Disclaimer: Do not own Dance Central 2 or any of its characters.
Song: Audio Push "Teach Me How to Jerk"

[h1] Security Breach [/h1]


He has been through this many times before.

Rounding the corner, the tougher, larger bullies from school. And he, the new freshmen, is walking straight towards them.

Like throwing fresh meat in front of hyenas.

The fourteen-year-old keeps his head down, his headphones on full blast, and tries his hardest to give off the air of minding of his own business. But with no such luck.

"Hey… lookit. A new kid," drawls the leader, a squat, stocky teen with un-matching baggy T-shirt and dirty jeans. "Let's see if he wants to play with us."

"Haha! Yeah! Let's play with him Mike!" Parrot his equally fashion-challenged sidekicks.

His mind freezes. Like a deer caught in headlights, the short Asian watches with sinking dread as the rowdy gang surrounds him. A rough hand shoves him down. He winces as his rear end makes contact with the hard cement. All of a sudden, his glasses are snatched from his face, and the world turns to blurry shapes.

He grits his teeth. Asking for the glasses back usually never works. And due to his small size, he cannot fight any of them off. His mind goes on overdrive, stimulating a couple of scenarios in his head before arriving at the same conclusion: he's utterly and completely screwed.

"Oh nice headphones… can I borrow 'em?" Mike laughs along with his cronies as he pulls on its cord. Glitch attempts a grab at it, but fails. Which spawns another round of laughter from the guys surrounding him.

"Check his backpack. Bet you there-oomph!"

Mike whips around. A girl, wearing a red and white warm-up suit stands over his now unconscious friend. She cracks her wrapped knuckles and says, "Who's next?"

"Well well… who do we have here? Does girlie wanna play too?" snarls the leader. He motions one of his cronies to go grab her.

She sidesteps the thug at the last minute. Grabs his arm, wrenches it behind his back, and uses her weight to push him down to the ground. With a quick chop to his neck, she puts him out. She turns just in time to block Mike's punch. She redirects his force downwards, and brings a knee against his face.

"Argh!" Mike stumbles back, his hand going to cover his bloody nose.

The girl stands in the same spot, unmoving but with a boxer's stance. "You down for some more? Come and get it!"

The bully looks at her with shock and fear. Spitting blood and curses, he turns and runs off, leaving his unconscious friends where they lie.

The girl turns towards the boy on the ground. She stops a few inches away, and offers a hand. "Are you okay?" Her voice is low and husky, with a hint of spontaneity. It is not exactly feminine, but it's a sound he knows he can pick out of a crowd.

The teenager squints. He cannot make out her features clearly, but he can see a mass of dark brown curls and a red and white outfit. He gasps, suddenly remembering something. Ignoring her, he pulls his backpack to the front, and unzips it.

Seeing nothing inside is broken, he sighs in relief. "Hardware is okay. All clear."

She tilts her head and her hand goes to rest on a hip. The female athlete watches in disbelief as the short, Asian teenager wearing beat-up sneakers and a maroon-colored track-suit carefully, tucks his laptop back in the backpack, gets on his hands and knees, and retrieves his glasses. He brings it close to his face, and scowls at the broken lenses.

"Damaged beyond repair. Looks like I need to order a replacement…"

"Um… how about a 'thank you'?" The girl asks impatiently, "It's not everyday I break away from my morning routine to help out a stranger."

Her words jar him out of his inspection. He peers up at her warily, not quite able to discern her expression. "Uh… thanks?"

She scoffs at his tone. With a dismissing "whatever," she plugs her ear-buds back in, and quickly jogs away.

The boy watches her retreating silhouette curiously, with a strange feeling that he might just be missing something important.


"Hey lil man, are you the new kid?"

The kid in question turns around. Thankfully, he had the foresight to pack contact lenses in his back pack. Having broken glasses, especially on the first day, is not a new experience for him.

Right behind him, stands a tall, dark-skinned teenager in a white and blue striped hoodie. Curiously, the hood strings are pulled tight, so the hood is pulled down low and covers his eyes.

"Yeah…what of it?" He cautiously replies.

"Hey man, slow your roll. My name's Mo, I hear you're Oblio's relative?" Mo extends his right hand out in a friendly manner.

The freshman regards him warily. He then turns around and grabs his books from the locker. Resignedly he answers, "Yeah, that's me."

Mo drops the hand, but his smile doesn't waver. In fact it grows wider. "Haha, yo you got serious attitude goin' on. You dance?"

"Negative." He shuts his locker with a solid slam. "I break." He turns to face Mo with the beginning of a smile.

"Sick," the older boy crosses his arms and regards him contemplatively. "Wanna hang out with the boys later? I wanna see them moves Oblio was talkin' about."

The boy starts. "Oblio talked about me?" He tries to peer at the other student's face, but it's hidden underneath the cap. The only thing he can make out is Mo's pearly whites, forming a Cheshire-like smile.

"Yeah. He doesn't talk much. But he did tell me you might be comin' and asked me to show you around ya know?"

Gray-colored eyes widen at Mo's words. Oblio has always been a reclusive one, even with his family. He only appears when he wants to, never completely answering questions of where he's been. In fact, ever since the Dance Central competition, he has not been answering emails or calls.

From first initial scan, this Mo character is a friend. He seems to know Oblio pretty well, and for that reason, he decides Mo might be a good person to know.

"Cool," the freshman tries to act nonchalant, "After school then?"

"Yeah! Meet us in the back, near the basketball courts. Cya later then." With a friendly pat on his shoulder, Mo leaves the new kid in the hallway. It's only when the first bell rings, startling him out of his reverie, that he realizes he might be late for his next class.

The teenager makes a run for it. He arrives as the teacher was about to shut the door. It's AP Chemistry. Usually the advanced courses are not available to first years, but he scored abnormally high on the entrance exams. The scheduling counselors decided to make a special exception for him, and allowed him to enroll in AP classes.

The moment he sets foot in the classroom, whispers surfaced among the students. Phrases like "short", "freshman", and the occasional "nerd" are so common that he doesn't even bother anymore. Straightening up unconsciously, he walks to the nearest open seat.

He sits down. Opens up a clean notebook, and the guy next to him decides to speak up.

"Hey, you sure you're in the right class?" A fresh round of giggles can be heard from the back.

"Positive," he answers through gritted teeth. He shoots his neighbor a glare. The older guy pulls back, with both hands in front in a placating gesture.

"Hey dude, chill out. How old are you?"

He decides to ignore him. The lesson already started, and he doesn't want to waste his breath. Yet when the teacher turns his back to the class, the freshman sneaks a look at the guy sitting to his left.

He looks well-built. Blonde hair with blue-eyes, and to top it off, a healthy, summer tan. He's wearing a patterned camper shirt over a white tank that hugged the contours of his muscles. Loose khaki shorts and beach flip flops completed the outfit, and the words "surfer" and "jock" blinks on and off in the Asian boy's mind.

As he gets ready to leave, the guy steps in his way.

"Hey, sorry about that earlier. I think we got off on the wrong foot, so…"

The guy looks sincere and apologetic. The kid eyes the exit, and internally debates which path will cost the least amount of time and effort.

"Restart?" He finishes the other's intended thought.

"Yeah! That's right!" The blonde extends a hand, "The name's Bodie. What's yours?"

"Glitch," he automatically answers with his online alias as he takes the offered hand. "It's fine. Don't short your fuse. I'm out."

Bodie flashes a quick smile as the freshman hurries out the door.

The classes all pass by in a similar fashion. Stares, whispers, and maybe one or two comments. The end of day bell seems to take forever to ring.

Anticipation colors his steps as he makes his way to the back of the school. Mo's odd hoodie stands out like a flag, and Glitch slowly makes his way over to the group.

"Here's da lil' man. Alright lemme make sum intros. Dis here is Zipp, his footwork is sumthin' cray." A fair-skinned guy with a dark brown buzz cut smiles and nods his head in greeting. By his side, another teenager with chocolate skin and sporting a bright headband on his shaven head waves casually. "The otha is ma homie from middle school, PB&J. Cuz he be jammin' ta whatever. What do dey call ya back home?" Mo asks curiously.


Even though he can't see it, Mo's eyebrows seem to lift up in amusement. "No doubt from poppin' an lockin'. Aite, Glitch it is. Let's show 'em da usual hangout."

The "usual hangout" as it turns out, is no more than the local double-railed subway station. There's the top rails, two electro-magnetic tracks zooming in opposite directions, and there's the bottom rails located underground. The middle section between the top railing is open roof, allowing sunlight to stream in and light up the bottom landing strip like a stage.

Out of nowhere, Mo gets out a beat-up old boom box, with various colorful stickers layering over each other. He sets up the adapter, plugs in his MP3 player, and a dope beat starts blasting from the speakers.

Teach me how to jerk. Teach me, teach me how to jerk.

"Uh… are we not bothering people?" Glitch asks nervously.

Mo holds a hand over his ear. "What? Can't hear ya kid!"

Now let me come at a jerk. We got the potion, next to the push.

"Is this even allowed?" He shouts louder. Zipp from his side replies, "Nah! They enjoy the show, and we even get paid sometimes!" The guys all laugh at Glitch's expression.

Without any more intros, PB&J starts the thing off.

Like earth, you know that my truth sticks. Imma show you to my whole squad with them clean whips.

He wastes no time on the warm up. After his second round, he immediately drop down onto all fours. His feet shuffles in a well-practiced pattern.

Now watch me clean dip.

Top rock turns into down rock.

You see the clean kicks.

Down rock. Air baby freeze. Then he pops up. He points to Glitch, signaling the kid's turn.

Try to jerk like me, I guarantee it'll leave your jeans ripped.

Glitch hesitates for only a moment.

Pose, drop, go, stop.

He pops, locks, and then drops to the beat. His shoulder from his hips. Then his elbows from the shoulder.

I let my chain bang, gang swang, go watch. Girls tell me when I jerk I look so hot.

Glitch does not even notice the gathering crowd. He is way too focused on the footwork.

Sixstep, helicopter, three step then swipe.

Cause' I be jerkin' like I'm tryna, make the boat rock.

One, two, three. And he hurls into the air with a back flip. Applause and cheers sound when he lands, and he looks at Mo. The silent challenge radiates from his cool, grey eyes.

We killin' the game but we hurt in the street. They say that push on fire, we work in the heat.

The tall African American literally jumps in. Using one hand, he flips himself onto his back. It looks painful, but the b-boys all know it's part of the trick.

So if ya tryna do the dance, work with your feet.

His feet moves his entire body. First in a circle, then gaining speed. He freezes on both hands, and they all know what will happen next.

Rock slow, drop low, and jerk to the beat!

Mo drops from the freeze to a windmill. The speed and power behind his spin gets the crowd roaring.

The ladies always love it when I'm doin' what I do. They be sayin' Oktane you just jerk so cute.

He stops. Worms his way into a front roll. And then freezes, balancing precariously on his head.

Ok, I just say thanks and my chain, they try to grab it. Wanna copy the jerk, go ahead, you can have it.

For a full twenty seconds, he stays like that. Grinning upside down with that wide smirk of his as his legs make impossible bicycle movements.

Dolla rockin be nice, and we ain't really braggin. But stuntin is just natural, jerkin' is the habit.

Glitch knows Mo has him beat. The sheer amount of power and balance required for that move is way out of his specs. As Mo rights himself, the younger teenager goes and offers a handshake.

And when I'm done they be askin: can you teach me how to jerk?

Mo warmly returns the handshake, and pulls him in for a half hug.

"Eyo, ya got sum sick moves," Mo yells out above the music, "How'd you like ta break wit us?"

Glitch looks up in surprise. Mo definitely has serious skill, and yet he doesn't gloat. And he's inviting him into the circle like they've been friends all their lives.

A strange tightness forms in his throat. The freshman nods stiffly, unable to find the right words that moment.

Mo smiles. "Welcome to da crew, Glitch."



Yes, I've done it again. I take a few suggested hints, some borrowed dialogue, and spins a whole elaborate story out of it. There's so much potential in the DC2 characters. The characters are bursting with personality, and it's a darn shame the storyline is not fleshed out a bit more... And is it just me or does everyone seem to have green eyes?

Glitch fascinates me. How does a bboy get so tech/geeky? Actually, wouldn't it been the tech geek that turned into a bboy? And how does Glitch become Mo's partner? Why is Glitch so suspicious of you when you first encounter him? Seems like he has trust issues... And he has some pretty cheesy lines, which makes him adorable but awkward. Can definitely do something with that...

Same thing with Emilia. She seemed very tomboyish, rough, and brash from first game. And now she's... mellow? And why would a jock girl curl her hair?
And are those rumors of her and Bodie being cousins.. true?

Mo is pretty much the same. Cool, friendly, and always on the lookout for new talent. No doubt prepping for next Dance Central competition... and he thinks he got a winner with Glitch. Since Oblio apparently won the last one...Anyone got a clue about the ending from Dance Central? lol

Trying to balance out geek with ghetto in the language. It's definitely not easy. Any suggestions especially references to bboy literature would be much appreciated. Haha