Troy wandered through the rainy streets of Astoria feeling depressed. It had been two years since the injury that had ruined his basketball career at Berkeley, and he was still coming to terms with his prosthetic knees.

He had slowly made his way northwards after the fitting of the prosthesis, working odd jobs here and there to get by. But he was aimless, drifting. He had grown a little dark pencil moustache and his eyebrows had fallen out through stress.

Suddenly he heard shouting from a nearby bar, the saloon-style doors crashed open and a young woman staggered out, holding her hand up to her mouth.

"You Mutation," she screamed at an unknown presence inside the bar. She moved her hand away from her mouth and there was blood dripping from a nasty looking wound on her lip.

Troy stopped in his tracks, "Don't get involved Wildcat." He told himself sternly. "It's not your business, helping people only leads to pain..." His mind flashed back to the accident and how he'd lost his knees that night. He shuddered and walked on.

Suddenly, the doors swung open violently and a dumb looking hick swayed out of the bar waving his fist at the distressed women. "Din' I tell you not to call me that! Well din' I!" He raged, edging closer to the women, his clenched hand raised threateningly to her face.

"It's the truth you moron! Why can't you just leave me alone, huh? You're a goddam psychopath Frank, you Mutation!"

The swaying hick pulled back his elbow ready to strike and before Troy could stop himself he danced up to the man and tweaked him on the nose before cartwheeling away and spinning to a halt about ten metres further up the road.

"Wha' the hell d'you think you're doing, college boy?" Spluttered the man, rubbing his nose gingerly. "Y'all can't be plucking on a man's nose like that, them's fighting words!"

Troy stuck his chin out and laughed, it felt good. "You cannot defeat me!" He cried commandingly, "For I am Troy Bolton, Wildcat, and even without the full use of my knees you are no match for me, you woman-thrashing oaf!"

The man lurched towards him and Troy shuffled elegantly away, pirouetting around his assailant whilst spinning wildly. Soon the man grew dizzy trying to follow him with his drunken eyes, vomited on his own shoes and passed out in the street.

"My hero!" Cried the woman, running up to Troy and throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately on the ear.

"Look, don't try to change me baby." Said Troy sadly, and cast his head down looking morose.

"Why are you so sad?" Asked the women, looking deep into his beautiful, tragic eyes. "You're one of the good guys, you just don't know it yet is all."

Troy shrugged and looked at her properly for the first time. She was very beautiful, and her smile lit up the overcast Oregonian street.

"You look like you've had a rough time," she said. "Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?"

Troy shrugged. "I guess not," he answered honestly. There was something about this girl that made him want to tell her the truth. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. Not since Gabriella had run away with Rocketman. Tears began to stain his wretched visage.

"Come with me," said the girl suddenly, taking his hand and pulling him towards a mobile food trailer. She pointed at the sign on top, 'Stephanie's Snack Shack'.

"Stephanie, that's me." She smiled radiantly. "Stephanie Speck, what's your name?"

"Troy Bolton," answered the desolate young man. "Pleased to make your acquaintance Stephanie Speck."

And they walked hand in hand towards the truck.