The Start of an Adventure for a Rebellion Teenager

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𝟏𝟐 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

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𝟏𝟐 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

The young boy was now 15 years old, all grown up, and was out and about on a Solar Surfer, a sleek, futuristic hoverboard with a streamlined metallic surface, glowing neon-blue edges, and small thrusters that allow for swift, agile movement through the air, leaving a trail of light as it soars, embodying the thrill of high-speed adventure and the spirit of exploration. The wind howled in his ear as he felt it hit his face, his hair blown back. He flew off the hill into the sky, passing the clouds. He looked behind him with a grin and stepped on a button behind him. The mast was closed, and the boy felt the wind pushing against his back as he dived down, spinning the board all the way down and pulling up the mast when he was close to the ground. "Yaaaa-hoo!" he howled, his cries echoing in the empty space.

His Solar Surfer glided to the side as he flew towards a factory. A yellow sign indicated it was off-limits. The headlights flashed, and he broke through, causing the alarms to go off as he flew past the large factory obstacle. Skidding his board against the pipe, he jumped up. "Whoo!" he cheered as he continued to fly and saw a spinning wheel bucket collecting coal. Jim smirked and stepped on his board to close the mast, letting it glide towards the open. "Come on!" he growled and flew through with ease before he could be crushed. "Whoo! Ha ha ha! Whoo-Hoo!" he cheered as he flew out of the factory. Once he was back in the sky, he heard sirens going off behind him, and two police robots with emergency lights chased after him, making him roll his eyes back slowly and cringe. "Oh, great." He groans.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On a hill, a quaint, timber-framed structure perched on a cliff's edge, overlooking a vast, misty expanse. It has a cozy, old-world charm with round windows, a shingled roof, and a small wooden balcony. Airships hover nearby, docked on a narrow platform, while the sky glows softly with pinks and purples, enhancing the inn's serene and isolated atmosphere. The mother of the young boy wears a simple yet elegant dress, usually in warm earth tones, which complements her role as both a hardworking innkeeper and a loving mother. The dress is practical, with rolled-up sleeves and an apron tied around her waist, indicating her hands-on approach to managing the Benbow Inn, racing around trying to serve everyone on this busy morning.

"Mrs. Hawkins!" called a quirky, eccentric figure with a narrow face, a large bulging eye beneath a monocle, and tentacle-like limbs. She wore a grayish-blue dress and bonnet, waving the empty glass in her tentacle in the air while pointing at it. The woman she called to was pouring hot food into a dog bowl, carrying other dishes on a wooden tray. She turned to her and said, "I know, refill on the purp juice. Coming right up, Mrs. Dunwiddie!" She moved to a table of a family of frogs, awaiting their food. "There we go. That's four powdered spheroids," she placed a plate of donut-shaped food, which the child pushed away, making a gross noise. "Two lunar eclipses," she placed a plate of eggs with greenish-blue yolks, "and it's a big bowl of Zorellian jelly worms for the big boy!" She placed a large bowl of moving worms in front of the young frog. "Awesome!" the boy exclaimed. "Enjoy!" the woman wished. The boy left his fork and knife on the table and started to chow down with his bare hands.

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