Olympus Drive Book 2: Nothing to See Here

Chapter 21

Detective Stamos

"The fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing."

"Robbing a bank."

"Shh we don't tell him that."

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. The bane of my existence, the reason I will ultimately finally die, Thyme, is kneeling behind a dumpster across the street from Winfell National Bank, holding an assault rifle, wearing chain mail, and a plastic mask over his face. Next to him is the other bane of my existence, the four year old, Dara, also wearing chain mail and for no apparent reason holding a sledge hammer. She also is wearing a plastic Halloween mask.

"Get in the fucking car—"

"I'm sor—"

"IN the fucking car. Now."

"Like, I am holding a gun."

"In the car, right now," at this point I wish he would just shoot me and get this over with but no. That would be too kind. I'd wind up in the goddamn Underworld and help Hector reorganize his book shelf in order of color and release date for two hours, have a dinner consisting of mainly fruit, and help him do a 1000 piece all black jigsaw puzzle, before he says 'what are you doing here you're supposed to be watching them up there' and then boots me back so I can wake up in the morgue and give our autopsy examiner Melissa an actual panic attack which she ultimately will need therapy for. That sounds like a very specific example and that's because it is.

"Sorry Uncle Detective," Dara says, as she and Thyme get in the back of my car.

"That gun isn't even—put it on the floor, give me the bullets, Jesus Christ," I say, getting in the front seat. One day. One fucking day he's back. That's it. I will. I will check myself into rehab ahead of time. A really nice place with fucking horses where they sing a lot and you go to spas and they tell you what a fucking valuable human being you are and don't allow visitors at all ever.

"We were just having some fun," Thyme pouts, taking the mask off.

"That is not---don't speak to me I don't want to speak with you—either of you. You're with me until your garbage father can come claim you and promise me he'll control you," I growl.

"We think he's with his secret family we're not supposed to talk about," Dara says.

"Yeah he left at like two am last night, our grandpa is looking for him. Really, I have a date later."

"I will release you into your dates custody without any weapons—"

Whimpering, "But—"

"ANY weapons. And then and only then will I release you into his—or her—custody which will tell him—or her—everything he---or she—needs to know about you," I say all that while being very angry but very gender neutral and honestly I'm wasted on these people.

"She," Thyme says, not offended though.

"Fantastic. I told you not to talk to me or each other right? Don't talk."

They talk the whole damn time I'm bringing them back in the station and walking them to my desk where I make them sit on the floor. I do make Thyme take his weapons off first that takes a goddamn hour and half what does the boy think he needs that many knives for? Was he planning on stabbing two hundred and fifty seven people today? Actually probably yes, yes he was. They talk the entire fucking time. I thought it was just the original six but no, all of them have intense but pointless conversations through important life events. They also forget they're in trouble damn fast.