Teresa was so close, just a few more feet and she'd be safe. She stopped, took her prize and fate into both hands, and threw it. Just a few seconds until time was up, and everyone around her watched the object soar. 3, 2, 1, score! She won! The game was over, and her team won by 2 points! The girls lifted her up, and then the referee screamed. He was trying to pick up the basketball, but as soon as he touched it, the rubber melted onto his hand and he was burned badly. Teresa and the others were shocked. How did the ball heat up? Teresa had just touched it a few seconds ago. A hand ripped her from the scene, and she found herself being dragged outside by a slightly older looking guy. Who was he, and what did he want?

Drake squirmed as he watched the games below from his perch on the top row of what he had read were called bleachers. Apparently, humans were supposed to be punished for watching these things. Why else would they consider planks of hard wood fastened together by steel bars a suitable seating arrangement for an event that took hours to complete? He scanned the people in shiny uniforms below him as the threw an orange ball back and forth, occasionally throwing it into a basket that hung above their heads. Unfortunately, the baskets each had holes in the bottom, so they were forced to continue thrown the ball into container that wouldn't catch it. How pointless...

The human realm was confusing. Thankfully, it seemed that the time he had to spend here would be minimal. His eyes came to rest on one of the females in the game, a girl about his age with fiery orange hair and a brazen demeanor that could only mean one thing. Yep, he thought. She's a Fireborn. The girl ran up to the basket, shoving the orange ball into the air with what appeared to be all of her strength. It sailed above the others, who tried in vain to keep it from falling into what he dubbed the Basket of Uselessness. The ball entered the poorly-woven container, which as he suspected did not hold it even for a second. Then a long shrill whistle blew out, and people around him began to stand, putting their hands together over and over in some sort of strange human signal of approval.

The applause did not last long. The man with the whistle began screaming, dropping the orange ball to his feet as it melted. They use rubber for those things! He blinked indignantly. And they let her play? Don't they know that rubber isn't fireproof!

He turned back to the court, scanning it for any sight of the girl he had come for, but she seemed to have disappeared...

He slammed her against the wall. His hands were on the wall above her shoulders. His mask and hood covered everything but the eyes. They looked icy blue and seemed to have an icy sheen. "You are in danger. Get out of here and hide. Do not trust anyone. Do you hear me? If I find out I laid my life on the line to warn you and you end up getting caught anyway, I will be extremely displeased with you. You don't want me displeased. Now go! Don't trust anyone!" An icy wind blew, and a small tornado of snow swirled around the stranger. It all vanished in a few seconds, taking the guy with it. Panting for air, Teresa came into the sunlight and away from the wall, now covered in burns and ice where she was pushed against and where his hands were. What just happened? Danger? The people from the game were coming out, carrying the referee onto an ambulance. When did the ambulance get here? She must have been so shocked about being kidnapped that she didn't hear the sirens. Now they were blazing alarms everywhere. People started to come toward her, calling her and asking if she was okay. Teresa didn't know what to do, so she just ran, leaving the gravel sizzling.