Chapter One: The Boy From The Streets

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Los Angeles. The City of Angels. Carlos wished, anyway. Nicknames were nothing but lame-ass shrouds these days, he reasoned. Although he was only seventeen, he had an adult's cynicism and carried himself much like an adult. He couldn't even remember the last time he had gotten a chance to act his age. Having to grow up with virtually nobody to rely on can do that to a person.

"Damn, it's starting to get cold. Better find a place before it gets too cold…" He jammed his hands into the pockets of his long, black leather jacket. It was just a plain thing, well worn. He knew better than to join Dogtown or any of the other Hispanic street gangs. He had pride in his heritage but he felt it ridiculous to carry it to such an extreme. He only fought for himself, and only when it was necessary. As he walked along the sidewalk, he heard a voice.

"Help!"

The voice obviously belonged to a woman. Carlos sighed, and shrugged it off. There was little point in fighting an unnecessary battle. He walked onward. As he rounded the corner, he heard it again.

"No! Someone please help me!"

"Shut your cake-hole, bitch!" That voice, a male's, made Carlos freeze in place. He turned in the direction of the speaker. Two young men were trying to subdue a young woman of about twenty or twenty-one, Carlos guessed. The guys, however, he knew all too well.

"Grr…those pieces of absolute shit!" With a sigh, he started towards the three. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered. But with those two…they deserved another beat-down.

"Please…please don't do this…!" begged the woman.

"We'll do what we like!" said the younger-looking man.

Carlos walked to within ten feet of them, and stopped. "You know," he began in that cool, calm voice he had, "you're supposed to respect ladies."

All three of them turned in his direction. Immediately, the two men let go of the woman and started to back up slightly.

"Blades! This…this is none of your damn business!" At the mention of the name "Blades", Carlos frowned.

"Yeah! Get out of here…or we'll mess you up!" The severity of the threat was NOT matched by the guy's voice at all. In fact, he sounded a little…scared? The young woman had not run off. Instead, she just stood there, and watched with confusion. Why were these two guys backing up from a kid?

Carlos' expression turned to steel. "Last chance, pals. You'll regret sticking around."

The guys looked at each other, and then rushed right at the teenager. Carlos swiftly went into action. Pushing back the edges of his jacket, he drew the weapons that gave him the name "Blades": a twin pair of fierce-looking knives, with blades nearly six inches long. They were designed to kill. The one in his left hand had a black handle, and the one in his right had a white handle. As the first man attempted to strike with his own small switchblade, Carlos gracefully sidestepped the charge and countered by slashing him across the right forearm with the knife in his left hand. The movement was so fluid and graceful that it could have easily been a dancing move. The man immediately dropped his weapon and grabbed his wounded arm, crying out in pain as the blood flowed over his hand.

"You little bastard!!" he roared.

"Nick! I'll get him for you!" The other man, smaller than his partner, quickly ran up and tried to plunge his blade into Carlos' back. Carlos responded by swiftly using his arm to block the stab attempt, and then delivering a vicious knee to the groin. Immediately, the man fell to his knees in agony, losing his grip on his weapon. Carlos then put the left knife away, grabbed him from behind, and held his right knife level with the man's throat.

"You're caught, pal," said Carlos with a sneer. Upon seeing the huge blade right up against his throat, the man panicked.

"Nick! Help! Please, do something!!"

Nick stood up, still cradling his arm. "Forget it! I'm out of here!"

"What?! Nick, you can't leave me here! NICK!!!!" Nick just ran off, a turn of events that did not surprise Carlos in the least. He scoffed, then bent down to ear level with the man who was now totally at his mercy.

"What are you going to do, huh?" said Carlos in a voice so icy that it even surprised the teen. "Your so-called friend has left you. What ARE you going to do…?"

The man finally broke. "Please…please don't kill me! I don't want to die…please, I beg of you…!" He began to cry. "Please…!"

Carlos then remembered the woman. He turned his head. Surprisingly, she was still there, staring at him. Right into his eyes. The look of fear and confusion on her suddenly made him think.

"If I just split this guy, I'll be no better than them. I can't do this. Not in front of that poor girl."

Carlos swiftly removed the blade from the man's throat. He stepped back a few steps. "Get your ass out of here. Now, before I change my mind."

The man quickly stood up. The wet spot at his feet made it obvious that he had gone through quite a period of terror. Noticing he wasn't leaving yet, probably from terror, Carlos decided it would be prudent to give him one last jolt.

"I said GO!!" he roared. "¡VETE DE ACÁ!!" Nothing more was needed. The guy was gone in less than two seconds. Sighing, Carlos sheathed his right blade. He then looked at the woman. It must've been with more coldness than he meant, because she jumped a little.

"Are you okay?" Carlos tried his best to put some gentleness in his voice. It was difficult, though.

"Um…yes, I'm fine. T-thanks…" she replied nervously.

"Don't worry, I don't want anything for what I did. You should get going before it gets too cold."

She nodded, and started to walk off. Carlos decided to walk down the alleyway he was in to search for some kind of shelter. As he walked, the woman called to him again.

"Hey, uh…what's your name?"

Carlos stopped for a second. He took a deep breath, and looked over his shoulder. "Carlos." Without a further word, he walked onward.

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That night, Carlos had found a spot. It was in an alleyway not too far from his earlier encounter. As he sat down on the ground, he happened to notice a strange light coming from around a corner.

"What the hell is that?" The teen slowly rose to his feet, ran a hand through his jet-black hair, and walked towards the source of the light. "Don't go toward the light!" he joked to himself. Suddenly, he stopped. Where had that come from? Shaking it off, he headed towards the light source again. As he rounded the corner, the light suddenly disappeared. He looked around, confused. Instinctively, his hands went to the handles of his knives. He was not going to be jumped by some two-bit loser with a flashlight and a slightly clever mind. He stood there for a second, then relaxed a little when he felt sure nobody was there.

"Crap. Maybe it's true that living out in the street long enough will drive you crazy." As he turned to leave, a bright glow erupted behind him. He whirled around, expecting to find perhaps a cop with his flashlight aimed right at him. Instead, what he saw was like nothing he had seen before. A section of the wall was glowing with a bright white light!

"What in the HELL is this?" he said out loud. The glow seemed to radiate from every brick in the section. Carlos was quite literate and had managed to get his hands on some textbooks before, but he was sure none of them had ever mentioned this! He reached a hand out to touch the wall, then drew it back.

"What am I doing? I don't know what this damned thing will do to me! It could vaporize every last damned atom in my body!" He sighed. "Then again, anything to get out of this life…oh, the hell with it!" He reached out again, and touched the wall. It was very warm to the touch. The warmth actually seemed to penetrate his hand and go all the way to his heart. The feeling made Carlos actually do something he hadn't done in a long time. A smile slowly crossed his lips. However, it was short-lived, as the wall suddenly released a blinding flash that overwhelmed the Hispanic boy and sent him into a state of unconsciousness…