"Next," ushered a hefty man dressed in a white security shirt.
A woman proceeded from the outdoor security table with a green entry bracelet, and the next in line stepped forth.
"ID," issued the guard, holding out his hand in receipt.
A state license landed in the patrol's hand, and he compared it to the young man before him. The card was two years old, but the photo resembled him well. A tall, slim, though athletic build. Brown skin like roasted almonds and an incurably salty resting bitch face to accompany. Tiny strands of hair on his shoulder exposed that he'd recently had his black, short, undercut hairstyle restored.
"Gavin Dance Jr, age 18, any felonies?" The guard asked, to which his subject readily responded, "Just misdemeanors."
Prying further, the security swiped left on a digital tablet. "According to your file, you've been charged with: Trespassing, petty theft, destruction of private property, disorderly conduct, and illicit use of nanotechnology."
"All petty crimes," Gavin replied, confidently presenting his bare wrist.
"I get it; I was your age once too," shared the guard. A thin green bracelet was attached to Gavin's arm as an indication of being reviewed. He proceeded past the clearance table and boarded a parked red trolly crowded with other individuals.
The inside was unlit, every red chair was stained brown, and it was deathly quiet. Rows of strangers eyed him as he walked down the aisle to an open seat. Once sat, he zipped up his jacket, then adjusted in his spot to peer out the window.
The sun was cloaked, hoards of dark gray clouds threatened rain, and a chilly early morning breeze made him regret not bundling. It was a lousy setting for Gavin, who went by Vin to ease the confusion around his household.
"Does it always have to be so gloomy," he said. Not that it mattered because even when the forecast called for warm weather, Vin was inherently cold. As a lame joke, he told anyone questioning his jacket obsession that he was genetically born cold-blooded.
Before long, the trolly's wheels screeched and commenced its journey up the hill of their small town.
Headphones kept Vin company as the vehicle climbed past the city's shops and homes. At the time, a new feisty pop song called "Wake Up" by "Cave In" had become his hype anthem. He heard it playing on radios everywhere, and athletes usually jammed it while active.
Vin wore a latch belt that carried his skateboard on his back. One his father purchased for him years ago. A typical board, except there were electronic components installed within the board that recorded speed, location, and other information that was shared with a live audience.
Live. As in, hundreds to thousands were currently tuned into what was soon to be a downhill race.
The reason? An invitation to an exclusive international university specializing in SFX entertainment. In other words, it was an opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps. Gavin senior was what the competitive world called an 'Icon,' short for an iconic figure.
In short, they were athletes of great talent and world renown. Those who frequent a national stage and not just within their country.
Millions of fans worldwide would chant their name at their mere entrance onto the stage. Gavin was one of the first Icons, as SFX was becoming popular in his era of skating.
There were fewer than five skate Icons in the world, while other sports ranged between ten and twenty.
Vin wished to join his father atop the skating world. The best way to do that was by entering a superior league team after graduating the SFX university.
At least, it was proclaimed that students would be drafted into the pro league after completing their courses.
Then, his life would be set; he could do what he loved most. In addition- Well, it was college. Vin felt his dull, repetitive life would improve if he left his small hometown. He thought he could develop a career, make friends, meet girls, and all the typical 18-year-old stuff.
After a four-minute trip, they'd arrived at the hill's peak and disembarked. He was poised even as he glanced down the steep road at the rooftops of buildings below.
An old, rusted speaker on the trolly enabled, and an excessively eager voice announced, "race starting in 3 minutes!"
With that, Vin detached a 32-inch board from his back and laid it on the dark asphalt.
"They didn't close the street?" he thought to himself, peeking at the continuous traffic of cars and trucks. "I hope no one gets injured."
His light, sharp brown eyes unhurriedly shifted from his right, then to his left, where 40 local skaters prepared themselves to descend the tallest hill in their small town. Vin had no gripe with the course; he continuously examined his watch and counted the seconds until the event started.
It was a dull, quiet wait, but the intercom finally sounded again to initiate the race. "Activating SFX field," the man announced. With the flip of a switch, colorful holograms outlined the road, defining the course with borders and directional arrows to keep racers on track. Digital screens abruptly displayed in thin air, revealing the thousands of hollering and cheering fans waiting at the finish line.
"Nanospheres now online," added the same speaker.
Vin reached into the pocket of his tracksuit and withdrew a baseball-sized, steel, solid black orb. "Nanosphere" was the official name. It housed billions of nanobots, each individual the size of a grain of sand. They were essentially mini displays that emitted light, sound, and temperature.
Those tiny bots were programmed to create flashy and dynamic effects. In 2080, almost everything affiliated with entertainment employed these machines to add extra sauce to publicized events.
Nanospheres each contained a different ability. They were purchased online or in-store through a Gacha game, kinda like a vending machine that dispensed a random item. The set price was $500 per attempt, near the tag of a new game console.
If an individual was dissatisfied with their first pull, they'd spend $500 more to try again. However, civilians could only own one sphere at a time, so they would return their current build before acquiring a new one.
Digital fireworks went off in the gloomy sky, and a large red number 10 appeared. Vin pressed his left foot on the front of the deck, then hunched over the entire board.
| Deck: Top side of a skateboard.
The digit dropped from 10 to 9, then a painstakingly slow 8 seconds passed before the red number burst, and a blaring horn erupted.
Vin launched off at the signal, balanced and steady. His nerves were perfectly appeased even as dozens of other racers matched his pace and barrelled down the road.
He accelerated more by the second while stanced so low he could reach down and touch the street. His eyes were squinted to combat the whiplash of incoming winds and glimpse ahead at closing obstacles.
With two lanes of oncoming and ongoing cars, most racers prepositioned on the right to travel alongside traffic. Vin, however, strayed left to cross the oncoming vehicles. One to separate himself from the jumble of bodies, and two, to collect style points.
| Style Points(SP): Automatically rewarded when performing tricks or impressive actions. Points are displayed on the racers wristwatch and are needed to activate nanospheres.
Vin hauled his weight far left and dragged his wheels across several unexpecting racers. He confronted the blaring horns of startled vehicles as he cut cleanly across the road, stood, then kickflipped the skateboard onto a sidewalk littered with people.
| Kickflip: Flicking the board horizontally. Does one full rotation before landing.
While pedestrians shuffled to clear the way, Vin apologized and endeavored to steer close to the edge. His path was no less treacherous than the main road, but getting there was a worthy risk.
A glance at his wristwatch revealed his quantity of Style points. 40 in total, each equating to a single second of use of the nanosphere.
"Good enough," he calmly muttered, "Help me out, Miyo."
Nanobots flooded from their steel home, clustering and taking shape. A black, shadowy, flaming phoenix was molded from the tiny robots in seconds. It was no larger than a pigeon with lengthy wings, three blazing tails, and wide inviting eyes, unlike its owner.
"Lead the way," he commanded. The summoned being, Miyo, nodded, then flew ahead, leaving a dense trail of black fire. Vin followed his little navigator, hugging the line drawn for him and maneuvering around pedestrians.
Cars parked on the side of the street made it difficult to see where the central pack of racers was. Vin knew they could appear any moment, so as a safety measure, he planned to gather more points to maintain the summon.
There was a lot to utilize when skating down an urban area. Vin navigated toward, then popped his board upside down onto a metal bench; he slid across the top and then skillfully flipped the board back onto its wheels. Immediately after, he steered for a man kneeling down to tie his shoe.
The plan was to leap over the knelt man, but before Vin executed the action, blaring car horns sounded at his flank. He pivoted to see a female racer cutting through the moving traffic and progressing toward his secure location.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
The stranger snapped their board on the same sideway, only a few feet ahead. She rotated, sneered at Vin, then sped up before vaulting over the bent-over man and snatching his hat off.
"Sorry, Junior, go find somewhere else to skate," she hollered, placing the stolen cap on her head and activating her personal ability. A pink flame engulfed the hat she swiped, then she snatched a water bottle that caught fire upon contact.
Her name was Beth, a local skater that Vin saw way too often. It was no secret that he was the son of an Icon, so others usually referred to him as 'junior.'
One of Beth's 'charms' is that she expended SP at an alarming rate just to flex her ability 'enflame.'
It fell under one of four types of powers.
Weapons: The easiest to recognize, nanobots cluster to form tools like swords and shields.
Summons: Like Miyo, a sentient assistant is materialized to serve its user.
Magic: Voted the most popular. Magic has various forms, including elemental attacks and enhancements.
Mutation: Simply put, the user's body is distorted using special effects. Their physical body doesn't literally alter, but nanobots will create attachments like beast claws, tails, wings, etc.
Vin only knew the details because she constantly bragged about how 'enflame' was a rare magic ability that took her five tries to pull, burning $2500.
The drop rates for nanospheres decreased significantly based on their rarity.
Common: 87%
Rare: 10%
Epic: 2.5%
Legendary: 0.5%
Mythic: There was never detailed data given on this grade. But only four were documented since the creation of SFX sports.
The wealthy are who kept the project alive. The more they pulled common spheres, the more they rerolled until lucking out with something rare.
Beth began touching random objects, mainly just to flex, but also to hinder Vin's path.
Additionally, a thundering roar sounded on the opposite side of the street and momentarily robbed both of their attention. Materializing in the middle of the race was what Vin believed to be literal Big Foot sheathed in ice. Maybe it's an arctic cousin or something.
The hairy, blue giant was as tall as the second-story building it ran alongside, swiping its massive hand across other skaters and knocking them off their rides.
Its owner, Liam, was a spoiled brat that frequented the local events. They could live anywhere in the world but chose a quiet location where the competition wasn't so fierce.
The giant was an Epic-grade summon, but the owner had a low affinity with it. 'Affinity' is the stat that suggests a person's control over their summon or ability.
"It's a good thing we got away while we could," he plainly mumbled. Seeing the giant escape from its owner and begin to rampage uncontrolled.
While inattentive, he overlooked the opposition up front. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the pink flaming hat rotating wildly toward him. All too late to dodge; the object was already inches away from crashing into his face.
Vin didn't brace but blinked and looked lamely at the zooming attack.
Miyo's shadowy body appeared, flung in front of the attack, and took it head-on. The tiny summons body combusted and shattered upon collision, returning to a mist of nanobots.
Every summon had a different threshold for when it was programmed to break; Miyo had its uses, but their defense stat was exceptionally low.
Ability Sheet
----------------------------------------
Name: Miyo Dance
Type: Summon
Rarity: Common
Affinity: 100/100
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Physical Defense: 50/50
Magic Defense: 50/50
Speed: 50/50
Physical Attack: 48/50
Magic Attack: 48/50
----------------------------------------
Description: It's a Pheonix.
"Dude, that thing is still hella weak," mocked the woman ahead. "You seriously need to upgrade if you're going to race here."
With a draw of her arm, she prepped to throw the flaming bottle as well, only another competitor interrupted.
"No hard feelings!" blurted the new individual. They vaulted from between the parked cars with golden bear claw overlaying their hand, then slammed into the woman just as she was about release the bottle.
She lost balance and drove into a street lamp post before rasping in pain. Vin watched her crumble, then observed the new rider become immediately ambushed by an entirely different racer, "Ha! You let your guard down!" they laughed.
Only a second later, the new arrival was also ambushed. The fourth participant said a similar corny one-liner before they, too, were attacked. Thus, an endless cycle of new racers appearing and instantly getting mobbed began.
Vin stood straight on his board, arched his brows in wonder, then surveyed the racers that emerged one after another. There were a lot of familiar faces, it was a small town, but they still felt like recurring characters in a novel.
"They must be escaping from that thing," he uttered evenly, rotating to see the ice giant creating a mess of the rightmost racers. "Now, nowhere is safe."
Vin drooped his eyes, then grabbed the zipper to his tracksuit with his left hand. "The real race starts now, Miyo."
With a burst of black flame, the previously destroyed creature regenerated into its original form and landed on his head. It wasn't as physically strong as the other summons. But, Miyo could resurrect from, as far as Vin knew, any attack. And with a max affinity, the summon wasn't just obedient; it guarded its user as if they were their family.
Vin unzipped his jacket, tied it around his waist, then dropped his full weight onto the skateboard. Miyo returned to its role as the navigator, and together they steered off the dense sideway and into the middle of the ongoing lane.
Every wheel he rode on became unstable, rolling on the uneven asphalt road. On a downhill course, he exceeded
the speed of vehicles and rashly raced between the narrow openings between cars.
Unpredictability was the most significant hindrance to street skaters. An unannounced lane change into his space threatened to sandwich Vin into an SUV at his left. Skateboards didn't have built-in breaks, but they could be twisted horizontally to drag the wheels against the floor and create enough friction to reduce acceleration.
Vin peeked at the incoming car and prepared to back off. But, after reconsideration, a faint frown unwrapped across his face. "Not like it matters," he muttered.
At some point in his life, luck had become a curse. No matter the danger, everything seemed to work out to spare him from injury.
Vin held his position and then alerted Miyo, who anchored their claws on the nose of his board. While their defense was low, Vin was proud of his summons strength. He parted his legs on the board and then ollied the wheels off the road; once up, Miyo pulled upward and lifted him onto the SUV's roof.
Once on the high ground, he scanned the field meticulously. "Next, we can-, no, we should-, actually, that truck will be within range to jump soon. But then I'll miss the street light."
Vin had become plagued by what his next could have been. He always had a great imagination, which helped him visualize secured, or outside-the-box paths to his goal.
While the SUV moved, Vin started to balance his skateboard on the rear wheels, a trick known as a manual.
From the back wheels, he tucked his foot under the deck and flicked it horizontally. The board rotated four times before landing on the hind wheels again; then, to add the cherry on top, he performed a careful handstand on the board.
Highly enthralled in his moves, Vin didn't regard the holy grail of dents he was installing onto the SUV's roof. Nor did he hear the driver get out and start shouting for him to get down and fight him. What finally woke him was the incoming fireball that Miyo had to jump in front of to save his skin.
"Sorry bud," Vin apologized, snapping upright and disembarking the automobile.
Two spaces away was a perfectly unscathed, white 18-wheeler that he couldn't wait to board. He leaped onto the roof, skated to the front, and jumped off to tap the street light as they passed by.
By the time he accomplished this, Miyo was already regenerated, and they dashed for the finish. With a steady pace weaving through traffic, and the abundance of SP he had from styling, Vin made up lost time. It was a perfect run; if it had stayed the way it had, he could have won.
But SFX racing wasn't just a race. It was war. As such, everyone was prone to perishing on the battlefield. A neat function called "Health Points," or "HP," meant a racer could be disqualified if they were hit by too many SFX attacks.
The allotted HP varied per event, but the standard amount was 100. Because each nanosphere's ability was different, damage ranged. Vin had taken as little as one point in injury but, in another instance, had lost all his HP just before crossing the finish line.
In an unfavorable turn of events, the track changed when they entered the final few yards. It pivoted from the busy road and toward an unobstructed celebratory stretch where rows of watchers clapped for the competitors. With nothing to hide behind, Vin could only use Miyo's sacrifice to elude the barrage of attacks at his rear. Fireballs, magic arrows, glowing bullets, hell, even big foot. It all laid waste to any skater that dared to lead the pack.
Vin zigzagged as if escaping an alligator, but the sheer multitude of attacks was unavoidable. Eventually, he felt a pang in his upper abdomen, like being punched by an infuriated toddler. When Vin dropped his gaze, he noticed that a solid white, cartoony arrowhead squid had impaled him.
Some jerkwad had thrown his summoned ally like a spear and pierced him. Vin knew that wasn't the summons intended use because the squid looked just as confused as it tried to wiggle itself free.
There wasn't anything physically holding it in place, nor was Vin in extreme pain. One of the appeals of SFX was realism. The weight of weapons, the feedback on flesh, seeing a genuine struggle as a teenager tied to dislodge a squid from his back.
In addition to the 30 points of damage he took, Vin lost concentration while dealing with his intruder. So, he was pummeled by what felt like everyone and their cookie-baking grandmas. A flurry of pressures hit his back, and his wristwatch beeped to inform him he was disqualified.
It was over. Vin reluctantly steered off the course. Only a few yards away from the finish, where the first three competitors completed.
"That makes 42 consecutive losses..." Vin was disappointed by the outcome but not surprised. He felt like some mysterious energy was at work stunting his progress. The same force that equated to the phrase "you peeked in high school."
When Vin was younger, he dominated competitions. He was even dubbed a prodigy at a young age. But, after what he considered a "minor accident," he began losing his mastery. He mostly blamed the implementation of SFX; if it wasn't for the hurling squid and giant monsters, he believed he'd still be invincible.
While the winning circle got hype. Vin wiped the sweat off his face, cursed, and checked his phone for the nearest bus home. Miyo had regenerated to join him in his brooding. They unhurriedly wandered off the track and brushed past the pesky roaring crowd.