• Chapter 1


    The night was dark; the moon glistening down upon an abandoned warehouse in an unpopular street. A kid, wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and a dark blue, thin fluff jacket, was lying against a tree nest to that very building. He had black, long, ruffled hair, light blue eyes, and a serious look. He was scribbling on a pure white sheet of paper.
    “My name is Chase Memorias.” He wrote calmly, soothed by the moonlight. “I’m 16, I live alone, and I go to Northfield High. My apartment is on 9th Street near Division Street. For other information about me, go to the Black Eye Corp. on Division Street in Northfield, Minnesota. Ask Felix Miles for the info.”
    The teenage boy stood up and slipped the piece of paper into his pocket on his jacket and stood in front of the decimated run-down building. He sucked in a big breath and gently breathed it out. He walked up to a large opening in the warehouse and slipped a small, but bright, flashlight out of his pocket.
    He poked his head into the opening and checked both sides of the building, then slowly shuffled into the building. Trying to keep hidden, he crept over to a staircase that lead to the second floor and slipped his jacket up a little, revealing a gun holster on the right side of his waist. He crawled up the stone stairs until he reached a wooden barrier about his size and he turned off the flashlight and stuck it in his pocket.
    Concentrating hard, he stayed right next to the barrier until he thought up an idea. He pulled out his black magnum and pulled back the slide. Then he stepped down a few steps and rushed over the barrier, falling onto the steps behind the barrier. Guns flared in his direction, but only one got close to him and tore his gun holster. Stuck, Chase wriggled until he was lying on his belly and readied his gun for emission.
    He jumped out quickly and rolled behind a pillar that was about twice as wide as he. Guns shot in his direction, but again, none hit. He quickly turned and shot a few rounds at the gang and luckily hit one in the knee. The rest jumped behind other pillars while the injured one writhed in pain.
    Chase rested behind his pillar and devised a plan. He slipped his flashlight out of his pocket, turned it on, and set it on the ground pointing toward the staircase; he pulled off his jacket and held it on the other side of the pillar. He tossed it into the light, and the street thugs started shooting at it. Chase moved to the side of the pillar, shot three of the remaining 5 thugs in their legs and arms, and jumped back behind the pillar.
    The two remaining delinquents whispered furiously and one of them ended up shoving the other out of the pillar, and Chase started pulling his trigger. The confused felon was hit by two bullets, one on the side of the chest and the other on the arm. The remaining of the gang shot a couple of rounds at Chase, but Chase only got grazed on the left cheek.
    Silence overtook the warehouse. The only noise that was audible was the dying criminals quietly crying about their bleeding wounds. The lone criminal racked his brain for a way to win the gunfight before the cops showed up. Thinking more peacefully than the enraged villain, Chase came up with an interesting plan. He quickly shot at the crook’s pillar and slid back while the criminal returned fire. He then chucked his gun over behind another pillar and grabbed the flashlight; jumping out and throwing the flashlight at the criminal, who had an empty gun, Chase scrambles over to the other pillar, grabs the gun, and hides. Blindly, the criminal dodged the flying flashlight and reloaded his gun, but he lost sight of his enemy.
    Slowly, Chase leaned out and found the thug lying against his pillar, looking for Chase in the wrong direction. Chase fires his pistol, and the bullet flies straight and true, penetrating the confused thug’s leg. He dropped like a brick, clutching his calf. Chase carefully walked up to him and pointed his gun barrel at the wounded man.
    “Are you some sort of crime lackey?” the criminal heaved out. “Or an underage cop?”
    “Nope,” Chase replied, a proud glint in his eye. “I’m a Black Eye Youth.”