System Transmission Log 00119490 successfully retrieved.
Dated XO.■◯∇.3935975 (Adjusting for digital-spacetime distortion: 04.34.47.08.21.20XX)
Decoding...
> Running global system diagnostics. Scanning... 60438592049036680420572023953753902935230369359723053289 processes currently running, data integrity stable.
>
> // Yeah, not in the mood for specifics. I’ll pass on the headache.
>
> C:/Proxy> vis setAnnoyingNum = convert(num < 0.001 && num > 100000, sciNot(2))
> C:/Proxy> setAnnoyingNum
>
> Visual setting saved. All numbers lesser than 0.001 and greater than 100000 will be written in scientific notation rounded to two digits.
>
> // That’s more like it.
>
> Monitoring global threat levels to system integrity... 41●■9 threats detected.
>
> // Wait, huh? Did the tens and hundreds digits get eaten by something? I’ll run that one again.
>
> C:/Proxy> scan(threats, global)
>
> Monitoring global threat levels to system integrity... 1.□9×10**1▶4 threats detected. Danger level readings VERY HIGH, immediate action recommended. Troubleshooting engaged, searching for solutions to fix the problem...
>
> // What the hell?? Hold on a sec, jeez! Sometimes I really wish all this was Windows ‘98 speed again... easier to keep track of, at least.
>
> // Uh, what was the shorthand again? Shit... eh, whatever.
>
> C:/Proxy> openDialogue(1)
> C:/Proxy> Scan through the individual local areas and run diagnostics on the ones with the most threats detected in them.
>
> Command recognized.
> Commencing search of Digital World Sects with greatest magnitude of threat levels. Retrieved top 15 Sects with the highest danger level, ordered from most to least.
>
> Determining internal data integrity of Digital World Sect #000002...
>
> // Well, no surprises there- being first one on the list, that is.
>
> 493 threats detected. Threat level detected for Sect #000002: EXTREMELY HIGH, EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY
>
> // WHAT- oh gdi right the parameters for this one
>
> C:/Proxy> openDialogue(1)
> C:/Proxy> Run threat diagnostics for Digital World Sect #000002, compared to average number of threats and threat level for what Sect #000002 usually has.
>
> Command recognized.
> Scanning Sect #000002 for system threats compared to past history...
>
> Compared to typical data, threat levels detected for Sect #000002: SLIGHTLY HIGH.
>
> // Phew, there it is. Hmm, still pretty dire, though- Very low numbers with disproportionately high threats that could keep climbing any second... well, you know what they say. Don’t let the little ones be, they’re coming together to come back as big ones- or are being fed to them, either way. Better yet, I’m hoping they’re just all out of town.
>
> Determining internal data integrity of Digital World Sect #004283...
>
> // Wait, isn’t this right around
>
> 7.09×10**62 threats detected. Threat level detected for Sect #004283: DANGEROUSLY HIGH
>
> // Good lord, we’re going to have to act fast, no telling how long it’ll take whatever chodes are running this joint to crack the gate codes. Especially if they’ve got an army just ready to storm the Human world once it’s open. HOW did the 10 to the power of 62 number of threats NOT get detected on the first threat scanning?? You are SO lucky I asked to run that again.
>
> Determining internal data integrity of Digital World Sect #000066...
>
> // Which one was this again?
>
> 1 threat detected. Threat level detected for Sect #000066: DANGEROUSLY HIGH
>
> // OH right I know this one. Sealed off and all that, whatever. Numbers should have tipped me off, pffft.
>
> Determining internal data integrity of Digital World Sect #005865...
>
> // Oh jeez this one, too. Yeah, I’m aware-
>
> 1 threat detected. Threat level detected for Sect #005865: DANGEROUSLY HIGH
>
> // I mean, given what the big guy had to shuck off to get to where he is now, I’d say it’s PRETTY reasonable that the leftovers would have to be sealed off too.
>
> Determining internal data integrity of Digital World Sect #000966...
>
> 1 threat detected. Threat level detected for Sect #000966: VERY HIGH
>
> // Man, I forgot how many of these there were in a row, it’s almost so funny. Like, you tried to take over or destroy the Digital World? Get sealed away, idiot!!!
> // Ha ha. Good times.
> // ...
>
> C:/Proxy> skipResults(if(scan(threats, any) <= 7))
>
> // That’s a safe number.
>
> Skipping displaying data for Sects when scanning 7 threats or fewer.
>
> Determining internal data integrity of Digital World Sect #075246...
>
> // Uh, odd. This one definitely isn’t an Evil Holding Sect or anything, I’m sure. They’d be WAY deeper down than the 70 thousands.
>
> 4.73×10**5 threats detected. Threat level detected for Sect #075246: VERY HIGH
>
> // Okayyyy this is definitely bad. Why are there so many threats in a neutral Sect. What is going on, what are they doing there.
> // AND HOW DID THIS NOT GET PICKED UP THE FIRST TIME
>
> Determining internal data integrity of Digital World Sect #662100...
>
> // Oh, don’t tell me... no, he should know better. He wouldn’t.
>
> 3.16×10**4 threats detected. Threat level detected for Sect #662100: VERY HIGH
>
> // Damn it, dude! My guy! Why do you have so many threats or whatever at your beck and call, you’re going to get your ass kicked!
>
> Local individual Sect scans for threats sorted by severity of danger complete.
>
> After troubleshooting, the solution most recommended is to run the function call intended to bring in external agents to quell the threats.
>
> Is this acceptable? (Y/N)
>
> // ...
> // Sigh. Sorry, kids.
>
> C:/Proxy> Yes
> C:/Proxy> Y
>
> Confirmed Proxy and System are in consensus. Running chooseOnes…
>
>
>
> Digidestined has been chosen.
>
>
>
> // ...
>
> C:/Proxy> openDialogue(1)
> C:/Proxy> Hey, System, you’ll tell me about them, won’t you?
>
End Log Transcript. Converting selected script to .dwc file...
----------------------------------------
When Paul Manchester pulled into the driveway, he wasn’t in a bad mood.
He climbed out of the car, backpack full of work supplies in hand, and his eyes gravitated to a window set over the far side of the lawn. The curtains inside were drawn shut tight.
Paul was feeling just fine, actually, as he pivoted away from the walkway leading to the house’s front door to the path around the side. He’d had a long day, and work was work, and all, but no amount of complaining was really going to change that.
He slid open the sliding glass door from the backyard, much quieter than the heavy front door would have been, and slipped off his shoes before he stepped inside. The kitchen was bare and normal, save for one thing out of place that he caught sight of almost immediately- a bag half full of sliced bread twisted shut left on the counter. Someone had taken it out to eat, and there were no crumbs on the counter around it. Only one other person was in the house right then and there who could have eaten it, Paul knew.
He tiptoed down the hallway, leaving his work pack on the kitchen table to put away for later, and he wasn’t in a bad mood. He was only approaching the door near the front of the hallway to ask who had left out the bread, and then ask him to put it away. He gently closed his fingers over the doorknob, and he wasn’t in a bad mood then, either.
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He swung open the door in one quick motion, and the boy inside jolted back. Guilty.
Out of his hands and now on his bed was a sandwich, crumbs scattered around an unfolded napkin on the bed underneath.
Now, if the boy had made his sandwich and eaten it in the kitchen, but had just happened to leave the bread out, there would be no need for Paul to be angry with him. All he would have to do would be to ensure that his son was in fact the one who had left the bread out, and remind him to put it away now that he had finished making and eating his sandwich. If he didn’t want his father to be in a bad mood, he could have done that very easily.
But Asher had broken a rule.
So here we are.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Asher opened his mouth to respond, but Paul cut him off. “No food in your room,” Paul corrected, as though Asher had forgotten. He’d flinched, so Paul knew he remembered. Asher was doing it on purpose, breaking the rules because he wanted Paul to be angry. It was the obvious explanation.
“I was being careful, I promise…” He mumbled out in reply, his gaze breaking from Paul’s, falling down in clear dismay of being caught. “I put down a napkin and everything- so I wouldn’t drop any crumbs and attract ants, like you said you were worried about?” Backtalk.
Paul’s teeth grit in his mouth as his eyes searched the room, spotting a pair of brightly colored cards around the area that Asher had left his sandwich by. He stepped in further, reaching out a hand to pick them up, before Asher lunged forward to snatch the cards up, then hurriedly returned to where he’d backed up against the wall. Paul’s hand twisted as its course changed to reach towards Asher instead, now facing palm up expectantly.
“Give it to me.”
Asher didn’t move right away, letting out a quiet groan to make it clear he was bellyaching over it, before sullenly reaching up to drop one card in Paul’s open palm.
Paul reached back to deposit the first card in his back pocket, then presented his empty palm to Asher again.
“And the other one.”
Asher pulled a face, his arms staying close to his chest.
At the signal that Asher wasn’t going to comply right away, Paul’s hand twisted back to reach forward, set on taking the item himself. Like a charm, Asher’s hand holding the card thrusted forward, presenting the card to Paul the instant before his hand would have snatched it out of Asher’s hands. The man’s hand naturally accepted the interruption with grace and took the offered card, though his bad mood still lingered. See, this was even more proof that Asher really did know what to do to not make him angry, and simply never wanted to do it the first time he asked. How infuriating.
Paul squinted as he lifted the offending card to his face, wondering what disruptive influence could have drawn Asher to disobey. He was met with the visage of a savage, golden lion, eye-straining in the visual noise of both the lion itself and the patterned, swirling background behind it. Paul turned the card around to face Asher, emphasizing his next question with the added benefit of no longer having to look at it.
“Where did you get this?”
Asher looked up, eyes flicking between Paul’s face and the card, no remorse in his guilty eyes as he hesitated.
“Um,” he finally answered, about to lie- or worse, Paul knew. “It’s from the comic store? All the cards I have come from there.”
It was, indeed, worse- more backtalk. Paul’s face threatened to contort in his fury, but he showed some restraint, only furrowing his brows as he clenched his fist shut, crumpling the card held inside it in doing so. His efforts were met with a cry of despair from the child in front of him- and now that Paul had his attention, finally, he repeated his question, so Asher would hear him this time.
“Who gave this to you?”
Through his guilty, panicked expression, Paul watched as his son sputtered out his real answer.
“N-no, no one gave them to me! Don’t ruin them, the Break card is really rare!” Whining. “I bought both of them myself in the same pack, with my own money and everything! I even earned a square to use so I could buy it- u-um, a square that I got from Mom.” Asher shrank back, having finally given the answer Paul was looking for.
The man turned the card back around, looking at it with new eyes. He could find the time to be upset that his ex-wife was involved, probably giving signatures for Asher’s good behavior to fill out the kid’s squares way too quickly- but for now, this was more pressing.
Finally, finally, something that Asher actually cared about that he could use. Maybe now his son would actually listen to him, even.
“This is going in the shredder.” Paul flipped the crumpled eyesore of a card around for Asher to see, in emphasis.
The reaction was immediate- and had the added benefit of confirming all of Paul’s suspicions in one go.
“WHAT? No! Please, don’t!” All of Asher’s wailing and whining grated on the man’s ears, but he knew he’d hit his mark. The man couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice as he barked out a single, sharp laugh.
“Tchyeah, now you’re sorry. You KNEW the rules, you just didn’t care about following them,” he accused, pointing to his son’s blubbering, guilty face. “If you didn’t want this to happen, you shouldn’t have broken the rules. SIMPLE rules, Asher. I’ve told you this, again and again!” Yeah, this settled it, there was no way Paul was changing his mind now. Asher needed to be taught a lesson, and this seemed like the only way it would stick- he didn’t seem to care much about the other ways Paul had tried to get such a simple point across.
Delicately valuable cards folded and crumpled in hand, Paul stomped away, turning his back to the wails and whines coming from the doorway left open to his son’s room. This was his house, his property, knowing it like the back of his hand, and if Asher wanted to live here he had to abide by the rules of the house. Paul’s house.
Paul’s home office room lay further down the hallway, chosen so Paul always had plenty of opportunity to peer into Asher’s room and ensure he wasn’t doing anything he wasn’t supposed to as he walked past- aptly needed for occasions much like this, as it turned out. His office… where his faithful paper shredder was plugged in, of course.
Paul carefully opened his door and marched up to his machine- a far better listener than Asher had ever been- and tapped the power button, folding his arms to wait for it to power on. His arms were already in motion after a brief moment, pushing the cards into the paper slot before realizing, with a start, that the dutiful device hadn’t even turned on at his prompting.
Something must have been wrong, Paul knew, if it didn’t seem to work the first time, so he rested a hand on it as he scoped around for what might be causing the problem. Almost immediately, his investigation yielded devastating results- the cord that ran between his faithful paper shredder and the wall socket placed just nearby… was missing entirely.
Paul’s vision went red. There was only one person in the house to have done this.
Raising his voice so Asher would be able to hear him from the office, Paul called out to him. “WHERE is the paper shredder plug?!”
The loud wailing from his son’s room fell silent for a moment. So guilty, it made Paul sick to his stomach.
“…What?” Asher called back, his voice hoarse from all his whining.
“Don’t you dare- the plug that plugs into my paper shredder,” Paul narrowed his eyes in the room’s direction. “You really did go and steal the charger to this so I wouldn’t be able to use it, didn't you.” He grit his teeth, another flare rising up behind his eyes at the blatant disruption of his delivery of punishment.
“What-? No, I didn’t, I promise! You don’t allow me in your office in general, I wouldn’t know what the cord even looks like,” Asher fretted, desperately trying to save face anyway his guilty mind could grasp.
“Hoh, you are going to be in So much trouble for lying when I find it. Don’t think you’ll ever see your cards again either way,” Paul affirmed, turning back to the matter at hand when Asher returned to muffling his crocodile tears with his pillow.
If Asher had the plug, then it wouldn’t be in the office, Paul confirmed as he briefly looked around the room to check. He would have to go through Asher’s room to find it later, whatever new hiding place he’d found to do the wrong thing with. But for now, Paul’s attention was turned back to the shredder. He’d said so himself what he was going to do, so of course he was going to do it.
Paul took the card that had seemed to hold so much control over Asher, and did his best to jam it into the slot where paper went in on the shredder. Despite his best efforts, the flimsy cardstock could not go far while the machine remained powerless, the force Paul implemented to push it in deeper only serving to further crunch the card against the slot and scuff the edge.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Paul drew the card away, considering his options for what to do with them instead. Asher had said the cards were rare, and if there were other people who believed him then there was the chance Paul could sell them- maybe even get some good money out of them. But when he looked down at the card in his hand again, he dismissed the idea after a moment of thought- it was hard to tell how well Asher had taken care of them, but given the rough state of how it looked there was no way anyone would want to buy this, no matter how tricked they were into thinking it was worth something.
He could burn the cards instead with a lighter- but no, he couldn’t. No lighting fires in the house, that was against the Rules.
Paul racked his brain, trying to come up with any way he could follow through on what he had indeed said he was going to do, before suddenly relaxing as the answer came to him. He could just go to the store and buy a new plug to use, and deal with the problem the moment he got home.
The next logical step to reach that outcome, though, had his face souring once more. Paul couldn’t leave Asher behind at home with his paper shredder, just thinking about what the boy would do to it while he wasn’t there to keep an eye on him. Asher had already made it clear that he considered messing with Paul’s belongings as some viable method to avoid his punishment, and the thought of him doing something drastic to his well-functional paper shredder had Paul really upset.
The natural conclusion of what to do instead, of course, was clear.
Paul stood back up, marching back down the hallway. The muffled, ear-grating wails and sobs caught in the boy’s throat with a quick breath as the sound of his father’s heavy footsteps drew closer, stopping at his open doorway.
“Asher, get your shoes.” Paul called into the room, his prompt expecting no argument. “We’re going to the store.”
Paul didn’t wait for Asher to give any indication that he’d heard him before walking back down the hall to the front door, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. They’d be heading out soon, whether the kid wanted to or not.
----------------------------------------
It was a nice day out, hardly the kind that kids should stay cooped up in their rooms with the blinds drawn.
Paul was back behind the wheel, his ruined mood dampened by the cheerful day outside the car as he drove his way downtown. There were people here and there out in the cool autumn afternoon, dog walking or chattering with friends or ruining their backs, hunched over their phones. He used to have the energy to find it within himself to disapprove, as his wife used to urge him to vocally discourage in their kids- but he pointedly decided to let his gaze slide over them passively, and focus on the road instead.
His eyes flicked up to watch Asher in the rearview mirror, whose face was still puffy and red with crocodile tears from earlier. Paul hoped that at the very least the color would fade before they arrived at the store, since dragging around a tantruming kid through a public space was one of the most mortifyingly embarrassing things he could imagine.
All those people, looking at him, because his child was acting 8 years younger than he was supposed to be and making a scene… he shuddered.
Anything but that.
“Having your blinds drawn and your room dark all the time is bad for your eyes,” Paul didn’t move to stay focused on the road, but his eyes flicked up to watch as Asher lifted his head from where he was moping to pay him attention. “Go look out the window instead of crying over nothing, it’s better for you.”
The lines over Asher’s face only pressed deeper and wider, squeezing out a few more crocodile tears for Paul’s benefit- but he did do what he was asked, mushing his face against the window.
“You didn’t have to ruin Pyroar Break…” his throaty voice mumbled, barely audible over the thermostat-controlled air conditioning.
“What was that? Speak up.” Paul rolled his eyes- getting him to speak in a clear voice was getting harder these days.
It did work, though. Asher sat up a little better in his seat, opening his mouth to speak properly.
“You- you didn’t have to ruin that card, you could have just taken it, or something. That was one of my favorites, I was really excited to pull that card…” Asher’s voice still carried the throaty candor of one who’d been bawling his eyes and lungs out, one that Paul caught on right away- ensuring it would contribute absolutely nothing to Asher’s attempt to change Paul’s mind.
“Oh, waah.” Paul rolled his eyes, frankly disgusted that Asher had let something so insignificant control him so easily. “It’s just a card, get over it. You’re eleven years old, not five, so if you don’t want me to treat you like you are then you better stop acting like one.”
Asher only gave a whimper in response, proving Paul correct yet again. The child didn’t have anything else to say, turning his face back to press up against the hot car window.
At least he was taking some of his advice to heart without needing to be told again, Paul mused to himself.
Paul gave his turn signal, steering the car into the meager parking lot just outside the electronics store, the reflection of a bright white flash of sunlight from some other car’s windshield catching his peripheral vision. The man blinked it away, continuing to drive and spotted a nice, safe parking spot to settle into.
In the seat behind him, Asher sat up suddenly, staring out the window in a fixed direction when Paul lifted his eyes to check.
“Dad- did you see that?”
Paul frowned. “See what, a bird?” He shrugged- they weren’t uncommon downtown or anything. “Okay.”
Asher shielded his eyes, craning his neck back to try and keep whatever his focus was on in view.
“No, it was in the- I saw something, just over there, in the alleyway right there.” Asher pointed, not seeming to realize that Paul still wasn’t looking or following his attention.
“Asher, you’re not going in any alleyways,” Paul wrinkled his nose as he pulled into a parking spot, having just about free reign of the empty lot. He’d heard some news, something about the electronics parts store going out of business… that’d be a shame, for times like these. It wasn’t every day that he needed something specific. “Come on, we’re going inside now-”
As soon as the car was turned off and unlocked, though, Asher had sprang out of his seat, already halfway across the small lot in a direction that was distinctly not the parts store. A fury shot through Paul’s veins, viscerally reminded of how embarrassing it was to be doing necessary errands while also dragging a tantruming kid along with him. He was willing to humiliate Paul just to avoid punishment, it was more than clear.
“Asher!” He hissed, raising his voice to be heard across the distance, though his sharp tone still echoed around the empty lot regardless. It was enough to halt his son, though, who turned around- having the audacity to seem confused as to why Paul was calling after him. “Get back here, right now. You’re the reason we’re here in the first place. We’re going to the store to get a new part that you hid from me, and you are going to be right here next to me the whole time.”
Asher didn’t move when he asked him to- even shaking his head. The defiance sent Paul’s blood boiling through his veins.
“No, I mean- Dad, we have to see what that something was! It was over here, come on!” He disobeyed, beckoning Paul after him as he continued to wander further away from the store. He knew he was embarrassing him, there was no doubt, Asher was doing this on purpose.
Giving one last furtive glance to the electronics store, so close to his word being swiftly followed through to fruition, Paul turned and stormed after Asher, intent on catching up and dragging him to the store kicking and screaming if he had to. Asher had already pulled the trigger on embarrassing Paul on this shopping trip, so as far as Paul was concerned, his appearance was already cooked- this wouldn’t do much more harm than what Asher had already done.
Asher had stopped, oddly enough, only a few feet down the sidewalk away from the edge of the electronics store parking lot. Paul discovered this at an awkward moment, having fully expected to see Asher making a break for it down the sidewalk that he’d have to chase, so he nearly crashed into the boy as he decelerated sharply upon seeing him.
“Asher. We’re going, now.” Paul grabbed the boy’s closer wrist and yanked it towards him hard, losing patience with his disobedience. Asher looked up at Paul in bewilderment as he was pulled a few steps back in the direction they’d both come from, though he continued to try pulling Paul back in the way he was heading- simply determined to make it difficult for the both of them.
“Dad, no, come on, look- there’s something in the alley there, you need to see it!” He whined, pointing with his free arm back in the direction where he’d been spacing out looking in before Paul got there in time to yank him away.
“Asher, I’m not going to say it again. We’re going to the store, for your mistake, and not looking into alleyways with-” Paul rebuked, giving a brief, distracted glance down the alleyway to follow Asher’s pointing.
Now, he’d meant to keep speaking, angry at Asher for wasting both of their time from doing what they were supposed to be doing, to instead bother with an utterly empty, unremarkable alleyway with nothing inside it.
His voice died in his throat, however, when he saw- there was something down there. Small and on the ground, whatever it was seemed to produce a flickering dim light from where it laid on the gross alleyway cement.
“What in the…?” Paul squinted, rubbing his eyes to look again, with hopefully clearer vision. The mystery object still seemed to be there, just as Asher- just as Paul had noticed it before. Asher, taking advantage of Paul’s brief lapse in judgment, exerted his own force where Paul had taken his arm, now pulling him deeper into the alley. Paul inhaled a sharp breath at the disobedience… but didn’t pull away, eyes cautiously darting around the alleyway as they walked through, to watch for anyone that might have been hiding or loitering around where they shouldn’t have been.
Asher, with no such apprehension, continued to drag him onward, slowing to a gentle halt when the object laid at his feet. Still with one arm hooked in Paul’s grip like an anchor, he reached down to pick it up.
Holding it up to the fading afternoon light filtering through the alleyway, Paul beheld a very odd device in his son’s hand. It was a device of some sort, as far as he gathered- the body of it a clean white, round and bulky in Asher’s hand with symmetrical curved notches around the outer shape for easier gripping. An inner ring of cerulean was inlaid around the center screen, strange characters of some sort inscribed around the circle, no matter which way Asher turned it in his hand. The screen, a little square in the center of the device that seemed so large and bulky in Asher’s young hand, had ceased flashing that dim light when he’d picked it up- now simply glowing a bright, steady white.
Waiting for something.
Paul blinked, resisting the urge to step back as a wave of something hit him like a tide crashing through his head. There was a tension, some sense of scale he couldn’t quite grasp, that turned his stomach- as though he were impossibly feeling the weight of its gaze through this tiny, inanimate object.
What was worse, as he gazed at it, was feeling something in himself- the tiniest of sparks, somewhere so deep down in his gut that he could only barely notice yet so impossible to ignore, that heard and understood that significance- and reached back.
Paul averted his gaze, an emotion he couldn’t place burning in his chest as he could no longer face the device’s too-bright glow. Any inclination he had to respond, or examine further, was forgotten as his eyes zeroed in on Asher’s own gaze- utterly unable to look away. He couldn’t have looked any more like the child he was, his expression mystified and full of naked awe and wonder, as though he could see something Paul could not.
A surge of all-too familiar contempt rose up in his chest, a scowl crossing his face as his mind was already unfolding the next series of events- neatly filing away reason and justification for each.
Asher’s view of the bulky device was interrupted by Paul’s attempt to swipe it out of his hand, only just able to retain his grip on it in instinctive resistance. He had the audacity to look up at Paul in shock and betrayal, that Paul almost sneered in disgust at outright.
“Asher, let go.” Paul asked. He watched as Asher’s eyes just slightly widened in fear, now clearly understanding he would be disobeying if he hung onto it any longer. It was his choice now, whether he was going to obey or not by letting Paul take it.
“What? But why?” He cried. Backtalk.
“Oh, look at yourself,” Paul snapped. “You find a new electronic on the ground, and after five seconds you’re already addicted. You couldn’t even look away! I’ll be holding onto this-” He yanked on the distraction once more, brow furrowing even further when Asher’s grip refused to give it up. “-because you don’t seem to have any self control. You need others to control you for you, is that it?”
“No, no, I don’t,” Asher shook his head quickly, and Paul almost rolled his eyes at the childish, impulsive response. “But this isn’t- you don’t get it, this is something I need, please let me have it…” he whined, looking up to meet his dad’s eyes.
A mix of white-hot anger and stomach turning disgust flashed through Paul’s vision- Asher was on the verge of tears.
Disobeying, overreacting, acting like a child- all because of this electronic he’d found on the ground. Quite simply put, this was the worst offender Paul had encountered from Asher in a long, long time- the most ridiculous behavior, over the most ridiculous of reasons.
“Need it? Oh, don’t try to pretend you’re not addicted already, Asher. I know you, this is how you’re like,” Paul scoffed, another wave of disgust giving him the strength to finally rip it out of his son’s hand- and in sudden impulse, raised it high above his head in intent. “I know better, Asher, so believe me when I say this is for your own good.”
Paul hurled the device toward the ground, set on dashing it to pieces no matter how loud Asher cried. And cry, he did.
“NO!”
The device hit the ground with a sharp CRACK
And the world went white.
Paul’s vision was all but swallowed up by the electronic’s white glow as it intensified and magnified a hundred times over, his body going from standing on solid ground to falling through white wind blustering him back and forth and pulling at his clothes while the deafening sound of crashing ocean waves filled his ears. The chaos, the overstimulation was so consuming he could barely hear his own screams of terror as he fell and fell and fell, unable to think of anything else he could do. The infinity, the binary of vivacious white and empty white overtaking his understanding as he fell into the forever was all he knew, all he’d known, all he’d ever know, and his terror burned brightly before that, too, was consumed.
Everything was white, and white was everything… before Paul could take no longer, and all went black.
----------------------------------------
Back in the alley, the gate closed, and it was empty once more. All that remained as evidence anyone had been there, was a card gently fluttering to the ground and landing on the concrete with a tap.
Illustrated in majestic detail on the face of it, stood a mighty, proud lion, with a mane of red and yellow and breath carrying the curling wisps of flame.
There was no “Break” in golden font printed next to the card’s name.