A/N: I would have liked making a series of videos for this because I wanted to set the final scene (not written yet) to the TaJaDor theme, except I probably wouldn't be able to find enough voice actors nor would I make a good narrator.
-----Some events are not meant to be understood.
-----It is not fate that brings these events to pass, so abstracted in their nature even the greatest of historians could not ascertain their purpose.
-----Wars, famines, grudges held over generations — these are constant. And yet, not understandable.
They center
around
one person.
Always.
The important person of that time. The "Emperor."
CHAPTER ONE
The Lion Curls its Lips
It was an everyday, ordinary scene. Just another day in the lives of the modern people. Young adults bustling about, young adults studying, young adults frantically pulling their hair while studying, and all-out war being waged between two people (and two digital entities). This scene was the ACDC College Plaza. Two young men were surrounded by a crowd of people, either cheering or booing. And the two young men surrounded what might be mistaken for a table with some sort of translucent plastic hemisphere covering it. Of course, no one in those times could possibly do so! After all, the netbattling arena was only the staple of the staple sport! It was a staple staple!
More importantly, inside the arena. A simple NormalNavi model stood without emotion, its blank stare aimed at the stylish navi across it. That navi's most defining feature was probably the feathered trilby over its jagged, equally blank countenance. Both of the navis' arms hung limply at their sides.
Count
Down 321GO!
Those three numbers and single word passed by in an instant, and even more instantaneously these navis went flying at each other. The NormalNavi quickly cross-countered a punch by the trilby-donning navi to the face with one to its opponent's arm. Chunks of data flew off. The NormalNavi's opponent didn't flinch, however, and launched a roundhouse kick to the NormalNavi's side, sending it flying to the trilby-wearer's left, who immediately threw himself in that direction — a tackle.
It's a guaranteed hit, inertia and gravity locking the NormalNavi in place.
But — that NormalNavi, a mere NormalNavi! Its body twisted in mid-flight, and as the trilby navi passed by on its trip now not to slamming the NormalNavi, but to the ground, that stupid hat-wearing idiot saw what appeared to be the faintest smirk on his rival's face.
These actions, described so slowly. These actions, so detailed, with the most immense amount of little implications in each movement. They did not pass by in a few minutes, or even one, or even half of one. Not even ten seconds. Just a few, or a couple. Navis, being data, have no real physical limit. So they move at a rate a normal human cannot. In fact, these movements are impossible for an unfocused human eye to follow.
It was but a blur to most of the bystanders, but they wailed and screamed in excitement after the NormalNavi landed gracefully and the hatted navi hit the ground silently. A few seconds passed of no action while the noise died down.
The two operators gazed at each other as their navis recovered from the shock of those first intense few seconds. The one with the wild, untamed almost-mullet and dandelion vest shook his head. "How'd you do that with a NormalNavi? Their physical attributes are low, to say the least."
The operator across from him, with shaggy, black, gelled-back and spiky hair and an almost completely unbuttoned oxford shirt shrugged. "AirShot, twice. Why didn't you use any BattleChips is the question. Oh, hey, ladies." With a wink. Apparently he loves to solicit women. A couple of the spectators left, apparently due to the smug operator's untoward behavior.
Operator One shrugged in turn. "Trump, are you really gonna go through with this?"
Trump Scorper grinned. "So long as you really think you're going to win, Gary, you're not going to be able to get me in your stupid club!"
Gary Prattil tossed back some friendly banter in order to rile up the crowd. "The Sexy Club would be glad to have you, but only if you're a bit more modest! Now, let's go, Victor! Slot-in, MagnetSeed!"
Victor lunged his arm out just as a grenade-like thing materialized in his hand, lobbing it at the NormalNavi across from him. This would be a bad idea — less of the field would become "magnet," if not for the following BattleChip Slot-in!
"Slot-in," cried Gary, "MachineGun2!"
Normally, the BattleChip "MachineGun2" would be heavily inaccurate. In fact, most of its shots would not even connect with the opponent, no matter his or her attempts to dodge. However, this situation was different. The one part of the field that was magnetized...
...Was the ground beneath Trump's NormalNavi's feet.
Naturally, metal bullets would fly directly to that NormalNavi if they were anywhere near it.
This was an irreversible situation. Absolutely hopeless. The bullets raced towards their mark, and...
"Slot-in,
AreaGrab."
Trump stuck a BattleChip in Gary's PET. His NormalNavi whistled a bit and stepped back.
At that moment, Victor was jerked to the point of the bullets' intersection. A loud noise would have been heard (screaming, pain, the sound of a navi's near deletion) if not for Gary quickly jacking out. A loud noise was heard anyways. Gary stomped over to the other side of the arena, where Trump had quickly retreated.
"What the hell was that?!" he screamed, continuing with various profanities.
Smiling dimly, Gary said, "Hey, I didn't want to join your stupid club, after all."
Gary raised his fist to punch Trump in the face. He found himself shaking, hesitating for a fraction of a second.
This was enough for Trump to kick Gary in the groin and run off, blowing kisses to everything he passed which looked female.
"Damn you," Gary wheezed, clutching his stomach, "I'll get you to join my Sexy Club someday...!"
=One-Fourth Point (Intermission)=