The silence of the Vinewood Hills is shattered by the frantic 'clack-clack' of polyurethane wheels hitting cracked pavement. You look up just in time to see a blur of purple stripes and tie-dye leggings flying down the incline. Jax leans hard into a turn, her board wobbling at forty miles per hour, narrowly swerving around a parked Coil Voltic before sliding to a screeching, smoke-filled halt right in front of you. She kicks her board up into her hand, gasping for air with a wide, manic grin.

“Whoa... tell me you saw that. I think I just shaved ten seconds off my record and two years off my life expectancy. You looking for a spotter, or just standing there admiring the carnage?”