Gotcha!
By: Meghan
Author’s Note: Roeboot once said that
accents are very hard to write. She ain’t kidding. The time scale isn’t
exactly a picnic to figure out, either. I have a cycle set as a day, but
the characters also say day or night instead of cycle; but since they do that
on the show anyway, I figured it was okay. :) I would rate this somewhere
between G and PG for some mild swearing and brief innuendo. Enjoy!
Time
Scale
Nanosecond: one second
Microsecond: one minute
Millisecond: one hour
Cycle: one day
Week: um, one week (Sorry, I couldn’t think of a better word)
Minute: one month
Hour: one year
Part One: Motivation
“I’m
sitting here as fast as I can!” - David Letterman
“I
am so bored.” Matrix, sitting sideways on the bench, leaned his head back
against the diner window. “Where’s a game cube when you need one?”
“Oh,
quit complaining.” Bob had his head resting on the back of the opposite
bench, staring up at the ceiling. “At least things are back to normal.”
“If
you can call it that.” Matrix looked over to where Enzo was lying on the
bar, much to Cecil’s dismay. In the minutes since Mainframe had
restarted, Matrix had grown to accept his young counterpart. One might
even say that he had gotten fond of him, though not many would say that within
the cadet’s range of hearing. While it was true that at first the little
Sprite had served only to remind Matrix of how weak he had thought himself to be,
he had lately been thinking of him as a little brother, and as a result had
become pretty protective of him. The younger Enzo, for his part, just
liked having someone else around to roughhouse with. Right now, though,
the normally hyper Sprite looked about as enthused as the other two men
felt. All three let out a simultaneous sigh.
“What
do you want to do?” Bob asked.
“I
don’t know. What do you want to do?”
Enzo
waved away an increasingly agitated Cecil. “Please get down,” the
server pleaded. “Zis looks terrible to zee customers!”
“What’s
the matter, Cecil? He’s ‘waiting at the bar’, isn’t he?” Bob had
always enjoyed teasing Cecil. Unfortunately, even that wasn’t enough to
kill the current air of boredom. Cecil, instead of responding, fixed the
Guardian with an icy stare. Just you wait, he thought. Some cycle
his opportunity would come, and then he’d shut that know-it-all Guardian up but
good. Comforted by this thought, he resumed his pestering of the young
Sprite.
Enzo
simply ignored him. “Man, this is basic. There’s gotta be some way
to have fun around here.”
“Jetbowling?”
Bob suggested half-heartedly.
“Nah,”
the two Enzos replied in unison.
“Vectorball?”
“Uh-uh.”
Bob
gazed absentmindedly toward the back of the diner. “Didn’t Dot say she
needed someone to clean out the basement of this place?”
Matrix
raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?” The younger Enzo just
stared in amazement.
“Hey,
at least I’m trying. I don’t hear you two coming up with any ideas.
Where are the girls, anyway?”
Matrix
shrugged. “AndrAIa said something about getting Dot away from her work
for a while. They’re probably having a lot more fun than we are.”
Just then the sound of female laughter floated in from outside. Matrix looked
out the window; Dot, AndrAIa, and Mouse were headed for the diner. “Right
on cue,” he murmured. Nanoseconds later, the doors banged open as
Dot strode in, followed closely by Mouse and AndrAIa, the sources of the
laughter.
“That
is the last time I play vectorball with you two,” Dot said in mock anger,
leaning back against the bar.
“Oh,
come off it, Dot. You were havin’ fun and you know it,” retorted
Mouse.
“Yeah,
I was having fun -- until you two ganged up on me!”
“Dot,
you were kicking our bitmaps. We had to beat you somehow!” AndrAIa
said, trying in vain to plead their case.
“It
was supposed to be every man for himself!”
Mouse
leaned against the bar next to her friend. “Sugah, Ah’m gonna let you in
on a little secret.” After a brief dramatic pause, she said: “we ain’t
men,” causing the other women to burst out laughing.
“Thank
the User for that, huh?” said AndrAIa between giggles. “Hi,
guys!” she called out cheerfully, finally taking notice of them.
“Hi,”
the trio said rather monotonously, not even bothering to look up.
The
women exchanged glances. “My, my, aren’t we energetic,” Dot
observed. “Enzo, get off the bar.” Enzo heaved an overly dramatic
sigh and slid to the floor. Cecil, seeing his precious bar was now free
of obstruction, moved in with the Windex. AndrAIa and Dot slid into the
booth next to their respective significant others, while Mouse elected to sit
on the table itself, resting her feet on the bench next to AndrAIa.
“So
what’s with you guys?” AndrAIa asked.
“Nothing
ever happens around here,” whined Enzo from the floor. “Anymore, I
mean,” he added as the group cast incredulous looks at him.
“The
kid’s got a point,” said Matrix. “I hate to say it, but ever since
we got rid of Daemon, it’s like nothing is exciting anymore. Even games
have gotten boring.”
“I
wouldn’t go that far,” said Bob with a smile. “But I know what you
mean. After all we went through, we can’t just pick up where we left
off. Normal life is bound to be a bit dull.”
“So
y’all want to shake things up, do ya?” Mouse said. “Ah think Ah
know a way.”
The
others looked at each other, then back at Mouse. “You want to explain
that?” Dot asked.
Mouse
smiled down at her friends. “Y’all want to restore some excitement to
this system, right? Sounds like what we need is a good old-fashioned
Gotcha game.”
“A
what game?” Enzo had risen from the floor and joined the others in the
booth.
“Gotcha.
Bob, Ah know you’ve heard of it. They used to set up a game for all
incoming cadets at the Academy.”
Bob
struggled to remember. “You mean Assassins?”
“That’s
another name for it, yeah.”
“This
doesn’t sound like a very good game,” Dot said.
“It’s
harmless, sugah. Just causes a little widespread paranoia.”
“How
do you play?” Matrix looked intrigued.
“It’s
simple. Everyone draws a name. Whoever ya draw is who ya have to
kill -- using a water pistol. It’s completely anonymous -- your victim
doesn’t know who’s after them until it’s too late.” She looked
around. Her friends were hanging on her every word. Mouse smirked,
clearly loving the attention, and continued. “There are a few safety
zones set up, but otherwise you’re vulnerable wherever ya go. The game
goes on day cycle and night cycle. Last man standin’ wins.”
There
was silence in the diner as she finished her explanation. Half a
microsecond went by -- then Enzo broke the silence. “Dude,” he
exclaimed. “We have to do that.”
“Don’t we need more people?” asked Bob.
“Ah’m
sure we can scare up some more. Ray’ll be back any cycle now, and Ah know
he’ll want in on it.” The surfer had been in a neighboring system for the
past week, keeping its Net trade going by stabilizing tears while the
Command.com replaced portal generators destroyed during the war with Daemon.
“Hack
and Slash will probably want to play,” said Dot.
“Oh,
not those two,” grumbled Matrix.
“It’ll
make them feel good to be included,” Dot said diplomatically.
“Besides, whoever they draw is pretty much guaranteed to win. They
couldn’t hunt someone down if their lives depended on it.”
A
few other names were mentioned -- Phong, Mr. Pearson (“Yeah, right!” Enzo
had scoffed) -- then AndrAIa said, “Hey, what about Hexadecimal?”
“I
don’t think she’d be into this kind of thing,” Dot said.
“Are
you kidding? It’s completely random. She’ll love it!” Bob
exclaimed. “Plus, it’ll make everyone really nervous,” he added
with a mischievous laugh.
“Yeah,
being hunted by an anonymous assailant isn’t nerve-wracking enough,” Dot
returned with a grin.
“So
we’re all in agreement, then? We’re gonna do this?” Mouse asked.
Everyone
nodded. Mouse smirked. “Perfect. Get the word out, and tell
everyone interested to meet here in two cycles at 1200 to draw names.”
“Hey,
Cecil,” Bob called out to the server, looking to get a rise out of
him. “Wanna play?”
Cecil
froze with his back to the group momentarily. Then he glided swiftly over
to the booth, looked the Guardian right in the face, and said, “Waste my time playing
a zilly children’s game zimply because I cannot find an intelligent way to
entertain myself? I don’t zink zo!” With that, he abruptly turned and
sped away, leaving a very shocked Bob gaping after him and the rest of the
booth’s occupants nearly dying of laughter.
Part Two: Select Your
Targets
“If
you can’t get killed, it’s not a sport; it’s a hobby.” - Beth Moreau
The
mood in the diner was one of excitement -- very nervous excitement.
Twelve brave souls had agreed to enter into this madness, and practically all
of Mainframe had shown up to see the hunt officially begin. Dot was on
one end of the room, proclaiming to anyone who would listen that she was really
bad at this sort of thing, and could whoever drew her name please go easy on her?
Matrix was sitting in a nearby booth with an expression that could only be
described as arrogant. He was going to kick some serious ASCII, and
anyone who doubted it would soon learn otherwise. He was reveling in
these thoughts when he noticed AndrAIa staring at him. “What?” he
asked.
The
girl rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“And?”
AndrAIa
leaned her forehead against his. “You’re going down,” she said with
a self-confident grin.
Bob
was pacing the length of the diner, trying to work out some sort of
strategy. The key to this game was to stay on your toes; you had to
suspect everyone. He’d learned that the hard way during the Academy game,
and he’d be damned if he was going to be the first one out again. Enzo
was trying his best to explain to Hack and Slash the finer points of operating
a Super Soaker. The pair had a few issues about pulling the trigger;
after all, a trigger is a lot like a button, and every time they push a button,
something bad happens. Mike the TV was bounding around the room, doing
what he did best: annoying everyone within earshot.
Once
she was sure no one else was coming, Mouse climbed up on a table. “All
right, everybody, listen up!” she shouted. When that didn’t work,
she put two fingers in her mouth and let out a loud, shrill whistle --
something Matrix and AndrAIa, sitting right next to her, didn’t exactly
appreciate. “Here’s how this is gonna work,” the hacker said to her
now-attentive audience. “Everyone’s gonna draw a name. After that,
you’ll have one millisecond to scatter. The Principle Office, the diner,
and your own homes are safety zones. No one can get ya in there, but ya
can’t stay in them all the time, either. If your assassin shoots ya,
you’re out of the game. If you shoot your assassin in self-defense,
they’re out for one millisecond. Cecil will keep track of who’s in and
who’s out. Everyone clear on the rules?” They all nodded.
“Good. OK, everyone who’s playing write your name down and put it in here.”
She held up an empty cup. After she had everyone’s name, she went up to
the players one by one, holding the cup above eye level so they couldn’t see
who they were choosing. “Everybody got one?” Mouse then pulled the
last name out of the cup. She unfolded the scrap of napkin it had been
written on and read the name with an almost irrepressible joy.
Perfect. This couldn’t have worked out better if she had planned it.
Bob
unfolded the paper slowly, almost afraid to look at what was written
there. When he saw what was, he almost fainted. This was either
going to be incredibly easy. . .or incredibly hard.
Dot
groaned when she read the name she had drawn. How was she supposed to get
him? she wondered. This was going to be even harder than she
thought.
“Oh,
NO!” Everyone looked over at AndrAIa’s sudden outburst. She blushed
slightly, then turned back to the paper in her hand, staring at it in
disbelief. There’s just no way. . .she thought. How in the Net was
she going to do this?
Enzo
read the name -- and his jaw practically hit the floor. That’s just creepy,
he thought. This is gonna be hard.
Hack
and Slash looked at the papers they had drawn, looked at each other, looked
back at the names, looked back at each other. . .
Matrix
looked at the name he’d selected and laughed to himself. Oh, yeah,
he thought. I’m gonna enjoy this.
Phong
silently contemplated the name he had drawn. The old Sprite still wasn’t
entirely sure why he’d agreed to play this game, but at least, he thought, I
should be able to outwit this person. He has a tendency to be impulsive,
after all; that could be used against him.
Hexadecimal
unfolded the paper and read the name, a devilish smile slowly spreading over
her face. She had been delighted when Bob had told her of the game, and this
particular Sprite was an excellent target.
Ray
read the name he had drawn and almost burst out laughing. Well, he said
to himself, this should be interesting.
“All
right, people,” Mouse was speaking again. “Tell Cecil who ya have,
and then get going. The hunt begins at 1330. Good luck.” With
that, she turned and walked purposefully out of the diner. The others
soon followed, giving each other uncomfortable farewells. Who among these
twelve could they still trust -- and who must they avoid at all costs?
Part Three: Cat and Mouse
“This
is worse than the time I got jumped by those field mice.” - Mystery Science
Theater 3000
Cycles
passed. Nothing. No one had been taken out; no one had even been
attacked yet; but everyone was getting very, very nervous. Bob was
feeling especially vulnerable: everybody else, it seemed, had an excuse to hole
up in one of the safety zones, but he, as the system’s Guardian, was always
having to zip all over Mainframe to make it into the games. True, Matrix and
AndrAIa offered, sometimes even insisted on joining him, but Bob was too
apprehensive to accept. How did he know they weren’t just going to wait
until his back was turned, and then. . .Bob shook his head. This must be
that widespread paranoia Mouse had been talking about. At least this game
cube, he thought as he jogged across the street, had the decency to come late
in the evening -- and land near the 8-ball complex. Not only were there
fewer people around, but he wouldn’t have to go far to get to safety once the
game left -- just in case anyone might be waiting for him.
The
game was a home run derby -- easy enough, but time consuming. It was dark
when the game finally left Mainframe. Bob glanced around, a little
uneasily, and started to head back to his apartment building. As he
walked, he thought about his own target. He hadn’t had as many chances as
he’d first anticipated. Plus, something about this particular individual
made it a little, well, difficult to just hunt her down like a wild animal.
He’d have to get over this hesitation, he knew, if he wanted to stay alive in
the game. Instinctively Bob looked over his shoulder.
Nothing. Of course there’s nobody there. What did you expect?
Every decent person is at home asleep. Somehow he hadn’t expected the
streets to be this deserted. Almost without realizing it, he began to
walk faster, mentally kicking himself for leaving his water gun at home.
“Of all the basic. . .” he said to himself. “ ‘I don’t need it, it’ll
only get in my way during the game.’ Good thinking, Bob. Now you’re
a sitting duck.” He turned onto his street and let out a small sigh of
relief. Almost there. Then he stopped dead. Something was
following him. He whirled around, every muscle tensed for action -- and
found himself peering into the empty darkness. Bewildered, he looked
around. He could have sworn he heard something. Get a hold of
yourself, he thought. Letting a stupid game get you all bent out of
shape. No one’s back there, you’re imagining things. He started
walking again, fast, with purpose -- and stopped again. This time, the
footsteps continued for a few steps before lapsing into silence. Bob’s
eyes widened in fear. There was no way he had imagined that.
Someone was following him; or, more correctly, stalking him. Bob stood
frozen to the spot, in full view of his apartment building, afraid to move,
afraid to turn around. Suddenly, the owner of the footsteps grew tired of
waiting and began to move again. Bob stood paralyzed in fear for a few
nanoseconds before making a mad dash for the 8-ball complex. The
footsteps also picked up speed, getting louder with each stride. His
assassin was gaining on him. If I can just make it to the door, just get
inside. . . The Guardian stopped short as an idea occurred to him.
Why hadn’t he thought of this before? It was so obvious. He raised
his right arm and, in a brilliant flash of light, created a portal to the
inside of his apartment, then disappeared into it.
Bob
stumbled out of the portal and collapsed on his couch. I really am basic,
he thought. Forgetting all about using a portal. How low-density
can you get? He took in a deep breath, then exhaled, grateful to have
gotten away. That was a close one. Whoever was tracking him was
good -- very good. This was going to be tough. Bob picked himself
up off the couch and plodded off to bed, exhausted from his little stint as
someone’s prey.
Out
on the street, a lone figure looked up at the top-floor apartment’s
window. “Almost had you, didn’t I?” the hunter said into the
darkness before shouldering a Super Soaker and walking off into the night.
***
“So
nothing’s happened to you yet?” AndrAIa asked.
“No.
How about you?”
Matrix
and AndrAIa looked at each other, then AndrAIa said, “Yeah, someone was camped
out outside our building last night.”
Dot
stared at them. “Really? All night?” As the pair nodded, Dot
shook her head in wonderment. “Geez. Do you know who it was?”
“No.
All we could see from the window was a shadow. They were just waiting by
the door for us -- well, one of us,” Matrix answered.
“Then
how’d you get out of the place this morning? Had they left?” Ray
asked. AndrAIa started to reply, but Matrix put a hand on her arm.
“Nice try, Surfer. We aren’t giving away any of our secrets, if you don’t
mind.”
Ray
looked surprised. “You say that like you suspect me.”
Matrix
nodded. “Yeah, but don’t take it personally. I suspect everybody.”
Ray
nodded approvingly. Just then, the doors flew open, and a rather agitated
Bob skidded inside. The other Sprites stared at him questioningly.
Bob, not noticing their expressions, sat down in the booth with them, breathing
heavily. A few microseconds passed before he realized that no one was
speaking; they were all just watching him. “What?”
The
others exchanged amused glances. Dot spoke up: “Um, Bob -- are you
okay?”
“Me?
Oh, yeah, I’m great. As good as can be expected when you’re being tailed
nonstop by some lunatic with a Super Soaker!”
“Don’t
tell me you’re out of the game already?!” Matrix said.
“No,
I’m still in. But the way my assassin is operating, he’s either going to
get me out or delete me trying. I would have used a portal to get here,
but I didn’t want to waste the energy. I want to save it for when I
really need it.” This comment was met with more silence from the
group. Again, Dot stepped in: “Uh, Bob. . .honey. . .I think you
might be taking this a little too seriously.”
“Oh,
am I?” With that, he proceeded to tell them all what had happened the
night before. When he finished, the Sprites were once again silent.
“Wow,”
said AndrAIa. “Whoever that is really knows what they’re doing.”
“Tell
me about it. And they’re driving me crazy in the process. I know
I’m acting really paranoid, but wouldn’t you if you were chased into your
apartment in the dead of night?”
“Well,
at any rate, you’re safe in here,” said Dot, putting an arm around
him. As she finished speaking, the doors to the diner banged opened as
Captain Capacitor entered, causing an already fidgety Bob to nearly jump out of
his skin. Dot rolled her eyes at him, then rose to greet her friend and
business partner. “Captain! I thought you were shipping out today.”
“That
was and still is the plan, lass. But I’ve been asked to deliver a message
to the Guardian.”
All
eyes turned to Bob. “What is it?” he asked. Instead of
answering, Capacitor hobbled to the table and gestured to AndrAIa’s
half-finished energy shake. “May I, Miss?”
“Of
course.” AndrAIa slid the cup toward him. The captain moved the
straw up and down a few times; then he sucked up a strawful of liquid, pulled
the straw out of the cup, and spit its contents directly into Bob’s face.
He then returned the shake to its rightful owner, took out a small piece of
paper, and handed it to the speechless Guardian. Capacitor turned to Dot,
who was still trying to decide what to make of all this. “I shall see you
when we return with next minute’s shipment, my lady. Until then.”
And with that, he bowed to the still-stunned company and departed.
The
Sprites turned their confused gazes to Bob. He wiped his face and looked
at the note he had been handed.
There’s
more where that came from.
Signed, Your Assassin.
He
tossed the note onto the table. “See what I mean? This guy’s out
for blood!” At that moment a disturbing thought hit him. “All
right. Which one of you is behind this?” he asked menacingly.
The others didn’t answer; they just avoided eye contact. AndrAIa studied
the note. “Wait - whose handwriting is this?”
Bob
snatched the slip of paper from her, scrutinizing it. Dot, looking over
his shoulder, had the answer. “It’s Gavin’s.”
Bob
turned to her, the expression of a doomed man on his face. “Are you
sure?”
“Positive.
Your assassin had the captain write this note for them.”
For
the fifth time that morning, there was silence in the booth as the meaning of
this sank in. After several microseconds, Ray spoke. “Bob, if I could
be blunt,” he began.
“By
all means.”
“You’re
screwed.”
***
Dot
hurried onto the porch, called out one last reminder to Enzo to behave himself,
shut the door, and hopped into the waiting car -- which, by some unexplainable
miracle, had decided to actually run. She turned to the driver.
“I’m surprised you agreed to this. You’ve been so jittery lately.”
Bob
shrugged. “Yeah, well, you were right. I need to do something to
get my mind off it. Besides,” he added, jerking his thumb toward
the backseat, “I brought along some insurance.”
Dot
stared in disbelief, first at the Super Soaker sitting comfortably in back,
then at Bob. “You didn’t.”
“Didn’t
you?”
Dot
gestured to her form-fitting outfit of khakis and a black top. “And where
would you propose I keep it?”
Bob raised an eyebrow at her. “Well. . .”
“Eyes
on the road.”
“Sorry.”
Bob reluctantly turned his attention back to driving. “Aren’t you the
least bit worried that your assassin might try something?”
Dot
rested her elbow on the edge of the door. “Nope.”
“Not
at all?” As she shook her head in reply, he asked, “Why not?”
“A,
it’s just a game,” she said, poking him in the side. “And B, I’ve pretty
much given up on my assassin. I haven’t seen a trace of them since this
whole thing began. I’m starting to wonder if I even have one,” she
said with a smile.
“Well,
everybody’s got one,” Bob said.
“Well,
then mine is really lousy at this. I mean, the game’s been going on for
over a week now -- nothing. You’d think they’d have at least made an
attempt by now. Even I’ve tried to go after my target, and I am by no
means good at this sort of thing.”
Bob’s
only response was a muted “Mm-hm.” He was staring intently at the road
ahead. Dot looked at him with concern. “Hey,” she said,
tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. “You all right?”
“Uh,
yeah. Fine. Just a little distracted, I guess.” He let out a
small cough. “What movie are we seeing again?”
“The
new James Bond.”
Bob
glanced over at her with a smile. “I can’t believe you like Bond films so
much. They don’t seem like your type of movies.”
Dot
shrugged. “They’re fun.”
Bob
gave her a knowing smile. “You want to be a Bond girl, don’t you?”
Dot’s
response was indignant. “Of course not.” She studied her nails for
a moment before adding, with a self-confident air, “I want to be Bond.”
Bob
had to laugh at that. Dot turned to him, feigning offense. “And
just what is so funny?”
“It’s.
. . just that I can easily picture you doing that.”
She
raised an eyebrow at him. “Nice save.”
“Thanks.”
They
rode in silence for a few microseconds; then Dot said, “No, wait; I changed my
mind. I don’t want to be Bond, I want to be the Bond girl he doesn’t get.”
Bob nodded. “Interesting. I’m afraid those don’t exist,
though.”
“So
I’ll be the first. He can just want me really badly,” she remarked with a
smirk.
“Well,
that’s a given,” Bob said without thinking. As Dot turned to him
with a look of amusement and mild shock, he reddened slightly. “Did I say
that out loud?”
“Mm-hmm.”
There was a brief awkward silence as Dot let his slightly embarrassing
compliment sink in. She laughed to herself; for all Bob’s show of self-assurance,
he had an insecurity that was positively endearing. She decided to bring
the subject back from the tangent it had taken. “We’re also seeing this
movie because I think watching someone else get shot at for a while will take
your mind off your own. . . predicament.”
“Or
remind me of it even more.”
Dot
rolled her eyes. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Bob
nodded proudly. “But that’s why you love me.”
Dot
laughed. “Just keep telling yourself that,” she replied with a
grin.
Bob
narrowed his eyes at her, than reached over and lightly jabbed her in the side,
just above her waist. Dot jumped slightly and let out a squeal. As
the car glided smoothly up to a red light, Bob turned to her with raised
eyebrows. “Why, Dot; you wouldn’t be ticklish, would you?”
Dot
pressed herself against the passenger door and held up a hand in warning.
“Don’t you dare,” she said, emphasizing each syllable.
Bob’s
expression was absolutely angelic. “Don’t I dare what?” he asked
innocently. “This?” He poked her again, resulting in another
yelp. He moved in a third time, but this time Dot slapped his hand
away. Bob turned to her with an “Oh-no-you-didn’t” look on his
face. “Oh, now you’re in for it.” Dot curled herself into a
defensive ball in the passenger seat; she was prepared to fend off the attack
when she noticed her saving grace: “The light’s green,” she said.
“Huh?”
Bob looked up at the traffic light. He slapped his hand against the
steering wheel in frustration, then started to drive. Dot leaned back
against the seat and closed her eyes, relieved. Bob, however, wasn’t
ready to let this fight go just yet. He silently walked his fingers along
the back edge of the seat. His hand had just touched her shoulder when
Dot, without opening her eyes, said, “Take it off or I break it off.” Bob
quickly returned his hand to the steering wheel. Dot smirked at
him. “You just behave yourself.” Bob lowered his head. “Yes,
ma’am,” he said meekly. He ventured a glance at her and found her
grinning at him. He carefully reached over and wrapped an arm around her
shoulders -- and this time, she let him keep it there.
***
Dot’s
right, Bob mused to himself as he watched the onscreen action. This is a
fun movie. Of course, after twenty microseconds of previews, it ought to
be. At the moment, though, the Guardian had more important matters to
attend to. He rose from his seat and began to make his way to the
aisle. Dot gave him a passing glance as he squeezed past her.
“Where are you going?” she whispered.
“Bathroom,”
he whispered back. “Let me know what I miss.”
“Okay.
Wait -- do you have to take that with you?” she said, gesturing to the
water gun dangling from his belt. As he nodded, she said, “What, do you
think someone’s waiting for you in the men’s room?” Bob shrugged in
reply, then proceeded out of the theater. Dot turned her attention back
to the movie, but not before laughing a bit to herself.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered.
Bob
pushed open the bathroom door and entered, turning his nose up a bit at the
smell. He looked around, then peeked under each of the stall doors,
looking for feet. No one. Perfect; he was alone. He walked
over to a mirror and laid his hands on the edge of the sink. “Okay,
“ he said to his reflection, “enough stalling. You’re going
to do this tonight; you’ve wussed out of it for long enough. After the
movie, just hold the door open for her, and then bam --” he shot a
sidelong glance at the Super Soaker laying on the counter --”one quick shot in
the back and it’s over. She’s out of the game, and you can concentrate on
staying in it.”
Bob
was so engrossed in his little pep talk that he didn’t notice a pair of
bronze-colored combat boots appear below the stall door behind him.
“She’s not going to be mad; like she said, it’s just a game.” He looked
down at his hands. “But can I really shoot her when she’s unarmed?”
“In
a few nanoseconds, sugah, you won’t have to worry about it.”
Bob
jerked his head up to see Mouse’s reflection behind his own.
“Mouse?! What in the Net are you --” he broke off as he noticed a
water gun aimed straight at the back of his head. Mouse’s hand was on the
trigger. “You?!”
Mouse
smiled smugly. “Me. Some of my best mercenary work, too. You
proud?”
Bob
let out a small laugh. “Very.” He cast a sidelong glance at his own
water gun. Behind him, Mouse pumped the handle and prepared to
fire. Bob had one chance; he drew in a breath and made a lunge for his
Super Soaker. Unfortunately, Mouse was ready for this. In one swift
motion she knocked the gun to the floor, grabbed his hand and spun him around
so he was facing her. She pressed his back up against the edge of the
sink and pointed the nozzle of her Super Soaker right between his eyes.
Bob gulped and braced himself for the shot. Mouse chuckled
arrogantly. “Ah’m afraid Ah don’t share your view on shooting an enemy in
cold blood.” She winked at the helpless Guardian and pulled the trigger.
Bob
spluttered as an icy stream of water hit him directly in the face. Mouse
released her grip and stepped back. “Gotcha,” she said sweetly.
“No
kidding,” Bob replied. “Thanks,” he added as the hacker
handed him a towel. She hopped up on the edge of the sink. “So
how’s your date going?”
“Well,
it was going just fine,” Bob replied with a half-smile. “I don’t
believe this. I was so determined not to be the first one out, and. .
.well, I’m soaked.”
“Yeah,
Ah gotcha pretty good, didn’t Ah?”
“How
long have you been in here?”
“About
half a millisecond.”
Bob’s
mouth fell open. “You’ve been standing on a toilet in a movie theater
men’s room for half a millisecond?”
“Yup.
Ah was startin’ to wonder what was taking you so long.” Mouse stood
up. “Well, Ah suppose Ah should let you get back to your date. Now
remember the rules -- no tellin’ any other players you’re out. We don’t
want anyone narrowing down the suspects.”
“I
won’t.” Bob sighed. “I’m not looking forward to telling Cecil I’m
out, though. He’s going to have a field day with this.”
Mouse strolled out of the bathroom, ignoring the stares she got from other
moviegoers. Bob picked his Super Soaker up off the floor, stared at it
silently for a moment, and emptied its contents into the sink.
Dot
barely looked at him as he returned to his seat. “They were chasing him
on snowmobiles, but he got away,” she whispered. “What took you so
long?”
“Um.
. .there was a line.”
“A
line in the men’s room? That’s a new one.”
“Yeah,
tonight’s just full of surprises.” He settled back into his seat.
Dot leaned her head against his shoulder -- and quickly lifted it back
up. “Why are you all wet?”
Part Four: Just When You
Thought It Was Safe
“Guys.
They’re only young once, but they can act juvenile forever.” - Black
Arachnia, Beast Wars
Matrix
flipped through the TV channels with increasing frustration. “There’s
nothing on,” he whined.
AndrAIa
looked with amusement at how fast he was changing channels. “How can you
tell?”
“I
can see.”
“What
is it with guys and going through the channels so fast? Oh, wait, go
back. . . no. Never mind. I’ve seen this episode.”
Matrix
dropped the remote in defeat. “That’s it - we’re out of channels.
We’ll have to watch SNL reruns.” He sighed. “Dot really needs to
get some premium channels.” He normally didn’t mind housesitting for his
sister when she was out late, but Little Enzo was in bed, and Matrix was dying
for some decent entertainment. The fact that Bob and Dot got to see the
new James Bond movie while he was stuck with basic cable wasn’t exactly
comforting.
“It’s
after 2200; the only thing on premium channels now is either really violent or
pornographic.” AndrAIa flopped down on the couch next to him. “Face
it, Sparky -- TV sucks.”
“True.”
Matrix glanced over his shoulder at the wall clock. “They should be back
soon, don’t you think?”
“Probably.
What’s the matter?” she continued teasingly. “Getting tired of
babysitting?”
“Nah.
But, I wouldn’t mind having some real privacy,” he answered, putting his
arm around her.
AndrAIa
rested her head on his shoulder. After a moment of silence, she
said, “You know, Enzo, I’m really proud of you.”
“What
for?”
“You’ve
been getting along with Little Enzo so well. You two got off to such a
rocky start, and now. . .” She smirked at him. “It’s almost like
he’s family.”
Matrix
nodded. “Yeah, well -- he’s a pretty good kid.”
“Yes,
he is.”
Matrix
gave her a teasing smile. “You do know he has a crush on you.”
AndrAIa
looked up at him. “Well, he’s you, isn’t he? Frankly, I’d be a
little hurt if he didn’t.”
“Just
don’t encourage him,” he replied with a smile.
AndrAIa
giggled. “Why? Afraid he’ll take your place?”
Matrix
was about to reply with a comeback of his own when a pajama-clad Enzo entered
the room. He stood next to the television and regarded the pair silently,
his hands behind his back. Matrix and AndrAIa exchanged a glance.
“Yes?” Matrix asked.
Enzo
took in a deep breath. “OK; first promise you won’t get mad.”
Matrix
raised his eyebrows. “What’d you do?”
“Well,
I haven’t done it yet; I just want to make sure you won’t get mad.”
“If
you think it’ll make me mad, then don’t do it.”
Enzo
huffed in frustration. “It’s not that simple. I kind of have to do
it. And I really want to do it, too. I’m sort of looking forward to
it. I just don’t want you to get mad when I do.”
Matrix
frowned. “You lost me, kid.”
AndrAIa
stepped in. “What is it you have to do?”
“I
can’t tell you ‘cause that’ll ruin it. I just have to do it, but I don’t
want you -- “ he turned to Matrix “-- to get mad when I do.”
AndrAIa
turned his words over in her mind. “OK, now I’m confused.”
Matrix
was getting annoyed. “Enzo --” he began.
The
boy cut him off. “All right! Just don’t be mad.” He brought his
hands out from behind his back: one hand held a fully loaded Super
Soaker. Before either of the older Sprites could react, Enzo fired a jet
of water directly at Matrix, hitting him right in the chest -- and thoroughly
splattering AndrAIa in the process. Enzo looked first at AndrAIa, then at
Matrix; he let out a breath. “Good night,” he said simply, turned,
and walked out of the room. A few nanoseconds later, he called out an
apology to AndrAIa from upstairs.
“That’s
okay,” the girl responded. Matrix turned to her, looking absolutely
baffled. “What just happened?”
AndrAIa
swallowed a laugh. “I think you’re out of the game.”
“I
can’t be out! I was barely in!” He stopped. “Wait a nano --
that means that Enzo was. . . my assassin?! And he got me out? Just
like that? He just waltzes in here and shoots me in his own living room
-- in his pajamas -- and then goes back to bed like nothing happened?!”
Matrix paused in mid-rant; AndrAIa’s hand was clamped over her mouth, and she
had turned an interesting shade of red. He glared at her. “Oh, go
ahead.”
The
girl dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. “You should have seen the
look on your face! That was priceless!” she managed to say.
Matrix
did his best to resist, but her laughing was contagious. He shook his
head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, drying himself off with a nearby
blanket. “Some warrior I turned out to be. I survive the games, the
Web, Megabyte, a system crash, and Daemon -- and get done in by a 11-hour-old
kid with a water pistol.” He looked at AndrAIa. She stared back at
him for a moment; then they both started laughing again.
Just
then, the front door opened; “I’m home!” Dot’s voice called out.
She entered the living room, Bob following. “What’s so funny?” she
asked.
Matrix
and AndrAIa shared a glance. “Let’s just say it’s been an interesting
night,” AndrAIa offered as a reply.
Part Five: Partners in
Crime
“You know, evil has many forms; be it a man-eating cow or Joseph Stalin.” -
Tick, The Tick
So
Little Enzo had felled the mighty Matrix. Talk about an ego boost.
And it had been so easy! The young Sprite had been expecting a difficult
time, but it had been like falling off an analog. Too bad I can’t tell
anyone, Enzo thought in disappointment. The rules of the game said that
no one was supposed to tell when they were out, or that they had gotten someone
out; otherwise, people who were still in could figure out who was after
them. Cecil had said that two people were now out of the game, though.
Enzo wondered who else had fallen victim. He mentally ran through the
list of players: Phong? Probably not. The old Sprite spent most of
his time in the Principle Office, one of the safety zones. Whoever had
drawn him had their work cut out for them. Ray? Enzo frowned.
Maybe. The Surfer had been in Mainframe long enough by now to know the
territory, but he was pretty impulsive. Someone could have caught him off
guard. Bob? Enzo thought for a nano, then shook his head, surprised
at himself for even considering it. No way was Bob out already.
He’s a Guardian; he’s probably gonna win. After all, winning is what he
does. It’s probably Dot, he told himself. He hated to think that
there was anything his big sister wasn’t good at, but somebody had to lose, and
she had said herself she was bad at this sort of thing. Then again,
Matrix was an established warrior, and look how easily he had gone down.
Enzo sighed; he would just have to wait until the game was over. Then,
not only would he know who had who, but he would be able to say that Matrix had
been one of the first ones out -- courtesy of little Enzo Matrix.
“Enzo!”
The
young sprite blinked as a sharp voice snapped him back to reality. School
was not the best place to daydream -- too many interruptions. “Uh, yes,
Miss Brodie?”
“I
said, would you please read the first two paragraphs on page forty-two for us?”
“Um
-- yeah. No problem.” Enzo looked around at the other students’
desks, trying to see what book they were using. His delay was just
beginning to look suspicious when the afternoon bell rang. “Yes!
Saved by the bell!” he said under his breath. He and the other
students thronged out the doors and into the sunlight.
Enzo
maximized his zipboard and was about to hop on when the sound of a gunning
motor made the entire crowd stop dead. As they watched in awe, a sleek
purple motorcycle descended toward them: AndrAIa’s bike. This bike
was the envy of every preadolescent male in Mainframe. Her earlier prize,
Megabyte’s motorcycle, had been deconstructed during Mainframe’s restart, along
with Silicon Tor and every other trace of viral presence. This new one
had been a gift from Matrix; he had gotten it dirt cheap from a guy in a
neighboring system who had won it in a raffle and wasn’t into
motorcycles. It was game-cube purple with chrome accents, had brand-new
everything, and possessed a motor so loud that it could drown out Mike the TV
(which is a talent in itself). It was also AndrAIa’s pride and joy; there
was an unwritten law in Mainframe stating that, no matter what, you did not
touch the bike. Ever. So when AndrAIa glided to a very dramatic
stop in front of the entire student body, removed her helmet, shook out her
long aqua-colored hair and called out, “Hey, Enzo -- want a ride?”
The
Sprite in question damn near wet his pants. Forget taking out Matrix;
this was something to gloat about. AndrAIa was afraid of that bike
getting breathed on wrong -- and she was inviting him to actually sit on
it. While it was moving. He raised an eyebrow, making every attempt
to be smooth, and said, “Sure.”
AndrAIa
smiled and tossed him a spare helmet. (It came with the bike; needless to
say, it had never been used before now.) Enzo’s classmates watched in
extreme jealousy as he strapped it on and got comfortable on the leather seat
behind the Game Sprite. He wrapped his arms around her waist (something
else the young men in the crowd would have killed to do), and the pair sped
off, leaving a very envious group of students in the dust.
***
Enzo
was in heaven. No wonder AndrAIa loved this bike so much; the ride was
fantastic. He gazed around him, watching the streets of Mainframe whiz by
under his feet. He had been so thrilled to actually be allowed to go for
a ride with AndrAIa that he hadn’t stopped to think about why she was
offering. But now, as the novelty slowly wore off, the idea crept into
his brain. Why would she give him a ride when before today he had been
lucky to be allowed in the same sector as the motorcycle? And why would
AndrAIa feel the need to give him a ride? His school was practically
within shouting distance of the diner. Enzo shook his head to clear the
thoughts. Don’t be ridiculous, he scolded himself. AndrAIa’s just
being nice. Why are you being so paranoid? His train of thought
might have ended there, but his choice of words triggered a memory: Mouse’s
voice saying, “Just causes a little widespread paranoia.” Enzo’s heart
leaped into his throat. The Gotcha game! In his excitement, he had
forgotten all about it. Just then, he noticed something else disturbing:
they were nowhere near the diner. In fact, they were practically on the
opposite end of Mainframe. Enzo could feel his face getting hot. He
warily eyed the Super Soaker attached to the girl’s waistband. AndrAIa
must be his assassin! And now she was taking him off to some back alley
in the middle of nowhere, so remote that it would be cycles before they found
him, soaking wet and completely helpless. . . Enzo shook his head to stop his
imagination from running away with him. But why else would she be taking
him so far away from, well, everything? She must be trying to get me away
from the safety zones, he thought. It’s the only explanation. Well,
I won’t let her get away with it, he thought in grim determination, fully
realizing how pathetic his words sounded. Still, he had to try. He
licked his lips, took a deep breath, and then called out over the roar of the
engine. “AndrAIa?”
“Yeah?”
she yelled back.
“Where
are we going?”
“Um.
. . I. . . it’s such a nice day, I thought we’d take the scenic route.”
“Oh.”
Scenic route my. . . Enzo began to get desperate as he noticed the twisting
spires of Lost Angles rising up to greet them. He had to get out of this
fast, or he was quite literally all wet. “Uh, AndrAIa. . . could you, uh.
. . just set me down here?”
AndrAIa
didn’t respond right away. When she did, she sounded confused. “How
come?”
Enzo
groped his mind furiously for a good excuse. “Well, uh, like you said,
it’s such a nice day out, and I’ve been sitting at a desk all day, um, I guess
I’d just rather. . . walk.”
“Walk?”
If AndrAIa had sounded confused before, it was nothing compared to how
bewildered she sounded now. “From here? All the way back to the
diner?”
“Well.
. . yeah.” Please let me off, please let me off, he begged
silently.
“Oh.
Okay.” AndrAIa’s tone sounded hurt. She obliged, though, and set
the bike down on the ground. Enzo hurriedly jumped off, lest she decide
to fire on him then and there before he could get away. “Are you sure you
don’t want a ride?” she asked. Enzo nodded quickly. “Oh,
yeah. Very sure.” AndrAIa studied him for a moment, then sighed in
defeat. “Okay. If you’re sure. See you back at the
diner?” she added hopefully.
Enzo
smiled. The diner. A safety zone. She couldn’t get him in
there. “Yeah. Absolutely.”
AndrAIa
started the bike up again and it lifted into the air. She gave him a
half-hearted wave and sped off. Enzo watched her go -- and felt like
absolute crap. The girl had looked completely heartbroken. Why did
he hurt her feelings like that? She just wanted to give you some fresh
air, you idiot, he told himself. She knows how much you love that bike;
of course she’s going to take you on a long ride. And what do you
do? Ask her to let you off. You are so basic. Not only do you
have to haul your bitmap back to the diner before Dot deletes you for making
her worry, but you made AndrAIa feel bad. Enzo began to make his way to
the diner, absolutely disgusted at himself, when he heard a familiar engine
roar. He looked up; AndrAIa was making another sweep of the area.
Enzo grinned; she knows me too well, he thought. She must have guessed
that I’d change my mind. Good. Now I can get a ride home, and I can
apologize. The boy waved his arms over his head to get her
attention. “Hey, AndrAIAAAHH!!” he yelled as a very cold stream of
water hit his back. Enzo whirled around. There, proudly brandishing
a Super Soaker, was Hexadecimal. “Gotcha!” she said, then let out a
maniacal laugh. Enzo just stood agape, too shocked even to move.
Behind him, AndrAIa set her bike down on the ground. Hexadecimal
addressed her next. “Thank you, dear. I don’t think I ever would
have gotten him if it weren’t for you.”
AndrAIa
smiled. “My pleasure, Hex.” The Game Sprite tapped Enzo on the
shoulder. “Ready to go?”
Enzo
looked from one woman to the other. Then, he dumbly clambered onto the
motorcycle, unable to speak. AndrAIa bade one last farewell to the former
virus and mounted her bike, then sped off towards downtown Mainframe.
***
Enzo
sat sullenly on the motorcycle seat, not paying a bit of attention to the
ride. He just hadn’t said a word since they had left Lost Angles; aside
from putting on his helmet, he hadn’t even moved. AndrAIa noticed her
passenger’s silence; after a short while she pulled over and shut off the
engine. She took off her helmet and turned to face him. “Are you
mad at me?”
Enzo
responded but didn’t look at her. “No, I’m not mad.”
AndrAIa
heard the lack of conviction in his voice. “But?” she prompted.
The
boy sighed. “Well, I know it’s just a game and everything, and you didn’t
do anything against the rules, and this is all supposed to be for fun so it’s
really stupid of me to feel like this, but. . . you suckered me,
AndrAIa.” His voice was full of disappointment -- both at himself and the
Game Sprite.
AndrAIa
nodded in understanding. “I was afraid you might feel this way.”
She put a hand under his chin and raised his eyes to hers. “Would it help
if I said I was sorry?” Enzo nodded, but he still looked gloomy.
AndrAIa went on: “I think I know a way I can make it up to you.” She
leaned over and whispered in his ear. As the young Sprite listened, a
devilish grin slowly spread over his face. AndrAIa looked at him,
eyebrows raised inquisitively. “Well?”
Enzo
nodded fiercely. “Let’s do it!”
***
Hexadecimal
stood in the afternoon sun long after the two Sprites had vanished from
view. She replayed the event in her mind, over and over again. That
had been fun. What a shame that it had all passed so quickly. Ah,
well, she thought, such is the way of things. She proceeded back to her
lair, still lost in thought -- so lost, in fact, that she didn’t hear the
approach. She only came out of her reverie when she heard two voices call
out, in singsong unison, “Oh, Hexadecimal!” Before she could turn around,
she was hit from above by two jets of water. Hovering in the air just behind
her was AndrAIa’s motorcycle; Enzo and AndrAIa still had their guns
pointed at her. “Gotcha!” AndrAIa sang out. She swung her
vehicle around and the pair triumphantly raced off.
Hexadecimal
stood frozen to the spot. Incredible! That girl had come to her
proposing an alliance, and then completely double-crossed her. Of all the
sneaky, underhanded, dishonest things to do. . . The former virus beamed
delightedly. She had never been so proud. “I always knew that girl
had potential,” she said to herself as she made her way home.
Part Six: The Gloves Come
Off
“I’m taking off the kid gloves and putting on the very mad gloves!” - Tick, The
Tick
“This
is incredible! For a week and half nothing happens, and now people are
dropping like flies!” Dot turned to Cecil. “How many did you say
were out?”
“Four,
Madame.”
“Four.
In two cycles. I can hardly believe it.” Dot noticed that Bob,
Matrix, and Enzo had grown strangely quiet, and AndrAIa was holding back a
laugh. Dot focused her attention on the Game Sprite. “You know
something about all this, don’t you?”
AndrAIa
responded with an overly innocent smirk. “Not all of it. Ow!”
she gasped as both Enzos kicked her under the table. She slapped them
both on their heads in retaliation. Her victims looked at each other,
then back at her, sly expressions appearing on their faces. Sensing the
danger she was in, AndrAIa extended her fingernails. “Don’t make me use
these,” she warned. The pair shrank back instantly.
“We’ll
be good,” Little Enzo said submissively.
Dot
enviously watched her retract them. “Oh, to have those nails,” she
remarked.
Bob
fixed her with a half-smile. “And just what would you do with hardware
like that?” he asked -- a bit suggestively.
“Wouldn’t
you like to know?” she shot back in the same tone.
“Easy,
you two; there’s a little kid in the room,” AndrAIa cut in.
“What’s
that supposed to mean?” Enzo asked indignantly.
“Never
mind,” the adults chorused back. The young Sprite opened his mouth
to protest this latest example of age-based injustice when Hack and Slash made
a very noisy entrance.
“We
have to tell him. . .”
“Yes,
I know we do. . .”
“But
we can’t tell anyone else.”
“Right.”
Slash paused. “Why not?”
“Because
then they could figure out that we don’t have them!”
“Oh.
So we tell Cecil. . .”
“Uh-huh.
. .”
“And
no one else?”
“That
is correct.”
“What
about them?” Slash pointed at the boothful of Sprites.
“What
about them?”
“I
think they heard us.”
“So?!”
“So
we weren’t supposed to tell them!”
“I
know.”
“Well,
we just did!”
“Did
not!”
“Did
too!”
“Did
not!”
“Did
too!”
“Did
not did not did not!”
“Did
too did too did too!”
Dot
decided to interrupt before things got ugly. “Uh, boys?”
The
two robots instantly broke off their argument and turned to her. “We need
to talk to Cecil,” Hack said.
“You
mean Cescil,” Slash pointed out.
“That’s
what I said.”
“No
you did not. You said Ceecil.”
“Oh,
what difference does it make?”
“Ceecil
is not his name. Cescil is.”
“Guys!
Guys. Calm down. Cecil, you have visitors,” Dot called out.
“You
see? She said Cescil.”
“Slash,
that’s enough,” Dot said mildly.
Cecil
came gliding around to the front of the diner. He regarded his guests
with a rather aloof expression. “Yes?” he asked.
The
two robots looked at each other, embarrassed. Hack went first.
“Well, you see...”
“We
were inside the Principle Office,” Slash offered.
“Yeah,
yeah, we were inside the Principle Office, and we were trying to do it in
there...”
“No,
you were the only one. I was not doing anything because Mouse said it was
against the rules.”
Hack
gave him an icy glare before continuing. “So, Phong sent us outside
because he said we were making a mess...”
“Yeah,
he sent us outside. Only I was not doing anything. I was the
victim, but Phong yelled at me anyway and said that we couldn’t do that
inside....”
“So
we went outside and I tried to get him...”
“But
I was ready so he couldn’t.”
“Yeah,
but I did get you.”
“I
got you too!”
“I
was first!”
“No,
you were not. It was at the exact same time. That guy on the
sidewalk said so.” The two abruptly turned to Cecil. “We’re
out,” they said in unison.
The crowd in the diner had been watching the previous exchange as if it were a
tennis match; they took advantage of the lull to make sense of what they had
just heard. Bob spoke up: “Let me get this straight. You two had
each other?” Hack and Slash nodded. “And you both shot each other
at the same time?”
“Yup.”
“Exactly.”
“That
is correct.”
There
was a brief moment of silence as everyone tried to come up with the right words
to say. The right words turned out to be a snicker from Matrix, which
soon had everybody laughing. Cecil, however, maintained his
composure. “Very well, gentlemen; I shall take your names off zee
list.” He turned to go, and almost made it out of the room before
starting to chuckle himself. Hack and Slash were still trying to figure
out just what the heck was so funny when Ray entered the diner.
Matrix
called out to him. “Hey, Surfer. You missed all the fun.”
Ray
shrugged. “If all goes as planned, I’ll stir up a little more before the
cycle’s out,” he said. Bob scooted over in the booth to make room
for him, but Ray shook his head. “I’m not here for long, mates.
Just need to take care of something. AndrAIa, could I talk to you?”
He suddenly sounded very serious. “In private?”
AndrAIa,
taken aback by his tone, slowly stood up. “Uh, sure.” She followed
him out of the diner, wondering what in the Net could have him acting so
somber. Once outside, she turned to him. “Is everything all right?”
Ray
looked at the ground, avoiding her eyes. “I’m sorry to have to tell you
this, AndrAIa, but --” he detached his water gun from his belt -- “you’re
about to be out of the game.”
AndrAIa
stared at him in shock. So that was why he had brought her outside!
She shook her head. “You sneaky little -- WHOA!” AndrAIa leaped out
of the way as Ray fired. The spray of water just missed hitting her in
the stomach. She made a mad dash for cover, short spurts of water soaking
the pavement just behind her as the Surfer continued to shoot. She dove
behind a dumpster and unhooked her own Super Soaker. “So you wanna go,
huh?” she muttered. Pumping the handle, she stood and took aim at
her assailant. “Bring it on!” The girl pulled the trigger and held
it, sending a long stream of water toward Ray, who barely ducked in time.
AndrAIa held in the trigger and tailed him across the parking lot with the
resulting snake of water. Ray took refuge behind Bob’s car.
He
looked up quickly as a shadow fell across him. “Oh, good morning, love.”
Mouse
smiled down at him. “Problem?”
“No,
no. I got it.” Ray pumped the handle of his weapon and looked back
over the car, firing three shots toward the dumpster -- all misses.
AndrAIa peeked over the top of her fortress and responded in kind, missing Ray
but drenching Mouse, who was standing in the line of fire.
“Hey!
Dre, watch it!” the hacker shouted at the dumpster. “Sorry,
Mouse!” AndrAIa’s voice sang out. “Yeah, Ah’ll bet you are,”
Mouse muttered with a smirk. She leaned in for a kiss from Ray before
heading inside the diner. “Don’t hurt each other,” she remarked.
Mouse
sauntered inside the diner and made herself comfortable in the booth.
After exchanging greetings with her friends, she said mildly, “By the
way, Ray and AndrAIa are shooting at each other in the parking lot.”
“WHAT?!”
They all turned to the front window just as it was splattered by a wayward
shot. Enzo ran to a front booth for a closer look, followed by the
others.
Cecil
blinked in disbelief. “My word, “ he said.
“My
goodness...” Dot was practically speechless.
“My
car!” shouted Bob as a long arc of water from AndrAIa fell short of its
target and rained into his uncovered front seat.
Ray
shook his head at the car’s brief shower. “Nice try, Annie Oakley, but
you’ll hafta do better than that!”
“What,
you mean like this?” AndrAIa shouted back. Ray ducked again as the
girl unloaded on the car. When the bombardment ceased, he called back,
“No -- like this!” He aimed high, sending a stream arching over the
parking lot and landing behind the dumpster. AndrAIa let out a squeal of
terror and pressed herself against the dumpster as water rained down in front
of her, barely missing her feet.
Ray
released the trigger and stared in her direction, waiting for a
surrender. What he got was AndrAIa’s voice singsonging out, “You missed
me!”
The
Surfer banged his hand against the car door in frustration. He was
preparing to fire again when he heard a noise behind him. He
turned. “Phong! What brings you here?”
The
old Sprite shook his head sadly. “I must apologize, my son; but it is
part of the game, after all.” He opened his built-in drawer and produced
a Super Soaker, pointing it right at Ray’s head.
Ray
scrambled to get out of the way of Phong’s shot. Then he vaulted over the
car and started to run for the diner. AndrAIa saw him, though, and began
to fire on him as well. Knowing it was hopeless to dodge water from two
fronts on foot, he whistled for his board. It shot out of the diner and
swept him into the air, out of the line of fire.
“Hey,
that’s cheating!” AndrAIa yelled out.
“Deal
with it!” he shouted back. He swung around at the far end of the
parking lot, dodging shots from Phong the whole time (luckily the old Sprite
wasn’t a very good shot), and came back in, planning to take an aerial shot at
AndrAIa. The Game Sprite wasn’t about to go out that easily,
though. Ray couldn’t come straight at her because of Phong’s
assault; he was forced to weave all over the lot. As he swerved to
avoid a close shot, she took careful aim and fired. The water jet
connected with the back of the surfboard, sending Ray flying.
AndrAIa
emerged triumphantly from behind the dumpster. “I got you! You’re
out for a millisecond!”
Ray
picked himself up off the pavement. “You didn’t get me, you got the
board.”
“What’s
the difference?”
“The
board doesn’t count.”
“It
does so! It’s part of you, isn’t it?”
“Well,
yeah, but it still doesn’t count in this game.”
AndrAIa
exhaled in frustration. “Time out. I’ll go ask Mouse.” She
headed for the diner, opened the door, and stuck her head inside. “Hey
Mouse, if I hit Ray’s board, it counts as hitting him, right?”
Mouse
thought for a nanosecond, then shook her head. “ ‘Fraid not, sugah.”
“Told
ya!” Ray shouted from outside.
“Oh, shut up,” AndrAIa called back. Reluctantly she turned back to
the game -- and came face to face with the nozzle of Ray’s Super Soaker.
“You
put up one hell of a fight, love, but I think it’s time to end this.”
AndrAIa
quickly raised her gun and pointed it at him. The two stood like that for
a full microsecond, staring each other down. Finally, AndrAIa drew in a
breath and pulled the trigger. Ray flinched -- nothing. AndrAIa
looked at her water gun in surprise. She tried again; still nothing.
Ray grinned. “What’s the matter? Out of ammo?” he asked
innocently.
AndrAIa
set her jaw and looked him right in the eyes, ready to meet his shot with
dignity. At least I made him work for it, she thought.
Ray
slowly started to pull the trigger. His victim was helpless, and he
wanted to enjoy this. But then he noticed AndrAIa’s gaze slide over his
shoulder. “Behind you!” she said.
The
Surfer just rolled his eyes. “Gimme a break, AndrAIa,” he said.
Then
a voice behind him spoke up. “I am afraid the girl is not bluffing, my
son.” Phong had rolled up behind him and was also ready to fire.
Both Sprites stared at him in shock. No, not at him; at something behind
him. Phong warily looked over his shoulder: a Super Soaker was now aimed
at his head -- and Dot’s finger was on the trigger. She had come out the
back door of the diner and was ready to make short work of her target.
The
woman gave her old friend an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this,
Phong,” she said -- then shot a stream of water right in his face.
Applause rang out from the spectators inside the diner as Dot strutted back
inside. Phong sighed in defeat and followed her. Ray and AndrAIa
watched them go, stunned smiles on their faces. As they met each other’s
eyes, however, the matter at hand returned. Ray raised his gun just as
AndrAIa sidestepped out of the way.
Ray
started to go after her, but he lost his footing; AndrAIa nimbly jumped over a
low shot and dashed inside the diner, slamming the door in his face.
“Ha!” she scoffed from behind the safety of the glass. As a final
triumphant gesture, she stuck her tongue out at him and turned her back.
As she faced the interior of the diner, she found Matrix and Enzo standing
directly in front of her. They didn’t say anything -- they just stood
there, looking at her. Something in their expressions was making AndrAIa
uneasy; “What?” she ventured.
The
brothers exchanged a glance that AndrAIa knew she couldn’t trust; but before
she could process what was happening, the pair shoved her back outside and held
the door shut.
AndrAIa
banged on the door. “What do think you’re doing?!” she shouted
through the glass.
“It’s
payback time!” Enzo called back with a grin.
AndrAIa’s
mouth fell open. “But...” she started to protest, but was cut short
by a blast of water hitting her in the back. She groaned and leaned her
head against the door, beaten. Matrix released the door and let her back
inside, followed closely by her victorious assassin. The Game Sprite
proceeded toward the booth, but stopped halfway and turned to face the trio of
Sprites that had caused her downfall. She seemed to be searching for just
the right words, the ones that would succinctly express her feelings of
betrayal, however exaggerated. But all she could come up with was, “You
three suck,” before sitting down.
Matrix
just laughed and sat down next to her. “Drop the act, AndrAIa. You
thought it was funny, too.”
AndrAIa
giggled. “Yes, it was. And, I did hold out longer than either of
you,” she added with a kidding smile.
Mouse
shook her head. “Ya know, for not bein’ allowed to know who’s in and
who’s out, we’re all pretty well informed.”
Bob
shrugged. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s been a very entertaining
morning.”
Part Seven: Sudden Death
“We’ve got a blind date with destiny -- and it looks like she ordered the
lobster.” --William H. Macy, Mystery Men
The
next person to make a dramatic entrance into the diner that morning was Mike
the TV; he had caught the entire melee on tape and was now seeking follow-up
interviews with its participants. Unfortunately, the participants weren’t
cooperating.
“Not
now, Mike. I have work to do.”
“No
comment, sugah.”
“Get
that microphone out of my face before I ram it up your --”
“Matrix!”
Cecil
reemerged at this point. “I am glad you are all here,” he
began. “I have been looking over zee game list, and zree of zee remaining
players’ assassins have been taken out. So, to give zee last player a
zporting chance, zee game must go into Zudden Death. Zee remaining
players must figure out who is still in and take zem out until only one is
left.” Naturally, this little bombshell raised quite a few
eyebrows. The occupants of the diner exchanged glances; everyone had a
pretty good idea who was still in, so they knew exactly who to go after.
This would be as easy as Pi squared.
***
Roughly
one millisecond later, Ray came back to the diner. “Well, I’m out.”
Dot
was right behind him. “Copy that.”
Part Eight: And the
Winner Is...
“Behold the pelvic gyrations of my victory boogie!” - Space Ghost, Space Ghost
Coast to Coast
As
a gesture of good sportsmanship, Bob threw a party at his apartment that
evening to celebrate Mouse’s decisive victory. Naturally, the main topic
of conversation was who had been going after whom, and how they had
succeeded. AndrAIa didn’t waste any time confronting Ray: “You were the
one outside our apartment building that night, weren’t you?”
Ray
raised his hands. “Guilty as charged. Which reminds me -- how did
you get out of the building the next morning? I never saw you leave, and
I was there for quite some time.”
AndrAIa
laughed. “Simple. We went out the back door.”
“There’s
a back door?”
“Yeah,
it leads to the alley.”
“There’s
an alley?”
Enzo
chimed into the discussion from his place on the floor. “Who was the
first one out?”
“I
think it was me,” Matrix admitted gruffly.
“Nope.”
Bob entered from the kitchen carrying a Diet Coke. “It was me.”
The
room fell silent as everybody stared at him. “No way!” Enzo cried
in disbelief.
“So
the night stalker got the better of you, huh?” Dot remarked. “Who
was it?”
Mouse
triumphantly raised her hand, prompting a laugh from Ray.
“Figures,” he said with a smile.
Dot
rolled her eyes. “How’d you finally get him?”
Mouse
grinned. “Remember your little date to the Bond movie?”
“Yeah...”
Bob,
a bit embarrassed, finished off the story. “Remember when I came back
from the bathroom a little damp?”
Dot
stared at him in shock before starting to laugh. “You shot him in the
bathroom?!” she said, poking Mouse with her foot. Mouse shrugged in
response.
“Well,
then you were the second one out,” AndrAIa said to Matrix. “It was
that same night.”
Dot
gave him a confused look. “But you were at my house all night.”
“It
was right before you got home.” Matrix laughed ruefully. “That’s
the last time I babysit him,” he added pointing to his young assailant.
“Enzo?!”
All eyes turned to the small Sprite, who was grinning proudly from ear to ear.
More
stories were shared: AndrAIa’s double-cross, Dot’s repeated attempts to get
Phong out of the Principle Office, and a mass retelling of the four-way parking
lot war. Then Dot asked, “Wait -- who had me?”
“Did
they ever come after you?” Matrix inquired.
“No.
I didn’t see a trace of my assassin for the entire game. Who was it?”
Mouse
shot Bob a meaningful glance. After the added prompt of a poke in the
ribs, he very quietly said, “Me.”
Dot
sat silently, digesting this information. At last she spoke: “Bob,
no offense, but that should have been so easy.”
Bob
looked a little too shocked by this accusation. “How do you figure?
You’re always in either the diner or the Principle Office.”
“What
about the night we went to the movie? You had the gun with you the whole
time. What were you waiting for?”
“I
was out already!”
“Not
when we were on the way there. Or when we were waiting in the lobby, or
for the first thirty microseconds of the movie...” Dot would have gone on
pointing out his many opportunities, but AndrAIa cut in.
“Permission
to speak freely, Bob,” she began.
“Go
ahead.”
“I
think you wussed out.”
“I
did not!” Bob asserted over the resulting laughter.
“Sure
you didn’t.” Enzo had predictably taken AndrAIa’s side.
“You
wussed out, honey, and I can prove it,” Mouse said.
“How?”
“Ah
heard that little pep talk you were giving yourself in the bathroom that
night. You said yourself you had wussed out for long enough.”
This
new evidence left Bob speechless. He tried his best to think up an
excuse, but had no luck. Matrix shook his head. “You just couldn’t
go through with it, could you?”
Bob
hung his head in shame. “No.”
Dot
decided it was time to come to his defense. “Well, I think that was very
sweet of you,” she said, putting an arm around him. “Pathetic, but
sweet.”
“Thank
you,” Bob said dryly. He excused himself to refresh his soda.
“Matrix,
who’d you have?” Ray asked.
“Mike
the TV.”
This
produced a snort of jealousy from Mouse. “Oh, Ah would have enjoyed
that.”
Matrix
sighed regretfully. “I would have, too.”
“You
didn’t get him?”
“No.
Enzo got me out before I had the chance.”
“Didn’t
you get him during Sudden Death, Mouse?” Dot asked. Mouse shook her
head. “Didn’t you?”
“You
got me out in less than a millisecond, Mouse; I didn’t have time.” Both
women turned to Ray, who looked just as confused as they did. “Don’t look
at me, ladies.”
“Well,
if we didn’t get him,” Mouse said, trying to make sense of the situation, “who
did?”
A
voice from the hallway made them all jump. “BZZZZ!!! Time’s
up. The correct response was: NOBODY!! But for being such a great
contestant, we’d like to leave you with a lovely parting gift. Johnny,
tell her what she’s won!” With these words, Mike the TV leaped into the
living room brandishing a Super Soaker. Mouse clambered up from her seat
on the floor to escape, but her flight was cut short as Mike shot her dead in
the back. “Well, Mouse, your prize is a one-way ticket out of the
game! Brought to you courtesy of Super Soaker brand water pistols: when
you’ve got to drench everyone in the room, accept no substitutes. Which
that means that our big winner is. . . MIKE THE TV!!!!” Mike began a
victory lap through the apartment, taking additional shots at Mouse every time
he passed her; that is, until she threatened to stuff him down the garbage
disposal.
“But
Ah don’t get it,” she said as she dried herself off. “Cecil said
there were only three people left.”
“No,
he said three people had their assassins taken out; Sudden Death was designed
to give the fourth person a fair shot at winning,” Bob explained, having
reentered from the kitchen.
Something
about this didn’t sit right with Mouse. “Bob,” she began calmly,
“if you knew there were four people left, why did ya have this little party for
me when you knew Ah hadn’t won?”
“Uh
-- momentary lapse of concentration?”
Mouse
advanced toward him threateningly. “You set me up,” she accused.
“Maybe.”
The
woman stopped and stared him down silently. The whole room became hushed
as the others waited to see what she would do. Bob grinned confidently at
her. “Who’s all wet now -- sugah?” he teased, taking a gulp of his soda.
Mouse,
not about to stand for that kind of abuse, grabbed a pillow off the couch and
smacked him in the head with it, causing him to spit out a mouthful of
soda. He lunged for the sofa and was soon matching her blow for blow with
another pillow. It would have been a fairly short tussle had Mouse’s
pillow not flown out of her hands, knocking Enzo’s hat off. He grabbed
another pillow and joined the fray; before too long, everybody was in on it.
Several
microseconds later, an exhausted group of Sprites lounged around Bob’s
now-pillow-strewn apartment. In strange turn of events, Hack and Slash
had been the clear winners; being made of metal, they barely felt their
opponents’ hits. Ray, now draped across an armchair, stretched his arms
over his head and yawned. “Well, that was an entertaining couple of
weeks.”
AndrAIa
nodded. “So what do we do for excitement now?”
Mouse
smiled; she then turned to Dot and asked the question that is practically a
requirement for any comedic fanfiction: “Dot -- truth or dare?”
The End