This is chapter six of "The Magic of Chocolate", so please read 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 first (of course!! lol). Enjoy:

Six <^> A Criminal Reunion

Dante sat on his cot in the cell, doodling in the notebook. He drew whatever came to his mind. His first picture had been one of him nuking Gray-side. He didn’t know why he wanted to do that, but it just seemed like that was what had gotten him in so much trouble… after all, that was where he met Rock with the wrong smuggled goods. But after that he got a bit more imaginative—though no less violent—while drawing a monkey with a sub-auto pistol blowing some windows out of cars. That was at a Ferrari dealership. Dang, Dante thought after he drew that. I’m going to need to get me a new Ferrari when I get out of here, cause that cop either impounded mine or just kept it for himself. Thief.

Dante found out that day that he was really quite good at drawing. He had never found the time to do something as worthless as that before, but now… Crap, I’ve got all the time in the world here. I can do whatever the flip I want. He started a comic strip, called “Trademark of a Killer”, which was a mix between a horror and a comedy. He thought it was good, but he’d never lived anywhere long enough to get a newspaper, so he hadn’t read any comics.

He figured that they’d take away the journal in the morning, so he tore out the papers with the pictures on them and put them in his pocket, making sure there was no evidence of papers being torn out. Hopefully they wouldn’t count the pages. But even if they did, he’d only taken about five out, and there were a hundred in the book. They could always suspect that they’d counted wrong. And besides… what do they care about a few pieces of paper?

For some reason they hadn’t given him any new clothes, they’d just searched him. He decided that it was probably because they didn’t have any—it didn’t seem as though they got many criminals here. Dante smiled, because he liked that. That’s got to be one of the best titles of prisoners: the first in the jail, he thought.

The ceilings of the cell weren’t built well, and light came through cracks above Dante. It didn’t help the LED lighting that was already in the building, but it did help him tell night from day. There was a voice activated light switch outside the cell, so Dante could turn the light on and off when he wanted to. He played around with that for a while, and finally decided to leave the light off. Light came in through the ceiling, but slowly started to fade. Finally, it was gone. Night. Dante sat down in the cot, wondering if he’d be able to get to sleep.

He’d lied to the cop when he said that he thought it was all part of the experience to go to prison. He hated it. But obviously, he had just wanted to annoy the cops. Well that sure as frickin’ crap worked, Dante thought. Now I’m stuck! And it’s all because of you, you retard!

Dante laughed out loud as he thought I’m going mad! But tears rolled down both cheeks. Why’d I get myself into this? Dante thought, sobbing. Then he yelled aloud, “You could have gotten away with a freaking ticket!”

Dante heard a voice say, “Ssh!” and thought God, I really am going mad.

“Dante?” the voice spoke again.

“Who are you, the little angel on my shoulder? Like in those old cartoons? Or are you the demon?”

“Dante—I’m your brother.”

“What?” Okay, I’m definitely going mad. Did my mom get married again?

“You heard me, Dante, I’m your brother.”

“My half-brother?”

“Dante… you didn’t know that mom adopted you?”

Adopted me? There was only one person that would’ve adopted Dante…. “Turn on!” Dante said, turning towards the light switch. His brother was there. It was his brother the criminal; his brother the warrior; his brother… the best. The one who he’d called on the space phone. The one who had come to help him break out.

The door of the cell swung open. “Jeez, you’re good,” Dante said.

“Of course!”

“Where are the cops?”

His brother smiled. “I can’t tell you that, Dante. Ready to go?”

“Heck yeah, I’ve been ready to go since they threw me in this god-forsaken cell.”

“Sweet. Let’s rock.”

Dante got up from the cot and walked to the door. He slipped the journal into one of his pockets, just next to the pictures.

Dante’s brother had a car outside—a Ferrari that looked a lot like Dante’s old one. His brother passed him the keys, which felt beautiful in his hands. Dante slipped into the drivers seat, and his brother sat next to him.

Dante decided to restrain himself speed-wise, and barely managed to leave the compound silently.

He was out. Finally.

Thanks for reading, comments and (especially) edits appreciated.

Teh Wozzinator