AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello, world!

So this is my first story on this account… My old email got shut off (we have a new internet provider) and so my old FF account is "inaccessible". Oh well!

This may be "Chapter One" but it's really a prologue. Mmmhm. And I cut off a whole cheesy creeper scene! Heh, way to keep people in character, Kotes…

I've spent weeks re-watching the show to write this, and I STILL can't keep them in character… But I think I did alright, at least. But it's not MY opinion that matters, it's YOURS! Reviews make me a happy camper, and I'll only update if I get enough reviews. ;) I won't tell you all the secret number… You just gotta review! Aha, alright, so maybe that's kind of mean, but I really hate posting these things and hearing nothing back, you know? Review for Review, I promise.

Also, on this website where you can make playlists, I'll put together the sixteen tracks that makes up Kori's mix tape. Mmhm.

P.S.: I am so sorry for all the typos I made in this. If my computer hadn't been broken all this time, I would have fixed it immediately. Please, if there are any more remaining typos, include them in your reviews so I can fix them. Thanks!

NOW, ON TO THE STORY!

"I swear to God, this mix could sink the sun."

(The Mixed Tape – Jack's Mannequin)

The sirens started wailing outside the window. The blond groggily looked up, knowing that the police, a fire truck, and three different ambulances were heading out in one hell of a hurry. He recognized the sirens. The boy also knew that his best friend was trailing those emergency vehicles right about now, getting ready to jump into the action and help out in any way he could. It was a super-hero kind of thing.

However, the blonde wasn't about to join him. Instead, he rolled back over in his bed. It was an exhausted-teenager kind of thing.

It was too bad the police scanner programmed into his backpack had picked up the word "metahuman". The device began flashing a red light, beeping for the boy to come and listen to the report. With a sigh, the boy sat up, knowing all hopes of getting a few more minutes of sleep were now completely gone. Those last five minutes had been gone ever since the sixteen year old had developed into another Bang Baby. The only downside to his super-intelligence was being able to figure out just how much of his normal life he'd had to give up to become a super-hero. Sometimes, he let his mind wander around the notion of, "What if I'd stayed normal?"

He was wondering this very thing when he pulled himself out of the comforts of his bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, his alarm clock went off.

Except, it wasn't really an alarm clock. It was an old tape deck, and it switched itself on and started turning the cassette inside. He couldn't turn it off fast enough.

Now playing through the speakers of the old deck was a mixed tape he'd made; 16 tracks, one story. He had spent hours sitting alone in the Abandoned Gas Station of Solitude with that tape deck, Backpack, and seven different cassette tapes. He'd sat there, listening to songs over and over again to fit them together for her perfectly.

The only problem was that the next Monday, when he returned to school with the finished tapes, the recipient was nowhere to be found. The boy had carried those tapes in the pockets of his hoodie for a week, waiting to find her in the hallway and give the girl her mix. But she never showed up.

The first thought in his mind was that she had been avoiding him, but he knew that was stupid. He knew it wasn't right. However, he still took the tapes back to the gas station that weekend and re-arranged the tracks again. He wanted to burn a hole into her. He was angry with her- all the time and energy he'd wasted for her, all the things he'd tried to do and she wasn't there to receive it. He wanted those track to sink the sun.

Another week passed and the girl was yet to make an appearance in the hallways. Eventually, the boy calmed down. After all, there had to be a valid reason she had disappeared without a trace. He left one of the copies of her mixed tape in the journalism room and went home.

But upon entering his room, he realized that the girl had left a trace, and it was in the form of a letter on the boy's bed, the center point of his trashed bedroom.

Hey kiddo. Sorry for trashing the place- had to get your attention somehow. Nothing's broken, nothing's taken. You can check if you don't believe me. In fact, open some of your drawers and you'll find they're undisturbed. I just made a little mess like it's nobody's business (because it isn't). So anyways, kiddo, please please please don't worry about me, alright? I'm fine. I hear you've been looking for me. And I'm just fine without being found.

Oh, yeah... Thanks for the tapes.

-Kori

He'd never felt more confused in his life. Thanks for the tapes, she'd written. But how did she get them? He went back to the school and traced her footsteps, following the rut she'd gone through every day. He hoped he could find where Kori had gotten her hands on the mixed tape. The trail led to the Journalism room, and with the Journalism room, it led to Frieda.

"I found it on the table back there, by our next edition," explained the journalist. "It had Kori's name on it, so I dropped it by her house. Was I not supposed to?" The brunette seemed genuinely sorry. He forgave her.

Forgiving Frieda didn't settle his mind, though. It didn't make Kori's absences seem any less strange, it didn't get the copy of the tape back, and it didn't erase a certain conversation he'd overheard from his mind. While waiting for Virgil one day, he'd heard snippets of conversation between his missing-in-action crush and Daisy.

"I mean it, Daisy. It's like there's a part of him in every second of every day," Kori had sighed. That was all he'd needed to hear to start wishful thinking. He wanted her to have been talking about him.

But that was stupid. Kori Nichols was no friend of his and she sure as hell didn't know he was alive, or at least that's what he kept telling himself. Kori Nichols was that girl that all the boys overlooked because she was a challenge. She was hard to figure out. She was a prize that no one wanted to waste the time fighting for. Kori Nichols was a puzzle, and the blonde's super-genius mind was fascinated by her.

However, as soon as he decided to talk to her, she disappeared. A week. Two. A month. He hadn't seen her in ages, and all he had left of her now was a trashed bedroom, a stolen mix tape, and a letter from a girl who didn't know him.

Truth be told, he probably didn't really know her, either.

The tape deck was suddenly silent, and all that the genius could hear was static from the tape. Side A had finished, and the tape needed to be switched to side B. He started to walk towards the deck, but was interrupted by the sound of his best friend's voice. "Yo, Richie, where are you, dude?" Vigil's voice asked through the Shock Vox. "There's been a car crash down here on Cowan. Trust me; you have got to see this." The blonde looked from the walkie-talkie on his dresser to the tape deck and back. "Dude, I know you're up, you have that stupid cassette tape set to go off like, twenty minutes ago. Those stupid things are so out-dated, man, c'mon. Haul your ass down here, it's important!"

The genius shot a glare to the Shock Vox, as if his partner could have seen the daggers in his eyes. With a heavy sigh, the blonde grabbed his rocket-skates and the bag with his superhero getup. He knew he couldn't hide from Dakota in his "stupid, out-dated mix tapes" anymore.

"Richie to Virgil," he said to the device, "I'm on my way."

A.N.: So, as a reminder for those like me that forget to review after reading the story, PLEASE REVIEW! Aha, I know I must sound demanding, but I haven't written in a long time, and I'm trying to see if I'm still any good. Please help me better my writing skills. :) Thank you.