The sun blazes over Novo Santos. The air hums with the sound of wheels against concrete, the clatter of boards, and the pulse of bass-heavy music. This city is alive with what its inhabitants call “Steez.”

On the bustling streets below, two steez artists carve through the city. A skateboarder nods to a kiosk clerk as he passes. With a grin and a spin, the clerk grabs a soda, tossing it high into the air just as the second rider, a cyclist, swoops by to catch it. Bystanders erupt in cheers as the two artists speed onward.

Not far from there, a young skater named Pelop sits on a rooftop, tinkering with his custom skateboard. He lays out his tools neatly on the concrete, his brow furrowed as he adjusts his helmet. The skyline of Novo Santos stretches out before him. The buildings shimmer with colors as vivid as a rainbow. In the distance, Steez artists flow effortlessly through the air, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with the kind of energy that could only come from living in a place like this. Their movements are bold, each artist expressing themselves through stunts and flips that blur the lines between performance and freedom. The skyline is alive with their presence, a fluid dance as they carve paths through the streets.

The hum of the city pulses with life, but it's not the electric buzz of neon lights, it's the beat of music spilling from speakers mounted on street lights, blending with the sounds of distant chatter and the occasional roar of a passing hovercraft. The air smells faintly of street food and paint, with the occasional gust of wind carrying the distant sound of drums, the murmur of conversations, and the rhythm of a city that never sleeps.

Pelop grips his tools with determination as excitement flickers in his eyes.

“Hey, rooftop guy!”

Pelop startles, looking up to see two figures climbing the fire escape toward him—the skateboarder and cyclist from the street below. Their energy is magnetic, like they’ve just stepped off a magazine cover. Pelop grins and calls out, “Yo!”

“You building that board yourself?” the skateboarder asks, crouching beside him with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah,” Pelop replies, wiping his hands on his jeans. “It’s a work in progress, but it’s coming together. I’m Pelop, by the way.”

“Leo,” the skateboarder says, extending a hand. His handshake firm but friendly. “And I’m Lina!” The biker says, bouncing on her bike. “Never seen you before, new in town?” Leo asks.

Pelop stands proud. “Yes! This is my first time here. I’ve heard great things about this city of yours. I’m Pelop—”

Leo under his breath: “Yeah, you’ve said that already.”

“And I’m here for the Steez Olympic Qualifiers,” Pelop declares, his voice brimming with nervous excitement but underpinned by a fiery determination. He stands tall, his shoulders squared, arms spread wide in a bold A-pose. “I’m going to become the greatest Steez artist to ever live.”

Lina’s eyes light up with enthusiasm, her bright smile contagious. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she says, “That’s amazing! We’re artists too! Guess that makes us your rivals.”

Leo steps forward, matching Pelop’s boldness with his own confident smirk. “The greatest Steez artist, huh? That’s a big claim. How exactly are you planning to pull that off?”

Pelop hesitates for just a moment, his gaze dropping to the skateboard in his hands. The din of the city fades to a quiet hum around them, as if the world itself is holding its breath. Then he looks back up, his expression resolute.

“I’ve got my board, my helmet, and my dream,” he says simply, his voice steady and sure. “All I need to do now is push.”

For a moment, the chaos of Novo Santos stills. The streets, usually buzzing with life, seem to hold their breath, captivated by the raw conviction in Pelop’s words. Both Leo and Lina are stunned. “Wow, that’s… awesome,” Leo says.

Pelop felt the weight of his own words. The city, the competition, the dream, it was all real now.

Leo's grin flashed, with a glint in his eyes—half-challenge, half-curiosity. "There's a lot more to Steez than just words,” he says, eyes scanning Pelop's board.

Lina’s eyes sparkle with intrigue, her short, colorful hair bouncing as she moves. “Hey, that board looks solid! What are you working on?”

“Fine-tuning things,” Pelop says, gesturing to the board. “The balance feels off, but I can’t figure out if it’s the trucks or the deck itself.”

“Mind if we take a look?” Lina asks.

“Go for it,” Pelop says, shifting to make room.

Leo inspects the board thoughtfully. “Your trucks are fine, but they seem to be tightened unevenly.”

“Oh thanks, I—” Pelop starts.

“Do you have polish?” Lina asks, crouching on Pelop’s other side.

“Yeah, in that kit,” Pelop points.

They get to work fixing the board together, as laughter and skid sounds drum through the streets below, and warm sunset light reflects off their tools.

Lina grabs the polish and starts working on the board’s edges. “This city lives for style, so you want this thing to shine. These lampposts? I modified them to have speakers,” she says with a grin. “They make everything into a performance.” Nodding toward one of the towering lampposts wired with amplifiers and glowing LED strips. “If you’re riding, people are watching and listening.”

“That’s… SO COOL,” Pelop exclaims, sitting legs crossed and hands up in the air.

“Cool?” Lina says, her eyes twinkling. “This is Novo Santos, Pelop. It’s Steez.”

Once the board is ready, Leo stands, holding it out to Pelop. “There. This thing’s ready for action. Now, let’s see if you are.”

Pelop raises an eyebrow. “Hm, you mean?”

“That's right Pelop,” Lina interjects, pulling a microphone from her bag. “You’re racing us now. And I’ll provide the soundtrack.” She plugs the mic into a lamppost, which hums to life. A crowd below turns their heads as the opening riff of “You’ve Got the Nerve” by Bad Nerves blasts through the speakers. Lina jumps around, getting into the beat, instantly drawing attention.

Leo gestures to the rooftop’s edge. “Ready, Pelop?”

Pelop smirks. “Hell yeah, let’s do this.”

The rooftop of Novo Santos buzzes with tension. Pelop and Leo stand side by side, their boards poised. The city sprawls beneath them, its energy humming with anticipation. Lina adjusts her mic, pausing the music for the race encore, a glint of excitement in her eye.

Pelop’s gaze fixes on his freshly tuned board. “You’re sure this thing won’t… fall apart?” he asks Leo, his tone a mix of doubt and hope.

Leo smirks. “Trust me. I wouldn’t have wasted my time if I thought it would.”

“Relax,” Lina chimes in. “Just keep up. You might learn something.”

Before Pelop can reply, Lina raises her mic and starts to hum softly, a melodic tone drifting into the air.

The street now filled with an audience of bystanders holds their breath—then the modified lamp posts light up, their hidden speakers amplifying Lina’s voice and electrifying the atmosphere.

“Wait, when do we—” Pelop begins, but Leo cuts him off with a grin.

“Good luck.”

Lina’s voice climbs as she sings, “One… two… three… go!”

Pelop pushes off with instinct. Leo surges ahead, carving a clean line down the side of the rooftop.

“Keep up, Steez Olympian!” Leo calls over his shoulder.

The two drop into the bustling streets of Novo Santos. The verse of Lina’s song sets the pace as they swerve through vendors and spectators. The lampposts blare the music, their placement creating an impromptu path for the racers with a finish line down, towards the center of the city.

Pelop grits his teeth, his board feeling smoother than ever. He spots a narrow alley and cuts through it, shaving seconds off his route.

Leo appears alongside him as they emerge. “Not bad. You’ve got some nerve!”

“I’ve got more than that!” Pelop shoots back, his confidence building.

They veer left toward a set of ramps, the crowd cheering louder as they approach. Pelop hesitates for a split second, but Leo hits the ramp first, launching into the air with a stylish spin.

Pelop follows, wobbling slightly before finding his rhythm.

Lina’s voice transitions into the chorus, and the lampposts pulse with light in sync with the beat. The racers enter the industrial district, where half-constructed buildings and scaffolding offer shortcuts.

Leo takes the high road, grinding along a steel beam before dropping onto a wooden plank. Pelop stays lower, weaving through stacks of concrete slabs and discarded machinery.

“Think fast!” Leo yells as he kicks over a loose pipe, sending it rolling into Pelop’s path.

Pelop swerves, narrowly avoiding the obstacle. He scowls but doesn’t lose focus. Instead, he spots a ramp leading to an overhead walkway.

Taking the risk, Pelop hits the ramp and soars over Leo, landing in front of him. The crowd watching from above erupts in cheers.

“Nice move!” Leo calls, sounding genuinely impressed.

The music drives them forward as they hit a straightaway. The two are neck and neck, their boards and wheels kicking up sparks.

The song hits its climax, Lina’s voice soaring above the noise of the city.

The crowd roars as Pelop and Leo close in, their movements almost in sync. With one last burst of speed, Pelop leans forward, his board skimming over the pavement.

The finish line looms closer, the music swelling to its final note.

Pelop and Leo too fast to stop, barrel forward, momentum carrying them far too fast to react to the finish line. Their boards hit the curb with a jarring thud, halting instantly. The two, however, are launched forward, arms flailing as they crash through the storefront window.

Silence falls as the dust settles. From behind the counter, a figure emerges, arms flailing with an expression sharp.

“What the hell just happened?”

Pelop winces, brushing dust off his helmet. “Uh… sorry about that.”

Leo groans, shaking debris off his shirt. “Yeah, uh… not exactly part of the plan.”

A woman walks towards the boys, arms up and around. “You trashed my workshop.”

Pelop and Leo exchange guilty glances.

“Uh… we can pay for it?” Pelop offers weakly, his voice almost a question.

“Oh.. you can ‘pay’ for it?” she snaps. “My whole world is falling down around me.”

“We’re so sorry!” Leo yaps, edging toward the door. “It wasn’t on purpose, I swear—”

“GET BACK HERE!” she yells, but Leo’s already gone. Her attention snaps back to Pelop. “You. Ivory boy.”

“Who, me?” Pelop stammers, pointing at himself.

“Yes, you, with the fancy helmet.” She jabs a finger at his head. “You can’t just come flying in pretending to be some superman. No, you and your cowardly friend are paying this back. Every. Last. Crown.”

Pelop scratches the back of his neck, eyes darting nervously to the wreckage. “Uh… how much are we talking?”

She sweeps her gaze over the destruction: shattered shelves lean at odd angles, tools are scattered like confetti, and wires spark from mangled machinery. A hunk of metal crashes to the floor with a loud clang. “Considering you’ve destroyed my entire workshop? Let’s call it... 100…”

“Oh, one hundred crowns?” Pelop blurts, stepping toward her with his hands shoved into his baggy jeans, rummaging around his pockets as if they’re bottomless.

The woman stares at him, unimpressed.

“Phew,” he says with a casual spin, gesturing with his head toward the wreckage. “Gotta say, you run a cheap shop around here. No wonder these parts are breaking so easily.” He plucks a lone coin from his pocket and holds it out, along with a crumpled receipt. “Here. Keep the receipt.”

“A hundred thousand crowns,” Dame replies, her tone colder than the draft blowing through the ruined workshop.

“H-hundred thousand?” Pelop stammers, his voice cracking. He instinctively steps back, his hands raised halfway in a mix of surrender and panic.

“Yep.” Her smirk is razor-sharp, the kind that says good luck surviving this one, genius.

Pelop takes a slow step back, hastily cramming his treasures back into his pockets. “We’re so sorry! I mean it! We didn’t mean to—”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Dame lunges forward and grabs his helmet strap before he can bolt.

“Okay, okay!” Pelop squeaks, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m Pelop, by the way!”

“Great. I’m Dame. The woman whose livelihood you just trashed.” She releases the strap with a flick. “Oh, and your friend? Not much of a friend huh? He ditched you the second things went south.”

“Yeah… we just met like five minutes ago,” Pelop admits, crouching awkwardly to scoop up fallen parts.

Dame crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow as she watches him fumble clumsily through the debris. “I see. Well, don’t worry—I’ll track him down. He’s paying his share. But you, Pelop…” She gestures broadly to the chaos around them. “You tight on money?”

Pelop exhales sharply, straightening up as he kicks his legs forward, the frayed cuffs of his pants swaying. “Well, I try to stay pretty loose, but—” Pelop starts.

Dame shoots him a sidelong glare, her patience visibly wearing thin. “Do you have money or not, Pelop?”

“No. I don’t. Sorry, ma’am,” he blurts out, his voice small.

Dame pauses, tapping her foot as she weighs her options. “Well… Lucky for you, there’s a way out of this mess. You’ve heard about the tournament, right?”

“The tournament?” Pelop repeats, straightening up. “Oh, right! The Olympic Qualifiers.”

Dame crosses her arms, her foot tapping faster. “Yeah. Prize money would cover this mess, no problem.” Her foot stills as her eyes narrow, her voice cutting sharp. “But that means you’ll need to place high. You any good?”

Pelop’s eyes widen for a split second before he straightens up, puffing out his chest. “Good? I’m great! No doubt about it—I’ll place high enough for the prize money!”

Dame blinks, momentarily stunned by his sudden burst of confidence. “Sheesh, alright, Ivory Boy.” A smirk tugs at her lips despite herself. “I’ll take your word for it. Tournament’s in a couple of days. And don’t think I’ll forget—every extra day you make me wait is gonna cost you interest.”

She grabs a scrap of paper, scribbles something on it, and hands it to him. “Here. My address.”

Pelop, glancing at it curiously. “Wow” he looks up. “Is the tournament at your apartment?”

Dame rolls her eyes as she pushes the paper onto his chest. “If my livelihood’s riding on you winning, I’m not leaving anything to chance. Your setup could use some upgrades.” She stops for a split second to inspect him. “And since I can't work on anything here, we’ll use my original workstation at home. Show up Friday, got it?”

Pelop spins his board with a grin. “That’s appreciated! I got a good feeling about our team. Dame!”

Dame stares, annoyed, frustrated, and a little disgusted. “Don’t.”

Pelop glances around the destroyed workshop, hands spread wide. “You good in here, or?” With one foot already outside the door.

“Yeah, yeah. Go. I need a break,” Dame mutters, rubbing her temples.

Pelop quickly steps outside, and the bustling streets of Novo Santos roar to life around him. The setting sun casts a golden glow over the city, illuminating the chaotic symphony of vehicles zipping by and street vendors calling out to customers.

He stares down at his hands for a moment, as if grounding himself, then slowly lifts them to the sky, clenching them into fists. A breeze sweeps through, ruffling his hair. Adjusting his helmet with a determined nod, he steps onto his board.

Before he can savor the moment, a loud voice rings out from the crowd gathered near Dame’s workshop. “Hey, that’s the guy who trashed ‘Dame’s Circuit Salvage.’ Get him!”

Voices echo and mix: “‘Yeah! She fixed my clangajang problem! Best work in the city, and cheap too!’ ‘Yeah, my turt was busted, then she shafted that thing into place in a couple of minutes, no oil needed! Best turt shafter in the city.’”

A clearer yet silent voice in the crowd, “Hey guys, you’re talking about ‘Salacious Dames,’ that’s a shop further down the street.”

"Yeah, I’m outta here! SEE YA, DAME!" Pelop shouts, kicking off as the mob erupts into motion around him.

From the doorway, Dame leans casually against the frame, watching Pelop effortlessly weave through the chaos. She smirks under her breath. "Alright, Ivory Boy," she murmurs to herself.

Elsewhere in the city, near the Puja Bridge:

"Leo! Leeeo!" A voice calls, cutting through the air.

"Shh, Lina, keep it down!" Leo responds, his voice low and tense, barely visible beneath the bridge. "Did you get the thing?"

Lina rides in on her bike. "Got it! Woop wooo, oh yeah!" in a musical high note.

"Shh!" Leo pleads, glancing over her shoulder. "We don’t know who might’ve seen you. We just stole from the Dame"

Lina hops off her bike, spinning around with her mic in hand. "Relax! I was quiet. Didn’t even hum a single song," she says with a playful grin.

"You sure this thing’s gonna help us win the qualifiers?" Leo asks, his brow furrowing in doubt.

Lina grins back, her eyes gleaming with confidence. "Oh, I’m sure."

Chapter End.