A/N: PancakeOverdose: I managed to squeeze the basic personalities of two characters into this chapter so there would be more for you to grab onto. Thanks for the review. I'll get around to reading The Crusaders and leaving a review when I get a chance. Hopefully Jimmy Nomad will make it out of that battle alive.

Chapter One:

TUESDAY 11TH APRIL, 2016. 7:46 AM

Randy poured out all of his energy into his legs, pumping them faster and faster, the bag pack on his right shoulder bobbing up and down as he did so. There was a gritty smack as he grabbed a lamppost, letting the momentum carry him halfway around before he let go, shooting off into an alley. The 17-year old took in as much air as his heaving lungs could allow him and threw himself at an old wooden fence. His hands gripped the top of the rotting wood, and he hauled himself over the barrier, landing on the other side with a thud. Not giving his body a second to rest, he started off again, breaking right out of the alley, and into the busy traffic. He slid over the bonnet of a car, which was surprisingly not accompanied by a very angry honk from the driver, and finally made his way to the other side of the street- where he proceeded to make his way down the sidewalk. The pedestrians moved slowly, almost in an exaggerated manner. He pushed the observation to the back of his mind and kept on running.

He arced into a fenced compound, ran up the stairs of the building, and pushed the door open. He grinded his heels to a halt once he stepped in, surprised with the sheer amount of speed he had exhibited when running. That wasn't going to keep him out of detention, however. He took in a big whiff of oxygen to soothe his aching lungs, and then he smelt smoke.

Then he felt heat on his back.

He craned his neck a bit to the side to look behind him and yelped, throwing his flaming backpack off his shoulders. Then, He picked it up by the strap, and slammed it into the wall a few times until the flames were extinguished. Then, he loosened the grip, and let the bag fall from his fingers.

"What the hell?"

The commotion caused a voice to originate from the bedroom. A female voice. One painted with worry and panic.

"Randy?! Is that you?!"

"Don't get out of bed! This is a robbery!" He shouted as he walked stepped out of the corridor, hoping to relieve the tension a bit. He never took his eyes off the bag until he was well into the master bedroom.

"Be warned! I'm armed!" She replied, a slight chuckle following it before she continued, "You're supposed to be in school, Young man!"

"I may be young, but you're old. I bet you can barely even pull the trigger." The young man walked in to meet the sight of his frail mother, a crippled woman, still underneath her bed sheets, calmly reading a book. She shifted a strand of her dark locks behind her ear as she looked up at her son.

"You lazy woman. How long have you been in bed?" he joked.

"You left like three minutes ago." She replied, taking off her reading glasses and motioning to the alarm clock on the desk next to her bed, "See. My day starts a whole hour after you're gone."

Randy sent a hand to scratch his scalp, slightly parting his already rough, dark hair, "That can't be right. I was just a block away from Midtown High when I turned back; Forgot my homework. That's what I get for eating your infamous bean soup."

"Ha." She let a reluctant smile creep across her lips, "Don't be silly. That school of yours is about ten minutes away, and my soup is wonderful. It's Grandma Maggie's very own secret recipe."

"Ah, that explains why it tastes like barf. Are you sure that clock isn't broken?"

"I think your phone is the one that's broken. After playing with it all day, texting and looking at pictures of-"


"Don't Mom me. How do I know that you weren't actually trying to rob the house, like last time?"

"I still plead innocent to that accusation."

"Go to school, Randy."

"You can't boss me around. You're not my mom." And with a departing smirk, Randy stepped out of the room, leaving his mother to slightly shake her head, and resume her reading.

The teenager once again found himself in his corridor, having gotten the forgotten homework he actually came back for, and stared at the formerly smoking bag. He was positive that he had taken out all the firecrackers and matches the day before. After all, Mr. Jameson wasn't going to be in school today, and there was no sense in repeating the same prank two days in a row, nor was there in carrying incriminating materials to school in the event that they decided to search the students.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He inputted his 16-digit long password, and noticed the text message icon on the top of his screen.

"Who texts anymore?" He muttered to no one and drew up his message list. He clicked the text, and was treated to an unexpected surprise. In all capital letters, it read:





"Huh." He simply stated, intrigue battling away his confusion.

TUESDAY 11TH APRIL, 2016. 8:15 AM

With a slight scowl hidden underneath the shadow of his hood, Xander stalked away from a bunch of girls who immediately ceased their gossiping to stare as he walked by them. Ever since his long-term girlfriend, Ashley Hitchcock, died just a night after he had taken her out to a questionable restaurant- it seemed like a good idea at the time- rumors had begun to fly about. The teenager had never actually had someone say it to his face, so he didn't know precisely what was going on, but it seemed that people were telling tales of him being a blood ritualist or a cannibal. The details were fuzzy, and honestly, didn't make a lick of sense.

Though, that would explain why no one wanted to confront him about it. And why all his friends had suddenly started to avoid him.

Pfft. Some friends.

On most days, He would ignore the plethora of rowdy students bustling around him, but today was somewhat different.

A dark-haired, male student was deliberately bumping into other students. Xander observed closely, and noticed something interesting after each 'accidental' collision; he would bring out a phone after some seconds, scroll through it for a while, and then stuff it into his bag. Never once did he bring out the same phone twice. It didn't take a genius detective to figure out what he was doing:

He was stealing phones.

He caught a glimpse of the student's eyes staring at him, sky-blue eyes filled with raw determination and a hint of unbridled mischief, and he looked away, directing his attention to his locker. Up till that moment, the hooded teen had thought the whole ordeal amusing, now, he found himself feeling paranoid, his hands feeling his jeans pocket for his phone every other second.

He didn't like the feeling.

He swung his locker door open. He had Biology first, that meant that his first period was going to be spent listening to an in-depth explanation of how Nitrogen was continuously recycled in the Ecosystem. He inwardly groaned, grabbing the large, blue hard-cover textbook from the locker, and then slamming the door shut. He turned right, and walked right into a pair of blue eyes filled with raw determination and unbridled mischief.

"Howdy," The boy said. He didn't even bother with a fake cowboy accent.

"If my phone goes missing," Xander growled, "I will hit you."

"You assume I'm here to steal your phone? I'm hurt."

"I'm not assuming. I am completely sure that you-" Xander patted his pockets again, and frowned, "Give me my phone."

The boy's facial expression metamorphosed into one more- for lack of a better term- devious, as he pulled out a sleek, dark iPhone.

"You mean this phone?"

"Give it."

"Why? Hiding something?"

"Quit being retarded. You don't even know the password."

The boy lifted a finger to silence him, typed into the phone, and turned it around to show the unlocked Home screen.

"How did you?"

"Ashley? Way too predictable. I suggest switching to a pattern; much harder to crack."

Xander made to grab the phone, but the boy spun away from his reach.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He replied without looking up from the phone, "I got a text."

Xander was about to start fuming, "And?"

"And so did you, apparently."

Okay, who does this guy think he is? Xander wondered inwardly. He made another attempt to grab the phone. Again, He was unsuccessful.

"I'll give you ten seconds to give me back my phone." The boy was unresponding, so he decided to make good on his statement, "Ten… Nine."

"So touchy," the boy interrupted, "But, I was done anyway. So, here." He tossed the phone forward, Xander barely catching it before it hit his chest. He hastily scrolled through it.

"You deleted my message history?!" Xander asked, incredulously. When he didn't get a response, he looked up, and saw that the boy had vanished into the crowd; presumably to steal more phones.

Xander sighed.

This was why he didn't like talking to people.

A/N: So, Hi there. Sorry for the wait, to anyone out there actually reading this. I also want to say thanks; it means a lot to me that you're actually taking time to go through my story. I'm in the middle of a plethora of exams, so I'll be posting a new chapter when convenient for me. The next chapter will be up in about one or two weeks, as I'm going to use this week and a bit of next week to write up chapter seven of my other story: Dimension-X. Was that Self advertisement? Yes. I know. I'm shameless. But, seriously, you might want to check it out, it's a bit more fast-paced than this story, and will have multiple story arcs, whereas this story will have just a single main one. It also has alternate dimensions and vampires (Not the ones that sparkle, obviously). Again, Self advertisement. Shameless.

So, Thanks again, and keep safe. I made some slight changes in the previous chapter: Namely the title and the addition of a time stamp. Next chapter, some new characters are introduced, punches are thrown, bullets are fired and minds are blown. Stay tuned.