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StreetSlam Volume One: Wishes of a Broken Time P.1
By Leonard L.
age: 17
Virginia

Chapter One

A breeze rolled through suburbia, turning over dozens of crunchy, crumpled autumn colored leaves. The kind breeze continued to roll through, ruffling the mighty trees and shaking more leaves from their bodies. The breeze wasn’t the only thing rolling through, a sky blue convertible was slowly making its way through the suburbs being driven by a young African- American man. He was wearing his usual gold and black high school track team jacket and his “cool” black shades. Across the back of his jacket his last name, Maxwell, was stitched in in golden letters. Maxwell continued driving as music blasted through his speakers, vibrating the whole neighborhood.

He pulled up to a house that looked like it didn’t belong in suburbia with all the other large nice houses. This little wooden house had loose boards with peeling white paint. The discolored grass was high enough to reach up to your thigh, and autumn leaves were scattered across the yard in bushels, not in neat piles on the side of the road like the surrounding houses. A dusty brown Cadillac sat by the curb with a layer of leaves resting atop it. The musically vibrating car pulled into the driveway of the crumbling house and once the engine was turned off, silence rang through the air.

He exited the car and jogged to the front porch of the deteriorating house. The young man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. Using his index finger, he ran it under the address to make sure he was at the right house.

“Well, here I am,” he sighed.

He stepped onto the first step of the porch; it gave a sigh and bent under his weight. Stepping gingerly, he made it to the front door. He tapped it lightly but with force to make sure the peeling paint didn’t fall off and to make sure he was heard. A few seconds later the door swung open about half a foot and a man’s head popped out.

“Dang, he needs to go back in!” Maxwell joked to himself after seeing the man’s appearance.

The man’s eyes were red and bags hung under them and his beard was thick, as if he hadn’t shaved for a month. The odor around him proved he hadn’t bathed in a month either.

“What do you want?” he snapped.
“Hi, Mr. Williams, I’m Devin Maxwell,” the young man said as he extended his hand. The man looked at the hand then back at Devin Maxwell with an insulted expression. Devin ignored the expression and continued the introduction.

“Well, as I said, I’m Devin Maxwell and I work for Titan Force Organization. We …”

“I don’t want to buy anything!” Williams interrupted and began to slip his head back inside.

“Trust me. I’m not selling anything, but if I sold you a shower, a shave, a box of tic-tacs, some paint and a rake you’d probably be more interested,” Devin replied quickly to bring the man back out, snarling. “As I was saying, we specialize in collecting valuable weapons and artifacts. I’m here to ask if you have in your possession a golden staff? It’s called the Zeus Staff, you may have heard of it. It’s rumored to fire thunderbolts and some other weird stuff. It's four feet long with a red jewel in the top of it.”

Mr. Williams looked around nervously before exclaiming, “NO! If I had a golden staff I wouldn’t be living here, I’ll tell you that. So get off my property!” With that, he slammed the door in Devin's face.

Devin sighed and pounded at the door. “MR. WILLIAMS, THIS IS IMPORTANT!” Devin shouted at him in a matter of fact tone.

Then, without warning, a streak of white light blasted through the door and struck Devin in the chest with so much force he was blown off the porch. He struck the lawn back first hard enough to leave a dent in the ground! A burning sensation ran through his chest, while the back of his head and his back were throbbing. The attack had scorched a hole through his black shirt, but his chest was left unscarred.

Devin glanced up and saw that the entire front door and the porch was aflame. “Was that a thunder bolt?” Devin asked himself.

Suddenly, another streak of white zoomed by his head and struck the ground next to him, creating a small crater. Devin glanced at the crater, “Yeah that’s a thunderbolt.”

The man ran out through the flames in a dirty, tight white t-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. In his right hand he held a golden object, and in his left he held a pair of keys. Huffing and puffing he raced to his car and quickly got inside. Devin rose to his feet and charged at the car.

“Oh no you don’t! Don’t you start that car!” he ordered.

Williams started the car and in a burst of leaves he sped down the road.

“Don’t make me chase you!” Devin shouted as he raced after the car.

The car continued to speed down the road as Devin tried to catch up to it. He sprung up from the pavement and launched himself diagonally eight feet into the air! He came down atop of the car, sprawled across the roof. Williams growled as he snatched up the golden staff from the seat next to him. Williams began to swerve around wildly trying to throw Devin off his car. Devin held on tighter, the force of his grip causing his fingers to dig into the metal frame of the car.

Suddenly a ray of white light blasted through the roof, nearly blowing a hole straight through his stomach. The car swerved again, this time into traffic! Other cars swerved and dodged around them trying not to smash into them! Devin’s body slipped off of the roof, but he clung to the side of the car so he was hugging the driver’s side.

Williams glanced over and saw Devin looking right at him! He grunted and sped up, Devin began to pull himself back up. Williams then smashed the driver side of the car up against another car crushing Devin! He let out a roar, and with another pull, he climbed back atop of the car, resting on his scarred back atop of the car.

“Okay,” Devin roared, “I’m done playing nice, Mr. Williams.”

The young man stood up atop the car and snapped his fingers. Over twenty miles away, in Devin’s car still parked in Williams’s driveway, a circular one-foot pole responded to Devin's call and rose out of his car, flying towards Devin. He leaped back off the car and snatched the pole out of mid-air and landed behind the car as it sped away.

Devin pressed one of the three buttons on the pole and a mechanical whirling noise started up within the pole. From the top of the pole a bulky, steel blade two full yards in length, and razor thin, sprouted out from the pole turning the pole into a handle.

Devin brought both hands together and threw them over his head, bending his body back. Mr. Williams continued to speed away. He paused before snapping forward, Devin brought the blade down with so much force a thin wave tore apart the ground as it caught up to the back of the speeding car. The wave struck the back of the car and ripped through it like a hot knife through butter, splitting the car in half! Williams fell out of the car-half still holding the staff and rolled into the street.

Seconds later both car halves exploded in balls of fire! Williams crawled across the street on all fours, clutching the staff with both hands to his chest.

“Mr. Williams!” Devin shouted to him from the flames, as he made his way over to him.

“What do you want? Who are you?” Williams stammered.

Devin passed through the flames with the sword slung over his shoulder. As he was about to answer, Williams fired a ball of white light at Devin. The ball never reached him.

“Cyclone Spin,” Devin sighed in a bored tone. A large ball of spinning air surrounded Devin, before it burst into a gust of wind in every direction. The ball of white light struck the wall of wind and faded out into nothing. Devin then walked over to Williams, grinning from ear to ear.

“What do you want?” Williams asked.

“The Zeus Staff,” Devin responded matter of factly and extended his hand down to him.

Mr. William’s looked at the staff, then back to Devin. The massive sword was now pointing in his face.

“I’m not for human shish-kabobs,” Devin snapped, “but I’m always willing to try new things. Now hand me the staff before you end up on Hannibal Lecter’s menu at the nearest Denny’s.”

Williams gingerly let go of the staff and in one hand lifted it up to Devin. He snatched the staff out of his grip, and looked down on Williams.

“I told you not to make me chase you,” Devin snapped.

“Wait. Who are you?” Williams asked.

“I’m Devin Maxwell, the Black Superman, the number one toughest agent in Titan Force, the neva quita, the go getta Devin Maxwell,” he said and launched himself into the clouds above with one leap.


 

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