This is the second installment of my story "System Crash". I am glad to have received some input and reviews on the first chapter, they are appreciated! Sorry for the crappy update speed, but in my defense I've been away from technology for the past while.
Disclaimer:
Me: Give me Digimon!
Owners: NO!
Me: please?
Frustration is a marvelous thing, it can give us a reason to become angry, it can prompt us to hate life as we know it, but it can also make us feel really good about ourselves. In elaboration: if you get really frustrated and ticked, how much better will you feel when you overcome it? I know I felt good after the ninth try . . .
The Game Sim screen flickered back to life after I pressed the retry button for the eighth time, making this my ninth game. I had started out with an exceptionally bad hand, and had almost been annihilated twice before the computer had decided to make its last run; do or die time. I was allowed one draw before the automated opponent sent its Digimon down the track, their pixel version of Angemon charging with his golden bowstaff raised, poised at my pixel sprite of Renamon as she was getting into a guarding position. I put down my own set of cards in response. Power and Wargreymon's shield activate! She laced her arms together and a great hexagonal shield embossed with the courage crest appeared and latched onto them. She stood ready, one leg braced behind the other, shield held high in anticipation to the oncoming attack. Angemon's onslaught of destructive jabs and smacks collided with the shield, energy rippling to the sides as it broke against my modify.
Even with the power card, Renamon was beginning to fail; the shield of chrome-digizoid slowly lowering with her fatigue. It's not enough! I decided, looking to see that my Digimon was beginning to take damage, 45 hp . . . 38 . . . 35. I looked to the screen's corner, noticing that the card draw button was flashing. I frantically clicked down on the blinking icon, watching as the picture of my drawn card shown in the corner with my hand, 26 hp . . . 23. I pulled up the card on the LCD and immediately recognized the picture, 14 hp . . . 9. I double clicked on the card and the screen showed a two second animation of it being swiped and read, 4 . . . 1! SYSTEM CRASH! Angemon's strength and speed dropped harshly as his modifies were stripped from him and destroyed, Renamon easily dodged his next attack and retaliated with one of her own. Power Paw! she drew back her right fist, the shield still attached, and slammed it into Angemon's face. With the strength of the power card and the hardness of Wargreymon's shield the flaming punch collided with her enemy's iron mask like a hammer, desecrating his holy demeanor and replacing it with that of a shattered urn. His cartoon depicted form flickered like a TV screen on drugs before he broke apart completely, disintegrating into a great mist of individual pixels of blue and white. VICTORY!
At first I was astounded, watching the screen fade into blue with the word "WINNER" etched across it and half expecting someone to jump out screaming "fooled you!". Little animated confetti sprinkled down from the top, cascading in vibrant and glinting colors. It was about then that my mind rebooted and gained a grip on reality. I had won. For the first time in two years, I had won. At first there was a nervous and questioning tingle in my gut, then a warmth running up my spine, and finally a burst of defiant pride in my chest. I had WON! I soon learned what a happy dance was as I started to whoop and prance in circles with my arms flailing in glory, expertly demonstrating what I had never done before. Other people were beginning to look at me funny out of the corners of my vision, but I didn't care. I finally defeated my foe, and that was all that counted.
I stopped my celebration, still laughing giddily as I jammed down on the card return button. The machine rumbled for a moment before my deck popped out of the slot from whence I had laid it with an airy Thmmp! I jovially scooped the cards up and stuffed them in my bag, not even bothering to close the lid on my card tin inside. I practically skipped to the doors, people giving me the "okay . . . you're crazy . . ." look as I passed by. I yanked at one of the double doors and it didn't budge, giving a clinking sound instead. I pulled once more, harder this time, there was a grinding click this time. I huffed in frustration before looking the door over, realizing an embarrassing truth after a quick survey. It was a push door . . . oops. Once outside I looked up to realize that the sky was a billowing gray and great droplets of semi-clean rainwater were diving from the clouds above. Oh great! my good mood was dampened by the furious deluge. I didn't waste much time wallowing there, the rain was cold, jogging along the sidewalk and wondering where Kete had run off to.
I was particularly soaked when I found myself standing at the door to my family's apartment, which was odd because the arcade was more or less closer to home than school. Goes to show what a good downpour can do. Mental note: do not underestimate nature! I decided as I scuffed my feet off on the door mat, pulling the key from my waterlogged pants and sliding it into the lock. I was about to twist when the door came flying open, thank heaven it opens inward, revealing the form of my worried mom. Her green eyes were wide with anxiety, but her brow soon furrowed as she gave me the look-down.
"Where have you been young man!" she asked sharply, a tone that she often used when she was either ticked or worried; I hoped that it was the latter of the two this time. She had a ladle in one hand, implying that she was practicing one of her most deadly habits: cooking. I looked in at the front room of our apartment, peering through a doorway and taking full notice of a strange goop bubbling in a pan on the stove. Seriously mom?
"I . . . I was down at the arcade with Kete." why was she making such a big deal about this? Ooooh . . . "What time is it?" I asked sheepishly, realizing that the clouds weren't the only reason it was darker out.
"It's a quarter after six! What could you possibly be doing at an arcade for that long?" it was true, when I went on an excursion to the town's arcade I was usually back in no time; one loss at the card tables would send me trudging back home on any other day. But today was different, today I had broken my losing streak!
"I got distracted . . ." I replied, looking away as I did so. Mom didn't know about my "problem" and I intended to keep it that way, knowing that she would go into one of those obscenely long talks about letting things like that go. She sighed and then ushered me into the house, telling me to take my shoes off in the doorway; like I didn't already know that.
"Dry yourself off, and when you get back mom need's some help in the kitchen." she admitted it! She knew that she stunk at culinary art and yet she would do it anyway! I internally sighed at the prospect, she could at least try to understand what she does wrong. I trudged through the front room, where dad was sitting on his chair, giving him the thumbs up as I passed into the hall. The two of us had developed this form of sign language together, when I gave him that sign it really meant "I'll be back to fix dinner"; he would nod in confirmation, giving me a thankful grimace, he too knew full well the capabilities of mom's poison. No, I was the quartermaster here!
I trudged into the dark of my room, not even caring to flick on the light. I tossed my backpack on the bed, water noticeably dripping as it landed; I instantly recalled the precious cargo inside, dread welling up inside of me. My bag was soaked, what would that do to my cards! I jumped to the bedside, my fingers fumbling quickly at the zipper, angry at my own stupidity for not putting the card's in their case, now they'd be ruined! I tipped the whole pack, letting its contents spew out, and started scrambling through the mess that had been deposited on my bed. I raked through the mess, combing out any card that could be found in the semi-darkness. Where was it? The Renamon card, the breaker of my losing streak, where was it! I desperately spread the pile out, seeking out any card that had previously eluded me and frantically looking their names over. I looked over the whole rabble of school supply again; two were missing. A misplaced speck of hardware green stood out to me, relief flooding my senses, it was the color of a Digimon card. I pinched the corner and tenderly slid the priceless piece of paper from its hiding place, nestled between the pages of my textbook, and looked at its face. Chibimon . . . I was disappointed beyond belief, realizing that my own reaction disappointed me as well; I had abandoned my project for the strongest rookie there could be? And so easily? No, this wasn't right, where was my ambition, how was I proving that the weak could be strong by choosing the already strong? I wasn't proving anything!
I gently laid the cards on the flat surface of my desk in the corner; some were drenched beyond repair, others just moistened around the edges, and then there were the few that had taken refuge in the few places that the rain hadn't reached. I counted, finding an error, and recounted. I had never found Renamon's card, yet there was definitely an even seventy two whereas there should have been seventy one. I looked over each card, trying to find the one that didn't belong, and my eyes rested on a card that was not a card. I picked up the odd paper and held it up to my eyes, squinting in the dark, it was the exact same shape as a playing card but shined with a sapphire sheen in the dull shading of my room. What in the world . . .
"You changed yet!" my mom called from outside my closed door, making me jump as all the tension in the air was obliterated. I clumsily put the card down and flew into a furious dash to get dry clothes on.
"Uh-yeah, I-I'm almost done." I stuttered back, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute on a ten speed bike. After redressing in record time I walked briskly out of my room, the card put aside but by no means forgotten. Upon entering the kitchen I noticed two things, one was that the iffy black goo had darkened (if possible) further, and secondly that my mom was slicing up what looked like a stick of cinnamon with a butter knife.
"Mom . . . what recipe is this?" I asked bluntly and rudely, knowing the answer from many years of experience.
"We didn't have all the ingredients, so I improvised . . ."
It is official, this is filler for the next chapter! It's the appearance of the mighty blue card, foreshadow foreshadow foreshadow. I promise that the next chapter will be a bit more exciting. Please review with any ideas for the story, because I have not worked out the full plot and as such have updated rather slowly, or just review with feedback as to whether the story is worth finishing.