Through Hard Times. (Fantastic Foursome Fanfiction)

Swapped

Daryl’s POV (First Person)

“Congrats, man.” Sawyer said to me, clapping me hard on the back. I looked over to him and smiled, my emotions still a little overactive. They’re so beautiful. So perfect.

“You know you don’t have to do this.” Ant added in, making me give him a confused look.

“What?”

“Well!” The man named Sam said, fixing his black quiff, “Chances are this is going to alert some law enforcement, soo—”

“If you have a family to worry about,” Louis cut in, tying his thick dreads back before getting on a scooter, gaining a little bit of a lead, “This might not be the best idea.” He called back.

“No, what are you talking about? I have to do this, okay?” I said, looking at them like they were psychos. It’s my fault he’s in this mess in the first place. If I had made him stay home that day, none of this would’ve happened. I have to get him out of this.

“You’re funeral.” The man named Cyr said with a short laugh, straightening out his red leather jacket.

Apparently Sawyer used to live in LA and Sam and Louis lived with him when they moved over from England. Cyr was just supposed to visit for a couple weeks, but never really left, moving in with them as well.

They ended up traveling around and things, eventually leaving Sawyer roomateless.

He came to England to visit Sam and Louis, but then ended up meeting Ashlee. He moved to England later that year.

We went out into the hospital parking lot and went over to what I started calling the “Druggie Van”, it’s just a VW van, but it smelled so bad. They claimed that it smelled like that when they got it, but I didn’t exactly know if I should trust them or not, yet. I have to give them props for helping us, though.

Sawyer and Ashlee broke from our group and got into his Aston Martin, still blowing my mind at how nice that car is, and the rest of us got in the Druggie Van.

“We’re just going to follow them, then?” Louis checked, starting up the rust bucket.

“That’s the plan.” Sam said, taking the front passengers seat and rolling the window down. Cyr got in the back with us and we were off, following the sports car down a maze of streets.

“Speaking of plans,” Ant said, sitting forward, “What is the plan?”

“Well, I’m going to try and distract them at the front door, though Sawyer will be with me in case they get alerted.” Sam turned back in his seat to look at us, “Louis, Daryl, and Ant will climb a tree that leads right up to the attic window, where Victor’s room is. Louis has a propane blowlamp—”

“Blowtorch?!” Ant almost yelled, looking at Sam like he was insane, “Why do we need a blowtorch?”

“You said he has an ankle monitor, right?” Louis checked, looking back at us. We nodded, still not really getting it. “Using a blowlamp is the quickest way to get the thing off without slicing his foot off.” He looked back to the road and made a sharp left, following Sawyer and Ashlee.

“What about burning it off?” I asked, still in disbelief that they’d use a blowtorch on someone’s ankle, “Did you think of that?”

“Well, actually, we did.” Cyr cut in, grabbing a gallon of what looked like powder, “This is FireIce. Add water and it is completely fire-retardant up to 2,000 degrees.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m supposed to trust that.” Ant sighed, but didn’t really argue.

“How does it work?” I asked, staring at the jug in Cyr’s hands, a little skeptical, but at the same time intrigued.