The store was quiet, customers walk up and down the aisles minding their own business, The cashier was talking to another employee shouting at him in Hindi. A kid walks in looking like a perfect blend of the 1950's and the modern era. He was roughly seventeen years old. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing a dark blue denim jacket over a burgundy hoodie, a dark pair of jeans, black combat boots, and dark reflective shades. He had a look on his face that demanded that he be left alone. This kid has been on the move for awhile, he could no longer stand being at home. His father was a mechanic and also a heavy drinker and his mother was kindergarten teacher.
Often times his father would come home drunk out of his mind, so much so that even the slightest thing can set him off. So many times while this kid was growing up his parents would bicker and argue about the most foolish of things which would result in his father both physically and verbally abusing his mother. After several years of this torture his parents finally split and he fell through the cracks. He grew tired of bouncing between his mom and his dad, so he decided that it was time for him to strikeout on his own and be a man.
He's been on the road for a few months. His parents have been so wrapped up in their own issues that they have not noticed his absence. The kid walks up and down the aisles of the convinent store hungry. He knows precisely what it is he is craving and sees the the asile he's looking for. He approaches the asile and is drawn to the white box filled with the blessed golden cakes, his kryptonite.
"Twinkies," He whispers to himself.
The kid is not a fan of stealing, quite frankly he only does it if he has too. When he started he easily swiped about two hundred and fifty bucks from his parents each, and has been using his finances sparingly over his time away relying mostly on his sticky fingers and devilish good looks to get what he wants. By this point in time he has expended all of his resources and now has to call on his old skill to ensure his survival.
The kid's mouth was watering as he stands over the heavenly white box and slowly opens it. He grabs the plastic wrapped cream filled golden miracle and raises it to his face. He sniffs the wrapping taking in the scent he loved so much. The kid looked around to make sure no one was watching as he quickly stuffed the snack in his pocket. He grabs more and stuffs them in to his pockets. On the last cake he stuggled to pocket it. His hunger over powered him as he tore the wrapper and raised the cake to his mouth. Just as he's about to take a bite, one of the employees quickly turn down the aisle shouting.
The kid flees from the store with the Twinkie still in hand. Not long after he bolted out of the store he could hear the sirens of a police car. One must have been near by and heard the employees shout.
The kid crouches in an alley still holding on to his golden snack. He wolfs it down as he prepares to move. He peaks out of his hiding place and walks down the street acting as if nothing happened, keeping an eye out for cops.
After walking a few blocks, devouring twinkies along the way once again he heard the sirens. They sounded a bit far off so just to be on the safe side the boy picked up his pace. Not really seeing where he was going the boy bumped into a man wearing a black suit and sunglasses. The man was Caucasian, he had short brown hair, dark sunglasses, a golden tie clip which reflected the late afternoon sun into the boy's eyes, and a bland smirk that insinuated business.
"Pardon me, Mitchel West, I'm going to need you to come with me,"
"Are you a cop?" the teenage boy Mitchel asked.
"No son, I'm apart of a secret government organization, so secret not even the president knows about us," The agent said.
"I'm not sure that's something you should tell me agent..." Mitchel scanned the man's suit looking for some form of identification.
"You're not going to find anything son, now come," The agent said grabbing the teenage boy.
"Hey! Stranger Danger Stranger Danger!" Mitchel shouted, but there was no one around who could hear him.
"Do not resist Mr. West, you are special compared to most people in the world," The agent said as he grappled Mitchel from behind dragging him toward the curb.
"What do you mean special?" Mitchel asked.
"That information will all be explained later," the man said as a black SUV with dark tinted windows pulled up. More agents stepped out of the vehicle as they threw a sack over Mitchel's head and forced him into the car. Once Mitchel was in, the agents injected him with some sort of sedative as the world around him slowly became a blur. Before loosing total conciousness he saw the blurry figure of the man touch his ear.
"This is Capture Team Beta reporting in, Tell the general we have him,"