1 How it Starts

Owen:

Ever since the most devastating, blood-curdling, disaster happened, no one was ever allowed to—or even dared to try to go into hotels. Hotels were closed and more criminals were executed than before. It was nine o'clock in the morning. Owen looked outside the window. The new city of Las Vegas, the beautiful buildings and the casino's that make beauty in the state. Owen hated it. He loved going there on vacation, where he would go to Fiesta. His dad always liked gambling, since he was a professional gambler. But he didn't love it as a regular home.

But his dad was, at least, the reason why he agreed to move here from California. A very bad wildfire happened and his mother and siblings died. It still feels like the fire burned on his arm. It hurts to see his little five-year-old sister be drowned beneath the fire. "Owen," Dad called. Owen looked up. "It's gonna be okay."

"But, Dad. I don't wanna be here. I want to be back home."

"A wildfire happened. Our home was burned, half of our family died!"

"Can't we move somewhere not far from there?"

"A wildfire spreads, we can't risk ourselves."

"I just wanna go home." "This is home, Owen." Dad sighed. "I don't know where else to go. This is the best place I could afford." Owen looked out the window with silent tears. The sun beamed shining on his face. He cleared his throat. Dad sighed again and this time, it was because of the wildfire back in California. They stopped at Wildhane High, which Owen never knew about. He got his backpack and his camera and walked out.

"Hey, Owen," Dad said across to Owen. Owen looked back at him. "I love you," Dad continued. "You too, Dad." Owen closed the door and the black Coupe' car drove off. He looked up to the sky. His dad always told him that a forgiving spirit lived up in the heavens, and he could request what you ask for. Owen looked up and squinted with the sun on his face. "Can I hopefully not be bullied this year. Please, and thank you." Although that was not the way to encounter him, Owen didn't feel like going onto his knees before it would make it worse.

He walked with only one strap in school, because it was probably one of the first ways to not get bullied. As he walked up the stairs, he looked at the beautiful horizon. At least that could be something great that could happen today.

With a single turn to the front, a girl with black turning into purple hair, with purple long glittery nails, and purple lipstick and some gum in her mouth advised, "Um, hello. Your other strap is off." Owen looked at his strap. Well, I guess it's cooler to put on your second strap, Owen thought. "Oh sorry, I forgot it." The girl stated, "It used to be cool around here. Until the Jackers came, here—" She fluffed up his hair. "Better." Her eyebrows changed in some way. She started walking away and everyone started staring at him. Maybe with my jacket and my joggers, Owen thought. I don't know.

Doxin:

"Does the world not care about restaurants anymore?" Detective Doxin asked. He was a professional detective after all that training for six years. His assistant, Jacques answered, activating the liquid to drip from the coffee machine, "They still do. Just not much." Doxin sipped some of his coffee.

"Do they care about casinos?"

"Yes, a lot. Also, two people got jackpots yesterday."

"At where?"

"South Point."

Doxin shook his head. "That barbaric place?" Jacques smacked his coffee machine repeatedly.

"Don't smack it. You just didn't put the water inside," Doxin advised.

"Doesn't the juice come from the teabag?"

"No, you nincompoop. How can the water possibly come from the teabag?"

Jacques laughed. Someone knocked at the door. "Come in," Doxin said.

"No, you nincompoop. How can I possibly open the door if it's locked?" the person outside the door said.

Doxin looked at Jacques. Jacques burst to laugh so hard.

Doxin got up from his soft seat. That's practically where he works all the time. He usually always tells Jacques to do something, like lock the door for example. But being called what he called Jacques washing embarrassment all over him. He opened the door and Jacques's brother, Arthur came into the door. By a split second, he shouted, "Doxin! We have a mutiny in this place!"

Doxin looked left and right bewilderedly. Arthur bought a new trilby hat for himself, which he tried to be a gentleman. He would always go in saying, "salutations". But something was wrong, and it wasn't right either.

"Um, good greetings?" Doxin greeted unsurely. "Every bank in Las Vegas has been robbed! So many people have complained about it!" Arthur cried.

"Then why didn't they just complain to me instead of putting on a newspaper?" Doxin asked, snatching the newspaper. Arthur looked at Doxin vexedly. "Report—I meant to say," Doxin corrected.

"Well, you guys knew about this, right?"

"No."

"Yes."

Doxin looked at Jacques with a confused face. His eyebrows turn into an arch and his chin goes down to his neck.

"Well, um I'll make sure to get on it right away," Doxin said, taking the problem lightly. "The most recent one was just yesterday by an amusement park," Arthur communicated.

"Yes, thank you very much for this—matter."

The door shut very hard and the lock jingled. "I need to find a new lock," Doxin mumbled to himself.

"We need to call the police to get a perimeter," Jacques said.

"Before you even think about doing that," Doxin said, turning his chair. "I need to ask you why you didn't tell me."

A Note from the Author: Please make sure to review and like it too. It will be needed greatly because I really am hoping for this to spread to the little minds of the world. Help me do that please.