Matthew had a black eye and his nose dripped blood constantly, but he was still standing...or at least leaning against the ropes. Matthew Hart was the pride of his city, Philadelphia. At only seventeen, he was the 2000 regional junior middleweight boxing champion. He stood just under six feet tall and weighed a solid two hundred three pounds. His brown hair and mysterious gray eyes gave him a "dark" feature that only made most people feel intimidated. Despite his tough exterior and "bad boy" image, he was a very intelligent person. Having just graduated from Neshaminy High School, he had been accepted to Oxford College of Emory University, a more intensive extension of the prestigious southern university that stressed academics for the first two years of college. Of course, he had been offered the choice to attend Emory as a freshman, but something inside him made him want to take a chance and broaden his horizons.
The referee struggled to support Matthew's frame while at the same time lifting Matthew's arm, declaring him the winner. The crowd roared in response. As the referee left the ring, a team of five paramedic officers rushed in to tend to both Matthew and his opponent, who had not fared so well. Matthew had blackened both his opponent's eyes in addition to having broken his jaw and dislocated his shoulder.
"I'm cool," Matthew muttered through his swollen lips.
"Put this on your eye," an officer said, handing Matthew an icepack. "And put pressure on your nose to stop it from bleeding. You really gave it to that other guy."
"I was just doin' my job," Matthew said slowly as he walked away. "Thanks for the ice."
James Armstrong pulled his black boots off and threw himself exhaustedly onto his bed. He had been in ROTC training all day and, even though he had joined at the beginning of the school year, he still hadn't gotten used to the grueling workouts he and his colleagues were subject to on a weekly basis. He was a nineteen year old freshman at Oxford College of Emory University, trying desperately to balance military life with a five-year engineering plan. It certainly wasn't easy. He hailed from South Forsyth High School, located in a suburb of Atlanta, so he was only forty-five minutes from home.
James had a take-charge personality that prompted most of his actions. Although he always had some sort of work to do, he always found time to do community service. He wanted to get things done in life; he wanted to help others. He was 6'2" and weighed one hundred seventy-nine pounds. His dark blond hair and deep blue eyes only highlighted his aggressive persona.
Wesley Williams was already tired from running and jumping. He was the youngest senior in school history at sixteen, yet he had just managed to lead his high school track team to the conference championship title. Although he never admitted it, he loved being the center of attention. Pretending not to like it only magnified it, making him feel even better. He was only five feet nine and a half inches and weighed one hundred fifty-five pounds, but he had proven to his classmates and fellow runners that size was not everything.
He had just graduated from St. Mark's School of Texas in Dallas and offered a spot as a freshman at Oxford College of Emory University in the fall. He boasted a grade point average of 4.2, not bad for the youngest person in his class. He was popular, intelligent, clever, and had everything together.
Still, he had a nagging feeling that made him believe that he was different from everyone else. It was a sensation that came and went periodically, but when he felt it, his mind often wandered at countless possibilities. In the end, though, he always dismissed it as "just being a black man in a white world" and moved on with his life.
And now, comments from the Doctor: who the hell are these people? What relevance do they have to the story? Stay tuned, because everything will be answered in time!