Soul Streets

I run into people who play with fire.

My first encounter with Trent Casadin was in an alley on fifth street. That was where he burned my former best friend to death.

But maybe I am getting a bit ahead of myself. How about we back up the story for a moment instead of jumping into the part where I met one of the most important figures in the supernatural underworld.

My name is Shane. Up until the day I met Trent I was a perfectly normal kid in the city of Acheron. That is, if you would call an almost drop-out highschooler who lived with a foster family in the city's poorest neighborhood normal.

I got mediocre grades in school. I led a mediocre life style of homework, being an eternal bachelor, and occasionally finding myself drunk in my bathtub. All of my friends were pretty mediocre too, or at least that's what I thought.

Michael.

That was the name of my former friend; the one that Trent Casadin turned into charcoal.

Michael was a drug dealer. How we became friends; I can never remember. That morning Michael needed me to cover for him in first period, presumably so he could sell weed.

The next thing I know, I'm in handcuffs in the principal's office under the pretense that I was in possesion of illegal materials.

"I don't smoke weed." I told the principal and the student resource officer.

"Now Shane, we never accused you of smoking marijuana. You are here due to the fact that a large amount of marijuana was found in your locker this morning. Would you care to explain?" The pricipal responded, his tone level and unsympathetic.

"Weed in my locker?" And then it all fit into place. Michael had asked him the previous day for his locker combination since my locker was closer to Michael's classes. He had given him the key to his own destruction so easily.

"Michael must have put it there. It's his weed!" I cried in desperation.

"You know," the cop started, " that would make a lot of sense since Michael has been caught dealing drugs before. But this time, it was Michael that tipped us off."

It was simple. Michael knew he was going to be caught soon. So he planted evidence in my locker, knowing that I never used it, and planned to place the blame on me instead of himself so that Michael wouldn't have as much of a punishment.

It was pretty smart for the guy who had killed 80% of his brain cells.

But it got me in big trouble.

Remember how I said I was an almost drop-out student? That's because I didn't drop out. The school kicked me out.

So, I the foster child that got kicked out of highschool during his junior year, found himself wandering the streets that day.

I didn't want to go back and face my foster parents. If I wasn't going to school then it would be best I got a job to please them.

Looking for a job is what landed me in that alley on fifth street that day, backed into a corner by my former friend who had stabbed me in the back.

I didn't see Michael after that day. Before he could punch me he was incinerated where he stood.

And there, standing in Michael's place, was Trent Casadin. The blonde haired, blue eyed, boy who was surrounded by fire.