Chapter 2

Helen Sparda received a call to come pick up her son Dash Sparda from school . . . after she attends a parent teacher conference in the principal's office. Helen opened the door to find the prince and Dash's teacher talking to one another. She saw her silver haired son sitting in a chair, who turned around to see who walked in and quickly turned back around to hide his nervousness.

"I appreciate you coming down here, Mrs. Sparda." The principal greeted her.

"What's this about? Has Dash done something wrong?" Helen asked.

Dash's teacher Mr. Burns (or Bernie as everyone calls him) didn't hesitate to explain the situation. "He's a disruptive influence and he openly mocks me in front of the class." He says after he adjust his glass on his weird football shaped head.

"He says." Dash comments while he acts innocent.

"Look, I know it's you! He puts thumb tacks on my stool." Bernie states.

"You saw him do this?" Helen asked.

"Well... not really... No! Actually, not." Bernie replied in a deject manner.

"Oh, then how do you know it was him?"Helen asked realizing the Achilles Heel of argument.

Bernie pulled out a video tape. "I hid a camera. Yeah, and this time, I've got him." As he pops it in Dash looks nervously at his mother who looks ashamed at him. The principle on the other hand has a worried look on his face as to the nature of what could be shown.

Bernie stands close to the screen, eyes squinting with extreme focus to find the evidence to prove his side of the story. The video began to play showing the camera hidden in the left side corner of the classroom where the door is. The quality was . . . antiquated but the details can be seen to a certain extent. Bernie walks to see his class full as usual with the Dash sitting in the back of the third row. Bernie reaches his desk and sits down. He then immediately jumps up grunts in pain as he grabs his backside with both hands to ease the pain forcing the whole class to look at him in surprise.

"See? You see?" Bernie exclaims as the evidence was shown. However due to how far apart Dash and the camera are the details were sketchy at best. "You don't see it?" Bernie asked since they were not convinced due to them squinting. Bernie sighs, and rewinds the tape. "He moves! Right there! Wait, wait!" he rewinds again, Right...there! Right as I'm sitting down!" as he said there, Dash flickered back to his desk on a split second . . . either that or the video glitched for a split second. "I don't know how he does it, but there's no tack on my stool before he moves and after he moves, there's a tack! Coincidence? I think NOT!"

The principal has had to deal with this on more than one occasion; if it wasn't Dash it was another student or even a teacher. Oh there were times that Bernie was right but most of the time the case was just dropped because of Bernie's attitude to people, who he believe are out to get him. "Uh...Bernie..." The principal pats Bernie shoulder in a reassuring manner.

Bernie pushed off his hand, having none of it. "Don't "Bernie" me! THIS LITTLE RAT IS GUILTY! Bernie screamed like a lunatic."

Having reached a head on a stalemate the principal dismissed Dash – scotch free. "You and your son can go now, Mrs. Parr. I'm sorry for the trouble."

You're letting him go again?! He's guilty! You can see it on his smug little face! GUILTY, I SAY, GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY SOUL!" Bernie screams as he shakes the chair side to side like a baby.

Dash couldn't help but smile smugly as he left out through the door. Perhaps it was luck, maybe the principle was secretly a super and he was simply looking out for a dare young kid. Whatever the case Dash was free - for now.

Later, at the car trip home Dash leaned lazily on the door. Helen was concerned about her son.

"Dash, this is the third time this year you've been sent to the office." She said. "We need to find a better outlet. A more ... constructive outlet."

"Maybe I could, if you'd let me go out for sports." Dash suggests for the umpteenth time.

"Honey, you know why we can't do that." Helen reminded him.

Dash groaned loudly. "I promise I'll slow up. I'll only be the best by a tiny bit." He pleaded.

"Dashiell Dante Sparda," Helen said her son full name. "You are an incredibly competitive boy. And a bit of a showoff. The last thing you need is temptation."

Dash the son of Dante and Helen Sparda was a tough case. He inherited the powers and strength of his parents and grandparents. His personality seems to show that he is confrontational. With lightning running through veins he wouldn't sit still for too long. Hyperactive in the extreme – those stolen adult magazines and blue towel under his bed are one proof of that.

"You always say, do your best. But you don't really mean it." Dash complained why can't I do the best that I can do?"

"Right now, honey, the world just wants us to fit in, and to fit in, we just gotta be like everybody else. " Helen said.

"Dad always said our powers were nothing to be ashamed of. Our powers made us special."

"Everyone's special, Dash."

"Which is another way of saying no one is."

At Western View Junior High the elder of Dante and Helen's children waited. Not for a ride home but for a very special someone about to appear through the doors. Her name is Violet Sparda she was pale dark hair emo teen who was a lover of poetry and top of her class. She was quiet and had few friends. Some thought she was creepy others thought she was pretty. She boys have asked her out and they seemed nice, but she had her violet eyes on one particular student. Violet brushed her shiny raven mane out of the way of her left eye just as the school bell rang. She turned to the door of the school and sure enough out the most handsome on the planet . . .

Tony Rydinger

Rydinger was a handsome kid that was fun and nice that was liked by a most in the school. He had a heart of gold but some girls don't always see that. They say hey to, he say back, his friend would playfully mock him, he laugh with them. But sometimes he feels that there was someone watching him; girl that he may have seen from time to time. He believed she was here right now as he walked down the steps and turned to look, but alas she was not there.

Violet on the other hand saw him and her heart began to beat. She pale skin blush a pretty that could put Valentine's Day out of business. When Tony stopped and turned in her direction she made used her power to bend the light around her head turning it invisible. Tony was confused in thinking that someone was there that he moved on. Violet made her head appear and leaned back on the wall of the railing and slid down to the grass under her in pure ecstasy.

"He looked at me." She whispered.

She turned to the left and looked out. She saw him, she can smell him, but she has yet to say "hi" to him. He has yet to say "hi". He has yet to see her . . .

"Come on, Violet!" Dash shouted from the car as Helen honked the horn. Violet made a mad dash to the car before Tony could see her.

Bob is on a interstate highway, heading home from Insuracare. He was mad that he was now stuck in traffic in his dink box car. If he had his motorcycle he could take the long way home with the wind his dark hair. But, no he must endure with the rest of the people: Honking, waiting, and tired as well as in dire need of the bathroom. Eventually traffic moved on and he was able to get to the street of his home that they moved into recently or as about as recent as it can be. He slowly arrives with his under-sized hatchback. The car coughs, sputters before turning off without even need him to turn the key. How it turned back on for him to go to work he drove is anyone's guess. He shack his head, sighing in exhaustion. Sometimes he wished the demons or supervillains or giant monsters would attack to make his day.

"GAAHH!"

When he opens the door, he slips on a skate but manages catch himself on the door. "Darn kids. Sitting on the driveway." He notices his grip crushed the metal on the door. "Oh, great."

The nephilim attempts to shut the car door with increasing frustration. The third time he quickly throws it closed, only for the door window to crack and shatter. He loses his temper and lifts the car over his head, only to see a child on a tricycle staring at him. He heard about this kid when they got here, trouble maker sometimes. The kid stared at Dante whose eyes were lit red with a hellish fire. The child's bubblegum bubble pops. Dante puts the car down, and checks for the kid and with a causal clap of his hands Dante picks up his suitcase and goes back in the house.

Yep, a normal day . . . so far.