Author's Note: This story is a reimagining of Roll Along, a story that I wrote several years ago. If you have not already read the original, I would strongly suggest you DO NOT go back and read it as it may have significant spoilers to the plot of this story. Roll Along Remix will not closely follow the storyline of the original, however, there will be several details that are similar. Thank you for reading and reviews are always appreciated.

Chapter 1

Several unfamiliar faces stood over him as he laid in a puddle of rainwater. Staring up into the gray sky, he could only make out silhouettes of his onlookers. A few of them held cell phones up to their ears. One offered to help him onto his feet once they realized he was conscious but he was too confused to accept at the moment. He was cold and his jacket was soaked to the point that it had become effectively useless. His head throbbed periodically which lead him to believe that it was an injury that put him in this position. The throbbing turned to pounding as he tried to peel his aching body off of the hard concrete. Rolling over onto his belly, he could now see why he attracted such a large crowd. He was sprawled out in the middle of the street, almost stopping traffic entirely. Several people had exited their cars in order find out if he was okay. They must not have known what to do when they discovered he was actually awake. Most of them just sat there astonished and occasionally gasping whenever he made a move. They watched anxiously as he struggled to get his knee underneath him. He quickly discovered why his legs felt so heavy. A pair of rollerblades were strapped to his feet, making it even more difficult for him to pull himself up onto his feet.

Just as he finally stood up completely, a figure darted out from the surrounding crowd and seized him by the shoulders. Still too disoriented to do anything about it, he allowed himself to be pushed forward. The crowd opened a path for the two of them as they rolled off of the street and out of the way of traffic. Once he was safely on the sidewalk, he turned to face his abductor. It was a young guy wearing tinted shades with green hair and a greenish shortsleeve sweater to match.

"I know you're hurt," The green guy said. "But you gotta get out of here before the cops show up."

Ignoring the strange guy's advice, the injured skater took a seat against a nearby building. He was still drenched with rainwater and shivering. Moreover, he had no idea where he was. Tall, unremarkable buildings surrounded him. The street appeared to stretch on indefinitely in both directions with no recognizable landmarks in sight. It seemed this was his first time ever being in this area, yet he could not figure out why he was here.

"Yo, did you hear me?" The guy asked, interrupting his thought process. "I said the cops are gonna be here!" The green guy stood over the skater urgently, but the lazy skater was unmoved. He just sat there, shivering furiously with his freezing hands stuffed into his pants. His head swiveled occasionally as he tried to no avail to get a sense of his surroundings.

"Do you speak? What's your name?" The green guy asked as if he was talking to a child. The skater stared up at him intently for a moment.

"What's yours?" He asked.

"They call me Yoyo," The green haired guy said.

"I'm Pockets," The quivering skater replied almost mockingly.

"Pockets?" Yoyo repeated. "You make that up just now?"

"Yeah…"

Yoyo grabbed Pockets by his wrist and pulled him to his feet. He was strong for his size. Pockets stumbled a little as he regained his balance with some assistance from Yoyo. Once he was steady, he let him go.

"Are you okay? Can you skate?" Yoyo asked. "You don't got a concussion or nothing do you?"

Pockets took a couple of steps to test his balance. Even with wheels on his feet he could walk just fine. In fact, it felt completely natural. His body compensated seamlessly as he rolled with each step. After he felt confident enough in his mobility, he turned to Yoyo and shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Good," Yoyo replied. "'Cause we gotta get going now. If anybody called the police, they're gonna be looking for you. But I got a place where we can go." He signalled for Pockets to follow and the two of them began to head down the unending street.

As they made their way to an undisclosed destination, Pockets attempted to make sense of the situation. He couldn't remember where he was or what day it was. He couldn't even remember what his real name was and that alone was almost enough to send him into a panic, but for now he remained calm. He focused on following the strange green haired guy in front of him, but the emptiness that filled his mind was unsettling. No matter how hard he tried to dig around for some sort of clue as to who he was or how he ended up here, he could find nothing. It was frustrating at best. To make matters even worse, he had nothing on him. No wallet, no cell phone, not even any money. All he had were the skates on his feet, the clothes on his back, and a soggy jacket.

Suddenly, Yoyo stopped seemingly in the middle of nowhere. "We're here," he proclaimed, though the scenery had barely changed from where they started. They still stood amidst rows of tall unremarkable buildings all huddled so closely to one another it was hard to distinguish where one ended and the next began. Yet, there was one that looked much different from the others. The one Yoyo stood in front of was shorter than the rest, and rather than a single door for an entrance, there were two large garage doors instead. The entire front of the building was covered in spray paint. Huge blocky letters adorned the top of the building, however most of the letters were now missing and the ones that remained spelled out "G_ & G_'s Garage". There was no mistaking that this was the place Yoyo was referring to.

Yoyo pounded viciously on one of the service garage doors, making a loud clanging noise that made Pockets' ears ring. There was a harsh mechanical noise and then the door began to slide up to reveal a man dressed in a grey jacket and jeans waiting there with arms outstretched. "Where's the pizza?" he asked.

"No pizza," Yoyo replied snappily as he lead Pockets inside past the man. Loud music flooded the interior and there was more paint on the inside walls than there was on the outside. The old service garage had been turned into somewhat of a hangout spot decorated with couches, arcade games, and speakers in just about every corner.

As they made their way past several other equally colorful individuals, Pockets could feel their eyes bearing down on him, scrutinizing him no doubt. "Who are these guys?" He asked Yoyo.

"The GG's. I thought you would've figured that out by now."

"Never heard of them..."

Yoyo stared at him with a single eyebrow raised disconcertedly. "You've never heard of the GG's?" He found his way over to one of the large speakers and hopped up onto it, taking a seat on the edge. "Well we're a pretty famous gang, the cops don't mess with us. Not since we took out Gouji." Yoyo found a can of soda sitting on the ground next to the speaker and picked it up, popped it open and took a long swig. He offered some to Pockets but he refused. Instead, the still dizzy skater took a seat next to Yoyo.

"Gang?" Pockets asked.

Yoyo flashed a proud grin from behind those red tinted shades. "Yeah, yo," He boasted as he waved an arm across the width of the garage. "This is our little hideout. It's pretty comfy and you won't have to worry about the cops as long as you stay here."

Pockets began to feel a little uneasy. As much as he didn't want to end up becoming affiliated with a gang, especially one so allegedly infamous, he had nowhere else to go. Staying here was likely his best option, at least until his memory returned. Still, he knew he didn't belong, and he knew the others knew too. So then why was Yoyo so insistent that he stay? Before he could finish that thought, Yoyo launched off of the speaker, tossing aside the empty can in the same motion. "You gotta meet some people before I let you stay here though."

Great… Pockets wasn't looking forward to whatever questions they would have for him. In his present state he really couldn't answer much of anything. He followed Yoyo anyway, making his way across the garage once again until they found themselves in front of a crimson couch that seated what he presumed were two of the other gang members. The first was Corn, the same man from before wearing the grey jacket and bright yellow undershirt. Stark blonde tufts of hair peeked out from underneath a baseball cap pulled so tightly onto his head that it was hard to make out his eyes under the shade of the visor. Next to him was Gum, a girl with similarly brightly colored hair chewing laboriously on her namesake. She wore a tight fitting, short green dress with a neckline that plunged down almost to her belly button, revealing most of her chest. Her captivating face was beset by a malicious gaze that dared Pockets to so much as glance at anything below her neck.

"Who is this?" The man, who was called Corn, spoke first. "And where's the pizza I ordered?"

Yoyo began to explain, "You remember how you said we needed to do recruiting? Well I found this guy and I thought he would make a good fit. His name is Pockets."

Corn sunk deeper into the couch cushion as he examined the potential new addition in front of him. Pockets could do nothing but stand there, looking lost most likely, until Corn spoke again. "Alright. He's in."

"Wait, what!?" The girl interjected, leaning forward now in her seat. "You're just gonna let him in just like that? No test of skill? How do you even know we can trust him?"

"Let's take a chance," Corn suggested.

"You're getting sloppy, Corn," Gum scoffed and threw herself back into her seat with her arms folded, pouting as she blew a large pink bubble. Yoyo, on the other hand, was ecstatic. His lips peeled back into a wide grin.

With Corn's approval Pockets was now free to stay at the garage, though that didn't stop the other GG's from shooting him suspicious looks. It seemed they all wanted to test the new guy. Pockets found a secluded corner and took a seat on the floor of the renovated service garage. The warm air inside finally afforded him a chance to remove his still damp jacket. He set it down next to himself and let his head fall back against the wall. The minor impact was enough to stir up a violent headache that made him clasp his temples with his hands painfully. He was still suffering from the after effects of his recent head trauma and the pounding bass speakers, which were strategically positioned so that you could never be more than fifteen feet away from at least one, weren't helping either.

A few minutes later, Yoyo returned again with an excited look painted on his face. "Ready to make some money?" He asked, crouching down in front of Pockets.

The GG's new recruit released his throbbing temples to look Yoyo square in his red shades. Although the shades blocked out his eyes completely, Pockets swore he could still see them gleaming devilishly through the heavily tinted lenses. Nevertheless, Pockets needed money. Until now, he hadn't given it much thought, but he currently had no way of feeding himself. He was lucky enough to find a place to stay, but the rest of his basic needs had yet to be covered and he desperately needed a shower after having laid in a dirty puddle in the middle of the street for who knows how long. He smelled of wet concrete. "How exactly?" He asked.

Yoyo tossed Pockets a little, square box as if to answer his question. It was wrapped in brown paper quite sloppily, likely done by hand. Scribbled on the top in black permanent marker was a barely legible address. It felt empty. Pockets shook the box and it rattled as if it contained yet another box inside. "What is this?"

"This is how we make money around here," Yoyo explained. "Sometimes, people need things delivered… illegal things. That's where you come in. You get it there safe; no cops; no paper trail. You'll get paid on delivery. The money's pretty good."

Pockets studied the box briefly. It was just barely too big to fit in his jacket pocket and the shoddy make of it would probably arouse suspicion, but the job didn't seem too difficult otherwise. Not so bad for a first gig. "Seems pretty easy…"

"Woah…" Yoyo said as he took the box away from Pockets. "It's far from easy. Did I mention this is illegal? If the cops see you on skates carrying a package, they're gonna be all over you"

"Couldn't I just walk, then?"

Yoyo placed a finger on his chin as if he never entertained such a preposterous idea. He stared up at the ceiling through dark plastic lenses for a few moments while he worked out the viability of Pockets' revolutionary strategy. "I guess that could work," he concluded. "But, a lot of these deliveries take you way across the city; you'd be walking forever. Plus, the other gangs aren't gonna be happy about you pushing shit in their territory. You're gonna need your skates if they catch you."

"Fair points," Pockets agreed as Yoyo handed the package back to him. "But how am I supposed to find this address? I don't have a GPS or—"

"Oh right!" Yoyo interrupted him. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small black device that looked a lot like a watch, only it had an electronic display in place of a clock face. He handed it to Pockets. "Now you're an official rudie, yo. That's our standard issue wrist radio. You can talk to me or any of the other GG's with it as long as you're on our frequency. It also has GPS. It plays music too, of course."

"Cool," Pockets spoke as he fastened the fancy watch to his wrist. The rectangular screen lit up with digital numbers that displayed the current time. A small dial on the side brought up a menu when turned that gave access to the features that Yoyo mentioned along with a few others.

"Just don't break it," Yoyo instructed nervously as he watched Pockets fiddle with the device. "That's actually Corn's spare, and these things aren't cheap."

"Right…"