Author's Note (I'm so sorry I know you don't want to hear this) : This is my first time writing fanfiction hehe. I've always been too scared to, but I decided to try it because with Subway Surfers, it's a small fandom so I don't have to worry about a bunch of people looking at it, and there are so many possibilities to work with when building a story for this universe.
Rated T for coarse language, drug/alcohol themes, minor violence, minor adult themes
I am omitting some of the characters from the game in my story [Yutani, Ninja, Tagbot, Zoe, and all limited edition and World Tour characters]! Again, for convenience of storytelling, I will not be using all of the characters.
*Subway Surfers is property of Kiloo Games*
I hope you enjoy c:
EDIT: I accidentally uploaded the old version on here, so I changed it to the new version. There are only a few minor changes, nothing big.
"GOOOD MORNIIIING, PLEASANT RIDGE!"
Jake awoke with a start. From across the room the alarm clock radio blared with upbeat music and the voice of an overly charismatic man.
"This is DJ Richie Hood of 99.5 THE JUNGLE, here to get you ready for another beautiful day! Today is Tuesday, September the seventeenth at seven A.M., sharp. Looks like it's gonna be another sunny day, folks…"
He noticed he wasn't in his bed; he must have fallen asleep at his desk again, clad only in boxers. He stretched with a massive yawn, grimacing from the knots in his back that developed from sleeping in the uncomfortable office chair. A puddle of drool on the desk spilled onto his lap. Ew. "So sexy," he mumbled to himself sarcastically, wiping the leftover moisture on his mouth with his arm.
He looked at the piece of paper he had been huddled over for hours last night, a draft of his next piece of street art. His friends may have gotten their kicks just by tagging train cars and brick walls, but Jake was more interested in creating masterpieces. His fascination with the abstract always showed in his graffiti—his style was offbeat and asymmetrical, his content was eccentric and occasionally disturbing, his messages pointless yet also profound. His current project was an image that came into his head a while back that he just couldn't shake: a big-headed Martian holding a lit cigarette with its bony fingers, its eyes dead and instead filled with colorful TV static bars. He had no idea what it was supposed to mean, but he was pretty sure some philosophical stoners would spend an afternoon arguing about it over a bong and five pounds of Cheetos, and that was pretty cool too.
"Aaaaand THAT'S your weather forecast for this week, folks! Now, for you commuters out there, we'll bring out Cindy with the latest traffic updates and then we can bust out some tunes, am I right?" Ugh. Jake always hated that Richie guy; he was so obnoxious. His raucous radio roar was, however, the only noise that could rouse Jake out of his abnormally heavy slumber.
He rose from the cheap office chair, shut off the alarm, and sauntered over to his closet to pick out what to wear for the day. He decided on his usual t-shirt and skinny jeans, covering up with his favorite hooded jacket and his lucky baseball cap. As he was lacing up his sneakers he noted the calendar nearby, though not for the pin-up girls. Sure, sexy, chainsaw-wielding Nordic broads were nice to look at, but today was special. It was Fresh's birthday, and that definitely called for celebration. Jake picked up his cell phone and speed-dialed his best friend.
The phone rang. And rang again. And again. Geez, wake up, Fresh, Jake thought impatiently. Just when he thought it was going to go to voicemail, the ringing stopped abruptly and a groggy voice answered from the other end: "…Jake? Bro, why are you callin' so early? I'm pretty sure the sun ain't even out yet." Jake could hear Fresh yawn into the receiver.
Jake chuckled. "Well, bro, why don't you open up the blinds and get your ass out of bed! It's after seven. Today's your big day! You can't oversleep on your big day, man. We've got too much to do."
This time it was Fresh's turn to laugh. "Oh, really now? What're you gonna do, take me to Chuck E. Cheese?"
"Naw, man, get this—I'm gonna get us into Aly McFarlane's party tonight."
"No fucking way, man! You mean Aly Mc-Richie-Rich-Prep-School-Fancy-Mansion McFarlane? Damn, son… I'd like to see you try."
"Consider it done, Fresh. I'm gonna get the whole gang together and we'll all go. It'll be great. Since you're an adult now, though, we have to do something about your problem…"
"My problem?"
"Yeah, man, you're a virgin!"
"That's supposed to be a problem?"
"You can't be eighteen years old and still be a virgin, dude! It's a disgrace. We're gonna do something about that tonight, though. Once we get to the party, we'll hook you up with a chick that's been spliffed up a bit. Sound good?"
"Come on, man! I'm pretty sure, like, the majority of people don't even lose their virginity until they're in their twenties! I really don't see what the big deal is." After a moment Fresh let out an exasperated sigh. "Whatever, man."
"Come on, you can't deny that you'd rather have a real, live girl than your hand and some skin mags." There was no response on the other end. "…Exactly. By the way," Jake continued, "make sure you stop by the train yard as soon as you're ready. I know your ma's probably made you some celebratory birthday breakfast, so take your time."
"You've got that right! I can smell it now. Hooo-wee! Looks like Mama's made biscuits and gravy!" Now he was awake. That kid would do just about anything for free food.
"Just make sure you don't stuff yourself too much, though… there's a surprise waiting for you once you get here. I gotta go now. See you in a few."
"See ya."
"Oh, Fresh?"
"Hm?"
"Happy Birthday, buddy."
"…Thanks, man." Jake knew his friend well enough to know that Fresh was grinning from ear to ear.
Jake hung up the phone and reached for the keys to his flat and his duffel bag. His friends should already be at the train yard by now. He tossed the keys in the air and caught them as he was headed out the door. Time to face the day, he thought to himself. Let's get this party started!
Jake loved the train yard. When he looked beyond all the smog and rusty train cars and bums warming their hands over barrel fires, he realized it was a great place to be alone with his thoughts, to chill with his friends, or to use as his canvas. As he strolled onto the designated meeting spot—a chain of a couple of old, abandoned box cars, the typical hangout he shared with his friends—whistling and with his hands in his pockets, he was greeted with familiar faces. Unhappy familiar faces.
Well, Spike almost always looked unhappy. His appearance, with his large stature, sleeveless leather jacket, and bright-red-tipped Mohawk, was indeed intimidating, but Jake always thought that the whole tough-guy shtick was just an act. Not that he would ever call him out on that, though; Jake was still pretty sure that, in a fight with Spike, he would have his ass handed to him on a silver platter. When Jake arrived Spike was listening to his iPod and smoking a cigarette. That boy sure goes ham on the cancer sticks, he thought to himself.
"Jake!" an angry voice yelled in his direction. Jake looked over to see the source of the commotion: yet another unhappy face. A curvy but toned blonde wrung her beanie in her hands, her cheeks flushed and her bespectacled eyes glaring at him with a venomous fury.
"Tricky! You look beautiful this morning." Jake leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. She didn't reject the display of affection, which was a good sign for him. Whatever she was mad about couldn't have been that important, at least not something that could compromise their relationship. Still, though, he didn't want to do anything to risk his girlfriend being even more pissed than she already was. "What's wrong, babe?"
"Have you checked the time, moron? It's half past seven! How can you be so smug and nonchalant about this? Fresh could be here any minute and we still haven't finished setting up the surprise because we need your help!" She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "Geez, Jake! You're going to be the death of me!"
"Christ, did someone shove a cactus up your ass or something?" Spike mumbled to himself. Jake tried to suppress his laughter. What? It was what everyone was thinking.
Tricky, however, heard his jab at her and swiveled around to meet his eyes. "Don't try me, you sleazy punk," she spat. "I can do things to you that you could never even fathom, and by the time I'll be through with you, you'll be pleading for eternal damnation in the most harrowing and tortuous corners of Hell as respite."
The malicious rage in her tone sent shivers down Jake's spine. For such a small package, Tricky had a sharp wit and silver tongue, with fighting skills to show for it. She was soft-spoken and cordial for the most part, with a very compassionate heart, but when it came to holding her own, she had no fear and showed no mercy. It was something he loved about her… when the anger wasn't sent in his direction, that is.
"Woah, girl," a voice piped in from one of the train cars. "You need to take a step back and chill the fuck out." The voice belonged to a girl with a large afro who was leaning back against the car, next to the entrance. Two teenaged boys, one tan and attractive with a surfer's body and sun-bleached golden-blonde hair, the other of Middle Eastern descent wearing Aviators, expensive bling, and an Arabic keffiyeh, were sitting near her inside the box car, their legs dangling over the edge. The three passed around a joint, each taking long, deep, drags.
"Yeah, listen to Frizzy, Trick. You don't usually get so worked up over little things," said the beach boy. "Don't sweat the small stuff." He took a long drag and held it in for a moment. As he spoke smoke was released from his mouth and nose. "Just… take a deep breath and… relaaax, dude… ain't that right, Prince? … Prince K? Where you at, dude?"
His box-car-mate shook his head to snap back into reality. "Sorry, Brody. Were you saying something? Because I am totally out of it right now. Oh, hey Jake!" He waved at the newcomer lazily. The solid gold watch on his wrist glinted in the sunlight. "You know, Tricky, you're lookin' reaaal tense. You should take a puff or two. This is some really nice dank… trust me."
Tricky replaced the beanie on her head and adjusted her glasses, taking a few deep breaths. "Yeah, I guess you guys are right." She sighed. "I just really want this to go well for Fresh, you know? That, and I'm super exhausted because I stayed up so late making those slutty brownies."
Jake could see Prince K's eyes nearly pop out of his head from underneath his shades. "I have no idea what the fuck slutty brownies are, but they sound absolutely fucking ambrosial. I gotta try one."
The group couldn't help but laugh. "Well, hand over the spliff first," said Tricky. "You seem as baked as my brownies, so I want in on that action. Once we get through preparing the surprise and Birthday Boy gets here, then you can alleviate your munchies all you want." Prince K handed her the joint and she helped herself to a few drags; Jake did, too. He wasn't as adamant as the others about getting high as religiously as they did, but that didn't stop him from enjoying himself every now and then.
When they were through, Jake rallied them all together; out of everyone in the group, he was the leader by nature. "Alright guys, Fresh could be here any minute now, so let's get to work, shall we?" The group was about to separate when Jake remembered something. "Oh, by the way," he added, "...where's Tasha?"
"She's exercising behind the box cars," Frizzy responded, rolling her eyes. "She kept on whining about how this whole thing was interfering with her morning workout. Can't you hear her back there?"
Jake focused his ears and faintly picked up a girl's heavy breathing and counting in rhythm. "Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine..."
"I'm telling you, Jake, that girl is obsessed," Frizzy continued. "Want me to go get her?"
Jake pondered for a moment. "...No. Just... let her do her own thing, I guess." Last time he bothered Tasha during one of her workouts she was so absorbed in the activity that she almost high-kicked Jake in the chin. "It's best we don't bother her. Now, who's ready to give Fresh his best birthday ever?"