Correlation
~Somewhere In The Video Game System~
"Not everyone or everything are what they seem to be in the new world."
Drake said to himself repeatedly as he walked along the pedestrian bridge by the road side. He was headed to a public Playground fair for everyone. He already has a mission.
Oh, you wanna know what happened between him and the hotheaded Chloe after he'd mistakenly open the door again. Well, sorry to break your heart, I don't think that it's really important. Soon enough you'll figure out for yourself.
"Hey handsome, wanna fuck?!"
A slender, but hot lady in pink tight gown stopped by the other end of the bridge, leaning and cutting eyes for him in erotic sequence.
He swallowed a lump and shook his head quickly, tucking his neck in as he hurried on.
"Awwn... such a cute innocent pie."
The lady chuckled behind him and walked on in another direction. Drake muttered as he turned at the place where the pedestrian cut through the express road to the other side for passersby to cross; there was an underground road for vehicles to ply at that spot.
"Fuck?"
Drake had dragged the mutter. Then he suddenly remembered how childishly he had seemed and portrayed himself to that lady.
"Holy shit, I'm a shit!"
He agreed and walked down the bridge. Now he headed to the Playground fair. He gaped. It wasn't what he had expected. He'd expected many children riding some advanced kids' toys. But by heavens, there were numerous adults fetching, catching, racing, riding electric horses and several other quite interesting but dimwitted activities to him.
He got carried away by a guy chasing a tall beautiful lady. The lady giggled and looked back occasionally at the guy chasing her. Then she tripped and fell. The guy climbed on her and began to ravage her in public, as she gave herself to him.
"Focus, Drake. We aren't here for this."
He shook his head and kept on walking around. It got to a point and he was tried. And when he tried to seat on one of the small lone brick chairs, a neat volleyball rolled to his feet.
"A ball?"
He quizzed, staring at the ball which suddenly rolled to its other side as it touched his sneakers. His eyes caught a number on the ball. He read out loud,
"856423"
"Give it here."
A small cute 7 years old looking boy reached out his dirty palms at Drake who handed the ball over. As the boy turned to leave without gratitude, Drake called,
"Hey, what's that number on the ball? You have a number on the back of your cloth too?"
The boy turned with childish sneer,
"Hey newbie, my teammates are waiting for me. Everyone reads their tabs before hopping into the game. How can an adult like you not know that of everything we own in the old world that only our player numbers remain unchanged. Dumbass."
Drake gaped in shock as the sassy boy hurried away. I mean, walked away confidently! As much as the boy reminded him of who he used to be eight years ago, disobeying his mother, stealing into the ULTINUM building to peek at Chloe out of curiosity until he found a tough melanin skinned man who happened to be the guards of the players and a tormented soul too. Yet, he felt like beating the boy to pulp. But then he remembered that he had something else to do.
"These numbers are the same as the player numbers those crazy bots call us with?"
He paraphrased the uncensored sermon of the boy. He looked to his side, he saw a young lady coming. He called,
"Hey girl, could you tell me the number on my back?"
The lady rolled her eyes at him, biting,
"Business or no attention."
He shook his head as he watched her pass by,
"Dumb. Business at a Playground? What a world."
His hasty eyes caught her number too. Then he came to a decision. He took a deep breath, then traced one of his fingers to his nape, to the blue light,
"Let's go do some research!"
He almost pressed the blue warm button-like light in his nape when he stopped suddenly.
"Trouble."
He told himself and looked hurriedly around. Then he saw the lady and that guy from earlier. He grunted,
"Y'all are making me jealous huh?"
He began to walk towards them wearing a silly look. Now, both the girl and guy were jogging. He started jogging too. But when he was closer to them, he increased his pace past the guy and then getting to the lady, he thrusted his proportioned frame forward a little bit, then carried the lady and threw her over his left shoulder and kept on running away.
"Hey, you fuckass shit, put my girl down."
The boyfriend started running faster now as Drake shot over his head,
"I just wanna rip her ribcage apart with my cock too."
The lady across his shoulder stopped struggling after he said those words and said,
"I like the sound of that."
And suddenly the cops came out of nowhere.
"Cops? Are you kidding me. Uh huh."
The girl answered,
"Yes. They grow out of the space immediately you outstep a bound and beat you to pulp instead of taking you away."
"That sounds scary."
Drake muttered, struggling to punch the blue light with his other hand.
"It doesn't only sound so. It really is."
The lady added.
"Oh, shit."
He cussed as the cops got to him, but fortunately, he was a second faster.
"Damn!"
He panted, removing the chip as he found himself in his duplex.
"Shit was close."
He laughed hysterically, then paused,
"Huh, where was the lady I was carrying?!"
He looked around but couldn't find her. He didn't dwell on it for long. He picked up his tab and switched on his protonet connection.
"Player 856423"
He typed in and the database loaded for a while. And miraculously, the search engine brought up the profile of a pretty aged man, scanty gray beards, freckled and sun-tanned skin. Drake read the information out,
"Calon Gray, 65, used to serve in the army before the ULTINUM project. His perfect line: Life had played me. I'd be played."
Drake looked contemptuously away. He scoffed,
"Does this even make any sense. How could someone decide to be a volley ball in a place where you can become whatever you so want. How dumb people could be."
He typed in the number of the business lady and figured her to be a 52 years old single mother who had failed woefully in getting her life together and building a good business. She even lost her only daughter to the ULTINUM PROJECT.
"These ULTINUM bastards. I'll find a way to make y'all pay."
Suddenly he remembered,
"Yes! That sassy smally."
He typed in the number of the rude boy with the volleyball. Drake was a teenage with a magnetic memory. Remembering a great deal of coding programs is a cakewalk let alone random numbers he'd stared at more than once.
"Oh for fuck's sake."
He gaped.
"No wonder."
He agreed, staring at the profile which represented the smally. He was a formal governor of the most populous state of the former world before the ULTINUM PROJECT. He wasn't given a shot by the government officials to be a part of the new program.
"Explains why he's restless."
He dismissed. Then it suddenly occured to him,
"Mom. Chloe."
He breathed in deeply.
"Sorry mom, but Chloe first."
He thought for a while what Chloe's number was but he didn't get it. He had to type in several combinations before he got the right one.
"Player 234567."
He read her Perfect line out,
"I'll do anything to be together with my dad again. But I'll start by killing those bastards who caused his death."
Drake sighed.
"I hope this won't be a wrong choice."
He leaned back into the couch, tossing the tablet aside. He muttered,
"Mother, you do know that I love you so much. No one above you. But I've got to really sort things out with Chloe first. It's what you'll want too."
He exhaled deeply, then clipped the chip in,
"Take DREYA to where PLAYER 234567 is in the new world."
Gloom!
Drake found himself standing by the side of a beautiful street bordered by mansions and different types of buildings. Unlike on earth, where all the buildings are the same; duplexes! The only different building was the ULTINUM.
Then suddenly, he looked to his left and saw a beautiful mansion with a transparent gate. There was a dog standing at the front of that gate. That same white Cane Corso!
"What the fuck am I doing here? Where this fucking dog is."
He quizzed, looking around frantically.
"Could the player be around here?"
But then for a moment, he allowed himself to be distracted.
"But what is this dog doing here again? Could this be the house of that evil man?"
He decided to cross the road to the other side to where the dog was. He wanted to creep on the dog.
"It should have a number too. If a common has a number, why wouldn't a dog!!!"
He muttered faintly to himself as he got to where the dog was. He pretended to be standing by that roadside, blending with some passersby, as he tiptoed trying to look at the black ropeless latch around the dog's neck.
But the effort was unsuccessful. He knew twas unnecessary, yet he kept on walking till he got to the dog who turned immediately and growled at him.
"Hey, calm down. I won't hurt you. I just want to --"
His eyes picked the corner of the latch as he read the numbers out...
"2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ... 7 "
"What a nice combination of number. You have such a special --"
He quit the compliment as soon he remembered something,
"No way, Player 234567... 23456 -- no--"
The dog didn't care what he was saying. Twas after him again, chasing him, for making him lose the man who'd just entered the apartment during the distraction.
As Drake kept running, he mumbled inaudibly until the dog jumped at him from behind, but he was quick to punch the blue button.
As soon as he got back into his sitting room, he removed his chip and hurried to the window after ordering the window mode. He pressed his palms to the window, and the window opened itself. Though that was new to him, he didn't let that cloud his confusion as he argued,
"Chloe is the dog? How can that be? Why would she choose that?"
Then he paused,
"No, that isn't the question. Could that man be her --"
He walked away from the window without changing the mode. He settled back into the couch and clipped the chip in,
"Take DREYA to the previous location."
But nothing happened. He repeated the instructions over and over again, yet he remained in his sitting room.
"What's happening?"
He complained. Then his tab began to beep continuously. He removed the chip, pick up the tab and flipped it open to the page of warning.
He read out,
"Your three chances have expired."
He dropped the tab,
"No not now... My chances? What chances?!"
He groaned, gritting his teeth.