Ottsie: Heyo. Welcome to my first fanfic. I hope you guys like it. It's really short at the moment, but I'm hoping that as the story goes on, it'll gradually get longer.
Anywhos, enjoy.

Chapter One: Homeward Brawls

It was dark outside.

The lights bathed the slums in a soft golden hue. In the shadows, the only light to be seen was the reflection of the fire's flame in the eyes of the poor. Shivering, from the cold or the fear he didn't know, he kept his eyes down low. Walking the dangerous streets at night, and the eerie glow of the watchful gazes unnerved the young elf. And, hell, that was something. Jazen was originally from Kras, the city home to a multitude of gangs and their lords, and the famous Kras City Grand Championships. Jazen used to make a living doing all of Mizo's dirty work; that was what he had been raised for in the past few years. But, after Mizo got taken out a few years back, Razer had kicked the poor kid out into the streets. He had never really liked the boy from the beginning, when Mizo had 'gained custody' of him from a Red Guard or whatever from Haven City during one of his routine visits. Razer had never bothered to ask where exactly the kid actually came from.

Now, the barely legal teen was out in the world, on his own for the first time since his father had passed him on. All Jazen had with him was a small amount of orbs Razer had been so gracious to give to him, and his father's old Jet Board, which was still a proto-type when his father had even received the damn thing. The old piece of tin scrap was prone to breaking down and frying. Jazen had made due with the scraps he had found lying around the garages Mizo owned. He was sure to round up a few spare parts before leaving Kras Stadium for the last time. That was nearly three years ago. These days, Jazen earned what little orbs he could, doing dangerous jobs for pay that wasn't even worth it. After yet another beating from a cruel boss, Jazen had crawled his way back home, crying the whole time. He wasn't born into this harsh life, wasn't made for it.

After his tears had finally dried up, Jazen picked up his precious board, took a quick look around him at what had been his makeshift home for the past three years, and left. He had no money, but the teenager was determined to find his way back to his home city. Even if that meant stowing away on a transit air ship to get there.

"Mum, I'm coming."

Spitting on the ground, Denzel watched in fascination as his blood mixed with the grime on the ground. It was quite disgusting really. Golden eyes looked up and glared at the person in front of. How dare this piece of shit think that he was really more superior to him just because he was the son of a Freedom League officer. Hell, his father wasn't even in league with that Jak Mar person. Denzel scoffed as he straightened his posture and gave his opponent a level look. Jak Mar, the great hero of Haven city. Married to that mechanic girl, his father's old mechanic. The mere thought of his would-be father made the teen elf's blood boil.

Growling, he charged forward, catching the older, gloating elf in a vicious spear tackle that sent them both sprawling to the ground. Fists swung with desperation, hitting whatever foreign flesh he could get at. Denzel didn't even register the other arms trying to drag him away from the unfortunate victim below him. Panicked screams echoed around, chants of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" filled the air as all the young of the Slums gathered around to watch the bloody battle in front of them. The fighting was turning into a bludging as the older boy finally gave in and simply curled up and protected his beaten body as best he could.

"DENZEL!" A vicious, commanding tone dominated the younger elves own shrieks. Curious they all turned to the source of the voice, and immediately scattered, minus the two still on the ground. Torn walked up to the scuffling boys and ripped Denzel off the other, tossing him aside and kneeling to look at the other.
"Tomas, are you okay?" Tomas nodded weakly and whimpered. His face was all cut up and bloody, nasty bruises forming all along his limbs. The Freedom League Commander also suspected a broken rib or two. He shook his head, and turned to the two other officers who had followed him to the alleyway.
"Get young Tomas to the hospital and tell George not to worry about Denzel, I will make sure he is adequately punished."
The two guards confirmed his commands and gently helped Tomas to his feet, eventually picking him up due to the fact that it appeared that the youth also had a broken ankle, leg or something that sort. With Tomas safely out of the way, Torn whirled his lithe frame round to glare angrily at his young charge.

"Denzel! What on earth were you thinking?!" Denzel spat at the ground angrily.
"He insulted me! That fu-" Torn clipped the teen behind the ear.
"Language! Really, what on earth would your mother have thought? We really need to talk this through…" Seizing the nineteen year old by the upper arm, the Commander proceeded to drag him all the way back to HQ.