[Center][B]|_______Trial_by_Failure_______| |____Starring:_Drake_Castle___|[/B][/Center] --- [B]The Dellinger Residence; 3:45 PM[/B] --- Vvvvrr[I]rrrrrooomm[/I]! The sound of my motorcycle was deafening as I blasted down the nigh-empty roadway. The clear blue sky stood out against the pavement, something I hadn't seen enough of lately. Between classes, homework, and having a life, the time I had to ride as free as a bird had been eaten like a plastic bag drenched in gasoline. But enough complaining. For now, at least. My friend, [I]scratch that[/I], I meant classmate. My classmate [I]Simon Dellinger[/I] is an uber nerd who wants me to use my 'super powers' to do something spectacular. And he doesn't seem to care that it involves me getting shot at. A lot. Only god knows why, [I]and he isn't telling[/I], but for some reason I have a two-fold superpower. Using my willpower, I can speed up or slow down how fast other people's hearts beat. The other thing: I can release a gas that is like a temporary steroid from my pores. It's a curse, or so I'd like to think. Simon thinks it's a gift to sweat out steroids. Seeing two hills, covered in trees on the roadside, interrupted my ride. Pulling over from the center of the road, I leaned into a narrow stone-paved driveway that was placed between the hills, and rolled down it's path for about a quarter mile. While following the path, I passed through a thick woods that just barely kept it's distance from the trail. The sun was hardly visible behind the treetops that hung over the course. But then I saw the house. At the end of the drive, it looked like the light that people see at the end of tunnels. Bathed in golden sunshine, the manor looked like it could've housed the president, if not then at least the first lady when she needed a getaway. But, jeez, I mean there were pillars that held a pointed roof over the veranda. As I drove closer, unlike most most buildings in the city, it actually looked more appealing as I got closer. It felt like I was staring at a museum piece, like I should avoid touching it and instead simply try to recreate it on a pad of paper. Tossing that instinct aside, I threw my legs over the seat of my bike and swung off the bike entirely, leaving it parked in a circular-designed stone driveway behind a Rolls-Royce, a Crossfire, and something that could only be summarized as a stryker. With eight wheels, a black paint job, and a shell of stacked plates, I couldn't help but get a closer look. Casually strolling towards it, I walked in front of it, only to be surprised by what I saw. The cockpit had room for one person, I always thought tanks and things needed a whole crew. I set my hand and felt the cool metal, sliding my hand against it's smooth, matte surface. "Are you done, yet?" A familiar voice interrupted my experience with the most amazing car I'd ever seen, let alone touched. For that question, only one answer even starts to make sense. Coming from the doorway to his home, it continued to vex me, "You're just standing there, feeling my dad's car up." "No," I said. "I haven't begun to feel this car up." I said, raising my head to look at Simon before pulling my hand and fingers off the armored urban vehicle. As I stepped away from it, and came up to a short set of stairs that grew narrower as I grew closer to the door, I asked the question that was on my mind. "Can we use that? I mean, if someone had that, and I were a criminal, I would [I]so[/I] find a new job." As I finished approaching the door, Simon cocked his head and stuffed his tongue into his cheek before reluctantly answering. "Nah. I thought about it myself, but my dad would recognize it in a [I]heartbeat[/I]. It's too unique for anything, really, except openly blowing stuff up," he paused. "But I've got something that is far more useful at this point, anyways." With a smile, he spun his fingers, motioning for me to follow him, as he turned around and ran through his house, dropping the door on me as I slipped through the comparatively miniature entryway to the gargantuan estate. As soon as I'd gotten around the door, I spotted Simon bolting down the narrow foyer, passing the grandiose lobby that resembled a ball room, and climbing a staircase on the right side that had a parallel one on the left. Once at the top, he stopped and looked back down at me. "Come on, dude! I know for a fact that you can go faster than that," He playfully squealed as he rested at the top. I could. At this point I was just jogging through the foyer, briefly admiring the many splashes of art on every wall. It was obviously carefully arranged so that it was awe inspiring every possible direction that one might turn their head, yet it majestically still managed to completely avoid a gaudy appearance. [I]Psshh. Rich people.[/I] Finally, I made my way through the lobby and up the stairs. I took each step with the infamous touch of a tortoise, easing slowly between steps and pretending it required a great deal of balance. "Drake, hurry up! I'll give you a tour later. But hurry up for right now." "Meh." Shrugging my shoulders, I gave in. "Why not." My feet rolled up the steps, cycling like a set of well oiled gears as my hand slid up the mahogany rail and my feet pushed off red carpet that lavishly covered the staircase. "I'm comin', Simon. Where are we going anyways?" "The back," he said, leaving a hint of mystery in his words before he took off again, right as I reached the climax of the staircase. He jogged towards a pair of doors that rested in between the parallel staircases on a small, yet elegant platform. Then, shoving both the doors in, made his way through a hall that had countless doors on either side until we came to another large ballroom. Following closely behind him, I watched as he took us to an elevator nested in the corner of the room. "Going down," he said as the mechanical door spread open. With a mock curtsy, he jested "Ladies first." As I stepped into the elevator I made a snarky comeback that obviously hit him harder than I meant for it too. "Dude, you couldn't get a [I]lady[/I] if you tried. That's why you're in an elevator with me." A look of shock came over Simon's face before he huffed and crossed his arms. He impatiently tapped his feet against the floor as he anxiously whispered a countdown to the ride's end. Then, the elevator dinged and the door made a puff as it spread from the wall. Aside from the bulb in the elevator, there wasn't a single source of light. But without a second thought, he cut in front of me and stepped into the expansive shadow. Smacking his hand against the nearest wall, he felt for a light switch before flipping it. "Dude, where are we?" I asked with amazement saturating my words. "Welcome to my basement." He plainly said, stepping out from my view of the large empty space. Everywhere I looked there was concrete so smooth that it looked like it had never been used. The only thing that made it believable that it was an actual basement was the fact that there was a car in pieces against one wall next to scattered tools. "Is this what I think it is?" I asked, clasping my hands together and grinning hard. "A.. Bat-cave?" "No," he said, bluntly disillusioning me. "That would be over here," he said, strolling towards a door in the corner opposite to this one. The door he led me to was cast iron. Dense and visibly durable, Simon had to press his entire against it to press it forward. On the inside, a dulled lightbulb illuminated a small room of cobwebs, pipes, and water heaters against the wall. The floor was grated and had rails, keeping me and Simon about two feet away from the utilities on either side. With an obvious sense of direction, he opened one last door at the edge of the Boiler Room and showed me what looked like a living room, including a TV and couch. "This is your Batcave," Simon said as he raised his arms. "This used to be a room for the butler to live in. But, since he moved out and my parents don't have a need to replace him, this has been empty for months. Admittedly it's an odd thing to do, building an apartment under a mansion, but mom and dad liked the idea. Down here, there are no doors, except for the bathroom and closets," he said, taking me through it. "You have a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and a work space." Taking me to a section of the apartment that resembled the main basement, he pointed around it and towards a garage-style door that was against it's farthest wall. "This is where I'd expect you to do most of your work. You can keep a costume, a car, trophies, and other stuff in here, as well as building things and.. research. Yeah, that's it, I think." I would've responded, but I was too busy being impressed by the space. "I even have a costume ready for you. And a van we can work in. Wanna' see them?" Swallowing my saliva and forcing a stop to my grin, I whimpered, "Yes."