this story was not really written by me but a guy named GrimMoody of Shattered Enigma(
link)
i think it's good. okay here is the story:
By: GrimMoody
You see a youth, nineteen years of age, heading off to his college campus. Ah, Princeton, the college his mother had always dreamed of sending her boy; it had been the college of his father, lost to cancer many years ago.
The boy looked with disapproval at his new surroundings. He wished he could have gone somewhere else, where he could fit in. "This place is for preps," he thought. But he entered anyway, because he didn't want to let his mom down.
Little did the youth know, this was where he crossed over into the twilight zone.
His first class was English, with Mr. Finskey. The classroom was large, and filled to capacity with students in the stadium-like seats. The boy sat down in the back, in one of the last empty spots. He pulled out the book assigned for the class, and slumped down, waiting to begin.
A teacher, apparently Mr. Finskey, walked up to the podium and began to call roll. "Nick Atwater!"
"Here." the youth replied.
More names were called, until the entire class was accounted for. Mr. Finskey introduced himself, and started to talk about the rules of the class, droning on like all teachers do on the first day of school. Nick sighed. He had expected this, but that didn't make him any less bored. He couldn't put his head on his desk, that was a class rule. Not that he cared so much for rules, he just didn't want to attract attention to himself. So he slumped lower in his chair.
The guy next to him, who the roll had identified as Steven Myers, nudged him. "Hey, man, you bored?" he whispered.
"No, I am enthralled by the brilliant words of our educator. Duh, I'm bored."
"Chill man. I got just what it takes to cure boredom." Steve pulled out his laptop, hiding it carefully to make sure Mr. Finskey would not notice. "You play Starcraft?"
"Never heard of it."
"Well, you're missin' out, then. Wanna try it? I'll start you off on the tutorial." Steve pulled out the original Starcraft cd, inserted it, turned off the sound, and clicked to the beginning of the Terran missions. "Here you go. Read the briefing to get the mission goals. Here's a secret; if you wait long enough after this briefing, you get a receipe for lemon chicken."
"Uh, I don't really cook."
"Just play then, it's fun."
"I don't know..."
"Try it man. We're not gonna learn anything today, the way Mr. Finskey's just blahing on like that. C'mon."
Nick took the miniature computer into his lap, and clicked into his first game of Starcraft. He struggled at first, but soon caught on. "Hey, this is pretty cool."
"Told you so."
Steve wasn't in any other of his classes, so laptop and game were unavailable to the freshly addicted Nick. His thoughts constantly returned to his current mission, the one where the player's base must survive for thirty minutes. What would he do? He'd been over it several times, but never grew bored of it. He planned to build more bunkers...train some marines...maybe some firebats....
"Mr. Atwater!"
Nick started. "Uh, yes?"
"If you want to make a good grade in this class, young man, you'll have to pay attention. Or maybe you know everything you need to know about ancient Chinese history...."
Nick arrived late at home, as a result of stopping at Walmart for a moment to purchase Starcraft and its sequel. He literally shivered in anticipation as he saw the box in his passenger seat. He could see himself kicking butt, whoever he played against.
He arrived home, grabbed the game, and gave his mom a quick hug as he rushed to his room.
"Good day at college?"
"Great!"
Ah, Nick's room. His sanctuary from mankind's reality. Here he was who he wanted to be, not some rich guy who could afford college with no loans, grants, or scholarships. Nick's thoughts wandered to his mother's expectations. A businessman. That's what she wanted. Some guy who handled the stock market, supply and demand, and customer satisfaction with perfection.
"I am not that guy." Nick thought aloud as he watched Starcraft install. "I am a soldier."
Installation was complete. Since then, Nick's life rotated around the Blizzard game, the one game that ruled them all.
A Friday night, three months later-
"Pwned." Nick, or Freakin'Marine as he was known on the Internet, typed in the chatroom.
"dang youre gettin too good." typed Steve, AKA Tassartanis.
"thirsty for mor?"
"nah gotta sleep sometime. bye."
"see ya later."
Nick looked at the clock on the computer as he logged out of b.net. 3:31. He considered for a moment if he should sleep or do some undone math homework, but decided the unconscious realm was better than staring stupidly at things he couldn't understand at so late an hour.
The next day, Nick slept in until 11:00. He got up, dressed in some stuff lying on the floor, and went downstairs to get some breakfast while he planned the rest of the day. Grabbing a box of pop pastries and a liter of coke, he returned to his room and his fan fiction story.
Fan fiction was something Nick enjoyed thoroughly. It gave him a chance to feel what he so much wanted to be a part of. His story, called "Action from Darkness", was based on Raynor's Raiders, starting from Kerrigan's betrayal of Raynor and the death of Fenix, and ending with the victorious return of Raynor. He was at the point where Raynor's most loyal soldier, Private Ernest Ford (based on Nick), and his platoon were about to initiate the first sortie against Kerrigan.
"Where do we begin?" asked Lieutenant O'Rielly.
Raynor thought for a moment. He must strike a place unexpected, but purposeful. Over the years of his absence, Kerrigan and the broods had only gotten stronger.
"We'll fight Kerrigan at Aiur. Hopefully we can do something to stop her."
O'Rielly nodded. "Yes sir. I'll start scouting for possible weaknesses." With that, the lieutenant exited.
Raynor turned toward the window of the battlecruiser's ready room. He stared at the multiple stars. "Is there really any hope in this?" he thought.
"Noble action creates hope." came the answer.
Raynor looked to see Templar Tasdarin standing behind him, who had entered unnoticed. The Protoss continued, "And only in death is there no longer any chance of victory against enemies."
Tasdarin, now that Fenix was no more, lead the band of Protoss allied to the Raiders. Though he was a bit uncertain of humans, he got along quite well with Raynor.
"I guess." Raynor responded. "All I know is, I swore I'd liberate Aiur when Fenix died."
The Templar nodded. "You shall certainly keep that promise."
"Or die trying."
+two days later+
Private Ford, along with his platoon, entered the Dropship. They prepared as the other Dropships filled, awaiting the orders to start.
Ford's face was grim. Nothing would stop him now. He would avenge...
Nick's mother entered the room. "Hi, son. What are you doing?"
"Mom! Can't you at least knock?"
"Sorry, but I have to talk to you."
"Not now, Mom. I'm working on my fanfiction."
He would avenge the death of his family, all lost to the swarm. Never was Ford more prepared than now.
The orders came in, and the Dropships and their convoy headed towards their destination. The attack would begin in a matter of minutes. The Dropships neared the rendezvous point, and prepared for the exit of the soldiers...
"Nick, turn around. We need to talk about your grades."
Nick sighed, saved the file, and turned in the chair to his mom. "What's the problem?"
"Well, you've been getting some poor grades in college. Nick, you just can't be successful in life without college. I've talked to some of your teachers, and they say you've been distracted in your classes."
The young man remained silent.
"All your teachers worry about you, Nick. They see that you aren't distracted by college girls; in fact your social life seems nonexistent compared to the other students. And well Nick, all these problems have started since you got that game...um....Starforce..."
"Starcraft, Mom."
"Look Nick, you've been staying up way too late on that game, and have been neglecting your homework for months. I want you to stop playing Starcraft until you get your grades up. Goodness, Nick, how do you expect to be a success with poor social skills and no college degree?"
"Maybe I don't want to be a success! Dang, Mom, I don't want to have to keep up with all that crap. I just want a simple job, where they tell you what to do and you just do it."
His mother gasped. "Tell me you aren't thinking about joining the army!"
"Air Force Special Operations, actually. You see..."
"Nick, I don't want to hear another word! Nothing more! You are going to have a safe job, be very rich, and be very happy! And you're going to get good grades in school! Until then, no more Starcraft! No games, no fanfiction, no nothing! For your own good! Understand?"
His mom had never been that sharp before with her son. Nick was shocked. "Uh, okay mom, no Starcraft until I pull my grades up."
"Thank you." Mrs. Atwater gave her son a hug.
It was raining Monday morning, and Nick's car just wouldn't start.
"Hey Mom," he called. "Could you get somebody to tow my car to the shop? I'm gonna have to get a ride."
"Okay! Have a good day at college!"
With that, Nick opened his umbrella, and started walking down the street. He thought about getting a cab, but he was not in the mood to deal with funny-smelling strangers who insisted on conversation. Another mode of transportation appealed to him. The city bus.
"Hmm, well you should always try new things." Nick thought.
It was weird riding the bus after years of taxiing, then having his own car. But Nick liked it, because it wasn't something rich people did, and he decided he'd take it home.
On the way back, Nick was more tired and bored than he usually was after his day's courses, because he had tried this time. He did love his mom, and of course he wanted Starcraft back, so those grades had to rise. His exhausted condition left him prone to sleep, so he rested his head against the bus window, and fell asleep before he realized it.
Nick awoke, not in a bus, but some place crowded and cramped. He wore a suit of armor, heavy and bulky. In his hands was a large rifle. The others around him were outfitted the same way.
"What? Where are we going?" Nick asked, to no one in particular.
"Hey, man, you gettin' forgetful or somethin'? We're gonna land on Aiur!" exclaimed a tall soldier next to him. "Gotta get us some Zerg!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
The soldier, or rather, the marine, did not heed him, for an announcement rang out that it was time to leave the Dropship. The marines began to exit quickly, before the several hideous creatures who were shooting the ship could destroy it.
Nick was shocked. "Those are Hydralisks!"
"No shiz, kid!" yelled one of the marines. "Now get out there!"
"No! None of this is real! It isn't happening!"
"Get out kid, now!"
"No!"
Someone shook Nick's shoulder.
"I won't do it!"
"Um Nick, what are you talking about?" It was Steve.
Nick started into reality. He was still on the bus, and Steve was sitting next to him.
"Hey man," said Steve. "What was that about?"
"Wow...a really insane dream. I must be really obsessed."
"With what?"
"Starcraft."
"Speaking of which, you gonna be on tonight?"
"No, I'm not supposed to play it until I get my grades up."
Steve scoffed. "You're nineteen, still takin' orders from your mom? Sheesh."
"Shut up. She's right, it's getting in my brain. I have to spend some time without it."
When Nick got home, he plopped on the couch.
"Rough day at college?" Mrs. Atwater asked.
"Well, school was no different than before. But the ride home, now that was insane."
"What happened?"
"It started when I decided to take the bus home..."
"The bus? You should have taken a taxi!"
"Mom, please just listen. Anyway, I was tired, so I fell asleep on the bus. I dreamed I was on a Dropship, and I was a marine. It was just like Starcraft, but so real...I could even smell it. They wanted me to jump out and fight the Zerg, but I, well I didn't get out of the Dropship."
Mrs. Atwater's face was almost indescribable. It seemed to have been carved out of stone. "It has that bad of an affect on you?" she asked with a strange sadness in her eyes.
"I...I guess so."
His mother got up. "Then I should have done this long ago." She left the room.
Nick followed. "Mom? Mom, what are you doing?"
She ignored him, only going up the stairs, to Nick's room. She entered, and reached over to Nick's CD holder. Out came Starcraft and Brood War.
"Mom?"
Mrs. Atwater pulled the CDs out of the cases, and broke them, putting the pieces into Nick's trash can. "There, enough of that."
The next day, Nick was irritated. Though his mother had told him repeatedly to get a taxi, he deliberately headed for the bus stop. When the bus came, Nick put in his money like everyone else. He found an empty seat, and huddled against the window, once more falling into the sleep....
Once again, Nick appeared in the Dropship, the armor, rifle, and marines all the same. Nick looked around the ship, seeing the marines around him. The tall one was still there, next to him. As his eyes observed the room, they came across a strange, grim-faced marine.
"Oh man, it's Private Ford!" Nick thought.
And it was. This marine was exactly how Nick pictured him in his mind, from the grayish-brown hair to the specially shined boots. His personality was even the same, as he stared solemnly at the floor. Nick watched him so long, he didn't realize that the order had been given to exit.
"Oh crap!" Nick hurried towards the exit. It snapped shut before he could get out.
"Hey!" Nick called to the pilot. "You forgot me!"
"Sorry, but if I'd stayed longer, those Hydralisks would have destroyed us."
"Damn it!"
"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, kid." the pilot continued. "You're gonna be in some trouble when the Sergeant hears about this."
"Dang it, let me out!"
"Kid, the door is open, and I think it's your stop." said the bus driver.
Nick awoke, and was still on the bus. He quickly gathered his backpack, and headed out. As it drove away, Nick said to himself, "Next time I'm getting off the Dropship."
"Mr. Atwater!"
"Yeah, Mr. Finskey?"
"I need you to hand in your weekend assignment."
"Um, I don't have it."
"Atwater!" the teacher exclaimed. "I even gave you an extra day, and you still haven't completed it? How long does it take you to do a simple five hundred word paper on Shakespeare's Hamlet? It wasn't a complicated project. All the other students have turned in something...."
Nick stopped paying attention. He stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly spoke. "F***ing shiz."
"Excuse me?"
"F***ing shiz. That's all Hamlet was! Some depressed wimp who can't do anything without whining about suicide or some crap like that. If college is just for writing papers on stupid people, I say forget it." Nick got up and went for the door.
"Mr. Atwater, if you go out of this room there is no turning back!"
Nick didn't care. He just left. A payphone was available in the hall, so Nick used it to call his mom.
She picked up. "Hello?"
"Mom?"
"What is it?"
"Mom, I'm dropping out of college. I just can't handle it."
"Don't come back."
"Um, what?"
"Don't come back to this house. I don't want a failure as a son, so you're staying away. Go to a motel or something, work at McDonalds, ride the stupid bus, just don't come back here! Pick up your stuff tomorrow."
Then Mrs. Atwater hung up.
Nick didn't need to find a hotel. All he needed was to ride the bus. He had to wait for twenty minutes, but it didn't matter to him. Nothing did anymore, except to get back to the Dropship. It was pure relief to get back on that bus. Though he was excited, he fell asleep quickly.
The same Dropship, armor, rifle, and marines, all as it was the other two times. Nick imitated the other soldiers, adopting their fateful facial expressions. He took a deep breath.
"Hey, Atwater, you nervous?"
It was Private Ford, looking directly at Nick.
"Well, a little bit."
"Hey, you just stick with me out there, and you'll be straight."
The orders came, and the marines filed out. Nick, Private Atwater, jumped when his turn came. He left his former life behind, and it left leaving few memories. But Atwater was glad he would finish his Starcraft story, which was no longer just a fan fiction.
"I don't really know what happened, officer.," the bus driver said. "This guy was asleep, and he started sleepwalking like crazy. Then he pulled the handle to open the window's emergency exit, and he jumped out."
Several police officers, the bus riders, and the driver were all along the side of the road. They stood over the mangled body of Nickolae Atwater, his face bloody and skull caved in on the cold cement sidewalk. An unused ambulance stood nearby.
"Nothing like this ever happened before, officer." the bus driver continued. "I don't understand..."
The policeman was sympathetic. "There's nothing you could have done."
"How convenient his body should land here." commented a policewoman.
A sign is seen. It reads, "Ford and Son's Mortuary Services."
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