"Anyone up for Follow the Leader?" Nich smirked, his confidence at its peak after achieving a nearly flawless nosestall to fingerflip on the first try. 'Thrasher, you're gonna be my bitch, he thought to himself over and over again. The first try. Er, well...that day, anyway. Nich had been skating regularly for a year and a half or so, practising on and off when he was a kid and then finally committing to it when he was in highschool. Course, as a child it was difficult; let's face it, no kid likes to spend all his time falling on his ass. Once he was ready to take the falls, he was truly ready to take on this brutal hobby. He'd had his share of sidewalk naps and even some broken bones, but no one could take a spill like Zed. Damn, that guy could eat pavement like a pro. He just needed to brush up on his technique a bit. And Andrew? He was a prodigy when it came to big drops. Once again, a little sloppy when it came to fliptricks. Mind you, a kickflip performed in mid-flight was much easier to execute than one on the ground, straight off of an ollie (although Nich had the nollie kickflip down. Down, motherfucker). All he had to do was find a center (in this case big air) and branch out from there, and like...shit...expand so that his little proverbial skill pond grew into an ocean. 'Damn, I should write that down,' he thought to himself, nodding in approval.
Andrew was pretty psyched up from Nich's fingerflip, and began bouncing on the soles of his feet. Once FTL came up, he was twitching violently. Half of it was the forementioned excitement. The other half stemmed from anxiety. Anxiety of getting your shit fucked in a kind of painful domino effect if the leader bailed. That always sucked. He remembered a couple games ago he got the nose of Phil's board straight in the temple during a pileup. Ouch. That reminded him; he stuck out his bottom lip and tried to look at it over his nose. There was a small cut from when that bastard Kage had punched him in the teeth earlier that day. On the other hand, it was looking a lot better than it was an hour ago. He realized what a fucktard he probably looked like crosseyed and with his lip hanging out, so he quickly returned his facial features to normal and coughed, trying to cover it up. He didn't want anyone asking about what had happened; it was embarrassing enough that the entire class had seen it. But anyway, followtheleaderfollowtheleaderfollowtheleader! His excitement returned in spades. "I'm in!" he piped up, giving an awkward salute with his board which nearly smacked him upside the head. Maybe he could still impress her yet...
Crash & Burn*
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Zed had a love-hate relationship with Follow the Leader. He loved to seize the opportunity to show them he could keep up with the proverbial Mullens. He loved the thrill of competition and, with the leadership position, the chance to truly shine among his peers. Sure it was testosterone-powered cockiness with a touch of adrenalin, but it was a good rush no amount of caffeine or anabolic steroids could match.
At least that's how it was until they got through the first round.
By that time Zed would normally have bailed and probably caused others to do the same. Of course, he'd supposedly be the one with the most pain dished out to him, but years of bails gave him a tolerance for that. What really hurt was the humiliation of having lured himself into biting off plenty more than he could normally chew.
Today was no different.
"I'm in," are the first words out of his mouth. He had the sinking feeling he was going to regret this, and hoped that he wouldn't bail too badly, not now, not while he was kind of on a hot streak when it came to tricks. Least before those two arrived. He tightens the strap on his helmet closer to the point of suffocation, and readies himself on his board.
At least that's how it was until they got through the first round.
By that time Zed would normally have bailed and probably caused others to do the same. Of course, he'd supposedly be the one with the most pain dished out to him, but years of bails gave him a tolerance for that. What really hurt was the humiliation of having lured himself into biting off plenty more than he could normally chew.
Today was no different.
"I'm in," are the first words out of his mouth. He had the sinking feeling he was going to regret this, and hoped that he wouldn't bail too badly, not now, not while he was kind of on a hot streak when it came to tricks. Least before those two arrived. He tightens the strap on his helmet closer to the point of suffocation, and readies himself on his board.
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Nich patted Zed firmly on the shoulder. "Ok then, I nominate Z for front position. Let's see what you got, asswipe." He wouldn't admit it, but this was his way of putting Zed to the test; see what he had to offer in the skills department. Nich had been toying with the idea of starting a skate team, but had failed to follow through until as of late. He had a portion of it planned out: himself (obviously), Swainson (Cap'n Acid), Copeland (master of the double kickflip), Gatti (skating since he was a tot), and Lokun (cucumber boy). That was five, which was all well and good; a team of four or five was all you really needed. But there was always room for a guy who could take a good spill. Why? Because every video compilation for every team ever made (probably; he was trying to make a point) was the end result of a fuckload of trial and error. One shot of one trick could take hours, literally hours of falling down over and over again. You didn't land tricks by half-assing it, and Zed never half-assed it. He was no Koston, but he sure as hell had balls. And balls were probably important somehow. They always were. So this round of FtL would be an audition of sorts; he would watch ol' Z carefully and find out if it would be a good idea or a total waste of time to add him to the roster. Nich doubted he'd be even remotely hesitant. "Swainson, you take second."
"Dammit why am I second?"
"Not it."
"Not--fuck."
"Hahaha, get in line," Nich smirked. Swainson grumbled and took his place, rotating his neck and shifting the board on the spot. "Ready when you are, Z," he said. Nich took third and got ready to keep his eyes peeled for any signs of promise. To be honest, he was fairly optimistic. He liked Zed; he had balls, heart, guts, and a pancreas. "Here we go," he said under his breath.
"Dammit why am I second?"
"Not it."
"Not--fuck."
"Hahaha, get in line," Nich smirked. Swainson grumbled and took his place, rotating his neck and shifting the board on the spot. "Ready when you are, Z," he said. Nich took third and got ready to keep his eyes peeled for any signs of promise. To be honest, he was fairly optimistic. He liked Zed; he had balls, heart, guts, and a pancreas. "Here we go," he said under his breath.
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Zeno gulps as he is suddenly thrust (Thrust, he quickly suppresses a giggle) into the forefront of the current round of FtL. The gulp actually causes a bit of pain, from the stress of having to pass through his tightened helmet strap. His legs still don't show the faintest sign of giving out on him, and that will definitely work to his advantage for the time being. But they do seem to be acting of their own accord, and in the time he takes to realize it he's already racing down the side of the bowl.
Okay...here goes nothing...
As soon as he reaches the bottom of the bowl he kicks out into a kickflip, landing it safe albeit quite wobbly. He still has enough speed to make it up the other end of the bowl, and attacks it at an angle. Once in the air he twists himself so that it appears he's rolling with the wind, and tailgrabs 360. Upon landing his board very nearly gives out on him, far from the efficiency of a pro, but without bailing. And with that, he is relieved.
Okay...here goes nothing...
As soon as he reaches the bottom of the bowl he kicks out into a kickflip, landing it safe albeit quite wobbly. He still has enough speed to make it up the other end of the bowl, and attacks it at an angle. Once in the air he twists himself so that it appears he's rolling with the wind, and tailgrabs 360. Upon landing his board very nearly gives out on him, far from the efficiency of a pro, but without bailing. And with that, he is relieved.
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Swainson followed him closely, but as Zed performed his kickflip it caught him off guard and he was only able to stick in a half-assed 180 by slapping his tail and twisting quickly in midair. Nich missed it entirely. He was watching the rookie, and nobody could see that he was just coasting along in the back. Upon reaching the lip, Swainson took a stab at impressing Sarah again; instead of grabbing air like Zed had, he took this opportunity (and momentum) to kick his board into his hand upon ascent and kick off the top of the lip with one foot, 180ing again and swiftly gripping his board under him on the way down. He managed to stick it out and land the 180 boneless, which he'd been practising ever since he saw Mike V do it at a New Jersey demo. Vallely was a native to Jersey just like Swainson, and had been his favourite skater since he first saw him in action. Andrew's boneless wasn't exactly a perfect imitation--Mikey's was a 360--but it would do. He slapped a hand on the ground upon landing to steady himself. If he hadn't he surely would've banana-peeled. And of course, bringing up the rear, Nich did next to nothing. He was fairly impressed with Zed's tailgrab; it seemed he was a natural vert skater. Nich hugged the lip and circled around, eager to see what else the rookie had to offer.
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Zed's far from a natural skater, it took him enough bails to fill the credits of two skate tails before he could land it without doing so. True, he's actually quite lucky to have landed the tailgrab, but that's also far from what he's feeling right now. Heck, he's on top of the damn skatepark, feeling like the next PLG. The only thing that could break his famous first-round cockiness is a nice cold shower. Or a nice cold bail, whichever came first.
In the time it takes for him to reach the opposing lip he manages to right himself and crouch just that much to launch himself into another air trick. As the board leaves solid ground he kicks out at a rather nice angle, causing the board to flip about. As soon as the grip tape rolls around he snatches and tweaks - just fast enough to land it. There's a nice smirk on his face as he makes the transition back onto the side of the bowl, though his landing is sketchy once again.
Third time's gonna be the charm... he thinks. If fate has anything to say, it'd agree. In a sense.
In the time it takes for him to reach the opposing lip he manages to right himself and crouch just that much to launch himself into another air trick. As the board leaves solid ground he kicks out at a rather nice angle, causing the board to flip about. As soon as the grip tape rolls around he snatches and tweaks - just fast enough to land it. There's a nice smirk on his face as he makes the transition back onto the side of the bowl, though his landing is sketchy once again.
Third time's gonna be the charm... he thinks. If fate has anything to say, it'd agree. In a sense.
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