Author's Note: This was originally typed to help me get out of my writer's block (which has been plaguing me since the beginning of Summer Break!) and wasn't going to be more than a one-shot. How mistaken I was. Suddenly, I'm writing over twenty pages, much too long for a one-shot really. So, after working for months, I've written this. Good gosh! -swipes forehead- I will be updating every Sunday, by the way!
Be warned, there will be strong themes within the story! So please do not complain when things get violent! Rated M for a reason! Also, there will be hinting of homosexuality (just hinting because I totally failed in writing Chack!)
Please enjoy: (:
The Interaction:
The soft click and clatter of keys resounded through the dark room. A dim, white light kept the room at a slight glow; a silhouette of a small person with spiked hair was cast on the far wall. The clattering stopped, and the dark room was silent for a moment. A soft click sounded and then more silence. Another series of clicking and clattering started.
The boy leaned closer to the screen; a large grin plastered on his ghostly pale face. A soft hum of music blasted through the large headphones the boy wore; the rhythm of it sounded rushed and loud. The boy didn't nod his head to the beat; he just sat still, his willowy fingers pressing down on the lettered keys on the keyboard with expertise speed. He stopped suddenly, his ruby red eyes scanning across the lines of words he had typed out. The small pointer of the mouse moved across the bright screen and landed on a certain misspelled word. He pressed down on the clicker and moved his hands back to the keyboard. He pressed the backspace several times and rewrote the misspelled word. He nodded lightly and reread the sentence. He continued down the lines and once he was done proofreading, he maneuvered the mouse over towards the 'send' button and clicked it.
In an instant, the message was sent.
The boy licked his chapped lips and turned his attention to his music player. He gripped around the sleek music player and scrolled through the lists of songs with ease. He clicked on a certain song and sighed with tranquility.
Listening to one song over and over again became very old; especially after listening to it for over three hours.
The song was one of his favorites, and no matter how long he listened to it, he still couldn't become bored of it. That was why the band was his favorite; their music was just so perfect for his music tastes. And even though the lyrics were in a language he had yet to master; he still hung to each word.
His already large eyes gleamed with delight as he noticed the reply message on his computer monitor.
That is very interesting, Spicer… You should show me one of your inventions some day. That was his e-pal's reply.
He grinned, a sudden pride filling his heart. His thin fingers went back to typing the reply, his tongue licking his lips.
Anytime! He started, one black brow rising up and resting against his red-dyed hair. It would be an honor to show someone other than my dog one of my inventions! He placed several letter faces after his comment to show his laughing afterwards, which, he really was.
The boy's lighthearted laughter settled down and he turned back to the screen and keyboard. He bit on his lower lip. His fingers started to move again, slowly this time, as if he were uncertain.
I really don't know how to explain this, but I feel like I know you. Pretty strange, huh?
He proofread again and sent it back to his e-pal. He lightly bopped his head to the music he was listening to and watched the screen with excitement. He made a squeal of glee as he saw the reply box pop up.
It may be possible, Jack Spicer. His pen pal replied.
He grinned. You think so, Chase? He typed out, one of his hands straying off to grab the large plastic take-out cup filled with a highly caffeinated soda pop. He took a sip of the sugary drink through the wild neon green bendy straw and placed it back down on the coaster next to his favorite novels. He sent the message instantly.
The reply was fast. Faster than the Internet centered boy was expecting.
… As I stated before: yes, I do…
The male's smile faltered, his eyes looking down slightly. I'm sorry I annoyed you. He typed out, sending it quickly in hopes to repair the damage he had done.
He yawned again and looked down at the blank screen.
The box popped up instantly, surprising the boy. He nearly fell out of his chair.
It is fine, Spicer. I understand. You are still sixteen of age; excitement is understandable.
He clicked his music player off repeat and stared down at the keyboard. He didn't know how to reply.
Thanks for being so understanding. He clicked send without even a second glance.
The response took a few minutes, but it did arrive.
You should get some sleep; it's late where you live. Young men should get sleep, and you have not.
The boy rolled his eyes. But I just took some Trucker pills! I'm wide-awake! He sent it and took a slow drag from his drink.
You really shouldn't do that, Spicer. At your age, you are susceptible to becoming addicted to them. His e-pal replied.
He cracked a smile and stared down at his keyboard with slight fondness. Whatever.
The two had continued to chat for over three hours before his e-pal, going by the cover name of Chase Young, had told him that he had to do something important and had to sign off.
The boy was reluctant to say good-bye but he did. Now the boy with badly dyed red hair and red colored contacts had nothing else to do while he was still on his alert high.
The boy frowned and spun his computer chair around several times before he forced his sock covered feet to the floor to stop the spinning.
His pen pal had known him by the name of Jack Spicer. It was not his real name, but when he first started Internet conversations when he was ten the name was simply too good to resist. He had been using it ever since. And anyway, Gary Hult was such an ugly name. Once he was old enough, he was going to change his name.
The boy stood up and walked out of the darkened room and down the empty hall. He maneuvered through the dark halls with skill, his eyes used to the dark even though he was sitting in front of the computer for such a long time. He ran his willowy fingers through his hair and padded through his cold kitchen. He stepped into the living room and down the hall once again. He took a turn and stopped in front of a regular wooden door. He opened it and stepped within the small room, his fingers wrapping around the small metal string and turning on the lights as he went by. He sighed in relief and walked down the steps and into his garage. His body shivered as a chill ran up from his bare feet to his warm back, chilling him slightly before his body heated up instantly. He sat down in front of a large metal desk and stared down at the small robotic creature on the counter top. He picked it up and smiled at its small face.
He always did seem to be good at creating things. Sculpting metal was not his specialty yet, but he understood, with great detail, the complexities of wiring and programming and even hacking. Anything of an electrical sort was his skill. He was decent at carving wood (much more skill towards wood than towards metal) but only used his wood carving skills to make artwork: very bad artwork, in his opinion.
Jack scratched his head and set the small robot down and pulled a screwdriver over to him. He lifted it, angling it towards the small humanoid and plunging in down and started to work. After he finished retightening the screws, he pushed the small driver to the side and pulled his favorite goggles out of his pocket and slipped them over his eyes.
He had bought them on an auction site. The lenses were yellow in color, but he could see through them perfectly while light didn't reflect through them at all. And even with the dark swirls designed on the surface of the lens, he could still see through them perfectly without the annoying swirl getting in the way of his vision. Whoever had made them was a genius in design.
He slipped several bits of metal over towards his body and grabbed his portable blowtorch over to him too. He smiled and turned the torch on; the bright blue flame it created made him excited. He pulled the small piece of metal on the backside of the robots exposed insides and placed it ever so gently so it covered part of the gapping hole. He lowered the torch, his exposed fingertips just the right length away so that he wouldn't be burned, and started to melt the two slabs of metal together so that they stuck on pretty much permanently.
The boy worked the rest of his hours of forced wake finishing his small robot. Welding, smoothing, polishing, and testing: everything. He finally turned off his blowtorch and set it aside. He stared down at his neatly polished and fully functional tiny robot with a proud smile. Once he built up the courage to ask Chase Young if it were okay to meet with him; he'd have to show his friend his invention. Along with the many other ones he had stashed away.
He fell asleep at his work desk that night, the lights still on.
---
His dreams were always filled with blurs of gold, black, and reds; and vague words spat towards him. There were hazy faces, ones with outlines but no detail. He was almost positive that one of the outlines was female, considering its long hair. But he couldn't be sure, because another one, whose profile was obviously male's, had long hair too.
---
He woke up during midday and mock yawned. He grinned and slid away from his workspace. He merrily walked out of his lab, the lights clicking off with one graceful pull of the metal string, and into his kitchen. He pulled out a package of saltine crackers and cheese sticks and hurried to his bedroom. He slid into his chair and looked at the blank screen.
His eyes bugged as he watched the response box pop up on the screen. He winced, his eyes watering. He forced his eyes open wide and gently pinched the colored lens. He pulled the colored contact out of his eye and pulled the small case over towards him and placed the contact inside gently. He did the same with his other contact lens. He blinked his gray-green eyes several times and turned his attention back to the computer monitor.
Good afternoon, Spicer. Chase wrote, I hope you received seven hours of sleep last night.
He shrugged to himself and started typing. More or less, yeah... What were you doing last night? He sent.
Tending to my jungle cats.
The boy laughed at this. That's what he liked about Chase; he had a sense of humor.
Yeah, and I was ruling the world! He added several 'laugh faces' to show he was joking.
Hn…
Jack smiled. You really do seem familiar! It's crazy!
He munched on crackers and cheese for a good fifteen minutes before he was given a reply.
Do you believe in reincarnation, Spicer?
This took him aback. I never really thought about it, but yeah, I guess so.
There was another pause.
Would you like to meet?
His body quivered. His eyes were wide. YES! He sent it as fast as he could.
Good. Shall we meet, per say, at four today at that small café at the corner of Elm and Bay Street?
Of course!
---
Jack had spent the three hours he had to get ready. He cleaned his contacts and placed them back in, making his eyes flash red (his personal favorite color.) He spent a good half hour trying to figure out what to wear, and ended up wearing all black. After all, he wanted to stay pale and pasty like he originally was. A long sleeve black shirt, long black pants, heavy boots, fingerless leather gloves, and his favorite goggles (which he had forgotten to take off.) He left his music player on his desk, just so he wouldn't be rude. He gathered up several of his smaller inventions and placed them neatly in his backpack (normal polyfiber and golden in color.) The buckles on his boots and belt were also golden in color.
Gold, black, and red: his three favorite colors. And also the main theme colors in his reoccurring dreams.
By the time Jack was finished, his dark liquid eyeliner on the tips of his lids, he was about ten minutes late. By the time he was out the door, he was fifteen minutes late. And by the time he made it to the quaint little café, named Le Mime (which made him lift a brow at how creepy yet familiar it was,) he was a good thirty minutes late.
He hoped Chase wouldn't be too angry with him.
The café was actually very busy, to his great surprise. But busy with dark figures, people with menacing eyes and sharp smiles. All of the eyes pointed to him, making him fell a rush of fear and anxiety, but for only a few seconds.
Jack gulped harshly and looked around the café, searching for 'Chase Young'. His dark red eyes landed on a figure sitting calmly in the far corner, his hand held up and gracefully motioning towards him to come over. His lips burst in a large, white smile and he rushed over towards the small table for two. He took a seat quickly.
"Hi Chase!" He said in a skirl.
"Hello, Spicer." The young man greeted back in a calm and cold tone.
He felt a spiral of excitement at the man's demeanor. The man was just so awesome! His imitation red eyes sparkled with hero worship as he continued to look at the man. His young but prominent features, his long dark hair that fit him perfectly, and his sharp golden eyes that seemed almost reptilian. He fit the form of Chase Young well.
"I've read about Chase Young in textbooks. You fit him well!" Jack piped, "Even though I've never seen a picture of him (not even an illustration), I'm pretty sure he'd look a lot like you! Wow, Chase, you chose the best name to go by!" His eyes continued to sparkle with thrill.
"Indeed," The man muttered, his eyes looking Jack up and down, his mind seeming to be elsewhere.
"Hay, Chase, ya wanna see some of my inventions?" Jack asked, his voice high in minority and loud.
The man sitting across from him seemed to snap out of his thoughts and shot a hand over the boy's mouth, startling him. "Quiet!" He ordered.
Jack shrank back, nodded franticly, and let out a sigh of relief once Chase's hand was pulled away.
"You must keep your voice down, Spicer." Chase warned in a low voice, "You shouldn't attract unwanted attention." With that, he motioned to the number of people within the café that were watching him.
He nodded again quickly, "Okay, okay," He said in a whisper.
"Good, Spicer. Now, what about inventions?" He inquired.
Jack instantly perked at this. He pulled his backpack off of his shoulders and opened the main pouch. He pulled out his favorite little robot and set it on the table. He pulled out several guns and other contraptions as well. His smile was smug as he looked at Chase.
The man picked up the small robot and observed it, his olive colored fingers feeling the polished metal gently. "Is this all?" He asked.
Jack shook no, "No way! I have much bigger stuff at home!" He gloated.
"Hmm, alright." He placed the small humanoid down and picked up one of the guns, "What, may I ask, does this do?"
He grinned a wide grin again, "That's a particle gun! It collects the stray particles in the air and forces them into pure energy again. Afterwards, it releases that burst of pure energy in ray form! It can melt pretty much anything!"
Chase placed the gun down gently, a small spark shown in his eyes.
If Jack didn't know better, he could have sworn Chase was proud of him.
"These are weapons, Spicer. What are your goals for the future?" Chase Young asked him, his left eyebrow raised.
His pale cheeks flushed a light pink as he averted his gaze. "You're going to make fun of me… But, I want to take over the world."
The space between the two stayed silent. And then, there was laughter. It was more of a chuckle rather than a full-blown laugh, but it still made Jack cringe.
"I knew you'd make fun of me." He muttered in melancholy.
Chase stopped and sneered at him, "I was not laughing at you, Spicer. I was just thinking about a deceased friend. You remind me of him, very much so." He mused.
"Oh, I see." He lifted his eyes up again and smiled once more.
Chase stood up and straightened his shirt, "Well, it seems to be time for me to go. I will not be on later, Spicer, so try to get something decent to eat. You look like a hungry dog." He advised. He straightened out his shirt once more and looked down at the albino looking boy. "Good-bye."
Jack shot out of his chair quickly, "B-Bye Chase!" He said in a high voice, waving his thin hand at him quickly.
"Hn," He stepped out of the café and turned towards the right and out of view.
Jack frowned and looked around the darkened café. He spotted the mime working the register and shivered. He quickly packed his things and made his escape from the café.