Disclaimer: I don't own Jet Set Radio, Jet Grind Radio, or any related
things. I'm not gonna take up copyrights on someone else's character
that was never made, but I'm gonna try to help "Tee" anyway.
A/N: The whole concept for this story came from the 83-word "story" an author who went by the name "Tee" posted sometime last May. I reread it yesterday and I realized, besides the fact that Lotus's review was longer then the story, that the story just might have potential. So I'm just gonna sorta.... steal, for lack of better words, this story from him and *attempt* to make it into something... Let's see what I can come up with...Neon is a skater I've been designing for about 2 weeks now. And since I didn't want to make my own storyline that'd make him seem uberish, I decided to use one that was already made instead. Oh, by the way, The main character, Neon, is homosexual just because I've noticed that there aren't any guy/guy fics on the JGR section of FF.net, and also because I've realized I'm bi...If that offends you, then use that pea-sized gray thing in your head you claim to be a brain and leave now. Well, this has gone on long enough so, I'll shut up and let you read.
* * * * *
He sat up, waiting for midnight, watching his glowing red alarm clock indefinitely, the minutes slowly passing. Next to him, his best friend and lover, Shawn (otherwise known as Black) slept, his soft snores filling the room in outer Benten.
The alarm clock read 11:57. Standing up, he pulled a black trench coat over his neon blue shirt. The coat just barely covered his neon, multi- colored skates.
Walking out of the two-bedroom apartment his gang, The Thorns, shared, Neon very slowly started walking down the hall, arriving at the elevator, the soft, yellow wheels of his skates making little sound on the carpeted floor.
Arriving at the elevator, he lightly tapped the "down" button. The elevator almost immediately arrived and he silently skated in, the usual smell of old people and pot greeting him. As he pushed the button that would take him to the lobby, he knew it was either make it where he was going or die trying.
He had to make it, and save his gang. Yesterday, he had found out about a new gang calling themselves the "Nocturnal". They were a group of gothic punks, not unlike Dark Storm from Kibogaoka, but they wore gloves with 3 nine-and-a-half-inch titanium knives in between the knuckles.
As Neon arrived at the lobby, he cleared his head. He knew the only way to save his gang was to get help from the GGs, whom had been in a gang war with his for the past 2 months. But he had to shrug it off because he needed help, and he needed it now.
After he skated out of the lobby quietly, he slipped out the door. As he emerged on the dark, cold, empty street, he tossed his neon green hair back. With a grim look on his face, he started slowly down the street. After about 5 minutes of this slow skating, he started getting an urge.
This was an urge that told him to reach over to his wrist radio and turn it up all the way, blaring Jet Set Radio in his ears. An urge to skate madly, grinding everything. An urge to paint everywhere, tagging as much as he could. An urge it took every ounce of nerve he had to fight.
As he kept skating on, slowly, he stuck his hands into his trench coat pockets. Then he heard the sound. The sound that made him give into his urges. That sound was a police siren less then 300 feet behind him. The second it rang in his ears, he tossed his trench coat aside, leaving him in his neon blue shirt and black pants. Dashing ahead, the neon lights mounted on his skates lit up as they were wired to do.
Reaching around, he felt for a spray can. His hands found a neon yellow one and he pulled it out. Still dashing, he stopped and sprayed the word "Neon". After he was done, he replaced the can in his hand with a red one, outlining the letters.
As soon as he finished the tag, he started dashing again, the red spray can still in his hand. He closed his eyes; reflexively putting the spray can away and reaching down to turn on his wrist radio. Turning the volume up to full blast, he heard the end of Humming the Baseline before Funky Radio started.
* * * * * Jet Set Radio Broadcast * * * * * JET SET RADIOOOOOOOOOOOO!
This is that smooth scannin', sweet-talkin, ingenious mixmaster, DJ Professor K, broadcasting live from JET SET RADIOOOOOO! Turns out there's a new gang on the street, the Nocturnal, baby! You better believe it! And it looks like they mean business! Right now they're trying to kick the Noise Tanks out of Benten. They just took Genkijomae and it looks like they're heading to outer Benten! Stay tune and let's see where these madmen end up! Here some Dragula to show them how much we care!
* * * * *
Dragula was blaring in Neon's ears as he grinded down a rail in Shibuya Terminal, having lost the cops back on Park Street. Quickly tagging over a blue and black tag that read "Corn", he was hoping to catch someone's attention soon. He jumped of the rail backwards, landing squarely on the ground and moving to tag a bus.
Putting a few steaks of neon pink, yellow, and blue, he moved on, completely covering the tag underneath. Just as he was about to try to cover another tag, a kid in a yellow shirt and black pants with very odd looking glasses jumped down in front of him. Two seconds after the kid looked at him, he spoke.
"What do you want, little brother?"
Neon gathered his strength and replied, "Your help, Beat. The Nocturnals're tagging everything in Benten and, if you've seen them, you've most likely noticed those knives on their gloves."
Grinning, Beat spoke again, "You want my help? My little brother wants my help? The little brother who just waged war against the GGs, wants help from me? Their goddamned leader? You've gotta be joking!"
"I'm not! Give me any test! Whatever it takes, I really need your help. So will you help or not?" Neon retorted, quiet dismayed.
Beat just grinning. "Let's see what you've got!"
* * * * * Oh, and Tee, please don't sue. If you want me to take this down, just give me the word.review it and say so or w/e.just don't e-mail me. Ask Banshee Cat about that. And while I'm talking about Banshee Cat, please don't sue me for mentioning Dark Storm ::falls to his knees, begging:: OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't.either of you. I'll take it out if u want, Banshee.other then that, please Read and Review, even if it's mean.
A/N: The whole concept for this story came from the 83-word "story" an author who went by the name "Tee" posted sometime last May. I reread it yesterday and I realized, besides the fact that Lotus's review was longer then the story, that the story just might have potential. So I'm just gonna sorta.... steal, for lack of better words, this story from him and *attempt* to make it into something... Let's see what I can come up with...Neon is a skater I've been designing for about 2 weeks now. And since I didn't want to make my own storyline that'd make him seem uberish, I decided to use one that was already made instead. Oh, by the way, The main character, Neon, is homosexual just because I've noticed that there aren't any guy/guy fics on the JGR section of FF.net, and also because I've realized I'm bi...If that offends you, then use that pea-sized gray thing in your head you claim to be a brain and leave now. Well, this has gone on long enough so, I'll shut up and let you read.
* * * * *
He sat up, waiting for midnight, watching his glowing red alarm clock indefinitely, the minutes slowly passing. Next to him, his best friend and lover, Shawn (otherwise known as Black) slept, his soft snores filling the room in outer Benten.
The alarm clock read 11:57. Standing up, he pulled a black trench coat over his neon blue shirt. The coat just barely covered his neon, multi- colored skates.
Walking out of the two-bedroom apartment his gang, The Thorns, shared, Neon very slowly started walking down the hall, arriving at the elevator, the soft, yellow wheels of his skates making little sound on the carpeted floor.
Arriving at the elevator, he lightly tapped the "down" button. The elevator almost immediately arrived and he silently skated in, the usual smell of old people and pot greeting him. As he pushed the button that would take him to the lobby, he knew it was either make it where he was going or die trying.
He had to make it, and save his gang. Yesterday, he had found out about a new gang calling themselves the "Nocturnal". They were a group of gothic punks, not unlike Dark Storm from Kibogaoka, but they wore gloves with 3 nine-and-a-half-inch titanium knives in between the knuckles.
As Neon arrived at the lobby, he cleared his head. He knew the only way to save his gang was to get help from the GGs, whom had been in a gang war with his for the past 2 months. But he had to shrug it off because he needed help, and he needed it now.
After he skated out of the lobby quietly, he slipped out the door. As he emerged on the dark, cold, empty street, he tossed his neon green hair back. With a grim look on his face, he started slowly down the street. After about 5 minutes of this slow skating, he started getting an urge.
This was an urge that told him to reach over to his wrist radio and turn it up all the way, blaring Jet Set Radio in his ears. An urge to skate madly, grinding everything. An urge to paint everywhere, tagging as much as he could. An urge it took every ounce of nerve he had to fight.
As he kept skating on, slowly, he stuck his hands into his trench coat pockets. Then he heard the sound. The sound that made him give into his urges. That sound was a police siren less then 300 feet behind him. The second it rang in his ears, he tossed his trench coat aside, leaving him in his neon blue shirt and black pants. Dashing ahead, the neon lights mounted on his skates lit up as they were wired to do.
Reaching around, he felt for a spray can. His hands found a neon yellow one and he pulled it out. Still dashing, he stopped and sprayed the word "Neon". After he was done, he replaced the can in his hand with a red one, outlining the letters.
As soon as he finished the tag, he started dashing again, the red spray can still in his hand. He closed his eyes; reflexively putting the spray can away and reaching down to turn on his wrist radio. Turning the volume up to full blast, he heard the end of Humming the Baseline before Funky Radio started.
* * * * * Jet Set Radio Broadcast * * * * * JET SET RADIOOOOOOOOOOOO!
This is that smooth scannin', sweet-talkin, ingenious mixmaster, DJ Professor K, broadcasting live from JET SET RADIOOOOOO! Turns out there's a new gang on the street, the Nocturnal, baby! You better believe it! And it looks like they mean business! Right now they're trying to kick the Noise Tanks out of Benten. They just took Genkijomae and it looks like they're heading to outer Benten! Stay tune and let's see where these madmen end up! Here some Dragula to show them how much we care!
* * * * *
Dragula was blaring in Neon's ears as he grinded down a rail in Shibuya Terminal, having lost the cops back on Park Street. Quickly tagging over a blue and black tag that read "Corn", he was hoping to catch someone's attention soon. He jumped of the rail backwards, landing squarely on the ground and moving to tag a bus.
Putting a few steaks of neon pink, yellow, and blue, he moved on, completely covering the tag underneath. Just as he was about to try to cover another tag, a kid in a yellow shirt and black pants with very odd looking glasses jumped down in front of him. Two seconds after the kid looked at him, he spoke.
"What do you want, little brother?"
Neon gathered his strength and replied, "Your help, Beat. The Nocturnals're tagging everything in Benten and, if you've seen them, you've most likely noticed those knives on their gloves."
Grinning, Beat spoke again, "You want my help? My little brother wants my help? The little brother who just waged war against the GGs, wants help from me? Their goddamned leader? You've gotta be joking!"
"I'm not! Give me any test! Whatever it takes, I really need your help. So will you help or not?" Neon retorted, quiet dismayed.
Beat just grinning. "Let's see what you've got!"
* * * * * Oh, and Tee, please don't sue. If you want me to take this down, just give me the word.review it and say so or w/e.just don't e-mail me. Ask Banshee Cat about that. And while I'm talking about Banshee Cat, please don't sue me for mentioning Dark Storm ::falls to his knees, begging:: OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't.either of you. I'll take it out if u want, Banshee.other then that, please Read and Review, even if it's mean.