asked.
“Feels that way."
“Or is it just fractured?” Kaylee pressed, eyes widening.
“Easy there, pony. Let’s let the doctors do the doctor stuff.”
Ducking under Alvin’s arm, Kaylee let her twin lean on her as she helped him up the steps.