On cue, six runners torpedoed from the start line. Vin, born talented, had participated in and lost in many SFX races. But, he believed he was near unbeatable in raw skating ability. Nevertheless, he was being thoroughly contested by unnamed strangers.
The track led in-between two parallel buildings that created a glorified 'back ally look.' As they began a straight, the shadows cast by the two structures extinguished the daylight.
Vin loved the sound of wheels rolling on concrete and adored the oppressive fresh air that hit his face when racing. The sweet peppermint scent of the pink-haired girl only 5 feet ahead of him was also pleasant. She was obviously unconcerned with attire since she didn't bother to manage her white shirt that was becoming untucked or hold down the skirt that was lifted by the wind.
He tried to advert his eyes, but it was a straight sidewalk, and the red polka-dotted competitor was proficient and skated a perfect line. Vin wanted to adjust from her rear, but not enough to kill his momentum or strain getting ahead.
Even as Vin slapped his foot against the floor to pedal faster, he was locked in 7th place. It was like, no matter how fast he traveled, the others rivaled that pace.
The whole time he could sense several ravenous racers clawing at his back, desiring his position. One man endeavored to ascend the ranks, a stranger who stomped and pushed off the floor while accelerating. Cool beneath the shaded buildings, he crept past others using the shadows.
From ninth to eighth, then finally staring at Vin's solid, damp back and also attaining the waft of mint. They skated low, hunched over like a lurking gremlin; down there, they caught a peek of the polka-dotted diversion.
Their magnetized eyes were snared, and they gazed from the path toward the pink-haired girl's tail. For far too long, anyone could have noticed them googling.
All it took was a slight drift of Vin's course before he'd overtaken the female student's frame. Propping his own model-like ass in front of the inquisitive racers' sight.
Vin took a subtle glimpse behind himself and contracted his eyelids in dissatisfaction. "Eyes on the prize," he said.
The insolent racer from behind snapped their finger and then pointed toward the girl before grinning. "Yessir," they said. "My eyes are well locked on the prize, but you're in my way. So if you'd kindly scooch aside."
"If you weren't so slow, I wouldn't have to move," Vin taunted. Snapping his head forward again. Luckily he did because the same girl shouted back from a few feet ahead. "Duck, loser."
Her sailor uniform was released and rushed with the gust toward Vin, who swiftly swerved. The thirsty skater behind him, however, had become irate and began frantically pushing to catch up to give Vin a piece of his mind. The moment he gained a little ground, the woman's shirt slapped and wrapped around his face.
"Serves you right, perv!" the pink-haired girl exclaimed, continuing on in a sports bra.
The man's pace dropped as he became blinded and fought to snatch the cloth from his head.
The short stretch between the buildings ended, and the moment he uncovered himself, the blazing sunlight marinated his irises. Following a grunt, he raised both arms to shelter his eyes from the light and give them time to adjust.
He was hindered for less than a minute. Still, when he unsheathed his face, the backsides of several more racers were already present and escaping his grasp.
From eighth, all the way down to last in an instant. Even more, Vin, who was delayed for only a second while dodging, had also fallen one spot.
That just went to show the caliber of his opponents, which didn't frighten him but beckoned him to spare no effort.
With the change in lighting came a new future. A path that led down the center of their impressively modern course in zone one. Many Facilities were stationed on both sides, and grand steps led down to a massive garden-style courtyard with a plethora of foreign plants and colors.
From the south to the north, there were branching paths cut off by green bushes and high hedges. Then, a colossal stone fountain at the center.
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There wasn't much room to dance, so Vin, and likely all the racers, knew the steep stairway would be the only opportunity to collect ample style points.
A solid stretch of 30 stairs, over 27 feet. The safe route would be to grind the handrails down, but anyone unhinged enough would-
"Whoever touches the handrail is chicken shit!" Heckled the first-place racer. Her black shoulder-length hair was as wild as her skating, and she used brown, firm, engine-like legs to kick forward with destructive force. She had a crude way of speaking, but Vin was glad she challenged the pack the way she did.
The leader of the race backed her words. She steered for the center of the stairway, dropped her hips, then dragged her gloved hand across the floor like a surfer catching a wave.
Racing gloves were prominent in the competitive scene. They were leather but had metal studs on the fingertips, which created a nifty red spark when dragged on hard surfaces.
Those sparks persisted until she stood slightly at the very edge of the stairway, then popped her board high off the pavement. At her peak altitude, she swiftly rotated, looked directly at Vin, and smirked.
The woman appeared Indian but had dark red irises like a fiend. She rocked black brow piercings and had heavy black make-up around her eyes and lips. She was as punk as they came.
While midair, she quickly grabbed the board from under her feet, lifted it, and kissed the bottom of the deck, which left a lipstick impression. Following her remarkable flex, she rotated back around and easily landed at the base of the long stairs.
"Yo, what the hell," uttered another racer, stunned by the performance.
Vin's parched expression was drowned. A new, lifeful smile swooped across his face, and he became infatuated. Not necessarily with the stylish woman but with her skillful skating.
Eager, more sped for the jump. The small, poke-happy racer he'd met earlier was next to approach. However, no one expected a stunt superior to the girl before him. Nevertheless, he dipped, then ollied off the top stair. His body launched up, then up some more. He ascended five feet before neatly kickflipping his board 360° to the left. After stopping the board's rotation with his ankle, he flipped it in the opposite direction another 360° before docking with the ground and shooting a double middle finger.
More impressed remarks sounded from the trailing group. It became common for athletes to become recognized for their special effects performances, but as a result, true skating talent became diluted.
Vin, too, was charmed. "They're the real deal," he mumbled in elation.
His time couldn't come soon enough. More skaters took the jump without riding the handrail, all executing some trick on the way down.
Rolling in at approximately 50kph(31mph), he could hear gyrating wheels matching his speed only inches away, too close for comfort. Regardless, Vin arrived at the top step and readied to ollie. Before taking off, he heard a brazen and ominous voice utter, "careful now."
Vin thought nothing of it; he popped 4 feet off the ground, then let his body sail. From standard, he promptly pressed against the tail of the board to flip it, but the same voice reappeared before he could do so. "I'll take that," declared a man.
Right from underneath him, Vin's board was pulled by another racer. His phenomenal jump became a midair bail-out.
Any seasoned skater knew how to properly fall and negate injury; Vin was no exception. But something about distant falls triggered a fearful reaction within him. As he tumbled, he became frighteningly cold and exhausted. Goosebumps sprung on his flesh, and the world's brightness was increased as if a switch was flipped. Despite his ailment, he had to brace for the crash.
As he barreled forward, the culprit passed. The villainously handsome white man looked no older than Vin. His styled, raven-colored hair blew sporadically, and he chuckled. With one hand, he held Vin's rented skateboard, then he used the other to pull a lighter and ignite the cigarette in between his lips.
The stranger effortlessly landed at the bottom of the stairs and then called out, "No rules, right? Mr. Host." He tossed the board he stole, then accelerated onward into the courtyard while taking a hit of nicotine.
Vin had fallen diagonally but tossed his weight forward to lessen the impact on his feet. He landed on his shoulder, then rolled across the white concrete several times before suspending.
Words were lost; he only swore softly while lying out flat like an angel. Like one, he thought he was in heaven because of how bright the lights were. Which was odd because there were no lights outside, just the intense sun that didn't do its job of heating him.
"Hell outta the way!" Roared another, making their grand landing after descending the stairs. Vin inhaled, punched the ground, then stumbled to his feet before narrowly tossing himself from the path.
He'd dropped from 8th place to 30th in a mere instant. With shut eyes, quavering hands, and clattering teeth, he grumbled, "Fuck, not this again."
"Whenever I fall, it's always like that time..." Afflicted or not, he struggled to his discarded skateboard. "Come on, Gavin, move," he urged himself.
Both of his masculine hands raised and then cruelly slingshotted onto his cold cheeks. For good measures, he also pinched his stinging, red face to appease himself.
"Go!" He yelled, stomping one foot onto the board. What felt like every molecule in his body was unavailingly jittery, booming to continue. Some of his marbles spilled, and he lost his clear mind.
Still chilled, but his vision normalized. He grimaced at the back of other racers, then confidently proclaimed in a roar, "We'll catch up!"