"Momma?"

"Cobalt?"

"Momma, it's you!" Cobalt opened his eyes and gazed into the face of his loving mother. His mother smiled and wrapped her arms around her first child.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Momma." Cobalt climbed to his feet and embraced his mother around the neck, his cheek pressed against hers. He relished in the feel of his mom's soothing hand against his back. He finally pulled his face away and met his mother's eyes…only to find a sad smile on her lips. "…Mom?"

She stroked her son's cheek with a gentle hand. "I can't stay, sweetie… I have to go." Cobalt's heart skipped a beat.

"Why, Momma? Why can't you stay?..." His mother gave a soft, sad sigh.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered. Her image began to fade.

"Momma?" Cobalt began to cry, his grip around his mother's neck loosening. "Momma, don't go! Please!..."

But she was gone.

Cobalt was awakened by a cold snickering sound. The boy blinked his eyes and raised his head. "…Momma?" Cobalt whimpered, still lost in his dream.

"Momma?" The snickering continued. Cobalt felt a sudden sharp pain in his side. The little engine opened his eyes and quickly sat up, but was roughly pushed back down again. He scanned the area behind the dumpster. An older boy – a preteen by the looks of it – was down on one knee, prodding Cobalt with a sharp-looking stick. A smirk crossed the boy's face as he saw Cobalt awake.

"About time, kid. You got any money?" Cobalt stared at the older boy in wonder. The kid glared at Cobalt.

"Listen kid, ya got any money? Mom says I gotta get at least 10 dollars a day to stay at home." The kid brandished the stick at Cobalt, who instinctively backed away from the weapon and into the brick wall behind him. "So ya got money or not?"

Cobalt licked his dry lips. "Nuh uh…" The big kid rolled his eyes and stood up, looming over the helpless 4-year-old.
"No money means you gotta help me get money." Cobalt looked confused. The boy took hold of Cobalt's arm and yanked him to his feet. "C'mon." Cobalt, feeling he did not have any choice in the matter, followed.

Throughout the next several months, Cobalt followed Vincent (as was the boy's name) everywhere. He was amazed by the boy's sardonic, seemingly uncaring behavior and attitude towards others. Cobalt watched in wonder as Vincent would saunter up to any random food stand and just grab whatever he wanted. He usually got away with it, too. And in time, he taught young Cobalt everything he knew. Together, they stole food from unsuspecting venders and cooks, ranging from little sidewalk hotdog venders, to the fancier sit-down restaurant chefs. If they ever got caught, Vincent would taunt the enraged cook into following him, while Cobalt stole away into the crowd with their food. They'd meet up later to eagerly look over their stolen catch. Secretly, Cobalt envied Vincent's ability to race fast enough to easily leave almost anyone in his dust.

One day, roughly 5 months after Cobalt and Vincent first paired up together, Cobalt finally spoke to Vincent about his wish.

"You want to skate as fast as me?"

"Yeah. Can you teach me?" Vincent tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Look. You're an okay kid. But you're only 4. There's no way I can teach you, anyway." Cobalt licked his lips.

"Please, Vincent? If I could race so fast, I wouldn't have to hide whenever we got food." His pleading eyes searched Vincent's. The now-15-year-old diesel boy finally seemed to give in.

"Fine. But I'm not teaching you. I'll take you to where I learned how to run." Cobalt was so excited he gave a hop of joy. Vincent suddenly grabbed Cobalt's wrist.

"But you gotta swear on your life you'll listen to me. Got it? No trying to speak up if Stitch makes ya mad."

"Stitch?" Cobalt blinked.

"Yeah…" Vincent looked Cobalt over. "He might just teach you a few things. You're not that bad, as it is." Cobalt's chest swelled out with pride. Vincent rolled his eyes. "C'mon. I'll show ya where he lives."

Stitch was 3 years older then Vincent, and over twice his size. Cobalt found himself sweating from nervousness when Vincent brought him out.

"So? Who's the Runt?" Stitch lowered the cigarette from his mouth. Grey curls of smoke swirled up toward the ceiling of the dimly-let storage shed and vanished. Various engines and beefy-looking cars glared at Cobalt from the sides. A controlled fire crackled in the corner just behind Stitch. Cobalt felt Vincent give him a small shove forward.

"My – my name is Cobalt…" The engine stammered out. Stitch snorted.

"Did I ask you, kid!" Cobalt involuntarily shrank back from fear, bumping into Vincent. Vincent raised his head.

"Some kid I picked off the street. Was sleepin' by a garbage can." Stitch's eyes wondered over Cobalt as he took another sharp inhale of his cigarette.

"How old?"

"Four." Stitch threw his cigarette down in disgust.

"Four! Damn it, I've taught forty-year-olds, and here you want me to train this pathetic little Runt!" Vincent swallowed and lowered his head. Cobalt had never seen Vincent act so submissive before.

"You trained me… Can we give the kid a break? He's been beggin' me to give him a few pointers, but I can't teach. And I'm, uh…nowhere near as fast as you…" Stitch's fiery temper cooled just as fast as he'd heated up. He took another cigarette from his pocket and lit it with metallic silver lighter. He breathed in and out, giving a contented sigh as he did so.

"Fine. I'll see what the Runt is capable of…"