Sorry for the delay, my sister's visiting and I might not update for a couple more days. Thank you for your patience.

~xXLoveThatAccentXx

Mike couldn't stop thinking about that kid in the Pizzeria. That boy who seemed to know more than he would've preferred. Who told him about Amy? Secondly, how did that kid just disappear like that? Mike didn't see him leave. But the worst thing of all was the nagging feeling of déjà vu. A crying child dressed in old-fashioned party clothes, vanishing on the second glance. Where had he seen this before?

Mike had left the Pizzeria at five o'clock PM, leaving him with quite a few hours of daylight to waste before heading off to work. He chose to spend this time at the library.

Scaling the science fiction shelf, Mike scanned the titles absentmindedly, not looking for any actual reading material, just taking in the big words and letting his thoughts wander; help him take his mind off the restaurant and the kid and Amy. For a while, it helped. After that while, though, he got tired of walking and thinking and finally just pulled out a random book to read. A glance outside showed him that sunlight would only be with him for an hour or two at the most.

He chose a window seat and leaned against the glass, opening to a random page and idly scanning the words with his eyes. Drones... lightspeed... spaceships... electric swords... Why was it that not one fancy word on this page caught his attention?

It was as if Mike's thoughts were lost in a void of nothingness, leaving him to stare at a random book without really thinking, really feeling, or even really seeing anything.

Mike was about to trade out the book, pinning his boredom on the genre, when suddenly, a flash of purple caught his eye. Almost literally a flash-the guy was running, his loud footfalls catching the attention of just about everyone in the library.

A closer look indicated he was a tall man with short black hair, decked in an all purple uniform-the color of Bonnie's attire. He was wielding a crowbar, with which he suddenly started smashing at the library's computers, pulling the tool back and swinging down hard. The sound of glass shattering erupted throughout the library, along with the occasional grunt from the madman, who continued to beat at the monitors and hard drives.

It took Mike way too long to comprehend this, and by the time it finally clicked, almost everyone in the library had jumped up and started yelling, half of them rushing at the guy and the other half running outside. The poor woman behind the counter was shrieking in horror, holding a phone to her ear and demanding security.

Curiously shocked, Mike inched closer to the scene of the crime, where several middle-aged men and a group of shady-looking teenagers were playing hero and attempting to restrain the madman. Shards of plastic and glass flew out at them, causing them to shy back a few steps every time they tried to get close.

"Too late!" The man shouted as he dealt another blow to the computers. "It's all gone! It's all gone!"

One of the weird teenagers finally managed to pack a nasty looking punch right across the man's jawline, and he stumbled with a cry of pain, allowing the kid's three friends to swarm in on him and pin him down. The older men attempted to help but it didn't seem the group needed any.

The teen that had punched the man shook out his hand with a look of contempt. He was wiry and sharp, with a head of dyed black hair, shaved on one side. He sported one or two piercings in his ear and one in his lip, along with a couple rings on his fingers. His attire was black to go with his hair, and everything about him screamed 'punk'. Mike couldn't help but stare at him. He looked around Mike's age, maybe a tad younger.

The guy noticed him staring and gave him a weird look in return. "What? Never seen a guy hit 'afore?"

"Sorry."

"Is anyone calling the police?" One of the teen's friends yelled in exasperation, digging his elbows into the madman's back.

"I just called security. They should be here any minute." The librarian stuttered nervously. "Can you hold him?"

"We's most certainly can, ma'am." Another teen grinned. He had a mohawk and crooked teeth. "See, they call us the 'Wild Childs'."

"'Wild Children'?" The librarian corrected automatically.

"No. I was right the firs' time." The kid shook his head and shrugged. "'Wild Childs'. We's the best gang in the city. We can most definitely hold a guy down."

Mike and the others didn't doubt it.

When the police did arrive, they cuffed the man and led him away, the man mumbling something about internet history and a 'Vincent' all the while. After listening to his outrageous claims of his need to destroy everything this 'Vincent' guy touched, and that it was 'justified', the police finally confirmed he was a madman and took him away.

One of the officers stayed behind to interview the teenagers. Mike hung around out of curiosity, a little more than intrigued by them.

"You say they call you the 'Wild Children'?"

"Wild Childs!" The mohawk kid groaned. "We're the Wild Childs!"

The officer frowned. "You wouldn't happen to be the gang who spray-painted graffiti on the water tower the other night, would you?"

"Nah, those were some nerds called the 'Clan'. We're the Wild Childs." Said another teen with a large tattoo of a band crawling up his arm. "We ain't been painting graffiti since high school. And even then," he saved, when the officer squinted. "That was my car."

"So you're not in high school."

"Yeah man, we's graduated!" The fourth guy, his long black hair in a braid, nodded with a smirk. "Not liked we dropped out or nothin'." To this, he cackled into his hand. The policeman rolled his eyes.

Finally, the officer turned to the guy with the half-shaved head. "Witnesses say you hit the man?" The officer asked, and the boy nodded in confirmation. "What's your name, son?"

"Fritz." He smiled, letting the name roll off his tongue as if people had something to fear from it. "The name is Fritz Smith."