Ice Storme – Introduction

I was born in the year 2655 by my mother, Angelina Crosse-Storme. My father worked on Wall Street for the Stock Market in the United States… so I never really met him. All I know is his name, Richard Storme. The town I was born in, I’m not sure of. I’m not familiar with Historic Geography, but I think it’s somewhere where Wyoming used to be. Territories, governments, and the people here have changed. Our military pulls the country nowadays. In 2660, the Universal Military Police took me into captivity. They said they were taking back what my father owed. I still don’t understand.

They took me to Cote d’Ivoire where I was sent to an underground training camp to learn Military basics and to learn the language of French, the second universal language now, next to American English. I’ve been here for 11 years now. I’m 16 years of age and I have learned more about the military and special defense weaponry than any man that has spent his whole lifetime in here. The U.M. must of known that I was special, or they wouldn’t have taken me, but my older brother instead. I’ve forgotten much about my family. I have dreams about them sometimes. They are not good dreams. They usually start out good, but turn bad near the end.

I have 4 friends, who are in the same squad as I. There’s Blake, Ryu, Fiona, and Brittany. They are all the same age as me except for Blake. He turns 17 this year. We fight with our fists and our handguns… but we are hoping that DroidArena will pardon us in allowing us to play. DroidArena is looking for only good soldiers and programmers. They send out 100 scouts each month in hopes of finding more players willing to play. We wish to play, but we have not been pardoned. Our turn will come.

If our turn does not come, I will escape from this hellhole. I will not live another month here. I will do whatever it takes, whenever and however I have to do it to get out of here. Regardless if my father abandoned us, I still hold the name of the Storme family symbol. My name is Brian Storme, but on the battlefield… they call me Ice Storme. Fear the Storme if they don’t pardon me, there will be hell to pay in this century.

- Wes "agent917" Hysell

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Skirmish – Part 1: Costa Rica

A voice comes over the overhead speakers. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to DroidArena Tournament Series, round 1! The people you see on the monitor in front of you are the players that are on this 10square mile battlefield that you cannot see. Our advance Laser Definition Televisions will provide you with all the viewing possibilities you will need during this show. Today’s competition consists of the Leviathan Corporation, the FlashWave Corporation, the K.O.S. Corporation, and the Killjoy Corporation! And without further ado, lets get this battle started!!!!!!!”

The crowd of hundreds of thousands of people roars like thunder across the 10 square mile battlefield. Each corporation sends their 5 best players out on the battlefield. Each corporation has been given their corner and an hour ahead of time to practice their overview plans before uploading them into their droids. The programmers of the droids stand in anticipation and nervousness as they wait for the game to begin. At this point, the droids know nothing about where their enemy or allies are. They have been security powered off. “Programmers! You may upload your plans via the e-link now. You have 10 minutes remaining.” Although ten minutes seems a lot, you’ll be lucky to finish the whole hour battle of programming in the computer. They cannot have their programming started or finished before the battle, what they finish is what they finish. No matter what. Most programmers nowadays program an alteration device into the system that allows the droid to decide on the best move. This saves programming time, but the intelligence of the droid could be at stake on that move. It’s a 50-50 chance on the outcome. “Programmers! Five minutes remaining!” FlashWave and Killjoy have completed their programming on all their droids. K.O.S. and Leviathan remain with 2 droids to go. “Programmers! Three minutes remaining!” You can hear the programmers doing last minute make-ups of their plans before the bell… the keys on their keyboard and the whistling of the e-links buzzing information to the droid can be heard many meters away. The strain is seen on the last programmer. “Programmers! One minute remains!” The remaining droid had a faulty error while sending to his Sentinel. It seems the stunt he wished it to do has not ever been acknowledged before in its programming. Thirty seconds remains as he clear the problem and finishes the last lines of coding. “Programmers! Your time is up!” The remaining programmer clicks send just in time and the e-links have shutdown. A lucky break for the rookie programmer.

“Droids! Are you ready!!!!!!!!!!” The crowd roars with excitement as they cheer on their team. “FIGHT!!!!!!” The announcer screams through the speaker. Programmers can just hear a break of silence after the spoken word. The split-second of silence seems like forever as they wait for their droid to pick up the word “fight” and react to it. All of a sudden, time starts returning to normal and the sounds of droids revving up and they begin their attack at lightning speed. All that was heard was engines roaring, jets from the Dragonflies and Blackwings were soaring and all that was felt was the earth shaking with anger as twenty droids starting following their data. The engines of the droids drowned the sound of the crowd roaring with excitement. Their young programmer’s hearts were pulsating at higher rates than imagined. They lived for this moment. Right here in Costa Rica. They weren’t here for the crowd, the fun, or the excitement. They were here for one cause. To prove to their opponents who was the better programmer.

[To be continued?]

- Wes “Agent917” Hysell