Author's Note: Brandy Maxwell belongs to me. Foxy Maxwell belongs to me. Cass Maxwell belongs to me. Unfortunately, the cutest bish of 'em all, Duo Maxwell, does not. *sniff*

It's A Hard Knock Life Part 2
A Familiar Voice

The braided boy walked along the dark L2 backstreets, staring off into the coming night. Thinking. Wondering. Tempted. He could just forget all about the war, melt back into the backdrop of the urban jungle. He thought of something Foxy had said to him one time.

// Stay away from the shadows, Duo. They'll suck the life outta you... //

L2 was a place full of shadows, strange shades of darkness and rays of light in the most unexpected places. Deep deathly stillness and wild, almost violent energy. Brutal yet reverent.

Suddenly, as he was daydreaming, Duo was slammed into a brick wall.

/ Fuck... /

A voice--more high-pitched and beautiful than Duo would have expected from an L2 gang thug, a young voice uncorrupted by cigarettes, a voice that reminded him of the choir at Maxwell Cathedral--snarled: "Must be a tourist, huh? If you were smart, you wouldn't be walkin' L2 streets after dark, man, not without a posse. Kinda feel sorry for ya. Stupid dago."

There was a soft click, and the shimmery gleam of a switchblade under Duo's chin. "Okay, all your money, pal. Usual fare for passing through this sort of area."

/ Man, that voice is familiar. /

Duo laughed. "Do I look like a bank, kiddo? Even if I was, you wouldn't have any fuckin' credit."

The boy tough actually laughed back. "Man, paisan, you are one cocky sonuvabitch. Foxy would be proud. You must not be a tourist after all."

/ Foxy?!? /

Duo gasped. "Foxy Maxwell? You knew Foxy Maxwell? I thought Foxy was dead."

The kid was instantly suspicious. "How the fuck do you know him?"

And finally, Duo placed the voice. "Brandy? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph the carpenter from Brooklyn Heights, is that you?"

The kid jerked and stepped back. "How do you know my name?!? How do you know my fuckin' name?"

Duo walked under a streetlight, letting the younger boy see his face. "Pyro, it's me, Duo. It's Duo Maxwell, man. And you're Toni 'Brandy' Andolini. We used to pal around together, don't ya remember?"

The color drained out of the boy's face, and his jaw dropped. "Duo? Duo?! But... b-but you're dead! You died! Everybody said so. Solo was broke up about it forever after it happened!"

/ Solo...? /

"Everybody was wrong," Duo replied quietly. "Since when have you began mugging people, Pyro? And Solo's alive? He can't be. He was dead! Since when in the fuck did this happen? Tell me, Brandy!"

Brandy's face set into a grim scowl. "After--well, you're not dead--after the sisters and Father Maxwell and all those lil' kids got killed, it got a lot harder to bring money in. We lost the cathedral, but we found a warehouse and reset up the Maxwell shelter by ourselves. No adults involved, man. We ain't exactly livin' in the land of opportunity, so we've just kept doin' what we do best."

"But what about Solo?"

Brandy gave him a strange look. "Eh? What about Solo?"

Duo grabbed the younger boy's shoulders, shaking him. "What happened to him? He was dead after the church went down, wasn't he?!"

"Dammit, Duo, lay off!" Brandy said, pulling away. "Jesus, chill! He's fine. Solo got hurt real bad, shot a couple of times during the massacre, but he patched up okay. Kinda fucked him up when he found out you were dead, though."

Duo's jaw gaped. "But look at me! I'm not dead!"

Brandy shrugged. "Well, we thought you were. Had a pretty little funeral, coffin and everything. Your grave is over where the old church used to be. Lots of graves over there," he added sadly. Duo was completely thunderstruck.

"Well, what did ya put in it?!?!"

"Well, everybody put in somethin' different. Solo put in your hair ties, everyone of 'em he could find. He even searched the rubble of the cathedral for them. I put in as many Snickers bars as I could steal, 'cause I knew how you liked 'em so much. Foxy put his gun in, have no idea why, but... ya know Foxy. Hard for him to show his emotions. And lil' Cass put in a buncha fresh flowers."

Brandy smiled. "Man, how everybody is gonna be surprised when they see you... but..." His chilling gray eyes seemed to darken, and the younger boy turned away from him.

"But what?" Duo asked.

When Brandy looked back up, it was as if he was looking at Duo for the very first time.

"You're dead, man. You may be alive here, but back there, you're buried."

~*~

The two of them approached the abandoned warehouse, and Duo started to knock.

"No!" Brandy hissed.

Duo raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You think it'd be that simple? OZ woulda shut us down shut us down years ago if everybody just went through the front door."

Brandy went over to the side of the building, pushing aside a knee-high clump of weeds to reveal a narrow broken window at the base. He whistled, low and soft, through the window. "Hey hey guys, c'mon, let me in, I gotta surprise. Anybody home right now?"

A few moments of silence, then a young, feminine voice issued from the dark, broken window. "Brandy-boy, is that you?"

"Nah, it's a platoon of Ozzies, ya dummy. And don't call me Brandy-boy. Foxy's only allowed to do that because he's bigger than me and I can't beat him up. Where is everybody?"

"Solo is out pickin' pockets with Emily and Willow, Leais and Maxy are playing decoy. Maria and Sylvain are working the corner by the clubs, Mao has a heist down on Topside, some big-time thing. I don't know where Xam is. He and Foxy had a fight, they both went outta here pretty mad. They're probably club-hopping, I dunno."

"Foxy left you by yourself, Cass?"

"... I'm not a kid anymore, Pyro. Do you want in or not?"

"Well, I'm not whistling for my health here, kiddo."

"Fine. Go around back."

Cass, only five when Duo had been "killed", wasn't really all that affected by his return. She cocked her head as they walked in. "Duo? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Cassie." Duo smiled at her.

"You're late." She reached up and took his chin, shaking it gently. "Foxy's gonna whale the tar outta you."

Duo's smile widened a little at the old threat. There was no threat greater in the Maxwell gang than to "get the tar whaled out of you" by Foxy Maxwell. Because he usually carried out the threat.

"Is that right?" he asked.

"Yup. He whupped you when you came in late before, and he can still do it. You're late, aren't you?"

"Only by five years."

The simple welcome seemed enough to be enough for the both of them.

TBC...

 

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