The only characters that I will consider mine are "Trippin'" aka "the high guy", "the guard", and the guy yelling at "the guard" aka his boss. Other than that, none of the characters are mine. I hope you enjoy this one.
"First Encounters" (Part 1)
This story begins in the big city of Chicago. The apartment a young, nineteen year old, man calls home. He stood 5'7 and a half, and was wearing a yellow muscle shirt, khaki colored cargos, and yellow-laced white sneakers. His Strawberry blonde hair was brushed back. And, the young man had very distinctive features, such as his ferret like face. Do not get the description wrong, he was not ugly, if that was what you were thinking. The chin was a bit square, a nose that stuck out from his face, high cheekbones, and brown eyes. He might have truly looked like a ferret if his eyes were beady. It is the beginning of spring, but the atmosphere of the city is still the one of death that still existed in nature. He could have been dead at the time and moment, and still remembers the awful incident that could have caused it. The near death experience, that occurred when he crashed and burned, during a car race in New York. Somehow he survived. And, recovered quite quickly, too. Was it because of luck? His youth? Or better yet, the strange ability he gained because of the accident. The ability to wield flames with his own hand. Or…was this all possible all because of a "Groove-Tron Device" which he happened to obtain one day. Who could be this miraculous boy? Well, with the probability of being a pyromaniac, he's called 'Fire Boy'. But, to all of you, his name is "Heat". Where is he going tonight? To his favorite dance spot, where anything can happen. Just like the tracks he races on. I guess he believes that every chance you dare to take is a good one to do. So, why not?
This is it, 'the club'. Heat, as usual, is admiring one of his many tags on the dumpy walls. He was proud that they were still there and did not receive any surprise 'touch-ups' while he was bed-ridden. Besides that, it is around that time of night when everyone shows off their own dancing skills. Or, with someone as talented as Heat, time to show why he is claimed the King of this place.
A high guy walks up to him, "Yo, man…."
"Please, tell me that I'm trippin'."
"What are you seeing, now?"
"There's this girl, right? And, every time I see her dance, all of the graffiti moves."
Heat smiles, "Heh! You're trippin', man."
"But, it seems so real. She's like a new comer, or something. I think I never saw her before."
"You never seen half of the people who come through here because you're always on something. When are you going to quit?"
Heat chuckles as he walks away, "Okay." He says that EVERY week. Heat climbs the stairs to get an aerial view of the action. Up here is where the 'elite' get to enjoy themselves and secretly scout out competition.
"Why did you let HER in here without letting any of us know? You know no one is allowed to be in here without the proper checks," a guy yells at the guard.
"But, she was cute, boss," the guard explained.
"Well, get her OUT of here! If the club moves anymore, then the whole place might come down."
Heat walks over, "What are you talking about?"
"How late did YOU get here? There's this new girl making the whole place move."
"Don't tell me that YOU'RE trippin', too."
"Look," walks Heat to one of the walls and puts Heat's hand to it, "Do you FEEL that?"
"It's probably just the music vibrating the wall. It's an old structure, you know," takes hand off the wall.
"No! Wait a little longer," puts Heat's hand back on the wall. Heat can feel it move as randomly as a wave and he jumps back.
"I think she's a witch. Where is she now?" The guard shrugs. Heat feels something inside, …like a pulse. A racing heart beat? It is not coming from the wall, but more toward the center of the building.
"What is this feeling," Heat thinks to himself. The closer he gets to it, the faster it felt. The nearer it was, the louder it also got. It was a rush of adrenaline like the one he got from racing his car. A feeling that he yearned to feel again. 'Like a moth to a flame'. But, was he the moth in this situation? He looks down onto the dance floor. "I think she's…there?"
The guard walks over, "Yep! *He-he-he!* That's her all right."
"Get back to work," his boss tells him. Heat walks back down and starts for the stage. The feeling keeps increasing inside. It is someone around that stage.
"But, who is it? Who is it," Heat asked himself, "What gives off something like this?" He looks down for a moment and remembers his Groove-Tron Device. It is that thing which is generating the feeling.
"Maybe I should show some of my stuff a little earlier, tonight. And, who not better to start on, than the new girl," he thought. He walks up to the side of the stage, "I'm going up next."
"So, early," a girl in pigtails asks. She was wearing a pair beige corduroys, a yellow baby tee (with matching bookbag), and white sneakers. "I'm just warning you. She's beaten out all the best that went up there. She's making our group look like a fool in front of everyone."
"She's one girl. Like you, Shorty, except she's a woman."
"I'm almost there you know. I'm a PRETEEN!"
"Still can't wait to get a 'teen' behind your age, huh, Cry Baby?" Shorty frowns at him. "Ou! Forgot. Sorry, 'bout that. Try not to do it, again."
"You're lucky that you're the only one that can get away with calling me that!"
"But, come on, Shorty. She can't be that tough."
"She's like you, Heat. She whipped them none stop for several hours and no sign of fatigue. I'm too scared to even challenge her, unless you were here. But, even though I know you'll back me up, I'm not even sure if YOU can beat her." Heat just looks at Shorty and decides to give the new girl a closer look. As he notices that the new girl was trying to make her escape, Heat runs and jumps on stage, in front of her.
Puts his hand out, "Where do you think you're going?"
"Can't a girl get a drink?"
"Not unless I say so," Heat smiling and crosses his arms. The feeling was definitely coming from her. The rush was stronger than from any other moment of his life.
"Well, I say, I can."
Heat laughs, "You don't know who I am, do you?"
"Don't care. Out of my way."
"Un-unh! You see, …I am the King of this place and you intruded into my palace. I'll let you have your drink if you tell me your name. And, you can avoid getting kicked out if you accept my challenge."
"The name's Frida and you're on. Only because you didn't make a pass at me, yet, your highness. Or will you after you lose?"
"I don't lose."
"That's not what I heard. Or did that little accident make you forget that, too, like knowing how to properly introduce yourself."
"You can call me 'the King'."
"I might want to call you 'Burn Out'."
Heat's smile disappears and he gets tossed a bottle of water, "Here you are." Tosses the bottle to her. "The KING'S name is Heat," he says with what will be a familiar cocky smirk.
Frida laughs, "That's a name?" She drinks some water, then takes a good look at him. He does the same. They are about the same height. Frida has her bare feet bandaged, green and brown colored fatigue pants (which are low riders with flared legs), many colored bangles on her wrists, a tattoo on her left arm, a pumpkin colored tank top (not to mention that the shirt to be above her naval), and the white bandana to keep her long brownish black hair in back. It was hard to tell whether she was black or Hawaiian, but it might have not mattered because she still had lovely big brown eyes.
After Frida finished, she smiled, "So, you have one, too."
"Wha-…." Heat finally notices that the feeling he was having might have been from his Groove-Tron Device reacting to hers.
"Why so glum? I can understand you backing out of this one. You know it IS too soon for someone to be in that type of accident to be active so soon. Don't know why you didn't faint coming over here. I mean it being so hot and-."
"Hey! Don't insult the atmosphere. After all, I made this place what it is today and I think I'm not going easy on you, tonight." Heat turns around, "Put on 'TOO BAD' for this one!"
"It should be me thinking about being easy on you."
"Yeah." The music starts and the two start dancing. Heat's style of dance is, consisting a 1970s type of break dancing, east side hip-hop, while Frida is, the more angelic ballet mixed with African dance, west coast hip-hop. But, in the middle of their heated dance battle, the electricity goes out. Murmurs and screams come from the crowd as after it happens. Floodlights come on in the front of the building.
"Awe, man! The cops are trying to bust us, again," Shorty exclaims.
"Strike, we know that you're in there! Come out with your hands up," a cop says from a bullhorn.
"I'm not going back," a man yells. "You're NEVER getting me back in there!"
"Come out, now!"
"Alright! I'm coming out!" A black man, wearing a black bulletproof vest and black pants with three white racing stripes, steps out with his hands in the air. He is also wearing sunglasses and his black hair in a high ponytail.
"Please, take out your weapons and place your weapons on the ground."
Strike quickly draws his guns, "Never!" And, he starts spreading fire everywhere.
"Party's canceled," the high guy yells as everyone starts to run off.
"Go, Shorty! Take them with you," Heat yells.
"Come on, Frida," Shorty beckons.
Frida starts to follow, "What does he think HE'S doing?"
"We need a distraction." Heat makes a big fireball in his hand and throws it, creating a firewall.
"Ha, ha! Thanks, sucker," Strike yells, then jumps the column of flame, "Ah!" Now, he is charging at Heat. Heat runs off and dives into a crawl space. Strike starts to follow and is pulling Heat out by his pants.
"Get off of me!"
"You're not leaving without me!"
"Yes, he is," Strike hears Shorty shout and then her mouse jumps into his face. Strike yells and after overcoming his shock, sees that the grate of the crawl space is closed.
Trying to open grate, but it will not budge, "I'll get you, little girl! And, you're little rat too!"
"I'm not a little girl and he's not a rat! He's a mouse and I'm a PRETEEN!" They hear Strike growl at them as they get away.