| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | M | 15 | Rogue | M: (Okay so I'm actually a horrible person. This kept slipping my mind. But, im back now. So lets do thisss.)
He did another few races for the night, before he actually headed out. The night was strangely quiet for once as he made his way into one of the poorer neighborhoods of the city. On the left, there was a small brick and blue planed house. Goes to show just how neglected these back neighborhoods were. Most of the new buildings were made of advanced material that he couldn't even name. However the commercials did call it, crumble proof.
He entered the small house or more so a shack and simply plopped down on the couch. It didn't take too long for him to fall asleep. When he finally came to again the sun was seeping through the blinds. Grayson sighed and turned his positioning on the couch only to find a tall figure standing in the kitchen.
"Hey Kiddo! I thought you weren't coming back today." The guy said. Grayson gave a small smile and sat up on the couch. He was about to speak again when the taller and older guy said; "Jaime's got another job for you. The crew is-" "Nope. Sorry. I'm not doing this today." Grayson cut him off and got up to go to the bathroom.
He cleaned up quickly and changed into a t shirt and a pair of shorts. He pulled a brush a few times through his wet, tangled hair. He didn't allow himself to be stopped on the way out. He took his board, hopped on it and left. He wasn't interested in any jobs today, and she'd have to understand that. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: n/a
Marcus found his brother in his usual spot: perched on the swing that sat out in the back yard. They had a wider, lower swing for hover chairs here, too, though it seemed something of a pointless venture to him. His brother looked up to greet him, his hand wrapped around the chain of the swing, with that quiet, thoughtful gaze that made his gut twist. Mickey was thirteen but big for his age, more fitting the size and build of an older teenager with those broad shoulders and huge feet. Marcus wondered where he got it from.
If Marcus looked like that, well, he wouldn't have been a boarder for one thing. He wouldn't have let anything stop him, just ploughed through anything standing in his way. His giant of a kid brother could have been an athlete with that gait and those shoulders, but he didn't have the interest. Never had. He had size on his side, but not the bulk. That was one of the problems Marcus had been trying to address for years now.
"You gotta eat, okay?" Marcus muttered as he came to a gentle pause by the swing set. One hand was looped loosely around his stolen hoverboard, the other jammed deep into his pocket.
Mickey shot him a knowing glance in response, one eyebrow quirked in query. Marcus knew that look. It was judgement on the most irritating level: judgement from a younger sibling. He scoffed and shrugged, replying to the silent indication, "It's my job to worry about you."
"That isn't your board." Came the mechanical voice that was as close as his brother would ever come to speaking. It was choppy and stiff, masculine, prone to mispronunciations, but human, if only in its creation. His finger probed gingerly at the tear in Marcus' brightly colored jacket, his stubby nail scratching against the slippery material.
Marcus was a bit caught off guard by the accusation. He turned the board slightly away so that the logo was less visible and something resembling a grin slipped across his face. Mickey was more observant than he let on. Maybe it would be a different story if he could blurt out his feelings and thoughts unhindered, but most people didn't expect a nonverbal kid to pick up on anything whatsoever, let alone subtle changes that most would overlook.
"I'm gonna go get my board back." Marcus assured his brother, not wanting to get him too worried about his predicament. "Just had a thing come up. I'll check in with you later. Eat today - please."
Before Mickey could summon the words for another rebuttal, Marcus had jumped the back fence and hopped onto the stolen board. He had one goal in mind: getting in and out of that police station and getting his board back, all without incurring any other problems along the way.
Edited at October 18, 2019 05:11 PM by Quadropheniac |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton // M // 15 // Mentions:
Grayson got in a few early morning races. They were just 1v1 so nothing too big. It was enough to get him breakfast though without having to diverge into his savings. Even though the day had been going well so far, he felt as if he was half drunk. He was 'off his game'. Pulling his hand down the front of his face he remembered what he was doing. He had just left the restaurant and was currently standing at a crosswalk. His board continuously thrumming underneath him as he shifted his weight.
From where he was standing he eyed a few kids leaving a parts shop with beaming faces. They were continuously looking down at their boards as if they were the best thing. Which technically the boards were. The kids couldn't be much older than twelve, and were escorted by an older teen who probably would rather be somewhere else. He remembered when he had first received his own board. It was large and clunky. Much bigger than a typical blockers. He and Aiden didn't have enough money to buy the latest standard of that day, so they were forced to go with one of the older models, which happened to be insanely old that it was almost prehistoric. He had traded that thing in as soon as he could.
There was a ring and then the crosswalk's go icon went up. He leaned forward and glided across. He didn't really have a goal for the moment, just to simply ride until he found something worth his while. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: Grayson His obligations taken care of for the moment, Marcus zipped away from the hope at a far faster pace than necessary, earning him an angry shout or two from pedestrians as he weaved between people. Not because he was eager to get away from his brother, more because he was eager to retrieve his hoverboard from those greedy, thieving cops. The moment couldn't come quick enough. His feet were itching to return to his familiar board. By the time he was sliding into the police station, the positive effects of the morning had worn off, leaving him in his usual irritable mood. After all the work he'd put in the night before, he didn't want to have anything new piled on top of his pre-established expectations. They were simple: get in, get his board, and get out without incurring any additional fines or favors. Amazingly, he only managed to annoy the officer in charge of the front desk with his curt manner and general shiftiness. Marcus couldn't help but pace anxiously when he was indoors, especially since he'd been immediately ordered to dismount from his hoverboard lest he accidentally bowl some poor employee over during his restless drifting. His account was emptied with a ping and a thoughtless "thank you, have a nice day" from the officer. Marcus didn't stick around for any longer than he had to. He grabbed his board and bolted for the door. Once outside and a good block or two away, he paused outside a coffee place to look over the board and see what damage had been done to what he considered his most valuable possession. He had expected to find a scratch or two, maybe residue from improper storage, but not a complete wipe of the software inside. There was a sick rush of anger in the pit of his stomach as he leaned back against the wall of the coffee shop, scratchy brick through his jacket and slick metal on his palms. It wasn't an impossible situation to recover from, just an incredibly annoying one. Rebooting the board and resetting it to his personalized preferences through his bracelet was a tedious process, and he'd have to sit around and wait for it to finish. He slid down to the pavement and sat there, fiddling with his bracelet. As he began the reboot, he noticed a familiar face gliding towards him - the kid. That same kid who'd set him on this precarious path in the first place. Somehow, in this massive city, Marcus couldn't manage to avoid him. But maybe he didn't want to avoid him this time. He needed something to entertain him while his board rebooted, after all. He raised a hand leisurely, a wave that was scarcely more than a finger and a chin lift of acknowledgement, one that said I'm actually doing you a favor by saying hey but I'm not going to go out of my way to do so. |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson "Lorde" Brixton // M: Marcus Casually boarding the streets was actually calming. Most likely due to the fact that almost everything he did required a certain rush. There was a slight breeze every once and a while and just the quiet buzz of human interaction around the city. It hadn't been too long when he settled his gaze on a familiar face. He debated on stopping and turning around. That was until Marcus raised his hand the slightest bit. Was he just acknowledged by someone who practically hated his guts? Seemed so. He tilted his head to the side for a moment as if to ask what Marcus was doing. Grayson continued forward, swaying on his board a bit in a relaxed loping movement. The younger boy once closer narrowed his eyes a bit at Marcus, he was afterall sitting on the pavement which was barely out of the way of other boarders passing by. Grayson spotted the board that Marcus had first been riding. So he'd gotten his board back from the police. Good for him. The older teen however looked a bit annoyed. Finally reaching Marcus he stopped just a foot short from where he was seated. "Having a little trouble there?" While one could assume Grayson was being a pain and taunting the older teen, there was a significant difference in how he normally spoke. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Mentions: Lorde
"Reboot." Marcus replied simply, assuming the kid would know precisely the headache he was going through. Even those who stuck to the same board for years had to undergo some technical problem solving every once in a while, and a reboot was useful for wiping old software or mistaken modifications clean. It was an inconvenience, but not something that usually had dire consequences. Of course, being forced to hang around near a police station until his board wrapped up was problematic, but hopefully not drastically so. There were plenty of other kids around here, and Marcus hoped he wouldn't be considered a primary target should any sort of excitement go down. He didn't plan on doing anything to draw attention, at least not until he could reliably flee.
Maybe that was why he'd waved Lorde over. To keep him focused long enough for his board to finish rebooting. He didn't like the kid in front of him - not even a little, but it was better than sitting here twiddling his thumbs. He couldn't even access his wristband now that it was hooked into his board.
Marcus shifted his position slightly, peering down at the wristband to check its progress. He spoke as though an afterthought, like he didn't really care one way or another if Lorde stuck around. "You don't run with anybody now, do you?"
The kid hadn't shown up with anybody at the tracks last night, and the only people Marcus had seen near him had been those two losers from earlier. As far as he could tell, they weren't crew. They weren't even decent boarderes. "That have anything to do with those two goons who were giving you trouble?"
((aah sorry this is kind of scattered but here's something I guess)) |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
Grayson // M // Marcus Reboots were nothing short of annoying. They took too long, and you'd think that with all of this technology in Xona that there wouldn't be that much of an issue. Grayson looked around a bit as he stood, the police station close by the and the bustle of other boarders was so natural to him. He couldn't imagine a quiet world. Sometimes even at night there was quiet, but not often at all. "ah well, that's a bit complicated." Truth be told, Lorde hadn't been in a crew since the Spartans were shut down. He hadn't even wanted to for a while, something about showing loyalty and what not. Yet, now he would admit that running with a crew would be easier. It probably wouldn't be too big of a deal if he joined another crew. He just didn't know how he felt about it. He'd been alone for so long. "Ehhh. I'm sure they don't help. Harmond and Trey though are just mad about money. I don't think they spread any rumors though, I haven't heard about any thats for sure." |
|
|
| |
Darkseeker
|
|
Winter 
Night Weather: 
Clear Moon: 
