The air in the Lighthouse thrummed with electric energy, a cacophony louder than Yankee Stadium, brighter than any club. My crew, the Maximus Prime, stood ready, the undisputed kings of Brooklyn's dance scene. We had Maximus Dwayne, our fearless leader; Lloyd Jackson, son of the legendary Black Jackson; Klause, the elastic man; Raul Santiago, the billionaire kingpin's son; Mayor Banks, the stunt hit-man; Tonya Fox; Marley Wales; Ryan Gates, the Robo-man; and Natasha Flames. And then there was me, Melina Sparks, 'The Show Stealer.' Tonight, we faced The Saxons, led by Sean Damon, in the toughest battle of our careers.

Sixty minutes of sweat, blood, and tears, and still, it was a tie. My team was exhausted, even Kim, our last resort, had his moves copied by Mark Theon, the Saxons' secret weapon. I wasn't about to lose our undefeated streak. With a desperate prayer, I launched into the Aeonflux Drop, a move I hadn't perfected. I spun, defying gravity, sweat pouring from me, and then, mid-air, everything went blank.

I landed in a perfect split, the roar of the crowd chanting my name, 'Melina! Melina!' The Maximus Prime had won. I felt hands lifting me, tossing me into the air, 'Melina Sparks, Queen of the Maximus Prime!' Max and Natasha, however, stood apart, their faces grim. I just wanted to go home.

Then, a woman's voice cut through the cheers, 'Melina!' My mother, Taylor Sparks, barged in, her face a mask of fury. 'Come on, girl, we need to get out of here now! What on earth did I say about dancing?' She dragged me out, her words chilling me to the bone: 'The Black Jackson has been murdered. A riot is heading this way.'