Born to Raise Hell

Act I: Prelude to Tragedy

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, songs or other pop culture references that are mentioned in this or future chapter(s).


There was just something about skateboarding that made life on this god-forsaken, pitiful excuse for a planet an ever-so-tiny tad less horrible. What exactly that something was, mankind will never know, though. But he had a pretty accurate assumption that it was the combination of the wind in your hair, the hyperactive music, the adrenaline highs that came with nailing tricks, lines and combos, the feeling of freedom and superiority and, of course, the respect one gained upon displaying a growth in skill and style. Being recognized by the locals was one thing, but attaining national or even international fame like Sasuke's brother was on a whole different scale. Still, that was his goal, and he was well on his way to achieving it.

Seventeen-year old Kiba Inuzuka liked the way his life was.

He caught himself smirking when he noticed he was being watched by the cheerleading squad from his school, and gave in to the sudden urge to impress them. He made speed, shifted into nollie stance and pumped his Blind deck high in the air, flicking it with control that rivaled perfection. Although on the outside it looked stylishly sloppy, which described his style perfectly down to the last letter.

A second that felt like ages later, he landed all four of his Spitfire wheels (his favorite brand, because of the cool logo and sturdy feel) on the concrete, nailing as Naruto would describe it "an Inuzuka-stylish nollieflip 180" from the staircase. The staircase a lot of skaters had trouble landing, as a matter of fact.

But of course, he didn't.

Duh. He was Kiba Inuzuka. The Kiba Inuzuka, the local hero for many skateboarders. The messiah of extreme sports. The savior -

Someone threw a water bottle at him, and he had a pretty accurate assumption who it was. He ruffled his hair and shook his head like a dog shaking off water before setting a next-to-impossible flip over a gap.

As noted, he was seventeen years old, tall, lean-built, slightly pale, had brown hair and eyes, a cocky smirk and a sharp wit. He zipped open his blood-red-and-black striped hoody to cool down in the comfortable spring sun. He wiped his head with his sleeve, and grabbed a bottle of water to smoothen up the dry cave that went by as his throat. He was slapped on the back by some random skater he was supposed to know, before someone he actually did know started his trademark yelling.

"Hey, Inuzuka. Betcha can't land a tre flip off that same sucker."

Kiba snapped out of his moment of glory and skidded to a halt just in time to see a rollerblader speed past him headed for the pool. Suigetsu Hozuki, one of his skating buddies and the aforementioned bottle thrower, suddenly smirked as his eyes started to glint deviously.

When you thought about it, Suigetsu could probably be considered one of Kiba's closer friends. The aloof white-haired, purple-eyed seventeen-year old with razor teeth didn't do much else than hang around at the skate park, get drunk, and play drums in his rock band. They were pretty much even in terms of skill and style, hence their friendship and ageless rivalry.

Said bloke was up to something, Kiba noticed.

"Watch," was all the white-haired boy said as he kicked his deck in front of the rollerblader, intentionally tripping the guy. The blader landed face flat on the concrete, earning a mocking wave of laughter from everyone close enough to witness his faceplant. "No more than four wheels on this grid, buddy," Suigetsu sneered while the blader turned redder and redder with embarrassment. Kiba snickered and shot a quick glance at the cheerleading squad and one girl in particular, before picking up his deck again.

Collecting his courage and allowing insanity to take over, he smirked again. "Tre flip you said, Hozuki?" He ran back up the stairs and turned around, a devious glint in his eyes. "Better get your cameras ready folks, because history is gonna be rewritten here."

"He's not actually gonna try it, is he?" Shikamaru Nara asked in his trademark monotone voice as he sat down next to Suigetsu, who in turn shrugged.

"If there's one person on this planet crazy enough to give tre-flipping that stair a shot, it's Kiba."

"There's always Naruto."

Suigetu took a thoughtful sip from his water bottle. "...True. But knowing Naruto, he might actually land it as well, lucky ass that he is."

"Aah."

Eighteen-year old Shikamaru was the archetype of a slacker. Even in his sleep he was lazy, thus how he had still managed to get in their grade was a mystery never to be solved. Something people around him attributed to his outstanding intellect. Lazy or not, he really was a genius in his own right, both on and off the board. He saw opportunities others overlooked, did things most people wouln't even consider trying. Plus, he had a technique that was far more than simple practice. That probably was why they were friends, too; rivalries provide the strongest friendships. Look at Naruto and Sasuke for the prime example for that one.

...Also, the fact that the Nara always carried his semi-professional filming gear in the backpack he took everywhere gave him some credit, as well.

Meanwhile, Kiba was about to follow through on his plan of rewriting history. He took a running start, dropped the wheels on the floor and did a few test runs. He popped a simple ollie off to get the feel right, climbed back up a third time and smirked his trademark cocky smirk. The adrenaline literally throbbed in his throat and he felt the sudden urge to punch people and headbang. That was usually a good sign.

'Well, Death or Glory.'

He tossed his hoody into a corner and took off, making sure he was going a little bit faster than required to land this son-of-a-bitch, and popped up while flicking his deck for a tre flip. He was going good, he was landing this bastard. He watched his board rotate under his feet in slow-motion, a known side effect of the kick of adrenaline he knew and loved. And that was when he found out it was going a bit too high.

The right heel of his Vans No Skools scraped the surface of the board, bringing it out of balance.

He instinctively kicked his deck away from him and braced for impact, seeing as how he wasn't exactly in a good position to make a landing he'd walk away from without a scratch. The girls yelped. Suigetsu laughed. Shikamaru facepalmed.

And Kiba got his ass handed to him by 'Gunslinger', as the staircase was dubbed, once again.

'Gunslinger' was originally the nickname of an urban legend. A skateboarder like them, just one that was as mysterious as he was legendary around these parts. No one knew his real name, age, or potential. All they knew was that he was insanely skilled. Not by what he has displayed, as rarely anyone has seen him roll in real life. Everyone had seen the videos on YouTube, though, of this skater dressed up as a ninja and landing the most insane, mind-busting tricks on every spot in the local scene that mattered. He was respected and sometimes even worshipped for the sheer fact that he had dominated and (re)named every skate spot that was of any importance to the local scene. He was the first one to land this staircase, for example, and as skateboarding law states, landing it first is naming it. He was the first one to land 'Afterlife' as well, and took 'Heaven and Hell' from the Hawkwind skate crew, renaming it 'Crossroads'.

He was, as stated, a legend, plain and simple. There really was no other word that fit him better.

Kiba had scrambled up from the floor and glared at Suigetsu, who was still laughing at his friend. He flipped the drummer off and examined his injuries. His knee and elbow hurt, as well as both of his ankles. He stomped on the hard ground a few times, and judged his ankles okay. His knee was probably gonna be just fine as well, and his elbow was probably gonna get swollen. Nothing he couldn't handle. He checked his black skinnies and white 'Punks Not Dead' shirt for any holes, looked for his deck, picked it up and turned back to the staircase.

"Let it rest, dude," Shikamaru said when he noticed Kiba staring intensely at Gunslinger again. "Let's go to 'Victim', land a couple grind lines with Naruto and Sasuke. Maybe get a little footage shot."

"...You're probably right." He sighed and turned to Suigetsu, keeping up the tough guy act for the ladies. "Hozuki, get my hat and let's get rolling. 'Victim' needs some killing."

"Aye aye, sir," said Suigetsu, mockingly saluting and tossing Kiba's mafia hat in his fellow skater's direction. "Whatever you need that for."

"It's called style, dumbass," Kiba retorted with a sportive smirk, running back up 'Gunslinger' to get his vest. "Doubt you've ever heard of it." He caught his hat in mid-air and put it on, crooking it an inch for the heck of it, and followed his friends to meet up with the rest.


[Author's Note]

Important message: this story will not be updated regularly. It's mainly here just to kill time and give the brain a rest from my main story. Still, I'd like to know if people are interested and maybe I'll reconsider.

Signed,
VictimofYourOwnCreation