[u][b]Nathaniel G. Terotrax[/b][/u]

Now that he thought about it, he never had a middle name. Terotrax himself wondered when such a name came to be, and was only able to remember when the music took a brighter turn. People always saw him as that one dude who would skip classes for his friends, but in fact, he never did leave classes. At the same time, he was always there for people in need of his presence. His overall sticky personality in the sad times of many lives eventually winded him up with a stereotypical nickname: "Homie G."

He did not know what homie meant, but he liked the G. It could mean so many things... like gravity! Or greatness! Many stuffity stuff! But more importantly, it was a treasure he kept, for he never received a truly meaningful reward until then. It also seemed to bring him luck, though it might have been just him giving a simple nickname an overload of emphasis. Still, people were his second gift from Mother Nature, for he had the ability to cleanse their hearts and create a spark of hope for a huge storage of faithful wood. And happy people meant a happier Terotrax.

But what was this? As he leaned against a wall, standing near two women who seemed to fix lonely problems by themselves, one of the musicians motioned him to come up. Why was she waving at him?

It took him only a few seconds to freeze in realization. A wide grin then took into place.

[i]Perhaps she is wondering what my boombox can do? Or maybe they need an extra hand?[/i]

Terotrax felt excitement wash over him, placing his boombox by his shoulder before shuffling his way toward the musicians. After his amusing walking sequence, he found himself standing next to the people playing music for the party.

An expert guitarist, an expert trumpet lady...

[i]This must be destiny![/i] Terotrox thought, his boombox beginning to transform slightly. Several students noticed its strange movements- movements as if it were filled with energy. This was quite accurate, for Terotrax himself was feeling his blood pump faster and faster. Maybe this was what the party needed.

[i]Energy[/i].

Without saying anything, as if he were able to understand the trumpet musician's words through her actions, Terotrax's boombox suddenly extended its initial length, revealing sound amplifiers that would utilize the trumpet's blowing force to leave even more impact. The amplifiers would also affect the guitar's tunes, letting the crowd [i]feel[/i] the guitar's power.

But amplifiers were not enough. With that taken into note, Terotrax's boombox transformed into a full set of drums. And when he immediately began to play, sure enough, energy was literally pumping out of the party. His drums had the same power the trumpet contained, and synchronized perfectly with the guitar's smooth tunes.

Becoming one with other musicians was the best feeling in the world.