Assassin's Joy

Streets

The phone started ringing in the kitchen. A little boy sat in the dining room, drawing a new crayon drawing for his sick mother with his tongue sticking out. His father stood up from his comfortable chair in the living room and went to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Lou Brookstone?"

"Yes, can I help you?" worry built in Lou's chest. He feared he knew what this call was about, but he wasn't ready for that. He thought he had more time.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you—" here it comes. Brace yourself, Lou, "— but at 7:30 this morning, Lilly Brookstone passed away."

Lou shut his eyes, his breathing unsteady. "Was it painless?"

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Was her death painless?"

"I believe so. I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Brookstone."

Lou didn't say anything, hanging the phone up. He sank to his knees and tried not to cry. He didn't want to get Cole's attention. His little boy didn't deserve this just as much as his wife didn't. Those two were the most important people in his life, even more important than his quartet was.

"Dad?" Cole asked, his hands gripping the drawing he had made the day his mother died.

"What, son?" Lou's voice was harsh, harsher than Cole's ever heard it be.

"Can we go see her?"

"We can't."

"Why not? I wanna give her dis," Cole held up the drawing, his deep brown eyes full of tears.

"Because she's dead."

"I know, but I wanna give her dis."

"You can't give her anything."

"But—"

"I said no, Cole. Leave me alone, I have stuff to figure out."

Cole walked away, looking at his drawing. He knew he couldn't give it to his mother like he used to, but he had been asking to visit her grave so he could put it on the dirt. He couldn't go by himself, he was too little to do so.

Lou gripped Cole's small hand, dragging him outside. His eyes were full of anger and sadness. The anger was directed at his former quartet group and ex-landlord. He had gotten kicked out of the Royal Blacksmiths for his recent, soul-crushing depression, and wasn't given his last paycheck, so he missed rent. 

Now, he had no job, no house, and no wife. His life couldn't get any lower.

"Daddy? What's goin' on?" Cole's quiet voice came from below him. 

Lou didn't bother answering him. He took Cole to the park, telling him to go play. Cole happily ran to the monkey bars first, giggling and laughing for the first time in months.

When Cole looked over to wave at his father, Lou was no where in sight. Cole slid down the slide and walked over to the bench Lou usually sat at.

"Daddy?" Cole called out and got no response. He ran around the park, looking for his dad, but never found him.

Cole's stomach grumbled, but he ignored it. He was always hungry, but he rarely got to eat. He had gotten so good at ignoring his hunger to the point that he's almost died of starvation thrice.

Not that anyone could care if he was dead. 

The only people who would've was his mother and his father. His mother was dead and because of that, his father didn't love him anymore. 

His eyes landed on a dumpster behind Mr. Chen's Noodle House and his stomach growled louder. Cole snuck over to it, the night mostly hiding him, and opened the green bin. He had to stand on his tip toes to see inside.

He hoisted himself up and climbed inside. He grabbed a black bag and ripped it open. The smell of stale food hit his nose, causing him to hum happily. 

Cole sat in the dumpster and grabbed a handful of the noodles. He shoved the food into his mouth, his eyes widening. This was the best thing he's eaten since his father abandoned him two years back. 

Before he knew it, his stomach was full.

He yawned widely and curled up, his eyes fluttering shut. Cole could fall asleep almost anywhere, so a trash bin wasn't hard to sleep in. 

Cole was awakened when the lid opened and someone screamed. He sat up quickly, his black hair a mess and chunks of trash clung to it, his eyes darting around.

"Holy shit. You're alive," the person who had screamed said loudly. 

He looked at her, his head tilting. "What is shit?"

She stared back at him, her eyes widening more. "How old are you?"

Cole held up seven fingers. "This old!"

"You're seven?"

He nodded. "Mhm!"

"What are you doing in the trash?"

"Hungry."

She sighed and helped him out. "Follow me. Mr. Chen's going to want to see this." She looked at him, but found that he was already gone. "And I'm talking to no one, again. Great."

Cole crawled into his little nook by one of the many canals in Ninjago City. He sat down, picking the trash out of his hair.

The nook itself was big, but the entrance was not. It was well hidden and no one else knew about it, so it was perfect for Cole to live in. He didn't want to get caught by the police, scared they would put the little boy into jail for not having a proper home.

He turned on his lantern and picked up his pencil. Sure, he had to steal the items, but it was worth it to him.

Cole laid on his stomach, humming as he sketched. There was nothing more that Cole loved to do than drawing. He was getting pretty good at it.

Before the drawing was done, Cole pushed it aside and rolled to lay on his back. He stared up at the inky blackness above him. Fat tears filled up in his eyes and rolled down his face. They pooled up in his ears, but Cole didn't care.

He wanted to go back in time and go back to when his mom was alive, go back to when his dad wanted him, go back to having a home and a full plate of food three times away.

Cole walked through the park and jumped onto the monkey bars. He hoisted himself up and sat on the top of one. This was his favorite place to watch the sunrise or the sunset. 

The sky faded from blue to reds and oranges to a dark blue, Cole staying still and watching with a silent awe. He looked up to the sky once the sun was down and saw stars slowly pop into view. His eyes twinkled and his mouth formed an open smile.

"Ahem," a deep, unfamiliar voice came from below him.

Cole nodded down, his head tilted. "Hello?"

"What are you doing up here, young one?"

"I was watching the sun go down then looking at the pretty stars."

"Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any," Cole mumbled after a beat of silence. 

"Oh, that's awful. Would you like to come with me?"

"Go with you?" Cole hadn't been warned in years not to follow strangers. "Will you give me a home?"

"Of course, young one. Here, I'll help you down." The stranger held his arms up, catching Cole when he came down. Cole was small and malnourished, so he could easily carry Cole on his hip like one would do with a five year old.

Cole buried his face in the man's neck, yawning quietly.

"Sleep, young one. When you wake, you'll be safe and sound."