Tier 0 contact for G-Kings.
Veronika was born into shit so she never expected much else. The youngest of four children, her earliest memories were of screaming. It was informational, not that she knew at the time; her mother merely trying to impress upon her father that he'd come home drunk again. It was to become a familiar refrain.
They lived in a fourth-floor apartment off of Gresty Road, just about eye-level with the flyover. From the neighbouring blocks they could hear kids taking potshots at the moving vehicles. Neither of her parents worked much. Instead her mother vicariously and compulsively channelled the misery of others, spending her days soaking up daytime talk shows and reality television, while her father drank and gambled away the welfare that dripped in. Home was one long vigorous exchange of contrasting views. One night George Lee was shot in a bar-room scuffle over a bad hand of cards; he was a lousy player, a lousy father, turned out he was a lousy fighter too. It got quieter for a while after that.
Her brothers weren't home much. They'd already worked the equation, join a gang or spend your life running. They got in early with G-Kings, a new group out of Gresty, spoiling for trouble with the Barbarians. By fifteen they were learning to shoot. By sixteen, two of them were dead. Death didn't sound so bad to Veronika. Maybe she'd give gangs a try.
She started running with the G-Kings. She learned to skateboard but she was there for the company. Attention was a novelty she couldn't get over. She liked the way the boys looked at her. On some level it amazed her that they cared. She discovered a hitherto unsuspected sense of mischief. They'd hang out down at NCS and she'd work the boys against each other, like a child playing chess with herself.
All that fooling, but it was Zombie who was the first. The first time she lost control of the game, and her world revolved briefly around him. There was the ephemeral phosphor flare of a relationship, but it was never going to last. Zombie was in it for the team, always someone else's problems on his mind. He still looked out for her, she knew. That's how Feargal got the broken wrist, no bullshit accident. It annoyed her a little sometimes, he'd had his chance, but sometimes she was glad of it too.
Now she's full colours, packing the new heat coming down from Mr. Fell. Zombie lets her do the meet and greets, because she can talk better than the rest. Since the G-Kings owned NCS, she's down there day and night, uncrowned queen of the half-pipes. She's glue, and she likes that. Bleach and Deadbolt posture like apes, competing with the dangerous tricks, but it's Veronika's withering tongue keeps them laughing at each other. They took her in, these freaks and misfits. She found a place; it was a thing she never guessed she'd be able to do.