Hey people. Specter7 here. This is where things get pretty cool:) Have a good one and...

May the Force be with you.

Ezra guided his dirt bike along the sidewalk. Every once and awhile the tire would get stuck in a rut and Ezra would jerk the bike back up, aggravated.

This is stupid, he thought angrily. I can't keep dragging this thing around everywhere. I better find a mechanic shop soon or-

Ezra's threat was cut short when he saw a person walking by. "Hey, mister!" Ezra called. "You know if there's a mechanics shop around here?"

The guy glanced him. "Yeah," he grunted. "Jay's Auto Repair is just down this block on the left."

Ezra silently sighed with relief. "Thanks," he said to the stranger and continued walking.

After another twenty minutes of complete aggravation on Ezra's part, He finally reached a bright neon sign that read the magic words; 'JAY'S AUTO REPAIR.' Sure, one of the letters flickered on and off and, yeah, the people working the mechanics shop looked super shady... but anything to fix his ticket to freedom, right?

So Ezra brushed off his wrinkled jeans, straightened his ratty white T-shirt, and zipped up his oversized jacket halfway. He thought it made him look more professional, even though he was burning up in that awful Southern heat.

"Excuse me?" Ezra called. "Who's the boss around here?"

"I am," a deep voice said.

Ezra turned to see a heavyset guy in a black and red uniform. "You're Jay?" Ezra asked.

He frowned. "No," the boss said. "I'm Darrel."

Ezra looked from the man to the neon sign that clearly said 'JAY'S AUTO REPAIR'. He shrugged mentally and turned to the boss. "Anyway," Ezra said, "I need a dirt bike fixed. Can you people do it?"

The man puffed his chest out in pride. "We can do anything, kid."

Ezra brightened. "Great," he said. "So... do I have to bring it somewhere? Or..."

The boss turned and pointed to an area of the mechanics shop all the way at the end. "If you go down there, Panel Eight, my employee will take care of you."

"Thanks," Ezra said and rolled his dirt bike all the way over. Hopefully the employee Darrel was talking about would be able to fix the bike. And hopefully it wouldn't be too expensive.

Ezra made it to Panel Eight and looked around. Suddenly, he saw sparks out of the corner of his eye and walked closer in curiosity. There was a lean female figure under a car in the garage part of Panel Eight. She wielded a blowtorch and had a welding mask over her face as she fused something together under the car.

"Hey," Ezra said. "I'm here to have my dirt bike fixed."

The figure paused what she was doing only to turn the blowtorch right back on again. "Can't you see I'm busy, kid?" the figure said from under the welding mask.

Ezra tilted his head. From the sound of her voice, the girl was probably not much older than he was.

Instantly curious, Ezra continued talking. "Yeah?" he said cockily, "well, I don't want to tell you how to do your job or anything, but doesn't it involve... I don't know, work?"

The figure kept on welding something together under the car.

"Your boss sent me to you," Ezra said finally. "So will you help me or not?"

The girl finally put down her blowtorch with a sigh and scooted out from under the car. As she stood, Ezra's eyes narrowed. There was something familiar about her. The girl had her black and red uniform jacket around her waist and a plain white tank top on that was smudged with car grease. Her olive-skinned arms were tanned darkly and crisscrossed with small, faint scars.

She slowly took off her welding mask and Ezra's eyes flew wide open. The girl. He knew her.

Something pulled deep inside Ezra's core. A gut-wrenching, heart-stopping, stomach-dropping pull. He stared at the girl, and she stared back at him, her eyes scanning him over and over again, as if she couldn't believe he were standing there.

Ezra looked at her thick, dark brown hair that was cut short and her bangs long. He looked at the single red streak of color that faded into orange. He looked at her tanned, slender face and deep, knowing brown eyes. And only one thought was in his mind.

I know her.

I. KNOW. HER.

"So will you help me or not?"

Sabine Wren sighed and put the blowtorch down, silently banging her head on the bottom of her car. She wished whoever was bothering her would go away already; Sabine wasn't exactly having a good day. First, she had been late to work and without a form of transportation, being late was a constant problem. Second, her boss made her work through her lunch break. And third? This random kid had to come and bug her.

Sabine pushed herself out from under the car. As she stood, she glanced at who was in front of her and did a double-take. The welding mask was still firmly on her face so everything was tinted... but that looked like... it looked an awfully lot like..

Sabine slowly took the mask off and her mouth dropped. It was him. It was the boy in her drawings, the boy she painted. Or... it resembled him, at least.

Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning every feature of him. The boy's longish, jet-black hair mimicked the smooth, black strokes of her paintbrush. His broad jaw and slightly lighter than copper skin echoed of the painting she had made just a few days ago.

Sabine stared into the boy's electric blue eyes. "Have we met?" she murmured.

"I don't think so," he said quietly. The boy paused, then added, "I would've remembered someone like you."

Sabine arched an eyebrow and then shook her head. Whoever this kid was, he must not be as unique as she thought. He was like all the other boys, trying to flirt with her.

Whatever, she thought. Let's just get this over with.

Putting aside that 'I know her' feeling, Ezra was still intrigued by her. She was beautiful and Ezra immediately wanted to know more about her.

He opened his mouth to talk but the girl beat her to it. "What do you need fixed?" she asked bluntly.

Ezra wasn't even mildly concerned anymore about his dirt bike. He ignored her question and replied, "My name's Dev," he lied. "Dev Morgan. What's yours?"

The girl stared at him with narrowed eyes before glancing at his bike. She in turn, ignored his question, asking, "This the thing you need fixed?"

Ezra shrugged impatiently. "Yeah, sure, but your name-"

"-Is none of your business," she finished for him. The girl took Ezra's dirt bike from him and looked it over.

Ezra, all the while, was still staring at her. Good grief, he thought, she is sassy. And sarcastic.

I'm in love.

The girl fingered with his dirt bike and put up the kickstand. "What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"I dunno," he said. "It broke down on the road after I'd been riding it for thirty or forty minutes. Can you fix it?"

She turned to him. "I can fix anything," she said confidently.

Oh, Sabine could fix anything, alright. And after her quick examination of the bike, she figured all it needed was a new battery.. but the kid didn't know that.

The boy intrigued Sabine. Judging by his ratty and tattered clothes, she figured he had ran away. And when he said his name was... what was it? Dev Morgan? She had known he was lying. The way he said it may have fooled other people, but not Sabine. She could probably fix his dirt bike in two hours, tops, but the kid intrigued her. He was dangerously similar to the boy in her drawings and paintings. So, Sabine would not be fixing his bike in two hours. If she said it would take a few days for her to fix it, he might come back. He might stay in Lothal County longer than one day. And Sabine might even be able to figure out his real name.

"Hey," the kid said as he bent down next to his bike. "How long would it take to fix it?"

Sabine cleared her throat. Am I really doing this? she asked herself. "It's probably going to take awhile," Sabine said without thinking twice. "A few days, maybe."

The boy in front of her frowned. "Oh," he said.

"But," she added casually, "I mean, you are welcome tocome back to the shop anytime you want to... If, you know, you don't want to be parted from your bike for too long."

He looked at her with electric blue eyes and seemed to play it cool and casual too. "Sure," he said, shrugging indifferently. "Why not?" the boy paused and added, "Would tomorrow morning be good?"

Sabine hid a smile. Yes. "I get to work at eight A.M.," she told him. "So you can drop by to see your bike anywhere between then and five."

The kid stood up. "Okay," he said finally. "I... I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Sabine gave a small smile. "I guess so."

He started to leave when he seemed to remember something. "And how much money exactly are we talking about here? To fix the bike?"

Sabine wanted to laugh. To replace the battery, it would cost only fifty to eighty dollars. But with what she had in mind...

Sabine pretended to look thoughtful. "Eighty-five dollars upfront would take care of today," she said. "But for the future, it'd be hard to tell how much this would cost. We can play it by ear," she decided.

Sabine saw the kid swallow. "That's a lot of money," he muttered. "Fine," he said louder. "I'll... I'll have the money to pay it tomorrow. But only so long as you can fix it."

Sabine stared straight at him. "I can fix anything," she repeated, her voice hard. "...Dev Morgan."

He continued to look at her. "Good," he said at last, turning to leave.

"Sabine," she said suddenly.

He looked at her over his shoulder.

"My name's Sabine."

The kid gave her a lopsided grin before turning and walking away. Sabine watched him go until he disappeared into an alley. And then she whipped around, pulling the bike inside the Panel Eight garage. Sabine grabbed her stuff, slung a bag across her back, and held her welding mask under her arm as she sprinted out of Jay's Auto Shop.

She could hear her boss yelling at her but Sabine ignored him and kept running. "Ah, go eat a monkey wrench," she muttered. Yeah, she'd left thirty minutes earlier than she was supposed to. But Sabine had to get home. There was something she had to see.

Sabine eventually made it to the woods. She tore into the brush and leaves, still running. She dodged trees in the darkening evening light until she finally made it to her home.

If it could even be called that.

Her home was a simple handmade shack, built out of scraps of wood and covered in graffiti art. Sabine slipped inside the heavy cover that served as a door and turned on the battery-powered lantern. She ran to her makeshift desk and rummaged around. Papers flew everywhere as she shifted through piece after piece of artwork.

"Where is it..." Sabine muttered to herself frantically. "Where is it..."

There.

A colorful, thick page peeked out among the bundles of her work. Sabine slowly picked it up. It was exactly as she thought.

For the hair, there were thick, black brushstrokes with a navy tint. For the skin color, the paint was only a little lighter then copper. And for the eyes... For the eyes, she had used a beautiful, deep, royal blue that made the eyes seemed as if they pulsed with electricity.

Sabine was looking at him. Sabine had painted the boy she had met today... mere days before she had ever laid eyes on him.

She stared at the painting. It was the spitting image of the kid.

What's happening...? Sabine thought, her eyes transfixed on her art.

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Interesting, huh? Anyway, the next chap will be up in probably two days. Remember to Follow/Fav and review! I want your opinions:)

Specter7 out.