Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue Mentions: Rhys

The boy's eyes flickered up once more, it was common somehow to have lost a family member. Another display with this bookkeeper. He gave a slight shrug at his comment. It didn't bother him much, as it had been a while ago, and he hadn't exactly a great bond with her. That's what Aiden had been for.

Grayson shifted his weight on his feet. There wasn't necessarily a problem with him telling this guy his status. He didn't seem to socialize, and if anything he wasn't about to exchange his real name. He never did, until he felt like he had complete trust.

"Nah, we disbanded about three years ago. Rogue since then." He replied curtly. His crew members had been quite a handful though. Labeled as some of the most reckless at the time.

At the man's next comment his eyes lifted a slight bit to meet the other's gaze. Talking like that could get you beat to death if the person you offended thought highly of himself.

"Again with the jobs. I'm making plenty of profit as it is."

Grayson gave a slight nod at his answer. Accidents like that had happened, no idea who had done it, or what had happened. Of course most of the time, the boarder wasn't lucky enough to live through it.

"That's unfortunate. What crew were you in?" Grayson knew he was a bit bold, but so far the two had been practically throwing silent insults and challenges the entire time.

The boy pushed back his brown hair as it fell in front of his face. He gave another smirk at the man’s response. He seemed rather interested.

“Curious are we now?” He snickered quietly.

His tone grew a bit more serious in the next moment though. “Well sorta. We’d been on the radar, if you’ve heard of the Spartans... We were always on the edge. There’s a bunch of rumors as to why we disbanded. But uh, there was an incident. Resulting in death. The rest is history though.”

The truth being, they were faced with an ultimatum. After all, It wasn’t just one injury. Aidan died, Calder’s collarbone was replaced with a metal rod. And Saran had severe brain damage. She later on died too. Since then he ha been known as The Lone Spartan. More Popular in the first year of the accident. If that was the case, he could’ve seen this man before. If his accident happened only two years ago. That was something to ponder.

“For the record. I’ve already had a few bad falls. Surely, not as bad as yours. By the time I’ve broken myself I’ll have plenty to keep me going though.”

What made him think he was in a crew...

“Well, most people have a crew, and you just seemed it. Just a guess.”

He gave a blink in response to answer. The watchers. He never had been particularly fond of them. They had traitors amidst them. Well to him she was a traitor, but that was about it.

He rubbed the back of his head subconsciously.

“That’s harsh man, sorry about that...”

When the man’s tone and conversation changed he gave another quick smile.

“Eager to get rid of me huh? And i thought we had a bond.” He playfully snickered. Grayson moved towards the window. He’d leave after his responses had been answered. He was intrigued after all.

Marcus wasn't much of a morning person. He greatly preferred the evenings and nights for his activities, when the racing action ran hot and heavy. When the pulse of Xona's nightlife faded into morning and daytime, he was forced to improvise and create his own excitement. There were no rogues to hound him this morning with taunts and challenges, or at least none that had crossed his path. Going this long without being accosted was almost disappointing, and Marcus was spoiling for a fight. Something to get the adrenaline pumping and allow him to loose some energy for a short while. Between his blatant attitude and the Lions logo on his board, some rogues were kept at bay while also enticing others, he knew, but apparently it was currently excelling at the former. So when the peaceful atmosphere of the morning had grown too infuriating for him to bear, instead, he'd found that throwing rocks at passing hovercars would fit the bill nicely.

He'd parked himself along a street where he knew there would be a decent amount of traffic, but also where said traffic would hopefully be in too much of a hurry to stop and hassle him at his sport. There was a convenience store at his right, a former restaurant locked down at his left, a book store at his front, and a small pile of rocks at his feet, just waiting for the perfect target. He was tucked into the narrow shelter of an alley between the boarded up joint and the convenience store where he could be potentially overlooked by the preoccupied or very anxious, but even in the alleyway his wardrobe made him hard to miss.

He wore orange kicks of a blindingly sunset neon shade. They matched the orange and cerulean windbreaker type of jacket that he wore over a black shirt. His harshly slanted goggles were lowered over his eyes, their reflective yellow-blue sheen bared and apathetic to the crumbled world around him. Goggles might mask his expression, but nothing could obscure the ugly scar that ripped across nearly half of his face and down his neck. The damaged flesh was stark and a bit shocking as a first impression: pale, tattered, nearly half a ghost against his light brown skin. It had healed ages ago, but that was purely on a superficial level. He hadn't come away without side effects. All it took was a few scratches to unearth blood, raw emotion, and a hot temper.

The sound of a hovercar humming up the street made him reach for the stones and lob two at the moving target. One pinged off the fender, one off the door with the sweet, victorious clink of metal. It continued on, either unaware or indifferent to his assault. As another hovercar approached, he snatched up a fresh rock and flung it towards the street.

It didn't hit his target this time. The hovercar was traveling faster than he'd anticipated, and the rock missed entirely. Instead, it flew towards the bookstore window.

Oops. Marcus heard a crack, but he didn't bother to stick around to see the damage. In a matter of seconds he'd jumped on his hoverboard and bolted away down the alley at top speed. His jacket flapped behind him, the wind ripping at his clothes, his face, his hair. It was a ferocious and unforgiving touch, but comforting it its familiarity. Boarding was what he knew best.

He was breathing hard, but grinning wildly as he spotted the familiar figure of Ash boarding along a short ways from the tunnels. He swooped alongside his leader and shot him a friendly nod of hello and a lazy, two-fingered wave. His face was flushed with the thrill of his flight, and his crooked smile was more sneer under his scarred face, but there was a genuine warmth to be found if one knew where to look.

"Quiet today." He panted as he glanced behind him. When he saw nothing to cause him concern, he slowed his board to match Ash's pace. "What you been up to?"

Idly drumming her fingers on the countertop, Crissi glanced up at the clock. "Finally," she hummed, seeing the time she was waiting for, and got to her feet. She grabbed her bag and her keys and headed for the entrance to her clinic, glancing briefly at her hoverboard leaning up against the wall. She left it where it was as she exited the building, hanging a paper on door which read "Out for lunch" before she locked it behind her. Crissi was the only one working today, as usual, and she rarely had any patients this early. She turned right and began making her way down the street, a cheerful air about her now that she was actually doing something. Crissi hated having nothing to busy herself with.

The vibrant red-head hummed a quiet tune to herself as she walked, ignoring the occasional derisive look from a passing boarder. It was rare for someone Crissi's age to not be on a hoverboard, and often times boarders looked down on those who didn't have one. Crissi didn't care, however. They didn't know she had one. It was her responsibility to check on a man named Rhys each day, and she never took her board along. She had adjusted to being looked down on a long time ago. She didn't view the task as a burden either, unlike the woman who used to do home check-ups. She'd always enjoyed interacting with others, and she found Rhys to be friendly and interesting to talk to, even if he was a bit detached. In addition, Crissi liked to read and would often purchase a new book while she was there.

As she neared the bookstore, she witnessed a rock being thrown out of the corner of her eye and strike the storefront window, cracking it. Crissi whipped around to see who was responsible, only to catch a glimpse of their back as they disappeared around the corner. She frowned, irritated at that whoever it was didn't bother to fess up and apologize. It wasn't like she expected it though, it was just how the people of Xona were. With a shake of her head Crissi pushed open the door with a sigh. "Sorry about your window, Rhys," she began speaking as she entered. "Some punk boarder did it but I didn't get a good look at him before he was gone." Glancing up, Crissi blinked in surprise as she saw someone standing by the window. She hardly came across other customers here. Her gaze flicked to the board he held and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, aware of what she had just implied about boarders in general. "Oh, hello." Crissi offered a sheepish smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked away from the newcomer and to Rhys. "Um, how are you doing?" She asked, feeling a little awkward and at a loss as to what else to say.

Ash sighed as he lazily boarded down the sidewalk, barely avoiding others on the path with slight adjustments. He'd grabbed a burger at a small hole-in-the-wall joint a while back that was only a memory now, and was debating on whether or not he was still hungry. However Ash knew that when he was bored he tended to get munchy, so he was avoiding that option. It was no use being lazy and getting fat too.

Hearing someone come up on him Ash glanced over his shoulder, recognizing one of his buddies. "If it isn't the King!" he greeted with a wide grin. Most of the other members refused to call him by that nickname, but Ash chose to humor the guy. "Quiet, huh?" he repeated in an amused tone, noticing Marcus's flushed expression and the way he glanced over his shoulder. "Looks like it." he decided not to comment on his behavior for now. "I went and challenged this little crew to a tunnel race a while back just for the hell of it. Showed them what's up. Wasn't all that exciting." Ash sighed, scratching the back of his head. He glanced at Marcus out of the corner his eye, a smirk spreading across his face. "So," he began, too curious to keep quiet. "What trouble have you gotten into? Something exciting, I hope?"

"The reason why I do things is my business... It may be dangerous, but it gives the thrill the majority of us are looking for." Grayson tilted his head and gave a beam. His petite features scrunching so that he looked even younger.

The boy pretended to be offended, placing his hand over his heart and taking a few staggering steps backward. His original smirk however soon grew back into place, but soon began to fade into one of genuine. As the bookkeeper finished his sentence Grayson felt a bit of... likeness to this guy. He seemed like someone he could've been friends with. Or better yet, still could be acquaintances with.

"If you have something interesting, I think I might just buy something." He turned his head a split second before a rock crashed into a window. He had caught the sight of the culprit. Too much neon to miss. He could get something out of this. His gaze followed the boarder down the street. If he could find him... Well, he wasn't sure what he would do. He was slightly interested in joining a crew. More like being pressured into it by a worried friend.

He was assuming the boarder was a part of a crew. Let's be honest though, Rogue's tended not to draw attention to themselves. In some situations. Typically dressed rather heavily, they weren't exactly flamboyant like those of crews, unless they were a narcissistic person.

A woman walked through the door and within her sentence, the unknown man finally had a name. Rhys. Hearing the insult, whether it had been meaningful or not, Grayson took slight offense to it.

Flee when convenient... Huh.

"See you later then... Rhys." He raised his right hand in a salute before pushing open the door, setting down his board and accelerating from the store. He moved too fast for the flow of traffic, but he was following a lead. Mr. Flamboyant had disappeared right about... there.

He didn't slow his pace until he was stopped maybe two feet away from the two boarders. He didn't bother getting off his board, if escape was needed it was his best bet. Yet, knowing himself, Grayson would let someone beat the crap out of him before actually fleeing.

"Hey, Mr. Flamboyant. You broke a window. You feel like paying up?" He asked with a small smirk. Grayson eyed the second boarder that he hadn't seen.... Wait. No he had. Taking a glance down at their boards, his theory was correct. Crew members.

King. Oh, he liked the sound of that. Marcus had been calling himself that for years, but it was hard to get a self-appointed name to stick. Still, it was his actual surname, so it wasn't like it was going anywhere. He beamed a crooked smirk of appreciation back at Ash.

"You know it. The King is here." He announced loftily, stretching his arms out with palms uplifted as if ready to receive praise. The tips of his fingers even twitched, as if expecting anyone nearby to throw in a few extra words of acknowledgement. As Ash reported his morning racing activities, he shifted his weight expertly on his board to avoid the cracked pieces of pavement that jutted up like broken teeth. He was a touch jealous that Ash had found some racing action so early in the day, but then again, he'd found entertainment that was almost as good. It had been some rogue crew he'd come across, no doubt. "Man, they oughta know better than to mess with the Lions. Must be a new crew, or a real stupid one."

He wasn't going to volunteer the information regarding his own morning activities. Well, that was a lie, he would have eventually, but maybe not quite yet. At Ash's prompting, however, he shot him a wicked grin in return.

"The King's been doin' some target practice." He offered, and was about to go further into details about the where and when, but was interrupted by the appearance of another boarder. Younger, smaller, riding a dark blue board, and most definitely looking for trouble. Marcus' smirk immediately turned to a scowl, already bristling at the sight and attitude of this new boarder. Flamboyant? Right, he'd show this kid flamboyant. Maybe he needed a little more blue in his life, or some purple.

His hoverboard turned sharply and drifted towards the kid, his shoulders tensing instinctively. "Then you might wanna get your eyes checked 'cuz I didn't see a broken window."

His hostile gaze raked the boarder up and down, and what he saw made the corner of his lip twitch, tugging at the tight, scarred skin on his jaw. There was a Spartans logo on his board, stamped bold as day. He thought they were long gone, killed or chased off. "The Spartans are dead, or are you deaf and blind? Unless you're just some rogue wannabe trying to get famous off a big name."

Lost, If you come back please join us!!)

Grayson "Lorde" Brixton | Male | 15 | Rogue | Mentions: Marcus, (Ash)

Lorde's lips formed another smirk as the older boy in front of him drifted closer. While glancing over his face, and the rest of him once more he made a few observations. His face was rather damaged, Lorde had seen injuries before, so it wasn't anything new. However it looked a little different then the standard boarding injury.

He didn't seem much of a racer, possibly a tow boarder. Yet, that didn't really fit either. Blocker was more of a possibility. The logo evidently seen on both of the boarders was of the Lions. Lorde had done a few infiltrations of their strategies a while back. They wouldn't be pleased about that if they knew. Or if they remembered, but something good for him, Lorde's face wasn't that easy to remember.

However, when someone really wanted to kill him, they seemed to remember quite easily.

"Sorry about that man, It can't be easy not being able to see." In all reality, the other boy must've just high tailed himself out of there.

Lorde cocked his head once more and lifted his chin. He felt as if he was being sized up. He was smaller than the typical of his age, but that didn't stop him from being a pain.

"The Spartans dead? Now I knew the Xona Population wasn't that cognitively gifted, but that they were dead? What kind of rumors have you been following? And you think I'm a wannabe? I think that label belongs to you."

Lorde swayed forward easily and then back again on his board. Every so often giving a glance to the other Lion to the side.

At first he just laughed - more of a sneer, really - fully expecting the kid to give up once he realized who he was talking to. Even rogues thought twice before trying to pick a fight with the Lions.

His eyes narrowed further into a critical squint. Whatever warmth might have been in his expression when it was just him and Ash was gone now, vanished in an instant with the arrival of this upstart Spartan wannabe. As if merely having someone with an attitude roll up into his business wasn't enough, now the kid was smirking, somehow amused by the fact that he was actively provoking them, the best racing crew in the city.

"What did you just call me you little punk?" He snarled in reply, his hands clenching into tight fists. His board darted forward then slowed to a steady, vaguely forward idle right in front of the kid. It kept inching forward, pushing with all the subtlety and stubbornness of a snapping bulldog. It was a show of intimidation, the act of claiming someone else's space, and usually was enough to trigger feelings of either anxiety or anger. Marcus didn't care which way it went, he just wanted to force a reaction. And if it was one that goaded him on, all the better.

His entire body was as tense as a wire as he leaned forward to try and get in the kid's face. His eyes sought to lock on the other's, unblinking and furious. "Are you new here, or just stupid? Every rogue in this whole city just about lost their mind."