Glitch

Chapter 3

I was back in my room, a message on my palm demanding my attention, and a throbbing headache pounding into the back of my head. I sat on a chair on the side of my room, sighed, then looked at my palm. It was congratulating me on passing the demanding objective, and awarding me extra points for completing it on time and on the first try. I stopped looking and contemplated what had just happened.There were many things wrong with the last five minutes:

There was someone in my personal game that made me win, but I got the credit.

I had a headache. That only happened in the games, When you were about to die from bloodloss or something. Even then, it was only for about a minute at most.

Whoever the boy was had a weapon, an axe, and was using it and succeeding in a no-weapons game.

I rubbed my temples slowly, I needed answers. I looked up the game I had just played on my game stats, no record of the boy. I looked up his features on player search, it said "no match for your search." He must have changed his looks in the 45 seconds between the end of the game and now. Or maybe he was still in there? Maybe he was a generated person for the game, but for some reason I had trouble believing it. So why was he in there in the first place? Why did I get credit for winning when it was him? I was so confused. I needed to concentrate. The room was too bright. I was overwhelmed. I looked at my mirrored wall and it changed from shiny, bright mirrors to dark, blue wallpaper. My floor turned to black wooden planks covered in thick, old fashioned carpets. My furniture became darker and my lights dimmed. That was better. Now I could focus. My headache lessened but was still persistent.

Leaning back on my bed I stared at the ceiling, an aurora borealis was dancing above me. I looked away and covered my face with my arm pressing it into my face. I imagined his image again, dark brown eyes, brown hair, deathly pale skin, thin body. Not at all the style you would expect from someone playing an advanced game like mannequin invasion. Usually only newbies still learning how to play dressed like that, and learned not to pretty fast. There was definitely something strange about this boy.

Suddenly another ping lit up my screen, but unlike the 10 that had come through in the last 5 minutes relating to my newest "success", this was marked as extremely important. I opened it.

Pertaining to Hazelle Lewis,

Hey, I'm West Warlock. But please just call me West, I really hate my last name. Nice to meet you.

I saw you in the game.

How did you get there? Honestly I have no idea. After all, It was a one player game.

Also why didn't you have a weapon? If you left it somewhere, sorry, you should stop reading now. Because if you did, you are so incompetent you should be deleted.

And no offense you looked really plain for a 3rd percentile player. No offense or anything of course. But while we're on the topic why was your hair so messy? It could be pretty, normal, black hair. But instead you chose messy, tangled, scraggly black hair. Bad choice. And that outfit... blech! Gray is so last century didn't you know that?

Oh, I just realized I've been rambling. Sorry, I do that a lot. You may be wondering how I found you. Well, It turns out that a video of whatever game you just played is available on your stats page if you know where to find it. I just simply looked up your username and boom, there you were.

If you don't reply, that's perfectly fine I won't get mad.

~West Warlock (sent less than a minute ago)

The moment I stopped reading, my mind started tumbling all over again. The most persistent thought was that he looked up my username. How did he know who I was? Why did he care? What was going on? My head was so full. I put my old thoughts to the back of my head and decided to focus on the present.

Okay, so this West guy. He knew who I was. He thought I was stupid and incompetent for not having a weapon, which makes him incompetent and stupid since it was obviously a weapon-free game, that was what made it so terrifying in the first place. He had also Insulted my hair, my hair, my hair! Had he called it black? I looked back at the ping again to check.

"But while we're on the topic why was your hair so messy? It could be pretty, normal, black hair. But instead you chose messy, tangled, scraggly black hair. Bad choice."

Aha! So he had called it black hair. But that didn't make any sense. My hair was light blond, definitely not black. And I am pretty sure that my hair wasn't "messy, tangled, scraggly". It was all done up for a party for heaven's sake! And yet... Black? Why was he under the impression that my hair was black? And did he really see it as scraggly and tangled? I was extremely confused. I decided to send him a ping in reply that would hopefully answer my questions. Besides, I was a little offended by his insulting demeanor and wanted to throw a few right back at him and his gross sweatpants.

AN: lalala no one is reading this but I'm still posting so insane of me lalala