And we go with chappie fouuur~. Haha, this one is being written really early in the morning, but it's the only time when my parents would let me use their computer. So far, so good with the everyday updates!

Okay, so I know this back story isn't what actually happened with Soul, but this is how I wanted to write it. I'm not sure what possessed me to make it like that, but… Yeah.

Enjoooy~!

Soul sat comfortably on the edge of his bed. He leaned so that his arms would fold over his knees. His ivory locks fell over his eyes like a curtain, shielding them from anyone who might have been in range. Those crimson eyes stared at his legs, though his vision was blurred due to the fact that he wasn't bothering to focus on anything. His mind was far too occupied for him to care about looking at his jeans.

He often took this position to think. Today he was allowing himself to examine all of the things that were bothering that he had paid no mind to before. Soul thought about the track and if there were any other ruts he could take to cut a second or two off of his laptime. This led him to think about that mysterious rider that had shown up every single day for the past two weeks, except for the weekends. That surely was odd, considering weekends were the best time to ride. The fact that he didn't even know what the boy looked like was starting to piss him off. He wanted to know who he was.

And, of course, Soul thought about the new girl, Maka Albarn. The cute, pig-tailed girl didn't seem to like sharing much about herself. They had been trying everyday that she had been there to get her to reveal some things about her personal life, but she would immediately change the subject. Not only that, but Liz had invited her to do something with the girls everyday and she had refused, claiming that she had practice. Needless to say, Maka Albarn had a few secrets that she wasn't too keen on sharing… And Soul wanted to figure them out. He wondered when he had become so nosey.

But it wasn't like he cared, right? He was only curious. Yes, that was it. He shook his head, causing his silvery-white hair to swish around. He sighed, uncrossing his arms and stretching into a normal sitting position. The springs of the mattress groaned as he moved, providing the only noise in the still silence. He rose from the bed with a stretch.

Today was Monday. He had gotten home from school about an hour ago. Normally he would have been outside, tearing up some clay on his gorgeous 450... But today was not a normal day. It was the anniversary of that day. About nine years ago today, his father had died. No, he had been murdered. Soul stared out of his window to the track, letting his thoughts wander back to the day of his father's death.

A young Soul, around eight or nine years old, was running to the front door of his house. He was laughing, so very excited to be home. His older brother walked behind him silently, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His face was bored and uncaring. Soul skidded to a stop once he reached the large door to his home. He flung it open, throwing his arms into the air with a shout of, "Me and Wes are home from school!"

He looked around the room, surprised not to see his parents waiting for him like they usually were. They were supposed to be waiting for him with large smiles and eyes that gleamed with happiness. He would run to them with his arms stretched open wide, hugging around their midsection and telling them how happy he was to see them. His father would ruffle his untamable white hair, and his mother would scold him lightly for tracking dirt into the house… So where were they?

Soul sprinted up the stairs, Wesley not far behind him. He raced down the hall to his parents' room. The door was flung open, revealing their parents crouched down beside their bed. In front of them was a grey haired man with a gun, pointing it in their direction. Soul's crimson eyes widened in a mixture of shock and fear. The gunman turned towards them and smirked.

"Well, well, it seems the two little brats have decided to join us." The man's voice was deep and raspy. He sounded almost amused.

Soul merely stood there, frozen in shock. Wesley's fists clenched at his sides as his teeth ground together. Their parents yelled for them to run, but neither would move from their spots. Their mother broke into sobs, tears streaming down her beautiful face as she pleaded for them to get out of there.

"Shut up, bitch!" The gunman hissed. She tried to choke back her sobs, but the effort was futile. "You, and you." He pointed to Soul and Wesley, "Come sit over here… NOW!"

They finally found the will to move, coming to join their parents on the floor. The gunman turned to the family with a twisted grin. His teeth were surprisingly white, but his lips were broken and chapped. He paced in front of them, coming to stop directly in front of the youngest family member. He pointed the gun to the center of his forehead.

"Well, shall we begin with the youngest brat?" The man spat.

Soul flinched, squeezing his red eyes shut tight. He grit his teeth, knowing that this would very well be his end. His mother screeched objections, begging him to reconsider. However, the man pulled the trigger. The sound of a gunshot and a pained cry filled the room, followed by eerie silence.

Soul cracked an eye open, confused at having felt no pain. The gunman was gone, fleeing from the house with some sick laugh. A pained gasp coming from Soul's right made they young boy look down. His eyes widened as they fell upon his father's motionless form in front of him. Blood poured from a hole in his chest, staining the white carpet.

"D-Dad?" Soul stuttered. "Dad, wake up." Tears started to prick at his eyes, threatening to fall down his face. "DAD!"

He leapt forward, shaking his father's shoulder furiously. Wes turned away, not able to take the sight of this any longer. Their mother's screams of anguish were calming down a bit. She had to compose herself for their sake. She gathered up all of her strength, pulling Soul and Wes from the room.

Soul sat against the wall, still wide-eyed and unbelieving. His father had given his life to protect him… And now he was gone. He was dead and it was Soul's fault. That is what the young boy repeated to himself over and over again.

A single tear rolled down the boy's cheek. He wiped it away quickly. Cool guys didn't cry, however. He still blamed himself to this day. It should have been him that was murdered, not his father. He held his head between his hands, twisting his fingers into his white locks of hair.

With a sigh, he stepped outside. He needed some air. NOW. The door clicked closed behind him, and he slid down to a sitting position in front of it. He took a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill his lungs. The grinning sun was beating down hard on the tanned boy's face, making him cringe.

He could hear that same strange kid's bike whizzing around the track. He let his head fall back against the door. Today was too hard on Soul for him to be able to ride. He knew from experience that you couldn't get distracted while you were riding. You're not only putting yourself in danger, but the other riders as well.

The little Honda sped around the track, coming up on the hundred footer. He seemed to be loosing control of his bike! The bike soared from the jump, jerking away from it's rider and falling back to the ground. The rider flew forward, flailing his limps as if it would held him any. His bike cart wheeled across the top of the jump, finally landing and cutting off on it's own. The rider slammed hard into the clay, rolling a few times before stopping.

Soul leapt to his feet, sprinting over to the track. He cleared the metal wire fence and kept running. He ran around jumps and hopped over whoops on his way, trying to get there as fast as possible. He finally reached the hundred-footer, finding the boy's bike relatively unscathed. The handlebars seemed to be bent a bit, but it was an easy fix. He picked it up and wheeled it over to the boy.

He was laying there on his back, chest rising and falling under his chest protector. He didn't seem to be hurt, but he may have a concussion. Soul gently placed the bike down and jogged to the boy's side. He dropped to his knees in the clay, not really caring about staining a nice pair of jeans.

"Hey man, are you alright? That was a nasty spill." Soul asked, reaching to take the helmet from the boy's head.

This caught the boy's attention, for he sat up straight in an instant. He backed away from Soul a bit. 'Mm' was his only response.

Soul stared at him, taken aback by how quickly the boy had reacted. He wanted to know who this kid was. Soul lived at this track, dammit! He had a right to know who the fuck he was. It had been bothering him for the past two weeks. He must've been thinking aloud, considering the boy's answer.

"I'm nobody." The boy's voice was very low, and Soul was nearly certain it would have been carried away had the wind been blowing.

He picked himself up off the ground, brushing the dirt from himself. He readjusted his helmet to fit a bit more comfortably before trudging off to jump on his bike. It started up after a few kicks. He wasted no time in speeding off back to his pick-up. Soul merely stared at the spot where the boy had previously been.

Those words replayed over in his head. 'I'm nobody'… Why did that voice sound so familiar? He groaned, fighting the urge to lay down on the face of the jump and just fry up in the Nevada heat. He couldn't believe that it was only Monday.

"Crazy ass kid."

THERE YA HAVE IT! Okay, so there's some back story… And some more mystery rider. Please review! It makes my world just THAT much better(:.