The sun was beginning to set and the day was drawing to a close in the city of Confiance, but there was no calm as night fell. This wasn’t too uncommon, especially in the slums, but tonight was especially so. There seemed to be a sense of unrest, but most wouldn't even notice it. Only a select few would feel it, and they were the ones that Kacey was set to meet.

Kacey sat in his small room sketching in his book for some new designs. He was listless as he drew, paying little attention to his drawings or the world around them and simply spacing out. But he was suddenly snapped out of his daze by a loud noise from his table. He stood up with a sigh and walked over to turn off his alarm.

“Guess it’s time to head out…” He muttered as he slipped his gas mask on and got his Gears from his cluttered work-space. He quickly slipped them on as he made his way out the front door. As he left, he opted to avoid the stairs and instead travel by rooftop, trying his best to not get distracted by the sunset behind him. He was cutting it close, but should still arrive before the new recruits. After about twenty minutes he arrived at a rather decrepit looking warehouse. He took some paint out of his bag and quickly sprayed something on the door. When finished, he took a step back to make sure he hadn’t messed up the logo.

“Hey, that’s pretty good” He said, gleaming with a sense of pride. He entered the warehouse and made his way to the back of the warehouse. There was a slightly elevated section with a staircase leading up to it. The little balcony had a small room behind it, Kacey’s base of operations for the night. He sat down and loosened his mask, before slipping it off and leaving it on his lap.

“I wonder how many are actually going to show up” He said to himself as he polished the eyeholes in his mask.

“They shouldn’t be too long, I mean you got here like just before you were meant to! I would have been there like an hour ago to prepare. You need to take this more seriously” A voice replied through his mask’s headphone speakers with a seemingly irritated tone.

“Yea yea, whatever. I’ll do my job and you do yours. You know what you are meant to do right?”

“I got it, we are all set up” The voice responded, having dropped the tone in exchange for a more serious one.

“Good. I’ll let you know once things get started, until then hang tight.” Kacey said as he slipped the mask back on. Tonight was the first time that he had brought in new recruits, so he was understandably a little nervous. Despite that, his job was pretty easy. He had painted the Ratpack logo on the door so they would make sure to have the right place, but he couldn’t help but wonder if they would get lost. Either way, all he could do now was wait for them to arrive.

“I hope they get here soon… I forgot to eat before I left...” He muttered as he looked out the window of the office towards the main doors to the warehouse.

“You need to eat all of your meals, otherwise you will just get sick!” The voice said in a somewhat disappointed tone.

“You are younger than me, you don’t get to mother me Data.” He said before switching off his radio. He knew he was going to get in trouble for this later, but at this point he didn’t really care. He just continued to lock eyes with the warehouse doors. Tonight was going to be a long night, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

As the sun went down Dax was out spraying some walls. He knew what tonight was but he wanted to get in some work before he left. As he finished up his insignia and climbed up the other wall to start the true art work he noticed something from the corner of his eye. He saw someone hopping from building to building to go somwhere

"must be another recruit or something" Dax said with a grin. He wondered how many other than him were truly invited. There was no number on the invite just a location, so he really didn't know much. Dax finished his artwork and climbed to the top of the building.

I got to get there fasthe thought to himself. Dax took a large step back and ran as fast as his shoes would take him to the end of the building. Using a hover pulse he leaped from the building. Using this he went from one place to the next continuously as he searched for the right building.

Soon he came across a small running down area. There was a door with a freshly painted rat pack logo. "this mush be the place" he said aloud to himself as he hopped off the roof top and softly hit the ground. Dax made sure his face mask was still secure as he pulled up his Hood and turned the Handle to enter the door.

---

Graffiti was an art of spontaneity. The quick act of rebellion and the explosive creativity that would appear upon a wall at a moment’s notice, usually with a splash of colour or an intricate symbol. The difficulty to graffiti was that there was no erasing. Every stoke was intentional, and even if it was a mistake you would have to make it part of your piece, because God forbid you get caught as you’re trying to wipe a mark off a wall.

For Nitrous, this was the challenge he faced on a daily basis. In his mind was angular perfection for each glyph he slammed against a wall. It took ages to find the right nozzles for his paint that would perfect his straight lines and create the right markings in his pieces. The largest one he’d done had taken three hours, which is an eternity in the time of a Tagger. The first mistake you could make was getting too invested in one piece when there was still an entire blank canvas waiting throughout the entirety of the city, so he’d learn to leave his mark and then move on.

Like now. Nitrous inspected his work one last time as he tossed an empty can to the side of the wall. He was getting really good at this “spontaneous” art form, despite his inner love of perfection. He could scratch that itch when it came to upgrading his site later. The puzzle blocks of code would be the perfection he needed.

But this was pretty damn close.



Total time… fifteen minutes? Sounds about right. Nitrous wasn’t really worried in this area. Underneath a highway bridge, far out of sight of the ivory obelisks that would stare at him from above. He tapped his mask ever so slightly as he stepped back and stared.

“…Good enough,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed a metal thermos off the ground. The coffee inside was still warm due to the heat-storing technology in the cup, which was good because it was getting pretty late at this point. His phone’s flashlight poked out of his pocket just to get one final look at his piece in the depth of night.

How’d it get so late already? He glanced at his watch as he pulled that letter out of his back pocket one last time and compared the two.

The meeting time was fast approaching

Taking one last breath, he stomped on his left heel, and the wheels popped out of his Gear once more. Neon lights flickered to light within the heavy-duty wheels. A couple LED lights strapped around his waist on a heavy belt flickered to life as the colors started dance around on his mask. His wheels spurred to life as he flew forward, taking a fallen piece of concrete to ramp up onto another road with an easy turn. The emptiness of the underpass soon faded away to the ever-vibrant city as he passed white wall after white wall… it frustrated him to no end. He shook his head as a gloved hand reached for a spray can from his bag.
He had to stop himself.

Hold yourself together, Rowan. He chastised himself, you have other engagements.

Soon those buildings were struck with shades of gray and the dirt and grime became apparent on the concrete walls. Trash flocked to the decrepit slums that tumbled into the corners of streets as he passed a man leaning against a wall in a torn up hoodie.

Around that corner was another one of his glyphs, and another one a couple streets down. His art pieces were like his children, and he had to know their location at all time. He’d probably wander back to one later this evening.

He spotted the warehouse out from behind another building. A metal roof rusting quickly from days of rain, and old concrete that had graffiti all over it. Tags smashed together and squeezed over each other. Rowan furrowed his brow. The chaos of it all was… despicable. There was a whole canvas of a world out there, yet all these people were crowding around the same walls…

Pathetic.

He shook his head as he stomped the heel again. The wheels shut back into the shoes as he kept walking without losing any real momentum. Then, he saw it. The mark on the door matched the symbol on the invitation, if not a little… lopsided. It was clear that it was hastily done, but, to be fair, the symmetry was fairly close for something that was probably only made in a few minutes. It wasn’t flawless, but it would do.

The door creaked open, and he came into the wide room of the warehouse. There was another room in the back with the door open slightly, but otherwise the first part was just a grey, empty factory. He heard feet fall to the ground behind him, but paid no mind to it. Perhaps it was another person with an invitation, but their presence wasn't important at the moment.

For a moment, Rowan was thankful that he’d kept his mask on. For the next little while, he would have to be Nitrous, and he was more than okay with that.

He pushed open the door, and his eyes fell on the man sitting there. A heavy gas mask covered his face, which was pretty common gang symbol around here, and his whole persona seemed rather lax.

“I’m assuming you’re the one who sent this,” Nitrous spoke in a flat tone, purposefully avoiding emotion from the equation as he pulled the dark letter from his pocket.

“Your work that I’ve seen is… acceptable. I understand that time is limited in this medium, so it can be difficult to work out geometry and angles with spray paint. Then again, your art form is likely not trying to be as flawless as mine.

If it wasn’t clear, I’m Nitrous. I haven’t decided if my future is within this… group, but I’ll wait and hear you out.”

He went through this whole short monologue in as flat a voice as possible, placing his own back to the wall near the door as he adjusted his mask ever so slightly. There was a small part of him wondering what the Big Three would do if they heard about this group forming…

Wasn't she forgetting something?

Laura Adam leaned on the metal fence surrounding the small balcony that poke out from her "cozy" apartment on the third floor of her building. There was a burning cigarette in her right hand, and her left hand was nuzzled under her elbow. She breathed a puff of smoke into the air and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

Yeah, she was forgetting something.

She watched the sun slowly set over Confiance. Well, she would have, but the sun quickly vanished behind the large skyscrapers that made up this corrupt fucking city. Every time she thought of those smug pricks sitting in their big houses with their money and their power, and their stupid greed. It was unfair. It was bullshit. She wasn't allowed to go much higher than her second story- off limits due to "construction". Yeah, right. An empty floor, bricked up to keep the "undesirables" from sneaking into the upper section of the city.

Laura glanced behind her, and saw the letter laying on a table.
That was it.

Invited by the Ratpack. She'd forgotten about them. Forgotten about being a tagger; about being a rebel. It wouldn't work, she knew that. Those upper city bastards were dug in, and they couldn't give any less shit about some paint thrown onto a wall down here.

But she was going to go anyway. It's not like she had anywhere else to be. Maybe the Ratpack hadn't gotten the memo that she had given up a little under a decade ago. She wasn't one of those "Veteran" Taggers who still had their spunk, who still had some respect around here. No, that wasn't her.

Nonetheless, she needed to get out of her house. It was getting stuffy in here. She hadn't put on a proper top in a few days, just wandering around her house, doing push ups and hitting her punching bag. She liked being able to see her whole tattoo in the mirror. It reminded her of better times. The tattoo was completely black, contrasting against her white skin. In spirals, it curved down of her arm, all the way down to her wrist. From her right shoulder, it dipped just under her chest and circled down, halting at the center of her torso. It hurt, getting that fucking tattoo.. It took a long time, cost a lot of money; but it was worth it.

Still, she couldn't go out like this. She kept on her beige cargo shorts and put on a black tank top and slipped into some worn flat-bottom shoes.

She grabbed an old duffel bag of hers and put in her old Gears. Jumpstart. There was a friendliness there, between her and Jumpstart. He was a reliable set of Gears. Served her well. She stuffed him in, and for the first time in a long while, put a spray can inside, as well. She hesitated as she held in her hand, considering taking more than one color with her. Maybe do a real Tag.

Nah.

After that, all she needed was her crowbar, and an extra pack of cigs.

You never know when you need to hit or pry something.

Placing the letter in the bag, she zipped up the zipper, leaving her house and flicking off the lights.

It was a long walk, and she took in the sights and sounds of the Slums. In her mind, images flickered of her dashing from rooftop to rooftop, grinning with a mischievous glee. It felt like such a long time ago.

It was a long time ago.

Duffel bag wrapped around her shoulder, she turned an alley way and saw the infamous logo of the Ratpack on a doorway. That must be it. IT was an obscure little place, and she had to check the directions detailed in the letter to be sure of where the right place was.

She tried the door, and it opened. There were some folks in here already, and she didn't say anything as she entered.

She slung her duffel bag off of her shoulder and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and placing her long, ponytail over her shoulder so it wouldn't get in the way as she relaxed her head against the wall of the warehouse.

The Confiance she knew was all silence and smoke at nighttime. Moonlight was mythical; the sun clicked out and the slums were finally swallowed by the unobstructed shadows of the uppermost cityscape and, finally, they took on that attributed insidiousness, physically now, not entirely figuratively. With one great light put out, all others followed. The Confiance slums were in blackout mode; no cop cars, no sirens singing tonight. The only cacophony came from break-ins and drive-bys and violent confrontations scorned by daylight, the "throne-sitters'" enforcement of justice. But equity was the streets' decisions now. At night, they could run their kingdom, and that meant going out at night was a gamble. It was unpredictable whether things would turn from placid to panicked in a matter of minutes. The only things you could ever confirm: the brevity of chaos—it would always be quiet before daybreak—and that the night would always smell of smoke.
Regardless, if you knew no one could find you, nothing mattered. There were probably plenty who wanted to; she wondered if she'd be able to recognize anyone. Her hideout that evening was a scrapyard wrapped with an unsound chain-link fence whose lock had been popped open and left dangling by some dark-skinned girl with a head teeming with dreads. She'd forgotten how she'd gotten here and why she'd chosen the derelict place in-particular—she irrefutably had, and she put a hand to her mouth in an attempt to keep from laughing. She was leaned back against a brick wall doused in images of big-headed cats and rats and aliens, bug-eyed fish that swam around her, all psychedelic pinks and purples, weaving in-between loops, clouds, stars, abstract 3-D constructs. She had no idea how any of it had gotten there, what any of it meant—someone had put their full, capitalized name in a scintillating orange and it half-plotted out the face of some ogling toad-looking creature. She was crying.
Her cackling sizzled from her throat and, in her mania, she fought to steady herself on her skates. A surfeit of spray cans tumbled out of her lap and she sacrificed the nearly-dead roll of paper in-between her fingers to stoop down and pick them up. It was a struggle to strap them to her sides as she couldn't quell her laughter, no matter how hard she tried, as it kept spilling out of her throat until all she could do was throw back her hair and guffaw as the paint cans inevitably fell back into the dirt again. Eventually, she was forced to shove a drove of them underneath her arm before stumbling across the yard. Her other arm was wiping tears from her grinning face before being pressed against the same brick building, and with her balance assured, she skated around the corner and found herself in the wake of the painted-over warehouse. She clenched her teeth together so that the giggling sputtered past them. Her movement was gradual, less than graceful, as she slowly shuffled her feet, and seconds before her hand landed on the door handle she found herself screaming with laughter again. And once that outburst was over with, she turned and apologized
"Ohhh, I'm sorry! I'm—thh-hh-hhhh—oh my god—Imma just go inside... get out of your way...!" The door was half-open now—she exploded into giggles—and immediately let go of the knob as she doubled over. There was a bang as it shut behind her, and she continued to laugh to herself. A conversation unfolded before her, a man's voice hard and monotone. She let it and its impending response play out like a record as the laughter slowly, surely, died away. Hyena finally pressed a palm against her cheek, straightened up, applied the other, let out a deep breath. An equally deep exhale, and then she slipped a hand into the front pocket of her shorts. She wordlessly drew forth the black envelope, its emblem projected forward at the men in the masks.

---

Unlike most taggers, Parker couldn't ride around the city and see her works displayed on public walls and buildings. No, her works were on discreet shacks and filthy alleyways. No one cared about hers, save for a few other street kids. Other than them, people didn't know who Parker was. They did, however, know who "Skyscraper" was. The mysterious tagger that had free climbed Clouds Tower and tagged the top floor walls. It was a spray-painting that had essentially been a massive middle finger to the government, and also Parker's greatest work yet.

Yet, presently, as she reached the roof of the ratty, pathetic building she and her brother currently called home, she couldn't see her finest achievement. She looked across the city at Clouds Tower, but the painting was no longer there. It had stood for a total of fourteen hours and thirty-nine minutes, at the end of which time the government had promptly covered her only attempt at rebellion. Now, the walls of the tower were returned to their formerly chaotically pristine colors.

Parker stood atop the roof, then moved toward the western side. She climbed down the fire escape, then dropped down to the alley below. She reached back and unbuckled her gear from her backpack, placing the four rollerboard on the ground. With a single beep, the device lit up, blue LED light lining the edges of the board. Parker placed her left foot on the back end of the board, then stepped with her right foot onto the front, balancing herself as the motorized accelerator kicked in. She rocked back and forth to ensure that the board was functioning right. Satisfied, she leaned forward and kicked off the ground, accelerating towards the end of the alley.

The warehouse she was supposed to reach was about ten minutes away, so she moved forward at a decent speed, ducking through alleyways when she could so that she didn't attract too much street attention. She passed several tags on the way, some that she recognized by their trademark callsigns and style. She could tell which tagger had left it their. She accelerated forward and wound in between another alley. When she came out, she stopped in front of the the large warehouse.

On one of the doors was a spray that replicated the symbol printed on the letter she'd been given six months ago, when she'd been rescued from the police by a mysterious man in black. Ratpack. In the warehouse were a couple people, but Parker didn't announce herself yet.

She breathed a heavy inhale of apprehension. Her nerves were on edge like never before. She had no idea who she was coming to meet. "C'mon, Park. C'mon. You got this." She said, her voice augmented by the her respirator. stepping off her board. "No problem. You're Skyscraper. You can do this." She bounced on her toes, then suddenly stopped moving. She inhaled deeply and tried to relax. She moved back to her board and stepped on it. She learned forward and rode towards the warehouse.

She leaned forward farther, accelerating and rolling quickly into the warehouse. As she reached the center of the room, she leaned back on the breaks and swiveled her board around, the tail of her green coat whipping around in a dramatic sweeping motion. "You the ones that gave me this letter-" She stopped as the board jolted, nearly throwing her off balance. Her breath caught and then released as she steadied. "This letter- Oh shi-" The board jolted again accelerated to the left, then broke hard and threw her to the ground with a thud, her hood falling off. The board whirled in a circle and then fell to rest on the back end, the blue LED's fading and the device powering off.

Parker lay on the ground with a pathetic groan. "Stupid broken skateboard." She rolled from her side onto her stomach, placing her head against the concrete floor so that she didn't have to look up at the other people. Of course she'd completely humiliated herself in front of total strangers. When she finally looked up, pulling her respirator from over her mouth to rest around her neck, her cheeks were as red as her hair. She first saw the guy wearing a large gas mask. Her mouth fell open and she jumped to her feet, gears in her mind clicking as she remembered the night of her arrest at Clouds Tower. "You! Oh my God you were the one that freed me!" She said, yet again bouncing on her toes like an excited child.

She pulled her sleeves past her wrists, exposing the metal band on her arms. Most of them would probably recognize the set of bands as pair of magnicuffs, if they'd still been in function condition, they could've been activated to connect to each other like chain handcuffs. She'd managed to smash the batteries, but she had yet to find a way to get them off of her wrists. "See? Like- You took those cops down and then disappeared like a fricking ninja!" She looked at him with an awestruck face and bright eyes.

She then frowned, reaching into her jacket and pulling out her letter. She looked around at the others in the room. "Wait... so they got letters, too..." She muttered, drooping her arms to her side and pursing her lips. "Well dang, I thought I was special..." She said, exhaling and leaving silence to hang.

She then perked back up and said, "Oh, I'm Skyscraper - you remember the big mural on the Clouds Tower? That was me!" She said with a new burst of energy. "Oh- wait, are we not doing the whole identity thing?" She said, quieting down for the first time since she entered.

---

A smile crept upon Neon's face. This, was so far his favourite. He'd just sprayed a dark midnight purple cage with a bright rainbow bird inside. It'd taken him about half an hour, and he was afraid he'd get caught a few times, but it had been worth it. He hung off the side of the building, watching the sunset. He took in a deep breath, and his smile grew wider. He was enjoying his freedom, even if he could still feel the pain on his back.

After a few minutes of enjoying life, he packed up and began to quickly climb down. Once hitting the top of the roof of a lower building, he looked back up at his artwork. The bird glowed under the dark and alarming cage. He stared at it for a moment, blankly, before suddenly remembering: tonight was the night. It was the night that the letter, he'd been given a week or so ago, had told him.

Securing his backpack, he began to run before the wheels popped out of the bottom of his skates; thus giving him a head start. He occasionally jumped from rooftop to rooftop, searching for the warehouse he was supposed to go to. He hoped he wasn't too late. Oh boy, what if he never found it? What if the meeting was already done? What if-
Oh wait, no. There it was. In the darkness of the night that had quickly risen, he could see the Ratpack symbol.

He hopped/climbed down, before cautiously pushing open the door. "Hi?" his voice said, and he hated how feminine he sounded. He looked around at the others, hoping he wasn't the youngest. Some of the others intimidated him. But he'd learned not to judge based on first appearance, so he quickly shut down his own thoughts.

Nestled on the corner of 51st and Mosley Avenue stood a carefree vendor tending to his milkshake stand. He sat in the middle of the cart, underneath a large parasol with a cow face caricature painted on top of it. The vendor drummed his hands to the beat of a hip hop instrumental booming from a small speaker. The milkshake shack, affectionately called "Cow Down" was set up to look like a minibar in the middle of the sidewalk. A counter top for customers horseshoed around him, while a small sink kept used glasses clean, and a table for all of his milkshake equipment were lined up at his disposal. Ice cream and dairy products were kept in a freezer underneath the table, away from potential vultures trying to nab a quick freebie. It was a very confined space to work with, but he's been doing this gig for so long it's damn near effortless at this point.

"Ayeeeeee!" A teen hollered from across the street. The tanned vendor instantly recognized the voice and turned around with a smile. "You still open, Loto?"

"Hell yeah!" Loto shouted back."Get over here, O-Z!" The teen smiled as he rushed over. Loto tightened the knot of his lime green bandana headband before exchanging their ritual fist-bump-hand-slap handshake. "Oreo?" Loto simply asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Oh you know I gotta have the Oreo, bro-bro!" O-Z's laugh was infectious. "I need to cool down, especially after the heat my lady put on me!" The kid was a riot. O-Z was the kind of guy that started the party as soon as he got there, wild'n out as much as possible without getting the shit kicked out of him, or thrown out. That's pretty much everyone's mantra in the slums; teetering on that edge without actually falling, or getting pushed off - at least until your luck ran out. With the finesse of a bartender, Loto whipped up O-Z's Oreo shake and put it in a plastic cup. O-Z flashed his gold grill with delight as he grabbed the drink and practically inhaled it.

"Shit, man breathe." Loto chuckled.

O-Z let out a satisfied 'ahh' sound. "Bruh, I don't know if you sprinkle crack on it or not, but that right there is primo!"

"It's also not free." Loto made a gesture with his hands that told O-Z to cough up the bill.

The teen frowned. "Man, you think I'd play you like that?" A wad of cash appeared from the pocket of his hoodie and he started counting through the hundreds, twenties, and tens. "You family, Loto."

Loto glanced at O-Z's wealth barely held together by a couple of flimsy rubber bands. "Payday?" He simply asked, knowing better. O-Z wasn't exactly a 9-to-5 kind of guy. That kind of money came from a different kind of hustle, a very dangerous one, especially nowadays.

O-Z nodded. He placed a twenty dollar bill on the counter. "That's all you, bruh."

"If you say so, big time." Loto said, scooping up the bill. "What you got going on tonight?"

"There's a party down in Crenshaw Market, across the street at the abandoned complex on 23rd. Ill Mindz crew is performing. Supposed to be a lot of honeys comin through, man. You should go."

Loto stashed the twenty dollar bill in his jean pocket and as he did, he felt the enveloped invitation that was also there. "I gotta be somewhere tonight."

"Oh, what?" O-Z perked up, leaning in. "You got a date? Bring her!"

"Nah."

"Nah? Nah, what?"

"Your mom doesn't want to go out tonight. She wanted to stay in and listen to Barry Manilow or whatever the hell.." Loto smiled, to which O-Z cursed back playfully, yelling: "Gimme back my twenty, ya bish!"

Just then, a lanky Asian guy on a bike rode up to the Cow Down. "Whattup, Shin!" O-Z nodded over to him. Loto took off his apron and grabbed his hoverboard.

"Hey, Shin. Thanks for covering for me."

"No problem, Loto. Sorry I couldn't get here sooner." Shin got off his bike and set it aside the Cow Down cart.

O-Z's eyes lit up and pointed at him. "Ya girl got you all messed up too!?"

Shin's face gave a look of surprise. "What the hell, how'd you know?!"

"Ha! Cause same shit happened to me! We're all out here strugglin!!!" O-Z's laugh was loud. Loto gave his goodbye handshakes to Shin and O-Z.

"You two love birds take it easy, ok?" Loto nodded to them both.

"Yeah, well...when you're done doin whatever the hell you're doing, head to Crenshaw!" O-Z was persistent, but Loto wasn't taking the bait.

"I'll try, man." Loto glanced at his watch. Oh, shit...I'm late. He powered on his board and let it hover on the sidewalk before he jumped on it. The thrusters sputtered, and as quickly as he gained his balance, he was off to his destination.

Speed Demon

"Yo Speed." A large man rolled up to her, flying Discord colors. She recognized him as Tiny, a man she had ran the shadows with a few time. He was a bear of a man, looking like he was chiseled out of a mountain by an artist that just did a rough job of carving out his features. "We running alone again? Ya can run with me to that silver asshole's place, ya know? That stuck up pansy needs a bit of teaching."

Franceska Dunvichov, or as she was known in this sort of circle, Speed Demon, simply smirked as she dodged several obstacle before jumping over another gap to another building, Tiny following close beside her. They were riding on the building tops, where a good bit of routes known to taggers were, though those with a fear of heights, or less powerful Gears often took lower routes as these usually included high flying jumps to traverse.

"Not this time, big man." She spun to the side, avoiding another airvent. "There's something bigger tonight. Got a letter from one of the Rats."

"The Rats? Ratpack? Damn." There was a moment of silence as he thought on what she said. "What do they want?"

"Don't know, but I'm sure as hell going to find out." Speed Demon turned in another direction, vaulting off another large metal structure. Seeing as Tiny wasn't going in her direction, she gave a brief wave to him before zooming off.

It was cathartic, being as free as this. Frederica didn't blame those taggers doing what they do. It was thrilling, exciting and a lot of fun. Plus they get to rant about whatever their cause was or something. It certainly beats the boring routine she had everyday. No one to tell her about how she got things wrong and how her father expected more too.

There was naught but the sound of her wheels whirring, and the sound of the city at night to accompany her as she made the trip over the rooftops. Speed knew she was heading for some warehouse in some remote location, but she hardly knew what their motive was.

When she finally arrived however, she found that the invitation in the letter was not extended only to her, but to a bunch of other people as well. Not really that

"Tch, buncha clowns here I see."

She went through the door, pushing through the people gathered there. "Which one of you jokers are the Rat?"

It turns out that Kacey was a little earlier than he had planned and he had dozed off during his wait. He was rather suddenly woken up by the sound of the door being opened. With a drawn out yawn he noted a man enter the warehouse. He was dressed in dark colours and seemed to have some odd looking gears on his hands and feet. Kacey was about to ask the man about his stuff when another man entered. This man entered with a strange confidence. He listened as the man spoke, trying his best to not yawn and seem disrespectful.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment” Kacey said as he stood up. He was an oddly tall guy for his age, standing at around 6 foot 5, but he tried his best to not seem intimidating.

“Yea, I know you, your work is interesting. Plus you have some skills that a friend of mine might be interested in” For a moment he remembered about the voice from the radio, but he was distracted by a loud noise and someone laughing. They seemed to be having the time of their life as they came through the door. He wondered for a sec if it was someone who had stumbled onto their meeting location, but his nerves faded as she presented an envelope.

“Oh yea, I remember her” He muttered to himself as he scanned the room. To his surprise another person seemed to have entered while he wasn’t looking, a woman that seemed a little older than the others. He offered her a small wave before the door was once again opened. This one seemed to be fairly young compared to the rest, but Kacey could very clearly remember this one. He had come across her being arrested on one of his missions and had decided to give her a hand. He was about to say hello, but she just toppled off of her gear and came crashing down. She seemed fairly unfazed by it though, and even recognised him.

“Well it’s good to see you haven’t gotten arrested again since last time.” He was a little taken back by her sheer amount of energy. People like that were an odd kind of exhausting, but not necessarily the bad kind.

“I think we can do introductions when everyone gets here. But it seems there is something up with your gear. May I?” Kacey said as he noticed its odd movements. He bent down and grabbed the board before moving over to his chair to inspect it. He was always a little too interested in gears, especially ones that weren’t his, so got excited at the idea of fixing one. He pulled a screwdriver out of his bag and began to tinker with the motor, it seemed as though it might be a problem with the accelerator, but he couldn’t be sure without a closer look.

He didn’t have long to enjoy tinkering before the door opened again and someone entered the building. He waved in response to their greeting, but quickly went back to tinkering. He was a little dense, so he was rather unaware that he may be acting rude by simply taking and messing with someone’s gears, but he figured that she was going to need some working tech for tonight. As he was working another person arrived, the seemed to smell oddly of ice-cream. But Kacey decided that he shouldn’t be smelling the new recruits.

After a few more minutes he had done what he could with what he had. He wiped his brow and handed the board back to the girl.

“There, it shouldn’t jolt around as much. The accelerator is a little worn, so I would be pretty careful. Did what I could but without my tools I can’t do much other than make it a little less sensitive” He said, feeling somewhat proud, before he remembered that he had essentially just taken and messed with someone’s gear.

“Oh, uh, sorry bout that, I like working on Gears” He said, trying his best to hide his embarrassment.

Just as he was about to sit back down, another person entered. They seemed even more confident than that other guy. Kacey was pretty sure his name was Nitrous, but not a hundred percent on that.

“The rat would be me, I guess” Kacey said as he waved to the girl. “And with that, everyone seems to have arrived. More than I expected to be honest…” He said as he made he sat in his chair. It looked like it was time to start, so he turned his radio back on and quickly informed the others, before turning it off again. He wasn’t going to give Data a chance to yell at him just yet.

“So, I’m guessing you are all wondering why you have been called here. That would be because you have been deemed ‘worthy’ of receiving an invitation into Ratpack.” He said with some sarcastic air quotes.

“To put it bluntly, each of you has skills. Whether it be your art, or for any other skill, I have decided that you are worth bringing into the pack. My name is Free, and I will be your examiner for today.” He paused for a moment. Kacey decided that he was going to be a little theatrical and opted for some dramatic pauses.

“Now while I have seen you in action or at least know of what you have done, some of the others haven’t. The pack is a little picky about who they accept, so they insist on seeing you in action. So, we have a little mission for you.” Kacey stood up and moved his way over to the wall. He retrieved a can of white paint started spraying a very low detail map of the city.

“Each of you need to first make your way to the upper city, then you need to go to the buildings that is specified. Each person will have a different target building. You are required to tag your target and return before midnight. But you will each be followed by a member of the pack. They will not interfere with you in any way, they are simply observing.” He had marked several locations on the map, each was a potential target.

“It’s important that each of you aren’t seen, and that you return before midnight. Your building in question will be determined by drawing it from a box over there” He pointed to a box that sat next to the door at the entrance of the warehouse. He looked down to his wrist to see that it was almost eight o’clock. 4 hours was a tough ask, but he believed that everyone here was capable of it.

“Upon completion, you will become members of the Ratpack. Simple right? Now, you are free to refuse and leave if you would like” He said as he made his way back towards his chair, sneaking a look over at Nitrous.

“But if you leave now, you won’t receive another invitation to the pack. Same goes for if you fail this little assessment.” He sat down and leaned back in his chair.

“We will be starting this little test at 8, so we have a few minutes to spare. Any questions? Or perhaps introductions?” He said, as he glanced around the room, inspecting his potential future comrades.

As the introduction ensued Dax fiddeled with the settings on his gears. He knew what was being said he just didn't really care enough to look up. Dax truly thought the entire idea or being in some sort of gang was stupid. Once he heard what the test was he was all ears. He got to go to the upper city and tag something huge. This was his chance to truly show the whole city what he was about.

Dax stood up and cracked his neck. He was excited to get started so he looked at his time. They would start at 8.his eyes widened. Four hours? They wanted it done in four hours. Dax was surprised but than he realized this just sent that he would have to move faster. Dax was determined that he could make it. With this new information he sat back down and fiddled with his gears again. He needed them to be at full cooperation to pull this one off.

Well, wasn't this just a fun little game?

Laura reached into her back pocket and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it in her mouth and placing the silver lighter back into her pockets.

"Alright, Doughboy,"@Sam12435 She said, referring to his World War One-esque gasmask that seemed to serve no purpose. "I'll bite. Been doin' absolutely nothing fer too long anyway." She hefted her duffel bag and readjusted herself against the wall.

She blew smoke into the air, closing her eyes. She opened them again, and they settled on by far the youngest one in the group, the little girl who called herself Skyscraper. @SheriffLlama

"Isn't it a school night?" Laura said to Skyscraper, before putting the cancer stick back between her lips.

---

Nitrous kept his position firmly against the back wall. He knew little of the people in the room, other than rumors and hearsay. To be honest, there were probably pieces made by these folks that had likely impressed him. He always loved it when he saw a tag on one of the massive buildings, as an assault against the oppressive white-ness of the city. He didn’t really know what to think of most of them.

For example, why was that one girl laughing so much? And why was there a girl holding on to a crowbar?

It didn’t matter too much to him. His eyes perked up when he heard the challenge. Oh. This was interesting. An actual performance test to prove that they could deliver. In that case, he would have to deliver the best piece he could in a limited time. There was something a little foolhardy about it, however. Asking taggers to go out when the night was this early to set up a piece on a wall was a little obscene. Not enough to scare him off, mind you, but perhaps that was part of the challenge.
A good Tagger wasn’t going to get caught by the police.

Still, Nitrous kept his position as the main guy kept explaining what was going on. There was a sense of permanence in this entire room. Nitrous expected that no one was going to be ditching their invitation so soon. For whatever reason, all these people were not associated with any of the Big Three, but they were still interested with being part of a different prospect.

But forget that. A wall out there was asking for another glyph and he wasn’t going to wait around for this nonsense to finish if there was a white building waiting to be blessed with color.

“Introductions can wait; don’t you think?” Nitrous sighed from beneath his mask, “If this is meant to be a challenge, then it means that there are some people who will likely fail. So why not save the introductions for when we return?”

Harsh? Probably, but Nitrous didn’t have any time for that. His hand was already tugging at the strap of his backpack as he prepared to grab the nearest can of paint and rush onto the city. It was time to get going, and his mind was already spiraling with ideas.

He hoped they didn’t need him at the store tomorrow, because if he started tagging now he probably wouldn’t be able to stop.

Dax looked over at nitrous in disapproval of his actions . He had seen this guy in action before. In Dax's opinion he seemed just a little too arrogant. "hey big mouth" he said angrily. "there are rules to these things"

Dad paused for a moment and removed his Hood. He walked towards the boy than stopped about three feet in front of him. Dad pulled out a can of red spray paint and drew a large circle around Nitrous. With a small chuckle he looked up. "this is the quiet circle"he said and snickered before looking him dead in the face. "so unless you can wait until Its time like everyone else . Sit down and shut the fucn up".

Dax shook his head and laughed as he started to walk away. With a swift turn of his body he stopped and looked back at the guy again. "hey wait your name is nitrous right? "he asked than squinted his eyes looking closer. Dax began to laugh maniacly for a moment almost doubling over in pain. "holy shit you are"

Dax ran his hand through his hair. He knew this guy from his work. In fact he knew everyone here by there signature look and art style. This was insane. Freelancers, retired taggers and even a few who had ran with the big three a few times. Dax smiled after breaking from his silence. "I've seen your art work Dax said looking dead in his eyes. "I got my eyes on you"

Dax chuckled and returned to his duffel bag as he placed a blue tooth headpiece in his ear and returned his Hood to his head. Dax dug in his bag ensuring everything was there. Pistol, check. Smokes, check. Paint, check . shit he thought to himself . He had forgotten his respirator. Fuck it, he would have to do without it for tonight. It wouldn't have been the first time, and he knew it deffinetly wouldn't Be the last.
@RedXCross

---

As Free messed with her board, she watched him with curious eyes, constantly asking, "What did that do?", but receiving no response. When he final finished and handed her the gear back,she placed all four wheels on the floor, rolling it smoothly back and forth across the groun

Parker intently listened to Free's speech as he delivered their mission. She felt a pang of fear inside of her as she soaked in what she was going to have to do to gain Ratpack's approval. She swallowed a hard gulp and sat down on her skateboard, rolling herself left and right as the others spoke. She grabbed every word they said, cause these guys had to be good. Ratpack wouldn't want them if they were just regular taggers. Because of this, she listened careful to each syllable each of them spoke, excitement once again replacing her fear of failure. Even the underhanded insult from the darkly-clothed woman didn't really phase her.

"Nope, never been to school." She said, matter-of-factly with no embarresment or shame.

When the guy in the black mask was interrupted by a blonde tagger. He rambled about a quiet circle and other things, which left a small smile on her face. She liked that guy. When he stopped, she rolled a few feet away, giving herself some space while the others interacted.

She slid her bag from her shoulder and unzipped it. She dug through it, tossing a few items to the floor absent-mindedly. She tossed a roll of blue painters tape to the floor, ignoring it as it rolled into the middle of the circle and towards one of the other taggers. She kept digging until she found her only can of paint. She shook it, feeling the weight and judging the current contents. She frowned, noticing it was just below full.

"So, like-" She lurched forward, mid-sentence, and stood to her feet, looking Free in the eyeholes. "Are we talking like- a basic tag or, y'know, our best work ever, or what?" She said, a thought hitting her mind for the first time. "I only got like- one full can of paint, so I'm a little stretched, cause y'know paint is expensive sometimes and I get sidetracked cause I'm just a tad bit ADD and don't always remember to get new stuff... Sorry, I don't really have a job or money or any personal possessions honestly..." She said, ending her nervous ramble and again looking through the eyes of Free's mask.

---

Neon quietly stood there, listening to "The Rat's" speech and hearing the others talking. Four hours? Higher buildings? Sign him up. He loved to climb, and loved the opportunity for a chance for his father to see any art high up. Also, with such a limited time he had a challenge. An idea for the type of art he was going to create tonight was already forming in his head. The thing was whether or not he would be able to complete it in four hours....

"I agree with rainbow face ( @RedXCross )over here. Introductions can be done later, when we actually get into the thing," he said with a small grin on his face. When he heard one girl's remark about school to another (@SheriffLlama), he turned to her (@Stekkmen). "Don't those kill your lungs? What else is obvious?" he snorted. "You're wasting your time asking such ridiculous questions. I'll see everyone later. Or maybe not."

With a mischievous smirk, Neon walked to the box and pulled out a slip of paper before skating out the door.

Speed Demon

She had a slight look of annoyance on her face when Free started to explain what they were here for.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. Tag a building for a test, don't get caught."

Wherever the building she was going to tag was, it was still on the upper levels, a place she was very familiar with. No that these taggers even knew about that; she had been very careful not to leak out anything about herself after all. And with her get up and her mannerisms, she wasn't worried about being noticed or recognized by anyone in her usual circle as well. Frederica could literally dance on the very top of the law enforcers' building on live camera and not be recognized.

“Introductions can wait; don’t you think?” One of those clowns in a mask spoke, “If this is meant to be a challenge, then it means that there are some people who will likely fail. So why not save the introductions for when we return?”

She smirked as one of them started to rant about what the masked guy said. At least one of them agreed with what the masked clown said though, simply fishing out a piece of paper from the box and walking away. Following their example, she stepped forwards and took out a piece of paper as well. It... was a familiar building, owned by one of her father's 'friends', meaning those rich uptight twats with parties that she had to attend. Not that she had ever been there personally, but she certainly knew where it was. This was going to be exciting. Frederica could already imagine him ranting about 'those idiotic taggers and their darned spray paints' the next time she and her father attended one of his functions.

Speaking of tagging however, now that she had a good look at all of them, this certainly seemed like a sorry lot. Was this really the best non affiliated taggers around?

"Four hours huh?" Frederica kicked open the door and started heading out. "I'll do it in two. Catch you idiots later."

With a resounding boom produced by jetting her verniers briefly, Speed Demon zoomed away at top speed, accelerating at an alarming rate. There was no mistaking why she got her nickname so fast.

Kacey was happy to let the group interact for a little. It seemed as though they had some form of competition. Kacey was about to reply to Nitrous when the guy who seemed quiet at first glance stepped forward and gave a piece of his mind.

“This guy is a bit of a firecracker…” Kacey muttered to himself. It was a very interesting display, Kacey thought for a moment that it might be bad to let them argue, but he figured some of them might fail, so why stop their competition just yet. But then the younger girl from before stepped forward and started addressing him. He listened, and tried his best to not seem overly sympathetic as he responded. For now he had to seem distant. The Ratpack had to keep up appearances, and as none of these people had made it in yet, he couldn’t let his guard down

“We aren’t asking for your best work, we simply want you to show us your style, your creativity and your ingenuity. So by saying that, where the piece is placed on the building is just as important as the piece itself. We are looking for something that sends a message, so the more noticeable the better. That will mean that it might be better to sacrifice quality for a better placement, or go for something really big, but exactly what you do is up to you” He said, before glancing down towards her and offering a smile to try and calm her down a little, forgetting that he was wearing a full mask.

“And here is a little incentive to do your best” He said as turned to more directly speak to the girl. “If you pass this test, Ratpack will supply you with all the paint you could need. And I’ll get the chance to properly fix your Gears too.” He gave her a thumbs up before turning to the entire group.

“That goes for all of you. There are a few other things that we offer, but for now that should be all the incentive you need to do a good job. Oh and try not to bite each other’s heads off just yet. Do remember that if you make it through you will be guild mates with these people. Or don’t remember that, no skin off my b-aaaaand people are already leaving...” He said as he saw a few people take their paper and leave with one sarcastic comment or another. He let out a sign before switching his radio back on.

“Data, I know you are probably mad, but people have started leaving so you and your team are up. Don’t let me down!” He said as politely as he could.

"You are so dead when we get back” The voice responded before cutting out again.

“Man, now I gotta deal with that too.” He said as he slumped over in his chair. “This night keeps getting more hectic. I don't know how you guys have to much energy...” He glanced at his wrist and saw that the time had just ticked over to 8:01.

“Oh dam, well if you guys want to get done in time you should probably get going.” He said with a wave to the rest of the group. “Try your best to not get arrested”

Dax pulled his pistol from his bag and cocked it back sliding it into the holster on his side. He walked calmly to the door and grabbed his slip. His building was large in size and wide enough to do a very large rendition of his signature calling card. With a small chuckle he waved to free and with a pulse he shot strait up into the air.

Dax took off with great speed free running his way towards the building, and that's when he saw it. He was the building and noticed the perfect placement for the mark . It was a spot vvisable all the way from the bottom of the slums and this excited him. Dax reached the building with ease and here came the hard part. Now he had to reach the spot without fail or he would never make it back in time.

"son of a bitch" Dax said aloud to himself as he adjusted his gloves and stepped back from the building. Suddenly a pulse came from his feet and he jumped forward latching onto the building and climbing as fast and as high as he could get. Once he reached about three stories from the top he latched a rope to the building and began his paint job.

Slowly and steadily he made the question mark being as accurate at possible. He was used to drawing large marks so this was a breeze. The only problem he had was that he had to keep changing cans. He made the question mark about 8' tall by 4' wide. And as always below was writtenquestion everything. The difference in this one was that the question mark instead of being green was made very bright and vibrant as to be easily noticed and in the back ground were two crossed 9mm pistols.

"Now that's some fucking art" he said with excitement as he cut the rope and began free falling towards the ground. Looking at his watch he noticed the time. 11:15 "son of a bitch I'm almost out of time". With frantic use Dax used a hover pulse and shot away from the building. As he started falling towards another building he readied himself for the landing. He made his way back to the warehouse and looked down at his watch. 11:45."just in time" he said aloud to himself as he walked back into the ware house. He figured he wasn't the first back but he was also pretty sure he wasn't the last.

"Alright," Laura said to Skyscraper with a smirk, "But if you get caught, don't snitch me out to your parents. I don't wanna get grounded."

She pushed herself off the wall and walked up to Free, taking a piece a piece of paper and reading it. "I'll see what I can do. Watch out for mustard gas." A grey cloud billowed over her lips as she talked, but if Doughboy's gas mask was actually functional it wouldn't bother him.

Laura backed up a few steps before turning as she walked and jogged out the door. Stopping a few blocks away, she slipped on her old Gears, Jumpstart, and stood up. To get back into the swing of things, she used them as normal roller skates as she made her way to the building. Her target was an old motel.

She casually rolled into the parking lot of the motel, and grabbed a black spray can. Throwing the can into the air and catching it again, Laura looked for a good spot.

She was thinking a bright yellow smiley face, with fire...

Glancing down at her black spray can, Laura frowned. Fucking pointless. Another puff of smoke went into the air before she flicked the cigarette into a nearby puddle in the broken cement.

She took up a flight of stairs of the old motel, and one by one, spray painted a black, simple smiley face on every door. Two dots and a curve underneath, the spray paint often dripping to give the illusion of what looked like tears from the eyes or spit from the mouth. An hour later, every single motel door had a smiley face on it.

A look of grim apathy on her face, Laura took to the central parking lot. Shaking her can one last time, she made two large circles on the grey cement, before another large curve. One last face, the biggest one. She angrily tossed the can aside, and turned around, before being confronted by a dark figure.

"Money! Now!" A knife was the end of his extended arm. A dark brown coat and a woolen cloth hat topped the face of a desperate man. Someone who probably didn't want to do crime, down on their luck, and panicked. They needed cash, Laura probably had some. Laura wasn't sure what a better person would do, but she was certain on what she would do.

"Yeah, sure." Laura let the duffel bag fall from her shoulder, but as it fell, she grabbed the exposed corner of her crowbar when it fell past her hand. She clicked her right foot, heel, than toes, than heel, than a push. With an unexpected burst of speed, she brought up her weapon and slammed the middle of it into the chest of the would-be thief. Jumpstart hummed with light before dimming again.

The man yelped and fell downward, and the knife skidded across the pavement. Laura could see it in eyes, he was done. If she let him up now, he would just run away and probably not rob anyone ever again. For a brief moment, she thought of all the people she robbed. All the petty thievery she committed after her group disbanded.

Saying nothing, Laura kicked him in the side. He scrambled to get to his feet, but Laura struck him again with her crowbar, this time managing to his shoulder. He fell back onto his back, and received a stomp to his girth for his trouble. He curled into the fetal position, expecting a full beating, apparently. Two more kicks.

"Get up. Get the fuck out of here." He crawled away before stumbling to his feet and vanishing around a corner. Laura whirled around, feeling a pair of eyes on her neck. Her eyes scanned the rooftops, but she couldn't find the asshole from the Ratpack watching her.

Well, if the Rats wanted someone to beat the shit out of people, they found it in her.

Flicking on the Drive's in her gears, Laura sailed down the street, leaving her smiles-ridden target behind.

She didn't head straight for the warehouse. Instead, she dashed in between alley ways, doubling back on herself multiple times. She zoomed under bridges and even went through a few abandoned houses. She became lost in the nooks and crannys of the Confiance slums. Sweat on her forehead, breathing heavily, she finally felt free of the gaze of the Ratpack. She'd get there on her own time, with no one watching her.

Checking her old phone, she had about an hour to get back to the meeting location. An hour to stop being lost.

After 45 minutes of getting reoriented, Laura was about a block away from the warehouse. She decided to wait until the last couple of minutes before entering.