See this is why I love the Cyberchase community. Even though it's a minute fandom, the people are so lovable and loyal, they always appreciate new fics and give meaningful reviews.
Just so you guys know, I respond to ALL reviews that I get, so don't forget to send one(;
Replies:
leanna . urena1—Thank you! I just hope it STAYS exciting! I tried to do this story before and the plot just never ended up happening until like chapter 10. So finally I was like… "Oh hecks nahh"…and decided to start over with a new character and new plot. I hope you like it!
Daisyfan5534—Hey, hey, hey! *winks* I remember youuuuu! What's up girlfriend, I hope your hand is better! And thank you! Hopefully this rewrite will go better…and AHH THANK YOU! I actually can't believe you think it's more to the point! I. never. ever. write. where we get to the point. Ever. So to me, that was like the best compliment in the world. If you ever read my fic One Hundred Days, you will see my point. And I haven't gotten to it(; SO THANK YOU. I will log that away and recall it to mind when I need encouragement to write 'proficiently'. Hehe, so yeah, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
KawaiiStella—Psst…nudge-nudge..*whispers* I remember you too. Hiya! Yes suspense is nice. Suspense is good for da soul. I'm glad left you wanting much more. THAT is my purpose. And yes! I love boy names for girls too! I really hope you like this story (preferably over the other one). So MUAHAHAHA, let's get on with it.
Disclaimer: Me no ownz Cyberchase. But if I did…I would have never let it end.
Cap Up: Carson is just a city girl with family issues, behavioral problems, an attitude, and a bit of a Brooklyn accent. Having begun to loathe school after going through a "bad girl" streak, she finds a forgotten piece of her life coming back to haunt her with a single email.
Chapter Two: Mission
November First, Two-Thousand and Twelve
Not knowing where the word came from buried deep inside of her hidden, abandoned memories, almost inaudibly Carson breathed, the ticking progressively resounding clearer,
"M.B."
After several grueling seconds of awkward silence, the air hanging like invisible smog in the computer room, Carson finally seemed to snap out of her prolonged daze.
Coming out of her shock she waved her hand dismissively, eyes wide and still glazed over she mumbled faintly,"Sorry, I just—saw—just…yeah,"
Students and Computer Applications' teacher continues to stare. The tips of Carson's ears tinged red. Getting annoyed Carson blared, "Well! Get back to work!"
Obediently, everyone carried on with their assignments, picking up where they left off, not daring to challenge the tiny yet strangely intimidating young woman, and the space became once more a medley of assorted clicks and keyboard taps.
Carson nodded, satisfied. Blinking languidly, she slowly lowered herself back into her gray rolling chair, having yet to believe what she had witnessed. Giving a harsh swallow, she hesitantly wrapped her shaky hand upon the mouse and moved the pointer over to the blue taskbar where Windows Media Player was sleeping, waiting for her.
Carson moaned, partially in fear and partially in anticipation, unaware of what she will soon be hearing about from the distant world that for so long she had put off from her mind.
Taking a precautionary sweep of the surrounding area with her eyes to see that she was unobserved, Carson turned the monitor towards her and restored the video. On the window's reappearance, she was once again taken aback by the memorable scene. There was the familiar older woman's boxy face surrounded by the surging violet vortex in the background.
Trying to stay composed, Carson smiled. I haven't forgotten you Motherboard.
Turning up the volume a tad bit more so that she would be able to hear, she reinserted the earphones in her ears, feeling tears beginning to form behind her eyes as she graciously granted herself the ability to reminisce. She could see Matt, Jackie, Inez, and herself racing go-karts on R-Fair-City and swimming along on the coastlines of Tikiville.
Carson relaxed the tensed muscles in her face to allow one warm tear to escape the barrier and wiped it away before anyone could see it or before it fell onto the keyboard and shorted it out.
Her smiled widened as she echoed softly with a sniff, "Greetings young Cybermate…" ,certain that's exactly what she would say. Carson clicked play and tuned into the smooth sound of Motherboards' cool, digitalized voice—
"Greetings young Cybermate."
Carson gave a knowing smirk.
"After all this time, there is yet again turmoil in Cyberspace. But before I explain, I will recount the happenings of the past couple of days."
One of her eyebrows rose significantly higher than the other as she stared perplexed at the screen in front of her. She noticed there was no breakage or static in her tone as she spoke, which used to happen due to her virus that Hacker had given her long ago. Maybe something had happened.
Carson gritted her teeth. Hacker. That word that had vanished from her nightmares with time. It was here. It was back.
"Since you were last here, Hacker's attacks have been few and far between. So scarce they were ,in fact, as of two days ago, it had been an entire year since he wreaked havoc on any Cybersite."
Suddenly, a newsreel tickered across the screen of people dancing, singing, and partying on different sites, gathered around some large visual screen to watch the official commemoration in Control Central.
Carson whispered a tiny "yay" at the sight.
"There was a grand celebration throughout all of Cyberspace. Parties were held, gates and doors left opened, a seemingly beginning of a new period of peace. Yesterday, however, quite a peculiar pattern erupted. Hundreds of scrap vendors from all over began receiving strange calls requesting car, computer, and building parts and tools."
A cheesy recording of a shrilly,girly voice ordering 137 lots of hydraulic energy converters began to play.
Anyone with at least twenty-four percent of their brain could decipher that it was a gimmick.
As she was listening in comical disbelief, Carson scoffed. Yes, because normal little cyborg-ettes order complicated sub-car parts over the phone.
"Hacker is an eem-baceel." she muttered with a noticeable hint of a Creole on the final word.
Imbecile was one of Carson's favourite words. Except, of course, whenever her mother happened to scream it at her. It didn't just mean dumb, it meant someone whose brain operated severely below par, which, in her mind, was a perfect description in regards to Hacker's mental faculties.
Motherboard explained, "It was assumed that no doubt Hacker was unraveling some nefarious plot. I had sent Digit to the Northern Frontier to spy on him—"
A fuzzy taperecording of the Northern Frontier flickered on (As it was dropped several times, Digit was most likely holding the camera himself) as he sped up the runway to find the area had been absolutely empty, there was just enough sound in the clip to hear Digit gasp in his scruffy accent, "What...the...hyper-link—" to be followed by TV snow.
Motherboard continued,"The Grim Wreaker, the power grid, everything had been extensively evacuated from the Northern Frontier. Up to today, no one has any knowledge of where he is or where he could be. Of all of the mystery calls to the various warehouses, none have any recollection of a specific location."
A silent video of Digit interviewing numerous managers and workers appeared and the majority of the subjects had shaken their heads or shrugged their shoulders at his questions.
"It is not certain how the parts were delivered without an address. But it is assured that he must be hiding."
A photograph of a newspaper headline spun around and popped up titled: HACKER'S GONE MISSING! – The Search is On!
"Countless relations of power surges and outages have been reported on quite a number a cybersites including Control Central. Causing traffic jams, loss of accounts throughout stocks and important businesses, server disconnections, bank failures, and many other problems."
Accompanying photos proved such to be true.
"Hacker needs to be found, what he is planning with the hundreds of parts he's suddenly ordered has to be discovered, and then stopped from doing so."
A knot weaved itself into Carson's stomach.
"We need YOU to do it. Hacker has been quiet for a very long time, whatever he is building could be more dangerous than ever. I know it has been years since any of you have done missions like this. Nonetheless, Cyberspace needs you. You are our only hope."
The video seemed to stop, but then unexpectedly it flickered on again.
"And Connor, if you are watching this, know that we understand if you cannot come and assist us. But if you are capable of doing so, we will be elated to welcome you back."
The screen went black.
The bell rang. The end of third period.
Carson stared into the dark void. She didn't know what to do.
There was a pause. Her Cinderella watch continued to tick.
Closing Windows Media Player and signing out of Yahoo! rather absent-mindedly, she logged out of the computer and gathered her things. Ripping out a loose leaf paper from her folder, Carson scribbled something on the end of it, tore off the piece and stuffed it in her pocket.
Straightening out her maroon leather jacket and slinging her bright yellow knapsack over her shoulder, Carson ambled across the laboratory.
Again being the last to depart, Mrs. Thornton, the teacher, enquired, with a bit of concern on her tongue, "Did you do any of your projects in class, Connor Carson?"
Even though she always used her first name, she did happen to be one of the few teachers Carson liked.
Ashamed and not even giving the woman a second glance Carson sighed dismally, fleeing out of the door, "No, sorry Mrs. Thornton I didn't, but I have a strange feeling I won't be doing them later today either."
And with that she vanished.
Marching hurriedly down the hallway against the flow of rushing students, Carson bumped into one of her friends, one of her closest.
Shannon Lange was her name. Thin, pale, with chestnut coloured eyes and curly brown hair that she always wore in a ponytail, she stood about not much taller than Carson. Her mother was from Albania, so naturally she had this effortless European beauty.
Having a poignant interest in musical theater, she was wearing her favorite Les Mis T-shirt and skinny jeans, finishing it out with her infamous neon orange converse.
"Coming to lunch, Carse?" Shannon called expectantly, noticing she was heading in the opposite direction of the Cafeteria.
Carson said nothing, only stuffed the piece of loose-leaf in Shannon's hand, gave her a look of urgency with her dark brown eyes, and continued on her way without stopping.
Feeling a bit blown off, Shannon squinted sceptically at the small disappearing figure and then at crumpled wad that had been forced into her palm.
Uncurling the paper, her visage of suspicion transformed into that of curiosity as she squeezed through the currents of students in the hallways and eventually into the safety of the lunchroom.
As Shannon plopped down into her seat closest to the windows of Public School Seventy-Two cafeteria, Rachel, Carson's other friend, who was tall, lean, and blonde with a pleasant attitude , leaned across the table to scour what she was looking at.
"What's that Shannon?" Rachel piped up inquisitively, taking her seat vertically from her and setting down her lunch tray.
"Note from Carson," she answered, waving the torn paper in the air.
"Ooh lemme read it," she said anxiously, grappling for it.
They opened it together with prying hands and, in response, chary frowns spread across both faces.
The note read: txt me. trouble.
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