Story [Issue 41] Between Tabs - Part VI

[Shedinja 1,488]

Part VI

* * *

Read Part I Here

Read Part II Here

Read Part III Here

Read Part IV Here

Read Part V Here

 

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

I watched in angst-corroded patience as AllTimeGerman99 skillfully cruised through the scattered cloud of M1 Vikings and Hornets, never leaving behind a scrap of evidence that he had passed. The small, rectangular window embedded into the left-hand library wall cast a vanilla sheen across my monitor, lacing AllTimeGerman99's Dirty-clad M1 Wasp with flecks of gold and bronze as it barely stuttered on the lip of a ramp and proceeded to tread to its pinnacle. My mental crosshairs persuaded my newly decorated Railgun to attempt to track his progress. A sharp U-turn at the climax of the triangular plane quickly thwarted my trivial lock-on undertakings, leaving my turret pointing a good twenty degrees off course and staring into empty space. I nervously let my M1 Hornet dance back and forth on the small rectangle of terrain I had available as I waited for AllTimeGerman99 to prepare the clan's Skype channel.

After what seemed like several minutes, the bouncing call icon burst to life in the corner of my screen. I opened my line without any delay.

"Germ, this is Sigma, reporting for duty."

"AR12 here, is anyone out there?"

"Yeah, man, I can hear ya. Taks here."

"Hold on, still trying to get my headphones s--" Metallic rustling spiked the open comm channel. "A-ght, it's s-zzzzz- fixing the wires..."

"Heyyy, guys. Uno's in town."

I shifted my headset so that it fit more comfortably between the pillow. "Collins, you there pal?"

For a moment, the line had abandoned all sound. Nervous, I checked my connection to see if a Wi-Fi broadcaster had disintegrated again. As I was hunting for the connection indicator, a broad yet juvenile sigh punctured the silence.

"Yeah, you've got me. Sig, is that you?"

"You've got that right. Anyone hear Germ yet?"

"Nothin' yet," someoneuno's light voice murmured. "I think he's still trying to fix his Skype."

"Again?" Potatoe10937 groaned. "I thought he fixed whatever the heck was going on with that junk yesterday!"

"Give him a little bit of slack," I shot back. "He lives in the middle of a desert. Y'know, like me, except without a small town nearby?"

"Yeah, whatever," Potatoe10937 griped. "We can't just keep losing connection like this, though. It ain't good for our health."

"Anyone else consider that maybe I was still tryin' to enter the conversation?" AllTimeGerman99 finally inquired.

"Welcome to the land of the living." AR12GAMING chimed in.

"Shut up." Despite the harsh words, I detected traces of mirth in my leader's heavily tinted western accent. His hull twitched as he claimed his position on that concrete wedge, jutting from the elongated stage like an abstract wheelbarrow. The cluster of randomly assorted hulls and paints alongside this angular protuberance gave the impression of a terrible traffic jam, with vehicles attempting to escape the fuel trap via ejecting themselves from unseen lanes and crisscrossing randomly along the road, no longer regarding linear etiquette. The randomly positioned cannons did nothing to alleviate this chaotic scene, their occasional twitching mirroring AllTimeGerman99's dulled anxiety. Like an ambassador addressing a crowd, he turned his M1 Isida to face the group and tilted his machine slightly backwards on its heel treads, letting the twin tracksets' ends point to the band of sky between the zenith and the horizon.

His authentic Montana cadence became faintly yet still noticeably more subdued the faster he spoke. "Alright, y'all. We've gone over our routines about a million times by now, and we've finally learned the ins 'n outs of Monte. The map ain't a problem to us no more. What we do gotta worry about is whether the other clan has the same idea 'bout how to win here. The jump ramps are only usable when you've got Nitro boxes and such, so we'll be countin' on our heavies to keep those spots guarded along with the flag. AR, you're the Twins guy, you know what you're doin', right?"

"Nothing will get past me, sir." AR12GAMING stated boldly.

"Alright, then. Sig, remember your job as defense. AR can't do this all by himself, now; his range ain't infinite like yours and Tater's. You keep those enemy Freezes and Firebirds away from 'im, you hear?"

My response was instantaneous. "I'll do my best, boss. Tater's still playing midfield, right?"

"Yeah. That don't mean that you can slack off when there ain't nobody around ya, though. If you can give the flag holder some cover fire, don't sit on your thumbs. You're one of the only ones 'ere with M1 Railgun. Do us a favor and don't miss. Got it?"

Did I indeed get it? I wondered anxiously as my proud leader began predirecting offensive lines with someoneuno, collinskev and T3chio, the last of these remaining silent during the roll-call due to having no Skype access. I'm not sure I fully understand the gravity of this situation. One missed shot can toss the entire match. If I'm the reason that we lose this war, I'll never be able to forgive myself. I can't afford to let Germ down. Not now. I shook my head like a wet dog as rationality suddenly plunged its roots back into my brain. I can't afford to worry at what might happen when I barely have time to register what is going to happen. Suddenly, the comm channel chirped with takumi12's voice.

"Hey, Sig, you ready, buddy?"

I blinked once and turned my turret to face the opposite side of the field. "Yeah, taks." A twinge of energy, relatable to a rubber band being released, reverberated through my body. "I'm ready."

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

I woke with a jolt as 91.1 began blaring through the curbed, parallel slits of my digital alarm clock. 5:30. Good morning to you too, Stephen Curtis Chapman. As usual with my morning routine, I laid in bed for roughly a half hour, listening to the radio and contemplating the day's upcoming events. Today is the 17th. The clan war is in eleven hours. I should have the clan gather for a few practice rounds and final preparations before we enter combat. However, all of the nerves in my brain and legs decided to go on strike until the sixth hour of the day began, upon which they magically sprung to life and yanked me to the kitchen. My arms, working in tandem to my legs and possibly powerless to resist the tyranny of my nervous system, unfastened the fridge door from its magnetic seal with practiced hush to remove a slightly dented milk container with a nasty habit of steadily losing alarming amounts of weight with each passing morning. You know what they say about breakfast, I mused. Most important meal of the day for igniting the grey matter.

A doubt or two may have crossed my mind as I crammed as many Froot Loops as I could into the pathetically small bowl before me.

In spite of my usual subdued morning manner, my mind was paradoxically incredibly sharpened yet scattered all at once. As I plopped myself in my usual spot in the sun on the small, dilapidated green porch with full intention to watch the occasional hummingbirds whiz to and fro from their branch-screened nest, the exact location of which still continues to evade me to this day, I constantly felt my thoughts bend towards the plethora of possible outcomes to our various evasion strategies like a child's would to the gaudily clad boxes lying beneath the gloried evergreen on Christmas Eve night. The question is whether I can relay rapid tactic change as quickly as the opposition can enforce a new one. The broken record continued disgracing its mental turntable, leaving chunks of severed thoughts along the same lines swimming about in my head, like the subtle murmurs of agreement in response to a board meet representative's strong frontal claim. Holding the house at the west end of the red side can give us a line of sight into the enemy base, but it'll be hard to defend when two or more come after you. Then again, not only can our flag retriever have a potshot to take at the assailants, but they'll also be able to target the flag without as much molestation from the already occupied defenders. Sacrifice.

Urgh. Digesting these thoughts over and over again will only leave my brain in a state of self-induced tendonitus. Sighing, I picked up my mother's faded, green plastic lawn chair and brought it back to its rightful place behind our tin garage. The morning sun continued to glow faintly through the coniferous spire that dominated my backyard. Curious, I peeked into the section of branches that I suspected the hummingbirds had taken residence. Besides an errant yellow jacket scouring the surrounding branches, not a soul stirred in the tree today. This did nothing to relieve my unease. I happened to take a glance at my watch as I made my way back to the front door. 6:21. I wonder if anyone on the forums holds the same early-bird disposition as I.

When the ramshackle dystopia background devoured the color from my screen, I was not disappointed. Several new posts were added to the forum's vast collection while I was asleep, most of them centralizing around the general content: lukey0 demonstrating his skill with a screenshot on Photo Of The Day, a few new integers added on 1,000,000 posts, a couple of classy puns in Tanki Memes...

And then, as I was scrolling through the Content I Followed list, I found a notification that new posts have been added to Tanki Brethren [TB].

Immediately interested, I followed the link to their page. A bright red and black logo greeted me before the rest of the thread revealed itself, a sharp TB carving each section of the square icon like gashes through colored paper. Well, this is new. I wonder what they did with the old logo. Carrying on to the most recent page, I managed to scroll to the bottom of the page with minor Internet lag difficulty. It was T3chio, delivering a message to his clan mates.

[T3chio: ok guys lets have one more practice before the war. if anyones online look for me and ill set up a private match]

I suppose I shouldn't have expected much more, I thought. They likely do most of their chatter over PMs or Skype, like most other clans. I leaned back into the mire of fluff behind me, years of extended use causing the cotton within to give way without much fuss. Man, how times have changed, ​I reminisced as I half-laid there, slowly melting into the viscous cloth behind me. One day, I was teaching the unwitting kid what it meant to be part of a clan, and now he's pressed forward to lead his own. I wonder how far his skills have come now...

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

[sigma_Ctu-s1_V3: Alright, I'm gonna come around from behind the corner and try to spray you, but you're not about to let that happen, you got me?]

[T3chio: ok ready]

[sigma_Ctu-s1_V3: go]

In a flurry of snow and dust, the engine of my M1 Wasp roared to life and spun my worn treads forward, letting them grip the white cliff below me and launching me from my contemporary hiding spot beneath a snowed-over Serpuhov bridge. Turning his turret to face his impending foe, T3chio's M1 Smoky let off a potshot that glanced the rock face far to my right. Come on, buddy, you have to make sure your aim is solid before you let off a round...

Kicking his M0 Hornet into reverse gear, he began retreating into the shelter of the buildings behind him, tossing several more shots my way. Only two impacted their primary target, one resulting in a critical hit. Caught off guard by the surprising plunge in my health and the wave of sparks suddenly engulfing my Forester-clad machine, I began commanding my Wasp to serpentine the road before me, crisscrossing the road his Hornet had just barely left behind. The Hornet twitched more frequently, missing two shots in a row. T3's panicking, I thought as I closed the gap between the two lightweights. One more hit, and he can finish me...

An animated jet of ice ejected from my M1 Freeze, engulfing T3chio in a dense, light-blue cloud. Desperately, he tried to twist both the Hornet and Smoky in tandem to face me, but I had long since cleared his defenses and was lacerating his opposite and exposed side with the deadly cone of rime. The battered shell of what was once my adversary retained a steely blue complexion until it vanished to be replaced with a spanking new version, of which respawned roughly half the map's length away from me.

[T3chio: how much health left?]

[sigma_Ctu-s1_V3: Not much. That critical you clipped me with did me in but good. One more shot would'a finished me.]

[T3chio: dang. try one more time? practice makes perfect you know]

A shadow of a smile crossed my face for the merest moment through my concentration. I told him to get ready and allowed him to claim the rest of my health bar. Practice makes perfect. If only butterball or zed11 could grasp that same concept. I haven't seen them at a practice since I was made co-leader, I pondered. I witnessed the Carbon coated machine skid across the concrete plaza, passing through a glitched crystal box that refused to surrender its contents to any passing tanker, the reasons why unknown. There's somethin' about this kid... He's got smarts, loyalty, and sure ain't afraid of a challenge, I thought as T3chio made some sly comment about the crystal boxes' lousy programming. He'll make a good member someday, if we can just get 'im to shoot straight.

[T3chio: you ready yet?]

This time, an honest smile bloomed to life before the winter screen as I added my reply.

[sigma_Ctu-s1_V3: Yup, go.]

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

11:39. I cursed myself silently as the L-block that was sinking rather rapidly down the grid-patterned chamber suddenly plummeted, leaving a glaring empty partition in the once-alluring rampart of colored bricks that lined my computer screen. Blasted auto-drop always comes to bite me in the back after level ten. In a rudimentary effort to repair the obscene gap, I replaced the line block that had already begun its descent with a Z-block from my Hold slot, carefully positioning the new piece over a jagged crevice in an attempt to at least clear one line.

However, the game had other plans: a misfiring of nerves in my pinkie finger caused the red Tetrimino to shift sideways just before impact, leaving a checkered crack in my chromatic field.

I hate Tetris in the morning, I thought sourly. Why am I even playing this?

But in full truth, I knew exactly why I was feebly dropping green squigglies like there was no tomorrow instead of the logical alternative. I felt tension stretch my insides at the mere thought of opening another tab and testing the familiar waters of EN4. I don't want to have to deal with anything I don't have to quite yet, I quietly entreated as I blindly replaced a square for another square. I just want to relax a bit before I have to go back.

A voice that I can only describe as the sound of a bad-tempered young man interrupted my thoughts. Coward, it crowed. It's just another video game. Losing at them isn't exactly out of the ordinary for you, anyways; why worry about this one? Oh, right, you're running a clan. You lose, you let everyone down. Blah, blah. You know the story. anyways, why run from what you should be training with? Last I checked, Tanki can't bite.

I finally managed to slice one row of squares from existence. I hate you sometimes, I shot bitterly. I just want to do someth--

Another ill-timed L-block interrupted my thoughts by taking an errant left and perching on an artificial purple and green precipice, jutting over the remaining faction of bricks like the beak of an eight bit toucan.

I slammed my computer shut without any proper shutdown procedures and went outside to fetch my bicycle.

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

The warm summer wind was beating gently against the trees outside my second story window in Buffalo, New York. Of course, I had my window shut, however; the humidity was too much for me to handle today. I prefer a comfortable vent of cooled air pumping away next to me over the heavy yet alluring air clinging to everything outside the transparent shield. Good morning, world.

With the characteristics of a sloth, I managed to crawl out of my bed and take my post at a worn futon that made my recliner in Boulder City look fresh from a discount retailer. From between the square, maroon blocks, I displaced several shirts before locating my ASUS. The glint on the large, singular screen was as bright as ever, almost inviting despite the sunlight pouring in from behind a tree, cutting the light's path short. I clicked the power button, trying to wipe the persistent sleep from my eyes.

Upon reaching the forums, I headed straight to Tanki Brethren's clan page, excited to see how they reacted to the news. Spare one abstractly worded clan war request from a clan supposedly named Ice Tigers, the clan members seemed generally excited to know I finally got a new computer and could now access the game once more. someoneuno even went as far as to make a meme about my return, using Bad Luck Brian to inform the world about the horrible timing of her camping trip in light of my recent return.

The team seemed genuinely happy to know I've returned. After AR12GAMING took my place as the leader of the clan for a while, he had claimed that the stress of running this under only one was becoming too much of a burden to bear. "The clan page was becoming overrun with an absurd number of trolls, the StarLadder page hasn't seen use for about a month, and members would rarely show up for the few clan wars we've waged," he stated to me over a personal Skype chat. "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this alone, Sig."

Don't worry, bud, I thought as I added a new message to the forum page, the cream colored sunlight having finally broken the furthest outskirts of the maple canopy behind me. You're not alone.

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

17:35. After the long ride home from Josh's trailer, I trudged up the wide, concrete driveway leading to my own, my sandblasted 18-speed in tow. The chain link gate creaked in mild protest as I shoved it open, wedging my bike past the steel totems before gravity decided to regain control and swing it closed again. I was only partially successful; one of the rear tire spokes snagged on a rogue thread of metal, jerking my arm backwards slightly and halting my forward momentum completely. Grunting, I readjusted the position of the snatched wheel, bent the rusted iron worm back into its rightful position, and led my black and red bike into the garage for safekeeping.

After successfully doing so, I plopped back onto my favorite recliner, headset and Granny Goose Barbecue chips in hand. Nothing like a little comfort food to quell the persistent gnawing on the insides of my stomach. I slowly shuffled my weight around on the seat, trying to find that perfect resting spot for my increasingly common long-haul endeavors. As my laptop began its usual restart cycle, I checked my new phone for any notifications. The only new item to date was another Edmodo announcement reminding me to check on that Algebra assignment, the likes of which have never been recovered. Probably lying under my bed somewhere. Wonder if Mom would have posted a StickyNote on that, too.

Alternating between Skype and a patience-grating load speed for Tanki Online, I discovered my long trip to my bro's house might cost my clan members some of their own certainty. Concerned, I scrolled through what I counted to be at least 50 messages of 'Shed you there?' and 'clan war in 30 minutes' before I discovered the purpose of the inquiry.

[TankiMedic: Let's have a quick practice before the war, ok Sheddi?]

Glaring in frustration at the swirling blue icon next to the Abbreviated Tanki Online tab, I sent a reply to the nervous tankmen I was about to lead into combat.

[shedinja: It's alright, guys, I'm here. Yeah, Medic, we'll have a quick rerun of the plan once my server decides to load.]

Without waiting for any type of response, I flipped back to the Tanki page to unearth, once again, a white screen and the revolving blue comet taunting me.

Refresh.

Nothing.

Refresh.

Nothing.

X out of Google Chrome.

Open new Google Chrome Tab.

Intro screen.

I input www.tankionline.com/en into the URL bar once more.

Blue comet. White screen.

Nothing.

On the precipice of panic, I flicked my mouse across the screen and tapped the reflective Windows icon. Power. Restart. The computer quietly folded itself away on the screen before me, dissolving into a blue murk that always reminded me of a scene straight out of Ecco The Dolphin. Blue gave way to an artificial black. Then black gave way to nothing, my anxious reflection veiled by the pool of inactive pixels before me.

An eternity passed by before the timid chugging of the laptop resumed. A fan began whirring away within the plastic and steel frame, eventually joined by a chorus of other siliconic paraphernalia adjusting position or temperature. The buffer icon wheeled about on the surface of the blue murk, like an albino water strider enjoying a calm day over a deep water reservoir. Cheerful sets of circles continued to chase each other for a long time, in stark obstinance of my nearing insanity. How long does it take one laptop to reset? I've only had this thing for about a year! What on Earth is taking s--

Suddenly, with little warning, a familiar pair of Gastrodon winked up at me, beckoning me to enter my computer access information. Slightly relieved, I complied.

After another wave of blue accompanied by the reassuring message to wait a moment replaced the previous screen for a few minutes, my desktop finally decided to come back to life. Another few moments of computer lag tested my steadfast nature before finally allowing my computer to register that I had indeed tried opening a tab for Chrome. Barely waiting to the remainder of the page to present itself, I entered the URL once again and hit Enter.

The insidious blue comet returned and deleted the Chrome logo from existence, only to take its place.

It stayed and kept revolving.

And revolving.

And revolving.

Just as I was about to hit the refresh button, audibly growling in frustration, the taunting icon suddenly vanished. Finally! Something happened!

Those joyful thoughts rung through my head until I saw what had taken the place of my favorite blue circle.

 

 

Unable to connect to the Internet

Error Code: DNS_PROBE_FINISHED

 

 

Had someone been watching, they probably would have witnessed my stomach visibly hurtle to my knees. Feeling sick, I refreshed the page over and over again, but to no avail. The pixelated dinosaur still returned each time to stick its miserably tiny arms out, as if to embrace my mouse. Mind going blank, I checked the time in the right hand corner of the page.

 

6:04 p.m.

Flab.

 

Read Part VII Here

.

Edited July 29, 2017 by Hexed

[hogree 4,179]

Luuuuurve this series. One of the best ideas to grace the paper. Great stuff.

[anuclearbomb 220]

wow, that was some cliffhanger from last time, and i'm with hogree, great article, no shaft based mistakes, no noticeable ones on my first read through either

Edited October 2, 2015 by anuclearbomb

[thunderousrailgunner 1,934]

Nice ;)

[delnina2 1,570]

Awesome story ... 

 

Intersting, Fascinating, Stunning etc ... 

[Shedinja 1,488]

Luuuuurve this series. One of the best ideas to grace the paper. Great stuff.

*bows* I'm honored, sir.

Edited October 5, 2015 by greyat
I'm gonna miss you, buddy... add me to that list :c already miss you :c

[momy950666 960]

awsome article full of thrills and .^who is leaving u both are awsome and remarkable reporter

[Legends135 21]

Nice. Sooo much words but its awesome :)

[huddy_2002 81]

toooo loooooong

[fordmustang12345 3,910]

Who cares if its long its awesome

[Darren4Turbo 4,913]

toooo loooooong

Long... short... it doesn't matters, it's just amazing!

[anuclearbomb 220]

toooo loooooong

that's what sh... no

it's nice to see an article that isn't broken from you :)

[fordmustang12345 3,910]

You could totally write action/adventure books

[comandobob 15]

nice article. ill be looking forward to the next one :)

[SnotMaster_PRO 2]

When does the next part come out? (I hate cliffhangers)

[fordmustang12345 3,910]

This is taking too long for the next part. Hurry up! Q

[fordmustang12345 3,910]

Deleted..

Edited June 21, 2016 by fordmustang12345

[fordmustang12345 3,910]

Its been almost a year bro. I know your probably busy but what's up with making us wait so damn long?

[Shedinja 1,488]

Its been almost a year bro. I know your probably busy but what's up with making us wait so damn long?

Sorry for the holdup, and sorry about the previous message. It's had a bit of delay (life gets in the way, you know how it is), but you will see it this month, I promise you.

[fordmustang12345 3,910]

Sorry for the holdup, and sorry about the previous message. It's had a bit of delay (life gets in the way, you know how it is), but you will see it this month, I promise you.

I kinda figured it was cause of irl stuff :)  but I'm just very impatent :P

[Shedinja 1,488]

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but due to Newspaper article distribution, Between Tabs VII will not be coming out this month. It will most likely appear in next month's selection.

[EmpiresAndAlliesPro 174]

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but due to Newspaper article distribution, Between Tabs VII will not be coming out this month. It will most likely appear in next month's selection.

nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo (no one ban me for spam i beg)