Right, first time posting on here. Wanted to ease into it, start with a created character so I didn't do the real ones any mis-justice. The others will crop up later, I pwomise. Enjoy! :)

One

Will stamped his tail of his board into the thick snow by his feet. The tail end of the qualifying riders was snaking down the bottom of Snowdream towards him. Will removed his quad-bike helmet and threw it to the ground.

"Damnit."

Viggo was already celebrating. A newcomer, just like him, the thin Swede had pulled away from the five other racers almost straight from the launch gates. Will had tried his best, but Viggo was a class apart, and Will had pulled in a lonely second. The rest of the field trailed in behind him.

The results were slapped up on the electric screen rolled into the back of the finishing zone. First Placed – Viggo Rollig. Second Placed – Will Dawber. Third Placed – Dilipso Thejan.

Will allowed himself a smile at that. Dilipso, his long-time racing partner from his EuroBoards days had managed to drag himself into the third and final qualification spot. One more race to complete, and a place on SSX 2.5 beckoned.

It didn't make 2nd place any better, though.

A gloved hand clapped Will on the shoulder. He turned to face a rake-thin, dark-skinned individual almost a foot shorter than him, clad in a navy jacket and track pants. The man removed his goggles and grinned up at Will.

"Why so glum, big man?" he smiled.

"I'm that easy to read, Dilipso?" Will frowned. "Bloody Swede. Thinking he's all that."

Dilipso chuckled. "Chill out, Will. Rollig was expected to wipe the floor with this heat. Honestly, don't you remember how pissed EuroBoards were when they found he was leaving for SSX? Not like us. I'm going to hit the lodge, get a shower and a pizza or two. Chill your beans, I'll see you at the bar later."

Dilipso pushed off towards the run's exit, flipping Viggo a thumbs-up as he slid past.

"Who's says 'chill your beans' anymore?" Will shouted after him.

When there was no response, Will made his way over to the press room. There was a withered old man, face weathered by the snow and the cold, scratching up the final round's heats on a chalk board. Will wanted to know who was next.

SSX Tricky had finished six months earlier. DJ Rahzel had left the franchise, and was replaced by DJ Stryker, a laid back, experienced jockey who had also been lined up for commentary on the next Burnout season with Crash FM. SSX 2.5 was the off-season competition, which the majority of Rahzel's registered pros raced on. It was also the main route for amateurs, and pros listed with the smaller snowboard firms, to make their way into SSX full time. That meant that there were new racers like Will Dawber, Dilipso Thejan, and Viggo Rollig, were given the chance to qualify for the main event.

Will's final round, scheduled for noon the next day, was already on-screen. There was Viggo and Dilipso, from his heat, plus three others; James Mackie, a Scottish competitor with Euroboards, Karl Lee, a lanky Australian professional, and Jurgen Angermann.

Will did not like that line-up. Jurgen was an original SSX vet, who had to go through the qualifiers due to a broken leg that forced him to miss the entire Tricky season. Viggo, well, Will had already encountered that particular menace. Mackie and Lee shouldn't be up to much, but Dilipso had a few tricks up his sleeve. With only the top two reaching the first round in the Elysium Alps in a month's time, it looked like 2.5 might be just beyond him.

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"Save the queen!"

Dilipso dumped a thick, pound sterling coin into Will's pint. The queen's head was clearly visible through the murky liquid. Will smiled. Old English drinking tradition. The queen's life was in danger.

Will downed the drink, grinning as a slow warmth worked its way into the back of his skull. He'd heard somewhere about the drinking age in Japan being somewhat higher than in the UK. Good job the Icescape's bar staff weren't too fussy about identification. Though to be fair, he could easily pass for 20, judging by the size and facial hair.

Turning the empty glass upside down, the coin clattered to the smooth wooden floor. Dilipso scooped it up and pocketed it in his back jean pockets. They were an odd combo, Will and Dilipso. Will was a slab of meat, Manchester born and bred, who had had the option to go pro in one of two sports – snowboarding, or rugby, two wildly contrasting professions. Short blonde hair topped his broad head, and wide blue eyes stared out from under thick eyebrows.

Dilipso did not match this description. The Thejan family had come from Accra, the capital city of Ghana, not the most renowned place for top quality snowboarders. They had moved to the French Alps when Dilipso was six, and then to northern Scotland on his twelfth birthday. Dilipso had signed for Euroboards within two weeks of Will. He was a small man, no taller than five foot eight, and stick-thin, though his size hid his underlying strengths. His black hair was kept shaved to the scalp, so short it was barely visible against his ebony skin.

Dilipso span away from Will, as another competitor handed him a fresh drink. Will glanced around the small bar, and caught the eyes of a mammoth of a man sitting alone in the corner, a bottle of Jack Daniels open on his table. His head was shaven clean, and hard black eyes glared back at him. The man beckoned for Will to approach him.

"You know who I am?" the man asked, in a thick, clipped accent.

"Yes, sir," Will felt the need to be formal. "Jurgen Angermann, sir."

"I-" Jurgen motioned for Will to sit. "I feel you need a few tips. I watched your race this morning. Very nice, very clean, but lacking a certain… vigour. You can go far, but only if you can gain this trait?"

"With respect… what are you blabbing about?"

"Violence, my boy? Anger, blood rush? No, they are too fancy a word. Nothing so… grandiose. You have seen SSX, surely. It is not the cleanest sport in the world. A well-placed fist, a sly flick of a board. Then what do you know? There is an unfortunate fall, a costly slip, and you're away into the distance. Stick it to that Viggo. Never been a fan. Far too… feminine."

"Why are you telling me this?" Will asked.

Jurgen chuckled, and slapped a thick hand against his left leg. "You saw my fall on Mesablanca in the first season, surely. I'm not going to be back in commission after that. Not properly. I got through the heats because my opponents were a gaggle of buffoons and incompetents that deserve no place on the SSX circuit. But there are a few in this group that might have a chance. Yourself included. I don't want you crashing and burning in 2.5, Dawber. I won't have the media mocking me for losing to you in qualifiers."

"Well… thank you for the overwhelming vote of confidence," Will commented.

"Sarcasm, eh? I see where I'm not wanted. Bugger off. I've got better things to do than listen to you prattle on about whatever the hell it is you children talk about these days."

Will rose, nodded his thanks, and began making his way back towards Dilipso and the other novices.

"Bloody kids…" Jurgen murmured.

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