"Man, where are the real waves?"

Deep Blue sighed as he looked out over the shimmering waters. Were he still wearing his regulator, he could have effortlessly commanded the tide. Even without that borrowed strength, he could always count on the nigh-ceaseless push and pull of Solution Nine's wave pools. But such artificial luxuries were nowhere to be found on the Gleamsands.

"You gotta be patient, bro," Red Hot reminded him.

Thank you oh so much, King of Restating the Obvious. The ocean's tepid waters were much as he had expected. It was the tedium of everything else beyond the barrier that was worse than he had feared. Shaaloani was little more than a wasteland, stretching on without end, and for all the talk of Tuliyollal's many sights, he had found none worth seeing in the shockingly low-fi city. And so, though he had known full well what awaited him, he allowed himself to hope that the ocean would impress him. Sadly, it didn't. 'Fake' they may be, but at least our waves have some fight in 'em. Grunting with displeasure, he stood, provoking his companion to chide him once more.

"You gotta go with the flow, man. That's just how life is sometimes."

Go with the flow. Deep Blue rolled his eyes. As if I haven't always been at the mercy of fate's tide.

Deep Blue's earliest memory was of a recreation zone back alley, huddled against a wall, his face drenched with tears. It wasn't until government administrators were processing his assignment to an orphanage that he began to understand what was happening.

Abandoned by parents whose faces he couldn't recall. Had they passed away, their memories consigned to the cloud, or had he simply forgotten them? He couldn't say. There was no lingering sadness nor festering resentment, nor vestige of love to give him comfort. Perhaps that uncertainty was why he grew to lash out at others. The slightest frustration would send him into a rage, and the havoc he wrought quickly established his reputation as the orphanage's foremost troublemaker.

When he finally came of working age, he was assigned to an employment consultant in Resolution. His ambition was to become a hunter, felling fiends wandering the Thunderyards. A job using feral souls to fight seemed like a dream come true─a perfect fit for a brute like him. But the tide was quick to rip it away.

"You have been judged ill-suited for feral soul utilization," the clerk droned, eyes fixed on what appeared to be a rather brief report. "Given your disagreeable temperament and history of violence, we believe it best you take a position where you can work alone. Sanitation, perhaps."

Had the clerk bothered to feign sympathy and offer Deep Blue a cursory glance, they might have seen his fist ere it connected. Alas, the ensuing carnage confirmed the assessment's accuracy beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Sentinels arrived soon after, prompting his swift departure. In his panic, he grabbed a nearby air-wheeler─adding theft to his growing list of disqualifications─and twisted the throttle as hard as he could.

The world around him became a blur, the air-wheeler accelerating almost out of control. The smallest mistake would see him smeared across the pavement. His heart was racing, but not from fear. It was the thrill of the chase, the rush as he scraped past buildings, weaving between them in his mad escape.

Tragically, it could not last. Additional sentries predicted his path and sprung a trap, apprehending him without further incident. In that afterglow, though, he did not dread whatever punishment that awaited him, for he had finally found what he'd been looking for.

After his release, Deep Blue was desperate to get his hands on an air-wheeler (albeit not so desperate as to steal another). For lack of money and means, he struck a deal with a rather unscrupulous lender, borrowing just enough to afford one. It was used, but he didn't care─all that mattered was that he could cruise in search of more thrills (albeit not so fast as to attract the attention of the sentinels). Thankfully, exceeding the speed limit proved unnecessary, as he soon discovered a knack for trick riding.

Deep Blue was beyond reckless, yet there was no denying his incredible technique. Indeed, people were quick to take notice. He would go on to attract fans, then sponsors, and before long he was able to pay off his debt. It seemed he had found his calling in a profession all his own.

Onlookers admired and envied Deep Blue in equal measure, so it was little wonder when other riders tried to follow his example. But only one among them was possessed of skill that threatened to surpass his own. This aspiring rival flipped and spun his wheeler through the air with a familiar sense of abandon, its lack of hover-boosters making his feats all the more death-defying. How the sight of it set Deep Blue's competitive spirit aflame! And the newcomer who supplied that spark would one day become Red Hot himself.

Though the pair quickly developed a respect for one another, their deepening friendship only fanned the flames of their rivalry. Each show featured tricks bolder than the last, and fans couldn't get enough. Some, however, feared they were growing too bold. "One of these days there's going to be an accident, and it won't be pretty," remarked one commentator, echoing the fears of worried onlookers. How right they were.

It was supposed to be another contest where the two riders put their talents to the proof. Red Hot leapt into the air, pulling off an incredible trick─or so it appeared until his bike hit the ground harder than he had intended. The wheeler swiveled and swerved out of control, the crowd's cheers turning to screams as it went careening into a wall. Red Hot jumped free of the vehicle before impact, but tremendous damage had still been done, both to the arena and the riders' reputations. No longer would moneyed interests sponsor such risky performances, and without sponsors, Deep Blue's career came to a crashing halt. He had been so close to seizing true success, only for it to slip through his fingers like so many grains of sand, the tide turning against him once more.

This time, at least, he was not alone in his misfortune. He'd found a kindred spirit in Red Hot, who had also lost his parents. Adrift without purpose or prospects, the thrill-hunting Hyune looked up to him like an older brother, and Deep Blue cared for him in kind. To feel responsible for another─to share the hard lessons of his own life as cautionary guidance─was a novel experience, and he enjoyed fulfilling Red Hot's expectations. And so it was the two became kin, even if only in name.

As their search for a new calling continued, the wave pools that had recently become popular in Solution Nine caught Red Hot's eye. Deep Blue wasn't particularly enthusiastic about competitive surfing, but it had enough in common with air-wheeler riding that he was willing to give it a chance. And if crowds were into it back in the day, maybe they could be again?

As it turned out, the two took to surfing like a pair of fish to water, and it wasn't long before word spread of their big comeback. Day after day, crowds would gather in the hopes of catching even a glimpse of them tearing up the wave pools. And with no risk of damaging buildings or harming spectators, the brothers were free to give it their all, pushing each other to carve paths through the surf they had never dreamed possible.

In the pursuit of ever more daring feats, they made use of electrope to create larger waves, and even conjured flames to dance across them. Spectacle after spectacle, exhilaration after exhilaration. And that's when they went over the falls.

The gentleman was an organizer of local surfing competitions, and he had less-than-glad tidings to share. "I love your shows, Deep Blue—amazing stuff, truly—but people are starting to complain that you're wasting too many souls on some stunts. And by you, I mean your partner, Red Hot." His little brother had been garnering attention after introducing explosives into their routines. No one had been injured, but the soul cell cost had been considerable. "If you ask me, you'd be better off ditching that idiot and going solo."

Well I didn't, did I!? He was glaring at the man's crumpled form and rubbing his bruised knuckles before he could think to restrain himself. Needless to say, that was the last time there would be any discussion of Deep Blue or Red Hot attending future surfing events. Once more the tide pulled back, dragging him and his hard-earned success to the depths.

I was the idiot, not Red Hot... That one punch had cost them everything─their career, their savings, their home. If only I'd kept my cool! Not a single day went by he didn't think about it. Worst of all, he couldn't bring himself to tell Red Hot what had really happened. Faithful brother that he was, he remained at Deep Blue's side, never questioning the lie as they rummaged through garbage, living off the harvest of the streets.

"Score! There's still some left in this one. Want a bite, bro?"

Deep Blue glanced at the container of mangled scraps and let out a heavy sigh. Always knew I'd end up back here with the trash. Just as he had resigned himself to a life of squalor, an unexpected visitor arrived at their proverbial doorstep. At first, the man said not a word─he simply looked them up and down, as if taking their measure. They paid him no heed, thinking perhaps he'd come to make light of their poor circumstances. When he finally deigned to speak, however, it was to ask a question that would change everything.

"You two ever consider fighting at the Arcadion?"

Deep Blue's head snapped up. Once more, the tide saw fit to cast him on the shore a breath away from drowning. The pair readily agreed, using their established stage names to strive for new glory and success.

Though not at all in the way he expected, Deep Blue was finally achieving his dream of fighting with feral souls. What's more, the president of Ascension Arcadia seemed to understand how best to capitalize on their prowess─not as individual combatants, but together as the Xtremes. With an aggressive fighting style, effortless coordination, and a gift for foul-mouthed provocations, they played the part of heels to perfection. Everyone loved a good villain, and patrons of the Arcadion couldn't get enough of the dastardly duo. At long last, Deep Blue and Red Hot had found the place where they belonged.

Unfortunately, they would come to find that fighting at the Arcadion took a heavy toll. The continued use of feral souls caused them to develop psychonekrosis���an irreversible disease that degrades the soul. Time and again they stared death in the face unflinching, knowing their regulators would deliver them from its icy grasp. But as the reality of their terminal condition began to sink in, the excitement of the ring gave way to all-consuming fear.

"Are we... Are we really gonna die?"

Deep Blue had no words to comfort his brother or himself. For want of such solace, he would lie awake at night, wondering if the next morning would be his last. The disease was not without a remedy, but that required what all had believed was beyond reach: the defeat of the Lindwurm. Possessed of phenomenal regenerative abilities, its heart-aether could be fashioned into a cure─if one could overcome its might.

Not even the Tyrant, grand champion of the Arcadion, had been able to best the fiend, but there was now an "unstoppable upstart" rising through the ranks. While they were in no position to help directly, they could at least hone the challenger's strength, ensuring readiness for the battle to come.

"This might be it. Our last ride..."

Red Hot regarded his brother with a smile. "Then let's ride it to the end."

And ride they did. The crowd was abuzz with excitement as wild waves and fierce flames danced about the arena. Through it all, the upstart remained undaunted, the absence of a regulator doing naught to dull their resolve. The audacity of it invigorated Deep Blue and Red Hot, and reminded them of a truth long forgotten. To fear death is not weakness. For it is only when fear is our companion that true strength can be found. And with this realization came the joy the pair had once known: the thrill of putting their lives on the line, the rush of knowing the slightest misstep could be their last.

They let it carry them as they clashed with the soon-to-be champion, giving the crowd a show the likes of which they had never seen. In the end, the upstart emerged victorious, though thankfully not at the cost of their lives. The rising star then went on to topple the Lindwurm, reaping from it the key to curing psychonekrosis.

"Hey, check it out!" exclaimed Red Hot.

Deep Blue looked back to see that the ocean waters were stirring. The real tide never did come when or how he expected it. Try as he might to ride its waves, it claimed those dreams that it would, and much else besides. But it was those selfsame waters that brought him and his brother together, and gave him the greatest thrills of his life. Go with the flow...

Life wasn't like the wave pools back in Solution Nine, and Deep Blue was fine with that. After all, it was the unpredictable rush that made his heart sing. "Let's ride, bro!"

"All right!"

As they ran into the surf, the swells grew ever larger. How those waves would break, the brothers couldn't say. But such is life...