A/N: Alright guys, I've updated. I've finally updated! I totally thank you guys for all of the reviews, they really make me happy. Thanks a bunch again! So here's the second chapter. What happened to our beloved Soda? I'm feeling guiltier and guiltier the more I write because I'm putting Soda through such harsh experiences, but this story must carry on for the good of the people! Read on and Review!

Disclaimer: I don't own the deepness of Pony's thoughts, or the handsome face of Soda, or the "Super Powers" of Darry, or the laughter of Two-Bit, or the juvenille delinquent ways of Dally, or the shy and quietness of Johnny, or the mechanics of Steve, or any person in the Outsiders . . . but I SERIOUSLY wish I did . . . I seriously wish I did . . .

Transformation

Steve felt himself being shaken vigorously. He wished whoever was shaking him would stop – he had the worst headache he's had in a long time.

"Steve!"

"Steve, come on! Wake up, man!"

"He's bleeding like hell! Call the hospital or somethin'!"

Steve opened his eyes slowly and looked up into blurry faces. His vision cleared and he realized that the entire gang was in front of him – except Soda. He tried to sit up, but his head felt like a ton weight.

"Where's Soda?" he managed to croak out.

"We were going to ask you the same thing," said Darry. He was the one that was shaking Steve.

"What happened, man?" asked Dally.

"Socs . . . six of them just came here . . . cussed us out and threatened us . . ."

"Don't talk, man. You're bleeding like hell from your head and you've got a knife stab in your arm."

Steve slowly brought his arm to his head. He touched it gingerly and then looked at his hand. It was covered in blood. He could feel hisarm searing with pain.

"I don't need the hospital, Darry. Just take me back to your house and I'll be fine," Steve said weakly. Darry picked him up in his muscular arms. He laid Steve in the back of his truck and the rest of the gang squeezed themselves in miraculously.

"Wasn't Soda with you? Where is he?" Ponyboy asked.

Steve gulped. He didn't want to know where Soda is. He knew the Socs had taken him.

"Steve, what happened to Soda?" Darry asked sternly.

"I . . . I don't know . . ." he answered truthfully.

Darry put on the brakes so hard that it made everyone in the car lurch forward. Steve's head was aching horribly by then. Darry turned around and said, "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Darry, I don't think we should talk 'bout this right now. Steve ain't lookin' too good," Two-Bit butt in.

"I want to know where my brother is, Steve! Where is he?"

Steve was going to answer, but he suddenly received a jolt in his body that caused him to scream in pain. Dark clouds seemed to shroud around him and darkness was pressed heavily against his eyelids.

…:Soc Territory:…

Soda's POV

I asked them what a Soc was. I really wasn't joking. My head hurt like hell and I knew I was bleeding severely because my clothes were soaked. I wanted to go to sleep, but this guy kept shaking me. Wouldn't he just lay off?

One of the guys looked at another and said, "I think we hit him too hard. Looks like he's got amnesia or something."

I have amnesia? No way, I can't have amnesia! My name is . . . my name is . . . oh God, I have amnesia! I'm sure these kind people would be able to help me.

"Who are you?" I said without getting up.

"I think we can use this to our advantage," I heard a guy whisper to another.

"We're uh . . . we're your friends. You got hit by a bunch of sleazy greasers and so we helped you out. They beat you up pretty good, man. Do you remember anything?" one asked me.

I shook my head, but then stopped because it hurt too much. I tried remembering something, but my mind was a complete blank. Then I asked the question that had been bugging me so much.

"What's my name?"

They were silent for a moment, but then decided upon something. "Your name's Sodapop, kid." (A/N: They do know his real name, but they thought it would be better if they used his real name. It would cause too much confusion anyway).

I shrugged off the name and decided it best not to ask. One of the guys helped me sit up and I finally realized that I was in some sort of alleyway. I was covered in blood and my chest seared with pain.

"My name's Bob," he told me. "That's Randy, Alex, Brian, Mac, and Mark," he said as he pointed to each one for their respective name. "We'll fill you in as soon as we get you home."

"Where do I live?" I asked as they helped me get up painfully.

"Well, your parents are out of town for a while so you're living with me. We're alone 'cause my parents are out as well," Bob replied. I nodded in understanding, although I couldn't figure out who or where I was. I was completely confused.

They got me into a really nice looking car. It was a blue Mustang. They drove me to a large house and Bob led me into it. The rest of the people drove away in the Mustang, leaving only Bob and me.

"I'll get you some clean clothes instead of the greasy ones you're wearing. You're a Soc now and you gotta act like one," Bob told me as he set me down onto his couch. His house was enormous. It had three floors and it was sparkling white from the inside. Many couches and armchairs surrounded the area and highly expensive vases were stationed on many wooden tables. I faced a big screen T.V.

Bob came back with some clothes for me. They were white pants and a blue madras shirt. I took them gratefully and he led me to his sparkling bathroom.

"Take a shower and then meet me in the living room. I'll fill you in there."

I nodded in agreement and closed the bathroom door. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the marble bathtub. I sat in it for a while, looking around the sparkling area. Then I turned on the water and let it fill the bathtub. I looked at my chest and realized that I had a knife wound and that it was bleeding openly. I decided to leave it alone for now, not caring about a thing. The warm water engulfed my body and I felt as if I could stay here for hours.

…:Curtis Residence:…

Steve was on the couch sleeping soundlessly. Darry was pacing the room and the rest of the gang was on the floor, watching Darry pace.

"Wake him up!" Dally yelled.

"No way, he's too hurt. Let him rest," Ponyboy argued.

Dally decided to end the short argument himself by shaking Steve fiercely. Steve woke with a start and dropped off the couch.

"Whatchya want, Dal?" he asked wearily.

"We all wanna know what happened, man! Where's Soda?" Darry asked fiercely.

"You wanna know what happened? You really wanna know what happened? Fine! I'll tell you what happened!" Steve had snapped. "Some damn Socs came up to us and we just fought them! The next thing I know, my head is being bashed against the concrete and someone is shaking me like he's got his quarter stuck in me and he wants to get it out!" When he finished his little "speech", his breathing was harsh and he was sending daggers to Darry.

"So Soda's with the Socs . . ." Johnny said quietly.

It finally hit them. Everyone froze. Soda was with the Socs . . .

…:Bob's Humble Home:…

Soda's POV

I put on the clothes Bob had given me, but I feel uncomfortable. I have a sudden urge to dirty the pants and to take off my shirt to replace it with a wife beater, but I guess that this was what being a . . . what was it? Oh yeah . . . a Soc. I guess that this was what being a Soc is all about. I looked in the bathroom mirror at my hair. What should I do with it? Should I comb it over to the side? Should I slick it up? Should I spike it? I saw Bob's hair and copied it. It was smoothed to the right side. I looked at myself and it just didn't look like me, but I had to do it because Bob said I was a Soc, and if he says I'm a Soc, then I'm a Soc.

"Hurry up, Soda! What's taking you so long?" Bob shouted from the living room.

I hurried out of the bathroom and into the living room. Bob was smoking on the couch and beer was placed out on the coffee table in front of him. He handed me a cigarette and I looked at it cautiously.

"Take it – you love smoking, remember?" he said.

"Yeah, I remember," I said, even thought I couldn't recall a thing. I took the cigarette, lit it, and placed it in my mouth. I took a long drag out of it and it didn't feel too bad.

"So what's all this about? Why can't I remember anything?" I asked him as I took another drag.

"Greasers. They're our rival gang. They're a bunch of greasy mice who hang around together. They jumped you so we fought 'em off and here you are. I guess they hit your head too hard. And one stabbed you in the gut – I think his name was Steve or somethin'," said Bob. He turned on the T.V. to some news channel.

I took all of the information in. Greasers bad. Socs good.

"We hate the greasers, so when you see one, hit him as hard as you can to knock some sense into them. They're so poor they can't buy themselves some sense." Bob laughed at this. I looked at him strangely and laughed along with him, even though I didn't know why. Bob placed his feet on the coffee table and looked at me.

"You're a Soc now, kid. We got all the money in the world and we can do whatever we want. There's a party tonight and I'm going to show you around a bit. Remember to stay on the West Side, otherwise those greasers will come and get you. If they do, give me a call and I'll be there with the rest of the Socs."

"Thanks Bob. You're a real pal," I said. I was really starting to feel like Bob was my only friend. Then why couldn't I remember him? I hated having amnesia. I hate it! Bob picked up the beer bottle and offered it to me. He told me how much I loved to drink. I guess if he told me, it was true. So I took the bottle generously and let the liquid slide down my throat. It was bitter, but man, did I love the taste! I downed the bottle completely and wanted more. I wanted more and more!

"You like that kid?" Bob asked.

"Yeah, give me some more! I need some more!" I asked.

Bob told me to wait as he went into the kitchen. He came back with several bottles and we had a party until the night. We watched T.V. and drank until it began to get dark. By that time, I couldn't walk in a straight line and I was so drunk that I could barely lift my feet.

"Let'ssssss go get usss-s-s s-some greaserrrssss!" Bob shouted, lifting a hand into the air. I nodded in reply. We were off to get us some of those dirty-rotten, good for nothin' greasers!

There was a car waiting outside for us filled with my other friends. I could barely make it, but that didn't stop me. I wobbled into the backseat and looked around, my vision slightly blurry. They were all as drunk as I was.

"Let's look for Dallas Winston and give him a piece of our minds!" one Soc shouted. I think his name was Randy.

We all roared in agreement and then sped off into the night. Randy handed me a switchblade and showed me how to use it. He said that if anything got out of hand, I should stab someone with it. An evil grin slid across my face. It was greaser-gettin' time.

…:Curtis's Residence:…

"I for one am not going to sit here and wait while the Socs kill Sodapop! I'm going after him!" Pony suddenly said. He got up and jolted for the door, but Darry held him back. Pony turned around to face him, his face completely flushed.

"Let go of me, Darry! Don't try and stop me!" he said.

"Wait . . . we're all going with you," Darry said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Pony nodded and the entire gang left the house to search for Soda. They didn't take Darry's truck because they were going to search for him on foot. It was night and they had no idea where to start looking. Dally suggested they head into Soc territory.

"Are you crazy? They'll rip us to shreds!" Two-Bit said. He was sober enough.

"We're doing this for Soda and if you don't like it, you can just leave!" Steve said, angry enough.

They saw a blue Mustang come down the road. There were seven Socs inside of it. The gang braced themselves.

"Act natural," Dally whispered harshly as the blue Mustang pulled up in front of them. One-by-one, the Socs got out of their car. Then the last person came out. Everyone gasped.

"Soda?"

OceanLily12's Note: GASP! OMG! Finally, they get to see what happened to Soda. There's goin' to be one heck of a battle next time, so stick around if you know what's good for ya! Please, o, PLEASE REVIEW! This story depends on it. Peace n Mahalo pplz!