Plasmatropolis [OLD]

No Quitter

He looked through the cabinets, sighing with relief as his hand met a spiral bound stack of paper. Tygren's notebook. Thalleous took it out, cradling the book in his grasp. Tygren's name was scrawled in messy lettering on the front page, and he laughed as he remembered how he used to make fun of the Voltaris' handwriting. The thin pages were filled to the brim with many sketches of many different objects and figures.

He felt a tear rolling down his cheek as he flipped through the repeating pages, examining the pencil sketches he'd already seen a thousand times. The sheets almost seemed to droop with the weight of the graphite, and he smiled sadly, as he reached the last page. It was empty, aside from a single drawing, in the corner, of Tygren and himself next to one another, bordered by a heart. This one managed to produce a choked sob from his throat, as he set the book aside and lay back on his bed.

I miss you, Tygren, and as soon as I get my revenge on the ones who betrayed me, I'll find a way to honour your memory.

He then thought about the ongoings of the world around him, and he realised he had been so focused on getting revenge that he had not caught up on any of the happenings of Plasmatropolis. He pulled out his phone from his inventory and pulled up the news.

Sendaris gang allies with William Lothan, authorities investigating.

Now this just has to be the epitome of a joke, isn't it? I swear, this can't possibly happen.

He continued scrolling through the article, hair sticking to his face as he rolled over to his side.

I'll have to somehow eliminate their entire force before they try to dispose of us. I'll gather my soldiers soon and we will ambush William at his base.

He put his phone away, stowing the device back into his inventory. He turned back to the sketchbook on his table, gazing longingly at the plastic cover and the sheets of paper bound within. He rolled the thoughts and plans of the fight tomorrow. He quickly stumbled over to a microphone, which stood on a desk in the corner, and over the speaker system, announced.

"Get ready, we go to fight against the ones who've oppressed us tomorrow."

*****

Everything seemed hazy and dreamlike. Nitrox was working on his computer, in the process of creating an animation for Black Plasma Studios, where he worked. It was a distant memory, he was aware, a dream within his deep sleep. David, the leader of the studio, was watching him with a grin.

Nitrox played back the part of the animation he'd just finished. His fists clenched. For some reason, he just couldn't help but notice these tiny errors. It was so hard to get everything right! Tedious, even. He turned to David, but David only smiled.

"What's the matter? It looks great." David told him.

"Not enough!" Nitrox objected, frustrated. "I stayed up all night working on this. I expected more from myself. This is just so difficult!"

"Not enough?" David asked. "Come on now, give me a break. You're one of the best animators we have at the Studio. This animation does more than make the cut. Nobody even cares about tiny errors. I make them all the time too."

"What about those pesky ZAMination twins?" Nitrox stammered in alarm. "They'll notice! It's their job! They point out every mistake. This is gonna be shredded if I don't make it better!"

"You really care what they think?" David questioned. "Nitrox, you can't let people convince you you aren't good enough. Everyone makes mistakes. In fact, the motto of Animation Sins is 'No animation is without sin', right? Nobody could ever get past them, that's just how it is."