A/N: So, once again, I gice you a collaberation between me, you beloved Fenrir's Daughter, and me bestest buddy in Buffalo who keeps changing her name. We'll just call her Roro-chan since she can't seem to keep the same penname for a week. Love her to bits, but it makes it so hard to find her on the internet, especially since we aren't usually into the same fandoms. It's a good thing we actually get to meet up in real life from time to time or we'd never get anything done!! Oh, and before I forget:

Disclaimer: Fenrir's Daughter and the collaberator are in no way realated to Hot Wheels or Mattel. We own nothing. Were you to sue us you would wrack up more in legal fees than what you would get from us.

Prologue

(-:-)

Shirako Takamoto was walking down the street at night by the light of the street lamps. He had just left his most recent favorite techno club and was in high spirits from his victory against the reigning champion of the DDR game that was in the far corner of the club.

It was getting late and he needed to get back to his apartment. The Teku were going to be racing in the coming week and he needed to be at his best. That and he just wanted to get back to tuning up Nightlife.

He turned down a dark alley that took him towards the wharf. It was the back way to his apartment, but it wasn't a way to go alone, at night, in the dark…

Shirako knew he made a mistake in taking that route but it was too late. Two tall men, both wearing black, came walking right up to him and grabbed him by the arms. He struggled in their grasp for a while before they pulled him into an abandoned warehouse and dropped him. They stayed by his side to make sure he didn't run.

"Shirako, my mahnnnn!" A very thin, sickly looking man with thin blonde hair tied back in a rubber band came trudging up to face the Japanese American boy. Shirako remembered this man and groaned inwardly. Mahoney Jackson, otherwise known as Ratzo, was his former drug dealer.

"What do you want?"

"Aww, Shirako, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Yo, we ain't friends." Shirako was cool towards this possible threat. Better not to worry until one knows what the hell is going on. He hadn't seen Ratzo in about three years. Why would he show up after all this time? Not for money – Shirako paid his debt off and stopped that nasty habit.

"Shirako," Ratzo said, "I need some help. Just a little pick-me-up cash. Anything you can spare… maybe a grand? I can give you the good stuff in exchange."

Shirako held up his hands and stepped back a little. "No way man, I tried it those few times but I learned my lesson. I don't do that shit no more."

"Okay, forget the greenies, but I gotta have the money. I'm in a fix, mahnnn, I need the money."

"Yo, I don't have that kind of money…"

"Like hell you don't!" Ratzo snapped his fingers to which the two thugs grabbed Shirako tightly from his shoulders and wrists. The thought crossed Shirako's mind that something bad was going to happen now.

Ratzo balled his fist and slammed it hard into the boy's gut. Shirako grunted and doubled over. The jabbing pain from the thugs' fingers and hands made him gasp as he went down to his knees.

"Quit holding out on me, mahnnn," Ratzo said as he kicked Shirako in the chest with a steel toed boot. "You're a good racer. I've had eyes on you. I know you have the money, so cough it up."

Shirako definitely coughed up something. It was red, though, not green. This wasn't what Ratzo wanted. He wanted green, but the red was good for now until it changed colors. He had one of his men lift up Shirako's head by his hair and Ratzo didn't waste time to throw a hard one against his face. His glasses went flying and shattered somewhere off to the right.

"Oh… shit, yo…"

By this time, Shirako was close to losing consciousness. Since Ratzo went on and on with the beating of his poor body, he welcomed the darkness that wrapped its cold fingers around the edges of his mind.

Maybe it was his time to go. It sure felt like it, so maybe he would go off to a better place, a place where DDR ruled.

After a while, he was laying on the cold, dirty ground of the warehouse, hardly able to make anything out. He didn't have his glasses and he felt so tired and ready to give up. Trying to move, he winced and relaxed his body, truly ready for his sleep. He opened his eyes one last time in hopes of looking upon something not so morbid in his last moments.

Out of the fuzziness he saw the face of an angel. He couldn't believe them and thought they were playing tricks on him, or maybe this angel was going to take him to DDR heaven. He surely hoped so.

"Don't worry," she said, the voice of an actual angel. "I'll get help. Just stay awake…"

He couldn't stay awake. Her voice was like a gentle trance that made his eyes flutter closed. Soon, he was surrounded by darkness.

A/N: Okay, so there it goes. This is only the beginning, as Roro-chan and I have already completed five chapters in addition to this prologue. I think you will find it rather interesting.