Central City

His instructors called it a distraction. His peers called it a defect. Zorblat called it destiny.

One night, while skating his favorite spot downtown in Central City, Lucius noticed something different in the parking lot—a whole new set of vehicles he had never seen before. The bald scientist’s car was there, as usual, but now three black SUVs idled nearby. Their exhaust smoked in the cold air, brake lights glowing red. He couldn’t help but be nosy. He paused for a moment, watching. We’ve got visitors, he thought to himself. Just then, the bald scientist emerged from the

Skate Now Smile Later People were always saying, “This city is getting so big!” But to him, it had always been a big city—its bright lights spilling across the skyline, its streets alive with motion and noise. The homeless, the hustlers, the tourists: all threads in the restless fabric of the place. There had always been secret corners of concrete perfect for skating, and this was one of the best. Across from Central City General Hospital, itself facing the downtown skatepar

Eira Quinn hadn’t heard silence in years. Not since Marcus died. Not since the banshee started screaming.