This is the (official) remake of my stor The Djinn's Puzzle. This is just the prologue, so if people like this enough I'll put the first actual chapter up. ~ |: zuzu

A boy sat inside an almost bare room. His clothes were in tatters, and he was filthy. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and you could see a long, thin, pale scar running diagonally accross his stomach. The building he was in was filled with heat, filtering in through the broken windows. The room was bare, except for a hard bed, a tiolet, and a sink. He stood up shakily, stumbling over to the only window, he stuck his head out. There was no breeze today, and even the sea below was almost still. From what he could see, Stonetown was still, too, most likely indoors, trying to escape the heat wave. He panted, wheezing, then coughed, then let go of the sill and slumped to the floor. He had used up all his energy. He hadn't eaten in days. The door banged open, and a man walked in. He was wearing a short-sleeved button up shirt, khaki shorts, and brown flip-flops. The spicy scent of his colonge wafted in with him.

"Get, up boy!" He snapped, snapping his fingers at the person on the floor. The boy coughed again, then pulled himself up. Impatient, the man stalked over and grabbed his shoulder, right on the tattoo that read J.A.S. in big letters. He shoved him roughly out of the room, down several flights of stairs, then outside. The scorching concrete burned the boy's bare feet as he was pushed along. They reached a grassy area, then went behind some boulders. The man kicked the largest one, and the front slid up. They walked quickly through a series of twisting cooridoors, going through several doors. Eventually they arrived in a room with a metal table and chair. On the table lay some lined paper, a pencil, some markers, a pen, and a black Sharpie.

"Ohhh, no! Do I gotta write another letter?" the teenager moaned, looking at the man.

"Yes! Now sit down! This one's to- Argh!" the man yelped as the kid grabbed the Sharpie, jumped on top of him, and began to write the word "Sharpie" on his forehead. He eventually pushed him off. He stood up, smoothing out his clothes and dusting them off. "Sit down!" he pointed at the chair.

"Okay, okay!" the younger of the two laughed, sliding into the metal chair. He picked up the pencil. "Who's this one to?"

"I WAS telling you, but you so RUDELY interrupted me-"

The boy was looking at him. "Hey, a Sharpie for Sharpe! I think I'll call you Sharpie from now on!" he laughed, leaning over and pressing his sweaty forehead against the cool metal, still laughing almost hysterically.

The man smirked wickedly. "Please shush, Jasmine."

The boy sitting down stopped laughing. "Don't call me that!"

"I'll stop calling you Jasmine when you stop calling me Sharpie. Do we have a deal, duckie?"

"Sure." the boy rolled his eyes. "What do I gotta write?"

Sharpe began. "Write as follows: Dear Kate..."