The Story of Mike Trisimano

Mike Trisimano was what most would call an average, normal city boy at age 14. It was a tough time for him, partly because he didn't have the perfect or richest family in the world, partially because he didn't have all of the friends a kid could have, and partially because he didn't have the interest in hobbies or athleticism that most of the other kids had. Now, keep in mind, Mike wasn't a total loser, for he did have parents and friends and he wasn't the kid picked last in gym class, yet at the same time, he didn't really have anything special about him. He was a pretty plain, average kid. However, one day on his walk home from school, this would all change.

Mike was walking home on his normal route, and realized that a man hole exploded on the corner of New York Avenue and 48th St. Everyone had stopped and was staring at what had happen, but Mike uninterestedly turned around to find another way home. He walked down a few unfamiliar streets, but he was familiar with the area and figured that he knew where he was going. He headed towards McMurdo Park on 47th St, then turned onto Van Ranst Blvd. On Van Ranst, he saw a dollar on the ground. Ignorantly, he picked it up and felt a strange impulse to turn right into a dark alley. Out of nowhere, the sky went black. Mike felt like he was in the middle of a tornado. He felt a rush in his gut that was worse than the way his worst nightmare had ever made him feel. He thought to himself that nobody could have ever been more scared than he was.

While he was still in the air, three figures appeared to him. One was a tall, skinny, dark man, wearing all dark clothing. He had both hands in his pockets, and his facial features were blocked by a hood, with braids coming out of the bottom. He said, "Yo, whats poppin kidd?" Without saying anything, Mike looked to the next figure. It was a shorter man, appearing much wider than the first man, mostly because he was in a costume that looked like a warewolf. It was a very big costume, but not very real looking. He said, in an old-fashioned British accent, "How do you do?" The last man, not very tall and a little broad-shouldered, was wearing a pin-striped suit. He had dark hair with gel in it, he was tan, and very neat and dapper. He said, "How