Thunder Craft : Weaponized Chaos

Chapter 6 - Lunchroom Showdown

 I stroll down the long corridor toward the lunchroom, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Dex and Beta stand by the door, their expressions a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

"You guys ready to eat?" I call out.

"Man, can't we just eat in the hall?" Dex glances nervously at Beta, as if she holds the key to his lunch destiny.

"Well, if you want to deal with the janitor bots, be my guest. I'll pass," she replies, though I can tell she's mulling it over.

I swallow back my overwhelming fear of entering the lunchroom. It's like stepping into a gladiatorial arena.

"Ladies first?" I wink at Beta.

"Then get a move on, Thundora."

Well, that backfired spectacularly.

"Don't mind if I do!" I announce, strutting in with my best raunchy catwalk.

"Okay, please stop. I'll go first," Dex says, rolling his eyes.

"Cool, I'll follow." I trail behind Dex as he bravely pushes the door open. Beta grabs onto my shirt, her lifeline, before activating her Gago-watch. In an instant, she's enveloped in a cloak of tiny mirrors, rendering her nearly invisible—perfect for reconnaissance.

As she fades away, I glance at Dex. He's absorbed in his Gago-PDA, pressing buttons and sliding things around like a mad scientist. I've never really asked what it does. I'll have to pry that secret out of him later.

Taking a deep breath, I pop a piece of gum and chew vigorously, smacking it loud enough to attract all eyes. As I enter after Dex, Beta uses my noisy distraction to slip left around the lunch tables, scanning for Victor. Most of the gazes are indifferent; they return to their meals, the wild animonsters chowing down like they're at a buffet.

Dex rolls a metallic ball the size of a softball down the aisle, turning smoothly to walk coolly toward the other side of the lunchroom.

No ultra-cool gadgets for me, just my charm—or lack thereof. I start down the aisle, nearly tripping over my own feet. Scanning the room, I still don't see Victor. A kid ahead of me suddenly erupts.

"ARRHHGGh, what the HELL, MAN?! I'LL NEVER FIND A TABLE!" he practically screams, shaking his fist at the sky.

Curiosity piqued, I turn to see what has him so riled up. Dex's metallic ball transforms and assembles itself into a hovering chair—about four feet tall. How?

The ball swivels to face me, its bright red eyes glowing ominously.

"You owe my master five dollars, Mr. Daft," it announces in a robotic monotone.

I can't help but smile. "Shut down."

"No, doofus, Mr. Daft," it retorts.

"DOOFUS?! Why you little—" I start, but Dex interrupts with a hearty laugh.

"Relax, Teezy! He's just a program. He can't understand you." He's practically rolling on the floor.

"Oh right, forgive me." I punch him lightly in the collarbone.

"Hahahaha, you mad or what?" He rubs his shoulder, then pulls out a thin sheet of plastic. "Look, didn't feel a thing! This is my new project: nano-shielding sheet! It condenses the nanobots into—"

I zone out as he rambles on, my attention drifting. I never noticed before how big his ears are—like mini satellite dishes. And those nostrils... what's up with those?

"—rendering any type of physical confrontation... Yo. YO! TC!?"

He nearly screams into my face, snapping me back to reality.

"Damn, dude! What the hell? I was thinking of names for those things on your head... Mini saucers! No, Dish Face!" I start listing off increasingly ridiculous names for his ears.

"Dude, shut the fu—" He glances behind me, his eyes bulging. "Yo, TC, look alive! There he goes!"

I turn, and there's Victor, flanked by his usual entourage—the butt-poke club.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Crafty. Nice exit earlier. But it seems you've still suffered a bit of injury, yeah? Fell a bit harder than expected?" His smirk is infuriating.

Seriously. This guy.

My heart races. The tension in the air thickens as I prepare for the inevitable clash. Bring it on, Victor.