Reformation

Chapter Two- Purple Tattoos

Mike

"Hey punk, what's with the green hair? Did ya get the wrong hair dye?"

Mike ignored the ugly brutes, preferring to concentrate on the kickflip he was perfecting. His neon green board, the same color as his hair, flashed in the Chicago sun. He wore his beanie low, and hummed along with the lead singer of Guns 'n Roses buzzing out of the headset around his neck.

"Are you deaf 'n stupid? I'm talkin' to ya!"

Mike knew this skate park had plenty of shady delinquents, but if he was honest, he didn't care whether he got hurt or not.

So he didn't surprise himself when he rolled to a stop next to the leering trio, kicked his board into his hands and said, "Can't you tell when someone's ignoring you? Guess not, probably got one too many piercings."

The metal head scowled, obviously not one to take an insult. He grabbed a fistful of Mike's t-shirt. "Maybe I can drill some of your piercings into your head." He growled, shoving him toward one of his goonies.

Mike's arms were immobilized, and his skateboard was wrenched away.

Mike felt a pang for his board; it was one of the only things he had ever worked hard for. "Leave my board alone!"

For that, he got his board smashed into his face.

"Hey! Why don't you three go dumb down the environment somewhere else?" A new voice delved into the fray.

Mike blinked past the tears clouding his eyes. He heard several yells of pain, and a moment later he was free. His vision cleared in time for him to watch the three stooges scurrying away with their tails between their legs.

He had to look further upward to see his savior.

"I think this is yours."

Mike looked up and stared, open mouthed, at the owner of a voice that was at once deep and light, like caramel.

He was at least a head taller than Mike, and twice as wide. He had broad, sturdy shoulders and a body built like a boxer, with a grey tank top that perfectly emphasized his boulder like arms. Impressive tattoo sleeves decorated his arms, patterns and designs all in a shade of purple. His posture was loose and relaxed, open, but Mike's eyes were fixated on his hair. His tousled wavy locks were a bold blue color, the color of bluebirds and blue raspberry lollipops. The sharp color of his hair accented the faint purple tint of his eyes, which were now twinkling with amusement. Mike snapped his mouth shut.

"Um, yeah. Thanks." Mike muttered, taking his skateboard back.

They stood, Mike shifting awkwardly, the other with hands shoved in torn jeans.

"I'm Sullivan, but I go by Sully." The blue haired body builder said, extending a hand. His grin softened the strict lines of his jaw.

Mike shook politely, noting Sully's hand dwarfed his own, and cautiously returned the smile. "Mike Wahdowski."

Sully laughed, the corners of his eyes lined with the remnants of mirth. "Your last name is pretty cool, Mike." He said, and strangely Mike did not mind Sully laughing at his last name.

Mike blinked. "Thanks?"

Sully tilted his head, appraising him. "Your hair is a great color, how did you get it so bright?"

Mike tugged on the hair that peeked out from under his black beanie. "I dunno, I bought neon green dye."

Sully laughed again; Mike found he liked the sound.