Tim fought for a good viewing angle as strobing neon lights refracted against his screen. He had just blown his savings to get three years of QF6 cloud service, and every minute counted. Beside him Randal and McKenzie were snapping selfies and vloging with their fans. Tim was optimizing upload speeds. Soon he would be stuck in awards ceremonies, press conferences and meetings with executives. Tim desperately struggled to get Yvonne set up in what little time he had. Behind him the crowd roared. Some Japanese pop band had taken the stage.
“Isn’t that right?” McKenzie interrupted Tim with her elbow.
“What?” Replied Tim as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket.
“I really saved your ass from mean eyes over there, didn’t I?”
On the other side of the waiting room Genzo Uchida sat with arms folded. He cast a menacing stare form behind his deep-set brows. When Tim met his eyes Genzo leapt to his feet and started screaming in Japanese. Genzo leveled a finger at Tim’s face and started to march over. Having never been in an actual fight Tim tried to schooch away. Thankfully Genzo’s team managed pulled him back to the bench where he resumed casting murderous intent.
“And where was my rescue there, Mac?”
“Awe, looks like someone is pissed they lost” McKenzie said in a baby voice while swinging her golden hair back and forth.
Tim glanced around for a path to expeditious retreat, should the situation repeat. To his left, and dressed in green, was the second place team. On the stage to the right an announcer was reviewing the match on an oversized monitor. Tim's eyes drifted to his own ranking. Three players killed, one civilian, zero shots fired. He checked his phone again. Seventy-Seven percent.
Tim lost his breath for a moment when Randal slapped him on the back.
“Not bad, ol’ man, you got MVP!”
Tim ran a hand though his dusty brown hair.
“Never really thought we’d make it this far.”
“What are you goin’ to do with your share of the winnin’s?”
“Come on Randal, you already know the answer.”
“Reckon I do.”
An attendant came by and ushered the nine finalists for their entrance to the stage.
Eighty-two percent.
Tim glanced out at the audience. The first few first few rows of the amphitheater were sync-dive stations provided by the SaiiGen Corporation. Tim was in one of the eighteen teams were flown out to Japan to compete in person, and to be broadcasters for the new sync-dive. The first round was done as two team competitions, to test the stability of the sync-dive. Then, it was teams of three on three out to the finale.
“The third place prize goes to the wildcard entry. The orange team, the underdog, team Warped Sunrise!” The host announced passionately in Japanese. “Please welcome to the stage Takeuchi Yuma, Kinoshita Hayata captain Uchida Genzo!” The crowd rose from the stands with applause and whistles as the team walked to the podium. They all wore blazing orange t-shirts with professionally designed logos.
Yuma Takeuchi was of high school age. She had long dark brown hair and sleepy eyes. Over her orange shirt she wore a large white jacket, her fingers barely poked out of the sleeves. She smiled with a relaxed face and waved as she stepped onto the podium.
In the middle was Hayata Kinoshita, at twelve years of age he was the youngest contestant to make it to the finals. He ran up to the podium after Yuma and jumped up and down as he waved and called out to his parents and big brother.
Captain Genzo Uchida followed in last. He was the oldest and the shortest on team Warped Sunrise. He had a short military style haircut and heavy eyebrows bent into a permanent scowl. His combat boots made heavy steps as he walked up to his place on the podium. It looked like it caused physical pain when he smiled and waved to the audience.
Each member Warped Sunrise was handed a broadcast dive, custom colored to match their team. Genzo was also handed an oversized check, the cash prize to for making it to the final three. Everyone was tried to hide their emotion behind a face of traditional stoicism. But, this was a windfall beyond measure. The broadcast system was incredibly expensive and if they got some subscribers they could amass a small fortune just by playing. They even gained a large fan base from the experience. If done well, this one tournament could pay for a life of luxury.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Tim checked his phone again. Ninety-one percent.
The announcer rushed back to the stage and began to work the crowd.
“The second place goes to the Eastern Region champions, the hometown heroes and pride of Chiba” the announcer paused dramatically, “the green team: Blender Frog!” The announcer hopped up and down as he shouted, as if he was about to have a religious experience. Every seat in the auditorium emptied as the throng stood up in wild admiration. Rapturous cheers of applause and screams of fanatic fans deafened the scene.
“Now please welcome to the stage the wild one Katsuki Nakamura.” A young man with a crazy black pompadour and green sequin jacket danced his way to the podium. The crowd hooted and hollered as he waved.
“Next is my idol and personal goddess Emi Ito!” A gorgeous teenager came out onto stage among cheers. Screams of “Marry me!” could be heard mixed into the din. Her green sequin skirt fluttered as she strutted to the podium.
“And here comes my captain and yours Ikko Inoue!” The announcer screamed into the microphone. A handsome young man walked onto the stage full of confidence. He wore a green sequin jacket with a vivid red lining. Every smile on his face melted another heart.
A team of beautiful Japanese cheerleaders in Blender Frog green brought out the prizes. The woman who handed Ikko the oversized prize check stole a kiss from his cheek. She blushed and he blushed. The audience roared in anger. Every man present wanted to be him and every woman wanted to drown her in a toilet made of jealousy.
Ninety-Six percent.
Eventually the announcer dragged himself to the stage again. But now it was as if his energy was all expended.
“The first place prize goes to the winners of the western region,” he said listlessly, “the American team: Flesh Wound.”
A modest amount of applause droned about the auditorium as the three team members walked forward. “Welcome McKenzie Carter.” The announcer fumbled over the pronunciation in broken English. McKenzie bopped up to the stage with swagger. Her golden blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She wore a white shirt with a black knight helmet for a logo. Studded leather bracelets were on each arm. Once on the podium she smacked her chewing gum and blew a huge pink bubble like a kiss to the crowd.
“And this is Timothy Nelson.” The announcer read off a card, and once again mangled the pronunciation. Tim was the oldest competitor and felt out of place, but he still strode forward confidently. He wore a logoed t-shirt with a brown leather jacket over it. Sneakers and blue jeans completed his look. He waved from his spot next to McKenzie. Tim’s mind was elsewhere and didn’t even notice the lackluster response from the audience.
“Welcome Captain Randal Murphy.” The announcer did try his hardest to get it correct but it still came out all wrong. Nevertheless, Randal strode onto the stage. He was tall, likely the tallest person in the room at six foot four. He was young and lanky and looked more like a basketball player than a gamer. Still, he was captain for a reason. He did possess a certain kind of charm, decent leadership skills and great reflexes. He waved, smiled and looked forward to spending his share of the prize money.
The audience gave a round of kind, but brief, applause. The announcer went to the side to get the oversized prize check. The room had grown quiet. The festive atmosphere had disintegrated. The audience, announcer, contestants and everyone else held looks like they were just waiting for this to be over with. The phone in Tim’s pocket vibrated. The announcer stopped short. A blinding flash of purple light shot up from the floor.
A cacophony of voices yelled out and team Flesh Wound couldn’t understand a word of it. The light grew brighter and brighter and then receded into a thin line on the stage floor, it circled around the podium and enveloped the winners. Genzo shouted something loudly and all the Japanese sat down quickly and got into crash positions. Tim wondered if this was all part of the show.
Tim watched this brilliant purple light etch a circle around them, curious about how this special effect was done. Several other circles filled in and overlapped the original while strange symbols grew around the edge. They were unlike anything Tim had ever seen; like a cross between primitive romaji and Celtic runes. In the interior concentric circles where joined by three triangles. The light from the interior lines rose up several inches, rotated and flashed once. It spun in a different direction and flashed again, but brighter. It reminded Tim of an old fashioned padlock tumbling into place.
The light grew brighter in both luminescence and depth. The color went beyond purple spectrums that no human was meant to see. Inside the circle the mechanism clicked a ninth time and settled back down. Light slammed into the outside ring and built their momentum. A rain of symbols poured up from the circles and into the stratosphere. Nine flashes of intense light. A pop, like space itself was being rent asunder. The light disappeared.
Suddenly Tim found himself in free-fall.