Meet the Robinsons: Time Will Tell

Chapter 1 - The Inventor's Son

Year 2040...

Orbs of electricity bounced within the ball court, colliding against the holographic barriers blocking the goal.

It was a 1v1 chargeball match within the school gym, but not a real game: only practice.

"Today is the day you'll taste defeat, Robinson!" the teen shouted, firing an electric charge from his glove, aimed at Wilbur's goal.

Wilbur thought swiftly and leaped to the side, catching the electric charge in the palm of his glove. Catching his stance, he fired it right back at his opponent, "Ha! As if!" he said, landing a direct hit!

"Y-you..!" they stuttered, unable to move. The electric shock wasn't powerful enough to harm someone, but it could very well stun them.

Now was his chance! Wilbur shot at the opponent's last barrier and the goal was no longer protected. He tried to be quick enough, but his opponent was already on the move. Now they were neck and neck with their goals exposed.

"Not on my watch!" said the opponent as he fired a charge at the wall, deflecting off it and heading towards Wilbur's right.

Wilbur reached out again, ready to catch it in his glove once more, until another charge headed straight in front of him. He had no time to react to both shots at the same time, instead he caught the one coming from the side and then let himself get zapped by the second one. He felt the shockwave hit his chest, traveling through the rest of body. It only stung a little bit, but was still unpleasant.

His opponent grinned and threw another towards Wilbur's goal, knowing he was too stunned to move.

However, the spunky teen put all amounts of energy into his right arm, rotating it just enough to reach in front of him and fired a charge into the opponent's as the two charged balls collided, creating a small blast in the middle of the court which knocked them both off their feet.

Racing to see who will stand first, Wilbur got up. The goal was wide open! Wilbur hurried and aimed his charge directly at the enemy goal, only for it to be intercepted by the opponent's glove raising high, as he was not fully standing up yet.

"Like I'd let you win that easily." the opponent said smugly, throwing it back at Wilbur's end. He tried to aim it past, only for Wilbur to intercept it as well.

"As if you could ever defeat me, Gavin Hawks!" said Wilbur in a cocky manner.

"Heh..." his opponent Gavin laughed, "Don't let that ego of yours get to your head, son of Cornelius Robinson!"

The two teens relentlessly threw it back and forth, but between every throw they drew closer until they were face to face.

"This is the end of the line for you!" said Gavin, gritting his teeth as he fastly moved his glove down at Wilbur's lower left, no way he could catch it before it's already too late.

Unfortunately for him, however...

"...No, you." Wilbur said smugly, putting his right hand behind his back and reaching the charged shot from around. Once it was in his grasp, he lifted up his hand, Gavin trying to stop him, only for Wilbur to jump up and launch it into the opponent's goal.

The game was set. Robinson is the winner!

The sound of the whistle echoed through the gym, the forcefield around the court opened up. The coach and the rest of the team standing outside of it, giving the boys a round of applause. "Alright, game over..." said the coach, "Both of you show your sportsmanship."

"Dang... I really thought I outplayed you this time." Gavin said, putting his head down, trying hard not to mope about it and instead laugh it off.

"Not bad, Gav!" said Wilbur, giving his pal some worthy praise, "You came really close that time, just goes to show how much you've improved." he implied, holding out his right hand with his glove still on.

"Yeah, well..." Gavin muttered, gripping Wilbur's hand with his glove as they felt the tingling of the electricity flow through, "Don't think I won't beat you next time!" he declared confidently with a smile on his face.

"Looking forward to it!" said Wilbur, smiling back.

"Practice is over for today," said the coach, "looks like you lads will be ready for the big game tomorrow. Go home and get plenty of rest!" dismissing them.

As everybody dispersed, Wilbur slipped off his chargeball glove, his humidified hand being hit with that cool room temperature. Looking at his glove, he noticed it was starting to feel kinda greasy inside after soaking up all the sweat for numerous days. Perhaps he could give it a good wash. Without electrocuting himself, of course. There was no denying these chargeball gloves were genius, but as for the cleaning process, not so much.

"Wait, Robinson! Can I speak to you for a moment?" said the coach.

"Huh? Yeah, sure!" Wilbur replied, though slightly worried if he did something wrong. Panicky, he slid his dirty glove halfway into his backpack and stood up straight, like he was in bootcamp being approached by his sergeant.

It was very intimidating: the way his coach was built, with muscles that looked like they could lift three mountains. The last thing he wanted was to get on the coach's bad side. The only part that wasn't intimidating were those short tights he wore...

"What is it?" Wilbur asked.