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1 to 5.
1. Introduction - Ryan
"Stephen! Look at the camera!"
A small child, brunette in the hair and green in the eyes, glanced up at the foreign instrument his mother held in her hands, blinking a few times in confusion like it was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. What was that in the glass? Another baby? Or perhaps himself, he didn't know...
"One day when you're a big grown man, I'm gonna show you this and you will- Ow! Don't pull Mommy's earrings!... No, sweetie, I don't want your toys... Jack, could you get his sippy cup?"
2. Complicated - Ryan
Ryan had been trying all day to get those colors lined up. Turning left, turning right, turning every which way he could possibly go. His attempts were futile; he couldn't do it. Hours upon hours of work, hours of stressing his very being on the annoying toy in his hands. He'd been given it by his sister at lunch, who laughingly said "You can't do it!"
Oh, he would show her wrong! Or so he thought.
Twelve hours later and he was still up late at night, well past his bed-time, a glare on his face that could stop the Russian army in its tracks. Eventually he collapsed on his pillow, tossing the square across the room, which finally, by some miracle, showed a solved block of blue, red, green, and others as it bounced off the wall and fell into a pile of dirty laundry.
Fucking Rubik's cube.
3. Making History - Ryan
"Stephen Wheatley!"
Finally, they'd called his name. He was one of the last, waiting as patiently as he could for that tall, skinny man up on the stadium to call his name. He'd gotten bored since they'd called up the C's, and by the end of the alphabet he'd already wanted to take a pistol and blow his brains out. With a grin on his face, he climbed up the steps, shook a few hands, and got ready to take his diploma.
"You're making history, kid," the principal told him as he gave him his ticket into the real world. So many doors were opened upon the handing of that paper, so many ways he could change his life, and what would his first step be?
Unfortunately, his first step was on his robe. On stage. And it hurt like hell when his face hit that floor.
4. Rivalry - Noah and Rodney
Noah was thirteen now; it'd been three years. Three years, but it felt like just yesterday. He hadn't been there at the time, but in his nightmares it had been like he was. The screeching of tires, cars careening into each other, bodies flying in vehicles and through windows, tossed like dolls. In his dreams he remembered all the blood, so much blood, flying across the dash like something in a horror movie.
"Why d'ya do so much fer Mama?" Rodney asked him one day as Noah offered to go fetch firewood from the forest, a tad jealous by his cousin's attempts to get on the better side of his mother. In the bitter cold of a Montana winter, it wasn't something many wanted to do, sparking Rodney's curiosity. The two had practically grown up together, as did their mothers what with Noah's mom's marriage into the family.
"It's nothin'."
5. Unbreakable - Sawyer
His score was unbreakable; his talent unmatched. The man, just about as rugged as his clothing, tall like a mountain and built like a wrestler, could do anything if he had that stick in his hand. He played for bets, he played for the glory, and he sure as hell played for bragging rights. "Come on up, ya pussies!" He'd bellow from the top of his lungs, almost louder than the music ringing through the bar. "Try 'n beat me!"
Many would try, but no one ever did. He didn't cheat; it was just something he had a natural knack for. No one could break his score. Some strange tie between him and that white ball was unbreakable, like it begged to be beaten around by him. That's right. He was the king.
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