Those Beautiful Things (JeanMarco)

Chapter 1: Masterpiece of a Secret Identity

It wasn't normal for things like this to happen in Trost. A beautiful city, everyone was nice there, normally. For me this story is different. It was junior year in college, and I was on the road to getting a good job. Most like any other human being at my age.

It wasn't normal to have graffiti in the nice part of town, however. I began to notice it after my friend Connie pointed it out. The only words I could ever describe the street side art were: pretty, beautiful, inspiring.

I know what your thinking, how could art from some punk on the side of a gas station be inspiring or beautiful? The truth is, I have no clue.

Fast forward to now, I am still working hard at school. Busting my ass to please my parents. The art is getting washed off the buildings, but everyday there are more pieces of art. Spray painted on buildings or warehouses. It became normal, and for some it was anoying.

Angry businessmen called the news company to come record it, explaining that there would be a good reward for whomever found the vandal. Well, I decided I'd go look myself, at a stupid time.

* * *

I backed slowly into the dark alley, gang members cornering me in the ghetto part of Trost. My breathing became ragged and uneven as a dark haired white kid, with tons of tattoos, came at me with a knife.

I can't think, and he's still coming at me. So I do the worst thing possible for a scrawny kid to do. I kicked him in the balls. I winced at my own force as he collapsed to the ground. His buddy, a tan skinned kid, grabbed me and threw me to the ground.

I fell with an "Oof!" As the wind was knocked from my lungs. I looked up as he drew in closer. This is it. I'm going to die in a dark alley several blocks from my home. My eyes squeeze shut, and I prepare for the sharp pain of the knife tearing into my throat, but it never came.

I look up to see the two on the ground, fast asleep, and one other person dressed in full black stares me down. "Don't hurt me!" I shout, looking up at the figure.

The guy drops something with a sharp clink! I realized moments later that it's a paint can. He also has something else in his hand, but he drops it on the ground and wipes his hand on his pants.

I think I know who this is! "Who are you?" I question. He peers down at me before sighing roughly.

"Where do you live?" He asks, voice smooth and non-threatening.

"I live by 4th and University, right by the intersection. Who are you?" I press, but he doesn't reply.

He picks up the rag and walks over to me. "I'm sorry. You can't know." He says sadly. I can't stop him from placing the rag over my nose and mouth. I breath in panic, and I suddenly get tired. I try to move his hands away, but I'm too tired. The world blurs and becomes dark.

Sucks for him. I didn't give him my actual address.

* * *

My groggy eyes open up in the light of a dark room. Naturally, I begin to freak out. "Where the hell am I?" I shout. Moments later someone comes into the room, and I know him.

"Oh, you're awake." He says, a small smile on his face. I raise my eyebrow and scan the room. "Don't worry, you're fine. If you gave me your house number I would have taken you to your home, but you had other ideas." The guy says, matter of factly.

"I don't want to go home, not until I find out who's been tagging buildings." I bite.

The dude grins at me, and begins to giggle. I wouldn't lie, but I feel a fluttering in my chest at that sound.