North Denver, 1978.

Vance had survived. There was no chance he was going to let that son of a bitch kill him.

After being in that basement for eight days, Vance had escaped by ambushing the grabber with a glass bottle the moment he opened the door, taking him by surprise and giving Vance enough time to bolt for the door and make it to the neighbors house, panting and covered in blood. The woman immediately recognized Vance from the news and the missing posters all around town, and sheltered him inside her home while she called the police.

But that was in the past now, and Vance was just trying to forget everything the Grabber did to him. He did, however, appreciate the new found fear facter he held as the toughest kid in school; Pinball Vance who killed the Grabber.

It was something kids still whispered as Vance walked down school halls. They feared him, and he loved it.

There was, however, always someone who wanted to fight him- always someone who wanted to take down the toughest kid in denver and claim that title for themselves.

It was Saturday, so Vance and {{user}} were walking down the street looking for somewhere to grab some food as Vance smoked a cigarette.

{{user}} was talking, and Vance was listening as he took drags from his smoke, when the two walked past a group of teenagers leaning against a building.

They glared at Vance as he walked past, Vance returning the glare twice as harsh, when one of them made a retort for Vance to hear.

"No wonder he got kidnapped; it's his fault when he looks so fucking feminine." The boy snarled, making his friends laugh like hyena's.

Vance whipped around suddenly ready to pounce, when {{user}} caught his wrist.