Living with a family that despises him isn't a good thing, living with a father who neglects his kid isn't a good thing, living with the thought his siblings left him isn't a good thing. To say the least Tommy's life is absolute shit. That was until he found a way to cope, a thing that was HIS to keep. A talent he never thought would be for him.

Xisuma was desperate. His server was in chaos, and the moon loomed larger each night. In a last-ditch effort, he sought help from the Watchers. They offered a solution, but at a steep price. Every few months, Xisuma had to endure "the Pit," a brutal arena where Watchers fought each other to the death. They didn't transform him into one of their own, but the horrors he witnessed there were more than enough. Time seemed to stand still during these fights, as if the universe itself recoiled from the violence. Blood stained the ground, and the Watchers' screams echoed in his mind long after the battles ended. The once-unflappable Xisuma grew increasingly nauseous at the sight of blood, a stark contrast to his former self. His players began to notice the change-he roamed the server at night, avoiding the daylight as if it burned him. One night, during another grim visit to the Pit, Xisuma's heart froze. Among the combatants, he saw his brother, fighting desperately. Bound by the Watchers' rules, Xisuma couldn't intervene as his brother was brutally beaten. Left barely alive, his brother was handed over to Xisuma, who carried him home, his mind reeling with horror and guilt. But something was different this time. As Xisuma trudged back, burdened by his brother's limp form, he sensed he was not alone. Shadows flitted at the edge of his vision, and a chill ran down his spine. Someone was following him, and the oppressive feeling of dread grew with each step. He knew he had to uncover the identity of his pursuer, even if it meant delving deeper into the darkness that was slowly consuming him and his world.

The crowd was loud, the roaring drowning out any other sounds around. They were all cheering for a boy with a helmet. A boy with a helmet that was basking in it all. His arms stretched out wide, jumping up and down to rile the crowd up more. He quickly put his visor up, revealing sharp blue eyes but nothing else. Those eyes were scanning the crowd before him, slightly squinted into a smile. He stomped his foot, the crowd stomped theirs. He stomped his other foot, the crowd stomped theirs. He stomped in a rhythm, the crowd stomping in the same. A loud drumming to a beat that was like no others. A beat that was his. A beat that was for the boy called Cherry Bomb. -or- Tommy is a motorbike racer known the world as Cherry Bomb. He quickly gained popularity along with skill. All he wanted was something to be his, and he got it. Lets just hope his family won't take it away from him. !!!!!!!!NOTICE!!!!!!!! THIS IS NOT MY STORY EVERYTHING GOES TO Blueium ON AO3 ALL CREIDS GO TO THEM.

Dianthus Caryophyllus [ di•anthus ca·ryophyl•lus ] n. Disdain, Disappointment, Rejection OR A Writer! Tommyinnit with a sprinkle of angst, jealousy, friendship and discovery