Wrangling teenage emotions is hard enough on good days, but what if on bad days they could manifest as giant flesh and blood monsters?
Pacific Rim meets Friday Night Lights as knee-jerk rebel Sage Sawyer is forced to join her high school "tourneytub...
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Peter Donkersmit stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
All he finds is a stranger staring back.
Sure, the stranger shares his gawky frame. His messy mane of shoulder-length tawny brown hair, newly damp from the showers. His awful hoodie hanging loose over stilt-like legs and scuffed up knees. His whole top heavy, awkward adolescent, sad flamingo vibe.
Yet Peter still somehow knows, deep in his gut, deep in his bones, the boy staring back at him in the mirror-
Simply can't be him...
Peter is forced to look away from his own alien body.
He slouches out of the bathroom, into the wider Jackalope locker room beyond. He passes through its open exit, which leads to the tubhouse. He barely notices his shoes tripping over the hazard tape demarcating the two areas.
Peter does, however, notice something else.
Or more accurately, the absence of something else.
Where the hell is B.U.N. 1?
"Uh. a-a-Artie? Buddy?" Peter calls into the mechanical clutter of the tubhouse. He really hopes Artie doesn't reply. It might mean he's working on B.U.N. 1 somewhere his friend can't see.
Peter doesn't get his wish.
Artie is already rolling out from the shadows to join him.
The Jackalopes' engineer sits in his wheelchair, tight black curls sprouting over dark skin. Strapped tightly around Artie's head are oversized goggles, which Peter often jokes would be the envy of any respectable anime protagonist. Artie's nubile cheeks are smeared with tub grease, which gives him the distinct appearance of some sort of Charles Dickens character, if Charles Dickens ever wrote cyberpunk.
Artie pulls his wheelchair to a skidding halt in front of Peter.
"Uh, bro. Who jacked our tub?" He says.
This is when they both hear the roaring for the first time.
Feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck, Peter turns. He looks out beyond the tubhouse, down to The Warren, where trouble is definitely brewing.
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