I don't own any characters except Dylan. if you didn't know that I'm truly sorry and you need some serious help. If I did own them I wouldn't have to sneak onto the Internet at 1:52 in the morning to write this.thanks for your time.some pathetic loser that's up at the butt crack of dawn typing and eating Cheetos, um I mean trish.

Twelve hours had passed since the rooftop introduction. Dylan was back in his hiding place and asleep in the old stained couch. Outside his window a man got off a Harley. Not caring about taking off the helmet the man walked inside.

The man at the front desk sat tilted back in his chair reading the comics out of the Bayville Reporter. He looked over his newspaper and saw a taller man in a leather jacket. The man took off his helmet revealing his jet-black hair and thick side burns. "Sorry pal, no vacancy." The man behind the counter said. "I don't want a room," the other man said in a thick voice. "I want a name and some info." "Sorry pal, but we have a privacy policy." "Oh I see. Well you'd better get rid of the policy if you want to keep your nose on your face." As he said this, a long thin metal claw extended from his right hand. "Holy Lord! Yer one of those." "Keep quiet. Just tell me every thing you know about the kid in room 203" The man behind the desk kept his eye on the claw. "Don't know anything." The claw extended further until it was so close to the mans face he could hardly see where the claw ended and his face began.

"OK! The boy only comes out every three days. He always has money and he only comes out at night. Checked in about a week ago" the man behind the counter was beginning to sweat. "He checked in as Heat, Heat Jamison, but no one ever uses their real names here. we get a lot of. bad business." "Thanks," the taller man said as he walked up the stairs.

The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small handgun. He searched the hallway until he found room 203. He made sure the gun was loaded and then knocked on the door, keeping the gun hidden. No one answered, he tried again. Still no answer. The man picked up his foot and kicked the door down. "Uhng. who are you." Dylan said rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "If you're here for the rent its on the table." "I'm not here for any rent. I'm here for you. Let me introduce myself. My name is Logan; your name is 'Heat'. I'm taking you with me." Dylan stumbled to his feet. "So I'm just supposed to leave here and go with you?" Dylan let out a laugh "Yeah right. I don't take orders." Logan grabbed Dylan by the wrist but let go surprisingly quickly. 'The kids skin! It's. hot! He feels like he just got back from the sun!' Logan thought.

"I'm not going ANYWHERE!" Dylan screamed in frustration. A ring of fire surrounded Logan. The smoke got thicker by the second. "Toasty in the center huh?" Dylan cracked. Logan sighed. "I really wish it hadn't come to this." Logan sighed again and pulled out the handgun. Dylan saw it and immediately ran to the window. Logan closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, and for the first time in his life felt bad.

Yep sorry it was so short. but you know what they say. a woman is like a beer. I mean. always leave them wanting more