Little Fighter (The Lost Boys)

Chapter Twelve: Wind Of Change

While the Frogs spent the remaining afternoon poking around run-down and abandoned warehouses for clues Ian and Tory were having no luck in make some sort of headway downtown. 

Since morning they had been running all over town, calling in favours, asking people who knew people who should know people who knew about the mysterious band of bikers that everyone seemed to keep their distance from. 

Everyone that is except another group of street teens who prowled the Boardwalk at night.

It was Tory who thought up the idea to talk to the Surf Nazis. Of course Ian had nixed the idea right away. The bikers they were trying to find were bad enough. There was no need to go making the situation worse by getting the Nazis involved. By all accounts those guys were just as bad as the bikers. 

But like always Tory did not see it that way. To Tory it was a vital opportunity while to Ian it was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Once again Ian's intuition proved correct. The Nazis were less than helpful but the two did walk, more like run away, with something that just raised more questions instead of answers.

"What the hell does Peter Pan have anything to do with these guys?" 

Tory fumed as she sucked hard on her straw and drained most of her Mountain Dew in one huge swallow.

Ian shook his head as he poked at the dwindling plate of fries that he had barely touched. The Frogs had been right about this being one giant wild goose chase. What a waste of a day.

"I don't know Tory. Maybe Greg didn't know what he was talking about."

 Tory grabbed a handful of fries, half of which she ate, before she threw the rest at a bunch of obnoxious seven year old kids at the wooden picnic table beside theirs.

"That I highly doubt. Greg said something about the bikers being no better than lost boys without a clue. That has to mean something. It just does. The only lost boys that I know of are from Peter Pan. Yeah I watched Disney movies when I was a kid. Sue me." 

Tory muttered as she glared at the kids who stuck their tongues out at her and rolled their eyes. 

Annoying little snots.

"Tory I honestly don't think that's what he meant." Ian said as he pushed the plate of fries out of her reach before she could toss the entire thing at the kids.

"Well what did he mean then?" Tory challenged, right after she bared her teeth stuck at the twerps.

"How should I know? Like I can read minds. He was probably too stoned to understand what he was saying. And from what we did find out today, these guys we're looking for are seriously bad news. Something tells me they wouldn't want to have any connection with a story about some kid in green tights and a bunch of orphans who live in a tree." 

Ian groaned and rested his head on his arms so that he could ignore the jeers from the brats and Tory's foul rebuttal that shut them up for the time being. He closed his eyes for a moment and frowned as he replayed the conversation they had had with Greg, the leader of the Surf Nazis, in his mind. 

Most of the answers they had received were "fuck off", "go fuck yourselves", "don't stick your nose where it don't belong" and a number of other highly intelligent answers. The only response that they had gotten that was not some sort of threat was the Peter Pan bit and even that was vague.

"Well maybe they live in a tree." Tory leaned across the picnic table and snatched up the plate of fries. "It would explain a lot and make finding these assholes a lot easier. Vampires in a tree, now that's original. Could you imagine? A bunch of blood-sucking bats hanging from tree branches during the day?"