Hi there, fellow FanFiction followers! So... this is my FIRST EVER FANFICTION STORY! WOOHOO! The key word being "First", so please be kind! Reviews and comments are heavily appreciated though! Anything to make this story go off without a hitch! Thank you and enjoy! P.S. I do not own "Doctor Who", the Eleventh Doctor, or Clara Oswald. If I did, all of my stories would be on TV and Matt Smith would NOT be leaving... Thank you again!
"Tammi."
"Tammi."
"TAMMI!"
Tammi's head bolted upright, her eyes wider than saucers and her breath catching. She quickly looked around her. Phew! she said in her head. She was just at the office with the guys. Must've fallen asleep again. Tammi rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms a little before cracking her knuckles, ready to get back to business.
She stared at the computer screen in front of her and saw that there was nothing but numbers, numbers, and more numbers floating across the screen. Code numbers. Those were the ones that Tammi loved most. She had to love them. It was her job after all, here in "MyAlternative". A virtual world. A game.
Not that Tammi minded. It was a hell of a game. Loads of fun. Like "Sims" except more real. But who cares about what was real anymore? The teenagers didn't. They didn't care. As long as something as big and real as "MyAlternative" took them away from their homework and pathetic lives for a few hours, life was good.
And only took a few minutes! All you had to do was chose a username, a password, and take a small and simple quiz. The quiz was, then, used to create a virtual character, a virtual home, a suitable job, and get you connected with people who shared "common" interests.
Suddenly, a pop-up appeared on Tammi's screen.
New player added. Information being transferred.
Speak of the devil, Tammi thought as she began pecking away at her keyboard.
"Another newbie?" Terrance asked, looking over his shoulder for just a second before going back to typing up a code for his own "newbie".
"Yep," Tammi replied, never taking her eyes off of the screen as she began reading the information. "Mr.T_Jr.007".
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dylan hollered from across the room, poking his head up over his monitor. "It's one thing to be taking Mr. 007's name in vain. It's another to be taking my Mr. T's name in vain!"
"Dylan, stop talking about people like you're married to them. It's kind of old. But still creepy," Tammi sighed, rolling her eyes but not taking the time to actually look at him.
"Hey! Mr. T is a brother just like me!" Dylan went on, pointing out his dark-colored skin. "And us brothers got to stick together. You feel me?"
"Dylan," Tammi started, finally having a spare moment to roll around in her chair and say directly to his face, "Keep calm and shut up." As she said this, she pointed out each word that was printed on her forest-green T-shirt. This only made Dylan give her a raspberry and move back behind his screen. Tammi couldn't help but add, "And get back to work! I've got a feeling this is going to be a long day."
This wasn't new to any of the three. They knew all of this didn't run on it's own. That's why they were there at the MyAdminstrativeBuilding. They help out the new players and keep up with the current players. They set up the codes. Register the usernames and passwords into the records. Give out guidelines. Tips. They are, basically, the brains of this operation. They were special.
And being special meant that they didn't have actual "gamers". They were controlled wholly by the website itself. They were personally created by the creator herself, Mrs. Ratfield, who was highly regarded and praised not only in the website, but in the real world as well. And when you are specifically created by the most well-known woman in the technology industry to handle all of her paperwork, which includes nearly one billion files,… you are practically considered a "golden child". Especially if you're a child yourself.
Tammi was the youngest in the office. Fourteen. Though she acted like she was in her mid-twenties. Which is an advantage when you're working with two seventeen-year old boys who act like they're five. But Tammi didn't mind it all that much. At least they kept things fresh and alive. Which that in itself is refreshing when you're working in a cramped room with wires dangling from the roof, wires slithering around the desks and along the concrete floors, and six-inch computer screens blaring bright lights and random numbers right at your face. It's amazing that Tammi was able to survive two whole years on the job without needing glasses.
Not that she would ever get glasses. She always kept her trusty wide-eyed goggles propped atop her frizzy, black-haired head just in case such a thing were to happen. Though they may not help that much…. Still, Tammi thought they were cool. Goggles are cool.
"So tell me more about this Mr.T_Jr.007," Terrance said, more and more of his light British accent coming up.
"Well…." Tammi said, scanning over the gamer's quiz results. "Apparently he loves weight-lifting, has a two point average, and enjoys pizza and video games on a Saturday night."
"Another bonehead, huh?" Terrance chuckled.
"Uh huh."
"Make him a boxer," Dylan interjected. "Anyone with those kind of interests has nothing else to offer us other than cheap entertainment and one hell of an after-party."
"Sure thing." And with that, Tammi began typing in the numbers, which was sort of like second nature to her now. In just one minute, Tammi made Mr.T_Jr.007 a first-class boxer with a penthouse apartment overlooking Malibu Beach.
"And…. Begin!" Tammi said to herself, like she always does when she finishes the coding. To her, finishing a code means starting something new. Something amazing. Something…. addicting.
Dum dum DUMMMMMMM! So, that's the first chapter! Hope it grabbed some much-needed attention! Again, review and comments are appreciated and thank you all for taking the time to read this! Fingers crossed that this takes off!