"All right Shizen you're up!" Trunks called you up to the 'Strength-O-Meter'. You stared at him, a half empty cappuccino held in your deathly grip. Trunks and Goten had forcefully dragged you over to the group of people that were with them. After getting dirty looks from their mothers, and wary stares from everyone else, they began to play the stupid carnival game that had been set up.
It was one of those games where you hit the pad with a huge, heavy hammer, and see how far the ball shoots up. So far, the game proved to be challenging, and not ever Goten could reach the top. When Goku failed as well, Pan started to accuse the monitor for rigging the stupid game. While everyone was going for their turn after the monitor fixed the rigging, Trunks looked you over.
He finally noticed how you really were. Your pale, cut and bruised body, your dirty and ripped clothing, and your messy hair were everything he missed seeing before. He noticed the way you stood, like you were hiding something when nothing was really there. You had toned down the harshness just a bit after watching everyone go. And that made Trunks feel as if you werent really all that bad.
The others were laughing as if this were the funniest thing ever. You couldn't help but wonder what metal asylum they all crawled out of. You hated them for finding something so...low so amusing. But deep down, and I mean deep down, you knew you were jealous that you couldn't do this when you were younger. Jealous that you didn't have any of the fun that the little kids in the group were having now.
The girl, Pan, called to you, and you responded by saying, "Yo you got to be fuckin kidding me if you think I'm really gunna do that shit." It was probably the longest sentence you had said all day and wasn't it just wonderful? A blue haired woman, Trunks mother, gave you a hateful glance. She pointed to two little girls, one with blue hair, and the other with a blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and said, "There's kids here! Don't curse in front of them!"
You gave a bark of a laugh and said, "They're gunna learn one day another, why not make it quicker?" and then shoved the cup you were holding to Goten's hands. Your I-don't-take-shit attitude was back up to its max, making Trunks frown a bit. You pushed the sleeves of you big, tee shirt up, revealing another tattoo. Only this one was a big, white and blue crescent moon with angel wings. It was on your left shoulder, and the moon was wrapped up in barbwires. Under the tattoo was a deep scar that ran from your elbow to about 7 inches below that.
On your right arm, there were multiple scars and burns that ran like a horrifying, but beautiful pattern, and made it look like its own tattoo.
You picked up the hammer and twirled with ease. You then, grasping the handle with both hands, slammed it onto the pad, with as much force as you could muster. The ball shot up, slammed into the bell, and left a crack in it. You dropped the hammer and walked over to Goten to get your cup back. That drink was going the only thing that was going to keep you up all night. You felt everyone staring at you and turned to Trunks.
"What the heck you staring at?" He pointed to his arms. You glanced down, confused and noticed all the scars. "Oh. Well that's the price of living in Halo." You voice was filled with cruel delight. You shrugged and pulled you the sleeves down. You finished your heavenly drink and started to walk away. "Wait" came a cry from behind you. You rolled your eyes and didn't slow down. You walked by a trashcan and threw the cup into it without even looking at him. The cup clattered inside the trash.
You got pulled out your capsule and threw it. With a poof, your black motorcycle appeared once more. You grabbed the helmet, and jammed it on, ignoring the cries, of "Hold on!" and "Wait for us!" Why did they even want to hang out with you? Why did they insist on talking to you? You revved the engine and high-tailed out of the so-called 'joyous' carnival.
~*~
You finally got home. You put the capsule back where it belong, and stared at the mess that you called your room. After work, you mused, there's gunna be no way I'll able to pick it up. With a heavy sigh, you began to clean up the mess.
You groaned and collapsed onto you bed. The tiny apartment was finally clean, and it was really late. The city lights flooded through your window, casting shadows on the navy-blue walls. The gun parts were finally hidden which was the main thing you were glad about. You closed your eyes, and wave of wariness flooded though you. After a moment or so, you sat up carefully, and looked over at your alarm clock. 9:30 PM. You sighed once more, and got up. You changed into a pair of black pants, and a long, but revealing black shirt. It showed off yet another tattoo-this one was a complex skull and cross bones. On the skull was a blood red 7. It symbolized your gang- The Skulls of 7th street. You pulled a brush through your locks, tugging the knots out.
You then quickly put it into a high and tight ponytail. But your bangs refused to go up and fell out the srunchie's grasp. But now that your hair was finally up, and not covering you hears, you could see the 3 holes that held small, but gleaming silver studs on each ear. Your left one had a cartilage earring. Keeping the dog tags on as always, you noticed that the bruises from the tournament were finally starting to appear.
The one on your cheek looked the worst, but it didn't hurt-you were far used to stupid punches like that. The others just matched the ones on your body, not making a difference. You frowned knowing that you were going to wake up sore the next morning.
The bar was packed. Again. Lately people have been coming to Club Dawn more than ever. Sliding a drink to the waiting dancer, you began to make a Black Jack, and a Cheery Blaze. The music pulsed through the air and as the air was thick with cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sweat. The dance floor was jammed with people, swaying along with the rock music that rocked against the pitch-black and tacky-glow-in-the-dark star covered walls. At Club Dawn, it was always late night.
After serving a few more people, and waiting the other hours out, your shift was finally over. Your gray eyes lit up slightly at the sight of seeing the person who took over your shift. He was totally bald expect random spikes that were gelled to a sharp point. They were dyed neon colors. And he was one of your gang members. "Oy Wings!" He said walked behind the counter. Wings was your gang name, and that was what the moon tattoo showed off. "Simply amazing Wings, simply amazing." You smirked cockily. "La duh." He glanced at your cheek before wincing himself. "Too bad ya got knocked out by that shorty."
"Shut it, Spike." Your mock glare hissed. "Chalk's got Flash and Blaze fixed up back at the workshop." Spike said as he buffed the counter. The music suddenly took on a techno beat and the crowd roared up. "I'll meet ya back there!" you screamed over the noise. Spike could only nod as you left the Club.
It was now maybe 3 in the morning and the day was just beginning in Halo City. Gangs walked around, joking and jeering, terrorizing, joyriding, dealing drugs, the usual. You pulled your bike to a run-down repair shop. It was also your gangs hang-place. Putting your bike back into the capsule, you pulled off your helmet and walked in. The thick door in the back of the room that lead to the garage muffled the rap song. The walls were covered with graffiti that your gang had done themselves on a boring day; only to get splattered with oil stains the next day.
In the dim lights, you could make out a boy a year older than whose feet were propped up against the counter. His eyes were focused on a block of metal in his hands. You knocked his feet off the counter only to sit there yourself. Not looking up at you, the gangster kept working on the metal. "Wicked good at the tournament Wings." You nodded as you leaned to see what he was working with. "Too bad ya didn't win."
You leaned even closer only to smack him over the head. "Hey!" he exclaimed, as you quickly grabbed the object that was in his hands. It was Flash. The Tokyo Marui Glock 18C was polished to a shine and etched was a jagged lighting shaped mark. Blaze, you just noticed, was on the counter next to your butt. It was a T.M.G. 18C as well, but the handle held a star. It gleamed under the light. "Thanks Chalk." You said happily. His white-as-chalk skin held deathly black and blue tattoos that snaked up to the side of his neck. He glared up at you, but you could see the smile that was forcing his lip-pierced mouth to tug up into a smile.
You hopped off the counter and started to walk towards the back room. You stuffed your two guns into your boots, and hid them with your pant legs. When you pulled the door open, the music blasted out the speakers. You shut the door behind you as the other gang members cheered at your return. "Bout time ya got here Wings." An 18 year old said, whacking you on the back. There was always a cigarette hanging from this mouth, earning him the nickname of Smoky. You pointed to something behind him, and as he turned to look at it, you grabbed the cigg out of mouth and stuffed it into you own. Instantly, the nicotine flooded your body, and you knew he only just lit it. You took a drag and hopped out of the way of his mock punch. You hid behind another boy who was too busy spray-painting an engine part.
"Give it back!" Smoky laughed. You dodged the next punch, and it ended up slamming into the boy who was spray-painting. Your eyes widened at that, and let out a laugh. Another guy who was leaning against the wall fell into a fit of laughter, and a boy who was sitting on top of a stolen, slick-black, Lexus LS joined in. The boy who spray painting name was Cobra. He dropped the can and lugged at Smoky. They crashed into each other, scuffling around.
They were play fighting, kicking empty pizza boxes and beer cans out of the way. The place was a mess now that you thought about it. Junk parts lay everywhere, and in the back where a few messed up cars.
Smirking and taking another drag, you walked over to the boy on the car. Giving a low-whistle, you said, "Who stole this baby?" you ran a finger over the smooth exterior. The boy onto of the car nodded to the boy who was leaning against the wall. His dark brown eyes gleamed. "Boss got it for ya. Ya know, for goin to the tournament and all." You raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Did he now Fang?" The 17-year old laughed, revealing two filed-very sharp canine teeth.
You turned to look over at your gang leader. In the streets, he was known as Void, but his gang (meaning you guys) called him Boss. Void was stilling laughing at Smoky and Cobra, as you walked over to him. You punched him in the arm playfully. Slinging your arm around his shoulder after, you said, "I love my gift." Void grinned. "Yea...I knew ya would."
Cobra and Smoky stopped fighting when Fang called, "Yo take it out for a spin Wings!" You glanced over at Void, who smirked and dug into his pockets. He pulled out a set of keys. You stared at it before a wide grin broke out, making the cigarette hang lopsided. You grabbed them and ran back to the car as Fang slid off. Smoky raced to get Chalk. Before you slid into the divers seat, you threw the cigarette onto the ground, and stubbed it out with your boot.
You smirked softly as the engine purred. Void slid into shotgun and the others loaded into the back. Once everyone was in, the garage slid open before you, and you shifted the gears. Giving a shout, you slammed your foot onto the ignition and raced off, with the boys cheering at your crazy driving.
~*~
A few weeks had gone by after the day of the tournament. The days had been a haze. You had broken the number of cars that you could steal in 3 hours, fixed up them up using old rusty parts, nearly got arrested for abusive of drugs over 3 times, and gotten into a load of gang fights with the others.
When things had finally calmed down, you ended up at your 2nd work place-a mechanic shop just on the outskirts of town. The boss of the place was a 'Quittee.' It was just slang for a gangster-gone-good. As much as you hated it, you had let yourself go under his pity. The radio was pounding a random rap song, while your back was on a skateboard, under a car. In your oil-covered hands were varies screwdrivers, and wrenches.
Your face was splattered with car oil as well as your clothes. A black du-rag pulled your hair back to keep it clean while your were legs were stretched out before under you. Almost done. you were thinking when one of the workers voice sounded from the front of the shop.
"Yo, Wings!" he hollered. "What?" you yelled back to be heard over the music, and from under the car. "When are you free"? he shouted back. You remained silent for a second, before you called, "In an hour or so." He came walking into the back, so he didn't have to keep yelling. "Do you think you could do another one today?"
You slid from under the car, and pushed yourself up. "What is it?" He shrugged. "They say its something that has to be checked on at their house." You raised an eyebrow. "Do we even do that kinda of shit?" He shrugged again, "They said they're gunna pay whatever the have to in order to get it fixed." The eyebrow rose higher. "So why you askin me?"
He gave a skeptical look. "Everyone knows you're the best mechanic around here." You gave a cocky smirk. "Oh yea." He rolled his eyes. "So you gunna do it or not?" You slid back under the car. "Yea sure, what the fuck." He walked away to tell the customers, and you went right back to work.
A few hours later, you were cleaned up and in front of a gigantic house. It was also the Capsule Corp. building. You shook your head, half in disgust and half in wonder. You were now wearing baggy jeans, and a spray-paint-splattered shirt that came to your knees. Your dog tags felt cool against your upper chest, and were hanging from under your oversized shirt. You sneakers scuffed the ground you walked with a toolbox in you hands. Balancing the toolbox on your knee, you pressed the doorbell with your free hand.
You could hear the bell chime through the colossal house, and a after a few seconds, the door opened. Your eyes widened slightly as did the women who stood in front of you. She was the one that the carnival who scolded you for cursing. Her mouth flew open, and she asked, (rather rudely) "What are you doing here?"
You narrowed your steel, gray, eyes and bit your tongue from mouthing back at her. "I'm here to look at whatever you said needs to be fixed." Her light blue eyes narrowed as she tucked a strand of long, blue hair behind her ear. "Youre the best mechanic around here?" This time, you didn't bite you tongue. "Listen, you're lucky I'm even here. My shift ended two hours ago. If I hadn't come today, you probably wouldn't get anyone here for another two weeks". You snarled.
She took a startled step back. And then to your mild surprise, she gave a sheepish look. "You're right, come on in." You stepped in as she closed the door. It was then you noticed her left arm on was in a cast. You didn't give it a second thought, as you followed her to a room in the back. You stepped in and your eyes widened.
It was a massive room. The ceiling was more than 25 feet up in the air and over 30 feet in width. High tech computers and gadgets lay on the one side of the room, and filled up the whole thing. Blue prints, stacks of paper, and blackboards filled the other side. Tools, and other various gears lay scattered over the dark blue tiled floor.
But the thing that caught your eyes was the machine that lay in the center of the room. It was a quite big, and four long legs supported it. The body was circular and from the each side there was an rocket-like part that had Capsule Corp written in thick, black paint. There was a thick, blue part on top, and then at last, a spiracle glass dome on top. Form where you stood, you could see the various controls.
The women caught you staring with a confused and awed look. She smiled a cocky grin and said, "This is the reason why I have called you here." You glanced over at her. "You see, this a time machine. It worked a few times, but something has gone terribly wrong. With my broken arm, I can't figure it out and need someone to help me with it." You walked over to the machine, and carefully dropped your toolbox. You felt the machines legs with your hands, and it felt really cold.
You walked over back to the lady and said, "I fix it up in no time." A smirk tugged your lips as you thought playing with this thing. Time machine huh? The women sensed your notion and snapped, "This isn't a toy. Its real. One little mistake and whoever's using it could be thrown into the wrong time period to be stuck there forever!" The smirk got bigger. The women let out an exasperated sigh. "I have to make a phone call. Start taking a look at the interior. The ladder is by the back." She paused for a second. "My name's Bulma by the way."
You shrugged and stuffed your hands into your pockets as you walked over to the back. "I'm sure you already know mine." Bulma shook her head and walked out of the room. You grabbed the ladder and dragged it over to the machine. It was really tall now that you thought about it. The glass orb opened when you tapped on it. There was a leather seat in the middle that was surrounded by controls, buttons, and other things. It all looked high tech. Most of the junk you worked with was rusty, old, parts.
"This is gunna be fun." You muttered to yourself as you hopped into the leather seat.
By the time Bulma was done with the call, you had all ready figured out the problem, how it could be solved, and how much you could make out of this deal. I mean, you did have to drive here, using your own motorcycle, your own gas, and took the time out of your busy schedule of terrorizing the streets of Halo. It was only fair.
You climbed out of the seat, and climbed onto the ladder. You jumped off of, landing in front of a startled Bulma. You tightened the du-rag and said, "Yo, you're going to need a whole new engine system." Bulma grimaced. "I knew it was going to be something big." You gave a nod, and stuffed your hands back into your deep pockets. Shaking some loose bangs out of your hair, you said, "Yea, you're going to need one with a titanium pressure element, a silver aloid scavenge element, along with a..." you went off on a list of things that probably made no sense to someone who didn't work with this kind of gear.
"That's going to cost a lot." The blue haired lady said. You shrugged your shoulders. "That ain't my problem." Bluma frowned. "You know, gangs are-" You cut her off with an annoyed look. "Look lady, don't even start. I'm here ta fix yo machine thin, not ta get some frikin advice on how ta live ma life." You said glaring. You had realized that yo had slipped into pure street talk. You spiteful words were coated bad grammar, and slang.
Bulma's eyes flashed with anger before something else. She took a deep breath, and said, "Okay. Let's not fight. I'm going to need all the help I can get with this broken arm. Where can I find the parts?" Still annoyed, you said, "I know some people who could get you the stuff within a week or so." Bulma frowned again. "Can't they get it faster?" You sighed. "If you willing to pay up to maybe 5 G." She thought about before she nodded her head. "Yes. I'll pay for it."
When you got back to the shop, you nodded to the guy working behind the counter. You picked up the phone and dialed up an old friend of yours. "Yo." Came a deep voice through the receiver. "Yo Charlie." You said. "Wings?" "The only one who would bother calling." A chuckle rumbled the phone. "I need a favor." You said getting to the point. You told him what you needed and he told you the amount. "I'll come pick it up the day after tomorrow."
Next you called up Bulma and told her. "I'm going to need someone help me carry it though. That shit's gunna weigh a load." Bulma agreed, saying that she would get someone to help you.
You waited for the person Bulma sent to help you by an old train station. You leaned against the graffiti decorated wall, inhaling the wonderful nicotine of a cigarette. You wrapped your left arm around your chest, as the right hand was holding the cigg. The weather was getting a lot colder these days, much to your delight. The cold days had always been your favorite.
As you breathed in more smoke, you sighed letting it out and watched it disappear into the cold air. Mommy can we turn up the heating? Its really cold in the house. The voice of when you were younger echoed through your mind, as you heard your mothers reply, Then go put on a sweater! The heating will make the bill go higher, and you know I need that extra money!
"I can't-it's ripped". You had replied. The smack you had received from your mother shot through the air. Why do you have to be so violent all the time?! Why cant you be like your sister? Shes so polite, and nice and good! You're nothing but a misfit! You reached up to where you mother slapped you. Biting your tongue, you didn't reply your mother continued to scream at you.
Snapping out of your trance, you subconsciously touched your cheek. You dragged out another breathe from the cigarette, taking in as much of the poison you could. It was starting to help you relax when you realized you had been waiting for a solid 10 minutes, and still no help was coming.
Just when you were about to leave, a some-what familiar voice cried, "Shizen?!"
Pulling the cigg out of your mouth with your middle and index fingers, you turned around to face head on with Trunks. You raised an eyebrow as he stared at you. The look of surprise turned to one of anger on your features. "What the fuck took you so long? I've got other shit to do than wait here for you." You turned your heel and starting walking away. "Hey wait!" Trunks ran up to you, and set his pace with yours.
"You're the one thats helping my mom?" the purple haired boy exclaimed. You took a drag and puffed out the smoke. You simply nodded. He wrinkled his nose that the smell of the cigar. "Do you have to smoke that?" You tapped the end of the cigg, and some ashes fell down.
"Yes. I do. Its called Addiction"
