"Get away from me you sick freak!" Ricky gasped. He wasn't sure how long he had been running, but it was just long enough to make his legs feel like they were about to fall off. This sucked. This sucked so bad. What did he do to deserve this? Sure he hadn't been the best person in his short 19 years of life, but no one is perfect. It wasn't Ricky's fault he had a hard time keeping his temper in check – anyone would lose it once in a while if they were constantly surrounded by morons with the brain power of a wet napkin.

"Oh, Ricky!" A singsong voice called out from the shadows. "Why don't you just stop running now, you know you're not getting away."

"I can stop when you stop following me bastard," Ricky grumbled through clenched teeth, continuing to run even though every muscle in his body was telling him to stop. He knew very well he wouldn't be able to continue like this forever, and the man chasing him didn't seem like he was giving up anytime soon. He needed something he could use as a weapon – anything that might give him a chance of catching this guy off guard. Of course, the one time he needed the streets to be littered with garbage, they were spotless. Just his luck. Then he saw it – just out of the corner of his eye – his Hail Mary. His pièce de résistance. A beautiful rusty pipe. "Hell to the yeah-uh," Ricky sharply bolted to the left and snatched the pipe, smiling at the comfortable weight in his hand. The find was so good he almost shed a tear. "Uunts uh what uh hee hee –" He twirled the pipe, and did a little victory shuffle for good measure. This pervert wouldn't know what was coming to him.

"Oh, so this is where you're hiding." Ricky froze mid-dance. The voice too was close – much closer than it should've been. A dark shadow crept slowly behind him, the flickering yellow hue of the streetlight casting jagged shapes against the walls.

"You got here quicker than I thought," Ricky smirked, blindly swinging at the figure behind him. The pipe wooshed through the air, causing him to stumble as it missed its mark. "Well crap," he grumbled, scanning the darkness for his opponent. The man was nowhere to be seen, not that the dim lamplight was helping him at all.

"Where am I Ricky?" 

Ricky swung towards the voice, missing again. This fight was not going according to plan. Ideally, he would've knocked the larger man to the ground with his first blow and finished him with the second. The third, fourth, and fifth – just because he felt like it, and hell, maybe even a sixth. This freak deserved it for making Ricky run so much.

"Aww too slow."

"Show yourself, bastard." Ricky grit his teeth and backed up against the wall so he could at least keep this dude from sneaking up behind him. He had to hand it to the guy – he was good, supernatural even. 

"I'll give you one more chance to hit me Ricky, but after three strikes – you're out."

The man was not joking, Ricky could tell just by the tone of his voice. The man eluded confidence – something of which Ricky had begun to lack. "This sucks!" The brunette screamed, swinging the pipe for a third time, angry at himself for letting his attacker get to him.

"Batter batter swing batter batter out."

Pain. White-hot and searing. Ricky's head snapped back and his legs crumpled out from underneath him. No ordinary weapon could do this – he would know. He had built the damn thing himself.

"You… you bastard! How'd you get that?" Ricky clenched the pipe as if it was his life force – and it very well might've been. The first hit had knocked him to the ground, but he was still conscious at least. He wouldn't be as fortunate with a second hit. Thankfully, this bastard was kind enough to use it on the low setting. If it had been set to max there is no way Ricky would still be breathing.

"You shouldn't leave your toys unattended." The man remarked smugly, making Ricky's blood boil.

"It was in my apartment, in my room, in my closet. It is mine, so why did you take it?" The man shrugged, and ripped the pipe out of Ricky's weakened grasp, aiming the stolen weapon at his victim once more.

"Don't…" Ricky whimpered, using his remaining strength to attempt to crawl away from his attacker. He knew he wouldn't get more than maybe a few feet, but he couldn't just sit there and wait to get zapped again. 

"Do you know how pathetic you look right now? You can't even stand up and you're trying to escape? How foolish are you?"

"SHUT UP BITCH!" Ricky screamed and lunged at his taunter, surprising himself with the sudden burst of energy. His attack was short-lived – a prompt second zap from the gun sent him flying backward into the wall. In this weakened state he could only watch through blurred vision as his attacker quickly sauntered towards him.

"Stop," Ricky commanded in a squeaky whisper as the man squatted down to pick him up. It was gross. He wasn't particularly fond of being touched in the first place and definitely didn't want this gorilla touching his precious body. Still, despite every cell in his brain saying no, he was betrayed. His limp body welcomed the man's warm embrace and forced his heavy eyelids shut.

"Nighty night Ricky," the man murmured to the unconscious boy in his arms, petting his soft brown hair as he walked towards a car that had been conveniently parked nearby.

"Did everything go according to plan sir?" A redheaded woman stepped out of the driver's seat and walked around the side of the car to hold the car door open for the man standing in front of her.

"Yes, much better than expected."