Tony Hawk waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were secret tapes in the warehouse. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Officer Dick were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
For almost 14 years Tony had been using the money bestowed upon him by his myriad sponsors in the skateboard industry to develop the latest in skateboarding technology, and now the time had come to put his creations to the ultimate test. He hastily dropped his board onto the ground, its sleek and shapely plastic wheels hitting the warehouse cement with a sound frighteningly reminiscent of years' worth of crippling injuries. But he had swiftly recovered from the brutalities of extreme sports, and now he had come back to Woodland Hills, CA to settle the score once and for all.
His entire career depended on the secret tape. The tape was the subject of entire volumes' worth of skateboarding folklore, its contents purported to contain the ultimate in skateboarding knowledge. The kind of knowledge that would propel any skateboarder into the realm of superhumanity.
The ability to perform not one, not two, but two and a half full rotations in midair.
Extreme sports mythologists referred to it simply as "The 900".
Tony needed The 900. Without it, he had no chance of besting his longtime rival Eric Sparrow in the upcoming Bam Margera Party Boat Invitational. He knew he would stop at nothing to retrieve the elusive tape. Tony Hawk was never above risking his life to reach the next level in extreme sports prowess. Tony knew that this time, it was now or never. He only had two minutes. Not enough time. Never enough time.
TO BE CONTINUED