Dark Horse: Chapter One .:Keefe:.

The streets were nothing but normal. Shiny, clean, sparkling. Whichever adjective you prefer, Keefe didn't care. It was all the same to him, the way it had been since he was born, the way it had been since his parents were jerks, the way it had been since forever. Adites like things like that, cleanliness, perfection, you name it they wanted it. It sucked, but no matter how many times Keefe tried to change it or make a mess, it was whisked away in seconds.

Not to mention how perfect everyone wanted everything with the Choosing coming up, if a mess was made pretty much the entire city would freak until it was cleaned. Once every four years Dark Horse, the "supreme justified ruler" and "blah, blah, blah" would choose two Chosen from every race; Human, Elven, and the Adites, people of Atlantis aka the Magic Users. They pretty much died at the hands of Dark Horse's "ultimate sovereignty" or whatever the people could imagine since no word came from them ever again and Dark Horse sent for more in the next four years.

Keefe peeked out from behind the corner, watching Connor Akali, local rule breaker and part time bully, purchasing an extra ration. After the vendor scuttled away pulling his hood over his face more, Keefe smoothly stepped out from behind the corner. "Hey Connor. Watcha' got there?"

Connor eyed him warily. "Keefe... Uh.. how much did you see?"

"Enough." Keefe shrugged nonchalantly. "So how much do I get?"

"Enough with the mind games!" Connor glared down at Keefe. "We both know who would win, so I'm just going to take this home and spare the pipsqueak because I'm a reasonable man. Go run home to your mommy and daddy."

Keefe nodded. "Yeah we both know. Remember last week?"

"You're a bag on bones!" Connor argued. "That was one lucky magic trick, GET LOST Keefe!"

Keefe just grinned watching Connor's frown lines.

"Look Keefe, it's hard enough on me being a huge, growing guy ok?" Connor tried the pity tatic next, like Keefe knew he would. "I need more than the rations I'm given. Don't report me, and I won't beat you up."

"Hand it over." Keefe rolled his eyes. "My parents don't give me my rations unless it's a Thursday, so if you want to play the pity game I win too."

"Keefe-"

"So what I'm hearing is: Don't report you and I get nothing? If I reported you then I'd get your ration, hopefully anyway, and I'd have a chance at beating you  up, what an honor."

Connor looked confusedly over Keefe's thin lanky frame. "You wanna play this game again?"

Keefe shrugged again. "Why not?"

"Because you'll get hurt."

"We'll see."

"I'm paying attention this time Keefe," Connor warned. "It won't be so easy this time."

"Connor, Connor, Connor," Keefe grinned. "It will be easier than easy. I figured out a new trick."

Connor hesitated, thinking his few options over. "Fine. Give it your best shot."

"Punk."

Connor's face reddened. "Don't call me a punk!"

"You beat up O'Malley, Tristen, and Anna last week. A girl Connor! How bad are you?!"

"She called my mom-"

Keefe laughed. "Wait. So this was about your mom the entire time? Dude you should be ashamed of yourself."

Connor gave him a dirty look, bent down and reached for Keefe's legs. Keefe easily jumped aside, snapping his fingers over the pavement where Connor was standing. The pavement turned to jelly and melted further into the ground, Connor falling with it. When the pit finally stopped growing after it had reached about seven feet deep, the pavement turned back into hard rock and Connor fell with an "Oomphf!"

Keefe reached for the parcel of rations Connor had dropped, and scooped it off the ground. "Thanks Connor! I owe one!"

Connor yelled from the hole, but Keefe only smiled to himself and continued along the street.