So High That We Could Kiss The Sky

Air Riders kid. AR's. The boards.
This is what you live for.
See, AR's started out in the military. Sounds like hard core shit right? Well, it flopped like a fat guy in a pool. Basically, it ain't strong enough to life 2 tons of metal. But, it's strong enough to lift a person.
And that's where AR's came from. Sorta like the next long board. But you fly. Almost. If you got enough speed you could. Then again if anythings got enough speed you could fly.
See though, this shit is more then that. It can be used anywhere, makes races from cars seem like nothing. We got bigger and better courses now. We race for money, and for fame. Just don't let the cops see ya, am I right?
Here's how it goes though. You could buy a board from me, but it ain't cheap. Or I could give you some stuff to make your own.
But you look like a rich boy, let's see what you got eh?
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The underground it's called. The place beneath the city. Just because we aren't "allowed" doesn't mean we're bad though. Some of my best friends are cops. They know we're here. They don't care though, long as we stay out of their shit.
See, this here is what we'd call the "slums". It's shit. But it's our shit ya know?
Look, I got some guys you should probably meet. Just don't piss em off. Never know what they got in their belts.
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Riding isn't about getting into gangs. Riding isn't about getting rich and getting game.
It isn't about proving yourself, or being better then others.
Riding is to be free. No restrictions. Ride the wind and fly.
Some people take it so seriously. Just have fun, and you'll have succeeded.
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Character sheet
Name:
Age:
Board:
Background:
Appearance:
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Name: Jeff (Full name Jeffrey) Bastian
Age: 18
Board: Custom made. Base model Comet 2000-L. Nicknamed "Mimi"
Background: Jeff grew up in the slums, and prefers not to talk about his home life. He admits to have joining a gang when he was younger, but he left deciding it just wasn't "Who he was". He still doesn't know who he was and just decides to go with the flow and have fun. He just wants to make some money, live, and ride. He doesn't hide anything, but he doesn't openly admit it either. He just lets people ask if they want to know.
Appearance: Standing at 5'8, his shoulder length black hair that might as well be a mane looks like he was just in a explosion. He wears a large grin on his slightly rounded face most of the time. He has apple green eyes.
His clothing is usually his favorite track jacket, black with yellow lines down the arms and side, a pair of torn jeans, and some white running shoes which now look more gray-brown from constant use.

Name: Vegas (Refuses to give real name)
Age: 20
Board: Custom made. Base model: Raven Elite.
Background: Vegas is a mysterious individual. Both cheerful and withdrawn. He talks little of himself or what led him to riding, though rumor has it he was in the military. This has remained unconfirmed as he says nothing other than giving a laugh when asked about it. Other than his refusal to answer questions about his past, he is rather well liked in the scene since he isn't out to gain power or anything that gives a bad name to riding.
Appearance: Vegas stands around 6'1" though this is often disguised by the fact he wears a pair of black army issue combat boots which add an inch or two. His hair is jet black with blue and green streaks running through it, cut into shoulder length mohawk with the top often pulled into a ponytail. Multiple piercings can be seen in his ears along with a septum piercing. He switches up his wardrobe wearing cut off black cargo pants or shredded loose fit skinnies. A leather jacket with a painting of a vampire skull on the back is usually his telltale sign, though he likes to wear long sleeve or sleeveless t shirts. He always wears combat boots however.

Jeff let his head bob in sync with the music running though his headphones. He let the beat flow though him getting him ready. His headphones were fit snugly in his ears, the wire shoved down his shirt. The small red gate in front of him was the only thing holding him back. The slight hum of several AR's could be heard, his own he felt though his legs.
He didn't need to hear the countdown. He'd be able to tell when to go.

"Alright alright ladies and gentlemen! Are you ready!?" A voice boomed over the speakers of the track, responded by the cheering of the crowd. "The third race of the day, a free for all speed track! Hope you got your bets down because this will be a close one!"
Men and women from all around held small betting cards in their hands, cheering on whoever they had placed their paycheck on. Jeff didn't know who bet on him, but the score board gave him a 1/12 chance, so he doubted many.
"Alright folks! A speed track race is who can race from one end to the other the fastest. It ain't about tricks or maneuvering. Straight line, point A to point B. Now don't blink or you just might miss it!"
With those words stomping came from the crowd, showing their eagerness to start and excitement.
"Don't break down the walls! We just replaced them!" A laugh could be heard from the boom box. "Aight! Let's get this staaarted!"

"Five!"
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Two!"
"Ooooone!"
"GO!"

The red gate pulled back, showing Jeff the course. He didn't even take time to think.
The sound of his AR roared to life, like the sound of a strong wind going though a window. It felt strong and focused. He shot out the gates, the wind whipping his hair around, his eyes wide in excitement ignoring the slight sting.
Jeff hadn't taken the time to see the course. He didn't know that the course started with a strong drop. The rest of the riders went straight down letting themselves gain momentum.
Jeff just let himself fly, the blue flames from the back of his board shooting him though the air. He couldn't hear it, but he expected the crowd was surprised.
He could still feel himself drop but it was almost like he was flying. He was.... falling. With style.
The ground arrived fast, and his weight won the battle. His board hit the ground hard, letting out sparks, but he never fell. The board hummed to life again letting him lift himself off the ground, stopping the sparks. His board was made for speed, but that doesn't mean it was the best. Even with the wind making way for him, his board running as hard as it could, and Jeff loving every second of it... He still saw the others. At least two of them pulled in front of him.
And before he knew it, the race was over.
He turned his board sharply, sliding to a stop, dirt and small pebbles flung up from the force of his board. He let himself hover slightly in the air as he removed his earphones.
"God damn! You're fucking crazy!" The guy who had pulled in front of him was a mixture of shock and laughing. "You tried to fucking fly there man. Almost broke your neck!"

"Nah, it's cool." Jeff laughed at the winner. "I do that shit all the time. Hey, good race man." He lifted his fist, the other racer responding in turn, bumping his own against Jeff's.

Watching from the first row by the finish line, Vegas couldn't help but chuckle as the winner crossed the line. Standing from where he sat, he walked out to where the riders who had just raced stood about as they talked about pivotal moments that to the eyes of someone who didn't ride looked like nothing. But the Riders knew. They saw it and appreciated the beauty of such simple actions on the track. He wasn't a big fan of speed trials, as he spent more time competing in the freestyle trick sessions that popped up occasionally. Pulling a wad of bills from his cargo pocket, he handed them to the winner who was talking to a kid who looked about 18. The very same one who tried to fly over the track. "Alright, brother. You win. I'll take you up on that Freestyle Challenge whenever your ready to hand me my money back." joked Vegas as the winner gave a grin and said something about counting on it before disappearing into the other riders little groups.

Turning his attention to the man standing in front of him, the mohawked Rider gave his a cursory once over. "Not bad, kid. Not everyday you see someone flying." said Vegas with a grin as he held out a hand. "Name's Vegas. You got some speed going for you. What deck you running?"

As much as Jeff didn't care about the money, that wad of money was mighty tempting. He was just about ready to pop his earphones back in and ride back to the cafe area before the other man got his attention. Jeff let his board lower him to the ground, taking a step off and shaking the mans hand. "Hey thanks man. Though it wasn't totally intentional."
He let go of the mans hand picked the board off the ground. There were a lot of scratch marks on the bottom and the sides. "It's nothing. Just a old Comet, the light version. I don't have enough for a newer board so I just add on parts where I need them."

He realized he never introduced himself. "Oh yeah, names Jeffrey. Just call me Jeff."

"Some of the best things in riding are never intentional." replied the man with a smile. "The Comet is a good model, man. They don't make em like they used to." added the man before motioning to his own board. "I feel ya there. Who cares what it looks like. Long as it rides, right?" spoke Vegas as the scratches and dings could be seen along the bottom of his deck. Part of the reason Vegas wasn't a fan of the speed trials was because it was basically a drag race. He loved the twists and turns of the freestyle trick courses. His board definitely showed it too. "Good to meet you, Jeff." replied Vegas before motioning to the cafe area. "I don't know about you. But I'm thirsty as hell. What say we go get a drink and swap some war stories from the track?"

"Sure. Why not eh?" Jeff shrugged. Most people in the underground were in gangs and thieves, but they all worked together and were nice down here. There was no problem trusting strangers.
"Yeah. I mean, I know racing is all about the rider, but sometimes you just can't win against the rich kids with all the new boards." Jeff let himself complain a little as he started walking. "At least not in speed trials. Most others rely on the riders." He added quickly correcting himself.

"Those rich kids aren't real riders." spoke the man a bit of irritation in his tone. "They don't understand what it means to be free and just feel the wind on your face. They've had everything handed to them since they were born." added Vegas before letting a heavy sigh escape his lips. "Sorry about that. Can't stand the people that are only in it to get famous. Oh. You might end up in the next issue of Wind Riders." commented the rider as he mentioned the monthly issue of the underground's magazine that updated riders on news of the scene. "Those damn photographers couldn't get enough pics of you flying." finished the man as he stepped into the cafe area while his boots thudded heavily against the floor. A few riders turned to see the newcomers calling to Vegas who waved in return.

"Nah, I understand. I mean, I don't hate them, because they're at least trying. But yeah, that is true." Jeff forgot he was carrying his board while talking and a few people had to walk wide around him. His attention was too focused on talking to realize it though.
"Well, you seem popular." He noted at the people who waved at Vegas. "Though, why? I've done it before. Besides I didn't even know there were reporters for Wind Riders down here. They usually are a few floors higher with the bigger competitions." Jeff felt a little weird with the idea of his face on a magazine.

"By the way, you said you ride. What do you usually ride in?" He asked his new conversation partner.

"Eh. The Riders know me. Nothing big." replied the man with a grin which said there was more to him than he was letting on. "Don't ask me, man. Word running through the lower levels though is that Wind Riders sent all their reporters out to headhunt for the next big thing. Someone new to liven things upstairs." answered Vegas as he grinned again when Jeff asked what courses he rode in. "The Freestyle." replied the man as his grin seemed to become impossibly wider. Few Riders messed with the Freestyle courses since it was no secret Riders could die on the course if they misjudged a jump or hit a rail just the wrong way, which could lead to a fatal plummet to the ground below.

Well I ain't nothing." Jeff admitted with a shrug. "Any one can do what I did. Just if they ain't scared." Jeff always described himself as 'awesome' yet he never accepted compliments.
"Freestyle? Always seem interesting. Never got enough to participate in one. Or the time. Though they're fun to watch." Jeff examined Vegas "Though if you're a Freestyle racer, it's a surprise I never seen ya before now."
The Cafe area was a little busy now that the current Speed Trial was finished, Jeff tossed his board slightly so it landed on a table, claiming it as theirs before someone else came in and grabbed it. The loud clang got a few looks.

"Must be something if the reporters are snapping so many pictures." replied Vegas as he set his own board on the table next to Jeff's. "I don't Freestyle down here too often anymore. The tracks lose their appeal once you figure them out." commented the man while he walked up to the counter. "Let me get a coffee. Two sugars." spoke the man as the barista nodded and started pouring a cup of coffee. Digging into his pocket, Vegas dropped a few dollar coins on the counter.

"Yeah well, reporters also take pictures of famous people and how they dress so I don't know what's special or not anymore." The kid shrugged before sitting at the table, propping his feet beside his board.
"If you're not down here, where can you? Never really been anywhere but here myself." Jeff said legitimately curious. He'd only been to one of the higher levels once by sneaking in. He never got to see some of the tracks.
Jeff heavily disliked the taste of coffee, unless it was half sugar and milk, but he decided not to comment on his friends choice.

"Touche." replied Vegas as he took a seat at the table, moving his board to the ground before putting his feet on the table as his boots made a heavy thud along with a brilliant black streak across the surface of the table. Looking around the cafe, it was quite obvious that the man spent a lot of time there considering almost every table had a number of black streaks on their surfaces. "C'mon Vegas! Can you not mess up the tables for once?" questioned one of the women working in the cafe.

Vegas simply shot the woman a grin before turning his attention back to Jeff. "All the way up. I don't mean the top tier. I mean the city itself. Across the rooftops and through the streets. That's the real challenge. First time you sail of a copters blades knowing you could be chopped to pieces..." the man replied as his face showed just how much he savored the experience. "I try not to make a habit of it though. The cops get bent out o shape when you race in the city." added the man after a drink of his coffee. Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it with a zippo holding the emblem of a shamrock with peacock feathers in the background.

"Vegas! You can't smoke in here!" called the same woman only to receive a wave and another grin from the man. She shook her head as she was seemingly reminded that the man did as he pleased. "I'll tell you what, kid. Stick with me and I can guarantee you'll never get bored in this scene again. No way to go but up." spoke the man through a cloud of smoke.

Jeff's smaller feet left no mark on the tables, but he still got a small chuckle at his new friend.

"They don't even let me anywhere near higher then here, none the less the city." He was rather surprised. "I'm not rich." That was a very big understatement.

"Up?" Jeff was really debating "I don't know. I mean, I don't really care." He was probably a little rude and blunt "I like to ride. I'm not even that good. My board is old. I don't really care about going up. I wouldn't mind a visit, but to race up there..." Jeff kinda gave a half shrug.

"That's the beauty of it." replied Vegas as he took a sip of his coffee.

The man chuckled as he pushed hair out of his face. "Doesn't matter if they know you up there. It's the things you do to get noticed that matter." spoke the man before taking a short excited drag of his cigarette. "Let's head up to the level above us. I'll show you what you're missing." spoke Vegas as he put his cigarette out of the table and grabbed his cup of coffee and board, heading out the door not waiting to see if Jeff was even following.