(Same series as the one shots 'Rancid', 'Numerous', 'Wykkyd', and 'Sight'. Not necessary to get this one but it would be nice to read those ones too.)

A ten year old Thomas looked up from his guitar and slowly placed it down.

Momma had been talking on the phone a lot lately, and it was about him, he heard her say his name several times.

Thomas peered into his mother's bedroom.

Thomas was positive that his mother was the prettiest woman ever, but Thomas was confused why he didn't look like her. He didn't have his mother's brown hair or green eyes or pinkish skin, he had white skin, white hair, and blue eyes.

The doctors said it was because he was 'albino'... whatever that was. His skin burned easily, and he couldn't see very well. Some people looked at him weird.

His mother wrote something down and said, "Thank you, we'll be there in the morning." She hung up the phone and turned to see Thomas.

She smiled. "You want me to sing you to sleep, Thomas?" Thomas nodded.

His mother got up and gently guided her son back to bed and said, "Don't worry about tomorrow, it'll be just fine."

Thomas fell asleep, listening to his mother sing.

Thomas didn't know that after he was in bed, his mother would always go into a cabinet and pull out a bottle and drink half the thing down. He didn't know his mother would work hard hours in the day, working up to save enough money to go to the 'land of the free' or to help cure him, but a quarter of it would end up for another bottle.

The next morning, Thomas and his mother went into a rather grungy clinic. "And your sure it'll help him with his skin?" His mother said, wringing her hands.

The doctor nodded. "Sure, of course." He gave Thomas a shot and Thomas knew, at that moment, that that man was a liar.

He didn't know how he knew, and he had no proof, but the look in that man's eye- the fact he didn't care what the 'medicine' did, he just wanted to empty his momma's purse.

Thomas broke the doctor's nose after the needle was out.

That whole night, he was up with fever and chills. Same with the next days and nights.

It took three days for the change to finish.

His skin had changed to a slight tan, but his hair had stayed white, standing out a lot more.

What horrified him was his eyes. His mother complimented his eyes, the angelic blue color they were. They had gone from angel blue to demon red.

It made Thomas sad, but it destroyed his mother.

From only drinking half a bottle a night, it was one, or maybe two. Thomas wasn't sure.

If you asked Thomas, even he wouldn't be able to tell you how they got to America, or where the money came from.

But, when Thomas was twelve years old, he arrived in America. Jump City.

Thomas had been excited, maybe his mother would stop drinking, maybe the people would stop staring at him.

It got worse.

Thomas had a couple friends from England, ones that knew him before he had changed. None of the kids in America knew who he was.

They made fun of his looks.

They made fun of his accent.

But worse off, they made fun of his mother.

That set him off, and kids learned quickly that Thomas had a vicious right hook.

Only comfort to him was his music, and kids who wouldn't run off because of his looks would listen in when this kid played the guitar. Thomas could play anything by taking one glance at the music. Kids would come for tips, and as long as they made no comments about his looks or mother, Thomas was pretty simple to get along with.

Then one day, when Thomas came home, his home was surrounded with yellow tape.

His mother had been found with a bottle in one hand and a gun in the other. Thomas was now alone in the world.

He didn't stick around long enough for social services to show up, he bailed.

Thomas went by the nickname 'Punk' because of his love of that style music and clothes.

When he turned sixteen, the straw came that broke the camel's back.

Thomas went to a musical audition and was denied. No honest surprise, he had been denied before. But when he heard the boy that did get the deal, in his words, 'he sounded like he was choking on autotune'.

Thomas went to talk to the manager.

Thomas walked into the house and then saw the boy that got the job. Blue eyes, white hair, pale skin. Albino. Thomas thought he was looking in a mirror of what he could've been. The boy smiled at him and said, "Can I help you?" Thomas shook his head no and ran out of the house.

The boy caught up with him and said, "Hey, Punk!" Thomas stopped and said, "Wot?" The boy grinned. "Catch this." He tossed him a white guitar.

Thomas looked at the guitar. It was a normal guitar, slightly old and beat up though. "What the bloody hell is this?" He snapped. The boy chuckled. "You wanna be famous, right? That was gonna be my back up plan, just in case I got rejected this time. Sorry about your looks, but the world thinks your a monster, right?"

Thomas glared at the boy. "What's it to you?" He snapped. The boy chuckled again and tossed a quarter up and down. "Nothing. But if the world thinks you are, why not be one?" The boy vanished and reappeared behind Thomas.

Thomas jumped away and yelped. The boy laughed again. "I saw your skill. You got some. I'll probably fade away in a couple years, but with that guitar, you'll be known forever and feared. Good bye, Punk Rocket."

The boy vanished for good.

Thomas looked confused. Curious, he strummed one note... and ended up sending a car flying across the street. "Punk Rocket, eh?" Thomas said. "I like the sound of that." He grinned.

When asked what his name was, Thomas said two words: "Punk Rocket."

(It might be just because I look at him at the wrong angle, but Punk seems too dark to be albino. So... this was gifted from the muses. Most albinos do have blue eyes, though. I remember growing up having an albino upperclassman and she was nice, but couldn't go outside to play for recess. I saw her again recently, and she has special glasses for driving because of her sight.

Bye byes, remember to review!)