Cyrus fainted. He hadn't slept for over a month. He was brought to an
infirmary where he was quickly observed and given a supply of pills. They
were anti-sleep pills; he would get a good amount of energy without having
the need for sleep. He was to take them for 3 days, once before each
battle. Cyrus couldn't remember ever feeling sick in his life. He stared
down at the orange-plastic pill container and shook it a little. He was
gently but impatiently pushed out of the infirmary as another orb gave him
his new game information. He ignored it and silently walked down the small
corridor, reading the fine print on his pills.
He was standing in the transportation chamber but he couldn't remember what for. "Oh yeah!" He thought, "Another fight…" He couldn't remember the room number the orb told him. He couldn't remember how long he had been standing idly in the room. He looked down at his thin LCD wristband. All he had to do was tap it and it would show his assigned room number. It would also send a message to his account office where a penalty would be added for his forgetfulness. He struggled to remember the number. He was loosing to many fights to afford a penalty. He knew he wouldn't last to live another month of fighting. They would surely kill him. He tapped the band and the numbers 209683 appeared. Someone stepped up to him.
"Hi"
"Huh?" Cyrus mumbled
"It's me doofus" Jokingly insulted the stranger.
Cyrus looked up "Oh, hey. I haven't seen you in a long time" It was Rynn. Rynn had met Cyrus when they were both just entering adult tournaments. They had stayed together with each other for the first day of preparation and soon found out their first match was against each other. He remembered playing with much enthusiasm and energy, no hate. Cyrus didn't remember who won. He didn't want to remember. The two never saw each other after the match.
"Goin' to a fight, huh?"
"Yeah I just came from the infirmary. I fainted in a battle, lack of sleep"
"How ya' feelin'?" Rynn asked. He still looked just as energetic as he was that first battle.
"I'm fine, how 'bout you?"
"I'm great." Of course he was. Cyrus remembered seeing his rank on the board and it was pretty high. How can you feel bad when you know death is at bay because you're good at Pong.
The transport cart wheeled up along the track and Rynn got on. "Well see ya'" Rynn said, speeding away. Cyrus scolded himself, "I'm going to be so late."
Cyrus walked into the room with the knowledge of his fault on his face. An observer bot extended from the wall towards him. "YOU ARE THREE MATCHES LATE! GET YOUR SUIT ON. YOU'LL BE DOING AN EXTRA MATCH NOW!"
Cyrus entered the small prep room and pulled on his leg pieces, chest piece, arm pieces, and helmet. He tightened his gloves and tapped the palm jewel on and off to test it. He remembered the pills, pulled them off the bench and swallowed one. He felt an amazing refreshment of energy. He felt as if he just woke from a hundred year sleep. He took another one. "This is not going to be good for me. But who the f--- cares. If I don't die from these they'll just kill me anyway" He tipped the pill case back and swallowed the whole mess of them. "GET OUT HERE NOW!" The observer called. He walked out to see the observer quickly retract into the wall and his impatient glowing opposition at the other end. The all-to familiar logo faded onto the field.
He closed his eyes until he heard the feint hum of the ball forming in the center of the arena. It jetted toward his enemy who vigilantly reflected it back. Cyrus looked down at his jeweled palms and felt the energy rush going through him. He looked up and saw the ball. Closer. Closer. Closer. Stop. It hit Cyrus's wall. He didn't put any effort into deflecting it. It formed in between his palms with a hum. He threw his arm back, ready to launch the ball and realized this was the only chance he had. He had no reason, but then again, there was no reason not to. He ran towards his enemy. The stadium speakers started humming. "WARNING WARNING WARNING PADDLE UNIT APPROACHING BARRIER." He saw his rival looking in confusion. As he neared the center of the field he could see the barrier he never looked for. It was a force that ran from end to end and was extremely glossy. Like a super-fine polished piece of glass. He ran at it with all his speed. The speakers grew louder. The ball clung to his hand with the help of an anti-gravitation field. The 1-foot ball caused him to run slightly awkward but he would need it for his scheme. The pong ball was the only matter that could pass through the barrier. He was feet away from the barricade. He thought about the energy, the anger, the power, the sleep, and the hate. He dove at the wall and slammed his hand at it with all the physical force he could ever use. The wall shattered into billions, all the way down the field. Cyrus landed on his left shoulder as the balled bounced up, realigned its altitude and shit in a random direction. Cyrus could not believe what he had just done. If he were in a movie he would get up, look around, and think about what just happened. But instead he immediately got up running; with the same amount of force he had been, at his challenger, who still stood in shock and total puzzlement. Cyrus tackled him with great strength, flying the both of them into the wall three feet ahead. Cyrus planted himself upon his prey's chest and began punching at his face with his armored glove. Cyrus didn't know him. Cyrus didn't know why he was beating the ever-loving crap out of him. All he knew was that this was a hell of a lot better than Pong. He swung his fist over and over while holding him down with the other hand. A guard bot shot out of the wall and fired a single bullet right below the back of Cyrus's neck.
Cyrus fell. He was in ultimate ecstasy. He lay paralyzed in his victim's blood whom was currently moaning very loudly. Cyrus knew only one of two good things could happen now. He would either die or be taken to the infirmary. He didn't know why either were so great but thinking about them brought him great happiness.
He was standing in the transportation chamber but he couldn't remember what for. "Oh yeah!" He thought, "Another fight…" He couldn't remember the room number the orb told him. He couldn't remember how long he had been standing idly in the room. He looked down at his thin LCD wristband. All he had to do was tap it and it would show his assigned room number. It would also send a message to his account office where a penalty would be added for his forgetfulness. He struggled to remember the number. He was loosing to many fights to afford a penalty. He knew he wouldn't last to live another month of fighting. They would surely kill him. He tapped the band and the numbers 209683 appeared. Someone stepped up to him.
"Hi"
"Huh?" Cyrus mumbled
"It's me doofus" Jokingly insulted the stranger.
Cyrus looked up "Oh, hey. I haven't seen you in a long time" It was Rynn. Rynn had met Cyrus when they were both just entering adult tournaments. They had stayed together with each other for the first day of preparation and soon found out their first match was against each other. He remembered playing with much enthusiasm and energy, no hate. Cyrus didn't remember who won. He didn't want to remember. The two never saw each other after the match.
"Goin' to a fight, huh?"
"Yeah I just came from the infirmary. I fainted in a battle, lack of sleep"
"How ya' feelin'?" Rynn asked. He still looked just as energetic as he was that first battle.
"I'm fine, how 'bout you?"
"I'm great." Of course he was. Cyrus remembered seeing his rank on the board and it was pretty high. How can you feel bad when you know death is at bay because you're good at Pong.
The transport cart wheeled up along the track and Rynn got on. "Well see ya'" Rynn said, speeding away. Cyrus scolded himself, "I'm going to be so late."
Cyrus walked into the room with the knowledge of his fault on his face. An observer bot extended from the wall towards him. "YOU ARE THREE MATCHES LATE! GET YOUR SUIT ON. YOU'LL BE DOING AN EXTRA MATCH NOW!"
Cyrus entered the small prep room and pulled on his leg pieces, chest piece, arm pieces, and helmet. He tightened his gloves and tapped the palm jewel on and off to test it. He remembered the pills, pulled them off the bench and swallowed one. He felt an amazing refreshment of energy. He felt as if he just woke from a hundred year sleep. He took another one. "This is not going to be good for me. But who the f--- cares. If I don't die from these they'll just kill me anyway" He tipped the pill case back and swallowed the whole mess of them. "GET OUT HERE NOW!" The observer called. He walked out to see the observer quickly retract into the wall and his impatient glowing opposition at the other end. The all-to familiar logo faded onto the field.
He closed his eyes until he heard the feint hum of the ball forming in the center of the arena. It jetted toward his enemy who vigilantly reflected it back. Cyrus looked down at his jeweled palms and felt the energy rush going through him. He looked up and saw the ball. Closer. Closer. Closer. Stop. It hit Cyrus's wall. He didn't put any effort into deflecting it. It formed in between his palms with a hum. He threw his arm back, ready to launch the ball and realized this was the only chance he had. He had no reason, but then again, there was no reason not to. He ran towards his enemy. The stadium speakers started humming. "WARNING WARNING WARNING PADDLE UNIT APPROACHING BARRIER." He saw his rival looking in confusion. As he neared the center of the field he could see the barrier he never looked for. It was a force that ran from end to end and was extremely glossy. Like a super-fine polished piece of glass. He ran at it with all his speed. The speakers grew louder. The ball clung to his hand with the help of an anti-gravitation field. The 1-foot ball caused him to run slightly awkward but he would need it for his scheme. The pong ball was the only matter that could pass through the barrier. He was feet away from the barricade. He thought about the energy, the anger, the power, the sleep, and the hate. He dove at the wall and slammed his hand at it with all the physical force he could ever use. The wall shattered into billions, all the way down the field. Cyrus landed on his left shoulder as the balled bounced up, realigned its altitude and shit in a random direction. Cyrus could not believe what he had just done. If he were in a movie he would get up, look around, and think about what just happened. But instead he immediately got up running; with the same amount of force he had been, at his challenger, who still stood in shock and total puzzlement. Cyrus tackled him with great strength, flying the both of them into the wall three feet ahead. Cyrus planted himself upon his prey's chest and began punching at his face with his armored glove. Cyrus didn't know him. Cyrus didn't know why he was beating the ever-loving crap out of him. All he knew was that this was a hell of a lot better than Pong. He swung his fist over and over while holding him down with the other hand. A guard bot shot out of the wall and fired a single bullet right below the back of Cyrus's neck.
Cyrus fell. He was in ultimate ecstasy. He lay paralyzed in his victim's blood whom was currently moaning very loudly. Cyrus knew only one of two good things could happen now. He would either die or be taken to the infirmary. He didn't know why either were so great but thinking about them brought him great happiness.